Phil blogs for the Publix Georgia Marathon as he recovers from injury and (yikes!) surgery. Wish him luck!
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@the6amboys
Phil blogs for the Publix Georgia Marathon as he recovers from injury and (yikes!) surgery. Wish him luck!
Video 1: The elites during mile 1. If you look closely, you can see Ryan and I had a little moment.
Pete's "Race Report" and Pictures.
Yeah so, I didn't race. I couldn't race. It was all my energy to walk around and see the other "boys" race. But whatever. That's all I need to say about that.
My race report. It. Was. Hot. Unhealthy, dangerous, they should have red-flagged the race hot. I went to Mile 1 and the 5K mark to see Phil, Dave, and Alan. Then I wanted to go to the end and see if we saw any records. I knew the course record would fall, expected an American Record, and thought possibly, just maybe, we'd see a second world record in just under a month.
So I walk to Columbus Ave. around 8:45. It's probably around 60-62 degrees. When I get in the stands at the finish around 9:10, it's already 70. It got hot fast. The course record and American record were on pace to be broken by at least a minute each at mile 18. By the end of the race, the course record was only broken by 5 seconds, and Ryan Hall missed the AR by nearly 3 minutes. Everybody cracked.
Here are some pics.
The day before race day. The weather was perfect in the city-except for a marathon.
Dave, Phil, Alan 1 hour before the race.
Starting line 30 min before start.
Some people running. I don't know them. Or maybe one of our guys is in there.
The final turn at the finish. See that sun?
I'll post some video I took next.
The Finish Line
It was an emotional weekend. Marathons, ultimately, are intensely personal things. I don't think even I realized all I had invested in Chicago. October 9, 2011 is a day I will not soon forget.
The Short Version
The short version is, I broke. I broke early and utterly. At mile 10, I knew I had to let my pace group go. And I knew so much more. I knew even then that I would not break 4 hours, which means I wouldn't even get a PR out of the race I'd been training for and anticipating for so long. For whatever reason, I wan't strong enough. Having set an aggressive (but, I felt, reasonable) goal, I will not pretend that my performance was anything other than a bitter disappointment. But there's so much more to the story.
Some of More
Around mile 7, I started feeling the side stitches, once common in my running career, but long-since banished - or so I thought. The pace didn't feel too fast aerobically, and my legs felt fine, but the pain didn't subside. I suffered through the next 3 miles, praying the Gatorade would help. But it was no use. There was only one solution: slow down. So I did. And even that didn't help much. I made it to the half in about 1:51. But from that point, it was either run/walk or DNF.
Believe me, the last thing I wanted my "race report" post to become was an enumeration of the reasons I didn't quit. But miles 13-15 were a real mental battle. When I saw the aid station at mile 15, I came very close to dropping out. But I didn't, for several reasons.
Self-respect certainly played a role. Having logged so many miles and fought through my back problems, I needed to finish.
I was not going to let Dave, Alan and Peter down.
I was not going to let the great people (and kids) of Chicago Run down. They treated us incredibly well all weekend. (Side note: it's not too late to make a donation, here.)
This may sound strange, but I felt I owed it to the sport of running to keep going. I believe in the integrity of competition, and dropping out when I could have kept going would have just felt...wrong. You don't quit just because you're having a bad day; you finish what you started.
More of More
Something else went through my mind as well. I made a commitment to God (which I wrote about on Friday) that I wanted my race to honor him. Knowing that I wasn't actually injured - that I could finish without damaging my body, even if it took a lot longer than planned, even if it meant walking 10% of the course - I simply couldn't quit. That may sound cheesy or hyper-spiritual. That's OK. All I can say is, I felt the desire to "run the race with perseverance."
It is difficult to explain how I felt at the starting line. When the announcer said "One minute to go!" I bowed my head and said the Lord's Prayer. A feeling came over me that I was exactly where I was supposed to be at that moment. I was welling up at the moment. At the time, I thought it meant that I was ready for something great, in the sense of a great time.
At mile 15, with all hope of a "respectable" finish gone, I felt the same feeling. I knew the last 11 miles would be painful, and they were. But I also knew that I was supposed to be there, suffering through it. I hope to take from that the metaphorical lesson - sometimes what you're supposed to do is painful.
The Rest of More
When I ran my first marathon 18 months ago in 3:59, I was proud. True, I had fallen short of my goal of 3:50, but I had fought through the pain in the last 5K to break 4 hours, running the last 1.2 miles in 11 minutes to do so. I would be lying if I said I was proud of anything about yesterday's race. I yearn for redemption. When I finished yesterday in 4:22, I walked through the finish area, collapsed on the grass and wept. When I saw the small but merry band of our supporters who made the trip, I wept again (really, sobbed is more like it). When I left my hotel room and got on the train this morning, I felt an odd but very real sense of heartbreak.
And so, the primary emotion that I will associate with the 2011 Chicago Marathon is...gratitude. (You weren't expecting that, were you?) I am tremendously grateful for the ability and opportunity to run 26.2 miles. As late as 2 weeks ago, that was an iffy proposition. But, other than the requisite soreness, I am healthy. Running a marathon is a gift. When I was on the course, I saw the following:
A girl with a shirt on that read "And they said I would never run again!"
An amputee and war veteran running on a prosthetic leg.
A man in front of me, staggering, mere feet from the finish, who was supported by two fellow competitors as he limped across.
Marathons are intensely personal things. I wouldn't trade my experience. It's what I was supposed to do.
-Phil
In the start corral!
A Prayer Before Racing
Tomorrow morning, the other 6am Boys and I will be on our way to Chicago! On the eve (or eve-eve) of the race we've trained so long and so hard for, I find myself feeling incredibly grateful for the opportunity to run.
I believe in a Creator, One who has purposes. When I think about the fact that I feel healthy and whole and ready to run, I cannot help but think about how amazing that is. Ten days ago, I couldn't stand up straight because my back hurt so bad. Now, I'm pain-free (if temporarily) and ready to run 26.2. Had I been born just a few decades earlier, that wouldn't be possible. There were no cortisone shots then. For that matter, there were no LASIK or arthroscopic surgery or lumbar microdiscectomies either. I would be a nearsighted, hunched over slob of a man who couldn't lift his right arm over his head. I am truly blessed. And I am grateful that me running the 2011 Chicago Marathon somehow fits into God's plan.
I'm also grateful for my wonderful wife, who has sacrificed a month of Saturday mornings, dutifully watching the kids (like she does every day) while I was out on long runs. She doesn't understand my drive to run, but she supports it nevertheless.
Furthermore, I'm grateful for my friends. Though we mostly knew each other before, running really brought us together. (Well, except for Dave and Peter, who are, in fact, brothers.) But our friendship now is about much more than running. I know these guys will be with me for the long run, literally and figuratively.
I'm insanely excited and even a little confident about the race. But I'm running this one in a spirit of enjoyment. That doesn't mean I'm not serious about hitting my goal time - in fact, I wouldn't enjoy it if I weren't trying to push myself toward a goal. On Sunday, I'll be running with a pace group and without a watch. I have visions of accelerating away from the group in the last mile toward a glorious finish. But if that doesn't happen (or if it does), I'm going to drink in the energy of the crowd, the crisp, clear morning air and the sights of a great city. I'm going to enjoy this.
Lord, thank you for giving me the ability to run. Thank you for bringing me safe and healthy to the starting line. Thank you for my wife. Thank you for David, Peter and Alan. I ask you for the strength and speed to run well. But more than that, I ask that somehow, some way, you take glory from my race. And not just mine, but 45,000 other races, the races of people who will take what you have given them and use it to the best of their abilities. May this race and all the effort put into it teach me more about you. May I run this and all races you set before me with endurance, with my eyes fixed on you. Amen.
- Phil
We need your help!
As we announced a few months ago we are running the Chicago Marathon for the charity Chicago Run. We have set a goal of $2000. Please visit our fundraising page and help us reach this goal. This money will fund 2 classrooms for an entire year to inspire kids to run. Please help us in support Chicago Run in the fight against childhood obesity.
Our fundraising page is located here: http://www.active.com/donate/chirun/the6amboys
Marathon Week
I'm running a marathon on Sunday! That. Is. All.
- David
Ready or Not...
The Roller Coaster
Working toward any long-term goal (like, say, for instance, running a marathon) usually has its highs and lows. For my first marathon experience, the training was hard, but it was consistent and steady. There were no real peaks and valleys until the race itself, during which I could easily have believed that miles 22-25 were quite literally the Valley of the Shadow of Death.
This time, things have been different. I've trained harder than I did the first time because I have more aggressive goals. But other factors have contributed to making this a more painful experience. I've already written about some of this, but here's a quick review:
In mid-June, I developed a somewhat sore back, which I blamed for poor performances in a couple of races, including the Peachtree Road Race on July 4.
After that race, I decided to shut things down for a while. I did nothing for a week, then only crosstraining for another before hitting the road again.
For about a month (mid-July through mid-August), I felt ok - not great - as I added mileage.
By September, it was clear that my back had some major, major issues.
Since then, there have been many, many points at which I thought to myself, "Hey! I should blog about that!" The problem is, things were moving so quickly that by the time I got around to writing, the situation had completely changed. My series of peaks and valleys accelerated to resemble this:
So here is what the last month of my race preparation has looked like...
Saturday, September 3 Still hitting my paces in mid-week workouts, but no longer able to touch my toes, I took my new chiropractor's advice and cut my planned 20-miler down to 12, which I ran at about 8:30 per mile - pretty close to goal marathon pace. Baseline
Saturday, September 10 Finished a 20-miler by covering the last 3 in under 25 minutes. Small peak
Monday, September 12 Again on the advice of Dr. Glass, I went to see Dr. Ray Cody of Peachtree Spine Physicians, a non-surgical sports medicine practice. Dr. Cody made a diagnosis that probably shouldn't have been surprising, but was still jarring: degenerative disc disease. Valley
Saturday, September 17 Ran 16 with the Altanta Track Club's pace group leaders. According to plan, we only did a few fast miles in the middle. I led the group. In about 7:50 per mile. Peak
One Hour Later Despite feeling great at the end of my run, I could barely get out of my car unassisted when I got home. Spent much of the rest of the day on ice. Valley
Tuesday, September 20 The long-anticipated Yasso 800 workout. I hit my pace - 3:38 average time over 10 intervals, with the last one at 3:33. But every single step was excruciating. By far the most painful athletic experience of my life. Some peak, but mostly valley
Wednesday, September 21 Dr. Cody gives me a cortisone injection to quell the inflamation so I can get through the race (and maybe beyond). It's supposed to take 2-10 days to have an impact. Back to baseline.
Monday, September 26 After Saturday's 23-miler, the pain is as bad as it has ever been, including 11 years ago before surgery. The injection has clearly not worked - yet. I am starting to doubt. Deep, deep valley.
Tuesday, September 27 Something feels different, almost like someone hit my funny bone. But it's in my left leg. And I can touch my toes for the first time in more than a month. Rising from the valley...
Wednesday, September 28 I am something close to pain-free, which I can hardly believe. The drugs are working! And perhaps the Almighty. Or, at least, the Almighty working through the agency of the doctor and the drugs, which He created. But regardless, my back doesn't hurt! Of course, I notice that my left hamstring is somewhat jacked up (that's a technical term). Apparently the back had been masking that. But hey, that's nothing a little rest and ice can't fix. I can do this!
I don't know how this ride is going to end, but optimism is the order of the day. I am going to Chicago, and I hope that's where the highest peak is.
-Phil
Review: Nike Hydration Belt
I gave this belt a whirl on my long run today. It's comfortable, holds about 24 oz of water, and everything seemed to stay firmly in place while running. However, there is limited space for shotgun shells, which would leave me defenseless after the coming zombie apocalypse. I could fit 2, maybe 3 shells if I used all of the pockets.
Pre-apocalypse: 5 stars.
Post-apocalypse: Totally useless, unless you fill the bottles with gasoline and use them as fire bombs.
- Alan
I go running in the morning, before my brain figures out what I'm doing.
Anonymous, but I'm pretty sure that's why we are the 6AM boys.
Numbers
I get this question at least once a week: "What is a good marathon time?" First and foremost I believe that anyone, anywhere, that prepares for and finishes a full marathon has done something amazing. I don't care what your time is. Do it more than once? You're in a whole new field. Even the guy who wanted to be the heaviest man to ever finish a marathon. Incredible. Even though it took him almost 10 hours, and he finished in a near monsoon, he pushed his body to an extremely dangerous limit, and made it.
I started thinking about marathon numbers on my run today. (Thinking and running is a bad thing for spacey people like me. It's a good way to get hit by a car. I try not to let it happen often.)
So here's some perspective.
The population of the United States is 312,118,069.
The number of people who FINISHED an American marathon in 2010 was just less than 468,000.
So, not including the variable of marathon finishers who were not American (and there are plenty) that's around .15% of the population.
I refer you back to my initial statement about training for and finishing a marathon. It's amazing. The average time of all finishers in 2010 was 4:35:42.
So what's a good marathon time? Well besides crossing the finish line it really depends on who you are. I think breaking 4 hours is pretty hard, and incredible. Breaking 3:30 is another level of dedication, and breaking 3 takes a determination most people just don't have.
And that's why the other 99.85% of the population responds with "you're crazy" when you tell them what you're training for.
The magic number is...
88.
Actually it's 88.5.
After taking over a month off I didn't want to plan out every run for August. I didn't feel like I needed to be dictating workouts to my body just yet, so I let it dictate me. I had goals, but small ones. Like making each long run at least two miles longer than the week before, etc.
So I'll take 88.5 for August after doing nothing in July. Not bad.
I think I can see Chicago from here. It looks nice and cool.
-Pete
PS. Yeah guys. Tomorrow is September. For real.
Hey, I did 15 miles too. Copycat.
I guess that comes with training for the same race though.
And I was tanked afterwards too. Before the whole "don't run for over a month" thing, I could run 15 and feel fine. Now I feel like Alan's last post. My advice to myself, and Alan, and anyone else: yeah. That's normal. You just ran 15 miles. Unless you're hurt, keep it up. The line between pain and being hurt is hard to see though. You'll know on your next run.
Speaking of hard to see (that transition is in fact, easy to see).
Interesting morning in San Francisco. Fog, or clouds, or whatever they are, are a way of life here. But this morning I did some laps around Crissy Field which runs right up to the bridge. So foggy I could not see the bridge. Not even the base. This is how close I got:
What Bridge? For some perspective, this is what the bridge looked like last weekend from that same spot:
(This is considered a "pretty nice day" in this city)
The "fog horn" was going crazy this morning. Interesting at first. Then just annoying after an hour. What's the point of the horn if you can't see 10 feet in front of you? If you're dumb enough to be out there, you're going to hit something either way.
-Pete
My legs hurt.
Did a 15 miler today, a distance PR for me, and by the time I could see the finish I was wishing for a passing cyclist to offer me a seat on their handlebars. The last couple miles were quite painful.
From a cardio perspective, I feel fine. I don't even feel like I'm breathing that hard during my runs. It's my legs that shut down after a while. Around mile 8 they start to feel pretty stiff, and by mile 12 the stiffness starts to turn into more of an achy pain. By mile 15 today, my legs were almost completely useless. It makes me wonder if I should tweak my training to address this issue. Would love to hear advice from the community.
- Alan