The best laid plans of mice...

Once upon a time (2004), I discovered marathon running. I trained hard, and even though I bonked from running too hard, too soon, I finished my first 26.2 mile race. I was in agony and could hardly walk for a couple of days. But I was really happy with 4:33:36. My first marathon. How could I not be happy? So few people take part in and complete one. I experienced my first runner's high.

That first time

If you've finished a marathon, then you've had that runners high. That feeling that you can achieve anything. In that rush of blood to the head, I resolved to beat that time the following year, and thus began my addiction.

The following year, 2005, I trained harder, determined to smash that time. I did. Boy oh boy, did I smash it. By almost 40 minutes! 

My best ever marathon time

The runners high was something else. I thought I was superhuman and indestructible. In 2006 I posted another sub four hour time.

Another sub-4 time

It wasn't a better time, but it was under four hours again. I figured that I was ready to try for a Boston marathon qualifier time. I dug out training plans, and researched hard. As the training progressed I was pretty much on the ball, following workouts to the letter. Mid-length midweek runs were tough but I got nearly all of them in. I did a lot of research into race nutrition. As a convinced Hammer nutrition user I found something called Perpetuem. This was a specially formulated long-distance fuel. Not terribly nice tasting by itself, but you could mix Hammer Gels in for taste. Long runs went well with it. I began to feel that a BQ time of three hours 20 minutes was within my grasp. Race weekend arrived and we headed up to our friends in Ashland. 

When we got there it was chilly. The weather forecast for race day was cold. It would be below freezing at race start time. People were buying cold weather running gear from the traders at the expo. I didn’t have anything myself so I was amongst those rushing to buy new clothing. 

The temperatures on race day

It was cold at start time. Below freezing. This was the first time I had experienced a truly cold race. I’ve had a few cold Whistlestop marathons since then. But this first one was a shock to the system. However, my Mizuno Breath Thermo clothing was keeping me warm. The starter gave the order and we were on our way. I set off at the required 7:38 mile pace. It felt really comfortable. About 40 minutes in, I had my first refuel. I reached for a flask, raised it to my mouth and squeezed.

Nothing.

I squeezed harder.

Still nothing. I checked that the top was open. It was. What was the matter?

The flask was almost solid. It wasn’t frozen, but it had thickened so much in the cold that it was almost impossible to squeeze the substance out of the flask. I took what I could, which wasn’t much.

Realization set in. What was I going to do? Five miles into the race and I had no fuel. I was exactly on pace. I could have pulled out but I decided to keep going for as long as I could. Ten miles in and I was still on pace. Then at about 12 miles, with no fueling. I hit the wall. I made it the rest of the way on Powerade and any snacks that I could get from spectators on the route. It was getting warmer as the race progressed. Perhaps the perpetuem was thinning. I never thought to check. I don’t recall much else, I made it home in 4:06:51

4:06:51 is not a bad time.

That’s not a bad time either. But when it should have been 46 minutes faster than that. It was terrible. I was very disappointed. Psychologically, I think that it had a big effect on me. I had planned and trained so very hard for that race, only to have everything upset by the cold weather. I haven’t run faster than 3:56:47 since. Only twice have I been below four hours. I went through a long, long phase of not being bothered with my finish times. I enjoyed running and enjoyed marathons. I loved being out there in the fresh air, being cheered on by spectators, and I knew that if I just did the training I could get home.  

It’s taken a long time to get that enthusiasm and desire for better times back. I’m over 15 years older and wiser. There’s still some good times left in these legs yet. Let’s see if I can find them.