After my first marathon in Madison in 2009, I thought it was all pretty great. I was pretty sure that I could do this training gig all the time. What's a long run here and there? I decided that I would be one of those people who runs a marathon in every state. After my third marathon in my third state, I'm thinking maybe I'll settle for 26 marathons instead. Since I'm leaving the states in less than a month, it could be hard to get in all 50 states before I quit the habit. Yep, 26 marathons in 26 different cities, maybe different countries.
My first marathon was all on a whim. I really didn't know what I was doing or what I was getting myself into. I followed Hal's online training guide and got to work. I didn't think or care about nutrition. I just ran. I modified the plan as I saw fit. I never reached the full 20 miles Hal suggested, but I figured my active lifestyle would compensate for the 1.5 miles I missed.
Race day came, and I was excited. My training had me doing long runs around 10 min/mile. Race day excitement sent me out in 9:09 miles for the first five miles. I was feeling great! My half split wasn't too bad either with a 2:03:40. I was on my way to beating my goal pace. This was fantastic, or so I thought. Then around mile 21/22 things started to get a little hazy. My pace slowed down significantly, and I began walking for bits at a time. The problem was that walking hurt as much or more than running did. It was feeling like I had never felt in my life. I walked/ran the last couple miles and finished with a 4:22:18. I was pretty thrilled for a first time marathon. I ran in a cotton t-shirt for pete's sake: I was clearly amateur.
Summer of 2010, I saw myself slipping away. I knew I had to get back into running before it was too late. I didn't want to just be on of those people who runs a few miles here and there. I wanted to run 26.2. I did some research and found that the Indianapolis Monumental Marathon was in early November, and I would have plenty of time to train for it. (And it was another state.) I started training and felt revived again. This time, I knew what I was doing or at least pretended to. I got a hydration belt. I had gels. I was a spandex wearing freak. I did hills. I did speed work. I ran 20 miles. I ran 18 a few times. I got cuboid syndrome and bounced back. I was serious.
Race day came, and I was ready. I was hoping to break 4 hours. It was going to be tough, but I was hopeful. I started out once again too fast. The environment just sucks you in. It's hard to run slow when everything is so energizing. I was running 8:51/mile with a 1:56 half marathon. I felt once again phenomenal. Around mile 16, I was starving. It wasn't hitting the wall: it was hunger. I started to worry. The next aid table was my best friend. I got gatorade, a banana, and I reassessed. My pace dropped significantly. It was somewhere around mile 18 that the 4-hour pace group passed me. I was bummed, but I didn't lose hope. I never walked, and I finished in 4:06:12. A personal best by 16 minutes. I didn't break 4, and maybe if I hadn't gone out so fast, I would have made it...
2011 brought Grandma's Marathon: another state. This originally came about because several friends in Madison had discussed doing the race, and I thought why not. My family can all come, and I can say I did the famous Grandma's Marathon. Let's just say this training season was more like my amateur season. I never made a 20 miler, and I had too many hungover long runs. Celebrating friends departures and my time in America winding down resulted in a less dedicated runner. I did the Madison half weeks before and finished in 2:04, which was a 9:47 pace. It wasn't bad, but I could tell I was not marathon ready. There was little to be done at that point, and I just prepared for the worst.
I got to the start line with a group or Boston-qualifying hopefuls, and I was just hoping to finish. I knew I was good for 16 miles, but after that it was anyone's guess. I managed to hang on with the 4:15 pace group for the first 15. Then a bathroom stop dropped me back. I wanted to finish under 4:30, and I had to make a plan. I knew there was no way I'd run the whole way like Indianapolis, so I took some Runner's World magazine advice and began a walking scheme. I would walk for no more than 2 minutes at every mile marker sign. I figured I had a little cushion room since I had stayed on pace with the 4:15 group for so long.
I got to mile 25 and was in a zone of mild hypothermia probably. I was about to take my walk break when I realized my crazy family was out there hooting and hollering for me. I knew I couldn't walk then, so I pressed on. I was too close to the finish to walk anymore because there were so many people. I was moving, slowly, but surely. Once I hit the mile 26 mark, I noticed the balloons of the 4:30 pacer group come up to my left side. Not a chance. I took off at what felt like a sprint, but I can imagine looked more like an arthritis-suffering senior citizen in need of a hip replacement jog. I crossed the finish line and knew I had gone under 4:30, and I began dry-heaving immediately. An innocent volunteer asked me if I was ok. I really wasn't sure at the time: was I ok? I made it through the chute, got my medal, my t-shirt, some snacks, and went to find my parents. Official finish time: 4:28:55.
I think I'll just hang up my Mizunos until I hit Asia.
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