2009 Callaway Gardens Marathon; RR and Grade Card

My Personal Race Report and Grade Card.

I'd picked this course specifically to continue my training for the future ultras. It was a good course to use as the rustic nature of the marathon was almost like running trails, except for the fact that the roads and paths were paved. There would be very few reminders of civilization on this course, which is known for gently rolling hills, numerous turns, lakes and Georgia evergreens.

In my race report for the WDW mary I wrote down a lot of remarks that were to become "*future Lessons learned". At Callaway Gardens, my second marathon a scant two weeks from my baptism of long distance racing, I finally got to put those lessons into use. I say finally because it seems that almost immediately after completing the WDW marathon I was thinking of what I could do better or wishing I could run the thing over again. To some, the 2 weeks between the marathons may seem too short, but I was chomping at the bit for the chance to run again. It was never an issue in my mind that I would not be ready to do another 26.2 miles.

My personal report card:

• Lighten up on pre-race food to avoid pit stops. A bagel with peanut butter before the drive, a banana, some coffee and Gatorade on the drive up, and a mini Clif bar about half-hour before the "gun." Winnie the Pooh was nowhere on the course! Grade: A.
• Getting enough fluids during the race. I got my cup or cups and walked to take in more fluids at the stations. Grade: B-.
• Doing "systems checks" throughout the race, including the "heart miles" (20-26.2). I did a much better job of this than at Walt Disney World. I had more to check this time as I had "check engine lights" on and had to regulate how much effort was too much for the last 8 miles. Grade: B.
• Pace. Don't pay the bank early. Slow and easy equals great returns. Grade: We'll come back to this one very soon!
  

In my last post I began with: I was running like a super hero; blazing with the lead pack. Turn after turn, up and down the small rolling hills by the lakes through the woods my sonic boom could be heard! Feet on fire, I issued out a battle cry. Unfortunately, the wheels would fall off this ride before the day was through, but it was a good roller coaster until then!

At eight o'clock, AM I crossed the start line and headed out for what I was hoping would be a great run. I had a goal to beat my WDW mary time, but moreover, a goal to keep my level of fitness up at the marathon level and keep training for events planned in the future. I was settling in well with the crowd I was in and the first mile marker came quickly. I looked at my Timex and my alarm bells were drowned out by my amazement of nailing 6:46 at such a comfortable pace. The guy next to me asked if we were at 7 minutes and I told him what we'd just done and that I needed to back off some. Unfortunately, my mind didn't override my legs and I didn't slow down.

I nailed a 2 mile time of 13:16. That would be an outstanding score on my next Army Physical Fitness Test, which is due next week, but not such a great thing for me running during my first miles into a marathon. The mind started to put the breaks on slightly, but as I would find out later, the damage was done. I continued to maintain a 7:30-7:40 pace for the next 14 miles, but I should have been there since step one. Since I did slow down I tried to convince myself that I hadn't "banked" the time, but in the second half I would be paying compounded interest on the fast miles I had put down.

To further add insult to injury, somewhere around mile 14, small muscles deep within my right hip started to act up. I can imagine a scene similar to the movie "Apollo 13" where the camera follows the coolant lines down to the tank where the explosion happens. Like from my foot to my hip where CSI like muscle fibers start pulling apart. I was maintaining speed until I hit mile 16, at which point it was obvious that the "bank" was going to repo all the extra time I had set aside. At mile 18, I had gone over my "even pace time" and the hip said to me, "I will not support this madness!"

I really hate to use the term, "the wheels fell off," but I was no longer in the fast lane and my right side tire rolled off and fell into the ditch. Internal warning lights started flashing and my dashboard looked like a Christmas tree. Each water stop gave me brief relief as I walked to the very end. Then, near the trash can at the end, I took down my final slurp and threw my body back into gear. Each time I lurched forward my body rejected the idea, but I fought on into the heart miles. Then the few tough hills started to take their toll on me. Downhills became a battle and I fought on.

At the last water stop, I pressed hard to get the body moving. Again, it staggered towards its goal, but I saw my hopeful time of 3:30 start to vanish. As I made the final turns around Robin Lake, I fell victim to a run, walk cycle. I started to remember when during the 12 mile infantry foot march, sometimes the back is wretched from the rucksack and the gear weighs down upon the Soldier, but he still stubbornly fights onward. This was the first time in all my 20+ mile runs that I felt like this. In fact, I hadn't felt like this since the 12 mile road march I had done in the humid and hot late-August Georgia morning air.

Then I went into Terminator mode. "Listen and understand! That terminator is out there. It can't be bargained with, it can't be reasoned with. It doesn't feel pity or remorse or fear, and it absolutely will not stop-EVER…!" I was telling myself that I wasn't feeling any pain. As I rounded a corner I saw a race photographer up ahead. My spirits picked up and I moved a bit faster. I realized that I could get this done. I saw a volunteer at the last turn that led to the finish line by the circus tent and politely asked him if I could take that path. He chuckled and I jogged gingerly on the last down slope. I was back in character and as I passed the ambulance near the finish line, I pointed to it and made a half turn towards it, then smiled and headed to the finish. I heard my name but not my time called out and I pumped two fists like I was holding a "Tommy gun." I ran through to the end of the chute where a nice older lady let me know with a smile that I could stop running now. She handed me a finishing card and the finisher's medal. I thanked her and moved into the tent to turn in the card. The ladies at a table there collected up my information and let me know I had gotten 3^rd place in my age group and handed me a plaque. "Say what!"

I was actually very delighted, almost euphoric about the experience. My second marathon had been a disaster as far as my pace, and the muscular pain that made my hip feel so awful became manageable the more I walked around. But I had gained even more valuable lessons about my pace, my level of fitness and my ability to dig into the deep miles. The best lessons are hard fought, and I felt like even though my performance suffered on this race, my experience increased greatly by having to fight for the last miles. So in my lessons learned, the score would be low for my pace … but I could still mark down a marathon with a successful ending.

Over the next few days after the marathon I have had the hip checked out by a physical therapist, just to be safe. It was indeed the smaller muscles in the hip, and the stretches to help strengthen them are similar to the ITB stretches I had been doing earlier in my long distance training. Again, I have learned that I am a pretty quick healer, and I had most of my mobility back within 72 hours, with climbing stairs being the slowest skill to return to normal.

Bottom line: 26.2 miles in 3:45:21. With an "almost injury" and a gut check, I'll take the under 4:00 marathon. And I'll be ready to go again … soon!