Despite the title of this blog, the first thing I would like to point out is that I am not a runner. Not yet. True I have been doing it, placing one foot in front of the other while perspiring and wheezing, on and off for 6 years or so. I have been a part time, "only when it's convenient" jogger at best. In fact I have recently been notified that if I keep "running" the way I do, I will have a very short career on the pavement. So, this is me, Jay, the blerch-avoiding jogger trying to learn how to run.
The Marathon
Alright, on to the big event. Since I began my asphalt journey, I have dreamed of the day that I would finish a marathon, and on Sunday October 20th, 2013 my dream became a reality.
The journey to the marathon began the night before. ( actually years before, but that will be for another post ) It was out of my home town. In fact, the reason I chose to go for an away marathon instead of waiting out the Legs for Literacy race here in Moncton, was simply because I was too late in signing up for it. A testament to my often forgetful nature. Lesson learned for next year. That said, I have been training on the Legs trails for the last couple of years, so changing up the venue resulted in a more "adventurous" first marathon experience in beautiful Prince Edward Island. However, if I would have been inclined and insistent on venue I would have been disappointed because of my own apathy. So there's rookie mistake number one: don't wait until the last minute to sign up!
For logistical and personal ( neurotic ) reasons ( I hate staying in hotel rooms ) I arrived at my hotel in Charlottetown on Saturday evening around 7pm. I planned to miss the chip and bib pickup and ask one of the volunteers to deliver it to my hotel instead, using the out-of-towner excuse. She was very nice and very accommodating and she did deliver a package to my hotel. When I checked in I asked the receptionist if there was a package waiting for me. She smiled and said, "oh yes, you must be the marathoner". I grinned at the thought of being called a "marathoner" and eagerly snatched my bag of goodies and began tearing through it like a 5 year old on Christmas morning. After ripping through livestrong-esque pamphlets, pre-race Italian-Canadian meal coupons, and "all natural" granola bars, my heart sank. No bib. No chip. Startled, I allowed the panic to subside and my rational brain to take over as I leafed through the pamphlet stack again to find a note from one of the marathon volunteers explaining that my bib and chip would be waiting for me at the start line the next day. Immediately, the neurotic side of my brain took over and started throwing the "What ifs" at me.. "What if they completely forget about the chip and I can't race", "What if the chip won't somehow work, because I failed to show up the day before and register properly", "What if, What if, WHAT IF?!??!?!". Stop. Breath, Jay. The rational side had taken over again and calmed me down. "You will race tomorrow. The likelihood of a bib and chip not being there for you to use is extremely low. This is a Boston Qualifying event and they are prepared for one-offs like this. In the extremely low chance that there is no chip/bib available for you, nothing can stop you from running the race anyway. You've got your GPS watch and you've already paid for the event. There will be a shiny bauble and complementary chocolate milk waiting for you at the finish line. Breath Jay, breath." So, rookie mistake number two, when they ask you to show up the day before to register, just show up the day before and register. It will save you a world of unnecessary nerves the night before your big day.
Sleep. I am normally a pretty decent sleeper. I find as I progress into my thirties, I am unable to stay up much past 11 or midnight. This is great news, as it enforces a consistent circadian rhythm and allows me to rise pretty effortlessly in the morning. I touched before on my slightly neurotic nature when it comes to the comforts of my own bed. So.. yeah, the obsessive compulsive Jay decided to show up around midnight - just as I had finally calmed my bib/chip fears. On my back with two pillows under my head. No. On my back with one. No. Back and no pillow. No. Left side, one pillow for head, and one in between my knees. No. Maybe the right side would work better? No. 2:30AM - These blankets are too itchy. I am not quite sure how to diagnose this one, but it still categorically belongs to rookie mistake number three: get a good night's sleep. Perhaps my next out of town run will include my own pillows and sheets?
Race morning. My iPhone barked it's usual rumba alarm at me at 5:45am. Surprisingly I was not that tired despite the mere 4 hours of restless sleep. The adrenaline was pumping too hard I guess. I got up and rammed out 50 pushups to warm up my body and wake myself up. Now time to go downstairs for some breakfast. Neurotic Jay immediately joined the party, "You know this is race day, you have to make sure you are super, duper hydrated before the race. Drink up fool. Drink, drink, drinkedy drink." (Rational Jay was still fast asleep somewhere in my phsyche, otherwise he would have chimed in with something like, "Just have a normal breakfast, like when you ran your marathon in training. Don't overdo it with the food or liquids." ) So, away I went to the complementary cold breakfast buffet. Toast, peanut butter, a yoghurt and half a banana with a large coffee. Little caffeine never hurt anyone, right? "Remember that article you read that one time, that caffeine is performance enhancing and reduces the perceived effort of physical activity.", Neurotic Jay said. Oh yeah, I though, he's right. Better slam down another coffee.. I mean I do want to perform today - and last night I didn't get enough sleep, so that probably means I need more pep. Second large coffee down. "What about electrolytes? You gotta have electrolytes and you aren't bringing a hydration belt on your run, you are relying on the water stations". Ok, ok, neurotic Jay, I'll drink this 500 ml bottle of Gatorade before the race. About 5 minutes later, I felt FULL. Too full. But no time to think about that, I had to get back up to my room, get dressed and head down to the Convention Center to catch a bus to the start line. I had brought a shirt that I trained with, but I really liked the technical shirt that came with the pack. Though functionally it worked out fine for me apparently this is another rookie no, no that can lead to chaffing and nipple bleeding. Ouch. Rookie mistake number four: don't change up your gear last minute.
The race was not a loop, as with a lot of marathon races. It started on the north shore of the island and ended on the south shore, so the marathon committee had a fleet of buses to take everyone from Charlottetown up to Brackley Beach at 7:00AM, SHARP. ( That's what it said on the itinerary paper.. SHARP ) I was only 5 minutes or so away from the Convention Center, so I showed up at around 6:40 and navigated my way to the back of the dimly lit bus. The energy was awesome. People of all ages and levels of fitness were there. I was surprised and impressed. Some were smiling and shaking hands, obviously not new to the sport of running. A Running Room cult was sitting next to me talking about running form and what kind of hydration belts they would be using and how often they would gel pack. A nice couple from Cap Breton Island ( from the sound of their accents ) whom I spotted at breakfast sat down next to me. "How's she goin', bud?", the husband grinned at me, seeing my nerves and anticipation. Already knowing the answer, he politely asked me if this was my first marathon. I am sure they were in their late 50s, both semi-retired and running together and calm as a couple of cucumbers - just happy to be doing something they love together. After dispensing a few pleasantries and running stories, the bus jerked to a start and began it's trek to the sands of Brackley. I remember spotting the finish line, accented with morning's first light, just as we were getting started. "I'll see you in a few hours", I thought to myself and smiled.
The ride up was long. Two coffees and half a litre of gatorade was sloshing around in my bladder and every bump became progressively less comfortable. Finally rational Jay woke up and joined the party. In a voice that sounds like Leonard Nimoy he said, "Do not worry Jay, you will get up to the beach and take a piss there, no big deal." Ok. Yeah. Neurotic Jay chimed in, "But he has to go and get his bib and chip first. If he doesn't have his bib and chip, he will have wasted the entire last 6 years of his life training to run. The skies will burn and the earth will tremble.." I let him win this one. As soon as the bus arrived, I found a race coordinator who led me to the chip administrator where my bib and chip were anxiously waiting to be pinned to a race shirt. Elation. Well, not quite yet. I had a water balloon in my belly that needed tending to. Off to the bathrooms. Ok, so they don't tell you, and probably won't tell you that before a marathon race, the bathrooms at the start line are more crowded than a coed bar on a Saturday night. So after 10 excruciating minutes, I found and carved my name into a urinal. Ahhhh. Rookie mistake number five: Don't overdo it with the liquids before the race. If you didn't need a litre of fluid in you just before a run in training, don't try to jam one into you on race day. Also, try to go to the bathroom in the comfort of your hotel room if possible. Line ups suck.
"10 minutes until race time", I heard a peppy organizer announce on her handheld microphone. "All marathoners to the start line." 'Marathoners' - that's me. I smiled again. This was my first marathon and I wanted to perform well, yet still complete it, so I set myself a goal and a stretch goal. My goal was to finish, preferably in 4:15 or less, since I did a 42.2K in training in a little over 4 hours, with a couple of breaks. My stretch goal was to break 4 hours. So I placed myself just in front of the 4 hour pace bunny. I had used Google Streetview to visualize the route, something I highly recommend if you don't have the opportunity to run or drive the marathon pre race. It really helped me to mentally mark and prepare for the race. I mentally split the marathon up into a half marathon, a 12 K and then a really hard 10 K. I knew the half way point of the first "half marathon" was when the beach ended and I turned onto the highway into the countryside. And once I reached the turnoff to the Confederation Trail, I was already half done the marathon, just another 12 K through the beautiful woods and another 10K into the city. Rookie recommendation number one: Visualize the trail before running it. Split it into bite-sized, achievable runs, that you've done in training.
"BLLEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!" was the sound of the start gun ( only slightly disappointed that it was not a gun at all ) and off I went. The weather was perfectly clear, the sky was blue, the sun was rising above the Atlantic ocean to my left. I took a few seconds to enjoy the scenery once I got out of the gate. As with every half marathon I've ever done, I was fast at the start. Too fast. The combination of nerves and copious amounts of caffeine had my legs going hard. I looked down at my garmin watch to see a 4:00/km pace. Rational Jay, "Sloooow down, big fella." And so I did. I found my pace just between the 4:00h and 3:45h pace bunnies for the first 5 km or so and then, feeling good, decided to join the 3:45 group. I paced with them really well, at first anyway. The pace bunny was a large fellow, like me, so I figured he was the guy to follow.
Throughout most of my training, I had always preferred to be alone on the trails. I am pretty anti-social when concentrating on my running form and I also use running as a means to escape the everyday, including social interaction. My hour or three ( or four ) of zen. I have to say though, running in a group is pretty cool. One thing they don't tell you, and you don't realize unless you've been in a big race, is that after about 10 kilometers in, you are surrounded by a group of similar paced people with nothing to do but run and visit. Combine this with sharing the same agony of a long distance run, you actually get to know these people pretty well, forming short-lived pseudo-friendships, a comradery of pain. One guy that stands out particularly well was an older, British gentlemen, in his 70s that was pacing with the 3:45s. PEI was his 250-odd marathon! Donning a "100 marathon club" shirt, I was a little more than impressed. I was able to practise my french with a Quebecer from Sherbrook, counting down each kilometer once we hit 25... "Juste vingt-sept plus, mon ami". He inevitably shot back with a standard tongue-in-cheek french-Canadian curse, "Osti Tabernacle!", and a smile.
"Grrrrrr." Oh no. Everything was going great until kilometer 27. "Grrrooooorrooooroooo", my stomach moaned again. The pace bunny glanced over at me and gave a big grin, "You had best take care of that now my friend, it won't get any better the more you run". Now, in the interest of being concurrently open and couth, let me say this: Too much caffeine is bad before a big race, it unnecessarily fills up your bladder. This we've established. Yes too much caffeine also gets the plumbing going and if you aren't careful, too much caffeine will catch up to your digestive system. In fact, even though the porto-potties were aplenty and conveniently placed about 2-3 kilometers apart, when you drink too much caffeine and you gotta go, you gotta go now, not in 2 minutes or 1, or 30 seconds... NOW. So, at somewhere between kilometer 27 and 28, I veered off the beautiful confederation trail into a pumpkin patch. Fortunately, I was wearing dollar store mittens and without getting into too much detail, they were very ... um... multi-purpose that day. Yeah. So, Rookie mistake number six: bring toilet paper, you just never know ( especially if you make rookie mistake number five ). In the wise words of Forrest Gump, "That's all I have to say about that."
Back to business. I jumped back on the trail feeling light and energetic, but all of my buddies were gone. I could see them all about 500 meters ahead and decided that I needed to catch them so I increased my pace in an attempt to run them down. Mistake. I burned it as hard as I could for a couple of kilometers and finally accepted that I was not going to catch them again. That's ok. I looked down at my garmin and noted I was still pacing well to finish in the 3:50-ish range - well within my stretch goal of finishing in 4 hours. So, I decided to just gear back and keep an even and comfortable pace as I passed the 32 kilometer mark. Things were good for another couple of kilometers, then it happened. It happened and it caught me off guard, because when I ran a marathon in training, it never happened. The wall. The bonk. At about kilometer 36 I went from a pleasant run in the woods to excruciating pain. I felt like my body had taken on 100 pounds in the course of a couple of minutes, and the final 5 kilometers was full of 300-500 meter hills. I have never, ever felt like this running. Even when I started "running" 6-7 years ago and was figuring out how I could possibly go for 3 kilometers straight, without stopping, I never felt this much labour below the waist. Physiologically, my body had run out of fuel and had started to burn the stored glycogen in my liver and muscles. It felt like an awful, dizzy, nauseous, angry mess. Blerch Jay showed up. "You deserve a rest, you should walk for a bit.", the chubby little demon coaxed. "Ignore him", I thought. "No sense in hurting yourself, you wanna be able to run in the future. You should really walk." "Piss off, you fat little bastard." I had switched gears and was clearly hurting, but after all of this training and effort, ( and stubborn testosterone-driven pride ) I was not about to start walking now.
Kilometer 39: cramps. Another thing that had never really bothered me in training was cramping. Today was an exception. With a little over 2 kilometers to go both of my calves and thighs turned into crampy, twitching balls of pain. I didn't give Blerch Jay the satisfaction of walking, so I just stopped. I stopped by a light post and stretched both legs for about 30 seconds and then I started to run again. I refused to walk one step towards the finish line. "Take that you Belgian waffle eating little lard truffle."
Kilometer 42 : "You can stop now, you've proven that you can do a 42.2 in training. You can see the finish line. Honestly, you are just doing this for yourself, you have nothing to prove by crossing the finish line running." The fat blob's voice had taken over most of my psyche. However, the cheer of the crowd inspired me to ignore his persistently annoying pleas. I could see the "Finish" banner. I was hurting bad. I was too tired to look down at my garmin watch, but I could make out the last digits on the timer at the finish line: 3:59:40. "You don't have to.."... "SHUT. UP." I picked up my legs, which felt like tree trunks and heaved my destroyed torso into a crampy sprint. Both calves screamed with every step, but I wanted that 4 hour finish. Everything after that was a blur...
Once I crossed the finish line, they told me my gun time was 4:00:04. I had missed it by 4 seconds. Somehow, I had the medal on my neck and was wrapped in a foil blanket, though I don't recall any of this happening. I immediately wabbled over to a water station, took a drink and smiled. Done. One of the officials looked over at me and said "Nice work.". "Thanks, I just missed my goal of 4 hours by 4 seconds", I explained. She smiled and said, "That is your gun time, your official, real time is your chip time, just head over to atlanticchip.ca to find out". And that's what I did. I pulled out my iPhone and navigated eagerly to the website.
3:59:44
"YES!!!"
I got a little emotional as I got into my car and began the trip home. Noticing the Cows Ice Cream factory on the way out of Charlottetown, Blerch Jay said, "Let's get a triple scoop". Rational Jay and Neurotic Jay agreed.
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