Race Report: Savage Seven, Day 3

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

Race Report: 2019 Savage Seven, Day 2

Today was the second day of the Savage Seven, which is a series of seven marathons on seven consecutive days.  I missed the first day of the series.  For me, today was the first day of four in a row.

I went to bed early Thursday night and slept well for about an hour and a half.  Then I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep.  I was too hot.  That often happens after I eat a big dinner.  In retrospect, I should’ve set the thermostat a degree or two colder.  I should’ve slept under just a sheet.  I should’ve kept the ceiling fan on.  I made those adjustments during the night, but it took hours to get back to sleep.  When I did, it was just a series of short naps.  I knew I could shake off the poor night’s sleep for one race, but I’ll have to get more sleep before the other races, or it’s going to catch up to me.

The race started at 6:00 AM, but I had to arrive earlier to pick up my race packet.  The drive time from my hotel was about 20 minutes, but I allowed extra time, since I was driving in the dark, and I had never been there before.

I had to leave my hotel before they started their breakfast service, but I came prepared.  I made some tea and had some of the home-made cinnamon bread that I brought from home.

These races were originally organized by Chuck Savage, but now the race director is Jc Santa Teresa.  Jc knows me, so he knew I would be faster than most of the other runners.  When he saw me in the start area, he went out of his way to make sure I understood the layout of the course.  I appreciated that, since I was worried I might be out in front, running by myself.  I was nervous about having to find all the turns in the dark on a course I had never seen before.  Jc sent us a diagram of the course a few days ago, but I knew it wasn’t to scale and might distort the shape of the course.

Our course was a 5.14 mile circuit.  For the marathon, we started with an out-and-back that was about a quarter mile each way.  Then we ran five laps of the full circuit.  There was also a 50K that did six laps and a half marathon that did two laps with a longer out-and-back.

The course consisted of paved trails through a local greenway.  We started with a short spur than led us to the first of two loops that formed a figure eight.  After the second loop, we had a longer spur that led us to the turnaround point.  Coming back, we went on the other side of the two loops. There were several intersecting trails that we didn’t take.  Turns were marked by arrows made with flour.

I’ll wear the same race bib for all four days, so today was the only day I needed to do packet pickup.  One odd feature of the race bib is that the timing chip isn’t attached to it.  The chips can be reused for other races, so we’ll keep our race bibs, but we’ll return our timing chips at the end of the series.  In my case, I’ll return it after day five.

During pre-race announcements, Jc mentioned that Nick Nicholson ran his 1000th marathon in four years at yesterday’s race.  Then he introduced two other runners who are doing their 1000th marathons during this series, as well as a few reaching other big milestones.

Sunrise wasn’t until well after 7:00, so I had to start the race with a flashlight.  In some ways, a headlamp would’ve been more convenient, but I only needed a light for the first lap.  If I wore a headlamp, I’d either need to wear it for the whole race, or I’d have to take the time to drop it off at my car.  The flashlight would easily fit in my fanny pack when I didn’t need it any more.

The temperature was 62 degrees at the start and warmed to 69 by the time I finished.  That was warm enough to take the guesswork out of what to wear, but not so warm that I had to worry about getting hot.

The last time I ran a four-day series, I ran at a pace that felt somewhat leisurely.  I didn’t set any time goals.  I probably would have done the same thing with this series, but I noticed something as I was sorting my past results in a spreadsheet.  I’ve broken four hours 246 times.  If I could break four hours in all four of these races, I would reach 250.  It was an ambitious goal, but it seemed plausible.  Many of my recent marathon times have been in the 3:20s.  I could run a minute per mile slower and still be well under four hours.  That seemed like a pace that shouldn’t take too much out of me, so my goal for today was to break four hours.

As I started the initial out-and-back, I quickly got out in front of all the other runners.  Then I noticed there was one other runner close to me.  I eased up a bit to let him catch up, and we ran together.

His name was Robin.  He’s from Switzerland, and this was also his first time running this course.  With two of us looking for the course markings, we were less likely to miss a turn.

There were two aid stations.  One was where we started; the other was at the far side of the circuit.  Each one had water, Gatorade, and a variety of snacks.  I didn’t know if they would have enough cups for everybody to be using new cups on every lap, so I had a reusable cup clipped to my fanny pack.  When Robin and I finished our initial out-and-back, I filled my cup with water from the large dispenser, rather than grabbing a cup off the table.  When we were both done at the aid station, we started the first full lap together.

From my effort, I suspected we were going faster than a four hour pace, but I didn’t know for sure.  We were certainly going slower than my usual race pace.  I just didn’t know how much slower.  I was wearing a watch with GPS, but it would have been awkward to read it in the dark.  I was content to wait until we finished our first lap.  By then, there would be enough light to see my watch.

The aid station at the start/finish area had a chip transponder, but the aid station at the far end of the circuit didn’t.  Instead, a volunteer manually recorded the bib numbers of the runners each time they got there.  There was enough light at the aid station to read my watch.  Without doing a precise calculation, it seemed like we were roughly on pace for four hours.  I was disappointed.  I really thought we were going faster.

On our way back, we were initially by ourselves.  Then we started to see runners who were still outbound.  I wasn’t expecting such a long section of two-way traffic.  On the course diagram, it looks like the two loops made up most of the course, and the out-and-back section beyond them was really short.  In fact, the loops aren’t all that big, and the out-and-back was about a mile in each direction.  Not knowing that, I was afraid we missed a turn.  Eventually, we reached the first loop.  When I saw the turn marked with flour, I knew we were still on course.

By the end of the first circuit, there was enough light to see.  I put my flashlight in my fanny pack.  Robin turned his off.  I didn’t notice if he had someplace to put it away.

Florida has a reputation for being flat, so I expected a completely flat course.  It’s fairly flat, but there are some gradual slopes.  I couldn’t see them in the dark, but I could feel the difference.  Sometimes the pace felt more tiring; sometimes it felt really easy.

When we got back to the main aid station, I drank some Gatorade.  Robin had to get something from his drop bag.  He might have been dropping off his flashlight, but I didn’t know.  Looking at my watch, I noticed we were right on pace for four hours.  I wanted to wait for Robin before heading out, but I didn’t know how long he would be.  I also didn’t know if breaking four hours was a goal for him.  Not wanting to fall behind the pace, I started the second lap by myself.  I was running by myself for the rest of the race.

My intention was to check my pace at the end of one lap and see how it compared to a four hour pace.  Then I was supposed to ask myself how that pace felt.  Was it easy enough for the first day of four, or would it take too much out of me?  Once I saw I was right on pace for four hours, it was like flipping a switch in my brain.  I committed to the goal of breaking four hours.  I forgot to ask myself how it felt.  In fact, it didn’t feel easy enough.  I felt like I was working.  I wasn’t working as hard as I usually do, but I also wasn’t staying within my comfort zone.

On my second and subsequent laps, I could see the course clearly.  Already, I had a good feel for where I was and what to expect.

Although nobody was running with me, I frequently saw other runners.  On a multiple loop course, you have many opportunities to see runners who are going at different paces.  That was especially true on the long out-and-back segment before and after the far aid station.  I knew a lot of the other runners.  They’re the same runners you often see at other multi-day series.

With a firm goal of four hours and nobody alongside me to temper my impulses, I sped up.  The next time I reached the far aid station, I got there quicker than I expected.  I was also faster on the second half of the loop.

Toward the end of my second lap, I felt a light sprinkling of rain drops.  It wasn’t enough to be a big deal, but I was surprised.  There wasn’t any rain in the forecast.  Looking up, I saw a mixture of blue sky and thin white clouds.  I didn’t see any dark clouds.  Within a few minutes, the rain stopped.

Although I was wearing a watch with GPS, I really wasn’t using it to keep track of my pace.  It beeps at the end of each mile and shows me my split for that mile, but I have to look for it.  The beep isn’t very loud, and most of the time I didn’t even notice it.  The only times I read my watch were at the aid stations.  I could’ve done that with a plain stopwatch.

Because of the initial out-and-back, the midpoint of the third lap was about a quarter mile past the halfway point.  If I was on pace for a four hour finish, I would get there in about 2:02.  I got there in 1:57.  I was on pace for 3:50.  I checked my time again at the end of my third lap.  I was still on pace for 3:50.

About half a mile into my fourth lap, I noticed some tightness in one of my calves.  Was I running hard enough to start getting sore muscles with almost 10 miles to go?  That seemed unlikely.  Usually the first muscles to get sore will be my quads.  My calves don’t usually get sore, but they’re the muscles most prone to cramp if I overheat or have an electrolyte imbalance.

Then it dawned on me.  I wasn’t concerned about temperatures in the 60s, but I didn’t take the humidity seriously.  Before the race, it was 100 percent.  I had no reason to believe it had dropped significantly.  That explained why I felt like I was working to sustain a pace that should have felt easy.

At this point, I could slow down by a minute per mile, and I would still break four hours.  I gave myself permission to ease up, but I don’t think I was listening.  I actually sped up.

Only one thing slowed me down.  I heard my drinking cup hit the pavement.  I initially assumed the cup came loose from the rubber strap that holds it in place.  That happened once before in another race.  This time, it somehow came unclipped from my fanny pack.

I picked it up, clipped it back onto my fanny pack, and resumed running, but I made a decision.  For the next three days, I’m going to leave it at the hotel and just use the disposable cups.  They seem to have plenty.  It might not be as eco-friendly, but this cup is a souvenir from the Beer Lovers’ Marathon, and I don’t want to lose it.

At most of the aid stations, I just drank Gatorade.  The next time I reached the far aid station, I paused long enough to eat a cookie and talk to the aid station volunteer.  As I resumed running, I looked at my watch.  If my only goal was to break four hours, I had all the time in the world.  By now, however, I was starting to latch onto another goal.  I wanted to run negative splits.  If I was serious about breaking four hours on four straight days, the smartest thing to do was to slow down.  I shouldn’t expend any more energy than necessary to break four hours.  By now, I was assuming that was no longer a realistic goal.  With that in mind, I was taking it one day at a time.  I was having a good race, and I wanted to enjoy the day.

As I left the aid station, I felt like I was going at a sluggish pace.  I may have been at first, but it didn’t take long to get back into my rhythm.  I wasn’t as fast coming back, but I was still running at a four hour pace. It’s the pace I should’ve been running all along.

Toward the end of that lap, I felt rain again.  It was still only a light sprinkling.  I looked at the sky again.  This time, I saw dark clouds.

The rain never got any heavier.  It seemed like it sprinkled lightly for a few minutes and then stopped again.  For the rest of the race, the pavement looked wet.  Was it still raining?  I no longer felt it, but would I?  With the 100 percent humidity, I felt wet whether it was raining or not.

With one lap to go, I realized I would run negative splits if I just kept running at the same pace as the second half of my fourth lap.  In fact, I sped up.  That wasn’t a conscious decision.  When you run a multiple-loop course, you naturally get excited when you start the last lap.  The anticipation of finishing gets you pumped up.  Without intending to, I picked up my pace.  When I got to the far aid station for the last time, it was obvious I would run negative splits.

I also ran fast coming back.  For the first time in the race, I noticed when my watch beeped to indicate it was recording a split.  I ran the 25th mile in 8:27.  From there on, I could tell I was running faster.  My breathing was no longer relaxed.  I knew I was speeding up, but you don’t slow down with a mile to go.

I didn’t care if I was being smart.  I was having fun.  As I approached the finish, I yelled, “Number 30 to control tower:  requesting permission to land.”  I finished in 3:46:47.  I ran negative splits by three minutes.

Since leaving Robin behind at the beginning of the second lap, I had been in first place.  In a series like this, most people aren’t trying to compete.  There isn’t any award for first place.  Everybody gets a finisher medal.  That’s it.  Still, it’s a win.

I didn’t know what the finisher medals would look like.  No surprise.  It’s the same logo that’s on the T-shirt.  The 50K, marathon and half marathon all have the same medal.  I think it’s the same medal for every race in the series.

I was still in the finish area when Robin finished.  He didn’t break four hours.  To stay on pace, I would’ve had to leave him behind at some point.  It would have been nice to run together longer.  I enjoyed having someone to talk with.

As I was walking to my car, it started drizzling.  Now that I was no longer running, it felt cold.  As I drove back to the hotel, the drizzle quickly became a steady rain.  I’m glad I didn’t have to run in that.

Sometimes, in a series like this, I’ll take an ice bath to minimize the inflammation in my legs.  I considered it, but my hands were already turning white.  Instead, I just took a warm bath and massaged my legs.

I don’t expect to break four hours in my remaining three races.  I expect tomorrow to be more difficult.  I’ll have to wait as see how I feel tomorrow, but if I don’t think I can run at the same pace, I may just stay in my comfort zone.

When I went to recharge my watch, I discovered my charging cable isn’t in my bag.  I apparently forgot to pack it.  I didn’t really need that watch today, so I’ll use my regular stopwatch for the next three days.

For what it’s worth, Florida is the 10th state where I’ve been either first overall or first male in a marathon or ultra.  It’s worth noting that my marathon “wins” have all been in races where most people aren’t trying to compete.  I do have some hard-fought wins in fixed-time ultras that were competitive.

 

Race Statistics

Distance:  26.2 miles

Time:  3:46:47

Average Pace:  8:39   

Lifetime Marathons/Ultras:  395

Florida Marathons:  4

Sub 4 Hour Marathons:  247

States with Wins:  10

Series Preview: 2019 Savage Seven

Over the next four days, I’ll be running four marathons.  These races are part of a series called the Savage Seven.  This is a series of seven marathons in seven days.  This series is held annually, beginning the day after Christmas and continuing through New Year’s Day.

The Savage Seven is held in Ocala, FL.  To be there for day one, I would’ve needed to fly to Florida on Christmas Day.  I opted to skip day one, so I could wait until the day after Christmas to fly to Florida.  I also plan to skip the last two days of the series, so I can fly home on New Year’s Eve and be home for New Year’s Day.

Although I’m only doing four of the seven marathons, that’s enough for me to achieve my goal.  I want to run a quadzilla (four marathons in four days) in Florida.  Why do I want to run a quadzilla in Florida?  That goes back to a conversation I had with Steve Walters way back in 2013.

In 2013, I ran the Seattle Quadzilla.  On the second day of that series, I was wearing a T-shirt from the Firecracker Quadzilla in Oregon, which I ran earlier in the year.  Another runner saw my T-shirt and said, “Hey.  He’s a quadzilla expert.”  That started a conversation with Steve.  We were wondering how many states there were where you could run a quadzilla.

The Seattle Quadzilla was my second quadzilla state (Washington).  The first was Oregon.  In 2015, I ran the first four days of the Day of the Dead Series.  That was a seven day series in Las Cruces, NM.  That gave me quadzillas in three states.

In 2017, I ran the four day Aloha Series, giving me a quadzilla in Hawaii.  Earlier this year, I ran the four day Minnesota Brothers Trail Series, giving me a quadzilla in Minnesota.  Florida will be the sixth state where I’ve run a quadzilla.

I’m a member of the 50 States Marathon Club.  The goal is to run marathons in all 50 states, but you can join as soon as you’ve run marathons in at least 10 states.  I figured if I could run quadzillas in at least 10 states, I could be the founding member of the 50 States Quadzilla Club and have a special T-shirt made.

It’s not currently possible to run quadzillas in all 50 states, but you never know what the future holds.  Besides Oregon, Washington, New Mexico, Hawaii, Minnesota, and Florida, I can think of as many as eight other states where have been quadzilla opportunities at one time or another.  I’ll do as many as I can.  For now, it’s more of an amusing notion than a serious goal.

Delta had direct flights to Orlando, Tampa, or Jacksonville.  Rental cars were expensive in all three locations.  Considering both airfare and rental car rates, it worked out best to fly to Jacksonville and drive from there.

When I got to the airport, the line for bag drop was the longest I’ve ever seen it.  Apparently, the day after Christmas is the busiest travel day of the year.  Fortunately, I got to the airport really early.

When I got to Jacksonville, Alamo was out of cars.  I could either rent a truck or go to Avis, who agreed to match Alamo’s rates.  It took longer than usual, but I eventually got a car and started the two hour drive to Ocala.  Maybe traveling the day after Christmas wasn’t such a good idea after all.

The race venue is on the east side of Ocala, but most of the hotels are on the west side.  I think there are a couple of budget motels closer to the race venue, but I chose to stay at a hotel that’s 10 miles away, so I could have a kitchenette with a full-size refrigerator.  I’ll need to leave before the hotel starts its breakfast service, so I wanted to be able to buy groceries to fix my own breakfasts.  I also brought a loaf of home-made cinnamon bread from home.