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FLRC Newsletter - July 2004 |
| Vermont City Marathon | |
I car pooled to Vermont with Jay, Boris, and their girlfriends Melissa and Imes, taking us six hours to arrive in Burlington. Jay is very good at navigation, and a great copilot for a road trip—we'll have to plan another when he gets back from Colorado, possibly to Boilermaker :-)
Terry cooked us all a delicious pasta dinner that evening, and made sure we all had a comfortable place to sleep. (Thanks again, Terry). Sunday began bright and sunny, a little warmer than I expected, but with plenty of breeze off Lake Champlain. I was pretty nervous, as usual, but confident that I was well prepared and had absorbed all the advice necessary to complete my first marathon smoothly. I had felt I was capable of an 8:20 pace, and when the gun went off I started with just a slow jog. There were at least 8000 people at the start, counting marathoners and relay teams. I started my watch at the mat and felt okay with the 9:15 first mile; plenty of time to hit my target.
We ran through residential streets for the first 3 miles, 25 minutes, already back on schedule. From there we headed out the Norther Connector, which looked like an off-ramp with a small median, which allowed me to watch for Boris, Jay, and Terry already heading back up the other side. I was in high spirts to learn that I was on target for a 3:35 marathon upon reaching the 6-mile marker. I suppose the excitement took over, and I was running a bit faster than I had planned as I continued to pass people up the inclines. I ran with some gentlemen sporting shirts that read "return of the fat bastards" and others who were offering to sing your favorite song while we passed the bagpiper players.
We ran through another residential area where you could see the breathtaking Adirondack Mountains across the lake. By the half, my time was 1:48, which meant I was running too hard, I took the opportunity to walk and stretch. I also made sure to grab water or Gatorade at each aid station (spaced 1.5 miles apart). As we ran up the quarter mile hill on Battery Street (called Assault on Battery) they had 15–20 drummers pounding out the rhythm. I was pleased that the hills seemed easy, and that this was the last significant climb. I was beginning to feel a bit tired and hot around 18–19 miles, but was still doing OK with 2:47 at mile 20. Some spectators offered sprinklers from their yards, which I avoided for fear of getting wet feet and blisters. I had some yummy cantaloupe a young person handed out.
The remaining 6 miles was on gently rolling terrain, including a slightly downhill bike path and some shady spots through the woods. Something happened between miles 20 and 21, and I started having some intense cramping in my quads. I walked through another aid station, gulped more Gatorade, and stretched again—which didn't seem to help. I began having pains in my hip flexor. Fear started creeping in as the mile markers seemed to grow further apart and I was struggling to run for more than a half mile before my quads would seize. By mile 23 my calf muscles decided to join the quads and it was a struggle to keep moving. I was getting more emotional as I watched my goals slip away, and almost threw my watch in the woods once I saw 4 hours creep past. I thought I could run through the pain and gain some distance, only to cramp again.
The spectators were wonderful, and I even had help from another runner who helped me stretch again and guided me to a slow pace for another half-mile stretch. There was a group at mile 24 shouting Ice Cold Beer—and although I hate the taste, I miserably grabbed a cup. It surprisingly tasted pretty good, although I don't think it sat well in my stomach. I could see mile 26 up ahead, and it took every ounce of willpower to pick up my feet and jog the last loop around the park with cheering crowds on both sides. Rounding the corner and stepping off the wooden boardwalk onto the grass, I lost my balance, ran into a wooden post, and scratched up my stomach. I was still determined and was running along with a young relay runner ironically labeled "CreamPuff." Things happened pretty quickly at this point, I crossed the mats, my legs seized again, and as I bent to grab them they collapsed underneath me. (I Finished!) I felt my forehead hit the grass and I tried to get up, I was pretty nauseous and started dry heaving. The medics scooped me onto a pallet and whisked me off to fill me with more fluid. Since I was shaking too badly to hold the cup, they started an IV line. This seemed pretty embarrassing, but I knew I was being well taken care of.
I know I made the remark that this would be the one and only marathon, although I feel I will need to make another attempt in the future to prove to myself that I am tougher than I felt this time. We all learn from out experiences, and I definitely learned that I should have just slowed the pace more after mile 20 when I first felt in trouble instead of pushing hard to stay on track.
I was pleased to share and will never forget the weekend with co-first-timer Jay, Boris, and Terry. It Thanks to all those who supported me in the past four months of training—offering advice, running on trails, long runs, helpful tips, encouragement, hugs, good wishes, kind words, confidence in my strength, and good vibes. You are too many to list, and I'm afraid I'll leave someone out if I try. I can add another check to my list of things to accomplish in my life.
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