Here's the crowd that cheered me through my first marathon (Teton Dam Marathon, Rexburg, Idaho, June 07)

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Lake Wobegon Trail Marathon

My darling sister and her darling daughter






Two weeks and five days after Boston I ran the Lake Wobegon Trail Marathon in Minnesota. I’ve never run two marathons that close together. It was a beautiful, small race with about 150 participants. It runs along a railway that has been converted into a paved trail. The whole race is flat and scenic, through the trees, along lakes, beside farms. It was a perfect day for running, cool and cloudy with a little breeze. And I had my sister, her husband, and their darling 16 month-old daughter braving the cold to cheer me on. I also met some amazing racers, including a man in his seventies who was 47 states into his second time through the 50 states. He had run more than 300 marathons in his life. Wow! My goal was to run 7:30s as long as I could. I lasted until about mile 19 then slowed way down and finished in 3:27 (21st place, 3rd in my division). Every race, I’m amazed at how difficult the end is. My body just completely runs out of gas—emotionally, mentally, and physically. I’ve yet to run a marathon where I don’t think to myself, “Why am I doing this?” during the last few miles. Yet the next day, I’m already thinking about and getting excited for my next race. My next race will be my hometown Teton Dam Marathon. It’ll be the third time I’ve run it. It was my first marathon in 2007. I’m really hoping to finish in under 3:30 but it’s a tough, hilly course. I need to lose some weight if I’m going to improve my speed and stamina. But I ate cookies for breakfast this morning. They tasted so good after my 5 mile recovery run. Chocolate chip. Yum.

Sunday, April 26, 2009

Boston!





On Patriots Day, Monday, April 20th, I took my place in the sixth corral at the start of the Boston Marathon in Hopkinton. I couldn’t help but reflect on what had gotten me to that point.

About three years ago I was visiting my brother in California. I wanted to lose some weight and pitched an idea to him that I thought would motivate me. I proposed that we have a weight-loss competition. On the first Sunday of each month, we weigh in and whoever has lost the most weight wins that month. The reward: the glory of rubbing it in the loser’s face. My brother and I had always been competitive, so why not use our competition to our advantage? We could use any method we wanted to lose weight, all that mattered were the numbers on the scale at the beginning of the month.

I tried to eat a little better and exercise a little more at first, but my real success began when I started playing full-court basketball at 6:00 a.m. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, at the church with a great group of die-hards. On Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, I started playing racquetball. I was having fun, and the pounds started melting away. I kept a record, only writing down my weight each time I hit a “new low.” Exercising naturally made me want to start eating better. My brother and I both were losing weight.

After a fall and winter of playing basketball, I had lost about 20 pounds. Sometimes, on a Saturday before a weigh-in Sunday, I would run a few miles on the treadmill. One day, I decided to run ten miles. I had never run that far before. By the time I got to about 8 miles, I was completely depleted. I had not eaten or drank anything that morning or during my run. I was ignorant. I knew nothing about long-distance running as I had never done it before in my life. I forced my way—walking and jogging—through the last two miles until I had, for the first time in my life, completed a ten-mile run. I took a long drink, went to the locker room, and fell asleep on the locker room bench, too tired to change clothes. Few times in my life had I ever felt so exhausted.

For some reason, I tried it again the next Saturday, this time with better hydration, and I felt much better at the end of ten miles. I started noticing the banners around town advertising the Teton Dam marathon, half-marathon, 5K, etc. and toyed with the idea of running the half marathon. I kept playing basketball three times a week, and did a longish run on Saturday. I started driving my car around town measuring running routes.

I was out working in the yard one day, when a friend stopped by and I told him I had run my first 13-miler. He encouraged me to try a 16 and then a 19, suggesting that if I could do 19 I could do the whole marathon. The marathon was about a month away, and I decided that if I could do the longer runs without incident or injury, then I would try the whole marathon.

I’ll never forget my first 19-mile run. We were at my parents’ cabin in Montana. On a Friday night, I went out and hid 12 ounce bottles of Gatorade in the bushes along a dirt road that wandered far into the forest. I cut up a Powerbar into small squares and put it in a baggy. And early the next morning, I was off. It was quiet and still in the forest. As I came around the bends in the road I wondered if I would cross paths with a bear. I clapped my hands loudly periodically to scare off any encounters. I saw a few deer and rabbits and ran with a camper’s dog for a few miles. By then end, I was spent, but excited. I had done it. I was terribly sore the next day, but after a few days of recovery, and all was well, I registered for my first marathon.

That was just less than two years ago. Now I stood on the historic spot of the nation’s longest-running marathon, six marathons under my belt, four-time Boston winner and course record-holder Robert Cheruiyot and Americans Ryan Hall and Kara Goucher only a short distance ahead of me, hoping to find a first place position on the podium at the awards ceremony.

At the signal, we were off, cheers from the runners and the crowd filling the air. It took me three-and-a-half minutes to cross the starting line. The weather was perfect, very cool and overcast with a nice breeze. Elbow to elbow we made our way along the first miles of the historic course. Twenty-six thousand runners in costumes—Wonder Woman, Captain America, Three Men in a Tub with bathrobes and rubber duckies—and with crazy hairdos or decked out in matching, coordinated running attire, or plain old shorts and t-shirts filled the narrow road out of Hopkinton. What startled me was the sound, the rhythm of twenty-six thousand pairs of feet drumming the pavement like a storm. I tried to keep my pace slow, resisting the impulse to “bank time” on the early downhill portions of the race. I stayed consistently at 8 minute-miles, hoping I could conserve enough energy to maintain that pace on and after the hills during the last quarter of the race.

The fans and spectators were amazing, endlessly cheering, calling out names, countries, and whatever they could identify to give individual runners a boost. The rural part of the course was pretty, winding through trees, past lakes, and quaint neighborhoods. As we approached Wellesley, I could hear the famed “scream tunnel” of the women’s college students from a mile away. They lived up to their reputation as we ran past, buoyed by a river of cheering and signs reading “free kisses.”

I managed to clock 8 minute-miles for the first 19 miles, including the first three of four hills that conclude with “heartbreak hill” at mile 20.5. Again, the fans were amazing, lining the streets and cheering the whole way. It was the “shortest” marathon I have ever run, because there was so much going on, so many runners, so much support from fans, and so much history to consider along the course, that it went by very quickly. I was shocked at how “soon” I was at heartbreak hill. That’s when I started to break down.

None of the hills in and of themselves were very large or difficult on the Boston course (at least compared to hills I’ve run in training or on other courses), but having them in a series, mile after mile starting at 16 is what makes the last one so difficult. Any energy I hoped to reserve was gone by the top of heartbreak hill. It took me 8:58 to complete mile 20, the mile with heartbreak hill.

After that, despite the downhill portions, I was never able to regain my pace. I had to decide whether to reach my goal of 3:30 and suffer the pain, or just enjoy the race and minimize the pain and recovery (I had already registered to run the Lake Wobegon Trail Marathon in MN which was less than three weeks after Boston). I chose to enjoy it. The last four miles were still difficult, especially because the spectators are so numerous at this point that you feel like you are near the finish line, but it is still a long four miles away.

I saw my sister and her family cheering for me at mile 25, and then my sweet, pregnant, screaming wife on the home stretch at 26. The last .2 was a moment infused with history, emotion, adrenaline, reflection, enthusiasm, and the stuff of unforgettable memories. I crossed the finish line of the Boston marathon. Now, give me a heat blanket, my medal, food, drink, clothes, my wife in my arms, a train to the hotel, a warm shower, a nap, and an evening dinner at a nice restaurant. They did, all with efficiency and organization. What an amazing event.

Crossing the finish line in Boston

I must say that touring Boston with my wife the days before the race was as enjoyable as participating in the marathon. The expo, pasta and pastries in the North End (I recommend Giacomo’s pumpkin tortellini and a Boston cream puff at Mike’s Pastries—cannolis are overrated), walking the freedom trail and seeing the sites of the American revolution (watch HBO’s John Adams before you go), the Duck tour, Quincy Market, Harvard, Cambridge, the Back Bay and Newbury, Boston Commons, and riding the “T” with Red Sox fans made us fall in love with Boston. What a great city! What a great race! Truly the marathoner’s Mecca.

Next up for me: Lake Wobegon Trail Marathon in MN on a flat, paved railway trail trough the trees in two weeks. Then my local race—the Teton Dam Marathon. It’s a small marathon, and my goal is to place in the top ten with a time under 3:30. I’m still dreaming about completing a sub 3-hour marathon. Someday.

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Four Days Till Boston

I just finished my last taper run (3 miles). My next run will be the Boston Marathon on Monday. I'm shooting for a 3:30, but I'll be lucky if I make it. The weather forecast is cool and rainy. Due to winter, almost all of my training has been on a treadmill, so I'm looking forward to a long outdoor run in Boston. Debbie and I are looking forward to a fun weekend. I'll post details and photos soon.