Myrtle Beach Marathon - Rick's perspective

I guess to a large extent, I find running/racing to be a personal thing. Although I enjoy running with others, I can’t say that I feel a compulsion to blog about racing to share my experiences with others in written form. That’s something I’m working on and my wife is encouraging me to do. Katie says she can’t wait to blog about a race or a run and even has them half written while she’s still out on the course. I don’t think I’ll ever get to that point, but I feel encouraged hearing about others’ running experiences. So there may be some benefit to sharing my experiences too. This blog entry is to share and document my experience leading up to and at the Myrtle Beach Marathon on February 19, 2011.

Background

The Myrtle Beach Marathon was supposed to be the last in a string of longer races for us. That string started with the Marshall Marathon on November 7, 2010 and was supposed to include Mountain Mist on January 22, 2011. Honestly, in my mind, the marathons before and after Mountain Mist were secondary; a warm up and a cool down if you will. I started focusing on Mountain Mist 6 or 7 months in advance and printed out multiple training plans (including this one from Dink Taylor) to compare that were between 17 to 24 weeks long. I started seeking out the “euphoria” that only hill work brings and the adventure and solitude of running on trails when I could. I even stopped shaving my goatee in November as a reminder every time I looked in the mirror that I had a mission. The mission was to be well prepared for Mountain Mist and finish feeling pleased about it. The fact that I ran a PR and my first BQ at the Marshall Marathon (I wrote about that experience here) was a bonus the way I looked at it and an indicator that I was on the right track for a satisfying Mountain Mist. Well. I pushed myself right off that track. Looking back, I think I got a bit greedy. I went from averaging a little under 200 miles and less than 5,000 feet of elevation gain per month to 260 miles and close to 10,000 feet of elevation gain in December. On January 2, my body pushed back in the form of Piriformis Syndrome. It took me a little while to figure it out, but a pinched sciatic nerve shut my running down. I went from a hilly 20 mile run with Teddy on Sunday morning to walking during an easy warm up on the way to a track workout on Tuesday. As I was limping back to my car, I remember seeing Greg Reynolds on his way to the track and wishing I could run half as fast without pain. I had felt some discomfort in my left hamstring near the end of the 20 miler, but now I couldn’t even jog slowly due to the pain. So here it is, early January and I can’t run five feet much less 50 kilometers. I tried to hold on to the momentum and fitness I had by training on our elliptical machine, but that got old fast. I visited a chiropractor, finally figured out what was causing the pain, but wasn’t healed up in time for the race at the end of January. God had other plans for me and was likely telling me I was in danger of tipping the healthy balance between family, work and running. But I’m thankful about what He planned to happen next. I made a recovery that was nearly as quick as the onset of the injury. My running log shows several elliptical machine entries, then a “slow and uncomfortable 3 mile run” on February 1, a couple of runs on a treadmill, and then a run I titled “getting there” on February 8. I averaged under 8 minute miles for six miles with a left hamstring that felt mildly sore and tight at 11 days before the race. So, now it was time to taper for the Myrtle Beach marathon…

The Marathon

Katie does a good job documenting our marathon trips on this blog, so I’ll stick to the race here. I knew this race would be slower than the Marshall Marathon. 3:40 or so is what I estimated was a realistic goal. I made a deal with myself to start out with 8:30 miles or slower for the first 8 to 10 miles, and see what happened after that. That deal, based in logic, went right out the window when I got to the start line. The excitement, adrenaline, and ease of the early miles had me clocking in sub-8s by mile four. I talked myself into this pace by saying that I was coming off of a PR in November, this was a flat/fast course and I was “well rested.” Even though I reasoned that a 3:40 would have to be a satisfying finish time going into the marathon, now that I was racing, I really wanted a sub-3:30 marathon. There’s that pride and greed showing up again. So I went for it. “And why not?,” I thought. Aren’t runners encouraged to go for it? We hear stories all the time about people going for it and succeeding. So, I cranked out several miles in the 7:40s and 7:50s, and really enjoyed them. The course was nice, the crowds were good, the weather wasn’t bad (a bit warm and windy) and I was feeling good. I saw Katie at one point where the course turns back on itself and was glad to see her looking strong as I cheered her on. I caught up to and ran with the 3:30 pacing group (running with a pacing group isn’t something I normally do). Well, I went for it, but then I paid for it. At mile 21, I was reminded what I have learned at several other marathons. It pays to run to your ability level at that race. A negative split at the Marshall Marathon was so much more pleasant than this approach. Being properly prepared for and correctly executing a marathon makes for a much better experience. My mile 20 split was a low 8 and the rest of the way would be north of 9 minutes per mile. I hit the wall because of my foolish pride. My mind calculated how much longer I would be running at a 9ish pace for 5+ miles. Running that much longer was a dreadful thought. I remember really pushing to maintain a pace I would call a “slow run” and I was going to have to do that for quite a while. “Slow run” later became a “slow jog.” “Slow jog” became “stopped off the side of the road with a cramp in my hamstring” at one point. Those last miles were tough. Making it through those miles was an accomplishment. I ran a 3:41; almost exactly what I thought I could run going into the race. Running a 3:41 was tougher than 3:14…tougher but it didn’t have to be. Even though I couldn’t do much to improve my preparation because of the injury situation, my execution during the race made it unnecessarily tough. Even splits or a negative split would have made for a far more enjoyable (and possibly faster) marathon. I hope to learn not to let my pride trip me up. This experience has made me think about why I run. I’ve always thought that I run because I simply enjoy running. I enjoy being outside, having a chance to clear my mind from distractions, feeling closeness to God, sharing the company of another runner, feeling fit and healthy, getting a runner’s high…basically I enjoy the benefits running offers to mind, body and soul. Did the primary reason for running become so that I can look back at results with a feeling of pride and accomplishment? That will always be part of it, but I want to prevent that from being my main focus. I’m not fond of the outcome when it is my focus. That brings two scriptures to mind: Isaiah 40:31 and 1 Samuel 2:3

When Things Don’t Come Together…

So my entry on the Marshall University Marathon was a fun one to write. What a great marathon experience! I ran a PR, qualified for Boston for the first time, and we just had a great all around marathon trip. I couldn’t have asked for any better, and I feel blessed looking back on it all. I’ve had several conversations with other marathoners about how so many variables have to come together for a marathon to really be great. You know the ones I’m talking about: training, lack of injuries, nutrition, hydration, sleep, weather, health, stresses, etc. Some of those variables you can control, some you can influence and some are in the hands of God. Having a very bad marathon experience, where so many of those variables did not come together, also makes me appreciate the experience we had in Huntington. The marathon that provided perspective for me was Des Moines, Iowa. Katie and I ran this marathon on October 18, 2009.

First of all, this marathon followed the Maui Marathon Katie and I ran during our five year anniversary trip to Hawaii (our strategy is to run a few marathons about a month apart once we’re in “marathon shape”). We decided on this marathon because it was about a month after Maui and geographically close to Katie’s sister, Laurie, who lives in Madison, WI. We all decided on Des Moines over Grand Rapids, Michigan. Our original plan was to meet up and visit in Des Moines, and then Laurie would watch the kids while we ran. That turned out to be the first of many things that didn’t work out according to plan. School/work responsibilities precluded Laurie from making the trip. No problem; Katie’s mom, Ginny, agreed to join us. So this trip would still work out. (Looking back we were very determined to make this marathon happen.)

The next part requires me to explain a bit about my work situation at the time. I’m a Thrust Vector Control (TVC) engineer with Jacobs Engineering (NASA contractor). The group I work with is responsible for, to put it in layman’s terms, the power steering system on the rocket that directs it as it ascends. In our group, I was given the responsibility as the “Ares I-X guy.” If you are interested you can learn about Ares I-X here. Anyway, I supported all things TVC for Ares I-X, and an issue with the Ares I-X TVC system was discovered on October 14th during launch preparations. I was at Kennedy Space Center on October 15th (three days before the marathon). Not knowing how serious the issue was, I wasn’t too optimistic about making the start of the race. I decided not to tell anyone at work that I was registered to run a marathon on October 18. I would do the marathon if work situations allowed, but I wouldn’t race instead of taking care of work responsibilities. Anyway, we worked the TVC problem and the fix came together very quickly. So I made plans to fly from Orlando to Des Moines and join Katie, Ginny and the kids and return soon after the marathon. I made my flight arrangement as last minute on Friday as possible (leaving Orlando at 5:30 p.m. and arriving in Des Moines at 11:15 p.m.), knowing anything can happen when it comes to rockets. That turned out to be a good thing, because I received a call at my hotel room on Friday morning that a group at work was getting together to discuss some other options for our system. I was bummed because, at the time, I thought for sure this would mean that I wouldn’t be able to drive to Orlando and catch that last minute flight. Well the meeting went quickly (that never happens), and the group basically decided to leave the system as it was. So I hopped in my rental car and dashed off for the airport. Things were not exactly coming together, but I’d do my best to make them come together if I could.

So now it was time to transition into a marathon mindset (and get halfway across the country). I packed a small backpack with some running clothes and one set of clothes other than what I was wearing. I made it to the airport with very little time to spare, and I was all set to make a late night race eve arrival in Des Moines. I would have to ad lib all of the usual marathon preparation stuff in airports and during the flights. Carb loading was: Chinese fast food at a food court in Atlanta and snacking during the flight on anything from an airport convenience store that seemed appropriate (granola bars, trail mix, etc.). The flight into Des Moines was a bit behind schedule so I arrived a little later than expected. Things were still not coming together, but the taxi driver gave me a brief description (as best he knew) of the marathon course on the way to the hotel. That’s something right? I quietly snuck into the hotel room after midnight. After a short discussion with Katie and Ginny, I changed my return flight to originate in St. Louis (we’d visit Katie’s Aunt Rosie/Ginny’s sister and take in the St. Louis zoo on Sunday) instead of Des Moines on Sunday before it was too late. After all of that craziness, I attempted to slow the spinning gears in my head long enough to get a few hours of sleep before the race. I really wanted to do this race and hoped that it would go well despite the craziness leading up to it. Saturday morning came early and I (foolishly) had a bowl of hotel “Raisin Bran” cereal and some yogurt for breakfast.

The organizers for the Des Moines marathon do a pretty good job. We found a close parking spot easily, and I remember thinking the start area and activities were well planned. Something we did, dropping a bag or something I don’t remember now, had us a bit rushed to make it to the start line. It was quite crowded at the start and we were standing on a sidewalk perpendicular to the course with several others as the gun went off. Nothing else leading up to this marathon was relaxed, why should the start be any different? We made it into the start area quickly though and were shuffling with the sea of runners for the start of marathon state number 14 for Katie and me.

The first several miles actually went pretty well for me. I think I was aiming for somewhere under nine minute miles. I thought I could have a decent marathon but the bigger goal for today was to have a good experience and check Iowa off of the list of states left to race. I remember running up a decent hill around mile four and seeing a wheelchair racer inching his way up the hill backwards. He was going so slowly, and it looked painfully difficult. I also remember Katie and I saw a very animated pacer (the 3:30 pacer I believe). He had a lot of personality and was telling the group how fast they were running, how many seconds they had “banked” in the last mile, how far ahead of schedule they were, and cheering on runners around him. It was pretty interesting and I was doing well enough at this point to be amused.

Then things gradually started to take a turn for the worse. I don’t clearly remember the first urge to find a port-a-potty. I probably thought that I would just make a quick stop and be going again without too much interruption. I made the first pit stop and not too long after I was keeping an eye out for the next port-a-potty. This process would repeat over and over during the race. Mile after mile I was focused on the course ahead and hoping that cresting a hill or turning a corner would bring a port-a-potty into sight. At first, the stops weren’t eating into my pace too badly and I had hopes of finishing at a reasonable pace. Katie had already pulled away, but I was determined to make the best of it. I remember the course went into a stadium and around a track at one point. I saw Katie coming out of the stadium as I was going in. Somehow I communicated it wasn’t my day for a good race (and then I made another dash into a port-a-potty right by the stadium).

Over time, I realized that not only were my stomach issues not going away, but they would be a big issue at this race. The urge to search for the next “King Johnnie” would arrive immediately after I had finished at the previous. A few times I contemplated back tracking on the course. But another thing the organizers did well was set up the port-a-potties along the course. They were all over the place and set up where the course crossed back on itself so that I could visit the same one twice. Looking back, I believe this was the only thing that allowed me to finish this marathon. If I had attempted to run several miles in this condition without relief, I probably would have pulled out. I also remember at one point later in the race, I thought the worst was over and maybe I could make a push for a few decent miles before finish. I wanted to have at least a final slice of enjoyment from this race. That thought lasted for a mile or two at the most. When I thought I wouldn’t possibly have to make another stop, around mile 22.5, I did. This will sound strange, but I’ll say it anyway. For some reason I was counting these stops, and I ended up with 14 total during the race. As all of this was going on I passed the same guy a few times. One time when I was passing him again, he commented that he didn’t remember passing me. There was a reason for that…

As much as I wanted to deny it at the time, this issue was affecting my energy and ability to run. It was inevitable that this issue would catch up with the rest of my body. I wanted so bad to keep some kind of “running” pace going near the end. I gave an audible grunt of frustration around mile 23.5 when I just couldn’t push myself to keep running any more. I was going to finish this marathon, but I was mad that it would be so slow and that I’d have to walk it in. The last miles were miserable because I was so spent. I remember one nice guy encouraging me to jog the last half mile or so with him and I just couldn’t do it. He had a whole different gear that I didn’t have at that point. It took a big effort to shuffle the last bit where the crowds were lining the finishing area and the photographers were snapping away.

Walking it in…

This finish line picture sums it up

It really is too bad that I spent so much time focused on an unpleasant feeling and not as much on enjoying this marathon. What little I was able to appreciate about the course was very nice. Going around the track was cool, we spent quite a bit of time running in residential areas where trees canopied the course, we ran through a scenic park and along a small river, and we ran over a cool bridge where prisms cast rainbows on the path. I just wish I could have taken in and enjoyed these parts of the course more because the course really did exceed my expectations for scenery along a marathon in Iowa.
Oh well. When you plan to do 50+ of these, I suppose there will be ones like this. Hopefully they are few and far between.

I ended up finishing in 4:14:36. Here are my splits

1-8:34

2-8:16

3-8:14

4-8:38

5-8:54

6-8:31

7-8:28

8-9:16

9-8:32

10-9:05

11-9:24

12-9:26

13-8:33

14-9:45

15-9:14

16-9:13

17-8:22

18-9:22

19-11:16

20-8:46

21-8:52

22-9:14

23-12:24

24-10:45

25-15:30

26-15:20

.2-2:28

Marshall Marathon - Rick's view

So I thought I would document my memories of the Marshall University Marathon while they are still somewhat fresh on my mind. I've seen others do this and have read lengthy descriptions. Hopefully this won’t be too long and will prompt a few more entries for other memorable marathons. This marathon was memorable because things came together. Others have been memorable for other reasons.

My training for this marathon was improved since running a few marathons at the end of last year and earlier this year (Maui, Des Moines, New Orleans, and St. Louis). My training was improved because I was going for a PR at the Monte Sano 15k on October 9. Because of that goal, I spent time at the track and doing intervals and tempo runs. I felt my fitness was improving and noticed my 5k race times were steadily decreasing between the Cotton Row 5k (19:56, I was happy to be under 20) until the Marshall Running Club 5k (18:45) where I missed my PR at the 5k distance by 6 seconds. My focus in general improved. I was eating better and cross training. And I started improving the quality of my long runs thanks mainly to Teddy (he kicked the long runs into overdrive and was a positive influence on my marathon training). Mostly by accident, I ended up doing two 23 mile long runs. The first was because I ran a loop at Wheeler Wildlife Refuge twice that put me at 23 miles and the second was because of ignoring my Garmin during a long run with Teddy and Patrick that put me at 23 by the time I ran back home. So I was feeling pretty good going into this one. My legs seemed ready to go during the taper time, but I did a decent job resting up.

Things just seemed to come together for this race. Even the trip to Huntington was restful and carbo loading went well (including the free spaghetti dinner the race provided). Several other runners stayed at our hotel and I enjoyed conversing about the race, past marathon experiences, etc... For some reason I spent more time studying this marathon during the final weeks. I memorized the course including the sections that repeated a dirt path through Ritter Park (the first time through was a clockwise loop and counter-clockwise the second). I noticed there was a hill (not much of one, but a "hill" for this course) that was repeated. It came in at miles 8-10 the first time and about miles 19.5-21.5 the second time. I strategized that I would use going down these hills to start two pushes. The first push would be to pick up the pace after starting conservatively and the second would be the final push to the finish. The weather was also close to ideal. It was a bit cool at the start (26 degrees F and we scraped ice off the minivan before leaving the hotel parking lot), but the Marshall University recreation center was just around the corner from the start. It was warm and had ample space and bathrooms. Katie and I left the car near the finish line and at the same time only a block or two from the start. I also found my sunglasses, that I had given up on finding, between our seats just before locking up the minivan to go to the start line. Things were just coming together...

I didn't really have any expectations for a finish time. Teddy and I talked about and I thought 3:20 would be nice, but didn't know how realistic that was. So I made a promise to myself that I wouldn't run any faster than 7:40 splits for the first 10 miles or so, and then see what happened from there. Well that's where Katie comes in. She starts fast and usually doesn't slow down much. She stayed true to form at the start, and I ran a slightly faster than 7:40s keeping her within sight. I felt pretty good when the "downhill" came in around mile 10 and picked up the pace some as planned (with a brief pause at a port-a-potty). I maintained the pace and was joined by "Josh" at mile 15 or so. He said he'd been chasing me since mile 11. We ran together and talked some. He provided a nice distraction and kept the pace honest. While we were running together I saw an ideal temperature, 38 degrees, displayed on a bank sign. Josh and I were running in the low 7s for about five miles and then he pulled away around mile 21. I kept a decent pace going and then felt the fatigue slowly creeping in. I welcomed it because I knew that meant the finish wasn't far. My last two miles slowed to low 8s, so I feel like I sufficiently emptied the tank. I didn't make the extra effort to take one of the flowers being offered to drop in the fountain that is a memorial to the plane crash victims. And I didn't carry a football that was offered across the finish line. I did enjoy finishing by running through the stadium and down the length of the football field to the finish line. I even raised my arms a bit when I saw that I was sub-3:15. I finished with a 3:14:52 which is a little over a minute and a half off of my previous PR. This time was a nice improvement from my last marathon (St. Louis in 3:39:45) and a Boston Qualifying time for a 35 year old (I'm 34, but registration is closed for 2011. I'll be 35 in April 2012). I was proud of running a negative split too. My first half marathon was 1:38:13 and the second half was 1:36:39. It is nice to Boston Qualify, but it feels a bit like cheating because the bar, for me, has been set at 3:10 for all ten years I've been running marathons. I'd still like to run that time, but I couldn't be happier with this PR and my first BQ time.

My splits:

1-7:37
2-7:45
3-7:33
4-7:34
5-7:34
6-7:25
7-7:28
8-7:29
9-7:23
10-7:26
11-7:24
12-7:35
13-7:05
14-7:18
15-7:05
16-7:10
17-7:18
18-7:15
19-7:07
20-7:09
21-7:04
22-7:14
23-7:27
24-7:30
25-8:02
26-8:09
.22-1:40

Rick's First Blog Entry

So Katie has been encouraging me for quite a while to provide a post for this blog. We talked about a few topics that I could use for an entry, but I just haven't pulled the trigger. Until now.

The topic I've chosen isn't something I feel strongly about or something I got too excited about. I just found some time and this was on my mind. The topic is the Sprint Triathalon that happened this past Saturday. I've worked the run/bike transition for several years and the experience is very similar every year. I enjoy working this event because of the diversity in the participants. There are athletes completing the run course (~3 miles) in 17 minutes and there are kids riding their bikes with 16 inch wheels and streamers on the handle bars. There were several bikes with aero wheels and several with baskets and/or bells.

But the triathalon is also the day that I have to be a big meanie. I think I'm starting to soften some, because I had a hard time motivating myself to be a meanie this year, but I still think I managed. Why do I have to be meanie? Because it communicates to people, and it is the only way to communicate to some (some I still didn't get through to). I have to shout at spectators in a less than pleasant tone to chase them out of the transition area, or to get people to stop riding their bikes in the transition area, or to buckle their helmets.

I feel strongly about chasing people out of the transition area because I have seen what happens when they don't listen. One of the first times I worked the transition area, a family with three young girls showed up very late, after the first heat had already started the run course. I encouraged them to quickly place their bikes and move out of the area. As the time approached for the first runners to be coming through, I told them they had to leave. When they didn't leave, I asked again with more urgency. When I saw the first runners finishing, I told them they had to leave immediately. Of course they didn't leave and the next thing I knew there was a girl (probably 8 years old) laying on the ground crying after a collision with one of the top competitors. So I felt that some of that collision was my fault because I was the "transition guy." So that's why I run around encouraging people to stay out of the area and even picked up a young toddler on Saturday to carry him out to his mother. I don't want to see another kid (or adult) laying flat on their face in the transition area.

One thing I found interesting on Saturday was all of the reasons people came up with why the rules didn't apply to them.

The rule about staying out of the transition area didn't apply to them because "I just have to get something real quick," or "I was already past the tape when I realized I'm not supposed to be in here, so I'll just cross the rest of the way." One guy told me he would just look to make sure that he wasn't in a competitor's way. Do people realize what they are saying? Do they stop to think what would happen if everyone took the same approach? But no, the rule applies to everyone else... But like I said, I'm headed towards becoming a softie. One woman wanted to put an encouraging sign near her daughter's bike, and I offered to do it for her.

Most people who we had to tell to push their bike instead of ride it out of the transition area were quick to hop off. They didn't even realize they were supposed to push it to the mount line or force of habit caused them to throw a leg over and start riding. But there was also a guy who rode his bike through the entire transition area after three (maybe four) of us told him to get off his bike and push it. He explained to us that he was already clipped in and he couldn't clip out. Yeah right. If that was true, I'd like to see what happened when he got to the end of the bike ride.

I did try to offset all of those corrections with some encouragement too. I clapped and told people, "way to go" or "nice job, keep it up." So maybe not everyone sees me as the transition meanie.