I wake up frequently during the night.
Usually, I get back to sleep quickly.
Sometimes I don’t. When I don’t,
the “thinker” comes on. (That’s what Deb
and I call it when one of us starts thinking about something and can’t
stop.) Sometimes, the only way to stop
the “thinker” is to think about something else.
Sometimes, I’ll begin a mental exercise that I know will eventually tire
me out. One night, I tried to recall one
high point and one low point from each year that I’ve been running, starting in
1980. I only got as far as 1985 before
getting tired and falling back to sleep.
That’s not bad.
The next day, I decided to keep going with this exercise. I’ve had a lot of ups and downs over the last
36 years. I’m going through one of the
low points right now, but without the low points, I probably wouldn’t be able
to appreciate the high points. Here are
my highs and lows from 36 years of running.
1980
High
This was the year I started running.
My sister Betty and some of her friends had already been been running
for a couple years. Every two weeks,
they met at the track to run an informal mile race. Eventually, they talked me into joining them
for one of their races. I finished my
first timed mile in 6:56. Afterwards, I
was so out of breath my throat and lungs felt like they were on fire. I didn’t ever want to feel that bad again,
but I couldn’t help but wonder, “How much faster can I run in two weeks, after
doing some training?” I was hooked.
Low
Betty was dating her future husband, John. John was faster than me, but I started to
close the gap. We were both
competitive. I wanted to beat John in a
race. He wanted to hold me off. After a few races, John had an injury that
forced him to stop running for the rest of the summer. Without my newfound rivalry with John, I lost
interest in the races. I quit running.
1981
High
I resumed running mile races with my friends. Then my friend Rick talked me into doing a
10K race in Minneapolis. It was called
the Grandma’s Warmup 10K, because it was held a week before Grandma’s
Marathon. This was my first official
race. It was also the farthest I had
ever run. My longest training run to
date was 5.25 miles. Trying to run as
fast as I could, while also running farther than I had ever run, was a
challenge. I think I finished that first
race in 47:48.
Low
Our mile races were seasonal. In
the winter months, the track was covered with snow, and we stopped racing until
spring. I did three 10K races that year,
and I did training runs as far as a half marathon, but without the mile races,
I lost interest. I wasn’t a year-round
runner yet.
1982
High
I ran the Grandma’s Warmup 10K again.
Betty, John and Rick also ran it.
I had a huge breakthrough in this race, finishing it in 39:25. The course was two laps around Lake
Harriet. I ran the first half in 19:55
and the second half in 19:30. It was the
first time I ever ran negative splits.
The PR I set in this race held up for several years.
Low
I heard about a new marathon that started in Minneapolis and finished in
St. Paul. It was called the Twin Cities
Marathon. I wanted to run it. I started training somewhat half-heartedly,
not sure if I could really do it. Then I
skinned my knee badly sliding into second base during a softball game. I had a scab that was three inches long and
an inch wide. When I bent my knee, the
scab cracked open and bled. In an effort
to keep the scab from getting wet, I tried to keep my knee out of the water
when I took a bath. One day, while leaning
forward to wash my back, I felt something tear behind my knee. I injured the tendon that connected my
hamstring to the back of my left knee. I
tried to keep up my running, but it quickly became apparent that my season was
over. I didn’t get to run the first Twin
Cities Marathon. It took all winter for
that injury to heal, and I had doubts about whether I would ever heal
sufficiently to be able to run an all-out mile.
1983
High
By spring I was healthy, but some of my friends still doubted whether I
had fully recovered. In our first mile
race of spring, John was faster than me.
I made a bet with Rick. To win
the bet, I had to beat John in one of our mile races before Memorial Day. After each race, we always had lunch at
Annie’s Parlour in Dinkytown. The loser
of the bet had to buy the winner a malt.
With each race, I gained ground on John.
Besides competing with each other, we were each trying to break five
minutes. My PR was 5:03. Neither of us had run a five minute mile
yet. In one race, John was ahead of me,
but I put on an early kick and passed him with almost one lap to go. As we entered the final turn, John began his
finishing kick. I didn’t know if I could
hold him off. Then I remembered my bet
with Rick. I dug deep and held off John
on the final straightaway. I also broke
five minutes. After the race, Rick had
to buy me a malt. Never underestimate
the power of ice cream.
Low
In October, I finally ran my first marathon. Then in November, I tried to run 200 miles in
one month. The most miles I had
previously run in one month was 104. I
came up a little short, finishing the month with 193 miles. More importantly, I broke a major rule of
training. I tried to increase my mileage
too quickly. In early December, I had my
first experience with runner’s knee. For
the fourth straight year, I stopped running during the winter months. This time, I really wanted to keep training,
but I had to take a break to heal.
1984
High
In June, I ran Grandma’s Marathon, which was my second official marathon. The real highlight wasn’t the race, but the
training. Each time I did a long
training run, I set a new PR. My first
long run was 14 miles. I had run that
distance several times in previous years.
In my first try in 1984, I beat my previous best by two minutes. Next, I shattered my previous best for 17.5
miles. Then I obliterated by PR for 21
miles. My last tune-up was a 12 mile run
around the lake where my parents had a summer cabin. My average pace was better than seven minutes
per mile. The marathon proved to be
another disappointment. It was several
minutes slower than my first marathon.
While that left me scratching my head, I knew from the strength of my
training that I was improving.
Low
After Grandma’s Marathon, I resumed training. I was planning to do the Twin Cities Marathon
again in October. Within a week, I
started experiencing knee pain. It was
another flare-up of runner’s knee. I
might have been able to recover in time for the Twin Cities Marathon, but I
took no chances. I took the summer off
to heal. My season had a promising
start, but came to a premature conclusion.
1985
Low
In the fall of 1984, I started my first full-time job. I also started seeing Deb. I stopped running completely. It just didn’t seem as important as the new
things in my life. Over the winter, I
gained enough weight that one of my coworkers politely commented about it. Finally, by the summer of 1985, I realized I
needed to get back into running. By now,
my running friends had graduated and moved to other parts of the country. We no longer had mile races. My motivation to resume running was the need
to get more exercise so I could lose weight.
In the previous year, I put on roughly 20 pounds. Now, running was much more difficult. I wasn’t having fun, and I had trouble
sticking with it.
High
After months of trying to get back into running, one of my coworkers
said something that motivated me. He
said, “You’re training for life.” That
was the slogan of a local gym, and it’s entirely possible, he was being
sarcastic. It didn’t matter. Those words resonated with me. For the rest of the year, I did some form of
training every day. On Sundays, Tuesdays
and Thursdays, I ran at least 3.5 miles.
On Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, I did weight training. On Saturdays, I went to the pool and swam a
mile. I kept this up for 100 days before
taking a day off.
1986
High
In the summer of 1986, I decided to run another marathon. I registered for the Twin Cities Marathon. I didn’t have time for a full training
cycle. I had to whip myself into shape
quickly. I started running five days a
week. I did long runs every
weekend. In August, Deb and I got
married. I even kept up my training
while we were on our honeymoon. I didn’t
end up running that marathon, but my decision to train for it was a turning
point in my life. I realized I wasn’t
done yet. I wanted to run more
marathons.
Low
In September, I came down with a bad cold. It was about four weeks before the Twin
Cities Marathon. For about two weeks, I
didn’t feel up to running. By the time I
started feeling better, Deb and I were ready to move into a new house. Instead of resuming my training, I put my
time into packing and moving. When we
were done moving, it was only a few days before the race. My training had been going well before the
cold, but now I had doubts. Instead of
starting the race and giving it my best shot, I was afraid of failure. I didn’t even try.
1987
Low
I was working on a big project at work, and it was crunch time. I was developing software that could only be
tested in a one-of-a-kind computer lab.
There were dozens of other software developers and testers who needed to
use the same facility. Lab time was a
scarce resource. The lab was scheduled
around the clock. You had to take
whatever lab time you could get, even if it was midnight to 4 AM on Sunday
morning. All year long, I was working
overtime, and I was working strange shifts.
I could barely get enough sleep, much less find time to run. I didn’t do any races that year, and I only
ran about 250 miles all year.
High
I realized at the start of the year that I wouldn’t be able to train
consistently. I also knew this was
temporary. For one year, I put running
on the back burner, because my career had to come first. I was at peace with that. I was making a sacrifice, but I knew I’d be
back in 1988. I did it on my own terms,
so I didn’t have any regrets.
1988
High
I spent most of the year training for the Twin Cities Marathon. For the first time in my life, I knew what I
was doing. I was following a real
training plan. My training was going
well, but it was interrupted by injuries.
First I had plantar fasciitis in one foot. Then I had it the other foot. I thought I was finally recovered, but after
finishing a 10K race on Labor Day weekend, I was suddenly in so much pain I
couldn’t walk. For the next three weeks,
I didn’t run at all. To maintain some of
my fitness, I rode a stationary bike.
Nine days before the marathon, I ran the first of four short training
runs to test my foot and my fitness. My
foot felt OK, but I got out of breath on runs that were no longer than seven
miles. I felt stronger with each run,
but I didn’t know if I was in good enough shape to finish a marathon. I didn’t even know for sure if my foot was
100% healed. In contrast to 1986, I
decided to start the race. I had no time
goal. I didn’t even expect to
finish. I surprised myself. I ran a consistent pace for the entire race
and finished in 3:28:20. That was a PR
by more than 30 minutes, despite all the interruptions of my training.
Low
After my encouraging result at the Twin Cities Marathon, I didn’t want
to wait a whole year before running another one. I made plans to run the St. Louis Marathon,
which was the weekend before Thanksgiving.
Betty and John were living in southern Illinois, and we made plans to
celebrate Thanksgiving with them. Deb
and I flew to St. Louis, and Betty and John met us there. The night before the race, a cold front moved
through St. Louis. The thunder made it
hard to sleep. The temperature kept
dropping. As we were walking to the
start of the race, the rain started changing to snow. It was a heavy wet snow that melted on
contact. I didn’t have adequate clothing
for these conditions. I wasn’t expecting
it to get this cold, and I wasn’t expecting rain or snow. This front wasn’t supposed to move through
St. Louis until later in the day. I had
tights, but I was wearing a short-sleeved cotton T-shirt. I had a windbreaker, but it wasn’t
waterproof. I had gloves, but there were
cotton. Once my clothes got wet, I
couldn’t stay warm. I started the race,
knowing I could always stop after five miles when the course went past the
start area again. By the time I finished
five miles, my clothes were soaked, and there was half an inch of slush in the
streets. I told John I didn’t know if I
could finish, but I wasn’t ready to quit yet.
He said, “Good for you.” Then I
continued, knowing I wouldn’t be near our hotel again until the end of the
race. I kept getting colder. I was keeping my hands warm by repeatedly clenching
and unclenching my fists. Eventually, my
fingers got so stiff I couldn’t move them.
I was in stage one of hypothermia.
By the halfway mark, I knew I had to quit. I wasn’t sure where I could stop and get a
ride back to the finish. Another runner
noticed I was looking around and asked if I needed a ride. His friends were in a car driving alongside
of us. He told me to hop in. After 14 miles, I stopped running and hopped
in the car. They dropped me off a few
blocks from our hotel. I went inside and
drew a hot bath. My hands and feet were
white. It took several minutes sitting
in the hot water before color returned to my hands. When I was ready, I got dressed and went back
outside to find Betty, John and Deb.
They were still watching for me at the finish line. After that race, I got really sick. This was
my first DNF, and it left a bad taste in my mouth. After that, I always brought clothes for any
possible weather, regardless of what the forecast said. This DNF bothered me so much that it
motivated me to finish other races where I was struggling. It would be 24 years before I had another
DNF.
1989
High
There’s a running club in Minnesota called ALARC. They used to make a group trip to the New
York City Marathon every year. The
procedure for entering the marathon was different then. About half of the entries were first-come,
first-served; the rest were awarded through a lottery. I got in, and we made arrangements to travel
to New York with ALARC. The club
negotiated a group discount at our hotel.
We went sightseeing together and did a group training run that included
the Queensboro Bridge and Central Park.
It was our first trip to New York.
We went to a Broadway musical, saw the World Trade Center and Empire
State Building, rode the Staten Island Ferry, and toured art galleries in
SOHO. The race was a larger than life
experience. The crowds in Brooklyn were
great. We ran through a number of ethnic
neighborhoods, each with its own character.
It was like different neighborhoods were completing to see who could
cheer us the best. They brought out their
high school bands. When we got to
Manhattan, the crowds were even louder.
My friend Rick, who lives nearby, met Deb, and they went around town to
watch for me. The first time I saw them,
I was on 1st Avenue, roughly 17 miles into the race. Later, they met me at the finish line, and we
walked back to the hotel together.
Low
The New York City Marathon was the high point of the year, but in a way
it was also the low point. I trained all
year, with a goal of breaking 3:15. I
followed my training program, and I seemed to be ready. A few weeks before the race I learned that
the Boston marathon had changed their qualifying times. The standard for men under 35 was 3:10. For the first time, that seemed like an
attainable goal. On the morning of the
New York City Marathon, I made an impulsive decision to try to run 3:10, even
though I trained all year for 3:15. All
through Brooklyn, I was on pace for 3:10.
The crowds got me pumped up, and it felt easy. The Queensboro Bridge took something out of
me. By the time I got to Manhattan, it
was more difficult to maintain the pace.
Running through Harlem, I was struggling, and by 22 miles, I was falling
off the pace. There’s a small hill where
we entered Central Park, and I walked it.
After another mile, I took another walking break. I wasn’t going to break 3:10, and I also
wasn’t going to break 3:15. When I
realized I could still break 3:20, I coaxed myself to run the rest of the
way. I finished in 3:19:49. That was still a PR, but I had trained all
year for 3:15. I probably could have
done it with smart pacing, but I got too greedy.
1990
Low
I was still running one marathon per year. This was going to be the year I qualified for
Boston. I picked the Twin Cities
Marathon, and I trained all year. My goal
was to break 3:10. My training went
according to plan. The weather was
favorable, and I was already familiar with the course. For most of the race, I was right on
pace. From 20 to 23 miles, there’s a
slight uphill trend. By the time I
reached 23 miles, I had fallen off the pace by a few seconds. I was tiring, and I had an emotional
meltdown. With three miles to go, I gave
up on qualifying for Boston. I gave up
on EVER qualifying. My self-talk was
really negative. I went so far as to
tell myself I might run other marathons, but I was done trying to run them
fast. I was starting to use aid stations
as excuses to take short walking breaks.
I was expecting an aid station at 25 miles. When I reached the 25 mile mark, the aid
station was still a block away. I walked
to the aid station. After drinking, I
walked a bit farther before running the rest of the way. I finished in 3:11:10. As far as I knew, I missed qualifying for
Boston by over a minute. Funny thing
about those qualifying times – when the BAA said 3:10, they meant 3:10 and change. Anything up to 3:10:59 would have been good
enough. I didn’t know it, but I only
missed by 11 seconds. When I thought I
fell off the pace at 23 miles, I was still doing fine. The long walking break at 25 made the
difference. Here’s the worst part. The next morning, I didn’t even have sore
muscles. That’s when I realized I didn’t
push hard enough. Physically, I was
ready. I forgot that you still need to
dig deep in the late miles. I think I
was expecting to break 3:10 just by showing up.
I was really upset with myself for that letdown.
High
After my near miss at the Twin Cities Marathon, I was determined to try
again while I was already in shape. I
didn’t feel like the Twin Cities Marathon took too much out of me. I looked for other fall races, and picked the
Seattle Marathon, which was on Thanksgiving weekend. That was six weeks away. Three weeks after the Twin Cities Marathon, I
did a long training run. The next
weekend, I did a 10 mile race as a final tune-up. I was ready.
Deb had always wanted to visit Seattle, so it was a chance to combine
sightseeing with my BQ attempt. When we
arrived in Seattle, they were in the midst of several consecutive days of
rain. Weather for the race was 50
degrees with steady light rain. There
were deep puddles everywhere. Having
learned from my St. Louis experience two years earlier, I had the right
clothes. I paced myself well in the
early miles. After seven miles, I
reached a puddle two wide to step over.
One shoe plunged ankle deep in the water. A few miles later, I misjudged another large
puddle, and the other shoe went into the water.
The waterlogged shoes were heavy, which made me work harder. Around halfway, I started talking to another
runner. I got distracted and didn’t
realize we were slowing down. By the 15
mile mark, I was a minute behind schedule.
I kept trying to speed up. I got
back on pace, but couldn’t make up the lost minute. My calves felt like they were tied up in
knots. Each mile I worked harder, but
the pace was always the same. I needed
to make up a minute, but I was running out of miles. With five miles to go, I pushed hard to pick
up the pace. I didn’t think my effort
was sustainable, but I had to try. I was
clawing back about 15 seconds with each mile.
I kept up the effort, one mile at a time. I finished in 3:09:47. I got my first Boston qualifier, and I was
proud of how hard I pushed myself in the late miles.
1991
High
Naturally, after qualifying, I had to run the Boston Marathon. In April, Deb and I traveled to Boston. It was our first time there, so we had to do
lots of shopping and sightseeing, including everything along the Freedom Trail. My friend Rick drove to Boston to join
us. The day before the race, I took a
bus tour of the course, while Deb went shopping with Rick. Long bathroom lines, GI problems, and
congestion along the course combined to make the first half of the race slow. When I reached Newton, I was able to
recognize each hill from the course tour.
I still had fresh legs, so I finished better than I started. Overall, it wasn’t my best race, but it was
like a victory lap for qualifying.
Low
After the Boston Marathon, I did several shorter races. Throughout this part of my schedule, I was
starting to experience shin splints, but I endured the pain to keep training
and racing. After running Grandma’s
Marathon in June, I had to take a break from running. In the second half of the year, I only did
one race. That was a race-walk
event. I didn’t resume any serious
running until winter.
1992
High
It’s hard to pick any one highlight for 1992, but it would have to be
Grandma’s Marathon. I wasn’t originally
planning to do that race. My goal for
the first half of the year was to set a new 10K PR. I wanted to average six minute miles in a 10K
race. I started training indoors. I kept doing three mile workouts until I
could run three miles in 18 minutes.
Then I stepped up to 3.75 miles at the same pace. Then I ran 4.5 miles at the same pace. Then I started racing. My first three races of the year were 8K, 7
miles, and 5K. Those were supposed to be
tune-ups, but I set PRs at each of those distances. I was planning to do up to three 10K
races. The first was a tune-up. The second would be a serious PR
attempt. The third would be another
chance, in case I had an off day in the second race. As it turns out, I ran the first 10K race in
36:57. (My official time was 37:03, but
that was before chip timing. I’m
excluding the six second it took to reach the starting line.) It was still April, and I already reached my
goal for 10K. I still had time to train
for Grandma’s Marathon, so I quickly entered the race. I built my long runs up to 26.25 miles. I also ran a half marathon. My goal at Grandma’s was to break 3:10. I accidently started on pace for three hours
and decided to go for it. Not only did I
keep up the pace, but I ran negative splits, finishing in 2:58:17. I never imagined I was ready to break three
hours. Looking back at my training and
my performances in all those shorter races, it now seems obvious I was ready.
Low
I’ll never know if I could have improved my marathon time. I was aiming for another PR at the Marine
Corps Marathon, but my training was hampered by shin splits. I went out at a fast pace on a windy day, but
without sufficient training, the pace wore me down. After that, I took some time off. I was planning to start taking night classes
in the spring, so I didn’t expect to have time to train for more
marathons. Over the winter I stopped
running and gained weight. It would be
several years before I lost the weight and trained as seriously. By then, I was past my prime.
1993
High
I wasn’t originally planning to run any marathons in 1993. Then I found out my friend Bill was going to
run Grandma’s Marathon. It was his first
marathon. I knew I couldn’t be in shape
to run fast, but I thought I might still be able to whip myself into good
enough shape to run with Bill. I registered
for the race, but I didn’t tell Bill.
The day before the race, I stood in line with Bill as he picked up his
race packet. He was surprised to see me
picking up my race packet too. We ran
the entire race together at Bill’s pace.
Bill assumed I was slowing down to pace him, but I don’t think I could
have run too much faster on my own. It
was fun sharing this experience.
Low
I ran two more marathons that year, but I was using those as long
training runs for the Edmund Fitzgerald 100K.
Ed Fitz, as it was known affectionately to local runners, was going to
be my first ultramarathon. I never got
to the starting line. By the time I ran
the Walker/North Country Marathon, I was experiencing pain in both shins. After that race, the pain was worse. After doing very little training over the
next two weeks, I ran the Twin Cities Marathon.
The pain was almost unbearable.
Then I saw a doctor and found out I had stress fractures in both
legs. I had to abandon my plans to run
Ed Fitz. I was carrying some extra
weight and wondered if that contributed to the injury. More likely, it was ramping up too quickly
after taking a break the previous winter.
I got discouraged and didn’t attempt another ultra for five years.
1994
Low
I didn’t run any marathons in 1994.
It was also the first year since 1987 that I ran less than 1,000 total
miles. There were a variety of reasons I
didn’t run as much. I spent the winter
months healing from my stress fractures.
I was taking night classes. I
started a new job with a longer commute, so my work days were longer. I was also dealing with a lot of personal
issues. Mostly, though, I just didn’t
have the motivation. I occasionally got
out for a run, but without a marathon on the horizon, I wasn’t really training.
High
By September, I knew I wasn’t going to reach 1,000 miles for the
year. Looking at how many weeks I had
left, I realized I could still get to 800 if I ran 30 miles per week. I had been averaging only 10 miles a week so
far, so that was a big step up. I
nevertheless committed to it. For the
rest of the year, I ran a minimum of 30 miles each week, and I finished the
year with 823 miles.
1995
Low
In June, I drove to Duluth to watching Grandma’s Marathon. It was the first time in seven years that I
wasn’t racing that weekend. The weekend
of Grandma’s Marathon was like a major holiday to me. There was Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s
and Grandma’s Marathon. When I wasn’t
doing the marathon, I ran one of the shorter races. This year, I went up to Duluth just to watch
the marathon. It felt weird. As I watched the runners, I kept thinking,
“That should be me. I should be out
there. How come I’m not running?”
High
After Grandma’s Marathon, I decided to start running marathons again,
even if I wasn’t in peak shape. There
were two other marathons in Minnesota that year, and I ran both of them. I finished the Walker/North Country Marathon
in 4:20:39. Two weeks later, I ran the
Twin Cities Marathon in 3:54:21.
1996
Low
After running two marathons in 1995, I went back to running only
sporadically for the first half of the year.
I still had a long commute, and I was still taking night classes. Sometimes, the only way I could find time to
run was to go for a run on my lunch hour.
When I wasn’t training for a marathon, I didn’t get serious about
running consistently.
High
In October, I ran the Twin Cities Marathon with John. It was John’s second marathon, and his goal
was to break 3:30. I paced him, and we
both broke 3:30. After being out of
shape for three years, it was nice to finally be in good enough shape that I
could break 3:30 without an all-out effort.
1997
High
I was now in the 35-39 age group, so I could qualify for Boston with a
time of 3:15. I wanted to prove to
myself that I could still do it. I
trained hard and lost about 10 pounds.
Then I returned to Grandma's Marathon. Weather was reasonable at the start of the race, but then the wind
shifted, bringing hotter temperatures.
By then, I was far enough into the race that I could endure the hotter
temperatures for the remaining miles. I
finished in 3:14:01, giving me my first Boston qualifier since 1992.
Low
In October, I ran Twin Cities Marathon again. A week before the race, it looked like the
weather would be favorable for running, or at least reasonable. Every day, the forecast was revised
upward. By race morning, it was pretty
obvious it was going to be a hot one. By
the time I reached the West River Parkway, the heat was already beginning to
wear on me. There was an aid station
there with gel packets. I had never
tried a gel during a race, preferring to get all my sugar from sports
drinks. It’s not generally a good idea
to try something new on race day, but I didn’t think I had much to lose. The heat was already forcing me to slow
down. After eating the gel, I looked for
water table. I was already past
them. Who lays out an aid station with
water first and gels last? I couldn’t
wash it down. I had to run the next two
miles with a sticky pasty sensation in my mouth. At the next aid station, I had to drink three
cups before my mouth no longer felt sticky.
Then I felt bloated and had to take a walking break.
1998
High
If I could re-live one year of my life, it would be 1998.
That was the year I ran my first ultra.
It was also the year I embarked on my goal of
running marathons in all 50 states.
Lots
of other good things happened.
It was
the year the Minnesota Vikings went 15-1 and broke the NFL scoring record.
It was also the year Deb and I paid off our
mortgage.
That made it possible for me
to cut back to working part-time while I trained for my first ultra.
While there were many highlights, the one
that stands out is my first ultra, the FANS 24-Hour Run.
I raised my training to a new level and got
into the best shape of my life.
Then I
overcame severe weather and a few other problems to run 111.2 miles in 24
hours.
A detailed account of that race
can be found in this
Throwback Thursday post.
Low
Can a race where you set a PR be considered a low point? Three months after FANS, I ran the Olander
Park 24-Hour Run. This was the 24-hour
national championship event, so the best 24-hour runners in the country were
all there. I went into the race
believing I could run 130 miles. I started
the race at a pace that was only slightly faster than the pace I needed to
average. After two hours, I was still in
the bottom half of the field. I kept
running at the same pace. Everyone else
slowed down. Every hour, I climbed the
leader board. By the time I reached 100
miles, I was in 6th place among the men.
I was still on pace to run something in the mid 130s. My quads were getting increasingly sore. I was using a run/walk pacing strategy, and
it was getting increasingly difficult to transition from walking to
running. I took some ibuprofen, but it
doesn’t take effect immediately. Unable
to stand the pain, I decided to walk until the ibuprofen kicked in. For reasons I did not yet understand, my long
walking break actually made my legs more
sore and stiff. After that, the
ibuprofen didn’t provide enough relief.
I walked for the rest of the race and finished with 118.97 miles. That was a PR, but I always wondered what
could have been. Here’s what I eventually
learned when I had more experience. When
you’re exerting yourself, you generate enough endorphins to suppress a fair
amount of pain. When I took a long
walking break, I relaxed too much for too long.
I wasn’t generating as many endorphins.
Now instead of only feeling some of the pain, I could feel all of
it. Instead, I should have picked up my
effort. That would have suppressed more
of the pain, allowing me to keep running.
That strategy only works if you have the energy to sustain the increased
effort. Here’s the irony. I wasn’t getting tired yet. The only thing holding me back was the
soreness in my muscles. I actually had enough energy to pick up my
effort. If only I had known then what I
know now. If I could re-live one day of 1998,
it would be this one, so I could change the way I finished that race. If I could re-live two days of 1998, it would
be this one, plus the day Randy Moss had 190 receiving yards for the Vikings against
the Green Bay Packers.
1999
Low
I started the year with an ankle injury.
I made it worse by running the Las Vegas Marathon. Then I had to take a break from running, so
my ankle could heal. I managed to finish
the Big Sur Marathon with minimal training, but then I made an impulsive
decision to do the FANS 24-Hour Run again.
I was nowhere near trained for this race, and I knew that. I knew I couldn’t run as far as I did in
1998, but I didn’t have any idea what I could realistically do. I did well in 1998, in part because I had
realistic goals and a reasonable plan for pacing myself to reach those
goals. In 1999, I had no idea what my
goal should be, so I just started running.
I thought I could just go by how I felt.
I was wrong. In a 24-hour race,
you can start at a pace that feels really easy, but still be going way too
fast. You have to be disciplined. To be disciplined, you have to have a plan,
and that starts with having a realistic goal.
I had no goal, no plans and no clue.
I started too fast. The weather
this year was much hotter. After only 20
miles, I was already crashing and burning.
When that happens in a marathon, you’re looking at an hour of
uncomfortable running. When it happens
in a 24-hour race, you’re looking at 20 hours of uncomfortable running (or
walking). In the afternoon, I started
getting short of breath. I was
experiencing heat stress. I plunged into
Lake Nokomis to cool myself off. That
brought my core temperature down, but triggered some painful abdominal cramps. I had trouble crawling out of the lake. After drying off, I felt much better. I resumed running and felt good as new for
the first mile or two. Then I went back
to feeling like crap. I stopped after
about 60 miles. I took a long break and
went indoors to cool off, I eventually returned to the course to run seven more
miles. After running 111 miles in 1998,
doing just 67 in 1999 was disappointing.
High
By October, I was finally getting back to peak condition. That was just in time for the Chicago
Marathon. Deb and I took a vacation in
Chicago, which included the Sears Tower, Navy Pier, the Magnificent Mile, a
temporary exhibit called “Cows on Parade,” and, of course, Chicago-style pizza. I finished the marathon in 3:21:19, just
missing a Boston qualifier. An
unexpected thrill was learning during the race that the winner set a new World
Record.
2000
High
I returned to FANS again. This
year I was better prepared. By midnight,
I had climbed to third place among the men.
I went through a bad patch during the night, but I put on a strong
finish to hold onto third place with 112.49 miles. It wasn’t a PR, but it was the highest I had
ever placed in a race.
Low
One week after FANS, I went for a run and experienced a sharp pain in my
foot. It was plantar fasciitis. I suspect my training did most of the damage,
and the race was the last straw. I
didn’t do another race that year. It was
almost a year before I could do any serious training.
2001
Low
Just like in 1999, I made an impulsive decision to do the FANS 24-Hour Run,
even though I was just beginning to get back in shape. This time I had realistic goals. I knew I wouldn’t be able to run 100 miles,
but if I could do 90 miles, it would put me within striking distance of 500
lifetime miles at FANS. I wanted to get
there in five years, and this was my 4th year.
Halfway through the race, I started having a pain in the front of my
ankle. It wasn’t severe – yet – but it
was reminiscent of the injury that sidelined me for a few months in 1999. Not wanting to jeopardize of chances of running
the Pike’s Peak Marathon, I stopped after 55.83 miles.
High
In less than four months, I went from out of shape, to finishing the
Pike’s Peak Marathon. This race climbs
from 6,300 feet to just over 14,000 feet in the first half. Then you turn around and descend. The average grade is roughly 11 percent. There aren’t any mountains where I live, so I
did all my training on a treadmill. I
got used to running or walking on steep grades for up the three hours
non-stop. I knew I wouldn’t be prepared
for the elevation, but I wanted to be prepared for the relentless climb. It worked.
I reached the summit in a respectable 3:49. I didn’t do any downhill training,
however. I took for granted that if I
could reach the summit, I could eventually make my way back down. It was slow and painful, but I did it,
finishing the race in 6:23:07.
2002
Low
In March, I ran the Shamrock Marathon in Virginia Beach. This race has a flat course, and I was hoping
to qualify for Boston. The forecast
called for warm temperatures, but I was also expecting a cool breeze off the
ocean. I started at a fast pace, not
realizing it was going to get up to 80 degrees.
The cool breeze never materialized.
As the heat began to wear on me, I started to back off the pace, but the
damage was done. Just past the halfway
mark, I started having symptoms of heat stress.
For the rest of the race, I alternated running and walking. My experience from hot weather ultras made it
possible for me to finish, but the second half of this race was unpleasant.
High
I wanted to qualify for Boston every time I moved into a new age
group. The qualifying time for the 40-45
age group was 3:20. After several failed
attempts, I decided to try the Tucson Marathon, which is slightly downhill for
almost the entire race. On that course,
I had no trouble qualifying. I finished
in 3:16:59.
2003
High
After doing the FANS 24-Hour Race in 1998-2001 and the FANS 12-Hour Race
in 2002, I returned to do the 24-hour race again. I went in thinking I could compete for a top
place, but realized after 12 hours that my pace was unsustainable. Rather than crashing and burning, I backed
off to a sustainable pace, to make sure I would get to 100 miles. I finished with 103.19 miles. After the race, I was inducted into the FANS
500 mile club.
Low
In November, Deb and I took a vacation in Pennsylvania that included
Gettysburg, Hershey and Lancaster. I was
almost halfway through my quest to run marathons in all 50 states. This trip was scheduled around the Harrisburg
Marathon. I had a bad cold during this
trip, which took some of the fun out of our sightseeing. I had a painful sore throat and a deep cough. Both of these symptoms were aggravated by
temperatures in the 30s. The night
before the race, we stayed at a hotel in downtown Harrisburg. On the floor below us, a division of marines
was having a party to celebrate their return from Iraq. The band was set up right below our room, and
the party went all through the night.
Between my cold and the noise, I couldn’t sleep at all. I’m not a confrontational person, but during
the night I went downstairs wearing only jeans, an undershirt, and socks. I walked into the middle of the party and had
words with their colonel. He wouldn’t
budge and was completely unapologetic.
Needless to say, I got no sleep that night. By the time I had to get up, I felt like I
was at death’s door. I really didn’t
feel like running. It didn’t help that I
had to walk a mile to the start, and the temperature was just above
freezing. I told Deb I was seriously
considering staying in bed. Deb, who
normally encourages me to take rest days, said, “We flew all the way to Pennsylvania
so you could do this race. Get your butt
out there and run.” Dragging myself
through that race was a hellish experience, but I finished.
2004
High
In May, I ran the Wyoming Marathon in the Laramie Mountains. This race has a hilly course, with elevations
ranging from 8,000 to 8,800 feet. I set
a goal of 4:22 (10 minutes per mile), knowing the key would be careful
pacing. The race has three long downhill
segments and three long uphill segments.
Going downhill, I did a slow steady run.
Going uphill, I alternated between four minutes of running and two
minutes of walking. There was a brutal
wind chill on one part of the course, and I sometimes had to skip walking
breaks in an effort to stay warm. On the
final uphill stretch, I had to do some extra walking, but I still finished in
4:05:12. That was good for 5th place
overall.
Low
At the beginning of July, I went for a run. I was in a hurry and didn’t bother to do any
stretching. Right away, I noticed one of
my Achilles tendons felt tight. I didn’t
think it was a big deal. The farther I
ran, the worse it felt. I slowed down,
but it got worse. After 3.3 miles, I
turned around. I was running an
out-and-back route, so I still had to run another 3.3 miles to get home. By the time I got home, I could barely walk,
much less run. It was the worst case of
Achilles tendonitis I’ve ever had. I was
sidelined for the rest of the month, and I didn’t get all the way back to normal
training until November.
2005
Low
In May, I ran the Fargo Marathon. Conditions were cold and wet. The weather was almost identical to the 1988
St. Louis Marathon, where I had a DNF. I
finished the race in 3:32:07. The wet
conditions didn’t help, but I was discouraged that I couldn’t break 3:30,
despite a fairly flat course. I had long
regarded 3:30 as the dividing line between a good race and a disappointing
race. In my lifetime win-loss record,
this one went into the loss column.
High
I learned about a fixed time race in Kansas called the Patriots’ Run. It was held each year on September 11. The race started at noon and finished at 9:11
PM, giving you 9 hours and 11 minutes to run as far as you could. I wasn’t really doing ultramarathon training,
but I made a last minute decision to enter the race. Two weeks before the race, I did a long
training run. My intent was to run for five
or six hours, taking regular walking breaks.
I wilted in summer heat on an 80 degree day. Even with walking breaks, I could only manage
four hours. I decided to dial back my
goals for the race. On race day, it was
90 degrees and sunny. Knowing I wasn’t
prepared for that, I started conservatively.
After a few hours, I realized my pace wasn’t sustainable, and I slowed
down. A few of the faster runners had
already lapped me two or three times. By
the time I finished enough laps to equal a marathon, I was really struggling
with heat and fatigue. I wasn’t having
fun. I decided to keep going until I had
completed 43 laps. That would get me to
50K. Then I would stop. When I finally got to 50K, I asked my lap
counter how many laps the leader had. She
flipped through her sheets and said, “Number 138 has 43 laps.” I looked down at my shirt. I was wearing number 138. I was winning. Stunned by this news, I started running
another lap. I told myself, “You can’t
quit while you’re winning.” By the end
of that lap, I made three decisions.
First, I was going to keep running as long as I was in the lead. Second, the moment someone passed me, I was
done. Third, I wouldn’t slow down. If someone was going to catch me, they would
have to earn it. I started having
painful spasms in my calves. They felt
like electric shocks and actually made me jump.
I doubled my salt intake. That
kept my cramps from getting worse, but they never went away. I fought through the pain to maintain my
pace. Only completed laps counted, so I
started paying close attention to my lap times.
It kept looking like I would be just short of having time to complete a
66th lap. I could do it if I skipped the
walking break between by 65th and 66th laps.
If I was going to win, I wanted to go as far as I could. As I finished lap 64, Deb asked me if I had
time for another lap. I said, “I think I
have time for two.” I finished both
laps, giving me a total of 48.06 miles.
It was the first race I ever won.
At the awards ceremony, I learned the second place runner was only one
lap behind me.
2006
Low
Early in the year, I ran the Mardi Gras Marathon in New Orleans. I paced myself for 3:30. It’s a pretty fast course, but I was barely
hanging on in the second half. I
finished in 3:28:47. Afterwards, I had
to wonder, “How much longer can I break 3:30?”
I trained hard, I paced well, I raced hard, and it was a fast
course. Still, I just barely did it.
High
Over the summer, I lost 15 pounds.
I also started biking on the days I wasn’t running. I was only running every other day, so that
effectively doubled my training. That
took my training to a whole new level.
In September, I ran the Clarence Demar Marathon in 3:19:43. I was now in the 45-49 age group, so I only
needed 3:30 to qualify for Boston.
Earlier in the year, when I needed 3:20, I could barely break 3:30. Now that I only needed 3:30, I could suddenly
break 3:20 again. Prior to turning 45, I
had qualified for Boston only four times in 47 attempts. After turning 45, I qualified 42 times in my
next 45 attempts.
2007
High
Encouraged by my race results in late 2006, I decided to give the FANS
24-Hour Run another try. I came in with
my best fitness ever. My goal was to
win. I assumed I might need equal or
exceed the course record, which was 136 miles.
Based on my training, that seemed feasible if everything went
right. (That NEVER happens.) As it got closer to the race, I saw several
top-notch runners were signed up. It
seemed feasible, on paper, that I could break the course record and still not
place in the top five. Of course,
anybody can have a bad day. It’s all too
common for runners to pace themselves poorly or have medical problems. If I ran the race I was capable of running, I
had a chance. Then Paul Hasse signed
up. Paul was a former winner of the
event. He’s also one of the runners who
gave me advice before my first FANS race.
He’s disciplined. I knew he
wasn’t likely to go out too fast and blow up.
I couldn’t see myself beating Paul, so I set my sights on second
place. I started out right on pace for 136
miles. Paul went out a little bit
faster. All the other big guns went out
even faster. After about eight hours,
neither Paul nor I were on the leader board, even though we both on pace to
break the course record. Eventually,
most of the fast runners faded. Then I
began to fade too. I went through a “bad
patch” during which I felt sluggish. I
had to do more walking until I figured out what was wrong. I was overhydrating, resulting in a mild case
of dilutional hyponatremia. I cut back
on my fluid intake and began to feel better.
In the late hours, I picked up my pace again. By now, Paul was in the lead. I quickly moved up to second place, but I
still trailed Paul by seven miles. With
an hour or two to go, I congratulated Paul on his victory. I held on for second place. I finished with 124.81 miles, which is still
my PR.
Low
In October, I ran the Twin Cities Marathon. My training was going well, and I was ready
to challenge the three hour barrier. The
weather was supposed to be somewhat warm, but with overcast skies. I thought a fast time was feasible. At the start, I noticed the skies were
clear. I started fast, but quickly felt
like I was overheating. I gradually
started to back off, but it kept getting hotter. I kept slowing down, but I was still
overheating. It turned out to be much
hotter than I expected. It was the same
day the Chicago Marathon was cancelled because of the heat. I didn’t know it at the time, but the
temperature reached 79 degrees during the race.
The organizers were going to cancel the race if it got up to 80. These conditions are manageable, if you pace
yourself accordingly. I didn’t. I blew up.
Going into this race, I had a streak of six consecutive Boston
qualifiers. That streak ended.
2008
Low
One of my goals for 2008 was to do a 100 mile trail run. I picked the Umstead 100, which is tailor
made for beginners. The course is a 12.5
mile loop that you run eight times. They
also have a 50 mile race, which consists of four loops. If you start the 100 and complete at least
four loops, but don’t complete all eight, you’re automatically listed with the
50 mile finishers. During the winter
months, I did all my training on a treadmill.
Although there are no mountains in this race, it still has a number of
hills. I studied the elevation profile
and programmed my treadmill to simulate the hills. There’s just one problem with that. My treadmill could simulate running uphill,
but not downhill. I didn’t get outdoors
to run on real hills until the last two weeks before the race. That gave me just enough time to beat up my
quads, but not enough time to adapt. I
start the race with sore quads. By the
time I finished the first two laps, my legs were so sore I was almost in
tears. The uphills were no problem, but
the downhills were beating me up. I took
two ibuprofen. That helped a little, but
not enough. After my third lap, I took
two more ibuprofen. That didn’t even
make a dent in the pain. As I start my
fourth lap, I quickly realized it would be my last. I was a 50 miler finisher, but was still
looking for my first 100 mile finish.
High
After failing to finish 100 miles at Umstead, I tried again at the Lean
Horse 100. By now, it was late summer,
and I had several months of outdoor training under my belt. Lean Horse is mostly rails-to-trails. It’s a runnable surface with long gradual
hills, but nothing steep. I studied the
elevation profile and came up with different pacing plans for different sections
of the course. My primary goal was to
break 20 hours. My most ambitious goal
was to break 18 hours, which would allow me to finish before midnight. I ran a strong race, reaching the turnaround
in less than nine hours. It’s net uphill
going out and net downhill coming back, so I had a realistic shot at 18
hours. With 30 miles to go, I still had
a shot, but I had to stop taking walking breaks. By the time I reached the last aid station, I
had climbed into third place, but I was no longer on pace to break 18
hours. A wrong turn in the last few
miles ended any chance of making up the time.
I finished third overall in a time of 18:09:46. I also earned this belt buckle, made with
Black Hills gold.
2009
High
For my Georgia race, I was going to do the Tybee Island Marathon. I don’t usually book flights before entering
a race, but I saw a good airfare to Savannah, so I booked our flights before
registration was open. Registration
never opened. The race was
cancelled. I contacted Tom Adair, who
put me in touch with Scott Ludwig. Scott
was one of the founders of the Darkside Running Club, which was based in
Peachtree City, GA. They have a
certified course on which they hold marathons for club members. In addition to their three annual marathons,
they decided to hold a one-time event on the day the Tybee Island Marathon was
supposed to be held. Instead of going to
Savannah and Tybee Island, Deb and I traveled to Atlanta and Peachtree
City. I got to run my Georgia marathon,
but more importantly, I became a member of the Darkside Running Club. Since then, I’ve gone back to run several
Darkside races.
Low
I enjoyed the Lean Horse 100 so much in 2008, I decided to go back. This time, it was much hotter, I didn’t bring
enough electrolyte pills, and I didn’t have a crew. After only 35 miles, I was suffering from
cramps and heat stress. I almost dropped
out right there. After a short break, I
persuaded myself to keep going, taking it one aid station at a time. Just past 40 miles, I collapsed on the trail. Five miles later, I almost collapsed
again. With the help of another runner’s
crew, I eventually recovered. I went on
to finish, but I was almost five hours slower than the year before.
2010
High
From 1998 to 2010, I was gradually chipping away at
my goal of running marathons in all 50 states. I finished at the Vermont City
Marathon in Burlington. Deb and I had a great vacation in
Burlington and Waterbury. After the
race, we went to a party for members of the 50 States Marathon Club. I was one of two runners celebrating our
first finish of 50 states. The other was
Tamara Smith of Ohio. This was the
perfect way to celebrate reaching this goal.
Low
In July, I ran the University of Okoboji Marathon in Iowa. I knew hot weather was a possibility in a
July race, but it was much worse than I imagined. It got into the 90s during the race. I got through the first half feeling OK. Then there was a three mile stretch that was
sun-exposed and had no aid stations.
After that, I struggled. In the
last seven miles, I cracked like an egg.
This race ended a streak of seven consecutive Boston qualifiers.
2011
High
I had a lot of good races in 2011, including five marathons with times
under 3:10. My highlight, however, was
the Firecracker Triple. This was my
first triple (three marathons in three days).
I went in with modest expectations, but got faster each day. I ran the first race in 3:26:43, the second
in 3:22:53, and the third in 3:18:10. On
day three, I was running on pure emotion.
I had the lowest combined time for the triple.
Low
In September, I ran the Tahoe Triple.
These races aren’t for the faint of heart. They’re full of big hills. I went into the triple with a slight
hamstring pull in one leg. The first
race started with three miles of steep descent.
That made my leg worse. I started
the second race with an Ace bandage around my injured thigh. The first half of the race was downhill. By the time I reached the halfway mark, I had
a pulled hamstring in the other leg as well.
I actually considered stopping to move the bandage from one leg to the
other. After limping through the second
half of that race, I went to the drug store to buy another Ace bandage. I also bought 30 pounds of ice. I was finally desperate enough to take an ice
bath for the first time in my life. You
can’t do the first two races of the Tahoe Triple and then quit! I started the third race with both legs
wrapped fairly tight. My upper legs were
almost completely immobilized. I had to
run using mostly my calves and shins.
The best pace I could manage was 11 minutes per mile. It didn’t matter if it was uphill, downhill
or flat. I only had one gear. I eventually finished that race, but it was
my second slowest marathon to date.
2012
Low
Ever since I started running ultras, I was intrigued by the Western
States 100. In 2012, I finally got into
the race. Early in the year, I had
another hamstring injury. I recovered
before Western States, but didn’t do anywhere near enough terrain-specific training. I was in over my head. I might have been able to finish within the
30 hour time limit if I paced myself that way from the start. I didn’t.
I was trying to finish within 24 hours, to get the silver belt
buckle. This race has several long steep
descents. I took the early descents too
fast and beat up my quads. After 15 miles,
I was already starting to feel some soreness in my quads. By the time I reached the canyons, it was
much worse. I could barely walk
downhill, much less run. My pace got
slower and slower, and I knew I would inevitably miss a cut-off. When I reached Michigan Bluff (55.7 miles),
it was already after dark. Faced with
the prospect of running into another canyon in the dark with no stability in my
legs, I decided it wasn’t prudent to continue.
I wasn’t just disappointed with the DNF.
I also felt like I let everyone down. John was there to crew for me, and another
runner was going to pace me from Foresthill to the finish. It’s not like I could go back and try again
the next year. You have to qualify and
enter a lottery. It can take years before
your name is drawn in the lottery.
High
Over Labor Day weekend, I ran the Flatlanders 6-Hour Rune in Fenton, MO. Fenton is a suburb of St. Louis. I’ve always liked fixed time races, and I
found a ridiculously cheap flight to St. Louis.
I paced well, and I seemed to be among the leaders. I didn’t know exactly how many laps the other
runners had, but I thought I had a shot at winning my age group. When the race was over, I discovered I
won. Ever since my DNF in the 1988 St.
Louis Marathon, I wanted to come back to St. Louis and have a good race to make
up for it. This was it.
2013
High
I had so much fun at the Firecracker Triple in 2011 that I couldn’t pass
up the opportunity to run the Firecracker Quadzilla. It was my first quadzilla (four marathons in four
days). I set an ambitious goal of breaking
3:30 all four days, even though I didn’t know if I was still in good enough
shape to do it three days in a row. I
got a little carried away in the first race, finishing in 3:24:01. On day two, it took effort to finish in
3:27:23. I ran the third race like there
was no tomorrow, and I finished in 3:24:18.
I paid for it on day four. From
the outset, I felt like I was hitting the wall.
I fought to hold the pace for as long as I could, but eventually I
faded. I finished in 3:38:28. While I didn’t break 3:30 four days in a row,
I did keep my average time under 3:30. I
was happy with that.
Low
During the Twin Cities Marathon I had a minor hamstring pull. While it wasn’t that severe of an injury, I
had no time to heal. Over the next 10
weeks, I had 18 more marathons. I was also
making my final push to qualify for Boston in all 50 states. On the weekends I wasn’t running two, three
or four marathons, I was doing races where I was counting on qualifying for
Boston. I was racing on the weekends,
but resting during the week. There were
weekends where I struggled to finish my races, but I kept coming up with big
efforts in the ones where I needed Boston qualifiers. I went into my last marathon of the year needing
a BQ in the Hoover Dam Marathon, so I could get my last remaining state:
Nevada. For the first time since the
injury, I was able to run hills without consciously holding back. Unfortunately, 10 weeks of racing without
training had taken their toll. I was no
longer in good enough shape to qualify for Boston on a hilly course. I faded badly in the second half, missing my
goal by almost 20 minutes.
2014
High
After failing to qualify for Boston at the Hoover Dam Marathon, I had to
find another Nevada race. My next chance
was at the running From an Angel Marathon in January. This course is twice as hilly as Hoover
Dam. If I couldn’t do it there, it would
keep getting tougher. Each Nevada race
was about twice as difficult as the one before it. I struggled in the second half. I almost gave up, but I kept fighting. I finished in 3:29:01. That was cutting it close. I had Boston qualifiers in every state!
Low
From July 4th through December 13th, I ran 34 marathons or ultras. The whole time, I was actually training for
the Across the Years 48-Hour Run. My
goal was to run 200 miles in 48 hours.
That’s an ambitious goal. To have
any chance, I needed to do the whole race without sleep. I planned to alternate between slow running
and fast walking. The faster I could
walk, the less I needed to run. This was
critical, as walking and running emphasize different muscle groups, and I
needed to keep my running muscles fresh.
In December, I had another mild hamstring pull. I felt it most when I tried to walk at a fast
pace. I still did the race, but I
couldn’t go too fast, either walking or running. Because I couldn’t walk fast, I had to spend
more time running, which wore me down.
At the coldest hour of the morning, a winter storm moved through,
bringing rain and strong winds. Having
just reached the 100 mile mark, I decided to call it a day, or in this case,
two days.
2015
High
I had recently joined a new running club called Marathon
Globetrotters. This club is for runners
who want to run marathons in as many different countries as possible. They held their first annual meeting in The
Bahamas, on the weekend of Marathon Bahamas.
Aside from being a vacation in The Bahamas, it was a chance to make new
friends. It was the first time dozens of
club members were all at the same race.
On Saturday, we had a club meeting, where we adopted the club’s Bylaws
and elected officers. On Sunday, we ran
the marathon. The mostly out-and-back
course gave us all a chance to see each other during the race. Conditions were hot and humid. I could have used that as an excuse to take
it easy, but instead I fought hard all the way.
I qualified for Boston and won my age group.
Low
In early May I suffered a groin strain in my right leg. I needed six to eight weeks to heal. I already had dozens of races scheduled,
including several international trips. I
didn’t have any good choices. On one
hand, I could cancel a bunch of races, and eat thousands of dollars in travel
costs. I would also have to give up on
several long-term goals. On the other
hand, I could keep racing with an injury that would probably get worse. I chose to keep racing. By the end of the year, I had additional
health problems. At times, the groin
strain in my right leg was overshadowed by other issues, but that was the
injury that started everything. I
reached my goals, but paid a price. From
September on, all my marathon times were between five and six hours. I’m finally done racing, but I don’t know how
long it will take to heal.
