28 Jul 2019
Race Date: Saturday, June 22, 2019 – 7:45am
At the start line, lined up next to my friends Ian and Kyle way up front, I said “let’s get that three hour boys”. Then the moment where you know the start is imminent, then air horns through the microphone and the huge mass lurches forward. Nobody was getting any three hours that day.
My final race in an insane season was supposed to be the 2019 Grandma’s Marathon, which has been my first race of the season in years past. Maybe not very first but definitely first “big” race. In 2019, a sub-3 Grandma’s Marathon was supposed to be the cap on an aggressive, triumphant series of running pursuits. What it ended up being was a slog. A fun, healthy, death march. Using the description “fun” is maybe a stretch. It was fun in hindsight.
The first race in my planned 2019 racing season, Antelope Canyon 55k, more or less went off without a hitch. My training into race season was a little spotty thanks to some plantar fascia pain, a little bit of hamstring pain, and perhaps a mental shortcoming. I couldn’t shake some post-Antelope sore spots before Zumbro 100 Mile, but it was canceled anyhow. That is where the mental aspect comes in to play… A thru-hike of the Superior Hiking Trail was next. I couldn’t pull the trigger. I weaseled out of Last Runner standing and that left Grandma’s Marathon. It was part injury, part work, actually. We (Duluth Timing and Events) had two race timing gigs that I did not want to be absent for. And of course, there is a mental aspect involved. I got to volunteer and hang out at Last Runner Standing so that was good. But the SHT miss is a whole other conversation. Back to Grandma’s.
My plantar fascia band was finicky in the weeks and days leading up to Grandma’s. I was actually right on track with a speedy 16 miler at 3 hour goal pace, or just a bit slower. Through 8 miles of the training run on June 1, I felt good and was holding a 7-minute pace relatively comfortably. I felt smooth. I did feel a strange twinge of foot pain a bit before the turnaround. At the turnaround 8 miles in, I stopped to drink some water and that was not good. My foot got a second to stop the pounding and it realized something was wrong. I told it that no, there was nothing wrong and kept running. Each step was painful. I stopped again, just out of sight from the makeshift aid station, to soak my feet in the cold Lake Superior water, hoping that would somehow reset my sore underfoot tissue. It was strikingly cold, but no relief. I made it through the run but it set me back. The pain the next day was intense. I started my taper promptly from there.
I rode the bus to the start line with my brother Andrew. I knew I had poor training in the previous 20 days after that touchy 16-mile long run. I was scared about another setback with my foot over the course of a daunting 26 miler. This season was already shot! Who cares? I figured I could roll a 3:20 pretty well. But what about going for it? Why not try to salvage my botched running season and go sub-3 hours? I was excited for my brother Andrew because his training had gone really well and I could tell he was feeling fit and healthy. I envied that feeling of having no issues.
It was shaping up to be a perfect day. When I walked out from the busses with my brother, my running pals Kyle and Ian, who had moved from Duluth to Bozeman, MT a couple months prior, walked up right behind us. We chatted for a little bit, and they confirmed my notion that they were going to try and pace off of each other to get under 3 hours and qualify for Boston Marathon. Ooo, that got me excited. I started towards the bathroom and took care of business. I eventually lost everyone and was alone, soaking in the sunlight in my tank top jersey after dropping my drop bag off. There was a light tailwind, sunshine, cooler temps… ideal. I bummed around waiting for the race to start, and was excited to get going as people starting flooding towards the start line. I lined up a bit behind the start… well back as not to get caught up with the yahoos running fast. Not today.
I had my spot and knew there was probably just 5 or 10 minutes before the race start. I looked curiously around for Kyle and Ian. Or Andrew. Anyone? I maybe saw a few familiar faces but didn’t really want to talk. I just wanted to go for a nice jog. All the sudden, Kyle and Ian brush by about two people over from me, flowing intently to the start line. I slipped in between two people and got right behind them. I thought it’d be funny if I was just right behind them all the sudden. Here I am, guys! One of them noticed I was tailing them. I yelled, “let’s get that three hour boys!” and therefore announced my intent to run with them.
The race started and we were rollin’. It was a huge pack right away with 9,000 people running, and we weaved in and out of hoards of people but stuck together through the first mile. Well under 7 minutes. The second mile, 3, 4, 5 all clicked by and we ran together, Ian heckling other runners and Kyle focused on getting his long term goal of a Boston qualifying marathon finish time. We averaged 6:50 or so through the first 5k by my estimate. We were rolling, and I said it aloud. I could tell Kyle was feeling the pace and I was too. Ian was happy go lucky, and not even aware that we were probably a bit under 3-hour pace. I peeled off to take a pee right under the train bridge past Knife River. It was a strategic move to leave Kyle and Ian and run my own race. I felt a little fatigued already. That’s not right. I kept running after a quick stop but considered that I could go more by feel. So I kept it up, still cognizant of the 7 minute pace I was excited to maintain. It still felt smooth. The solo miles clicked by up to the half way point, but I could tell that I was slowing down a bit. It just became a little more difficult to make 7 minute pace feel comfortable. Oh well, I was OK with it and just slowed down. The first half clock read 1:33 or so. On track for a nice finish but I was certainly starting to feel a little more tired than I should have been.
My foot was feeling really good, perhaps because of the taped foot, compression ankle sleeve and compression socks. Then seemingly out of nowhere, my calf started to bug me. I think it was my left one, my problem one. I stopped running and tried to massage it out. Then my knee started to hurt. It was a sharp pain. I thought I’d felt that pain before and diagnosed it as IT band or tight outer quad or something. So I stopped to try to massage that out by deeply pressing my palm into the outside of my thigh.
The miles kept clicking off, and it seemed to be a constant grind as the north shore sections moved to the London Road sections and Glensheen Mansion approached. That spot of the race has, for some reason, always been a very difficult part of the race for me. This time around, I wasn’t in any better shape, but my mind was taking the pain well. It was a slow grind. I was walking through every aid station, and was dumping water on my head from miles before the half, despite volunteers wearing long sleeves and spectators wearing hoodies and jackets.
I pushed up Lemondrop Hill and prepared myself for spectators I perhaps knew. They can’t know I’m running so slow, I thought. Ugh, I am in bad shape! My knee was really bugging me and the compression socks were beginning to be an irritant. I blamed them for my pain. My pace had slowed dramatically, even without the walk stops. I was just jogging, who cares… I felt like an idiot for going out so hard. I’d passed Kyle, no sight of Ian, and wondered if my brother Andrew would be way ahead of his projections and zoom by me. I heard a spectator yell “HOT DOG!!!” and saw a girl run by in a hot dog costume. I figured it’d be smart to try and stick with her to leech off the crowd excitement behind the costume. I couldn’t hang, just kept slogging along. I saw some people I knew and tried to keep my form looking OK despite feeling like crap and a slow pace. I couldn’t look at my watch anymore, the pace field was just disappointing.
After eating fruit near Super One Foods and turning up to get to Superior Street, I seemed to catch the crowd adrenaline a bit and my pains weren’t so bad. The last miles seemed to click by as well and next thing I knew I was past Fitger’s, onto the modified course on Michigan Street, and to the home stretch on Harbor Drive. I wanted to kick it in at this point, but still couldn’t push. Crap. I suppose I had 25 miles in my legs…. My knee wasn’t working great, but the rest of my body was actually pretty solid. My foot wasn’t bugging me at all, and that was the important part. I wanted to pass those around me, but it didn’t really work like that. I tried to jack people up around me, including a lady who had slingshotted with me all race, seemingly, with her walk/run strategy. She was even walking with less than a half mile to go! Just run it in lady! But I couldn’t hark on her style because she was hanging right with me! My time was definitely going to be slower than my pre-planned 3:20, way off a sub-three hour finish, way way off my personal record, and a massive positive split.
I ran through the finish chute, heard my name from the announcer, and yells from the bleachers where my parents and Emily were standing and jumping around. I came right through the finish and kept walking. No collapsing, no overdramatic heaving, just a smooth walk, race was over. It was a standard finish to the race that capped off a failure of a running season. Then again, I had never planned anything as aggressive and demanding than what I laid out for myself for 2019. I just finished a marathon dammit! I am grateful, happy, and lucky to be able to run, which is a very deep passion for me. In actuality, all of my goals were completed to the fullest: to finish with no worse injuries, and to have fun. It maybe wasn’t fun during the race… well, yep it was fun. It was fun! It was. It really was fun.
29 Jun 2019
Race Date: Saturday, June 15, 2019 – 8:30am
Inline skating is a fun way to race. I was super excited to race a marathon, 26.2 miles, on skates, and had a pretty laid-back attitude towards Apostle Islands Inline Marathon up to race week. I actually got some good training in, felt pretty confident that I could hang and be in the mix, and didn’t feel like I had anything to lose.
On race week, I started getting a little nervous. Jeesh, what about the pace line? They’re going fast, I don’t want to fall. I had Grandma’s Marathon looming just 7 days after… back to back marathons… and a nagging plantar facia band aggravated by running and so felt about equally lackadaisical about all my upcoming races. But I still wanted to compete. But who am I with the big dogs? Why did I sign up for the Elite division? The doubts started creeping in.
Girlfriend Emily and I drove to Washburn, WI on Wisconsin’s beautiful south shore of Lake Superior to meet my sister Emily and dad at his campsite with trailer parked. We stayed there overnight, then took the van across the ferry in the morning to race and spend the day on Madeline Island, where the race course was located. It was three loops around half of the island for me in the marathon, two loops for Emily and Emily. Girlfriend Emily seemed a little doubtful of her abilities but I was excited to see her surprise herself.
The day was very cold, but with beautiful sunshine. It didn’t seem possible, how the sun was beaming down, the greenery in full bloom, just a perfect day but in the 40s. In mid-June? Weird. Oh well, it made for good racing conditions, I figured. I warmed up a bit, not wanting to schmooze with anybody or talk to anybody. I was excited to just get out there and rip. I took a spin for maybe 10 minutes, then shook out the jitters and caught up with my crew. Everyone seemed ready to go! My race went off first and so with a couple minutes to spare I made my way into the start area and conglomerated with the rest of my wave. It wasn’t the biggest wave in the world, maybe about 20 of us. I looked and felt a little out of place. I was definitely the only one in high boots. There were a lot of team speedsuits and custom molded boots. Then, “READY GO”! And we were off.
At St. Paul half marathon last year, a big pack was gone right away and so I scraped my way up, passing people the whole race. I vowed I would not let that happen at Madeline and go out hot, all-in to get with the lead pack. The start was a little frenetic and I just tried to skate fast without hitting anyone beside me. I looked around trying to figure out what was going to happen, and no line formed right away. A couple hundred feet into the race was a right-hand turn. I took the turn and found my way toward the back of all the skaters at this point. Cripes, push Mike push! And just like that, the lead pack was already gone. Gah. Luckily there were several groups of guys all around me and I just pushed as hard as I could not worrying about the pack. A secondary pace line kind of formed up, but I zinged ahead of them, vowing to go out hot and see where that got me. I think the make-or-break moment of the race was at this point, one mile or so in, when a group formed with just two other guys. We were a tight and efficient pace line and I felt like a real racer. One of the guys, name Travis, was commanding our group, and it was well received by me for sure. He was yelling out “switch” and we’d change positions and give the front guy a little break. He was shouting little mantras like “keep it controlled” and stuff, and I can definitely get down with the mantras. It jacked me up.
All the sudden, about halfway through the first lap, I notice another group coming behind us. Must be the masters guys, I thought. It was a big pack. Real big. I wondered if my two other new friends would jump on with me, but I was going for it. We moved over a bit, and at the very end of the line, I jumped in to place. The pack took off, and boy it was a lot of guys. I was on the end of it. I would guess there were 50 skaters in one single pace line and we were moving!
I noticed that it was pretty easy to keep pace, although there was some accordion action going on where the group would clump up and then stretch out. I wasn’t too good at keeping up with those stretch moments. I didn’t seem to have great power and couldn’t respond as quick as the guys in front of me seemed to respond. I also was not good on the corners, and there were several on this course. Each time a corner was approaching it was a little nerve-wracking, and I seemed to take it much slower than those around me. So my strategy of not sticking out was maybe not going so well. In no time, we went thought the start line and started on lap two.
Right after that first turn, the field kind of clumped up and spread out. I wondered what was going on. I got pushed off to the side somehow, then the line formed seemingly without me. Well, the guys up front don’t know I’m back here, gah, how did I get edged out?? A guy let me back in. It happened again, and was a little dicey on lap two with other slower skaters to one side and traffic on the other side. I shook my head and just went ahead, blasting past the whole pace line with no agenda. I just pushed hard for a while up a hill, hoping maybe some guys would chase and get in another group. I don’t know what I was thinking and nobody went with me at all. Definitely sticking out…
It took a minute or two before the massive group swallowed me up again. I tried to latch on the back and almost lost the whole group! I pushed as hard as I possibly could to get in behind the group, and it was a very close call indeed as I narrowly avoided losing the whole group around a corner. I just held my place on the very back of the pace line from here. In no time, we were back to the start line and started lap three.
I found myself struggling around that first turn and up a bit of on incline. I started chatting with people and asked if the group would go now that it was the final lap. I didn’t get a super specific answer. Another guy recognized me from before, perhaps by my lap two antics, and yelled “ohhh! Ole Fall Behind!”. I don’t know if I liked the nickname, but hey, it was fitting. My legs started feeling a little shaky, and I found myself at the very back once again, and struggling more and more to keep with the pack as they accordioned ahead and I fought hard to stay in the mix.
It was halfway through the final lap when I struck my last match and noticed as the pack crept just out of reach. Next thing I know, it was a stones throw, then a ways out, then totally unreachable. With a turn just ahead, I saw my time in the big pace line slip away. The pack steamed around the corner and I didn’t see them again. Oh well, I sighed to myself, almost in relief. I just put my head down and cranked away. My legs were feeling OK, but a few sore spots were definitely forming. My back was getting irritated, but I felt locked in to the aero, crouched over stance.
I passed other skaters, who knows what loop or race, until I saw another skater ahead who was dropped by the pack. I could just tell, and noticed that he was in the hurt tank. I would pass this guy. When I got closer, I recognized him as a dude in my category. Boom! This is exactly what I need to finish the race strong, I thought. I planned it all out: I would first pass him, then put on a bit of time for safety’s sake, then finish right ahead of him and see where that gets me in the Elite 30-39 category. I felt excited that I would get to compete with at least one person into the home stretch, and even better if it’s someone in my age group.
My pass went smooth, and I made sure I looked smooth and pushed hard afterwards. My legs just didn’t have the oomph I wanted, but I was moving for sure. I sensed he was on my back though. Of course, why would he let me go? I definitely noticed he was struggling, but I wasn’t far off. I hammered in to the finish, and knew he was right there. Then there is the final right hand turn, and a few hundred feet to the finish. I just didn’t have a good feeling… I knew I was sucking at the corners and almost sniffed the defeat.
I hit the corner and did not feel comfortable to push, let alone pull a crossover move. Onto the straight, and I just knew the guy was right there. I had no power. I let it all out there, my form went out the window, which was probably not helping my cause to beat this guy.
He just strolled right along side of me and into the finish chute. I actually yelled “NOOO” as he passed on my right, probably fueling his final push. And then there’s the line, done. What a terrible finish! I was actually pretty elated, though, to have stuck with the pack and finished with a really good time, and the excitement of the last second push. It was kind of funny, and good for this guy. He had a jersey on, low cut boots, probably deserved to beat me. Then again, it was a really sour feeling to get edged out by literally one second.
The course was great, and I was super satisfied with the event as a whole. It was really fun and felt great to have a skate marathon under my belt.
Skates: Rollerblade Endurace 125
Food: Two gels