Marathon
So, for those of you who don't chase me on the Facebook, I've been training for a Marathon for the past 8 months. And Saturday was race day. It's a day I'm sure I'll always remember, at least the parts of it where I was awake. More on that later.
A few little bits of info before I begin; a marathon is 26.2 miles. Always. That's standard length. Less than that, and you don't have a real marathon. More, and you've technically got an ultramarathon. It is 26.2 miles done completely on foot. And the one that I did was in Madison, called the Run for Life. Ominous name, amirite?
Anyways, I've been training for 8 months now. I started back in February, a week after the big snowfall. Those of you who were in Mississippi remember the random snowfall, yes? I sure do. And, for some reason, the week after, I was compelled to begin exercising and eating healthier. It just so happened that this marathon training course called Marathon Makeover was offering last minute spots for people who were signing up late (the thing began in January). I was hesitant at first due to the painful price tag (510 bucks!), but I decided, "What the Hell, I'm going to spend that money poorly anyways."
My first week was... less than inspiring. I did about 2 miles, with maybe the last quarter running. And it wasn't bad for someone who hasn't ran as exercise for a while and had let himself go to seed a bit. But hardly a marathon effort.
First thing I learned about marathon running; it's a slow, arduous process to get to the end. Early morning runs happen, rain or snow. Saturdays no longer belong to sleep, but to training.
My very first week, I got sick. Not deathly ill, but sick enough to consider skipping work. I did not, but I did take a few prescription pills to help me make it through the days. They were... hazy days, to say the least.
And, as I trained, I got better at running. I had a schedule to keep of 6-days-a-week exercise. That meant that I'd wake up early, or work out straight after work. Sometimes, I was successful. Sometimes, not. But in those first days, I was more often than not successful at a full week's workout.
In those early months, I found a reason to run; I wanted to beat Shia Lebouef's race time of 4:37. Why? So I could lord over him the fact that not only did I beat his marathon time, but I didn't star in "Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull." So there.
Second thing I learned about marathon running; you get hungry a lot. I consumed so many carbs and proteins that, had I not been exercising, I might've ballooned up.
So, at some point in April, we had to reschedule a group run. It was originally set for 8 miles on Saturday, but due to rain, we traded days to Sunday. My plan was to run 6 miles, then run a 5K later that evening. I struggled a bit through the 6 miler, then got to the 5K. My previous PR? 34:12. My time at the 5K? 32:04. Progress much? Yes, I think so.
As I progressed in my training, I learned about refueling to prevent the wall.
Third thing I learned about marathon running; refueling. You have to eat a lot during running to keep the energy up. I've tried several methods, including dried fruit, gels and (my personal fave) jelly beans. Doesn't stop you from being hungry, but you do at least keep going.
The Half Marathon happened in June. It was, needless to say, one of the toughest things I've ever done. 13.1 miles isn't exactly the easiest thing to do, and the difficulty was aided and abetted by the miserable heat. By the end, the temperature was at 92 degrees. But, I made it to the end, and I was pretty proud. 3:00:27 was my time. That last 27 seconds just kills me. And, if you're doing the math at home, you realize that this is not a good enough time for me to beat Shia Lebouef, so more effort must be made.
That was, of course, not the end. But it taught me thing four about marathon running; keep going. Even once you reach the finish line, there are still races to run. And if you stop, you will inevitably not get back up. That is, very sadly, what happened to at least half of the group post-half. It was a bit discouraging to me, but I kept going.
Around week 30, we were doing a 16-miler. Should have been no sweat at this point, as we had built slowly to this point and I handled the previous week's 15 with no problem whatsoever. At mile 8, I was feeling great, had run the whole way and didn't even feel winded. Then, as I stepped off the curb to continue running... a sharp pain shot through my right leg, and I collapsed onto my car.
IT band injuries suck. It is described, very accurately, as the feeling of an icepick jamming into your leg. Icing, massage and rest all helped, but I was sidelined for a few weeks as far as running.
Fifth thing that I learned about marathon running; you will hurt. Even if you don't get injured, you will hurt. A lot. and chances are good that you will be injured in the course of running. Or at least get blisters.
Oh, and sixth thing I learned, since I'm on it; running is a super-expensive hobby, if done right. Shoes? 100 bucks. Foam roller for massaging? 20. Races? 100 bucks each (covered in the Marathon Makeover signups, but still, about that much). Food? Unreasonable amounts of money. Workout clothes? Surprisingly, mostly covered by races (I got a lot of tech shirts from running).
As the race got closer, I began realizing that I felt good. Normally, around this time of year, I begin feeling depressed. Or, at least I feel the first comings on of sadness. This year? Nothing. I feel great. In fact, I've spent the past few weeks trying to encourage my friends to be more optimistic. That's thing seven about marathon running; it really boosts your self esteem. "I am training to run a marathon, yo! I am powerful and elite! Come on, be happy with me!"
But all that was icing on the cake that was race day. Yeah, race day.
My first few miles were not bad at all. I sailed from the beginning to about mile 8 without a single bit of difficulty. Around mile 9, though, I started to feel the tinge of pain. It wasn't bad at first, just a mild pain in the shoulders and a slight hip pain. Nothing I couldn't work through. Then, I got to mile 12 and realized, "I need to walk a bit, before the pain overtakes me."
I hit mile 13, the halfway point, and begin thinking, "Can I really do this? I'm already starting to feel sore. I'm not sure how much farther I can make it on these bum legs."
Mile 14 had me running with one of the bikers who was coasting along the track. Real nice guy, gave me advice about an electrolyte tab that he took.
Mile 15 is, I think, where I began hitting my own personal wall. The back of both of my legs began getting tight. And, halfway through that mile, a shooting pain hit my left ankle. I actually had to stop to stretch and turn the ankle a bit to try to soothe the pain. It didn't work very well, though, and for a while, I was in misery.
Then, this great cheering section came on. They bore wands, capes and masks. And high-fives all around. And that gave me a second burst of wind for a few more feet.
I finally resorted to personal mantras, even stealing one from Tool: "We are eternal, all this pain is an illusion." And that worked for a while, too.
I began showing some mild signs of heat exhaustion. The white lines on the road suddenly became a lot whiter, as did the shirts on people's backs. But I pushed through. Slowed down enough to let my heart cool off a bit, drank some water, and kept going.
I did some intervals to try to help my time, running between road cones, speeding up my walking, singing to keep some sort of pace.
Nothing helped, and I felt myself sinking further and further as the miles rolled past.
Then, a wondrous thing happened, as I hit mile 24. The thought occurred to me, "Wait a minute, I'm almost there. Only a little over 2 miles left, I can actually do this." It helps that one of the EMT volunteers dumped half a gallon of cool water down my back (unprovoked, but totally welcome by that point). My back was achy, my legs were sore and unwilling to move, my ankle still hurt a bit, my stomach was full of goo and felt like bursting with water, but I knew the end was too close for me to surrender.
Mile 25 was the second best feeling of the race, because it really was almost over. One of the Baptist churches held sway at the corner, with bottles of water, cool rags and last-minute encouragement. And I realized, "I'm so close to the race, I can start burning through my reserves. I've got no reason to save up anymore."
So, as I reached a quarter mile from the end, I began running again. Slow at first, but as I peaked the hill and saw the last of the police officers directing the last bit of traffic before the end, I began running a little harder. And I reached the checkpoint where my name flashed on the announcer's screen, and heard my name. "From Hattiesburg, Mississippi, David Sarton!" And I heard cheering from my Marathon Makeover group. And I began thinking of what eloquent thing to yell at the end.
Then, I got to the end, and I settled for screaming, "I did it!" at the top of my lungs.
The time clock read 6:33:44 when I crossed. That was 6:33:44 of running/walking early on a Saturday morning. The culmination of dozens of early Saturday morning runs, forgoing parties on Fridays, drinking less, eating healthier, giving up some things that I liked, and it resulted in a finished marathon.
The day after, I am still sore, but I'm recovering and planning my next move. I'm thinking, the Jackson Blues marathon in January.
Shia Lebouef, you may have won this round, but I assure you I will be back. And I will beat you.
A few little bits of info before I begin; a marathon is 26.2 miles. Always. That's standard length. Less than that, and you don't have a real marathon. More, and you've technically got an ultramarathon. It is 26.2 miles done completely on foot. And the one that I did was in Madison, called the Run for Life. Ominous name, amirite?
Anyways, I've been training for 8 months now. I started back in February, a week after the big snowfall. Those of you who were in Mississippi remember the random snowfall, yes? I sure do. And, for some reason, the week after, I was compelled to begin exercising and eating healthier. It just so happened that this marathon training course called Marathon Makeover was offering last minute spots for people who were signing up late (the thing began in January). I was hesitant at first due to the painful price tag (510 bucks!), but I decided, "What the Hell, I'm going to spend that money poorly anyways."
My first week was... less than inspiring. I did about 2 miles, with maybe the last quarter running. And it wasn't bad for someone who hasn't ran as exercise for a while and had let himself go to seed a bit. But hardly a marathon effort.
First thing I learned about marathon running; it's a slow, arduous process to get to the end. Early morning runs happen, rain or snow. Saturdays no longer belong to sleep, but to training.
My very first week, I got sick. Not deathly ill, but sick enough to consider skipping work. I did not, but I did take a few prescription pills to help me make it through the days. They were... hazy days, to say the least.
And, as I trained, I got better at running. I had a schedule to keep of 6-days-a-week exercise. That meant that I'd wake up early, or work out straight after work. Sometimes, I was successful. Sometimes, not. But in those first days, I was more often than not successful at a full week's workout.
In those early months, I found a reason to run; I wanted to beat Shia Lebouef's race time of 4:37. Why? So I could lord over him the fact that not only did I beat his marathon time, but I didn't star in "Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull." So there.
Second thing I learned about marathon running; you get hungry a lot. I consumed so many carbs and proteins that, had I not been exercising, I might've ballooned up.
So, at some point in April, we had to reschedule a group run. It was originally set for 8 miles on Saturday, but due to rain, we traded days to Sunday. My plan was to run 6 miles, then run a 5K later that evening. I struggled a bit through the 6 miler, then got to the 5K. My previous PR? 34:12. My time at the 5K? 32:04. Progress much? Yes, I think so.
As I progressed in my training, I learned about refueling to prevent the wall.
Third thing I learned about marathon running; refueling. You have to eat a lot during running to keep the energy up. I've tried several methods, including dried fruit, gels and (my personal fave) jelly beans. Doesn't stop you from being hungry, but you do at least keep going.
The Half Marathon happened in June. It was, needless to say, one of the toughest things I've ever done. 13.1 miles isn't exactly the easiest thing to do, and the difficulty was aided and abetted by the miserable heat. By the end, the temperature was at 92 degrees. But, I made it to the end, and I was pretty proud. 3:00:27 was my time. That last 27 seconds just kills me. And, if you're doing the math at home, you realize that this is not a good enough time for me to beat Shia Lebouef, so more effort must be made.
That was, of course, not the end. But it taught me thing four about marathon running; keep going. Even once you reach the finish line, there are still races to run. And if you stop, you will inevitably not get back up. That is, very sadly, what happened to at least half of the group post-half. It was a bit discouraging to me, but I kept going.
Around week 30, we were doing a 16-miler. Should have been no sweat at this point, as we had built slowly to this point and I handled the previous week's 15 with no problem whatsoever. At mile 8, I was feeling great, had run the whole way and didn't even feel winded. Then, as I stepped off the curb to continue running... a sharp pain shot through my right leg, and I collapsed onto my car.
IT band injuries suck. It is described, very accurately, as the feeling of an icepick jamming into your leg. Icing, massage and rest all helped, but I was sidelined for a few weeks as far as running.
Fifth thing that I learned about marathon running; you will hurt. Even if you don't get injured, you will hurt. A lot. and chances are good that you will be injured in the course of running. Or at least get blisters.
Oh, and sixth thing I learned, since I'm on it; running is a super-expensive hobby, if done right. Shoes? 100 bucks. Foam roller for massaging? 20. Races? 100 bucks each (covered in the Marathon Makeover signups, but still, about that much). Food? Unreasonable amounts of money. Workout clothes? Surprisingly, mostly covered by races (I got a lot of tech shirts from running).
As the race got closer, I began realizing that I felt good. Normally, around this time of year, I begin feeling depressed. Or, at least I feel the first comings on of sadness. This year? Nothing. I feel great. In fact, I've spent the past few weeks trying to encourage my friends to be more optimistic. That's thing seven about marathon running; it really boosts your self esteem. "I am training to run a marathon, yo! I am powerful and elite! Come on, be happy with me!"
But all that was icing on the cake that was race day. Yeah, race day.
My first few miles were not bad at all. I sailed from the beginning to about mile 8 without a single bit of difficulty. Around mile 9, though, I started to feel the tinge of pain. It wasn't bad at first, just a mild pain in the shoulders and a slight hip pain. Nothing I couldn't work through. Then, I got to mile 12 and realized, "I need to walk a bit, before the pain overtakes me."
I hit mile 13, the halfway point, and begin thinking, "Can I really do this? I'm already starting to feel sore. I'm not sure how much farther I can make it on these bum legs."
Mile 14 had me running with one of the bikers who was coasting along the track. Real nice guy, gave me advice about an electrolyte tab that he took.
Mile 15 is, I think, where I began hitting my own personal wall. The back of both of my legs began getting tight. And, halfway through that mile, a shooting pain hit my left ankle. I actually had to stop to stretch and turn the ankle a bit to try to soothe the pain. It didn't work very well, though, and for a while, I was in misery.
Then, this great cheering section came on. They bore wands, capes and masks. And high-fives all around. And that gave me a second burst of wind for a few more feet.
I finally resorted to personal mantras, even stealing one from Tool: "We are eternal, all this pain is an illusion." And that worked for a while, too.
I began showing some mild signs of heat exhaustion. The white lines on the road suddenly became a lot whiter, as did the shirts on people's backs. But I pushed through. Slowed down enough to let my heart cool off a bit, drank some water, and kept going.
I did some intervals to try to help my time, running between road cones, speeding up my walking, singing to keep some sort of pace.
Nothing helped, and I felt myself sinking further and further as the miles rolled past.
Then, a wondrous thing happened, as I hit mile 24. The thought occurred to me, "Wait a minute, I'm almost there. Only a little over 2 miles left, I can actually do this." It helps that one of the EMT volunteers dumped half a gallon of cool water down my back (unprovoked, but totally welcome by that point). My back was achy, my legs were sore and unwilling to move, my ankle still hurt a bit, my stomach was full of goo and felt like bursting with water, but I knew the end was too close for me to surrender.
Mile 25 was the second best feeling of the race, because it really was almost over. One of the Baptist churches held sway at the corner, with bottles of water, cool rags and last-minute encouragement. And I realized, "I'm so close to the race, I can start burning through my reserves. I've got no reason to save up anymore."
So, as I reached a quarter mile from the end, I began running again. Slow at first, but as I peaked the hill and saw the last of the police officers directing the last bit of traffic before the end, I began running a little harder. And I reached the checkpoint where my name flashed on the announcer's screen, and heard my name. "From Hattiesburg, Mississippi, David Sarton!" And I heard cheering from my Marathon Makeover group. And I began thinking of what eloquent thing to yell at the end.
Then, I got to the end, and I settled for screaming, "I did it!" at the top of my lungs.
The time clock read 6:33:44 when I crossed. That was 6:33:44 of running/walking early on a Saturday morning. The culmination of dozens of early Saturday morning runs, forgoing parties on Fridays, drinking less, eating healthier, giving up some things that I liked, and it resulted in a finished marathon.
The day after, I am still sore, but I'm recovering and planning my next move. I'm thinking, the Jackson Blues marathon in January.
Shia Lebouef, you may have won this round, but I assure you I will be back. And I will beat you.