A Race I Had No Business RunningRace Report for the New Jersey/Long Branch Half Marathon (Part II)

Race Day Morning

6:15AM comes way too early for me as my FC wakes me about 45 minutes after we had scheduled to be up. He had showered, gotten dressed and eaten half his breakfast by the time I was able to convince my weary body to get out of bed and get ready. Thanks to my coughing fiasco in the middle of the night, I was exhausted and had a migraine upon waking. I knew right then that this day would not end well for me and gave a fleeting thought about not even attempting the half. But a couple of Motrins later with half a banana, and I somehow convinced myself to defer the decision until I got to the start area and see all my Flyer friends who had made the trek down from the Big City to run this race. Of course by the time I got there and met up with everyone about an hour later, I forgot all about my fatigue, exhaustion and sickness and made plans with Flyer JB to at least start off the race running together. In the back of my mind, no matter how crappy I felt, I was still thinking that I can run 13.1 with no problems. After all, this was my 22nd such race and never once have I had trouble completing the distance.

At The Start

The weather was sunny and already quite warm by the time JB and I made our way over to the race start a few minutes before 9am. Although everyone was weary about how hot it would eventually get, it was actually quite pleasant at the start on the boardwalk thanks to the constant breeze of the New Jersey shore. JB thought we should try to keep a 7:15 min/mi pace for the first miles so we situated ourselves adjacent to the 3:10 marathon pace group. Upon my arrival, I was greeted by a blog reader who recognized me and said he was a big fan, which was way cool! Then, as we waited, I tried to calm down my head which had been pulsating mixed annoying messages ever since I got off the bus. I still had my Gatorade bottle with me and was taking sips at a consistent clip which was good, but suddenly realized that I had forgotten to eat my orange and bagel which I left in my dropoff bag, which was bad. As I watched the final seconds tick off to the start of the race, I reiterated my plan to run this race to enjoy myself so I can cheer on the others running the marathon afterwards.

The "Good" Miles (1 - 4)

Although we were near the front, JB and I still had to do wiggle and tease our way through the heavy crowd through the first mile. Powered by the high emotion from the starting line I felt tired but okay in the early going. The spectators lining the course were loud and boisterous and it was wonderful to be cheered on by them as I made my way into Monmouth. Mile 2 felt smooth as I sped up incrementally to move slightly ahead of the 3:10 pace group. Although JB was still with me, matching my cadence stride for stride, I was already losing steam by the start of mile 3. It was getting warm and the cool ocean breeze could not be felt inland. My last good mile came in mile 4 as I battled the sun, my well-being and dehydrated state to run until after the overpass entrance to Oceanport. (M1 - 7:02; M2 - 6:57; M3 - 7:11; M4 - 7:24)

The "Bad" Miles (Miles 5-9)

Somewhere in the 5th mile, when my mind lost its battle with the sun, and I gave up all hope of running anymore, I excused myself from running with JB and surrendered myself to taking my first walk break. Now, I had never taken a walk break this early in a race before. My first instinct was to go back from where I come and just except a DNF. But doing so would mean walking against the crowd, potentially facing embarrassment and ridicule. So I walked until my heart rate was calm and stable and attempted to run again. I was able to make it half a mile before having to walk again. I also took time to refill my Gatorade bottle which I had been carrying since the start. The sun was much higher and brighter now, which was starting to have its effects on the runners all around me. Once I restarted running again by M6, I forced myself to run slow and slower than I had been having before and to make it as far as I could without stopping. M7 was faster. M8 faster still as I saw Jocelyn crossing the bridge and called out her name. I bargained, pleaded and sang songs aloud to pass the time. As I ran, I kept asking myself the same questions other had for me: Why was I/he running this race? (M5 - 9:30; M6 - 9:19; M7 - 7:56; M8 - 7:28, M9 - 7:37)

The "Ugly Miles" (M10-13.1)

By the time I crossed 10, I had no energy left to fight. I had seen others drop like a bag of rocks on other side of me. It was a bit scary to see paramedics running around like crazy trying to deal with it all. A big part of me wanted to stop and help out the first aide team but I knew without the specific training, I'd be as helpful as a commoner. Still, when i did try to help by holding others down as they scampered to their feet after falling badly a few minutes earlier, I got unintentionally wacked on my legs so hard, it added to the laundry list of injuries I was collecting on that same extremity. So I let them go and just went about finishing this race the best I could. I walked for the last time at 10.5 miles and raced myself in with the ocean breeze once again at my back. Needless to say, my 1:46:23 finishing time was a personal worst for me! (M10 - 9:42; M11 - 9:38; M12 - 8:53; M13.1 - 7:40)

After the race, I collected myself and did all I could to celebrate my friends who took the plunge to round up another lap around town and finish the marathon. I even went with JB to edge of the boardwalk at M25 and cheered on runners as they came in for the finish mile. I saw big people, little people, fast people, and slower folk each doing all they can to muster up even enough to make it one more mile (plus .2) to make it across that finish line. Just watching them made me realize why I bothered to race my half marathon that day, why I bothered even with my sick health, inadequate sleep and decrepit body to attempt to run 13.1. By reading this list, maybe I can make you understand too!

13 Reasons Why I Ran The New Jersey/Long Branch 13.1
1. Because every start line marks the beginning of a new adventure, a new story, just waiting to be told.
2. Because I was hoping to inspire Flyer and friends out on the course who might not have known I was coming.
3. Because running is an expression of health and I desperately wanted to feel healthy again.
4. Because I wanted to be recognized as living (finisher) rather than counted amongst the dead (DNS/DNF)
5. Because SLOW is the new FAST: You experience more, you see more, the crowds love you more AND You have more fun!
6. Because sometimes just winning against the mind and body is a victory enough all onto itself.
7. Because a race is not just about a time, but the thoughts, emotions, and experiences you had along the way.
8. Because I genuinely believe that someone somewhere will benefit by my starting, running, and finishing this race.
9. Because that's how I'm choosing to define my own awesomeness today.
10. Because sometimes you have to hurt a little to have a whole lot of fun.
11. Because I've met both the hero and the villain this week, and surprise, surprise, they are both just ME!
12. Because if I've messed up everything prior to this race, I can still do this one thing right!
13. Because I really wanted to like running again even if running didn't want to like me back.

A Race I Had No Business Running:Race Report for the New Jersey/Long Branch Half Marathon (Part I)

Prelude to A Race That Wasn't

This wasn't supposed to be a race weekend for me. After all, I've been blogging, texting, twittering, e-mailing and telling everyone and anyone who would listen all through the week that the New Jersey Marathon was completely dead to me. Sick, injured, and untrained, I was supposed to be spending the weekend safe at home, resting and recovering and planning my comeback strategy. So how did it came to be that I confused everybody (including most of my friends) by showing up at the start of a race on Sunday that I practically swore off two days ago? Obviously, there was a motive, a plan, a failed execution and one GIGANTIC miscalculation...

The Motive

By the middle of the week, when it became apparent that running the marathon would be an impossibility for me, I immediately worried that my absence would be a detriment to the morale of the many Flyer friends who had literally and virtually trained together with me for this marathon. I really wanted to be there for them since they've always been there for me. And since my hotel room near the start was non-transferable and I had already confirmed travel plans with a friend (FC) who was driving down anyways to run the marathon, I figured I would go down to Jersey and surprise some people by showing up unannounced on the sidelines during the race and cheering them on as they ran strong to the finish. In my mind, this was always how it was supposed to go down. Maybe I could run with a few of them for a half mile or so, but that was the extent of the running I was planning to do.

The Plan (to Run 13.1)

The decision to run the half only came when I thought I had turned the corner on this flu-like illness and was solidified after my 10K run on Friday. Never mind the run itself felt like death and each breath I took resembled breathing through molasses, I was fairly certain that despite my sickness, I would have no problems with the 13.1 on this course. Why was I so confident? Was it justified? As I laid in bed later that night preparing for the next day's travel, I asked myself the same question. But given that I had done 21 of these (half marathons) previously, the most by far of any other distance, a couple of my best times were done on this same course in the two prior years (1:27:28 in 2008 and 1:25:16 in 2009) - both PRs by the way - and I felt a need for a longish weekend run to signal my return to the living (and possibly training), I made up my mind that I would run 13.1 slowly and unannounced before cheering like heck for all my friends running 26.2.

Failed Execution (a.k.a. A Day of FAILs)

The ride on Saturday morning down to the Jersey shore was uneventful and everything was going according to plan until I grew a conscience and decided to text one of my Flyer friends JB right before hitting the expo to ask whether everyone (who were planning to arrive on race day) had arranged for someone to pick up bibs (since race day pickup cost $20 extra while pre-race day pickup at expo was free). He told me that as a group, no one was able to find anyone else coming early and so they had all forked over an extra $20 each to arrange for race day pickup. Of course since I never bothered to inform anyone that I was not only coming to the race but a day early to change my race and pick up my own bib, I wasted $100+ that could've gone toward a sweet post-marathon celebration party. Nice, Lam, very nice...NOT =( This was FAIL #1.

FAIL #2 was a bit more insidious. Because we were busy driving from place to place, finding places to eat, sleep, shop, as well as hitting the beach for a little pre-race fun, FC (who was running the marathon) and I neglected to hydrate as well as we should. It was hot, hazy, and humid, and all the local weather reports publicized much of the same for the next day's race. Although I had a bottle of water with me at all times and took sips whenever I remembered, at no point during the day did I feel adequately rehydrated. Similarly, at no point did my pee resemble the pristine color of natural spring water. This did not worry me as much as it should have. FAIL #2.

FAIL #3 was technically not my fault, although in retrospect it should have counted as the third strike. Could I really have done anything about waking up at midnight with a coughing fit that just would not stop? I hadn't coughed at night the entire week and in my mind was already recovering. Could I have helped, rooming with marathoners on race eve, besides bringing my pillow into the bathroom with me, shutting the door and attempt to sleep in the bathtub so as not to wake up the others? Yep, I slept in the bathtub for about an hour until i was sure my coughing fits were gone before venturing out and climbing back into my own bed. So is it surprising then that I got less than four hours of productive sleep on race eve? Probably not. What is surprising though is that I failed to recognize the tremendous toll that the lack of sleep would have on my already decrepit body. Why can't I see that BEFORE the race as opposed to IN RETROSPECT? FAIL #3.

Little did I know all of these factors would combine to sabatoge my run, torment my soul and complete the race I had no business running in the next day...

Back Among The Living (Well Sorta...)

First of all, thank you all for your support, encouragement, and condolences during this period of horrible sickness and great (relative) sadness in my running life. Admittedly, I didn't know so many people knew or even cared that I was running NJM. Now that I know, it makes me even sadder that I won't be able to at least try to fulfill the expectations that many of you had for me for this goal race. It's an absolute bummer that not only have I failed myself this week, I failed you all as well :( But before I allow this post degrade into a diatribe of self-pity and despair, just know that I'm absolutely positive that the decision to withdraw was absolutely the right one for me (you'll see why in a little bit) and I will be throwing my hat back into the ring a little sooner than some of you may think. All I need is a little bit of time both to recover and to plot my revenge. More on that in a future post.

As for my physical self, I'm happy to report that for the first time yesterday, I was back among the living. I was able to stay out of bed for the whole day, had no fever or chills for 24 hours, and went back to work to take care of the really sick in my normal capacity. Yay for me! This last task for me for key because I actually got to see two new, challenging and interesting patients in my hospital clinic session yesterday. One was a college student with an unusual thyroid mass (a particular interest of mine) that no previous doctor that had seen her knew what it was or what to do with, and the other was a previously "heavy-set" teenager who took up cross-country over the winter, became "sort-a" (her words) vegetarian, lost 25 pounds as well as her periods. I was so fascinated by the running story of the latter patient that I think I might have spent more time talking about that then about the family's primary concern, which is that she hasn't had a period in 9 months! That's okay though, she's coming back to see me again in a couple of weeks with lab results and a ultrasound report. Hopefully by then I'll figure out a good treatment plan for her because my initial instinct to recommend cutting out running and resuming old dietary habits won't sit well with her, her parents or me! There's gotta be a better solution! (Maybe I'll devote a future post to elicit suggestions and comments opinions so you all can be virtual doctors to help improve her care!)

Despite my triumphant return to the workforce, I knew that I couldn't officially consider myself "back among the living" until I was back to where I am personally most comfortable - exploring the park trails next to the lake and the soccer fields and the sunbathers with a sense of swiftness generated by the power of my own two feet. So despite a long day of work and the setting sun fading towards the horizon, I quickly changed after coming home and set off for my first run of the week. (If you didn't catch that last phrase, go ahead and re-read again.)

Yes, it had been five days since my last run. Yes, I expected my body and my legs to be rusty. What I didn't expect though was the body part that would have the most difficulty on this run was MY LUNGS. Seriously, guys and girls. For the first two or three miles, I felt like I couldn't take fast enough or deep enough breaths to sustain anything faster than 8 min/mi pace. I was breathing so hard and running so slowly that I was sweaty and exhausted just trying to calm down my breathing after two miles. I knew I probably suffered a combo of bronchitis/viral pneumonia as a component of my flu-like illness but still, having to take two breaths for every stride felt completely ridiculous to me. I felt sorry for the sunbathers and the soccer players who had the misfortune of watching me curse my body as I labor-breathed around the park. I seriously wanted to quit, go home, climb back into bed and chalk up running as an experiment for the younger kids. Luckily, I remembered my cross-country patient from earlier in the day, you guys and this unfinished business I have with a certain marathon time goal and forced myself to continue running. My breathing eventually got easier, my legs got looser and by the end of my six miler, my average pace for the run resembled a slow recovery pace from months prior instead of a disgrace to my running log. Thank goodness for that.

I am also thankful that my marathon death was declared two days ago because there is no imaginable way for me to ask this zombie of a former marathon body that couldn't even suck up for 6 at a recovery pace to walk much less run for 26.2. And I'm a guy with a pretty wild imagination! Yeah, not gonna happen. That is exactly why I know, even though I've never done it before, the decision to defer this time around was the right one for me. Sometimes you just gotta know when to hold and when to fold, ya know.

Anyway, to all those who are racing NJM (or elsewhere), have fun, be safe, and crush a PR while you're at it for me, won't ya? To everyone else, have an awesome weekend and thanks again for all of your kind words this past week!

This running and blogging community ROCKS! Just sayin'!