Less than two weeks ago, my boyfriend, Michael, ran the New York City Marathon in 3:20:46, finishing in the top 7% of 45,000+ runners. As incredible as this time is, it wasn’t what he was hoping for. Yet somehow he managed to finish the race smiling and proud. In preparation for my marathon, I asked him to do a special guest post on adjusting expectations during a race. (And as a side note – I run a full 2+ minutes slower than Michael. The beauty of running is that – while it’s such an individual activity – the experiences and emotions among runners are so similar, no matter what your pace may be.) Every runner can relate to the disappointment of a race gone wrong but then the pride of crossing the finish line. That is what this post is about. It’s long, but worth the read 
I hope you enjoy!
—————————————–
UPDATE: Two weeks after the race, Michael was still experiencing pain. He finally went to a doctor and after one simple x-ray, discovered that he has a stress fracture in his right tibia. The x-ray showed that the bone was already healing, which means that he ran the marathon with a stress fracture. He needs to wear a boot for the next few weeks so it can heal correctly and he can’t run again until after New Year’s. Despite the pain he felt during the race, I’m pretty positive this won’t be the last endurance event recap you read from him…
—————————————–
Before I comment on the race, let me introduce myself by way of athletic background. I ran cross country in high school, and I ran the NYC Marathon in 2007. That marathon was my first taste of endurance racing, and due to an injured left knee and a few lost toenails, my last for quite a while. After a long recovery period I began to get the racing bug again. However, I wanted to avoid 26.2 mile races…and so I discovered the addictive world of triathlons, and have raced eight tri’s over the last two years (two sprints, four Olympics, and two 70.3’s). Then, after watching the 2009 NYC marathon, I decided to race it again. As an aside, I gained automatic entry through the NYRR 9+1 program, which I would highly recommend to anyone in NYC who has an interest in running and wants to run the marathon.
Training
The race date was November 7, and even though I had a 16-week training schedule to follow, I started a bit late in week 13. I used a proven schedule that I would highly recommend to any intermediate or advanced runner: the FIRST (Furman Institute of Running & Scientific Training) schedule. The program is based on three key runs per week: (1) a short, speed interval workout, (2) a middle distance tempo run, and (3) a long distance run. In between the runs, the program recommends cross training (swimming, biking, certain gym workouts) to keep fitness levels up, but if you are struggling to fit this program into a busy work/life routine, then it’s been my experience that you can generally skip the cross training and still achieve near-optimal results.
At the beginning of training, I set my sights on a common goal for advanced, non-elite runners: qualifying for Boston. I originally did not think I would be able to do this, but I’m an ambitious, goal-oriented person, especially when it comes to running. I figured if everything went perfectly, then maybe there would be a chance to BQ (Boston Qualify). If not, I would still aim to beat my 2007 time of 3:28:21. In the weeks that passed, I found my training going well…almost too well. My early distance runs where I struggled to maintain 8:00 min/mile pace started to turn into 7:00-7:15 min/mile pace affairs, and in the weeks leading to taper, I was setting training run personal bests for distances from 6 to 22 miles. My training peaked exactly three weeks before the race with a 7:01 min/mile pace 22-mile run around Central Park, which included the exact last few miles of the NYC marathon course. If the race were that day, I would have easily surpassed my BQ time; I felt great.
Unfortunately, that was not the case, and the day afterwards I began to lose my battle with right shin splints and ankle problems. Although I was struggling with these issues for weeks, the pain had always subsided after a two day rest, and for the most part I was able to continue with my training uninterrupted. After this last, final long run, however, the pain did not go away, and I was left to hobble around waiting for race day, having run a total of about 4 miles in the last three weeks leading up to the race.
Race Day
I entered race day injured, but able to run. I knew that my cardiovascular shape was still near peak, as I substituted runs for long swims and bike rides throughout the taper period. However, I was very worried about my legs. First, I knew that valuable leg toughness and strength that I gained over my training had been lost due to inactivity. No matter how much one cross trains, it is no substitution for straight running. Second, I also knew that despite using an ankle brace and a shin brace, I was going to experience a fair amount of pain throughout the race. My attitude to pain is that I believe I can continue through anything as long as it does not risk any negative long term effects. Thanks to the long distance triathlons, I’ve gained the ability to somewhat disassociate pain from physical movement. Despite these problems, however, I still wanted to try for 3:10, just in case my body could hold on for long enough.
So, at 9:40am, the start gun fired, and my official race began about 50 seconds later after I crossed the start line.
My plan was as follows: maintain a 7:00-7:05 min/mile pace through mile 16 to build up a 3:30 to 4:00 minute cushion. Then, essentially hold on! Maintain 7:15 min/mile pace through 20 or 22, and then use the cushion I built up as needed over the last few miles to finish under 3:10, or 7:15 min/mile pace. I decided not to change my plan to accommodate my injuries and inactivity. This was Plan A, and I intended to give it my best shot, even though I knew that it was likely I would not be able to execute.
Through the halfway point, I was right on target, averaging approximately 7:05 min/mile pace, but I knew I was in trouble. From the very first step of the race, I was in a huge amount of pain. It felt as if my right tibia was continually trying to shove itself through my ankle unsuccessfully. The worst part about it was that it hurt most on the downhills. My left leg felt fantastic almost the entire race, and if my right leg had been in that condition, I’m confident I would have executed my plan. Alas, that was not the case. Through the first 13 miles, even though I had successfully kept up pace, I felt like I was running with dead weight on my right leg, and I knew that I was changing my stride to compensate for the pain, which would be a problem in the later miles.
Running over and up the Queensboro Bridge was when my body decided that my race day would be a long, drawn-out struggle. Just as I peaked the apex of the bridge, my right hamstring cramped up. Although I’ve experienced my share of muscle cramps in the past, especially during the long distance triathlons, I’ve never experienced a cramp of this intensity and duration. I can’t remember how long it lasted, but it was the longest one of my life, and it caught me by such surprise that I almost fell over, driven forward by my momentum. Finally, my stride change and decreased leg strength had caught up with me. Compounding my frustration, my right ankle/shin area still sizzled with pain, and I tore of my braces to increase the blood flow and rest for a second.
Well, the second turned into nearly five minutes when I couldn’t get the cramp to stay away, and I had thoughts of walking off the bridge and ending my day. Then, I had thoughts of finishing, and I knew that as long as I could shuffle along, I was going to finish the race. The next 10 miles that I ran were incredibly painful and relatively slow. I struggled to maintain 8:00 min/mile pace as my ankle continued to get worse and as the initial muscle cramp drained energy from my leg. I crossed over the Willis Avenue bridge at mile 20 dejected, but excited, because after all this was still the NYC marathon, and the crowds were still cheering and wild and urging us on at every step.
Not all crowds are equal, however, and I looked forward especially to two spots on the course where I would see my family and my girlfriend (who happens to be the author of this blog!). It helped me so much to see them and to hear their cheering. I saw them the second time in the park right around the steep uphill at 72nd St., and I barely realized I was running uphill, as I was so uplifted by the sight of them.
The Finish
As I ran on my training loop in the park over the last few miles, I couldn’t help smiling as I looked back at my race and all of the training. My race plan was turned completely upside down, and I was upset that after such a successful training program that I was resigned to essentially shuffling along over the last 10 miles. I was upset that I couldn’t BQ, and I finished 10 minutes behind that goal.
Despite these setbacks, I was still extremely proud of myself and my effort. I knew that I went as fast that day as my body allowed; I fought through all of the pain around my right ankle, and the only thing that slowed me down were involuntary leg muscle cramps that I couldn’t control. I smiled as I made the turn onto Central Park South, up the hill, and then back into the park. The pain melted away (partly!) as I couldn’t believe how long the last 200 meters took me. When I crossed the finish line, however, the three hours and twenty minutes seemed like a short blink in time. I was left hobbling to my UPS truck in a fair amount of pain, but it was sweetened by my pleasure of having learned something new about myself. About my physical and mental strength, and about knowing that it would take at least a broken ankle if not more to keep me from any finish line. As many spectators were yelling to me, “pain is temporary, but pride is forever.” Although I’m still in pain a week and a half later still, the pride I feel from giving every ounce of myself to a race will certainly last for a long time.
(For anyone who doesn’t run – this is simply so spectators can cheer for me…and therefore I can hear my name being yelled throughout the race.)
