I suppose the good news is that there is no need for an asterisk. Unless of course the asterisk is an indication that this is a race I’d prefer to forget.
Things did not go well today. And there were plenty of warning signs, red flags, and various psychic disturbances that should’ve been enough to deter me from running. But I was arrogantly stubborn and stubbornly arrogant.
I want to be very clear on something before I begin – my family and friends are amazingly supportive and I don’t ever think they intend to be anything but that. But when I explain something below, I hope this illustrates just how deep a dark hole I fell into.
Last year I scored a Boston Qualifying Personal Record at the Bayshore Marathon, an unexpectedly close call with a sub-3 hour race. I thought this year I’d try and make it happen here, a moonshot with a proven “well, maybe…” empirical proof in the proverbial pudding.
Man – that phrasing kinda shows what a mess things are with me at the moment. But I digress.
My aspirational goal was a sub-3; my stretch goal was a new PR; and my “I should totally be able to pull this off” goal, even with a lingering cold, was a Boston Qualifying time.
As the distance to the finish got closer and closer, I fell further and further from my time goals… to the point that the only way to describe the day is an embarrassingly, depressing failure.
I didn’t take a lot of photos… fewer and fewer as the day slipped away from me and then zero once the reality of the situation sunk in.
Here’s the short, short recap of the race – the opening quarter marathon I was trucking along and on pace for my sub-3.
By the halfway point, I was 5 minutes behind, meaning I’d either need a negative split (yeah, right) or I was looking at a 10 minute deficit as my ETA. Still, good enough for a BQ.
By the three-quarter mark, as more and more runners passed me by and my mind and body drifted into a listless, depressed state.
Here’s how dark a hole I fell – it got to the point where I heard my own voice saying, “You were wrong. They were right. You should never have come. This was a huge mistake.” I don’t in any way, shape, or form think my family and friends meant to be voices of doubt… yet I found myself consistently doubting my reasonings for being out on the course and questioning why I was doing what I was doing.
Looking back, my lingering sinus infection, even now still not kicked to the curb, was perhaps the biggest warning and the reason folks suggested I bail on Michigan so I would be ready for Tanzania in June. But I thought I knew better. The AirBNB snafu was a sign. My rental car pickup which was a half-hour early and thus projected to cost an extra $20 due to partial hour charges (?!) was a sign… as was the “upgrade” to a Nissan Rogue (I also could have gotten a Camero and maybe I should’ve… but I was *trying* to maximize gas mileage). The hotel last night also should have been a red flag – they inexplicably checked in another guest to my room, giving them a room key, and thus prompting pounding on my door and curses at a lock that wouldn’t open (I deadbolted the door, fortunately or else that could have been seriously shocking having a half-drunk lady burst in).
But more than anything, I just… wasn’t there for the run. I didn’t “show up” as high school coaches of various athletics might say. There was a moment around mile 23… it was mile 10 for the half marathoners. These two women posed in front of the mile markers, each one holding up five fingers to show where they were. I laughed and shouted my support; it’s something Steve and I would do when we ran together and I thought it inspiring to see other folks doing it. A marathoner who was speeding past me also cheered them, saying, “if you’re not having fun, you shouldn’t be running!” And I slowed to a walk, partly out of exhaustion and ennui, and thought, “I’m not having any fun today.” I tried to shake it off but the truth was out there… not in an “X-Files” sort of way but in a genie out of a toothpaste tube kind of way.
There are any number of excuses possible:
- People said it was unseasonably warm (it topped out around 80-ish for me as we finished). But there was a lake effect cooling breeze for part of the race. And I’ve run in far worse heat with far better times.
- I do have this sinus infection thing… but I ran faster in Colfax feeling frankly worse than I do now.
- Despite well stocked aid stations and cheering volunteers, there was a decidedly reserved atmosphere to the race proper. I would cheer people on as they passed me (and A LOT of people passed me) but many had headphones on and may not have heard me; some though didn’t have headphones on and just downright ignored me, perhaps lost in their own heads questing for a PR or BQ. But it felt… lonely on the course. There were no pacers and I was lost in a desert of doubt, desperate for a lifeline.
In trying to salvage something from the day, I thought about Chloe O’Brien from “24.” She’d always datamine information on that show and provide Jack Bauer with a clue for averting a catastrophe. I just had a running catastrophe so maybe I could “datamine” the information from my GPS watch and try and suss out what went wrong; I hate to say this but maybe I could use this as a “teachable” moment, a means to learn something for future races.
I’ve recently had folks show me various datapoints and screens that get downloaded to my phone app for the Garmin watch I use. In looking at the information today, it looks like I had a really flat course and that as the day wore on my pace got progressively worse… and worse… and worse. So basically, this is all stuff I already knew, but now in graph format.
So there’s that.
Maybe that’s all just a bunch of hooey about a bunch of hooey. Maybe I just failed.
I’m feeling depressingly failure-ific at the moment.
Tanzania awaits. Maybe I can find my happy running place there.
***
Post Script: I want to reiterate and be very, very, VERY clear here. Like, crystal clear. Like so clear that there’s not even the slightest hint of blurriness on this. My family and friends have ALWAYS been supportive and have ALWAYS cheered me on. The above is all about me and my reaction to the situation and is NOT indicative of what they said or meant. Love you all. You’re the best and I am so very lucky to know you and to have you in my life. Some days I’m just not a lot of fun to be around… so maybe it’s for the best that I’m solo traveling this trip.
Rest assured, I’m trying to rally — here’s a photo I posted to Facebook lamenting the budget airline I’m flying:
