Love Handles (CIM report - long version)

My goal for December is to grow love handles. And I will approach this goal with as much seriousness and determination as I approached my marathon training this fall. So it is with much pride that I can report a) not having run since Sunday; and b) having had peach cobbler and vanilla ice cream for breakfast this morning.

I'm posting the full version of my race report below. Actually it is more a weekend report as the weekend and the race are inseparable. I do break the report into sections, so if you're just interested in the geeky parts you can go right to the middle section. I won't mind, as I often skip to the running parts in other people's blogs.

Reading over my race account, there is not much drama there. The only exception may be whether I would hit my dream time, but if you've been keeping up with me you'll know the end already. Otherwise, when I run marathons I get very focused on execution, and so I miss much of the stuff that goes on around me and makes race reports much more readable. But on the other hand one of the most gratifying parts of this race was that I executed well. In this respect, I follow the examples of John W's, Ryan's and Paul B's races earlier this fall. Thanks, guys.

This report will be long enough without me prolonging this preamble. But if you make it to the end you'll be rewarded with pictures that I posted yesterday.

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Pre Race

Much of this race report, or rather this weekend report, will function as a chronicle so that I can come back to it someday and refresh my sievelike memory with details that will have been long forgotten. Perhaps of most interest to other runners, other than just having more material about running to read, is my weekend as a one-man experiment on the effects of overly lax race preparation of executing the actual marathon itself.

Perhaps the key component to pre-marathon preparation is getting enough sleep. Followers of this blog have already heard me grouse enough on how this just didn’t happen on this training cycle. I had at least hoped to make up for it some on these last two night before the race.

Alas, USAir saw to it that would not happen on Friday. Rebecca and I flew out to San Jose (the flights there are much cheaper there than to Sacramento) with the intention of getting in, getting a hotel room, and continuing our journey via rented car on Saturday. But our flight out was delayed by over an hour, meaning that we missed our connection in Las Vegas and had to wait several hours for the next flight out. Even the slots couldn’t keep us amused for that long, especially after our new connecting flight was delayed on top of that. Long story short, we got into San Jose at 2 am. By 2:45 it became clear that USAir had sent Rebecca’s bag to some destination other than San Jose. It was well past 3 when we plopped down, tired and frustrated, in the hotel closest to the airport. Taking into account the time change, we’d been up for over 24 hours.

Not surprisingly, our start on Saturday was a bit later than planned. This was compounded by logistical oversight #1 - my California geography was a bit off as I now learned it was a good 100 mile drive out to Sacramento. But after we loaded up on music and coffee it became a road trip fueled by a determination not to let the logistics get us down. A beautiful sunny day amidst the dry rolling hills helped these efforts immensely, and spirits were high as we blew into Sacramento and did the usual expo and check-out-the-course stuff. After that we headed out to Jackson, a town in the “Gold Country” outside of Sacramento where we checked into the Gate House Inn and ate a pasta dinner that couldn’t be beat at Buscaglia’s – cannelloni washed down by some excellent local cabernet.

Sleep came a little later than planned and was rudely interrupted at 4 am when the phone rang and a courier informed us that he was waiting downstairs with Rebecca’s bag (remember the bag?). This compounded logistical oversight #2 – I didn’t realize CIM had a 7 am start. This became compounded by logistical oversight #3 – I figured a 5:30 departure would get me to the start in time, but this became increasingly doubtful as the country road from Jackson to Folsom just kept going. Rebecca was panicking (so I wouldn’t have to), and responded with some SPRNTC fast (see caption on 2^nd picture below) driving to get to the runner drop off, a mile from the start, at 7:45. This proved to be just the right time for a brisk warm up and a stop behind the bushes, with five minutes to spare to the gun. This actually worked out ideally timewise, and with the adrenaline pulsing through my body I didn’t feel tired at all.

The Race

Mike hollers at me pretty much as soon as I get to the corral. We exchang some geeky running talk, strategize a bit, and get ready to run. Back in the day marathon starts would be giddy affairs, like the start of a long journey. Now, wiser, I start them reluctantly, knowing the pain that will be involved – the only questions being what kind and how much. But opening miles are also borrowed time – running should be easy and relaxed. This being California, there is very little jostling or pushing around at the start and Mike and I fall into goal pace pretty quickly, with some assistance from his Garmin GPS watch that provided pace times which, reading his report, gave him some grief related to its ultimate reliability – grief which he graciously kept to himself. I have a good natural sense of pace, so when mile 1 passes in 5:55 I am pleased. I have never hit goal pace before at mile 1 and this now gives me a reference point for the upcoming miles. So while Mike approaches pace methodically, I take an intuitive approach. Mike’s running commentary on the goings on about us offset my more taciturn approach. He guesses at this point that there are about fifty folks in front of us, and notes that our goal pace should put us in the top 20, meaning that if we hold on most of those folks would come back to us. For awhile we run in a pack with the lead women, and when someone shouts out “you’re the first women” he shoots back that he has never before been so insulted. This looseness is facilitated by, and helps us keep, a good steady pace – miles 2-5 went in 5:53; 5:52; 5:57; and 5:52. This makes for a 29:29 cumulative time – one second off of 2:35 pace. Perfect.

Miles 6-10 go by in a similarly uneventful manner, and my memory of these miles is largely a blur. Mike and I run abreast for most of this time, sticking together as we hook up and then turn loose a steady procession of other runners. I was glad we had prearranged running together, as this now proves to be more than a marriage of convenience. The course, a mostly straight road of rolling hills heading to downtown Sacramento, is all it was billed to be. Splits for this segment are 5:53; 5:54; 5:55; 5:52; 5:51. Total cumulative time at mile 10 is 58:55 – 5 seconds quicker than goal pace and still right where I want to be. I have the comfort of knowing that, come what may, there would be nothing I’d want to change in these first ten miles.

Mike asks me how I am holding up – I say “good” and think “good but not great.” Ten miles is already a long race but there is still so much more to go. Although keeping this pace takes little effort I am worried by the wear I feel. Shortly after this I round a turn and see Rebecca cheering and taking photos. I barely have time to smile at her before whizzing by but take a lift along with me. This lift builds as the course goes downhill, around a sharp turn, and past a blues band playing “Sweet Home Chicago”. I become instantly reenergized, looking forward to the upcoming halfway point. A guy dressed up as a clown sees my number, quickly looks it up in the spectators guide, and shouts “Go Steve from Philadelphia.” Crowds usually don’t pump me but this guy did. I take a GU around here, slowly so that the cake frosting dissolves in my mouth and goes down easier. I still have not drank anything. Miles 11, 12 go by in 11:45 miles 13 and 14 go by in 11:41. Somewhere in the latter split (I failed to hit my watch on the odd splits) Mike and I go through the halfway point in 1:17:08. 22 seconds in the bank. A little fast but now I’m thinking a 2:35 marathon is only a half-marathon away.

I have two dream times, after which I can contentedly retire from competitive running. One is a 2:35 marathon and the other is a sub 16 minute 5k. Both goals were set when I had no real expectation of ever being able to achieve them, but this Fall has put both of these times in reach. My focus now is on the former. I thought back on my high school soccer days playing goalkeeper, and the lonely experience of defending a one-goal lead and watching the minutes go by, all to slowly, one at a time. Now I had that feeling with the miles. Each mile now that I kept on pace would be one more mile closer to my dream time.

Mile 15 in 5:58. A slight withdrawal but one more mile down. A balding guy is coming back to us and I suspect he is another masters runner. Now I’m feeling competitive and push the pace a little to pull up even with him. Mike doesn’t let me go but now hangs a bit behind me. Whether it’s the effect of the GU or a second wind or whatever, I feel strong and kick it into a higher gear. That voice that I’ve learned to trust says go for it. “Sweet Home Alabama” blares from a set of stacks and the energy from the oft-played guitar riff keeps me pumped. I’m going now and Mike’s gonna have to hang with me if we are going to work together. He does, and we slowly lose bald guy as mile 16 goes by in what appears to be a blistering 5:46. However mile 17 goes by in a more pedestrian 6:03. Mike says that the last two markers must have been off, and this makes sense but also disorients me. My cognitive functioning is starting to go, a sure sign that we are approaching the real race. Mile 18 goes by in 5:57 and I pop my second GU. I also take my first liquid, some really watered down sports drink. Mile 19 in 5:56 and I’m still in the zone. Mile 20 then passes in 6:02, and my cumulative time is 158:03. Three seconds off of 2:35 pace. I have come to mile 20 having run exactly the race I want to run, and my dream time is in sight.

Mike and I are still together here, but the pattern for the last few miles has been that one of us would take a lead and the other hang on. Several times I find myself hustling to keep up with him, while other times I just pulled ahead of him and stayed there for awhile. Here we stop talking to each other and retreat into our own races. We are still together at mile 21 and the split is 6:03. My heart sinks. With each mile now it will be harder to make up those seconds, and I couldn’t be sure if this is the beginning of an ugly slide. I try one push to get back down under 6 minute pace but mile 22 comes in at 6:10. I pondered the possibility of inaccurate mile markers, but three successive ones is unlikely. At this point I give up hopes of a sub 2:35 time and just want to avoid crashing. Mike is behind me now, we have lost each other.

Even if I were to continue slowing at this rate I should still get a big PR time. Just maintain what I got. My legs are shot and my form is out of control but uncorrectable –this is to be expected at this point in the race. Taking inventory, the rest of me is miserable but fine. This is encouraging, amazing really, as I have never felt this “good” this far into a marathon. I’d have to save 2:35 for another day, but I should do fine today. Mile 23 is in 6:13, a bit disappointing but at the same time encouraging in the gradual nature of this time loss. I could take this hit. Bald guy comes up behind me now. Ain’t gonna happen, I tell myself, and I maintain speed to keep just ahead of him. The tactic works, as he can’t maintain his surge and falls back again.

I never did see the next two mile markers, not for desperate lack of looking for these turkeys. The next marker I see shows a mile left to go. I hit my watch (2.2 miles in 13:58; 6:21 pace) here and take off with every last bit of energy I had. This will get the last mile back down to 6:06 as I round the streets of downtown Sacramento, past the capital and around a few more turns to where suddenly the finish is right ahead of me, ticking away in the 2:36’s. 2:36’s! One last sprint and I’m home, pumping my fist in the air as I cross the finish, finding Rebecca on the sidelines and collapsing into her arms. 2:36:34.

Post Race

Sounds romantic, but for her it’s getting leaned on by an exhausted, sweaty 175 pound guy and for me its trying to stay upright with lungs wheezing for air and legs on the verge of collapsing. I hung around long enough to congratulate Mike when he came in around a minute later. We embraced, but glycogen depletion left us both bereft of any further social skills and unfortunately I did not get to see him again. Rebecca and I walked around the finish area for awhile, and the wheezing, which I never had before, slowly went away. Some early results got posted showing that I was 30^th overall and the third masters runner to finish, which means I should get $100 for my efforts. We decided to go. Brunch in a little coffeeshop in Sutter’s Creek replaced the usual post-race bagels and bananas, and the rest of the afternoon was slow and relaxed, capped by dinner and wine at another Italian restaurant.

Early next morning it was back to San Jose and then the long trip back to Philly.

I cannot say that I would change anything about how I ran the marathon. I feel I ran my best on a solid base of training and a good taper. No blisters, GI problems, cramps, worrisome aches or pains, or any other distractions during the run. Hydration was, as usual for me, minimal but appropriate. And while ideally I would have planned the logistics a bit better and fortune would have permitted me more sleep, I could not see myself having gone any faster had any of this fallen into place. So while folks around me have no doubt grown tired of my anti-hydration rants, they will now have to suffer through accounts of how I pr’d on 5 hours of sleep. But seriously, remember this race when things don’t quite go your way in the days preceding your marathon.

Folks around me also probably get tired of my mantra that it takes a village to train for a marathon. Well my village has apparently now also rejoiced in my marathon performance, and it is gratifying to have gotten congratulations from so many folks. There are enough people to thank that I will surely leave folks out, so I’ll just say thanks to folks who know who they are. The one addition to my village on Sunday, and the one special shoutout I’ll give is to Mike Salkowski. There was a very positive chemistry in our running together, and I could not have put in the performance I did without collaborating with him. Aside from being a talented and dedicated runner, he is also a most gracious person. I hope we run again together sometime, and until then I’ll follow him on his blog.

And as Ian commented, there is a story behind every one of those splits. This marathon is the culmination of an amazing fall. A sorta fairytale. I poured my life into my training, and at times trained feeling my life, or at least my sanity, depended on it. In return I got to experience some of the peak moments of my life, and received some other unexpected blessings along the way. I can’t see how it could get better than this.

But personal bests are always short-lived, and there are always faster times to go after. So after training for my love handles this month I’m sure I’ll be back out logging serious mileage in January and hoping to continue to drop my times. Two goals I want to focus on for ’07 are the dream times I commented on earlier. They are close to becoming reality, but where I’m at now may also be my highwater mark. I will put my heart into these goals, but will not be disappointed if I fail to achieve them. But that is for January. In the meantime, blog entries for December will be sporadic, as will be my running.