I woke up Sunday and actually felt better than I had for any of my three prior doubles, and really, I felt better than I typically do the day after a marathon. I took a ice bath Saturday when I got to Mobile, but I think the real key was that I spent a good 20 minutes stretching last night.

I felt good, although I was tired. I had only slept 10 1/2 hours combined Thursday and Friday night and I really wanted to get at least 7, preferably 8. Unfortunately, my hotel had a nightclub directly above my room and at 10 p.m., the music started. 15 minutes later I decided to change rooms, and my attempt at 8, which was already only looking like 7, became 6 1/2.

I got up, ate my breakfast and hung out in my nice warm room because weather.com said it was 22 (11 with wind chill) outside. Fortunately, the start was about 50 yards from my hotel lobby, so I didn’t go out until five minutes before the start. Before I made it out, I met some people who told me they had read about me the day before in the paper! I did a phone interview with a reporter from Mobile earlier in the week, but he said the story was probably not going to run, so this was a pleasant surprise. I was later told the story ran on the front of marathonguide.com!

To the start, I saw my friend Dane Rauschenberg, who also ran Jackson on Saturday and rode down to Mobile with me. He ran 52 marathons in 52 weeks in 2006, so I know we’ll be talking a lot this year about things only we would understand. Amazingly, with all the things he’s done running, running a double is something he hadn’t done, so this was his first. We were both happy that it felt slightly warmer than yesterday at the start — probably about 23-25 degrees compared to 18 the day before. At that point, every degree counts!

The gun went off and we started cruising. We didn’t go to hard — he said he wanted to run a 3:17 (which he did), but I wanted to get as much out of my body that I could. I really wanted to negative-split my weekend (go faster than the 3:18:44 I ran the day before), but like always, I just go out and give it all I have. My time is whatever I can get.

We ran together for the first three miles or so, but I felt good and my heart rate was low, so he told me not to hold back. I kept rolling and told him he’d pass me later. I got into a groove and felt really good.

I noticed that my legs felt heavy at about 5, but it wasn’t much of a problem. It felt like I typically do on a training run — not terrible, but not completely fresh. I was turning 7:18s consistently and didn’t need to bump my heart rate up to my typical marathon heart rate (170ish).

However, there was a pretty nice climb between miles 10 and 11. In hindsight, I don’t remember much about that hill, except by the time I got to the top of it, I was cooked. My pace for the race went from 7:18 to 7:28 in a mile. I knew I was going unravel. About 1/2 mile later, Dane passed me up with the eventual women’s winner. He actually passed me twice, because they made a wrong turn and I yelled to them to get back on the course.

There were some gradual rollers over the next few miles that really sealed the deal for me and brought on the permanent fade. I tried to focus on the positive. For starters, I started thinking about why I was out there, for Operation Jack. I’m trying to make a difference, and in order to do that, I literally have to run myself into the ground. 60 has wow factor, and this is what that takes. One side benefit we get out of all this is we’ve been given services at a hyperbaric chamber facility for Jack as a result of this and if nothing else, what I’m putting myself through will get that for him. As a parent, it felt pretty satisfying to know that my pain was his gain. While I wrote this on the plane, he was in the chamber.

I was having those thoughts at around 15. Not too far after that, we went through something that I think was called the Mobile Botanical Gardens or something like that. There was a really cool looking lake and a forest area and a view way off into the distance of quite a bit of undeveloped land. I live in master-planned suburbia, so it’s nice to see the world as it was created.

I’m sure I’ll say this a lot this year, but one thing that’s going to be cool for me is seeing a lot of America. There’s so much variety out there and I’m going to get to run through a lot of it. Today, I got to see a lot of Mobile, seeing schools, parts of the city, neighborhoods and I really enjoyed it. Well, except when I ran by a KFC and smelled the chicken and got hungry! OK, enough rambling …

There was one last decent climb somewhere around 18 or 19 and from there, it was all downhill or flat, which I really appreciated. I run up hills a lot, but I race better on the downhill. Obviously I’m faster, but I get more out of the course than I should on the downhills and I don’t get enough on the uphills. I got into a nice little rhythm over the final 10K. I wasn’t necessarily fast, but I wasn’t fading.

I’m really starting to like hitting mile 20, because it gets really easy to count down the miles at that point. I started to make a little bit of a move with about 3 to go, picked it up with two to go and finished fairly strong over the last mile, picking off a couple of people.

I finished in 3:21:45, good for 33rd overall, 2nd in my age group. I’m pretty competitive and pretty hard on myself, so more often than not, I won’t be pleased with my performance. That was the case today. 3:21 isn’t a terrible time, but I expect more out of myself than that. And the way I see it, you guys are jumping on the bandwagon because I’m racing 60 marathons this year, not because I’m running the distance 60 times in training. I feel like I’m bringing home times to everybody following along and I don’t want to bring home bad times. I have some things I need to work on with my marathon pacing, because I’m failing miserably.

The weather today was a little challenging today. As I mentioned, temps were a little bit warmer, but it was still cold. And there was a wind in my face about 1/3 of the time that was ridiculously cold. Overall, though, I’d say the weather was a tiny bit better today.

One great thing about the race is that it’s a major fundraiser for an organization called L’Arche Mobile, which basically provides group living homes for adults with mental disabilities. Someday, Jack could be living with an organization like that, so it hits close to home. I wanted to do some things for them as part of this, but it didn’t pan out and I’m not solid enough with my fundraising yet. I’m hoping to do some things by the end of the year, but we’ll see.

I knew that residents would be presenting us with hand-made medals, and I got mine from a sweet woman named Sara (after she gave me a kiss on each cheek and a hug). I insisted on getting one that she made herself, and she obliged. I took a picture with her a little later.

Also, I finished in second place in my age group, and my prize was a 5 1/2 x 8 1/2 canvas that was painted by one of the residents. I’ve won age-group awards in about 10 marathons that I can think of off the top of my head, and this one is totally my favorite. It’s a sentimental treasure I’ll hang on to.

All-in-all, I liked the race a lot. I just wasn’t pleased with my performance individually. But due to the uniqueness of what I’m doing, I’ll be able to go give it another crack next weekend in Phoenix.

One thing I know about running 60 marathons is that I’m going to have a little bit of everything. Good races, bad races, fun races, boring races, slow races, fast races, perfect races, hot races … and, on days like today, cold races!

I spent all week looking at the weather forecast and I knew it was going to be cold. At first, it was looking like a high of 36 and a low of 23. It moved down to 28/18, but back up a touch. When I got to Jackson the day before the race, it was extremely cold. I spent four years in Kansas, but I’ve been back in California for a decade and I’ve re-acclimated. The coldest I had ever run in was 34 degrees a few weeks ago, and it was so cold, it hurt to breathe. I don’t have the option of not running, so I knew I had to suck it up and run.

On my way to the race, I drove by a bank with a thermometer that said 18 degrees. Well, I think it said 18 degrees, but I couldn’t tell because I was peering through iced windows. When I de-iced at a gas station, I could see snow flurries in the light. Bad sign?

I got to the start in plenty of time and did whatever I could to stay warm. I succeeded and didn’t go over to the start until about five minutes before gun time. We did a dual run with soldiers in Iraq, which was cool. I complain about the cold, but I’m sure they’d love to be shivering in Mississippi. They simulcast the start on a big screen and they seemed pretty excited to be a doing a satellite version of the race.

Anyways, we got rolling, and instantly, I was COLD. I capitalized that for emphasis! From what I’ve been told, it was 19 degrees. I was bundled up in running pants, a warm long-sleeve technical shirt, an Operation Jack shirt over that, gloves, a headband that covered up my ears, and over that I wore a contraption that covered everything from my neck up aside from my eyes and the top of my cheeks.

Still, my hands were completely numb in 3/4 of a mile and my toes were gone in 1.5 miles. I was getting a little bit concerned that I might get frostbite because they started hurting, but every four miles or so they rotated from fine to numb to painful and I figured they’d be OK.

I was running OK, averaging about a 7:05 at my target marathon heart rate for the first 6 or 7 miles. But all I can remember is how cold everything was. I had occasional breathing problems with the whatever-you-call-it that was covering my mouth and nose, so I’d pull it down and freeze. I could feel sweat on my eyelashes freezing. I could feel sweat on my forehead freezing.

The water and Gatorade at the aid stations were slush and very cold going down. By about 10 miles in, I had to keep my mouth and nose uncovered to make sure I could breathe. I take three gel packs during a race and a couple of times, I struggled to open them because my fingers were so numb. There’s a theme here — it was cold!

Moving along, my paced started slowing a little bit. I lost some speed over the summer with my layoff with the sprained ankle and I haven’t gotten it all back. I also don’t think I can remain effective at marathon effort for 26.2 miles right now. I have a lot of opportunities to keep working at that, though, so I’m sure I’ll get there.

I kept rolling, hit the half a little past 1:37 and started fading a little bit. The 7:25s I was turning became 7:35s and 7:45s. The course was nice, cutting through several different neighborhoods. One thing I kept thinking was how fortunate I am to be able to run these marathons, because I’m going to get to see lots of America. I love America, and it’s great to see so many parts.

I saw a lot of Jackson and a lot of people from Jackson. They were wonderful, consistently thanking us for running. I had to remind them all that they were the ones who needed to be thanked, braving 19-degree temps to volunteer to help. I can’t tell you how many times I heard “Thank you for choosing to run in Mississippi!” and they didn’t even know I’m from California. I was glad I ran the race — I enjoyed the sights and I really enjoyed the people.

I kept gradually slowing and by the time I started trying to figure out what my time would be by 17 or 18, it was looking like a 3:18 or so. I hoped for a BQ (3:15:59), but knew it wasn’t going to happen. I developed a side stitch (really painful abdominal cramp) at 23 that stuck with me to the end. That mile was an 8:25 and I started hoping to hang on to a sub-3:20.

At mile 25, I was really slowing and a guy came up on me. I was prepared to let him go and tell him “nice run,” but he told me to step it up because there was only one more mile. So I took off, side stitch and all, and powered the rest of the way. Mile 26 was 7:05, which was nice, but tells me I fold too often. No way should I be doing that in that condition and only turning 7:25s earlier in the race. The guy couldn’t catch me and I couldn’t see him in the finisher’s area to thank him for the push.

I ended up 3:18:44, surprisingly good enough for second place in my age group, 33rd overall. I had no idea I age-grouped until I received a congratulatory email while I was at dinner in Alabama. I guess I could say the conditions made it tough, but that’s an excuse. Individually, I’m not pleased with the race. But overall, I know it’s great to be able to not be pleased with a 3:18 in these conditions, and it’s even better to continue along with Operation Jack.

Two down, 58 to go. Next up, Mobile, Alabama tomorrow!

Like nobody knew that would be the headline! I can’t believe I finally kicked off Operation Jack today. You know how you always talk about ideas, but then you never get around to doing them? Well, I guess this is one thing that I’ve stuck with and at least got this started. I think it will be tougher to walk away from it mid-flight than to complete, so hopefully this is the first of 60 race reports.

For those of you who have never been here before, I’m a marathon runner and a father of 3 young children (8 1/2, 6, 4). My 6-year-old is severely autistic. His name is Jack. And I wanted to do something to make a difference in his honor. So, I came up with this crazy idea of running 60 marathons this year in cities all over the country to build awareness for a charity I’m part of called Train 4 Autism. I’d gladly sacrifice my knees to make a difference in a lot of lives and give him a legacy and a purpose.

Anyways, the schedule is here and it started today. I was grateful to stay in Kingwood with a runner friend of mine, John Hill, and his family. I really couldn’t have asked for nicer people to be with than John, his wife Susan, his daughter Kaylee and his son Ryan. But I had to ring in the new year away from my wife. I figured that was kind of appropriate because I’ll be gone almost every weekend. But as I realized earlier this week when I contemplated today, God was very good to me and really led me down some great paths in the past decade. I think it’s fitting that the very first thing I did this decade was to use the talent He gave me to try to help other people.

Actually, the first thing I did was send a note to my wife, but that’s a morning tradition I have. Can’t run without sending her the note!

I felt fairly good heading into this race. The legs felt pretty good yesterday (probably the last time I’ll say that for a year). I’ve been gradually getting back into shape since taking five weeks off over the summer with a severely sprained ankle. I’m basically a 3:05 or so runner (my fastest time in 2009 was 3:01), but in my first marathon back, I went 3:29, then followed that with a 3:17.

For this race, I had an A goal (3:09:59), a B goal (3:15:59, Boston Qualifier) and a C goal (3:17:01, one second faster than my last marathon). I actually had an A hope, a B hope and a C hope, because I knew I’d run as hard as I could and get what I could get.

When the race started, I could tell that I was probably somewhere between my A goal and B goal. I was moving well and feeling pretty good. The course was all sidewalk but it was beautiful. It wound through the woods and alongside lakes. It was a very, very nice run. It was a pretty serene environment, which I really loved. I had a million thoughts running through my head during the race. Normally, I block out everything and focus on my performance.

Today, though, I couldn’t help but think about Jack quite a bit. He’s so darn cute and he’s been coming along fairly well over the past six months. It really makes me happy to do something in his name. You all see his picture and his smile and a lot of you draw some sort of inspiration through him. I know I have a lot of you excited about what I’m doing and why I’m doing it, and as his dad, that makes me pretty happy. I went to Houston and didn’t have a team. It was just me running solo. But I knew that a lot of you were running vicariously through me today. I was alone out there on the course, but I wasn’t really alone.

And when I got back after the race, I saw flurry of Twitter activity in the messages coming to me and the new followers and I realized that yeah, people are excited and there’s reason to believe something good is going to come out of all of this. I was led down this path and I really have a ton of faith that it’s going to be wonderful to keep following it.

Anyways, the race … the course was a 6+ mile loop that we hit four times. Hit the half at 1:35 knowing I’d probably be a few minutes slower in the second half. I felt pretty confident, though. John volunteered at a drink station and Susan and Kaylee were also out there. I got to see them several times, which was nice. Their enthusiasm was great. I don’t remember what time I did completed the third loop, but I tailed off a tiny bit at the end. My 7:15 – 7:25 miles were turning into 7:45s on that fourth loop. I picked up over the final 1 1/2 miles, though. I really thought about Jack. I thought that he deserved no less than a full effort from me in the first race of the endeavor named after him.

I have no idea what those final miles were, but I finished in 3:13:54, 7th overall out of 497 starters. A Boston qualifier for 2011 (I’m already registered for 2010 and wasn’t really worried, but it’s good to have that out of the way) and another step in the right direction. I’m not in PR shape right now, but I feel like I’m really getting back closer to where I was.

Now, it’s time to fly home and take my wife out to dinner and a movie. Can’t wait to relax with her. It’s been a hectic couple of weeks closing out 2009.

Next up, Jackson, Miss. next Saturday (Jan. 9) and Mobile, Ala. the next day. Thanks for reading … happy new year!

So, I ran a marathon last Saturday. It was a completely unmemorable run. A slow run. But the fact that I was able to participate made it a great run.

The race was the Veterans Day Marathon in Huntington Beach, a very small marathon put on by Charlie Alewine Racing. When I say very small, I mean there were five participants. The size of the race didn’t matter to me, though. As I mentioned last week, the race was on November 7, which was 18 years to the day after I broke my neck in a swimming-pool accident.

I consider November 7 to be a birthday for my legs and I really wanted to celebrate my “legs birthday” by running a marathon. My neck hurts every day, and I’ve spent a fair amount of time over the past 18 years dwelling about that. But I also am fully aware that I am very blessed that I escaped paralysis. So it was nice to run a marathon.

Leading up to Saturday’s race, I’ve had a pretty difficult year with my running. I had one good race, running the Boston Marathon in 3:01. But everything else has been pretty poor. I haven’t run any other marathon quicker than 3:10 after doing that five times in a row last year, including three times in three states in eight days. I ran a 50-miler in May, got pretty beat up and struggled miserably in a marathon in San Diego three weeks later, then took some time to mentally unwind for about six weeks. Low mileage, no long runs — I needed a break, and that’s what I took.

Then, I sprained my ankle walking through a parking lot and went five weeks without running. It got frustrating, but finally my physical therapist let be build back up. I could tell that my endurance was down and my speed had vanished. No big deal — I’m only running 60 marathons next year, right?

I had a pity party for myself during September, but in October, I finally started feeling a little more competitive and decided that I was ready to work at it again. I mixed in some tougher workouts and started to gradually show signs of improvement. One staple of my training is a long run of at least 26.2 on the weekends, and I think I’ve done that about eight or so weeks in a row. Maybe seven, I don’t know.

I had a couple of encouraging workouts over the two weeks leading up to Saturday’s race, so I thought that maybe I’d be somewhere close to the 3:10 range I wanted to be in at this point. I was looking at the race as a good test run and wanted to see where I stood. And of course, I was running a November 7 marathon. It was going to be super cool for me.

All five of us got rolling and there were two triathletes who could move pretty well, a man named Rob who ran a 100-miler the week before and completed the Western States 100 this year (in short, Rob can flat-out run forever … and pretty fast), and a woman named Sally who I run part of my runs with every morning who has a PR of 3:15. I might well have been the slowest guy in the field! Well, the half marathoners were all slower than us.

I run by heart rate and gradually worked it up to my marathon rate of 170 bpm. I wasn’t feeling particularly good or bad — I just made sure I kept it under control. I was right around 7:10/mile or so for 6 or 8 miles. The two triathletes looked to be about 6 seconds/mile faster than me, but that was enough to keep them in range. But by about 8, I just wasn’t feeling it. Not sure if it was physical, mental, or both, but I think the wheels came off. I gradually started to slow down, and I mentally folded, knowing it wasn’t going to be my day.

It was extremely difficult because I was running in open space, not totally feeling it and knowing it wasn’t my day. How do you stay motivated for that? My pace slipped and slipped and I really stopped worrying about how I would do. I tried to keep my heart rate up in the 170-172 range, but I didn’t stress if it dropped into the low 160s. It was totally a training-run mentality by about 12, and I was beating myself up mentally for my slow time.

On the Monday before the race, I ran a 20-miler on hills at a better pace with lower effort than I was doing during this race. As I kept plodding along, by the final two miles I told myself that I really wanted to keep the time under 3:30 and the pace under 8:00/mile. We ran 10 laps on a course and after the ninth lap, according to my Garmin, I was going to come up .32 of a mile short. So, I tacked that on during the final lap, turning back with about 1/2 mile left, running .16 miles back up the course and then doubling back to the finish.

I was solidly in third, but Rob saw me and caught me. I had some kick over the final 2/10 and got my pace down to 5:51/mile, but I was no match for him. He eased up (we were both on the verge of puking) and we crossed the finish line together, tied for third in 3:29:05 (7:59/mile). Just a slow, slow day for both of us. 3:16 won the race. Sally, who ran 18 the day before, finished in 3:38. So, I guess in my marketing spin, I’ll just say that I took third place in a race where the last finisher ran a 3:38. That’s tough competition!

For a lot of people, 3:29 would be a great race. For me, though, it was a horribly slow day, not at all the confidence builder I’d hoped for. In all fairness to myself, I ran a 30-miler seven days before and a hard 20-miler five days before. It’s not like I was tapered and fresh and primed. Oh, and my lunch the day before the race was In-N-Out, which I love, but isn’t the ideal fuel for a race.

So, I didn’t get the time I hoped for, but I’m not concerned, and I’m still going to make another attempt at sub-3 in Tucson on December 13. I’m not ruling it out, and really, if I learned anything about my current fitness on Saturday, it’s that I can run a 3:29 26.2-mile training run right now.

But more important than my time on Saturday was that I got to run the race. As I mentioned, I could very easily be in a wheelchair right now. After the race, I went to my son Benjamin’s soccer game. After the game, my daughter Ava celebrated her 4th birthday with a cupcake decorating birthday party with her friends from preschool. I went to the hyperbaric chamber with Jack. Then I went with Benajmin for dinner at In-N-Out and a soccer game at UCI with his AYSO team. Each of my kids had some cool things going on Saturday and none of them would have existed if I hadn’t been so blessed on November 7, 1991.

So Saturday, I ran a slow marathon. And I had a great day!

Any of you who have been following my blog at Operation Jack know my wife, Tiffany, ran her first marathon Sunday and that I ran it with her. I was going to write a race report about the race as my blog for today, but my friend Erin Ruff suggested Tiff write the race report. I’m going to get the best of both worlds with a he said/she said take on the race.

Sam Says:
Long Beach has always been a pretty good course for me. I ran a 17-minute PR my first time there, I ran my first Boston qualifier the next year, and ran a 3:06 last year with a bad hamstring. Three races, all were great. I was hopeful that Tiff could have a good experience out there, too.

She really wanted to run a 3:40 and qualify for Boston. That’s kind of an ambitious goal for a marathon debut, but I thought it was on the edge of what was possible. She ran a 1:45 half marathon in January, and has battled injuries since then, but I think she’s a little bit faster than she was back then. Tiff’s spring was filled with great long runs. She ramped up the distance and held sub-9 paces on long, hilly runs stretching to 20 miles — a great job for somebody looking for a 3:40.

But she got hurt, battled issues with inflammation in her right leg and missed her first shot at a marathon — San Diego Rock N Roll on May 31. The inflammation was off and on over the summer, but the speed was there. She ran a hilly 17-miler in late July at an 8:42 pace, a decent run.

Heading into Sunday’s race, I was concerned about her inflammation and her endurance. Her longest run was 20, which she had done only once, and that was six months ago. We went out for a 20 two weeks ago, but we cut it short to 10 because her inflammation was bothering her. She told me it was something she thought she could run through, but she didn’t think it was worth aggravating. I thought we’d go in, I’d keep her in range for 16-18 miles, and then we’d see how her cardio held up. I planned on monitoring her effort and heart rate, doing the math on the time in my head, and making a decision somewhere after 20 on when to turn it up.

When the race started, she seemed right on the edge of her 3:40 goal, but once we settled in, I knew by about 5 or 6 miles in that she was going to probably on the outside looking in. Still, I thought she would probably have a good chance at running a 3:45, which would a) be one heck of a marathon debut, and b) qualify her for Boston 2011 (she’ll be 35 for that one). Maybe not the time she was looking for, but she’d be flat-out in for the Boston Marathon in 2011. Can’t argue with that.

She was complaining that I was running her too slow, but I tried over and over to explain that if 3:45 was the best she could do and she tried to run a 3:40, she’d blow up, fatigue early and run 30 minutes slow. I’ve run 26 marathons now, so I’ve made plenty of mistakes that she doesn’t need to repeat! She kept ticking the miles off perfectly. She wasn’t too talkative, but that was OK. We weren’t out there for conversation — we were out there to rip through a marathon.

And then, it started. The inflammation flared up, somewhere in the neighborhood of 15 or so. I thought she’d fight through it, and she told me a few minutes later that it was starting to feel better. But then about a mile or two later, the inflammation kicked in for good, and the downhill spiral began. I didn’t let her worry about her time — I just tried to keep her rolling. I know how important her time was to her, so I was just trying to push her in any way possible.

She slowed down a little, but then she slowed down a lot. Her slow run turned into a shuffle, then some walking and it was obvious she was in a lot of pain. I didn’t know what to say or do to try to motivate her. I ran out of buttons to push, and I was wondering if she was in pain or if she was going soft. I don’t care what time she runs, but I want her to look back on her effort fondly. Only she would know if she was really going all-out, and I thought she probably was. But I just wasn’t sure, and I’ve never been involved a breakdown this epic or a race this slow. I really didn’t know what to do out there, so I just stayed with her and tried to keep her rolling. I’ll be honest — I got a little frustrated with her and I let her know that. I just wanted her to give it her all. In hindsight, I hope I wasn’t being too much of a jerk.

She picked it up a little bit over the last 1.25 miles, but despite having a reasonable chance at 3:45 at around 17 or 18, she finished in 4:22:41. At least she beat my time on Sunday by one second! Apparently, I ran a 4:22:42! The way she struggled yesterday, I don’t think she’ll ever run another marathon. But I know she toughed it out through a lot of pain. I’m proud of her effort. Her training was tough and her race was tough. I just hope she realizes what she did is incredibly difficult. Even though they look like they come pretty easy to me, every time I run them, I think to myself about how difficult they really are. They’re hard. They’re challenging. And really, out of my 26, I’d say that maybe three have gone the way I want them to.

So yeah, I’m proud of her. That’s my take.

Tiff Says:
On the morning of the marathon I was more excited than nervous because I felt so blessed that I even was able to make it to the starting line! Honestly, I thought that I would have a fair crack at the 3:40 goal. I told myself I wouldn’t be surprised if I didn’t get that time but I’d still be happy if I finished sub-4. At the starting line, I was a little nervous, but not that much. Still, I was just happy to be standing there. I told myself that if I just stayed calm and relaxed, that would help me during my run. I guess some of it’s psychological. I told myself that I was just gonna go out there and run two half-marathons … that made me feel better than thinking it was a full!

As soon as the gun went off, me, Sam and our friend Ben were fired up to go. Sam told me to tell him every few minutes or so what my heart rate was and that if it went above 175, to let him know so we could slow down. He didn’t want me to overdo my cardio early into the race because then I’d burn out fast. My heart rate stayed a touch higher than I wanted it to. For about 16 miles it ranged mostly around the 173-177 area. At around 12 miles I was starting to think that my chances of my 3:40 were slim-to-none. Once I saw the 3:40 pace drift out of sight at around mile 15, I knew that I needed to shoot for a sub 4 goal.

At around mile 17, my inflammation started hurting a lot. I felt a lot of sharp shooting pains in my ankle, achilles and right off my shin. Sam warned me not to stop and walk even for a few steps because if I did, my legs would stiffen up and it would be hard to start running after that. Well, that’s easier said than done. The pain was unbearable in my ankle and I had to walk. What a huge mistake that was! Right after the first walk is when I spiraled downhill. My whole body was in pain. I could barely lift my feet up off the ground to run again. My jogging turned into a shuffle that turned into a walk again. From that point on, it was shuffling, walking, shuffling, walking (with some whimpering as well).

I couldn’t believe that I was in the same body I had started the race in. I felt like I was in a body that had never run before. Everything for about eight miles was a complete blur/nightmare. I wanted to practice mind-over-matter but was unsuccessful. All I wanted to do was get to the finish line, then go home and lay down.

Once I crossed the finish line, I thought to myself, NEVER AGAIN! From now on, I’ll just work on half marathons. I was disappointed in myself as well. I thought, “how did this happen when my training runs were so promising?” I realized then that maybe, probably, I would’ve run a better race if not for the inflammation. I know it sounds like I’m making excuses, but I think that had something to do with it. And I should’ve never started walking!

After swearing to never doing it again, the next morning I woke up thinking to myself that I should train for another one next year … probably the Long Beach one since I really enjoyed the course. Surprisingly enough, it’s not my time that upset me the most. What upset me the most is the fact that after putting in so much time and effort in training, it wasn’t fair that I was left with such a miserable memory of my marathon. Next year, I’m going to make sure I go into the race completely healthy. I know marathons aren’t supposed to be easy, but they should at least be fun, in a weird sort of way.

That’s It!
Thanks for reading!