A Painful Rush

Just one week has passed and I am lining up for another race, the Shamrock Marathon in Virginia Beach. Being my first Boston Qualifier 13 years ago, and having run this race three times, I have comfortable expectations for a decent experience even though the pre-rest has been cut short and racing back-to-back weekends is not the usual routine. But the easy local logistics make adding this race to the calendar a no-brainer.

Anyway, the temperature is promising (48F) but the wind not so much (NW 22 mph). The fast early miles surprisingly felt like a typical long run, I even found a lost credit card and handed it off to a volunteer dressed in official attire with the request, “Return to owner.” Finding it was not as much as a surprise as knowing the several hundred runners ahead of me didn’t stop to pick it up. It’s solid red-colored face was very bold against the black pavement. Still feeling great while running through mile 8 I was anxiously anticipating a gel stop. I didn’t bring any in this race seeing they were going to be handed out. Then disappointment and fear of bonking was the prevalent thought for the next three miles, as I did go out from the start rather aggressively (for me right now) seeing if I could stay in stride with the 3:30 pacer (@ 8 minutes/mile).

Then suddenly, when crossing mile 11, my left hamstring blew up. It was a pain I have never known before, even finally getting a gel at mile 12 didn’t affect its stiff piercing presence. Passing the garage where my car was parked (at mile 13), I almost walked off the course and just quit this race. But I couldn’t do it. This was an opportunity to surmount a new type of obstacle, pain, and not just for a few minutes but 15 miles of nonstop pain. In every run and the only marathon I didn’t finish (the reason I have been writing this three book series over the course of one year) I have stopped immediately when debilitating pain surfaced. No not today, we move on.

A topical analgesic applied at the medic tent, three bathroom stops which were killers when having to sit down and even walking at each mile marker while hobbling in between up to mile 15 didn’t lessen the agony. So I tried a different strategy, I turned to adrenaline, inwardly reciting, “Pain is your friend. Run harder and faster until you feel a rush masking this annoyance. If you can finish this, you can do any race to its end.” So I ran hard, very hard in fact, even while sucking down a second gel. Between miles 19 and 23 there was a sandy grass border, so I even went off-road as much as possible and focused on each passing blade of grass, “Just keep moving forward, stay in the moment.”

Even though I was forced to a walk at mile 21, the adrenaline strategy worked rather effectively up to that point. Then I kept repeating, “Just one mile to go. Just one mile to go. Just one mile to go.” And continued running one at a time while in between walking through markers 22, 23 and 24. But then during the last two miles the muscle memory of 36 marathons took over and the finish line was the next and thankfully last stop.

3/20/16 Shamrock Marathon

Time = 3:54:11, Distance = 26.2 miles, Pace = 8:57/mile