Numbar 7

Committing to a race a month, of at least of at least a half marathon or more, was dumb.  What was I thinking?  I'm only in month five, but for some reason I sit on the cusp of running my seventh race.  This is the killer stretch for the year.  In a month and a half, four races, three of which are marathons, well provided I can finish this next one.

The good thing about being tired, it's easy to make excuses.  That's my excuse!  Of course, at mile twenty one, things get even more tiring.  I'm fast forwarding some, but this is point where it finally dawned on me that maybe doing so many races, wasn't the best idea.  Cool on paper, but on the pavement it's got much more sweat and tears.

The Bayshore Marathon was planned to be the crown jewel in all the races this season.  Last year, I just missed my goal time and I figured it would be the race this year with the potential for the best things.  Even to the point of following in my footsteps to recreate the day.  Same hotel, same group of friends, and most importantly the same pre-race meal.  You know, the place that last year almost started a mutiny, but this year my same crew was bragging about it!

Waiting at the starting line, still not feeling "it".  This makes how may marathons in a row?  Nobody reads these things, so I'm going to document it, but THE most important event of race morning didn't happen either.  I've been hush about it lately, but I'm talking about the morning bathroom visit didn't happen, again. This makes so many races in a row now, I think maybe I need to start training in this area.  It doesn't help that CT has been putting pressure on herself to do well on this run, she may have even predicted herself beating me.  I can't remember for sure or if this her pattern now, I think she always assumes she's gonna beat me.

Bang goes the gun.  Maybe the tired excuse was used a bit early, but I had already given myself a pass for this race.  Try to have fun, enjoy it, and whatever happens, happens.  Mile one is always slow, lots of turns and generally too crowded to move well.  Mile two things are spreading out and it's easier to find the path you want.  Just as I'm about to lock in my comfortable pace, who do I see but CT and her partner in crime. Granted, I'm a little behind my pace, but somehow they were still ahead of me.  Either CT is feeling it today or she's going out a little fast, not to mention making sure I feel the heat of the target on my back the whole way, so much for trying to have fun.

The miles keep cranking and things feel very relaxed, this is good.  Each mile I'm banking fifteen seconds, sometimes thirty seconds.  Of course, I did the same thing last year.  At the turn around point, last year I could already tell the battle had started.  This year, going into the half way point, I felt relaxed and besides a little pain in my arch, things felt good.  Well, until I started seeing the runners who were behind me.  Both CT and her accomplice were right on my heels!  Holy sh!t, I'm running faster than the pace I need and they are right on me.  I've got two battles coming.

Mile eighteen is here and I'm still going.  This is the point last year where I started to die out, I can remember the exact spot.  My foot is definitely bothering me, but I'm still clocking miles better than the pace I need.  If I can just get to mile twenty-two, I know even though I crashed there in the Martian Marathon, I was still able to pull out the time I wanted.

Mile twenty is my nemesis and it's here.  Two marathons, a 25K, and seventy five percent done with marathon three in a month and a half caught up with me, I decided I was tired.  No shame, no bad feelings, simply I needed a break.  This wasn't the typical punch to the face hitting the wall, this was a much softer blow to the ego of you've done enough.  Race pace ceased, even easy running pace stopped, this was going to be another walk and run to the finish.

Walking gives plenty of time to think and I'll be honest, I did check over my shoulder a couple of times making sure CT wasn't within eye-sight.  I don't even know what the point of checking was, because if I saw her coming, the wheels were off and there was nothing I could do besides tripping her, had she been coming. While certainly not the way I wanted to finish this race, I continued to chug along.  The closer I got the end, the more frequently I'd check my watch.  Even though the wheels came off earlier than the Martian Marathon, I was still ahead of my time, I could still PR this thing.

The last mile, there was some sole searching, internal fighting, and will power.  The pain in my foot was there. Remembering this part of the course last year and also struggling was fresh in my mind.  Dammit, how long is this damn mile?  Then thoughts of running all this way, only to miss getting a PR would feel worse than any current pain, yet as motivating as that should be, my body not listening to me to even give me just a little more.  Just as I was about to shut down and walk again, almost within eye-sight of the finish line, I heard it, people cheering my name!  First it was a couple of the Superstars, then around the next corner, fellow running friends who had also suffered the months of training.  If they were giving energy, I didn't get any, but the support did prevented me from quitting one last time.  That was a huge boost to a tired heart.  I needed that.

Crossing the line, I knew I PR'd.  That alone, makes the pain go away. Actually, it didn't.  I did forget about the foot that was bothering me briefly, but that was quickly replaced with calf cramps so bad that I resorted to sitting on the ground waiting for CT to finish.  Even though I was disappointed in not being able to finish this race how I wanted, the calf pain told me I ran it hard, not to mention looking like a salt block.  Five minutes faster than last year and a minute better than my previous PR, all on tired legs.  Maybe there is something to the lucky number seven, this being my seventh marathon and is now the bar.  

    



   

With Speed, Come Perks

This could easily be titled Redemption Week or maybe the Redemption Club.  A week after the Kalamazoo Marathon beats me, it's starting to become tradition to run the Fifth Third River Bank after to feel better.  Well, at least last year worked out that way.  This year, honestly I didn't even have the heart to attempt redemption.  It seems like it's been so long since I've had a good run, one that I'm proud of.  I was so bummed coming off the marathon, I waited too long to even register for the River Bank before the online registration closed.  I figured that was a sign, to not do it.  Instead, I was reminded by CT that I did earn my spot in the Under Two Hour Club and should do it.  On the last day possible, she drove to the expo to register us.

The running joke (ha running, get it?) is that it always rains during this race.  Being this is only my second time lining up for this race, I can't speak to that, but this year the weather was much more to my liking, cool.  This is also the first race that I can remember wearing a thin sweatshirt prior to the race start with the intention of dropping it once the race started.  It's a cheap sweatshirt, but logical me still feels like that's a waste.  So, last minute, I thought I'd check it at the gear check line.  The River Bank is a huge race and the gear check line almost equaled the bathroom lines!  Forget that!  This whole time CT was itching for me to check out the Two Hour Club.  I was still reluctant because it would split us up.  But now, I figured what the heck.

Not only does Two Hour Club have select access, but it's also in it's own building.  The first perk turned out not only did I get access to the building, but I was also allowed guests.  Suddenly, this went from being a cool notion to being almost like rockstar status!  With a flash of my yellow bib, the doors open, smiling faces appear, the warmth of heat blasts my face and if I'm not mistaken the clouds opened up and a ray of sunlight hit me, ahhhhhh!  I'm not sure if I was more impressed with this status change or realizing that CT was definitely going to owe me for allowing her access to this Utopia!  Don't worry, she took it as humbly as she always does, when she told me I better run fast today to make sure I get her in the Club next year!

Plenty of seating, food, drinks, the list goes on and on.  Oh and the whole point for me going in to check this place out, the gear check?  Simply, walk up, put your stuff in a bag, done.  They even had free stuff not to mention a huge TV showing the event live.  The only thing missing that I could tell were the scantly clad  woman feeding grapes to you or giving massages.  At least that's how it felt.

As race time approached, I had already made up my mind, I'm getting in this Club again!  Yes, I've had a few bad runs lately, but the streak is ending today!  Even though I positioned myself just in front of the pace group aiming to finish at the two hour mark, my aim was on the next pace group.  Try to keep them insight for the first half, then see what's left for the finish.

Clink (of the champagne glasses) goes the start horn.  Damn, lots of people run this race!  I'm sure even more would, if they knew the perks of the Two Hour Club, but I'm now sworn to secrecy!  The race doesn't seem quite as packed as it was last year, but then again it's not nearly as warm as it was last year where all I remember was the awful BO on overly sweaty bodies trying to rub up against me.  Gross!  Somewhere around the first mile mark, I remember somebody flying a drone with what I'd guess was a camera on it.  I have to admit, that was kind of cool and would have enjoyed seeing the pictures from it or even flying it, you know doing those nerd things instead of running 25K.

Most of the miles all blur together in this race.  I think it's because many of them are spent staring at the person in front of you for so many miles point blank.  It isn't much before mile ten when things actually start to open up.  It was probably the nerd thoughts around mile one, but for some reason I was cranking on math and time, mainly trying to figure out exactly what pace I'd need to stay in the club.  I knew all I had to do was prevent the pace group behind me from passing.  At the same time, I'm pretty much staying with the next fastest pace group.  For the record, a 7:44 per mile pace is needed to get in the Club.  The pace group I was running with was the 7:30 per mile group, which is damn fast.  Even so, looking at my watch, still doesn't leave much room for error.  To be in this Club, you have to earn it for sure.

At thirteen miles, I was starting to get tired, but I had also passed the 7:30 pace group.  With two miles left, I started passing people who were cramping up.  While I didn't feel the energy to push any harder and decided it wasn't necessary to prove anything else.  I'd be in the Club again, beat my time from last year, and finally had a good run that I was proud of, victory enough.  

It could have been the weather finally being on my side.  Maybe, I was just due.  Or possibly it was the motivation after seeing the perks of being in the Club.  Whatever it was or the combination, it guaranteed entry into next year's Club!  

The Third Time, is ...

The Kalamazoo Marathon has beaten me twice.  The first time, it wasn't even a fair fight.  Does anybody really do well on their first marathon?  Well, it humbled me.  The second fight, I knew what to expect, trained harder and went into the fight overconfident.  Result?  Let's just say embarrassed.  This third time, it is going to be the charm, it has to be!

I'm due. It's just expected that this will be the attempt where the curse of the Kalamazoo Marathon is lifted off by back and I finally walk away with a victory against it.  What should happen and what does happen are two different things entirely.  Here's this year's story.

The week before the start, I'm actually afraid.  I do admit the first time, there were a ton of nerves.  The second time, calm and cool, even cocky.  This time, maybe it's the looming showdown, maybe it's the taste of two defeats in my mouth, but I've got a bad feeling about this run.  It's silly really.  Same course, a distance I just did a few weeks ago, there shouldn't be anything to fear.  But with running, so much is mental and to top off everything else working in my head, my arch enemy the heat is back in town.  My last two runs prior, both ended at four miles.  Not because I was tapering, but because I was dead exhausted from the heat.  It takes weeks to adjust to temperature increases, this Spring took it's time getting here this year, and suddenly there has been a thirty degree swing and it feels more like Summer.  This is going to be ugly.

Standing at the starting line, my phone probably felt like it ran a marathon with as often as I had checked the hourly temperature predictions over the past few days.  I've made some many race plans, none like this one though.  The plan is simple, survive.  Let's see how this works, errrrrrrrt goes the start horn.

The early miles were easy.  Not because I was feeling great, but because I was too damn scared to run any faster.  It's an unsettling feeling worried if I'd still be running after four miles, when I know there's twenty-two miles to go.  Reaching five miles felt like a victory.

At mile ten, I was still moving and upright.  There might be something to this slower pace stuff.  There were also some familiar faces cheering for me, which helped build even more confidence back.  Miles thirteen to fifteen flashed back memories of the previous marathons.  Both times, it was in these miles I started to feel the tell tale signs of the up coming struggles.  Yet, I'm still moving.  Maybe, just maybe this running slower to avoid overheating will actually sneak defeat from my nemesis.

Then, it happened.  It started as a simple brain impulse to walk a quick second to catch a breather.  A few other runners seemed to be doing the same thing.  I thought it would be a quick pause, then back to it.  Once I started again, I knew right away that I had put in motion that what I was most afraid of, defeat.  While I had done better than I thought I would up until this point, from here on out, the last ten miles weren't going to be pretty and they weren't going to be the charm I had been hoping for.

At mile twenty one, the smiling CT caught up with me.  While she wasn't on pace to get what time she was hoping for, she was still looking good.  She offered words of encouragement, even offered to finish with me, but this has become my struggle.  I sent her on her way and told her I'd see her at the end.

The final miles brought more familiar faces, though it didn't make it any easier.  I crossed the line a little slower than last year, but still a little better than the first year.  At least I seem to be consistent on this course.

As for next year, I'm not sure what to say.  Part of me feels like I'll give it another try.  Another part of me feels like it's a battle against a bully that I'll never win.  But I do know, the third time is NOT the charm!