Where’s the peanut butter?!

The Eugene marathon is under two months away now and this has me thinking about what to do in this last window leading up to the big day. My training schedule calls for the following on my long weekends: 20 miles (this weekend), 17, 23, 20, 20, and then the taper starts with 15, 12, 10 and then it’s go time.

A couple other things intersect, though. The 17 miler in a week is the day before the St. Paddy’s Dash which I’m registered for. And I thought about doing this (the 17 mile weekend) as my long hard run where I’d aim for about a 7 minute pace and go uninterrupted. This should be a good training exercise as well as a good confidence run so I’ll probably do it and then just do run the following day at St. Pats however I feel, but not really race it.

However, the following weekend (which is the 23 mile day) is also the Mercer Island Half. That’s a race I’m not yet registered for and if I do it, it’s $60 which honestly seems like way too much. But I could do that and just aim to PR which would also be a good training pace/distance for the marathon.

The only obvious mistake would be trying to race all three (or to do the LHR + race the next day). But however I slice it, there’s not much time left for the marathon. I’m really feeling a lot better going into this one than Portland two years ago now, though (jeez - was that really that long ago?) and even than when I was aiming for Victoria last fall. I’ve done 20 mile long runs for probably the past three Sundays and every time have been at or very close to an 8 minute pace and managed to finish every one feeling strong and last fall I was definitely struggling with just finishing the 20 miles at a (ballpark) same pace.

The other thing on my mind is the ultra I’m doing the following month. I think as long as I just take that nice and slow, it’ll all be fine (but very long and still hard). I asked Joe about last year’s course, though, and was pretty surprised. He said that the course does something the following: two 5K loops, then out on a big loop for the remaining 40k. How fast should somebody run it? He indicated that he did those 5k’s in ~58 minutes (which comes out to something like a 10 minute pace) and that in hindsight, that might have been going a little fast. Oooookkaaaayyy. It’s certainly helpful to have that perspective!

I’m not sure what’s going to be in store for me, running-wise, after this. If I don’t qualify for Boston in Eugene, I’m probably going to feel like I absolutely have to run another marathon because the rest of my running and pacing definitely indicates that that should be in the cards for me. At the same time, I’d much rather feel some flexibility to not follow the marathon training schedule to the letter so much - to be able to take my dog on more runs, to not worry if it’s late on a Wednesday and be thinking “great - I still gotta get 90 minutes in…” and to be able to do different sorts of races or types of exercise without worrying about it screwing up my schedule and volume or other goals.

So after the disaster that was last year’s SeaFair marathon, the Rock n Roll marathon have picked up the Seattle summer marathon and added it to their franchise. Today, they announced the course which raises a couple questions, including “huh?” and “what were they thinking?”

It doesn’t matter who you are, a marathon’s not easy to run. The first half (which is the course of the half-marathon) looks pretty interesting, though it obviously runs the same risk for calamity with getting runners to the start that left so many frustrated last year. It winds from down near SeaTac airport in, um, scenic? Tukwila, through Renton and then essentially runs part of the Seattle marathon course in reverse, finishing at the stadiums. But those lucky souls who registered early for the full marathon! THEY get to get on the viaduct and run up it four and a half miles, then back, then keep going another two and a half miles before coming back again to the finish! That’s how I spell: “recipe for fun.”

Naturally, I speak only for myself and my comments don’t represent my running club, coach, or anyone who influences the decision about whether I get to run with the group as a pacer.

Last weekend I ran my first marathon. The experience was incredible and I’m thrilled to have completed it and really, really thankful to the friends who supported me leading up to the race and in Portland. I wanted to write about the experience at length but am just not getting to that so I’ll recap it in installments as I can get to them and talk about it from the perspectives of support, training, nutrition, accessories, the race itself, and the 27th mile.

Today - marathon support.

On one hand a marathon is really pretty simple. Get in shape and go out and run (or walk or crawl) for a couple hours and 26.2 miles later it’s done and you’re part of a pretty select but growing segment of the population who have accomplished what I now have way, way more respect for as an incredible feat of endurance.

Forms of support start appearing from the day you commit to running a marathon. One interesting thing about support is that it won’t always be explicit and the giver may not even know he’s giving it. For me, it came from people wishing me good luck, agreeing to talking about the experience or logistics, being willing to listen to me talk a bunch of nonsense about training before I understood what words like “tempo” or “strides” meant (if I do now). I know these weren’t always interesting conversations but people were supportive or at least captivated by my enthusiasm that they would talk. And we talked.

Support also comes from doing group runs together. This can be a little harder because runners have pretty different goals and abilities. It’s not super easy to pair up someone who’s training for a near-3 hour marathon with someone training for a 5 hour finish or someone who is just casually running or even to pair up people with similar goals and but whose races are at different times. Or in my case, if most of your friends just aren’t really interested in running. So it’s super-helpful if you can join a running club. There, you’ll probably find a huge pool of people with a broad enough pool of goals, abilities, and schedules to find a good match or two. And you might get a coach (either formally from the club or informally from a fellow member). For me in Seattle - this is definitely Chuck Bartlett’s training club: ChuckIt. But if you’ve read my blog before or had a conversation with me since June, you probably already know that My secret mentors in the club are Terry Wong and Craige Blackwell. They don’t necessarily know this, but they’ve been huge positive influences and I’m really thankful for their advice and companionship on the track and the long runs. And I really look up to everyone in the club and get a short burst of adrenaline whenever I see a “runchuckit” shirt during a recreational run or race. That’s part of what I’m talking about when I say that not everyone will give you explicit support. Sometimes it will be explicit but just as often you’ll manage to find something that says to you “I should keep going.”

Finally there is support during the marathon itself. Saturday night in Portland before the race I started to feel a little weird about the whole event. Thousands of people come from out of town or fly in to go on this enormous endeavor to burn energy just to say they’ve done it or feel some sense of accomplishment. Isn’t that representative of the opulence I’ve at least talked about resisting for much of my life (um, even if I haven’t always exactly walked that walk)? By Sunday morning as Tanya and I talked with some ladies from the Red Hat Society on the train on the way to the race or while I was in line for the port-a-potty talking with fellow marathoners or when I saw Aaron, Steve, Tim, and friends from ChuckIt getting ready for the race or when I saw friends after they blew the starting horn - all of that washed away. Suddenly I was part of over 9,000 people trying to do something that is one of the hardest things a human can do, the hardest thing some of us would ever do in our lives, and we’re surrounded by people with similar goals and, far more importantly, friends and family who love us and want the best for us and want to see us accomplish that goal.

We are all there as individuals, but we are all doing it together.

At the Portland marathon, they print your name on your bib which means complete strangers can cheer you on. I remember around mile 5 the first time I heard someone say “Go, Patrick!” and as I think back now it really moves me. A pessimist might suggest he was just trying to kill some of the boredom of standing outside for a long morning, but if it’s true that the body is physiologically much more effective at synthesizing glycogen out of carbohydrates in the 30 minutes immediately following a hard workout, it’s just as true that the human spirit is much more effective at synthesizing a drive to persevere from “Go, Patrick!” while in the middle of a marathon.

I don’t want to lose track of the ways I found support during the race itself so here’s a short annotated list along the route…

• Before the start: seeing Aaron, Steve, Tim, and other from the club in the crowd and waiting with them for the horn.
• Near the start, just after the run blew: seeing Rohini and Katie on the sidelines.
• Around mile 3: I see Katie again - she seems to know this course really well!
• Around mile 3.5: me yelling “Go big Jim!” to the guy who had “Yell ‘Go big Jim’” written on the back of his shirt shortly before passing him (this was definitely a symbiotic gesture of support, not me saying it and thinking “I’m totally going to crush you!” - more on Big Jim later…)
• Crossing the 5 mile mark: checking my watch for the first time in 4 miles and realizing I had run in 28:40 - exactly the pace I (thought I) wanted.
• Around 5.5: Seeing Katie again and Tanya for the first time in the race near the bridge. They agreed to pick up my backpack since I couldn’t find the clothes drop at the start of the race, which was awesome because I left my wallet and everything in it on a random corner of downtown Portland.
• Around mile 8: seeing a rainbow to the north across the river.
• Around mile 10: seeing Tiffany as I head back on the switchback and cheering each other on.
• Around mile 17: Seeing Katie again as I climbed to the St. John’s bridge. Things were getting hard right about now.
• Around 17.5: Seeing Tanya and Rohini again on the bridge. Then seeing John and Heather who had threatened to sleep through the race Right about now I am starting to feel the need to step back the pace because I’m really not lucid. I’m really, really happy to see them in the race (and I’m just as happy today that I *remember* seeing them!!)
• Around mile 19/20: after crossing the line where I would fall apart (throwing up, cramping up, and stumbling to the sidelines) a volunteer comes to my assistance and gives me water and walks with me for some distance - half a mile? a mile? I have no idea. We make small talk - she ran in 2002, I let her tell me whether she thinks I can go on by myself, and I do - but walking, still. She didn’t tell me “keep going” but I might not have even done that without her.
• Around mile 21/22: I meet up again with the ladies: Tanya, Rohini, and Katie. I feel disappointed with myself as I see them and am walking but I’ve tried to run and just can’t (still cramping hard and no energy). But they are only supportive (as I recall…I’m still not quite all there) and keep me going.
• Around mile 22: “Go big Jim!” makes a reappearance and I watch as his sign fades off ahead of me…I’m sad for my race but really happy for him.
• Around mile 22/23: I see Anand from the club making good progress in the race. We’re on a downhill and I tell myself “it’s only about a lap around the lake to the finish line” and struggle to get myself to keep going. I’m sorry to leave Rohini, Katie and Tanya who have to walk back to the car but I have to do it (and they’re probably just as happy not to walk the last couple miles). I catch up with Anand and we run together for a while and talk a little. Seeing him is a great encouragement and probably what got me to start running again.
• Around mile 24: Kevin from Club Northwest is working a mic near the Team Red lizard support table where I got a supporting shot of beer. The last time I saw him we were both naked (that’s another running story…) and he calls me out by name and cheers on the ChuckIt shirt.
• Around mile 25: John and Heather are here again as I round off the Steel Bridge and head toward the finish. I am totally, totally exhausted but trudging to the end.

After the finish line I collected my rose, sapling, medal, pin and went out to find my friends. Far more than at the beginning of the race, I’m overcome by the incredible energy in the streets of everyone accomplishing this feat and the support in the air and moved to tears. This is a little awkward since I’m surrounded by strangers but I don’t care and just so happy to be a part of this I let it go. Then I find my friends again, I treat them to what’s probably one of the most enthusiastic and grossest hugs they’ve ever received, and we make our way to the Macaroni Grill for lunch.

At times I thought I should run the race itself alone. That now seems like one of the craziest ideas I’ve ever had. I will never think it again. I will also make every effort to support any of my friends if they try to do something like this. It’s hard to express and writing about it in a blog will never convey the sense of gratitude I feel for all the people who directly (or inadvertently) supported me this year. I couldn’t have done it by myself and I would never want to.

Running a marathon is about a lot of things - one of those is communing with the people who are important to you and learning to see and appreciate the support around you, whether the other person gives it to you directly, indirectly, has an easy time giving it, or it’s hard for them to support you but they do anyway. It can be an incredibly moving and rewarding experience.