you're doing it wrong

it has nothing to do with thanksgiving.

if you're in france you should be eating duck

i dont like duck

Hello, POG.

First of all: Congrats, Kokiri!

Second: My 2009 running season came to an ass-kicking conclusion yesterday. I have put in 770 miles (including elliptical work converted to running mileage) over the last 212 days, lost about 25 pounds over the year (down to 187 from a high of 212) and as for my times, here's all my races since last year's Turkey Trot (which was my first race in 14 years):

800 meters
July 21, 2009 - All-Comers meet, 3:07

Mile
July 7, 2009 - All-Comers meet, 7:31

5K
Nov. 27, 2008 - Turkey Trot at HCC, 30:54
May 31, 2009 - Chambersburg YMCA, 30:46 (hard course)
June 20, 2009 - YMCA Tantillo/Barr, 28:30
Nov. 26, 2009 - Turkey Trot at HCC, 24:50

5 Miles
Aug. 8, 2009 - Ausherman, 46:33 (road race)
Aug. 22, 2009 - Gary Brown, 48:30 (trail race)

Half-Marathon
Oct. 3, 2009 - Freedom's Run, 2:16:49

I took more than six minutes off my 5K PR in a year. Holy ****.

My racing schedule for next year includes:

May 2 - Frederick Marathon
Several 5Ks and 5-milers over summer
Nov. 20 - JFK 50-Mile ultramarathon

I'm going to try to run every step of the marathon and finish in about 4:30. The JFK will be a run/walk event, goal will be about 10 hours but as long as I cross the finish (14-hour limit) I will be elated.

Dan,

What do you anticipate your training to be like for the ultra?

and congrats btw on your incredible progress

dan,

you are awesome

amp

The ultra will be a year-long building and it really starts with the marathon I'll be doing. My peak mileage week leading up to the half-marathon was 40 miles ... I'll probably start January at 30 miles/week (with my long run being 10 miles) and build up to about 50 miles/week (long run 16-18) at the start of April before tapering down. I'll take two weeks' recovery after the marathon, then spend most of the summer at 30-40 miles/week before building once again at the start of September up to about 60 miles/week the first week of November (long run 20 miles) before tapering again into JFK.

A lot of people overtrain for these big events. As long as you can do a continuous 15-16 mile run before a marathon or 20-22 for an ultra (especially one you plan on walking portions of), the adrenaline of race day will get you through the rest of it.

My typical training week looks like this: Sunday recovery run (3-5 miles slow), Monday moderate tempo run (3-4 miles), Tuesday recovery run (3 miles), Wednesday track speed intervals (usually 3-4 miles total work), Thursday recovery run (3 miles), Friday moderate tempo run (4-5 miles), Saturday long run (10+ miles). Obviously as I build toward the marathon/ultra the numbers across the board will increase.

EDIT: Thanks, Amp. I do miss POG at times, but then, I've got a lot going on in my life now that I'm thankful for.

Don't discount the fact that at a certain point you simply run out of muscle glycogen.

This is what the term 'hitting the wall' all about. For a marathon you can overcome this because you're not going to run out of glycogen until around mile 20 if you're decently trained-- but for an ultra, from what I've read at least, you have to train your muscles to do without glycogen and to burn fat for fuel, and I'm not sure long runs of 22 miles are enough.

Of course I've never ran further than 18 or so miles in a single day......

The biggest key to completing an ultra (other than proper training and, yes, eating right the 3-4 days before) is nutrition/hydration during the actual race. The JFK has 14 aid stations with plenty to eat and drink. The key is using them wisely.

EDIT: I also know of people who completed the JFK run/walking it who have never done more than 10 continuous miles running at a time (in training). I'm not THAT crazy ... but by the math, with a 14-hour time limit, you can run just 15-20 of the 50 miles and still finish. However, if I was trying to be competitive and finish under 8 hours ... in that case my long run would probably need to reach 30 miles for the reasons you mention.

I'd say the biggest key is being ****ing insane.

+1

But, hey, enjoy yourself

Oh, how many times I've heard that.

I'll have plenty of company, though. 1,500 insane ****ers at the marathon and 1,000 at JFK.

from someone who actually has run some decently serious distances

the idea of running 50 miles in a day boggles my mind.

I posted this on my Facebook page as a note on May 13.

"For about a week now, my mind keeps coming back to the same, once-ridiculous thought.

"I can do the JFK 50-Mile ultramarathon."

My relationship, so to speak, with America's oldest and largest ultramarathon goes back about 10 years, when I had 30 less pounds and a whole lot more hair on my head. I was a part-time reporter for The Herald-Mail then, just a year removed from high school, and had sort of fallen into the running beat since A) I'd done a little bit of running in high school, and B) no one else was all that interested. I was asked to cover the JFK, knowing basically two things: A thousand people were about to run 50 miles, and they must all be crazy.

For the record, I was right on both counts. They ARE crazy. But that's the beauty of it.

The thing I remember most from that first JFK I covered ... and I don't remember much, just ask co-worker Andy Mason ... was how quickly the first couple finishers recovered. I interviewed the winner (I don't remember his name) 10 minutes after he finished and did -- get this -- a cool-down jog! What?!? 50 miles isn't long enough for you?!?!? Ye Gods.

As we talked, it struck me that he seemed as fresh as a guy who just completed a 5K (a couple of which I had covered previously). It was nuts. I couldn't fathom (and still can't completely fathom) how anybody could run that far, that fast (just a shade over 6 hours, or roughly 7:12-mile pace for the full distance, which includes sections of the Appalachian Trail that are nearly impossible to run on), and 10 minutes later talk to me as if it was no big deal. It boggles my mind.

I've covered a handful of JFKs since, and it just so happens that I work alongside a guy who's quickly becoming a bit of a local JFK legend. Andy has finished in the top 10 each of the last two years, running it in 6 hours, 39 minutes in 2007 and 6 hours, 40 minutes in 2008. Since I get to talk to Andy nearly every day, I have more insight into what it takes to do what he does, and it's not rocket science: He runs somewhere from 6 miles (light days) to 20 miles (heavy days during peak training) every day. It's not as much about pace as it is about consistency.

Andy finally talked me into joining his running group last June, and I've gone from being a 218-pound lug who could barely run a full lap of a quarter-mile track without falling over, to a 195-pound (and falling fast!) guy who is probably at this point a 28-minute 5K runner (9-minute mile pace ... I'll know for sure in six weeks!) After slacking off for a few months, I'm in full-out training mode, with my goal this year to run four 5Ks and try to lower my time in each one.

But one eye is on the 2010 JFK. I haven't outright said to anyone I'm definitely doing it ... but it's out there, and more and more, I think it's possible.

For better or worse, I'm a planner. Always have been. I feel more comfortable with a plan. And I look at the JFK, and I think, "With a good plan, you can do this today."

Here's the basics about the JFK:

1. Runners have 14 hours to finish it. If you do the math, that's 3.57 miles per hour. Someone in good shape could walk the full distance and finish under the time limit. (My normal walking speed is about 3.4 mph so I'd have to boost it a bit.)

2. There's basically three sections to the JFK: The first is the Appalachian Trail section, which is the most difficult. It's nasty terrain to try to run on, and some of it is simply not runnable at all. There's about a 2-mile uphill stretch of road that leads up to the trail, and then the trail is about 13 miles.

3. The trail section ends at the C&O Canal towpath, which is super flat and goes for more than a full marathon -- 26.3 miles. For those trying to win the race, this is where it's usually won or lost. Andy takes the trail slow and then tears this section apart.

4. The final eight miles are on paved roads over rolling hills back to Springfield Middle School in Williamsport. The hills are killers after 42 miles, and this is where the mental game kicks in. You just have to keep telling yourself, "Only 8 miles left ... only 7 left ..." and so on.

OK, so let's look at this beast. I have 18 months to train and will no doubt be in much better physical condition than I am right now. So let's assume I can keep up a 10-minute mile pace when I jog, and a 3.5-mph walking pace when I don't, which is about 17 minutes per mile.

I'd start by jogging the 2 miles up the hill to the trail. That's 20 minutes. Now, let's say I'll walk the entire 14-mile trail section (I've been told some sections of it are jogable, but let's be conservative here). At 17 minutes per mile, it would take me 3 hours, 58 minutes to finish the trail section, putting me at 4 hours, 18 minutes when I get to the C&O Canal part.

Here's how I'd plan to attack the Canal: 30 minute jogging sessions and 15-minute walking recovery sessions. Each jog would cover 3 miles and each walk about an additional 0.8 miles (again, I'm being a little conservative here). So every 45 minutes I'd go 3.8 miles. That's 15.2 miles over 3 hours, 22.8 miles over 4 1/2 hours, and at that point I'd try to jog the remaining 3.4 miles of the Canal in 34 minutes, completing the Canal portion in 5 hours, 4 minutes and leaving me at 9 hours, 2 minutes with 8 miles of road running left.

(NOTE: No way do I do a 30/15 split now that I've got six more months of experience under my belt. I'm much more likely to do a 7/3 pattern.)

I'm sure fatigue will be a huge factor at this point, so let's assume I cut back to 15-minute jogs with 10-minute recovery periods on the roads. I would go 1.5 miles per jog and about 0.6 miles per walk. So every 25 minutes I'd go 2.1 miles. This gets me to the finish line about 1 hour, 40 minutes after coming off the Canal, for a final time of 10 hours, 42 minutes -- well under the 14-hour limit.

It's doable.

And I never thought I'd believe it. But I do."

you really are a good writer (shocking that you do it for a living)

please post more

2009 JFK 50 Mile story

And here's my half-marathon race report (WARNING: MASSIVE!!!)

"I'm starting to scare myself.

I used to be somewhat sane. Rational. Logical. My co-worker and friend Andy would tell me about his distance running experiences, his half-marathons, marathons and ultras, and I'd think what normal people are supposed to think: "No way would I ever do that. Why put myself through the pain? Two-plus hours running? I'd be bored out of my mind! You've got to be crazy!"

Here I am. Crazy. Insane. All logic, kaput. I found myself standing with 600 other completely irrational human beings (which is kind of redundant when you think about it), about to embark on a 13.1-mile journey up, oh, about a million hills. As if that's not bad enough, I was thinking to myself before the horn sounded, "This is going to be a good day."

Huh? This is going to be a good day?

No. Not a good day. A great day.

*** TRAINING ***

First, the cliff notes, since I've been through my progression as a psycopath, er, runner, a few times before: I started "running" in June 2008. When I started, I couldn't run more than a quarter-mile at a time. I worked my way up to a 5K that November (Turkey Trot at HCC, 30:54), had a five-month lazy spell that I finally snapped out of, ran two more 5Ks in June (Chambersburg YMCA, 30:46, not a good day; Hagerstown YMCA Tantillo/Barr, 28:30, fantastic day) then ran two 5-mile races in August (Ausherman, 46:33, probably my best race ever; Gary Brown, 48:30, a grind).

That left me six weeks to prepare for Freedom's Run, of which I planned to train very hard for four before tapering the last 10 days. Looking at my log, the most mileage I did over a four-week period prior to training for Freedom's Run was 104.8 miles from July 9 to Aug. 5. From Aug. 27 to Sept. 23, I did 146.7 miles. I put the work in, surprised myself with a few of my training runs (most notably doing 10.5 miles on the Canal in 1:43:41 including a 4-minute walking break on Sept. 18), and felt very confident going into the race.

I didn't have a set time goal going in, but I knew if everything went well, I could finish in under 2 1/2 hours. 11-minute mile pace would produce a 2:24 finish, so 11-minute pace was my plan. I debated doing a 7-minute/3-minute run/walk cycle and had trained with it on the Canal (with surprisingly fast results), but decided to try to run as much of the race as I could, because I felt I would feel like I accomplished more. Upon reflection, that was the right decision.

*** PRERACE ***

Ray (and his wife Jerri and infant daughter Emily), Kay and I met Friday night at Cafe Italia for a nice "carbo-loading" dinner. I got a chicken-mushroom plate with spaghetti on the side. Ray took one look at my entree and said, "Oooooh, you're gonna be hurting tomorrow!" But I seem to have been blessed with an iron stomach, as I had no such issues.

For fun (and with some encouragement), I went ahead and guessed some group memebers' times for the half. I nailed a few, and a few, well, let's just say I continually underestimate some of you and forget how awesome you are!

ANDY - 1:23 (He ran 1:22:18 and finished fourth overall and first in his age group)
TIM - 1:31 (Not close. He ran 1:23:32, was fifth overall and second behind Andy in the age group)
SUSAN - 1:35 (Aagin not close. 1:23:58 to win the women's race! I always forget how ridiculously awesome she is)
KAY/RAY - 1:48 (Almost nailed this, they ran 1:47:29. Ray paced Kay to first in her age group!)
MATT - Of everybody running, I thought Matt was the guy who would exceed his own expectations the most. I predicted 1:39, he ran 1:41:24 which is still amazing!)
MISTI - 2:12 (My worst prediction, and I should have known better. 1:59:43! That's one fast mule! She should rip me a new one for being so stupid.)

I forgot to predict a time for Andy's wife Dani, who ran 1:35:12 to win her age group and take seventh overall in the women's race.

As for myself, I predicted 2:23. I felt if I could get past mile 10 in OK shape, the last 3.1 miles downhill to the flat Canal would be a chance to really kick it in. It didn't quite work out that way, but as for how my prediction went, well, keep reading.

I intentionally slept longer than usual Thursday and Friday morning (about 9-10 hours each) anticipating a severe lack of sleep Friday night/Saturday morning. But as it turned out, I was pretty relaxed and actually got almost five full hours of comfortable sleep. I even woke up one minute before the alarm was set to sound at 6:30. This is what happens when I pray for peace. I prayed a lot Friday night and Saturday morning, and as always God took care of me.

I met up with Ray and Kay in the parking lot at Shepherd University. Ray saved my bacon in two ways before the race: He gave me a tech hat to wear, which pulls sweat away and is much more comfortable than a regular hat (and I had to have a hat because there's very little shade on the course and my bald head would burn like a flambe), and he got me some petroleum jelly for one trouble spot where the seam of my shorts are. I still started chafing in the last two miles, so without the jelly it would have been really bad.

About a half-hour before the start we bumped into Andy and Dani after they had warmed up. Right before the race I saw both Tim and Misti and exchanged pleasantries. Then the horn for the 10K runners went off, and I knew I was five minutes from setting on a journey I didn't think I'd ever take. The moment had arrived ... and only in those five minutes did I really start to feel nervous. But I can honestly say I was less intimidated standing at that starting line than I was last November for my first 5K. I've come a long way.

*** MILE ONE ***

The horn goes off, and those of us at the back of the pack have to run in place for a couple seconds as the front of the pack surges forward. The starts of races are always a little awkward, I always feel stuck in molasses behind people. On this occassion, that didn't bother me: I wanted to do everything in my power to avoid going too fast too soon. So I was happy to take it what felt a little too easy, knowing it actually wasn't. 13.1 miles is a long way to go.

As the pack ran across the Rumsey Bridge into Maryland, I wound up talking to a runner on my right. He told me it was his first half-marathon, and I said it was mine as well. He asked me what got me started, and I told him, "Well, I went through a divorce, I didn't like what I saw in the mirror and decided it was time to change some things." He nodded and said, "That's kind of what happened with me, too." We had a nice little talk for the first half-mile. I asked him his name. "Dan." How about that.

After the bridge came the first of about five or six hills on the course I was genuinely a little worried about, up the shoreline. It wasn't nearly as bad as I had feared, partly because I was still fresh, partly because the pace was still pretty slow. I usually feel funky during the first mile of races but this time I settled into a nice easy rhythm and felt relaxed from the very beginning. It wasn't very long before the first mile marker came.

10:23. I'll take 12 more of those!

*** MILE TWO ***

Aside from a downhill leading underneath a railroad bridge and a gradual uphill once under it, this was a relatively flat and easy mile. It was some point in the middle of this mile than I was thinking, "Wow, I feel really good today. Nice day, beautiful weather, great people all around me (a few of whom had already said some encouraging words), this is awesome."

The marathon leader (who at this point had less than two miles to go) whizzed past going the opposite way and we all applauded and cheered him on. The marathon course was absolutely brutal, much worse than the half-marathon course which was tough in its own right, and everybody who finished that thing deserves a medal of honor. I made it a priority to cheer on as many of the marathon runners as I could, and a lot of them did the same for us.

After taking a right turn toward downtown Sharpsburg, the second mile marker arrived. I'm usually very watch-conscious but I was making my best effort to forget the watch and just run. But my coach wanted splits, so I obliged.

9:32. 9:32??? No way! ... Really?!? 9:32?!?!? I feel great! Maybe I should slow down and be careful ... Wait, the next two miles are all flat or downhill. You feel comfortable, you're not under any stress or fatigue at all ... let's roll with it!

*** MILE THREE ***

The approach into Sharpsburg on Md. 34 is dead straight with trees and ranch houses lining the way. It's almost completely flat until you reach the elementary school, then there's a long downhill into downtown. I had looked forward to running through the town and planned to really enjoy this part, as I knew once the left turn onto Md. 65 happened, the race would become much tougher and it would be time to grind.

I was surprised at how few people there were along the streets in downtown. Maybe they were all inside watching through the windows. Still, Sharpsburg is a tranquill little town and I had fun running through it. I was still very relaxed and comfortable as I came to the three-mile marker in downtown.

9:46. Awesome. Let's keep it rolling!

*** MILE FOUR ***

I started mentally preparing myself for the hill I knew was waiting once I made the turn left about 600 meters into this mile. This was the second hill I had been worried about when I drove the course Friday afternoon. It's not tremendously steep but it's long and not a piece of cake.

When I got there, I was pleasantly surprised at how good my legs felt as they adjusted to the incline. I took shorter, quicker steps and actually passed a couple people as I made my way toward the entrance into Antietam Battlefield. I also started noticing the heat. It was a pleasant 65 degrees or so for spectators, but that's hot when you're running and there's no shade. Thank the Lord for tech wear, which kept me pretty cool and dry.

About two-thirds up the long hill to the entrance, the four-mile marker appeared. I expected this time to be a little slower.

9:45. *blink blink* What? I went faster than the previous downhill mile? Man, I'm having an incredible day! I started doing the math in my head and realized I was already more than four minutes ahead of my prediction. And I still felt very fresh.

*** MILE FIVE ***

Somewhere along this mile, as I turned into the battlefield and started over the rolling terrain, I think I made the leap from "relaxed" to "euphoric" ... it was kinda weird. Here I am, in the middle of a half-marathon, I'm about a third of the way in, I've never felt this good this far into any race, and I just went goofy.

Fortunately for me, "goofy" usually rears its head in the form of being ridiculously nice, encouraging and (hopefully) funny. By this point, marathon runners were going past every few seconds. Some looked like they had another 20 miles in them, some looked like they were going to collapse any second. I cheered them all on, and I mean, every single one. This went on for the next three miles. The people running in front of and behind me either turned their headphones up, or wished they had them. Actually, a couple of them joined me and hopefully we gave a boost to the marathon runners.

I managed to get a laugh when I came to a volunteer sitting under an umbrella pointing us to make a right turn. That umbrella, and more specifically the shade it provided, looked pretty nice! So I started yelling from about 30 meters away, "Let's make a deal! I'll sit under that umbrella and give directions, and you can finish this race for me!" She laughed but shook her head no. Hey, there's someone rational out here! That's a pity.

Shortly after the turn, the five-mile marker appeared. I remember thinking as I approached it, "I can't believe I still feel this good at the 5-mile mark." I felt a little better when I checked the split.

9:44. That's 49:10 for the first 5 miles. And I feel good. This is crazy!

*** MILE SIX ***

Almost a carbon copy of mile five. I cheered on the marathoners. I cracked a similar joke with a volunteer, this one ringing a bell. ("I can do that, you can run!" Unfortunately she was logical, too. I met two logical women on the same day? Kidding, kidding!) I smiled an awful lot. I was thoroughly enjoying myself.

The course was rolling pretty severely at this point but all the uphills were short enough that I didn't mind them too much. I actually liked the uphills more than the downhills ... I felt very awkward running downhill, I tried longer strides and letting the momentum carry me down, I tried shorter strides for more control, nothing worked. There's got to be a trick for running downhill, and I need to figure out what it is.

This mile seemed to fly past. One of the advantages to being so obnoxiously friendly was it took my mind off the actual running. I was surprised to see the six-mile marker arrive.

9:47. Almost halfway home, my splits are like clockwork, I feel great ... wow. Just, wow.

*** MILE SEVEN ***

I honestly don't remember much about this mile. I think I was in a zone here. The road went up, it went down, it rarely was flat, I kept cheering people on and putting a foot in front of the other. As the seven-mile marker came into sight, there was good news and bad news. The good:

9:39. I've now done seven miles in 1:08:36 and am more than halfway home. I am so far under my predicted pace, I can't believe it.

*** MILE EIGHT ***

Now, the bad news.

The seven-mile marker was on a downhill right before crossing a bridge that leads to a right turn onto a road that takes everyone up a massive, sweeping left turn dead up the worst hill on the course. This was the hill, as I was driving the course Friday, that I whistled at. "That's not going to be much fun," I said to myself.

It looked bad in the car. It looked like my worst nightmare running toward it.

I tried to pump myself up. "This is the worst part. Relax, take a step at a time, get to the top and the worst is over." Sounded good.

One problem. A third of the way up it, I hit the wall.

"The wall" is one of those running terms that, until it happens to you, you just can't fully understand it. I always thought "the wall" was more of a gradual thing, where you just sort of feel fatigued over maybe a half-mile stretch. It's not. "The wall" strikes with the sudden force of a thousand hammers. In about four steps, I went from "I'm having the best day of my running life" to "I can't run another step."

I walked the last two-thirds of the hill. I'm not even ashamed about it. I knew I had done the first seven miles much faster than I had expected, and my water bottle (full of Gatorade) was still half-full so I didn't have to stop at aid stations (the initial plan was to walk for about a minute at each one). I decided I had earned the right to take a breather. It took about 90 seconds to reach the top and I felt OK once I did.

That accomplished, I started running again. And that's where the real issue came in. The rhythm I had the previous seven miles was gone. I couldn't find it. I wasn't severely hurting, but the strides didn't come easy anymore. I knew this was now going to be a grind.

OK. I had it easy for seven miles. Time to work. The marathoners will be OK if I don't say anything. Got to focus. One step at a time. Keep moving forward. Soon, the eight-mile marker came into view.

10:40. Hey, that's good! That's under the planned 11-minute pace even with the walking portion! I'm not done just yet!

*** MILE NINE ***

On Friday when I was driving the course, I got a phone call from Andy and wound up talking with him for a couple minutes. The result was, I hadn't studied this part of the course as well as the others. That would come back to haunt me (although it's not Andy's fault, LOL).

I had thought all the really nasty hills (other than the last climb up to Rumsey Bridge at the end) were out of the way, and I was wrapping my head around just trying to find a nice pace and a good rhythm again, when about a quarter-mile into mile nine, I saw another massive hill. What the ... ??? I don't remember this on today's agenda!

This hill was similar to the sweeping left-turn hill ... about a third of the way up it I was dead again, and for the second time I walked. This time I felt even worse than the first time. I was seriously starting to have doubts about how well I could finish, if all that time I had gained the first seven miles would evaporate.

I walked past the aid station with running group friends Gil and Paul. I hated walking past them but at that point I had to recover. They told me I was about a half-mile from the long downhill starting down to the Canal, which I kept in the back of my mind. I knew once I got done the first 10 miles it got easier.

I finally made it to the top of the hill and kept walking for another 30 seconds while I stared ahead at a long stretch of rolling road that wasn't too intimidating. I gave myself a pep talk: "The worst is over. You're almost to the downhill and the Canal. Take a couple deep breaths. Then run the rest of the way until you get to the Rumsey Bridge uphill. Here's the deal: You run the next four miles to the bridge, you can walk up that hill. But you gotta run to it. Let's go."

And I did. I knew the amazing easiness of the first seven miles was ancient history. I knew each step now would be a battle. But I knew I could do it, and I gritted my teeth and went.

Finally, the nine-mile marker arrived. I knew this would be by far my worst split of the day. I just hoped it wasn't terrible.

13:22. OK, I can live with that. You're still well under 11-minute pace. Just keep running.

*** MILE TEN ***

I had thought the downhill to the Canal started at the end of this mile. So you can imagine my relief when it started about a quarter-mile into this mile. Finally, a break!

Running downhill is still difficult ... I felt like my feet (which were starting to blister, but nothing too bad) were cement blocks pounding the pavement, sending jolts through my knees. But, hey, it's not running uphill! I tried to relax and let gravity work without getting too out of control. The additional shade was another lovely sight, as the temperature had climbed near 70. I got a bit of a second wind ... nothing major but enough that I wasn't suffering. Down and down and down we went, until just before the Canal portion started, the 10-mile marker appeared.

9:51. Sweet! Praise the Lord for downhill miles! Only a 5K to go! YOU CAN DO THIS!

*** MILE ELEVEN ***

I had looked forward to the Canal portion of the race ever since I signed up for it. The Canal is home turf, what I train on, what I'm used to. I expected to be home free by the time my feet met its dirt and gravel surface.

Wrong.

Running on the Canal after 10 miles on faster, harder pavement felt like running in quicksand. I noticed a difference right away. Fatigue really set in as it took more effort to bounce off the ground and keep going. This was going to be harder than I imagined.

Hey, look on the bright side. At least it's flat!

I started using every mental trick I had in my book. Counting steps (1-2-3-4-1-2-3-4 ...), running to landmarks (50 yards to that tree! 30 yards to the next tree! 45 to the bird feeder! ...), anything that took my mind off the actual running and the fatigue.

For the first time all race, I started begging for the mile marker to show up. This one felt like it was taking forever. I wound up checking my watch before seeing it. 10:20. Where the hell is this thing?!? ... THERE IT IS! ... Oh hey, it's 2 miles to go! No wonder it felt so long, this was a 1.1-mile split! Tricky!

10:52. Hey, that's still under 10-minute mile pace! You can do two more miles!

*** MILE TWELVE ***

I didn't really feel it happen, but somewhere in the first 500 meters of this mile, the gas tank hit empty and my pace slowed. I kept doing what I wanted, putting a foot in front of the other, focusing on my breathing, moving forward. But my longest training run/walk had been 11 miles. This was uncharted territory, especially at the pace I had run on the terrain I had run it on. My body only had so much to give, and it was pretty well tapped out.

I kept thinking, "Get me to the bridge. Get me to that walking break. Get me where I know the finish is in sight." It was a long, boring, grind-it-out mile, probably the least fun one of the whole race (including miles 8-9). Finally, I saw the sign for a mile to go.

11:27. Oof. Then I checked my overall time. 2:04:56. With a mile to go! WOW! I knew I was going to be well under 11-minute pace, well under my 2:23 prediction.

*** MILE THIRTEEN ***

Finally, the Rumsey Bridge came into view. It was high. Way high. I thought to myself, "Thank the Lord I can walk this uphill." It was easily the worst one of the day. I wasn't even going to attempt running it. I saved my energy for the final half-mile run across the bridge and into the football stadium.

As I made the final turn up the ramp to the bridge, I heard, "COME ON, DAN!" Actually, several of them. When I made it up and turned left to start my run over the bridge, I saw Ray, Kay and Matt. They had finished and came back out to help me finish. What a boost! Not that I wasn't hurting ... I'm pretty sure I did nothing but complain that last half-mile. It'd been a long final five miles. But I was running again ... actually, running surprisingly fast.

I don't remember the bridge being as long at the start as it was at the finish, but that's just me.

Finally, I came to the turn leading into the stadium, with Ray leading the way. Only a minute left now. I was going to finish my first half-marathon. It felt good. Onto the artificial turf of the football field, and toward the clock. I saw the first three numbers. 2:16. Awesome.

My customary finishing kick wasn't as strong as usual, but I gave it just a little surge as I hit the finish line, pointing skyward to thank my Lord for all the help.

11:53 for the last mile (walking up to the bridge? Really? I think the last mile was short). 2:16:49 for the race. 10:27 mile pace. 316th out of 484 runners. Not too shabby!

*** POST-RACE ***

I didn't drink enough during the race. 20 ounces of Gatorade fit into my bottle. I drank 18 ounces. I probably should have drank closer to 40 during the race. Once I finished, a volunteer filled my bottle with water. I drank the whole bottle in about three minutes. I grabbed a bagel and devoured it.

Eventually, everyone headed to the Bavarian Inn for the post-race festivities. All runners got a free glass and a free beer with it. I got the dark Yuengling lager. I don't like beer, but this was the best beer I ever had. I don't think it had anything to do with the beer. Of course it took 45 minutes to get it. The line seemed to take longer than the race. Ray said he hated the beer. I asked him what he likes. He said Old Milwaukee. Are you kidding me?!? Old Milwaukee?!? Blech!

Two hours later, I could barely walk around. Three hours later, I was in bed. Seven hours later, I enjoyed a nice dinner and started feeling human again.

An illogical, irrational, insane human.

I'm already thinking about next spring's marathon."

Pretty sure I could do this in my current condition.

My only concern with walking 50 miles wouldn't be the 14 hour time limit so much as the foot pain. I remember how much walking 15 miles hurt in combat boots, I can't imagine good shoes would make 50 feel good

I don't think there's any possible way to "easily" do 50 miles, I'll concede that point.

its the return of the antidan blog.

wooooooo

Just wait until I get a girlfriend.

my last race btw: (if we're posting race thoughts)

It was a 10k.

First mile, look at watch, 5:45, crap thats way too fast.

2nd mile. look at watch 11:30, crap, but thats ok I feel good still

between then and the third mile: who the hell is this person coming up on me breathing super hard

around mile 3: oh its the lead female

from then until around 5.5: can not let this girl beat me, can not let this girl beat me, can not let this girl beat me

mile 5.5: there she goes.....

wow it would be awesome to see turkeys in the wild. I saw one in a parisian market once which was like one of the biggest fattest wtf-how-do-you-exist creatures i ever saw. They also have free range farms aroundabouts here, but they tend to be a bit leaner and fitter than the french porker.

these words fill me with a mix of excitement and trepidation

Dan, wow, nice work. Sounds like you're doing really well atm. GJ