Saturday, October 20, 2012
The Comeback Race
Now I know all 5 blog readers have probably been wondering what the hell I have been doing with my time over the past 4-5 months, so allow me to present you with this:
Tomorrow marks the day where I finally toe the starting line again. The last time I had pre-race nerves, the excitement of competing, mentally going through my race plans, crunching numbers, and watching all of my hard work come full circle on race morning was the Boston Marathon back in April. Needless to say a lot has been going on in my life since then, both in sport and out of sport. Let’s start with in sport, seeing how this blog is usually focused on my lack luster training/racing. The lead up to the Boston marathon training was on point. My long runs were held between 6:50-7:25 pace, my weekly mileage was right on target based on the 3:1 standpoint, and I was eager to race. A week before Boston, I had been diagnosed with strep throat and everything came crashing down. I was flat race morning, it was hot, I could barely my 4 mile run two days before the race, however I was happy to of qualified; therefore I would run. I finished with an upsetting 3:20, when I truly believed I was in sub-3 shape. A series of misfortunes led me to a race that left me hurting for weeks.
Once the recovery that followed the Boston Marathon subsided, I felt no need to hop into triathlons. I was eager to enjoy life. I had put so much into my training the years prior, sure I was somewhat successful, won a few races, became an “Ironman”, made some great memories, but I knew what kind of hours I put in in order to achieve those goals, and I wasn’t ready to put that kind of effort into my training this summer. I had a different goal = exercise without a schedule/plan, enjoy life, and find a job. I am happy to say, sitting on my couch in Bradford Vermont three months later I did all three of those things. Instead of working my ass of swim, biking, and running, I put that effort into finding a teaching job. I had a new love, and a new dream and I wanted to chase it. I always secretly wanted to try life on my own(pre-Catie era), in a different area, explore a new setting, culture, community. Now some of you are saying, “How the heck does the culture in Vermont vary that much from New York?” I can’t do it justice explaining it, so I would have to offer up the advice to come here and check it out. You’ll see what I am saying. People in Vermont would give you the shirt right off their back, in the middle of winter, if it meant they would freeze, and you could go along on your merry way. Generosity in Vermont is something people don’t think about, they just do it. So in retrospect to my life now, I love my job, I love teaching physical education, I do miss home, friends, family, and Catie.
Now back to the reason I write this blog, my mediocre racing/training. So as I was saying after Boston the spark wasn’t there. I was suffering from a calf strain and running no longer became an option. Walking was a chore, biking was bearable, but running was out of the question, and it is hard to swim when you don’t have time nor a pool that is open when you’re free. So I decided to become one of those weekend warriors. I would ride on the weekends, lift during the week and just watched what I consumed. I didn’t gain weight; I didn’t lose weight, and by no means was I fit. After a month of this nonsense, schooling ended and I went home for the summer. I decided to get back into slowly, so I offered to teach a few spinning classes, rode my bike 4-5 times a week and began running again. After running for a week or two I was doomed by a high ankle sprain due to trampoline antics. Let me tell you, if you have kids, never let them go on those madhouses. Nothing good ever comes with those stupid death traps. After free falling 10 feet in the air and landing right on my ankle I found myself in a room at immediate care. With my ankle 3-4x’s the normal size I knew this couldn’t end up well. The days following my ankle turned into a replica of Barney’s ankle; massive in size and purple. The doctor told me I couldn’t exercise at all for 2-3 weeks, and run for 3-4 months. I was going to go insane, so I started teaching spin classes a week later, found the beauty of the elliptical, and when I could fit my cycling shoes on my foot I went for a ride. I had no time goals, no regiment to steer my training, just me and my own day to day aspirations. I enjoyed not having to wake up at 4:30am to go for a dip in UB’s pool, I enjoyed not having to worry about how I would fit my 4 hours of training in before and after my 8 hour work day, or how I could squeeze out of the bar by 10:30 without having a lick of alcohol. I lived that life the past 2-4 years and I was over it this time around. Between the injuries and the “not-caring” I didn’t compete in one running race, one triathlon, or one scheduled workout the entire summer. I enjoyed my time, I enjoyed seeing my friends, I enjoyed not having to worry about crunching power numbers.
Now that summer has past, the notion to do nothing has settled. After being semi-forced into this race by a coworker, I am proud to announce that tomorrow I will be racing my first race since April. The Chad Half Marathon in Hanover, New Hampshire will be my “comeback” race. No I am not Lance Armstrong, there is no 2.0, or doping scandal for that matter (though I still fully back him due to his contributions to cancer research through the LiveSTRONG charity) I am a 22 year old man trying to get back to that form I once knew. I haven’t trained overly hard for this race as I wasn’t supposed to start running until the end of September, but I do go into tomorrow’s race with pure excitement. I will not win, I will not even come in the top 100, I may not even break 2 hours, hell they may have to roll me to the finish line, but I do know I will have fun doing it. The rush of racing will be back tomorrow. I will line up with a smile on my face, and I will finish with a smile on my face. I am there to have fun, not race. I am hoping this sparks my interest in racing/training again. If it does great, if not I will continue to ride, run and swim but just not as dedicated. There is more than life to triathlon, and after three years I finally figured out what those things were. We all go through the lows and the highs, but it is about finding a balance between a hobby and life. Triathlon is not my life anymore nor will it ever be again. I will continue to push myself everyday, but maybe in will be in the realm of teaching and not in the pool. Maybe I will strive to become a better boyfriend and not a better form runner. Perhaps I will dedicate more time to cleaning my house, rather than cleaning my bike. Everyone has a goal and a dream, whether it be crossing the line first, or being the best friend, sister, brother, coworker, mom, dad, teacher possible. Chase your dream(s), because remember:
“Don’t lose the dreams inside your head
They’ll only be there til you’re dead
Dream”
- Dave Matthews
So if your uncertain, sign up for a race, train, give it a whirl, if the bug bites you go for it; If not keep fit, exercise and enjoy the ride!
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
The Boston Marathon
It all started at 5:15am when the alarm went off. I knew I was in for a tough, yet fun day running through the streets of Boston and its surrounding suburbs. After a cup of coffee and a bite to eat, I was headed for the subway to catch the shuttle bus to the starting line. Luckily for me at 5:40am, the streets are pretty quiet and the only other people really walking around were fellow marathoners. Once I got on the subway, hundreds of runners were all headed the same direction, so I just followed along. When we finally got off the subway and into the streets of Boston, it was a sight to take in; Thousands of runners waiting patiently in line to catch the buses to the Hopkinton. I quickly sparked a conversation with a guy who was running the Boston Marathon barefoot. He was an interesting character who was very full of life and doing it all to raise money for kids without shoes in Africa. I later saw him barely upright with his feet looking in rough shape around mile 23. I hope he did what he set out to do.
After waiting for about 20 minutes I caught a bus to the start, where athlete’s village awaited me. I sat next to a very eccentric gentleman who loved the whole Boston experience, and offered me tons of advice for my first Boston Marathon (this was his 8th). He easily told me his own race plan about five times, going mile by mile, and eventually I just wanted off that bus. Once we pulled into Athlete’s Village it was a sea of runners walking and laying around Hopkinton school grounds. There were people every which way you look and it was a sight I’ll always remember. People brought everything plus the kitchen sink to pass the time and make sure they were comfortable waiting around until the start. Unfortunately with such a big race there is a lot of waiting time before the gun actually goes off. For me it was a 2.5 hour wait so I decided to take off my coat and make a little place for me to lay and take a load off until the race began. Athlete’s Village makes you feel very at home because they offer you bagels, bananas, Powerbars, coffee, Gatorade, sunscreen, Body Glide, yoga mats to sleep on, and anything else you could possibly need to stay calm and comfortable before the 26.2 mile trek to Boston. Once 9am came around they started shuttling people off to the start. I got up and made the .75 mile walk to the starting line.
Once the volunteers shuttled us off into the starting gates they made note that it was already 80 degrees at 9:45am! It was hotter than hot and we hadn’t even stepped a foot onto the official Boston marathon course. The race announcer offered warning after warning, telling us to slow down, walk, drinks lots of water and if you didn’t feel good to drop out. Also for the first time in 10 years, the race director made an announcement stating the same thing. Take your time; it is no longer a race but an experience. I decided the night before after receiving email after email warning us about the weather and having strep throat a mere 5 days before the race, that I would take my time, enjoy the race, and just have a good time on the course. Once the gun finally went off at 10am the “race” started.
Seeing the thousands of spectators within the first mile, I knew right away this race was going to be like no other. The streets were lined with kids, parents, college students, and family members of those running. Kids were sticking out their hands in hopes of a high five, people were offering water, oranges, and signs flooded the streets. Once mile 2 came around the heat was already starting to take its toll on me and the other runners. People had already slowed their pace and some even started to walk up some of the hills. I couldn’t believe it at first, but those runners were probably smart to do so. Chugging through the first 5k in 20:XX I was happy where my pace was. I was shooting for an overall time of 3:15-3:30 due to the heat so I was a bit ahead of schedule at this point, but I knew the first 5k was the easiest section of the whole course, so I wanted to bank a little time. By the time I got to mile five I was hot, sweaty and in need of water. I started grabbing 2-3 cups per station and began dumping them all over myself. My shirt was drenched with water and it was completely necessary because by the time I got to the next water station my shirt had dried. That’s how hot it was out there. The one thing that got me through the miles was the fans and the little kids looking to rack up as many high fives as possible. The people crowding the streets helped so much handing out their own water and cut up oranges. This race hosts such a history and to see a town/city embrace it as well as Boston does was an honor to be a part of. Once I hit the 10k mark I was really starting to overheat and I needed to slow my pace a few seconds per mile if I wanted to finish upright. At this point people were walking all the hills and taking in everything the crowd had to offer. I decided to pop a gel in and get some energy in me. That gel allowed me to float the next two miles and once the nine mile mark hit I was feeling the best I probably had all day. My legs were finally under me and I was ready to finally start my race, but the weather wasn’t going to allow me run a fast race. I just kept a 7-7:20 min/per mile pace and moved on forward. By this time the streets where lined with people two to three deep. They were cheering as loud as they possibly could and boy were they helping out. I said after the race was over that if this was any other race I wouldn’t have finished because I took so much from the crowd and the energy they were giving the runners kept everyone going. After I hit the 12th mile, the Wellesley college girls were out in full force. The Wellseley girls are a historic part of this course, and everyone always talks about how these girls were crazy and always looking to “kiss” a runner. Going through Wellesley College was an amazing feeling and mile 12-13 was non-existent in my eyes.
Once I hit the half way point I did a quick look down at my watched and saw 1:32:32, 8 minutes slower than I had originally anticipated. At this point of the race I was actually happy with that split given the conditions. I made it a goal to take the rest of this race mile by mile and not to look too far ahead. The next few miles were a blur of water, ice, popsicles, oranges, and Gatorade. I took everything in and was just trying to make it to the next mile. I could feel my sickness starting to take its toll because breathing was now becoming a labor of love. Once I got to mile 19, if it weren’t for the massive crowds lining the streets I probably would have pulled out. I felt like death and my legs were completely finished. I had 7 miles to go and I knew it was going to be a rough run to the finish. When I saw the 20 mile marker I was ecstatic that I had made it this far in the heat, and was hoping the next 10k wasn’t going to be a walk fest. By this time people were walking left and right, and it honestly looked like an Ironman marathon. People were barely shuffling their feet and you could tell the heat was hurting everyone out. I told myself that I would walk up Heartbreak hill just to catch a little break, but I was half way up it before I even knew I was running it. I heard someone say we were on Heartbreak Hill and to take it all in! Once I found out I was half way up the historic hill, I made it a goal to get up the hill, running, not walking. Around mile 23 I spotted Boston College and those kids pushed me through 23 onto 24. I slapped hands with the over excited college kids, many of which were drunk at this point. It gave me goose bumps to have them cheering you on like some kind of rock star, but unfortunately that quickly wore off because come mile 24.5 came I had moved to a walk. My thighs and calves were burning so bad it felt like knives were being stabbed into my thighs with each step I took. The hills had defeated me for the time being. I had to walk. There was no way I could continue on running. I ran/walk the next .7 miles and once I got onto Boylston Street the crowd was electric. Thousands upon thousands of people, 5 deep were cheering the runners on. I ran down Boylston hoping my legs wouldn’t give out as I would have taken a mean spill in front of thousands. I wanted to just stop for a moment in time, take a mental picture of that final stretch and forever keep in the memory bank. I have dreamt of this moment since I started running 2 miles a day six years ago. I was full of emotion, but at this point I wanted out of the heat and off of my legs. So I ran as fast as I could (which was probably a fast walk) down the street and once I got to the finish line I raised my hands in victory and gave that infamous silent fist pump.
I walked through the finisher’s area collecting the food, drinks and medal which I rightfully earned. After that I meet up with my parents and Catie and we headed back to the hotel via subway. Overall the Boston Marathon had to of been my favorite race in a long time. The people were unreal, the crowd support was second to none, and just being there, engulfed in the history was an experience I’ll never forget. I hope one day everyone gets the honor and opportunity to run the Boston Marathon as it is an experience nobody could ever forget. From start to finish the crowd will make you feel like the most important person in the world, and that YOU are the day’s hero. I will be forever grateful for running the hottest Boston Marathon in its 116 year history. For now it’s time to eat that Easter candy that’s been gazing me in the eyes for the past week. Cheers to all and just remember that if you say “I wish I could do that” remember where I came from 6 years ago, and rethink what’s possible. Anything is achievable you just need to put your mind to it.
After waiting for about 20 minutes I caught a bus to the start, where athlete’s village awaited me. I sat next to a very eccentric gentleman who loved the whole Boston experience, and offered me tons of advice for my first Boston Marathon (this was his 8th). He easily told me his own race plan about five times, going mile by mile, and eventually I just wanted off that bus. Once we pulled into Athlete’s Village it was a sea of runners walking and laying around Hopkinton school grounds. There were people every which way you look and it was a sight I’ll always remember. People brought everything plus the kitchen sink to pass the time and make sure they were comfortable waiting around until the start. Unfortunately with such a big race there is a lot of waiting time before the gun actually goes off. For me it was a 2.5 hour wait so I decided to take off my coat and make a little place for me to lay and take a load off until the race began. Athlete’s Village makes you feel very at home because they offer you bagels, bananas, Powerbars, coffee, Gatorade, sunscreen, Body Glide, yoga mats to sleep on, and anything else you could possibly need to stay calm and comfortable before the 26.2 mile trek to Boston. Once 9am came around they started shuttling people off to the start. I got up and made the .75 mile walk to the starting line.
Once the volunteers shuttled us off into the starting gates they made note that it was already 80 degrees at 9:45am! It was hotter than hot and we hadn’t even stepped a foot onto the official Boston marathon course. The race announcer offered warning after warning, telling us to slow down, walk, drinks lots of water and if you didn’t feel good to drop out. Also for the first time in 10 years, the race director made an announcement stating the same thing. Take your time; it is no longer a race but an experience. I decided the night before after receiving email after email warning us about the weather and having strep throat a mere 5 days before the race, that I would take my time, enjoy the race, and just have a good time on the course. Once the gun finally went off at 10am the “race” started.
Seeing the thousands of spectators within the first mile, I knew right away this race was going to be like no other. The streets were lined with kids, parents, college students, and family members of those running. Kids were sticking out their hands in hopes of a high five, people were offering water, oranges, and signs flooded the streets. Once mile 2 came around the heat was already starting to take its toll on me and the other runners. People had already slowed their pace and some even started to walk up some of the hills. I couldn’t believe it at first, but those runners were probably smart to do so. Chugging through the first 5k in 20:XX I was happy where my pace was. I was shooting for an overall time of 3:15-3:30 due to the heat so I was a bit ahead of schedule at this point, but I knew the first 5k was the easiest section of the whole course, so I wanted to bank a little time. By the time I got to mile five I was hot, sweaty and in need of water. I started grabbing 2-3 cups per station and began dumping them all over myself. My shirt was drenched with water and it was completely necessary because by the time I got to the next water station my shirt had dried. That’s how hot it was out there. The one thing that got me through the miles was the fans and the little kids looking to rack up as many high fives as possible. The people crowding the streets helped so much handing out their own water and cut up oranges. This race hosts such a history and to see a town/city embrace it as well as Boston does was an honor to be a part of. Once I hit the 10k mark I was really starting to overheat and I needed to slow my pace a few seconds per mile if I wanted to finish upright. At this point people were walking all the hills and taking in everything the crowd had to offer. I decided to pop a gel in and get some energy in me. That gel allowed me to float the next two miles and once the nine mile mark hit I was feeling the best I probably had all day. My legs were finally under me and I was ready to finally start my race, but the weather wasn’t going to allow me run a fast race. I just kept a 7-7:20 min/per mile pace and moved on forward. By this time the streets where lined with people two to three deep. They were cheering as loud as they possibly could and boy were they helping out. I said after the race was over that if this was any other race I wouldn’t have finished because I took so much from the crowd and the energy they were giving the runners kept everyone going. After I hit the 12th mile, the Wellesley college girls were out in full force. The Wellseley girls are a historic part of this course, and everyone always talks about how these girls were crazy and always looking to “kiss” a runner. Going through Wellesley College was an amazing feeling and mile 12-13 was non-existent in my eyes.
Once I hit the half way point I did a quick look down at my watched and saw 1:32:32, 8 minutes slower than I had originally anticipated. At this point of the race I was actually happy with that split given the conditions. I made it a goal to take the rest of this race mile by mile and not to look too far ahead. The next few miles were a blur of water, ice, popsicles, oranges, and Gatorade. I took everything in and was just trying to make it to the next mile. I could feel my sickness starting to take its toll because breathing was now becoming a labor of love. Once I got to mile 19, if it weren’t for the massive crowds lining the streets I probably would have pulled out. I felt like death and my legs were completely finished. I had 7 miles to go and I knew it was going to be a rough run to the finish. When I saw the 20 mile marker I was ecstatic that I had made it this far in the heat, and was hoping the next 10k wasn’t going to be a walk fest. By this time people were walking left and right, and it honestly looked like an Ironman marathon. People were barely shuffling their feet and you could tell the heat was hurting everyone out. I told myself that I would walk up Heartbreak hill just to catch a little break, but I was half way up it before I even knew I was running it. I heard someone say we were on Heartbreak Hill and to take it all in! Once I found out I was half way up the historic hill, I made it a goal to get up the hill, running, not walking. Around mile 23 I spotted Boston College and those kids pushed me through 23 onto 24. I slapped hands with the over excited college kids, many of which were drunk at this point. It gave me goose bumps to have them cheering you on like some kind of rock star, but unfortunately that quickly wore off because come mile 24.5 came I had moved to a walk. My thighs and calves were burning so bad it felt like knives were being stabbed into my thighs with each step I took. The hills had defeated me for the time being. I had to walk. There was no way I could continue on running. I ran/walk the next .7 miles and once I got onto Boylston Street the crowd was electric. Thousands upon thousands of people, 5 deep were cheering the runners on. I ran down Boylston hoping my legs wouldn’t give out as I would have taken a mean spill in front of thousands. I wanted to just stop for a moment in time, take a mental picture of that final stretch and forever keep in the memory bank. I have dreamt of this moment since I started running 2 miles a day six years ago. I was full of emotion, but at this point I wanted out of the heat and off of my legs. So I ran as fast as I could (which was probably a fast walk) down the street and once I got to the finish line I raised my hands in victory and gave that infamous silent fist pump.
I walked through the finisher’s area collecting the food, drinks and medal which I rightfully earned. After that I meet up with my parents and Catie and we headed back to the hotel via subway. Overall the Boston Marathon had to of been my favorite race in a long time. The people were unreal, the crowd support was second to none, and just being there, engulfed in the history was an experience I’ll never forget. I hope one day everyone gets the honor and opportunity to run the Boston Marathon as it is an experience nobody could ever forget. From start to finish the crowd will make you feel like the most important person in the world, and that YOU are the day’s hero. I will be forever grateful for running the hottest Boston Marathon in its 116 year history. For now it’s time to eat that Easter candy that’s been gazing me in the eyes for the past week. Cheers to all and just remember that if you say “I wish I could do that” remember where I came from 6 years ago, and rethink what’s possible. Anything is achievable you just need to put your mind to it.
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