Archives for 2010

As I run marathon after marathon this year, I experience some races I’d recommend, some I’d never run again even if I got paid to, and some that are nice, but not worth traveling to. I’m putting the Oklahoma City Memorial Marathon in the must-do category. For everything about it, and everything it stands for, I think this is a race that every marathoner should complete once.

I’m probably going to talk more about the race than my race. The marathon is a tribute to the Oklahoma City bombing victims from 1995, both those who perished and those who whose lives have been forever changed. I knew that going in, but the magnitude of it didn’t hit home until I actually got down there.

The race starts right around the corner from the memorial that’s in place now, which is where the federal building stood. Aside from Ground Zero in New York City, I don’t think there’s a spot in this country that saw a more devastating act. I’ve seen Ford Theater in Washington, where Lincoln was assassinated, and I’ve been to the Texas School Book Depository/grassy knoll in Dallas where Kennedy was assassinated. But the magnitude of the bombing and the number of deaths make it pretty surreal to be right there in Oklahoma City, participating in a race that’s solely dedicated as a tribute to the victims.

Prior to the race, they held a 168-second moment of silence, one second for each person who was killed. It seemed like it went on and on forever. That’s a lot of people if each one only got one second. Two people next to me were chatting about their sub-2 half-marathon goal during that moment of silence, as if that couldn’t wait for, say, two hours during the race. I totally wanted to smack them for being so disrespectful.

After that, they played the song (or maybe somebody sang it — I couldn’t tell) “One Moment In Time”. I’ll admit it, that song isn’t on my pre-race playlist. But on Sunday, it just seemed right. And then of course, the national anthem. I was right there overlooking the memorial at that point. It was chilling and I was completely inspired to run.

Normally, I think a lot about my family and my kids during a race, but today, I spent a lot of time thinking about the bombing victims. I saw a lot (hundreds) of people running with signs on their back stating who they were running in memory of. They told us at the beginning of the race that we’d see 168 names on the course and I did the math. If they spread them out over the course of a marathon, they’d be about 800 feet apart. One victim, every 800 feet, for an entire marathon.

To be honest, I don’t remember a ton about what I saw on the course because I felt pretty bad physically and I didn’t pay a ton of a attention. But from what I remember, it was a lot of running through a midwest city, which I always enjoy. Nice people, spirited aid stations, plus big homes and yards. We had one spot where we ran alongside a lake that had a pretty strong wind whipping us. The wind was a bummer, but the view was nice.

Normally in a marathon, there’s plenty of noise, whether it’s from spectators, surroundings, etc. At about mile 19 or 20, we hit a spot that I’ll never forget. I’m not sure if it was a cemetery (I don’t think it was, because I didn’t notice headstones), a park, a golf course (didn’t see bunkers or greens) or what, but it was big and spacious with huge lawn areas. It must have been a good mile or two through there. Anyways, on the light poles, they had banners and each one displayed the name of a victim.

Out of nowhere, it was dead silent. There wasn’t a peep from anybody. Silence that a baby could sleep through. For that stretch of a mile or two, the only noise I heard was the horn from a train that sounded like it was about two miles away. It was extremely serene, and I thought it was perfectly fitting while I was reading the names one after another. It was pretty sad knowing each person had a story and a life and surviving friends and family. I passed a few people wearing names on their back during this stretch and I wanted to pat them on the back.

We came out of that and people were pretty upbeat the rest of the way. The last few miles had quite a few spectators, playing music, having a good time and thanking us for running. I enjoyed being a part of Oklahoma City for three hours and change.

After the race, I took my finish-line picture at the memorial instead of at the finish line. I just thought it was appropriate. I almost got teary-eyed going in there. The Oklahoma City Memorial Marathon was a great race, a great tribute. The course seemed nice, the aid stations were constant and well-staffed with friendly volunteers and the post-race spread was great. They did a great job handling 22,000 participants. All-in-all, a great race, one every marathon runner should run at least once.

Anyways, I’ll talk briefly about my running. I felt terrible physically Saturday night after a miserable race in Nashville earlier in the day. I felt a little better Sunday morning, but doubles are tough, no question. I felt OK for the first 7 miles and was actually running pretty well, but then I started to feel nauseous for about 5 miles. That passed, but then I just started to feel pretty rough physically.

I burned worse than normal in my quads and when that wind was getting us, I lost a lot of fight. I know I didn’t push hard enough today, because my average heart rate was only 160, but I’m just exhausted right now. I’ve been away from home for 10 of the past 17 nights, and I’ve averaged maybe 6 hours of sleep a night max in the past three weeks, and I just completed 6 marathons in 16 days (and I won’t even get into the travel). I think I just ran out of gas today.

Final time, 3:17:42. I don’t really care about the time much one way or the other. It’s not great, but it’s not something I’ll lose sleep over. It’s a 3:17, and I’m now 22 down, 38 to go.

Me at the memorial for the Oklahoma City bombing victims. I don’t know the actual name of the memorial, but it’s a pretty chilling place. It was tough to force a smile in there.

Me and Operation Jack super supporter Ally Phillips after the race. This was her fourth marathon, I think, and her first was just five months ago. I think she caught the bug!

The memorial.

They have a chair for each victim there. I’m guessing one of this person’s survivors ran the race for them on Sunday.

If Monday’s Boston Marathon was the best race I’ve ever run (and it was), today’s Country Music Marathon in Nashville balanced things out because it might be the worst marathon I’ve ever run. I tried my best, but nothing went right — from before the start until the finish — and I struggled through a 3:34 today.

This race report will probably come off as a rant, but I’m not a big fan of Competitor (Rock ‘N Roll) events, and this one was another example why. In a nutshell, I don’t think Competitor cares about much other than over-hyping their events and squeezing every last dollar from everybody, and as a runner who is more interested in a race than an event, these aren’t my cup of tea.

As is always the case, the expo/bib pickup was a nightmare. Traffic all over the place, $10 to park, and I couldn’t let any of my friends pick it up for me. They have this policy because they want as much foot traffic through their expo, so they can charge a ton for the booths, and that’s understandable. But I just get annoyed when it costs me $10 to pick up my bib.

I’ll also admit that I’m pretty bitter with how they “help” charities. I put all the Competitor events on my list because they’re so big, so I thought that would be a great idea. But the break they offered me to build a team was something like a 50 percent surcharge on race entries and in exchange they’d give me 10 percent off a $2,000 expo booth and they’d help me with PR (not that I can’t contact media on my own). Such a deal, and it kind of left me with a bad taste in my mouth last year. But whatever.

I figure that for all the money they bring in, they’d be able to put on a perfect event. I got within 1.5 miles of where I parked 90 minutes before the start. The parking and finish are at the Tennessee Titans’ football stadium, so it’s built to handle an influx of 80,000 or so people. 30,000 should be easy. But I moved only a mile over the next hour. It got me into a cranky mood. The last 1/2 mile only took out 10 minutes, and I parked at 6:40 for a 7 a.m. start. About five minutes later, I got a phone call informing me that they bumped the start up 15 minutes so they could beat the thunderstorms that were rolling in.

I still had to take the shuttle over to the start and drop off my gear bag, so I knew it would be fighting through crowds for a while. When I got over there and dropped off my bag, I could see that people were waiting in the corrals and not running, so I thought maybe the race hadn’t started. I ran up to the front and felt queasy for some reason. I had a little trouble catching my breath, but I was able to get within four or five rows from the start, and about 30 seconds after I got there, right at 7 a.m., we went.

I was happy because I actually started on time and wasn’t going to have to fight through the traffic. But I heard the announcer say something about corral 15, and I realized I was in the second wave. I saw a sea of people about 1/4 mile ahead and knew I was in for a long day dodging. I was in a grumpy mood about it because of the traffic situation. I don’t know whose fault it was (by default, I blame Competitor — it’s their event), but I shouldn’t have had any issues making it to the start even by 6:45 when I was 1.5 miles from where I parked at 5:30.

I led the wave 2 pack right into the back of wave 1 and had to start weaving by about half a mile into the race. I couldn’t do anything to get in a groove and wasted a ton of energy slow down, speeding up and moving side-to-side. I enjoyed the first couple of miles of the course, because we hit the area of town where all the country bars are, but after that, I don’t remember much of the course.

To compound things, the weather was terrible for a marathon. That’s obviously not Competitor’s fault, but it added to the difficulty of the run. It was 68 degrees at the start and climbed into the low 70s. It was extremely humid — I’d say at least 90 percent.

I was dodging people for the first 11 miles. I could tell that as I wasn’t able to get it going, I was falling apart at the same time. By about mile 10, I knew there was no way it was going to be a good day. I was thinking about how glad I am I’m running a ton of marathons this year. If this had been a goal race I’d been training for and focusing on, I would have been incredibly bummed. The word that kept coming to my head was “throwaway” … that’s what this race was for me. I knew I was going to continue to break down and fade, and I had to finish it just to finish it.

I kept pounding along because DNFing is not an option. If I was rich and just running for myself, I probably would have cut down to the half. But that’s not the case. Oh well.

At mile 18, I heard a police officer say there was a serious storm that was going to hit within 40 minutes. At 22, it started to rain. There was quite a bit of thunder and lightning and 24. We were on an out-and-back portion late and I could tell that they had re-routed people. A police officer drove by and warned us about the storm. I couldn’t tell what he said, but I knew I had to keep shuffling as fast as I could, because I didn’t want to get pulled from the course.

I wouldn’t have resisted the DNF, because my safety is way more important than the medal, but it would have been a major bummer to have a 25-mile DNF! The thunder and lightning kept coming rapidly up until the finish and I was thinking about a woman named Nancy Bennett, the wife of a football coach at my alma mater who was struck and killed by lightning while jogging in 1999. I just wanted to get in and done.

The rain turned into a downpour and I crossed the finish line 3:34 after I went through the start. It was an absolutely miserable and painful run, from 90 minutes before the start until the finish — an extremely difficult day that makes me wonder how lousy tomorrow is going to feel when I go 26.2 in Oklahoma City.

Oh well, another day, another marathon for Operation Jack. This isn’t supposed to be easy, otherwise nobody would be jumping on the bandwagon.

21 down, 39 to go!

Me with Operation Jack supporter Laura Sullivan at the finish. I met her in person in Jackson, Miss. in January and got to hang out with her, her husband and some of their friends in Nashville. She had a great time completing the half … it was awesome to see her at the finish!