Head games

Have you ever had a bad feeling about a race? We all — well, most I guess — get typical pre-race flutters on race day. I can still recall with perfect clarity the almost panicked feeling I had standing in the starting corral of the Marine Corps Marathon in 2009. I was fine right up until the starting gun fired and I saw the runners ahead of me moving out under the bridge, then my heartrate leaped by 10 BPM immediately. The thought of all that effort I was about to put in for 4 hours was daunting and purely unpleasant.

I wasn’t panicked leading up to today, but I didn’t feel right. I hadn’t run a ton the preceding two weeks. Sure, you’re supposed to taper but I dropped off a cliff, logging maybe 20 miles total. Yesterday after packet pickup I decided to take a look at the back half of the race, a section of the area I’d never seen before. It did nothing to boost my confidence, with a seeming heartbreaker of an incline over a two mile stretch from about miles 9 to 11.

As is typical for me, I decided I would be okay if I didn’t PR. Who knows, maybe it’s half of my brain playing reverse psychology with the other half. I kept flopping back and forth in my head about being okay with anything under 2:00 and shooting for a PR.

Pre-race

I’m not the best morning person, but I’ve gotten better over the years with the steady training of my daughter. Having a child that pops awake at around 7:00am without fails will do that. So the alarm went off at 5:30 and I popped out of bed, got a quick “good luck” from Cat and made my way to get ready. I’ve at least worked out my hydration strategy for half marathons quite well, so I drank two big glasses of water while eating my toast and apple sauce about 2 hours before the gun time. I’ve found that that amount gets me a quick whiz right before the gun and hitting all but the last water stop during the race leaves me feeling good and, most importantly, doesn’t have me hitting portapotties — or trees — during the race.

I got to the RBC Center just before dawn and relaxed while I read for a while in the car. It drizzled on me on the way but that trailed off by the time I got there leaving a moist but cool morning at about 55 degrees which is frankly delightful racing weather. Near race time I got in line for the portapotties and did my business getting me to the starting line 5 minutes before race time. Perfect.

As I lined up I took stock of myself. I was amazingly calm. I had no jitters. I’ve done this distance many, many times, it held no power over me. Why not? Let’s shoot for a PR. And I had a pace picked out: 8:30. Might not seem fast, but that’s fairly aggressive for me. I’ve done tempo runs up to about 7 miles at 8:10 but they weren’t easy. They’re not supposed to be. 8:30 would knock about 4 minutes off my PR. In the back of my mind I allowed myself as slow as 8:40 because that would still beat my boss’ PR of 1:54:39. We don’t compete necessarily, but it’s the closest thing I have.

Down to business

Once I made the decision to go all that was left to do was do it. The Raleigh Rocks is a rolling course but has about 10% less elevation change than the Inside Out Classic. I hit the 2 mile marker with an average pace of 8:34, but those first 2 miles were a little rough as my legs got moving after my “taper”. This is not a crowd support course though there were clusters of enthusiastic family members at various places.

The course is a bit weird, covering one section of road 3 separate times. There are no loops per se but we end up visiting the RBC Center a couple of times before heading out around the NC State agricultural areas. As such, you see other runners both slower and faster a few times during the race. On the way out we caught a glimpse of the race leaders coming towards us twice. That’s always fun and we cheered them on and they cheered us on, the second place guy — a friggin’ Adonis, bare-chested and ripped — high-fiving me as we passed each other the first time.

I’ve mentioned before that I need crowd support and I do, but I managed. Parts of me thought about slowing down to 8:40 but the parts that wanted to pick it up won out and I covered the next 2 miles at 8:28 pace. I hit the water tables and grabbed a cup and walked for the length of time it took to down it, then it was back eating pavement.

I finally started getting my legs under me and getting happier at the half-way point. That came in about 56:16 which is around an 8:33 pace. There were several bands along the course playing more or less enthusiastically that always provided a nice little boost.

There’s a lovely little downhill I was looking forward to about 7 and a half miles in. The difference between this race and others is that I didn’t save up on the downhills. Normally I coast a bit and let my heartrate recover some but this time I used those downhills to shave some seconds. Admittedly, I wasn’t flying downhill but I wasn’t loafing either. I maintained on uphills and gained on downhills. However, on this particular downhill I did save some energy because that climb was coming.

The climb came a bit earlier than I thought it would. I was expecting it around 10 miles in but instead it showed up just before 9. That’s tough. Why? Because I didn’t think this was the incline. I thought it was an unexpected precursor and it took a bit of energy and optimism out of me. Then again, I was still doing pretty well overall. I had a bit under 4 miles to go and I knew this was one of the last climbs of the day. So I kept up the pace. There was a nice breather of a water stop at the 10 mile mark at the foot of the largest climb of the day. That marked the beginning of the end since there was a little 5K left.

At this point I started picking out people ahead of me that I wanted to catch. A girl that had been ahead of me since the first mile marker, a guy that had recently passed me. They were far enough ahead that it was a stretch but once I got to the top of the hill I knew I had it in the bag. I maintained an 8:35 pace up that climb which, for me, was something that late in a race.

I actually didn’t know what the last 2 miles looked like. I knew it was mostly downhill, so I picked up the pace. Mile 12 passed in 8:11. There were a few last unwelcome climbs in those last couple of miles but I was too close to care. Any surplus energy I had at the end would be a waste, right? At about 12.5 miles I actually saw Cat and Julia waving at me from the finish line. This seems simple, but the topology didn’t make it obvious. There was a little greenway that led from the road up to where the finish was that left an opening in the trees that looked down on the section of course I was on. Cat had positioned herself perfectly and it gave me a huge lift seeing them waving and knowing they’d be there at the finish.

The 13th mile passed in 8:07 and I finished very strong down the stretch. I saw my girls in the chute leading up to the finish and smiled and waved as I chugged along. I crossed the line and remembered to smile. And well I should. Official chip time was 1:51:55, almost 4 minutes off my old PR. Official pace came out to 8:33.

Post-race thoughts

My girls met me after the finish and we recovered and listened to some music while Julia danced (she simply cannot help it). I go back to my earlier thoughts about the race and wonder about how my mind works. Is it a defense mechanism? Is it the way I deal with my own expectations? Is it a way to temper my own disappointment if I don’t meet my expectations? I don’t know. Thinking back, I’ve done it for almost every race and so far I’m still PRing every race. That likely can’t last. Everyone has a bad race or a more challenging race and I will have one that changes my fortunes before too long. It’ll be interesting to see how I respond.

This was probably the best my body’s felt during a race. Aside from a bit of ankle tendon pain on my right angle late in the race I didn’t have any problems. My wind was good throughout. Races like this give me hope for a decent finish at the MCM this year. That’s my real goal. All these are just gravy.

Two weeks ago I put in a 12 mile long run. I didn’t think much of it at the time but I later realized that was the longest I’d run since the Inside-Out Classic Half back in May. Oh how the mighty have fallen. It’s easy to let life get in the way of training, and that’s part of it. I guess I lost my spark a bit as well given everything that happened recently. But, I had a race to do and I had run enough to do it. A quick preview of the course at packet pickup revealed what is, to me, a brutally hilly slog. Bear in mind, anything over a mole hill may as well be Mount Everest to me, though with my office’s recent move that will be rectified somewhat as my training runs will be hillier than they were. So I had already pretty much given up on a PR, relegating myself to accept any result as long as I finished. I knew that the amount of training I’d done wasn’t up to snuff, so having any expectations was hopelessly optimistic.

Pre-race

I woke at 5:00am, got dressed and ate and drank. It was a pretty chilly start, but really the weather couldn’t have been better. I arrived in plenty of time to negotiate the absolutely ridiculous traffic for parking, then sat in the car keeping warm and reading my book for about 20 minutes until about 30 minutes prior to race time. I made my way to the starting line and nature began its perfectly-timed siren song so I found the porta-potties and got in line. Long lines. I heard the announcer call the 10 minute warning. Then the 5 minute warning. 3 minutes, and I’m still 3 people back. Finally I get in and do my business, hop out and head to the end of the field just in time to hear the gun sound. Oh well, at least I’ll have plenty of folks to pass.

The first half

Given my realizations of the previous day and the fact that I literally had the entire field in front of me I started conservatively. The first mile marker hit at 9:31. I dodged and weaved around people constantly which was probably good as it kept my mind off the fact that the first mile is all incline. After that it rolls with an overall steady downhill trend to the 4 mile mark. I maintained my conservative pace, but didn’t glide downhill or walk it all on the hills. Frankly, I attacked the hills reasonably hard and over the following 3 miles wind up with a 8:49 pace. Slower than I’d ideally liked to have run that day, but well within my 2 hour “I won’t be disappointed” pace.

At 4 1/4 is where, upon review, the real gut check of the race starts. From there to the turnaround at 8 miles is a pretty steady climb. It feels it. Every time you round a bend there’s a bit longer to climb, with very few downhill or flat breaks in between. I still felt remarkably good and stayed within myself. My hydration plan was spot on, delivering me to the starting line with a comfy bladder and I walked through every aid station and grabbed two cups, either 50/50 water and HEED or a double fist of HEED. Those 15 second breaks of walking, breathing, and drinking were welcome but I never felt like it was a struggle to get the legs going again. That 4 mile climb was the slowest part for me, and I clocked in at the 10K mark in 56:15 or a 9:05 pace. Still under 2 hours and very conservative. I finished up the uphill slog at the turnaround at the 8 1/4 mile mark in 1:14:55 or a 9:06 pace. Yes, the hills took its toll.

At the half-marathon turnaround is where we parted ways with the marathoners. As I turned I cupped my hands to my mouth and yelled a “good luck” to them. At that point in the race I was ecstatic that I wasn’t doing the full marathon this time. Face it, I hadn’t done the required training. The wheels would have fallen off something fierce; the extra 13.1 the marathoners have to do is even hillier than the half. No thanks.

The last half

I admit, I didn’t know what the final 5 miles were like. My tour of the course took me to the turnaround and then I figured I’d tortured my girls enough dragging them across town. I had no clue what the future held except I was pretty sure I had to go back down a lot of the incline I’d just traversed and the hill I started out on in the first mile would be a sweet decline into the finish. So I started ramping it up a bit, visions of the benefits of negative splits dancing in my head. The 9th mile came and went in 8:50. The 10th in 8:47. At that point my brain pointed out that a) I had only a 5k left and b) I felt quite fine. The 11th mile showed up in 8:29. The 12th in 8:09. I skipped the final water stop at mile 12 because I was feeling good and didn’t want to slow down.

The 13th mile introduced a rude shock in the form of a sweeping, 6/10 of a mile incline. I powered up it. I’d have loved to have taken a break. But I didn’t. My final 1.1 miles were at an average 7:51 pace, even including that damned final hill. I came sailing past the 13 mile mark where I saw Cat and Julia waving at me at a blistering 6:41 pace. I high-fived Julia and kept pushing to the finish.

My gun time was a fairly disappointing 1:58:16, a full minute slower than my PR. But I started at the back of the field. My Garmin time showed 1:55:51 and my official clock time was 1:55:49 for a new PR!

Afterthoughts

I can’t say I’m not pleased. Of course, having low expectations makes them easier to meet. I never would have imagined PRing on that course after previewing it, but I did. I showed a bit more perseverance than is typical for me recently which is a nice change. Perhaps it’s the start of something better.

This Sunday was the 12th Annual Inside-Out Sports Classic Half Marathon, possibly the least concise event name ever constructed but a fun and popular local event. I haven’t really been training for a distance event aside from tossing a couple more miles onto my weekly 5K training long runs. I figured I’d still be okay after the year of marathon training. I guess we’ll see.

Prerace

Luckily this race is very local for me. 7 minutes of driving and I’m at the starting line. With a 7:00 am start I got up around 5ish and had some food and drink then futzed around trying to wake up. I’d love to say I sleep perfectly before a race but I don’t. I got to sleep fine but our cat decided to pray to its Egyptian gods or something at about 11:00 and I had a hell of a time shutting my noggin back down and getting back to sleep. Ah well. After a quick pitstop at the grocery store to grab some Gatorade and hit the restroom I was parked and making my way to the start. I decided against carrying my own bottles and Gu this time. It’s 13 miles! There would be water stations and I wouldn’t hit any conceivable glycogen depletion wall within 2 hours so what’s the point?

I picked up my race chip and realized that nature was calling one final time. The lines for the portapotties were astounding and there was exactly 3 minutes before the gun. Nature time. With my bladder relieved I made my way to the starting area and had just enough time for a few little arm swings and leg stretches — notably missing my right Achilles which will become important later — and then the gun sounded. Away we go on my first official half marathon distance.

The first half

I was fairly far back in the pack after my nature pee so I dodged a bunch in the early stages. I didn’t have too many concrete goals for this race aside from finish and hopefully beat my previous PR from the first half of Shamrock at 1:58:44. That’s it. I wasn’t going out hard because I hadn’t been training for a hard half. I just wanted to run the race. Early on I targeted between 8:30 and 8:45 for lack of any better goal.

The IOS Classic is a hilly little beast, at least to me who isn’t used to hills. I mean sure, we don’t have anything gargantuan here but there is a fair amount of elevation change across the whole course. The course starts with a snarky little downhill that breaks many a heart because the course is nominally out and back. People think “egad, I have to run back up this on the way to the finish?!” but they don’t. That’s not to say there isn’t a hill at the end, but we’re not there yet.

The first 5K presents a fairly steady, mild incline. It’s hard to even notice that you’re climbing, honestly. Given the strict “no headphone” ruling at risk of being DQed and banned from future runnings of the event I obviously didn’t wear mine. I still saw several people who did and I marvel at their temerity. Honestly, what doesn’t compute? Eh, whatever. I’ve been running without it more and more so it didn’t present any particular difficulties. Water stops were provided very early on — like a third of a mile in, honestly… I skipped it — but that was primarily to cover the return trip at around 11 miles.

In the early going I admit it: I wasn’t feeling it. Maybe it was my week — my mother was admitted to the hospital on Friday due to weakness and dehydration from the chemo — maybe it was the poor sleep, I don’t know. I just wasn’t feeling it. I could easily have stopped along the side of the road, waited for everyone to pass and headed back to my car. I recently talked about the difficult of maintaining enthusiasm in the face of everything but this was it, all distilled down into a minute on the road. I thought about it and really considered it. But why would I have quit? Because it hurt? No. Because I had to? No. Just because I didn’t feel like it? That ain’t enough. So I kept going.

At the first water station I decided I was going to walk through the water stations. Why not? It didn’t help that my first sip went straight up my nostril. So perhaps “decided” is too strong. I grabbed a cup of water and one of Gatorade and chugged them both, tossed the cups in the trash can and was off again. Maybe 10 seconds of walking. Not bad, not bad. I wasn’t think so much about not feeling it, I was just running. I was at the top of the gradual incline and facing the downhills. That’s cake. I was still on-pace at around 8:40 and taking it rather easy.

There’s a rather noticeable downhill trend from 3 miles into about 4 and 3/4 miles which I was dreading the return trip up. Out and backs are dandy until you realize that all of these declines are soon to be inclines. Then I hit the 5 mile “marker” — there were no actual mile markers on the course which is a bit weird… many people asking the mileage — and the mystery incline. During my “preview” I’d turned around at the 5 mile mark to do my scheduled 10. Now I had to keep going approximately another mile. Being unknown it worked it’s mysterious influence on me. I knew that I had an incline on the return trip from miles 7 to mile 9.5… I just didn’t know what mile 5 through 6 and through 7 looked like. I was hoping for a nice level area to give me a breather in preparation for the inevitable climb I knew I faced. No such luck. I thought the damned thing would never end. I got to the turnaround — with its water station, thankfully — and at least enjoyed a bit of downhill leading to the big climb.

The last half

I finally saw my boss, Scott, at the turnaround. I knew he was racing but didn’t have time to seek him out before the race and hadn’t seen him. Prior to the turnaround I thought I saw him up ahead but couldn’t be sure. At the turnaround we traversed a little loop in the trail and I saw that it was definitely him but it ended up that he didn’t see me. So I’m sure he had some confusion wondering where I could have been since, given an almost 100% out and back he would have seen me at some point.

I made it to the bottom of the decline at mile 7 and started The Big Climb. This ascent start on a bit of a switchback that is probably the worst of the climb in all honesty, climbing 200 feet steadily for a mile. I was slowly reeling Scott in and was also caught by a very nice young lady who complimented me on my shirt and told me she had caught up with me to tell me about that and her own mother’s battle with cancer. I thought that was wonderful of her and thanked her. The climb leveled off a bit but heads back up again after a while and I finally caught Scott about 8 and 1/4 miles in at the base of the beginning of the steepest part of the climb.

“After this that it for the yucky parts, Boss,” I said as I prepared to pull even with him.

“There you are. I wondered where you’ve been,” he huffed. I told him let’s save our breath until the top of the hill. The climb was pretty brutal with me topping off at 179 on the heartrate monitor. But I didn’t walk any of the climbs. I was proud of that. Scott said he was feeling pretty good until the start of the big climb at mile 7. Then he started feeling beat. I commiserated as those are some taxing climbs. I decided at that point to help bring him in. This was his first time ever going longer than 10 miles and he was starting to struggle a bit; we were also supposed to be running together anyway since there were no iPods allowed. So I started pacing him and we got our minds off the race a bit lamenting idiotic customers and silly requests. His goal was to maintain sub 9-minute miles so we both kept each other honest on pace.

At 9.5 miles in the vast bulk of the inclines are done. There might be some surprises at the end — and there was — but it’s a net downhill from here which was nice. So we cruised over the final portions inside Umstead, popped over I40 and hit the final water station before veering off the out and back and onto fresh territory on the greenway.

“Why are we going this way?” I joked with the course marshal who told us to turn. “It’s a whole lot shorter if we go back the way we came.” It got some chuckles from him and the water station people but for all I know that was the 500th time they’d heard it. The greenway section was another fairly straightforward out and back, though because it was unknown and near the end it felt longer than it had any right to feel. Those late miles you start picturing being done and looking for the turnaround point to head for home. Scott and I ran together and I took the lead down the greenway because it got really narrow especially when you had facing traffic coming back. We finally reached the turnaround and there was a little over a half a mile to go.

We branched off the greenway out and back to head up to the finish line and met the final surprise. A nice little steep 75 foot climb in the final quarter of a mile. I started up it and my previously unstretched right Achilles tendon decided it wanted to seize up. Oh wow did it twinge hard on me. This was right about the time that I spotted Cat and Julia and they spotted me. So there I am leading Scott up the hill, trying to keep running while my tendon wants to snap. Not the most enjoyable part of the race. But I got up to the girls and gave Julia a high five and made the turn into the parking lot where the finish line was. Scott was behind me so I eased up until we were side-by-side and we crossed the line together.

With all of that I ended up with a new PR of 1:57:18.

Thoughts and conclusions

Very weird race for me. My heart hasn’t been in it and I didn’t turn my personal issues into motivation. I could and should have used the things going on as fuel or at least viewed the running as an escape. Something to think about.

I’m pleased with how it went, really, aside from my Achilles. It’s a little sore today but nothing earth-shattering. I didn’t push anything and felt quite good — aside from the early race “blah” — and it was a good feeling helping a friend reach his goal. He would have made it without me, I know, but hopefully it helped some. I probably could have scraped some additional time from my PR if I hadn’t slowed down to run with Scott but so what? There will be more races and it felt like the right thing to do. I think on a more forgiving course I have a much faster PR ahead of me.

The race itself was a mixture of fine and not so great. Aid stations were plentiful during the race but the lack of mile markers was disappointing; I know there’s some regulatory issue surrounding them but that’s not my problem. I miss having official splits. Volunteers were fantastic but the finish area was a bit crazy with giant lines for food and drink. I prefer the style of finishing corral at Shamrock (an admittedly larger event) where you finished and then stumbled at your own pace through a long runner recovery area with the finisher swag, then a water station, then various foodstuffs all as you walk along.

Today was PR day. I wanted my 22:XX PR. The course was described as “fast”. I had been training regularly and felt good. But I was nervous. The weather, so recently glorious and cool turned typical Raleigh: race time forecast of 90 degrees, gusty winds. Would the training overcome Mother Nature?

Prerace

I knew the temperature would be a bit abusive, so I’d been hydrating well for the last couple of days. Sure, it ain’t a marathon but practicing hydration never hurts anyway. Being a 2:00 PM race start I had a fairly typical morning, though instead of my usual egg-white omelet I shared in the crepes we made for Julia — who had a friend sleep-over for her birthday — figuring they’d make for a higher-carb morning. I left the house about 12:30 and grabbed a smoothie on the way. I’m used to exercising before lunch so I was concerned how my stomach would do with lunch in my belly but I figured I’d bonk if I didn’t have something. A small smoothie seemed like a decent compromise.

I got to the race area about an hour early, parked and read my book for a bit to relax. About half an hour before race time I wandered up, claimed my race chip and took a final whiz at the perfect time. Still had about 15 minutes before the race and my bladder would be nice and comfy.

This year the race is being held to benefit the NC Hopeful Parents organization and they spoke a bit before the race during warm-ups. This little girl, perhaps 10 or 11, got up and spoke about her experience being adopted. It was obviously emotional for her and when she began speaking about her birth mother, a farmer in Mexico, she couldn’t go on. Precious thing tried to hold it together but it was too big. We all cheered for her bravery as she left the stage and climbed up into her mother’s arms. I got choked up — big surprise, I’m a softy with kids — and wanted to give her a hug too.

With about 10 minutes to go we all started lining up somewhat haphazardly as it was a bit confusing where we were to start. But it worked out. I met up with my boss, Scott, again and we lamented the conditions and talked a bit about our goals. I admit, our own little rivalry is powerful if unspoken. Before the race started he had me by 9 seconds in PR. I hoped to change that.

The first half

I had the 175 BPM Podrunner mix going, hoping to keep my turnover at 175 SPM. I figured at 5K pace it would be doable. The race started and I let Scott get about 3 yards ahead where I could keep an eye on him. I settled into my pace and started getting into the groove. We were both aiming early for about 7:20 but we were a little fast through the first 2/3rds of a mile with adrenaline and crowd confusion, averaging about 7:15 through there. The first mile split came at 7:26 for me, with Scott about the same.

The second mile presents a pretty steady few inclines before the turnaround which conspired with the early speed, the heat and humidity to beat the crap out of us. Scott maintained his pace a bit better than me, steadily widening the gap. The split at the second mile came at 7:33, but my heart rate up that incline and around for the return got up to 185 which is around 97% of my heart rate reserve. At this point I had a goal. It was a different goal from the start but it was a goal nonetheless: don’t stop.

I’ve talked a lot recently about trying to increase my mental resolve back to were it was last summer. Last summer I never quit. Then I got into the Galloway mindset of calculated walks and it affected how I view running. I think calculated walking during training can be beneficial to people. But I think it makes it far easier once you get into that mindset to let yourself give in to the momentary pain. It’s the easiest thing in the world to allow yourself 30 seconds of walking. It feels so wonderful physically to not be running when you’re tired like that. It’s hot, it’s humid, you’re breathing like a bellows, let’s just let off for a bit and catch our breath.

I didn’t want to do that this race. I thought about it. My brain on many an occasion said “this absolutely sucks. Hey man, no one is going to care if you take a little break and walk for a bit. Come on, it’ll feel good and then you’ll be able to get going again in no time.” But I didn’t. Up yours, brain. Yes, this sucks. Yes, it would feel great for a bit. But it would feel worse mentally having given in to your incessant yammering.

So I kept chugging. I wasn’t turning 175 SPM any more, I wasn’t up for it. Following the turnaround there’s a nice downhill that I took advantage of and for the next almost 4/10s of a mile I was pulling closer to a 7:39. Off pace, but faster than the 8:26 pace I eventually hit at the top of the incline. The final tiny incline had me puffing again turning nearer 8:00 pace, then it was the final half a mile, downhill.

I was hoping to have some kick at this point and reel in Scott who had built up a fairly substantial lead. I tried to rally the troops but the soldiers were worn out. My pulse was still pumping at about 93% of my reserve and it was all I could do to get down around 7:30 with a bit at 7:20, but that’s it. Final time according to the Garmin was 24:01.

Thoughts and adjustments

On days like this Boston seems far away. No PR today, not even close. My final average pace was 7:38 overall, and I’d have to do better than that over a full marathon to qualify at my age. That’s daunting and admittedly depressing. I know it wasn’t an ideal day to run. I feel good knowing that I gave pretty much all I had to give out there. I think, as Adam found, that the cumulative years will benefit me most in reaching Boston and I’ve got years to go. I’m in no hurry. If it takes me 10 years to qualify for Boston, it takes 10 years! I’d like to think it’ll take less than that but realistically I may not be ready for that long.

I’ll acclimatize to the heat since I typically train at lunch time anyway. It’ll be painful but helpful. Once you’ve trained at 100 degrees with matching humidity for a while, 90 degrees doesn’t seem so bad.

Scott had come in right around 23:30 again which, given the weather, was a real good showing for us. We’re fairly evenly matched, though he obviously has the edge right now. We’re both scheduled to race the Inside Out Sports Classic Half Marathon in two weeks which will likely be interesting for both of us. He’s never done that distance while I’ve completed two full marathons. I’d like to PR that one which I think it imminently possible since my current PR was in the middle of a marathon — and, unlike the sadistic race directors for this race, the half marathon starts at 7:00 AM — but it’ll be interesting to see if my focus on training for shorter races has already had a negative impact on my endurance. Could be interesting.

I’m a little under a month following the Shamrock Marathon which is a wee bit funny to me. A month following the Marine Corps Marathon I was struggling with sore knees and dreading my runs. 4 weeks after the Shamrock and I’m shooting for a 5k PR. However, I had no clue what the course would be like so I was uncertain how likely a PR was. I train on flat ground almost exclusively. I loathe hills. Hills — okay… and wind, heat, humidity, dehydration, that guy that passed me like I was standing still — are the mind-killer. And the wind-killer. Was St. Timothy’s going to be hilly? They advertise a “NEW FLATTER COURSE this year”, their emphasis. Implying, to my mind, that last year was anything but flat. Trepidation!

I didn’t prep as much for the 5k. It’s 3 miles! I don’t need to carbo load the night before or get up 2 hours earlier and pound fruits and bagels. It’s 3 miles! I had a slightly more carb-laden breakfast, grabbed a bottle of Gatorade on the way there and showed up about 30 minutes early so I could pick up my timing chip. Once they announced the line-up for the 5k I walked in and found a place in the chute about 5 people back from the start. Behind the speed demons, in front of a large pack of kids. Count down and off we go.

I was shooting for a 7:20 pace early on. That would bring me in just under 23 minutes and would comfortably be a PR. My previous unofficial PR is a 23:30 or so or a 7:32 pace.

The front half

St. Timothy’s is almost exclusively out and back with one extra loop around a block outbound. Which means you get pretty good intelligence on how your return trip is going to be on the way out. So starting out on a descent for most of the first mile told me all I needed to know about the finish: harsh. But I was able to stay frosty on the pace and reached the turnaround still holding pace. But I knew I had the ascent for the final mile.

I was honestly trying to conserve energy but my camel was showing through. I crossed the 180 heart rate mark about 1 1/8 miles in. Frankly, I didn’t look at my heart rate much during the race. With all the rolling hills I knew it would be higher than I’m typically comfortable with. I didn’t feel like I was in the danger zone. Sure, 180 is in my own personal zone 5, but it’s a race! It’s a short race! That’s what zone 5 is for.

The back half

I was slowing down and knew it. I hadn’t seen my boss, Scott, who was also racing and shooting for a very similar time but I knew he was back there somewhere, salivating. The course is almost like a ‘W’ in elevation profile, with a mile of mostly downhill, 3/4 of a mile of uphill, the turnaround and back downhill then finishing with 3/4 of a mile of uphill. On the return trip I was creeping up toward 8 minute miles on the uphills. I was able to keep making up a bit of time on the downhills, but my average pace was gliding up fairly steadily: 7:22… 7:23… 7:24. 2 1/2 miles in on the final ascent I was plinking 185 on the heart rate monitor, quite near my maximum. And I did it again. I lost focus and walked. I’m mad at myself for it and that will is something I’ve got to work on. Earlier on in my training last year I didn’t allow myself that luxury. I need to reach deep inside and find that guy again.

While I was stomping along getting my wind back Scott caught me. Gave me a slap on the shoulder as he went by. Luckily that got me moving again. I’d gotten a breather and, hell, only had about half a mile left. What kind of pansy walks with half a mile left? So I got moving again and tried to get the legs going again to keep my boss in catching distance. I steadily gained on him and finally passed him with about a quarter of a mile to go. I had some kick and was able to finish well. The Garmin says I finished in 23:33 for a 7:34 average pace. Officially St. Timothy’s says I finished in 23:45. I have no clue where those 12 seconds came from. Here’s the Garmin connect info.

Afterthoughts

The actual course was a royal pain for me. It tells me that I need to throw more hills into my workout mix. Mile splits weren’t called so if you didn’t have a Garmin I have no clue how you’d pace yourself. Of course everyone was nice. I will get revenge on the race next year… and be in a new age bracket so I won’t be in direct competition with Scott, either .

Also, I guess people just ignore the “no iPods” rule. I was surrounded by people with iPods at the start. I’d guesstimate maybe… 40% of runners had them. I don’t like it. If the race director says “no iPods”, don’t bring it! It’ll be interesting for the half marathon I’m doing in May. They’re disallowed and they say they’ll DQ anyone wearing one and not let them participate again.

Here’s me covering my race number trying to hit my Garmin. Believe it or not, this is the only picture of me at the event. I know it’s short and local, but that’s it? Erf.

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.

Pre-race

I had a lot of support for this one. Cat and Julia came, of course, as well as my mom and my father-in-law, JP, who flew down from Canada. We had quite a van-load full as we drove up Friday and stayed in Alexandria. I had been carbo loading since Thursday so I had bananas, plums, Gatorade, pretzels and other goodies the whole way up. We got in and I hopped on the Metro to get to the packet pickup. That was my first indication of the size of this thing. As I was walking in, there was a steady stream of people filing past me on the way out with their packets. The exhibition hall was packed with presenters and info, and the Marines were there in force handling the logistics. Without the wellness expo, I could have been in and out in 5 minutes: walk up to the lieutenant for my bib number range, sign something, get my bib, walk down and get my goodie bag, walk down and claim my participant shirt and that’s it. But I walked through the expo anyway.

Saturday night I swapped rooms with my mom who slept with Cat and Julia in our room so that I could both sleep decently and get up at odd hours to eat. My pre-race meal plan had me up at 4:00 to eat a fairly carb laden meal and again at 6:00, so I didn’t want to get the girls up if I could help it. Everything worked out fine and I was out the door at 6:30 after greeting my cheering squad — who opened the door with the signs they had made for me to see them — and giving hugs and thanking everyone for their support.

I had a short half mile walk to the Metro station and was at the starting area by 7:15. That was my next indication of the size of the race. Already plenty of people and starting corrals seemingly all the way to the horizon. I did a quick nature pee — theme of the morning as you’ll discover — and headed off to the 4:00-4:09 corral. I meant it when I said I wasn’t shooting for a 4:00 time, but I still wanted to start there. I wandered around trying to keep warm in the 47 degree weather. I had my long-sleeve tech shirt with my “special” shirt on top, but it was still chilly. Then it was hurry up and wait for 45 minutes to the start.

I felt anxious. I felt excited. I felt absurdly proud. Admittedly, standing there watching all these people line up and knowing I had 26.2 miles to run for the next 4 to 5 hours was daunting. But I knew I could finish. It might hurt, but pain doesn’t last.

The Start

The cannon fired, everyone cheered and my pulse jumped up by 10 even though I didn’t move for another 4 minutes. As we started to move I could see under the start banners and peek under the bridge where people were streaming through. Again I felt sharp anxiety. That was going to be me, real soon. Eventually everyone got up to a jogging pace and the jostling eased a bit. As I approached the start I kept my head up looking for my family in the sea of supporters. I didn’t hold much hope given the absolutely unbelievable number of spectators but something caught my eye: Julia’s sign. Being the crafty little thing she is, her sign had colored feathers along the sides and colored tissue pasted along the top and bottom. Nobody else had a sign even remotely like it. I raised my arms and waved like a madman and I saw JP’s jaw drop. He grabbed Cat and pointed, Cat started screaming and grabbed Julia and lifted her up and when Julia’s eyes found me she broke out in a huge grin and yelled. My mom was furiously waving her sign and waving at me. That’s the way to start a race.

I made it under the bridge and a few hundred feet and saw more people peel off to a convenient copse of trees for a nature pee. I did too. Not even a quarter mile in and I had to go again. I must figure out how to hydrate but not fill my bladder so bad. I got back on the road and marveled at the number of people along the course. This wasn’t even one of the main spectator areas, but there was no shortage of people. I rounded a bend and saw a sign along the side of the road. MILE 1. What? There’s no way I’ve already run a mile. A quick check of my Garmin shows that it’s true. Wow. I’ve never had a mile disappear so quickly. My nature break cost me in pace, but I felt great.

The Good Times

The first 5K was a blur. Hell, the first 10K was a blur. I finally shed my long-sleeve tech shirt around the 5K mark and again simply couldn’t believe the amount of supporters while crossing the bridge at the 4 mile mark. I admit it, I fed off the people cheering. If they had a good sign, I told them. If they were cheering I’d thank them. It was awesome.

Somewhere between 5 and 6 miles in my bladder got me again. Another stop for a nature pee. The big, fearsome hill at mile 8 according to the map wasn’t so fearsome. I rounded through Georgetown and started along the Potomac toward the 10 mile marker where I expected to see everyone except my mom. Sure enough, I rounded a bend and there was Julia’s sign. My wife had the best look on her face, just shining with enthusiasm. Julia snapped the only picture they took of me running.

I grabbed a banana — I had been downing Powerade at every aid station and eating my chocolate Gu at the 4 and 7 mile marks — and gave everyone hugs and kisses and started off… then turned back around and handed off my long-sleeve shirt that had been around my waist. Then it was back to it after getting the banana down. So many spectators were around the Lincoln Memorial I couldn’t believe it. All the way up the steps, all around the curves. If the crowd was a bit quiet, I’d do my patented whistle and do a lifting motion with my arms to get them going. Feeding!

Down Hanes Point I made a tactical error when my bladder called again around 11 miles in. I didn’t feel good about doing a nature break so I stopped at the porta potties and got in line. And waited. And waited. I have no idea how long I stood there in the line of around 10 people, but when only one person came out and we moved one place up I gave up and started out again. A short while later I saw someone who had been sidling up to a tree head back out so I ran off course and borrowed the tree. Damned bladder!

The half-way point came and went and I did a mental checkup. I could certainly tell I was running, but I felt good. The feet were starting to get sore, the legs were a bit fatigued, but I wasn’t laboring. My wind was excellent pretty much the whole way. If only I didn’t have the walnut-sized bladder. I made my way past the Lincoln Memorial again and was again struck by the sheer mass of people. Still whistling at folks, still thanking folks. “It’s not sweat, it’s your fat cells crying” got a nod from me as did a runner with a shirt that had “It’s OK to stare” on the back. There were a lot of people who had “In memory of…” messages on their back and I’d always make an effort to give them some encouragement. That’s what I should have done with my shirt, but now I know better I guess.

I lucked out and found my mom at around 18 miles in along The Mall. Our “spectator plan” had her being at the 20 mile mark on the other side of The Mall, but we got disconnected. I wasn’t looking for her there but somehow spotted her behind the main line of spectators. Luck! She had a banana too and, though I fully expected to see the rest of the crew on the other side of the mall before mile 20, I took the banana and gave her a hug. This would be good given our bad luck technologically.

The Bad Times

The MCM has timing chips, of course. They also have a feature that allows you to configure text messages to cell phones whenever you cross the mat at each of the 5K points. That way you get “instantly” notified where the runner you’re tracking is so you can plan accordingly. In theory. In practice my family got them only sporadically. It got so bad that I was sitting with them at Family Link Up an hour after I finished when the text message arrived to announce that I’d crossed the 30K mat. Unfortunately, they were using those notifications to plan where to be. Cat and company had no clue where I was — aside from my vague pre-race predictions — so when I turned the corner heading to the bridge and mile 20 I hadn’t seen them. I found out later that they arrived after I had passed… because they didn’t know where I was. A family friend had better internet access — they missed me at mile 18, too, due to the networking weirdness — and called Cat to say they’d missed me. So my family made their way to the finish area, saw the crowds and simply went to Family Link Up because by the time they got anywhere near the finish I would have been done.

I didn’t know any of this. I thought nothing much of it, but I was immensely glad my mom had a banana and I didn’t skip it. I had my own problems, though. The bridge. The Goddamned bridge. I don’t know what it was, but I have various theories. I hadn’t whizzed since mile 11 and I wasn’t overly sweaty. My lips were dry. I have a feeling that my hydration finally departed. The relative lack of crowds on the bridge didn’t help, nor did the grade. It wasn’t steep, but it was noticeable. I was whooped. It wasn’t as bad as my super-bonk on my last long run, but it didn’t feel good. I walked. First time I had walked aside from my nature breaks and the aid stations. I downed a Gu with no liquid. I pulled out my iPod for the first time, just trying to find something. I ran some more and walked again, ran and walked. Made it to the aid station before Crystal City and grabbed about 4 cups of water and Powerade. Ran and walked, ran and walked. I was hoping to catch the girls and JP in Crystal City — we had talked about it being an alternate since they had a ton of kids activities — but I never caught a glimpse. They were heading to the Finish Festival due to the lack of info, but I didn’t know. My brain started playing tricks on me. Did something happen to Julia? Did something happen to Cat? My mom? Shit, I don’t know.

I rounded Crystal City and got back to the aid station and had another Gu. Turned up the iPod a bit and started around the Pentagon. Somewhere in there I found some energy. I wouldn’t walk any more. I had a bit of a scare taking the offramp near mile 25 as my right hamstring acted like it wanted to seize up on me, but after giving me some twinges and complaining it settled down and didn’t progress into something unmanageable.

The Finish

Once I could see the last stretch things improved. At around the 25 mile mark I put away the iPod. I wanted to hear everything and I didn’t need the crutch anymore. Passing the place where I had stood over 4 hours previously felt amazing. After all this time and preparation, after the early mornings and painful lessons, after the incredible journey… the end was just under the bridge and up a hill. I made it under the bridge and could finally see the turn to the hill. I knew I could do that hill. It looked daunting as I ran past at the start, but I could now see the giant red finishing arch. Nothing in recent memory looked so welcoming. I made the left onto the final hill and had my head on a swivel for my family. I didn’t really hear anything. The announcer was chattering, the people weren’t cheering a ton, but there was some. After the steepest part it leveled off and then it was a quick dash to the finish mat where I remembered to smile.

4 hours, 30 minutes, 16 seconds officially. I’m very glad I chose to do it the way I did this year after my training. While I think I did what was required to finish, I don’t think I was ready for much more than that. I know I have faster marathons in me, but I wouldn’t change anything about this one unless you count the numerous pit-stops.

The mass of people was incredible again going through the finish. Marines handed me a mylar blanket and I made my way to the chutes for the finisher’s medal. It might seem silly but I was quite moved at receiving my medal from this young first lieutenant. Truly a great moment. Had my picture taken in front of the Iwo Jima Memorial and then moved off to try to get to family link up. I still hadn’t seen hide nor hair of my family and, yes, my worries grew. I knew Crystal City was optional, but I also knew that they were all insisting that they wanted to see the finish. I couldn’t imagine a scenario where they weren’t there.

I admit, I was pretty beat at the end. My legs were sore, my back was sore, my feet were little balls of ache. I wanted to lay down and sleep. Instead I made my way through the throng, eating and drinking everything in the care bag the Marines had given me as I worked my way first up the hill then down toward the finish festival. I really didn’t know what to do aside from go to family link up as we’d agreed. I had no phone, I had no way to contact them. I just had to hope they would find me. I finally reached the right place… and there’s Cat. I wrapped her in a big hug, sobbing a bit at the enormity and relief. Where’s everyone else? Around the corner. They all told me of their individual plights and I told them the gritty details.

A stop along the way home

I’ve mentioned before that my father was a Marine. My mother got him a memorial brick to be laid down at the Marine Corps Heritage Center, which is right on the way home from DC. What more fitting ending to the trip than to stop off and visit? The last time Mom was there his brick hadn’t been laid down yet. I didn’t hold out much hope that they’d put it down. I went to the computer used to find a brick and was flabbergasted when it told me where to go. I printed out the map and led the procession up to the chapel.

What glorious country surrounds this amazing museum. Just lovely. We walked through the well-tended grounds up the hill and made our way to the indicated area… and there he was. It couldn’t have been more perfect. This trip all started 8 months ago on a whim. Now I’ve finished the Marine Corps Marathon in memory of my father, the Marine. On the way home we finally got to see his memorial brick. I couldn’t be happier or more proud.

The aftermath

We all survived. I survived. It was truly an enriching experience. I believe the MCM has spoiled me. I considered doing a new local marathon next year, but I don’t know that I can. It can’t compare to the Marine Corps Marathon in any respect. So, I may very well run another marathon… it’ll just have to be the MCM again. I’ll do smaller local races — I’ll likely do the Raleigh Rocks Half Marathon next spring — but my heart belongs to the MCM for marathon distance. At least right now.

Semper Fi!