From Marathon to Couch Potato (And Back)

 

Coming Soon!

My 13-year-saga to complete a marathon. If you read this blog—perhaps one person does regularly—then you know my story.  But for the benefit of distance runners and the general public I am chronicling my fall and rise from a man training to qualify for the Boston Marathon to a broken specimen informed that he will never run again to man in his late-60s training for 26.2.

Out by Christmas in non-fiction ebook form? We shall see. I'll know more after I finish collating years worth of notes. 

The question arises: who cares? Could be most people. But I'm hoping anyone facing long odds will find hope in this brief tale. 

Surfers Point Marathon Retrospective

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 Hindsight is 20/20, Fella

Yes, yes, but it's invaluable when assessing a race. First off, I'm jazzed to have:

A. Finished.

B. Finished ahead of my goal time. (5:30 or five hours and thirty minutes.)

C. Finished eight minutes ahead of my goal time. (5:22:49)

A set time helped me focus and not just in training. Without one I'd have settled for "just finish the wretched thing." (In the later miles, that temptation paced in the back of my mind, then settled in by the fire for miles 21 to 24.) Or else the more diabolically commercial "just finish the wretched thing and write a little book."

Loop Courses Have Issues 

Which is saying I have issues with loop courses. I didn't before. But then I'd never run one for a marathon. Every pleasing downhill grade must be run uphill twice. In the case of Surfers Point, the longest uphill grades were on the return trip. It was psychological. I kept thinking, 'I've got to do this again."

For slower runners such as myself, everyone passes you more than once. With multiple races and a wave start, runners from the half-marathon zipped by. Fast 10kers showed me their heels. Fortunately, zero 5kers left me in the dust. This constant passing triggers a hurry-up gene often experienced while driving. You must concentrate to suppress it and remain on pace.

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On the Subject of Pace

 I went out too fast. I knew I went out too fast. Prior marathon experience taught me I couldn't "bankroll" fast miles early for slow miles later. I'd risk bonking, missing my goal time, shuffling across the finish line, an abject example for the young. Yet I did it anyway. My half-marathon time was 2:33 instead of 2:45. During the latter miles of the race I felt myself grinding to a halt like a car running out of fuel. The virtue of patience should be exercised in the marathon's first half, then assess. 

Training Woes 

All self-inflicted. I didn't run enough days during the week. My cross-training fell away. My chi running form decayed at longer miles and I addressed the matter haphazardly. I didn't include enough pace miles in my long runs. And I neglected to generate enough faster miles in the form of tempo runs or track sessions. 

Nothing above detracts from my warm feelings. But should I attempt another marathon—unclear today—all these points would be addressed.

And I am writing a little book on my 13-year quest to complete 26.2. 

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I Finish a Marathon After 13 Years

My Finishing Time

As Winston Churchill once said: "If you're going through Hell, keep going." Achieved my goal of finishing in a certain time. That helped keep me going several times. Training is over for awhile. What ever shall I do now with all my extra time?
 

Obligatory Pre-Marathon Gear-on-the-Bed Shot

Not Really His Bed—A Fold-Out in a Back Room

Well, now it's serious. We leave tomorrow morning for our drive to the coast. Then its pick-up my gear pack including race number, check into our hotel, off to evening Mass, then a fine pasta meal. The end of Daylight Savings allows me a spare hour of sleep, but I won't. The pre-dawn hours bring with them a complicated dance wherein my wife drops me off at a shuttle bus location then goes back to sleep, then finds a parking space and walks to the finish line for my arrival around 5 hours and 30 minutes later. 

So that's it. Thirteen years have passed since I prepared to run a marathon. Pain, operations, depression, quitting running for good, stupid injuries when I didn't quit running for good, learning a complex way of covering ground that didn't stress my bad knee. It seems surreal, big. Part of me wants to stay in bed Sunday morning and not race.

But I've come this far. I want to see how it all ends.

Twenty-One Miles Run and Done

 

Rose Bowl courtesy of Pasadena City College

Down in the arroyo where the Rose Bowl sits it was a southern California cold morning—41 degrees. I wished I'd brought gloves. Very nervous over whether I'd finish today. My chi running form was off. My feet burned from prior long runs and body parts hurt which shouldn't have.

Since I'd be running over rocky terrain, I waited until the dawn's early light arrived. As in times past, I focused on breaking the run into segments: six miles south, down and back to my starting point, along the Arroyo Seco Channel—a fancy name for a concrete flood control canal. Then a three mile loop around the Rose Bowl. Then two miles down and back to the south. 

After topping up my water belt bottles, it was north for five miles of mostly uphill running. Past the Devil's Gate Reservoir, past JPL, up into the Angeles National Forest. I encountered old Team in Training pal CJ bounding south along the trail. We chit-chatted briefly, then I pushed on to the Elmer Smith Bridge. From there it was five mostly downhill miles back to my Rose Bowl Lot K starting point.

Devil's Gate Reservoir courtesy of KCET

Adjustments to my chi running form really helped. But as my feet have grown with age, I found my shoes weren't large enough to handle foot expansion. This resulted in bruised toenails and, later, an emergency purchase of larger shoes. Also, the GU gel replenishing my glycogen tastes very treacly after a time. Gummi bears didn't seem as effective as back-in-the-day when I trained for the Phoenix Marathon. I need to quickly revamp my road menu. Two more long runs remain for assorted testing purposes.

Boy, did I ache the rest of the day. I'd forgotten about ice baths. Twenty-one miles marks the longest training run since a pair of 22 milers logged while preparing for the 2008 Eugene Marathon.

So now the Surfers Point Marathon seems real. My goal has been adjusted to five hours and thirty minutes. I've acquired a hotel room and need to wrap up a few more athletic loose ends. But after thirteen years, it seems I'll finally get a crack at another 26.2.

Twenty Mile Run Tomorrow

Medical Island

 

This will decide whether or not I tackle 26.2 next month. My chi running form—good enough for 3 and 4 mile runs—tends to fall apart at longer distances. I've been focusing on my form, but there may not be enough time left before race day. So I'll proceed as long as I safely can. If it feels like Mr. Injury has again come a'calling, then I'll cut it short, eat my entry fee, and work on my form. It'll take a bit longer than anticipated, but I'm finishing another marathon. 

I contemplated my first 20 mile run a mere 15 years ago.

Running Update and Pink Cataract

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 So rare, but I will report even though there's not much going on other than consistency. (I suppose that's something.) I am consistently running three days a week. One of my favorite spots in Griffith Park is overrun with unemployed runners, walkers, and dog-walkers. Filthy grandma-killers! (Notice I choose an image uncluttered by humanity, save for a solo Everyman.)

Last month's post mentioned my general aversion to virtual races. (There's no reason everyone can't qualify for Boston this year.) I also allowed that I might run a marathon with volunteer witnesses. However, my training could be curtailed once more for medical reasons. This time it's cataracts.

They've been around awhile, I never noticed anything until recently when my computer screen seemed a bit murky, obscuring certain naked Russian girls important story point. Rather than procrastinate until I'm wandering around with a tin cup and a cane, I'll attend to matters now. Unless something goes horribly wrong, I doubt there will be a book on this procedure. At least, I hope so.

Another Story Du Jour coming soon.

Raceless in LA

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All Trained Up and No Place to Run

(Unless You're Running From the Law)

Since Los Angeles has scotched all outdoor sporting activities save mass demonstrations and rioting, I find myself a man alone without a marathon. I'd set my sights on a winter marathon up in Oxnard, but, sadly, they've cancelled due to the old Wuhan Virus. 

Actually, I'm Not Trained Up At All

I was back in February, having run eight miles for the first time in over a decade, lowering my 5k time, and cross-training like a fiend on the stationary bike. But an injury and the COVID blues sapped my zeal. Nevertheless, once again on the rebound, I find that road races are as outmoded as streaking. Virtual racing holds little appeal for me. Who says I ran the time I claim?

Here is My Simple Plan

Training for 26.2 will continue. At such point as I would run a marathon, I will, instead, run from Lot K at the Rose Bowl to the Elmer Smith Bridge and back, then loop the Rose Bowl until I complete 26.2 miles. (Six laps or so.) I invite any and all to observe and second my efforts. Barring fires, floods, pandemics, civil disturbances, or giant insects, I hope to attempt this in late November or early December 2020. 

There. Now I've said. Until then, stay safe and limber.   

Tomorrow's Pasadena 5k Plus Free Marathon Update

OOPS

Larry Cuban

Yesterday I picked up my race bib. Had to show a QR code and a picture ID. In return, I received my 5k race bib. (No technical shirt until after the race. I don't know why either.)

Email this morning. I was issued the wrong bib, receiving one for the half-marathon. Now I must return today, or arrive extra early tomorrow, negotiate the pre-race crowd, and exchange bibs. Issuing race bibs shouldn't be a complicated process or involve extra effort on the part of a runner paying today's inflated prices. But alas, so many things are fouled up in California. Why not 5ks?

Wife Joy shall join me this year. Due to a ruthless work schedule, her training suffered, but she'll amble in whenever for a medal and a technical shirt.

Being 34 pounds lighter than 2019, I should do better. This brings me to:

Dream Time

IMPORTANT FREE MARATHON ANNOUNCEMENT 

From such 5k and long run data as I've collected, it appears I could run a 5:30 marathon. That's around 12:32 a mile for 26.2. A reasonable pace for a guy my age, in my condition, informed by competent medical authority eleven years ago that he'd never run again. (Always gotta throw that in.) Right now, I'm only running three days a week. I'd like to add a fourth day while building up my core.

In May, I'll be running my first 10k since 2008. Should my finishing time be around 1:13, then I'll increase my weekly mileage in preparation for a half-marathon. By the time this theoretical 13.1 rolls around, I'll know whether or not I can manage 26.2.

If all goes according to plan, I'm thinking this November might see me lined up once more on the marathon start line.

We are our dreams.

And mine are to finish 26.2 miles before the water stations close. Hence, running aspirations will be to focus on good form, strong core, greater flexibility through yoga, and no more stinking injuries. 

YOU good blog reader will be updated as the year unfolds. 

sivanna east