October and the Cape Cod Marathon

October is my favorite month of the year. The scent of the foliage season is at its peak and I become nostalgic about past team championships and my personal discovery of running as a young teenager. This October marks my 10th year of running, and I guess it was only appropriate that I took my first shot at the marathon distance. Despite some struggles with injury during the final 4 weeks of training limiting me to no more than 30 miles per week, I really looked forward to the event and discovering what the marathon is all about. 

As race day drew nearer, I was becoming more anxious and frustrated with my limited preparation. In mid-September I would have guaranteed a 2:38-2:40 finish. Recognizing that nothing could be gained by fitting in miles on a leg that finally felt healthy in the final week of training, I didn't run the 4 days leading up to the race. I may have been unprepared, but at least I would be fresh! So race day arrived and I woke without power caused by a pretty nasty snowfall. I checked the water temp and cursed our tiny water heater. Skipping the shower, I realized I would also have to find a store for my coffee. My pre race meal of oatmeal also didn’t happen.

While we only got 6 or 8 inches, the snow was wet and heavy and had laid waste to much of southern NH and northern MA. As Lauren and I made our way slowly down 93, we could see transformers igniting in greenish-blue sparks in the distance and we seriously wondered if we would make it to the race on time. 

It was mostly easy driving once we were past Boston except our search for Dunkin' Donuts coffee and bagels led to a dead end. Apparently the factory supplying the south shore of delicious donuts and bagels had also lost power. By 7:00 I was getting pretty anxious about getting food in my stomach, so we stopped at an On-the-Run and I bought the soggiest chicken salad sandwich and just put it down as fast as I could. It was a little nasty but it felt good to have something to digest. 

Onto the race: I found most of the CMSers pretty easily and I was pumped about the crew we brought to the line. JJ and I ran probably less than a mile total before the start plus a couple of strides. It occurred to me as I stood on the start line and spoke with Sam Wood about pace that I hadn't even picked a goal pace to begin at. Sam said something about running 2:55 and I agreed that sounded good, but I had no idea what pace/mile that would involve. About a minute later after a cannon sounded the start, my "race plan”, like my shower and breakfast, was also kaput. I decided to aim for low-6:00s knowing the odds were stacked against holding pace.

I was happy to run into Jon May and a few others including Dan Verrington and we hit the first mile in 5:53. The pace felt effortless, but we all knew we had to reign it in. I have thought about ways to describe how my race played out, but as my buddy Brandon said recently, "the numbers never fail to tell the story in a way nothing else can". Here they are:

1 - 5:53
2 - 6:05
3 - 6:02
4 - 5:56
5 - 6:02
6 - 6:11
7 - 6:09
8 - 6:11
9 - 6:15 break from group and begin solo journey
10 - 6:05
11 - 6:10
12 - 6:13 hills begin
13 - 5:55
14 - 5:57
15 - 5:49 oops
16 - 6:13
17 - 6:15
18 - 6:18
19 - 6:00
20 - 6:11
21 - 6:16 caught JJ
22 - 8:59 running + 1:44 most insane hamstring cramps of my life (aka, wheels come off)
23 - 7:54 running + 2:11 stretching, getting passed by top female
24 - 8:19 running + 1:27 asking for fluids from strangers, almost took a ride ... walked most of the way to someone's car before deliriously spinning around and running on
25 - 9:40 determined to finish, gave up on watch
26 - 7:21 fluids from final aid station kick in
.2 - ~1:15

10 mile split 60:48
20 mile split 121:49
Final 10k 53:16

Finish: 2:55

From mile 9 to 21 I ran alone with exception to passing or getting passed by a relay runner here and there. I was really enjoying working on the hills and recovering on the downhills. I felt super smooth too and at one point got a little too aggressive running 5:50's for a few miles. Right around mile 16 I felt the first alarming sign of a hamstring cramp. It was in the exact same spot as the cramps that made the Nahant race so difficult. At this point I knew the inevitable would eventually catch up to me, and it was only a matter of when. I took down a couple Rocksters back to back and stopped momentarily to give the hamstring a hard stretch. Eureka! I kicked the cramp and could run normally again. Around this point I started seeing racers in the distance and knew I couldn't be too far behind a few guys. I was assuming stragglers would begin falling off a faster early pace, and so I pushed pretty hard to make up some ground during miles 18-20.

Finally someone came into view, and to my surprise, I realized it was JJ. I caught up to him somewhere around mile 21 and we spoke briefly. He was in cruise control mode but still appeared to have some energy, although I could tell his legs were hurting. He encouraged me to keep rolling but I told him I was better off just trying to stick with him. My hamstrings and groin muscles really started to jump and I knew the end was near. At the next aid station I stopped at a table and pounded 2 full cups of Cytomax and then got going again. JJ had gained ground on me, so I pushed hard up a small hill to get even with him again....

And then I bonked. It wasn't the low-energy, light-headed wimpy kind of bonk though. It was the my-muscles-are-tearing-themselves-apart, pulling-harder-than-should-be-physically-possible kind of bonk. From the insertion point behind the knees to the connective tissue in my butt bones, I felt the most excruciating pull in my hamstrings. JJ thinks I shouted "oh God!" but it may have just been a nonsensical cry of pain and surprise. It was all I could do but desperately reach for my toes and hope the cramps would subside.

While I stood hunched on the curb I watched my race mostly slip away from me. All the racers I had left at mile 9 moved by me in a loose pack led by Jon May. It was around this moment I fully realized just how important race preparation for this distance is. I had felt incredibly comfortable, aerobically, throughout the race, but I knew as early as mile 10 that targeting a 2:40 or anything close to that was a gamble.

The last 10k is a sort of delirious blur. I managed to get moving again but never at more than a hobble. Someone in a car passed me, stopped, threw it in reverse back to me and offered me an entire 20 oz electrolyte drink. Normally I’m not in the habit of soliciting strangers for help, but I was desperate for fluids I hoped would ease the cramping. I slammed the bottle and got going again. Right at mile 24 is where I almost threw in the towel. A CMSer I had only met once before (I think his name is Tom) was spectating and when I stopped again to stretch he came up alongside me and asked me if I was okay. At that point I really wasn’t sure. My left quad had just cramped really badly and I was keenly aware of the physical damage being done. Tom and several other people began walking me to their car but as we approached I spun around and shouted I had to continue. I couldn’t bear the thought of not finishing.

Coming into the downtown area I was thrilled to hear from JJ that Pat Rich had won the whole damn thing. After finishing I was instantly freezing and after watching Abbey and Sam finish up a few minutes later I headed straight for the showers.

It’s easy to have mixed feelings about my first marathon, but similar to what some other guys have said, I can’t stop thinking about racing the next one. I’m not sure if a spring marathon is in the works, but Vermont City could be it. The coming winter season for me will be a base-building phase with regular strength-building workouts. I’ll likely try out a few more snowshoe races as my work schedule permits and if things go really well, I might run a couple 3ks or 5ks on the boards.