Distance: 1.5 miles
Time: unk
Pace: unk
Comments: The first time back on the pavement since the marathon. Needless to say this was an exploratory effort.
I was understandably achy from the get go and I headed out gingerly as a result. I found if I rolled my step forward and kept from landing on my heel, it relieved a lot of the pounding.
But it was touch and go for more than half-a-mile and then I had enough of it and decided to try and just run despite the soreness. Interesting discovery, I now have the ability to tell the pain to "piss off."
William Wallace at the end of Braveheart...? Pussy.
What was frustrating was feeling like I wanted to just run. I wanted to just hit a stride and get it going. But, even though the strength was there to do it the soreness of my hips wasn't going to let it happen.
Anyhow, I put in close to a mile and a half and that was it. I thought about timing it but decided against it. No need to push my limits right now.
One interesting thing. My watch still had my marathon time on it. Hitting "Reset" and setting it back to zero really felt like I was putting the disappointment of the race behind me and I was starting the effort to do it better in the next one.
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Marathon Training Summary: Week 16
Arriving home after the race meant facing my last huge challenge of the day - the stairs. It's just two short flights but it was like climbing a mountain without the benefit of porters. I did it on my own but every one of the 16 steps was as hard as the final mile of the marathon. Especially after sitting down for 45 minutes on the ride home.
But I made it. Under my own power. And somehow found a little extra strength to crawl into bed as well. Dad had bought my ice for my ritual post-run bath. I told him not to bother. I certainly couldn't handle any more pain and I was more than a little worried I would pass out due to the extreme level of fatigue.
Mom had a few pain pills left over from an operation she had last year. These turned out to be my saving grace. I'm not really big on self-medicating oneself but these worked to cut the edge off the agony so I could at least approximate comfort. The pain didn't go away, but it stayed in the corner on the other side of the room for a little while at least.
The rest of the day I spent laying in the bed with my legs propped up with pillows. Any movement was agony so there was not much chance of any walking to work out the soreness like most running guides seem to suggest.
My family was a big help at this point. I was, needless to say, somewhat upset over my performance and my condition. Everyone took time to come visit me in my sickbed and show support. I really appreciated talking with my cousin and my uncle - both experienced marathoners. Going back over my race with them gave me an important perspective to understand what actually happened over those 26.2 miles.
Sleep was not in the cards Sunday night. Even with the help of a percocet I was simply in too much pain to sleep. Every movement caused a stabby feeling that woke me right up. Even the weight of the sheets was painful to my sore muscles. Finally, early in the morning, I fell asleep for a few hours.
I woke up at 5 a.m. or so and lay there in the darkness trying to figure out what to do. It was pretty clear I had to get up but the level of soreness made that an unpleasant prospect. I finally got up the willpower to pull myself up and swing my legs over the side of the bed using my arms.
Trying to stand up didn't work so well. Every joint in my lower body felt like it was being stabbed with icepicks simultaniously. So I did the only thing I could do - I crawled by my hands to the bathroom. It was - by far - the lowest point of the whole experience for me.
I made a hot bath and filled it with a full bag of epsom salt. That half-hour soaking was as close to comfortable as I experienced in the 24 hour period. Getting out was a sad moment for me. But, to my surprise, I found I could get out. Even stand. Sorta.
Using the walls of the bathroom and hallway for support I made it back to the bed in what could almost pass for a walk. I got back into bed, propped up the legs and tried to focus on the positive.
I had scheduled a post-race massage for 8 a.m. but it was pretty clear that wasn't going to happen. Getting down the stairs to the car would be asking way too much. I called them, explained what happened and they agreed it wasn't a good idea. We rescheduled for later in the week.
Throughout the day, the legs started to feel better although it was very very slow in happening. The pain pills helped some. I made it a point not to try and walk for a few hours after taking one due a concern I would push my injured legs too far.
In the early 1990s when I lived in North Carolina I got hit by a car walking across the street. A neighbor of my parents - who lived by a farm north of Durham - gave me a cane he made from a piece of hardwood. Mom was keeping it in an umbrella stand and by afternoon I was using it to walk around the house a bit.
Last night I slept better. The pain pill and a largish dinner got me a few good hours at the start. I woke up several times and couldn't turn at all in bed but, overall, I got a some solid sleep in.
This morning I was able to hobble to the bathroom using my cane and, since then, I have even been able to go up and down the stairs once or twice. I'm hoping that by Thursday or Friday I can take a walk around the neighborhood.
But I made it. Under my own power. And somehow found a little extra strength to crawl into bed as well. Dad had bought my ice for my ritual post-run bath. I told him not to bother. I certainly couldn't handle any more pain and I was more than a little worried I would pass out due to the extreme level of fatigue.
Mom had a few pain pills left over from an operation she had last year. These turned out to be my saving grace. I'm not really big on self-medicating oneself but these worked to cut the edge off the agony so I could at least approximate comfort. The pain didn't go away, but it stayed in the corner on the other side of the room for a little while at least.
The rest of the day I spent laying in the bed with my legs propped up with pillows. Any movement was agony so there was not much chance of any walking to work out the soreness like most running guides seem to suggest.
My family was a big help at this point. I was, needless to say, somewhat upset over my performance and my condition. Everyone took time to come visit me in my sickbed and show support. I really appreciated talking with my cousin and my uncle - both experienced marathoners. Going back over my race with them gave me an important perspective to understand what actually happened over those 26.2 miles.
Sleep was not in the cards Sunday night. Even with the help of a percocet I was simply in too much pain to sleep. Every movement caused a stabby feeling that woke me right up. Even the weight of the sheets was painful to my sore muscles. Finally, early in the morning, I fell asleep for a few hours.
I woke up at 5 a.m. or so and lay there in the darkness trying to figure out what to do. It was pretty clear I had to get up but the level of soreness made that an unpleasant prospect. I finally got up the willpower to pull myself up and swing my legs over the side of the bed using my arms.
Trying to stand up didn't work so well. Every joint in my lower body felt like it was being stabbed with icepicks simultaniously. So I did the only thing I could do - I crawled by my hands to the bathroom. It was - by far - the lowest point of the whole experience for me.
I made a hot bath and filled it with a full bag of epsom salt. That half-hour soaking was as close to comfortable as I experienced in the 24 hour period. Getting out was a sad moment for me. But, to my surprise, I found I could get out. Even stand. Sorta.
Using the walls of the bathroom and hallway for support I made it back to the bed in what could almost pass for a walk. I got back into bed, propped up the legs and tried to focus on the positive.
I had scheduled a post-race massage for 8 a.m. but it was pretty clear that wasn't going to happen. Getting down the stairs to the car would be asking way too much. I called them, explained what happened and they agreed it wasn't a good idea. We rescheduled for later in the week.
Throughout the day, the legs started to feel better although it was very very slow in happening. The pain pills helped some. I made it a point not to try and walk for a few hours after taking one due a concern I would push my injured legs too far.
In the early 1990s when I lived in North Carolina I got hit by a car walking across the street. A neighbor of my parents - who lived by a farm north of Durham - gave me a cane he made from a piece of hardwood. Mom was keeping it in an umbrella stand and by afternoon I was using it to walk around the house a bit.
Last night I slept better. The pain pill and a largish dinner got me a few good hours at the start. I woke up several times and couldn't turn at all in bed but, overall, I got a some solid sleep in.
This morning I was able to hobble to the bathroom using my cane and, since then, I have even been able to go up and down the stairs once or twice. I'm hoping that by Thursday or Friday I can take a walk around the neighborhood.
Sunday, January 14, 2007
2007 Rock 'n' Roll Arizona Marathon
Official Time: 4:20:02
Actual Time: 4:20:22
After almost a year of preparation, effort and worry raceday finally arrived. The good news - I was able to finish my first marathon. The bad news? It was a complete and total disaster
My hope had been to at least get in spitting distance of the Boston Marathon qualifying time for my age group of 3 hours 15 minutes. I came in almost a full hour behind that at 4 hours 20 minutes and change.
The mile splits tell the story. I stuck with the pace group starting out which had me reeling in 7:20 min/mile for the first six miles or so. I got to the halfway point at 1 hour 41 minutes which put me at a 7:44 min/mile. By the 20 mile marker, which I crossed at 2 hours 55 minutes, that had slid to 8:46 min per mile. The final tally was 9:55 min per mile.
So what happened? I guess it was a perfect storm of bad luck and bad decisions. To figure it out it would probably be best to start at the beginning.
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