(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.