San Diego vs. Michael -- Call it a Draw

It's over.  Marathon 11 is completed and my time is in the books.  I've made my peace with it and am surprisingly content with the results and my overall performance.  While I missed my target, I set a new PR of 3:39:50.  I also stuck to my plan of not starting out too fast and ran the entire race without stopping, or giving up hope.

I'll try to keep this short and interesting.  First I have to talk a little about the days leading up to the race.  On my connecting flight from Phoenix to SD, I sat next to a lady who was also going to run the marathon. Our flight was delayed and we were looking over the course map to pas the time.  Others on the flight chimed in that they were running too.  Soon we had an entire section of runners sharing war stories from marathons past along with hopes for Sunday.  I think the flight attendants were nervous that we'd try to take over if the plane didn't lift off when it did.

And that was just a foreshadowing of the type of encounter I could expect throughout the weekend.  Whenever I talked to someone who was planning to run, whether at my hotel, at the Expo or even on the street, we would start chatting and someone walking by would mistakenly think we knew each other for years.

Speaking of the Expo, it was put together well.  In Chicago, I've always hated that you have to walk through the bowels of McCormack Place to get to the freaking chip check area.  Not an efficient way to conserve energy just before a marathon.  The SDM Expo was held in the San Diego Convention Center and as soon as you walk in, everything is right there.  Yes you still have to go past a lot of cheesy vendor booths but it's not as intrusive as other Expos I've been at.

While killing time at the Expo, I met elite runner Josh Cox.  He asked me what my goal was and when I told him, he gave me this advice:  "Stay within yourself and whenever you get the urge to go faster, hold back.  Wait until at least mile 16 to pick it up."  The man must be psychic because that's pretty much what happened, except for the picking it up part.

I also met Jessi Stensland, an elite tri-athlete and a GNC spokeswoman.  She's never run a marathon before and I invited her to come to Chicago and train with us this summer.  I'm confident I could find room for her with my 8 minute group back home.  She did have some advice for me if I ever wanted to attempt a triathlon, because I really need another sport to frustrate myself over.  Okay, back to the story.

The Marathon was brutal, with blood and carnage everywhere.  And that was just the line at the port-o-potties before the gun went off.  There were far too few of them for 20,000 runners.  By opting to wait in line, I missed the gun and started two minutes late, crossing the start line with the 4:00 group.  Things allegedly happen for a reason and starting back there was probably a good thing.  The throng of slower runners kept me honest and I didn't run out at my usually too fast pace.

By the halfway point, I was still within range of my target.  My legs weren't feeling bad but my past experience always is that by mile 16, I'm hurting. So I didn't try to increase velocity too much but I did want to see if I could step it up just a little.  Unfortunately, the course vetoed my decision.  Another hill came along and it was all I could do to keep near an 8 minute pace.  And that is the story of the second half.  Every time I found a downhill or flat to make up some time, another hill would come along and beat me up.

Mile 19 and 20 in particular had tough inclines that took a lot out of me. From memory I knew that if I cleared these last two hills, I was relatively home free.  The reality is that 19 and 20 took whatever I had left in the tank and my splits started increasing marginally after that.  Even if it looked like I had a flat stretch of course to make up the time - keeping in mind that at this point I'm 20 miles into the run and not exactly Mr. Energy - another incline would come along and hold me back.

Fortunately, there reaches a point with every marathon I've ever been in where a runner realizes that certain things are inevitable.  By Mile 20 I knew I was going to finish, and finish relatively strong.  By Mile 22, just staring my 3rd hour of running, I knew that I was going to finish well under 4 hours.  And by Mile 23 I suspected I would PR, as long as I didn't allow myself to stop and could keep whatever pace I was running at that time.

Mile 24 and 25 was a battle of will telling myself that while stopping would feel good, every second would put me at risk of not PRing.  Through a technical malfunction I didn't get my splits for the last half, but I believe I did kick it up the last two miles a little bit when the course, truly finally flattened out.  I think I managed to do Mile 24 at a 8:25 pace, which at that point was amazing.  Mile 26 I think I did at 8 or just under.  I'll never know for sure (my watch only records the first 10 splits, I assumed it would override as I kept adding data but apparently not).  But I believe I did kick it up the last two miles a little bit when the course, truly finally flattened out.  I do know that I ran without stopping at all.

So if anyone is still reading this rambling and you know me well, you're probably wondering how much I've had to drink that to not be my usual disappointed or whining about my time.  Sure I could look at it as having missed my 3:30 target AGAIN and only shaving 3 minutes off my PR.  Or I can look at it in the following way:  I ran 26 minutes faster than I did last fall's arguably easier Chicago course.  In spite of the hills, I had a better overall performance, I didn't cramp up and my post-race recovery was remarkable.

Life's rejections make some people bitter and hard. They make other people wiser and more open. You choose.  -Mary Schmich.

In the final analysis, San Diego was never about reaching a 3:30.  It was about forgiving myself for all the times I failed to do so.  And now I have a lot to build on for Chicago this October.