Jacksonville Marathon Recap

Jacksonville Marathon Recap

A Runner's Ramblings: Volume 1; 50th Edition
1,310 miles raced
52.4 miles to race
Race: Jacksonville Marathon
Place: Jacksonville, FL
Miles from home: 708.5
Course Difficulty: 2.5 out of 10
Course Enjoyability: 4 out of 10
Weather: 60-70s
Finisher’s Medal: 7 out of 10
Donations to Date: ~29k

• I now have slightly more miles to run than I did last fall in my final tune-up race before Fiddy2: the JFK 50 mile race.
• My left leg has begun its countdown to the ball dropping for New Year’s. Most people start at 10 seconds. At the end of the marathon, it started at 1,222,022.
• The Drake Well Marathon in Titusville, Pennsylvania is just a few days away. While the race has reached it capacity, donations are always accepted. (For more info look here: www.fiddy2.org/dwmarathon.html)

When I told someone recently that not only am I paying for the bulk of Fiddy2 myself but doing so without a credit card (I shredded all my credit cards in January of 2005 and have paid for everything this year in cash or with my debit card) the open-mouthed shock I receive in return as a response told me that racing over 1,300 miles this year was not nearly as impressive as not living on the plastic. It is responses like that and questions which are equally surprising (“What are you going to do with yourself in 2007?” is the most common one recently, as if I will wander around aimlessly bumping into objects because I will not know how to live my life if every week does not begin and end with a marathon) that keep things interesting even as I am extremely excited to have a year that will start without every single weekend planned. That said, because I think it will make for good reading, here are some of the top questions I have received this year:
• How many shoes have you gone through? (Not nearly as many as you would think. No more than a normal year)
• When do you do laundry or go shopping for groceries? (Whenever I can, whenever I can)
• Are you married? (Which is always followed by a knowing nod when I answer in the negative, as if Fiddy2 is now obviously both easy and feasible because I do not have a family)
• Are you going to do all 52 states? (Sure am. Umm…what?!)

The list could seriously go on for pages and as silly as some of the questions are, I always remind myself that at the very least people care enough to ask. In fact, some of the sillier questions have been asked by those who have gone on to be some of my most ardent supporters, appreciating the highs with me and truly feeling bad about the lows. These very same wonderful people are the ones who know that appearing in Runner’s World recently was indeed a nice honor for me but without mentioning either L’Arche Mobile, let alone how people could donate to Fiddy2, the blurb was rather bittersweet. I have questioned all year how I could possibly have done more to garner more support, any significant sponsorship or lucrative donations. No more. People and corporations are either going to give, or they are not. I cannot let it bother me.

I have also been wished luck by people who almost immediately take it away with a hand wave and a “You do not need luck!” Well believe me, I do. Every single day. The most current proof of this happened just this weekend. Many months ago, I looked at the only two marathons in the continent this weekend and one was in Washington state and the other was in Florida. While the one in Washington had a weaker overall field in its finishers last year (a 2:51 won it, for example) the course record for the Florida marathon is a 2:14! Even if it had been cheaper to fly to Washington, I would have picked Florida. I would rather finished 49th amongst tough competition than third among weaker runners. That said, I found out not too long after finishing my race this weekend that a storm called for the cancellation of the alternate marathon. Talk about a wide-eyed shock as the realization of what could have happened hit me. Follow that by a huge sigh of relief. And then follow THAT by even more increased worries as I still have two more of these races to do! It really struck home as time went on that if I had not gone to Florida all my planning would be down the drain. That is what one gets when they decide to never miss a single weekend and might be why so few have ever done it. There are simply too many variables.

The lesson? Luck matters. So does hard work and preparation. Which is why no matter when that cancelled marathon is moved to, I know I have my own race to both run (physically) and run (in a race director way) this upcoming weekend and nothing is cancelling that baby!

Another piece of luck (of which I have many both good and bad) involved a few choice friends I have made. If not for Fiddy2, chances are slim to none I would have met hundreds of wonderful people, a few great friends and some new runners collectively called the “Tapirs” (from their running website entitled Taper Madness. Get it?!). Meeting them for dinner for the first time, a nice group of four of us shared stories and laughs over some pasta dinner. Joining us was one of my favorite people, a fellow marathoner named Katie who I have mentioned before. She is so sweet you could use her as a swizzle stick and we all had a wonderful time together.

As the evening wore down, we hoped that the prediction of warm temps and high humidity would somehow change in the next few hours, parted ways, and went to our prospective lodgings.

1st half marathon: 1:31:05

Katie’s husband took Katie and I to the start of the race where we mingled for a few minutes with other runners. Both Katie and I are of the sort who prefer to sleep as much as possible before the race, show up just a few minutes before the start and simply go. Today was no different. In the starting area I saw the timer for my marathon in Titusville, a helluva a runner, S. Mark Courtney, who said he was running this marathon to keep himself from running my race next weekend! In addition, a spectacularly nice woman named Helen, who I had run the better part of 20 miles with, all the way back in my third marathon of the year (47 marathons ago for you who are bad at math) came up to me with a big hug. With her hair much shorter than in January, the little pixie was looking even younger than she did when we met earlier this year. He looks belie the wisdom she has garnered from tons of running. In addition, I met her husband who was running the half marathon and we all shared a few moments together as the race was slightly delayed to get all of the runners to the start. Soon thereafter, after Whitney Houston’s Super Bowl XXV rendition of the Star Spangled Banner was played over the loud speakers, we were off.

One mile in, I already knew what lay ahead. I was going to have to cover as much distance as quickly as possible as the temperature, which was slightly cool at the start, was rapidly climbing already. Moreover, the humidity was going to be a major factor. How does a day with completely clear skies have a humidity of 98%? As a few fast half marathoners would run with me for the first 6 miles before turning around and heading home, I at least had some people to run with who had some speed but were not too fast. Even more so, when they would peel off it always makes me feel better, as a large crowd always thins!

Chatting with a few runners here and there, some who saw my sign on my back saying this was my 50th marathon of the year, some who thought I was Dean Karnazes and some who said they had run with me a few weeks ago (when they actually ran with Dean) we progressed through the miles. (Hey Dean, I know you are older but can you change your name to like Steve or something?) I joined with some people and either pulled away or fell back when I realized their pace was not my own. Today was going to be a day where I had to run my own race and be very inward-looking.

The miles ticked away and I was actually feeling pretty good in spite of the humidity. I have no idea why that is giving my desire to never run in the heat. And while I was running a slightly faster than needed pace for a sub-3 hour time and felt great I did not want to push it harder. I was hoping to run conservatively for the first half and turn it on for a negative split at the end (when do I not?)

Then at mile 11, I ran an uncharacteristically slow mile for this part of the race. I am unsure if the mile was mismarked or if I just had a slow mile. Erring on the side of caution, I figured it was the latter and I tried to make up the lost time. As such, the next few miles were slightly faster but I could see that the illusion of running comfortably was slowing beginning to fade. How much I would slow and how quickly the time would be lost were all that begin to occupy my mind. So I tried to think of something else to make the miles go by. I settled on why people misuse apostrophes and quotation marks all the time, even in painted signs.

Right then, not far after the turn-around the head back, in a twisty-turny area where the chances of seeing anyone else as you ran back were slim, I saw Katie, chugging along at an excellent pace. We smiled, waved to each other with cheers of encouragement and parted. The next few miles I passed a few runners and had a few runners passed me but the pace seemed to be fine. Perhaps this would not be so bad after all.

Mile 16:

Uh-oh. While it would never come to this (I would drag my body across the finish first) the left leg in its entirety, (quad, calf and shin) began to beg me to stop. I figured if I was going to stop I was going to get a few more miles in before I did, so I pressed on. This pain, present for weeks, would not have startled me if it had been confined to the places where it had previously hurt. Unfortunately, with the quad twitching I was wondering what was going on and for the first time in a race this year, the pain was really playing with my head and making me slow down to compensate. I am far to close to the end to get injured, I thought.

Mile 17:

Seriously, leg? You are still going to hurt me like this?

Mile 18:

Ok, I think it may be all right. Well not ALL right but back down to a manageable pain. Push on, wuss!

Mile 22:

I knew that I still had a pretty darn good chance at running a 3:07 or 3:08. I just had to push on at the pace I had regained from miles 18-22 after the leg began to hurt me. I did not think this would be a problem as it appeared slowing down for the pain in the leg had saved me some energy. Furthermore, as much as the race was warm and humid, it was, at the very least, extremely shaded. In fact, along with the shade, the course is touted as extremely fast because of its flat as a pancake elevation. But to be honest, I do not like completely flat courses. All of those miles on a flat course have you utilizing muscles which never get a rest or a break. You never get a chance to relax those muscles which are utilized for a flat course and use your hill-climbing or hill-descending muscles (you can tell I have no idea what those muscles are called. I am a runner still trying to figure out how I convinced myself to run 52 marathons in a year and give up my life to do so with fundraising; I do not have time to hit the medical books.) As a result, at least for me, I get tired much easier on a flat course then I do with downhills or slight undulation.

It was around this point when I am trying to figure out my splits, that an extremely toned woman passed me. So I caught up to her, we both acknowledge it was pretty hot. She said I looked good in the heat and I told her she was not too bad herself. Then, needing someone to talk to so I asked her if she was married because hitting on her would help me get through the next four miles. She laughed and flashed her compressed coal and my flirtation ended. Little did I know, so did my chances for the secondary time goals I was hoping for, as the sun was becoming more intense. Determined to not let it get to me, I stayed a steady distance behind her as we both passed runner after runner faltering in the hot sun. I knew it was going to be close to get the race under 3:10 and effort which I was unsure I even had, would be needed.

Finish:

The final stretch had us turn onto what I thought was the final straightaway. Unfortunately, we began this run right into the devil’s mouth as the sun was now beating down upon us unabated. The mossy tree-lined back-streets gave way to a highway with no shade, and little charm and many cars (earlier in the race we ran on roads that were completely free for traffic to roam. I had heard horror stories about blue-hairs damn near crushing runners to get to 9 AM church but to be blunt, most of the motorist were rather tolerant. In fact, it was some of the runners who could have moved from the middle of the road to let a vehicle pass more quickly. But on this last stretch there was at least some traffic blocked.)

My thoughts of nothing but a straightway until the end were dashed as we took one last detour from the highway into some back neighborhoods. An easy ploy race directors use to make up some distance in a race without really going anywhere, we were spit back out onto the highway a short distance later to make the final push for the stadium and the finish line. I have made this observation before and I will again: it is very cruel to know that you are finishing in a stadium (or any other major landmark) and when you approach the stadium have to, not only run around the stadium itself, but to come into the stadium and have to make a lap inside the stadium. It does not matter that, as you approach, you KNOW, simply by looking at your watch, you cannot be closing in on the finish this quickly. Your mind tricks you into thinking that the finish line is right in front of you and you negate the fact that in order for that to be true your last mile would have to be sub four minutes!

So our route took us down next to the stadium, back around through some trees and a practice filed of some sort, and then finally into the stadium itself. I knew it was going to be so close and I was beginning to taste that 3:09. I did not care what the seconds were.

Down the backside of the track with 200 meters to go, I finally realized I was not going to make it. For the first time upon entering the stadium, I could see a clock. With no clock at mile 26 (I guess they felt it wasn’t necessary given the close proximity to the finish, but it would have helped immensely) and I felt rather deflated. I will say a very nice touch was how, with about 250 yards to go, you passed over a timing mat which alerted an announcer to your name which he promptly yelled out. It would make more sense to me if it was in the last 10 yards so people could cheer for you when you hit that last stretch, but it was nice thought nonetheless.

So, with the goals not met, I held up one hand with all 5 digits spread and the other in the form of a Zero to let the photographers know that this was my 50th marathon for the year and crossed in 3:10:18. Immediately after finishing, Mark Courtney, just a few feet away after probably crushing a sub-3 (when I wrote this I had no access to results) yelled out “Congrats on number 50 for the year, Dane!” which turned a few heads for sure. Drenched in sweat, I grabbed my medal and sat down on the nearest folding chair I could find. As a woman removed my timing chap (by yanking it very hard and tightening the laces uncomfortably) a chap came up to me and asked for an interview. I asked him to give me a few seconds to grab a drink of water and then I would happily chat. With sweat dripping down my face and salt in my mouth I answered some of the same questions I could pretty much recite in my sleep and hoped that maybe this is the interview which will reach the masses, some of which have deep pockets and want to help a wonderful charity. The interviewer then told me he grew up near me. “Really?” I said. “Yeah, in Bayview”(or something similar to that) was his answer. I then realized he thought I was from Titusville, Florida and not one of the other triumverate of Titusvilles (the other being in New Jersey) in the U.S. I let him know I was from the Keystone State (dumb nickname since Pennsylvania is not a state but rather a Commonwealth, which is what LaQuinta means in Spanish [no it does not but if you have every stayed in a LaQuinta Hotel you will find that hilarious, believe me!]) downed a bottle of water and hustled out of the stadium to try and find Katie and run in with her. I like to think I have magical powers that will give energy to people, apparently.

As I ran across the field next to the stadium (which had some high-powered sprinklers shooting across the path of the runners) I saw Katie. Ducking under one of the sprays (Katie is not tall and if those puppies had been firing when I was running it would have hit me square in the chest), I hopped in beside her and told her I knew she could get under 3:30. She told me she was dying of thirst and had been since mile one (and to be truthful, while the aid stations were well stocked, they were far too few of them, especially in the last 10k. Without a doubt, when I am speaking with race directors next year, this will be one of the very first points I will raise) but would give it her all. While the clock showed different as we got closer, I knew she had it. You see, Katie, despite her speed, will always start pretty far back at the beginning of a race which subsequently gives her a few seconds of leeway. I peeled away right before the end of the race (I apologize to Katie that my mug is in most of her race photos) and hoped for the best. I found her and her husband (LaQuinta means “husband” in Spanish) and Katie showed me her watch: 3:29:52. You are darn tootin’ it was under 3:30 and you are doubly darn tootin’ it was 52 seconds!

Seeing someone I swore I had run with before, I approached a woman (named Ashley) and sure enough we had run at least a few miles of the Miami marathon together back in January. This was the Florida Reunion Tour for Fiddy2!

We left the stadium, grabbed showers and instead of going to the Chinese Takee Outee (no typo, an actually restaurant we saw) the gang grabbed a bite to eat at restaurant nearby and prepped for our departures. The seven hour drive for Katie and her husband and the 8 hours of travel time for me (including a huge four hour layover in Atlanta where I twice could not get on as a standby passenger and instead knew I would be getting home well after midnight) was not exactly what we were hoping for but you make do.

Meanwhile I called some of my fellow Tapirs to see how they had done and while not all of their goals were met, given the circumstances of the race, they were quite pleased. In fact, Michelle set a new LaQuinta! (Spanish for “Personal Best”).

The penultimate weekend of Fiddy2 is upon me. When faced with the reality earlier in the year that no marathon existed a few days before Christmas (not only in North America but the entire damn world) and that Fiddy2 would not be possible unless something was done, I decided to organize the first ever Drake Well Marathon in Titusville. Boasting 25 other marathoners (some with significantly faster PRs than mine so this is hardly a “gimme” race made solely for me to win) the Boston certified, chip-timed course will be an interesting race. Plus I get to see my family for only the second time this entire year. And my parents’ dog Shadow too!