March 5, 2018
Boston Marathon finish line, April 19, 1982 (qualifying time, 2:47:26, Detroit Free Press Marathon, October 11, 1981).
This is how not to run the Boston Marathon, nor any other marathon for that matter ...
I was 30 years old, uncoached, and ignorant. I overtrained, even though still in very good shape ... possible the best of my life. I was overconfident and misjudged my capability, overshot the course, then crashed and burned. That's the bottom line.
To begin, I was required to be in a starting corral fairly deep. The temperature was around 65 degrees, destined to go up to 70 during the race; I was used to the cooler maritime temperatures of Seattle. There would be 4,561 male finishers that day. I would be the 1,945th, but only 1,695th of 2,696 in my age group, which had a 2:54:43 average finish time. Alberto Salazar edged out Dick Beardsley by two seconds for the win. They ran 2:08:51 and 2:08:53. A classic marathon duel.
To my shock and irritation, the starting line chute was narrow, and I'm not sure I heard the gun go off from wherever it was, a good distance ahead of me and my crowd. It took what seemed forever just to start moving. There was no chip timing in 1982, and what I didn't know, because I didn't do my research, was that the B.A.A. gave time adjustments based on your starting corral. When I finally crossed the starting line, my thought was, I've got to make up lost time. It took maybe a quarter mile past that line to be free to run my pace. My first mile would be 7:32, the last half of which was who-knows-how-fast? Too fast, I bet.
When I settled in, I decided to run slightly faster than my overall pace goal of 6:00 to catch up. The next nine miles, miles 2 through 10, were at 5:55 average. It wasn't terribly difficult, but I thought I would have to pay for it at some point in the race. I was hoping I'd only have to grind out maybe the last five. By the time I got to the ten mile mark, I was at 1:00:45 cumulative, only 45 seconds slower than what I wanted. The average pace at that point was 6:04.5, or 2:39:10 marathon pace.
My goal remained a marathon at 6:00 mile pace, or 2:36:36. I believed I was capable of it.
For the next five miles, to the 15 mile mark, I averaged 5:58 per mile. My cumulative time was 1:30:36, only 36 seconds slower than plan. My average pace was 6:02.4, or 2:38:15 marathon pace.
But fatigue and cramps in my legs already began to appear. I knew I was in trouble, and that I would not be able to reach my goal. The question morphed into, Can I at least beat my Boston qualifying time? I should be able to do that! I trained so hard and well. I can fight through this.
Stop.
Standing in Now Time as a 66-year-old, this is what I have to say to my younger self:
For 14 miles of a marathon, you averaged under 6:00 per mile. Man, that was dumb. What were you thinking?
Things really began to fall apart around mile 17, and by the time I reached the 20 mile mark, only a 10K away from the finish line, my cumulative time was 2:03:06. I ran the five miles from 15 to 20 at 6:30 pace (and that was an average -- I probably dropped from around a 6:00 pace to a 7:00 pace during that segment). My average pace overall at 20 miles dropped to 6:09.3, or a 2:41:16 marathon.
A 2:41:16 marathon would have been a very good time; more in line with my capability, according to the best reading of my training data.
More telling support for this supposition is this: Taking the 7:32 out of the equation, my average pace overall for 19 miles, mile 2 through 20, was 6:08.1, a 2:40:44 marathon pace; so, for 19 miles I ran pretty fast! That 19 miles in itself is equivalent to about a 2:45:00 marathon, which means I actually ran a 19 mile segment of the Boston Marathon which was, standing alone as a 19 mile effort, equivalent to a 2:45 marathon! What this says to me is that I totally blew my opportunity at my first, and likely only, Boston Marathon.
What a pity.
At mile 20, I couldn't run anymore. My legs and hips were a fiery inferno of cramps. Each step felt like there was no muscle big or small from my feet to my hips that didn't seem like some sadistic torturer (yours truly) were flaying me from the waist down.
I could barely walk, but walk and what amounted to a jog I did, back and forth My only solace was that there were others like me, hobbling, who were probably just as overexcited, overconfident, and ignorant as I was. My last 6.2 miles, what I call my Boston 10K, was covered in 56:20, or 9:05 per mile average (a few months later I would run a 10K in Seattle in 33:55).
Somehow I managed to put together a form of running in the last stretch to avoid appearing as pathetic as I was feeling for the crowds and cameras. The photo above does not reveal the searing pain I was in. I am capable of being grateful for small favors.
In the end, I qualified for the Boston Marathon on my first attempt, and I finished the race under 3 hours. These positive accomplishments should be equal to my disappointment, but they're not. Not then, anyway.
It was a spectacular disaster to me, because I had such high hopes, and I felt ready to make them happen.
My official finish time was 2:59:26, at 6:37.6 per mile average.
Almost everything that could go wrong, did. And I alone am to blame.
Of my three marathons, this was my slowest, but it should have been my fastest. My first marathon was my fastest, but it should have been second fastest. My last marathon, Detroit in 1984, at 2:53:38, should have been my slowest.
There is little else to say about it having to do with running.
I was 30 years old, uncoached, and ignorant. I overtrained, even though still in very good shape ... possible the best of my life. I was overconfident and misjudged my capability, overshot the course, then crashed and burned. That's the bottom line.
To begin, I was required to be in a starting corral fairly deep. The temperature was around 65 degrees, destined to go up to 70 during the race; I was used to the cooler maritime temperatures of Seattle. There would be 4,561 male finishers that day. I would be the 1,945th, but only 1,695th of 2,696 in my age group, which had a 2:54:43 average finish time. Alberto Salazar edged out Dick Beardsley by two seconds for the win. They ran 2:08:51 and 2:08:53. A classic marathon duel.
To my shock and irritation, the starting line chute was narrow, and I'm not sure I heard the gun go off from wherever it was, a good distance ahead of me and my crowd. It took what seemed forever just to start moving. There was no chip timing in 1982, and what I didn't know, because I didn't do my research, was that the B.A.A. gave time adjustments based on your starting corral. When I finally crossed the starting line, my thought was, I've got to make up lost time. It took maybe a quarter mile past that line to be free to run my pace. My first mile would be 7:32, the last half of which was who-knows-how-fast? Too fast, I bet.
When I settled in, I decided to run slightly faster than my overall pace goal of 6:00 to catch up. The next nine miles, miles 2 through 10, were at 5:55 average. It wasn't terribly difficult, but I thought I would have to pay for it at some point in the race. I was hoping I'd only have to grind out maybe the last five. By the time I got to the ten mile mark, I was at 1:00:45 cumulative, only 45 seconds slower than what I wanted. The average pace at that point was 6:04.5, or 2:39:10 marathon pace.
My goal remained a marathon at 6:00 mile pace, or 2:36:36. I believed I was capable of it.
For the next five miles, to the 15 mile mark, I averaged 5:58 per mile. My cumulative time was 1:30:36, only 36 seconds slower than plan. My average pace was 6:02.4, or 2:38:15 marathon pace.
But fatigue and cramps in my legs already began to appear. I knew I was in trouble, and that I would not be able to reach my goal. The question morphed into, Can I at least beat my Boston qualifying time? I should be able to do that! I trained so hard and well. I can fight through this.
Stop.
Standing in Now Time as a 66-year-old, this is what I have to say to my younger self:
For 14 miles of a marathon, you averaged under 6:00 per mile. Man, that was dumb. What were you thinking?
Things really began to fall apart around mile 17, and by the time I reached the 20 mile mark, only a 10K away from the finish line, my cumulative time was 2:03:06. I ran the five miles from 15 to 20 at 6:30 pace (and that was an average -- I probably dropped from around a 6:00 pace to a 7:00 pace during that segment). My average pace overall at 20 miles dropped to 6:09.3, or a 2:41:16 marathon.
A 2:41:16 marathon would have been a very good time; more in line with my capability, according to the best reading of my training data.
More telling support for this supposition is this: Taking the 7:32 out of the equation, my average pace overall for 19 miles, mile 2 through 20, was 6:08.1, a 2:40:44 marathon pace; so, for 19 miles I ran pretty fast! That 19 miles in itself is equivalent to about a 2:45:00 marathon, which means I actually ran a 19 mile segment of the Boston Marathon which was, standing alone as a 19 mile effort, equivalent to a 2:45 marathon! What this says to me is that I totally blew my opportunity at my first, and likely only, Boston Marathon.
What a pity.
At mile 20, I couldn't run anymore. My legs and hips were a fiery inferno of cramps. Each step felt like there was no muscle big or small from my feet to my hips that didn't seem like some sadistic torturer (yours truly) were flaying me from the waist down.
I could barely walk, but walk and what amounted to a jog I did, back and forth My only solace was that there were others like me, hobbling, who were probably just as overexcited, overconfident, and ignorant as I was. My last 6.2 miles, what I call my Boston 10K, was covered in 56:20, or 9:05 per mile average (a few months later I would run a 10K in Seattle in 33:55).
Somehow I managed to put together a form of running in the last stretch to avoid appearing as pathetic as I was feeling for the crowds and cameras. The photo above does not reveal the searing pain I was in. I am capable of being grateful for small favors.
In the end, I qualified for the Boston Marathon on my first attempt, and I finished the race under 3 hours. These positive accomplishments should be equal to my disappointment, but they're not. Not then, anyway.
It was a spectacular disaster to me, because I had such high hopes, and I felt ready to make them happen.
My official finish time was 2:59:26, at 6:37.6 per mile average.
Almost everything that could go wrong, did. And I alone am to blame.
Of my three marathons, this was my slowest, but it should have been my fastest. My first marathon was my fastest, but it should have been second fastest. My last marathon, Detroit in 1984, at 2:53:38, should have been my slowest.
There is little else to say about it having to do with running.
No comments:
Post a Comment