I'm so glad it's over. For a solid two weeks before my marathon I was nervous. Not the butterflies in the belly, palms sweaty nervous, but the, I hope all this work wasn't for nothing, I'm going to be super pissed at myself, be personally disappointed and go back to drinking, nervous. Part of my nervousness stems from the fact that I put so much emphasis on this particular race. Last year, I set my PR at this race and this year had geared my marathon training toward qualifying for Boston 2012. I don't know how else to explain it but imagine you have been practicing anything, barbequing, piano playing, public speaking, for a year and then you have one chance to prove that all that training was worth it; that is what I was trying to do.
I got out of bed around 5:00am that morning. That is paperboy early and I haven't seen 5:00am since I didn't go to bed, not because I was just waking up. I am as anal as a proctologist when it comes to my prerace routine so needless to say, I had my race gear laid out, all my accessories in the right place, and while I budgeted myself 30 minutes to get ready, it took me about 15 minutes. I was out the door and on my way to QuikTrip to for my pre-race drink. I had already downed a banana and two multivitamins (I don't know if the vitamins work but an ultra runner I read about does it and he's fast so why not) and got my RockStar. It's the sugar-free white can, I have to watch my figure. My intention is not to drink it all, but to take a couple swallows and get a bit of the caffeine into me as a slight pick me up. After my forty five minute drive, I pulled into a parking spot and realized it was too damn early to start warming up so I had to sit and fidget. Most people in the parking lot had the same idea so we all just sat there trying not to make eye contact because God forbid we have to acknowledge each other.
The conditions were mixed at best for an ideal marathon (probable excuse 1). It was cold, not cool before the race, 37 degrees to be exact and windy as all get out. Literally, looking out my windows you would have thought we were in a storm. 30 mile per hour winds with gusts up 40 were expected and based on what I was seeing it was going to be brutal (probable excuse 2). Running in the wind is basically like running up hill and as one of the pace guys would tell me later, "the wind isn't bad as long as you run faster when it's behind you." Easier said than done smart ass. Well, after getting through my routine, jogging, stretching, peeing, listening to GirlTalk, I went back to my car and dropped off my clothes, tore off my 3:00:00 pace band and went with the 3:10:00 band solo. I had trained for a 3:10:00 and decided to keep a sharp focus. By now I was good and ready and headed out to the start line.
I like to represent the Cape Girardeau when I race, so I was sporting the short orange shorts, and black tank top (both from Eastbay I love that magazine still). I was sporting a long sleeve white shirt for warmth, black gloves, and matching orange head band. Two points to note here: headbands are a plus in almost any endeavor, nothing gives that final touch of pizazz as a matching headband. 2. Short shorts should only be worn if you are fast. If you are slow, it allows the spectators more time to make fun of you and makes it much more likely that your junk might make an appearance. Luckily for me, I am fast and my junk is properly stowed away during races.
Starting lines are like speed dating, you have to find a partner and have about 30 seconds to do it. I knew they weren't going to have a pacer for my goal time 3:10:00 but I figured I could hook up with the 1:35:00 half marathon pacer and run with that group. During my chat with the smart ass 1:30:00 marathon pacer he told me that the 1:35:00 pacer had dropped out (probable excuse 3). This is when I just start talking to all the dudes around me and ask them what times they were hoping to run. It took about one minute to find two guys who wanted to run 3:10 and they were both hoping to qualify for Boston as well. Sweet action! Unfortunately, one minute later they told me they were going to try to run even pace. That means running a 7:15 mile the whole time. I am not a believer in this practice and you shouldn't be either. I run a smart pace, meaning I go out in a slow first mile and use the next two to get up to the speed I want to run. This helps to burn less energy early and stores the needed energy in my muscles for later.
To speed this post along, I passed the first guy hoping to run a 3:10 at mile 4. He was already breathing heavy and I could tell if he was laboring with his breathing then, he was in for some trouble. I passed the second guy a few miles later and he tried to keep up but faded fairly quickly as well. There are no friends during races, I feel bad when you know someone is not going to make their time but you shouldn't let it hold you back when you put in so much work. Around mile nine I was getting really close to the 1:30 half group. That is good and bad. Good because I was breathing easy and felt strong but bad because that is about five minutes faster than I had intended. At this point I made a strong mental decision. I was going to keep my pace at that rate as long as I could and not look at my watch until mile 18. As the ongoing conversation took place in my head, because I had no one to run with and I consider myself a good listener, I rationalized that at the 18 mile mark I would be 8 miles out and could have a good idea of what was ahead. Most distance runners give themselves milestones or posts to gauge themselves, sometimes it's only to the next street, sometimes it after then next ten miles, you just have to break it up.
At mile 18.25 I was at 2:04:50 which is a 6:51 per mile pace. My confidence level was particularly high at this moment because the marathon is an out and back from when we split with the halfers. This meant every step from there on out, is one step closer to the finish line. Again, I made the mental choice to not look at my watch until mile 22. Four miles left would be when I decide if I'm going to go for broke and try to sub 3 hours, or if that was not going to happen. At four miles left, I had a little less than 30 minutes to run for it. I got to two miles left and had less than 15 minutes to go. With one mile left I took off my white, long sleeve shirt. Let's be real here, looking good is as important as finishing good, plus the volunteers at most races pick up all the discarded clothes and donate them to charity. Double Rainbow! I was doing good and looking good.
With one mile left I had a little less than seven minutes to sub 3 hours. You might be saying, "Ben you are golden." Well, we had been running in the wooded suburbs for the past twelve miles and was at least partially sheltered from the wind. Not anymore. I was greeted by a fierce head wind saying, "Ha, ha, ha. You didn't think it would be this easy did you?" My visions of grandeur were blow away but not my sense of happiness. I passed the 26 mile marker and could see the finish line. The two guys I could see in front of me had just finished. I could see my wife and kids standing by the finishing shoot cheering for me. With about a mile left I had ideas of blowing them kisses, doing a cartwheel, or screaming at the top of my lungs. I did none of those. Why wife was yelling, "You did it" and I was so happy. I crossed the line, stopped my watch, and pumped my fist. I might as well let you in on this side of it too. When I staggered over to the finishing plaza I started to cry. Ruby would tell you the only time she has seen me cry is after a race and I shed some tears on this one. Emily gave me a big hug and said, "you better call your Dad, he's called me like two times." Not surprising, next to my wife, he's my biggest fan.
I ran into another friend who came down to watch the finish but was a bit too late. He could have cared less he was so stoked when I told him my finishing time. 3:01:39. A new PR and a new title that I can take with me to my grave. Boston Marathon Qualifier.
I got out of bed around 5:00am that morning. That is paperboy early and I haven't seen 5:00am since I didn't go to bed, not because I was just waking up. I am as anal as a proctologist when it comes to my prerace routine so needless to say, I had my race gear laid out, all my accessories in the right place, and while I budgeted myself 30 minutes to get ready, it took me about 15 minutes. I was out the door and on my way to QuikTrip to for my pre-race drink. I had already downed a banana and two multivitamins (I don't know if the vitamins work but an ultra runner I read about does it and he's fast so why not) and got my RockStar. It's the sugar-free white can, I have to watch my figure. My intention is not to drink it all, but to take a couple swallows and get a bit of the caffeine into me as a slight pick me up. After my forty five minute drive, I pulled into a parking spot and realized it was too damn early to start warming up so I had to sit and fidget. Most people in the parking lot had the same idea so we all just sat there trying not to make eye contact because God forbid we have to acknowledge each other.
The conditions were mixed at best for an ideal marathon (probable excuse 1). It was cold, not cool before the race, 37 degrees to be exact and windy as all get out. Literally, looking out my windows you would have thought we were in a storm. 30 mile per hour winds with gusts up 40 were expected and based on what I was seeing it was going to be brutal (probable excuse 2). Running in the wind is basically like running up hill and as one of the pace guys would tell me later, "the wind isn't bad as long as you run faster when it's behind you." Easier said than done smart ass. Well, after getting through my routine, jogging, stretching, peeing, listening to GirlTalk, I went back to my car and dropped off my clothes, tore off my 3:00:00 pace band and went with the 3:10:00 band solo. I had trained for a 3:10:00 and decided to keep a sharp focus. By now I was good and ready and headed out to the start line.
I like to represent the Cape Girardeau when I race, so I was sporting the short orange shorts, and black tank top (both from Eastbay I love that magazine still). I was sporting a long sleeve white shirt for warmth, black gloves, and matching orange head band. Two points to note here: headbands are a plus in almost any endeavor, nothing gives that final touch of pizazz as a matching headband. 2. Short shorts should only be worn if you are fast. If you are slow, it allows the spectators more time to make fun of you and makes it much more likely that your junk might make an appearance. Luckily for me, I am fast and my junk is properly stowed away during races.
Starting lines are like speed dating, you have to find a partner and have about 30 seconds to do it. I knew they weren't going to have a pacer for my goal time 3:10:00 but I figured I could hook up with the 1:35:00 half marathon pacer and run with that group. During my chat with the smart ass 1:30:00 marathon pacer he told me that the 1:35:00 pacer had dropped out (probable excuse 3). This is when I just start talking to all the dudes around me and ask them what times they were hoping to run. It took about one minute to find two guys who wanted to run 3:10 and they were both hoping to qualify for Boston as well. Sweet action! Unfortunately, one minute later they told me they were going to try to run even pace. That means running a 7:15 mile the whole time. I am not a believer in this practice and you shouldn't be either. I run a smart pace, meaning I go out in a slow first mile and use the next two to get up to the speed I want to run. This helps to burn less energy early and stores the needed energy in my muscles for later.
To speed this post along, I passed the first guy hoping to run a 3:10 at mile 4. He was already breathing heavy and I could tell if he was laboring with his breathing then, he was in for some trouble. I passed the second guy a few miles later and he tried to keep up but faded fairly quickly as well. There are no friends during races, I feel bad when you know someone is not going to make their time but you shouldn't let it hold you back when you put in so much work. Around mile nine I was getting really close to the 1:30 half group. That is good and bad. Good because I was breathing easy and felt strong but bad because that is about five minutes faster than I had intended. At this point I made a strong mental decision. I was going to keep my pace at that rate as long as I could and not look at my watch until mile 18. As the ongoing conversation took place in my head, because I had no one to run with and I consider myself a good listener, I rationalized that at the 18 mile mark I would be 8 miles out and could have a good idea of what was ahead. Most distance runners give themselves milestones or posts to gauge themselves, sometimes it's only to the next street, sometimes it after then next ten miles, you just have to break it up.
At mile 18.25 I was at 2:04:50 which is a 6:51 per mile pace. My confidence level was particularly high at this moment because the marathon is an out and back from when we split with the halfers. This meant every step from there on out, is one step closer to the finish line. Again, I made the mental choice to not look at my watch until mile 22. Four miles left would be when I decide if I'm going to go for broke and try to sub 3 hours, or if that was not going to happen. At four miles left, I had a little less than 30 minutes to run for it. I got to two miles left and had less than 15 minutes to go. With one mile left I took off my white, long sleeve shirt. Let's be real here, looking good is as important as finishing good, plus the volunteers at most races pick up all the discarded clothes and donate them to charity. Double Rainbow! I was doing good and looking good.
With one mile left I had a little less than seven minutes to sub 3 hours. You might be saying, "Ben you are golden." Well, we had been running in the wooded suburbs for the past twelve miles and was at least partially sheltered from the wind. Not anymore. I was greeted by a fierce head wind saying, "Ha, ha, ha. You didn't think it would be this easy did you?" My visions of grandeur were blow away but not my sense of happiness. I passed the 26 mile marker and could see the finish line. The two guys I could see in front of me had just finished. I could see my wife and kids standing by the finishing shoot cheering for me. With about a mile left I had ideas of blowing them kisses, doing a cartwheel, or screaming at the top of my lungs. I did none of those. Why wife was yelling, "You did it" and I was so happy. I crossed the line, stopped my watch, and pumped my fist. I might as well let you in on this side of it too. When I staggered over to the finishing plaza I started to cry. Ruby would tell you the only time she has seen me cry is after a race and I shed some tears on this one. Emily gave me a big hug and said, "you better call your Dad, he's called me like two times." Not surprising, next to my wife, he's my biggest fan.
I ran into another friend who came down to watch the finish but was a bit too late. He could have cared less he was so stoked when I told him my finishing time. 3:01:39. A new PR and a new title that I can take with me to my grave. Boston Marathon Qualifier.
