The Perfect TenthRace Report from the 2010 Chicago MarathonPart VII - Post Race Analysis

Now that you've all seen the pictures and read the story of how my sub-3 in Chicago came to be, I guess it's time to close the book on this epic marathon. After all, New York is coming up in a little over a week and I need to get my head back in the "Empire State of Mind", if you know what I mean. But before I (finally) leave Chicago behind, I'd like to take this opportunity to assess my physical and mental approach to this race as a whole and point out five major reasons why I think this race worked out well for me.

1. Effort-Based Pacing - Unlike any of my previous attempts at sub-3, I lined up at the start of this marathon not knowing EXACTLY what my pace plan should be. Because of a minor flu I'd been dealing with all week and the volatile weather that were expected on race day, I didn't know what my body was capable of on race morning. As a result, I made myself a pact not to calculate paces or projected finishing times except at major checkpoints (ex. 10 miles, half marathon, 20 miles). My plan was not to use an arbitrary time as a gauge of whether to speed up or slow down in every mile. Rather, I was going to rely one my own self-perceived effort as a guide to how I ought to be running every mile. Even in the last 10K, when I knew I was closing in on 3 hours, I did not dare look down at my watch. Instead, I told myself just to sprint and run to the best of my ability. I felt that if I could do that and give every ounce of energy I had left out on the course, then I could really be happy and proud knowing there would be no regrets, regardless of my final time.

2. 20 Mile Run 10K Race - Even as I was running well and feeling good for somuch of this race, I kept reminding myself that the first 20 miles is just the appetizer to the entree, the preface to the story, the prelude to the race. Although I felt I controlled my pace well through the first 20 miles and only allowed myself to "race" the last 10K, it wasn't until I compared my splits in this race to the ones from my last sub-3 attempt in 2009 NYCM did I realize how applicable the pace/race metaphor would be. If you performed a side-by-side comparison of the 5k split times between the two races, you'd see that I was only 7 seconds faster at the half and only 6 seconds faster at the 30K split in Chicago! This means that all the speed and fitness gains I experienced this summer compared to last year did not make any difference in the first 18.6 miles but resulted in a tremendous difference in the last 12.2K. This was a bit shocking to me because I assumed and convinced myself that I was running so much faster this year especially in the early going as compared to last year. Boy was I wrong!

3. Hydration - As many have said, this was a very warm marathon. We knew this was going to be the case all race weekend. Some chose to "freak out" and just ignore the sun. Others had a contingency plan to drop out or slow down when it got too hot. I told myself on race morning to realistic about my chances and just run as fast as I could without burning out. One thing that was nonnegotiable though was a self-imposed decree to drink 3 cups of fluids at every single water station, regardless of how I felt. This impromptu hydration plan not only kept me out of trouble for most of the race, I was so well hydrated that I was able to skip the last 2 water stops as I sprinted toward the finish line. That has never happened to me before.

4. Blessings in Disguise - Remember the guy that bumped into me at mile 23...causing my body to stop running and my right leg to seize? At the time, I thought it was an absolute disaster. For a few seconds, I thought my race was over. But after making sure I wasn't seriously hurt, I got angry at him and at the world and sprinted harder to the finish than I've ever previously done in a marathon. Now looking back, I doubt I would've sprinted so fast without his "intervention". What I thought at the time was the worst thing that could happen to me turned out to be exactly what I needed to nailed down the sub-3. Go figure.

5. Friends - Last but certainly not least, I had the fortune of having so many friends around for this race. From my friend MT who came to town just to see me race to Redhead Morgan who spectated at mile 22 to the Saucony Hurricanes who introduced themselves to me over dinner to all the NY Flyers who came and cheered, and took pictures and kept me entertained the whole 26.2, I never felt more supported and motivated to run fast than I did that day. To everyone in whatever capacity you played, big or small, including my twitter, FB, and DM friends, to make my dream a reality, thank you so very much for the support and inspiration. I appreciate every kind word, every encouragement you've sent, and every supportive comment you've left my way. Chicago Marathon, 10-10-10, will always be memorable and special to me. ALWAYS.

The Perfect TenthRace Report from the 2010 Chicago MarathonPart VI - The Race Day Slideshow

The Perfect TenthRace Report from the 2010 Chicago MarathonPart V - The Final 10K

During the Saucony Hurricanes team dinner Friday night, I found myself seated right between a woman who was about to run her first marathon and a guy who just completed the Leadville 100 miler for the fifth time earlier this year. Although the discussion topics varied and the conversation flowed effortlessly between us, there was one particular question that the marathon rookie asked that hung in the air for longer than it should - During the marathon, what happens after mile 20? As I entered the twilight zone otherwise known as mile 21 of the Chicago Marathon, I found my mind asking my body the same thing.

I've been here before, I was sure. But somehow it feels different. I see people with their head down faces transfixed in a daze walking, limping, struggling to move forward and it reminds me of me, how I was, how I used to be during this mile. But now I am not, I am running. My hamstrings and quads are becoming sore and my back is starting to hurt just a little but I am running! I take another GU, my third of the day, to celebrate. If I could run sub 7 minutes miles for 6 more miles, I will be golden.

I turned a corner at 20.5 to begin my final out and back loop on Chicago's South Side and see my Flyer teammate SH standing and cheering alone on the side. Given that this part of the course was relatively dead with minimal crowd support, I was surprised to see her there. I stick out my tongue to show my fatigue but she just laughs and snaps a photo of me as I ran by. I wanted to thank her but had no energy so I just continued on.

Relative to the others on the course, I thought I was running well. I was running strong. I passed many with ease and never felt like I was slowing down. So it was a little demoralizing when I passed the mile 21 marker in a very pedestrian 7:02. This was the first mile I'd registered over 7 and served as further evidence that I was starting to fade.

My head was not in a good place at the beginning of mile 22. My pace was bad, it was starting to get warm, and my legs were starting to hurt. I needed some help to get my mind back in the game. So I asked for my brother and conjured up our own private conversation. You see, a few days ago, I'd promised him 22 as his personal dedication mile. In return he was to find a special power song that I could hum/sing while running his mile. He came back to me a day later with a number by Justin Bieber and I just had to laugh. I smiled while running 22 thinking of all the excuses he gave for that little faux pas. It served its purpose as it distracted me from having to think about the road, the sun, and the deep fatigue I was starting to feel. Mile 22 ended with a 7:05, which wasn't good, but wasn't horrific either.

I started mile 23 wanting to regain my pace. After all, there was only 4 miles left and I wanted for all the world to finish strong. But right then, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a bright yellow weather alert marker behind an aid station and quickly decide that it just wasn't safe to push pace. Besides, in the back of my mind, I knew a special spectator was waiting at 22.5 and I thought blowing up and dying right at her side probably would not make for a very good first impression. So I just continued on, running with the same effort I had established before. I made sure to concentrate on my breathing and focus on my form, knowing both will be important as I got more and more fatigued.

Then at 22.5, I saw HER. She was where she'd said she would be...out on the side of the road, all decked out in her pink tutu and posters filled with inspirational messages and names for all the runners she's planning to meet. Legend has it you gain an extra few seconds per mile on your pace just from witnessing her spectation at a race! I am speaking of the lovely Redhead Morgan who drove all the way from Michigan just to cheer and watch me run past. Although our encounter was brief (yet she manages to take 2 photos of me ?) I thoroughly enjoyed seeing her there, cheering for me, which honestly made me a little self-conscious, given that there was barely any other spectators around! It is weird to think that after a couple of years of reading and following each other's blog, our first chance encounter would be for just a split second at mile 22.5 of the Chicago Marathon!

I run on, more slowly now, because my hamstrings are sore and tight and are threatening to cramp with any sudden change in pace. I see more bodies on the sidewalks at the edge of the road, walking and stretching their feet and my heart skips a beat wondering if they were me some time ago or if I would be like them in the next mile or two. i see myself past mile 23 at 7:08 and can feel my goal slipping ever closer away.

At mile 24, I asked my late sister for advice. As marathons go, this is a tradition for me. Although her physical presence no longer inhabits the earth, I always feel a spiritual connection with my sister at this late stage of a marathon. We share conversations that are so deep i taste the salt of my own tears halfway through the next mile. Today, she tells me to focus on what's important. She tells me to believe in myself. She tells me I am not a failure because she sees me victoriously crossing the finishing line! As I closed my eyes slightly to say a prayer and thank her for those kind words when all of a sudden, the runner in front of me stops dead in his tracks and I crash smack into him. I don't fall but the force of our collision sends me to a complete stop. Immediately, my right hamstring cramps, I can't move and am in severe pain. I'm stunned. I send a slate of four-letter-word expletives into the air as he tries profusely to apologize. I take a couple of seconds to assess the situation and force my legs to move. Once I realized I wasn't seriously hurt, I just got angry...very very angry. In my head I was thinking - There is no way I'm running 23 miles just to let some punk kid ruin my chances at sub3. I force myself to run despite the shockwaves of pain shooting up my right leg with each step. I didn't care anymore. I saw that I was already at 7:30 pace for the first quarter mile of 24 and the world be damned if I lose my goal because of this debacle. Once the cramp loosened and the sharp pain gradually transformed into sustained soreness after a couple of steps, I just took off and sprinted HARD for the rest of the mile. I ran fast but still registered a 7:12 for mile 24.

We are all running for home now, one straight shot up Michigan Ave. Way in the distance, I could see the Sear Tower and the skyscrapers emerging triumphantly against a pastel of blue. Rows of spectators lined the streets and grew thicker and louder as we approached the finish. They rang cowbells, played music and yelled words of encouragement to urge the runners along . Although the atmosphere was jubilant and festive, I couldn't for the most part hear. My mind was fixated in another place in another time. After discovering that I was more than 20 seconds off my intended pace in the previous mile, I'd figured that my race was over. I felt sad, angry, and extremely frustrated. Despite the intense pain and burning in my quads, hamstrings and legs, I continued to sprint as if my life was dependent on it. I kept running hard because I was convinced right then that the only honorable way to race is to leave everything you brought coming in out on the course. NO REGRETS. LEAVE EVERYTHING. I repeated this mantra to myself as I forced my legs to accelerate and move faster than they've ever moved before. A mixture of tears and sweat sting my eyes but I was running too fast to acknowledge them there. I see a water station coming up on the side, but I don't dare waver from where I was in the middle of the road. The mile marker is coming up and there's just no time, I told myself. Besides, there's barely a mile and some change left now and there's too much at stake.

I covered mile 25 in 6:54 but still felt somehow I could've ran faster. I tell myself there's just a one mile sprint between me and the finish line now, it's time to charge! My legs though felt heavy as if they were just barely hanging on. I thought about all my twitter, DM, and Facebook friends who were tracking and virtually cheering for me right then and decide for them I must represent. For them, I must run as hard as I can.

At 25.5, I see my friend M again off to the side jumping up and down as I came sprinting by. She was yelling "You're Doing It! You're Doing it!" although at the time I was confused by what "It" meant. It was truly invigorating to see her so excited for me that I felt slightly embarrassed for all the other runners around. I didn't have time to run over and say hi so I just waved as I ran by. I see the giant crowds gathering at the finish and know I'm getting close to home. My legs were not able to sustain the sprint for so long so I'm slowing down slightly as I make the final turn onto the final bridge. I hear applause from spectators for the 3 hour pace team coming up behind and I pick up the pace once again. I see the 800m to go sign and curse Mr. Yasso out loud. 400m...a turn...and the end is in sight. 200 m...I can see the clock strike 3 and I let out a sigh. 100m left and almost there, almost there. Finally I come cross the line and stop my watch. I see 2:59:55 flash on my Garmin and was in complete shock. Did I indeed make my time? I walked through the procession of medical aide, space blanket, and medal, gulped down 2 free beers and picked up my bag. It wasn't until I saw my twitter feed blow up and my phone inbox filled with 50+ congratulatory texts that I realize that yes, indeed i had done it. A 2 minute PR, a sub-3 time, and a hard fought victory were completely mine!

In summary, all you really need to know is that Marathon #10 on 10-10-10 in Chicago turned out quite perfect for me after all!

The Perfect TenthRace Report from the 2010 Chicago MarathonPart IV - The Second Ten Miles

It may come as a shock to many that I've never considered myself much of a marathoner. Ever since I crashed and burned so hard in my first marathon that I was reduced to crawling on my hands/knees for two whole blocks, I've always thought of myself as a 13.1 miler kind of guy. Never mind that I've done close to 25 of the short version and only 10 of the long kind, I find I often lack the physical stamina and the mental discipline to compete successfully in the longer distance. Besides 26.2 miles is so far to run and takes so much time that anything can happen at any point to ruin a perfectly paced race that you've been training for many many months. This is why whenever I'm running a marathon, I always feel as if I must fake the distance until i make the distance. I also take care to divide the race to a few shorter and more psychologically manageable segments. For this 26.2, in keeping with the theme of the weekend, I planned to split up my race into a first ten (miles), a second ten (miles) and the final 10(K). Having conquered the first ten in admirable fashion, I was anxious to begin the task of nailing down the second ten.

As I set off on what was now mile 1 for me again, I did an internal systems check on my body. Aside from some transient and intermittent back stiffness, my upper body was feeling great. I was breathing in synchrony with my feet. I had no stomach issues and whatever coughing, sniffling, and sneezing I had experienced this morning had long been gone after the first ten miles! As for my legs and lower body, everything was okay there too even if I was foreshadowing and anticipating pain and complaints all morning. In fact, as I gingerly ran through the 11th mile at 6:44, I began to feel cautiously optimistic that today might yet turn out to be a special day.

Back on the course, where mile 12 brought us back from the suburbs to the edge of town, I saw the crowds thicken and becoming more rambunctious as the morning worn on. Runners all around me were responding in kind, many urging the spectators on with hand gestures to turn up the volume as if their cheering alone could provide a power boost for the later miles. A pack of college boys all with their shirts off were running past me as if it was their every intention to sprint to the half and just drop dead. One of them knocks into me and I almost take a dive. Luckily, I catch myself just as I was about to lose balance. I wanted to get angry but quickly decide it's not worth the stress. Lose the battle. Win the war. I slow down to take an extra water at the next fluid station because I feel it's getting warmer and then speed up again to pass the mile 12 marker at 6:49.

I'm immediately excited running back over the cross bridge into the center of town. For one thing, I'm now less than a mile way from the half marathon checkpoint and as far as I could tell, still running strong and gaining time. For another, my friend M will be here again along the bend at mile 12.5 before the next out-and-back portion to the west. After missing her the first time near mile 2.5, I wanted to be sure to pick her out of the crowd. I kept my eyes peeled to the side as I ran along the left edge of the road. It wasn't long before I spotted her bubbly face at our pre-arranged locale. I went over gave her a hug and high-five and left just as quickly to resume my place with the group of guys I had been running with for the last half mile. Although our rendezvous was short, I felt relieved just to have seen her and know that we were both on our way to our last meeting spot near mile 25.

I clocked mile 13 at 6:50 and reached the half at 1:28:45. I felt extremely satisfied with these times as they were both exactly what I had planned for myself coming into this race. I felt a minute and change was enough of a cushion time where I had some leeway to operate heaven forbid something should happen in the last 10K but not so much so that I was jeopardizing a major bonk in the second half because I was racing the first half too fast. I was well pleased with my "perceived consistent effort" pacing strategy I was executing thus far and hoped that my strong summer training would lend itself to an equally strong pace in the second half.

After a straight and quick mile 14 at 6:42 and a slower mile 15 at 6:52, I was noticing that I wasn't maintaining my effort as easily as I had been in the first half of the race. I was running out of town again, heading straight into the abyss of the unrelenting sun. Although it was not yet uncomfortable to run, I knew it would get much worse before it got better. Volunteers and residents from the neighborhoods we passed through were already out in full force providing hoses, extra water and sponges for runners in need. I declined the hosing, but accepted sponges and extra water that were offered to me. After the debacle of '07, I was pleasantly surprised that everyone seemed ready for the hot day that was to come.

Mile 16 and 17 were a mental struggle for me. Although both miles clocked in at a respectable 6:51, they were fraught with potential traps and slight mishaps. I began by dropping my GU pack, forcing me to completely stop, go back a few steps and retrieve my fallen item before sprinting in a semi fartlek to gain back some of the time I had given up during the drop. Later on, I spotted the first few casualties of the heat - runners walking like zombies along the edge of the road. I felt bad for them knowing they must have been very speedy runners with fast ambitious goals. Then I started to think if this could possibly happen to me. Finally, I heard an older overweight spectator yelling out the three infamous words that never fail to make my blood boil. "You're Almost There! You're Almost There!" Really? With 9 miles to go, we're almost here? I thought about ripping off my bib, pinning it on him and watching HIM run the rest of the way. Maybe I can jog beside him and yell "Almost There" right into his ear every 5 seconds. We'd see how he likes that.

I was visibly upset. I knew this because I forgot to thank the kind volunteers who handed me a couple of wet and cold sponges that I applied on my face and chest. This shocked me because it was the first time all day that I felt not happy. I quickly reminded myself that I was running well, still on pace, not tired, not injured, and so should be very happy. At mile 18, I imagined myself running through the gauntlet of Flyers and friends that lines this same mile marker on First Avenue in every single NYC Marathon back home. It's the PowerGel station, and in my mind, I can see each of their smiling faces as they clap, cheer, and wish me well on my way. I decide to dedicate the rest of this mile and the next to them because right then and there the course felt empty and I needed my friends more than anything. Mile 18 came in at 6:52 and mile 19 was done at 6:56. I was happier than I had been a couple of miles back but it was obvious that I was also slowing down.

At mile 20, I began to game plan how the rest of the race was going to go. I knew it was getting warmer. I knew I was getting tired. But in my favor, I was also well hydrated, having stuck to the plan of taking in more fluids at each station than I felt I need. I also didn't feel hungry and my legs didn't feel crampy at all. When I thought about it, I couldn't remember I'd ever been able to say that at mile 20 in any of my previous marathons. All in all, I'd call this race a major success at this point. I was hoping for around a minute of cushion time at mile 20 (which I knew had to be 2:17 to be on pace for sub3) just to be on the safe side. When I finally passed this major checkpoint with a 6:58 mile and found that i was through 20 at 2:16:08, I was filled with many mixed emotions. On one hand, I was quite satisfied with my cumulative time having 50+ extra seconds on my side. On the other, I was concerned I was giving back time at such a substantial rate. I knew right then that it was going to be close. I'd have to dig deep, run hard, avoid the bonk, and make every second count the rest of the way in. The fight is ON!

The Perfect TenthRace Report from the 2010 Chicago MarathonPart III - The First Ten Miles

There's something about starting from the first corral of a world major marathon that is magical, breathtaking and inspiring. With the best athletes in the world leading the charge through the starting gate and into the deafening screams and cheers from several hundred thousand boisterous fans lining the streets on either side, you feel as if you're being sucked into a giant vacuum of speed and sound that would make any previous rollercoaster experience you've ever had pale in comparison. Of course, my designated plan going into the race was to start slow and gradually accelerate to marathon pace over the first two miles. However, I don't think I fully considered the energy of the crowd and the magnetic pull of my fellow first corral mates to be so strong. So even as I was focused on starting the race with a self-perceived conservative effort and watched as everyone around me took off towards a much faster start, I was surprised when I passed mile 1 in 6:46, a full 10 seconds or so faster than where I thought I would or should be. But I was feeling strong and effortless, gliding along the same streets I had just walked the day before. So I carried on.

Somewhere around mile 1.5 as I was settling into my pace, someone comes up on my shoulder and starts chatting to me about the race. I immediately see he has the same race shirt as me and recognize him as F, a Saucony Hurricane teammate I had just met over dinner a couple of days before. He is nice and asks about my goal time for this race. I tell him about sub-3 but add that I feel uneasy given the warm conditions expected for this race. He tells me not to let the weather get to my head and to execute my race like I had planned. He himself is holding back, having conquered his first 100-miler a few weeks back. Wow, a marathon must feel less than a training run for him, I thought to myself as he talked casually while sustaining sub-6:50 pace. I wondered aloud if I'll ever get to a point where a marathon feels as easy as a short training run. Amazing! I thanked him for his sage advice, wished him well on his race and scooted off to refocus my energy back on my race.

Mile 2 passed a little fast again at 6:40 but I was already preoccupied with another task to worry about it too much. My friend M was planning to make her first appearance as a spectator somewhere in this mile. Judging from the thick packs of spectators lining the streets five to six rows deep at times, I knew finding her so early on in this race would prove a difficult task. As I scanned the crowds, hoping to find a familiar face, I felt extremely grateful that she was here somewhere cheering for me in this race. I also thought about the tens if not hundred of friends back home virtually tracking my every footfall as I ran. This made me smile a bit too! Although I ultimately did not find my friend in this mile as the crowded conditions proved a bit too tough for spectating, I did find many funny posters and signs held out by nonrunners that made me chuckle. A couple of my favorites were: "If you can read this, you're not running fast enough!" and "Me: Beer for Run. You: Run for Beer."

I passed the mile 3 marker in 6:45 and felt myself settling into this race. Having briefly surveyed the course map the night before, I knew I was starting out on the first of three out-and-back loops at this point. The crowds were thinner now as the course moved through the northern sections of town. Gone are the skyscrapers and modern architectural marvels that dominate the Chicago skyline. They have slowly given way to three story houses and billboards over the course of a short mile. The sun was quickly emerging from behind the buildings and clouds too, sending particles of light shimmering out in Lake Michigan. As I approached the second water station, I reviewed my hydration plan quickly (which in retrospect seems more akin to a list of military commands than a water plan) - I will drink at every water station. Two cups of Gatorade, 1 cup of water to start...moving on to one cup of Gatorade and 2 cups of water in the second half. I will drink as much as possible. I will slow down if I have to. Under no circumstances will I allow my own sense of thirst to deceive me in taking less than I should. Given the plentiful fluid stations that will be available on course, we cannot be dehydrated today. We will not be dehydrated today!

I "marched" through mile 4 in 6:40 and mile 5 in 6:46, running almost as if on autopilot. I was feeling smooth. I was feeling strong. I was running without regard to total time which was a completely different strategy for me. Previously, whenever I ran a marathon for a certain goal time, I would always calculate how far I was ahead or behind at every mile and made incremental pace adjustments in the following mile. This time, because I was confident that my training would take me where I need to be, I didn't do any pace calculations as I was running. I figured it wouldn't help and would have just distracted me and disrupted my rhythm. So I just ran easy and smooth. At times, people with 3:00 pace bibs on their backs would pass me and cause me to momentarily doubt my own strategy. But I figured I'll probably see them all later anyways and just let them go on.

Mile 6 in the park was crossed in 6:47. Mile 7 was spent transitioning back to the streets in 6:40. I must have sped up because somewhere along here, "Eye of the Tiger" was playing on the loud speaker and I felt a sudden jolt of energy and inspiration. I remember flashing back to my first marathon when I first heard that song along the NYCM course in the Bronx. I felt a lump start forming in my throat. Wait, it's too early. It's too soon. Deep breath. Slow down. We've still got a ways to go.

After mile 7, the course runs for a few blocks along Lakeshore Drive before heading back downtown. For some reason that was my favorite stretch of the entire race course. Maybe it's because I had walked a section of the Drive the previous day and enjoyed the biking, running, and swimming I saw all around me. Maybe it's because it reminds me of the West Side Highway back home in NYC where I've done so many of my long training runs. Either way, I don't think I felt more alive and in sync with my body than I did at that moment in time. In my exuberance, I might have slapped a complete stranger spectator high-five when he wasn't expecting it and was holding a sign that simply said "RUN". It felt right at the time.

We're starting to make our way back to town in miles 8 and 9. The crowds became thick again. There was music. There was dancing. "Let's Get It Started" by the Black Eyed Peas was playing so loud I felt the ground shaking as I ran. Although I enjoyed the musical interlude because I had played that same song in my hotel room earlier that morning as I was preparing breakfast, It was not so obvious to me why this particular musical selection was chosen to be played at this section of the course. It was apparent, at least to me anyway, that if it hadn't already gotten started by mile 9...it's time to pack it in and go home. For some reason, i didn't run as well here, pulling in a 6:51 for mile 8 and a 6:50 for mile 9. But, since it was still below goal marathon pace of 6:52 though, I wasn't worried.

Mile 10 (I think it was here) saw the appearance of NY Flyer paparazzi camera man, YP. I wasn't expecting him so it was a pleasant surprise to see a familiar face along the sideline. When he saw me, he sprinted ahead by a couple hundred feet just to take some action shots of me as I ran by. He did it a couple of times and it was the funniest thing ever. It lifted my spirits tremendously and made me appreciate being a member of a running club that travels so well. For a little while there, I thought about each of my other Flyer teammates who were all out on the race course too. Although it was still early, I hoped they were individually having great races and imagining in my head all the great stories they were about to tell.

A bit weary but a bit invigorated by recent events, I passed mile 10 in 6:48. Since this was a major checkpoint for me, I took a look at my cumulative time, 1:07:38, and made a mental note that I was about 45 seconds under goal pace at this point I took my first GU, washed it down with ample water from a fluid station and braced myself for the next stage of battle.

The Perfect TenthRace Report from the 2010 Chicago MarathonPart II - Before the Start/In the Beginning

Before The Start

Having arrived in Chicago on Friday morning and experienced the warmer weather up close and personal for a day and a half, I felt as prepared to face the sun on race morning as I did the full 26.2 mile distance...which is another way of saying NOT. SO. MUCH. Perhaps I should explain.

For the past week and a half of taper, I'd been dealing with a slightly pulled muscle in my right hamstring that would give me little pinches of pain whenever I'd run at tempo pace or faster. On Monday of race week, I also caught a cold from one of the sick kids in clinic that left me a little sniffly and sneezy all the way to Chicago. So I'd be lying to myself if I thought i was 100% physically fit to race this course. But given that I'd been eating right and sleeping well and felt good on my dress rehearsal run of a few miles at marathon pace earlier in the week, I felt that I had a decent shot of running a good race. Besides, this was my 10th marathon on 10/10/10 and I'd been training all spring and summer for THIS RACE on THIS DAY to break sub-3. Was there any possible conceivable way for me to gracefully bow out of my race goal NOW? To make matters worse (or better depending on your perspective), my best fan/friend MT from home as well as several other blogger/podcaster friends were coming out to watch me race. To let them down with a sub-stellar performance would be more than a little disappointing for me.

So after gathering my things and filling my stomach with a blueberry muffin and a banana I had bought the day before, I left my friend M still sleeping at the hotel we were staying at and made my way downtown to the starting area at Millenium Park.

In the Beginning

The sun had barely begun peering over the horizon when I scooted into the seeded corral starting area after dropping off my bags at 6:45AM. Although I was a bit early, with the scheduled start at 7:30AM, I did not want to waste much needed energy fighting with the crowds and stressing over possibly not making it to my corral before they collapsed them. Besides I had a three digit bib number and a corral start right behind the elites for this race and so I thought I might possibly sneak up to the front and "touch a Kenyan" for good luck before it got too crowded in the corral. So I did, apologized for my intrusion, and grabbed a seat on the side towards the middle of my corral where I waited patiently for all the runners to come join me. As they came, one by one at first, then by the masses, I couldn't help but notice how many of my neighbors were so much younger than I am. I was surrounded by so many skinny legs and track tanks with college logos figured prominently in the front, that I felt as if I had just invited myself to a running fraternity party. Although I was a little intimidated by their boisterous talk, each verbally predicting a better finishing time than his peers, I was more energized by the immediacy of this sub3 attempt. I reminded myself that since I wasn't getting younger, I need to take full advantage of these racing opportunities as they come to me. As I always say before almost every race - Someday I will no longer be able to do this but today just isn't that day! Soon after I had this thought, the national anthem was played and the 33rd Annual Chicago Marathon got underway.

The Perfect TenthRace Report from the 2010 Chicago MarathonPart I - The Race Result

I've held out from you guys long enough. As you may or may not have found out, yours truly fulfilled a dream goal that I've set out for myself a long time ago. In the mini-microwave of heat that was the 2010 Chicago Marathon, I somehow pulled out a 2:59:55 to earn my first sub-3 hour marathon in my 10th marathon by 5 seconds! In many ways, it was the perfect race for me. In other ways, it was not. In my wildest dreams, I never quite imagined this day would come in one of the warmest marathons i've ever run. Yet I managed a strong pace for the most part and fought like heck when it seemed like all hope was gone. I have so many stories to tell and so many people to thank that it will take me a little while to think, reflect, and put down the details. Bear with me though. I promise to make it worth your while.

In the meantime, enjoy the results and my split times. Thanks for all the spectator/virtual cheers, well wishes, and congratulatory remarks. They were highly appreciated and was thought of during the race!

Final Statistics
Official Time: 2:59:55 (PR by 2:25!)
Average Pace - 6:52 min/mi
Overall Place - 707/36159
Gender Place - 598th
Age Group Place - 81st

Split Times
5K - 20:53
10K - 41:53
15K - 1:03:00
20K - 1:24:10
13.1 M - 1:28:45
25K - 1:45:17
30K - 2:06:39
35K - 2:28:29
40K - 2:50:32

1st 13.1M - 1:28:45
2nd 13.1M - 1:31:10
Positive Split - 2:25

A Fast Trot Around The ParkRace Report from the NYRR Fitness 4M Race

Hello folks, it's been a while...Yes, I realize that I haven't updated this blog in over a week, and yes I realize too that I haven't been as active in the blogosphere of late but honestly, the working, running and training has gotten so intense lately that I feel like I hardly have a chance to catch my breath sometimes after doing what I have to do on a daily basis to call myself a professional M.D. and a serious recreational marathoner. I sincerely apologize and hope that I can return to a more consistent blogging schedule sometime soon.

Another thing that I haven't been doing much of lately since marathon training began in earnest is participating in shorter distance races. Over the years, I've always used short distance races (5K, 4mile, 5mile, 10K), usually one to two per month, to motivate myself through the monotony of marathon training. This summer however, because the weather has been so hot and unwelcoming, I've shied away from doing many of the local races in Central Park in favor of longer training runs in Queens and Long Island. However, at times, when I'm tired and fatigued from a tempo or interval session gone too long, I find myself yearning to race just to evaluate my fitness and to find out if all the speed training I'm doing is actually making a difference on my times. This is why when my brother told me he was entering a 4 mile race today just to see where his fitness is at, I did not hesitate in signing up for the same race myself. I figured if nothing else, I'd be able to practice race pacing, have a finish time with which I can extrapolate and better define what my current marathon time should be and readjust my training paces accordingly.

The race I ran today was called the NYRR Fitness Mind, Body and Spirit run. It is essentially a 4 mile race running in a counterclockwise direction around Central Park. Although you would think that such a mundane venue wouldn't draw a big or competitive crowd, but because it was another local club points race, divided into a separate men and women's starts, the field was large and full of speedsters looking to claim bragging rights for their respective clubs. I, by comparison, wasn't so much looking forward to the competition but just hoping to race well, run fast, not injure myself and score a PR if possible. Because the weather was sunny but relatively mild at the start, I was hopeful that running a race that I'd be proud of may actually be in the realm of possibility for me.

I went through the necessary pre-race warmups, bid my brother farewell and scooted into the blue corral a few minutes before the barricade was lifted. I situated myself in the middle of the crowd, waited intently as pre-race announcements were made, got emotional at the reminder of this date (9/11) nine years ago, and sang a bit of the national anthem while watching some birds in flight directly overhead. All around me, I could feel the anxiety and tension emanating from my fellow competitors as we collectively wait for the final race instructions which we all knew by heart. Finally, with a blaring of the starting horn, the race began and we were off!

Because the course initially dips down a bit before rising into the infamous Cat Hill in mile 1, most of the runners around me were running at top speed right out of the gate. I fought the urge to follow suit and allowed my body to accelerate slowly to what I perceived to be a reasonably fast speed. Early on, my main focus was less about running speed than about finding a comfort zone where my legs can operate. Once I was able to settle down to a manageable cadence, I carried that effort up and over Cat Hill. I resisted the urge to check my pace but judging from past experience, I imagined I was running slow at this point. Still, I was already passing a few people who had gunned it too hard right out of the gate, so I was encouraged by that. I crested the big hill feeling pretty good, not tired at all, and approached the first mile marker thinking I needed to pick up the pace to make up for lost time in mile 1. So imagine my surprise when I looked down at exactly the mile 1 marker and saw that I was at 5:48. Wow!

At the beginning of mile 2, I passed by the exact spot where I blacked out and DNF'd at about 5K in my previous attempt at a 4 mile race. I used my memory of that last race to remind myself to not press my luck but run steady and comfortably. As I passed by Engineers Gate and saw some disabled Achilles athletes doing their best out on the race course, I felt very inspired and motivated to run with passion, healthy and strong. I tell myself that I am out here not necessarily to beat the other competitors, but to do the best that I can, not falter and to prove to myself that I belong. Fueled by the energy of my thoughts yet calmed by the serenity of instantaneous grace, I passed mile 2 marker at 5:52.

Given that my previous PR pace is 6:09, I knew I was looking extremely good for a big PR. However, given that the treacherous rolling hills at mile 3 awaits, my exhilaration was tempered by the reality that my race can turn bad extremely quickly if I wasn't careful. So I focused all my mental energy on just maintaining good cadence and good flow through the succession of hills in mile 3. Because I was running in open space essentially by this point with no racers in my immediate vicinity, I had to rely on my own perceived effort to gauge my progress as I ran cautiously through this undulating mile. I was pleasantly surprised again when I crested the last hill and saw 6:05 flashing on the Garmin.

Upon recognizing that only one measely mile now separated me from the PR that has eluded my grasp for so long, I was originally content with just cruising the last mile and claiming my prize at the finish line. But since I was energized and still feeling relatively comfortable at this point, I picked it up a little and searched the field up ahead for someone to pass. Lo and behold, out of the corner of my eye, I spot fellow Flyer AP up ahead, about a quarter mile away. So I gradually increased my cadence and ran more purposefully in an effort to catch him. I wasn't sure whether I had enough real estate to track him down and it wasn't until the last 50-100 meters of that race that I finally caught up to him and found myself neck and neck with this great fellow Flyer runner. I pushed forward at the last instant and was able to beat him to the finish by a mere second. I was gassed by the time this race was over but very happy that I can claim victory over myself once again!

In the end, I PR'd in this race by a whopping 62 seconds. More importantly, I showed the world and myself that I haven't forgotten how to run fast without dying at the end. I practiced flawless pacing and remained comfortable through the whole entire race. Although I know these short distance races do not necessarily translate to marathon success, nevertheless they provide a good barometer of overall fitness. According to the various race calculator, my new 4 mile PR now predicts a 2:52-2:55 marathon. No matter if they are accurate or not, just knowing that I have the potential to run such fast times in Chicago is music to my ears and provides me with the much needed incentive to keep training hard. And right now, heading into the last week of high mileage training before the taper, I need all the motivation and incentive I can find!

Official Race Statistics
Time - 0:23:36 (P.R. by 1:02)
Average Pace - 5:54 min/mile
Mile Splits - 5:48, 5:52, 6:05, 5:50
Official Place - 113/2181 (5.2%)
Age Group Place - 23/396 (5.8%)
NY Flyer Men - 1st Place
Age Graded Percentage - 72.9%

A Lesson in Consistency: Race Report from the Coogan's Salsa, Blues and Shamrock's 5K

In running as in medicine, sometimes the more you think you know about a particular subject the more you realize that you know absolutely jack squat!

In all honesty, by the time I lined up at the start of today's 5k race in Washington Heights, (even though this was to be my first "official race of 2010" and first as a Saucony Hurricane, I already accepted the fact that this was not going to be a stellar race for me. Given that I had been bothered all week by some discomfort in my right ITB and Achilles, likely secondary to pushing my pace too hard in the last miles of my 22 miler last week, and had gone out on a sixteen mile long run less than 24 hours ago, I had no wild preconceived notions of turning in a spectacular time on this tough and hilly course. My plan was to run this race without trashing myself physically and get to the post-race party as fast as possible...so I can trash myself there with the free beer and brunch at the Irish bar that was sponsoring this race! Last year, in my first 5K race ever, I ran this course in an amazing 18:34 (avg pace 5:59 min/mi). This year, given my injury concerns and sore legs, I was just hoping for anything less than 18:40.

Race weather was perfect this morning as we nestled ourselves inside our respective color corrals, waiting for the race start. It was sunny, it was warm (mid 40s), and I saw a few pigeons bustling about in the blue sky overhead - a sure sign of spring! Although I was in my starting corral a full ten minutes prior to the start, I still found myself at the back of the pack. I had expected this to be a crowded race, given the popularity of the post race party and the race being a points race for the local running clubs, but when you can't even see the stage from the first corral, that's a little ridiculous. I tried inching myself closer to the front once the opening ceremonies started and the Star-Spangled Banner began to play, but all that did was encourage everyone else to do the same. So I resigned myself to my position, gave my sore calves a good stretch, rubbed my new Saucony Fastwitch 4 racers (love these) for good luck and redirected my thoughts on formulating a game plan for this course.

I was in the midst of my thoughts, trying to remember what I had learned from watching a replay of the Boston Marathon on Universal Sports the night before, when the starting horn sounded. Amidst the thunderous applause of nearby spectators and a make shift Irish band playing loud bagpipe music in the background, I followed the swarming masses staggering towards the starting line. A few seconds later, I found myself crossing the mats and officially beginning my racing season for 2010.

Mile 1 - As it is with any NYRR race, the first quarter mile was crowded and congested, and it was all I could do to find some room for myself to run. Choosing to be safe rather than risk an injury to myself or others, I started my race conservatively and waited patiently for the pace of my neighbors to settle. As I did, I used the time to find out if my knee and ankle had sufficiently warmed to give forth a solid effort on this day. After a quarter mile of heavy contemplation and no pain, I dared myself to open up the pace to my perceived 5K effort.

Unfortunately, this was also where we encountered the first major hill on the course. The rise isn't big, but if you're not ready for it, it can easily sapped your energy and kill your race. I didn't consider it much, but judging from the heavy breathing and the occasional swear escaping from the mouths of my neighbors, I know they would beg to differ. Perhaps that's why I caught back up to many of the initial speedsters who had blasted off right from the get-go. After the ascent, we were treated to a nice steady downhill. I extended my stride and fought my heart to flow down the hill as fast as I could. (Mile 1 - 5:57; Coogan's 2009 5K Mile 1 - 5:55)

Mile 2 - The cruelty of the second mile is that as soon as you cross the mile 1 marker running downhill, you can see the second mile marker directly on the opposite side of this out-and-back course. In the middle of this descent, I can vaguely make out the super elite runners fast approaching the hill from the other side. Last year, I bombed this section of the course. Last year, I didn't know what I was getting myself into. This year, upon seeing fort tower a bit in the distance and the elites on their return journey back to the start, I vowed that things would be a little different.

Once the descent was over and I found myself revolving around fort tower on flatter ground, I shortened my stride and increased my turnover in anticipation of the big ascent up ahead. As I did, I reminded myself to imagine myself a cyclist shifting down gears in response to a big hill climb. A big swarm of people, larger than before, was now rolling down the big hill on the opposite side as I began my battle. Off in the short distance, I can clearly make out a couple of my Flyer teammates who have already begun to wage their own wars.

And then it was time for me to go. A half mile up a grade 3-4 hill. Hmmm, I thought, haven't I done this before? Why does this feel so familiar? Of course, of course, this is exactly what I've been practicing on the treadmill for so many weeks. The hill repeats up a level 4-5 hill. I know how to do this. Short strides, quick steps, controlled breathing. Yes, yes, I can do this.

Maybe it was the weekly hilly sets working wonders. Maybe it was just how I like to fake it until I make it. Whatever the reason, I rocked the hill climb like I've never rocked one before. The funny thing was I didn't even need to check the Garmin to tell me this. I passed so many people during this elevation gain that I felt I was literally on a bike while others were running! While others were grunting, and breathing so ostensibly loud that I almost couldn't hear myself think, I was repeating my own hill climbing mantra to myself - short strides, quick steps, controlled breathing - and maintaining my effort running up the hill. Seeing the official clock at the mile 2 maker in the 11:50 ranges only served to confirmed my suspicions. (Mile 2 - 5:57; Coogan's 2009 5K Mile 2 - 6:08)

Mile 3 - At the end of the hill, upon seeing my mile 2 time, I knew I was in line for a big PR. For a moment or two, I couldn't believe I finished that stretch at the same time as mile 1. Maybe I should recheck the Garmin, maybe I had miscalculated. No, I didn't have time. Instead for the first time in the race, I was feeling some fatigue in my quads. So I pleaded with my legs to keep the faith and keep the pace. Instead of acknowledging the soreness, I finally thought about how I wasn't supposed to be doing so well so late in this race. Didn't I run 16 miles the day before? Wasn't my knees and ankles supposed to be tight and sore? Instead, I was having no tightness, no pain, and running victoriously on the way to the finish line. I had overachieved beyond my wildest expectations. I felt instantaneously at peace. (Mile 3 - 5:56; Coogan's 2009 5K Mile 3 - 5:56)

Last 0.1M - As I approached the finish, I could once again hear the bagpipes and the wild applause of the spectators gathering in the streets on either side. I noticed that the sun had risen higher now. Neighbors from the apartment buildings on other sides were looking out onto the streets and clapping their hands in exultation. The entire street was turning into a spring carnival right before my eyes! I pumped my fists and gave a last kick on my way across the finish line to claim my first race PR of 2010. (Last 0.1M - 0:36; Coogan's 2009 5K Last 0.1M - 0:35)

Final Statistics
Finishing Time - 18:26 (PR by 8 secs)
Average Pace - 5:56 min/mile
Overall Place - 186/5629
Gender Place - 172/3017
Age Place - 33
Age Graded - 71.1%

What “Running Means”Race Report from the Philly Half MarathonPart II – Race Day

It was a cool crisp 40 degrees when BS and I escaped the comfy confines of our hotel room and began the walk over to the race start. Although it was still completely dark at 6AM and I was still shivering a little when we began our walk, I could already tell we were going to have perfect running weather for this race. I had slept well, ate well, and hydrated a ton the night before. Dressed in my race-ready NY Flyers shirt and shorts underneath my running jacket and tights, I felt more ready than ever to have a strong race.

The spirited raspy voice of Bart Yasso over the loud speaker welcomed me to the pre-race staging area. Despite the chaos of runners, volunteers, and race officials scurrying in every direction around me, I was calm and relaxed walking around the starting area and finding my way around. At around 6:30 or so, I said goodbye to BS as we went to look for our respective UPS trucks to drop off our bags. It wasn’t until I had stripped off my layers down to my racing shirt and shorts that I realized that my baggage tag was missing from my bag! Since it was only attached via an adhesive (and not pinned – their idea, not mine), it must have fallen off during the transit from my hotel room to hear. I didn’t think it was such a big deal until the baggage volunteers insisted that they could not take my bag until it was tagged! I complained vehemently to a nearby race official who told me that my bag cannot be checked and that my only option was to go to the registration area all the way on the opposite side of the staging area to get a blank sticker. It was now 6:45. I started to panic. I made a feeble attempt to get over to the registration area, but gave up when I couldn’t find my way around the port-a-john lines that were blocking my way. I went back to my UPS truck and begged the volunteers to take my bag so I could run my race. They said no. Right there and then, I wanted to scream because I was pretty certain my race was over. It was now 6:50. Right at that moment, out of the corner of my ear, I hear my name being called. “L, can I help hold your bag?” It was BH, one of my Flyer friends from back home who had traveled down to watch the race and take pictures after running a 60K in Central Park the day before! It was surreal. I thanked him profusely, gave him my bag, and sprinted like hell to find the maroon corral and get into place. I reached the designated area just as the national anthem was finishing and they were about to send the lone wheelchair racer off onto the course. A slight delay gave me a couple of minutes to catch my breath and reflect on what had just happened. It the mad dash to get over to the starting line, I had forgotten to take my bandanna out of my bad. So it looks like I’d have to run this one with a naked head! I chuckled at my own joke as I heard the final race instructions being given one last time. I was just glad I made it over so I wouldn’t have to be stuck in the back of the crowd. A few minutes later, somewhat unannounced, the starting horn sounded, and we were off!

Running means fresh and new beginnings –
For every race, every day, and every life.
Mile 1 – 6:19; Mile 2 – 6:15

It was a crowded start right out of the gate. Although I was in the second corral right behind the elites and everyone around me was running strong and fast, it felt as if it still took me a good chunk of the first mile to settle into my pace. I didn’t mind though. Running through the streets of downtown Philadelphia with all its historical tall buildings next to enthusiastic crowds cheering us on was a true runner’s delight. I took my time and space and fought hard not to weave or squeeze by the congestion in the early going. There were a lot of speedy runners out on these narrow streets today and the last thing I wanted to do was cause an accident.

The sun was starting to rise off the horizon as we turned off Ben Franklin Pkwy onto Arch Street near the end of the first mile. Along the way, we passed by the Reading Terminal where I had lunch the day before and the Convention Center where the race expo was held. It was eerie to think that I was running here in Philadelphia when 24 hours ago I was still in bed in NYC! I had a mental flashback of the emotional rollercoaster I endured the previous day (and this morning) just to get to this point that I felt extremely lucky and privileged just to be able to run this race. Because of all that I went through, I really wanted to run well here, more as a confirmation to myself that I was meant to run this race than as an exhibition or testament for others.

Although the mile pace for the opening miles was a little more brisk than I’d imagined, I didn’t react and hold back, but allowed my body and legs to dictate the pace. After all, I had run the Staten Island Half a month ago for a big PR by adopting that same philosophy and since this course is supposedly faster than any of the ones back home, I figured my best chance of success is to stick to what works for me.

Running means finding the inner peace and confidence
To be your own animal and travel at your own pace
Mile 3 – 6:16; Mile 4 – 6:28

Mile 2 ends with a Gumby-like cartoon character standing on the corner slapping high-fives to all the runners as we made the turn onto Delaware Avenue which overlooks onto the Delaware River. I can’t remember what he was advertising but I remember feeling so pumped after verifying my fast pace in the early going with my Garmin that I gave him a harder slap than I intended to as I passed by, causing him to fall back a step or two. Woops! I’m sure I got quite a few quizzical looks from my neighbors after that exchange.

Mile 3 was a little windy and quiet and there wasn’t as much crowd support here as in the previous miles. I was dialed into my pace now and was slowly settling in with a pack of veteran runners who looked like they’ve done this before. It irked me that from the back, I couldn’t tell who were halfers and who were fullers. I wanted this information to gauge whether I should consider sticking with them for the long haul or whether I would be better off setting my own pace and running my own race. I struggled with this decision for almost the full mile.

As it turns out, it was a completely speculative debate because by the time I left Delaware Avenue on a mild accent up to South Street, it became evident that I would not be holding on to this ridiculously brisk pace. I tempered my own expectations and drifted back as I allowed the pack to surge on ahead. I perused the window decorations on the surrounding small town shops to recalibrate my system and return to a state of relaxed running where I had been before I got myself tangled up with the elite pack from mile 3. I was slightly disappointed at my significantly slower mile time for mile 4, but figured that this was about the pace I expected myself to keep right from the outset, so in essence, I was back on track!

Running means love, community and support –
Even when you don’t think you are so deserving.
Mile 5 – 6:29; Mile 6 – 6:29

I settled into a groove at miles 5 and 6. Running through South Street and then Chestnut with crowds bursting out of shops, coffee houses and stores was simply exhilarating! I heard my name called out several times as I ran through here and it made me completely smile every time. I had to fight back the urge to turn back and acknowledge the crowd even as I knew I would have no way of identifying who was shouting what.

We also passed by Independence Hall and a group of guys dressed up as Patriots standing on the side. Some were handing out water, some were singing songs. All were cheering and clapping for each runner as we passed by. From my vantage point, it made me feel somewhat patriotic just to be running this race.

Running means challenging yourself
To be better than you think you can be.
Mile 7 – 6:30; Mile 8 – 6:43; Mile 9 – 6:32

These middle miles were the toughest miles for me today for several reasons. For starters, there were hills and steep climbs in each of these miles that I was not expecting. For the most part, I tackled each one the best that I could, by keeping my strides short, increasing my turnover and powering through with a consistent effort. This was a good strategy for me as I would pass by many runners on all my uphill climbs. The problem was that once I crested the hills, it took quite a while for my heart rate to recover and settle down. As a result, my pace and heart rate drifted erratically during this stretch and I really had to fight some demons here to prevent a midway meltdown.

Incidentally, this was also the part of the course with the least number of spectators. Emerging from the boisterous crowds in downtown Philly, I was surprised to find so many dead areas in these miles. I remember seeing lots of lawns and trees on my way through and wishing that I could just lie down there with a bottle of sunscreen!

Finally, the middle miles was demoralizing on me because I was fighting my pace the whole way. For some reason, I had it in my mind that I should be running faster than 6:30 miles so to see my pace hovering at 6:29-6:30 was a frustrating and disconcerting. At times, I experimented by throwing a few speed surges but still found that I was married to a 6:30 paces at the end of them. It was a bit depressing. I can’t even explain why I felt so bad about it, since prior to a month ago, 6:30 was my half marathon PR pace, but to be doing it here, in this race, so consistently mile-after-mile after starting out at a blistering fast pace just felt like a copout to me.

Running means living a passionate life
And inspiring others to do the same.
Mile 10 – 6:36; Mile 11 – 6:31

The final and the toughest hill climb came at the end of mile 10 next to Memorial Hall in Fairmont Park. This was a nasty ascent not only because it was long and steep, but also because you could see the entire length of the uphill trail all the way from the bottom as it winds itself up through the grassy field onto the overpass ahead. Although I had advanced notice of this section of the course from friends who’ve run here before, I still felt very intimidated by this hill when I happened upon it toward the latter stages of mile 10. I saw a couple of demoralized runners walking off to the side as I approached the ascent gingerly and relaxed my pace. I ran methodically with short quick strides and followed the procession up the hill. At the crest, I had to stop for a few seconds to settle my breathing and drink my water at the fluid station before continuing on.

After vanquishing the hill and crossing the 10 mile mark, I knew all that stood between me and the finish was a short 5K. Although I wanted to begin gradually increasing my speed, I didn’t know how much I had left at the tank after the brutal climb a half mile before. So I bid my time and waited until my breathing was less labored before considering a push towards the finish. We were at a short out-and-back now and I could see a few friends and Flyers coming up from behind me about a half-mile to a mile away. I gave each a wave and a cheer of encouragement. Just about everyone I saw looked like they were running really fast and heading for big PRs in their race. This was very inspiring to see. At the end of this mile, we left the out and back and I knew it was time for me to get down to business.

Running means breaking down limits and barriers
And discovering a better me
Mile 12 – 6:21; Mile 13 – 5:58; Last 0.1 – 0:42

My mile 11 time was both comforting and frustrating to me at the same time. On the one hand, I was glad to see that I recovered from the monstrous climb at mile 10 to reclaim my previous running pace. However, this pace was again 6:31. At this point, I had an internal debate with myself regarding how I should handle the last two miles of this half marathon. The safe, conservative approach would be to maintain 6:30-6:32 pace and come in at a respectable 1:25 or so. This result wouldn’t stand out but be commendable and respectable to everyone. Or, I could push the envelope, go for broke, and maybe secure a new PR. In the few seconds it took me to deliberate these possibilities, I thought about the events of yesterday and this morning. I thought about how close I was to not even running this race. I thought about all my half marathons of this past year and how I wanted this last one to be something special, to stand out. Once I realized what I must do, I started picking up my pace slowly and steadily. One by one, I began passing runners. This gave me fuel and energy to run even faster. At the one mile mark, I checked my pace and realized that I was now running 6:20 and right on par for a PR. I close my eyes and continue to push the pace. I’m now passing people in droves. They are all looking at me wondering how it could be that I’m running so fast. I don’t ask, I don’t try. In my mind, I’m running mile intervals around the Central Park reservoir by myself. When I’m a half-mile away from the finish, I crank it up another notch and begin my push to the finish line. I’m counting steps and watching the clock at the same time. At last, I see the sign for the finish and start my final kick. Upon seeing 1:24:XX as I crossed the finish line, I knew I had done it. Another half-marathon complete, another PR!

Final Time – 1:24:14 (PR by 0:11)

Final Thoughts

I know it wasn’t a big PR, but I’m really proud of how I ran this race. I allowed my legs to set the pace in the early miles, kept and maintained an even effort on the middle miles and fought complacency, inattentiveness and fatigue to run my fastest mile in the last mile of the race en-route to a half-marathon PR in the final race of the 13.1 mile distance this calendar year. It is shocking to realize that in just one short year, I have set 3 PRs and improved by more than a minute in the half-marathon. I’m excited to experience all of this again as I begin the chase to 1:23 next year!

What “Running Means”Race Report from the Philly Half MarathonPart I – The Day Before The Race

The theme from this year’s Philadelphia Marathon/Half Marathon running series was “Running Means…” which was a peculiar question to ask, I thought, because if anyone really wanted to know, they could’ve just consulted Webster’s, Oxford, Google, Wikipedia, or any of an assortment of on-line and off-line resources to find the answer. (BTW, if you had to look it up, all it really means is to put one foot in front of the other in some sort of coordinated fashion that is faster than walking!) Haha!

All kidding aside, one of the main reasons I wanted to run this race was to define running for myself. What does it mean to me? What does it mean to others? Is this something I do, or is this something I am? I not only wanted to know the answer to this riddle, I wanted to experience it firsthand. I wanted to see it with my own eyes, feel it with my own feet, and hear it with my own ears, so that if a non-runner asks, I can accurately describe what running personally means to me.

Arrival in Philly, The Expo, Pasta Dinner, and The Night Before

The Saturday bus trip to Philly from NYC was pleasant and uneventful as we entertained ourselves with stories, gossips, and of course, facebook updates and race day forecasts every 5 minutes. I was traveling down with Flyers JT, JB, and BS and each of us had our own expectations and reservations about the race. JT and JB were running their goal marathon while JS and I were just running the half as an excuse to bask in the race atmosphere and cheer on friends. We made a pact that we’d keep ourselves to half the food and half the drinks this weekend because unlike everyone else, “we weren’t the real runners; we’re just running the half!” That would become our rallying cry for the rest of the trip.

We arrived at Philly in the early afternoon after a faster-than-average two hour ride. Although the bus trip was short, it was still over our lunch hour, so we were starving for some food by the time we got into town. Since none of us were too familiar with Philly, there was a lot of humming and hawing about where exactly we should eat. During this little confusion over which location seemed most appropriate for a pre-marathon lunchtime meal, I excused myself to use the restroom in the visitor’s center across the street. When I got back, they were still at the same point in the discussion as when I had left! This prompted the funniest comment of the weekend from BS who said “Yeah, in case you all didn’t know, he pees at a 6 minute pace too!” Absolutely hilarious! After some iPhone consulting and JT suddenly remembering that she went to UPenn and things don’t change that much in six or seven years, we headed over to the Reading Terminal which was situated right next to the convention center where the race expo was. This was the perfect choice because we all wanted to save our legs as much as possible for race day.

Although the servicing was a bit more delayed than we were used to back home, we got a table quickly, ordered, relaxed, and chowed down our meals (when it finally came) at race pace. I had my first Philly Cheese Steak in well over a year and savored every bite. The others were a little suspicious of my meal choice until I reminded them again that “I was just running a half!” the next day, so no double-decker club sandwiches for me!

After we ate, we went to the race expo to pick up numbers and bibs. Upon reaching the race area, I felt so excited just to be in the vicinity of marathoners and running gear that I literally jumped and knocked my head on top of one of the fixtures. Ouch! Now, it was time for me to remind myself not to get overly excited myself because again, “I’m just running the half!” We all splitted up at this point to get our own numbers and race gear. I felt all sorts of weird looking around for the “kid’s table” to grab my bib. I half-heartedly expected some race official to jump out in the middle of my search and say “Excuse me, Sir, we couldn’t help but noticed your application for the half and given your times and veteran marathoner’s status, thought you were probably better suited to run the full, so we made the switch on your behalf. There’s a marathon race bib with your name on it waiting for you on the opposite side.” But no that didn’t happen. Instead, I walked over, picked up my half-marathon bib, asked the overly enthusiastically lady working the gear area whether it was too late to ask about the full marathon option (she said there wasn’t such a thing) and I left it at that. The only solace I got was that the gear bag and race shirt both looked pretty sweet and definitely useable for future races. What was even nicer was the pair of technical running gloves I found later hidden within the gear bag. Sweet! I’d never gotten running gloves as a souvenir from a race before so finding those instantly lifted my spirits about the race.

After checking out the rest of the race expo, saying hi to Bart Yasso for about the fifth time this year and successfully pulling myself away from signing up for five spring marathons that all seemed so enticing from the race ads, I left the convention center with BS to find our hotel where we’d be staying that night. We were staying within walking distance of both the expo and the start so it didn’t take too long for us to find the place. Once we did, we quickly checked in, unpacked, changed, showered, and laid out all our race gear for the next day. We chilled a little bit in the room and before we knew it, it was already time to head out to meet the rest of the Flyer crew for the obligatory pre-marathon pasta dinner.

There were roughly about 15 Flyers who showed up for dinner that night at a homely family-style Italian restaurant that rivaled Sambuca or Tony’s DiNapoli in NYC. DK, our master dinner planner extraordinaire, had picked the setting and called ahead for reservations so we got seated almost as soon as we got in. By the time BS and I arrived at the festivities, JT was already seated at a table with a bunch of her relatives, so was runner26 with her husband and parents seeming as nervous as I’d ever seen her. BS show to sit with a bunch of other Flyer contingent at the far end of a long table while I chose to sit at a new one with DK and JB who had shown up just as we were able to order and eat. Because we were all split up into different tables, we ordered individually according to table size. Being I was in the smallest table and running the shortest distance (both DK and JB were running the full despite having done NYCM 3 weeks ago just like me), I really didn’t eat all that much since I was sticking to my guns that halfers should only carb up half as much as fullers! (I had to look over to my half partner BS to make sure we weren’t cheating!) But what I did eat was pretty delicious and actually quite filling so I had no complaints.

After dinner, we all gathered for some quick pictures before scattering off to our individual hotels to prepare for an early wakeup call the next day. Before I left, I was able to catch up a bit with runner26 who told me about her pre-race anxiety and nervousness and phantom ankle pains she was having all week. I responded by telling her to use her past marathon experiences to channel her nervous energies to running a good race. I also told her that I never believe in phantom pains that crop up only on race week. From what I know about the way the body works, phantom pains is just a misrepresentation of recovery mechanisms that the body isn’t used to and don’t know how to interpret. They will invariably disappear once the race starts. I don’t know if she quite believed me but I was pretty confident that my diagnosis was accurate and my impromptu treatment plan would work wonders for her race. As we parted, I wished her good luck, even as I knew she only had to trust herself to run a great race. (As an aside, she took my advice and ran an amazing PR sub-4 race the next day! Big ups to runner26!)

As for me, I trampled back to my hotel room, checked and double checked all that I would need for the next day and went to sleep. As I laid quietly in bed, I thought a lot about all my Flyer friends who rocked their 60Ks in Central Park earlier in the day and those that were about to run the full marathon in the morning. I wrestled with my own feelings of inadequacy even as I know I am in no way prepared to race a full marathon even if permitted to so soon after NYCM. Yet, I also knew I had to ultimately forgive myself and focus on my own race if I was going to have any chance of success the next day. This proved to be a harder task than I imagined as I fell asleep subconsciously still scheming of possible ways to escape my fate of “only” running the half-marathon on race morning. Little did I know something unexpected would happen just prior to the race start that would make me ever so thankful just to be able to compete in the half marathon distance.

Combining Consistency and Flow to a Stellar PR:Race Report for the 2009 Staten Island Half Marathon

(I’m sorry for the tardiness of this report, but in the setting of some great marathons this past weekend, I was in no mood to steal the spotlight from those who ran the full distance. Congrats to all those who ran and finished the full 26.2! For those who still care, I humbly submit my report for my half marathon I ran this past weekend…)

Intro - In many ways, I was ill-prepared and hesitant to run this race. I was running in my third half-marathon in less than a month, I had missed out on speedwork for several weeks due to nagging concerns of some right hip flexor pain I suffered in the aftermath of tackling 22 miles in Palisades State Park and oh yeah, I was in the last week of dedicated training for the New York City Marathon in 3 weeks. But since I promised the world I’d run this race for the World Wide Festival of Races, I promised the city I’d finished this race to complete my NYC Half Marathon Grand Prix, and I’d promised myself I’d race this course because frankly it is my favorite out of the five boroughs series, I found myself straggling into the blue starting corral for this race on a sunny and brisk Sunday morning in Staten Island wondering if today was finally going to be the magical day I’d PR and go under 1:25 for this 13.1 mile race.

Mile 1 - I hear the horn and follow the shuffling stampede across the starting line. Because the opening road leading to the first incline was somewhat narrow, I remember two succinct thoughts as I made my way through the crowds. Thought #1 – Accelerate slowly to a comfortable pace. Thought #2 – Don’t get trampled! No sooner had I completed those thoughts that I felt my feet brush the back of someone’s leg. Oops! I turned, apologized and felt someone else brush mine. (Like I said, it was crowded at the start…) I remained in this tight dense package of runners until we made it past the first hard turn into a steep incline towards the midway point of the first mile. Once we crested this opening hill, the road opened up like an empty black canvas. I smiled. Although I am no Michaelangelo by talent or by trade, on this gorgeous fall Sunday morning, I was very eager to paint. (Mile 1 – 6:24; Avg HR 152)

Mile 2 – Clusters of neighbors from surrounding apartments are gathering by the side of the road to watch us run. Volunteer cops occupy all the street corners, directing the sprinkling Sunday morning traffic away from the race course as we make our way eastward from Richmond Terrace to Bay Street. There is a series of rollers here – nothing big, all of them small – yet sufficient enough to create a flux of movement in the flow of runner traffic around me. I remind myself to ignore my neighbors who are all surging forward or falling back but focus instead on my own breathing and running cadence to determine what my own pace should be. Towards the end of this mile, as we make a left onto a small bridge that will take us to the next section of the course, we pass by a convenience store coincidentally named “On The Run”. Although they were situated in the vicinity of a gas station, I wondered aloud whether they could secretly be catering to runners in need for fluids or a gel instead of drivers in need of cigarettes or beer. (Mile 2 – 6:22; Avg HR 166)

Mile 3 – I was surprised, shocked really, to see the results of my last mile pace. Despite the steady diet of rollers in the last portion of the course, I had managed to keep my second mile pace eerily similar to the first. Since my half marathon PR pace (accomplished in Long Branch, NJ back in May) is 6:31 min/mi, I had it in my mind before the start of the race that I would have to maintain 6:30s in order to PR this race. And because I semi-unintentionally told a few friends and teammates last night that I wasn’t coming to Staten Island for the beautiful scenery, I was under a bit of self-imposed pressure to run a good time or at least score for the team. Some quick and easy math made me realize that I had built a 14 second PR cushion for myself at this point. Both my body and my head agreed that it was still too early to tell whether this information would be relevant or useless at the end of the race.

Halfway through this mile, we approach our first water station of this race and I refocus my mental energies back on this race. I grabbed the water from a helpful volunteer, take a sip, and realize that I wasn’t even as thirsty as I thought I would be. I take a second smaller sip, toss the paper cup to the side of the road and took a few quicker paces to regain my stride. Up ahead, I could see a string of runners stretched out for a good half mile in front of me. Aside from tall grass and abandoned warehouses, they wasn’t any surrounding scenery to speak of for this next two miles. For me, this minor inconvenience hardly mattered because I was so heavily focused on myself, my form and my flow at this point. (Mile 3 – 6:23; Avg HR 167)

Mile 4 – After a series of wide straight flats next to shipping yards and anonymous warehouses, the course suddenly turns onto a long but gentle hill leading to a more residential area of town. As I make my way steadily towards the top, I remind myself to shift into a lower gear mentally and withdraw further into myself, wondering if anyone else studying my form right now would classify it as an example of flow or a dying duck waddling his way upstream. I crest the hill, make a left and start my descent down a windy path on a residential street. The street itself is flanked on both sides by ethnic stores which are for the most part closed for Sundays. Volunteers and spectators alike decorate the sidelines as they clap and cheer on us runners passing by. Partly fueled by their boisterous encouragement, partly motivated by thoughts of these festivities serving as a microcosm of what is to come in three weeks, I find my pace increasing ever so slightly. (Mile 4 – 6:21; Avg HR 169)

Mile 5 – It is getting warmer now. What started out as a chilly morning in the low 50s must be hovering around 60 now. I wipe the first drips of perspiration from my brow and ease off the slightly faster pace I had been running. Even with my semi-erronenous quasi-arithmetic capabilities available to me mid-race, I was well aware that I was about 30 seconds ahead of PR pace a quarter of the way into the race. As I continued to run, I continued to process this information. On the one hand, I knew I should be ecstatic that I am extending my cushion and not barely maintaining an adequate pace. On the other hand, I also knew that I have a history of pulling off 6:50s during the harder second half of races especially on courses that includes some late and gnarly hills like this one. I temper my own expectations and make a pact with myself not to calculate paces until I’m done with the giant uphill at Mile 8.

I slow down for the ascent up some small rollers and extend my stride down the back stride as we approach the long out and back portion that marks the halfway portion of the course. This is my favorite section my the race because not only do you get to see the elites battling it out in the front as you approach the midway point but you get to see your friends out on the course with you on your way back. I start to wonder in anticipation who I might know out there today and for a few seconds, almost forget that I’m running at PR pace. (Mile 5 – 6:31; Avg HR 168)

Mile 6 – If I wasn’t so entranced in my surroundings, I would have been slightly perturbed that my pace had dropped to 6:30s for the first time in the race. After a long and gentle descent, I arrive at Father Capodanno Boulevard, highlighted by a mile and a half straightaway ending a hairpin loop, and the best part of the race at for me. Soon after I begin my trek, I see the lead vehicle leading the first overall man on his journey back. It was remarkable to see him run. He had a smooth effortless stride and a very quick turnover. From my vantage point he looked as if he was chasing the lead vehicle. The most amazing thing was the long silence that ensued after he came and went. The second place runner was at least a minute back. Wow! Soon after, the trickling of elites began and gave way to more and more runners. After a few minutes admiring the elites, I checked back into myself and refocused my energy on my own form and breathing. (Mile 6 – 6:16; Avg HR 164)

Mile 7 – Did I just throw down my fastest mile split halfway into this race? Between gazing at all the elites and watching for any faster teammates running ahead of me, I hadn’t noticed that I had inadvertently shortened my stride and quickened my pace. I make the hairpin turn a quarter mile into this segment and begin my trek back. I straightened my stance and forced myself to take deeper breaths in a conscious effort to control my speed. I was well aware that I was more than 40 seconds now ahead of PR and didn’t want to ruin my chances by running the rest of the race at too aggressive a pace. After settling back into a nice groove, I divert my eyes to the opposite side of the boulevard to search for familiar faces coming up towards me. As I watched the parade of runners passing by behind me, I got the sense that not too many of my teammates took the ferry to run this race today; Most probably opted to stay behind to run their last 20 miler of the year before the taper for the NYC marathon. The ones that did run this race however, gave me some applause, some shouts, and other encouraging gestures that made me feel like a mini celeb out on that course. (Mile 7 – 6:31; Avg HR 165)

Mile 8– We exit the boulevard, take a left and begin the half mile climb up the biggest incline on the course. On the other side, waves of runners were making their way down the incline on the way to where I had just been. Although I had already seen many of my friends who I had expected to see, I couldn’t account for one which concerned me. I ran closer to the divide and searched for a face among the arriving masses. I hadn’t yet found her when I arrived at the end of the incline and was forced to turn right to continue on my way. I wouldn’t find out until after the race that night that my friend suffered a knee injury and dropped out mid-race and had to be carried back to the start by ambulance amidst a stream of tears and concerns. As of today, she is still not sure whether she will be meeting me again on November 1st in Staten Island for the start of the NYC Marathon. This is to be her first ever marathon. I have no words of wisdom for her right now. (Mile 8 – 6:40; Avg HR 168)

Mile 9 – I was excited to learn that I conquered the big hill mile only 10 seconds above PR pace. In my past experiences with this particular mile, I never went below a 6:48 for this section, so to be done with this giant obstacle still holding on to a 30 second lead over my previous PR is extremely gratifying. I flew down the backside of this hill in ecstasy, knowing now that my PR is well within reach. At the half way mark, I slip myself a Chocolate Expresso GU gel and continue on my way. (Mile 9 – 6:20; Avg HR 165)

Mile 10 – At this point, the bad news was that my legs were mildly fatiguing. The good news was that I had only 4 miles to go and about 50 seconds to play with. Some quick math confirmed that I only needed to maintain a 6:40 min/mi pace for the next 4 miles to get my PR. As I feel my stride becoming heavier and more pronounced with every step and my back leaning more and more forward, I yell at myself, audible to others at times, to correct my posture and maintain optimal running efficiency. We are back at the empty warehouses and grassy fields where we had been before. There is no scenery to speak of here, just the sounds of several thousand pairs of shuffling feet and audible groans from those who had pushed the pace a little too hard in the earlier miles. (Mile 10 – 6:32; Avg HR 164)

Mile 11 – I pass the double-digit mile marker just as a train rolls through the tracks far off to the left. The pace feels a big aggressive to me now so I pull back ever so slightly to temper my speed for the final 5K portion of this race. My legs were sore now, I can feel them, but given that there’s a PR on the line, I push onward at a slower but steadier speed. After battling through the monotony of the flat roads and uninspiring landscape, I finally make a left back over the bridge towards the final section of the course. I pass by “On The Go” again and am somewhat shocked to find that they are still closed. No matter, I am almost done now. The rollers again eat me up and I fight like hell to sustain a manageable pace. PR be damned if I miss it now. (Mile 11 – 6:38; Avg HR 165)

Mile 12 – The spectating crowds become thicker and more boisterous as we approach the final mile. I notice a ferry boat docked in the marina down below and reflect on the beautifully fall weather we are having for this race. I refused to contemplate thoughts of sub-1:25 but upon cresting the final small roller and seeing 1:27:XX flash in fluorescent yellow colors above the last mile marker, I could not help but quietly acknowledge that 1:24 was now not only possible but probable. (Mile 12 – 6:36; Avg HR 171)

Mile 13 and Finish – It was go time! I used the fast descending slope off the last roller to gradually accelerate. As I do, I think about the significance of this day, this race, and this time. I reflect back on the day just a few years back when running sub-1:30 for a half seemed like an impossible dream. I remember conversations I had back then when I told others that in my mind sub-1:25 was the best that any recreational runner could ever hope to achieve in a running career. I remember back to those times and run a little harder. Can it be, can it really be…that I am now finally where I never thought I’d be? Have I finally reached the pinnacle of my dreams? I approach the finish line with three others but hear the loudspeaker announce my bib number and my name as I come over the mats. I wouldn’t have believed it if I didn’t see the clock for myself. 1:24:25. Yes, I indeed had done it! (Mile 13 – 6:12, Last 0.1 – 0:35; Avg HR 176)

Analysis – I’m glad none of my friends and teammates were immediately available to see my actually cross the finish line (all were still running their race…) because I was an utter emotional wreck once I realized what I had done. I had snot out my nose, tears out my eyes and leftover GU out the corners of my mouth. But despite my dilapidated appearance, I was secretly and quietly reveling and enjoying my own appearance because it represented all the blood, sweat and tears I had spent in training over the years to make this dream a reality. Needless to say, I am extremely proud of my performance in this race. Not only did I finish with a stellar PR time, a time which now makes a sub-3 marathon a bit more realistic, but I also ran well with a consistent effort and pace almost throughout the entire race. I also somehow managed to run fast with soreness and pain in several muscle groups of my right leg which proves to me that I am not a flimsy runner but can overcome slight nagging injuries to have a good race. I am hoping that my success in this race will translate well to the full marathon distance. We shall see in less than 3 weeks!

Final Statistics
Finishing Time – 1:24:25 (PR by 0:51)
Average Pace – 6:26 min/mi
Overall Place – 76/3983 (1.9%)
Gender Place – 75/2351 (3.2%)
Division Place – 18/940 (1.9%)
Age Graded – 70.4%
Flyer Men – 1st Place