Second Thoughts

Second Thoughts

A Quest for a Sub 3 hour Marathon

October 2006

By Carl Mather

(With credit to Jay McInerney’s Bright Lights Big City)

You are definitely the kind of guy who would be at a place like this at this time of the morning.  The location is new though you cannot say that the surroundings are entirely unfamiliar.  It is Sunday October 15^th, 7:20 am, ten minutes before the start of the Long Beach International Marathon. 

Your Garmin Forerunner 205 is causing you suspicions.  The proof is the data being registered for elevation; alternately reading -1 ft, 3 ft, -4 ft, -7 ft.  You are mildly amused. 

How did you get here?  Let’s go back to the beginning of the year.

There was the 16 mile race.  You ran so hard; you busted a gut, literally.  You felt like you had the runs, but were shocked when you saw the toilet bowl was filled with bright red fluid.  You tried to convince yourself that it was Excelerade that you could not digest.  Runner’s Ischemia was the wife’s diagnosis.  That episode resulted in a colonoscopy before being given the go-ahead to run some more.

You ran Boston; got the medal to prove it.  It was a dream come true.  You got your picture taken with Bill Rogers and Frank Shorter, two childhood idols. 

On May 21^st you ran the Colfax Marathon along the nation’s longest main street.  The temperature was in the 80s by the finish.  You were thrilled with your finish; 3:10:46, 11^th overall, 2^nd in your age group. 

You ran the Arby’s Rocky Mountain ½ Marathon on June 11^th because it was your birthday.  You finished 11^th overall, 2^nd in your age group with a time of 1:27:20.  There was a nice picture of you running alongside former World Marathon Champion Mark Plaatjes; it must have been in the first 10 yards of the race.  

Your weekly training consisted of three workouts and averaged about 35 miles/week.  Those workouts were a track workout, a tempo run and a long run.  You ran training races of 10 and 15 miles, finishing second in both.

You ran the American Discovery Trail Marathon in Colorado Springs on September 4^th.  Four weak miles spoiled your hopes for breaking 3 hours.  You finish in 3:01:36, 6^th overall and 2^nd in your age group.

At the Boulder Backroads Marathon on September 24^th you started the race with Dean Karnazes who was partway through running 50 marathons in 50 states in 50 days.  Your attempt to run three marathons in six weeks pales in comparison.  You received the 1^st place age group award, a very nice framed poster.  You hung it in the smallest room in your house.  The wife repainted the walls to match the poster; so sweet. 

Your bounty for the year also included:  two plaques, a premium water bottle, his & her Road ID tags, some cool medals, two pint glasses, a nice big coffee mug and gift certificates with which you purchased a pair of shorts and a long sleeve technical shirt.

Your Fall vacation plans brought you to Southern California.  The wife and daughters planned to spend the day at the American Girl Place in Beverly Hills.  You were given the green light to run Long Beach, so here you are.

The drill is routine for you by now:  Carbo loading, obsessing about clothing like a nervous bride, little sleep the night before, bowels vacated in a fight or flight response, the tying and re-tying of shoelaces, etc. 

The horn blasts.  The Forerunner keeps you from going out too fast, as others do.  Two and a half miles into the race you crest the highest point on the course; 45 feet above sea level.  During the first ten miles you hold your pace and enjoy the spectacular ocean scenery.  Then you turn right as the half marathoners head home.  You overtake one runner after another, banking precious seconds.  At mile 17 the first female passes you.  You glom onto her and ride her wake for the next six miles when she drops you like a 42 year old has-been.

Disaster strikes in the 25^th mile; a stitch.  You clock 8:20 and your hopes of a sub three hour marathon are fading.  You rally and run the 26^th mile in 6:19 as if chased by demons of marathons past.

You round the bend, down the hill to the finish where the race clock relentlessly keeps time.  The significant digits you make out are 2:59 and the seconds march on 34, 35, 36.  The gathered witnesses are cheering.  You are screaming.  You cross the line at 2:59:42 (2:59:29 chip time.)  It is a moment sublime.  Officially you finish 20^th overall, 3^rd in the Master’s Division.

You will be ill for several days.  You will recover physically, but there will be an emotional tank to refill as well.  There will be goals to set and miles to cover.  You will be back, but it will take time.  You will have to go slowly.  You will have to learn everything all over again.