My Marathon Journey

A middle aged runner’s first marathon is perhaps held in a different light than those of our youthful counterparts primarily because many of us had to find our way back to running instead of merely extending a high school or college sport. My first marathon on Saturday November 8th was no different. It was perhaps far more significant because of the path I took to get there, not the 26.2 miles I traveled that day. No race report I write of my first marathon is complete without the context of how I got there.

I grew up fat. There is no way around that fact. I am a twin and for years I heard, "He’s the fat one". Although I was conscious of this, and it did bother me at times, I was not obsessed with it. I wasn’t hugely overweight nor was I sedentary, but even the sports I played accounted for my size. I was the lineman in football, valued for my bat not my fielding in baseball, and man could I set a pick in the low post! I enjoyed sports but only within the constrains of my size.

My senior year in high school planted the seed that changed my life. After a misunderstanding and some frustration with a coach change that year with our high school baseball team, I decided to switch sports and join the track team. Not to run, but to be a thrower, shot put, discus. As the team ran some 3-5 milers to get in shape at the start of the season, Coach Smith noticed that I was coming in behind the distance runners but before the sprinters, jumpers, and other throwers. He convinced me that under my belly was the heart and lungs of a distance runner. By the end of the school year I was a different boy. I dropped 40 lbs and was running the half-mile, mile, 2-mile, and 2-mile relay anchor in every track meet including qualifying for and competing in the state finals. I ran some my freshman year in college (good thing I met my future wife then) but during and following my two-year mission to South Africa, that activity fell by the wayside.

Fast-forward 10 years to my high school reunion. I had gained over 100 lbs and was approaching my peak weight of 275 lbs. What happened? College, marriage, kids, job, and graduate school… really, just life. It was about this time that my diabetic father started hounding me with stories of how every male over 40 and 230 lbs in our family developed Type II diabetes. He begged me to do something about it. I knew running worked for me based on my time in high school so that’s what I did. Over the next 6 years I floated between 240 and 265 more times than I can count. I would run a couple times a week but never with the discipline nor passion required.

In the fall of 2006, sitting at 255 lbs, the company I worked for sponsored a team in a local "Corporate Health Challenge" 5k. The missing element of the last 6 years was found. I found it was not the running alone that sparked me, it was the drive of competition and the race. That first 5k was painful but I lost close to 15 lbs and met my goal to run sub 30 minutes. After a series of 5 and 10k’s I decided I was ready to train for a half marathon. I trained for and ran the Atlanta Half Marathon on Thanksgiving Day 2007 coming in just under my 2-hour goal, reaching my 200 lb goal the week of the run as well. It was on that day that I decided I wanted to do the full marathon. After some research and discussion I settled on the Chickamauga Battlefield Marathon run on a historic civil war battlefield just south of Chattanooga, TN.

During 2008, as I prepared for my marathon I slowly upped my miles per week as well as the length of my weekly long run. I also came to realize that although I had done the bulk of my half marathon training on our treadmill in the evenings, that wasn’t going to cut it this time. I changed my running schedule to the early morning and I started running outside. This had its challenges but really was the only way to fit in all the training I would need. In the process, I rediscovered the joy of training in solitude on the road and in the park. Running on a treadmill is now only done out of necessity of weather, childcare, or temporary insanity. My weight dropped very slowly the first half of the year only into the mid-190’s, but starting in August something changed. I lost weight every week from mid-August right up to my marathon where I weighed in at 185. Sometime during the year I decided to include an element of fundraising to my run. After taking a poll and researching various causes, I decided it was the threat of Diabetes that had inspired me in the first place. Thanks to family, friends new and old, and even strangers from the Runners World Discussion Board, I was blessed to raise $1,120 for the Diabetes Action Team by race day. That is the rough perspective from which I entered the race last Saturday.

Although Chattanooga is only 2.5 hours drive from our house in Georgia, we decided to go up on Thursday evening so we were not rushed in any way. We decided to drive up by way of some back roads through the mountains of North Georgia to enjoy the fall foliage. It was stunningly beautiful. On Friday we took our 4 children to the Tennessee Aquarium, and IMAX movie, and Ruby Falls (a 165 ft underground waterfall in a cave). Although the day involved some walking, by and large it was a very relaxing day and one I’m sure my kids will remember far more than their sweaty dad the following day. Friday night we picked up my race packet. This went smoothly but the expo for such a small race was disappointing to say the least. One guy sitting behind a table selling GU, not much more. We were staying in an extended stay hotel suite so we went back and my wife cooked my spaghetti dinner. It wasn’t until we were back at the hotel that I noticed my bib indicated I was only 31 years old, cutting 5 years off my life. Not a big enough deal to worry about but the official results did group me in with the next class down, oh well.

Race morning I arose at 4:30 and spent some quality time, um, lightening my load. After a shower and a light breakfast we were on our way to the race around 6 am. We had requested a late check out so I could come back after the race and take an ice bath but they couldn’t make a commitment until 9am so my wife planned on coming back after the start to find out. The weather was a bit chilly but really almost ideal. It was 45 degrees at the start line rising to 60 by the time I finished. Once parked I left my family in the car and went to, um, lighten my load again.

We made our way to the start area and took some pictures (above). There was a good crowd at the start area as both the Full (600 runners) and Half (700 runners) races had sold out. My wife took the kids to a point 100 yds past the start line where she could film me. The start time of 7:30 came and went with loudspeaker announcing that we would be waiting for a few last minute registrations and for the lines at the port-a-potties to clear out. Apparently not everyone got up at 4:30 to attend to this… During this time my wife showed up and wanted to see where I was lined up so she knew which side of the road to stand on to get the best shot. She quickly gave me another good luck kiss and ran off. The runner standing next to me proclaimed, "She was cute, that should be good for at least 3 minutes off of your PR."

Finally the race started about 15-20 minutes late and for some reason I started my watch with the gun instead of as I crossed the start line 13 seconds later. I was full of caffeine, adrenaline, and good ol’ ignorance as I ran past my wife giving a high 5 to my older two children. I settled into a comfortable pace, convincing myself not to push. Perhaps instead of "not pushing" I should have been actively reigning myself in. I had set a goal of 3:48, which translates to 8:42/mile.

1. 7:47

Really, at the first mile mark my watch read 8:00, which I knew was faster than I wanted but I told myself, "at least it wasn’t in the 7’s." Of course, I failed to do the math subtracting the 13 seconds at the start line… I was in the 7’s! Water/Poweraid stations were every 1.5-2 miles and I made a point of getting a drink at each whether I was thirsty or not. Over the next several miles I repeatedly told myself to slow down, don’t push, stay comfortable. Despite my mantra, the splits were much faster than I planned!

2. 7:34
3. 7:44
4. 7:41
5. 7:45 – First hill on the course. Long and gentle and extending through most of the next mile as well, no issues whatsoever.
6. 7:51

My watch at the 6-mile mark read 46:35, quickly I did the math in my head. You just ran a 10k in about 48 minutes! Your PR is 47:43, what the heck are you doing? I kept assessing myself, I felt great, relaxed, breathing easy, not pushing, just slow down a little I thought, and I’ll be fine.

7. 7:57
8. 8:04
9. 8:06
10. 8:13
11. 8:13
12. 8:17 – Somewhere in this mile the half marathon runners turned off to return to the start/finish line while we turned for a second loop of the park.
13. 8:15
14. 8:15

Actually there was no 13-mile sign, just the 13.1-mile sign for the half marathon. As soon as I realized this, about 50 yds short of the sign, I clicked my watch for the split. It read 8:45 but the 14 mile split was 7:45. I split the difference and gave the same amount to each as an estimate. As I ran past the Half Marathon sign they also had an official clock which read 1:44:25. If you take off my 13 second start delay you get a Half Marathon time of 1:44:12. The one and only half I had run a year earlier was in 1:59:05. I was 15 minutes ahead of that pace! In training I had run as fast as 1:52:00, but I was even WAY ahead of that. The funny thing with my half split is that if I would have just been running that race I would have come in 63rd out of 700 and 6th in my division… all without "pushing it".

Perhaps it was the reality of knowing the course on my second loop and what things lay ahead, perhaps it was the torrid pace catching up with me, perhaps it was the caffeine and adrenaline wearing off, perhaps it was insufficient training, but whatever the reason, I soon started to see my splits slowing significantly.

15. 8:45 – wow, slower than my required 8:42, and 30 seconds off the last mile… what happened?
16. 8:40 – that’s a bit more like it, hold steady, just ahead of pace… now just hold this and you are GOLD!
17. 9:29 – Remember that hill at mile 5? Here it is again, this time… issues.

This was the first uncomfortable mile of my run. I swear that hill got steeper and longer since the last time I was there. I told myself, "Hey, you built yourself a 10 minute buffer on your goal time, you are allowed to burn it, especially on this hill." I don’t know if it was just the day getting warmer or if my body was heating up but also during this climb I shed the $3 gloves I had been wearing all morning.

18. 10:02 – okay, you were just recovering from that hill, you still feel strong – the 3:40 pace group flew by me like I was standing still, that’s okay, I wasn’t aiming that high anyway
19. 10:09 – that’s it, just hold 10 minute miles and all will be fine, you may miss 3:48, but certainly not 4:00 and hey, a few miles at 10 and you may get a second wind…
20. 10:53 – what? Is my watch right? Was the marker in the right place?

After 3 over 10 minute miles my head was quickly figuring out that I was burning through my 10-minute buffer VERY quickly. This was the first point where I did enough of the math in my head to know that unless something drastic changed, I wouldn’t make my 3:48 goal because I knew I didn’t have it in me to get back to sub 9-minute miles. I also realized that despite the fact I had never slowed below 11-minute miles in any of my long runs, I was now going into uncharted territory beyond 20 miles. I was however, still somewhat confident at this point that I would come in under 4 hours. I mean come on, I had over 70 minutes to run a 10k, surely I could do that! That was only 11:20 per mile!

21. 11:08 – slipped some, but you can keep it in that 11 minute range no problem
22. 11:34 – crud, NO MORE! The next mile will be faster than this one, FOCUS.

I’m convinced I was pushing harder during the 23rd mile. I started to pass a few runners that were dropping out. Perhaps the first runners I had passed since mile 15. Since then it had been nothing but a parade of well paced, disciplined runners blowing by me. Despite a small quiver in my thigh early in the mile, I was feeling a bit stronger than I had for quite a while. Then it happened. 100 yds short of the 23 mile marker, without warning, EVERY muscle in my legs from the hip down, thigh, hamstring, calf, foot… every single one in both legs locked up in one swoop. I almost fell to the ground as it hit but I managed to keep my footing and keep walking.

An aid biker riding along the course pulled up along side of me and asked if I was OK. Through tears of disbelief I told her I was fine… just "a" cramp. I walked like a mummy fighting diarrhea, not letting myself stop and recover. I told myself I wouldn’t walk, with the cramp I modified that goal to not stopping. My first thoughts were "This is not happening, I have too much invested in this, WHY ME?" I soon realized that these were questions of the defeated and I was not going to fail! I can honestly say the thought of not completing the run, never entered my mind. I walked all the way to the 23 mile marker before the worst of the cramps subsided. At the top of the next short hill I felt good enough to run again. The remainder of the race was a series of walk for 20-30 seconds, run until the muscles cramped up again, usually 1-2 minutes.

23. 12:50
24. 12:56 – Late in this mile the 4:00 pace group went by me. I tried to pick it up and stay with them but promptly locked up yet again. It was only then that I allowed my mind to grasp that I was going to miss that goal.
25. 13:23 – Actually the 25 mile marker was missing. In all my duress it didn’t hit me until I was at least halfway through the next mile. My watch splits indicate 18:49 and 7:58 for these two splits, I averaged them out…
26. 13:24

Early in this mile another runner ran past me during one of my walking phases and encouraged me with a "you can do it, come on!" I replied to him, "Tell that to my calf!" A few steps later he pulled up grabbing his leg. As I ran past him I said "you can do it, come on!" He replied, "tell that to my hamstring." Over the 26th mile we played leapfrog several more times, each time I would pass him I would yell out, "come on hamstring!" and as he would pass me he would return "come on calf!"

The last .2 miles I told myself I didn’t want to walk again and I would push myself across the finish line. I was unable to meet that goal yet again as I cramped up briefly and walked for 5-10 seconds. Making the final turn to the finish line I was able to run all the way through the gate and probably faster than I had for several miles. My wife had begun to worry if she had missed me somehow as I had told her I would be surprised to not make 4 hours, but she waited and captured video of me down the homestretch, half crying, half dead. I never even saw her. The last .2 miles took me 2:23. In the first few minutes after I finished the race I said to my wife, "That is the hardest thing I have ever done!" I may have been biased at the moment, but not by much.

Chip Time --> 4:07:18 or 9:27/mile
Clock Time --> 4:07:31
Second Half Split --> 2:23:06
Place --> 249th out of 551 tag wearers
Men 35-39 (my true class)--> 38th out of 68

I drew on many thoughts during those final 3.3 miles to fuel me to the finish line. Each time I was halted by cramps I thought about one of my children and the example I needed to set for them. I remembered all those who donated to my fundraising, about all the well wishes so many had expressed, my Runners World discussion board friends that had held me accountable for my mileage and weight loss each week, my father and his battles with diabetes and his many pleas for me to do something about my weight, and about my wife, who I don’t desearve, who put up with me and my training not to mention my weight for many years. It is amazing what you find for fuel when you absolutely have to.

So, the day didn’t go exactly according to plan, but the mere fact that it went at all has changed my life. One question I was always a bit wishy washy on before the run was whether or not I would ever do this again. My answer came, most certainly YES. My wife proclaimed, "well, I guess you have to do this at least two more times." I asked her how she figured that? She said, "At least once more to go sub 4, and again with me in a few years because we both know I won’t be anywhere close to that!"

Shortly after my run they held the Jr. Marathon. This was for all 1st through 6th graders. To qualify they had to run a total of 25.2 miles in the months leading up to race day and then they ran the last mile on race day crossing the official finish line of the marathon and getting a medal as well. My 10 yr old son participated and had great fun.



The day ended on one more sad note however, the hotel wouldn’t let me check out late so my wife had checked out during my run. Oh how I wanted that ice bath! I think it is partially due to missing that post race cool down that today, Wednesday the 12th, 4 days later, is the first day I have used the stairs without pain.