Lincoln Half Marathon Recap

A Runner's Ramblings: Volume 9; 8th Edition 
72.2 miles run in 2014 races
Race: Lincoln Half Marathon
Place: Oak Harbor, WA
Miles from home: 1600
Weather: 50s; bright sun; windy

This was supposed to be a race recap of my 149th marathon. Instead, for a variety of reasons, it is the race recap of my 76th half marathon.

While most of my racing plans for the year have been put on hold because of the extended layoff I am still in the middle of, this race was not originally one of the planned casualties. Suffice it to say that a day prior I didn’t think I would be running at all because of the stomach bug I was experiencing. Fortunately, I felt good enough to at least put my bib on to start the day. 

The Lincoln Marathon has an option which I think is very wise and more races should implement if the course logistics allow it; runners can choose mid-race which race they are running. I know that without this option I would not have even started the race.  I hoped I would be well enough to run 26.2 but if not, 13.1 isn’t too shabby.

Pre- Race:
When I was booked as the speaker for this race one of the race directors learned we grew up about 20 miles away from each other in NW PA. Nothing like having a neighborhood friend in a place far from home. Even without this connection I was immediately made to feel at home in Lincoln, a really enjoyable city. The morning of the expo I had the pleasure of firing the gun for one of the waves of the Mayor’s Run, a one mile run that thousands of kids took part in. Then, at my speaking engagement I had two packed speeches where the crowd was warm and inviting.

I spoke to many first timers at the marathon expo and their emotions were raw and open. I had someone who was particularly emotional and felt the need to apologize. I told them that not only should they be happy to be experiencing these emotions, they weren’t the first to cry and want a hug. I was happy to give it.
By the end of the day, all the stomach rumblings of the past few days seemed to at least be reduced to smaller grumblings. Maybe I could have a successful race after all.

Race Morning:

As I walked to the start of the race, the temperature was just a touch chilly but I realized that was mostly because of a ferocious wind whipping around the buildings. There was not a single cloud in the sky and the temperature was threatening to climb well above 70 by the end of the day.  In other words, ignorant sportscasters and your NRFs (non-running friends) would call this a “perfect day for running”.  I knew that even if I was able to run the whole 26.2, it might be a suffer fest.

I serendipitously ran into a runner, Jeff, who had contacted me about running this his first marathon. We chatted for a bit and talked about what a small world it was. He not only went on to get his goal (sub 3:45) but I was fortunate enough to put the medal around his neck.

As this race is tied with the National Guard, the race is the qualifier for the National Guard marathon team.  A set number of runners must qualify with a time here to be on that team. As such, many were on hand and I had the honor the previous night to speak at their dinner.  As such, even though I had the pleasure of knowing a few of these runners from other races, I made even more friends that I saw at the starting line. We were told the starting gun would be a cannon but when it fired I don’t think I was the only one who had to check my shorts.

BOOM!

First Three Miles: 7:16, 7:22, 7:36

As we took off, my main concern, as it has been for months now, was what sort of trouble my left leg would give me. Stemming from a herniated disk from a bike crash, the pain in my leg has gotten somewhat better as of late.  A high diet of weight lifting and lesser miles has seen to that. What I could tell immediately was the leg seemed fairly fine. I could also tell my stomach was fair and there appeared to be no chance of making a mess unexpectedly. But what was scary was that I could not breathe.Like, at all.

I assumed this would go away after a few hundred yards or so but it persisted past the first mile. Into the second mile I went and I thought each breath was being taken in through a straw. If this continued much further, I was going to be in trouble. But continue it did, even though I slowed.  By the time I hit the third mile I knew what I had to do. I needed to stop my race day 50% earlier than my original plan. In fact, if there had been a car waiting for me at the 5k, I am pretty sure I would have gotten in it and gone home. Take away a leg or make the stomach queasy and a person can solider on.  Take away their ability to breathe and they are done. I learned this as a Golden Gloves boxer over a decade ago and the same truth is still solid today.

I realized that while I was hardly feeling good or happy with my decision, I could now spend the rest of the time enjoying the race. Through crowded neighborhoods where people were out in force, I high (or low) fived kids, thanked spectators, made jokes with onlookers and did my best to enjoy what was indeed a beautiful day.

To the Half Way Point: 7:36, 7:16, 6:58

As I approached the fourth mile I heard a voice say: “How are you, Dane?”  I turned and saw it was Sergeant Hagen who had been the armed forces gentleman who took me to the National Guard dinner.  He was running the half as well before spending duties for the remainder of the day at the finish. I answered honestly and with an expletive which got a smile out of him. I told him I too would be calling it quits at the half. He asked me if I wanted to hand out medals to finishers and suddenly I brightened. My day would have some purpose after all, outside of myself.

As we ran along, I told him I was going to hang with him as long as possible. Wearing a National Guard shirt, the Sergeant received plenty of kudos from the crowd.  Running next to him in a similarly colored shirt, I felt like an impostor. I had told the assembled military members at the dinner that I always thank those in the military for their service and truly mean it. They do the things they do so I can goof around on weekends under the umbrella of safety they provide. (As a side note: at this dinner there is a roll call of states in which designated members of each Guard says a little something about the state, does a quick joke or in the case of the state of Washington, a full on “You can’t Handle the Truth!” speech that was tailored-specifically to running. It was, in the days of this overused word, rather epic.)

I tried my best to interact with the crowd and also the runners we were passing. I had begun to gain some wind back and thought perhaps I had been too rash in deciding to call it quits. But after second guessing my second guessing, I knew it was the right decision. I only felt good because as we approached the 6th mile, I knew I was almost halfway done.

The course has a sharp downhill here and I experienced what I assumed would be my only sub-7 minute mile of the day.  To wit, I had heard the Lincoln Marathon was flat.  This is not the case.  It is not the Whidbey Island Marathon or anything, and on a good weather day could still give runners some fast times. But if you come to the race expecting a track meet, you will be disappointed. Just a word of caution.

Sergeant Hagen had begun talking with a few other guard members and as he now had some company I took this chance to thank him for pulling me along for two miles, but I had to back off.  The lungs were tightening again and passing out was not on my agenda for the day. At least not until I finished.  then pass out all you want. You have the medal.

To Mile 10: 7:30, 7:14, 7:26, 7:01

I immediately felt better by just letting off the throttle. It never ceases to amaze me how a little less effort can mean the difference between collapsing and running smoothly. Run long enough and you will know where your redline is.  It changes race to race and mile to mile but if you can get in touch with it, you can race successfully and safely. In fact, as we entered a bike bath (which Sergeant Hagen and other members of the Nebraska National Guard actually had recently widened by laying down more pavement) I barely fell off the pace he was setting. I felt world’s different.

The volunteers at this race were top notch. The liquids provided to the runners were given to use in cups with lids and straws. I can say I do not recall ever having experienced that before. I am not sure it is any better for someone who knows the pinch trick but for those who spill a drink on themselves because of sloshing it was a god send.  I do know that with my diminished breathing it was impossible to use the straw. So I took the lid off, drank as normal and moved forward.

We turned north again and I knew this was now where we would not only begin heading home but also take on the biggest of the remaining hills. And as always, where I lose ground on flat portions of a race, I make it back on these hills. I am not as good of an uphill runner as I am downhill but I am usually better at both than anyone who is beating me on the flats. I have yet to fully understand why that is; I just know it is.

Cresting the hill around the 15k mark, we passed over a timing mat.  On the Lincoln Marathon website, people could track your progress at multiple locations. If you hadn’t known the distress I was in, you would have thought I was not too far off my desired 3:10 marathon pace for the day.  I started a little slow at 5k, picked it up at tad at 10k and was right about on pace here at 15k.  Unfortunately, that was the pace I wanted for 26.2 miles, not 13.1.  However, in spite of the fact that I knew I was dropping short, I had no desire to pick up the pace at all. When you have run 15 minutes faster for a half marathon, what difference does another minute or two make? 

I almost broke 7 minutes on the downhill and was surprised to see it. I had just a 5k left and I could smell the barn a little bit.

Heading To The Finish: 7:24, 7:10, 6:47, :43

When I ran up the last remaining hill faster than I had half of the miles previously, I knew the last 5k was going to be rather fast.  In fact, the stats show just that as you can see by this chart. But while that is nice to look at now, I knew I still had to conquer the distance.  Anything can happen in one mile, let alone 3.1. But as the 10th mile passed and we slipped by the Lincoln Country Club, I felt decent for the first time all day.

The 11th mile and all the way until we finished inside Lincoln Memorial Stadium was a straight shot up the street.  It took nearly 90% of the race but I could finally breathe.  If there had been no drop potion I very well may have been able to run the entire 26.2.  But here I had already mentally checked out and knew I would not go a step further than 13.1. 

Hitting the 12th mile, I passed Sergeant Hagen.  I wanted to wait for him and pay him back for helping me along but I knew I had to keep on going. Any slowing down at this juncture might have meant a full stop.  With the stadium looking like a colossus on our right, we made one final turn toward it.  With a big video screen showing runners running toward the stadium, we could look behind us to see who might be gaining.  Fortunately it was no one for me but I still had a few more in sight for myself.  Down the ramp into the stadium we went and I nipped two more.  I crossed the finish in 1:35:22 which was basically the exact pace I wanted for the marathon.  But this was not even close to that distance.

The best portion of my day came after I finished, went to the hotel to shower, packed my bags and walked back to the finish line. As promised I was happy to hand out medals to finishers. If I can suggest an activity to get you out of the doldrums and get you psyched about life, this would be it.  If you care to see joy, elation, exhaustion, achievement, demons being exorcised and dreams being made, lock eyes with someone finishing a half marathon or marathon while you put a medal around their neck.

I spent the next 3 hours doing just that, covered in crusty sweat from runner after runner that shook my hand,

hugged me and patted me on the back. These were not accolades for me. I was as incognito and faceless as possible. I was simply sharing in their wonderful moment. On many occasions I had a line of people waiting to get their medal and I couldn’t get them off my arm and onto their neck fast enough. I don’t know why my line got so long but maybe the runners could tell one of their own.  Maybe because I was trying to think up something witty to say to everyone. Maybe because my day had not turned out anywhere close to what I wanted it to be and I was trying to steal a little sunshine from these winners. All I know was that if there was a job that paid you to stand there at the finish and suck in this wonderfulness, it would be an awesome job indeed.

If you wish to run this marathon, you’d better be fast with your fingers.  The race opens and sells out in less than 12 hours. That would be one thing if it had 1000 people in it.  But with over 12,000 signing up, that tells you what an event this is. To be such a small part of it on just one weekend was an honor.  I hope to come back and claim my marathon medal someday soon.

Evansville Half Marathon Course Preview

I was fortunate enough to be asked to be the first ever speaker at the pasta dinner for the Evansville Half Marathon presented by the YMCA this October. Sponsored by the Women’s Hospital, I had heard great things about this race and was excited to be part of it. As such, given I had never actually ran the race, I

wanted to see the course and provide readers with a preview of it if they too are going to be first timers.
My friend Michelle Walker (known to many marathoners as Mom O’ Six; she’s Irish [I have no idea if that is true]) and one heck of a runner herself set upon this weekend turning what could have been a lonely run by myself into what was basically a small-scale version of the race. I guess when you are juggling 6 children, getting 30+ runners together is a piece of cake.

Suffice it to say I was pleasantly surprised when so many people showed up to run 13.1 miles with me, especially since so many were in various stages of recovery from the Boston Marathon, the Kentucky Derby Marathon or a variety of other races the week prior. Prior to starting, I met for the first time, re-met and chatted with virtually every one of them.  Some I did not get to spend as much time with as I would like but there is always the next run!

We found out that we would have three aid stations along the course at approximately miles 3, 6 and 9. A local running store, Ultimate Fit, was gracious enough to provide those for us. Given that the day got to be quite sweltering, this was beyond appreciated.

The Course:

First Half:

I had heard many people mention that they had run numerous half marathons and this course just happened to be their personal best.  The way it is set up I can see completely why that is the case.

Runners start right outside of the Francis Joseph Reitz High School. After a quick loop around one heck of a high school stadium, a small climb begins. I think this is brilliant course design.  I have given lots of advice ion my day to runners asking how to run a smart race.  The number one thing I have said is to start out slow. Well, as you can see from the first few miles of this course, with a few small hills, it almost forces you to do so.

By the second mile you have crested the last of any hill worth mentioning and slip by the Hilltop Inn, voted the Manliest Restaurant in America in 2009. Known for its brain sandwiches, you might not want to grab one at mile 2, but think about it for later.

At this point a long nice downhill brings you through a part of town that with two quick turns has you crossing Pigeon Creek over a barely noticeable bridge and suddenly you are three miles done. A long straightaway on Fulton Ave heading north is next. I love long straightaways because you can really get into the race. No need to think about strategy and curves. It is all about beginning to feel what your body has and simply running away with it. 

However, I know not everyone likes the same thing with regards to course so that is why it is nice after this mile plus stretch, runners are taken off of the city streets and onto the Pigeon Creek Greenway Passage. Running riverside for over a mile, with the babbling water beside you, trees overhead and green all around, it is a stark contrast to where you just were.

A quick jaunt around Garvin Lake has you running in the shadow of Bosse Field. Known for being used for game scenes in the movie A League of Their Own, it is the 3rd oldest stadium in regular use in America, after Fenway Park and Wrigley Field.  Now that is some history!

Second Half:

After slipping by Bosse Field, another long straight stretch affords itself to runners looking to open their strides and turn on the jets. Down Main street you go (how quaint) before passing under an interstate.  The next few miles encompasses a few turns but nothing too ankle breaking.  You get to run a little bit on the well-maintained brick streets of old parts of Evansville between some old style buildings. Turning at the Evansville Museum of Art, History and Science you head away from downtown and back into the neighborhoods. 

Here is where I can only hope townsfolk will be out cheering you on, as you pass by hundreds of homes. The next few miles showcase some of the various streets of Evansville with the next big attraction being the greenery of Bayard Park. When you hit this wonderful urban park, flush with trees, park benches and a playground, you know you just have a 5k to go.

Bear in mind that since that Hilltop Inn, the only change in elevation has been the hop skip and a jump over the bridge at Pigeon Creek.  If the weather is cooperating, this course can be very fast. After you leave Bayard Park, you have another mile long straight stretch to prepare you for the final two miles. Turning right on East Riverside Drive you know that in about a mile you will be hitting the Ohio River for the home stretch.

This final portion is a new(ish) addition to Evansville as it is yet another city doing what it can to make use of what it has to help people get fit. This river walk promenade along the Ohio River is a fantastic backdrop to what I suspect will be a fantastic race. I cannot wait to actually experience it on race day. Although it will be hard to top the medals that Michelle's kids put around our necks as we finished the run!

To the dozens of people who joined me to preview this course (including many who had run it previously and one person who ran the further she had EVER run on this particular day!) thank you for spending your Sunday morning with me. I look forward to seeing you all in October!

Donald Sterling, Liliya Shobukhova, David Stern and Joe Paterno

I read an interesting story about new NBA Commissioner Adam Silver in which Ian O'Connor said "Everyone will line up now to give their "attaboys" to the rookie commissioner."  Exactly.  The new commish claims to have known Sterling for 20 years and never seen any racist acts.  OK, if that is the case (bullcrap) then why not weigh that in when looking at a man's darkest moment? If you audiotaped some of the things I have said, I doubt many of you would think of me as the infallible saint and arbiter of all-knowledge that so many of you (re: me only) do now. I will tell you why. Because is is easy (and mostly fruitless) to follow mob rule and attack the thing that doesn't need to be attacked.  Follow along with me here.

The interesting parallel I see here is to the Sandusky case. (This is not the Paterno case; calling it that irks me every time I see it.) I just finished reading Joe Posnanski's book, Paterno. As a Penn State grad and Paterno lover it can be hard for me to set aside my love for my college and this man.  But I think I am about as good at putting aside things that I care about to see a situation as neutral as possible as anyone can. I get in trouble with friends all the time for not "being on their side" when I am thinking things through about the facts presented to me. I was very pleased that the logical arguments I had come to were pointed out in greater detail in Posnanski's book.  I would highly recommend reading it.


(The only thing that bothered me was that in the book Posnanski mentioned that no fans were thinking Paterno could pull his Penn State teams out of the gutter in the early 2000s or when the crap really hit the fan right before Paterno's death that anyone stood by him. Exhibit A to the contrary would be one young Dane Rauschenberg at the Tulsa Route 66 Marathon in late November brazenly wearing his PSU singlet with pride. But I digress.)

In reading this book, however, and being in the middle of the Sterling crapstorm I could not help but think about how David Stern, the previous commissioner, was receiving no blame whatsoever for apparently allowing a raging racist to loom large in his league. By all accounts, Sterling's racism is not even a thinly veiled secret given his fines, sanctions and out-of-court settlements for discriminatory landlord actions.

Yet, Teflon Stern seems to have received not even a wrist slap for allowing Sterling to be Sterling when it was clear Sterling was who he is, well, except to Adam Silver. Silver claims to have known Sterling for 20 years, yet had never seen signs of the behavior documented in court records and news accounts.  Let's ignore that everyone else seems to know this already.  In the case of Sandusky, where he fooled thousands of adults, police officers, social workers, etc, Paterno "had to know" what was going on, say those ready to vilify him. But Stern couldn't have known? Silver never saw the things we all were pretty much aware of if you knew anything at all about the Clippers?  OK, until Blake Griffin basically no one cared about the Clippers so you can be forgiven. But still, where is the outrage?

Racist practices of evicting families and causing their lives to be completely wrecked have to be somewhere on par with child molesters, right? They are both pretty bad things. And easy to get outraged about. Which is why the laudatory remarks for Silver outing the racist are laughable. Of course, he was going to do this.  Public opinion about superficial attitude towards racism have changed. It is difficult to be an out and out racist these days. You have to be subtle and conniving to get away with it. Like a child molester.

Here is where this gets interesting and divergent at the same time. In the same small period of time that a man's personal thoughts were recorded and used against him to force him out of his ownership of a team (a man, mind you, who by all accounts seems slimy and an asshole and just awful but employees black head coaches, black staff members and black players) a Russian long distance runner receives the smallest of penalities for apparently being a major cheater in her sport.

Today, the Russia Athletic Federation annulled all of Liliya Shobukhova's race results since October 9th 2009 after finding abnormalities in her biological passport. Pending any appeal, she is stripped of her 2009, 2010 and 2011 Chicago Marathon victories, as well as her 2010 London Marathon win, and may be required to pay back prize money and appearance fees earned from racing. The key word here is she "may" be required to pay back money.  For all intents and purposes an athlete has been cheating for half a decade, setting records, claiming prize money, appearance fees etc. and she "may" be required to pay some if it back.  Also, her two year ban from the sport? It is retroactive. She could race again in January of 2015. In other words, a slightly longer than normal break for an elite marathoner.

So to recap, a seemingly despicable man says some things recorded by his girlfriend with apparently a vendetta against him and those words, not his actions, might force him to lose ownership of something he has had since 1981. Another person, appears to have used a systematic drug taking past to secure millions of dollars for herself (and stealing it from the others who should have been awarded it) and she may have to take the equivalent of an European Summer break.

To be clear, I think Sterling seems like an awful person. Have ever since I started watching sports and I know next to nothing about him. I couldn't understand how the NBA, with all of its "best interest" rhetoric could allow a man to own something that has, by and large margin, been the worst sports franchise in the history of sports franchises. But like Mark Cuban, an owner constantly fined for doing things probably ten times less worse than Sterling has said, this is a slippery slope. I get that this is not a First Amendment "free speech" issue. We went down this road with the Duck Dynasty fella a few months back. Say what you want; this is America. Just get ready for the repercussions from your employer if you have a "no asshat" clause in there somewhere.

But the whole issue feels like a thought police episode wrapped around attacking the easy to attack problem without bothering with the underlying much larger and systemic problem. Getting rid of Daniel Sterling isn't going to end racism in the NBA. Mob rule and knee-jerk reactions to placate unwanted feelings in your belly usually don't fix the problems. Firing Joe Paterno, vacated his wins, penalizing the university which seemingly had nothing to do with Sandusky won't help any of the child victims of Sandusky feel any better.  But it will make people who have nothing involved or invested in either feel better about themselves.  Because it is easy to hate racists and child molesters, especially when they are right in front of you.


Yet thieves and cheats, like Liliya Shobukhova or every single bank executive or finance person who helped caused the financial meltdown of American in 2008 yet haven't spent a single day in jail (read Michael Lewis's Flash Boys or Matt Taibbi's The Divide if you aren't enraged enough) receive paltry penalties. One needn't attack all problems to attack some of them but it is good to start with the right ones.

Perhaps we can start with Larry Johnsons' grammar. Or is that Grandmammar?

Meb Keflezighi: Real American (book excerpt)

Meb's scintillating victory at the Boston Marathon yesterday was enough to make many get a little teary eyed.  Of course, living in the internet age, I heard conspiracy theories about how the race was rigged to let Meb win and the ever-popular "Meb isn't really American." We heard the latter back when Meb won NYC Marathon in 2009. I thought perhaps we had evolved as a society since then but it appears in some circles we have not. As such, I felt I would find the excerpt from my book 138, 336 Feet to Pure Bliss which actually talks about this exact subject.

***********

Many were predicting an American would win New York in 2009.  However, use of the term “American” was almost always a not-so-veiled code word for Ryan Hall.  Hall had won the Olympic Trials handily, had paid his due on the international circuit and seemed poised to take over the mantle as the next great threat to breaking the Kenyan running monopoly on top of the leader boards.  So, when Eritrean-born naturalized US citizen Meb Keflezighi won the race, setting a personal best at the same time, it was a shock to many.  Meb’s win was not a surprise because he was unknown to the running community but rather because of his rather disappointing racing results for the previous two years.  Starting at those same Olympic Trials in 2007 that really put Hall on the map, where a hip injury bothered him all the way to a 2:15:09 eighth-place finish, Meb had done very little to instill confidence he would ever be near the top of his game again.  Until this fateful day ending in Central Park in Manhattan, that is.

Meb’s win became both a day of pride for Americans as well as one which lit up discussions about what exactly an “American” was. Leave it to New York to add to its already long-list of historical race finishes a social, economic, and racial discussion which was long overdue.

During the race, instead of the usual sponsor splashed across his chest, Meb was wearing a singlet showing the country he is a citizen of: the United States of America. As the first American to win the race, male or female, since 1982, it seemed almost surreal that Meb chose to wear his Team USA shirt for this—his first victory ever in a major marathon.

However, the immediate discussion popping up in newspapers and around the Internet was that Meb was not a “real” American. Also, his victory was no indication of U.S. distance running being on the rise for that same reason—he was not American. The problem with this is that arguments of this nature are blatantly incorrect on their face incorrect simply because they mix the issues. 

During my travels I once had a discussion with two American runners. However, I was the only one in the discussion who was actually born in the United States. Talking about a myriad of running topics, we gravitated toward Meb and his victory as it has just happened a few months prior. We were almost in complete agreement about most of the underlying issues.

-American long distance running, while having been in quite a swoon for a very long time, seems to be rebounding.

-People want American distance running to get better.

-Whether they would admit it or not, some were hoping that the aforementioned “American distance running” champion would have far paler skin than Meb.

Without delving too deep into the underlying racial issues here, it was clear to see that part of the problem was not only that Meb was not born in the U.S., but his victory did not exactly signal the beginning of the return to American-born preeminence in distance running. This was where the confusion in the question lies.

First and foremost, Meb is 100-percent American. Any argument otherwise is ignorant of U.S. law. He is a citizen of the United States, and unlike many of those who just happened to be lucky enough to be born within the borders of this country, he actually had to take a test for that privilege. Meb’s citizenship is an indisputable fact.

However, the question about the origin of the dominance of African-born distance running remains. Whether it is genetics, the nature of the lives of those runners (high-altitude training and living, lack of modern conveniences which make running a “way out”, etc.) or something else, Africans are currently cleaning house in distance events world-wide. Therefore, to those who refuse to admit surprise, Meb’s victory is not all that impressive.  In fact, by their view it is just another victory for the “African” distance runner. 

To discount Meb’s heritage as a contributing factor to his success would be to do so at the risk of great folly but to discount his upbringing would do the same.  And this is where the real issue lies.  Basically, is the American distance running system creating the right environment for Americans, either natural born or naturalized, to succeed on the world scene? The U.S. has been fortunate lately to have great success amongst its natural-born citizens like Hall and Dathan Ritzenhein, but Meb’s victory at New York is also a victory for the system itself. You see, genetics play a large part in success of an athlete but are not the complete puzzle. Training, attitude, and coaching make up far larger portions than many give them credit.

Meb’s victory in New York came long after he had moved to America and lived and trained within an American system.   

His victory was just as much a victory for the American distance running program (and his own hard work) as it was for his genetics. Americans might not be ready to dominate the sport just yet, but the future looks bright indeed. The pieces are in place and they fit together well, regardless of the different shades of color that they are painted.

Whidbey Island Marathon Recap

A Runner's Ramblings: Volume 9; 7th Edition 
59.1 miles run in 2014 races
Race: Whidbey Island Marathon
Place: Oak Harbor, WA
Miles from home: 265
Weather: 50s; bright sun

The past few months have been tough for me running wise. My mileage has been down significantly given a herniated disk. When I cannot run I am not nearly as happy as when I can.  However, the past two weeks have seen a great deal of improvement in not only my back but also where the pain manifests itself, in my left leg.

When I was asked to be the featured speaker for the Whidbey Island Marathon I agreed knowing at the time I might not be able to run it at all.  Then my situation improved and I thought perhaps I would do the 13.1 race.  Then it improved more and I realized I would get a chance to run the marathon, albeit far slower than I would like.  But that meant I would get to run over the Deception Pass Bridge.  If you have read my second book, you know I absolutely adore running over bridges. This beautiful vista would be no different.

After premiering my new movie about my solo 202 mile running of the American Odyssey Relay at the race expo, I got to meet a ton of people, as per usual.  The race has nearly doubled in size from last year and people were coming from all over the country.  I got to meet a veritable plethora of runners including island local and 13 year old phenom, Ryan Vasileff.  With a 1:32 half marathon PR to his credit, we will definitely want to keep an eye out for him!

My goal for the event was to simply run as pain-free as I could for as long as I could.  My longest run in the past 3 months was on a 16-miler at the Dizzy Daze race a few weeks ago.  Other than that I was about as ill-trained as one could be and still call themselves a runner. The added difficulty to everything would be that the already challenging Whidbey Island Marathon course was made its most difficult ever this year with some changes to the route. This was going to be one hilly marathon.

Race Morning:

The morning broke absolutely gorgeously. If I was doing anything else besides running a marathon, I would have been in heaven.  However, bright sunshine, regardless of the temperature, is not my ideal race condition. Fortunately, as I would learn through the course, there was a a great deal of shade provided by trees, hills and houses along the way.  As such, only a few sections were exposed totally to the elements. Given that not one single cloud darted across the sky on this day, that was a good thing.

My best friend Shannon and I caught one of the shuttles out to the start form our hotel.  A nice amenity provided by the race were shuttles from the hotels to the race start and from the end of the race to the hotels. Very little planning needed.  Shannon was nervous given she was still physically aching from actually being assaulted by another runner at the Gorges Waterfalls race (which never was followed up by the Race Director; very disappointing) and I was curious if one run over 13 miles in 3 months was enough to get me through this bad boy.

First 10k:

As the race started, we went down the slightest of hills before beginning the first of many rises, this one leading to Deception Pass Bridge.  It is difficult to describe how beautiful this morning, this pass and the runners enjoying it in unison as their footfalls were the only sound around. My head was on a swivel as I looked at both sides of the bridge, the water below, the eddying tides, the rocks which were hewn out by the passage of time and everything else I could take in.  The bridge was far too short.

At this juncture I was about in 15^th place and felt like I wasn’t pressing. The leg felt marvelous and I thought a time around 3:15 would be very doable. Given I could barely run 3 miles at that pace a week or so ago I was very pleased.  

I had this very odd section around miles 3-4 where I felt like I was in some Nyquil-induced fog.  It is difficult to explain how exactly it happened or what it felt like in my head but a strange fuzziness took over.  As I usually run in a fog in the early stages of a marathon, this didn’t bother me too much. But the reasoning behind it, given I had never really felt anything of the sort before, was intriguing.  Eventually it subsided but was perplexing nonetheless.

A few runners passed me near the 10k portion and I passed a few who had been in front of me. One of the female leaders had already stopped to tie her shoe once and stretch out a calf muscle or something.  I felt bad for her so early in the race and hoped it would go away. But as soon as I felt bad for her, she spring up and disappeared into the distance.  So much for sympathy for the speedy!

To The Half:

Having barely run anything over 13 miles in the past few months I was happy with how I was feeling in this opening portion but cautiously aware that this might get ugly. While we had already dealt with a litany of hills and I knew there were many more to come.  I wasn't aware of how many and how often though!

As we went down this long wonderful downhill, skirting a slew of waterfront houses for sale on Skagit Bay for really nice prices, the first sign of my leg giving me some trouble showed up. (As a sidebar “Skagit” has to be one of the most awful names for anything ever. Later when I saw there was a Skagit Public Utility District called the Skagit PUD I realized I think I found the worst name of a place to ever work in history. Even when I learned that "Skagit" is pronounced with a soft "g" it only made it minorly less offensive to the ear. But I digress.) As we screamed down this hill, the views were breathtaking. The mountains of what I am guessing are both Olympic National Park and Mt Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest were off in the distance on two different sides. On this crystal clear day one could see for hundreds of miles from this vantage point.  It really was astounding. My running, on the other hand was not.

As the course flattened, I found this was the only time I could actually speed up at all.  Normally I can cruise the downhill portion laying waste to anyone who was able to pass me on the up.  Here, however, a pain began to grow in my groin and quad I realized that extending or accelerating on hills was not going to happen. Given the amount of hills on this course it was going to be a problem.

The flat before the monster hill at mile 9-10 only made the climb that much more difficult.  But as many runners were reduced to a walk, I at least was able to solider on. What I thought would be a problem today, a lack of energy in later miles, really wasn’t much of a problem at all. Perhaps it was the forced slower pace but throughout the day having energy to push hard was always there. The climb right at mile 10 got so ridiculously steep I heard someone drop, under their breath, a “mother farmer”. I actually laughed out loud as I thought the same thing when I saw it. (It went up ~95 feet in a tenth of a mile. I thought they were going to give us Sherpas and a rope guide to help get us up and over.)

 

A little kick for me personally was when Ryan, who I mentioned above, left me a sign to inspire me as a surprise. The hill was still just as tough but at least I smiled a little inside.

  

But once over the hill, I finally felt good again.  There was a much more reasonable downhill portion which allowed me to pick my stride up a bit. I would be remiss if I did not mention that I had already taken three bathroom breaks in the first 10k. I was happy that I hadn’t needed to take another until mile 12 but they were getting a little ridiculous. During the Q&A after my movie I was asked if I had ever been nauseated or had to use the bathroom during a race and if so why I thought that was.  I mentioned I had gone through every thing one could possibly imagine.  Trying to figure out the cause of most of those things would drive one crazy, though.  for the most part, wondering why something is happening is futile. Just deal with it when it happens and try to learn from it.  So, in other words, if you have to pee ever 15 minutes for the first hour of a race, then go and pee.

When I came out of the porta-potty I had one runner pass me and for some reason it irked me. I decided to lay down the hammer and in spite of the uphill that lead to the halfway point, really turned it on.  I went through the half on a 3:19 or so pace and felt very happy. I never saw that runner again. To be honest, I was surprised.

To Mile 20:

I knew the next seven miles would challenge me. At mile 12 we saw the mile 20 marker on the other side of the road so we knew we would be coming back down this way.  But as good as I had felt at mile 13 and 14, miles 15 and 16 almost did me in. A very long downhill which I would normally use to reel in anyone who was in front of me only served as a reminder that my leg was not working properly. In fact, at the 16 mile marker I had to simply stop, walk on a downhill portion (much to my chagrin) and contemplate my first ever marathon DNF. I can say if there had been a car there to take me home I would have accepted it. But there was not so I pushed on. Slow at first, still dealing with the downhill and then a little faster as the downhill evened. I knew we had one last ridiculous hill to climb leading to mile 18.  If the leg truly was not workable I would get to the top and call it a day.  But I had to get to the top first.

Yet, like before, in spite of the pain in my groin, I had no problem climbing the hills.  Many who would go on to beat me soundly had to simply walk up these hills.  And just like before, once at the top and running down the other side, I had nothing in my leg that would allow me to accelerate. Now I just wanted to quit out of frustration. The pain from mile 16 had done away but the "Not wanting to be out here anymores" was kicking in.  As a few more runners passed me, runners I know should not have been doing so, I just had to suck it in, enjoy the beautiful day and used my extra energy to cheer on all the other runners on the other side of the road about to take on the massive hills in front of them.

To The Finish:

The next mile or so was one that was open to the sun and my SKINS compression clothing, which had been so helpful in holding my leg together, was covered in the salt from my sweat.  I remember looking at my watch at mile 21 and seeing that it was only 12 seconds faster than my overall time for my marathon PR. Knowing I still had 5 miles left when I normally would be done was a bit of a kick. Looming ahead of us was a monster of a hill which I did not recall being on the course map.  Fortunately, we turned right before it and I breathed a huge sigh of relief.  I knew there was one more big hill at mile 24 and that was all I could handle.

A moment to mention the volunteers and staff involved with this race: top-notch is all I can say.  I laugh thinking back to mile 21, an oasis of an aid station where everyone was so eager to tell you what they had that it came out as “Icegatorbanawatergu right here!”  One at I time, I begged them, smiling, before I grabbed a delicious orange energy drink.

A slight jaunt through what I am guessing was military housing had more than a few people out cheering us on.  There was also at least one unplanned aid station from a little brother and sister team who were handing out full bottles of water.  This was just awesome.

A flat section on a very wide running/bicycle path that ran flush with the bay was absolutely beautiful.  Too bad I was now in such pain in my groin I couldn’t fully enjoy it. I wondered if I had done permanent damage.  After talking about how to not ‘Do Nothing Foolish’ to so many people, I wondered if I had. Then the final cruel hill popped up in front of me.  Again, many were completely slowed to a crawl. Suddenly, my groin felt better I took the hill with gusto and began passing people who had passed me.  Before I knew it I was up and over and heading to the last mile.

If I have one complaint about the race it is the twisty-turny nature of this last mile. When you are in the last portion of a marathon you want to not have to rely on your proprioception and balance in order to finish what has been a hard day.  And unfortunately, that is what happens in a portion with lots of turns.  Throw in slow moving runners (in this case half marathoners, some wearing headphones with the volume ridiculously loud and one time, I swear to all that is holy, walking six abreast on a narrow sidewalk. Arrgh!)

As I traversed this last mile, I could hear the footsteps of another runner behind me. They were letting me cut a swatch through the runners, completely with “On your left!”s and over-exaggerated jumps and surprised yells to make me feel like the bad guy. I was tempted to let them pas me as I knew I wasn’t really in the best shape for a sprint to the finish and chances are they had started way behind me anyway and their chip time would be faster.  But the way they just hung on my shoulder angered me a bit. (I am not saying this is wrong; it is racing.)

So for the entire last mile, whenever I could hear or feel them surge, I would do the same. Only in the finish chute when the half marathoners blatantly did not follow the “marathoners to the right; halfs to the left” signs and I had to stutter step to get around a large group, did I finally succumb.  The runner passed me and took me by about one second at the finishline. (As I figured, they actually “beat” me by around 45 seconds.)

I finished 42^nd overall in a time of 3:34:19 which was my 137^th slowest of 148 lifetime marathons.  If one can be satisfied with a result and disappointed at the same time, it was that. I was extremely pleased to be part of the largest race Whidbey Island has put on. Even more so, to See Shannon also conquer a tough race after her recent setbacks on what is one of the toughest road courses I have ever run was great as well. 

Kudos again to the organizers of the race and the people of Oak Harbor and Whidbey Island.  This truly is a wonderful place for a race and a lovely time spent.