Marathon Story 2018--The Final Bell

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 50^th 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. 

Counting Down Some "Lasts"

I am counting down the "lasts" toward the marathon in Philly.  There are a lot of lasts.  Today was the last "track" workout, although the "track" workout was actually on a treadmill.  I have to say it was one of the most boring treadmill workouts ever.  (I realize that some people think that all treadmill workout are boring.)

Why was it extra boring?

First, the space that the hotel at which I was staying for a professional conference had a fitness center with only three treadmills in a relatively small space.  So, there weren't many other people to look at.  For more than 20 minutes of my 52 minute workout there was no one else.  Eventually there were two other people--who were walking.  The fact that there were only three led to my decision yesterday to run outside rather than inside, and I got to run along the River Walk in San Antonio--although it was dark, and, I'm sure, less spectacular than seeing it in the light.

Second, the treadmill faced a wooden wall.  Not much to look at there.  Many places--even hotels these days--have mirrors next to the treadmills.  That would have been more exciting to see.

Third, I was exercising in the pre-dawn hours.  There were wooden blinds next to the treadmill I was on.  But there was not much going on in the section of San Antonio where I was staying, at that hour.

Fourth, as you can see in the picture. I was sweating like crazy when I was done.

Did I need the workout?  Yes. It is a part of my preparation for the Philadelphia Marathon.

Did I struggle with the workout?  No.  I was able to hit 6 one-half miles in 3:00 each without feeling overly taxed.

Do I feel ready?  As ready as I'll ever be.

The transformative moment?  At some point, I will return to all of the transformation topics I mentioned last week.  But for today the transformative moment was just the realization that this is it.  This is the end.  This may be my last marathon.  It will at least be the last marathon that I give this much training time--this many miles per week.  Hopefully it will be a crowning achievement.  At the very least it will be the end of the line for a specific type of goal.

That led me to the music I listened to on the way home from San Antonio today.  I have always liked the music from Rocky.  In fact, I had the sheet music for Gonna Fly Now when I took piano lessons as a kid.   Today, I had the album on random shuffle.  The two songs that can still give me chills when I listen to them and they come to their rousing conclusions are Gonna Fly Now and The Final Bell.  I don't always get chills when I listen to them.  But I did tonight.  I know when the most amazing parts are coming.  I can anticipate them.  Yet, I still feel the chills.  The sense of triumph (although Rocky lost the fight in the first movie).  I know I have reflected on that before, but it is a recurring theme.  Not that my entire life is a triumph, but I love seeking that feeling.  The sense of accomplishment.  The sense of completion.  This is what I hope to feel as I finish the race on November 23.  And I'm sure that The Final Bell will be running through my head.

And then we will see to what I transform my energies next.  Other than finishing out the year with as many miles as possible.  I'm at 1941.5 now.  Closing in on the goal.

So many goals.  So much achievement.  What will next year bring for me, my running, my family, and my career.  I cannot say.  But I am looking forward to finding out.  Continue to persevere and continue to love.  And the rest will fall into place. 

You can find the podcast at: http://www.buzzsprout.com/34388

Motivational Images

Earlier today I wrote my entry that was supposed to be for yesterday, and I discussed my experience of community in Baltimore at a dinner for donors to WEAA--a local public radio station.

I noted that when I think about Baltimore, I think about contrasts.  Elaborating on what I said earlier, I think about something new around every corner.  I think about a city of the unexpected.  Wonderful music.  Wonderful artists.  An incredible running community.  Interesting African drumming.  Dancers.  Great churches.  Spoken word artists.  And that is just the tip of the iceberg.  So many things that once a person has lived here as long as I have you can know all about but that may take a visitor or newbie by surprise.

I think about the image I have of Baltimore.  The image I have in my head which is mostly described above and in my earlier entry.  And the image I have as part of the tattoo on my leg.  The image that reminds me of where my spirituality matured.

I think of all the symbolism and I think of me.  I think of how much symbols have meant to me--in my day-to-day life to guide my own spirituality and my story of myself (I wonder what a psychologist would say about the use of images to guide my self-image?) and in my marathon training.

The first marathon I ran, the imagery was all about Rocky--the music, the story of someone making it through many trials.  Now, I find the images of Baltimore more useful than the images of rocky.  A city that if you only visit it as a tourist you may think of as a flat city with mostly a "touristy" existence.  However, once you get to know the city it has many hills and many nuances that make it a very interesting place to live and to raise a family.  I mentioned all the unexpected things that one can find if one "turns over some rocks" or "looks around corners" in Baltimore.

My self-image and the link to motivation is as a city of the unexpected.  Crazy turns.  Changes.  Contrasts.  I think of my life as a stream of turns, changes, and contrasts.  And I see how the city is trying to come back and how it sports teams have shown an amazing ability to come back.  And I think of the saint I have on my tattoo against the Baltimore skyline and how he came back and kept going.  And I think of the many professional and running opportunities I have ahead of me that offer opportunities to persevere, or come back, or change or take a turn and always seek and find something new that can open incredible doors on a wonderful future.

Thus, this year, when I run at least one marathon, I think I may occasionally hear a Rocky song running through my head, but I also think I may have finally outgrown that set of motivational images and moved on to images of Baltimore as my guiding light to moving forward on the marathon course and in my life.