Today was the third day of the Savage Seven, although for
me, it was day two of four. I went into
this race not having any idea how fast or slow I would run. I just had to wait and see how I felt.
Because I already had my race packet, I didn’t have to get
to the race venue as early. I still had
to set an early alarm, but not quite as early as yesterday.
I slept better last night.
I think I got about seven hours of sleep. I can’t quite say that I felt well-rested,
but I definitely felt better than I did Friday morning. When I got out of bed, I felt some soreness
in my legs. I regretted not taking an
ice bath after the first race.
When I got up, the temperature was 68 degrees. That’s several degrees warmer than
yesterday. The humidity was 100 percent
again.
I didn’t bring all the same gear. I opted to leave my reusable cup at the hotel
and just grab cups at the aid stations.
I also used a regular watch, instead of my GPS watch.
Just before the race, I checked my weather app again. The humidity was still 100 percent. My app also said it would start raining in
117 minutes. That would be about halfway
through the race.
Like yesterday, we started out running in the dark. Unlike yesterday, there wasn’t anyone else
running at my pace. On the plus side, I
was already familiar with the course.
As I started the initial out-and-back, my legs were a bit
stiff. I started tentatively, but
gradually loosened up.
The turnaround of the initial out-and-back was marked with a
flashlight that was shining towards me.
It was foggy. The bright light
shining into the fog made it difficult to see the pavement, even with my flashlight.
By the time I got back to the start/finish area, I no longer
noticed the soreness in my legs.
I had to run the first lap by myself, so it was more important
than ever to look for the course markings.
I ran this same circuit five times yesterday, so it was already
familiar. I knew where to expect the
turns, but things have a way of looking different in the dark. I had only run this circuit once in the dark,
and I had someone with me. This was my first
time running it alone.
People running the half marathon didn’t start with the
out-and-back, so they affectively started the first lap with a half mile head
start. After negotiating the first two
or three turns, I passed a handful of people who were walking the half
marathon.
There are a few turns early in the loop, but then there’s an
out-and-back section that’s about a mile long.
I thought I was past all the turns, but then I went a long time without
seeing any other runners. I continued shining
my flashlight at the pavement to look for arrows made with flour.
The longer I went without seeing arrows or other runners,
the more I wondered if I missed a turn.
There are several intersecting paths.
If I missed a turn, I could go a long way without realizing it. In daylight, I would recognize enough of my surroundings
to make it obvious if I was on the right path.
Before dawn, you just don’t see enough of your surroundings. Nothing looks familiar.
I expected to be passing more runners. When I didn’t, I got more and more insecure. I asked myself how I would know for sure if I
was off course. Yesterday, it took me
about 28 minutes to reach the aid station at the turnaround. There were a few things I would recognize
shortly before getting there. If I went
28 minutes without seeing the aid station or anything else familiar, I would
have to backtrack.
I looked at my watch.
So far, I was less than 20 minutes into the race. I couldn’t draw any conclusions yet. As if on cue, my flashlight seemed to get
dim. I didn’t change the batteries since
yesterday. Now I faced the prospect of
getting as much as a mile off course and not having any light.
I ran a bit farther and then saw an arrow. It’s worth noting that most of the arrows are
used to mark turns. They’re far less
frequent on a long stretch with no turns.
Now, I finally had evidence that I was going the right way. About a minute later, I saw lights ahead of
me. I was catching up to three more runners.
After I passed them, I once again seemed to go a long way
without seeing anyone. At least by now,
I knew I was still on course. As for my
flashlight, it was still working. It’s
possible it was a little dimmer, but it was still giving me enough light to
see. It’s also possible that my mind was
just playing tricks on me.
I eventually saw a port-o-potty that’s right next to the
course. I recognized that from
yesterday. Just past it, I reached a
road where we turn left. As soon as you turn,
you can see the aid station.
I had already passed six or seven runners, but I expected to
see more. Everyone else who was doing
the marathon was behind me, but everyone doing the 50K or half marathon started
this lap ahead of me. By now, I should’ve
seen everyone. If they were still ahead
of me, I would see them by now, because I could see the aid station. If they were already on their way back, I
would’ve seen them going the other way on the long out-and-back. I know some of the 50K runners took an early
start, but at least one started with the marathon. Why didn’t I see him by now? I knew by now that I didn’t miss any turns,
but I wondered if other people got lost.
As I reached the aid station, the volunteer asked me my number
and wrote it on one of the cups, so I could use the same cup every lap. I was tempted to look at my watch, but I
decided to wait until the end of the first lap.
As I returned from the aid station, I saw lots of runners on
their way out. In particular, I saw
everyone else who was doing the marathon.
Nobody was anywhere close to me.
I didn’t know if I would break four hours today, but I was going to win
the race by a wide margin.
I was sweating like crazy.
My flashlight is attached to a lanyard that I wear around my wrist, to
keep it from hitting the ground if I drop it.
I could feel it bouncing on my wrist.
I don’t usually notice it, but it was saturated with sweat.
As I got closer to the end of the first lap, there was
enough light that I could turn off my flashlight. Then I reached a junction where I couldn’t
remember if I was supposed to turn. I
turned on my light one last time, and I stopped briefly to look for the arrows. After confirming I was supposed to go straight,
I turned off my flashlight for good and put it in my fanny pack. It was a relief to not have that sweaty
lanyard bouncing on my wrist.
I always wear sunglasses during races for UV
protection. Because we started in the
dark, I was using clear lenses. The high
humidity caused them to fog up. Clearly
today’s conditions were tougher than yesterday’s. If I couldn’t break four hours, I would have
an excuse.
Near the end of the lap, I saw the race director, Jc. I told him about my concern that someone
might have missed a turn.
After finishing my first lap, I finally looked at my
watch. I was two minutes faster than
yesterday. That was a pleasant
surprise. I asked myself how I
felt. Aside from feeling the humidity
more, I felt about the same as yesterday.
That was also a pleasant surprise.
I reminded myself that I ran faster than necessary
yesterday, and I certainly didn’t need to be going faster today. As I started my second lap, I told myself to relax. That’s easier said than done.
Now that it was daylight, I could see the pavement more
clearly. It was wet everywhere. It may have rained during the night, but I
don’t remember noticing any wet pavement before the race. I think it was wet from condensation. The air was saturated and the temperature
might have dropped since we started, causing dew.
About two miles into my second lap, I started to notice some
pressure building in my intestines.
Everything I ate yesterday was working its way through my system. I might need to make a bathroom stop during
the race.
I was almost to that port-o-potty that’s right next to the
course, but I remembered someone saying yesterday that it needs cleaning. I wouldn’t stop there unless I needed to. In the start/finish area, there’s a building
with real bathrooms, but it’s a short distance off the course. Stopping there would take extra time.
When I got to the far aid station again, I recognized the
volunteer there. It was “George from
Georgia.” He ran yesterday, but was
volunteering today. I didn’t recognize
him on my first lap, because it was still dark.
Before leaving the aid station, I looked at my watch. I was one minute faster than yesterday.
Yesterday, I ran the first lap at exactly the right pace,
but then I sped up. Today I started
faster, but I wasn’t accelerating. I
felt comfortable with my pace. I was
confident I could sustain it.
At the end of my second lap, I made note of exactly how far
it was from the course to the course to the building with bathrooms. I didn’t need to use the bathroom yet, but I
wanted to know what my options were.
As I left the aid station to begin my third lap, I saw that
I was still about one minute ahead of yesterday’s pace. I told myself again to relax.
As I neared the midpoint of my third lap, it occurred to me
that the rain could be starting any time now.
No rain so far. I looked up at
the sky. It was a mixture of thin white
clouds and blue sky. It didn’t look like
rain, but that’s exactly what the sky looked like when we had our first passing
shower yesterday.
Before reaching the aid station, I passed the port-o-potty
again. I knew I would pass it again on
the way back from the aid station, so I waited to see what my time was. When I got to the aid station, I was about
five minutes ahead of a four hour pace.
That was the same as yesterday.
That was enough time for a bathroom stop, but I didn’t know if my legs
would be stiff after stopping for that long.
The pressure in my intestines was building, but I decided I could hold
out at least until the end of the lap.
At the end of that lap, I also made the decision to wait a
little longer. I checked my pace
again. I was back to being a minute
ahead of yesterday’s pace. By this time
in yesterday’s race, I had decided to try for negative splits. That wasn’t a priority today. I just wanted to break four hours. I told myself to relax (again). This time, I think I actually listened.
At the midpoint of my fourth lap, I was a minute slower than
yesterday. It’s worth noting, however, that
yesterday I ran fastest in the first half of the fourth lap. I didn’t slow down today. I just didn’t speed up.
As I neared the end of that lap, I started to notice tiny
drops touching my arms. It was less than
drizzle. It was more of a mist.
My time at the end of four laps was about the same as yesterday. To break four hours, I just had to run the
last 5.14 miles in 56 minutes. As long
as I didn’t start walking, it was hard to imagine not breaking four hours. My only concern was the possible need for a
bathroom stop. I put that off for a
little longer.
In my last lap, the mist turned to drizzle. It wasn’t enough to bother me. I was so sweaty, I barely noticed it.
On the out-and-back section of the route, there was a
noticeable hill. I usually picked up my
effort going up the hill. This time I
didn’t. As I reached the port-o-potty, I
was much more tempted to stop, but I waited until I was on my way back from the
aid station.
At the aid station, I was a bit slower than yesterday, but I
still had more than 33 minutes to run the last 2.57 miles. I made a tentative decision to stop at the port-o-potty. At the very least, I would look inside to
assess how clean it was and check if there was paper. Then I saw it was occupied. That made my decision easy. I had to hold out until the end of the
race. That also made it easier to resist
the temptation to try for negative splits.
I didn’t want to push too hard.
I once again relaxed going up the hill, but I couldn’t help but
speed up on the downhill side. That
happened every lap. The faster pace
carried over into the flat section that followed.
The course incorporates a 5K loop, but adds an out-and-back
that’s a mile each way. As I finished
the out-and-back for the last time, I knew what I had left was roughly half of
the 5K loop. The 5K loop has markers
painted on the pavement for every half mile.
A short time after getting onto the 5K loop, I saw the 2 mile
marker. I knew where the finish line
was. They have a checkered line painted
across the pavement. I would pass it
about a tenth mile before reaching the start/finish line for the marathon. That meant I had about 1.2 miles to go.
Knowing I was that close, the anticipation of finishing
caused me to speed up. Yesterday, I felt
the same thing with a full lap to go. At
least today I was able to wait until I only had 1.2 miles to go before
unnecessarily speeding up.
I passed the 2.5 mile marker. Then, eventually, I passed the checkered
line. Looking ahead, I could see the
timing tent next to our finish line. I
got there in 3:48:34. I broke four hours
again. I got the overall win again. I even ran negative splits again, although
only by a minute.
As I expected, the finisher medal was the same as yesterday,
but today they had a different ribbon. I
now expect they’ll have a different color every day.
Before leaving the finish area, I drank two cups of Gatorade
and ate part of a grilled cheese sandwich.
I also made a long overdue bathroom stop.
As I was talking to my friend Marsha, I dropped a cup on the
ground. She offered to pick it up, but I
quickly picked it up myself. My quads
were already getting sore and stiff. Avoiding
using them would only make it worse.
After squatting down to pick up the cup, I did another squat just for
good measure.
I realized I had to take an ice bath today if I want to have
any chance of breaking four hours again tomorrow. The soreness was already setting in, and it
would take me 20 minutes to drive back to the hotel. Ideally, you want to get into an ice bath as
soon as possible. It wouldn’t do
anything about the soreness I was already experiencing, but it could prevent
delayed onset muscle soreness that would continue developing over the next 24
hours.
When I got back to the hotel, I drank two cups of chocolate milk
to continue refueling. It’s a quick way
to rehydrate, replace carbs, and get a little protein. Then I started preparing my ice bath.
Ideally you want to start with a tub of cold water, filled
just high enough to cover your legs.
Then you add about 30 pounds of ice.
The faucet on my tub had a design that made it difficult to get water that
was completely cold. The best I could do
was to get water that was only slightly warm.
To compensate for the warm water, I added more ice.
I have an insulated bag that holds about 15 pounds of ice. I made five trips to the ice machine. That’s 75 pounds of ice. It brought down the temperature of the water
and still left a layer of ice floating on top.
You can’t be timid about getting into an ice bath. If you try to get in slowly, you’ll change
your mind. You have to sit in the tub in
one quick motion, completely submerging your legs. That’s the easy part. The hard part is staying in it. It’s intensely cold. It’s so cold it hurts.
To get the full benefit of an ice bath you should stay in it
for at least 10 minutes, but no more than 20 minutes. I usually do the full 20 minutes, but this
was the coldest ice bath I’ve ever done.
I stayed in it for 15 minutes.
The water was so cold that the ice wasn’t melting at all. When I got out, there was still about 30
pounds of ice floating on the water.
My muscles were so cold that my quads burned when I stood up
to get out of the tub. I dried off carefully
and put on my swim suit to head outside where they had a hot tub. My legs were as red as a lobster, and walking
was difficult. The hot tub felt good. It wasn’t too hot, so I was able to sit in it
for a long time. After my muscles warmed
up, I massaged them. I’ll still have
some soreness tomorrow, but not nearly as much as I would without the ice
bath. I’ve decided I really want to go
for another sub four tomorrow.
Now I just need some pizza.
Race Statistics
Distance: 26.2 miles
Time: 3:48:34
Average Pace: 8:43
Lifetime Marathons/Ultras:
396
Florida Marathons: 5
Sub 4 Hour Marathons:
248
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