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.