A wise man
once said, “It’s not how hard you can hit, it’s how hard you can be hit, how
many times you can be knocked down, and keep getting up and getting back into
the ring.”
That man
was Rocky Balboa, and although he was fictional, the lesson in those words is
very real. In preparing for my first marathon last fall I had been hit,
hard. During September I had developed
Achilles tendonitis which later worsened into plantar fasciitis as well. I was
so deep into my training that I kept it quiet, lessened my training, and did my
best to simply survive the marathon. I
had come too far to quit.
In the
weeks following that race I tried in vain to heal myself by continuing to run
and stretch, the way that people try to speed recovery in pulled muscles by
continuing to work them, albeit at a lower weight. This tactic only worsened my state. It came to a head during my work’s Christmas
party where I found it nearly impossible to stand without searing pain in my
left foot. I asked myself what I was
doing and what I was trying to prove.
After that night I gave up running.
4 weeks
later I got a sort of shot of inspiration from someone very close to me, also a
runner. It was a simple question of
whether I was running the Hyannis Half Marathon Feb. 24th. I told her that I would give it my best
shot. She has always been more than my
friend; she’s a motivator, a partner, a coach, and yes an inspiration. I have
my reasons why, but let’s just say if she was going to run I was damn well
going to try.
So I did my
best to train in 6 weeks. I had been
developing a new stride which was necessary to stop my heel striking and end
any future Achilles trouble. I had not
tested that stride out in race conditions yet but felt fairly confident that I
could successfully navigate 13.1 miles.
Race day
came with rain, wind, and temperatures hovering around 40. The race was not a certainty until the
evening before, the weather was thought to be that bad. I had trained in the cold, the rain, and
snow, and even trained on the very course the race was held on; to me there was
never a doubt I’d run if the race was on.
Another
wise man once said: “Failure to prepare is preparing to fail.” That man was legendary UCLA Bruins Men’s
College Basketball coach John Wooden.
I realized
that as long as I had trained properly, and was dressed accordingly for the weather
than I would be able to do my best no matter what. The starting line of the race was luckily so
close to my gym that I was able to go early and warm up on the treadmill and
stretch inside and put off facing the elements a little longer. This also gave me time to be alone and
think. I thought back to how I had felt
when the marathon was over in October. I
remembered feeling torn. I felt like a
success because I had finished 26.2 standing up, and after only 18 months of
running. However I also felt like a
failure because it took every ounce of strength left in my body to drag myself
across the finish line. I had trained so
hard and that was what I had to show for it?
It had been
a recurring theme, in my previous Halfs as well as the Full marathon I had
either limped across the finish line injured, or not been able to finish at
all. I kept it to myself, but my main
goal with the ’13 Hyannis Half was simply to finish at 100% and know I gave my
all.
The rain
would never let up during the entire time I was outside. I walked to the starting line and immediately
sought shelter under an overhang with about 150 other runners. There were rivers rushing along the streets and
puddles taking up entire roads, but I was prepared. Of course once you have run through a few
puddles no amount of preparation short of wearing knee-high waders can stop
your feet from getting wet. I dealt with
that though, that discomfort, along with being packed like sardines among 3,500
runners, was only temporary. The experience
and the accomplishment would be forever.
I remembered that when I got a
terrible side stitch at Mile 4. I used
the nose of my water bottle to jab at the pain which caused it to subside,
until the next morning but that didn’t matter.
I also remembered the accomplishment would be forever when I was bumped
by one runner and elbowed by another, definitely accidental but in the heat of
a race I had to bite my tongue.
I did slow down some as the race
wore on. It was partly due to my feet
being tired thanks to my new stride, and partly because I had a fear of
slipping as my feet got tired and heavy.
I played it up for the cameras as I approached the finish line, waving
my hat in the air as I crossed. This
time there were no injuries, no cramps, no ‘what ifs.’ This time there was just me and something
called redemption.
As Bill Rodgers and Greg Meyer told
me the night before at the Running Expo, everyone has a different path, a
different time frame to reaching their peak as a runner. It took Greg Meyer 7-years of running 100
miles per week for him to reach his peak of winning the Boston Marathon. I was not winning Boston; I was not crossing
the finish line at Boston, but as I crossed the finish line in Hyannis I knew
that I still was far from my peak as a runner.
This was only another step in the journey.
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| In between running legends Greg Meyer and Bill Rodgers. |
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| Hiding from the cold rain before race time. |
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| Posing with my medal after finishing. |
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