Marathon #16

Galveston, TX

February 20th, 2011

Mardi Gras Marathon

 

After the Houston marathon, I assumed I would quickly recover by taking a few ice baths, then get in some 8-12 milers plus a 15, and then run a solid marathon in Galveston three weeks later.  When race week arrived, I had done only four 5 milers and felt all beat up.  I had congestion from a cold, my hip hurt, my left foot arch ached terribly, and I was ten pounds heavier (fatter is the proper word).   Monday morning I concluded I wasn't able to do it and decided to drop out.

 

However, I also planned it as a  mini-vacation with my family, so I was committed to the trip.  On Tuesday I emailed the race Director and requested a switch to the half marathon.   Accordingly, I didn't prepare at all.   I didn't carb-up or hydrate, and we didn't arrive in Galveston until 5:45 pm, just 15 mins to the end of packet pick up.

 

They couldn't find my packet. The Director said she would give me a new one.  At that point, my ego took over. "Well in that case, can you put me back in the full marathon?" I asked. "Done." she confirmed.  The family and I had a big seafood dinner at 8:30 (I ate two entrees), and we went to bed at 11:00.  I woke at 6:00, walked a mile and a half to the start, and queued up for the 7:30 gun time.

 

The weather was typical:  60 degrees, 100% humidity, and a fog so thick you couldn't see 50 yards.  The streets were soaked wet with dew.  This was my first marathon for which I had no goal, no set splits, no planned pace.  Basically I was going to do a 26.2 mile Sunday morning long run.  A minute before the start, my heart said to me, "Come on David! You can do it!  Go all out and set a new personal record.  You have it in you."  My mind agreed, "Dave, you're a solid runner, go out and be competitive."  Then my body interrupted, "Hey Dumbass! Go back to the hotel and get back in bed.  It's not too late; just walk away."

 

                The gun fired  and we were off.  There were 1,000 runners,  mostly half-marathoners.  I had lined-up in the top  50 and so within the first 100 yards it really felt like being out on a group training run.  I found myself, quite by chance, on the peripheral of a 6-8 man pack at mile 3.  By mile 4 it was just I and two other runners.

 

                We three fell into sink and began chit-chatting.  Both Matt and Don were Ironmen and more-or-less treating the marathon as a training run.  It was really quite nice; the group dynamics help pass the miles from 4-12.   As we came to the halfway mark, the fog had lifted, the sun was out, and it was getting hot. 

 

Don and Matt held the pace but I thought it best to drop it back a nick.  I hit the halfway point on exactly a 3:20 pace, though I hadn't even looked at my watch up to that point.  Don did mention he needed a 3:20 to BQ, so in substance I guess I'd been running with a non-official 3:20 pacer even if I didn't realize it.

 

With the course being two equal loops, only the marathoners continued on as the halfers finished.  I found myself completely alone at mile 14.   For the next five miles there literally wasn't another runner within a quarter mile.  At mile 19 I caught another runner who was barely shuffling along.  By his form and appearance, he looked to be a higher caliber runner than I, but clearly he was dehydrated.  As I passed by he fell to a walk.   I still felt strong in the legs but my form was deteriorating as the heat was wearing  on me also.

 

 I came on another runner at mile 21;  again based on his appearance, I imagine he'd beat me by a couple of miles on any other day.  But I know from experience that when you go out fast with hot and humid conditions, you can totally dehydrate and implode early.  As I went by I gave a word of encouragement and he replied with a single word, "Cramped."  I was starting to fall apart myself.

 

At mile 22 I slowed to walk through the water station, my legs had become so stiff I couldn't step forward more than 12 inches.   I was completely covered in salt and dehydrated.  What was odd is though I couldn't really walk, when I ran my form would take over and put me back on a decent stride. 

 

Between mile 22-25 I continued at a reduced pace while running, but every quarter or half mile I would have to stop and walk for 30-40 seconds to keep from overheating.  When I dehydrate I cramp, by my pulse also sky-rockets and makes it hard to breathe.  At mile 25 I entered the downtown district and the tall buildings blocked out the strong sun.  It's amazing how much difference running in a light shade makes;  I finished stronger the final mile.

 

As I covered the last 100 yards to the finish line enthusiastic cheers came from the spectators and volunteers.  I thought, "Wow, what amazing crowd support.  You'd think I was in the lead."  To my complete shock, I later find out that I kinda was.

 

When the official results were posted, I had crossed the finish in 3:28:59, but was totally amazed to see I had placed 9^th out of 147 full marathon finishers.   I received a plaque for placing 3^rd in my age division. 

 

Well considering I wasn't even planning to run the day before, I was ecstatic to notch another BQ and place in my division.  Not bad for a beat-up broken down fat guy.