Well... Where to begin. As always, so many things to write, so little time to reduce them to written form.
Suffice to say, my training for the Spinx Runfest Half Marathon did not exactly come off without its fair share of hitches. Quite the contrary. I could not seem to stay physically healthy, no matter what I did. Initially it was a seriously pulled/strained right hamstring (thanks to some bad hip flexors). Then it was really bad shin splints due to some poor shoe choices. As if that was not enough, six days prior to the race, I came down with a terrible cold.
Nevertheless, I stand before you (well, sit really) victorious. It was not pretty from a style perspective, but in my mind it was a thing of beauty. The day (25 October 2008) started out almost perfect. Cloud cover, a little warmer than expected (55-ish) and a light rain.
I got the starting line with about 12 minutes until the starting gun. I did some light running to loosen up my body, but the cold I had been battling left me really whipped, and I felt it. I really started second guessing the run. It was at that point that I made one promise to myself... just get to mile 3. I made the mistake, however, of wearing a long sleeve albeit thin pullover. By mile 2 I wanted to tear the thing off ala Hulk Hogan. By mile 3, I slowly started to find my rhythm, which was about normal for me. My biggest fear was going out too fast, but I ran consistent mile splits that were well within my range. I was thrilled. Mile 7 started the most challenging 3 miles of the course, filled with more hills than I would have liked. Still, I pressed on, tackled every water stop like a champ, swigging a little water, dumping a little on me to cool down. By mile 10, I was starting to feel the wear and tear. My longest training run had been 10.5 miles (twice, actually), so the mental aspect of carrying on past that point slowly (no, quickly) entered into my mind. Through some deep inflection and concentration, mostly thinking about my late uncle's battle with prostate cancer, it was clear I could not quit. He never did. Neither would I.
The finish of this particular race was cool as the finish line was at home plate of the local minor league baseball team's stadium. As I entered the stadium from right field, I knew I only had a little further to go. My legs (and mind) were jello. I rounded the outfield and made the stretch run down the third base line. I would love to sit here and tell you how I sprinted to glory at the end, but I cannot. I had nothing left. Nothing. I said a quick prayer, crossed the finish line and saw not only my fantastic wife, but also the vast majority of my No Boundaries group that I had been training, waiting on me to finish. I could not have asked for a better welcome.
To the extent possible, I hopped the wall, slogged up the steps and claimed my medal. Suffice to say, I am still carrying it with me as we speak until I can find a suitable resting place for it.
I learned a great deal about myself not only training for this race, but also during and after the race. I am still not sure it has settled in that I did what I did. Odd. I know I was there. My still sore legs tell me so. I guess it comes down to that little yet omnipresent demon inside of me that, even while I was out there running those last few miles, still tried to tell me that it was okay to give up, acceptable to quit. My history of doing just that is long. But this time I didn't. I wouldn't. Some have told me that their bodies quit on them long before their minds do when it comes to distance races. For me, it was the exact opposite. I cannot remember a time when I was more proud of myself for neglecting my own thoughts.
I am a very proud person today. I am proud of my wife for completing her first ever 5K (under my tutelage, of course). I am proud of my No Boundaries group (all 35 of them) for completing their 5Ks with gigantic smiles on their faces. Lastly I am proud of myself for doing the exact opposite of that which I have long been known to do.
Who knew?
Suffice to say, my training for the Spinx Runfest Half Marathon did not exactly come off without its fair share of hitches. Quite the contrary. I could not seem to stay physically healthy, no matter what I did. Initially it was a seriously pulled/strained right hamstring (thanks to some bad hip flexors). Then it was really bad shin splints due to some poor shoe choices. As if that was not enough, six days prior to the race, I came down with a terrible cold.
Nevertheless, I stand before you (well, sit really) victorious. It was not pretty from a style perspective, but in my mind it was a thing of beauty. The day (25 October 2008) started out almost perfect. Cloud cover, a little warmer than expected (55-ish) and a light rain.
I got the starting line with about 12 minutes until the starting gun. I did some light running to loosen up my body, but the cold I had been battling left me really whipped, and I felt it. I really started second guessing the run. It was at that point that I made one promise to myself... just get to mile 3. I made the mistake, however, of wearing a long sleeve albeit thin pullover. By mile 2 I wanted to tear the thing off ala Hulk Hogan. By mile 3, I slowly started to find my rhythm, which was about normal for me. My biggest fear was going out too fast, but I ran consistent mile splits that were well within my range. I was thrilled. Mile 7 started the most challenging 3 miles of the course, filled with more hills than I would have liked. Still, I pressed on, tackled every water stop like a champ, swigging a little water, dumping a little on me to cool down. By mile 10, I was starting to feel the wear and tear. My longest training run had been 10.5 miles (twice, actually), so the mental aspect of carrying on past that point slowly (no, quickly) entered into my mind. Through some deep inflection and concentration, mostly thinking about my late uncle's battle with prostate cancer, it was clear I could not quit. He never did. Neither would I.
The finish of this particular race was cool as the finish line was at home plate of the local minor league baseball team's stadium. As I entered the stadium from right field, I knew I only had a little further to go. My legs (and mind) were jello. I rounded the outfield and made the stretch run down the third base line. I would love to sit here and tell you how I sprinted to glory at the end, but I cannot. I had nothing left. Nothing. I said a quick prayer, crossed the finish line and saw not only my fantastic wife, but also the vast majority of my No Boundaries group that I had been training, waiting on me to finish. I could not have asked for a better welcome.
I completed my first ever half marathon in 2:17:14.
To the extent possible, I hopped the wall, slogged up the steps and claimed my medal. Suffice to say, I am still carrying it with me as we speak until I can find a suitable resting place for it.
I learned a great deal about myself not only training for this race, but also during and after the race. I am still not sure it has settled in that I did what I did. Odd. I know I was there. My still sore legs tell me so. I guess it comes down to that little yet omnipresent demon inside of me that, even while I was out there running those last few miles, still tried to tell me that it was okay to give up, acceptable to quit. My history of doing just that is long. But this time I didn't. I wouldn't. Some have told me that their bodies quit on them long before their minds do when it comes to distance races. For me, it was the exact opposite. I cannot remember a time when I was more proud of myself for neglecting my own thoughts.
I am a very proud person today. I am proud of my wife for completing her first ever 5K (under my tutelage, of course). I am proud of my No Boundaries group (all 35 of them) for completing their 5Ks with gigantic smiles on their faces. Lastly I am proud of myself for doing the exact opposite of that which I have long been known to do.
Who knew?
