Week 16- The Lost Dutchman Marathon

Here I am in the day after my attempt to run the Lost Dutchman Marathon. Long story short? Success! But like the run, the story isn't short at all...

I didn't finish as quickly as I was hoping to, but I think I learned a lot about racing doing my first marathon. It's vastly different getting out and doing a race than it is doing even equivalent distances on your own. Here's some of the things I learned this race:

1) Keep at your own pace- I spent a good chunk of the run alongside a Bureau of Land Management lawyer from Alaska. Forty degrees was warm to him, so he ran shirtless. I dubbed him “Steve the Alaskan Human Beacon” because this cat was whiter than Liquid Paper. This was his fourth marathon, but the first after a knee surgery he went through last year. He was not a lot faster than me, but meeting his pace made me burn more energy sooner than I anticipated. I knew I should have stayed between 10:00 and 10:30 per mile- but with Steve (later Greasy Stevie when he had to slather on some vaseline because his arms were chaffing his iridescent bare torso) I was running mile seven to about mile fourteen closer to 9:30 or better. Not significant in the short term, but a thirty minute difference across a race. This really came into play at mile 23 when I hit the wall...


2) Everybody runs marathons- Besides Greasy Stevie, I also met a 16 year old boy in Vibram Five Fingers, ready to do his first full marathon after several halves over the last three years. I met a 38 year old mother of two running her second marathon, and she was no petite flower (though super friendly). I met and conversed with a man from Moscow who must have been pushing 80, along with his wife. Yeah, they were going to jog/walk, but they came from Moscow, and they were 80! There were the real runners out there, like you would see in Runner's World magazine, but then there were lots of everyday people who just enjoy running, and wanted the challenge. We all had an instant rapport because we were going to share in this madness, and we weren't athletes, we were just runners. My thought is this; if I can get passed by 50 year old women, while I'm passing 20 year old men, ANYONE can run a marathon. It's just doing it for the love of the run, and doing it for yourself and no one else.


3) Doing a race is significantly different than your training runs- Even when you're not competing with anyone else, there are so many other factors in the race. First of all, on long runs, I like to zone out. The pain fades away, the mind wanders, and I'll find myself suddenly coming back into consciousness several miles later. Not in the marathon. There are too many other runners around you. Too many spectators. Water points every couple of miles. There's no zone. I was completely present for every moment of my race, from the delightful six mile downhill start, through the middle section with Greasy Stevie, to when at mile 23 I hit the wall. Kept going, but it was a hell of a challenge, and I would love to have just taken a little mental vacation for a few!


4) The Bonk wears clown shoes- Having hit the wall at mile 23, I kept plugging along, slowly, wishing for the energy I expended back between miles seven and fourteen. It was then, while I was slowing in my hunt for 26.2 the Bonk came out to play. I could hear it behind me, and I swear it was chasing me in big floppy shoes, slapping the ground behind me and getting closer. I learned from Orpheus and Calliope though- don't look back. Keep moving on. He came close, close enough to whisper in my ear that I'd already gone further than ever before, why not just walk the rest? And indeed, that may have been what truly brought me to the wall in the first place...


5) Pee early- I had the slight urge starting about mile six, but it wasn't a big deal, because at that point I'm using fluid at a faster rate than I'm putting it in, so the pressure is not becoming more urgent. For some reason though, about mile 21 I decided (likely precipitated by actually seeing an open porta-jon!) I needed to relive my bladder. Now, I walk any water point I go through. It helps with the water drinking, and give your muscles a slight reprieve for a minute or so. To urinate however, I had to stop. When I did, I started getting post run ache. When I did start again, it was tough to convince the body to keep going. Those next two miles led me right to the wall.


6) I want to do it again- Not unlike childbirth (or so I am told) as much pain as you know you are in as it is going on, for some reason within a relatively short time afterwards, you start planning your next one. Perhaps it's just to apply these lessons I have learned to see if I can do better. Suddenly I am competing- I have my own score to beat.

So, in the end I didn't get the time I was hoping for (I wanted around 4:30, but instead chip timed at 4:41:43) but finished 319 out of 600 entrants, in a race where only 471 finished. However, I ran a marathon, and the day after I am not crippled and lame, but rather looking forward to doing it again in the future.

I also want to point out the Lovely Jennifer, in order to kill time while waiting for me to drag myself across the finish line, entered the 8K trail run, and scored a 1:11 without training up. Then she came home and bought new running shoes... maybe soon I will be running with more than just Eightball?

This site may not get weekly updates, though I assure you I am going to keep running. I will keep you posted on my Vibram experiences as I start training with those, and looking around for other races to do. I want to at least knock out a half marathon this year, if not another full. Always have the Bisbee 1000 too. Look for me out there, because from now on, I'm the Running Dan.

Care to join me?

(Here's some pictures from the races...)



This one and the next one were of the trail Jennifer did- it was lovely up there, but warm as the day got on. Over 70 degrees by the time I rolled in.




This is me, visible on the horizon. Note shirtless Greasy Stevie on the left, cheering me on. He came in about 4:30.



Sporting Starfleet Blue, I hit the finish line- a victory for out of shape Trekkies everywhere...

PS- in a strange twist of fate, I ran my marathon on February 14th: Simon Pegg's Birthday. You may remember him as the star of "Run Fatboy Run" discussed previously in this blog. I could hear him in my head occasionally from Star Trek too... "I'm givin' her all she's got, Captain!"

Week 12- Hunting the Wall

Simon Pegg finds The Wall in “Run Fatboy Run.”

I knew this was going to be a telling week for me. As you may recall, to get my training schedule to line up with the actual Marathon, I had to drop a couple of weeks, and those weeks were ones which enabled a bit more rest as I get up into the real miles. That meant less recovery now, to ensure I can “taper” toward the end. That's when you do shorter runs to make sure your muscles are conditioned, but also healed up in time to devote all you can to the race.

Started this week by splitting up one of my runs. I typically don't run on Mondays, but I was feeling the itch, and Eightball wanted to run, so we went out and did three miles, then I ran two miles with co-workers on Tuesday. I took that opportunity to calibrate my Nike+ sensor as well, which I think is still measuring me a little short (more on that later).

Wednesday was a ten miler in the morning, and I thought I was in trouble. It was early, and obviously still dark. My path though was going to be along streets, so I didn't wear a light since I would be running under streetlights, right? No- the city of Sierra Vista is far more sporadic in their placement of lights than I would have thought. Having survived two other areas of running in pitch dark, at about mile 8.5, the sidewalk suddenly dropped into a drainage ditch- without warning, my right leg didn't find the ground until it had dropped about six inches more than it should. I felt everything wrench, and thought sure I had just re-aggravated every back pain I had ever had. Carefully continuing, everything seemed OK though, and I finished up. Had a few more aches during the day, but nothing too awful.

Kept it at three Thursday with an early morning jaunt with Eightball. He is getting better and better at running along without stopping to remark light poles and weeds. Every now and then we still have a little bit of jerking me out of my stride. It was funny though- we approached a hydrant, the much clichéd urinary target of male dogs everywhere, and I stopped in expectation. He instead gave it a look nearly identical to the one Clark Kent gives the half-phonebooth in “Superman: The Movie” and moved on. Oh, that Eightball- always keeps me guessing.

Then came Saturday. The big one. The schedule said 18 miles. That's not all though- when I ran with my running partner last week, he had mentioned “the Bonk.” See, there's “The Wall” which is when your body WANTS to give up, but you can knuckle down and keep moving. A “Bonk” is different. You're done- your body gives out and there's no way through. You just stop running. So, since he'd mentioned it, it's been floating in the back of my mind, like the demon the old X-Plane pilots used to think lived in the sound barrier, waiting to strike you when you were unaware. If the Bonk was going to find me, it was going to find me on my 18 mile run.

So, out I went. With every step though, I got a little bolder. I felt really good. That's when it occurred to me- my training had gone really well. I'd slowed down on long runs here and there, but I hadn't really even hit the Wall. Those fantasies of me and the wolf chasing the gazelle popped into my head, and I got mad. I was going to go hunting all right- I was going to go hunting the Wall.

I didn't turn around at the nine mile point, I kept going. I finally turned around a little over ten, and started back. At least I think it was 10- at one point I compared my sensor with a mile marker on the Highway. My sensor only gave me .9 miles to the full. That meant I was likely even further... I do love the Nike sensor, but that little margin of error, fine in shorter distances, can really add up. If it was consistently off by .1, that meant an extra mile of real distance at 10. More on this later too.

So, having turned around, I was heading back. I reached a point, about a 13 mile mark, where staying the course was going to bring me in about 20. I took a left. I was feeling good, and started to play with the idea of doing a full 26. I was looking for that wall, and though I was feeling the burn, I wasn't burning out. I was however getting low on water. Then about mile 15, I saw a park with a water fountain! All I had to do was refill my bottle, and I would be unstoppable! Huzzah!

For the second time this week, the city of Sierra Vista failed me. A nice little park, pleasant fields- the water was turned off. Not wanting to be stupid, I turned toward home, still wondering if I would find the Wall along the way. Keep in mind- even heading toward home, I was still across town.

In the end, I reached my street, and Nike+ told me I had done 19 and a half miles. That definitely means 20, and again, if the loss was consistent, potentially closer to 22. I never did find that Wall, and the Bonk is still out there waiting, but you know what else is out there, and not too far away?

Twenty-six point two.

You are my gazelle, twenty-six point two, and I am coming for you. The Wall can't save you now.

(By the way, the above picture is as it says from “Run Fatboy Run” which is a delightful movie about a slob who decides to do a Marathon to prove his love to the woman he left at the Altar. As with pretty much any Simon Pegg movie, I highly recommend it!)