My First Marathon, It Made Me Cry

"V" was for Victory, or so I thought on Friday.

If you've read my blog you know I have put a ton of time and energy into training for the Phoenix Marathon and hoping that I may even potentially qualify for the Boston Marathon.  Well on Saturday, March 2, race time had finally arrived.  In order to qualify for Boston I was going to have to run the 26.2 miles in 3:15:00 or less and as I reached the halfway point on Saturday the digital clock had me at 1:35:15, right on pace to finish around 3:10:30 with a few minutes to spare for fatigue on the back half.  It seemed as though booking a flight to Boston was imminent.  But to cut to the chase, I didn't qualify.  How that didn't happen was far more challenging than I had ever envisioned.  But let's go back to the beginning.

All checked in and ready to run!

Since the race was on Saturday with a 6:30 a.m. start time, all the registration was done the day before at Road Runners in the Tempe Marketplace, complete with a Marathon Expo full of vendors and all sorts of running related things to get you pumped up and ready for Saturday.  It was a fun and festive atmosphere as there were a ton of people and excitement was definitely percolating.  My parents had gotten into town the night before and they went with me, my dad being a former runner was really intrigued.  I checked in and got my bag of goodies, including my Marathon race bib and shirt and all sorts of coupons for clothing and food and sponsor items.  At almost all races you get a bag of stuff and this was certainly the best one I had ever received.

The course map.  Ironically the entire marathon takes place in Mesa, AZ, not even an inch in Phoenix.

I'd been strictly following an advanced marathoners training schedule and had been tapering down the last few weeks, including a 2 mile run Friday morning, that at this point was nothing more than a walk to the mailbox.  The training was 17 weeks long and during that time I ran over 750 miles, never missing a workout, not during extreme cold and wind over Thanksgiving in Salt Lake City or snow and ice in Michigan over Christmas.  I ran everyday I was supposed to, I ate very healthy, went to the gym 2-3 times  a week for cross-fit workouts, I had done all I thought I could and whenever any doubts kicked in I always said to myself, "Trust the training", it had been created for a reason.  During those weeks I did numerous 15+ mile runs and 4 20+mile runs, designed to help you learn about how your body reacts during the long distances.  I had been very fortunate, I NEVER had a single issue, I was never sore, I didn't get blisters, I never had an injury or cramps of any kind.  I learned how to hydrate myself throughout those 2-3 hours runs.  I ate the same thing the day before the long runs, got myself in a routine so I knew what to expect and how to react and handle any potential stresses.  I was ready. Trust the training.

My parents at the starting line on Friday.  We drove the course that day.

All day Friday before the race, I had my meals planned out, my schedule for the day to prepare for tomorrow, hopeful that I would be able to get at least 4-6 hours of sleep the night before, knowing excitement and anticipation would make that difficult.  That night I ate my usual pre-race dinner of oatmeal and toast and fruit and tried to go to sleep around 8:30 p.m., hopeful to get some sleep before my 2:30 a.m. wake-up call.  I slept fitfully, but did get about 4 hours at least, woke up around 1:30 before my call came at 2:30, but I was ready.  We had to leave by 4:30 and I wanted to be up in time to drink coffee and eat my banana and peanut butter, for caloric intake with time to digest, before the 6:30 race time.  My parents were up and we all left on time, drove to the finish line where I would get on a bus to be taken to the starting line 26.2 miles away.  Because of the road closures, no one was allowed to drive anywhere near the starting line in the mountains.  I had predetermined spots for my parents to be at during the race so I could look for them and with that, they dropped me off to board the bus and I told them I'd see them on the road.

Ready to board the bus, no turning back now.

Dozens of buses started taking the 2000 marathoners to the starting line.  I hadn't been on a school bus in 20+ years, it was a strange experience sitting with a bunch of strangers, riding in the darkness, being taken off to the mountains to be dropped off.  Once we got there, people were everywhere, stretching out, doing warm ups, talking , sitting by fires to stay warm(the temperature was in the mid 40's).  I did my normal routine of stretching and a lot of walking around to stay loose.  I felt good.  Soon enough they played the national anthem and then had a small fireworks display, which against the dark skies over the desert was a pretty cool way to send us all to the starting line.  I made my way to the start, was feeling the nerves, but overall feeling good, confident, but not too overconfident.  Trust the training, trust the training.  As they started counting us down to the gun, honestly the last thing I remember thinking to myself was, "I guess I'm really going to run 26 miles". 

My God Children, Zach and Tony Fischer, sending good wishes from Michigan.  Thanks Guys!

Boom!  With 2000 people it was a crowded start in the darkness of the Usery Mountains.  The first mile was really spent trying to not get knocked over or tripped or do the same to someone else, jockeying for position.  After that, groups started separating and I was with a group trying to run in 3:10:00.  Having driven the course numerous times, I was very familiar with the roads and the turns and I knew what to expect and so far it was as I anticipated.  Adrenaline is pumping and you have to slow yourself a bit so that they you don't go out to fast, running with a pack helped me control that.  The first few miles were fine, we were right on pace and around Mile 2-3 spectators started to line the course. Normally I run by myself, let alone with any crowd watching, but this was a fun highlight as some people were dressed up in costumes(for no good reason someone was dressed as Chewbacca at mile 3) and many were holding signs, mostly for their family members or friends that were running, but some were just for all the runners.  Little kids wanted to slap hands when you ran by.  I enjoyed this aspect, it had never really occurred to me that it would be like this, running is so solitary, but I tried to take it all in.  Some of my favorites signs that I saw:

"Great job running 26.2 miles, because 26.3 would be crazy"
"Great job running random stranger"
Sign held by little kid "Run faster, I just farted"
Sign held by 3 women "Why do the cute guys keep running away from us?"

Overall people were very encouraging and it helped make it a fun and festive run.  So far.  At mile 3 was the first water station, not one to normally need any water to run 10 miles, I still planned to take some at every stop, to stay hydrated for the final 6.2.  I grabbed my cup as I ran through, and our pack kept going.  All of us intact we proceed to go through to Mile 5 where the race goes uphill for the next 2 miles.  The uphill was tough, but not outrageous, just long and you feel it, but our pack stayed together and at the end of it was Mile 7 and at that aid station they had water/powerade, but also gel shots.  During my training for my 20 mile runs I would take 1 gel pack for the whole run and had been fine but today they were going to have 3 gel stations at Miles 7/13/19 and I planned to take one at each, again to be ready for the final 6.2 miles and be as prepared as I could.  I should also state, that around mile 5 for the push uphill, I had predetermined that is when I would turn on my iPod for the first time.  I wanted to run the first 5 miles without it, knowing I'd have a ton of adrenaline and energy and I wanted to be sure I was controlling my breathing and into a good rhythm first and I also thought turning on the iPod was just the spark needed to get through Thunder Mountain hill. So I turned it on, listened to Foo Fighters and Smashing Pumpkins and then my right earphone fell out, the cap on the earphone fell off and so 2 songs in my right earphone was shot because it wouldn't stay in my ear without the cap(which is guaranteed to NEVER come out during running and why I bought those particular ones).  Not a good omen, but I kept wedging it in my ear because the dangling of it was more bothersome and I didn't want to just throw my iPod off on the road, especially this early.  At any rate, I kept going and we got to mile 8 and 9 and I started to get cramps in my legs and I felt nauseous.  Both things had NEVER happened to me before, not even once over the 1500+ miles I ran during the last 10 months, certainly not during the training, but marathons are long races and as runners sometimes you don't feel your best, you might feel a little pain in a joint or a bit off, but you keep going, work through it and it usually works itself out.  I had some concerns, but nothing serious, trust the training, keep going.

All of my training runs, logged with times and details.  None of them mention cramps?!?!

My parents were going to be just past Mile 11 and my dad was going to execute a hand-off of my water bottle, complete with a powerbar gel shot, the kind I always take on my long runs.  I didn't want to carry the water bottle the whole race, but knowing you can only drink about an ounce as your run through the water stations, I wanted my 8 oz bottle and gel shot so that I could be sure I had enough fluids and energy, again for the final 6.2.  The plan was I would give it back to them at Mile 16.  As I passed Mile 10, the pain was continuing in my legs, mostly my calves, but also my quads.  Keep going, mom and dad are ahead, you'll get your water bottle you can consume more fluids and gel.  Trust the training.  Soon enough as I turned West on McDowell Road and was getting close to the Boeing Plant, I saw my parents on the corner, my dad stepped out into the road, I gave him my gloves, I didn't need them anymore and he handed me the water bottle. Perfect execution, no wasted motion.  As I ran past I heard my dad say, "Great job Chris, you're right on pace!".  It felt good, took away the pain and gave me a little life.  I was getting close to halfway and the pains were not going away, but hopefully the extra fluid and gel would help.  I kept going and as I crossed the halfway point, 13.1 miles, they had a big digital timer that showed I was at 1:35:15, right on track. Boston was within grasp, technically, but inside I knew I might be in trouble.

Execution of a perfect hand-off by my dad, almost half way. Keep going!

As I turned off of McDowell onto Valle Vista, I knew I'd see my parents in about 3 miles at the end of this road near a big citrus store.  This part of Mesa has a ton of orange groves and as I ran by the orange trees, I tried to take in the scent, anything to distract from the pain.  It was getting more intense and I had now run with the pain for over 5 miles.  I wasn't freaking out, I was just confused.  I had never experienced any type of cramps or leg pain and I had run so many miles.  Even when I first started running and I was woefully out of shape, I never had any pain, just fatigue.  A lot of emotion started to swing through me.  Trying to qualify for Boston was a goal, but never my main goal, that was to finish, to run the whole race, to push my body to the limit.  Trust the training, it got me this far.  I passed Mile 14 and knew I'd see my parents in 2 miles, keep going, the pain will subside.  I slowed way down on purpose, hopeful that slowing down would give my legs a chance to recalibrate, a method I'd used before with success.  I was moving slowly, way off pace, but that's okay, don't stop, keep going, trust the training, you'll get through it.  Somewhere before Mile 15 my body, I should say my legs, had enough and they locked up.  I had to stop.  It was awful.  I hate stopping, I NEVER stop, NEVER.  But I had stopped running, but kept walking, albeit like Frankenstein as my legs were stiff as could be.  Keep walking, you'll breakthrough and you'll get going again.  I walked for a bit then started running again, pain, pain, pain, keep going, trust the training, each stop, awful.  I had to stop again, but kept walking.  I had a fear that if I stopped altogether that I'd never be able to restart, so I had stopped running, but never stopped moving. Started running again, mom and dad will be up ahead.  Somehow I made it to Mile 16, the Citrus store, they weren't there.  I could see that the roads all around were blocked off for the race, no one was allowed, I could only assume they just went to the finish line to wait there, we had no other plans to meet.  Pain, run, pain, walk, pain, run, pain, walk.  It went like this for the next few miles.  At each aid station I got more fluids, took my time, drank them in, hoped I would somehow recalibrate and be able to run without stopping.  Pain, run, pain, walk.  Around Mile 19 I had to stop running and was walking along the side of the road and the emotions just hit me.  My goals, my hard work, my training, the not missing a day, running on holidays, running in rain, snow, ice, dark of night, 115 degrees, all of it was gone and there was nothing I could do.  For the last 4 miles I tried to get restarted, it wasn't happening. I was devastated and I started to cry.  I'm not ashamed to admit that, although I'm not proud if it either mind you, but I had done so much work, I had eaten so healthy, worked out, ran and ran and ran and everything I wanted out of this race was now completely washed away.  I kept going, pain, run, pain, walk, pain, run, pain walk.  The most I could ever run was maybe 1/4 mile at a time, then I'd walk 1/8 or so, then run.  It became obvious that this was the only way I was going to be able to finish. Crushing. Deflating.  So unfair.  Sad. People passing me, people that I knew I could run faster than, people that I knew didn't train anywhere near as hard as I did, people that were nowhere near in the shape I was in, yet they kept going by me.  As a competitor it was mind blowing. Pain, run, pain, walk, pain.

I kept this up, continued to get water at each station, hopeful for a miracle so I could at least finish strong.  Pain, run, pain, walk.  How could my body let me down?  And of all things my legs?  I'd done so much preparation, so much working out and strengthening.  I'd never had an issue, never.  Why today of all days?  What did I do wrong?  You can imagine how I played things out in my mind over the last half of the race. It was brutal.  The only thing I had going for me was to finish and if I had to crawl, I was at least going to do that.  Pain, run, pain, walk, pain, pain, pain.  Trust the training?  Had it failed me?  Somehow I was making progress, although I still am not quite sure how, and finally I came to Mile 24.  I drank a lot of water and powerade and said to myself, you're running the last 2.2, no matter what, don't stop, do it!  I gave it all I could, but it wasn't meant to be.  Pain, run, pain, walk.  I got to Mile 25, told myself the same thing, when a woman came by and said to me, "You got a chance to break 4 hours, let's go, you can do it, let's go!".  She had far too much energy at this point, but her words helped and I ran with her as far as I could.  Pain, run, pain, run, pain run.  I made it maybe 3/4 of a mile, then I had to stop.  She kept going.  Pain, walk, pain.  Then I came to the final turn, knowing I had only 1/4 mile left and I started running.  I wasn't going to finish anywhere or in anyway like I had wanted or envisioned, but I was going to cross the finish line running no matter what.  I sure felt slow, but I ran down the last stretch, with the street lined with people on both sides and I could see and hear my parents cheering for me and I crossed the finish line in 3:56:37.  A volunteer handed me a cold towel and they could see I was in pain and got me into a chair.  Pain, pain, pain.  Sitting was no relief and I sat there for a few minutes, then got up and Frankensteined my way to find my parents.  I soon saw my dad and we went to the recovery area and I sat down.  My dad was a runner years before and he knew having seen me on pace 1/2 way that for me to finish this slow something had to have happened.  He didn't have to say anything and honestly, I didn't want to speak.

Coming into the Finish Line.  Not the finish I was expecting.

My parents had no way to know what had happened and had been watching for me at the finish for the last 45 minutes.  My dad gave me a towel, I put it over my head and I cried.  You have to understand, for me, I had put so much into this marathon, I had trained so long and it was such a focus in my life this last year.  My divorce had nearly destroyed me and I turned to running and I could control it and it had been so good for me and I had some success and I was so ready and had done all the right things to prepare for this day and it didn't work out even close to how I had hoped.  I never was concerned with qualifying for Boston.  It was a goal, something to shoot for, but never the most important thing.  I wanted to run the marathon, not just finish, but run it never stopping, run and push myself to the limits and all my training had prepared me for that.  So I thought.  It wasn't meant to be.  At that moment, it was really hard to accept.  The worst part was from a cardio-vascular stand point, I wasn't even tired.  I wasn't breathing heavy or severely fatigued, just my legs were in pain.  I knew I had it in me to run how I wanted and yet my body didn't cooperate.  It was unfair.  I'm not sure I'll ever understand why.


My dad.  He ran the Detroit Marathon in 1979 in 3:32:33 and still holds the family record!

After sitting for 15 minutes or so I hobbled over to the physical therapy tent and they started working on my legs.  My therapist was trying to give my legs a massage as I laid on my stomach on the table, but her touch to my calves was excruciating.  She was even aghast, saying I was the worst she'd seen today and how in the world did I even finish?  Good question, as I damn near exploded in agony as she worked my legs.  It hurt.  Pain, pain, pain.  But it did help and after 1/2 hour I'd say I was better, I guess and I hobbled back over to chair and sat with my parents for a bit.   I just wasn't able to enjoy the post-race atmosphere like I wanted.  But I would remiss if I didn't say what an awesome job they did with this whole race. From the registration day, to the course to the post race extravaganza, they did an absolutely incredible job putting this race together.  Even the weather was perfect.  Everything was as great as could be, except my race.  I ended up finishing in 422nd place out of 2000 and I know there are a lot of people that train their whole lives and would kill to break the 4 hour mark like I did.  But running is so solitary and you really run for yourself and your own time and it was just so deflating to not be able to run like I know that I can and have, to not have been able to give it my best.  I know in time I'll be able to feel better about this and to take all of the positives out of it.  I did finish my first marathon, even if it wasn't in the fashion I hoped, I did cross that finish line and there are at least 1,578 people that would have traded places with me that day to cross the finish line faster than they did.  There is always a silver lining, I suppose. But as I sit here with tremendously sore legs, as sore as I felt after hiking out of the grand canyon when I was extremely out of shape, it's hard to make sense of it all.  Just another life lesson I guess.  But I can assure you, this may have been my first marathon, but it will not be my last.  Thanks again for everyone who supported me and sent good thoughts my way, they all helped pull me through across the finish line.  Fire Up!

After the race, I had indeed "Earned the Bird".