In Sunday’s Med City Marathon in Rochester, Minn., I did exactly what I promised my wife I’d do. No, I didn’t promise her I’d run my worst marathon ever. I promised her I’d be careful and take care of myself, the same guarantee I give her before every race. This was my 55th lifetime marathon, and they’re still not easy on my body. When the temperature gets up into the mid-80s it can get pretty tough. That’s what happened today, and I did everything but crawl to finish the race.

I knew going in the temperatures were going to be warm. It was in the mid-60s at the start and the forecast called for it to get up towards the high 70s by the time I finished. I’m not sure on the humidity numbers, but I know that came into play, too. The elevation profile on the course looked like something I would run well. Some early rollers, a nice downhill, and then nothing major for the last 15 or so miles. I figured that with good weather, I could challenge for 3:05, so with the warmer temps, I thought I’d be in for a 3:10 to a 3:20.

We took off and I did OK early. It was one of those situations where any little bit my body would give me on the course I gladly took, because I knew it was going to get tough later. But by five miles in, I knew I was going to have a tough day. At that point, both of my feet were numb and I have no idea why. That lasted a good five or six miles.

I did my best to keep my heart rate no higher than 170, but it would spike pretty quickly to about 177 going up hills and I’d struggle to get it down. I knew I couldn’t do that too much, otherwise I’d hit a wall and that’s not something I wanted to do in the heat.

My right leg and hip weren’t hurting (as has been the case recently) in the first half, but I was just slow as I tried to keep my heart rate down. I was told it was 82 degrees two hours in, so I’m guessing it was in the mid-70s for most of the first half.

I hit 13.1 in about 1:41, which is by far the slowest I’ve done lately. I gave up on my 3:15 and 3:20 goals well before that point, and started thinking about staying sub-3:30. I could go 1:49 in the second half to pull that off and I wasn’t worried.

But by mile 15, my hip started to sting a little bit. I had to alter my stride and I was doing an odd combination of a hop and a limp with every step with my right leg. The words I kept thinking over and over again were “death march,” because 3:30 was looking like it was way gone and I started to set my sights on a 3:40. But even at that point, I knew it would be tough.

I was really feeling the effects of the heat. It was absolutely miserable to be out there. It was the worst physical experience I had ever had in a marathon. In 54 previous lifetime marathons, I had never stopped to walk even once, except when I ran with my wife in Long Beach last year and an injury forced her to back off considerably.

But that came to an end about 17.5 miles in, when I took the first of six walk breaks. I always promise my wife I’ll take care of myself during a race. I’m getting used to marathons, and I know what to expect, but even so, they’re hard on the body. I was thinking about her and the kids and I knew I needed to back down and take care of myself.

My 3:40 was long gone and I was shuffling at about 10:30/mile. Considering I ran Fargo last week at a 7:14 pace, that’s incredibly slow for me. At about mile 21, I started doing the math in my head and realized I needed about an 11-minute pace to finish sub-4. I’m chasing sub-3 right now, and I really think I’m getting close. But here I was, doubting I could average 11-minute miles to finish sub-4.

I drank a ton of fluids late and poured a lot of water over my head to try to keep myself cool, but nothing worked. I’d walk, then do my hop-limp shuffle, then walk again. I was able to pick up the pace to sub-9 over the last few miles and it looked like I was going to make sub-4. I really, really didn’t want to miss that.

I was so beat, though, that I even walked after mile 25. I had nothing. But I picked it up and ran the last 0.7 or so and finished, I think, in 3:57:14. Aside from the run with my wife, it was the slowest marathon I’ve run since a 4:06 in my first.

It was 87 degrees at the end and I struggled to catch my breath. It was hot and I felt like I wanted to throw up, but after about 45 minutes, I started to feel a little bit better. I was trying to see how a friend of mine, Lonnie Butler, was doing. It was his first marathon, and he couldn’t have picked a more miserable day.

Me and Lonnie have a lot in common. We’re both former big boys (he topped out at 300 pounds, me at 261) and we both have autistic sons named Jack! He was aiming for somewhere between 4:30 and 5:00, and I was hoping somehow, even though I had a disaster of a day, that he didn’t.

His was even worse, though. When he was in high school, he tore the meniscus in his knee during a basketball game. At mile 11, he heard it crunch and he’s pretty sure he tore his knee up again. He shut it down at 13.1, which was where the finish line was. Lonnie went to the med tent and called it a day. I hope he’s wrong about the knee and he just has some kind of strain. I’ll find out in the next few days, I’m sure.

So, for both of us, it was just a really tough day. Fortunately for me, I can run next weekend. I have no troubles putting this one behind me and I’ll go out and attack that course and aim for a sub-3:10. With 60 races on the schedule, I’m bound to have one (or two or three) like this. So it’s done, time to move on.

27 down, 33 to go!

I’ve run more marathons than most people — Saturday’s Fargo Marathon was my 54th (26th of the year). But the more I run them, the more I realize how difficult and unpredictable they are. Saturday was no exception.

I dreaded this race this week, because the weather was supposed to be pretty rough. A few days before the race, the forecast was for temps in the 80s with thunderstorms possible. The day before, it was looking like mid-70s with 25 mph winds. Whatever it was going to be, I was mentally prepared to go out and suffer for 26.2 miles. Sometimes, that’s just the way it is.

Well, I caught a break. At the start, it was about 60 degrees with wind about 5-10 mph and rain. Not optimal conditions, but better than what I was expecting. I never even looked at a course profile, because I’d heard from a friend of mine named Chris who’s run the race that it’s incredibly flat. He was right.

I took off, taking whatever I could get out of my body and the course. As has been the norm for me lately, I went out by heart rate and didn’t worry about pace. I met a guy right before the start who asked me what I was gunning for, and as is the case nowadays, I told him, “Whatever my body will give me.” I knew I was putting time in the bank early, which isn’t the greatest strategy in the world, but it’s working for me with the way my body is adapting to my race schedule, so that’s what I did.

I stayed under a 7:00 pace for probably about 5 or 6 miles and then held steady below 7:05 for a little while. I had no idea when the weather was going to get bad, so my attitude was basically that the longer I went on and stayed in a groove, the more I could minimize the bad-weather curse I was expecting.

I started feeling the pain I’ve been feeling in my right hip and piriformis at about mile 8. By mile 10 or so, I knew that I was facing a tough second half because I was starting to hurt quite a bit. The miles were flying by quickly, but I was definitely not comfortable.

I hit the half in 1:32:55 on my Garmin. It was still in the low 60s, and while it wasn’t raining, it felt a little bit humid. I didn’t pay a ton of attention to the course, because I was paying a lot of attention to my body. I was feeling a fair amount of pain and my turnover was slowing a little bit, but I could tell my stride was good.

I started to slip a little bit and turn miles in the 7:30 range. 7:15 is what I need for sub-3:10, which is what I started seriously thinking about by 16 or so. I knew a huge chunk of the day was gone and what I had been expecting didn’t matter any more. I was in a legitimate fight with the clock and I suspected it was going to be pretty close.

When I hit six miles to go, I did the math and realized I needed to average about 7:25s in to stay sub-3:10. I was hoping to catch a groove like I did last week in Cleveland from 21 to the finish, but I didn’t. I went about as hard as I could, and the best my stiff legs could crank out were 7:30s or so. The sun came out when I hit 20 or so, which made the final 10K pretty tough.

By the time I hit 24, I needed to average about 7:20s. I knew I couldn’t afford a bad mile, so I cranked it up and got my heart rate into the high 170s (my marathon HR is 170, 10K is about 182 or so). When I hit 25, it still looked like I was going to need about a 7:15 to make it. I got up into the 180s and gave it everything I had. I couldn’t smile at the spectators or even turn my head, because I was so locked in.

I spent most of the mile right between a 6:30 and 7:00 pace and really thought I had it. I knew I was going to be within 10 seconds either way. We made the final turn and headed straight into the Fargodome for the finish. It was about 200 yards up and I took a glance at my watch and knew it was going to be way too close for comfort. My max heart rate for the run was 186 and I know it was in that last 100 yards. I didn’t leave anything to chance.

I went through the finish line hard, then stopped my watch, and I saw 3:10:01. Garmin times are always a little tiny bit off from the official time. I went and checked my results, and there it was: 3:10:00. So incredibly close to a sub-3:10. But I’m ecstatic with the run. I didn’t think I’d do much better than 3:20 in Fargo.

I’d call it a pretty good run. Painful, but that will go away and I’ll still be able to look back fondly on my effort. The course was pretty nice. I don’t know how to describe Fargo. It has the small-town feel. Not rural, but it seemed pretty laid back. We didn’t run through anything glamorous, but the entire course made for a pretty relaxing (mentally) run. I’d love a course like that for my long runs. The residents came out and were pretty enthusiastic and the support on the course was good.

And that’s pretty much it, marathon No. 26 of the year. Only 34 to go!

I went into Sunday’s Cleveland Marathon really wanting to run a good race. Beyond the fact that I’ve put together some decent efforts lately, this was the home course for a couple of loyal Operation Jack supporters and I really wanted to turn in a solid effort. I felt I owed it to them.

The loyal supporters are Erin Fortin, a grad student at the University of Colorado, and Jamie and Jenn Fellrath of Columbus, Ohio. Erin grew up in the Cleveland area and Columbus is relatively close to Cleveland. Erin flew back to visit her family and run the marathon, only her second. Jenn was going to run the half marathon, but she got injured and couldn’t. The Fellraths still came down to support me though. I was pretty excited about this race all week, and really wanted to run well. Like I said, I felt like I owed that to them.

Unfortunately, I had some issues with my luggage. Long story short, I didn’t have my running shoes until 10:45 p.m. the night before the race (no, I don’t check luggage when I travel). And between the time I woke up on Friday and the time I ran the race on Sunday, I had 3 hours sleep on a plane, a 2 1/2 hour nap in my hotel, and 4 1/2 hours of sleep at night in my hotel. In addition, go-time was 7 a.m. Eastern, so I was up at 4:30 a.m., which was 1:30 a.m. body time. I had a few things working against me. But that didn’t take away from the fact that I still owed them a good race!

A little before the start, Erin told me she thought I was going to run a 3:08. Since she was running with her phone, I told her to text me at the three-hour mark. Her one prior marathon was in the five-hour range, and while it was a trail marathon at elevation, she didn’t have a ton of confidence and she planned on starting between the 4:00 and 4:20 pacers. She was also having knee problems and got a cortisone shot last week. She had no idea if she was going to be closer to four hours or five hours, and if it was the latter, with my flight schedule, I needed to head back to my hotel to shower and pack and then get back to the finish.

Anyways, we parted ways before the start and got rolling. I started between the 3:00 and 3:10 pace groups and tucked in a little bit behind the 3:00 group pretty quickly. To keep it under control, I stayed a touch back the first couple of miles and then went by heart rate, keeping it between 170 and 173 or so. I felt pretty good early and was turning quite a few miles in the 6:40-6:50 range. I had some early burning in my shins and calves, which always happens when I’m running quick. And, like always, it went away by mile 6 and I get into a zone.

I ran my own race, but fluctuated between 15 and 30 seconds behind the 3:00 group for the first 10 or so miles. I started to feel the pain I’ve been having in my right hip and glute at about mile 8, but it didn’t really slow me down. At mile 10, though, we started facing a pretty stiff headwind. That slowed me down. My 6:50s turned into 7:20s in a hurry. I saw the Fellraths and their two children at about mile 12 and they knew I was pretty close to the 3:00 group, but they didn’t know I knew I could feel the struggle coming on.

I went through the half at 1:31:42 on my Garmin, which I was pretty happy with. I figured I had a good shot at sub-3:05, and a very good shot at sub-3:10. However, the headwinds didn’t let up and my pace started to slip. I was struggling a little bit to find power in my stride and the sub-3:10 was starting to look a little questionable.

I think the wind went away after mile 17 or 18, but I wasn’t moving too well, registering miles up close to 7:45 or so. At about 21, I caught a second wind and started to move, dropping about 30 seconds a mile off my pace and locking into a groove. I wasn’t really kicking, but I was moving pretty well. Starting with about 5 miles to go, I started doing the math in my head each mile to calculate how fast I needed to average to get at least a 3:09. It started at about 7:30/mile I would need, but as I started ticking off 7:00 miles, that got better and better and I started thinking about that 3:08 Erin predicted.

That seemed like a longshot with three to go, but I powered through the 24th and 25th miles and all of a sudden, all I needed was about a 7:30 or so for the last mile. Barring a total collapse, it that was easy. A 3:09 was a given. But I still put the hammer down as well as I could with about a 6:45 and finished in 3:08:32. I was pretty happy. I ran well, did a fairly good job of fighting through, and I made it happen when I needed to. It was my fourth-fastest run of the year, my 11th-fastest ever. I was pretty happy, especially considering how tired I was heading into the race.

The course was pretty decent. I was expecting it to be pretty ugly, because Cleveland has a stereotype of being kind of blah. But it was actually a pretty good course. We ran through their downtown area, which was one of the nicer downtowns I’ve seen in a big city, plus we went by the NFL stadium, through several neighborhoods that seemed decent, along Lake Erie for quite a while, through a nice park, and then back into the city to finish it up with downtown as the backdrop. Course support was very good and the volunteers did a great job.

But what I’ll really remember from this race was what happened after I finished. I went to get my phone to see if Erin texted me. I needed to know if she was going to be closer to 4:00 or 5:00.

You better be done by now 🙂 ipm ahead of the 340 group!!

Yeah, she had a typo with that apostrophe, but I’m just telling the story as accurately as possible. No big deal, right? Anyways, I was crazy excited to see that. I was with the Fellraths and I was jumping up and down (figuratively, not literally — my hip hurt like I had just run a marathon or something). We scooted back over to the finish area and there was 3:32 on the clock. We started watching and I was looking for her. She was wearing all black.

But every time somebody in all black came by, it wasn’t her. I was really hoping she’d hit 3:40:59 or better and qualify for Boston. That would have been amazing. But then I saw the 3:40 pace leader go through. And I kept looking for her, and looking for her. And I didn’t see her. I was totally bummed. At about 3:45, I texted her and asked her if she was OK.

She texted me back that she was at the end of the finishers chute! Silly me, she was wearing green! She went 3:40:29 and qualified for Boston. I was so excited for her. I’ve seen people do better than they expect to do, but never like this. For the life of me, I don’t know how anybody starts out aiming for a 4:15 or so and ends up with a 3:40. That’s more than a minute per mile quicker than she set out to do, and at that speed, that’s not easy. I was amazed, excited, happy for her … it was awesome and it made my weekend. That will probably be my memory of the race.

So, 25 down, 35 to go. And next year, when I run Boston, I’ll see Erin!

Another weekend, another Operation Jack Marathon in the books. This time, it was the Grand Valley Marathon in Palisade, Colorado. I didn’t run as well as I’d hoped, but then again, do I ever?

The course itself was very scenic. We ran across and alongside a river, past vineyards, with snow-capped mountains in the not-so-far distance. We also went past a few farms and I saw some horses. We started and finished in a quaint little downtown section of Palisade, a fairly small town about 12 miles east of Grand Junction.

I’ve always thought of Grand Junction as a pass-through area, since I always stopped there for gas or a meal when driving back and forth between Kansas and California when I was in college. But wow, this area was pretty scenic.

This was a nice, local race that was pretty well organized. Probably not something I’d recommend traveling to if flying was required, but I think it’s worth driving a few hours to and staying in Grand Junction or Palisade (I don’t know if there are rooms there).

Anyways, the run. I was a little apprehensive about the elevation. I knew we started at 4,700 feet and climbed to 4,900 or so feet, which isn’t incomprehensible for me, but that altitude is considerably higher than the 700-1,100 foot range I train at every day. I knew we had a climb of about 195 feet between mile 4 and 5 that would sap me a bit, although it was an out-and-back, so I knew I had that on the way back. The only problem with climbs like that is you never get enough back to make it worth it. And when the climbs are early, I worry about taking too much out of myself.

We took off and I felt OK, running at what I figured would wind up being about a 3:10 pace. I was hoping I’d end up in that range, although I knew that hill was coming. The field was small, maybe 100 or so runners. In a race this size, you know exactly where you stand pretty quickly and I knew within a mile that I was in third. I had zero shot at the guy leading, but the man in second wasn’t too much faster than me.

As expected, I struggled up that big hill. My pace dropped to as slow as 12:00/mile or so at one point. I caught up with the guy in second at around mile 7 and we ran together for a few miles. I don’t come out and start talking about the 60-marathon thing right off the bat, but it’s pretty easy to pull out when he asks where I’m from and finds out I flew in for the race from California. He was a super-nice guy, and like everybody else, he thinks I’m crazy. But he ran that race where you trek 150 miles across the Sahara in a week. And he does those adventure races where you need a map that they give you to figure out where you’re going. All I do is play follow-the-leader for 26.2.

We ran pretty close together, either side-by-side or leapfrogging each other, until about mile 15. We hit the half in 1:36 and I thought I could negative-split the course because of the big downhill I’d get at 21, so I thought 3:10 was still in reach. But as soon as we turned around at 13.1, there was a pretty strong wind straight in our face. I don’t why I didn’t notice it at my back much on the way out. But it lasted until about mile 24.

Larry (that was the man’s name) started to pull away at about mile 15. My quads and glutes had been screaming at me since mile 8 and I was no match for the wind. I knew fourth place was about 5 minutes behind me, so I figured I had a pretty good shot at holding onto third. I kept trucking, wallowing in self-pity, enjoying the sights. I could tell I was a good minute or so from second. He’s a pretty quick guy, with a PR of 2:56 from a few years back and he ran a 3:07 earlier this year.

I didn’t have a lot going down the hill. I think I got my pace as quick as about 6:30 or so per mile, but that’s not all that fast for me considering what I’m capable of and how steep that hill was. It was actually kind of painful using my legs as brakes.

Coming out of that drop, I saw Larry and he wasn’t too far off. I could tell he was struggling. I felt bad, because I know how not fun it is to fade late, but all I could do was run my own race. I passed him at 23, he offered some encouragement, and I had two things to work for over those last three miles.

One, I had to go strong and immediately create some distance, otherwise he’d find a way to make a charge at me late. And two, I needed to push, because I knew I was on the cusp of 3:20. I did not want to end up in the 3:20s again. So, I pushed pretty hard over those final three miles. I had been running miles in the mid-8s, but I got down to the low 7s.

I felt pretty beat up, but I went strong to the finish and after doing an over-the-shoulder peek on a turn at 24, I knew I had second place locked up. I knew with about 3/4 of a mile to go I had the 3:19 locked up, although I kept pushing as hard as I could. I finished in 3:19:30, not a great time for me, but it was absolutely not a PR course or PR weather. The guy who won the race went 2:51. So I was right knowing I had no shot at him.

All-in-all, I’ll call it a good run. It was a beautiful course, and while my time wasn’t the greatest, I was content with what I got out of myself given the course and the wind.

Next up, Cleveland. 24 down, 36 to go!

I was really looking forward to Sunday’s Orange County Marathon for a lot of reasons — my family would be there at the finish line, I felt fairly good physically, I ran the course fairly quickly last year and I didn’t have to travel. When all was said and done, it was more than I hoped it would be.

Out of my 60 races, the Orange County Marathon was without a doubt my biggest “home race” of the year. Most of my relatives and lots of my friends were running in the 5K or the half-marathon and it’s only about 15 minutes from home. A lot of people asked me what I was aiming for, and all I wanted to do was get as much out of my body and the course as I could. I went 3:11 on this course last year on a humid day when I fell apart a little bit, so I thought I had a legitimate chance at sub-3:10 if I ran hard and didn’t back down when I started to feel pain.

I remembered the first few miles being quick from last year, and I knew it was going to warm up, so I wasn’t thinking about even splits. The race started at around 60 degrees and ended probably in the low 70s. I was counting on banking time, trying to keep my heart rate at 170, and hanging on for whatever I could earn.

I jumped out pretty quickly, running the first few miles in the 6:30s or so. There was a spot early where I let my heart rate get too high last year and I think that hurt me, but I kept it in check today in the same spot. The early part of the course is pretty nice — it’s a run through a big-money town on the coast called Corona del Mar. I got to see a lot of houses I’ll never be able to afford!

My average pace started to gradually creep, but I wasn’t concerned because I was expecting it. The sun started peeking out, but it didn’t feel too warm. My sub-7 miles started turning into 7:10s or so and I wasn’t worried. I just kept on running. We ran by an area called Back Bay. It’s … a bay, kind of marshy. Late in that stretch, a friend of mine named Jeff Cate came up on me and we ran together for a bit. He entered the race with a 3:11 PR and sub-3 ability, but he’s struggled to put it all together in marathons. We were on about a 3:02 pace and he was looking strong. I told him to take off because I knew he had more in him than I did, so he left and I hoped not to see him again. I’ll get back to him later.

As has been the case a lot this year, I felt strong but I didn’t feel fast. I relied on that strength to carry me through and I was content with how I was doing. I could tell when I was with other runners that my turnover was slower, but I was getting pretty good power with my stride. I hit the half in 1:32, an improvement of about two minutes from last year on the same course.

I kept cruising and gradually slowing down. I was turning miles, I think, in about the 7:20 range. The second half of the course was pretty boring. I was running with a runner named Sabrina for a while. Her coach is Operation Jack coach John Loftus, a friend of mine. We had talked at the start line about her using me to block the wind if necessary (she’s short and petite; I’m 6-1, 200 pounds … I make a good shield). I worked hard to pull her along. We knew that she was the fourth-place woman and that second and third were within striking distance.

I was breaking down a little bit, but I really wanted to pull her forward. We were moving pretty good and I stayed stronger than I thought I could. It reminded me of the Carlsbad Marathon, when I worked with a runner named Julie Brekke. However, I pulled away a little bit by about mile 23.

I knew a 3:06 or 3:07 was in range, which I was pretty excited about, but I knew I was really going to have to push. A lot of mile 24 was across a dirt path and I didn’t move too well. I started to move at 24. Mentally, that’s when I feel that there’s not much left in the race.

I passed about six or seven people in the final two miles, including the second- and third-place women I was trying to pull Sabrina past. I made a mad charge over the last half mile or so, getting my heart rate as high as 184. I really wanted that 3:06. I finished in 3:06:32, my second-fastest time of the year and my seventh-fastest ever.

Over the last 1/10 mile, I saw my in-laws, my wife and kids, my brother and my parents. It’s nice having a local race! I saw John Loftus right afterwards. He’s been battling injury and went 2:50, a slow time for him. He told me that Jeff went 2:59 and change and I was really happy for Jeff. He TOTALLY deserved that sub-3! He’s trained really hard this year.

Tiffany participated in the 5K and pushed Jack in the jog stroller. My mother-in-law ran the 5K, as did my brother-in-law Andy and sister-in-law Jacqueline. My dad and stepmom ran the half marathon (their longest distance covered ever!) and went 2:53. We’d been talking a lot of smack about who would be faster. They beat me by 13 minutes, although they covered 13.1 fewer miles. My brother was also out there, although he’s been injured and he couldn’t run.

I had a bunch of friends out there, too. It was so nice to be on a course so close to home and see so many people I knew. I don’t normally see a lot of people when I’m out on the road, so I really appreciated everybody who was there supporting Operation Jack.

All-in-all, it was a great day. 23 down, 37 to go!