Boston Marathon 2013

            It is amazing just how quickly things can change.  I first found that out on September 11, 2001 when the World Trade Center’s Twin Towers were taken down by terrorists. The world changed that day.  I guess sadly the world changed again on Monday.  It makes you wonder why things happen the way they do, why some things don’t happen, and what goes into both.

            When there’s an attack on your country it hits you.  If there’s an attack in your state it hits you harder.  If there’s an attack that effects your family it hits you hardest.  Let me start by saying that my Uncle Steve and Cousin Kathleen are both all right but they were there in the line of fire during the bombings at the Boston Marathon.

            Obviously we live in a changed world since 9/11 where things like this can happen.  Still, who would have ever thought there would be a day where bombs were exploding at the finish line of a road race?  Think about that.  These were not politicians.  These were not soldiers fighting.  These were not any sort of authority figures.  These were runners, average people for the most part, who when they were so close to completing a huge task of running a marathon then found themselves being pelted with shrapnel from explosives.  This was not Iraq or Afghanistan, this was Boylston Street.

            I had tracked my Uncle Steve online and was updating friends at work about his progress as I was so proud of him not only running Boston at Age 60, but doing it after recovering from a fractured hip.  It was a truly inspirational story.  I am certain there were many other runners with similar tales of redemption but this one shares blood with me so it stands out.

            As I stated at the top it is amazing how quickly things can change.  I had seen my uncle’s finish time and posted a proud note on Facebook for everyone to see.  I had shared his time with folks at work and put my phone away.  Only minutes later I had been alerted of the explosions at the finish line.  We gathered to watch the television and my heart sunk.  It looked like a scene from a movie or at the very least a bad dream.  It was no accident, it was no coincidence, someone had bombed the Boston Marathon.  This was real.

            I immediately tried to get a hold of my uncle.  I told my mother about what was going on and she tried to get through to her brother.  Panic set in as it got to twenty minutes with no reply.  I knew that he had crossed the finish line somewhere around 2:46pm, I had no idea of when the bombs had gone off.  I had no idea if he might have finished and then gone back to the finish line to await friends.  People at work tried to say he was okay but I was not so sure.  I said until I knew he was okay he was not okay.   

            Thirty minutes passed, injury numbers began to be posted and with no word from my uncle or cousin I could only hope they weren’t a part of those numbers.  As the replays of the bombings and immediate aftermath played on a seemingly continuous loop my mind began to wander.  I could easily put myself in the shoes of those affected.  I am a runner and the Boston Marathon is the Holy Grail of races, the ultimate goal for many runners including myself. 

            Forty-five minutes passed with no word from my uncle or cousin.  Word got out that cellular service had been shut down in the event that the bombs had been cell phone activated and there were more around.  It was chaos.  I began to get texts asking about my uncle.  Maui, my friend of 20 years, said his wife had friends in that area that had yet to be heard from as well.  With tens of thousands of people coming together for the Boston Marathon it was harder to find people NOT affected than it was to find those affected.

            I tried to keep my cool to little avail.  Emily, as she always does, did her best to calm me down.  Only after did she tell me she was just as worried as me.  She offered to come down to my work to be there for me.  I posted another message on Facebook this time asking anybody who might have any info to post it, anything was better than the uncertainty.

            Finally after an hour we got word that both my uncle and cousin were all right.  Only minutes later word of casualties at the finish line came out.  It turns out that my uncle had crossed the finish line roughly five minutes before the bombs went off.  That is not a very long period of time.

            It was hard to fathom that ordinary people, running a road race, had been murdered by some evil coward/s.  I run all the time, and have run many races including a marathon, and never once did I feel my life was in danger.  How does that change going forward?  I have dreams of running all of these big time marathons in my future, and sadly I do wonder how safe they will be.  However, it will not stop me from running them.

            Later in the evening, after a long work day, I was finally able to sit on my own and think.  Sitting on a chilly fishing pier on Bass River I found myself wondering why some things happen, and why some things don’t happen.  When Emily said she had thought that it could have easily been us there on Marathon Monday it was not lost on me.  When I first started running my goal was to run the 2013 Boston Marathon with my uncle, I even made a sort of motivational poster for myself on the day of the 2012 race to remind me what was ahead.  It was not lost on me the fact that my goal time for the race was 4:05-4:10.  The bombs exploded as the race time read 4:09.  I had injured my Achilles during the Cape Cod Marathon in October and therefore did not qualify for Boston and I could have gotten in through an exemption thanks to my boss at work but did not want to risk further injury.

            If all had gone according to my goals, my aspirations, I would have been there in the middle of that horrific scene.  This is not about me, or about playing What-If games.  This is just about how close to home this tragedy has hit.  I feel it and will always feel it. 

My heart hurts so badly for the families of those who were killed going to watch a road race.  It’s supposed to be a happy day and a safe event.  My heart hurts for those grievously wounded, losing limbs and facing an unimaginable recovery process.  My heart hurts for those who went there to run or watch and now cannot or maybe will not anymore due to fear, I will not blame them for that. 

I will do all I can to be there on race day next year by any means necessary.  I will run for those who cannot.  It is amazing just how fast things can change.  

A Serious Runner?

Sometimes motivation comes from the unlikeliest of places. I never thought that I'd find my greatest running motivation in months at work. I've been coasting along with my running since the Cape Cod Marathon in October. I pushed myself just enough for 6 weeks to train for the Hyannis Half a few weeks ago. Afterward I went back to running when I felt like it for how long I wanted to.

Then a few days ago a man who delivers our aprons and coats at work came in and took me from my comfort zone with some well placed ignorance. He was there to collect donations for his daughter's running of the Boston Marathon. My friend of 20 years, Maui, mentioned to this man that I was also a runner. The man, most likely over 70, asked me how much I ran per day. He mentioned his daughter ran 15 miles per day. It made me wonder why if she was such a great runner she needed sponsorship to get into Boston. That's a thought for another day. Anyway, I mentioned that I have tried to stick to 20-30 miles per week unless I'm training for a race. Then he said the following:

'Oh so then you're not that serious of a runner.'

Not serious?

I had a fire in my eyes as if he had just insulted my family, or my manhood. I seethed as I thought of all of my races I had run in just 2 years, all of the miles of training. I had more fire as I thought of all of the injuries I had accrued over the same period of time. Only a serious runner would have kept going. Someone who was not serious would have felt the pain of the first pulled muscle and gone back to the elliptical machine at the gym. How do I know that? Because I did that very thing when I first tried running over 5 years ago. Long story short, I ran 3-4 miles with no prior experience, and no stretching, and pulled almost every muscle in both legs. The next day I was back to my elliptical at my gym not to give running another thought for almost 3 years.

So, yeah, I've been a non-serious runner before, and I consider myself pretty serious now.

Anyway, the man seemed to notice the anger he had caused and quickly took his donation sheet and vacated my area. In reality he was probably just not thinking when he doubted my dedication to running. In my mind though it was a slap in my face for all I had done and done to myself through running. Injuries yes, but also a huge swell of self-confidence, a loss of 40 lbs, these things came from running.
My reaction was to forget skipping working out because I was and go run 8 miles.  That wasn't enough though. I followed it up by running over 14 miles the next day on the hilly east end of the Cape Cod Rail Trail. That run being the longest since the marathon, oh and my body felt it too, I wanted to stop and lie down at times. Anytime I felt like stopping because I was tired I just thought of that man saying I wasn't serious and it kept me going. Thank you sir for your words of doubt, you snapped me out of my comfort zone. Maybe I'll see your daughter at the Boston marathon next year but without needing charitable sponsorship to get there.

Have any of you found motivation in an odd situation like this one? If a non-runner doubts your dedication, or whether you're a serious runner, does it bother you the way it did me? What in your minds makes you a 'serious' runner? Is it a number of races? Miles? Running with injuries, or being injured but not quitting?

Burnout

        Do I still want it bad enough?

            This is the question I find myself asking as I sit 2 weeks from my first marathon on Oct. 28^th.  The honeymoon phase of my relationship is officially over.  Now as with all relationships I have to find out if it is really worth it.

            For nearly a year and a half I ran every time with a sense of enthusiasm and joy because it was something I never thought I’d even be able to try let alone succeed at.  Race after race, milestone after milestone, it all worked seamlessly.  Now after 5 months of marathon training I find myself sitting here with a severe case of burnout. 

            Sure, I can come up with extenuating circumstances that have thrown my training off.  My job has been terrible at making a clear work schedule.  I find myself unable to set long term runs since my schedule seems to change every week.  I can easily think of a half dozen runs ruined by this incompetence. 

            I could also point to actually going too hard in my training and having nagging injuries catching up with me.  These make it difficult to maintain a normal running schedule when you're constantly having to rest aching body parts.  I have had pain in my hip flexors and groin for months and the left heel pain has made it tough to walk at times.  Still, I have continued on.  I have bought a few different insoles for my shoes, a foam roller for my muscles, things that I had hoped would reaffirm my commitment and keep me motivated.  Yet here I am 2 weeks to go wondering not only if I can do this, but if I want to.

            I liked the idea of pushing myself time after time.  I felt like this was all coming too easy, the distances, the races, the weight coming off.  All of this kept my feet moving for a year and a half.  I am thinking that the idea of running a marathon clouded my judgment.  The actual training is an unbelievably arduous process that has tested me beyond what I thought.  

            Running in and of itself is hard enough.  Add to that my stress-filled cooking job, the heat, being on my feet all day, I was at a disadvantage before I even hit the open road.  That I even made it this far is a victory in and of itself.  I am looking back at my charted runs since I began Memorial Day Weekend.  These are the facts.  In the calendar year before I began marathon training I had logged 920 miles.  Granted there may have been something here and there I missed, and bike riding and other forms of cardio were not counted, but that averages out to just under 19 miles per week.  Since starting training I have been regularly topping 40 per week, a good sized jump from what I was used to.

           Before marathon training I had run a distance of 15 miles exactly 3 times in 14 months.  In the 5 months since beginning marathon training I have eclipsed 15 miles 9 times including 3 20+ runs.  My beginner training program suggested only 1 20 miler.  I have also included several difficult hill runs to prepare myself for the 12 miles of hills in the middle of the marathon route.  Those are the straight numbers.

            I am in the tapering phase now, dropping my long runs to 17-18 miles.  I cannot find the motivation to even step outside.  The process of getting my gear ready, going to a place to run, stretching, and actually running does not thrill me like it used to.  Could it be as simple as I am fatigued from a really good hard training regimen?  Could it be that it does not excite me since I am always running on my own?  Many times I tell myself I have come too far to just give up.  I paid my money for the race and have every intention of running it, but then what?

            I wanted to run a 10K trail race in Nashua, NH the day after my 35^th birthday, November 3^rd.  The thought of amping up for another race has me seriously rethinking that prospect.  Do I finish my training, run my marathon, and take some time off to recharge my batteries?  Is it that easy?  Trying to get motivated will be even harder during the cold winter months, right?  Hitting the road when it’s sunny and 75 is much easier to do than forcing yourself out the door when it’s cloudy, breezy, and 35.

            So I find myself asking ‘Do I still want this?’  I look at my medals and race bibs and wonder what it all means.  Even a few months ago I had these plans to run the Boston Marathon next April with the ultimate goal being to go run the Honolulu Marathon in 2014.  I can’t see myself doing 2 more full-length marathon training programs.  It is not fun for me right now, it feels more like work, like a job.  I’ve had my share of injuries and doubt but I never thought of giving up.  I thought that I was a runner now, it was part of me.  Maybe I still am.  Maybe my fellow runners, especially ones who are training for their first marathon, or remember how their first one went, can give me some encouragement.  It obviously is bothering me if I have written this much.  All I know is in 2 weeks I will complete my marathon, my time is not important anymore.  What happens in my head and my heart in the days and weeks after that will tell me if I am truly a runner or just a poseur who got as far as he could before turning back.     

Destination: Boston Marathon 2013

So now it all becomes real.  Less than one calendar year.  5 years ago my Uncle Steve told me that he hoped someday to run the Boston Marathon with me.  I was not a runner, not even remotely interested in trying to be one.  I made one vain attempt to rush into being a runner, got hurt, and quit for 4+ years.

Once I began running for real 13 months ago my Uncle again brought up the possibility of running Boston with him.  He wanted me to ride the bus from Hopkinton, family, side by side at the most famous race on earth.  I laughed still but deep inside I knew that it was my ultimate goal.  I never wanted to make that known too early on.  I mean, come on, who was I to say I’d run the Boston Marathon before I even completed a 5K?  I’m sure most would have shook their heads and thought of me as delusional.

Here I sit though, the 2012 Marathon just passed 2 days ago and I am starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel.  I can’t think of a better metaphor.  In about 5 weeks I will begin a ‘beginner’ marathon training regimen.  The 20-week program will lead me almost exactly to the Cape Cod Marathon which happens in the last week of October.  My goal for that is 3:45, or roughly 8:34/mile. 

I will be very strict with my training, not going to stray from the allotted runs for any reason.  I do plan on running as many as 6 races during the summer, but they will all be shorter runs, no halfs.  Once the Cape Marathon is over I will likely rest a bit and then begin a similar training program for Boston.  Luckily for me I have a very strong connection which is going to help me get into the race, hey, it’s as much who you know as what you know usually, right?

This race, this goal, has taken on a far greater purpose for me with the news that my Uncle Steve has a fractured hip and is out indefinitely.  He has always supported me and stood by me even well before I was a runner.  Now I am going to do the same for him.  If it is at all humanly possible I am not going to let him give up on running.  He has run Boston several times, he’s an Ultra Marathoner, I believe that he is in too deep to not try to make the incredible comeback. 

I am going to be extremely focused and extremely determined to make sure that I am standing at the starting line in Boston in 362 days.  What once was a mythical place now feels like a real destination.  Soon I will be heading into uncharted waters, then again running in general was pretty uncharted when I began 13 months ago.  Boston 2013 is just the next logical step in my journey.

Certainly there will be times where I want to give up or slow down.  I’ll bet when I do my first 20-mile run, probably in the August sun, I will be wondering if it is all worth it.  All I will have to do is remember the bigger picture.  I want so badly to run this race.  It will be an amazing achievement to be able to always say I ran the Boston Marathon even once.  It will be an even greater honor to run it with my favorite uncle, and to be there with him to soak in the atmosphere and know that I pushed myself and made it to my ultimate destination. 

In my weakest moments I will keep those words and images in my mind.  They will keep my legs moving.  I will be there April 15, 2013 at the starting line in Hopkinton, nothing and nobody will shake me from my path.  Have you ever been motivated to run a race for someone other than yourself?  For those of you who have run marathons what was the training like for your first?  How much did it differ from previous training?  What should I be expecting?    

The motivation for us starts now.

   

The First Race

Not long after I had begun running and realized it was not going to destroy my legs like I had always worried my mindset began to change.  I began to think about doing a race.  I knew that it had to be short; half marathons were definitely not in my near future.  I chose a 5K, the CapeAbilities 5K which was set to take place in Hyannis a mere 6 weeks after my first mile run had been undertaken.

Was I ready?  I did my research and found that in order to run a 5K you really only needed to be able to comfortably run 5 miles, which was not too lofty of expectations.  Why did I want to do a race so soon after beginning to run?  I wanted to push myself.  Up until even the week before I did my first mile I thought that running was something ‘other people’ did.  Now that I was becoming one of the ‘others’ I wanted to be out there among them.

I signed up for the race along with my running teacher and good friend Emily; she was a master of the half marathons but made an exception to do a 5K since it was my first ever race.  My Uncle Steve did the same; he was a veteran of a few Boston Marathons so for him a 5K was an off day.  I knew that and was so excited to get to run with the both of them.  The training was nothing different from what I had been doing.  Getting up over 5 miles in a run was not much of a stretch and I knew once I reached that goal I didn’t need to go much further.  I would be in pretty good shape come race day.  I had lost 12 pounds in my first 6 weeks of running and invested in some new ‘race day’ clothes to show what I had lost.  The fact that I was that comfortable with my body was such a great feeling.

On May the 14^th it was cool and misty near the water but I was ready.  I met up with Emily and Uncle Steve and then took the time to soak in the atmosphere of something so foreign to me but seemingly where I was meant to be.  After this race it would become something of a ritual to turn on my music, shut the world out, and engulf myself in the feelings of being there before a race.  

I had a nervous energy that morning.  I was so excited for my first race that I did not know what to do.  Uncle Steve had to remind me to stretch since I was wandering around the grounds like a tourist on vacation in the big city for the first time.  We took some photos but as starting time drew close I finally began to focus.

The route down by the water in Hyannis was very familiar to me; I had driven it hundreds of times.  However, driving and running are two different things.  When I began to run it all of the slightest elevation changes were apparent.  Thankfully my uncle had run the race before and alerted me to what was coming. 

Looking back on that race now nearly a year later I laugh at the fact that I was in such relatively poor aerobic condition that I felt the need to suck down a carb gel pack a mile into a 5K, I probably could have done without it.  It got stuck in my throat and I had to suck down some water from the first station just to get that down.

For the final mile my uncle gave me some advice: ‘Run Like Your Hair’s On Fire!’  Funny thing was that I was tired, never before had I gone all out like I was that day.  I have heard since then that during races sometimes you can get caught up in the emotion and the adrenaline forgoing any sort of plan you might have had.  I basically did that when I heard the starting gun and took off like a shot.

My uncle wanted me to cross the finish line like a champ so he asked me what I had left.  I told him ‘nothing.’  Still I pushed that aside and after dodging a fresh pile of dog poop I hurried toward the finish.  I literally left every ounce of energy out there.  I ended up gassed and lying on my back in the grass.  My sister Kate made it to the finish line with my nieces Kaleigh and Emma and my nephew Landon.  There are a few funny pictures of the kids surrounding me since I was too tired to stand.  I was so happy to be surrounded by friends and family on such a big day, but I was even happier to be finished.

My time of 24:28 – 7:53/mi. was better than I had thought I could do but the numbers were not the most important thing.  What was most important was the fact that I had actually done it.  I had actually completed my first race when only 6 weeks earlier I was dreading doing a 10 minute mile on a treadmill.  I had started to believe that there was nothing that I could not do in life.  I wanted to share this feeling and belief with everyone in my life.  I wasn’t going to become a motivational speaker, but I was definitely getting more into preaching that impossible was nothing.  That frame of mind began to spill over from running into the rest of my life and led to another huge moment in my life: Getting my first book deal.  That’s a story for another day though.