This past Halloween I ran my 10th marathon. That's 262 miles over the course of about 5 years. My first marathon was October 2005, this one was my last - for now.
I ran the Cape Cod marathon starting and finishing in Falmouth Massachusetts. It was a very scenic, well supported, and well attended race. It's the fifth course I've run - Hartford, Marine Corps (D.C.), Boston, Lowell (Bay State), and now Falmouth. I really liked the course. If you are a first time marathon runner, expect this course to abuse you severely. As a tenured runner, I was surprised by the ease with which the course reduced my pace as time went on.
My friend Gerry and I met at the start and planned on running the first few miles together. Gerry and I trained together a few times but were targeting different paces. We ran together until about mile two where I sped up just a bit to ease into my target pace. The run along the coastline was reminiscent of my many summer trips to Gloucester or the Maine vacation hot-spots.
After a bit I found myself running with another gent who was running his twentieth marathon. Wow. It's amazing how many marathons some folks have run. We parted ways after a mile or so and before long I was running with another gent who had run hundreds of road races - 350 I think. This was his eighteenth marathon, the rest of his road race time has been spent doing 5, 10, and 15Ks. Wow. I love running but imagine it could be quite taxing to spend so much time in road races - the logistics of getting to the races can be taxing as they are generally several miles from home.
Then I passed a few runners here and a few runners there and before long I was at mile 6. Only 20.2 to go. I'd been tracking my pace with my watch at had built up a surplus of about 20 seconds. This buffer was very nice because the hills were ahead.
At some point, I realized I needed a very simple baseline to track my pace. The race started at 8:30 AM so at 6 miles/hour (10 minute mile) - I should be at mile 6 by 9:30. My target pace was 8 miles/hour (7.5 minute mile) so that means I should be passing even numbered markers every 15 minutes. Fairly easy to remember.
By 10:00 I was on target and still cruising at a solid, steady pace. Target finish time: 11:50 - 3 hours, 20 minutes. Some races have huge packs at the starting line. Falmouth did not. This means that your gun time and your start time can be very close to the same. The benefit of this I could keep an eye on the race clocks around the course and not need to add or subtract to get my actual time. It turns out that my actual start was a few seconds later than gun time so sticking to this plan gave me a few seconds buffer. I would definitely need that later.
From 10 to 10:30, the hills started taking their toll. I made a point to cheer and smile for the support crew at each stop and they responded in kind. Very nice. There was a couple wearing purple shirts and they had a black dog with a purple shirt too. I gave them a big smile and cheer and said "nice dog". They laughed and we were instant race friends. From then on, they were at every water stop to cheer on their friend and made a point to smile and cheer me on too. Once they were stuck in traffic and didn't make it to the water stop, the guy hung his head out the drivers window and cheered for me as I ran by his car. Big smiles were exchanged and it made the next leg that much easier. The next water stop I had a minute to say HI while passing them, they said they were hoping to catch up with me. Wow. It's amazing how good it feels to know that someone is looking out for you. Very cool. Marathon runners and fans continue to impress me with how friendly they are.
As 10:50 approached, my pace was falling a bit behind my goal. I ran up to one of the water stops and decided it would be OK to take a short walk instead of continuing the push. The water lady held our her hand and I walked the last 20 yards approaching her. She smiled that "you're crazy to do this but I'm sure you can" smile and I nodded back, took the water, and resumed the run mildly refreshed.
The last hour was a grind. The best part was knowing that Robyn, my wife of course, was waiting for me at the finish line. For nearly every minute after 11am I reminded myself that she made a special effort to come down and support me on that day. There was no way I'd let her down. Even if it meant pulling all the stops and being sore for a few days.
Approaching the final 6 miles, you start to see very large painted numbers on the street. This section of the course is the same section used for the Falmouth Road Race. A seven mile race that follows the coastline south of Falmouth. Very scenic and, unfortunately, very fragrant when the tide is out. The crustaceans along the waterline give off quite an aroma when the tide is low. The weather this day was perfect for running - a light breeze, cool air temperatures, and semi-over cast. I imagine how much more fragrant this area would be if the sun were just a bit hotter. As it was, my appetite was fading fast and it became hard for me to take in more food or water. The old standby of "make yourself eat" is a tough challenge when the stomach is wrenching.
The final 3 miles saw some of my worst mile splits for the whole race. 8:19/mile was the worst one. At this point, I needed to maintain 8:00/mile to finish on time. Still, that 8:19 meant 19 seconds were gone. 19 seconds that I could simply not recover this late in the race. I was still hopeful because there were only two miles to go. I held on to the idea that a steady and comfortable pace would bring me in to the finish before my 3:20 deadline.
A gal and I jockeyed for the lead about a dozen times during these last two miles. I'd let her pull ahead because it was getting too grueling, she'd fall back on the next hill. There was no talking or even acknowledgement - both of us clearly in the "get it done" zone.
Back around mile 18 I had passed my last marathoner. This race has a relay and a full marathon on the same course so it's not uncommon to have people pass you late in the race - typically the relay teams. The marathoners don't tend to pass one another near the end. We just pick a pace, stay in packs, and grind it out. The relay crews on the other hand are not distance runners. Well, they run between 5 and 7 miles so these are generally not sprinters but they do not have the slow-and-steady-wins-the-race attitude that marathoners live by. A few times the new relay runners pulled passed me at the water stops - starting out like a shot. Then, a few miles later, I'd pass them. I try not to measure myself by these small victories but when grinding out 26.2 miles, I take the cheer where I can get it.
The marathoner I passed at 18 was only slightly slower than me so we jockeyed for a while - him catching up, me catching up, but it was clear that I had more in the tank and, once I took my 20 yard lead, the gap kept increasing. Then I saw a guy running with no shirt and a full beard. It became quickly apparent that I had met my pace maker. He heard me coming and sped up ever so slightly. He crossed the street to shorten the corner, and so did I. We went back and forth like this for the next 8 miles. I'd get close and he'd speed up. He'd slow down and I would take a breather. Around mile 22 I lost sight of him and nearly resigned myself to letting him take the big lead only to find him again after mile 23 - the downhill runs on this course help offset the pain of the uphills. I got pretty good at speeding up on the downhills and that's where I caught him. From then out he was no more than a few yards ahead. Having a pace maker keeps you honest. The GPS watch gives you some feedback but the minute-per-minute variance is too large to really keep you honest. A running partner keeps you on track and typically makes you faster.
Mile 25 and we are now running through the neighborhood approaching downtown Falmouth and the finish line. The crowd is building back up. We can hear the band playing. Finished runners are walking back through the course to cheer on their friends. I'm watching my distance. Watching the clock. Watching my pace. Not feeling my feet. Oh, did I mention my toes? Well, at my last marathon before this I managed to smash 6 toes - 3 per foot - into black oblivion. This happens when toes get pushed too hard into the front of the shoe. It can happen if the shoes are too small - they were not; the socks are too thick - they were; or the foot does not land flat and even on the hills - my feet did not land flat and even at the last Boston. The good news is that at this race I was much more aware of my foot-falls and kept them flat and even. By mile 25, I had no significant toe pain and was looking forward to no black toe nails. In the end I only had two black toes and only slightly black at that.
Mile 26 and it's only about 1000 feet to go. That 1000 feet is enough to put anyone into cardiac arrest. The race clock reads 3:18. I have two minutes. That's PLENTY of time if I can just maintain my 8 minute pace. Heck at an 8 minute pace, 1000 feet should take me about 1:36. That gives me 24 seconds of slack. OK, so I didn't do all that math on the course but I knew I had some slack time so pushing extra at this time was far less important that maintaining pace.
Rounding the last turn, I saw Robyn all smiles and cheer. Wow. What a feeling. She was bright eyed and bushy tailed and cheering and shouting "you can do it" and "the finish line is right there!". Wow. Now who wouldn't want to put on the steam with that kind of show? I did. I pulled out all the stops and moved my pace from 8:01 / mile to the whopping 7:59 / mile and did I feel it.
When I crossed the finish line the shirtless pace maker had crossed a few seconds before me. We exchange high-fives. He said he knew I was back there and he was afraid he'd get passed. I thanked him for keeping me on pace.
It was an excellent race. 3:20 is the Boston qualifying cut-off for men my age - 40 at the time of this race - so now I have officially qualified for Boston.
As some of you know the process for getting into the Boston Marathon has gotten very complicated. This year the race "sold out" in a mere 8 hours. So I don't think I'll be in a hurry to get into the queue for next year and I'm definitely not running Boston this year but I will "retire" from marathons comfortably knowing that I did, in fact, make the qualifying time for Boston.
The ride home was tricky - Patriots traffic on 495 - otherwise the evening was as calm and easy going as you can expect for a Halloween night where both parents were away for the whole day. Candy was handed out until about 8:30. I fell promptly to sleep at 8:32 and, despite my best effort to rise from bed and go to work, slept through most of Monday. And then again on Friday.
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Type A Endurance and Muscle Fibers
For about 10 years I've been actively running. I started out at 5 - 10 miles per week and just last week I crossed the 60 mile mark. That was my most mileage for a single 7 day period. On the one hand, it's "Yay Me!", on the other it's "I need a nap".
Over the past few days I've done a bit of reading about running and training and muscle fibers and depression (yes, depression). It turns out that a common symptom of overtraining is depression. Type A personalities in particular are prone to it. We Type A's tend to think that "more is better" in most situations and wind up over training at the expense of our overall health.
So the good news is this. Exercise is recreational. It's purpose - for me - is to clear my head. When I start to feel that exercise is no longer clearing my head but in fact clouding it, I take a day off. Even better news is that's what the literature recommends. Instead of getting yourself into a 7 day strenuous workout cycle, plan a day or so off per week. Then there's the ever-elusive cross training.
I'll be the first to admit that my favorite form of excercie includes a few miles of open road and a nice pair of shoes. All those weights and yoga-mats and classes are just baggage for me. Sometimes though, when I'm feeling extra spunky or the sore toes are too cumbersome, I'll break out the bike and do a 6 mile loop. Or if I'm extra crazy I'll hit the weights (10 pounders of course) and then do some core work.
This year the marathon training plan is to run about 50 miles per week with a mixture of long runs (15 - 21 miles) and speed work. This article in Runner's World summarizes it well. Looking at it again, I see it's about 6 years old. Oh well, looks like I'm training with a stale plan.
This morning I ran an easy 3 followed by a hard 2.5 (I was targetting 6 but started out too fast). Then in the evening I did track work with a friend. 10x100meters at a 6:15 pace. The fist 4 laps were nice and the one minute cool down between each lap was good but the last 6 laps were tough. The one minute cool down got shorter and shorter as the lap count went up. Oh, and while we were running around the track, the girls field hockey team was practicing. We had to jump a few times to dodge a stray shot. Yikes.
With a fixed schedule (both marathon training and speed work) I can keep my eyes on the distant prize and not get too caught up in the "more is better" mentality. Fixing the schedule is tough though so I've been spending about 30 minutes on Sunday's to review the last week, compare against my goals, and sketch out a schedule for the upcoming week.
When it comes to muscle fibers, I recently learned that there are three major groups of muscle tissues. Fast twitch, medium twitch, and slow twitch. The really important detail here is that each group needs a different style of training. There are dozens of training styles out there but this one breaks down like this:
This is really nice to know as it gives me an incentive to mixup the training throughout the week. I've been too comfortable running longer and longer. Now with these new (and simple) guidelines, my routine will become less routine.
Back to the depression. Well running is hard work and sometimes hard work can be a bit overwhelming. I've found that keeping a clear head about running is mostly about reminding myself why I'm there in the first place. I run to clear my head! To keep my motivation up, I like to run 2 - 6 races per year. Typically I'll run two marathons and a few shorter races. The races give me a goal to shoot for and sometimes, the simplest goal to pursue is "go faster". As with all goals worthy of pursuit, my go-faster-goals are generally non-trival.
Too many times I've set goals too high or let my attention drift off to other projects - sometimes both - and the "go faster" goals have taken a back seat. Each time, I still finished my race and was pleased with the result.
So, the long and short is this: run for the sake of running. It's fun and healty. If you want to go faster, set a realistic goal, pick a training program, and stick with it.
I keep finding more things in life that are like this. Running has been an excellent life coach.
Over the past few days I've done a bit of reading about running and training and muscle fibers and depression (yes, depression). It turns out that a common symptom of overtraining is depression. Type A personalities in particular are prone to it. We Type A's tend to think that "more is better" in most situations and wind up over training at the expense of our overall health.
So the good news is this. Exercise is recreational. It's purpose - for me - is to clear my head. When I start to feel that exercise is no longer clearing my head but in fact clouding it, I take a day off. Even better news is that's what the literature recommends. Instead of getting yourself into a 7 day strenuous workout cycle, plan a day or so off per week. Then there's the ever-elusive cross training.
I'll be the first to admit that my favorite form of excercie includes a few miles of open road and a nice pair of shoes. All those weights and yoga-mats and classes are just baggage for me. Sometimes though, when I'm feeling extra spunky or the sore toes are too cumbersome, I'll break out the bike and do a 6 mile loop. Or if I'm extra crazy I'll hit the weights (10 pounders of course) and then do some core work.
This year the marathon training plan is to run about 50 miles per week with a mixture of long runs (15 - 21 miles) and speed work. This article in Runner's World summarizes it well. Looking at it again, I see it's about 6 years old. Oh well, looks like I'm training with a stale plan.
This morning I ran an easy 3 followed by a hard 2.5 (I was targetting 6 but started out too fast). Then in the evening I did track work with a friend. 10x100meters at a 6:15 pace. The fist 4 laps were nice and the one minute cool down between each lap was good but the last 6 laps were tough. The one minute cool down got shorter and shorter as the lap count went up. Oh, and while we were running around the track, the girls field hockey team was practicing. We had to jump a few times to dodge a stray shot. Yikes.
With a fixed schedule (both marathon training and speed work) I can keep my eyes on the distant prize and not get too caught up in the "more is better" mentality. Fixing the schedule is tough though so I've been spending about 30 minutes on Sunday's to review the last week, compare against my goals, and sketch out a schedule for the upcoming week.
When it comes to muscle fibers, I recently learned that there are three major groups of muscle tissues. Fast twitch, medium twitch, and slow twitch. The really important detail here is that each group needs a different style of training. There are dozens of training styles out there but this one breaks down like this:
- long easy runs train your slow twitch fibers - go too fast and you lose the benefit
- short fast (30-60s) bursts train your fast twitch fibers - go too long and you get less
- medium fast (60-90s) bursts train your medium twitch fibers
This is really nice to know as it gives me an incentive to mixup the training throughout the week. I've been too comfortable running longer and longer. Now with these new (and simple) guidelines, my routine will become less routine.
Back to the depression. Well running is hard work and sometimes hard work can be a bit overwhelming. I've found that keeping a clear head about running is mostly about reminding myself why I'm there in the first place. I run to clear my head! To keep my motivation up, I like to run 2 - 6 races per year. Typically I'll run two marathons and a few shorter races. The races give me a goal to shoot for and sometimes, the simplest goal to pursue is "go faster". As with all goals worthy of pursuit, my go-faster-goals are generally non-trival.
Too many times I've set goals too high or let my attention drift off to other projects - sometimes both - and the "go faster" goals have taken a back seat. Each time, I still finished my race and was pleased with the result.
So, the long and short is this: run for the sake of running. It's fun and healty. If you want to go faster, set a realistic goal, pick a training program, and stick with it.
I keep finding more things in life that are like this. Running has been an excellent life coach.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
iPhone 2G
Alas, after 6 or 7 take-apart and repair cycles it is finally time to retire my iPhone 2G. Initial outlay when I bought it used was only $100. Since then I've put another $100 in parts for repairs. Not too bad for 18 months of service. The latest issue is with the digitizer. A dead spot showed up on the screen and I could no longer dial 6 on the keypad. it seemed to grow too and became worse with time.
Today I attempted to repair the digitizer by installing a new one and broke the LCD in the process. Bummer.
So, perhaps the 2G will find it's way to someone else's parts pile via eBay.
Bye-bye 2G.
Today I attempted to repair the digitizer by installing a new one and broke the LCD in the process. Bummer.
So, perhaps the 2G will find it's way to someone else's parts pile via eBay.
Bye-bye 2G.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
The frog and the pond
We have a pond in the back yard. It's about 20" deep, 7' wide, and has three tiers. Lots and lots of rocks too.
When we put our pool up two years ago, I was so inspired by the digging and water features that digging a pond felt like a good idea too. Digging began and before too long I realized that although it would be neat to have a small and easy to dig pond, it would be neater to have a big pond, even if it were hard to dig.
So, I put the digging on hold and explored the cost of making a big pond.
After a few quick rounds with the web browser and some visits to the local pond supply stores, I determined that $500 was the minimum entry point for new materials to make a big pond. This was more than I spent on the pool and I was not up for that kind of expense. Yet.
The pond could wait.
Now and then I would look at Craigslist to seek out a cheap pond deal. This year I struck gold. First, there were several pre-formed pond liners available, and second, the price was right. The pre-formed liner gives the huge benefit of providing defined structure. In the area where I was digging, the structure did not lend itself to a pond. It was more of a puddle with some trees nearby. By putting the preformed liner in place, I quick know how deep to dig, how wide to make it, and when to stop. Very nice.
Within about 24 hours of bringing the liner home, I had water and fish in it. As the pond was still not quite "ready", the fish went back into the house for the night.
Things were coming along well now. Over the next few weeks there were a few more rocks to move, tree pruning adventures, a short battle with a pole saw and seven stitches in my forehead, and finally a trip to the fish store for plants and fish.
We went to Uncle Ned's in Medway. They have a big selection and no pretence on presentation. That always gives me the feeling that I'm not paying to much.
We bought two little plants, two little fish, one snail, one tadpole, and one mostly formed frog.
Uncle Ned requested that we let the plants and fish out of their travel bags as soon as we got home. This did not happen for the frogs. The pond where the frogs were to live needed about 2 hours of renovation before the frogs could move in. This meant a much longer stay in the bag.
We moved rocks, installed a new pond liner, stirred up lots of water, and got a filter going to clear the water. Then it was time to let the frogs out. The tadpole was spunky as ever and swam quickly to the bottom of the newly-relined pond. The frog was almost gone. I coaxed him back to life with CPR (no frog kissing mind you, he was on his own if it came to that). He hopped a few times, and with the girls watching, we figured all was good and the frog was in the clear. So we put him by the pond where he twitched and squirmed a few more times before settling in.
Then he stopped squirming. I picked him up again. Spoke to him. Sang a song or two. CPR (again). No more jumping. No more squirming. Nothing. It took us a long time to accept it and it took me a longer time to forgive myself but the frog did die.
We dug a little hole, put him inside, and said goodbye.
The pond is looking good and, if all goes well, the tadpole will grow nicely into a happy frog. About 15 feet from the pond is a small oak tree with some fresh soil turned up by the base. This is the resting place of the frog that lasted just long enough to see what the new pond-home looked like. But not long enough to swim in it.
When we put our pool up two years ago, I was so inspired by the digging and water features that digging a pond felt like a good idea too. Digging began and before too long I realized that although it would be neat to have a small and easy to dig pond, it would be neater to have a big pond, even if it were hard to dig.
So, I put the digging on hold and explored the cost of making a big pond.
After a few quick rounds with the web browser and some visits to the local pond supply stores, I determined that $500 was the minimum entry point for new materials to make a big pond. This was more than I spent on the pool and I was not up for that kind of expense. Yet.
The pond could wait.
Now and then I would look at Craigslist to seek out a cheap pond deal. This year I struck gold. First, there were several pre-formed pond liners available, and second, the price was right. The pre-formed liner gives the huge benefit of providing defined structure. In the area where I was digging, the structure did not lend itself to a pond. It was more of a puddle with some trees nearby. By putting the preformed liner in place, I quick know how deep to dig, how wide to make it, and when to stop. Very nice.
Within about 24 hours of bringing the liner home, I had water and fish in it. As the pond was still not quite "ready", the fish went back into the house for the night.
Things were coming along well now. Over the next few weeks there were a few more rocks to move, tree pruning adventures, a short battle with a pole saw and seven stitches in my forehead, and finally a trip to the fish store for plants and fish.
We went to Uncle Ned's in Medway. They have a big selection and no pretence on presentation. That always gives me the feeling that I'm not paying to much.
We bought two little plants, two little fish, one snail, one tadpole, and one mostly formed frog.
Uncle Ned requested that we let the plants and fish out of their travel bags as soon as we got home. This did not happen for the frogs. The pond where the frogs were to live needed about 2 hours of renovation before the frogs could move in. This meant a much longer stay in the bag.
We moved rocks, installed a new pond liner, stirred up lots of water, and got a filter going to clear the water. Then it was time to let the frogs out. The tadpole was spunky as ever and swam quickly to the bottom of the newly-relined pond. The frog was almost gone. I coaxed him back to life with CPR (no frog kissing mind you, he was on his own if it came to that). He hopped a few times, and with the girls watching, we figured all was good and the frog was in the clear. So we put him by the pond where he twitched and squirmed a few more times before settling in.
Then he stopped squirming. I picked him up again. Spoke to him. Sang a song or two. CPR (again). No more jumping. No more squirming. Nothing. It took us a long time to accept it and it took me a longer time to forgive myself but the frog did die.
We dug a little hole, put him inside, and said goodbye.
The pond is looking good and, if all goes well, the tadpole will grow nicely into a happy frog. About 15 feet from the pond is a small oak tree with some fresh soil turned up by the base. This is the resting place of the frog that lasted just long enough to see what the new pond-home looked like. But not long enough to swim in it.
Boston 2010
Ran the Boston Marathon again this year. This was my fourth consecutive Boston and my ninth marathon in 5 years. I started running marathons in 2005 and have a vision of running my 70th marathon on my 70th birthday. If I run two marathons a year, and perhaps an extra here or there for good luck, I can see that vision come to fruition.
Boston this year had all the makings of a PR race (that's personal record). There was a tail wind, a slight cloud cover, good temperature, and an excellent support crowd.
The day started out with the standards - fun visiting with fellow runners at runners village, chit-chat on the bus heading into Hopkinton, nice warm-up walk to the start line, and excellent weather. The forecast called for rain early in the day but that did not happen.
For the first 10 miles, I ran with a first-time marathoner who was targeting a pace near mine. We chatted and cheered each other on. Around mile 7, my neighbours cheered and shouted and after I was about 30 yards passed them, I noticed. Just in time to look back and give them a big wave and smile. Not long after, I passed between a few runners and a person on the left ran in front of me at the same time. This pushed my into to one of the people I just passed and they stepped on my shoe. Flat tire. Fortunately, I was able jam my foot back into my shoe without breaking stride. This felt like a huge accomplishment, one for which I rewarded myself by running another 16 miles.
The next three miles were run alone, no particular running partner at this point and it was time to start looking for Robyn and the girls. They were waiting for me near mile 13 in Wellesley. When I found them they took my jacket - way too warm for a coat - and gave me a snack. They had fun banners and posters and "go Bill", "you can do it Dad!" signs. Very cool. If I didn't have 13 miles to go, I would have ridden home with them. Not a good sign for marathon pace so I pushed passed the temptation.
Around mile 14 I met my friend Helen who called my name as I ran passed her. We ran together for a short bit then I resumed my normal pace. Also around this time I started feeling my toenails. They began to hurt. I also had lost some of the excited spark that I usually carry well into the last 3 or so miles. This I attributed to two things: 1) ibuprofen before the race; and 2) recovery drink before the race. It's not clear how either of these contributed but I figure each has the job of shutting things down so you can heal and that's the opposite of what you need to run fast.
Miles 15 through 21 are the approach to and cresting of heartbreak hill. This is the 2nd year in a row that I faced heartbreak hill and the approach with a steady and strong pace. Crossing the top of the last hill near mile 21 I shouted "you just finished heartbreak hill" to all the folks around me and gave a big cheer.
Now the last 6 miles of any marathon are frequently thought of as the second marathon. Boston is definitely that way too. The 5.2 miles from the top of heartbreak to the finish line are some of the hardest miles to endure. For my particular race, my toes were in a very bad way and had lots of unpleasant things to say about me. Were I in a better frame of mind, I would have stopped and taken off my socks to give my toes some room. I did not.
As I ran through the colleges, there was lots of cheering. Lots of whooping and "you can do it" and a few too many drunk college students stepping into the road. It is very hard to change course - even just a few inches - after running for so long.
The finish line was a easy crossing this time. I had paced myself well and although I was hopeful of a PR, the extended time getting to the start line and the slow pace for the first 6 miles put a dent in the pace that I could not knock back. Also, what later proved to be 6 bruised toenails did not bring any extra speed to the show either. So the finish line crossing, although easy, was not a record breaker. 3 hours, 46 minutes.
Most likely, this is not my last marathon. Most likely, I'll run another 61 marathons in the next 30 years. Most likely, I'll feel the thrill of running another marathon this fall. It's in my blood. And there will be no pre-race ibuprofen, pre-race recovery drink, or extra thick socks.
Boston this year had all the makings of a PR race (that's personal record). There was a tail wind, a slight cloud cover, good temperature, and an excellent support crowd.
The day started out with the standards - fun visiting with fellow runners at runners village, chit-chat on the bus heading into Hopkinton, nice warm-up walk to the start line, and excellent weather. The forecast called for rain early in the day but that did not happen.
For the first 10 miles, I ran with a first-time marathoner who was targeting a pace near mine. We chatted and cheered each other on. Around mile 7, my neighbours cheered and shouted and after I was about 30 yards passed them, I noticed. Just in time to look back and give them a big wave and smile. Not long after, I passed between a few runners and a person on the left ran in front of me at the same time. This pushed my into to one of the people I just passed and they stepped on my shoe. Flat tire. Fortunately, I was able jam my foot back into my shoe without breaking stride. This felt like a huge accomplishment, one for which I rewarded myself by running another 16 miles.
The next three miles were run alone, no particular running partner at this point and it was time to start looking for Robyn and the girls. They were waiting for me near mile 13 in Wellesley. When I found them they took my jacket - way too warm for a coat - and gave me a snack. They had fun banners and posters and "go Bill", "you can do it Dad!" signs. Very cool. If I didn't have 13 miles to go, I would have ridden home with them. Not a good sign for marathon pace so I pushed passed the temptation.
Around mile 14 I met my friend Helen who called my name as I ran passed her. We ran together for a short bit then I resumed my normal pace. Also around this time I started feeling my toenails. They began to hurt. I also had lost some of the excited spark that I usually carry well into the last 3 or so miles. This I attributed to two things: 1) ibuprofen before the race; and 2) recovery drink before the race. It's not clear how either of these contributed but I figure each has the job of shutting things down so you can heal and that's the opposite of what you need to run fast.
Miles 15 through 21 are the approach to and cresting of heartbreak hill. This is the 2nd year in a row that I faced heartbreak hill and the approach with a steady and strong pace. Crossing the top of the last hill near mile 21 I shouted "you just finished heartbreak hill" to all the folks around me and gave a big cheer.
Now the last 6 miles of any marathon are frequently thought of as the second marathon. Boston is definitely that way too. The 5.2 miles from the top of heartbreak to the finish line are some of the hardest miles to endure. For my particular race, my toes were in a very bad way and had lots of unpleasant things to say about me. Were I in a better frame of mind, I would have stopped and taken off my socks to give my toes some room. I did not.
As I ran through the colleges, there was lots of cheering. Lots of whooping and "you can do it" and a few too many drunk college students stepping into the road. It is very hard to change course - even just a few inches - after running for so long.
The finish line was a easy crossing this time. I had paced myself well and although I was hopeful of a PR, the extended time getting to the start line and the slow pace for the first 6 miles put a dent in the pace that I could not knock back. Also, what later proved to be 6 bruised toenails did not bring any extra speed to the show either. So the finish line crossing, although easy, was not a record breaker. 3 hours, 46 minutes.
Most likely, this is not my last marathon. Most likely, I'll run another 61 marathons in the next 30 years. Most likely, I'll feel the thrill of running another marathon this fall. It's in my blood. And there will be no pre-race ibuprofen, pre-race recovery drink, or extra thick socks.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Grammy's Birthday
We all drove to Delaware to help Myrna celebrate her 70th birthday. We even took a few pictures.
We played Wii-Rock-Band and ate cake and visited and it was a really great time.
Next time, we might leave the dog at home - she was a bit of a pain.
Here are some pictures.
And this link will take you to a Snapfish Photo Album where you can see even more photos!
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