One fat foot infront of t’other
Saturday, November 29th, 2008
Running, in any kind of dedicated way, makes one boring, I reckon. You have less time for creative endeavors. Your mind is pre-occupied with mileage and time. Your inner voice goes on about it all the time. And although I refuse to become one of those tedious gits that are complete bores about the subject in person and to people who’re obviously less than interested, I am going to whittle on about running for my own future reference here and now…
One of the for-the-most-part positive effects of running all these daft distance events is that it forces you to become more forward thinking. As soon as you’ve completed one thing, there’s preparation, via recovery, for the next which kicks in immediately. This is generally good: you feel that you always have momentum, there’re are constant goals and perceived improvement, and there’s a sense that you’re not ‘driving while staring rear view’ than you used, perhaps, to be. For me, however, there is a down side to this in that the sense of achievement in completing goals is a bit less than expected – all that looking forwards and not back. Hence, an attempt here to at least pause verbally and reflect however briefly.
This time last year I half-heartedly started jogging proper, assuming that I was a shoe in for the New York Marathon in November ’08 having lotteried without success for the auto entry this year. Completing just 4 miles or so was a wheezing struggle back then. And running more than 3 or so times per week not really an option. Having just last weekend completed, albeit painfully and slowly, my third full marathon, November 2007 seems a long time and distance ago in the running mind.
In February, training proper kicked in with a day-to-day plan. All went decently apart from some building sciatic jip and then, due to a stupid decision to play footie for the first time in years with 20-somethings, a reet painful and fully-torn left calf muscle put me out of commission runningwise for a good 8 weeks. I.e., the summer shot.
That left a rushed mileage build-up and a hasty decision to run the full 26.2 miles of the Atlantic City Marathon (see below) a mere 2 weeks ahead of the NYC one.
Despite the short recovery time, and what transpired to be poor pacing on the day, the New York 26.2 miler was amazing. From the first steps across the upper deck of the Verrazano and the views north to lower Manhattan and south over Coney Island, you knew it was going to be one special event. Brooklyn outdid itself with support, live music throughout (including a rollicking gospel choir in Bed Sty), and vocal encouragement pretty much the whole way. Like the rookie twathead, I got carried away on the breeze and banter from Brits in the crowd and clocked my fastest ever, and first sub-2-hour half marathon by 13.1 miles. Not the smartest idea to do so in only your second full marathon, natch. Can’t complain too much given the high of the race in the early stages, despite paying for the speedy start with heavier than desired legs later on.
By the long, long incline of the Queensborough Bridge, the bird legs began to feel the mileage and things generally got less comfortable. The turn off of the bridge down 58th and then north along 1st Ave. was amazing though and the crowds all the way into Harlem were stonking and quite the spectacle. Having arranged to meet several folk along the way and missed most of them, 1st Avenue ended up being the only stretch I actually spotted familiar faces (partly due to my unpredicted speediness and partly from being let go at the start a good 20 mins. early).
The Bronx was tough going and by the time I’d shuffled back into Manhattan and down onto 5th Avenue, the pins were pretty much shot at mile 22 or so. Central Park was painful, but entertaining and the final mile plus actually not that uncomfortable – finish line in sight and all that. I crossed the finish line in a respectable 4 hours and 36 mins. plus change with a cheery English woman, Jane, both of us happy enough to be completing relatively unscathed. The crush walking north post finish line was grim and it took an hour or so to shuffle out of the melee and be able to walk at normal pace to get out. Very sore on the Monday (stairs were a bitch), automassaged the limbs on Tuesday, and ran a little by the Friday.
From that weekend, I then had 2 weeks until the Phillie run – a week more than between Atlantic City and NYC. I didn’t run long, but clocked a few short, slow jogs to keep loose in-between.
Early morning Philadelphia was ball-shrinkingly cool on the morning of November 23rd. An early start and a long, cold corral wait wasn’t ideal. Started out OK and was determined to slow up compared to NYC and complete the first half in a more sensible time. Overall, Phillie was a bit of an anticlimax after the New York mayhem with few folk watching and less of the international feel. Drunken frat boys by Drexel University hitting the contents of their kitchen cupboards in support was the early spectator highlight.
The full Phillie Marathon route passes right through the finish area for the half marathon (that you yourself return to to finish at) which seemed a little cruel. You then have to head out and back along the river for the second half. With a few hills, the cold, and some stiffening legs, I slowed considerably (spot the troughs in the graph!) and the last 8 miles were pretty much grim the whole way. Most amusing thing to distract from this was the offerings of beer by the locals in Manayunk, folk that had clearly been up and drinking as long as the frat boys had earlier.
A miniscule of leg comfort kicked in for the last couple of miles, but there was no second wind to speak of like I’d been blessed with in AC. I finished in a very sore 5 hours and 7 mins. plus – more than 30 mins. over my target. Och well. Three marathons in 5 weeks for a newbie chubby bloke is obviously a bit too much to chew on.
So, looking forward once more, the next self-inflicted punishment is the Miami Marathon at the end of January, 2009. The ‘luxury’ of two full months ‘off’. Hopefully enough days to recover and rebuild, and a juicy warmth of southern Florida to anticipate, one assumes.
Conclusions thus far? Marathon running is a constant learning process. Took me a while to learn, for example, how to energise properly during races; to take on salt if running more than 10 miles at a time; to massage problem muscles on rest days; to pay bleeden attention to pace throughout a 26 miler. Your goals shift as you go too. I’m now aiming, rather than just survival and completion, to actually run comfortably for the whole of a full marathon while also completing one in under 4.5 hours. Planning and looking forward (and, oh I suppose a small chunk of discipline) is the only way to get there it seems. So, onward, one foot infront of t’other, innit….
