McMarathon

It was Mark Twain in the 19th century who came up with the famous phrase “Truth is stranger than fiction”. Last year Yankee manager Joe Torre commenting on his team’s storybook championship run said “Hollywood would never accept a script of what happened this year because it would seem too contrived”.

For me the weekend of April 26-27 was an incredible roller coaster ride that even my active imagination could never have dreamed up. Never in my 40 years have I ever had a weekend that so ran the gamut of athletic emotions, from the depths of despair to the greatest exhilaration I have ever known in competition.

It is two days after the Shore McMarathon and I am still very sore,but the glow of my achievement will last a long time. If I never run another race, I will always have this memory.
As the words easily flow to these pages, I am still hoping that this really happened and I am not dreaming.

This story began in September 1996 when I first heard they were bringing a marathon back to the shore. For four years I had been hoping for the opportunity to exorcise the demons from my only previous marathon, the 1992 Marine Corps. It had been the Murphy’s Law of marathoning for me. Whatever could go wrong there went wrong. As I resuciatated my 1996 season with some excellent October and November races, I decided to wait for the December 15 - 10 miler at Picatinny Arsenal to make up mind. The day after I ran a personal best of 67:42, I sent in my application.

There was a little over four months. A prerequisite for running a Spring marathon is to have a good group of running partners who also have spring marathons. My Saturday group perfectly fit the bill. Several of us were either running Boston or the McMarathon.

As you know by now, this winter was perfect for training. I decided to follow the advice of my Saturday running guru, Artie, who preached concentrating on marathon training and not worrying about racing. Training went very well and I took extra care to try to avoid injury and make certain I did a slow buildup to the long runs that needn’t be done until the milder March and April weather. For a busy racer, it was tough to continually say no to races, but I kept to my plan. A week before the race, as I accelerated my taper, I saw an article called “nine tips to a faster marathon”. I had followed about two of the tips. Still, I tried to keep a positive attitude.
Many times during a solo run, I would visualize my dream marathon. I rarely could justify anything faster than 3:40, even on my best days. I decided that lowering expectations would be the correct way to approach this marathon. Take slow steps. Anything under 3:58 is progress. Breaking 3;50 should be doable.

In my first marathon, I had run 2:01 for the first 15 and 2:49 for 20 before totally falling apart
in the last 10K. This time I doubted I would be much faster at 15 , hoped to be at least equal at 20 and make up the difference in the last 10k.

I decided the best way to make sure I correctly tapered was to run solo all week. By Friday,
my legs felt fresh and rested. At my running club meeting Thursday night, I heard many fellow runners tell me how fast I was going to run on Sunday. I stuck to a modest goal of trying to break 3:50. I couldn’t see the case for anything faster than 3:45. Because I hadn’t raced, I figured I would have to keep to a very slow conservative pace. Most of the runners I spoke to had goals of running their respective Boston qualifying time. Most had the proper Spring racing performances to warrant such optimism. I remained hopeful.

The weekend

April 26, was the first Saturday, since December that I hadn’t run. I stopped down at the park to see my running partners, who all wished me luck. My daughter had a late soccer game, which meant we would have to rush to the runners Expo afterwards. I decided our lawn badly needed a cutting before the game so I pulled out my mower and began cutting the lawn. A little over halfway through this mundane task, the unthinkable nightmare transpired. My back went out. I quickly went into the house. I couldn’t believe what had happened. I desperately tried to stretch it out but this pain was overpowering.

I somehow managed to finish mowing the lawn and attended my daughter’s soccer game. The one hour drive to the runner’s expo did not help my back, which stiffened considerably. There was an on-site chiropractor at the Expo, who examined me and instantly proclaimed “You’re not running tomorrow, my friend ” The only part of his description, I can remember was “L2 “
which stands for second lumbar. I was stunned. This race had been part of my life for such a long time and now it was being snatched from me at the last minute by a non-running injury! How could this happen! What had I done to deserve this?

It was a miserable Saturday night. What was the big sports headline that night? Mario Lemieux’
last NHL game, his career prematurely derailed by back problems. Well, maybe someday we
could commiserate. I tried everything I could. Stretching, ice and more ice but nothing changed.
Surprisingly I slept pretty well. Maybe, if I was lucky I would oversleep and miss the race altogether.

At 5 am,still writhing in pain, I made my decision. I had to at least go to the race and be there. Even if I could only run 400 yards, I wanted to at least say I ran part of this race.

I drove the short distance to Artie’s house in Westfield. He had convinced me several weeks ago that it made a lot more sense to drive down to the marathon with another runner
It was a good choice I wondered how I would pass the time while everyone was running.

As we drove down to the race, I kept talking of at least running a few miles. I wondered if this meant the end of my running career. I couldn’t imagine life without running. When we arrived at Sandy Hook, I realized that the ride down had stiffened up whatever positive feeling I felt in my back.

There was so much excitement on the Island as 1000 runners went through their final preparations. I sat on the ground and tried to do whatever stretches I could. I was pleasantly surprised when I was able to do a yoga plow,(legs behind head). My back was loosening up in the morning sun, but when I got up I still felt it. How could I put this through the pounding of a marathon? But I had to try.

Ten minutes before the race I paged my wife with the message. “I feel all right , I am going to try to run”

As I did a couple of warm-up strides, I could feel the pain from my back. I decided to run as long as it didn’t hurt too much. I had modest goals. Run a mile. Run another. Maybe get off the island. Try to get transportation to the finish line and maybe help out the volunteers. Don’t make Artie wait around too much at the finish for me.

The race started with me towards the back. My legs were really rested. I tried to back off as much as I could, but the first mile was 7:36, much faster than I thought I should run.
After a few miles faster than they seemed, I decided that maybe I could make it through 8 ½ miles which would get me off the island. I went through five miles in about 38 minutes. It was around this time, I hooked up with another runner named Pete. He was the perfect partner to keep me in line. He had modest goals and wanted to avoid going out too fast.

We left the island. First goal accomplished. By this time Pete knew my whole story and lots of other non-running related minutia. Now we were on Sea Bright and my back was all but forgotten. A miracle had happened. It had obviously loosened up. I was now thinking of the race and how well things were going. 10 miles passed in 77 minutes. Too fast I thought, especially after Don Kelley and Wendy Locke (2nd woman in 3:17) strode past me. They had run such a perfect first 10 miles! “Don’t worry about them,just run our race,” I said to Pete.

“Long way to go”, I said more than once. “The race doesn’t start for a long time.”

Finally at 12 miles I broke away from my partner. I felt some sadness, but I knew I had to run my race..I was happy to see he finished in 3:44, which I think was his goal. Now it was time to enjoy the groove I was in for as long as I could. When I hit the halfway point in 1:41:32, I felt great because I at least now had a half marathon to show for my efforts, but now I was hunting for bigger game. 15 miles passed in 1:55.I was six minutes ahead of my 1992 pace. The goal was now clearer than ever. Run as smoothly as possible through 20 and hope to delay the wall as long as possible.

The miles 15-19 were some of my best compared to many of those around me , who were badly fading and in some cases walking. I knew how they felt,but it was every man for himself and I pressed on. I briefly joined a three man group and foolishly asked them if they were trying to break 3:20. They said we were on that pace. I knew that couldn’t last.

Into the loneliness of the Deal portion of the race I went. 20 miles in 2:35:40 and still feeling strong. If there was any split in this race I can not forget it was that 20. This is the key moment of any marathon. Every step I took that was normal running was a huge bonus over last time. I had a 14 minute cushion and had run the second 10 in 78 minutes. I had a real chance to break 3:30 and I knew it,but the goal was to just try to get through as many mile splits as possible without shuffling. Between 19 and 20 I had passed a runner from my town whose goal was to break 3:20. He was walking. He told me he had cramped up and would start running shortly, but it was all over for him. He had run 91 for the first half,but wound up in 4 hours. I felt bad for him, but knew my time might be coming,too. Please delay it as long as possible.

As we finished the Deal portion and moved back into West Long Branch, I cursed every upgrade. The cramps in my legs had worsened. I faced the inevitable. I was nearing the wall. At 23 miles I was still under 8 minute pace,but just barely. I reluctantly walked for 2 minutes between 23 and 24 and again for a little of the 24-25 part around Lake Takanassee. But when you get this close,you press on. Everybody is hurting and you draw strength from those around you. Those who looked good,like Anne Bansemir made amazing progress. She left me for good between 23 and 24 and beat me by 6 minutes.

https://home.comcast.net/~lazarusd/running/mcmar1.jpg

It was exciting to see the 9 mile mark from the 15k walking race. I figured that meant we had 3/10 of a mile left. I thought about all I had been through and started to feel an incredible exhilaration. As I approached the final short straightway on the grass I lifted my fist triumphantly. It was beautiful! The finish line was packed with members of Central Jersey Road Runners. I high fived them all. I hugged some. 3:32:25 said my watch. Officially it was 3:32:29,probably the difference of how long it took me to get to the starting line, but who really cared? I had obliterated my previous time by 26 minutes.

As I left the finish line volunteers and ran onto the track, I heard my family yelling for me. My wife,two girls and my parents were cheering me. I had persuaded my wife not to come, because I didn’t want the kids to see me in such agony, but she hadn’t listened. I was grateful she hadn’t. My father was so thrilled when he heard my name announced over the loudspeaker. What better way to share your finest moment. My girls of course wanted me to run around the track with them.

Soon after, I succumbed to a major let down, called agonizing post race cramps which kept me under the tent for a good 45 minutes, while I fought dehydration. Leave it to Artie to perfectly summarize the events when he said to me “Well, now you’re one of us. You now are asking yourself why would I want to do this to myself”.

In retrospect, I look back and wonder if the back helped me run better. It took all the focus off the race. I went out much more conservatively. So now what lies ahead? I must try to improve by the 12 minutes I need to get to Boston. Philly in November seems like the logical marathon. I hope it’s a boring uneventful weekend. I can’t take too many more like this.

If you got to this point, I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. It was more difficult to write than I thought at first . It’s an easier story to tell and I never get tired of telling it. I always preface the “How did you question” with “Do you have a few minutes?”.
Usually, the person says “What a shame,you missed running the race after all that training?”.