JW Run Blog 4: Inside-the-Park Homer

Inside-the-Park Homer

Bay State Marathon 2009

The fact that at age 55 I have been a runner for 20 years would be a surprise to my younger self. When I was younger, running was always a means to an end: catching up to a racquetball or an opposing striker. But at some point, it came to be me. My days begin with a run. My calendar features races. And I inhabit a runner’s frame. 

But after two marathons in October 2007, my body pretty much fell apart. My training log for the remainder of 2007 has notes like “sore hip” and “can still feel hip soreness.” Duh. I had been ignoring or running through soreness for a while. It came to the point where I was limping at home and at work. Later I would realize that ignoring injuries was a classic “beginning runner” thing. “Just run through it, it’ll get better.” Until it doesn’t. So I bit the bullet and started with physical therapy. 

My main issue was with the muscles in my right leg--the adductors. I remember saying to the physical therapist, “I’m probably just being a hypochondriac.” He started working on me and it became clear that I had some real issues. My training log at this point has notes “painful physical therapy” and “more painful physical therapy.” The therapy went on for about five months. During that time, I biked and did elliptical training at Work Out World (aka WOW), which was less than half a mile from my back door. In May 2008 I started running again. My race log shows that I ran a bunch of shorter races from May to July, and my times didn’t suck. The biking and elliptical had kept me in decent shape. I stored this idea away, and it was to come in handy later. 

I ran a PR of 1:37 (7:25 pace) at the Bay State Half Marathon in October of 2008. Based on charts that show how results in shorter races typically translate into a marathon time, it seemed that I should be able to run a qualifying time of 3:30 for Boston. That would be 15 minutes faster than my best marathon to date, but I wanted to try. Mel C. had been working with a coach named Lowell Ladd and having solid results, so I contacted him. Lowell lives north of Philadelphia and is an excellent runner. He and I hit it off (and he didn’t charge an arm and a leg), so I started working with him in 2009. We met once a week via phone, and I entered my daily workouts into his website so that he could see what I was up to. He prescribed workouts for me in two-week chunks. The main changes he made to my previous training regimens were to increase the overall mileage and to make my track workouts better geared toward the marathon. His track workouts typically consisted of longer intervals (e.g., repeat miles) and more of them. I also ran 6 days a week. It was very helpful to have someone to answer to, and I followed his plans closely. 

Lowell would get on my case if I did my regular runs at too fast a pace. “It’s all about time on your feet for those runs,” he would say. If I pushed too hard on the easy runs, it raised the risk of injury. At the same time, however, his speed workouts were tough. The culminating speed workout, prescribed for the Wednesday 11 days prior to the marathon, was called “cruise intervals,” and it consisted of 3 x 2.5 miles (7:20 pace) with 400 meters of recovery between. I remember thinking, “I hope you know what you’re doing, Lowell.”

Training for a marathon with a goal time in mind was motivating, but it was also unnerving. What if I really couldn’t run a 3:30? What if I was indeed a head case? It would be crushing to train so hard and fall short. I remember Lowell saying to me, “Marathon training is unusual in that you don’t run the actual distance during training. You do long runs, you do daily runs, and you do speed. And on race day, the training all comes together.” 

Lowell also talked to me about the mental part of the race--about having a plan and having a well of motivation to draw from when I needed it. Before the marathon, I pulled together some thoughts that I felt would help fortify me. 

Keep Going

1. All that training. Think of the runs, the effort, the discipline. You did it all. And you did 16 miles at 8:00 pace in June!
2. The family. Draw strength from them, their support. Be a good example for the boys. 
3. GNRC. Be strong and go for it. 
4. Don’t let Dave beat you.
5. Yourself. Picture yourself going over the finishing line with a qualifying time.
6. Your coach. Give a good report of it.
7. You know the highs and the lows after a marathon. Make this a high.

Strong, strong, strong. Nothing short of the goal.

Keep good form. Lean in. Wheels. All energy forward.

Be smart. At 18 miles you should have banked 3 minutes. You can use that time at the end if you need it. But keep banking time. 

A couple of items here need a little explanation: “Dave” is from the club. We had planned to pace each other. The part about “lean in” and “wheels” came from a video called Chi Running that my sister Holly got for me. The focus in the video was proper form, which I had been working on. 

Before the race I paid attention to carbo loading. The day before the race, I ate almost 100% carbs. Two hours before the race I had a bagel with honey. My fuel of choice at that point was PowerGel, which was less viscous than GU and didn’t require water to swallow. I had figured out that my body appreciated the fuel every 35 minutes. I took a Tylenol 2 hours before the race and another at 16 miles. The weather on race day was 40 degrees with drizzle. I wore a tech t-shirt, a thin shell, thin mittens, a hat, shorts, and a newish pair of Nike Zoom Elites. And to solve the issue I had with grabbing water cups and having the water end up all over me, I landed on the strategy of bringing a short straw (tucked into my watch band) that I used to drink efficiently. That worked brilliantly. Those of you reading this who are not runners may think, “Holy cow, obsess much?” The answer for this race was wholeheartedly, “YES.”

The course at Bay State in nearby Lowell, MA, is flat and fast. My pace needed to be 8:00 to achieve a 3:30. I had talked with Lowell about going out a little faster than that and banking some time. My mile paces for the first 10 miles varied between 7:32 and 7:57. From miles 11-20, my paces were 7:45-8:00. There were indeed some tough points along the way where I was suffering and had to go to the “well of inspiration.” I drew from both the positive and negative emotions--love, fear, pride--whatever seemed to fit the moment. 

I clocked mile 22 at 7:39 and allowed myself a glimmer of hope. I had banked a decent amount of time by then, so even if I fell apart, I thought I could reach my 3:30 goal. I had been running with Dave the whole way, and at mile 22, I pulled away. I did mile 24 at 7:50 and knew I had it. The last mile was very emotional. I knew I was going to make it--not only make it, but crush it. I just put the hammer down. My 7:32 pace for that mile equaled my pace at mile 2. The last bit of the race went around the outfield of the minor league ballpark in Lowell. I zipped around the outfield, crossed the finish line at 3:24:23, and broke down in joy. I was just so utterly overjoyed. I had never had that feeling in an athletic endeavor. I had qualified with more than 6 minutes to spare. 

I would wait a year and a half to run Boston as a qualifier.