26.2: My First Full Marathon
LIFE IS A MARATHON THEY SAY…
I have wanted to run a marathon for as long as I can remember being into fitness. It was one of those bucket-list items that I thought would prove that I could do anything. However, until recently I never pulled the trigger on signing up for a full. Getting into fitness changed my life back in high school. I had always loved sports, but somehow the calorie burn of unorganized play was always overpowered by my appetite. It was the embarrassment of the mandatory mile run during 8th-grade gym class that sparked the fire to make a change. The summer before freshman year of high school, I vowed to myself to lose weight and start working out. Being very overweight at the time, I started by just trying to run a whole mile without stopping. I remember running heavily on my toes because I thought that was what the athletes I saw run did. Seared into my memory though is the excruciating pain that my calves were in after just two days of training. I slowly added weight training to the regiment when I got to high school and I lost weight and got stronger at the same time. Eventually, I became a three-sport athlete (Football, Swim, and Track) and even competed in the track and field state meet for my team as a high jumper.
Fast forward 16 years and that fitness focus that changed my life has never left me, but unfortunately neither has that appetite. I have struggled to keep the excess weight at bay and injuries and the depressed eating that followed have caused me to balloon to upwards of 250 lbs a few different times. Playing different sports and working out daily, as a middle school teacher, coach, husband, and now father has brought on some unwanted injuries. Both positively and negatively, I have found that my mental health has grown entwined with my ability to work out in some way every day. My wife can attest that when I don’t work out, I am not the easiest to be around. My focus was always on being more explosive for football and basketball, running was used more for just the cardio piece of my training. I ran a few 5Ks, 10Ks, and half marathons for the challenge, but never really trained for them as much as I now know that you should.
COACHING
Life began to change again when my district brought back the middle school cross country program and they wanted me to coach it. I had been coaching high jump at the high school as a volunteer for years and this would be my first chance to coach my own team. There was only one problem, I never ran cross country. So, I jumped into it the only way I knew how. I read every book about running that I could get my hands on and I watched every documentary about running as well. I immersed myself in the world of running and it was amazing. The stories from “Born to Run”, “Running with the Kenyans”, Rich Roll’s “Finding Ultra” (and his Podcast), Bill Rodger’s “Marathon Man”, Scott Jurek’s “Eat and Run”, and John L. Parker Jr.’s spectacular fiction series starting with “Once a Runner” inspired me to test my limits and become a runner and teach the kids on my team the way of the runner. Though I still struggle with weight fluctuation, running has helped me stay at a healthier weight and prioritize movement over aesthetics.
OBSTACLES
This past spring, my wife, three-year-old daughter, and I visited our cousins in Florida. We had a discussion about running and the running community that they were in. One thing led to another and a week later I found myself signed up for the Atlantic City Marathon in October. I was pumped. For years, I had made excuses that I wanted my first marathon to be special and that I needed to choose a crowd-favorite location and make a trip out of it. Having our daughter and then going through COVID there was always an excuse to not make the trip (It was running that got me through COVID. Without it as a physical outlet, I would have gone crazy when the gyms closed. Also, tracking my workout with instances of gratitude in a notebook became my writing practice). I decided that if I wanted to do it, I needed to eliminate the obstacles. With the marathon in Atlantic City, I could sleep in my own bed the night before and leave early in the morning just like I would for a normal weekend long run. No travel plans. No planes. No working with schedules. Just wake up and go run.
The day after this running epiphany, I was playing wide receiver for a men’s flag football league that my friends and I have been playing in since college and I got hurt. Now, as I said before injuries are simply a part of my life. I seem to get hurt playing sports all of the time, but I love playing so I keep doing it. I fear that if I ever stop, I’ll get old. This was not a typical injury. I couldn’t just walk it off, take some ibuprofen, give it a week, and get back to it. No, something was wrong. On this particular play, I went out for a deep pass as I turned and jumped for the ball the defender jumped too. Full extension, I had the ball in both hands and fell to the ground on my back. The defender landed on top of me and his knee drove full force into my pelvis. Again, I thought I merely got hit where the sun doesn’t shine and that once my breath returned and the pain and slight nausea subsided I would be fine to continue playing. The longer I waited there on the sideline, however, the more I could feel my legs lock up. It was like this guy hit a button in my pelvis that turned off the function of my hip flexors and lower abs. My day was done.
For the next few days, I could barely walk. After a week, I began seeing doctors. I still am not 100% sure what happened, but one of the doctors I spoke to said that it is not a common injury for men. This level of pelvic trauma is usually seen in women who had complications giving birth or people in car accidents. They told me there wasn’t much that I could do other than rest and then start to do rehabilitation exercises to build it back up. Having just signed up for the marathon, I was not happy. I couldn’t do much of anything, I definitely couldn’t run. I told myself that I would rest and recover until 18 weeks out from the marathon so that way I could complete the training plan as it was written. The start day came and went. I tried to run once each week to see if I was getting any better. I was getting a little better, but it seemed that the up-and-down force was the absolute worst thing for this injury. I continued to lift weights focusing on the upper body and I began to work on a spin bike that they had at the gym. The bike felt okay and it seemed to be a good way to slowly strengthen my hip flexors. Things seemed to be progressing, but progressing too slowly. I began to get anxious. I spoke to a bunch of runners and they all said the same thing: “Don’t push it. You can always defer it until next year.” I had wanted to try to run sub 4 hours for my first marathon. That was the goal and it seemed doable. The AC course is relatively flat and the boardwalk can provide a bit of a break from the pavement pounding. That goal was out of the window. I couldn’t run. Period. I had to pass on a flag football tournament and then the Summer into Fall season.
As July turned to August, I went for another tentative trial jog and it was no longer impossible. I could move. Sure, there was still plenty of pain, but it was dull, not excruciating pain. I felt free. I could move! So, you’re saying there is a chance! I decided right then and there that I was going to still do the marathon. I would walk if I had to. I had signed up and I was going to finish.
TRAINING
My abbreviated marathon training went pretty well. I didn’t miss too many of the planned runs and for the majority of August, I continued to lift weights at least three days per week. My pace was god-awful, but eventually, I felt myself getting stronger and my runs grew longer. Because I had to skip a large section of the first phase of training. I hopped right into more mileage, the lack of speed helped me though be able to recover faster than had I been pushing myself to my limits on these runs aerobically. It seemed to be mostly mind over matter. I had to push through the pain, but aerobically I was getting fitter. The majority of my runs were done at around 5 a.m. with a headlamp and one headphone in. Most days, the sun would slowly rise throughout my run and leave me with wonderful scenes for gratitude practice during my cool-down walk back home. In this way, running became an appreciation for the simple ability to move and the marvelous uniqueness of that daily sunrise. Saturdays and Sundays alternated, depending on my schedule, as my long run days. Before this training block, I had never run further than 14 miles in my life. However, the plan was set and the greater mileage runs pounced on me. They enveloped me and wouldn’t release me until my watch said that I had run far enough. I tried new routes, found bathroom stops, and had to call family members for water delivery a few times, but one day the training calendar read 20 miles. Anxiety fueled me that Sunday morning. I woke up extra early and made sure that I was set and my warmup routine was finished by 5 a.m. It didn’t start smoothly. I felt tired still from the 18-mile run the week before. Legs awkward weights being lifted by some combination of bungee cords in different states of wear. It happened though. The gears were greased and the stride smoothed out. I ran down a road that I had never previously been to the end of and it turns out there is a hidden golf course entrance. The way back was tougher once I passed 15 miles, I also reached a few hills. I walked a little on the ups and attempted to pick up my stride to the best of my ability on the way down. I knew my house was growing closer. And with about 2 miles remaining a smile etched itself on my face. I laughed out loud. Pain was radiating in my lower abs and hip flexors, but 2 miles is nothing. I felt happy and not invincible but I felt strong… and proud. I finished up the run and then went into the taper phase.
THE TAPER
The taper was awful for me. I felt like all of the positive momentum that I had gained after coming back from the injury had come to a screeching halt. I had been eating well for the previous 6 weeks and felt lighter than I had in months, but all of a sudden those healthy choices seemed more difficult to make. Running less made me feel less accomplished and I wanted to eat everything in the house. I found myself snacking on foods that I don’t even love or cheaply made junk food. This is a cycle that I am familiar with. I eat poorly because I feel down. Eating poorly makes me feel worse because I feel like I am destroying my gains and then I eat more because well…I already dug myself a hole might as well just throw myself in. This time though, by the end of the second taper week I got myself back on track foodwise. Mysteriously though the lack of activity somehow caused me pain. The week prior to the marathon my left knee ached. I had Osgood Schlatters Disease which created a nice-sized bump at the bottom of my kneecap and the top of my shin bone. It hadn’t hurt for years and now it was back. I also woke up on that Tuesday with the arch of my foot hurting like I had stepped on a pointy rock at full force and it had left a bruise. The only thing was that there was no bruise, but it hurt to the touch and walking was not fun either. I got an appointment with the acupuncturist who had been helping me with my pelvic, hip flexor, and lower ab pain for Saturday (the day before the race). Struggling through the rest of the short runs that week, I made it to Saturday. After listening to my woes, he said that he could definitely treat the knee and that he would do a mild treatment on my foot. Plantar Fasciitis he said. Two words that I know from reading running literature, that no runner wants to hear. I hoped that he could help me. I left 30 minutes later with a knee that was floating on clouds and a foot that felt like it was going to derail everything I had worked so hard for.
RACE DAY
My alarm went off on the bedside table in the early morning darkness, but no snooze today. I needed to get going. The plan was to be at Bally’s Casino in Atlantic City by 7 a.m. so that I had enough time to figure out parking, warm up, and go to the bathroom. I was East Coast Fall cold at my house and windy, but that was nothing compared to the wind coming off of the ocean in Atlantic City that morning. I parked in a side lot to avoid paying $35 to park in the parking garage and made my out in my sweatpants and sweatshirt planning on coming back after warming up and hitting the bathroom. I had already hydrated with 32oz on LMNT and was taking in some carb mix called Tailwind that my friend swears by. After some of my usual warmup movements, I visited the main lobby bathroom at the Claridge (I have definitely seen better). My anxiety began to rise as the start time crept closer. I went through the rest of my warmup and jogged back to my car where I stowed the sweatpants. The icy wind made me rethink ditching the sweatshirt this early. I had gloves too and I felt like I needed them. So, I changed my plan. I would attempt to keep them on until we looped back through the boardwalk and I could hide the sweatshirt and gloves somewhere that I could get later. I jogged up to the boardwalk in front of Bally’s, still doing butt-kicks and leg swings. I continued to do some ballistic movements and then seeing a couple of people I knew in the race coral, I hopped the little barrier to join them. We waited in anticipation for the gun.
I started modestly as I had planned. I did not want to go out hot and crash terribly. At this point, after the injury, I hadn’t actually run faster than a 9-minute mile even on my fast days. I wasn’t going to start now. I mentally waved goodbye to all of the people who blew by me and told myself to trust the process. The race begins on the boards, but quickly veers left off onto the streets. I felt decent but not great. If I had learned anything about the injury, it was that it took me a while to warm up and find my natural rhythm. We traveled through the streets of Atlantic City. The hills were overpasses and the darkness came with the tunnels. This is not much of a spectator marathon, but there were people out there cheering us on and manning the water stations. I had to hit the bathroom early on because I think I overdid the hydration a little bit, but I moving a a pace that I found to be perfect. I ran the first 11 miles in an average of about 10-minute miles. Compared to my training, I was flying. However, at about mile 10, I ran into my first obstacle. Even though I had plugged in my Bluetooth headphones the entire day prior, I had never checked them. It died. I was left alone with my thoughts for the remainder of the run. This is something I did not plan for and had never happened during any single training run leading up to the race.
Surprisingly though, I embraced it. I knew this was going to be harder because I always switch from audiobooks to music when that going gets tough. Maybe it was Matthew Mcchonhey’s relaxed voice still resonating with me after finishing the audio version of his book Green Lights. I was going to finish and there was nothing anyone was going to do to stop me. One of the messages from his book echoed in my head “Work your ass off”. The miles went by quite a bit slower without something in my ear to quell the voice in my head. I had no idea this area was so big. As I found myself at the end of Longport, I started to contemplate just how far we had already traveled and how far I still had to go. My lungs were good, but my legs began to show signs of exhaustion. I found myself thinking about water. Why were these water stations so far apart? I had been taking in the gels every 4–5 miles, but It seemed like I wasn’t getting enough water. During my long runs in training, I had plenty of water. I started with a bottle in hand filled it up at Wawa 6 miles in and then would either drop off water along my route ahead of time or have my dad meet me with some. I would sometimes down an entire bottle at a spot and continue on my way. These little cups seem laughable. As the miles continued to fall, I would take more and more cups. I slowed to a walk for just a bit so I could drink at least 3 or 4. I was already too far gone though. My legs were starting to get that twitchy feeling that they get right before they are about to cramp. And then it happened… a shot right to the left hamstring. I had to walk a bit and stretch and I back again jogging at a decent clip. There was a woman near me experiencing something similar, but she had her husband riding a bike on her side coaching her through. I would pass her and then cramp in a different spot, have to walk, and then she would pass me back. This happened for the last 5 miles of the race. I eventually cramped so badly though that she got me for good. I had one hit me so hard in my right quad that I almost fell on my face. Each runner that passed me during that time asked if I was alright and if I needed a gel or anything. Runners seem to be the best people. There is something about sharing in the struggle that unites everyone. I saw people of all shapes, sizes, ethnicities, and political leanings treat each other with mutual respect. It truly is a wonderful thing.
THE FINISH
With the end in sight, I switched between walking as fast as I could and a limping jog. A lone pacer came up behind me, a positive voice in a sea of negativity. She gathered up a few other struggling runners and she brought us back to life. She told us a quick story about why she was pacing runners. She had lost her husband to cancer and he loved running. She honors his memory by passing on that love for running to others. A beautiful sentiment. I felt a flood of energy to move quicker to keep up with her, the 4:40 pacer. My heart was in it, but my legs were dead. They were two stubborn toddlers hell-bent on taking me down. They shot right back into cramps and I watched as the positive energy group bounced away from me. Closing in on the last mile, there were more and more people lining the boardwalk. One homeless guy yelled at us to “run like we meant it.” Every word of encouragement stoked the fire to finish fast, but each time I raised my cadence above a limping speed walk/jog my legs quaked and ripped me back to my painful reality. As I made it to the finishing area, the sides now lined with cheering people, I saw my wife pointing ahead of me with a huge smile. There was my daughter. She was on the course running toward me. I was overcome with emotion, but also the fear that she would jump up on me wanting to be picked up. She was almost 4 at the time, but any extra weight would have brought me to the ground like a ton of bricks. She grabbed my hand and ran with me! One of my all-time favorite moments! I was overcome with joy! My daughter was so happy that everyone was cheering for her and somehow my legs moved faster. I had to be able to finish at a jog for her. We crossed the finish line together. Running together. My daughter and I. Everything was beautiful! 4:45…
