Curbed Enthusiasm

No one's harder on myself than myself.  I have a problem with overanalyzing.  It's a curse really.  From the moment I crossed the finish line Sunday morning, my mind began replaying the 30,500+ steps I took along the way of my first marathon.  It's what I do.  I know I should have just sat back and enjoyed my accomplishment and part of me regrets that.  So I will try to do that a bit as I describe my first experience with the marathon.

Passing 3 miles at St. Mary's & McCullough

     My morning started at 4:59 a.m. when I woke up wide-eyed, 31 minutes before my scheduled wake-up call.  I tried to fall back to sleep but gave in to some early morning nerves and went to the hotel lobby for a quick breakfast of two slices of peanut butter toast.  I decided to stay in a hotel that was close to the start since I knew I wouldn't get out of work until close to midnight and wanted to maximize my sleep, which turned out to be about five hours.  As I sat there eating breakfast, it was very interesting seeing all the different attire of all the runners.  After breakfast, I went back and started suiting up.  Fortunately I had my outfit laid out the night before so that didn't take too long.  The walk to the starting area took about 10  minutes and I was so relieved that the only traffic I had to fight that morning was the people on the streets.  After a quick trip to the bathroom, I started to make my way to the start area and began my usual pre-run routine of stretching and ran a few strides to warm up as best I could before walking into Corral #2. 

     I wasn't as nervous as I thought I'd be in my corral waiting for the prayer, national anthem and the starting horn.  I think I used up all my nerves in what was a very emotionally draining week.  As I said last week, self-doubt is a huge weakness.  Sometimes you want to take the advice from friends, but sometimes you still think you know better.  When the horn sounded, I knew this was it.  I didn't see the elite runners take off but I ran through the starting line 75 seconds after them, already nearly a quarter-mile behind.  That first mile was all about fighting traffic to find open space as well as warming up before trying to hit my goal pace.  My GPS was a bit off of the actual course, thanks to my weaving around the other runners but I hit my first mile in 7:33, right where I wanted to be.  Feeling good, I picked up the pace through the halfway point at 1:32:09, which had me dreaming of a sub-3:10 marathon, easily qualifying me for the Boston Marathon.

    Then I got to "The Wall," essentially the point where all your glycogen (or main source of fuel) is gone and your body starts relying more on any fat you have.  The transition can be quite tough.  My 20th mile dropped to 8:00, my slowest since my first mile.  Feeling exhausted, I stopped and stretched my calf muscles and hamstrings.  I plodded along for a couple more miles, even getting one more sub-8 mile before the tightness really began setting in.  My last three miles averaged 9:40.  

Approaching the Finish Line!

     As I hit the 26-mile mark, I knew I had less than a quarter-mile to go but a nice steep incline to the finish line.  I looked at my watch and saw my initial goal of 3:20 within reach and I ran as hard as I could up that hill and to the finish line, every face a blur, every noise melting into one.  I didn't even hear my wife screaming my name as I ran by.  Approaching the finish line, I held up both hands like pistols and for the briefest of moments, celebrated my run.

Crossing the line in under 3:20

     The walk through the finish area was disoriented and slow.  It was filled with a few marathoners and many half-marathoners who were finishing as well.  I grabbed a water and a banana and did my best to make my way to the exit.  I couldn't find my wife and was unable to use my phone to let her know where I was.  Cell reception was a huge problem race day.  I went back to the finish line to see if I could seen any friends cross the line around the 3:30 mark but missed any if they did.  A few minutes later I saw my wife and she could see it in my face.  "It's okay to cry," she told me.  I have to admit, I almost did.  It wasn't that euphoric feeling people kept telling me about.  It was frustration and disappointment coming together.  I know, I'm crazy.  I just ran a 3:18 in my first marathon.  I should have been looking for a cold beer and celebrating.  That's how I am and I'll never change.  When a woman at the race asked me about my GPS, I showed her some of the functions and immediately noticed that my steps per minutes were about 20 lower than normal.  So I know I was overstriding, which may have played a role in my tight hamstrings and calf muscles.  One more thing I plan to work on. 

Not too tired to smile.

     Today, reading all the congratulatory Facebook posts, I've appreciated what I accomplished much more than I did yesterday.  I couldn't even take a nap before work after the race because my mind would not shut off.  But the best part, is that knowing whether I qualified for Boston or not, I knew I'd get to do it all over again.  I'm officially a marathon runner now.