Today, I write to describe my 11th marathon
experience. This was different from the first ten in many ways. Let
me quickly review my first 10. It really
helps to set the context.
(1) October
2010—Baltimore—decided to run after I ran the Baltimore half in 2009 and just
wanted to show that I could do it. Frustrated because I got my muscles
tied in knots for more than a week just over a month before, because I ran a
half in Philly and hopped on a plane to South Africa almost immediately
after.
(2) October
2011—Baltimore—improved by 17+ minutes over the year before. Within
striking distance of Boston qualifying (BQ) time.
(3) November
2011—NCR Trail—improved by another 6+ minutes over the month before but fell
just short of a BQ time because the last two miles of mostly uphill proved to
be too challenging.
(4) March
2012—Lower Potomac River—ran just fast enough to BQ in the days when it was
first come-first served and not determined by how much you went under the published
qualifying time.
(5) April
2013—Boston—solid race, but didn't qualify for Boston again. And after
the bombing, figured I didn't need to go back.
(6) November
2014—Philadelphia—following a plan developed by a coach I met in Boston (Shannon)
and running the last 4 miles with my friend Jackie. She is a former student and the local
executive director of Back on My Feet, a volunteer organization I’d run with
since the spring of 2011. Shannon and Jackie
not only helped me achieve the lifetime PR, Jackie’s encouragement helped me
meet my goal as I ran a 3:09:49. I had faded to high 7's before Jackie joined
me just and I ran a solid last four miles.
(7) October
2015—Freedoms—started at Harper's Ferry and ended in Shepherdstown WV.
Ran with Lauren, who is accumulating one marathon in each of the fifty
states. She was okay with my going ahead after completing mile 19, so I
could get my sub-3:40 to qualify for an ultra the next spring.
(8) April
2016—Gettysburg—the second "Civil War" location marathon. Ran
sub-3:20 thinking of my grandmother who'd passed. What little I'd been
left (I hadn't expected any) was used to pay for the ultra that I wanted to get
a better placing for. I ran in memory of
my grandmother and the “can do” attitude she had.
(9) October
2016—Baltimore—the first of two attempts to get someone to qualify for Boston
on her first time. Success with negative splits for Elysabeth.
(10) October
2017—Baltimore—the second of two attempts to get someone to qualify for Boston
on her first time. Warm and challenging day. Suzie finished. That
was all that was important by the time we were done. She later qualified
for Boston.
(11) October
2018--Baltimore
This was a
year that I began asking myself, "Do I want to do another?"
Late spring/early summer, I got in touch with Joselyn, one of my first training
partners from the Charm City Run marathon training group in 2010. She had
her third child in October 2017. I point out that we had run the
Baltimore marathon in the same year three times but never run it together. In theory, running a 3:30 (what seemed like a
comfortable pace for us both) would be fun. That was what we
thought. I didn't end up running with her or finding 3:30 to be a pace I
could hold on race day.
What
happened?
Life.
And I learned—that is okay.
I can run a
marathon without having to have a time in mind or helping someone else.
And I can find meaning.
What was the
meaning?
Let's begin
with the fact that I put in a lot of miles. I kept up the running to keep
myself in shape. And the running I did was with friends most of the time
(Back on My Feet, Lauren, Kristen, Suzie, Nicole, Joselyn, and even Jill and
Jackie once or twice. All this running with people led me to tie my bib
number (2822) to my choice of the scripture before the race (Genesis 2:8-22).
The reading focused on the importance of a person having another (or others
more generally). I carried that idea
over to running.
Next, I think
about the workouts. I didn't put in a lot of fast miles at the end of
long runs. I didn't put in a lot of tempo runs. I didn't put in a
lot of speed workouts. Also, the temperatures were crazy high for most of
the long runs. Baltimore was stuck in a muck for quite some time.
Every morning was 70 degrees or warner and high humidity. I ran most of
the miles in my first three 20 milers at slower than 9 minutes per mile.
My last 20 was a little faster. But I really didn't train to run fast.
On the day of
the race, I went to the Back on My Feet tent with only a sense of "maybe
3:40" and "anything better than a 4:00" would be fine.
That's quite a wide range. But I had no idea what I'd run.
As several
members of the Christopher's Place team walked together, someone made a comment
that led two of us to break into "I get knocked down, but I get up
again/You're never gonna keep me down." One of the teammates
commented that he feared hearing that catchy song sung the entire time.
Then, another teammate started humming the main theme song from the original Rocky
movie (Gonna Fly Now). I loved
that song as an impressionable six year old when the movie came
out.
But my
favorite song from the original Rocky movie when it comes to running is The Final Bell. The remainder of
the marathon story will make the reason clear.
When I got to
the starting line, I didn't stay near the front or even near the 3:45 pace
group that I had considered settling in with. Instead, I walked toward
the back to find my friend Sandy (tall and always runs with two pig tails so
easy to find) whom I hadn’t seen in person in well over a year. We got a selfie. She was back near the
five hour group and I couldn’t push my way up after our greeting.
Starting far back at 57 degrees went to my head
as “this is going to be a long day—just finish.”
I saw that my
friend Patrick (Jackie’s husband) was pacing the 4:45 group. I didn't
have a chance to say hello before the race, but after I ditched my shirt
running during the first mile (8:49) I was able to give him a shout out.
I ran on.
In the second
mile, I passed the first member of the Carey relay team. She commented
that my pace looked leisurely (8:39). Yes, for me, for a marathon, it
was.
Third mile I
continued up the outside of Druid Hill Park and felt solid (8:42). Just
chugging along. Mile 4 (8:38) took us through the zoo. Funniest
moment was when someone asked the zookeeper what an animal was and the
zookeeper answered "rabbit". My fellow runner thought it would
have a more exotic name—but it was just a rabbit. Also saw a skunk and
penguin.
Mile 5 was
downhill in the park (8:11). Mile 6 was even faster at 8:09. I was
feeling good. Mile 7 was 8:17 and I saw a guy with a sign that measured
the distance remaining in light years. Silly but fun.
Stopped at a
porta-potty in mile 8 and ran an 8:59. I didn't worry. Continuing
down St. Paul street, I ran a 8:08 for mile 10. Mile 11 was 8:18. I
had pulled back as I worried that while I was glad to have run several miles
around 8:10, I was not prepared to keep up that pace. Passing along key highway,
I got a high-five from Jackie. Great boost
to my spirit. I also got a shout out
from my friend Peter who was already headed back the other way on Key Highway. See him almost every year. He and his wife Abby who also works at Carey
are a joyful couple.
Miles 12 and
13 were 8:17 and 8:14. Around the start of mile 13 I had seen the third runner
in my school’s relay team. Mile 14, I
slowed down some, running an 8:42 as I passed through the water stop manned by
colleagues and grabbed a banana to eat. Also saw an old Back on My Feet
friend wearing her Michigan garb--go blue!
Got a big shout out from her.
Mile 15 was
8:25. Mile 16 was 8:38—climbing alongside Patterson Park. I thought
about my partner the year before and her struggles. This was where they really set in. I was determined not to succumb to the same
checking out she had described a year before.
Not to say I was better. Just to
say I’d learned a lesson.
Mile 17,
8:32. I think that was the mile in which I saw three kids together with each
holding a hand at a different height and I gave consecutive high fives. Fun for sure.
Mile 18, 8:47 continuing up toward Lake
Montebello. Miles 19 and 20 were 8:58 and 8:46. I could feel my
drive waning as I slowed down. Never wondering if I could make it the
whole way. Just wondering how long it would take me.
During mile
21 (9:14), I saw a colleague who gave me words of encouragement. Mile 22
saw another colleague who also called out (9:03).
Passed the
Back on My Feet water stop just after mile 22. Missed a hello from Lauren
as she was getting more cups of water for other runners. Did get a big
shout out from Dee, with whom I participated in the JFK 50 miler to celebrate
her 50th birthday the year before. That was the second time I’d
seen Dee on the course and it was a really big boost! I was still going
pretty easily, got a cheer from another colleague, and finished mile 23 in
9:22.
It was then
that I had to make a choice. Was I going to just jog it in or see what I
had left? Was I going to take my time and end near 4 hours or was I going
to see how close I could come to keeping my time under 3:45? Was I going
to let the fact that I had gone so slowly get to my head or get over whatever
had been holding me back and give all the effort I had left for the last three
miles? Was I going to finally channel Joselyn’s spirit as I hoped to
dedicate the whole run to our friendship or was I going to feel sorry for
myself for not having someone with whom to run the race? Was I going to
show that I could work harder at the end as Shannon always encouraged and as I
had tried to do in so many workouts over the years (although not as many as I
would have liked during this training season) or finish flat? Was I going
to live up to the spirit of The Final Bell or lay on the mat like Rocky chose
not to do so many times in the first movie?
I wouldn't go
so far as to say I took the road to glory. But I did take the road to be
able to live with myself for not having wasted a morning and a training season—even
if both were imperfect.
During mile
24, I saw seven people who will matter more than they could have imagined
and two will probably never know. First, near the start of mile 24 there
was some music that sounded Afro-Caribbean with two women dancing. That
was great, but I didn't see the people dressed as tigers playing Eye of the Tiger and handing out gummy
bears. At least one “tiger” and the music were always a part of this
race. Then, a little further down the
road I saw them. My heart leapt for joy hearing another well-known Rocky song.
The whole world seemed right again as that was exactly what I was expecting at
that point of the race.
I continued
down Guilford and ran across 29th. There, I saw John, one of the coaches
from Charm City Run. I respect him and his wife, Lauren, and the other Joselin,
who also trained with Charm City. All
three were cheering together. That added to the boost.
Finally, as I
turned on to Maryland Avenue, I didn't see any of my own kids, but I saw my
oldest son's girlfriend and her younger sister sitting by the side of the
road. She gave me a big cheer. She apparently then took a photo of
me once I was down the street and texted it to my wife, pointing out that I was
the shirtless one. The first thing she told me later was that she enjoyed
cheering people on and her sister was just amazed by the number of
runners. Even later, I found out that she and her sister only stayed
there for about one-half hour and she just tried to time it based on when I'd
come through in the years prior. Very touching.
In any case,
that was plenty to inspire me and I got my 24th mile back down to 8:36.
That was a big improvement as I continued down Maryland Avenue. Mile 25,
I was practically sprinting (compared with any other mile that day) down
Maryland Avenue and ran a 7:57. That was truly amazing. I put
everything I had into that mile. I could feel my legs telling me,
"We're going to be tight after you asked us to give it our all this
late." But I pressed on.
Sometime near
the end of mile 25 or early in mile 26, I passed four Penn Staters. I
said, "We are..." and raised my arms. I got an answer
"Amazing..." aimed at me, but I'd been expecting "Penn
State!" back. I didn't let my disappointment affect my
running. With a bit of an uphill in mile 26 followed by a down, I held a
respectable 8:12.
My watch said
I ran 26.4. It had me sprinting down Pratt Street for the last 0.4 at a
6:50 pace. I probably was. I had looked to see if I could come in
under 3:45. That was not mean to be, but
then I did keep it under 3:46.
It was everything I had. The music of
The Final Bell rain through my
brain. The soft and slow piano intro
into the upbeat strings, drums, and synth.
Imagining it as I ran down Pratt street.
The song concluding with the slower “da-da-da-da da-da-da da-da-da,
da-da-da-da da-da-da-da da-da-daaaaaaaa!”
I had lived
up to all the effort my training partners had put in with me. I had lived
up to The Final Bell.
What does
that mean to me. Well, in the scene
leading to the final bell, Rocky took a fall near the end of round 14 but got
up again. During round 15, the announcer described Rocky and Apollo Creed
as looking like they had been through a war. I don't know if I looked
quite that bad around the end of mile 22, but my colleague who was nearest the
farmers' market when she called to me she wondered if I felt bad. The two
fighters slogged through round 15. Then at the final bell, the song kicks
in with a soft piano start and then goes into high gear. In the movie,
people storm the ring. An interviewer is asking Rocky how he feels.
He is just glad to be done. The ring announcer is talking about the fight
and announcing the judges’ decisions which go Apollo, Rocky, and Apollo for the
win. Throughout it all, Rocky just keeps yelling for one person—Adrian.
He wants to share the joy of having made it through. He can see well
enough (apparently) to notice that she is missing her hat (it fell off when she
went under the ropes) and the movie closes with them embracing.
That would be
an excellent way to end a race. Not bloody like Rocky and Apollo were,
but with a sense of making it through despite trials and doubts. Then,
regardless of the result (time in my case) being so relieved that I just wanted
to share it with someone. The past two years, I was lucky enough to have
someone to share it with each time. A high five and hug in 2016 as we
finished a glorious race with our medals in hand. An arm around Suzie to
support her before she went to the medical tent in 2017, with a picture by the
finishers’ banner later on. This year, just being done, walking to get my
medal and some snacks by myself, and the long delay till hugs back at the tent.
And my
sharing—I shared some on Saturday, but this is my main sharing. Sharing
the fact that with persistence, resilience, and just plain grit, a person can sometimes
surprise himself or herself and come back from the depths to accomplish a
goal. This works in running. This works in life.
At the end of the first Rocky they said “No
rematch.” For me, there will almost certainly be one more. If I run Baltimore again next year, I will
have at least one marathon each calendar year in my 40’s. Twelve total.
Half in Baltimore. That would be
a fitting end for a while. And it would
be a great way to take on the event one last time to see what I could train
myself to do. How could I overcome one
more time? What new lessons would I learn?
What could I bring back to life and work and mentoring and being a dad?
Only time will tell.
