Dave and I, and our friend, Ian and his son, Christopher who is a retired Army Ranger, all ran and finished the Erie Marathon on Sunday, September 13th. Woo hoo! How cool!
It was painful! None of us really trained for it, or at least, we didn't train for it in the traditional way.
Ian ran a handful of times, with 11 miles being the furthest distance.
Chris ran most days leading up to the marathon, but not doing the distance that is recommended in training programs. He is younger than the rest of us too, so that was in his favor. And that Ranger mentality is always helpful when gutting out a challenge.
Dave lost about 25 pounds so he certainly was in better shape that way.
We'd both hoped to have gotten into shape by hiking, and I'd had a vision of trail running up to 20 miles a day before the marathon. That didn't happen. I fought my knees the whole time while hiking. And I suspect that beating up my body like I did with the hiking just set the stage for craving comfort foods, though no excuse, and I didn't get lean and mean like I'd planned. I spent the days we hiked feeling exhilarated but exhausted and looking forward to burgers and brews after each day's hike. No calorie deficit there.
But at least we finished. Funny thing is that Dave and I both learned we had the same thought while running the marathon, that we should have just opted to support the others to run it. I could have done that, having run four or five other marathons in my life. I didn't even think of it at the time. But of course I'd have that thought while in pain and unable/unwilling to quit while running the Erie Marathon. Dave has supported many of our running events over the last few years since he's had trouble with his knees off and on. He does it well and enjoys it. But for the Erie Marathon he did very well.
It depends on whose definition of doing well you use though. If you look at our statistics, Dave was the second to last for his age group, coming in around 5:06. I was third to last in my age group, coming in around 5:36. Ian finished a minute or two before me, though I hadn't even seen him ahead of me and Chris finished around 4:30. But the good news, besides the fact that we finished, was that Dave ran an average of 11 minute miles and I ran an average of 12 minute miles. To keep that pace up for 26.2 miles, that isn't bad for us. Actually, Dave and Ian averaged 10 minute miles for the first half of the marathon. I don't know what I averaged at that distance, but I noticed that I was doing 10 minute miles while at around the 7 mile point. At around 8 or 9 miles I started falling off my pace and feeling the distance. By the 18 mile mark I was flat out in pain and dreading the next 8 miles, mentally marking off different distance chunks and just trying to find some Zen to zone out in and pass the time trying to ignore the pain.
My calves kept cramping. My hips even hurt a bit. But the worst was my feet. I had on new running shoes and yes, I know it was stupid to run in shoes I'd not run in before. How did that happen? I had meant to run in them a few times. I think the shoes would have been fine though for up to 15 miles so even training in them previously, I'd not have had the foot pain that I experienced at around the 18 mile mark and for the rest of the run. It felt as if my new Mizunos didn't have enough padding on the ball of my feet. My right foot was in turn going numb on the bottom or feeling like I had a small lump in my shoe. The sensation of the lump didn't make sense. I'd get off the cement road for a bit and run in the grass a while. Feeling would come back in my foot and the sense that the lump was there would disappear. Strange. Later I found out there was sand underneath the inset inside the shoe, especially on the right one, so that explains the feeling of a lump and maybe how messed up both feet felt. I had dumped sand out of my shoes but hadn't thought to pull out the lining and dump what might be underneath. That won't happen again.
On the positive, non-pain side, the scenery was absolutely stunning. I'd read a FaceBook post about what runners think about when running, and a lot of it was about their pace but some of it was about the beautiful scenery. That is me. That is mostly what I think about until pain overwhelms me like it did in this marathon towards the end. The clouds were moving fast across the sky the entire time we ran. It was gusty, windy as all get-out. I was on and off with a light tech jacket I'd started with. I'd tie it around my waist then put it back on, then unzip it and zip it. On and off and up and down with that zipper, the entire race. But watching the sun shinning off the water, watching the beautiful clouds moving across the sky, seeing all sides of Presque Isle as we rant the road around it, the bay, Lake Erie, it was all incredibly beautiful. I wanted to stop and take pictures. It is probably a good thing that I had neither my phone or my little Nikon point-and-shoot.
In other marathons I've run, walking hurt almost more than running during the last few miles. This time though, walking didn't hurt and I could even walk kind of fast. But not as fast as my shuffling running pace. As I'd said, I didn't know Ian was just a minute or two ahead of me or I wouldn't have worried as much, but I was afraid all the guys had finished an hour or so before me (and I was afraid I was going to come in at the 6 hour mark) so I didn't want them waiting on my. My mind always plays tricks on me and I was afraid the Ian's son might be rolling his eyes, figuratively, disgusted at how long it was taking me to finish. None of that happened though. All the guys were quite happy that we all finished. I just get paranoid.
The good news is that my knees didn't give me any problems at all!
Before I got into pain, I was thinking I might be able to come in around the 5 hour mark. I was so excited about that. I had visions of getting a personal record. I stayed ahead of the pacer for the 4:55 time until just around the 18 mile mark. I stayed ahead of the 5:25 pacer until around the last 5 miles. After he passed me I got even more demoralized. But I kept going. I tried to remember if I'd ever felt that bad running the other marathons. I know that it is something like child birth in that the body has a way of softening the memory of pain and remembering the good part.
The race was really well supported. The volunteers were, down to each man, woman and child (and there were several) they were exceptional. The Erie Marathon is not a big one, around 400-500 runners I think, and is considered a great one to run in order to qualify for Boston since it is flat. The course does two laps around Presque Island. That is good and bad: good that you know what is coming and how to gage yourself, bad is that you know what's coming and yet can see others almost finished. I got lapped by the race winner, by a couple hundred yards. No one was anywhere near him when he finished though (no others doing their final lap, that is).
My favorite signs along the course: You are running better than the government. And, You have done smarter things drunk.
I saw a runner (who passed me) with the quote on her back that said,
"Courage isn't the strength to keep on going, but to keep on going when you have no strength."
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