Heading into this marathon my goal was to qualify for Boston with enough room to spare so I would be certain of beating the registration cutoff. I didn’t want to get burned like last year – missing the registration cutoff by 4 lousy seconds! I was under the qualifying time last year by 1:10 but last year it was also 5 minutes easier (4:00 whereas this year I need 3:55). So it was hard to predict what I needed to meet the cutoff but I figured 5 minutes below would be plenty and would enable me to register with the early group. So my goal was a sub 3:50.
My training went very good and my practice pace runs of up to 8 miles felt fairly easy and on my longest run of 20 miles I did the last 5 at pace and it felt pretty good. So I felt I was ready, but the one big uncertainty was the weather. I do not do well at all in warm weather (ask me about my experience at Disney in 2007 sometime!). I about drove myself crazy watching the weather reports for the weeks leading up to the marathon but I really lucked out and it was totally overcast and 55 degrees at the start – just about perfect.
I was staying with a long time friend of ours, Diane, in a nearby town and I found out they had a free train just for the marathon running to the start and there was a station just a few miles from Diane’s house, so I decided this was probably the best way to get there. The train worked great and I got to Monmouth Park Horse Race Track (site of the Breeders’ Cup) and the location of the start about 6:20, and the marathon didn’t start until 8:00 so I had plenty of time. The half marathoners started at 6:50 so they had to hustle. I heard lots of people talking, with panic in their eyes, about how bad the traffic was coming to the start area and how many half marathoners were still out on the highway trying to get to the track. I counted my blessings for deciding on the train. In fact they kept the start line open for the late arriving half marathoners until around 7:30 and then said any other half marathoners could start with the marathoners.
The course was said to be pancake flat and most of it runs along the NJ Shore from Long Branch to Asbury Park and back. So it seemed perfect for meeting my goal. I decided to try to start running with the pace group shooting for a 3:55 time to help me go out easy as I usually run the first few too fast and I knew that could really hurt me at the end. I spoke to the pace group leader and he was positive he would hit the splits evenly all the way. We started in corrals and we were at the back of the second corral. A guy running his 96th marathon sang the national anthem and they said he planned to do his 100th next year at the NJ Marathon. Hey Bobby Aswell, can you sing? You should try that as you approach 200! Then off we went about 5 minutes after 8. I stayed right alongside the pace group leader the first mile and it felt really easy. This was great. As we got about halfway through the second mile I found myself pulling away from the pace group gradually. This seemed OK since I wanted to keep an even 8:45 pace and they were shooting for an 8:58 pace. It was nice and flat through some fairly nice neighborhoods and I was feeling great. I was hitting my pace according to my Garmin watch but I started noticing that the mile markers were quite a bit further than my Garmin thought! I wrote this off to poorly marked mile markers or some error on my Garmin. The first 10 miles reeled off right on schedule and I was expecting to see my “race crew” for the first time at this point. My wife Sherry, Diane and her friend Sam were all out trying to see me at 10, 15 and 20. I went past 10, 10.5, 11 and they weren’t there. So I figured they had some of the same traffic issues the half marathoners faced and figured they see me later.
At about mile 14 we started down the long stretch of Ocean Drive and you felt the cool ocean breezes which felt great! But what surprised me was the long steady hill I was seeing before me! Up till this point we only had a couple of short bridges for hills. This was a significant hill that lasted the full 14th mile. But I figured at least when we came back the other way we would have a nice downhill at around mile 23. I was still feeling good and right on pace according to my Garmin but now the mile markers were about 0.2 mi later than the Garmin was saying. I was not used to seeing this much discrepancy between the Garmin and the course but I didn’t give it much thought. This mile also had the biggest mansions I think I’ve ever seen. They were huge estates right on the ocean with gates and walls. Amazing!
At mile 15 I saw my great race crew cheering for me and handing me a nice cold Gatorade. This lifted my spirits as did the upcoming downhill. However we had rolling hills all the way to Asbury Park which certainly did not make this course pancake flat!

At mile 18 we got to Asbury Park, home of Rock & Roll history (think Bruce Springsteen, Bon Jovi). We ran much of this stretch (miles 18 – 20) on the boardwalk and this was also the turnaround point where we started heading north to the finish at Long Branch. Once I got through this stretch I started feeling tired and struggled to maintain pace. But I was still doing well and felt very confident of at least a BQ time but was feeling a little uncertain about getting the sub 3:50. My Garmin had me at 8:46 pace every mile from mile 7 through mile 20 so I was still on track but it was getting tough.
Starting at about mile 23 I was starting to slow down and my splits were over 9:00 but I was still keeping it well under my 3:55 BQ time. I saw my race crew again at 23 and Sherry had the grandkids on the cell phone cheering for me! It was great but my mind was just trying to keep me going on pace which was getting tough. I swear I never noticed that downhill at mile 23 – it all seemed uphill from 22 on. I was also noticing that these mile markers were consistently 0.2 mi beyond my Garmin mile splits which I couldn’t understand.

I finally made it to the boardwalk in Long Branch which was the final mile of the race. I pushed as hard as I could but couldn’t seem to pick up any speed. The sun had come out around mile 22 and it was warming up fast but the cool ocean breezes really helped out. There was a big crowd at the finish area and it was exciting crossing the finish. I held my arms up in victory and crossed at 3:53:52. I felt good but very tired. They hung this huge medal on me that almost weighed me down – quite the bling!

I got my food bag, my checked bag and made my way back towards the reunion area to meet up with my crew. I saw a results tent and went in there and they were able to give you your results right then – pretty amazing. I found out I place 5th in my age group which I felt very good about and that my official chip time was exactly what my watch said. So I qualified by 1:08 which again puts me on the bubble for making the registration cutoff. Oh well, it still was a great run and I felt really good about it.
Question to those with GPS watches. What do you see on marathons typically for the mileage? Is it off by over 0.2 miles? My watch read 26.45! Quite a few people commented on this on the NJ Marathon facebook page. The response was that there were lots of turns that can throw it off and GPS watches are not that accurate. It just seems strange that everyone was reading 26.4+

Today on seriously hope, we have a special surprise.

I’ve bugged asked my dear friend, Jyl, to be a guest blogger and to recount her adventure running her first marathon in the Country Music Marathon a few days ago. She has conceded agreed and with no further ado, I will turn the mic over to my friend, the MARATHONER!!!!

Trying to wrap my head around finishing 26.2 miles is daunting… Yes I did train for about 6 months, and in the end 5 hours went by really fast!

Nashville was the 3h’s– HOT, Hilly, and frankly, Hellish… those are my three words to describe the day. I realized walking to the starting line from my hotel at 6am that I was already sweating… not a good sign…
Usually on my long runs around Davidson, I didn’t need electrolytes or water ’til about mile 6 or 7… Nashville started at mile 2.5!

The crowd and the music and the people were great for the first 12 miles… So if you want to run a awesome half marathon, sign up for Nashville. After Mile 12… Well they take you to a old part of Nashville that’s not very pretty and the crowds disappear. I was sad to pull my iPod out at mile 12 hoping to only save it for emergencies and extra pep in my step, but it became a constant for the rest of the day…

I learned that hoses and water are awesome. Neighborhoods had their sprinklers on and boy, without those, I would have died much faster.. I ran through at least 12 hoses that day…

We <3 Peeta....

I also wrote some words of encouragement to myself on my arms! For my friend Hope- I did “Team Peeta” for Hunger Games.. Plus, if Peeta could go into the Hunger Games and make it out alive, I sure as heck could do a marathon.. (I did see a couple signs along the way that did say ” May the odds be ever in your favor!”) those made me laugh….

Also I wrote “Beat David Cook”! David Cook was my catalyst for signing up for this whole thing. When I read in November that he was doing the LA marathon in March, I was like.. God David Cook is an American Idol, a Rock star, and certainly not a runner… if he can do it, I can… So needless to say I did beat hunky David Cook.. It would have been much more fun if he was running in Nashville, as it would have been good eye candy, but my goal was simply to beat his time and I did.. Well I crushed it, =)

I found my parents at about mile 11 for the first time and they had a pack of supplies, but all I wanted was water. It was so hot out…
At the half way mark I was happy with my time and my pace and how I was feeling… I was on path for about a 2:30 half and content… My body felt fine, no pains!

Come about mile 17 is where I met mom and dad again with supplies, that included heavenly orange slices and lots more gatorade…

Mmmmm cold towel and a cold beer. Life does NOT get much better!

Once I woofed those oranges and mile 20 came, the stomach wasn’t totally happy with me… and no matter what I drank or dunked on my head, I was hot. I could not get cool. We were running on highways and there was no shade, it was just brutal! It was like a war zone from mile 20-24 with people on the ground, pale faces, just miserable looking people. No one was happy. There was also no crowd or cheering or anything… It was the hardest point. It was then I began to walk and realized that my “run” was a shuffle and walking was only a bit slower… and the stomach felt better walking…

I met a concerned mom at about mile 24 and she walked with me til mile 26, which was the looming Titans stadium and my two friends waiting to run me in… Thank God it was only .2 miles from there, but I did run in and with a smile on my face…

The Medal. Or, otherwise known as Race "Bling".

I was happy I finished, I didn’t get sick, and I didn’t fall over! I was just roasted from sunburn, and mainly that was the worst pain I had! I did not train or plan for sunburn!

In the end 30,000 people ran the races at nashville and only 3900 finished the marathon.. I was happy to be one of those. I wasn’t last place, not even close; and I was in one piece. I enjoyed the rest of the day in Nashville, and some good frozen drinks and food!

So the question already is- will I run another? Ok- Yes I would.. No, I would not run Nashville again, and no I won’t run in late April. I will do cool weather and flat courses… I would also like to run with someone the whole time. All my training was with buddies, and man had my parents not been there for the last 10 miles, I would have been miserable. You need a support team for these things! It takes a group to get you to the end, from training to the day of the race!

I am looking forward to this week of eating whatever and drinking beer, and not running.. I am looking forward to running ONLY 3 miles instead of 20 some Saturdays and not getting up before the sun rises!

- Jyl

Awesome. Just awesome.
And folks, don’t think for a minute she’s taking it easy. She already has her sights on her next challenge. Plus, since she’s gotten back, she has already gotten up at least three times to run with me before the sun began to blink the sleepiness from its eyes…

Jyl, my friend, you are a ROCK STAR!

Barnaby and me the night before the race

Often, I go to races by myself, give my best effort, and then journey home of my own accord after texting my wife and letting her know how I did.  This time, I was lucky enough to have Heidi and Barnaby (our oldest dog) join me for the weekend mini-vacation that culminated in my running a 50K race through the woods along the Long Cane trail near Abbeville, SC.  Heidi, Barnaby, and I stayed at a hotel in nearby Greenwood the night before, and I spent the evening carbo-loading on peanut butter bagels, pretzels, orange juice, and whatever else I could get into my stomach without upsetting my system.  I had been aiming for 3200 calories a day for the past couple of days in an effort to max out my glycogen stores so I would not suffer a debilitating bonk like I did at Umstead Marathon nine weeks earlier.  Unfortunately, there was a motorcycle convention in town that weekend, so neither Heidi nor I could manage a very deep sleep the night before the race.  Barnaby slept fine.

On Sunday morning, I laid out all of my mid-race nutrition to find the best way of balancing it in my multi-pocketed running shorts without the cargo bouncing around too much and pulling the shorts down to my ankles.  The night before, I tested out my load while running back and forth in our hotel room, much to Heidi’s entertainment.  It seemed that no matter how I stacked things, I would be spending the first hour with a bouncing waistline, until I ate some of food that was weighing me down.

With the forecast calling for temperatures reaching the high 80′s with high humidity, I opted to go without a shirt to cut down on chafing and allow more sweat to evaporate heat away from my core.  I also would be carrying two handheld bottles with me: a Nathan Quickdraw 22oz that I would fill and refill with water, and a 7oz mini-bottle in the other hand that I filled with a few gels and a little bit of water to thin out the mix.  I also inverted the strap on the 7oz’er so that the bottle rested on the outside of my hand, leaving my palm free to hold other food items, like shot bloks or Clif Bars.  I packed a couple of Clif Bars and a pouch of energy chews in a large ziplock bag and marked it as my drop bag for the aid station at mile 15.  I carried everthing else–gels, shot bloks, stinger waffles, etc.–on my person.

What a beautiful setting for an ultra!

My cheering section!

We arrived at the Parson’s River campsite at 6am, an hour before the start time.  I checked in and introduced myself to Terri Hayes, the race director and creator of the South Carolina Ultras on Trails series.  Terri organizes events like Long Cane for no entry fee (although donations are accepted, and I gladly threw some cash her way), so that veteran and rookie ultra runners alike can bank some enjoyable trail running in an ultra race setting with no real emphasis on fast times or age group awards, etc.  After introducing myself to some other runners–some of whom I recognized from their online blogs–I geared up and joined the crowd gathering around Terri for the trail briefing.

All geared up and ready to run.

The 50K course (there also was a 55 mile option) would be a large figure 8, where miles 5-10 and miles 20-25 would be along the same winding cut-through trail in the middle of the map.  After the first cut-through, runners would follow the top loop counter-clockwise and eventually reach the entrance to the cut-through from the other direction at mile 20.  Then, turning right after about five miles, we would follow the bottom loop clockwise until we reached the beginning of the course.  95 percent of the course was single track, with a few short sections of gravel road, and about half a mile of total pavement.  Thankfully, nearly all of the course would be shaded by tall trees.

At the start of the race, I grabbed a spot at the front of the pack.  As Terri started the race, I settled into a pack near the front and hit the trails.  Within the first half-mile, I passed a handful of runners until I joined the back of a small pack that included fellow DARTer Val Wrenholt, another runner named Ann, and a fellow 50K runner called David.  Val and Ann were planning on running the 55 mile option, but their first 32 miles would be along our 50K course.

And we're off! Val is in the left foregorund, and David is in the grey shirt in the right background.

Originally, I had planned to run Long Cane conservatively so I could focus on nutrition and hydration in anticipation of futre longer ultras.  However, since the temperature was comfortable at the start, I figured I would get as many quick miles in as I could before the heat set in.  This was Val, Ann, and David’s plan as well.  After a mile, we had settled into a comfortably quick pace and I was just starting to break a cool sweat.  I had my first fall at mile 1.2.  I bounced back up and quickly caught up with my other three cohorts, who probably didn’t even notice my stumble.  Unfortunately, this would not be my last or worst fall of the day.

Unlike other races, where I don’t mess with nutrition until getting a few miles under my belt, I implemented my feeding schedule right from the start of the clock.  Every mile, I ate a shot block and chased it with either water or gel-water.  This would add up to about 250 calories for the first hour, not counting anything I grabbed at the first aid station.  Five miles into the race, we reached Aid Station 1, which offered water refills and directed us onto the cut-through trail.  I had finished my shot blocks by then, so I refilled my water bottle, and thinned out my gel-water flask, and I hopped back on the trails right behind David.  Ann–who was wearing a Camelbak–went right through AS1 without stopping, and Val quickly gave chase.  David and I gave them a wide berth.  If we cought up to them, so be it.  After all, they were running a different race anyway.

I got to know David over the next few miles.  Although he and I were not peers in terms of age group or size, we shared a lot of commonalities in race times, and we tacitly agreed on a comfortable pace.  According to the volunteers at AS1, there were only two runners ahead of Ann, Val, and us, so we were front-of-the-packers.  The cut-through section offered some technical switchbacks and a lot of ups and downs.  I fell a couple more times within the first few miles after AS1, but I assured David I was fine, and that I just needed to get my trail focus back in order.  Normally, I would consider myself a pretty sure-footed trail runner, but today was not my day.  I made note of some of the longer uphills we ran, and told myself I most likely would be walking those when I came to them again in a few hours.

About 90 minutes into the race, I saw Ann fifty yards ahead of me.  More importantly, I saw Aid Station #2 just beyond her.  Ann breezed by AS2 just as she did AS1, but David and I stopped to refill water and grab a bite to eat.  I ate a stinger waffle and a 1/4 PBJ, and then I was off.  Now we were on the long, counter-clockwise top loop, but the miles went by fairly quickly due to the lack  of switchbacks and the slightly more forgiving trail.  David and I continued to chat to pass the time, keeping a steady but purposeful pace since the heat was yet to descend upon us.  After a few miles, I pulled away from David and enjoyed some faster pace trail running.  I wasn’t going marathon-fast, but it was fast enough to keep me interested in the trail.  I made it a point to suck down another gel or two to make room in my pockets for the Clif Bars I was going to pick up from my drop bag at the 3rd Aid Station.  The extra calories could never hurt.

I arrived at AS3 in what seemed like no time.  I pulled a bandana from my bib belt, soaked it in cold water, and wrapped it around my head.  As the day got hotter, this would help to cool my core temperature.  I grabbed my goodies from my drop bag, ate some gummy bears and a salt tab, thanked the AS3 volunteers, and shot onto the trail after David, who was quicker through the station since he did not have a drop bag.  Within a mile, I caught up to David.  The trail was a bit technical, and the spotted light from the tree canopy was making the footing difficult to see.  Earlier, David had informed me of his colorblindness, so I hoped he would have better luck with his footing than I had up to that point.

Again, I pulled away from David.  In addition to two Clif Bars, I had a pouch of Powerbar Energy Blasts that I was holding in my free hand.  I continued my scheduled eating of one blast per mile, as I did with the shot bloks in the beginning of the race.  Eating on the run kept me going, but it also gave me something to do.  I am more alert when I multi-task.  As long as I did not take too much attention away from my footing, the time would fly by.  Although, since most of what I had been eating on the trail so far was sugar based, my gut was beginning to beckon for a break.

AS4 was right at the 20 mile mark.  I was feeling pretty good for 20 miles.  There was a hint of tightness in my hips from continuous motion, but I took that as a sign to back off and keep the Wall far off in the distance.  I re-doused my bandana, filled my bottles, grabbed some M&Ms, and disposed of some of the trash I was stashing.  David cruised into AS4 just as I was leaving.  I gave him a shout, then I turned on my heels and ran.

This the start of my second trip through the cut-through trail.  The next aid station was 7 miles away, but there was an unmanned water drop halfway there.  I know a lot of people who have run this race dislike the cut-through trail, but I was happy to run it twice.  Even though I had fallen a couple of times, I appreciated the technicallity of this part of the course.  I ran it a little more cautiously this time through, as I already had spent over three hours running, and one cannot take agility and concentration for granted at that point.  At mile 22.5, I took my first walk break.  I was still in good shape to run, but I figured I would save some energy on these hills, especially since this 50K course was longer than 50K, and I still had at least 10 more miles to run.  I also walked to give myself a chance to eat a Clif Bar.  After sugary gels, shot bloks, and power blasts, it felt good to get some solid, oat-based energy with some protein and fat in my system.  I forced myself to eat slowly and take small bites, looking and listening over my shoulder for signs of David or any other runners approaching.  With my vantage of the past few switchbacks, I could tell I had a lot of empty room behind me.  I did not start running again until I had finished chewing and swallowing the last bite.  I felt better already, like I had only run 15 miles instead of close to 23.

When I reached the unmanned water drop, I again took my time.  I poured out my water over my head to cool myself down, adjusted my food items in my pockets, and refilled my bottle once again.  Just as before, David came into the water drop as I was about to leave.  I grabbed a water bottle out of the case, opened it, and handed it to him.  He was looking pretty strong, but he admitted that the heat was starting to get to him.  I gave him a pat and continued on the trail.

Here’s where I started to get a little tired and lonely.  I picked up the pace whenever I started to feel stagnant, and after a couple of close calls, I fell once again.  This time, my torso flattened on the ground.  I was only on the ground for two seconds, but it seemed like longer.  I admonished myself to get up and pay attention!  When I found myself looking at my watch more and more often, I could tell I was starting to get fatigued.  Hell, at this point in a 50K, I’m allowed to feel a little zapped.  When I reached mile 26.2, my watch read 4:04.  It would have been a nice mental bonus to have a sub-4 hour marathon split, but I’m happy I took a couple walk breaks anyway.  The important thing was the I was not bonking.

Aid Station 5 was a welcome sight.  Although there was another aid station less than a mile from the finish, this was my last real aid station before the final leg of the race.  Douse, refill, 1/2 banana, Clif Bar, “Which way?”  “Thank you!”  David caught up to me at the aid station once again, and another 20-something runner was right behind him, coming into AS5 as David and I were leaving.  I could tell David was slowing down considerably due to the heat, but I certainly was not speeding up.  For the last time, I opened up some space on David, and he and I would not be in conversational range for the remainder of the race.  After tracing a tree line across an open field, I was back on the single track.

Five, six miles left…I wasn’t sure.  Everyone gave different measurements for the actual course length, and it was nowhere near certified.  “Oh well,” I thought, “I’ll run until it’s done.”  The trail spilled out onto one of the few paved stretches of the course: a couple hundred yards of gradual uphill followed by a couple hundred yards of steep uphill, all in the bright sun.  I ran until I got to the bottom of the steep part and then settled into a walk.  My leg muscles were telling me how to plan out the rest of the race: walk the uphills, run easy on the flats, and run fast on the downhills…as long as I don’t bust my ass!  Before the flagged trail blazes directed me back into the woods, I glanced back and saw David a quarter mile behind me, fighting to get some shade as he walked along the side of the road.

I stuck to my terrain-based running plan and kept a respectable pace for the last leg of any ultra, although things were starting to get a little old when my watch showed the true 50K distance and I still had a couple of “bonus” miles left to go.  Oddly, my split at my recorded 50K mark was 4:57:59…the exact time to the second of my previous 50K PR!  If I had been one second faster, I might have been pissed, but now I was just amused…and tired.

A few other runners came towards me going the opposite direction.  I recongnized one as Ann, who was on her reverse leg to complete 55 miles, but the others…I never recalled them passing me.  I later found out that they had taken a wrong turn a ways back and gotten to Aid Station 6 far too early.  The volunteers at AS6 turned them back down the trail to make up some of their lost mileage.  I at least was going the right way, but I couldn’t keep track of whether there was one, two, or three other people ahead of me.  All I knew is that I was still very much ahead of most of the field.

The bonus miles were truly brutal.  I still had a little bit of energy left in the tanks, but Terri had saved the only real steep and rocky ascents for this final part of the race.  I came to embrace the uphills because they meant I could walk.  I found myself still able to glide (sort of) on the descents, but my quads were starting to feel trashed.  I rejoiced when I saw Aid Station 6, which was a scant 1/2 mile from the finish.  At AS6, runners were given the choice of turning around and running the course in reverse (sans cut-through) for a 55-miler, or continuing to the campsite for a 50K finish.  I told them I was doing the 50K, and they directed me back the way I came at the beginning of the race.  They also informed me that the campsite had BBQ, dessert, and all kinds of other fixin’s waiting for me.  I replied that my wife and dog were there, and that’s all I cared about at the time.  When I asked how many 50K’rs were ahead of me, they said there was only one.  Sweet, I was just a few minutes’ jog from a second place finish.

I ran down the road to catch my last 1/4 mile of trail to the finish and was rewarded with a bonus.  Hiedi happened to be a taking Barnaby for a walk, and they were emerging from the trailhead as I was approaching.  She immediately apologized because she was not waiting at the finish line, but neither she nor I thought I would be finishing this early.  I didn’t care.  I was almost done, and she was there to cheer me on minutes before.  She took my picture as I cantered into the trail towards the finish.

1/4 mile left. Don't stop me now!

The finish area at Long Cane really speaks to the laid back nature of Terri’s races.  There were maybe a half-dozen people there.  Terri, was keeping the time on a wrist watch, another volunteer was handing out the hand-crafted finishers’ medals, a couple of people were in the pavillion serving BBQ, and who I assumed was the other finisher was headed off to the showers.  I strode to the finish at 5:18:31, and Terri confirmed I was the second to arrive.  One of the other volunteers commented that the one person who finished ahead of me looked a little worse for wear.  The final distance measured on my GPS watch was 33.3 miles.  20-Something Runner from AS5 was the third to finish, and David came in a few moments after him, drenched in sweat.  I congratulated both on a great run, and they did the same for me.  Shortly after, Heidi arrived with Barnaby to congratulate me and take a few post-race pictures, including some of my trail wounds.

Finished!

One of my trail wounds.

Long Cane was a fantastic event, and one could not ask for anything more from a race director who dedicated herself to creating free ultras for beginner and experienced trail runners alike.  I learned a lot from this race.  I got a feel for a nutrition plan that works for me over ultra distances.  I learned that time away from the trails lets your trail running skills decay.  I learned that I can not only complete ultras, but I am to the level where I can compete, at least at the 50K distance.  Perhaps next year I will come back and take a shot at the 55-miler.  However, the most important lesson I learned was that having a loving wife and dog waiting for you can bring any finish line closer to you.

One happy family!

Gear:

Shoes: New Balance MT 110.  These were great for 50K, but I might make the step up to a more substancial shoe for longer, more rugged races.

Compression: 2XU calf sleeves

Shorts: RaceReady LD with a Nathan bib belt pinned to the waistband all the way around.

Hydration: Nathan 22oz Quickdraw and Fuel Belt 7oz Dash handheld.  S!Cap salt tabs.

Nutrition: Powerbar gels, GU gels, Clif Shot Bloks, Clif Bars, Honey Stinger Waffles.  I consumed about 1700 calories during the race counting onboard nutrition and AS food.  I probably expended close to twice that.

Just some of what I ate on the trail.

Barnaby looks how I felt.

I like the little stick figure Spartan. Too bad I registered too late to get a t-shirt with that logo on it.

Nearly 2 weeks after the horrific travail of the Boston marathon, I finally started to feel like myself again. With the scary chest pains gone, I got back to a somewhat normal running routine, meaning I ran nearly every day this week, although I took it nice and easy.

I knew I wanted to jump in a little 5K somewhere, but I wasn’t sure where. I heard about a tiny little race off the radar in Plaza Midwood and thought maybe I’d have an out-out-outside shot at a win. But my pals at Davidson Timing were putting on a race up this way so ultimately I opted instead for the nearby race with a good cause (proceeds went to the athletic department for the Community School of Davidson). I’ll admit my motives weren’t altogether altruistic – this also afforded me at least an extra hour of sleep.

Saturday morning, I made that long ten-minute drive over to Davidson. As I neared the green, site of race day registration, I spotted my pal Dean walking out of a parking lot, so I honked and whipped the car in and parked.

Being consumed with all things Boston for the last few months, I’d nearly lost track of one of the things I love about running. I thoroughly enjoy these small town races, with the community support, the fellowship, the camaraderie. I was instantly reminded as Dean and I chatted on our walk to the green and I could see much of the Davidson community out to support the race and its accompanying festival.

I quickly registered (too late to receive a t-shirt, dammit!) and Dean and I headed off for a little warm-up. I told him about the heart rate monitor that I’d purchased days earlier. After my Boston fiasco, I vowed to never run another marathon without one. I learned the very hard way that while you may think you feel fine, you may in fact be red-lining. That’s the beauty of the heart rate monitor – the heart rate doesn’t lie. If you think you feel great, but your heart rate is pegged, you’d better back off. Over the next few weeks and months, I plan to do a lot of experimenting and I hoped to use this race as the first part of that experiment. I planned to really push the pace for the first mile and see what the monitor said.

We headed back to our cars and made our last minute pre-race preparations. I put on a singlet, pinned my bib to my shorts, and changed out of the Karhu Flows, for warming up, and into the Racers, for racing. I may not run like a runner but by god, I will at least look like one.

Moments later, we were lining up at the start. I didn’t recognize anybody, but Dean knew quite a few folks. This was the third race in the ROC Series and he had met a bunch of the runners in the first two races. He introduced me to several and pointed out some of the faster guys as we lined up. Moments later, Bobby Aswell arrived and I knew any slim chance of me winning just disappeared altogether. Here’s a pic of the starting line that Dean snapped for Bobby:

Bobby and his daughter (bibs 398 and 399) on the line, with me (bib 403) in my own little world. Moments later, another 50 kids would crowd into the front.

Many (all?) of the sixth-graders from the Community School of Davidson were running this race as the culmination of some P.E. class training. Virtually all of them lined up on the front line. When the starter yelled “Go!”, I had to keep my arms in tight because I was surrounded by little kids that barely came up to my waist – I was terrified that I’d inadvertently catch one in the temple with an elbow.

Using Bill’s analogy, the kids all shot out like fireworks, reached their apex at about 200 meters, and then came trickling back. I was probably in about 50th place at the first 200 meters. By the quarter mile, I was in fifth.

I pushed the pace early, but Bobby still passed me within the first quarter. We turned left off South Street and onto the greenway where I continued to push. I came through the first mile in 6-flat, fast for me these days (I went out in 6:22 last week), and watched my heart rate climb to 170 bpm.

With the 6:00 start, I thought I might have a shot at a sub-20, but I was pretty spent after that hard first (albeit downhill) mile. The last 2 miles, I watched my pace slow and my heart rate climb (it stayed pegged at over 170 bpm for the duration of the race). I hung on for dear life and struggled to find a pace I could maintain, which turned out to be about 6:50. Shortly after the first mile, I passed one guy who had clearly gone out much too fast – he was practically crawling when I passed him and I wasn’t exactly setting any land speed records.

After that, it was a second week of running in no man’s land, with no one close enough to make a run at, and no one behind close enough to make a run at me. I finished in 20:27, good enough for fifth overall, and second in the 40 and over age group. I was pretty pleased with the time as it was some 35 seconds faster than last week and I felt much better than I had in the Earthfare 5K. The recovery from my Boston butt-kicking was apparently making some headway, finally.

Bobby posted some nice pics on Facebook, and I snagged a few more from DavidsonNews.net. Check them out:

My finish – always fiddling with the stupid watch. Check out how stoic and official Dave and Chad are – they are focused on their work! I’m so non-observant that I never realized they were at the finish until I saw Bobby’s pics.

Dean’s worse than me about messing with his watch. I think he lost a spot to this kid while stopping the watch (in his defense, the kid was 21-years-old).

Bobby and I picking up our age group awards. This was the most time I spent in front of him all day.

14-year-old Malia Ellington, who attends CSD, won overall in 19:00. Pretty impressive stuff – could she be the next Alana Hadley?

I iced down my Achilles during the awards presentation. Then Dean and I talked a little more afterward. He continues to vie for the ROC Series championship. Currently, he’s only 2 points behind the leader (and I’m thinking there may have been an error as the scoring shows the leader, Andy Metzger as scoring more points than Dean this week, even though Dean beat him. So Dean may actually be leading.)

That’s it. I felt so much better this week, no chest pains to be found. I actually ran 40 miles, about back to my weekly average before tapering for Boston. With all my injuries healed to the point where they’re only minor little pains, I think/hope that I can start gradually ramping the mileage back up, even throwing in an occasional workout here and there. See you on the road, trail, or track soon!

PS – I read this article today about fellow Tarheel alum Shalane Flanagan. I think it’s fate that the 2 of us run the Boston Marathon on the same day. Go Heels!

Our Boys 10K was to be my last “short” race and last hard workout before Long Cane 50K on May 6th. Originally, I had planned on including this race in my calendar as another chance to go sub-40 minutes for 10K in case I did not do so at the LKN Rotary 10K three weeks prior. The LKN 10K was a gem of a race though, and I broke 39 (38:59) as well as 40. So the pressure was off. I intended to have a good time at Our Boys, and perhaps place in the top 3, and I wanted another sub-40 to validate myself a little more, but as long as I ran a good race, I would be happy.

The fickle weather gave way to a cool and overcast morning–good racing weather. Our Boys was a combined 5K/10K event starting and ending at Harris Road Middle School and weaving throughout the residential streets of the Moss Creek neighborhood in Concord, NC. 10K racers would start with the 5k’rs and complete the 5K course, but instead of turning toward the finishing straightaway, we would do a little loop around the bus lot and head back out for a second course lap, but in reverse. As is my custom, I showed up early to provide enough time for me to run the course as a warm-up. Luckily, fellow DARTer and RD Jeff McGonnell already was out touching up the final chalk markings on the asphalt so I would not get lost. I ran the reverse lap as my warm-up. I would have to save some energy for a sustained incline on mile 4, but other than that, the course looked to be very merciful.

Me chatting with fellow DARTers Steve, Jason, and Tara. Rodney lurks in the background. Photo courtesy of Stacy Hensley.

Since Our Boys was the second race in the ROC series, many familiar faces showed up and signed in. I found a group of fellow DARTers and chatted for a while before Jeff and fellow DARTer/volunteer David Moore arrayed the crowd into the bus parking lot for the start. Jeff took special care to keep some of the younger and more eager students from lining up directly in front of some of the adults who likely would trample on them (I think he meant me). Jeff gave an informal “Go” and we were off.

Can you find me? I'm the one in the bright yellow shoes. Photo courtesy of Stacy Hensley.

My target race pace of 6:20 minutes/mile came and went pretty easily. After a couple hundred yards, my Garmin was showing a sub-6 pace, so I backed off. I was out ahead of the pack with two or three other runners. One high-schooler, Glenn, was out in front of me. He had about a three second lead, but I could tell he would not sustain it. The first half mile went gently uphill, and I stayed a couple seconds slow of my race pace, but I was feeling pretty locked-in for this early in the race. A right turn on Moss Plantation flattened the course out, and my pace increased without any extra effort. This part was a short out-and-back. The first mile was a clockwork 6:20.

I heard runners approaching from behind. One runner passed me in short order and was looking strong, but I glanced at his bib, which confirmed he was racing the 5K and not the 10K, so I paid him no nurther mind. Another set of footfalls settled in behind me and stayed there for what would end up being most of the race. I found out much about this mystery pursuer from the cheers of everyone calling his name. He was a high school runner named Mason, and he was determined to draft me. This always seems to happen to me. Mason and I caught up to Glenn and dropped him halfway through the second mile. Mr. 5K never got out of view, but kept chugging on ahead. Mile two: 6:23.

The first half of the third mile was a downhill glide (which I would climb back up in mile 4), so I easily dipped into a 6:00 pace. Mason kept with me the whole way. This final mile of the lap was one long circle that led back to Moss Farm, the road leading to and from the Middle School. Mr. 5K was making good time, so I focused on him rather than on the tall youngster looming behind me. The cool breeze was beginning to stagnate, and I was starting to get hot despite the pleasantly cool weather, so I removed my singlet so I could drop it off at the turnaround. The third mile was a 6:10.

Headed for the 5K turnaround. That's Mason on my heels. Photo by Stacy Hensley.

David was at the finish line split to cheer us on and make sure the 10K’rs found their way to the turnaround. I glanced my watch at the turnaround and estimated my halfway split was 19:45–a pretty good 5K time, and right on pace for a sub-40 10K. It just didn’t leave me a lot of room for breathing. Mason and I passed the whole field on our way back out in reverse. Hearing the rest of the pack cheering on the front runners never gets old. I settled in and tried to maintain pace and conserve energy for the one big incline ahead of me. When we hit the hill, I felt it right away. Even though it wasn’t that steep, I was so focused on maintain a sub-6:30 pace that equal effort went straight out the window. I figured I could suck it up for this climb and then just hold on for a relatively easy rest of the race. My pace did not drop off all that much, but I certainly did use up a lot of energy. By the top of the hill, I was heaving pretty audibly, but Mason’s breathing seemed unchanged. My fourth mile was a respectable 6:29.

Mile five was fairly uneventful. I was hanging on to race pace and Mason kept drafting me. At mile 4.5, we reached our last water stop. Mason’s classmates cheered him on, and he made his move. As he passed me, I got my first look at him. Taller, stronger, and younger than me. I was glad to have held him off for this long. At least now I had someone to follow. In the fifth mile, I was back to a 6:20 pace and I was starting to field pretty good, albeit a little zapped.

The sixth mile started from the far end of the out-and-back from the beginning of the race. Once, again, I got to see most of the 10K field as they were coming towards me. Mason and I had opened up a huge lead. Glenn, who was the early leader, now was in third place with a gap of minutes. I tried my best to cheer of my fellow DARTers as they went by, but I could only manage gutteral grunts. They cheered much more loudly and clearly for me. The last half mile was slightly downhill, so I poured on whatever I had left. As I passed sixth mile marker, I filed in with some of the back-of-the-pack 5Kr’s, who were just finishing their race. I weaved around a few of them as I dug for the finish line. I wanted to give one last hard kick, but I felt like I was already at 100%, so I just maintained my hard run until I crossed the finish line. My official finishing time was 39:34, an average pace of 6:23. It was not a PR, but I certainly did not hold anything back out there, so I am very happy with that time.

Letting it all out. Photo by Stacy Hensley

Now, having races several 5K, 8K, and 10K races in short order, I can shift my focus entirely on my last week of tapering for Long Cane 50K. Long Cane will be about as different from a road race as anything I have done. It will be an experiment in pacing, in-race nutrition, hydration, and problem-solving. I will take up speed training again in earnest after Long Cane in order to prepare for the Blue Ridge Relay in September, and the Richmond Marathon in November, but Long Cane will be the first in a series of ultra experiments meant to prepare me for tackling distances of 50 miles, 100K, or who knows…

Photo by David Moore.

“Fam”, as he is known, will be at Summit Coffee on Tuesday, May 1st for a Q & A session, and all are invited. As Fam says,

“The guys @ Summit Coffee have been kind enough to let me have an open one hour Q&A to talk about everything running on Tuesday May 1st @ 6:30pm. Everyone is invited to join grab some coffee or a beer (if over 21) and get access to my hard earned knowledge of running (12 years of pro running experience). Ask anything, barefoot running, diet, workouts, injury rehab, goal setting, anything. I will also select the GoFam 2012 Donor’s name to be featured on my racing singlet for this year @ Summit Coffee at 7:30pm. If you want to donate you can still donate at the venue from 6:00pm up until 7:00pm. Summit is located in downtown Davidson, NC on Main street. Thank you all for your support! www.summitcoffee.com“

I had some trouble coming up with a title for this post.  So many options for only one race:

• The Drowning Pirate
• I Didn’t Think I Registered For A Tough Mudder
• WTF, How Are There Hills at the Coast?
• The One Time I Wanted To Stay IN A Porta Potty

The possibilities are endless, I promise you.

I also debated on how I would recap the race.  I’ve seen some that detail strategy, nutrition, aches and pains mile by mile, split by split.  But now that I’ve done a race where there were more than 3 miles to remember, my hat is off to those people because after mile .5, it’s all a jumble.  Heck..I’m still wondering if it actually happened at all!

It was a dark and stormy night….

No, seriously!  The rains started around 11:00 pm the night before.  The weatherman kept telling me it was going to rain, but that didn’t stop me from hoping for a miracle.  I had a vision of my post-race celebration and this forecast was NOT in it!  But alas, the rains did not stop until possibly 4:00 pm the following afternoon.  So, I set out the most weather friendly clothing I brought (so much for the cute outfit I bought just for the occasion..hmpf), my Pure Flows (because they’re fast), my Garmin doo dads, my new thick socks I bought in a panic (because all I had were little thin ones that screamed BLISTER WAITING TO HAPPEN) and my trusty hat.  All set and ready to go.

My morning started at 5:00 am after an unfitful sleep.  Hubby was still sleeping and I didn’t want to wake him, so I grabbed my Luna bar and my banana and ate in the bathroom.  Thank goodness he woke up rather quickly because me eating in the bathroom just seemed weird.  I got dressed and tried my best to wait calmly, but hell, I don’t wait calmly very well.  So I gave the green light for us to leave to drop me at the start line.  In the rain.  Before dawn.  All by myself.  Scary.

Waiting for the time to get herded like cattle, I ran into a friend from Daily Mile (big shout out to Steve R J!), chatted for a moment and then I had to politely excuse myself to visit the ladies room.  Never in my entire life did I actually want to stay in a porta potty, only to catch a break from the relentless rain that kept hammering on our heads.  And then it was corral time.  We sang the national anthem and the first wave was off an running, with me in the fourth, following shortly behind them.

Now, remember, we’re lucky I can remember what I had for breakfast that morning; but, because I ate most of it in the bathroom, it tends to make that breakfast unforgettable.  The point I’m trying to make is my memory for the rest of the race is a little spotty.

Everything was fantastic the first three miles.  And then the next three miles went as well as the first.  The course took us through some great residential neighborhoods with lots of trees and beautiful houses to look at.  And then I think mile 6 led us to a path that followed the sound and then back to the neighborhoods and then back on the sound.  Until now, the course was pretty much flat with some slight inclines here and there. There were spectators out rooting us all on (rock on folks, y’all are awesome!).  This race is ticketed with the best spectators around and I believe that to be spot on, especially if the sun was out.  My pace was consistently between 9:15 and 9:30, exactly where I wanted to be to reach a sub 2:05:00, and if all went well I could pick it up at the the last 4 miles and maybe come in under 2:00:00??

Me, striking a pose.

The course took us around the base of the Wright Brothers monument, where I got to strike a pose.  I chatted with a woman from Cary for a bit and then went on my way.  I was feeling pretty fantastic at this point. Little did I know what was waiting for me. If memory serves, soon after the memorial volunteers steered us to an off-road vehicle path that was made up of a mixture of sand, dirt and grit.  Well, in constant rain and 1,000ish runners later, the path turned into a muddy mess.  If you didn’t know, mud will suck the energy right out of you and is a huge pace killer.  We endured around three miles of this nonsense.  The smiling girl you see to the right, quickly embraced the role of a cussing pirate. Now, the race description mentioned a slight incline at mile 12.  Being that I live in the Piedmont of North Carolina, I am no stranger to many slight inclines.  So, I thought the “slight incline at mile 12″ would be easy peasy!  No one told me it was going to be like a trail run in Lake Norman State Park.  It was at this point I think my head beat me.  I believed my legs didn’t have it.  They might have, but I didn’t think they did.  I ended up walking up the hills and running down the hills.  We did this for a bit until I came to what I believed to be the last one.  I decided I better pick it up, so I ran up, crested the hill and there it was.  THE FINISH LINE.  About 600 yards off in the distance.  I no longer had control over my limbs.  My legs flew me down the hill passing about five other runners (okay, well, I don’t know if it was five but i know it was at least two!) and crossed the line at 2:04:45.

Booyah!

Just about to the finish line...

Also, these two photos prove I did pass at least the one guy to my left….And then I said… NOW GIVE ME A SHINY BLANKET!!!

Rock Star

I didn’t make my sub 2 hr hopes, but I did reach the original sub 2:05:00 goal.  All in all, a GREAT race, a FANTASTIC course.  If anyone has their sites on Boston, I recommend the Outer Banks Marathon in November.

The Best Of’s:

The race where Body Glide was your best friend….

In my quest to put a few marathons on the calendar for 2012, I stumbled across a race close to home called King’s Mountain Half and Full Marathon put on by Adventure Geek Productions. In its third year of infancy it still had low turnouts which has its own attractiveness. To me, a low key event can be just as meaningful and altogether another new experience. The decision was easy to make. I’ve been to King’s Mountain National Park a few times with family to walk the battlefield grounds. As a parent, we always look for places to tire out the kids with exercise. This location has played into that goal. I also enjoy reading history from time to time. The intro on the website was interesting. “In 1780, atop Kings Mountain the Patriot Militia toppled the Royal Loyalists in the Revolutionary War. When the smoke cleared on the mountain’s steep western ridge, the Patriot Militia stood victorious.” And who better than to take with me on this trip than my Dad, an amateur military history buff and proud Army veteran.

Upon arriving into the parking lot at 6:30 a.m. it was quite apparent that this was going to be a small race. The only person there was a young lady maybe college age taping up a poster board sign to a tree saying where to check in. It wasn’t long before small groups of people began trickling into the parking lot. Sitting there listening to Dad’s observations on people is always entertaining. “Why does everyone park so close with so much open parking space?” “This guy across from us is or was an Army Colonel, or he’s just wearing a Colonel’s hat.” “Good morning” to almost every person walking by to see who will strike up a short conversation. Do you see that sticker on back of that truck? I believe that is 5th Army Division.” Then the typical questions that brought me back to when I was a kid playing sports…”did you have enough to drink? Hungry? Want some crackers that Mom packed? How do you feel? Sleep good last night”? And yes, I was ready to be on the road by that time!

By 7:15 a.m. we actually had someone on a microphone giving instruction on the courses. Marathon runners turn left at end of entrance road, half marathon runners turn right. And someone in there half marathon runners had to do some up and back to make up some extra distance. “Confusing right?” was the question the director asked. “Tell me if it is” he followed up with and many people said yes immediately, but with their response there was silence from race director and nothing was clarified. Next was “there are port-a-jon toilets only at miles 7 and 17 but there will be vehicles with toilet paper to ask for if you need to go in the woods. The roads will be open to traffic, which should be minimal and just park visitors. Just stay to same direction as the flow of traffic.” OK, this is a strange beginning I thought.

At 8 a.m. sharp no whistle or loud blast, just a simple countdown from ten and we were off. The morning was beautiful. A cool 55 degrees with a thick rolling fog and cloud cover made for nice start. As with all plans things changed. My goal was to get to as even a pace of 8:25’s throughout the course as possible with a built in fade around Mile 22. That was quickly undermined in mile 2 when I ran into a fellow marathoner named Chris from North Augusta GA. We struck up a conversation on the typical small talk subjects both looking to pass the time early on into the race. Soon I noticed we were averaging 8:10 pace for each mile. Well I thought, I feel good now, can I keep this up for the long haul?

By Mile 7 we were on a beautiful country road winding by pastures and passing much countryside when Chris began itching to pick it up to sub 8’s and that is when I told him to go on since I’ll be backing off. Backing off was a problem because that really didn’t materialize back to the slower pace I wanted. Something about not using mind over matter? Time seemed to pass by quickly. Several rolling hills later and more scenery of small two lane country roads Mile 15 had me with 8:18 overall pace. This is great….I feel good…..then more hills.

Then in Mile 16 reality struck…..dehydration was setting in yet I was unaware. Back on the main Battleground Road I really learned what a climb can do to a person at this stage of a race. Abruptly from nowhere at Mile 20 the old hamstrings contracted to bring me to complete stop. The best description I can come up with is it felt like a shark attack to hamstring. So much for carbing up correctly to fight off the “dead leg” feeling when hitting “The Wall”. Of course I was fortunate to have one single bystander in sight who asked if I was alright. In this particular race it seemed you rarely saw other runners, never mind spectators. After giving my very brief explanation of what was just witnessed he shared “that normally happens at Mile 20 and if you need a ride back to the finish, there is an aid station another mile down the road”. And so the battle to finish began a little sooner than I expected. Of course I was in a National Battleground Military Park, there have been battles fought here before and mine was much tamer in nature.

After three minutes of walking I decided to start a very easy pace( that I refuse to mention with a time) and with a new game plan called “Just finish the race” being devised as I approached the aid station. The aid station was equipped with one volunteer serving water, Gatorade, pretzels, and Oreo cookies. Very sophisticated I thought sarcastically, well at least this station has someone attending it unlike a couple other I past way back in the sticks. OK, stay positive. So after downing two cups of Gatorade and three cups of water I embarked on the new journey with handful of Oreos and pretzels to continue fueling up. The last four miles seemed like a lifetime with my mix of walking and slow pace intervals. The hamstrings seemed fine, but then the quads and calves began contracting. Yes, now I’m quite aware at that point of being dehydrated and laughing about it being a somewhat ridiculous situation. I truly hope no one saw the brief mad man reaction.

It wasn’t that long before I humbly approached the last stretch and then the finish line with Dad waiting. “You did it” and “nice job”. Shortly after crossing the finish line and receiving my medal I filled him in on my own “Battle on King’s Mountain” ending with a 4:05 finish or about 20 minutes off of my goal. As any good parent would do to lift spirits, he shared with me the conversations he had with several experienced marathoners that told him after their finish that this course was a tough one. And when he said he witnessed one friend handing another runner a huge beer after crossing the finish, I of course asked him where was mine!

It wasn’t supposed to be this hard, this difficult.

 As an experienced marathoner and ultrarunner I’d been in races that were longer and hillier; however, I don’t think I’d ever run in a hotter one. By mile eight I was walking, and I wasn’t alone. Mind you, mile eight is where I saw my first casualty of the day, a young lady being carted onto an ambulance. She had passed out at the water station, where she was working. Working. at. the. water. station. How would the rest of the race unfold for those of us who were running?

The Boston Marathon was going to be a casual affair for me. I had recently completed the Iron Horse 100 and, while I had proclaimed loudly to my fellow DARTers that I would do speed work, never did. However, I secretly held hope that I would be able to run a 3:30 marathon, give or take five minutes. This, I thought, would happen if Boston was mostly downhill (it was) and if the temperature was cool (it wasn’t).

I arrived in Boston on Thursday to a steady rain and a temperature of 47. In tow were my wife and son as well as my mother and aunt, as we were making a grand vacation out of it.

I had heard about how crowded the expo would be so I hit it early on Friday, where it was busy but bearable. That place was huge! As Allen Strickland mentioned in his blog post, the Brooks exhibit was the most creative by far. The Newton folks were probably selling the most shoes, though.

Hope that thing's got air conditioning, James

After four days of walking the entirety of Boston with my family while sightseeing, my legs were feeling less than fresh. I reminded myself that it was worth it to spend time with them and to check out the cool things Boston had to offer, including the New England Aquarium, Quincy Market, the USS Constitution, Duck Boat tours, shopping on Newbury St. (Where we attended the grand opening of the Vibram Fivefingers flagship store where by happenstance I met Atlanta-based Justin Owings, the founder of birthdayshoes.com, for whom I had written some early Fivefingers reviews).

You could tell the folks from the Vibram home office in Italy, as they were the ones wearing jeans, jackets, Fivefingers, and smoking cigarettes

Fast forward to Monday morning, race day. I took the subway (the “T”) to Boston Common and caught a shuttle bus out to Hopkinton, the fabled starting point of the marathon. I talked briefly to DARTer Ron Garsik and awaited the arrival of another DARTer, Mark Ippolito. Mark was in Wave Two and would be starting twenty minutes after me in Wave One.

The three hours between arriving in Hopkinton and lining up for the start went by remarkably fast, and all of a sudden it was Go! time. The sheer number of runners closely packed together felt claustrophobic, adding to the heat of the sun, which suddenly felt very noticeable. It felt more like Arizona than Massachusetts.

The first 5k of the course I stayed near my goal of eight minutes/mile, which was hard because it was mostly downhill. I was waiting for a sweat to break out, which would put me in a comfortable place. Unfortunately the anticipated sweat never happened, as the low humidity served to complement the broiling that was beginning to take place.

Even though the course was lined with enthusiastic spectators I found myself avoiding their high-fives, staying in the middle of the road. Why was this so hard? Perhaps the 87 degree high was the culprit.

And then “interesting” runners started passing me. First, an older guy wearing a ballerina outfit, head to toe in pink, carrying a wand (Where did he get pale pink Saucony shoes?). Then a guy pushing a double jogger, then a “joggler” went by, juggling three balls and passing me like I was standing still. And eventually runners from Wave Two began passing me, meaning that my twenty minute head start had evaporated.

As I approached mile thirteen and the famous girls of Wellesley College I began to perk up a bit, though not enough to get a kiss from one of them. Not in the mood.

Many a cup of Gatorade was consumed during this event

I was, however, in the mood to walk. So to justify my walking I started taking pictures with my iPhone for posterity’s sake. Between that and walking at every aid station, which were two deep at each mile marker, my pace slowed dramatically.

I ran/walked Heartbreak Hill and wasn’t alone in my efforts. The hill isn’t all that steep but was longer than expected.

Heartbreak Hill

Seeing the Citgo sign in Boston’s Back Bay brightened my spirits long enough to make the final left onto Boyleston St. and toward the finish line, where my mom and aunt were awaiting me. It was surreal to see 1) so many runners just walking so close to the finish, and 2) so many people crossing the finish line all at once. I managed to maintain a running pace to finish in 4:24:31 and waited for Mark to finish, as he was in Wave Two.

Citgo sign, I've been looking for you all day

Mom and Aunt Leslie, my race crew

After his finish Mark ducked into one of the three medical tents to get some ice for his sore hip flexor and texted me that it was so crowded that they had him lay down on a piece of cardboard rather than a cot. Apparently a couple thousand runners were treated on site and a couple hundred were sent to the hospital!

Mark and me, aka Shake and Bake

A couple more days’ sightseeing and I was back home, where it was 55 degrees and raining. What I would have given for such weather during the race.

In retrospect I’m glad that I finally ran the Boston Marathon and am pleased in a masochistic way that the conditions were tough. One day I’ll give Boston another go, and hopefully the weather will be better.

What does it mean to run a race that advertises itself as “the nation’s toughest road marathon”? What does it mean to run a marathon that has 3,600 feet of both climbing and descending?

At the pasta dinner on Friday night before the race, an organizer for the Blue Ridge Marathon took us all through the course. The real difficulty with the course, he said, was on the downhill sections. Does it make more sense to slow down and save your legs for later, or just roll with the hills and run as fast as you can? The downhills are so steep that it’s pretty much impossible to avoid pounding your legs no matter what the pace, so why not just run them fast? Your quads are going to be hurting at the end regardless.

It’s an enigma.

My plan was to try to have fun while running the race. I’d stop and take pictures, and walk whenever the hills got too steep. I’d walk through the water stations, and I’d play the downhill sections by ear. But I still wanted to finish faster than I did at Steamboat, where I pretty much collapsed in the second half and ran a 4:08.

I had driven up to Roanoke for the race with Bobby Aswell, who would be going quite a bit faster than me, and Mike MacIntyre, whose goal was just to finish it, after being pulled off the course due to weather last year.

After the pasta dinner, we all lined up to get our picture taken with the great marathoner Bill Rodgers, who had been brought in as a speaker for the event. Here’s my picture:

Bill is no idiot!

Rodgers is a great guy and was infinitely patient getting his photo taken with the hordes of admiring marathoners.

Our hotel was rather “well-worn” but after we settled in for the night the room was fine and we got up at 5:30 to get ready for the race. Although rain was in the forecast, it looked like it wouldn’t hit until after Bobby and I had finished, so I decided to run in my usual race-day attire: A DART singlet, shorts, and calf sleeves. We drove to the start, where it was a comfortable 60 degrees — a little warm, but nothing to complain about given what our friends had had to deal with in Boston 6 days earlier. Here I am at the start:

We’ll see how long that smile lasts…

Before I knew it, we were off — a minute early, by my watch. That is something that simply never happens! The first mile was flat, but afforded us views of the second mountain we’d be climbing today, Mill Mountain, with a giant star on the top:

You may have to click the picture to find the star

I tried to take my first self-portrait here, with the star in the background. Unfortunately the star is obscured by a streetlight.

If you look closely, you can see our first hill in the background

At the end of Mile 1, we arrived at the first hill. It really didn’t feel too bad.

Everyone is looking much better than they will in a couple hours

I have a new GPS watch that allows me to get instantaneous readings of both the current elevation and the current grade of the hill I’m climbing (or descending, as the case may be). I gave myself permission to walk whenever the grade was above 15 percent. This hill was probably closer to 10 percent, but I knew they’d be getting much steeper.

We climbed over 600 feet in two miles, reaching the first hill-top at Mile 3. In any other marathon, this would be a devastating hill, but it was just a prelude to what was coming. I took a brief walk-break at the water station, then continued on. We were now on a scenic two-lane backroad, with no houses in sight and only the occasional spectator to cheer us on. The half-marathon splits off at Mile 3, so suddenly there were very few runners around. Around Mile 6, we headed up the first really significant hill. A highway sign offered some good advice for runners looking for an enjoyable marathon:

Not even to use the porta-john?

The road was dramatically steeper here, with several sections exceeding 15% and some getting very close to a 20 percent grade. In Mile 6 and 7 the total climb was over 800 feet, and I slowed to a 10:30 pace (that’s counting stopping for photo ops and walk breaks). I reached a false summit at an aid station and got one of the volunteers to take my photo.

Not quite there yet….

For the last half-mile of the climb, runners were streaming by in the opposite direction, and I saw Bobby in time enough to give him a high-five (but not to get a photo). Finally at Mile 7 I summited Roanoke Mountain, where the aid-station volunteers gave us all a rousing ovation.

The volunteers were enthusiastic throughout the course

By this point I had started taking two waters at every aid station. After getting my water, I walked to make sure I drank every drop, then headed back down the mountain. I didn’t have a good sense of how to take these sustained downhills, so I just ran by feel, trying to pick a pace that took advantage of the grade, without completely destroying my quads. It ended up being a little slower than I thought; my pace hovered around 7:30, which isn’t much faster than my pace for the entire Richmond Marathon. It was steep, but fortunately there weren’t any sections where it felt like I couldn’t run at all.

Despite the blur, I think this road sign captures what I was dealing with on the downhills

Every half-mile or so, even on these isolated rural routes, there’d be a couple fans cheering runners on. Here’s a pair at a bridge at the start of the third major climb:

That’s the spirit!

Soon after this at around Mile 11, someone yelled “You’re almost finished!,” causing the runner behind me to laugh uncontrollably. I said, “I think what he meant was that you’re almost to the point when saying ‘you’re almost finished’ doesn’t evoke laughter,” thus evoking even more laughter…

Next we’d be climbing Mill Mountain, with the star at the summit. The slope wasn’t quite as steep as Roanoke, and I only took a couple of walk breaks. Every once in a while this runner with a strong German accent would pass by and ask if I knew how far it was to the top. Since I had a GPS and knew the elevations of all the major summits, I’d tell him in feet how much more climbing was left. Then I wondered whether I should really be giving him measurements in meters. He didn’t seem to have any trouble with the numbers, no matter how I reported them. Soon, we arrived at the star:

Stellar!

Then we wound around the star and ran past it again, at an aid station. For some reason there was a person in a raccoon suit standing there, so I said “I’ve got to get my picture with the raccoon.” I meant that I wanted to have one of the aid workers take my photo using my camera, but there was an official photographer there and he took the picture instead…which means, you don’t get to see it because it’s not available as I write this (and most likely I won’t be willing to pay what they are charging for it when it is available). Oh well. Here’s a self-portrait with the star in the background. It’ll have to do.

This is the biggest illuminated star in the world!

Now it was down, down, down, 800 feet of descending to the valley floor. Once again the road was very steep, but not so steep that it wasn’t runnable. Despite that I only managed about an 8-minute pace.  Oh well, it was a pretty, fun descent. The jostling and bumping from the downhill run made it very uncomfortable to keep my camera in my belt, so I decided to just carry it. This meant I took a lot more pictures in this section.

Here I am running downhill

Catching up with the last-place half-marathoners

Passing through the historic Mill Mountain toll booth (no charge for marathoners)

Heading into a very swanky neighborhood. Nice house!

The swanky homes all had fantastic views

Finally I made it to the bottom and put the camera away. I was at Mile 16, a “flat” mile with just 91 feet of climbing (AKA more than Boston’s “Heartbreak Hill). One last big climb remained. As I started up the hill, the local residents were outside their homes cheering me (and all those other runners) on. “This is the last hill,” they’d tell us. I knew there was actually one more hill after this one, but they were right that this was the last really big one. I ran past more beautiful homes, and I walked a lot. Other runners seemed more determined to keep running all the way up, but they weren’t gaining any ground on me, so I felt like I probably was taking the right approach here. For the final stretch, we ran up a cul-de-sac and got to see the other runners coming down. I didn’t see Bobby, so I knew he was well ahead of me. Then it was down, down, down, to Mile 20, where the route took one last cruel turn up another steep hill, probably another 200 feet of climbing over a half-mile. When we finally reached the top, we were greeted with this sign:

The problem is, downhill was now just as painful as uphill

In the above picture you can see a guy in a rust-colored shirt, who was about 50 yards ahead of me. Whenever the locals would cheer him on, he’d raise both arms and whoop, much to their amusement. I gradually caught up to him on the downhill, and we chatted a bit, picking up the pace to around 8:20 per mile. But I knew I wasn’t going to be able to keep this up for long, and on Mile 22, he dropped me. We were winding through city streets, and near Mile 23, we passed our hotel:

It was probably a good thing that I didn’t have a room key on me.

It was turning into a very warm day — around 70 degrees, so not Boston 2012-warm, but still warm enough in the sun to cause massive sweating. My shorts were drenched. Now it was just a battle of will. The course was basically flat, and ideally I’d be running it at around an 8:00 pace. 9:00 was more realistic, but the temptation to take walk-breaks was strong. I tried to wait for water stations, but sometimes I just gave in and walked mid-mile. Here I am in one of my more determined moments:

I’m smiling outside, but feeling truly lousy inside

On and on I ran. Despite having climbed the “last hill”, there was yet another hill, about a 70-foot climb, in Mile 24. It was a gradual incline across a footbridge, but I could definitely feel it. I walked the bridge. I was now running through an industrial area, hoping that I’d get a bit of an adrenaline surge for the final two miles, but it wasn’t forthcoming. About a mile from the finish, I passed this:

The Red Cross? Seriously? I think the race director is toying with us.

And on and on… Finally I could actually see the finish line. Unfortunately it was about a half-mile away. I tried to pick up the pace. I figured Bobby would probably be there to take a picture at the end, so I got ready to assume a triumphant pose. Unfortunately just as I arrived, a trio of half-marathoners was also crossing the line, hand-in-hand. I slowed down to a walk as Bobby snapped the shutter, so here’s what he got. It’s probably a pretty accurate rendering of my condition at the time:

I made it!

Then I got my medal, shook the race director’s hand, and posed for a finish-line shot with Bobby. Once again, how I look is a good approximation of how I was feeling at the moment:

Must…find…chair…..

I knew I should have some food, but none of the finish-line fare looked particularly appetizing. I grabbed a couple bananas and managed to choke them down. Even more impressively, I managed to keep them down. After resting for 30 minutes or so, Bobby and I headed back to the hotel for a shower before returning to watch Mike finish in a thunderstorm. He had finally finished the race, after three years of trying, but not before the finish line was practically demolished by the weather! Here’s the shot Bobby got of Mike crossing the line:

Mike (left) had cramped up in Mile 8 and walked the rest of the race

Overall, I’m pleased with my race. I finished in 4:02:45, which was actually fourth place in my age group, despite all my stops and walk-breaks. If I had finished just 3 minutes faster, I would have been in third and won a trophy, presented by Bill Rodgers. Bobby won our age group and got to do just that. And all three of us can now say we’ve finished what is arguably the nation’s most technically difficult road marathon. According to my Garmin, we climbed and descended 3,953 feet. Compare that to Grandfather Mountain, with 2,800 feet of climbing and only 1,800 feet of descending.

On any given day, the racing conditions can make a race more difficult. There is no doubt in my mind that the competitors in the Boston Marathon had a tougher challenge this year, facing an official high temperature of 89 degrees, and likely temperatures much higher than that, running most of the race on blacktop with no shade. Nonetheless, it really did feel great to complete such a challenging course. I’m glad to have been a part of it.