2018 Philadelphia Marathon

After my awful Marine Corps Marathon DNF three weeks ago, I went into the Philadelphia Marathon with the following mindset: do everything I can to make this race as easy and enjoyable as possible.

What does this mean? Run at a slow, relaxed, “recovery” pace. Take walking breaks whenever I feel like it. Remember that the outcome of this race doesn’t matter. Have no expectations about a finishing time. 

Instead of slurping lemon/lime Gatorade at the fluid stations, I carried my own bottle just like I do on my practice runs. My bottle was filled with a 1:1 mix of Grape Gatorade (delicious) and water. I like to take tiny sips as I go. 

This race was a success, thank the lord! Before I crossed the finish line in Philly yesterday, it had been two years since I last finished a marathon. I now feel a great sense of relief.

The three weeks leading up to the race were tough. I was nervous and plagued with doubts about my physical state and my ability to cover a long distance. The indecision about whether or not to even attempt another marathon was distracting me day and night. I delayed making the commitment until the last possible day. I developed a mild cold and lost sleep.

In the minutes and hours following the race, a weight was lifted from my shoulders, and now my mind is finally relaxed and at peace.

The Philadelphia Marathon was my slowest race of the 7 marathons that I’ve completed. My finishing time was 5 hours and 14 minutes. It was also one of the most enjoyable. Once I had a few miles under my belt, I knew I was going to be fine. There would be no recurrence of the Marine Corps malaise. I had no nausea, no weird outbursts of perspiration, no weakness, and no emotional breakdown. 

That’s not to say that every moment was pure bliss. There’s some sort of spasm happening in my right foot. My toes uncontrollably curl when I land. It’s distracting, uncomfortable and throws me off balance. 

I hit the half marathon timing mat at exactly 2:30. I told myself that if I continue at this pace, I’ll finish in exactly 5 hours. Then my mind kept churning… “If I can speed up just a little, I’ll finish in under 5 hours.” Then I had a little argument with myself about this. Does it make any sense to set a time goal for myself now? Is this a good strategy to push myself, or a foolish idea, adding undue pressure? I decided to forget this idea and maintain my “what will be, will be” attitude. Nice and easy to the finish.

I experienced the obligatory fatigue and body pain in miles 20-26, but it was not a “wall” — it was very tough but manageable. 

I got a nice emotional lift when I saw Jim, Amy, and Farah at mile 6. (Amy was wearing a bull suit, but it looked like a bear suit to me.)

Jim and Farah ran with me for a few miles in the teens, then I was alone for a while. Amy and Farah joined me in the 20s up until the finish line chute. Having that company was fantastic. 

And I have to say I really liked the course. It was a nice balance of crowds and neighborhoods, mixed with serene landscapes, trees, and rivers. And the weather was perfect– cool and dry with partial cloud cover.  I wore exactly the right clothes.

The race concludes with about 6 miles of “out and back,” so for 3 miles as I ran out, I saw the faces of faster runners as they charged toward the finish. This was both inspiring and annoying. 

They had a good variety of food at the end and a cool medal with a Liberty Bell that rings. The people who run this race know what they’re doing. The whole thing was very well organized.

Now that I’ve run the Philly Marathon, I’m VERY happy that I stopped running Marine Corps when I did. Let’s say I decided to walk the last 6 miles of Marine Corps, which was all I could muster at that point. That would have been awful, and I would have finished with negative feelings about the whole experience. And I'm confident that I would have not have attempted another marathon 3 weeks later.

I think I'll take a break now. I’ll starting researching my next race later today.

• My race on Strava

Thank you

• Special thanks to Coach Matt Imberman who coached me (a highly emotional runner) through the ups and downs of marathon training. 
• Thank you to Jim, Amy, and Farah for coming to Philly and running with me.
• Thanks to Amy for planting the Philly seed in my head one hour after I dropped out of Marine Corps.
• Thanks to my wife, Catherine, for putting up with my marathon training schedule and my 2 hour naps, and everything else that goes with it. XXX

Jim, me, Farah, Amy

Jim took this photo of me... somewhere around mile 16?

2018 Marine Corps Marathon – My first DNF

The Marine Corps Marathon was a total disaster. From the moment I started running I sensed something wasn’t right. I wasn’t myself. My energy was low, my legs felt heavy, I was off balance and weak. 

Every mile felt like a mini-marathon. Every hill felt like a mountain. Nothing went my way, and as I continued running, it got worse. 

By the time I hit mile five I was already contemplating quitting the race. Nausea set in. Pain seared my legs. I became preoccupied with circular thoughts—  images of quitting—  when, where, how would I get home? Will I regret it?

Training for this marathon was very challenging due to the intense heat and humidity of summertime in D.C. I took the long runs slowly and ran early in the morning whenever possible. I had a range of outcomes, from terrible to mediocre to ok, with an occasional “good” run thrown in the mix. But it was mostly about enduring the suffering and remembering my goal: The Marine Corps Marathon.

Coach Matt reminded me many times: training in heat will better prepare me for race day. I believed that then and I still do.

In early October, three weeks before race day, the taper began and so did the cool weather. I felt renewed running in the magical crisp cool autumn air. My pace improved and I was infused with energy. I ran happier which made me run better. I was pumped.

Then things changed.

One week before the race I started feeling like crap. Tired and weak. Lethargic. I’d walk up a flight of stairs then sit down to catch my breath. Something just wasn’t right, but when things like this happen, particularly before a big race, I find it hard to determine the cause— is it my brain or my body?

I slept well the night before Marine Corps. I ate my normal breakfast. I was as prepared as I could be. I became nauseated on the Metro, but it passed. But once I started running… wow. Just awful.

Somewhere around mile 13 I started a run/walk approach: run for one minute, walk for 20 seconds, repeat. This was tolerable. I continued that pattern for a while, counting the seconds in my head while Elliot, joyful and enthusiastic as ever, ran beside me. We met up with Catherine at the Mall, around mile 18, and I thankfully had her by my side as my condition deteriorated. 

At this point running for even one minute became impossible. At mile 19, and all could do was walk… slowly. So Catherine and I walked together. I had two options: walk the last seven miles, or stop.

I decided that it simply wasn’t worth it. I was in agony, and deriving no joy whatsoever from my marathon experience. So I stopped.

I tore my bib off and handed it to Catherine. We took a photo together. The timing was funny but I’m glad we have it. She then went to the finish to retrieve my bag, while I headed home

I sat in a taxi in a state of mild shock and bewilderment. I had experienced the familiar sights and sounds of a marathon, but none of the joy and none of the accomplishment. Instead I was alone, driving up Connecticut Avenue, listening to a Washington Redskins radio broadcast. 

Our cat Lance greeted me at the door. He had no idea what happened. I told him but he offered no response. I was so happy to be home. I took a shower and sat down on the couch. Total disappointment.

What happened? Why did I feel so terrible? Why was I unable to run? I’ll never know. Sometimes you just have a bad day. My bad day happened to be on race day.

Catherine had been sick for a couple of weeks leading up to the race. I never seemed to get sick myself though. I didn’t come down with a cough like she did. But maybe I had a milder version of it? Who knows.

Until that point I had never quit a race. Never. Now I have. Soon after, I began thinking about another marathon which would take place three weeks later.

• My race on Strava

Here I am before the race.

Running with Elliot.

Discussing the situation with Catherine.

After deciding to quit the race, we took a quick photo. Then I headed home. Thank god for my wife! I love her. 

2016 Richmond Marathon

• My race on Strava

2015 Shamrock Marathon (Virginia Beach)

Shamrock was my fastest marathon. I beat my previous best time by 7 minutes 13 seconds. Catherine ran the entire second half of the race with me. It was by far my best execution and best paced marathon.

My race on Strava.

2014 New York City Marathon

November 2, 2014

Miles 1-2 – Verrazano Narrows Bridge

As I stood on the Verrazano Narrows bridge, waiting to start the 2014 New York City Marathon, I looked straight ahead at an empty roadway. This was new. And strange. And very cool. Usually I start near the back, but this time I was positioned in Corral A within the fourth and final wave of runners.

We were lead up the onramp and onto the bridge by a row of race officials dressed in blue and yellow NYC Marathon jackets. They stretched the full width of the highway, their arms interlocked– a slow, deliberate, and seemingly ritualistic processional up to the starting line. Music played over loudspeakers, and the scene was magical. Drama and energy filled the air.

I stood on the bridge in the howling wind with my toes positioned directly behind the starting line. I looked ahead at empty lanes of pavement and then gazed up at the Verrazano’s massive suspension towers. This was surreal.

“America the Beautiful” was sung. A cannon fired. And off we went. It all happened so fast! I had heard stories of runners waiting for hours on Staten Island, huddling, shivering, waiting, pacing about, and sleeping on trash bags. I was there for what felt like an instant. There was no time to feel nervous. I used the bathroom, stretched, got myself ready, up and onto the bridge, and off we went. 

Wow. Ok. Here we go.

Boy was it windy. Blasts of cold air whipped fiercely left and right. Hats were flying off runners’ heads. I had little to shield me from the frigid gusts because I was at the front– there were very few bodies around me. But I felt happy and excited and it was a beautiful atmosphere despite the wind. I took it nice and easy up the mile-long incline leading to the center of the bridge. Aside from the wind, it was quiet, although I could hear my race bib flip-flapping about. I glanced down and...

Holy fucking shit. My race bib is about to blow off. NOnononono

My bib was hanging on by a thread on a single safety pin, thrashing about violently in the wind. A mere millimeter was preventing it from separating from my body, soaring over the side of the bridge and vanishing into the bay.

The bib is each runner’s official entry into the race. Without it, I’m just a pedestrian. I’m no one. I’m a rogue non-participant.

Without the bib there would be no official record of my having participated in the marathon, because adhered to it is a digital timing chip which syncs with “timing mats” along the course. If I were to continue on without a bib, the record next to my name would read “DNF”, which stands for “did not finish”. Without the bib I doubt that I’d be permitted to approach the finish line, let alone cross it. I needed that goddam bib.

I continued to run while pressing the bib against my torso– an uncomfortable running posture. I battled the wind while contemplating what to do.

I need to pin my bib back on. But when? Now? Has it torn? It’s really windy up here. It might fly off if I mess with it. And I have gloves on... I can’t manipulate a safety pin with gloves on! So take the gloves off dummy. When? After the bridge? No, now. Now? Yes, now.

I crouched down onto the pavement by the median and re-pinned my bib to my shirt while uttering profanities and trying to remain calm. It took only about 40 seconds to accomplish this task, but it felt much longer. 

I got back onto my feet and ran down the second half of the bridge. My sweatshirt was zipped in order to keep the bib secure. But the sweatshirt made me too warm, so once I was off the bridge I tossed it aside, along with my sweatpants and hat.

This was not exactly how I imagined the marathon would begin.

Miles 3-13 – Brooklyn

Miles 3-8 are all along 4th Ave in Brooklyn, a route that I know very well. I ran those miles at the correct pace, as planned, but I had trouble getting comfortable. Early miles of a long run are often awkward for me. I need time to get warmed up, but this was particularly tough.

And to make matters worse, I felt abnormally hungry. I usually start running two hours after eating, but because of the long time between leaving my apartment and starting the race, this was a bit more challenging. I had eaten my usual breakfast at home, and I ate a second breakfast on the Staten Island Ferry. But nonetheless, my stomach felt uncomfortably empty as I ran up 4th Ave. I decided to eat it my first gel at mile 4 instead of mile 5.

By the time I was into the ninth mile along Lafayette Ave, I desperately needed to pee. But every port-o-potty that I passed had a long line, and I didn’t want to stand there with the clock ticking, so I continued on while tolerating the discomfort.

Somewhere during mile 10 the pressure in my bladder became excruciating, so I had no choice but to stop and use the bathroom. This added three minutes to my time, but I felt much more comfortable and relaxed.

I was moving too slowly, and running felt difficult. I was hesitant to try and increase my pace, because I needed to conserve energy for the later part of the race. I tried my best to avoid hitting the wall.

At this point my race plan was out the window, I needed to adjust my expectations, stay positive and march onward.

Miles 14-15 – Queens

I live in Park Slope and I love Brooklyn, but I’ve never been so happy to leave that borough! I saw my brother Mike in Greenpoint, then I began mile 14, heading north and over the Pulaski Bridge and into Queens. The Pulaski bridge is the halfway point of the marathon and it was a great feeling to be up and over it and on to the next chapter of the saga. Queens welcomed me.

Shortly after entering Queens, I passed my two sisters Rachel and Sarah, my nieces Julia and Katie, and Ben Hsu, Sarah’s boyfriend. It was great seeing them. They were cheering with enthusiasm!

Suddenly I realized that I had dropped my salt pills which contain sodium and electrolytes. I was now forced to drink Gatorade. Although Gatorade upsets my stomach, running the rest of the race without electrolytes was not an option. 

Miles 16-19 - 59th Street Bridge, then 1st Avenue, Manhattan

The next step in the marathon was the 59th Street Bridge, which brings the runners out of Queens, over the East River and into Manhattan. The bridge was beautifully quiet. I welcomed this peace and tranquillity. I found the cacophony of noise along the marathon course fun and exciting, but at times it was grating on my ears and mind. The bridge was frustratingly cramped however, with many people walking the incline, I had to weave left and right in order to stay within my pace.

Running up 1st Avenue is a hazy memory. I saw my friend Steph, and later Mike and Lisa Stillwell. I hung in there, but continued running at a slower pace than I had planned.

I talked to myself as I continued north up towards the Willis Ave Bridge.

Keep it positive. I’m not tired. See? I’m not even tired!

I ran 19 miles 3 weeks ago and I felt amazing. If I could do that then, I can do this now.

Let’s go. This is easy.

Miles 20-21 — The Bronx

Something interesting happened during mile 20. I arrived at the Willis Avenue Bridge, which connects Manhattan with The Bronx. As I ran up the incline, I noticed that most people were walking. I, on the other hand, was running. I felt no need to walk. Not even the temptation to walk.

Ok! I’ve got this. I have energy. I am NOT tired. Cut the nonsense right now. Let’s go. Let’s go.

Things were suddenly improving. I reached down and found another gear. After running some slow and often frustrating miles in Manhattan, I was able to ease into my target pace as I ran through the Bronx, then back into Manhattan. My confidence grew. My legs were strong and responsive, and I was still in control. I passed other runners and started to enjoy myself.

Miles 22 – Back in Manhattan, through Central Park, and to the Finish Line.

I ran down 5th Avenue feeling good, and turned a slight right into Central Park at 90th Street. Once I was in the park, I was astonished at what I was able to do. I ran hard and fast all the way down the main drive and onto Central Park South. I never slowed, and I loved every second of it. I felt alive and alert as I passed countless other runners. I looked around at the trees, the spectators, the path on which I’ve run so many times over the years. I glanced at my watch during mile 25 and observed a 9:09 pace, my fastest mile so far. I was home and nearing the end of the marathon. I glided through mile 26 in 8:50.

In my past marathons I’ve crossed the finish line in a daze— exhausted, hanging on for dear life, barely able to see anything except for what was straight ahead. But as I ran the final stretch of this marathon, I was awake, alive, alert, and present in the moment. I removed my sunglasses and looked around. And as I ran across the finish line I raised my arms in the air— something I had been too tired to do in the past. 

Concluding Thoughts

Although I missed my time goal of 4 hours 30 minutes, I still ran my fastest marathon by a margin of three minutes (4 hours 41 minutes), and I’m proud of the way I finished. I didn’t hit the wall and I didn’t walk. I didn’t get sick, I wasn’t in pain, and I ran a solid race in New York City, my home town. 

As successful as this marathon was for me, I’m frustrated that I was unable to run with stamina and confidence earlier in the race. I feel that I have the ability and potential to run better and faster. This season I enjoyed some magical training runs in which I was able to tackle distances of 18 and 19 miles, all while feeling relaxed, at ease, in control, and happy. I wasn’t able to replicate that feeling in the New York City Marathon until the very end.

So there’s more work to be done, and goals yet to be achieved. But therein lies the fun and the challenge.

I continue to cherish the experience of training for and running the marathon. Each race is an epic journey– an adventure filled with drama, highs and lows, successes and failures, high energy, fatigue, and a range of emotions from anger to exultation. I love the camaraderie among the runners out on the course— strangers become friends and allies throughout our shared journey.

I take great pride in associating myself with Team in Training, having just completed my fourth season with the Brooklyn Chapter. The coaches and teammates whom I’ve met over the past two and half years are an inspiration and a joy in my life. Together, every dollar that we’ve raised for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society is helping someone live a happier, healthier life. When I remember that, running 26.2 miles feels just a little bit easier.

________________________________

Thank you

I had the joy of seeing friends and family along the way. Much of it is still a blur in my memory, but the ones I can recall are: Joe Wagner, Natasha Ross, Gina Schmeling, Cass Crocket, Karen Ramos, Lynn Richardson, my brother Mike Rubenstein, my sisters Rachel Demeny and Sarah Rubenstein, my nieces Katie, and Julia, Ben Hsu, Gabriella Lee, Stephanie Fagenson, Judith Ackerman, Jeanette Oswald, Mara, Jess Greif, Mike Stillwell, and Lisa Stillwell, and Linda Lam.

I also had some great support from Team in Training coaches who ran with me on the course: Mike Flegar, Josh Ess, Stephanie Melka, and a coach from Manhattan whom I had never met before, named Sarah. Thank you.

Thank you to Jim Purvis, Amy Sitar and the rest of the Team in Training coaching staff for helping me prepare for this race mentally and physically. (Coach Amy, you are not just a coach, you’re also a therapist.)

Thank you to everyone who donated money to The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. Running a marathon may be hard, but it’s nothing compared to living with cancer. The money that you donated helps fund new treatments and healing therapies once thought impossible. Thank you for helping wage the war against blood cancer.

And finally, thank you to the teammates and friends whom I’ve met over the past two years who have shared their very personal and often painful stories. You’ve reminded me very day how lucky we all are to be alive and running.

Mile 9, Lafeyette Avenue in Brooklyn

Mile 22, 5th Avenue in Manhattan, with Coach Stephanie Melka.

The 2014 Vermont City Marathon

Introduction

On Sunday May 25, I ran the Vermont City Marathon in Burlington. It was a thrilling experience, and if you’re interested, you can read this detailed report. If you’re not, I completely understand. If you want a short summary— call me. I’ll happy tell you about it in 10 minutes or less. But if you want a mile by mile account, including descriptions of what I did, what I thought, and how I felt—then read on.

I trained for this race differently. I had trained for previous races with the Brooklyn chapter of Team in Training. I loved that experience. I loved the coaches and the entire group. They instilled within me the foundation that I built upon for the three marathons that I’ve now completed.  I missed them and will be back with them very soon.

But— I needed to change things up a bit this time around. So for this race I trained with Matt Imberman, a running coach who I originally met on the day I ran my first marathon in New Jersey.

The Night Before

The night before the race I went out to dinner at The Olive Garden with my race support team. It was great having everyone there: Elliot Wasser, Brittany Spanno, Amanda Gallo, Linda Lam, Mike Stillwell, and Lisa Stillwell. As usual, I had spaghetti and meatballs, and I was very careful not to overeat. I was in bed by 10:00, watching TV and feeling sleepy. I actually slept reasonably well considering it was the night before a marathon that I’d been training for since January.

Morning Routine

My alarm went off at 4:45.  I showered and prepared my usual pre-long-run breakfast. I had transported all of the necessary appliances in order to prepare the following: tea with sugar, toasted bagel with butter, two soft boiled eggs with salt, and one Mint Milano cookie. I also had some water. It was a little difficult to eat because I didn’t have a huge appetite at that hour, but I got it down and was done eating by 5:45. This was ideal because it gave me over two hours of time to digest, which is critical for me because of the issues I’ve had with nausea in my two previous marathons.

Pre-Race at Battery Park

Once I was dressed and ready I left my hotel and walked over to Battery Park. This park is beautiful, overlooking Lake Champlain. I paced around, stretched, did my warms up, sat down, stood up, sat down again, texted, peed about five times, tapped my foot anxiously, and finally checked my bag and headed into the corrals. Once I was in the corrals I felt pretty calm. I took a few deep breaths and closed my eyes. I heard organ music… the introduction to “Where the Streets Have No Name” by U2. I love this song. I was so happy that they were playing it that I teared up. I can't think of a better song to get me pumped up for a race. That was a great way to start.

The temperature was warm and a bit humid. The sun was shining brightly— no clouds in the sky.

Miles 1-3

The air horn blew and off I went.  I felt good at first, but about half a mile in I had some scary moments. First, my right leg started tightening up. This happens to me often, and it annoys the hell out of me, but I’m used to it. I call it ARS, which stands for “Awkward Running Syndrome”. It’s not painful, it’s just really goddam annoying. When it happens I can’t run normally and feel off-balance and uncomfortable. The only remedy I’ve found is to stop, stretch, walk a bit, then resume running. So that’s exactly what I did. It was a bit dispiriting to have to do that in the first mile of a marathon but I had no choice. I tried to think positively and not let it bother me.

This will pass.

This has happened a million times. 

Don’t worry about it.

Later in the first mile— sudden pain in my right knee! Now this pissed me off. I couldn’t believe it. I have a history of issues with this knee, but it had been FINE for weeks prior to the race. I’d tapered properly, iced it, foam rolled twice a day, had several massages… I even saw an orthopedist and got an MRI, the results of which were totally normal. 

What the fuck! No!

You’ve got be kidding me. Is this really happening?

Now I was angry. I couldn’t control my emotions and enjoy the race at this point. I was nervous and angry about the tightness and the knee pain. But on I ran, and thankfully, it never returned. My knee was totally fine for the remainder of the race.

Miles 2 and 3 went well, although I was aware that my pace was slower than I wanted it to be. My long runs had been at about a 9:50 pace during training. But considering the heat and humidity as well as the marathon distance, I knew that running slower was the right decision. I had discussed this with Matt at length. So when I saw my watch reporting a 10:30 pace, I told myself:

this is fine.

this is early days.

these are early miles.

this is fine.

this is right where I want to be.

Mile 1: 10:38. Not bad, considering I stopped to stretch.

Mile 2: 10:30

The third mile took us right through Church Street in downtown Burlington which was very cool.

Mile 3: 10:34

Miles 4-9 — Out and Back on the Highway

Mile 4 is where the “out and back” on the highway began. This was by far the most boring part of the race. Three miles out and three miles back on a pretty nondescript looking highway. The first three miles were a gentle downhill slope, which while nice, also comes with the constant reminder that this is going to be all uphill on the way back.

This stretch of highway also had no shade. The sun was beating down on me and I really started to sweat. I began using the water stations not only to hydrate, but to cool myself by dumping water over my head and neck. This really helped. I also got my shirt wet which helped keep me cool.

The highway portion of the course seemed to go on forever. Every time I thought I saw the turnaround point, I was wrong; there was more.  Six miles total on the highway.

Mile 4: 10:07

Mile 5: 11:01 because I stopped to pee

Mile 6: 10:06

Mile 7: 10:05

Mile 8: 10:29

Mile 9: 10:14

Mile 10

Mile ten was the best! I was so happy to be off of that awful highway and done with the uphill climb. Mile ten was like a homecoming. 

I’m back!

Crowds were cheering… the highway was over… I was now running downhill right back into town, through Church Street again, and my mind and body felt GREAT. This was my favorite mile of the entire race. It was a joy.

Mile 10: 9:55  My only sub-10:00 mile of the race.

Mile 11-15

This portion of the race is hazy in my mind, mostly because nothing really memorable took place. I was fine. I was in a comfort zone, just doing my thing. I had long since accepted the fact that I was going to have to run this marathon at a slower pace than I had hoped, so I made my peace with the 10:30 pace and did not allow it to discourage me. 

I knew that at mile 16 I would face the most significant hill of the course… “Battery Hill”. So that was on my mind during mile 15 as I approached it.

Mile 11: 10:22

Mile 12: 10:35

Mile 13: 10:29

Mile 14: 10:35

Mile 15: 10:27

Mile 16 — “Battery Hill”

My two previous marathons (New Jersey and Chicago) were both completely flat courses. This was my first time running a marathon with hills. Mile 16 has a very steep, but mercifully short hill. I think the distance of the hill is about a quarter of a mile or so.

I had done an easy pace practice run on the Friday prior to the race, during which I used that opportunity to run up this hill. So when I did it during the marathon, I had confidence that it would be okay, and it was. I did take a 30 second walking break about half way up, but overall this hill was not a problem and it was over before I knew it. There was also great crowd support there, along with a group of drummers pounding on massive kettle drums. I loved that part.

Mile 16: 10:53

Once I crested the hill, I felt really good because I knew that the remainder of the course was flat and downhill. I also knew that Amanda was waiting for me at the mile 17 marker, so I now thought…

Run to Amanda

Mile 17-22 — Running with Amanda

My friend Amanda has done many practice runs with me during my training for this race, so I knew she would be a great running partner.  She knew exactly what I wanted: a quiet and reliable running partner by my side.

When I saw her in the distance waiting for me on the side of the road, I could see her reaction: none. She would explain later that she did not recognize me! I guess my unshaven face, my watery marathon hairstyle, and my emotionless expression really threw her off. She identified me based only on my bib number.

The first thing she said to me was “Your hair looks awesome.”

Mile 17: 10:25

Mile 18: 10:43

Mile 19: 10:40

Mile 20: 10:40

You can see based on my miles above, that I was starting to slow down. The race really began getting tough around mile 20. I was tired. I began taking more frequent walking breaks. I was hot.

I focused on getting to the bike bath. The bike bath is the last leg of the race. It’s a gorgeous tree lined path which runs along side Lake Champlain and back to Waterfront Park.

Just get to the fucking bike path.

The race gradually stopped being fun. I was okay, but really struggling. I maintained my running form, but when I stopped to walk, my legs would suddenly feel like jello. It was hard to tell if walking was even helping me or not.

Mile 21: 11:09

Mile 22: 11:32

Eventually Amanda and I arrived at the bike path and I took it alone from there. I am grateful that she was there.

Mile 23-25 — The Bike Path and the Crazy Pace Leader

This part of the course was beautiful, but it was hard to enjoy it because I felt so miserable. I really had to push hard mentally and physically to keep running. Then I saw the 4:45 pace group. My personal record for a marathon was 4:47, set in New Jersey in May of last year. So although I was not tracking my total time on my watch, I now knew that if I stayed with this group, I would set a new personal record. So I tried to do this. I tried really hard. 

Now I want to tell you about this pacer. She looked to be in her fifties. A very fit woman, in mile 25 of a marathon, holding a “4:45” sign and running with some balloons attached to her. She was talking, upbeat and as chipper as ever.  I was blown away by what she was doing. I generally prefer running alone and in silence, but at this point, having this little group to latch onto was really helpful. I have a whole new respect for marathon pacers. This woman was absolutely incredible. This 4:45 clan of runners was helpful, but their presence also inflicted me with a sense of desperation.

Stay with this group.

Stay with this fucking group.

No… I can’t.

yes I CAN!

Fuck it. Let them go.

NO.

NO!

I need to walk

NO I DON’T!

This is really hard.

I do things that are hard.

That’s what I do.

My ears are clogged up.

My breathing is amplified in my brain.

Like the astronaut in 2001.

I want to die.

This is almost over.

Stay with this group, you’ll be angry at yourself later if you don’t.

I can’t.

Mental anguish. Physical exhaustion. Although I had long since accepted that I wouldn’t make my goal time, the opportunity for a new personal record was still within my grasp— a point made glaringly obvious by the presence of the 4:45 pace group. 

But I was so tired. I desperately tried to stay with them. Although I’ve been trained to look up, I looked down at the ground as I ran, focusing on the feet of the runner in front of me. 

Just stay with her.

Stay with her.

I let them go. I was just too tired. Off they went into the distance… the balloons, the chatting, and my personal record disappearing into nothingness.

Mile 23: 11:47

Mile 24: 11:40

Mile 25: 12:08

Mile 26

I ran a bit.. walked a bit… ran hard for a bit… walked a bit more… until I saw the end of the bike path, I heard the crowd, and I knew that the end was near.

Once I exited the bike path I was out in the sun, by the lake, crowds lining the course, green grass, back to civilization!  The end was so close— so I started to run harder, and as a result I felt a sudden pain in my groin on both sides. WOAH. It hurt, but then went away. I started to run hard again and my calves started freaking out… getting all wobbly, like there were bubbles flowing inside them.

What is happening!?

The last couple of hundred feet are a straight shot down a grass corridor to the finish line. I ran hard but my legs started going crazy. So even along that final stretch I had to walk just a little bit. I was distracted from the joy of finishing the marathon because of the sudden insanity I was feeling in my legs.

But I did run right through to the finish. A guy standing there saw me, put his hand up and said “You’re done… you’re done.”

Mile 26: 11:31

After the Finish Line

I pressed the stop button on my watch: 4:44. A new personal record. 

I was astonished. Incredulous. Shocked. I was too tired and delirious to be happy at that point, but very relieved that I could finally stop running. 

I felt weak and unfocused. I forgot about the medal until someone put it onto me. I didn’t even see who did that.

Someone handed me a water bottle. I grabbed a banana. I looked for a piece of grass to sit down on. I saw Mike and Lisa on the other side of the barricade. I couldn’t speak yet. I needed a few minutes to collect myself.

I needed to eat but there was no food in sight. I didn’t understand this. Where is the food?

I lay down on the grass. I had a little bit of the banana but it was brown and I didn’t want it. I felt a bit dizzy when I got up. 

Amanda, Linda, Elliot, and Brittany arrived. It was great to see them.

I exited the finishers’ chute and made my way into the park with the group and sat down. I still didn’t see any goddam food. I eventually bought a burger but it wasn’t good and I only ate a little bit of it.

I felt pretty good for about 20 minutes. We took some photos and I talked with everyone about the race.

Muscle Spasms and Nausea

Suddenly my right foot started to hurt. My big toe was going crazy— flexing itself and moving uncontrollably. Pain. I tore my shoes off and tried to relax my foot by massaging it.  Then my entire leg from the knee down through the foot seized up. An intense muscle spasm. I don’t even know how to explain this. I screamed in pain. It was as though I suddenly had no control over my body. You could see my calf muscle quivering. It was as though someone was stretching out my leg like a rubber band. It was agonizing.

Elliot suggested that I needed to get some electrolytes into my system, and someone eventually arrived with an ice pack and some Gatorade, and pair of medics came to my aid. The helped me get onto my feet in order to get blood flowing into the leg.

I walked around for a bit, and eventually sat back down, and then lay down in the grass. After a few minutes I started to feel nauseous. Then as I made my way slowly back to the hotel I started dry-heaving. Elliot (a doctor) felt strongly that this was a symptom of an electrolyte imbalance, and that I needed to drink a sports drink and eat a banana. So I did that, slowly, but I felt sick for a while.

With Elliot and Brittany’s aid, I got back to my hotel and eventually I settled down and was better after a hot bath and a long nap. I even went out to dinner with everyone and had a full meal.

Concluding Thoughts

Of my three marathons, this one was the most successful.

• I did not get nauseous (until after).

• I ran my fastest time, despite heat, humidity, and hills.

• My friends were there to support me. I will never forget this. 

• I feel very satisfied with this accomplishment. I have nothing to feel disappointed about. 

You may be wondering: how did I finish at 4:44 despite finishing behind the 4:45 pace group? Over dinner that night Amanda would point out the obvious answer: I started the race after they did. So although I was running with them, I was actually ahead of them because they had a full minute head start at the beginning of the race. Brilliant!

Thank You

Thank you to my friends who travelled to Burlington to be with me for this special day: Lisa, Mike, Elliot, Brittany, Amanda, and Linda.

Thank you to Amanda Gallo for running with me in Central Park and running with me during the marathon. You've been a great friend and your presence in the race was wonderful. 

Thank you to coaches Jim Purvis and Amy Sitar who helped me fall in love with long distance running, and helped pave the way for me to get to this day.

And thank you to Coach Matt Imberman who helped me prepare myself physically and mentally for this marathon. Including training, dealing with the flu, recovering from a back injury, treating a chaffed inner thigh, helping guide me on the decision to skip Big Sur and run Vermont instead, adjusting my nutrition and hydration, conquering the nausea, strengthening my core, and everything else that goes into preparing oneself for a 26.2 mile race. THANK YOU.

My race support team — We took this photo the night before the marathon outside The Olive Garden. 

From left to right: Lisa Stillwell, Mike Stillwell, Elliot Wasser, Brittany Spanno, Linda Lam, Amanda Gallo.

Mile 18. You can see Amanda in black on the right.

I drank water at every water station, and poured plenty of water over my head and body.

There's the 4:45 pacer lady on the left. She was awesome. (Great photo by Linda Lam.)

Mile 25.

Approaching the finish line.

Mike took this photo of me as I crossed the finish line.

I was pretty tired but I felt good at this point.

Linda, me, Amanda

Pain and suffering.

Rested, shaved, and ready for dinner.