1,000 miles to Boston

I’ve taken a break from posting, and recently, I took a break from running. Nothing huge, but my milage last week didn’t crack 10. Probably the lowest amount of miles I’ve run in a very long time for a week, and at the time I wasn’t happy about it, given that I’ve got a 50 miler and a 100K coming up this summer. However, today showed me just how valuable time off can be. Granted, my weekend off of running was spent drinking for hours and watching more movies then I’ve watched in the past 5 weeks combined probably - but today I figured out it was EXACTLY what I needed. Today, I ran the Lithia Loop Marathon course with some friends, and for the first time since pre-Boston, I felt great pretty much the whole time. Well, as great as one can feel running 26 miles, the first 8 of which are uphill. But alas, I feel like I’ve bounced back. My friends noticed. I got more than one “looks like you’ve recovered from Boston” - my recent struggles being obvious to all of them. I’m not going to lie, for a while there I was really wondering what I was doing, trying to run these crazy distances and simply sludging through my training runs, counting the miles until I could stop. I wasn’t enjoying my running like I once did. I was beating myself up for struggling so much. I was doubting myself and my ability to finish the races I’ve signed up for.
The timing of my unplanned week of rest couldn’t have been better. Last week, I downloaded a copy of Rich Roll’s “Finding Ultra” - his book about his struggles with alcoholism, his conversion to a plant based diet, and his tackling some crazy races (Ultraman, for example - a double Ironman that is invite only). The best part, he started in his late 30s. Granted, he had a base from his high school and college years of being a very strong swimmer, but about 20 years of being a couch potato took it’s toll, and he found himself unable to climb a flight of stairs without being winded. It’s an inspiring book, well written and frankly, you should really be reading that instead of this blog. Alas, back to my post. So during this impromptu week of lethargy, I read this book about overcoming obstacles, training right and eating correctly. I put it down with a renewed sense of purpose, and with a sharper focus. I am my own worst enemy when it comes to my training and my diet. So today, I ran renewed. The last time I tried this run the “elevator doors opened” (my new way of saying the wheels came off - homage to Cabin in the Woods, a must see and trust me, you’ll understand what I mean if you do). I crashed. Hard. Barely able to complete 16 miles without walking. I literally had to tell my friends to go on, and I had to basically limp home, my knee shot and my spirit crushed. That was about a month ago, probably less. Today, I kept a fairly comfortable pace (pretty much my ultra pace), I didn’t walk on a single hill, I pushed through some rather tough miles in the high teens, and was rewarded with a spike in energy that let me fly down the last 6-7 miles of downhill. It felt amazing. I feel like I reconnected with nature, with the outdoors, and with the reason I love doing this. I feel refreshed, energized and inspired. And, most of all, I feel capable of doing what I set out to do. Run further than I ever have, in about 6 weeks. Then add about 12 miles to that a month later.
All thanks to a great book and a much needed break to unplug, veg and recharge.

Last Saturday, I ran my latest ultra - the Quicksilver 50K. I was more or less talked into this race by a friend of mine with promises of minor hills, very runnable trails and an all around good experience. It seemed like a good transition back into ultra marathons after Boston, so why not? Well, he was honest about all if it, except the hills part. Granted, I should be used to it living in Ashland, and the overall elevation change wasn’t tremendous, but there were enough significant climbs that it hurt. Especially since the last few were at the end. But I’m getting ahead of myself, so let me start again.
Last Saturday was the Quicksilver 50K, which I ran with two friends (one of which was doing the 50 miler, but it was the same course). Heading into the race, I did my routine of checking the weather forecast for about a week before - and was quite displeased to see projected highs of 90 degrees. Boston part 2. Thankfully, though, it started at 6 a.m., as opposed to 10 a.m. in Boston. Still, though, I knew that on a good day, I’d still be running after 11, so I was going to get some heat (depending also on how exposed the trails were). The first few miles clicked off smoothly and comfortably, I took the point and set a pace that I felt was comfortable (and checked in with the guys, and was confirmed that it was, in fact, a good pace). We got to the first “mini” aid station (just water) and I realized I had drained about 75% of both of my water bottles, so we stopped to top them off. It wasn’t too terribly far to the next station, but with that much water gone, and the lesson learned at my last ultra (American Canyon, where we beat the second aid station to where it was supposed to be) - we felt it was best to play it safe.
After our refills, we headed back out, with Richard taking the lead into some gentle rolling single track. The trails were beautiful, shady and soft on the feet. Perfect running trails, but perhaps a bit too early in the race - Rich stepped up the pace fairly significantly from where I had been maintaining it. The irony - usually I go out too fast and Rich has to reel me in, this time he jumps out and I’m just holding on. After several miles of this, we hit the first full on aid station. I had been trying to stay hydrated, taking a few salt tabs and at this station, dove into some potatoes (which turned out to be hands down the favorite among the three of us). After that we settled into a comfortable pace, found ourselves often in the direct sunlight getting slow roasted, but the views were spectacular and worth the suffering. The IT band issues I’ve been having have subsided pretty much entirely, but my hamstring started tightening up a bit about mile 10 - nothing excruciating by any means, but definitely uncomfortable. Nonetheless, I was settling into a groove with my friends and we were really enjoying ourselves.
Sometime around mile 15 or so, my stomach started acting up. Those of you that have been reading this for a while know this has been a reoccurring issue for me, which I thought I had worked out (no issues in my last ultra or Boston) - it came back with a vengeance here. The trails were quite exposed and a there was a LOT of people hiking - so simply ducking into the bushes was not an option. Thankfully, about 4 miles into this, we came across a port-o-potty, which was all I needed. Back on the trails, I quickly realized that this was a course that ran through the same aid station 3 times, which we had crossed through twice already, and the second was after a few miles of downhill running…I realized around this time that our last time through that aid station (mile 24ish I think) was going to take us right back up that same hill. Sometime shortly after this realization, during the climb back up to the aid station, the wheels started to come off and my legs began to protest. And by protest, I mean more or less quit on me.
I grabbed some ginger and a gu out of my drop back to try to calm my stomach a bit, popped a salt tab, some potatoes and topped off the water bottles. I even took a few minutes to reapply some sunscreen, and watched as one of my friends bounced up the hill looking fresh and like was just getting started…I looked at my other friend and realized he was in much better shape than myself as well, so I encouraged him to go and let me finish my race at my pace - I didn’t want to hold him back any longer. The last 5 miles or so were really a struggle for me. I more or less had to walk every hill (some were steep and long enough that were I feeling strong I may have walked them anyway), but I tried to push myself to run not the flats and downhills (which were few and far between), and took the time to try to talk to every runner than came by. I knew it wasn’t my day, but I was determined to finish as best as my body would allow, despite the pain and struggles. I’ve heard time and again that you learn something from every ultra you run, and my previous runs had taught me that if/when I get to this space, to stop checking my watch and just keep going as best as I could. It vibrated from time to time (signaling my passing a mile), but I refused to check it. I knew my time was off from my goal, I knew it was a battle for each mile and each step, but I also knew I would not accept a DNF. I also felt, somewhere deep down, that I needed days like this to make me a stronger ultra runner. I am disappointed with my run, but another friend of mine (having heard through the grapevine that I wasn’t happy with my race) called me during the BBQ/beers after (which I’ll talk about in a second) and reminded me I’m still new to ultra marathons. That I’ve only done a handful of them, and that it’s not simply adding a few miles to marathon running. I think back and remember how much my first marathons were a struggle, and how I learned to pace myself properly and how each one got easier. I know, somewhere inside this thick skull of mine, that races like this will be beneficial to my aspirations at some point.
But I digress…I managed to run the last mile or two, finishing feeling like I did leave it all on the trail, and immediately sat down in the shade to relax. I found my friend Kevin, who had finished ahead of me, and talked with him for a bit. I grabbed some veggie grub from the BBQ, and looked for the promised beer, only to hear it had not yet arrived. Kevin asked me if I found it, and my disappointment must have been obvious, as another runner walking by asked if I wanted a beer, and after hearing that I would run 5 more miles for one, she produced one out of her personal cooler for me. I ended up sitting with her and a few others from her running club while drinking a few beers (they were quite generous), talking about running and life in general. Despite the suffering, the disappointment and the stiffness, I was in heaven. There was even veggie burgers (although not many, I did manage to get one). I was pleasantly surprised at just how “famous” Ashland is - for such a small town, pretty much everyone there knew about it (and many were jealous that we lived here). A substantial number of them have run either the LIthia Loop Marathon or even the Pine to Palm 100 mile race (both in my backyard here). And just about everyone knew some of the runners here. I realized at this point just how small the ultra running community was, and I was being welcomed in by these complete strangers (at the beginning of the BBQ) as though I was a long lost cousin. I invited many of them up here for runs and races (I very honestly hope some make it!) and met a RD (Race Director) for several races down there, including the Diablo 50K in April - which I am adding to my calendar for next year.
Not my best race, but another great experience. Just two short months until my first 50 mile race. My performance at Quicksilver didn’t help me feel great about it - but it did point me in the right direction. I listed to a LOT of podcasts today (from this AMAZING site) that confirms it. I need longer runs. Back to back 20+ mile days. I need to teach my body to run tired. Run depleted. Push further than I ever have. And I’m down to roughly 60 days to accomplish this. Starting this weekend…we are doing another S.O.B. training run Saturday (I’m thinking between 18-22 miles) and I plan on following it up with at least 10 Sunday, and a bike ride. Time to start destroying my legs.

Last weekend, I did a long run with a few friends. Or what was supposed to be a long run. We intended to run the Lithia Loop marathon course, a full 26 mile training run, starting with 6-7 miles uphill. I struggled all the way up, more than I would have anticipated or expected (especially having done it more than once before). We started across the backside of the course, and the snow started getting deeper and the running less and less fun. About 11 or so miles in, we decided to turn around and head back…the snow was just too much. Around mile 18 (give or take), my legs simply stopped working for me. I bonked harder than I ever have in a training run. I am not going to lie, after my performance at Boston and this run, I really started feeling quite cashed. And to be candid, a bit concerned about my goals for the summer, and started really questioning my running in general. Sure, it’s one bad run, after one bad race, but it was enough to make me concerned. Couple that with the nagging IT band pain I’ve been struggling with (and that really flared up in the aforementioned long run), and I was genuinely second guessing my race next weekend, and my hopes of finishing a longer run than ever. Twice this summer.
I took the last week more or less off, save the traditional group run Wednesday (which I always love, and helps keep me motivated). I bought new shoes this week, going back to the first trail shoes I had after moving out here, the inov8s.

Today was the third official S.O.B. (Siskiyou Out Back) training run. For those keeping score, S.O.B. will be my first attempt at a 50 miler (in June). With Quicksilver rapidly approaching - it’s a week away - I needed a good run just to feel confident about running a 50K. Well, today was better than a good run. The climbs were a struggle, no doubt, but I felt I could and did push myself, and ran relatively pain free in my knee. I still am leery, but am going to ice and use KTtape on it this week after runs to try to help me feel recovered. It was a great run, for those local we ran up to Four Corners (up the Bandersnatch trail, then Toothpick and finally up Catwalk - where the real struggling came in) for a total of about 14 miles up and back. I definitely felt stronger than I have in the past few weeks, my legs actually felt fresh and the climbs were manageable. Given the elevation profile of Quicksilver I think today is precisely what I need. I’m using this run to help me transition away from road marathon (Boston) training back into ultra/trail running. It seems manageable. And frankly, all I have to do is finish ahead of my ride back, who is running the 50 mile course…hopefully that will be manageable. It’s good to be back, to feel strong and capable again. I actually got back to enjoying the running today, laughing, playing and celebrating being in the hills that I love so much. Precisely what I needed.

So, it’s been a few weeks since I attempted the Boston Marathon. Well, maybe I should say I “ran” it rather than attempted, but to be honest I’ve struggled with accepting my performance there. I know the conditions were horrible, I know everyone’s time suffered, and I know that I should have just relaxed and enjoyed the experience rather than stressing about my time. I know these things intellectually. But when you spend months preparing for a single event, you focus your training and thinking on one race, it’s impossible not to be disappointed on some level when you fail to reach your goal. And in my case, in this instance, fail miserably. It wasn’t like I missed my mark by minutes…I was off by a half an hour. More, actually. I accept that the best training plan, the hardest effort can easily be completely undermined and destroyed by environmental conditions. That there are times when Mother Nature will have her way regardless of what you want, think or anticipate. In that context, I say I’m not so much disappointed in myself as I am with the outcome. That being said…let me start at the beginning and (finally) write my race report from the 2012 Boston Marathon.
I tried as hard as I could, in the days leading up to the race, to be calm. To not think about this day being the culmination of months and months of training and preparation. I got to Boston on Thursday evening, the race being the following Monday. Plenty of time to adjust to the time difference. Catch up with friends. Get used to the idea of this being the marathon I’ve wanted to run for years, finally happening, and yet be distracted enough to allow me to get sufficient sleep and settle into the idea. The day before the race, I went out for a few mile run to stretch the legs and get a sense of how I was feeling. It was 24 hours earlier, and 10 degrees cooler, and I was miserable 3 miles in. This didn’t bode well. I went to a day game at Fenway that day, despite my dislike of the Red Sox, simply because I wanted to see the field and also thought it would be a good distraction. The game was fun, the beer was delicious and insured I would nod out early that night (home early and in bed by 9ish).
The morning of the race, I got a ride to the bus staging area from my friend Ethan. I got there early, and was shipped to the starting area. It was 2 hours until my start time, I was already getting warm and trying to hydrate as much as possible (I brought a 2 liter bottle of water with me to the start, which I finished before I even got to my corral). I met up with a friend from Ashland, made a few more, and eventually got to my starting area about 20 minutes before the official start. The walk from the staging area to the start line was probably 1/2 a mile, and just walking there, I started sweating. A lot. It must have already been 70, possibly warmer (stupid 10 a.m. start time, for a MARATHON!). Alas, the time had come to make the most of my situation. I decided, more or less on the walk over (if not sooner) to go out slow. Set my pace as comfortable and try to ride it for the first 1/2 of the race, and if the heat didn’t zap me, and I was able to, I would turn it up for the final 13 miles and try to run a negative split and still reach my goal.
To be honest, I cannot give you a real mile by mile break down of my race. I know there were parts I felt strong, that I thought my pace would hold and I would get close to the three hour mark (I don’t think I had any of these moments after about 10 miles). I recall feeling weak about mile 12 or so. I also have a vivid memory of my pace slowing around mile 14, picking up around 16, and the wheels falling completely off around 18 or so and never coming back. I have crystal clear memories of various parts of the race. I recall seeing, various times (and maybe this is predicated by my job and close connection to veterans lately), several men marching the marathon in full military garb, camo uniforms, backpacks, boots, the whole 9 yards. It made me appreciate the shorts and tank top I had, and I honestly wondered how they were keeping themselves upright in this heat - and made me realize that the human body is capable of so much more than we realize. I remember Wellesley, blocks of college girls holding signs saying “Kiss me, I’m ________” - the blank could be just about anything you can think of. I remember several of the points when we passed spectators out on their lawns, hoses spraying water on the runners and handing water and fruit/food to people that they clearly purchased out of their own pockets. I have this memory of yellow tents of salvation, where they had pumped in water into almost sprinkler systems and we could run through to get showered with water in an attempt to cool us off. I can’t begin to count how many times I saw people being pulled off the course. Some carried. A few limping. Some in complete collapse and obvious pain, disorientation and completely destroyed. It’s hard to push on when you see people, as fit if not more so, than you, cramping up, locking up, and giving up. I kept thinking about how all these people qualified, just like I did, and likely trained as much as I have, yet their bodies were revolting against them. It was somewhat deflating.
And then, around mile 20, it really started to hurt. I realized - sometime around this point - that my arms and chest were completely dry. As in, no sweat on them. I don’t know when, exactly, but at some point I had stopped sweating. I’m no doctor or physiologist, but I’m pretty sure that isn’t good. I had been, and continued to, drink more water at each aid station than I normally would. It was tough, at times, since the water was luke warm to moderately hot. The Gatorade was cold, but I was about tapped out on the sugar and trying to drink more water…hot water is the last thing on earth I wanted to drink. Around the time I realized I was no longer sweating I made a commitment to drinking a glass of Gatorade, a glass of water and dump a glass of water on my head at each aid station (each mile) at a minimum. And that did not really help, to be honest. I tried as hard as I could to address my hydration needs, but either I was too far gone (I had drank at least a glass of water and dumped a cup on my head each of the last 10 miles or so, but perhaps it wasn’t enough) or it was simply that hot. I don’t know which. As an aspiring/hopeful ultra runner, I know of races that are hotter and less supported (Badwater, Western States, etc.), and as someone how desires to someday be able to do these types of races, it was equally disappointing for me to feel how much I was suffering; but I did persist.
The last few miles felt like an eternity. I knew my friends would be at around mile 24 or 25 to cheer me in, and I honestly started counting the miles from about 21 to that point, even being a mile closer than the finish made it much more attainable - I just wanted to see them, to not disappoint those that were waiting to see me in person, and that fueled me when it was the most challenging. I’ve spend a fair amount of time in my own head in this race, and plenty more since, and I realized something. I ran my first marathon in 2005. I have run nearly 20 since. And I would wager that not since 2006 have I been this close to quitting mid race. To be completely honest with myself, and with my readers, had it not been Boston - had it not been for this blog, and for my few readers and supporters, not for all I’ve poured into this race - had it just been “another marathon,” I would have quite possibly dropped. I have yet to DNF (did not finish) a running race yet. I know for a fact it will happen one day, quite possibly this year (I’m pushing my distance substantially further than I ever have), but I simply could not stomach the thought of it being at Boston. After all I’ve put into this, with all the support and kind words from so many great friends, this race being something I’ve wanted since I started running this distance, I simply could not have it be my first DNF.
So, it’s been a few weeks since I attempted the Boston Marathon. Well, maybe I should say I “ran” it rather than attempted, but to be honest I’ve struggled with accepting my performance there. I know the conditions were horrible, I know everyone’s time suffered, and I know that I should have just relaxed and enjoyed the experience rather than stressing about my time. I know these things intellectually. But when you spend months preparing for a single event, you focus your training and thinking on one race, it’s impossible not to be disappointed on some level when you fail to reach your goal. And in my case, in this instance, fail miserably. It wasn’t like I missed my mark by minutes…I was off by a half an hour. More, actually. I accept that the best training plan, the hardest effort can easily be completely undermined and destroyed by environmental conditions. That there are times when Mother Nature will have her way regardless of what you want, think or anticipate. In that context, I say I’m not so much disappointed in myself as I am with the outcome. That being said…let me start at the beginning and (finally) write my race report from the 2012 Boston Marathon.
I tried as hard as I could, in the days leading up to the race, to be calm. To not think about this day being the culmination of months and months of training and preparation. I got to Boston on Thursday evening, the race being the following Monday. Plenty of time to adjust to the time difference. Catch up with friends. Get used to the idea of this being the marathon I’ve wanted to run for years, finally happening, and yet be distracted enough to allow me to get sufficient sleep and settle into the idea. The day before the race, I went out for a few mile run to stretch the legs and get a sense of how I was feeling. It was 24 hours earlier, and 10 degrees cooler, and I was miserable 3 miles in. This didn’t bode well. I went to a day game at Fenway that day, despite my dislike of the Red Sox, simply because I wanted to see the field and also thought it would be a good distraction. The game was fun, the beer was delicious and insured I would nod out early that night (home early and in bed by 9ish).
The morning of the race, I got a ride to the bus staging area from my friend Ethan. I got there early, and was shipped to the starting area. It was 2 hours until my start time, I was already getting warm and trying to hydrate as much as possible (I brought a 2 liter bottle of water with me to the start, which I finished before I even got to my corral). I met up with a friend from Ashland, made a few more, and eventually got to my starting area about 20 minutes before the official start. The walk from the staging area to the start line was probably 1/2 a mile, and just walking there, I started sweating. A lot. It must have already been 70, possibly warmer (stupid 10 a.m. start time, for a MARATHON!). Alas, the time had come to make the most of my situation. I decided, more or less on the walk over (if not sooner) to go out slow. Set my pace as comfortable and try to ride it for the first 1/2 of the race, and if the heat didn’t zap me, and I was able to, I would turn it up for the final 13 miles and try to run a negative split and still reach my goal.
To be honest, I cannot give you a real mile by mile break down of my race. I know there were parts I felt strong, that I thought my pace would hold and I would get close to the three hour mark (I don’t think I had any of these moments after about 10 miles). I recall feeling weak about mile 12 or so. I also have a vivid memory of my pace slowing around mile 14, picking up around 16, and the wheels falling completely off around 18 or so and never coming back. I have crystal clear memories of various parts of the race. I recall seeing, various times (and maybe this is predicated by my job and close connection to veterans lately), several men marching the marathon in full military garb, camo uniforms, backpacks, boots, the whole 9 yards. It made me appreciate the shorts and tank top I had, and I honestly wondered how they were keeping themselves upright in this heat - and made me realize that the human body is capable of so much more than we realize. I remember Wellesley, blocks of college girls holding signs saying “Kiss me, I’m ________” - the blank could be just about anything you can think of. I remember several of the points when we passed spectators out on their lawns, hoses spraying water on the runners and handing water and fruit/food to people that they clearly purchased out of their own pockets. I have this memory of yellow tents of salvation, where they had pumped in water into almost sprinkler systems and we could run through to get showered with water in an attempt to cool us off. I can’t begin to count how many times I saw people being pulled off the course. Some carried. A few limping. Some in complete collapse and obvious pain, disorientation and completely destroyed. It’s hard to push on when you see people, as fit if not more so, than you, cramping up, locking up, and giving up. I kept thinking about how all these people qualified, just like I did, and likely trained as much as I have, yet their bodies were revolting against them. It was somewhat deflating.
And then, around mile 20, it really started to hurt. I realized - sometime around this point - that my arms and chest were completely dry. As in, no sweat on them. I don’t know when, exactly, but at some point I had stopped sweating. I’m no doctor or physiologist, but I’m pretty sure that isn’t good. I had been, and continued to, drink more water at each aid station than I normally would. It was tough, at times, since the water was luke warm to moderately hot. The Gatorade was cold, but I was about tapped out on the sugar and trying to drink more water…hot water is the last thing on earth I wanted to drink. Around the time I realized I was no longer sweating I made a commitment to drinking a glass of Gatorade, a glass of water and dump a glass of water on my head at each aid station (each mile) at a minimum. And that did not really help, to be honest. I tried as hard as I could to address my hydration needs, but either I was too far gone (I had drank at least a glass of water and dumped a cup on my head each of the last 10 miles or so, but perhaps it wasn’t enough) or it was simply that hot. I don’t know which. As an aspiring/hopeful ultra runner, I know of races that are hotter and less supported (Badwater, Western States, etc.), and as someone how desires to someday be able to do these types of races, it was equally disappointing for me to feel how much I was suffering; but I did persist.
The last few miles felt like an eternity. I knew my friends would be at around mile 24 or 25 to cheer me in, and I honestly started counting the miles from about 21 to that point, even being a mile closer than the finish made it much more attainable - I just wanted to see them, to not disappoint those that were waiting to see me in person, and that fueled me when it was the most challenging. I’ve spend a fair amount of time in my own head in this race, and plenty more since, and I realized something. I ran my first marathon in 2005. I have run nearly 20 since. And I would wager that not since 2006 have I been this close to quitting mid race. To be completely honest with myself, and with my readers, had it not been Boston - had it not been for this blog, and for my few readers and supporters, not for all I’ve poured into this race - had it just been “another marathon,” I would have quite possibly dropped. I have yet to DNF (did not finish) a running race yet. I know for a fact it will happen one day, quite possibly this year (I’m pushing my distance substantially further than I ever have), but I simply could not stomach the thought of it being at Boston. After all I’ve put into this, with all the support and kind words from so many great friends, this race being something I’ve wanted since I started running this distance, I simply could not have it be my first DNF.
It was a tough race. I suffered. I wanted to quit. I doubted myself. I questioned why the hell I would possibly think this is a good idea. I told myself I was done running distance races. I crossed the finish line, and was dizzy. I can’t lie, the feeling of pain didn’t end as it had in the past once I got that medal. It was my most coveted medal since I can remember, and I was indifferent to actually getting it. I was more focused on if I needed to get to the medical tent. I was light headed, clearly dehydrated, and just thankful to be done with it. Literally 30 minutes after finishing I was finally able to stand and walk to where I was meeting my friends. I was really happy to be finished, proud of myself for sticking with it (my stubborn streak runs deep - honestly, thank you did!), but still disappointed with my time. In hindsight, I’m much more happy with finishing, less upset with my time, and hang that medal with pride. I finished in the top 6,000. Yes, 6,000. In a race of over 21,000 finishers (not to mention those that dropped or were pulled medically). The VAST majority of which qualified by running a damn impressive time. So, basically, I was in the top 28% or so if the countries most elite marathon. Not what I wanted, but I’ll take it.
And…I’m inspired. I need to train harder. Push further. Test my limits more. A few of my friends have asked if I’m going to keep this blog up now that Boston has passed…and at least a couple of them requested I do as they read it regularly. So I will. It’s self indulgent. But it also serves a purpose in my life and training. I hope those of you that read it do enjoy it. And ideally, get something out of it more than just my rants, raves and opinions. Thank you to all of my readers that have followed me on my journey toward my goal of running Boston, I am sorry that my time isn’t what I wanted for myself, but hopefully that doesn’t undermine the purpose of this blog. Which was the journey - which is really what distance running is all about. the hell I would possibly think this is a good idea. I told myself I was done running distance races. I crossed the finish line, and was dizzy. I can’t lie, the feeling of pain didn’t end as it had in the past once I got that medal. It was my most coveted medal since I can remember, and I was indifferent to actually getting it. I was more focused on if I needed to get to the medical tent. I was light headed, clearly dehydrated, and just thankful to be done with it. Literally 30 minutes after finishing I was finally able to stand and walk to where I was meeting my friends. I was really happy to be finished, proud of myself for sticking with it (my stubborn streak runs deep - honestly, thank you did!), but still disappointed with my time. In hindsight, I’m much more happy with finishing, less upset with my time, and hang that medal with pride. I finished in the top 6,000. Yes, 6,000. In a race of over 21,000 finishers (not to mention those that dropped or were pulled medically). The VAST majority of which qualified by running a damn impressive time. So, basically, I was in the top 28% or so if the countries most elite marathon. Not what I wanted, but I’ll take it.
And…I’m inspired. I need to train harder. Push further. Test my limits more. A few of my friends have asked if I’m going to keep this blog up now that Boston has passed…and at least a couple of them requested I do as they read it regularly. So I will. It’s self indulgent. But it also serves a purpose in my life and training. I hope those of you that read it do enjoy it. And ideally, get something out of it more than just my rants, raves and opinions. Thank you to all of my readers that have followed me on my journey toward my goal of running Boston, I am sorry that my time isn’t what I wanted for myself, but hopefully that doesn’t undermine the purpose of this blog. Which was the journey - which is really what distance running is all about.

The disappointment of my performance yesterday is dissipating, tempered by reflections on the conditions of the day and the report of 100+ runners being taking to the ER and several thousand needing medical care on the course. Yesterday’s race was a run to simply finish in order to consider it an accomplishment. Of course, given the months of preparation and sacrifice I’ve made to be ready for my best race possible, when you battle nature at it’s best you seldom win. Yesterday nature was definitely going to win the day - even the elites lost time to the heat. As a friend of mine said, I can now say “I ran Boston when…” and 2012 will go down in the books as on of the more challenging runs on that course.
I was talking to some friends after the race, and told them that this was the first marathon I wasn’t sure I was going to finish in years. Had it been any other race than Boston, I may have had my first DNF (did not finish) in my running career. But there was no way I was going to have Boston be my first. There was no way I was not going to get to the finish. Even if I had to crawl. Even if I noticed I stopped sweating at mile 20. Even if my stomach was to twisted to eat any gu after only my second one. And even if my salt tabs dissolved after dousing myself with water and forgetting to put them in a plastic bag so they would stay tabs. This was Boston. A goal of mine since I ran my first marathon in 2005.
I’ll perhaps write up a full race report after I’m back in Oregon (still getting used to this iPad typing, and it’s still rather slow and I’m on VACATION!), but let me summarize my race briefly. Started out a bit slower than my goal pace, hoping to hit my stride a few miles in and push through the heat to the finish. Felt strong until about the halfway point, give or take. Then the wheels fell off. And it was all downhill from there. There were good spots, times when it wasn’t complete suffering, but as the miles rolled by those were fewer and further between. And then it got hotter. And I got slower. At the end, I honestly thought I was going to puke. I believe that despite drinking a Gatorade and water, and dumping a glass of water on my head at each aid station, I crossed over into dehydration early, and stayed there until well after I was done.
By far the toughest marathon I’ve done to date, but then again, this is what I enjoy about distance running. Pushing myself further than I have before. Setting a goal and forcing myself to not give up despite any adversity. In reflecting, I’m really happy with my race. I’m reminded of one if my favorite quotes.
“make friends with pain, and you’ll never be alone”
- Ken Chlouber (founder of the Leadville 100)

Those of you that are friends with me on FB have already heard this, but tomorrow (race day) is going to be a scorcher. Highs in the mid to upper 80s. Far from pleasant running conditions, especially when attempting to run 26 consecutive miles at race pace (or faster, if attempting a PR like I want to). It’s hot enough to scare the Boston Athletic Association into allowing deferrals to next year, although seeing that they are not issuing refunds, people who defer still need to pay registration next year, AND you still have to pick up this year’s packet in order to defer…it seems to me this is a proactive move to fend off any lawsuits should someone suffer severely from the heat on the course. It seems to me with all those hoops, and money, that there isn’t genuine concern for the runners. Whatever…nothing would keep me off the course tomorrow. I can’t defer, I’ve trained too hard and spent too much on 2012 gear. But, I will likely dial back my pace a touch, or at least listen VERY closely to my body. And definitely not blow through a single aid station. And I’ll not be too disappointed with myself if I don’t hit a PR. I’m just going to enjoy the experience and push myself as hard as my body and the temp allows.

Yesterday I went to the Boston Marathon expo…after stopping off at a local shoe store to get a pair of the awesome New Balance Boston Marathon shoes (pics on my FB & Instagram - I haven’t imported them to my iPad yet…so I can’t post them here). The short version, I spent a LOT of money. But hey, I’ll likely only run this once - and I actually set up a online savings account to squirrel away $ for this expo as soon as I knew I got in. Purchase list:

Jacket (it’s really awesome)
Shoes (not at the expo, but still Boston gear)
Two pairs of shorts (purchased off the web a few months ago)
Flip flops (yes…”official Boston flip flops”)
A short sleeve running shirt
A running tank top
A long sleeve shirt (came with the race packet)
A pint glass
A coffee cup
A poster (free from Adidas - apparently it has every runners name on it)
A key chain
A running hat
A t-shirt (non running)

I think that’s all of it. They guy at the checkout asked if I missed anything. I said I didn’t think so. Haha. It was awesome. And expensive.

The time I got to the airport in Medford to the time I landed in Boston spanned literally 14 hours. Not including time zone adjustments. Yet, the last leg of my flights, from DC to here, I saw a lot of people wearing marathon gear (Boston and otherwise), myself included (LA Marathon vest). The energy was electric. I’m really, really excited to be here. Tomorrow we hit the expo, where I’m sure the energy will be whipped into a fury. I’ve started receiving well wishes and good luck wishes from all over the country…the support my friends and family give me is truly remarkable. I’m still feeling solid going into the weekend, I’ll probably hit a short run or two the next few days, but for the most part…this is it. Months of training, sacrifice and focus are coming to a boiling point. I’m going to give it my all and just hope I don’t disappoint anyone - most of all myself.

I have to wake up in about 5 hours. Insanely early flight, 2 layovers and crossing the whole country. But this time tomorrow night, I’ll be in Boston. Those of you that have know me for a while know I don’t really love the city, but i’m older, calmer, and frankly excited to see Beantown through fresh eyes. Going to a Red Sox game. Seeing friends I miss. Running a marathon. This time is going to be different. I’m extremely excited about it. See you tomorrow, East Coast. I absolutely love where I’ve ended up, where I now call home, but I do miss it back East. Looking forward to an excellent 10 days.

Officially less than a week. I’m now in the starting to stress phase of preparation for this race. I’m starting to pack, the logistics of my travel between Boston and NYC are being sorted out, and I only have one more day of work until a nice 10 day break, with a little 26 mile jaunt in the middle of it. The good news is tonight I did a very moderate run on the trails above Ashland, about 7 1/2 miles, nice and easy (comfortable pace), and for the first time since L.A., my knee felt 100% fine. Tonight I felt pretty strong, actually. The timing is perfect. To be honest, I was a bit concerned about the IT band issues, it bothered me in the LA marathon, and has been tight since - every time I ran. Finally, today, I felt 100%. Better than 100%, actually. Maybe it was the absence of pain and tightness, but I really felt solid in my run. I really hope I can keep this through next week. At least until Monday. I’ll probably do another 7 miles or so tomorrow, maybe a shorter 5 or so Friday and/or Saturday, and if my knee stays solid through all that, it should bode well for me pushing myself as hard as I can next Monday.
Still, despite the feeling of absolute euphoria on the trails tonight (well, save some of those climbs, those sucked even with a solid knee), I am more nervous about this race that I think I have been in years. Obviously, for good reason. This is a race I’ve wanted to run since my first marathon. That year a good friend of mine back east ran Boston and brought me a B.A.A hat - which I still have. I remember being in awe of her ability (still am, she’s an amazing athlete) and being very thankful for the gift, and feeling inspired to someday run it myself - to EARN that hat rather than simply wear it as a present. Finally, I get my chance. And the B.A.A. is going to make their money off me at the expo. Seriously, this is “my year” for Boston, and I’m going to buy just about one of everything to show it. I normally buy at least something at each expo (it’s my guilty pleasure) - and this is a race I’ve been dying to do. And frankly, I’m happy that I accomplished a qualifying time. And I hope, and will give 100% to, setting a personal best.

Today I ran the newest trail in my area, Bandersnatch. I worked on this trail a few weeks ago, and yesterday about 60+ other people finished it (I had to do my taxes, so I couldn’t help out, unfortunately…I blame Uncle Sam). It’s an awesome trail. It runs pretty much parallel to BTI, which is a huge mountain bike/downhiller trail we often run…as you can imagine this creates potential problems. I dunno how many lbs of bike + rider barreling down a crazy decline while us runners try to grind up it. It IS single track. It IS dangerous, for runner and biker alike. So this trail is runner/hiker specific, and is built to actually be difficult, if not impossible to ride with anything approaching fun, but to climb while running. It’s really a win/win, the bikers have less runners to worry about, and the runners have less bikers to worry about. Pretty cool idea. Anyway, today a few of us ran up to the top (or near the top) - about 7 miles round trip for me, and frankly, I love it. And the best part, no knee pain. Yesterday was S.O.B. training run #1, about 15 miles, and my knee was a bit sore on the descents. I am a bit concerned about what I think is a possible IT Band issue, but with Boston a week from tomorrow, there is probably little I can do about it. Just grit my teeth, pop an advil (or whatever pain reliever I have) and grind it out. I’m going to dial my milage back this week, and probably run very little the week after Boston (I almost feel like I have to run Central Park - for nostalgia and because, let’s face it, it’s CP. But otherwise, I’m all about getting healthy and focusing on this summer’s ultra marathons. But…today was a good day.

Today I attended a memorial service of a person I worked with at the local VA. I honestly didn’t know her well, but my interactions with her were always very positive, she was energetic and very kind hearted. She was also a year younger than me. If you are a regular reader of my blog you may be asking “why is this here,” and yes, isn’t not directly tied to running. Per se. But she was training for a race next month. A distance she had never run before. While balancing a project that was extremely visible on the national stage (within the VA) and a family (she had a child and two step children), she was training to run a race beyond where she had pushed herself prior to it. Her passing was sudden, and unexpected. Here one minute, planning for the future, all these goals, aspirations and ideas. Gone the next. Funerals always make me a bit introspective, but this one really resonated with me. She was my age, essentially. She was where I am, career wise - in a good position with so much potential. She had a family and was a proud mother. And her extended family - people she impacted (myself included) seemed to be an endless line.
It makes me think. I am extremely fortunate. I am surrounded by great people. Friends I’ve made throughout my travels. My trip to run Boston also includes a trip back to NYC. In the next few weeks I get to see many of the people who have left major fingerprints on my life. Both in my limited time here in Oregon and my decade plus in NYC (and the east coast). Not to mention the countless friends back home (in the Midwest) who I won’t get to see, but whose impact on me is significant to say the least. The list is far to endless to include everyone in this blog, but I am truly blessed in my life to have the fortune to meet such amazing people. I honestly hope they know how much they mean to me. How much you all mean to me. And to those around each and every one of you. Thinking “big picture” like this makes my little run around Boston seem insignificant. But it’s not. It means something to me. And maybe to others - I think of the person I am talking about who has passed, and she was just starting to run. But who knows, maybe she would have one day achieved running in Boston too. Maybe not…but we’ll never know.
I guess what I’m saying is I have a new found appreciation for every moment. We all get too often wrapped up in the details, and we miss the big picture. I feel like I have more of a personal grasp on it here than I did living in NYC, I feel more connected to the world, to my life, to enjoying the moments. For me, personally, it’s what I needed. A calmer place. A calmer pace. But I have to remember…one day it will be gone. I just hope I can leave the world a better place than I found it - even if just for one person. If I find that peace and that capability (to leave things better) through running, then I’m doing something right. I believe I am. I hope I am.

Boston is two weeks away. I’ve been counting it down for months, as those of you that have been reading my blog know, but now it’s finally getting “real.” As in, slight panic settling in. I know it’s far too late to train any differently than I have, make any adjustments to get more on track, and basically I am where I am. I also realized this past weekend that tweak in my knee I blogged about in my review of the L.A. Marathon is possibly an IT band issue. Just my luck - a month before arguably the biggest marathon of my life, and I start to have a nagging injury. It kind of flared up this Sunday on my long road run, but didn’t really bother me on my trail run on Saturday. Still, my pace on Sunday was not bad, although I don’t know if I could (can?) hold it for a full 26. Alas, time will tell. I’ve opted to try to scale it back a bit in the next two weeks, probably not run more than 10 miles at a clip between now and then. I still hope to break my PR (3:12), but I’ve come to peace with the thought that it’s entirely possible I won’t quite get there. I’m actually just going to try to enjoy it. I’ve wanted to run Boston since 2006, when I ran my first full marathon (Baltimore), and I have to remember that - and be happy to have reached that goal. Please don’t get me wrong, I fully intend to “leave it all out there” come the 16th, to push myself as hard as I can, harder than I ever have while running a marathon. But I’m also going to try to simply enjoy the experience. This is likely to be my only running of Boston, and I don’t want to let my focus on a PR undermine the experience. Starting in May, I’ll be running an ultra marathon every month for the next 4 months at least, possibly more - and am already talking about shooting for a 100 miler next year. My focus is completely off marathons once this one comes and goes, which is why I say it’s entirely possibly this will be my last Boston. And 2 weeks out…I’m already a bundle of nerves.

You can track me during the Boston marathon.

http://www.baa.org/races/boston-marathon/participant-information/att-athlete-alert.aspx

My bib number is 6724

Feel free to cheer for me every time you get a text update. :)