I had decided on a plan for the race and checked it out with my coach, Luke Humphrey.  The plan was to try to run a 3:30:00 marathon and to do so by negative-splitting the race:  run the first half at an average pace of 8:05/mile, then crank it up to 7:50/mile for the second half.  The 7:50 pace on the back half wasn’t exactly necessary (a 3:30:00 is an 8:00/mile average), but my history at the marathon has me slowing down considerably in the last few miles, so I built that in to my plan.

After a fitful night’s sleep (as usual), race morning was finally here.  The weather forecast was for a cold-ish, kind of blustery day, with the race start at about 35 degrees.  Luckily, I brought throwaway clothes to keep me warm while waiting around for the starting gun.  Here’s me and my two sons just before we left the hotel for the race.

Pre-race with my sons

Nope, those aren’t pajamas, those are hospital pants.  And yes, those are the hospital pants from a decidedly different outcome at the Flying Pig about a year ago.  They were chosen for three reasons:

1. A not-so-subtle reminder to myself to stay hydrated.
2. I’m tired of that memory and wanted to throw it away, too.
3. They’re cheap (hospital bills not included, local taxes may vary).

After a bit of a traffic snarl getting into the start area, I gave my wife and two boys final hugs, went to the waiting area and made the requisite last minute trip to the porta potties, stretched, took a Hammer gel with caffeine, then waited for the gun to go off.  I tucked in behind the 3:30 pace group, knowing that I be letting them go during the first half, but I also knew I needed help to keep things nice and easy at the beginning.  I have a bit of a nasty habit of going out too fast, and I knew I wouldn’t achieve what I wanted to do if I did that again.

I got to see my family for the first time just after the two mile mark.  They had made signs and were cheering like crazy.

My son with his sign

It’s such a huge pick-me-up to get to see your family there cheering for you.  I am so thankful they made the trip and stood out in the cold to watch me run.  I saw them again at about the 7 mile mark (where I took my first gel), then again at about 12.

Mile 12, still feeling good.

I had made myself a little paper with some split times I was hoping to reach, so when I hit the halfway point, I was glad to see I was just a bit under my plan:  1:45:15.  So far, so good.  Now it was time to go to work and pick up the pace.

The miles between the halfway point and about mile 19 are a bit of a blur.  I can’t say I remember much about these miles, with the exception of the wind picking up a tad.  I know I got to see my wife and kids a couple of times, and photographic evidence suggests I was hanging in there.

Mile 18-ish

Just after mile 19, I got to see my family another time, only this time my dad had joined my kids and wife.  I knew there was a possibility that he and my mom might make it, but since I hadn’t seen them yet, I assumed I wouldn’t.  Getting a high five from him was a nice boost just as I was really starting to feel the work I had put in.  Most runners will tell you that the marathon really doesn’t start until mile 20 when you have that final 10K to go, and I agree, so getting to see my dad really helped going into that last section.  Speaking of support, knowing I’d need every bit of support I could get for this race, I had taken the audio from a video clip my older sister had made of me at the 2011 Marine Corps Marathon and put it on my iPod.  In it, she’s cheering like crazy for me, so getting to hear that every 45 minutes or so was very cool.

That last 10K was tough.  In fact, I’ll admit it, I hit a very real low point at mile 21 where I didn’t think I could keep pushing.  I remember seeing other runners starting to walk and thinking to myself, “Man, it must feel good to be relaxing.”  When I look at my splits for the race, mile 21 was my worst, by far: 8:22/mile.  I did manage to snap myself out of that thinking, took my last gel, and began to push again.  Once I got to 24, I was really digging deep but I knew I could stand any amount of pain for those last two+ miles.  I told myself to keep pushing until I hear my Garmin beep and then I could tick off one more half mile.  Next thing I know, I was rounding a corner and entering the campus of University of Toledo and I knew the finish line wasn’t far off.  Whatever little bit I had left in the tank was put toward that final push because I knew my goal was within reach, but it was going to be close.  As I entered the chute, I saw my family cheering for me, I put my head down and just gave it everything I had.

Just before entering the chute, determined to meet my goal

As I crossed the finish line, I stopped my Garmin, glanced down and saw 3:29:51.  Barring any huge difference from my chip time, I had done it.  My chip time ended up being 3:29:54.

Official Results of the Glass City Marathon

With my boys just after finishing

My dad holding me up while I fight off post-race cramps

Aside from a great overall result, one of the things I’m most proud of is finally shaking off bad starts (too fast) and bad endings (slowing way down).  With the mile 21 exception I mentioned above, my splits are pretty consistent with what I wanted to do.  My final 5.2 miles splits were 8:02, 8:01, 8:01, 7:57, 7:57 and 7:31 for the final 0.2.  For the curious, here’s the Garmin data.

But, history will show that I’m not a good taperer. I get all grumpy and restless and worried and … well, just plain difficult. But this time it’s going to be different. I’m a little older and a little wiser so I should be able to handle this, no?  Let’s just see.

Taper Madness

Through a miracle of modern technology, I was able to jump forward into the future to race day, and look back on my taper. Here are some tidbits from the realtime transcript. [cue wavy effect to show timeshift]

Friday, April 13 — Wake up, check my calendar and remember that I’ve got no run scheduled today.  Oh yeah, I’m going to love the taper.  Just kick back with my feet up; the hay’s in the barn, baby.  Why is my head so warm?  I think I have a fever.  It’s probably my wife’s fault.

Saturday, April 14 — Just a nice, easy 8 miler on the plan today. A leisurely jaunt at no particular pace.  Ahhhh, the birds are singing, the breeze is … crap.  How did I forget to bring water?  What kind of rookie mistake is that?  I hope I don’t do something stupid like that on race day.  Maybe I should make some kind of list so I don’t  forget anything.  Yeah, that’s the ticket, a list.  Now, how I can remember to make a list after my run?  ”Make a list, make a list, make a list, make a list, make a list …”  Wait a minute.  None of this looks familiar.  Where the hell am I?

Sunday, April 15 — Ten miles?  That’s it?  How am I supposed to know it’s a Sunday if I don’t have a long run?  Well, I better get on with it.  Got my shorts, my socks, my tee.  Oh my God, I look fat.  I wore these same running clothes last week and didn’t look fat, how can this be happening?  I bet I’m losing fitness every single day.  Either that or my wife is over-feeding me.  I bet she’s doing it on purpose.

Monday, April 16 — Do  have to go to work today?  I am just so tired.  Fat and tired.  There’s no way I’m running a 3:30 marathon, I was nuts to ever think it.  Those damn coaches will tell you anything just to make a buck.  Oh yeah? Well screw today’s run, I don’t effin need it.

Tuesday, April 17 — Man, I don’t know what my problem was yesterday, but today I feel like a million bucks!  Let’s go knock out this little six miler and get back in the groove.  A few miles on the shoes I’ll wear in the marathon will help too.  And we’re off!  Ooh, I’ve never felt that pain before.  Weird, it’s on the top of my left foot. Every time my foot comes down, it’s like a needle jabbing into the top of my foot.  Okay, let’s not panic, it seems to be subsiding.  Maybe I should think about a different pair of shoes.  I wonder what the weather ‘s going to be like Sunday.

Wednesday, April 18 — Doo da doo. Time to check the old forcast-aroo:  http://weather.com.  Oh boy, rain.  Should I pack a rain jacket?

Thursday, April 19 — http://weather.com.  Oh boy, cold.  Why!?  Why can’t I get one mother flappin race day with good weather?

Friday, April 20 — http://weather.com.  Humidity?! How I am supposed to run a decent race with this foot injury, ten pounds overweight, the wrong damn shoes, I’m not packed yet, my wife’s clearly sabotaging my diet, and it’s going to be rainy, cold and humid?  Lemme check a few more times.  http://weather.com,  http://weather.com, http://weather.com.

Saturday, April 21 — What does that mean, “You are in violation of the terms and conditions of this website.  You have exceeded the permissible number of access attempts in a 48 hour period.”  Now the Weather Channel is against me too? Better get packed.  Now where’s that list?

• Shoes:  check.  Maybe I should throw in another pair just in case.  Why not?
• Shirt:  check.  And just to be safe, a long sleever too.  And arm sleeves.  A rain jacket might also be a good idea.
• Shorts: check.  Hmmm.  What color will I feel like tomorrow?
• Gels: check.  Fifteen ought to do the trick.
• Socks: check.  A pair of black.  A pair of white.  And one more for good measure.
• Garmin: check.  And the charger.  And the dongle.  And I’ll need my laptop.  And its charger.

Sunday, April 22 — And we’re back to raceday.  [cue wavy effect]  The weather is perfect.  I feel strong and ready.  This is not my first rodeo.

“Runner’s take your mark!    10 … 9 …. 8 …. 7 ….”

• Monday — 8 miles, easy pace: 8:35-9:00
• Tuesday — 12 miles, threshold pace: 7:55-8:00
• Thursday — 12 miles, tempo pace: 8:00-8:10
• Saturday — 10 miles, easy pace: 8:35-9:00
• Sunday — 18 miles, just a bit slower than marathon pace: 8:10-8:20

Sixty miles this week, then I begin to taper down to the marathon.  I’m going into this marathon even more confident than I did in October.  This has been a fantastic training cycle all around.  No injuries to speak of, the weather has been unusually nice here in the midwest, and I’ve pushed myself harder than ever.  I’m feeling strong and confident.

Glass City Marathon Course

Once I get past Sunday’s 18 miler, I’ll be focusing on getting to the start line rested.  Do Know Harm.

I’ve got a bunch of friends running the Boston Marathon on Monday, April 16th, so I’ll get to start what will be marathon week for me by cheering for friends doing what I hope to be doing on Patriot’s Day 2014.  I can’t think of a better motivator.

1. Proof that I’ve been making progress in the training I’ve been doing.
2. Build confidence for the Glass City Marathon in April.
3. A new half marathon PR by 2:44.

I was pretty relaxed going into the race since this isn’t really the race I’m training for, but I still wanted to do well.  After you’ve put in a lot of hours in training, even if it isn’t the ultimate prize you’re shooting for, you want to have a good showing. When I got to the race at about 7:30 AM, it was so humid, there was dense fog everywhere, so that got me a bit worried but the temperatures were only in the low 60s, so it wasn’t too bad. Together with my coach Luke Humphrey, I had set a goal to finish in the low 1:40s.  In my head I thought I was capable of a 1:40:00 half marathon, but I knew I wasn’t as rested as I would be for a goal race, so anything better than a 1:44:00 should be considered a victory.

My plan was straightforward: start conservatively and then ratchet it up little by little.  I planned to get into a groove in the first two miles by going out at 8:05, then run miles 3-6 at 7:45, kick it up to 7:35 for 7-10, then see what I had left in the tank to finish things off.  My actual splits went like this:  7:47, 7:48, 7:40, 7:48, 7:43, 7:40, 7:35, 7:45, 7:36, 7:31, 7:27, 7:21, 7:22, then 7:21 for the final 0.1.

So, clearly, I did not do a good job of going out under control! That’s been a bad habit of mine at a number of races, so I need to find a way to take it easy at the start line.  Damn competitiveness.  I did seem to settle in and hit my stride by about mile 3, though, then did a much better job of following the plan from there. When I got to about 6 miles in, I was already starting to “feel” the work I was doing, and honestly, that got me a bit worried.  In the midst of the race, I thought it was too early, but I managed to shake that thought and just kept pushing. The turn around (it was an out and back race) was just before mile 8 and that was really my low point, a point where I doubted that I could keep pushing. When I look at the Garmin data (which is down below), I can see that it was also the peak of the climbing, so maybe it’s not so surprising. Again, I pushed through the feeling, and the more I saw that I was keeping to the plan, the more confident I got. During miles 10  and 11, I must have looked down at my watch about 20 times because I felt like I was really slowing down, yet my watch assured me I was staying right around a 7:30 pace, so I used that confidence to keep pushing hard.  I knew I could stand any amount struggle for two more miles. The last two were pretty much a blur as I just kept focussing on maintaining pace and ticking off half miles to the end. When I stopped my watch at the finish line and looked down to see 1:39:59, a big smile crossed my face. If my watch was right (and it turned out to be an exact match to my chip time), I had just PRed by 2:44.  I came in 89th out of 675 runners.

A good day for sure. Quite a shot in the arm with a little less than a month to go until the Glass City Marathon.

Here’s the Garmin data.

The tough part on my ego is that you don’t go into a race like this as well rested as you would a goal race.  Tapering for a goal race is typically a two week process to make sure you you enter the race on fresh legs.  This won’t be the case for this half marathon.  I am easing back just a bit this week, but will by no means be rested.

I think I’m capable of running a 1:40:00 half marathon, so that’s the goal I’ve set for myself.  My personal record for the half is a 1:42:43 set at the Heart Mini Half Marathon last March, so shaving nearly three minutes from a half marathon time is a pretty tall order.  If the weather cooperates and I have a good morning running, I think I can do it.

I do need to keep in mind that this is not my goal race and that doing something stupid that sets back marathon training would be a mistake.  The plan I’ve put together has me going out kind of conservatively for the first two miles (8:05 pace), picking it up a bit for miles 3-10 (7:40 pace), then see what I’ve got left for the final 5K. If I’ve still got something in the tank and can crank it down to 7:20s, I’ll make my goal time.  If I don’t have it, I don’t have it.

As I was thinking through all of this (and cursing the 20 MPH wind), I thought about a conversation I had last week with a good friend of mine.  She had worked hard to BQ, made it, and got to run the 2011 Boston Marathon and just absolutely loved it.  The entire experience.  Recalling that conversation helped me refocus my own thoughts from, “How on earth will I get there?” to how I’ll feel when I am there.  A far more positive picture can do wonders.  And then I started to think about when I’ll be there.  Since I’m running my (hopefully) qualifying race in December of 2012, if all goes well, I’ll get to run the 2014 Boston Marathon.  Here’s the rest of the conversation in my head:

“2104.  Wow.  I am getting old, yessir, I’m damn near a geezer.  Well, at least my mind in still sharp. Hey look a squirrel!  Geez, I’ll be 45 years old by the time I actually toe the line in Boston.  How can I already be 45 … WAIT A MINUTE.  I’ll be 45 damn years old?!  45?!  That will put me in a different age division!  A new age division, a new age division!”

Yep, it hit me in mid-run last night.  When I got home, I immediately looked up the qualifying standards again, then just stood there with a smile on my face.  I still doubted it a bit, so I asked my Twitter friends to confirm and sure enough, it’s true.  All along, I’ve been thinking I needed to run a 3:15:00 to make it to Boston, but really, I need a 3:25:00.  That’s ten more minutes for crying out loud.

Now this doesn’t mean I plan to slack my way through my training by any stretch, but that subtle shift in my head from thinking I need to run 7:26s to needing to run 7:49s for a whole marathon is a big deal.  Now, as I do those threshold runs, it will feel more like practice.  I’ll really get to know the feel of that particular pace, and that will be a huge help.  It really is the little things.

I’m so happy to be bad at math.  And for getting old.  And for squirrels.

And like many runners new to this game, I find myself falling into the trap of thinking faster is always better.  And it’s not.  In fact it can be counter productive.  When discussing my current training with my coach, he reminded me to make sure to try to hit the specific tempo pace I had been given.  When I’d report a particular tempo effort, I’d say, “The plan was for 2 miles warmup then 6 miles at 8:10 and my actuals were 8:07, 8:01, 8:09, 8:00, 8:00, 7:56,” and then I’d wait for a pat on the back and a “Good job!”  But the reality was that by going faster than the prescribed pace, I’m not getting the benefit that particular run was meant to give me.  Here’s a small excerpt of our discussion:

With a marathon tempo, you are really hovering along that point where the body is probably using a little more carbs than fat. This is good, because it puts the body into just enough stress that it will adapt very well. When you cheat it down (i.e. go too fast), the body is stressed beyond the point where any real adaptation will occur.

The whole point of dragging my butt out of bed and cranking out these workouts is to adapt.  To get stronger and faster.  And by going too fast, I blew it.  OK, there still is some benefit when you compare it to sitting on the couch, but I’m not getting the very benefit I am trying for: to get faster.

During MCM this past October, I had a couple miles in the middle and then a couple at 15 and 16 that were a full 10-15 seconds faster than they should have been.  And I know I paid that toll in the last couple of miles of the race: my pace fell by more than a full minute in 24 and 25 and while I knew it would dip, that’s pretty drastic.  I may have been able to hit a 3:35:00 had I paid better attention and paced myself more consistently.

If I’m going to have a legitimate shot at reaching my goals for this year, I’m going to have to do a much better job of being consistent and smart about my workouts.

Finally, I decided to go to Andy Shetterly at Peak Performance Sports Therapy based on a recommendation from the great people at Bob Roncker’s Running Spot. The first thing Andy did was watch me run a bit. His first comment: “A little tight, I see. Let’s see how flexible you are.” So I did a few exercises and he declared me to be the most inflexible person he’d seen in a while. A dubious distinction, at best.

As I told him about the hip pain I was having he started asking a ton a questions. “Where, exactly does it start? Point to it. OK, then where does it go? Shooting pain, or dull? Does it stop when you stop running?” And plenty more. He also had me move my leg into a few different positions to see if any caused pain. After thoroughly talking through everything, he said, “I’m going to have you feeling better in just two sessions.” Then he explained what Active Release Techniques (ART) are, what it would do for me, and how it will help. The next thirty or so minutes was spent finding and releasing all of the trigger points in my hip and IT band.

So that I’d get this right, I asked Andy to describe why this works. He’s the only therapist in the Cincinnati area (and one of just a few nationally) who combines Active Release Techniques (ART), NeuroMuscular Trigger Point Therapy and Active Isolated Stretching. Here’s his response.

“Adhesions and internal scar tissue restricts normal muscle movement and cause pain. This internal scar tissue leads to fascial micro trauma, increased inflammation, which results in additional scar tissue and eventually, pain. It’s a never ending cycle, that is effectively treated by breaking up that unhealthy, restricted scar tissue. Once that occurs, normal range of motion can return, helping to break the cycle of pain and re-injury.”

Andy also recommended that I increase my flexibility, using active isolated stretching (a 2 second hold), to ensure that I would reduce the chance for re -injury and also to increase my performance level, as well. This kind of stretching is different than those I learned on the gym floor before high school baseball practice. I’m already seeing an increase in my flexibility and range of motion. The day I first went to Andy, he had me try to touch the floor while standing, straight-kneed, and I could only make it to my shins. Now I can easily touch the floor and am working on getting even better.

The point is this: Andy helped me get back to training quickly and effectively. I’m now in the first third of a spring marathon training plan, and I’ve had no issues with pain at all. What more could I ask for? And because he taught me the techniques he uses, I can continue to work on any trigger points I do find at home. But if I need some specific, extremely therapeutic work, I am calling Andy.

If you live in the Cincinnati area and have been suffering through pain while running, do yourself a favor and give Andy Shetterly a call.  In fact, even if you live elsewhere, I’m sure he can help you find someone to help.

I remember when I first started running back in the fall of 2009 that running even 5 miles in a row seemed completely unattainable.  But, I kept at it, slowly and steadily, and managed to get to a place where I could do it.  So I’d add a bit to my next milestone, then go after that a little bit at a time.  When I toed the line to run my first 10K (which is 6.2 miles), I had never run 6 miles in a row before, and I wasn’t even certain that I’d finish, but I went ahead anyway.  After reaching that, I began to add a little bit more here and there.  I distinctly remember trying to run 10 miles.  It took me four attempts before I actually made it.

So now I’m at the place where I have a few marathons under my belt; some went well, some … not-so-much.  In the midst of training for my first (in Chicago 2010), a friend asked if I was going to qualify for Boston, and I remember thinking he might as well be asking if I plan to go to the moon.  A complete and utter impossibility.

In my most recent race, the 2011 Marine Corps Marathon, I proved to myself that I could, in fact, improve my running beyond what I thought was possible.  And it’s from that perspective that I’ve decided to dedicate this year to shaving an additional 27 minutes from my marathon P.R. to get down to 3:15:00, or the Boston Marathon qualification time for a man of my advancing age.  It definitely feels like a stretch goal, but I now know what hard work and dedication can lead to, and I feel like I’m ready to take those next steps.  The coaching I’ve been getting from Luke Humphrey has been an incredible boost for me, too, and so I believe I’m going after this goal in a measured, smart way.  So the plan looks like this:

• Glass City Marathon, April 22, 2012.  My base goal is to run a 3:34:00 here.  If the stars (and weather) align, I may go for a 3:30:00.
• California International Marathon, December 2, 2012.  This will be the marathon where I go for a 3:15:00.

I’m sure I’ll have other races along the way to see how my fitness is progressing, but those are the major ones.  So there it is in black and white:  I’d like to qualify for Boston.  And 2012 is the year I start to do that.

Ladies and gentlemen, I have a real problem. I kill iPod Shuffles at a rate even the most prolific serial killers couldn’t match. Victim number six was the light blue Shuffle I been using since July when the last victim was found lifeless at the bottom of our washing machine.

The light blue one had been special. It got me through the tough, hot, humid training runs during the summer and then led me to a 20 minute PR at the Marine Corps Marathon in October. Indeed it helped me survive 32 miles in less than 24 hours just this past weekend in Florida.

…and then I killed it. Once again, I forget to unclip it from my running shorts, then sent it spiraling to its own drowning death with Tide Mountain Fresh (with Downy) as its only companion.