Normally I try to keep race reports from getting too long, because I know they probably get pretty boring. I mean, how many times do people want to read about my heart rate getting too high and me taking another gel pack? But there are so many things to write about the Operation Jack Marathon that I don’t know if I can keep this short.

First, just in case you haven’t been here before, I’m a marathon runner and a father of three. My middle child, 7-year-old Jack, is severely autistic. I ran 61 full marathons in 2010 to raise money and awareness for a charity I’m a part of called Train 4 Autism. I named the endeavor Operation Jack, after my son.The Operation Jack Marathon was the 61st and final marathon of the year for me. If you didn’t see the blog I wrote last week as my swan song, click here to check it out.

So anyways, when I originally looked at the calendar to set up my race schedule, I knew this weekend would be a challenge. Christmas on Saturday and the day after Christmas on Sunday. Where would I find a race? I couldn’t possibly leave the family on Christmas Day if I found something on the Sunday. I launched Operation Jack with that weekend as a TBD. It truly was a TBD.

I had a plan in the works, but it fell through in late September. So, in October, I started brainstorming and decided to put on a marathon to close this all out. I was nervous about it — I didn’t know how in the heck I’d be able to recruit people for a race — but I was optimistic I could get at least 10 entrants and cover the costs. I went through a bunch of red tape and several different government agencies to get a permit and insurance. We had a course, I created a spot on this site, worked with a registration company and we got it rolling.

I had the help of Operation Jack supporter Jake Rome, who was a huge help in planning this thing. I worked with my designer, Tara Larivee, to get shirts and medals designed. I had a committee from Train 4 Autism helping take care of everything. I was nervous and anxious about this for two months. I was worried about having enough participation to make it a good event and the last thing I wanted to do was let anybody down.

Before I knew it, registration started to climb in a hurry and I got anxious that we’d have too many people to be able to handle things. This 10-person race I was hoping for ended up with 151 registrants and about 40 volunteers! I showed up early to make sure everything was rolling fine and when people started lining up for registration, I got pretty excited. It was showtime. There were runners all over the place, mingling and waiting for the race to start. I knew they were all out there to support the cause.

I saw the Train 4 Autism popup go up, I saw familiar faces and I saw unfamiliar faces. I moved my dad’s car to a lot we rented, synced up with my mom, who was in from Atlanta, and walked the 1/2 mile back to the start area thinking about what an exciting day it would be. I knew that no matter what happened, it would be a day I would always look back on.

I did an interview before the race then talked with a good friend of mine for a bit. We looked around and basically said that wow, my dream from two years ago was a reality. New people were out for the cause, and it was going to be a great day for Train 4 Autism that probably wouldn’t have otherwise happened. I don’t want to say I did it, because I didn’t — a lot of people did it. And I KNOW it wouldn’t have happened if my son didn’t suffer from autism. So it was a pretty special day before I got going. I got on the megaphone a few minutes before the start and thanked everybody for showing up. It was amazing to look out and see so many people ready to start this race. My legs hurt, but it’s pretty sweet to be in my shoes.

Next thing you know, we were off. Immediately, the first thing in my mind was that this was finally the last race of Operation Jack. I was running, and I was only about three hours away from completing the goal I’d set. The goal of 61 marathons isn’t tremendously important on an individual basis. The biggest thing about it is that it’s a tactic to gain attention and increase awareness of Train 4 Autism. But it’s still challenging to run that many marathons all-out in a single year. I won’t lie — I was intimidated by what I was facing at the beginning of the year.

But finally, the last marathon was underway and I could put this thing to bed. Of course, I still had to cover 26.2 miles on foot, and no matter how many times you do that, it’s never easy! One of the benefits of putting on marathon you’re going to run in is that you kind of forget you have to go pound it out! But I showed up ready to run. I had no desire to take it easy and let my last race be a victory lap. I did a few things different with my training and fueling this week and I thought I’d have a chance to be ready to move pretty quickly. Not necessarily a sure-fire thing, but I took some gambles because … why not?

I started off holding the sub-3 pace I wanted for a couple of miles, but it felt fairly tough and I felt sick to my stomach, like I wanted to throw up. My calves got a bit tight early, but that’s typical when I’m pushing the pace in a marathon. They usually feel good by about four miles in. I was running with a friend of mine, John Loftus. John is a great guy, a blazing fast runner (2:41:19 PR, won his age group at the Boston Marathon in 2009) and also a running coach, so I had good company.

He kept me focused when I needed to be and we spent a fair amount of time chatting (when my breathing allowed — for him, it was an easy run). The course was flat and along the ocean before turning to head alongside a creek. There was some wind on the way out, but it was at our back on the way in. Temperatures were in the mid-50s. The weather was about as good as any race I ran all year.

I could tell by about mile 5 that I didn’t have enough to set the world on fire. My pace had slowed to somewhere around 7:15s or so I think. I was still going to push for the best finish I could, but I didn’t have as much in me as I’d hoped. I got over my nausea by about mile 8 and then settled into a groove running miles around 7:20 or so. The course was a 6.55-mile out-and-back, so half marathoners ran the loop once and marathoners went twice.

I hit the half in 1:35:35, a 3:11 pace. I saw my wife and kids which was cool. They were excited and Benjamin was having fun working at an aid station. At that point, I felt like I was on the track and they were ringing the bell for the last lap. It was finally time to finish this thing off!

The wind was a little stiffer on the way back out, but it wasn’t terrible. I started to run out of steam by about mile 18 and could only manage 7:45s. When we hit the final turnaround at 19.65, I was excited that all I had to do was run back in and this whole thing was done. I started to get a little nervous, because I didn’t know how I’d be emotionally when I got to the finish. I’d been dreading that, because I didn’t know how I would react.

I started thinking a lot about my first race this year in Texas, and that dread I had, and how it had all come full circle with the (almost) completion of Operation Jack. For the most part, though, I was staying focused on my running. I needed to get my body to the finish line and the fatigue was starting to set in. I really wanted to get done. Five miles to go. Four miles to go. I was counting them down and getting excited to be done.

I had worked out something with Tiff and Jack was going to be a half-mile out from the finish and I was going to push him in while he was in a jog stroller. We hit mile 24, which is a good spot for me in a race, mentally. It starts to feel easy at that point, because I know the finish is close. Me and John took a bit of a wrong turn, but got back on track pretty quickly.

At 24.5, John told me that I only had a mile until Jack would be there. With a little over a mile to go, I saw my good friend Ben Delaney with him. Time for the handoff, time to finally get to the finish of a marathon of marathons! It’s tough to push that thing if you’r not used to it. I also had to try to keep it fairly steady, because he had a sandwich bag with celery and carrots in there, plus a sippy cup with a drink, and I didn’t want them to fall out.

I asked Ben if Jack was having a good time and he said he was just checking things out and he seemed fine. He had seen a plane a few minutes earlier and got really excited. I kept pushing, talking with John and Ben and making sure Jack was OK. The tenths were ticking down, and I wasn’t feeling the emotional overload I thought I would. I was just feeling physically beat and pushing the stroller was getting tough. Ben offered to help, but I told him no, I’d bring it in myself.

Finally, I got to the finish line and saw a bunch of people waiting for me, applauding. I kind of suspected that would happen. I saw quite a few people who had driven a considerable distance and it was nice to see them. I saw Ben, Ava and Tiff and they all came over to congratulate me.

Oh, I went 3:18:43, as if that matters. I got third place (yay for a small field!) so I got a trophy, which I was really hoping for since it says “Operation Jack Marathon” on it.

Anyways, a reporter from the Los Angeles NBC affiliate was there to do a piece on us, so I had to go straight into an interview while I tried to catch my breath. I made my way around to try to talk to everybody who was there and thank them for being there. Then I just kind of hung out for a while, watching people finish and talking to the volunteers.

Everybody seemed to like the race, which was really my biggest concern for the day. Everything seemed to go off well and it was a fun day for Train 4 Autism. In fact, several people were asking if we were going to the race again next year! I told them to wait until Tuesday to ask me that. It would be fun, I think, to put something on like this every year. But I need to decompress, first.

A couple of interesting things: I found out that a runner flew in from North Dakota just for this marathon! He flew out Saturday night, flew back after the race and it was his first-ever marathon! That totally blew my mind, and I was relieved to hear he had a great time. There was also another runner who drove down from the Bay Area for this and it was also his first marathon. I took pictures with both of them but haven’t gotten the pictures onto my computer yet. I’ll update this later.

And that’s pretty much it, I guess. Operation Jack, mission accomplished. I ran my 61 like I said I would and I went all-out every time like I said I would. It’s tough for me to really measure any accomplishments other than the money, but I’m pretty sure it was all worth it.

I’m not going to disappear now. I’ll still probably blog once or twice a week and tell bad jokes on Twitter, plus I’m going to get to work on building up my local Train 4 Autism chapter. I’ll keep pushing to try to make things better in the autism world, even though I don’t have much of a gameplan right now.

I’ll give one more reminder, as we get pretty close to the end of the year … you can still make a tax-deductible donation by clicking on the Donate Now! link at the top of any page on this site. Also, don’t hesitate to spread the word! I did this so you would talk about it. Tell your friends on Twitter and Facebook to stop by!

If there’s anything for you to remember from what I did this year, please let it be Train 4 Autism. Not that some nutty guy in California ran a whole lot of marathons.

Train 4 Autism.
Train 4 Autism.
Train 4 Autism.

Ya hear? If you ever come across somebody impacted by autism, send them this direction so I can tell them how they can use us to raise money for the autism-related charity of their choice! ANY charity!

Oh, and if you ever suspect your child is delayed, don’t wait to get treatment. Have your child evaluated so they can get treated as soon as possible. Early intervention is critical!

That’s all. Thanks for reading!

This is probably going to be a weird race report, because most of it might not be about the race. I was preoccupied with a few things during Sunday’s Jacksonville Marathon, but I knocked out marathon No. 60 of the year and I’m pretty happy with how the race went.

Real quick, just in case you’ve never been here before, I’m a father of three and a marathon runner. My middle child, 7-year-old Jack, is severely autistic. I’m attempting to use my running to help him have an impact on the world, so I’m attempting to run 61 marathons this year to raise money and awareness for a charity I’m a part of called Train 4 Autism. I wouldn’t be doing this if not for Jack, so I know that any good that comes out of this is because of him.

I named my endeavor Operation Jack, after him. As I mentioned, Jacksonville was No. 60. The finish line of my longest marathon ever is getting pretty close!

Anyways, I wasn’t too into the race mentally. I’m tired, I had a disappointing race last weekend in Tucson and I’m really busy. Back home, my wife is sick, my oldest son hasn’t been on his best behavior this weekend and Jack’s been waking up early. He woke up at 4:50 a.m. yesterday morning, leaving my wife Tiffany tired all day while she felt sick. I feel terrible when things don’t go well when I’m gone.

Today’s race started at 7 a.m., which is 4 a.m. back home. 30 minutes before the start, I got a text from Tiff that Jack was up and she didn’t think he was going back to bed. I figured she was a little middle-of-the-night groggy and tried to give her some advice to get her to go back to sleep. But I had to power down my phone about 10 minutes before the race and I knew I’d spend the entire race wondering what was exactly what happened.

I was also thinking about the race of Luke Thompson, who was running his second lifetime marathon in Jacksonville. I met him through Operation Jack and hung out with him and his friend Andy last night. I knew from his training times that we was ready to go sub-3 with ease, but he seemed nervous because he blew up in his first marathon. I talked to him about how I would run the race with his legs, and really, really hoped not to see him during the race.

And then, of course, there’s this whole Operation Jack Marathon I’m putting on next week. That’s keeping me busy and stressed. I’m worried about all the details of everything, and it’s weighing on my mind. It’s fair to say that I was looking ahead to that one.

So, my mind, while barely awake, was focused on everything but the race. But I still had to run it. My strategy, since I’ve done such a good job blowing up, was to go out, run 7:20s and accelerate my heart rate after 6 miles.

The course is flat and fast and fairly boring. I’d say 23 miles of it wrapped through residential areas. It was a nice, calm run, but it was still pretty boring. But it was a flat course and the weather was great for running. High 40s, some humidity, some wind. Not perfect, but perfect never happens and this was pretty good.

By about mile 4, I adjusted my plan. I decided to stretch that 7:20 thing to mile 10. My heart rate was in the low 160s and I wanted to remain conservative and not go for broke. I really wanted to get a Boston qualifier, so I tried to play it somewhat safe and not risk a blow-up. I’ve done enough of that lately.

I haven’t hit all of my individual performance goals this year, but I figured it would be pretty cool to BQ in my 60th marathon of the year. I’d be content with that.

As I closed in on mile 10, I was running consistently. My miles were all in that 7:20 range. Some as quick as 7:15, some as slow as 7:30 or so. Most of them were right on target and I was pretty consistent, although slowly slightly — maybe 2-3 seconds per mile by mile 10. My average pace for the race slipped from 7:18 to 7:21.

I decided to not step up my effort by heart rate. I was more interested in fighting to stay consistent since I was on target for that BQ. I decided I’d see what I had at mile 20. So, I kept rolling and started to gradually fatigue. I felt some pain in my left leg, but nothing in my right leg like I have so much over the past few months.

When I hit 20, I did the math and saw I needed to close with a 48-minute 10K to hit a 3:15, which I was confident I could do. I started to push when my body would let me. Sometimes it cooperated, sometimes it didn’t. It was nice and cool, but there was some headwind at times.

As I started to knock down those final few miles, I was doing the math in my head and could tell I was starting to build a little bit of a cushion. With three to go, I needed to average about 7:40 to get that BQ. With two to go, I needed closer to 8:00. With a mile to go, I was in great shape, although I wanted sub-3:15 — I didn’t want the extra 59 seconds you’re allowed (a 3:15:59 is a BQ).

All of a sudden, my legs got really stiff, like they wanted to quit on me. I know the feeling. They’ve been doing that a lot lately. I started thinking, “Oh, not now Sam. Not now. You’ve come too far.” I really wanted to nab that BQ in my 60th marathon of the year. I had run a solid race for 25.2 miles and I couldn’t let it slip away in one little mile.

Right then, I thought about my friend Ashley I met in St. Charles and Memphis. She has a saying about feeding a dog. There’s some profanity in there, but I ignore that part of it. The point is, when you need to suck it up and dig down and get something done, you just need to feed the dog. Feed the dog. I was telling myself, “Feed the dog, feed the dog” … I needed to own that mile. I kept repeating that to myself for a good quarter mile.

And I sure as heck owned that mile. I went 7:06, my fastest of the day. I kicked really strong at the end and hit the final 0.3 at a 6:10 pace. I went 3:14:21. I was so happy, you have no idea. It wasn’t my fastest run, it wasn’t my best run. But I dug down hard and this time I got it done. I was really happy about that. I’ll look back at this race and not really remember much of anything except for getting it done in that last mile. I’m completely content with this one.

After the race, I found Luke. I figured with his talk of how he was going to approach the race, he would go conservative and run a 2:57. But he went for it because he felt great and went 2:54:51. Also, I talked to Tiff and Jack went back to sleep. She woke up feeling well rested and she didn’t feel as sick as she did.

All-in-all, a great day. And to top it all off, I’m going to fly home tonight and I won’t have to leave any more for Operation Jack! Next week’s race is less than a one-hour drive from my house!

So there you have it — 60 down, ONE to go!

I headed into Sunday’s Tucson Marathon thinking I had a shot at running faster than my current personal best of 3:00:05. I’ve been chasing that elusive sub-3 (faster than three hours) for three years now. After 26.2 miles on Sunday, I’m still chasing. The course reinforced two things I kind of knew going into the race. Marathons are hard. And I’m out of gas.

Just in case you’ve never been here before, I’m a father of three and a marathon runner. I’m attempting to run 61 marathons in 2010 to raise money and awareness for a charity I’m a part of called Train 4 Autism because my middle child, 7-year-old Jack, is severely autistic. I named this endeavor Operation Jack and Tucson was marathon No. 59 of the year.

This is the course where I ran my best time back in 2007 and I went in optimistic I could challenge the time. There were plenty of reasons to doubt that I could. Like, it was my 59th marathon of the year and I ran a pair of slow marathons last weekend (3:26, 3:32). But I’m a strong downhill runner and Tucson is a downhill course. It’s still tough, because it’s painful to pound down hills, but it’s one that’s geared towards my strengths as a runner.

Right now, I don’t have any speed, but I feel fairly strong. My gameplan was to stay focused early, hit my miles, don’t go too hard (by heart rate) and do everything I can to fight through pain in the second half of the race. Lately, when I’ve been falling apart, I’ve been in too much pain to fight past 160 bpm on my heart rate monitor when I should be running at 170. At 170, I have the speed I need. It’s just incredibly painful for me to keep it there.

So, I expected this one to hurt. But I viewed it as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Realistically, this is my last chance at it this year. It would be an incredible way to put a cherry on top of these 61 marathons I’m running. And a sub-3 next year, something I have no worries about getting, just wouldn’t be the same. So this was my race. I thought it was going to be my day. I’ll never get this chance again. I was ready to dig as deep as I could.

All of my superstition was lined up. By random chance, I booked a room at the same motel I stayed at when I set my personal best. I also flew into Tucson in 2007 and this year, unlike the other three times I ran the race and drove. I even ate at the same restaurant the night before. I was ready!

So, we started and I got rolling. It’s exciting going through the start line and wondering, “Is this my day?” I ran my PR in my ninth lifetime marathon. Sunday was my 87th. Someday that day is going to come. I felt good early, fast on the downhills, a little slow on the uphills. I didn’t get excited or concerned about anything, because a marathon is a long, long ways to run. There are some rolling hills and once I came out of there, I was flying. Everything was going according the way I thought it would early.

At about mile 10, we turned onto a section called Bioshpere Road. It’s a boring, hilly out-and back with a net gain of roughly 250 over two miles before we turned around. I knew this section was critical to my day. If I came out of it well, I figured I’d have a fighting chance heading back down the hill after we turned back out. On the way out, the hills took a lot out of me. I didn’t go attack them too hard, but I could tell they set me back. There’s a fine line between going too slow and not being able to turn it back on and going too hard too early and emptying the tank. I think I ran them fairly well, but for me, right now, running a sub-3 marathon is just too much.

I was well hydrated heading into the race, but I was starting to feel thirsty. The sun sun was starting to come out, too. The four previous times I’ve run this one, the temperature at the start was about 39 and at the finish it was about 62. This time it was about 10 degrees warmer across the board.

I hit the half in 1:33 flat and knew I wasn’t going sub-3. I can’t hit 1:27 in the second half of a marathon. About 10 seconds later, though, I told myself not to count myself out. I told anybody who would listen that I was going to do everything I could to find my highest gear. I was in it, and I was determined to find out what it would bring.

I kept rolling and the downhill miles I was running earlier in 6:20-6:40 were taking about 7:05 or so. 6:50 is about what I need for sub-3, and I needed to make up time, so at mile 14, when I saw that 7-minute mile, I knew it wasn’t happening. I felt good, though. My legs were turning well, I felt strong, and I thought I had a good chance and something between a 3:03 and 3:05.

At mile 17, though, I totally bonked. It was miserable. I went from running 7s to running 8:50s out of nowhere. I kept my heart rate high and got nothing out of myself. I was running downhill, but I felt like I was running uphill. I was in pain physically, and internally, I didn’t feel tremendously well.

I knew the death march was on and I watched my average time gradually creep up. I didn’t know when I was going to snap back into it. The 3:10 started slipping away. Then the 3:15 pace group passed me. I thought I was going to go 3:17 or so again. I’ve run a bunch of those this year and I ran that in Tucson last year.

I tried to shuffle but that didn’t work. I couldn’t get my body to respond. It hated me and it was protesting. I started visualizing the finish, wondering if I’d be able to stand when I was done. It was starting to seem really nice to just collapse and lay down when I crossed through, because I was about as beat-down physically as I’ve been. I didn’t want to do that, though, because my dad was there at the finish and he probably would have freaked seeing me go med-tent.

Anyways, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t kick late at all. I had to fight to hang on to sub-3:20, and couldn’t even get my pace quicker than 8:00. I crossed the line in 3:19:38. It was a brutal, brutal experience.

Looking back a few hours after the finish, here’s my quick analysis. I went all-in, went for something that was beyond my reach, and paid the price. It wasn’t necessarily going out too fast, like running at 10K pace. But I really beat myself up bad early and I don’t have enough in me to put in 26 solid miles nowadays. I clearly ran out of gas and had to deal with it.

Going back, would I run it any differently? No way. This was sub-3 or die trying, one last time during Operation Jack. I wanted something like this. I wanted the feeling of knowing I killed it and that’s what I got. When you do what I’m doing, you want the feeling of knowing you went all in, even if you failed, and that’s what I’m did. So, I’m totally content with this one.

After the race, I got my phone and texted my wife Tiffany, like I always do, to let her know I was OK.

“Done and safe, MISERABLE day. 3:19”

She texted me right back.

“It’s okay babe. God wanted u to save the sub 3 for when I’m out there with u. 🙂 love u and am o proud of u.”

Ahhh, chicks. There supposed to be the ones who cry. But she made me teary-eyed with that.

So there you have it. 59 down, 2 to go. I’m really almost there!

No matter how many marathons you run, they’re never easy. They’re tough. They’re painful. For me, though, I think I took the tough and painful aspects to a new level in Sunday’s Las Vegas Rock ‘N Roll Marathon. In 85 previous lifetime marathons, I don’t think I ever felt as much physical pain as I did in this one.

Real quick, just in case you’ve never been here before, I’m a father of three and a marathon runner. My middle child, 7-year-old Jack, is severely autistic. I wanted to do something to try to make a difference and make sure he has an impact on the world, so I’m attempting to run 61 marathons this year to raise money and awareness for a charity I’m a part of called Train 4 Autism.

Las Vegas was my 58th of the year, my second of the weekend. I ran the Memphis St. Jude Marathon Saturday (recap here), so I knew it would be a tough run for me. I’ve run maybe a dozen or so doubles in my life, including seven (plus a triple) this year. I know the drill — I wake up, it hurts, I run through it and that’s pretty much it. They’re tough, but manageable.

I headed out for the race expecting a tough day and I got it. Like yesterday, I never felt good or locked in anything remotely close to a groove. It was a tough weekend, no question. The first half of the course was fun to run, up and down the Las Vegas Strip. Las Vegas isn’t my kind of place, but it was fun nonetheless.

The Downtown area was pretty fascinating to me. I love running through bad parts of town because I don’t really go to those areas in my normal, everyday life, so it’s eye-opening to see. I saw some motels and businesses in the area and couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that people actually go there. A lot of shady-looking stuff I typically stay away from.

Anyways, I felt terrible physically. I was in a ton of pain and my right foot and knee hurt pretty bad. Sometimes I’ll start a race and suffer through some pain before I get warm, but that pain feeling never went away today. And by about mile 8, I could tell my stride was shortening. That’s always the beginning of the end, and while I don’t normally get that way in a marathon until mile 23 or 24, it’s been happening around 17 or 18 lately.

It’s tough mentally to know you’re cooked with nothing but deterioration ahead with 18 miles left in the race. I tried to shuffle every here and there to see if I could resuscitate my legs, but that didn’t really help. Because of pain in my IT band in my right leg, I ran a good chunk of the second half of the race with a hop and a limp.

I tried to push, but I also threw myself a little bit of a pity party. It was absolutely miserable. The second half of the course was lousy, wrapping through industrial parks. It was boring and completely unremarkable. I guess I’m biased about Las Vegas — I lived there for a year and didn’t like it. But that second half reminded me of everything I didn’t like. Just not my kind of place.

It hurt, I struggled, I limped, I shuffled, and I just couldn’t wait to get to the finish. I’m not sure how to really use words to get this across, but this was the most physically painful and miserable marathon I’ve ever run. It was just another time for me to realize that I’ve really run myself into the ground this year.

I had no idea what time I was going to run, but I was behind the 3:30 pace group and in front of the 3:35, and it looked like it was going to be about a 3:33. With about a mile to go, there was a small hill on an overpass and I decided that’s where I would make my kick.

This might sound really odd, but while I’m doing everything this year so that Jack can have an impact on the world, I don’t really dedicate portions of my race to him. When I’m running, I’m going all-out, and I try to focus as well as I can on taking care of myself and managing my body. It’s a certain mindset I have when I’m locked in and I concentrate on pounding away. I have 165 hours a week to take care of everything else. I spend three hours concentrating on running my best.

Well today, at that overpass with a mile to go, I told myself I was going to kill it for Jack. I have no idea why got that into my mind — I don’t think I’ve done that all year. But for some reason, I did this time and I started flying. I found the gear I normally have and started passing everybody.

I took a quick glance at my Garmin and it looked like I was heading for a 3:33. I could tell that my form was good and I was moving well, but I didn’t know if I’d be able to hold until the finish. I must have have heard 20 people comment about how I was finishing strong. I’m faster than 3:33 runners, so I knew I had the ability to suck it up and go faster than those around me at that point. It’s just frustrating that I can’t suck it up and really go for 26.2 nowadays. Next year, next year.

Anyways, I saw the finish line with about 3/10 of a mile to go and looked at my time and saw I had a good chance at a 3:32. That’s nothing good for me, but it’s still better than a 3:33. I gave it all I had and made it across in 3:32:58.

So, I guess to sum it all up, it wasn’t a great run by any stretch of the imagination, but I know it was all I had, so I can’t really complain.

One more thing I want to add about this race is that my brother ran the half marathon for Operation Jack. He did a great job fundraising and was really excited about this and proud to be running in honor of his nephew. He has problems with his knees and hip because of a car accident he was in when he was 16 (he’s had six or seven surgeries), but he’s been training and wanted to go sub-2. I thought he was ready, and I still think he has the ability, but he battled with fueling issues and went 2:12.

It wasn’t everything he was capable of, but he gave it his all and I’m proud of him for the effort and passion he showed for this race.

And I guess that’s about it on this one. 58 down, three to go. We’re getting pretty close!

Saturday’s St. Jude Memphis Marathon was unlike any other marathon I’ve run this year, so my race report will be much unlike any other race report I’ve written. I had a tough day, but I’m really glad I ran this race. I have to break this one up into segments, because this isn’t really about the race.

Why I Ran Memphis
This is basically the 61st race of Operation Jack, even though it was only my 57th marathon of the year. I originally had 60 on the schedule, but Operation Jack supporter Lance Haney asked me to come run Memphis with him. I was already locked in for Las Vegas the next day, so adding the race forced me to bump my year from 60 to 61 marathons.

I was fine with that, because really, at that point, what’s the difference?

Why I Feel Like I Was Meant To Be There
I don’t talk about my faith all that much here, but I know that on multiple occasions, I’ve mentioned that I’m extremely grateful for how I’ve been blessed and I truly believe that God has led me down the path I’ve been on for a reason. When I talk about the path I’m on, I’m not talking about Operation Jack — I’m talking about everything since the day I was born. I’m part of His plan, and I’m grateful for that.

I missed registering before the race filled up, so the only way I was able to get in was to become a St. Jude’s Hero, which meant raising $500 for St. Jude. St. Jude is a hospital in Memphis that is a national leader in pediatric cancer treatment and research. My focus is on autism this year, but I didn’t mind switching gears to raise money for such a great cause.

I gave Lance my word that I’d run Memphis with him and this was my only way in. So I did it and raised the money pretty quickly. Even before I had to become a Hero, I was happy that my entry fee was going towards such a great cause. St. Jude sent me a special maroon Heroes singlet and I knew without a moment of hesitation that I’d wear that instead of my Operation Jack tank for the race. This would be a St. Jude race for me. It was obviously meant to be that way.

About three weeks ago, Lance got a stress fracture and had to drop out of the race. I was pretty bummed for a few reasons. Obviously, I don’t want anybody to get injured and not be able to participate in a goal race. But this also meant I wouldn’t get to meet him.

Both of my reasons for originally running the race changed. I have a lot of faith that everything worked out the way it was supposed to.

The Day Before
Since I was in Memphis, I got to meet up with Laura Sullivan, who I got to meet in Mississippi and Nashville earlier this year. She’s a big supporter of what I’m doing and has been there to kick my butt behind the scenes when I needed it, so it was good to spend some time visiting with her again. She was in town to run the half.

The night before the race, I went to the Heroes dinner with three people I’ve met through Operation Jack — Chris Humphries (who was with his wife), Jennifer Whitter and Ashley Schafer. Chris was also a Hero for the race, although he raised a lot more money than me. Jennifer is great and helped me out a lot when I was in St. Louis in October. Ashley cracks me up and ran Memphis as her first marathon. She digs what I’m doing and it was great to see her.

We all sat at the same table and were having a good time. Then the program began. The speaker was the mother of an 11-year-old girl who died last year of neuroblastoma, a cancer that develops in the nerve cells of children. Hearing her speak was the most heartbreaking thing I’ve heard in a long, long time. I think the part that got me the most was how she said her daughter told her within weeks of her death that she wouldn’t have changed her fate, because she thought God was saving her from something worse down the road.

I guess you had to be there, but it took every ounce of testosterone in my body not to sob uncontrollably. My eyes definitely welled up with tears and my chest was convulsing. To be there and to hear that was a a very real reminder to me of how fortunate I am. When she was talking about her daughter, I tried to imagine my Ava being in her daughter’s position and I couldn’t. What I raised is a drop in the bucket for St. Jude. But I was glad I did.

Without being a Hero, I wouldn’t have been at the dinner and heard that. Again, it was all meant to be.

The Race
So anyways, I ran the race. The course is moderately hilly. Not an easy course, but not an incredibly difficult course. Temps were fairly cool, in the mid-50s at the start and probably about 60 when it ended. Humidity was very high (84 percent) and it was windy, maybe 20-25 mph at several points in the race.

Walking around before the race, my right knee started to hurt the way it has been lately — flare-ups from tendinits and an inflamed IT band. Once I got going, I felt fine, though. Well, my knee did. My body never felt good. I knew from about the first mile that I didn’t have it and it was going to be a long day.

I started to feel sluggish at about mile 8 and I could feel my stride starting to shorten at about mile 12. That’s way too early for that. Things got progressively worse, although while the day seemed to drag on, the miles flew by. I guess I’m getting used to the routine.

I wasn’t crazy about the course. I enjoyed running down Beale, seeing the local culture. And at mile 2, I heard a house up on a hill blasting “Walking In Memphis,” which I guess I had to hear at least once. The highlight of the course was running through the St. Jude campus. There were a fair amount of people there. I don’t know if any of them were patients. I’d figure a lot of the adults were parents or relatives of patients.

Since I was wearing my Heroes singlet, I heard, “thank you hero!” a lot throughout the race from spectators. I heard it a lot at St. Jude, and I assumed that was coming from parents of patients. Again, my eyes started to well up. I was so glad to be a part of this and to have done a tiny part to help.

Throughout the race, it was constantly on my mind how much of a message I was getting. I knew I was meant to be there. I’m so grateful that while I have a son who has a permanent mental disability and will struggle with his autism forever, forever will be a long time. None of my kids have any life-threatening diseases.

So, I ran a marathon in 3:26, about 12 minutes slower than I’d hoped. Big deal. I get another try tomorrow. Life could be worse.

By the way, if you’d like to make a donation to St. Jude’s, click here to visit my donation page!