Week 19 - Marathon Man!

In case you don’t follow my twitter, I did it!  It took me 3 hours and 53 minutes to finish, but I crossed that line on my own two feet.  That’s an average of 8:54 a mile, but that definitely doesn’t tell the whole story.

You couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful day.  The sun was shining, the temps were in the 60s, and the humidity was low.  After such a hot summer, I was pretty concerned over what the weather was going to be like.  Looks like I needn’t have worried about the weather.  The trail, however, was a different story.  

I started the race strong, pacing a bit fast at ~8:15min/mile.  I kept that pace right up until mile 13.  That’s when the trail took a turn for the worse.  The first half of the marathon was on streets and paved or cinder trails.  As promised in the course description, the trails were mostly cinders, which are fine for those running in Vibram Bikilas, like me.  Around the halfway point, the cinders gave way to dirt and rocks.  Oh goody, pain.  My pace slackened to ~8:40min/mile and my poor left foot started hurting on the ball.  You know, where I land, all the time.  Despite my best efforts, I would land on rock after rock.  My audible curses and flailing limbs of frustration must have been an interesting sight.

Somewhere around mile 18 the trail gave way to a gravel road.  Not like a nice gravel road, but cracked asphalt covered with rocks.  At this point I actually stopped running and walked for a bit.  Not because I was tired, mind you, but because it was too painful to run.  Some other runners in regular shoes did the same.  The stretch was only a half-mile or so, but it was enough to ruin my mood for a while.

After mile 20, the trails got better and my mood improved somewhat.  The longest I had ever run was twenty miles, so each step was the furthest I had ever run.  That was a pretty awesome feeling.  It was 2:49:31 when I hit 20 miles and it had taken me 2:53:50 when I did that in training.  I was ahead of my previous pace, and still feeling pretty OK.  Now all I needed to do was to run a 10k.  No problem, I do that all the time.  I’ve got this thing licked.

At mile 22 I hit the wall.  

Honestly, I wasn’t even breathing hard.  My feet and my legs just couldn’t keep going.  I was trying not to walk except at water stations.  But at mile 22, I just started walking for a bit.  It was my longest mile by a long shot at 10:27.  But it was what I needed to get back on track.  I had not hydrated enough or eaten enough gels. I just needed a minute to rest and regroup.  

For the remaining 3 miles my time steadily improved and I started feeling better.  I had drank double water rations at the last station and eaten an extra gel.  My energy level was perking up, and I could feel some strength returning to my muscles.  I managed to finish strong with a final mile of about 9:00min/mile.  

I’ve heard the run down victory lane is euphoric, but I didn’t feel that way.  Honestly, I was exhausted and frustrated with the course, and even though I turned in a respectable time, I feel like I could have done better.

After I crossed the line they handed me a towel and medal.  Then someone offered me one of those foil blankets.  I am still not sure what those things are for.  Maybe warmth or something?  I declined.  I limped my way to the food table and grabbed a water bottle.  In only a few minutes I had polished it off, and went back for a second and a soft pretzel and banana.  There was a curb that invited me to sit on it and I obliged.  When I went to eat my pretzel, I realized I had blood on my hand.  That’s weird.  I don’t remember bleeding anywhere.  That’s when I looked down and realized.

My nipples were bleeding.

Yep.  Just like Andy (the Nard Dogg) Bernard from The Office.  My poor nipples had been chafed to the point of bleeding, and I had been so distracted by my other aches and sores I had not even noticed.  I began to feel embarassed and self-conscious.  Here I was sitting on a curb with bloody nipple stains on my shirt.  I did the only logical thing I could think of.  I took my shirt off.

That actually helped substantially, and without something rubbing them, the bleeding ceased quickly.  I have no idea when it started, or how long it went on.  But you can clearly see it in my finishing photos, which I will not share in part because they are not mine to share, and in part because, well, shame.

How do I feel now that the race is done?  Physically, my feet are still recovering.  Especially my left foot.  No idea why that bore the brunt of the punishment, but the ball and outer side of my foot are both bruised.  This makes walking a somewhat comical, nay farcical affair.  I did get a new blister on my left big toe as well, but that was a simple drain and band-aid job.

Mentally, well, immediately after the race I felt sad.  Like almost crying sad.  That’s not something I feel a lot, and it took me by surprise.  There are several contributing factors there.  

First, most of the people who crossed that finish line either did it with someone or had someone waiting.  Don’t get me wrong.  I am a lone runner.  That is my preference.  I do not want to run in a pack per se.  But seeing all these other people celebrating together made me a little sad.  It would have been a huge pain for anyone to drive up and greet me at the finish line, and I didn’t ask anyone to do so.  In retrospect, I wish that I had.  My wife has promised me that she will be at the finish line of my next race, and really all I had to do was ask.  

The second thing I pin mostly on adrenaline, and coming off the runner’s high.  It’s definitely a crash, and I suspect the more exhausted you are at the end, the bigger the subsequent crash.  

The third point is the disappointment that comes when you complete a massive undertaking.  I am no stranger to this.  When I graduated from college and grad school, I felt the same thing.  At first it’s a relief that this extraordinarily difficult task is finally over and you are now free to pursue whatever suits your fancy.  But there’s also that nagging feeling of loss; a loss of purpose and drive.  That can be a real bummer.

So all those things made for a cocktail of sadness immediately following my triumph.  Now that’s it’s been a few days, I don’t feel that way anymore.  Memory has already started its skew, and I am recalling the whole thing more fondly by the minute.  The marathon was good, and my time was good.  But it could be better.  It will be better.  Next time.

Speaking of next time, I’ve analyzed where I went wrong and I think I can improve a lot with a few simple tweaks.  Here they are:

1. Carry more water with me - I totally ran out and the water stations are unreliable in their frequency and distribution
2. Know the trails better - the rocks and gravel took me by surprise, next time I’ll be prepared
3. Eat more often - I was worried about running out of gels, when I should have been worried about running out of fuel
4. Start slower - it’s tempting to run ahead of the pack, but I should know better
5. More strength training - My glutes, calves, and quads really started getting tired at the end, I need more muscle to do less working individually

With those simple tweaks, I think I can shave 20 minutes off my time easily.  I doubt I’ll ever run a 3 hour marathon, but I would feel great running a 3:33.  That’s all for next fall though.

Coming up this Spring?  PHLYTRI!  I’ll be blogging that one too, and trying to keep up with the week to week.  If you’ve been following me, then I thank you.  I hope my posts have helped or impacted you in some way.  This has been a great experience, and I am excited to do it again!