Prerace

After all the prep and miles, the Shamrock is in the books. It was both wonderful and hard in almost equal measures. I had been watching the weather forecast since last weekend and it didn’t look good (though even a weatherman saying they know what will happen tomorrow typically shouldn’t be trusted). Sunny days right up until Sunday when thunderstorms and wind was forecast. As the week went on it began changing subtly; by Wednesday they were scattered thunderstorms, by Thursday it was mostly cloudy with a 40% chance of rain, by Friday mostly sunny with a 20% chance of rain.

We traveled Saturday morning on a lovely day and got into our hotel at about 2:20. As luck would have it one of my favorite authors, Patrick Rothfuss, was in Virginia Beach for a signing. As luck would have it… I didn’t make it to see him. Just couldn’t work out the timing in order to get my race packet on time. So we settled in and then went to the convention center to get my packet. Julia documented the journey and captured me receiving my bib. Of course I had to wear my Marine Corps shirt. That’s just logical.

We spent the rest of the day playing on the beach with Julia. It was quite frigid with the wind — and the wind had me petrified for the following day — but we made the best of it. After that it was a pasta buffet at the hotel — not great, not horrible — and an attempt at sleep. Attempt.

Race day

Sunday dawned — after a frankly miserable night of sleep — with no clouds and temperatures ranging from 50 to a bit over 70 through the race. I got suited up and headed to the starting line a little over a mile and a half down the road. My mind wandered quite a bit trying to get over the anxiety. For the Marine Corps I had no expectations. My training had had too many setbacks to realistically shoot for anything but finishing. For Shamrock, I knew I’d done the distance. Now I wanted to shoot for time. 4 hours to be exact. My training had gone pretty well but a few minor setbacks caused me to miss some of my longer long runs. Would the training be enough?

The first half

I got to the starting line with about 10 minutes to spare. Yes, I cut it a bit close but I didn’t want to stand around for 40 minutes like I had for the MCM. So a nice brisk walk then 10 minutes of shuffling from foot to foot sounded okay to me. Right before the horn I pulled off my two overshirts and tied them around my waist — I would see Cat and Julia in just over 10 minutes so I could drop them off — and off we went.

I had a 9:00 minutes pace planned. It’s what I’ve been training with forever. Holding to that pace would beat 4 hours by a decent margin. Even if I fell off the pace some towards the end I had a good 5 minutes of leeway. I hit the first mile marker at 9:01. Not bad, I know my pace pretty well. The Garmin was having fun in the buildings but it was reasonably accurate until later. I saw my girls soon thereafter and gave them my spare shirts and got some nice love. Second mile hit at 8:57 then it was over the bridge, the one “hill” of the race, repeated twice. Truly it was nothing.

Around 5 miles in — splits of 8:57 and 8:59 for 3 and 4 — my bladder was quietly calling and I finally caved in. I waited for a portapotty, ran in when it opened and… stood there with my dong in my hand. Shy bladder. I couldn’t go. I looked down at my watch and gave up. Mile 5 split was 9:52, I had blown almost a minute for nothing. That was the last time I stopped to try to pee. It continued to call quietly but it never got bad and eventually left me alone. My pre-race plan and advice from others after my bladder problems in the MCM had me stop drinking 2 hours prior to the marathon and then start again after about 2 miles in. Looks like pretty sound advice.

My 6 mile split was 9:24 I guess from still having some pee break time, but that was also where the Garmin started playing with me. The turnaround between miles 5 and 6 threw me off by a tenth of a mile. It was fairly easy to adjust as I wasn’t trusting the Garmin’s actual paces but rather my manual splits crossing the official mile markers. A previous long run had taught me that.

Through Camp Pendleton I maintained pretty decent splits of 8:56, 8:56 and 8:57 which brought me back to the bridge at mile marker 9. No problem on the bridge this way either and it was nice to say bye to the only real incline. Mile 10 was a bit too fast at 8:51. I saw my girls again between the 10 and 11 mile markers on the boardwalk where Julia executed a precision bottle switch and banana handoff and off I went again hitting mile 11 in 8:52. This took us to the main road where most of the pain would occur. I hit 12 in 8:59 which is about where I wanted to be. I hit the half marathon point at 1:58:44 which is pretty much on course especially given my bladder bust. For perspective, I hit the halfway point at the Marine Corps Marathon in 2:10:32.

That just leaves the second half. Gulp.

The second half

All along this section of the race is the last half of both the marathon and the half marathon coming towards you on the right side of the lane. The slower runners and walkers were just hitting the final miles of their races. So I did what I do: cheered them. Every name I could read off the front of the bib I’d cheer them. “That’s the way, Barb!” “Almost there, Don!” I didn’t cheer the ones with headphones; I didn’t wear headphones because they’re forbidden so if I don’t get to use the crutch those who did don’t get my support. This was a great distraction but I have a feeling it cost me somewhat in energy. Who knows. It still felt good to give some folks a pick-me-up.

I hit the next splits in 8:58, 8:59, 8:59, 9:00 and 8:58. That gets us to mile marker 17 and the end of the good portion of the race. The rest of the day was a giant pile of suck. I hit about 17 and a quarter and didn’t feel right. I normally maintain a 2-steps-in-3-steps-out breathing cadence when I’m at pace except for hills. I couldn’t do that anymore. I felt a bit light-headed and tingly. I didn’t want to walk but I did. It’s kind of obvious to see when you chart my average heartrate over the race. From about 1:30 in up until the 17 mile marker my heartrate was on a ramp up to 172. That’s high for me. I was just beat. I don’t really know why, whether it was the slight gradual incline to it or “wasting” my breath on cheering others, or whether it was the fact that the temperatures were higher than any I’d trained in since the MCM. I just did not feel right.

I didn’t walk for long but the pattern was set in motion. The 18 mile marker showed up at 9:46. 19 miles at 9:44. 20 at 9:51. I wasn’t running much slower but I had to walk. I’d just get beaten back down again. I had been hydrating like a mother the whole time, with a total of 48 ounces that I carried on me and I grabbed extra water at the aid stations. I had electrolytes from an S-Cap I took before the race and one mixed into my mid-race bottle. I carried a total of 7 Gu gels and had a banana at 10.5 in. I should have been adequately prepared… but I wasn’t for some reason. I know there’s a mental aspect as well as physical, but when I wasn’t feeling good I really wasn’t. I thought a number of times of calling it a day at a medical tent but I found just enough to keep going.

Then the 4 hour pace group passed me at mile 21 (10:03 split). I knew they were back there. I’d seen them at the start and at the turnaround prior to Camp Pendleton. I knew it was a matter of time. And during a walking break there they went. I knew I couldn’t do any more 9:09 splits. 4 hours was gone. I called Cat and told her that I was pretty beat and that I wouldn’t be there at 4 hours. I was going to finish but I didn’t know how long it would take. She gave me as much support as I could hope for and I was grateful. I started running again. 22 miles appeared in 11:39, the worst split of the day.

I picked it up as much as I could. Miles 23, 24 and 25 were hard miles. There was a fairly stiff headwind blowing sporadically that really wore us down. The crowds were starting to get there again and many people helped my spirits. Once I reached the turn to get onto the boardwalk I just went. I could finally see the finish line. At that point that was all I cared about. I hit 26 miles at 10:07 and found Cat and Julia waving and cheering. They hadn’t seen me finish the MCM but they were able to see this one. I gave Julia a high five and concentrated on putting one in front of the other. That final fifth of a mile looked long but I knew that it was almost over.

And then it was over. I remembered to smile. I remember to hit the stop button on the Garmin. 4:08:19 officially. A bit over 22 minutes faster than my MCM time. Not quite my goal, but a good time. I claimed my finisher medal and walked slowly forward through the volunteers, grabbing some water, getting a banana, getting some pretzels and a cookie. I thanked all of the volunteers I dealt with and eventually made my way out and found my girls who gave me all the love and encouragement I could hope for. At one point I told Cat to please remind me in the future when I say I want to do another one that I don’t want to run another marathon. Might have been the pain and disappointment talking. A long stroll back to the hotel along the water with my shoes off was the cap to a pretty memorable day.

Afterthoughts

The race was really wonderfully run. The swag was awesome: a long-sleeve tech shirt for registering, a tech hat and long-sleeve T for finishing and, of course, a medal. All of them are really wonderful bits of swag. The race course was clearly marked and the aid stations were both plentiful and well staffed. Everyone was supportive and enthusiastic.

My shirt was a success. I had a lot of people around me laugh at the joke on the back. I had several who told me my father would be proud which admittedly made me choke up a bit every time. One man told me my father had a good son. That got me too. The front of the shirt was just as good. Though the organizers were smart enough to put first names on the bibs to make it easier for everyone, I had a lot of people saying “Hi Brian!” or “Keep smiling, Brian” or some nice thing to say. That helped quite a bit.

I actually feel pretty good today. I felt better after this race than after the MCM, and that’s with another mile and a half or so walk along the beach back to the hotel. I drove us home today and I don’t feel any stiffer than I usually do after a long run. Maybe that means my problems are mental. Maybe not.

It was a good race. I feel good about my time, though I didn’t meet my goal. Will I run another? Never say never.

My rather short-lived 2nd gen iPod Shuffle won’t sync anymore. It won’t even attach over USB. It attaches, detaches, attaches, detaches, etc, forever. It’s not the cable since I can unplug mine and plug in Cat’s just fine. It’s started doing this recently and I was able to recover it previously after futzing with a few hours. No joy this time. I got it last year to run with because it’s tiny and worked. The whole “working” part is a relatively important requirement that I have with my devices, so I needed an alternative to the non-working one.

I almost ordered a new Shuffle, complete with asinine cable-mounted controls which precludes using anything but Shuffle-oriented headphones. Then I sat back and thought. I don’t need an iPod. I loathe the Apple-mandated “thou shalt sync with one computer” since I’m regularly on either my home machine or my work machine and if I want to jam a new song on there at either place Apple would rather I did not. I simply need a small MP3 player.

Enter the SanDisk Sansa Clip+. I got a 4G one (because Best Buy doesn’t carry the 2G one) for less than the cost of a 2G iPod Shuffle. And for my money I get a player that has a (small) screen, has an FM tuner (useful for those YMCA workouts when I want to listen in to the TV feeds), has a programmable equalizer, can be expanded with SD cards, can be used with any earbuds known to man, is compatible with Rhapsody 2 Go if I ever want to go back, and which is mountable on any PC.

And yet the Shuffle outsells it by some insane factor, I’m sure. Oh well. I for one welcome my new workout buddy.

My brain is weird. I just completed my second-to-last prep run before the Shamrock Marathon this Sunday, a short 6x400m interval. Thursday I’ll complete another short tempo run of 3 miles at race pace. I’ve trained for this thing for months… and now I have trepidation and fear I’m not going to finish while meeting my goals.

I went to a concert last night with my wife and a couple of friends and as I was driving us all back at midnight it dawned on me that this Sunday I’d be running for a longer period of time than had passed since I started hearing music earlier that evening. That’s daunting. We had an hour and a half drive back from the venue and I looked down at the Garmin and saw that I had 14 miles to the next turn. I could picture that turn ahead and the distance to it and it again hit me that I’d be running right past that distance and on for another 12 miles. What the hell?

I think it’ll be triathlons in the future. Obviously, never say never. But marathon distance I don’t think will ever be a comfortable distance.

Insert humor here

I had another shirt printed up for this race after lessons learned from my previous one. Last time, for the Marine Corps Marathon, my shirt only had text on the front and that text was quite small. (Click for a bigger image.) While running I saw many shirts… from the back, with messages that either humored me or touched me or at least distracted me. My shirt, on the other hand, was almost useless. The only people that would see me from the front were the crowds and they wouldn’t have time to read it. Obviously that didn’t work.

This time I have text on the front and back. Here’s the front:

That’s for the crowds which will hopefully be out in force in places. I figure if I can provide some humor for them they’ll be on my side. Here’s the back:

I still run in memory of my dad so I wanted to continue that. My wife asked if I was always going to leave that on there and I guess my response is “until there’s someone else that should be there.” The other thing was an effort to give those behind me a little something to hopefully take their minds off things for a few seconds. I remember many of the peoples’ shirts and signs during the MCM that provided much-needed levity and this was the funniest thing I could think of to put on mine.

It’s especially appropriate given my own reactions to this final week. Hopefully I won’t be a basket case by Sunday morning.

I notice my daughter looking at my toes. They’re particularly gnarly recently. My left big toe alone sports three independent blisters including one on the interior that’s fantastic in both size and color. Its nail is cut roughly diagonally as it’s half dead. Two of my other nails on that foot are a fascinating shade of purple. The right foot is currently faring better with a mere half-lifted remnant nail over a nail bud on the pointer toe. I’m sure they’re a sight.

“Oh don’t look at my ugly toes,” I said.

“They’re not ugly, daddy.”

“Look at mommy’s toes, they’re much prettier.”

“But hers are just pink. Yours are all sorts of colors.”

Indeed they are.

Had one final 20 miler this weekend before my taper for Shamrock on the 21st. I needed some confidence from my run. I was scheduled at MP+15 (9:15) pace. My previous 20 miler had gone just ok. I finished with 19.4 on the Garmin and waffled at the end. I just didn’t have the will to complete it. I needed my final 20 before the Shamrock taper to be good. I got decent carbs yesterday and pre-run, had hydrated pretty well for the past 3 days and had everything ready. I just needed to do it.

I did the first 7 out and back from the parking lot and grabbed a banana off the top of my car and swapped my empty bottle out with a spare and kept going. I wasn’t going to let hydration or lack of carbs bonk me today, by god. At mile 8 I decided I was going to add a mile. I’d short-shifted my previous 20, I’ll grab an extra mile just to tell my body who’s boss. So I ran down to the 10.5 mile marker and turned around for the return trip. I was essentially on a metronome, staying within 60 feet of my Garmin virtual training partner the whole way. I never let myself into the black but I usually don’t mind going up to 100 or 200 feet ahead. Not today, I kept it on pace.

I finished my final Clif shot — note to self: buy more Gu… Clif Shots are yucky — at the 17 mile mark and kept going. I was completely looking forward to the final incline — not so much to enjoy it as to enjoy being done with it — and kept pace up it which brought me to 2.5 miles out. At the 1.5 mile marker I got soundly passed by another long runner, friendly guy and I told him to keep it up. Just before I hit the final mile I decided I was going to rope him in. I did just that at the 0.5 marker — averaging about 7:40 over the final mile — and talked with him a bit.

“Last mile is always welcome,” I said.

“I wish. I still have a long way to go.”

“How far into it are you?” I asked. We’re still pulling a bit under 8:00 pace. Talking. Who the hell is this crazy guy running my 21? Can’t be me.

“9 miles into 22,” he said. “You?”

“Final mile of 21. You training for anything?”

“Yes, the Tobacco Road marathon,” he said, which is the new local event right there on my home trail. “Are you?”

“Yeah, Shamrock in Virginia Beach. Found out about Tobacco Road after I’d signed up for Shamrock.” Which is mostly true, but I was nervous about an inaugural event and I need a bit more course support — people shouting my name enthusiastically, endless adoring adulation etc, etc — so I opted for Shamrock.

“Let me see if I can finish this up right, have a good one,” I said as I picked it up again. That final push was in the 7:20 range.

There’s a confidence builder! No wall for me today. Now I get to take it relatively easy — 13 miles at MP for the long run next week and 8-10 at MP the week after — and get the legs rested for Shamrock. I feel good about it, though!