Month: November 2016

(OR: What can happen when you DON’T run two marathons in two weeks. OR:  How I Got My Mojo Back.)

This story is as much about the race I didn’t do as the one that I did.  The fact that I ran this annual 10k in our little town, one week after my NYC Marathon, meant that I had chosen not to pursue the perhaps quixotic, perhaps foolish notion of running in the Philadelphia Marathon two weeks after NYC.  Last week’s marathon hadn’t go as well as I had expected, which surprised me, as I had been expecting a slam-dunk (much as the Democrats and the wishful media believed in the magical, wizardly and not-so-reliable polls, and, well, everyone in our circle was surprised, and dismayed).

So, I thought to run Phillie, because I REALLY felt well; didn’t have to walk down stairs backwards; had energy, two days after the race.  So if I feel this well, and have all the time-consuming training under my belt right now, and it would take so much energy to train up for the next marathon (and it won’t be NYC for me next year, I’m telling you), then why not at least explore the logistics, say, of doing two marathons two weeks apart.

After all, what if I had done Plan B and stopped running at mile 13, taking the Metro card out of my running shoe?

And what if walking most of the second half had the same effect of avoiding all the abuse 26.2 miles normally shells out? And what if I confirm with my massage therapist that I’m not injured?

And what if I focused on good form instead of heart rate next time?

And what if registering for Phillie is open until 11/11, and I could stay with my cousin who lives there? Or my wife’s nephew?

And what if I could just shoot for trying to find a groove and enjoy running again?  That sounded pretty noble.

Obviously, this was a little nutty, as it’s a lot to demand of one body but doesn’t feel like I’m risking injury.  On the one hand, I probably could do better than the time I did in NYC; but on the other hand, I was not likely to achieve the original goal (qualifying for Boston).  So with that acknowledged, why bother?

Fortunately, not racing Phillie sort of came about anyway, for a variety of reasons:   (a) after a couple of days , I stopped feeling the drive to “do better”;  (b) I wasn’t sure whether I’d be happy without a PR, and that  it was unlikely I’d do a PR, and that it would be more neurotic than athletic to attempt otherwise; and  (c) neither my cousin nor nephew were available to share their homes in Phillie with me.

And also, post-election Wednesday morning, I was too depressed to generate the optimism necessary to commence a marathon.  The wind went out of my sails.

In any event, with this the same week as our nation’s shocking choice of President Elect, I realized I would probably be rubbing elbows, quite literally, with “neighbors” in our small town (being virtually everyone, 8,000 people living within 2 square miles) whom I had never met, or only met at this annual 10k, and were presumably pretty conservative (being in large families that have lived in this town for three generations, dynasties or clans of a sort) and perhaps some happy Trump supporters.

Including James C., tall guy in my age group, whom I had beaten the last two times I’d done this race (skipping last year, having worsened an injury at the season’s end). We always say hello when  we see each other; it’s just the only time we see each other is at this race.  The horn goes off, and it turns out, he’s gotten stronger, and my hat’s off to this guy (whom I had earlier thought of as my nemesis, in the science fiction comic book sort of way), he just LED OFF with the pack of younger runners, bright yellow shirt fading into the distance, starting two blocks ahead of the rest of us and hauling out of sight by the end of mile 1.

And off he goes, too fast for me, but I’m running MY race.  Even a 10k has to be respected.

It’s a challenging course, including that first mile, a sloping hill, maybe 2-3%, up along Broadway, a big downhill, and then everything else somehow seems uphill.  That’s our local terrain.  And I find myself running with this guy named Dan, bright blue shirt and we are smack onto the same pace, pleasant guy from Hastings, and I confirm that he’s in a younger age group (because I would like the podium, despite the zen attitude). And the first 3.1 mile loop goes pretty well, and my form is better, pushing off with my leg in straight lines, and I avg. 6:54 min/mile but that takes a lot of effort and dammit, I just did a marathon…

Gotta admit, the problem with a 2-loop course, even loops this small, is the temptation to quit after the first loop’s done.  And I feel like giving myself a break, when Jim Nolan says at the corner, “Looking good, Mark!” and it’s nice to see him and I feel embarrassed at the thought of quitting and compelled to start the next loop.  (“Thanks, Jim!”). And Dan goes a few yards ahead and then a half block and then his bright blue shirt sails off into the sunset… So be it.  This is MY race.

The second 3.1 is harder, the same hills and such, and after the race the data shows I slowed down a bit to 7:38, then 7:11, and I knew I was in the heavy panting of zone 3 virtually the whole race, up there in 165 bpm, and I didn’t care because I didn’t know it until the race was OVER.  Because, like my first run of the season, I did not look at the watch the entire race.  Such will power.  Such joy!

The challenge with these sparse races is that Dan is too far ahead to catch, and the next runner is too far behind to catch me.  So why push harder?  The challenge is to go full tilt anyway, and it’s uncomfortable and my glutes are on fire (a good sign) and I grab water from a little boy, go up the final hill, around the corner and straight back to the high school, pass cheering neighbors Anthony and Amy, turn down the street  and cross under the red and blue FINISH LINE sign, and down the shoot….

Time:  42:10. 2nd for my age group, 8/43 overall.  A solid result, and right after the marathon.  Other runners with GPS watches agreed:  this was really 5.9 mile route — but that’s still 7:08 min/mile. A personal best for this distance, this year.

And every now and then, someone asks why I do this.   So today, my answer is that every time I push harder, I learn more about what I can do and who I am.  Not quite a mantra or a slogan, but it will have to do.

This was a full season:  2 local charity 5ks; the 8k in Chicago with 23,000 runners; two 10ks; (including this one) a sprint duathlon in rainy Brooklyn; two Olympic triathlons, a sprint triathlon, a 70.3 (Half-Ironman); the NYC Half Marathon, the 18-mile “Marathon Tune-Up”, and the Marathon.  Thirteen races.

I am sooooooo ready for the “Off Season,” thank you.

Race Report:  NYC Marathon, 11/6/16

Every race, I have three goals:  to have fun, to avoid injury and (of course) to be faster.  In this race, I managed to accomplish the first two – a vast improvement over last year, the first time I did this race.

Executed terrific logistics in getting there.  My friends Dietmar Serbee (from Cologne, Germany, now running buddy in Hastings on Hudson) and Juan Berton Moreno (from Buenos Aires, Argentina, who traveled 12 hours for this race, and stayed with me for a few days!) joined me at an Airbnb in Staten Island on Saturday night to avoid the crazy shlep and wait at the Verrazano Bridge.

 

 

My goal was to break 3:30 at 8:00 min/mile or less in order to qualify for Boston for my age group.  That’s feasible, based on the 3:31 I had done at the New Jersey (flat, flat) Marathon in 2014.   Also, I wanted revenge for my 4:13 NYC Marathon last year, when I hadn’t trained enough for this race (after recovering from a big season of triathlons).  Though assigned to corral D, I joined Corral F to be with the pacer for a 3:30 race – not to follow the pacer, but to start with a less yahoo crowd.

BOOM!  A Howitzer starts the race!

I did the first four miles, pretty much as planned, staying in heart rate zone 1, but slipping into zone 2 (141-151 beats per minute) and then tried to stay there for the rest of the race. I focused, staying in the middle of the road (yes, Coach Debi, there WAS a blue line painted to show the most efficient tangents, and it felt like something friendly I could depend on), running pretty strong, but I started tanking after mile 12.

I’ve tried to figure out what went wrong, that I slowed down so much so quickly.  Debi thinks that I think too much, but I think she’s wrong.  (“No, Doctor, I’m not in denial!”).   I wasn’t getting despondent as my time dropped from 8:00 minute miles to 8:12 to 8:20…  rather, 8:38 and slower was resulting from feeling early fatigue.  And I grew to accept early on that this was not going to be a PR.  So, I think I was too focused on heart rate instead of form.  Getting into the stride I developed this season, and firing off my legs in a straight line at the end of each step, takes more effort.  But attempting to minimize that effort, I wore myself out by firing up my hamstrings and adductors instead of engaging the much heartier glutes.

If I’ve figured out how to make the next race better, I’ll be totally satisfied with this race.  Because Brooklyn was amazing – shouting out to drummer Art Lillard, with whom I had played 20 years ago; passing a gospel choir sounding so much better than the Very Loud Rock Bands (turns out, it was the church of Karen Hemmings, our admin assistant); marveling at the silence of the Hasidic blocks in Williamsburg (no one there to watch, let alone cheer, such immodestly dressed runners; it’s another world, man…).

Starting at mile 14, I started walking every water stop (instead of every other).  And then I started walking between water stops, including up the infamous Queensboro Bridge.

But the roar of Manhattan was, as everyone says, huge and uplifting.  And I realized: there’s no shame in walking.  In fact, there’s no shame AT ALL.  This really is MY race.  Not qualifying for Boston hardly equates to failure.  I’m running the NYC Marathon; what a blessing that I can run; what an amazing, huge event this; look at all these people! Total strangers shouting out “PRIMO!  Vamos, Primo!” (Because I’ve ironed “Primo” onto my shirt in honor of cousin Rob, who is my inspiration to compete and has to defer running marathons),

and THERE’S RACHEL, my wife, she found me around 90th and 1st Avenue, I had told her that if things are going well I wouldn’t slow down to hug her, but I stop and she starts to say “You’re doing gr…” stops herself and says “You’re going to be OK”, and I agree with her, and keep on slogging (still staying upright, popping EAA’s and chewable saltstick tabs now and then, but just not able or willing to PUSH THROUGH and get faster).

And Ken Fuirst (high school acquaintance, renewed friend through the gym) is THERE at mile 19.5, just as promised, just like last year, and he joins me while I’m jogging / walking  and tells me “don’t worry about making that PR”, me: “oh, that’s gone out the window a while ago”, Ken:  “you’ve accomplished a lot” because we’ve talked about other races, and then laughs at “we’re getting older!”, me:  “I’m gonna walk, but I’ll be OK,” and I am so moved at his generosity and affirmation.  And more strangers saying “You look great!” (“You’re lying, but thank you!”), and biking/commuter friend Sean Sheely is handing out water at Mile 22, big smile and encouraging, and Dietmar (who started in Wave 2, 25 minutes after I started) pats me on the back  and passes me (he’s terrific and smiling and gets a 6-minute PR), and one woman, I think in upper Manhattan, big and light brown hair and sunglasses, I can’t remember anything but the sun shining onto her and her huge smile and shout out and that’s for ME, that’s for ALL of us, this is amazing.  So many people, a million spectators for 50,000 runners, 200 folks cheering for every athlete, simply tremendous.

I’m walking a lot, but when I get to downhills (like the Willis Avenue Bridge, and after entering Central Park) I run (come on, it’s downhill!) and I don’t want to be that guy who threw up so I’m walking again, but I do the math and realize with a little more effort I can do better than last year, and I owe it to these huge crowds in the final 0.2 miles to push harder, and I cross the line with a 2-minute course PR.

4:11:36.   40 minutes slower than my best marathon.

Plan B had been to take a Metro card in the bottom of my shoe (which I did), save my legs by quitting halfway, and run the Philadelphia Marathon in two weeks. And I had actually researched:  registration for Phillie was open until 11/11/16.  But even though I had nothing to prove – I mean, I know I can run this distance! — I never really wanted to quit, just for the sake of a better result. I can’t say the crowd gave me more courage and more speed, but I can say the crowd made me so very grateful to be at such an amazing event.  And in this awful, fractious and frightening post-election world, enjoying the unity and hope and the affirmation was a blessing.

Hey, I just finished a marathon.