2012 - Empire State Marathon - My First 26.2, uh 23.0
(Note: This was written in 2021 for posterity, but I've tried to tell the story from a 2012 perspective)
5 months earlier in May 2012, I prepared for my first 5k since high school cross country many years ago. After a couple of weeks to recover, I was able to get a running habit going, sort of. Since my weight was in the 260-270 pound range it didn't seem that I could actually handle pounding the pavement, but I could keep a daily habit working out on an elliptical machine. I trained on the elliptical machine by HR and time and rarely got outside to run, except for an occasional 5k race. This seemed to be the balance I needed to improve my fitness and have legs that let me climb stairs and frankly the race results were pretty good.
At this point, running a marathon was nowhere on my radar. I knew people that had run them and I understood why a person would run *a* marathon but I was dumbfounded about why a person would ever put their body through that trauma twice. I was in awe of people around me that could cover the distance, it just seemed out of reach.
I started overthinking every detail of preparing for the Ragnar Relay. The runner's guide said to do multiple runs a day, so I started hitting the elliptical multiple times a day. I still did very little running. To my surprise my body responded pretty well to 2, 3, even 4 workouts a day but I was still nervous about the Ragnar Relay. How could I get my confidence up? A half marathon, that would do it. If I could prove to myself that I could run 13.1 miles without stopping then I'd certainly be able to handle the relay. Conveniently, I had this idea 1 week before the Rochester Half Marathon. It would be a perfect test. Jason told me not to do it and gave me a laundry list of legitimate reasons why it was a bad idea. The one adjustment he got me to concede was to take a couple of days off before the 13.1.
With my confidence soaring and a whopping 20 times that I'd run in 4+ months I started wondering about knocking out a marathon while I was at it. It was unbelievable that I had gotten away with the 13.1 so I better swing for the fences before my body falls apart and I never get to cross a marathon off my bucket list. Conveniently, the Empire State Marathon was one month later and that seemed like just the right amount of time to swing for a 26.2. I resolved to sign up for the marathon as long as I came back from the Ragnar Relay the following week without getting hurt.
A recap of how not to prepare
- Start running because your kids are making fun of you
- Over 5 months...
- Take a total of 12 rest days
- Spend ~30 minutes on an elliptical machine 107 times
- Actually run 32 times
- 25 miles run from May to mid-September
- 114 miles run in 6 weeks prior to marathon
- Ignore experienced runners
- Never Google "marathon training plan"
- Go ahead and Google "good marathon time" and start setting goals
- On your mark, get set, Go!!!
- WTF was I thinking
Race Report
The race was going to start early Sunday morning. Syracuse is only about 75 minutes away from home, but that would cause a wake up time that was way too early. Amanda, the kids and I went to Syracuse the day before and after stopping by the expo checked into the hotel. The expo had a few vendors and one of them was selling oval 26.2 stickers. I was always jealous of people that got to rock one of those on their bumper and now I would have one! Woohoo! Sold.
The morning of the race we left the kids in the hotel room after previously swearing them to their best behavior and Amanda dropped me off at the start. The forecast was for race day temperatures of about 60F and that seemed cold so I went to Fleet Feet the week before and bought some nice warm compression tights. (Spoiler: Running a marathon generates heat and 60F is not cold)
I milled around at the start for a while nervously hitting the porta potty and drinking plenty of water to get ready and before I knew it they let us go. I had a cheap non-GPS running watch and I set it to beep at me as a reminder that I was going to run for 4 minutes, walk for 1 minute and repeat until the race was over. I had two goals for the day. My primary goal was to finish 26.2 miles so that I would never have to do this again and my secondary goal was to break 4 hours. During the 4 minute run segments I tried to find what felt like an "all day pace". Without GPS to help me, I had no way to know how fast I was actually running other than to look for mile markers and do the math.
As the miles clicked by I was surprised to see that even with the walking, I was well below the 9:09 per mile pace needed to hit 4 hours. I was typically finishing most miles in the 8:40's. I kept telling myself to just find that "all day pace" and constantly tried to remember the strategy behind a Galloway run/walk method. The run/walk helps stave off fatigue by sharing the load with a greater variety of muscles so that no one thing wears out prematurely. If I run too hard or I run too much before walking then the strategy wouldn't work so I was diligent, every 4 minutes no matter the circumstances I walked.
Halfway through the race I was feeling like a number 1, grade A badass. I had this. I didn't just have this, I was doing pretty damn good! Then the ego check. I got passed by a dude bouncing a basketball. He was dribbling the entire 26.2 miles AND he just passed me like it was no big thing. Shrunken ego? Check.
The miles kept clicking by and I had some fatigue, but it was all manageable. Until "it" happened...damn, what's that sharp stinging feeling on my chest. I was wearing a loose tech shirt. I'd been warned not to wear cotton, but ouch. One look at my chest and the beet red nipples told me all I needed to know. I wasn't bleeding, but it felt like I should be. My nipples hurt way more than anything else on my body. Way more. I stopped at an aid station and asked if they had bandaids. Nope. No bandaids, but they did have vaseline. Score. I put the vaseline on my nipples and it felt glorious for about 10 minutes and then I was right back to wanting to die from chafing. How's that for a death certificate? Yeah, he lost a lot of weight and improved his fitness and then bam, out of nowhere in the middle of race...death by sore nipples. Fortunately, the next aid station had bandaids. I stopped and put them strategically in place. They lasted for about 3 minutes. Guess what happens when you try to put bandaids on skin that was previously slathered with vaseline? Yeah, they don't stick. Duh.
I continued running along stopping at every aid station for a new application of greasy goodness for some temporary relief and looking forward to seeing my family at mile 20. When over planning the day and since I was afraid of getting cold in 60F weather (SMH) I had asked my wife Amanda to have a dry fresh shirt ready to go. If I could just get a fresh, dry tech shirt then maybe my pink parts would forgive me. I could have taken my shirt off and run bare chested, but I didn't like the way I looked. My tolerance for pain was greater than my capacity to handle the shame of how far I'd let myself go. I'd lost a lot of weight, but let's just say I hadn't exactly firmed up yet and I didn't want to share the jiggles with strangers.
Around mile 19 I found out that I was almost there. For real. Honest. I was "almost there". It must be true, an old guy sitting in his lawn chair was happy to give me "encouragement" when he shouted, "Keep going, you are almost there, only 10,000 or so more steps to go!" Thanks buddy. Got something useful like a bra that I could borrow? No?
Then "it" happened.
Less than 5 minutes after I had left my family at the 20 mile mark I started crying. A lot. These weren't small tears. I was a blubbering fool, a complete balling mess. I continued completely falling apart for several minutes. If anyone had looked at me they would have thought that something tragic had happened. I knew I was crying, but I didn't understand why. I hurt. I was tired. I wasn't any more sore or fatigued than I was 5 minutes earlier. I wasn't upset. My emotions were fine. I just was crying like a baby for no reason. While the waterworks were still in full swing I had a conversation with myself in my head that concluded with, "this is stupid, I should stop" and like a light switch had been flipped I stopped crying. That was weird. Oh well, just keep plugging along.
About 10-15 minutes after I'd exorcised my inner crying baby demon I started to cramp up really bad. I stopped to stretch out a cramping hamstring and there was physically no way to stretch it out that didn't light up multiple other muscles with their own cramp rebellion. Welp, I guess there is no relief to be had I might as well just run through it. Within a couple hundred feet I couldn't run anymore so I started walking. Within a few minutes of walking, I stopped being able to lift my left leg. Literally. I could not get the shoe off the ground. I could drag the leg, and did, but it would not leave the ground. Runners around me started to get concerned. At first I told them I would be OK but it didn't take long before I knew this was going to be bad. I kept moving forward looking for mile markers. With no GPS on my watch, if I was going to have to quit I at least wanted to know how far I'd made it.
Right leg step, left leg drag, repeat. When I was at my worst someone in a utility cart finally came by and asked if I needed help. I quickly said, "yes". He told me to get into the cart. I refused. He was going the wrong way. He had supplies for the aid station and I understood the importance of his mission but there was absolutely no way I was getting in a cart going the wrong direction especially when I still didn't know how far I'd made it! We agreed that he would pick me up on his way back through and I kept limping along. This section of the course was on a nice wide, paved path that finished at a parking lot. Right before I got to the parking lot I saw the mile 23 marker. The duration on my watch was 3 hours and 43 minutes.
At the parking lot there were 2 EMTs that moved into the middle of the path and were both waving their arms like they were doing jumping jacks. Uh, thanks guys? I was glad to give up. I think they expected more of a fight, but all of my fight was long gone. The EMTs checked my vitals and we had a good conversation while we were waiting for the courtesy vehicle from a local car dealership to show up and take me to the finish line. I got a ride for the next 3 miles but because of the logistics of the finish line I'd have to make it to the end under my own power. He peeled me out of the passenger seat and sent me on the way. There was no way that I was going to cross the actual finish line so I ducked behind the barriers that kept spectators back and started looking for my family. Every step was a chore and it felt like forever before we were reunited. Apparently all of this took longer than I realized and they had started worrying about me. Everyone was very confused when I showed up behind them after they had not seen me cross the finish.
We made our way over to the minivan and then there was one final indignity before the day could be concluded. I was dying from the heat of wearing running tights for the last 4+ hours but I was incapable of getting them off. Amanda had to come around to the passenger side of the van and help me strip in the parking lot. It took every ounce of coordination I had to hold onto the van and the door while she got down on her knees and peeled my clothes off of me. I was completely helpless. The pain everywhere continued for weeks.
Epilogue
I was hooked. Nothing grabs my attention like failing at something. I got back to work as my body allowed, listened to more experienced runners, Googled "marathon training plan" and got a referral for physical therapy to overcome the damage that I'd done. 6 weeks after completing the 23.0 miles I embarked on a 22 week marathon training plan that was constructed from borrowing a Hal Higdon plan and stitching extra weeks onto the beginning where I could transition between the elliptical machine and actual real running.
Two weeks after the Boston Marathon bombing I swung for the fences at the Gettysburg Marathon on April 28th, 2013. I missed my stretch goal of achieving a Boston Qualifier time but I was still proud to cover 26.2 miles for the first time in 3:20:41. A story for a different day.
