|Say goodbye to normal Daddy kids. Next time you see me I will be agony Daddy!|
All the hoopla was over. In the end it is about the distance. I lined up at the start line in the 10+ minute mile section. A man wearing a large, inflated green suit trotted past me to the front. Turns out it was Mr. The Oatmeal going up to address the runners before the start.
|I was at the front of the 10+ minute mile group|
The first thing I noticed was the gravel. I run in the Vibram Five Fingers. There is no padding in there at all. The first 1/2 mile or so was on pavement and then it transitioned into gravel, then hard packed earth with a sprinkling of gravel over that. The old feet were noticing the lack of padding. Oh well.
You know what? Running a long distance can be a little boring to write about. I put one foot in front of the other for a long time.
I noticed a blonde woman running in my vicinity who was wearing a Tough Mudder t-shirt. I asked her about it and it turned out she was from the Netherlands and had done Tough Mudder Amsterdam. Her name was Ava. This was her second marathon. We ran together for a few miles and talked about Tough Mudders. For those that don't recall, I did a couple of those too.
At this race, the full marathon folks left 30 minutes before the half marathon folks. The full course ran out and turned left to run for a couple of miles before turning around and backtracking to the original left turn and continuing on. The timing worked out so that when we got back on the main course, we were behind most of the half marathon runners. We fought through the traffic for a few miles. Somewhere around here Ava decided to cut her pace down a little bit. I decided to press on and try to keep my pace steady for as long as I could. I bid her good bye and said I would probably see her later. I was right.
|Passing a bunch of half marathon people.|
|I believe she was asking about the shoes|
|"Seriously? What were you thinking?"|
|See me smiling? We will see who has the last laugh. (Hint: It was her.)|
A fun note. Starting around 10 miles, the aid stations sprouted a new feature. They had a couch...and a Blerch. Yup, someone dressed in a Blerch outfit, complete with large droopy nipples, would sidle up to you and start talking.
"Hey, that looks like it hurts. You should probably stop."
"I have a couch over here, and cake."
They did indeed have cake. Large pieces of birthday cake stuffed in cups. I declined. But, I did run over and sit for a moment on a sweaty and disgusting couch. Not for long though, I got back to running. It was fun though, playing at exhaustion and mocking the Blerch.
I felt good. I felt much better than I ever had at these distances. When I passed the half marathon marker, I was at around 1:56. I was ahead of my pace and still feeling good. My mindset had been to keep my normal long run pace for as long as I could. This would put me in just shy of 4 hours. I figured that each mile I ran just under my target pace would be a few seconds slower I could run toward the end.
And I kept running up. At each aid station I was drinking water and picking up the offered energy gel pack. I wasn't eating the gels, I was just stashing them in case. I was trying to eat one gel per hour and take one or two small electrolyte drinks at each station. Things were going well. I was tired, but who wouldn't be? I reached the 15 mile mark and started back down.
I was starting to slow down. This was OK though, I knew I would. The unanticipated problem was the gravel strewn about the trail. Every other step was a rock under a now tender part of my foot. My legs were tired and I was going down hill too, so the steps were no longer light. It was devolving into something of a stomp, which wasn't helping. That's OK though. I passed through miles and aid stations. I ignored the Blerch and the couch and the cake. I was too tired to mock.
Then, around 20.5 miles in or so, something happened. It was farther than I had ever run before and my body figured that out. My run dropped to a shuffle and soon, a walk/run mix. Everything from the waist down hurt. If I could just manage a 10 minute mile pace from mile 22 on, I would still break 4 hours. By the time I struggled into mile 22, the question wasn't so much if I could manage a 10 minute mile, but could I walk? I stopped to stretch a little and the question became, can I stand?
I'll be honest. If a taxi cab had driven by right then, it would have been over. Hell, someone friendly looking on horseback could have made a few bucks. (Oddly, I had passed two people on horseback around mile 17.) For some strange reason, I kept shuffling. Then Ava reappeared. She looked at me and asked, "What the hell man?" I told her I was cramping up. I don't know if that is what was happening, but something nasty was going on. She decided to pace me for a while. So, I started running again, albeit slowly and intermittently. This is when she decided to tell me more about her first marathon. She had finished in 3:50. She also lost consciousness at the finish line. This marathon was to prove to herself she could run the race and no pass out after. So she was a little worried about me. We kept at it until mile 23.4. This is where I started throwing up.
Yup, all that sports gel and electrolyte drink came back up all over the side of the trail.
Tasted about the same.
At the next aid station, the Blerch was actually tempting me. Screw it. They have a couch and beverages and could probably give me a ride back when it was over. But no.
I felt a little better. I started jogging again and Ava ran with me. Somewhere around mile 25 she must have decided I would survive and she ran on ahead. Ava, if you are out there...thanks. I was going way slow and moistly walking. Then this guy showed up, he was just shuffling along, barely picking up his feet. For some reason, the idea of this guy beating me was just too much to bear. So I ran again. Briefly, I even got under 10 minutes a mile.
I was getting really hot. The temperature at the start of the race was around 60. By the end it had climbed to 83. That's not too bad if you are used to it. I am no longer used to it. The last mile of the course is running by a river with a bank just steep enough that I couldn't get down or I would have been in it for a minute. So I shuffled along and ran when I felt I could.
About this time I saw another course photographer.
|What the hell am I doing with my hands?|
|I don't look too bad here.|
|My form sucks, but, whatever.|
|Can't land on the balls of my feet anymore, they hurt too bad.|
|This is the picture of a struggling runner|
So I kept going.
I crossed the finish line in 4:30. Sarah and the boys were there to greet me, and who else?
Ruthie. She had worked all night, got 2-3 hours of sleep and driven two hours to come watch me finish the race. As soon as I crossed the line, I walked off to the side and sprawled out on the ground. Sarah and they boys and Ruthie all got me water to drink. I was so dehydrated. I hadn't had anything since I threw up, my water bottles were empty. I knew I needed to slow down, but it tasted too good to stop. That's when I started throwing up again. Yep, right there at the finish line.
|Here I come!|
|Trying to run, shuffling instead.|
|Too tired to raise my arms in victory.|
|Not quite vomiting!|
Ruthie congratulated me on being a quiet puker.
The last little bit that came out was probably a berry energy gel I had eaten an hour or so before. IT was red. The paramedics came up and said they had a report of someone vomiting blood. I assured them I was going to survive and they relented.
Eventually I made it back up to my feet and to the truck. Sarah drove me back to Ruthie's where I sat in a cold tub of water for as long as I could stand it. I was advised to do so by more experienced runners.
That seemed to be enough. I took 4oo mg of ibuprofen that day and the same amount the next morning. I was a little stiff and sore, but nothing too outrageous. I guess that means I could have pushed harder. :-)
I will likely do another one some day. I want to break 4 hours. For now though, I will be satisfied with my race swag.
It was a great event in a beautiful place on a gorgeous day. I feel lucky to have been a part of it.