Scotiabank Calgary Marathon RR
I intended this to be short, but after typing it's another (boring) epic. TL;DR is that I executed well, had almost perfect weather, got my PR and didn't walk, but had the hardest athletic struggle I've had in my life to do it. And I #### myself (scroll down to 20K+ for more detail on that. Warning: Much less interesting than "I #### myself" suggests).
After my Houston marathon I almost immediately decided that I needed to right a wrong. While I was happy with the time I ran there (3:57), I walked some of the last 10K and that left a bad taste in my mouth. So I signed-up for the Calgary marathon four months down the road and purchased a custom training plan from Luke Humphrey Running.
The plan was 5x weekly (I bumped it to 6x weekly in weeks 10-14) with peak weekly mileage around 90K (56mi).
Managed to complete the 15-week plan without missing a run or cutting one short. Taper went well and I felt good going into the marathon. But Luke Humphrey is a Hanson's guy. So his longest prescribed run in my plan was 25K (which I extended to 30K) and in Houston things didn't go to hell until 32K. Lots of uncertainty there.
So come race morning, I'm up at 0330. Poop, beet juice, immodium, and the wife and I head out. Pick up my friend at his place and get to the Stampede Grounds (location of the start/finish) an hour before start. Temps are 2C (35F). While it would have been nice at that point to be in warmer gear, one of my lessons-learned from Houston was to not overdress despite a chilly start time. So, t-shirt, shorts, running cap, and gloves. Running belt with three gels and my phone.
After killing just about an hour inside, my friend and I head out to the start corral and find our 4:00 pacer. She's a short Asian girl in a tutu.
National anthem, countown, and we're off.
0-10K, 5:42/km (9:11/mi)
The biggest mistake I think I made in Houston was going out too fast. So this time I decided to run with a pacer (4:00) to keep my race-day enthusiasm in check. Also I was running with my friend and we agreed we'd run with the pacer until 20K-30K or so and then play it by ear. So despite losing sight of our short pacer (who didn't hold her sign up very high) from time to time, we spotted her enough (as well as the 2:00 HM pacer who did hold his sign up high enough) so that we felt good about where we were. We were definitely in the middle of the pack with all the marathon, HM, and 50K runners using the same course and it was very crowded. At one aid station (another error in Houston, where I didn't drink enough) I had to come to a momentary full stop due to the traffic jam. I was pissed about that. And through the course of this race I came to appreciate just how incredibly well-organized/planned the Houston race was compared to this one.
Anyways, aside from the crowding the first 8K were pretty uneventful. Just after 8K we got to the aid station my wife was volunteering at. Her cat/dog rescue organization was responsible for that station and I was excited to see her for the first time on the course in a race. We had planned ahead that she would be at the end of the station gauntlet with water (I didn't want the other beverage, Nuun). Worked perfectly. There she was, got my water, planted a big sweaty smooch on her, gave her my gloves (which I no longer needed) and continued with the race.
10K-20K, 5:35/km (8:56/mi)
After the 8K aid station we passed the 4:00 pacer but kept our speed roughly in-line with that pace. She was right behind us. As we turned back into the city core I realized that some of the streets weren't fully closed and the organizers had us in 1-2 lanes of a street with the remaining lanes open to traffic. At one point we were down to 1 lane for the runners and it was crammed. I was quite annoyed at that. Further annoying me was a runner who was drafting me and my friend (there was a slight headwind). Normally I wouldn't care/notice, except this guy ran like a clydesdale. TROMP TROMP TROMP. And it was nonstop. Everyone else was pretty light on their feet so it was a sea of pitter-patter with one dude TROMP TROMP TROMP. How does his body not implode from that kind of punishment? Regardless, after a few km of this I tell my friend we should shift off to the other side of the road and see if Clyde follows. He does. So I turn around and ask him "Are you going to draft us the whole race?!?". He didn't hear precisely what I asked and responded. "Is it OK if I run with you guys?". I didn't want to say "no" so I just said "fine". Thankfully it was only a few more K until the HMers finally peeled-off and it was like the Red Sea parting. 3/4 of the runners (if not more) seemed to go the HM route leaving the full marathon route wide-open and spacious. It was glorious. For the rest of the race I would have tons of room and none of the aid stations henceforth were a congested mess like they were prior to that.
20K-30K, 5:27/km (8:27/mi)
My friend and I were (a little intentionally) putting some distance between us and the 4:00 pacer. Things felt really good for both of us until he mentioned that he was starting to have GI issues and would likely have to stop at a port-a-potty. I lamented that with him and we ran a bit further. The toilets were probably 5K apart and once he got to the next one, he pulled off leaving me to run on my own. I considered "WWDLD?" (What Would Des Linden Do?) but I decided to plod forward as I was pretty sure I was going to lose my friend at some point in the race anyway, as he hadn't been training as hard as I had in preparation. As it turns out, it was the right call as that was one of six pit stops he would have to make during the race (as I found out when I met him at the finish). I felt bad for him as it was a bad break.
I continued on my own and started to get GI rumbling of my own. Great. Usually on my runs after I feel the first rumblings it increases in severity until I have no choice to stop. But in this case the immodium I took seems to be muting the progression so I kept passing toilets with the hope it could be managed. I also started having the internal debate of "if it means finishing without stopping or walking, am I willing to #### myself". Knowing that "####ting myself" likely wouldn't involve a huge mess since most of the time my GI issues a really just a ton of gas with a little poop in the mix.
On the fatigue front, I'm starting to feel it a bit. HR continues to be high (150s) and my right glute is getting really sore (over the last three weeks of training it was always what got sore first). But I reach the turnaround point and mentally it's nice to be running back toward the core than away from it.
At 30K, I round a corner and see some Rando taking a cell phone photo of me in the distance. It wasn't a pro (since he didn't have a real camera) but I thought to myself "who would want to take a photo of me?" I was on my own, with nobody in my immediate vicinity running. As I got closer (my vision always goes to hell when I run long distances) I realize it's my Dad! And his wife. SO COOL. The first time someone has ever been on-course to cheer me on. It gave me a little boost.
As I'm sure is common, motor skills start to degrade over time during a race. And this seems to apply to one's sphincter as well. Because as I have another bout of GI pain and I'm trying to keep things in, I fail. Not a huge dookie event by any means but I know I just soiled myself. Well I guess that has decided things. I'm willing to #### myself to not stop. Even if it wasn't 100% intentional.
30K-38K, 5:40/km (9:07/mi)
I managed to get to 32K (the point at which the wheels fell of in Houston) but I was feeling it. Glutes were screaming and I was starting to host a raging mental debate which would continue through the end of the race. On one side of the debate was "It's OK to walk, you trained hard, but maybe this just isn't your distance. You can focus on other things in the future. Here's how you explain to everyone why you couldn't do it..."
On the other side was "Walking is failure. Think about the joy of telling your wife that you ran the whole thing as you wanted to. Think about how good that will feel. Think about how you'll be able to put street marathons behind you with satisfaction instead of with regret." That debate raged for a good 4K. In one moment of weakness, I broke stride once to walk, only for a second, and immediately and vocally yelled "NO!" and got back in stride. In order to deal with the increasing and crushing muscle fatigue I just kept repeating to myself "Walking is failure. Walking is failure. Walking is failure". I probably said it 100 times to myself if not more. And did my best to focus on the joy of success at the finish rather than rationale for defeat. It. Was. So. Hard.
Rather than walk, I slowed to a very slow running pace but in some ways it was harder because it used my glutes more than the longer strides did. So in the 34K-38K distance it was a lot of alternating between a very slow running pace and a less slow one.
Oh, and I crapped myself again around 35K. Same as before. But at this point the fatigue is so great that I just don't give a #### (pun intended).
38K-42.2K, 5:50/km (9:23/mi)
More alternating (very slow vs slow) here but at the 38K point it became so much easier mentally. I knew I could gut out 4K more running. It was only 4K. Soon it would be 3K left, and then soon it would be 2K left. I can do it. It hurts like it has never hurt before, but I can do it. I switched the display on my watch from pace to total time and, after doing some math, saw that 3:55 could be possible.
I was running through the city core now, and still having to slow to the very slow pace once in a while. I thought about my wife and Dad at the finish. Just have to get there. "You can sit then", I said to myself.
And then at about the 40K point I get passed by the 4:00 pacer. What the ####?!?! I look down at my watch and she's on pace to finish well before 4:00. She was running with only one person by that point (compared to the dozen or so that were with her at the 20K mark). While it freaked me out initially, I re-did the math in my head and I was still OK for a 3:55-3:57 finish if I could just keep going. I told myself that she must have talked to the one remaining runner with her and they agreed to finish faster. Otherwise she's a really ####ty pacer.
Finish
It felt like a sprint to the finish. In reality it was a pretty slow pace but I gave it everything I had to close the last 200m with as much effort as possible. As soon as I crossed the timing mats, I moved over to the side and stopped to put my hands on my knees and suck wind. A quiet volunteer just in front of me says "there's water just a little further in from here" but I wasn't moving anywhere. I realize I forgot to stop my watch and do that then. And after what seemed like an eternity, I finally gather myself and literally stagger to the barricades where I see my wife and Dad waiting for me. I put my head on her shoulder and just stopped to breathe. After a little chat, I move back to the gauntlet and get my medal, water, and a chocolate milk. Yum.
- 3:56:10 (PR)
- 307/797 overall
- 231/512 among men
- 28/57 among men 46-50 (yay, better than 50th percentile by one runner!)
Overall I hit my goals and the monkey is off my back. Beat my Houston time and didn't walk. But it was the hardest thing I've ever done athletically. Once I get over 30K, things just go downhill for me so fast.
With all the training I did, part of me agreed with
@gianmarco beforehand that this race could have been much better than I expected. Yet it was not in the cards. Execution was almost flawless. I ran slow at the beginning. I dressed right. I drank at the aid stations. I took gels with each 10K. All than and still beyond 30K I'm just a wreck.
So even though part of me was hopeful for a surprise 3:50, I have zero regrets. I held nothing back and did the best I could. Aside from maybe one short 100m stretch closer to the finish, I don't think there's a moment where I can legitimately say I could have HTFU and run faster.
And either my wife/Dad/friend didn't notice/smell that I had #### myself or they were too kind to mention it. I had a towel to sit on in the car as my wife drove us home and then right into the shower upon arrival. And soiled clothing/towel into the wash.
Normally I would be grossed-out but I didn't care. I
ran my first marathon. In under four hours. Worth it.
Epilogue / Lessons Learned
Had GI issues all night (the post-race burger, fries, and beer did not sit well) and weighed myself this morning. Down 7lbs. First time <160 since 1994.
This morning I'm already longing to see my good friends, the Rocky Mountains. I'll see you this weekend. Time to rebuild this relationship.
For future runs, I'm going to run with my hydration vest and stock it with Tailwind. The gels still didn't sit quite right and I found myself very thirsty in the last 30K (which is a sure sign, along with my weight loss and deliriousness at the finish, that I was dyhydrated). So a cup or two of water every 3-5K isn't enough.