It's just a piece of cheap metal, but ...

Just a piece of medal on a ribbon?

The timelapserunner slept rather well the night before the big race, waking once at 4:20AM only to fall back to sleep until the alarm went off at 5. Got up, went through the long run morning ritual of constitutional, stretching and Clif Bar munching. Ms. timelapserunner dropped me off on River Road nearest the State Capitol building. It was a bit cool at that time of the morning but between the special sweatshirt-made-arm-warmers and the space heaters near the starting chute, the cold did not seem to dampen my spirits. About ten minutes before the start of race, runners began making their way into the chute, lining up about where they would think they'd finish hours later. Excitement was building.


The timelapserunner made his way into the chute, all the while looking to find the five-hour pacer. There she was - Nicole and her inflated moo cow on a stick with the goal time of 5:00 written on the placard. I looked around for my office running buddy Mike. Sure enough we found each other, chatted over some race strategy, shook hands and awaited the cannon blast that would start the race.

Boom! The maddening crowd at the start of the race surged forward (see video below courtesy The Louisiana Marathon Facebook site). Though it would take nearly two minutes to reach the actual starting line (and the RFD chip detection thresholds), it wouldn't be long before the surprises and shocks started up.

Just staying with the crowd was going to be a bit of a challenge. Almost immediately the race course veered onto River Road - not on the original course we had once traversed by car. Within moments the torn up asphalt had claimed its first two victims, as two women hit the ground one behind the other. I could still see Nicole's inflatable cow, but even that would fade from view when the race crowd split into two at the fork on North Boulevard. It seemed that it would be that kind of day: so many new experiences coming at me all at once - many good, some not so good.

It's hard to do a lot of deep reflection in the middle of a race, so a lot of what I'll share here only comes after some pondering of the experience in the quiet of the days following the race. For example, things like lessons learned. It seems I've only come to appreciate late in life that when you take on a significant challenge, you'll encounter significant learning opportunities. The many blog posts here in the past six months chronicle some of those learnings. This last marathon post will layout a couple more learning opportunities that the timelapserunner's maiden marathon voyage had in store for him on race day.

Learning #1 - Strong positive sensory input and emotion can overcome all the rationality in the world if you allow it to, thrusting important in-race decision making into problematic status.

I went out too fast. I knew it in my gut, but I could not seem to stop myself from doing it. I had decided on the spot just minutes before the race that I would try to keep up with the five-hour pacer but failed to properly process the information she gave us before the race, at least failing to understand its implications for me personally. Then I lost track of Nicole and her blowup moo cow in the crowd. Instead of aiming for a flat overall run/walk pace of 11:27 per mile, I went out - and stayed out - much faster, averaging more like 11:08 per mile well into the race. Indeed, I was four minutes ahead of even my stretch goal by the 9 mile mark.

timelapserunner
spirit towel

I was cheered on enthusiastically at Mile 6 and Mile 12 by Ms. timelapserunner and my brother-in-law, Mike. Waving their timelapserunner spirit towels, one could not help but be lifted by the experience. Spirits were high and I remember saying, "I'm way ahead of pace." It'd been nice if I had examined my own words a little more carefully at that point. Bells should have been going off in my head but the weather early on was so very nice and I was so rested from my significant training taper that emotion and the endorphin surge trumped reason. Regretably, the timelapserunner maintained his harder-than-appropriate pace through Mile 18! I knew about all this 'going out too fast' stuff. I knew all about it. All except the lived experience of what happens when you do go out too fast. From this point on in the marathon, the race was going to be all uphill.



Learning #2 - You don't always know what you can do till you're called upon to do it, especially when you are supported by the prayers and encouragement of those that love you.

Take my watch! Please!

To be truthful, by Mile 13 I started to get feedback from my body that I had gone too far too fast - my knees were beginning to ache - my uneducated guess would be lateral collateral ligament strain, if the outer knee location indicates cause here. This would not be the principle problem, however. Overall muscle fatigue in all the major leg muscle groups was starting to set in.

As family rooted and hollered from the official cheering area at Mile 16, the timelapserunner's hamstring, quadricep and calf areas all began to balk at keeping this tempo up - and so the pace suffered after Mile 18. By Mile 21 when I was cheered on by family again, running of any sort had become a distinct chore and the timelapserunner was forced to alter his run/walk ratio from 3:1 to 2:2.

timelapserunner family fans

Eventually, even the run part of that 2:2 turned into a shuffle. As I handed my now broken watch to Ms. timelapserunner, I blurted out, "It's bad." Honestly, no longer having a watch was a blessing. I was able to focus on the simple task of shuffling and walking at the maximum speed my remaining muscle power could muster. The next five miles would be a battle of wits and determination, buoyed up by the hopes and prayers of the spiritual warriors on my support team.

timelapserunner Jr.
awaits Dad's finish

I remember chatting with a fellow runner at about Mile 25 about the shuffling thing: "I've read that if you can't really run anymore, you should just shuffle. But what do you do if you can't shuffle anymore?" We both laughed about that. One of the cool things about marathon running near the back of the pack is that your breathing is rarely ever heavy enough to inhibit chatting, a humorous but joyful benefit of not being a frontrunner. In fact, for most all the race, I was able to freely chat with fellow runners and those handing out water or just cheering us on from the sidelines.

After crossing the North Boulevard Overpass, the realization that we might actually finish this race began to set in. There was a pack of finishers hanging at the turn off of North Boulevard onto Third St., exhorting us stragglers on with great enthusiasm. I couldn't pick out faces in that crowd, but would find out later that my co-worker Patrick was among those cheering me on through the last stage of the race. At that point, I knew that family, friends ... and the finish line were waiting for me just minutes away.

A glorious feeling and finish

With but half a mile to go there was still no unlocking of the leg muscles, shuffling and walking were all that seemed to be left. I remember trying to plan ahead, attempting to pinpoint a spot where I would one last time try to get the legs into running mode, if only to look impressive to my homers as I strode towards the finish. With just two right turns to go, I gave it one last college try, in an effort to put my legs into some facsimile of running form. Dang, if those legs didn't actually cooperate! For the last 100+ meters, I was actually jogging again. A voice of a former student yelled out from the curb: "Go!" Then, the 2nd right turn into the straightaway. Lo and behold: the race clock revealed that I was coming in under my original - and sane - goal of 5:15, even if I hadn't made the magical five-hour mark.

Here's a snippet of the live view that the timelapserunner's sister took:

Two happy journeyers

You can tell from the sound of my sister Mary Ann's enthusiasm and pride that the timelapserunner's journey was made easier by his great family and friends - through their prayers and words of support throughout this entire journey, not just the race.

Me and Mike

I finished in 5:12:26 on the clock, but a respectable 5:10:32 by the chip. Oh, and my co-worker and friend, Mike? He had run an excellent race, finishing in four-forty-something and looking good doing it. We had supported each other throughout the entire 6+ months of training through constant encouragement and exchange of ideas and worries. We both had agreed that we wished for two things: 1) to finish the race, standing up and in style, and 2) to take a picture of the two of us with our marathon finisher medals on. All our wishes came true.

The happy couple on a
most happy day

I have a marathon medal now. It's doubtful that any other marathon medal will compare with this one, the first one. Yes, I already had run the distance three weeks ago. That's not the same. It's running the distance in the race that will be remembered. But it's even more than that. It's the entire experience of the past 200+ days, when Ms. timelapserunner and my whole cadre of family and friends supported me. It's the more than 90 blog posts which represent a journal of thoughts, experiences and emotions during that experience. It's the cathartic experience of the last 90 minutes of the marathon; where body, mind, spirit, the prayers of loved ones and blessings from on high merged together to help the timelapserunner scale the wall that stood between him and the finish line.

An experience for which I shall ever be grateful - to friends, to family and to God from Whom all blessings flow!