Commitment

It was a passing statement I’m sure she didn’t think twice about, and definitely did not intend to mean how I interpreted it.  I had just finished the Celestine Streetfest 5k when a lady who will remained unnamed (let’s call her Bonnie Metz), amidst sincere congratulations said, “You could be a really good runner if you trained.”

What?!?  If I trained??

Sure I hadn’t been focused specifically on running, but I had been biking and mixed in a little running to train for that 5k.  How dare she say if I trained, I thought. A short while after that Shay proposed running a half marathon (my last blog post), and I thought I’ll show that Bonnie Metz.  After finishing the half, and plugging my time into various online calculators that extrapolate your time to other distances, I realized I was close to Boston Marathon Qualifying time.  I knew I had to try for it.

Oh how wrong I was Bonnie, and how right you were.  After looking at marathon training plans online, I realized I had never really trained.  I picked the Carmel Marathon on March 31, 2018 as my target race, giving me roughly 4 months.  I talked to Coach Bill about it, and he shared my same concern of the difficulty of training over the winter.  I hate the cold.  However, my winning rebuttal I told myself was that I had to strike while the iron was hot.  Boston Qualifying time for my age, 3:05 (minus time cutoff).  Goal time, sub 3 hours.

I scattered in a few races to keep it exciting and to check how my training was going.  The first of these being the Evansville Resolution Run 5k/10k/15k on January 6th.  Temperature on the morning of the race, 1°F.

Jack Frost nipping at my Vogler nose.

Surprisingly I wasn’t that cold, due to the various arrangement of layers, tights, head/neck wear and the awesome Team Adventures shell jacket I got from Phil for Christmas.  I should have known better and checked the race map, but for the fourth time in about 2 years I misled a race.  It was questionably marked in my defense, but on the first lap everyone ran an extra half mile thanks to me.  Apologetically, I accepted my first place trophy for the 10k.

I mixed in the Cupid’s Dash 4 mile race on February 10th in the middle of a ten mile run.  I ran the three miles from my house to the race, surprised myself with four miles at 5:41 per mile, and ran home with heavy legs and my coffee tumbler prize.

The last warm-up race I decided to run was the George Rogers Clark 10 mile run on February 24th.  It rained all the way there, but luckily the weather broke right as the race started. I felt great during the race and ran 1:01:27, good enough for second.

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Kendra and I traveled up to the Roundabout Capitol of the World and stayed with Steve and Ellen the night before the big race.  I didn’t sleep well but that was to be expected.  Steve drove me to the race an hour before and I tried to keep myself warm during all the pre-race rituals.

The race started and I decided I would stick with the 3 hour pace group at least for the first half of the race.  If I felt better maybe I would make a move later.  The sun was out and I was worried I had overdressed wearing tights, an Under Armour base layer, a long sleeve Downtown Fitness & Running tech shirt, hat and gloves.  [Genuine question that I don’t understand about running culture: do fellow runners dress as skimpy as possible for weight reduction, for staying cool, or for looking tough?  I’m aware that I run colder than most, but I see others wearing tank tops and shorts in 35° weather and I can’t understand it.]  Luckily the sun went away after a couple miles and I felt fine.  The first 10 miles were exactly how they should feel, nice and easy.

Feeling great, waving and smiling like an idiot for the camera around mile 9.

Miles 10-20 felt fine, but it started creeping in.  Everything after mile 20 was painful.  I held on and just kept telling myself to not give up with only 10k left, 5 miles left, 5k left, etc., which would ultimately negate these past four months of training if I did.  I missed a water cup at mile 23, had to stop, turn around, grab a drink and then burned my last match trying to catch back up with the pace group.  The pace group started to pull away (Chris, the pacer, had said his goal was to hit 2:59:20) little by little during the next mile.  As I approached the next water stop at mile 24 I very seriously considered stopping to take a short rest break, pushing aside the truth that if I stopped, restarting would be so difficult, and I would inevitably stop again and the goal time would be impossible.  To my surprise I saw a familiar blue puffy coat ahead, and after a few seconds I recognized it was Steve.  He yelled at me words of encouragement, I tried to say something back but it just came out as an angry mumble.  No way could I stop with him standing there watching.  And if I didn’t stop now, why stop in the last two miles?  Thanks Steve.

The last two miles were awful.  My legs were exhausted, I had terrible tunnel vision, I was dizzy, my hands were cold and numb.  I heard nothing from my cheering section as I crossed the line, glancing at the clock showing 3:00:08 or so as I finished.

Not nearly as smiley at the finish line.

I found a patch of grass and went down to my hands and knees.  A volunteer found me and escorted me to the medical tent.  I may or may not have needed the medical attention, but I readily accepted because I really wanted a nice warm place to lie down.

My support group along with the doctors who insisted on putting on stethoscopes for the picture.

After the race, I cleaned up at Tom and Judy’s and they graciously allowed us to crash their Easter lunch.  Much thanks to all those who helped in any way during these last 4 months,  especially you Kendra.  Speaking of commitment, we’re getting married next June!

I checked my official time sometime at Tom and Judy’s, 3:00:03.  Three seconds.  AGAIN.