"You don't have to go home but you can't stay here."
- The words of thousands of bartenders every evening at closing time
It's Time to Close This Chapter of My Marathon Career
Where It All Began
My journey started out over six months ago in Tallmadge Meadows Metro Park where I began my marathon base training. As I left town this past Saturday morning, I kept a promise to myself and stopped one more time at the point where it all began. It was important for me on Saturday to remember why I once again started back down the road to being a "marathoner." You don't get to have the title of a Marathon Runner unless you finish the course.
The Plan
The Hal Higdon Intermediate 2 Training Program was the basic blueprint. I needed to push myself to get back to any kind of semblance of credibility to run 26.2 miles at the age of 65. It would be so rare for anybody of my parents generation to have done something like this. I felt myself on the tipping point of accepting old age and a more sedentary lifestyle status, or embarking on trying to be a George Sheehan fit animal. After six months, I am still in that struggle but much closer to the success of reaching my goal in October, than where I was in April.
Writing the Blog was part of The Plan. I needed to hold myself accountable. Publicly accountable. There could be no turning back once it was in print and committed to in writing.
Supporting Cast
First and foremost there was Mari. Her fun nicknames are in the distance.......way ahead of me in the distance. She has gotten faster during this period. Not because of me. She has truly committed herself to the same mission that I have. Her efforts serve as guidance and leadership for me and will continue to do so in the future. Now that's a teammate.
Running coach David Cooper was a God send. Having him to talk to during my training and running the entire Columbus Marathon with me was more than I could have hope for on Sunday. There will be more about this later.
Dick Beardsley, Randy Thomas, marathon greats, and cousins Marie Derby, Lydie Sprissler, Sheilah Colpoys and I got reconnected in the training process. This is good stuff. These folks are human benefits from the program that I had not anticipated. There was also he chance to reconnected to my dear friend Beanie and her daughters as well as so many others along the way. It was the visit to Beanie and the seventeen mile run in the heat the next morning in August that was the positive turning point in my training.
The Hailer Family got closer. From Boston to Ohio, it was all good.
Julie Oliver. Buckeye Gym. No further words necessary.
Julie Oliver. Buckeye Gym. No further words necessary.
Then there were you, the readers and friends. No way I could have made it back this far without the individual comments and true support and interest in the Blog. There will be approximately 5,500 reads by the time I pull it down. It's far more than I could have ever expected.
THE COLUMBUS MARATHON
Sunday, October 18, 2015 could not have been a more perfect day for a marathon. Sure it was cold at the start but it was manageable. There was no wind. There were plenty of porta potties and even an accommodating hotel to hide inside from the cold before the race. These are important primal considerations and pre-marathon race considerations for all runners.
The walk from the adopted hotel to the start line ended with Mari heading to Corral C. David and I headed to the join wretched refuse of bodies in Corral D (slower runners). David belonged in Corral B but was with me by choice. A true gift as it would turn out. It was in Corral D we met up with "Jersey Mike" the 5:30 pace group leader. That was my first mistake.
Here we are:
The first two miles were easy. These miles as my friend Connie Kolita likes to say, "Are always marathon lies." You are never as good or bad as you feel during this period of a marathon event. Being my running coach and personal pacer this day, David says, "Run your race, not his." He was referring to "Jersey Mike." Great advice. It wasn't working for us. We let Mike and the pace group go close to the three mile mark. David and I settled in to my Jeff Galloway approved two minutes of running and thirty second of running plan. The first thirteen miles were fun. Lots of fun. There were jokes with the crowd and fellow runners. If I was a half marathon participant, clearly I was holding back to conserve energy. There were plenty of spectators to joke with along the way. There was laughter, music and signs. Like this one:
There were other signs:
As David and I approached the split where half marathoners went off to their finish and the marathoners continued up High Street, I told him, "This is now a different race. It's going to be something you haven't experienced. I held back trying to exhibit my envy of the folks completing the half marathon.
WE ARE THE BACK OF THE PACK." Yep, we were indeed part of the wretched refuse. To the dwindling crowds that awaited us, we were the tired and huddled masses. The only problem was that we weren't really "masses." We had already seen the earlier marathon finishers making the turn to the finish line well ahead of the body of the half marathon pack just as we were proceeding out to the second half of the course. This was a new experience for David, and it was normal operating procedure for me.
First hearing and then seeing my long time friend Sarah Cupples, former SARC President and her friend at the fifteen mile mark truly made a positive difference in my attitude. The short words of encouragement meant so much.
The unexpected bonus of this race, if not the true inspiration of every mile, were the Children's Champions. Each young patient was with their special tent and surrounded by cheering family members were armed with a huge foam hands that were slapping "high fives" with every runner. At every passing mile, these young heroes meant more and more to me. As the hours of the race slowly moved on, these young folks and their families never left. One by one. Mile by mile, there they were. These cute children and families with much bigger challenges than any of us will ever face. It meant everything. The funniest moment of the race came at 22 miles when David went to high five a kid and found out that it was a young lady who was a growing health success story. We didn't see that one coming.
Tell me this little guy doesn't warm your heart. This is Gunner from mile 9. He has spinal muscular atrophy.
My right quad muscle really starting hurting at 18 miles along with my right knee. It was more walking than running for a couple of miles. I felt great but the leg flat out hurt. Every marathoner has a story like this from a race. These things happen. David silently started walking ahead of me forcing me to focus on him as a target and to pick up the pace to try to catch him.
Then, almost as if brought in from central casting in for a movie, at the twenty-four and half mile mark, standing there cheering was none other than Mari with her half marathon medal around her neck. She finished second in her age group and ran under two hours and three minutes on a crowded course. Impressive!
Fortunately for my ego, we first saw her we while we were running. (More of a survivor's shuffle but definitely a version of running). I could tell by the expression on her face that she was impressed with my positive attitude at this point in the race. David and I ran almost all of this final portion of the race. The leg hurt real bad. The joy of being near the finish and sharing the experience with my friend overshadowed the negativity emanating from the right leg of my body.
As we were preparing to cross the finish line, the viewing stands were virtually empty. Workers tearing down barriers were offering their encouragement and support. The sounds of the metal barriers being stacked together for collection was reminiscent of the glasses being put away at the end of a long night in a virtually empty bar around closing time.
Little did the few folks left at the finish line know that David Cooper was a really fast, and a really good runner. The finish line announcers had stayed a little longer. It felt good to still have them there but their announcements were only being heard by us, and had a broader audience of only the clean up workers and some kindly volunteers and some family members who were waiting for the few folks like us. The lady who was sharing in the announcing looked down at me and asked in a joyful voice over the microphone, "Did you two just meet today?" "No," I replied. "We're best friends." The look from the announcer revealed her immediate understanding. David had sacrificed his race to guide his friend. She knew what I knew. It was a gift. Nothing more needed to be said. Ah, the power of non-verbal communication.
Perhaps the best moment was the sincere jubilation that Mari expressed as she waited where we came out of the secured area. She more than anyone has known of my health concerns. The Boss looked at me and stated what had been less than obvious to me even though this was my thirtieth marathon. "This is just like your first marathon. You finished." Again, she was right.
6:21:15 - That's my time. I own it. I love it. The time means I finished. That was the objective. I was back. My thoughts as I walked from the finish line to what was left of the post race food area were of Tracy Finn, Gideon Oswitch, Doug Wheeler, Lynn Anderson, my lovely daughter Lindsay, and so many others who sent me unexpected messages of support on the day before to the closing moments right before the race.
Dick Beardsley, St. Hal Higdon, and now even the gifted David Cooper who had never taken this long to run a marathon have come to understand one thing. To be out on the course for six hours takes determination and drive and a little stupidity. My finisher's medal is the same one everyone else gets who crosses the finish line.
When I began this journey, I said that I wanted to run Columbus under five hours. I realized early on that such a lofty goal was a fool's errand for me. Finishing was the objective a long time ago. 827 miles from Tallmadge Meadows in April to shortly after two o'clock on Sunday afternoon. As I crossed the finish line, I knew I left everything on the course. With "A little help from my friends," we raised over $1,000 for the Akron Canton Regional Foodbank. If that was all that happened that would have been awesome, but there was so much more. Relationships and friendships were renewed. Life is a little better. That I believe would be the true definition of success.
I know myself better now than I did at the beginning of the year. I know exactly what I have to do to improve my running performance. Like all other things in life, it comes down to how I execute my plan.
I will not run another marathon unless I can lose another twenty pounds. I weigh too much to do marathons at this age. I will be back lighter, stronger, but just as happy as I am today. That should be achieved sometime around April 9, 2016, just in time for my sixty-sixth birthday. If Vegas is taking odds, I think I have proven to myself. Don't bet against me.
As Tracy Brown and Jerry Bunn, running partners from an era long gone by from the late seventies would say regarding our running efforts, "It's time to bury the peg." I'm just getting started on this next big thing in my life which is becoming a fit animal. This is just Part 1. Based upon my donut experience at sixteen miles on Sunday, I think I have some work to do!
My future running plans are to run one half marathon each month until April 18, 2016, then run the Boston Marathon course on that date about two hours after the last runner leaves Hopkinton, Massachusetts. If you research the true history of the Boston Marathon, both my brother Phil and I will be running Boston the way it was truly done in the old days. Except in this case, it's just a couple of old war horses chasing a dream one more time in hopes of really finding a unicorn. Didn't qualify Boston? Run with us! It's the same course and definitely the true "Spirit of the Marathon."
The final image is from Mari and I hiking on Monday in the Cuyahoga Valley trying to try to stretch out our legs. It was a perfect fall late afternoon walk among some amazing colors. There was a gentle silence except for the soothing sounds of the woods. It's was all a metaphor for the rest of my training. My future quest will be done in relative radio silence. No Facebook or Twitter. For now, the quest to be a fit animal to measure up to George Sheehan standards has to be done with few others and in relative quiet.
Sharing with you and being public these past six months has been a great place to be, but now its over. "I don't have to go home, but I can't stay here." One thing I do know. I couldn't have gotten here, without all of you. And for that let me just say, "Thank you."
The walk from the adopted hotel to the start line ended with Mari heading to Corral C. David and I headed to the join wretched refuse of bodies in Corral D (slower runners). David belonged in Corral B but was with me by choice. A true gift as it would turn out. It was in Corral D we met up with "Jersey Mike" the 5:30 pace group leader. That was my first mistake.
Here we are:
The first two miles were easy. These miles as my friend Connie Kolita likes to say, "Are always marathon lies." You are never as good or bad as you feel during this period of a marathon event. Being my running coach and personal pacer this day, David says, "Run your race, not his." He was referring to "Jersey Mike." Great advice. It wasn't working for us. We let Mike and the pace group go close to the three mile mark. David and I settled in to my Jeff Galloway approved two minutes of running and thirty second of running plan. The first thirteen miles were fun. Lots of fun. There were jokes with the crowd and fellow runners. If I was a half marathon participant, clearly I was holding back to conserve energy. There were plenty of spectators to joke with along the way. There was laughter, music and signs. Like this one:
There were other signs:
- "Run like you stole something."
- "You're doing great....err, OK."
- "Kiss me."
- "Slap this sign for power!"
- "Worst parade ever."
- "Smile if you're not wearing underwear."
- "Go random stranger."
- "Run fast, I just farted."
- "The end is near, repent......no finish."
It was all in good nature. Like every marathon you think, "13.1 more miles of this? No problem." The thoughts of course are great, but they too are lies.
As David and I approached the split where half marathoners went off to their finish and the marathoners continued up High Street, I told him, "This is now a different race. It's going to be something you haven't experienced. I held back trying to exhibit my envy of the folks completing the half marathon.
WE ARE THE BACK OF THE PACK." Yep, we were indeed part of the wretched refuse. To the dwindling crowds that awaited us, we were the tired and huddled masses. The only problem was that we weren't really "masses." We had already seen the earlier marathon finishers making the turn to the finish line well ahead of the body of the half marathon pack just as we were proceeding out to the second half of the course. This was a new experience for David, and it was normal operating procedure for me.
First hearing and then seeing my long time friend Sarah Cupples, former SARC President and her friend at the fifteen mile mark truly made a positive difference in my attitude. The short words of encouragement meant so much.
Race officials had changed the course from the last year. This was the mile mark where I had planned on continuing my reputation as "Uncle Cookie" stopping at Subway. Instead, as we were going by an first aid station I kiddingly asked a worker if they had any cookies and she responded, "We still have half a glazed donut." Going more for the comedy aspect with David, I said, "Sure." The humor lasted a hundred yards and then it was back to business. The race thinned even more going around the Holy Ground known as Ohio Stadium or as it is known to the true disciples of The Ohio State University, "The Horseshoe."
The unexpected bonus of this race, if not the true inspiration of every mile, were the Children's Champions. Each young patient was with their special tent and surrounded by cheering family members were armed with a huge foam hands that were slapping "high fives" with every runner. At every passing mile, these young heroes meant more and more to me. As the hours of the race slowly moved on, these young folks and their families never left. One by one. Mile by mile, there they were. These cute children and families with much bigger challenges than any of us will ever face. It meant everything. The funniest moment of the race came at 22 miles when David went to high five a kid and found out that it was a young lady who was a growing health success story. We didn't see that one coming.
Tell me this little guy doesn't warm your heart. This is Gunner from mile 9. He has spinal muscular atrophy.
My right quad muscle really starting hurting at 18 miles along with my right knee. It was more walking than running for a couple of miles. I felt great but the leg flat out hurt. Every marathoner has a story like this from a race. These things happen. David silently started walking ahead of me forcing me to focus on him as a target and to pick up the pace to try to catch him.
Then, almost as if brought in from central casting in for a movie, at the twenty-four and half mile mark, standing there cheering was none other than Mari with her half marathon medal around her neck. She finished second in her age group and ran under two hours and three minutes on a crowded course. Impressive!
Fortunately for my ego, we first saw her we while we were running. (More of a survivor's shuffle but definitely a version of running). I could tell by the expression on her face that she was impressed with my positive attitude at this point in the race. David and I ran almost all of this final portion of the race. The leg hurt real bad. The joy of being near the finish and sharing the experience with my friend overshadowed the negativity emanating from the right leg of my body.
As we were preparing to cross the finish line, the viewing stands were virtually empty. Workers tearing down barriers were offering their encouragement and support. The sounds of the metal barriers being stacked together for collection was reminiscent of the glasses being put away at the end of a long night in a virtually empty bar around closing time.
Little did the few folks left at the finish line know that David Cooper was a really fast, and a really good runner. The finish line announcers had stayed a little longer. It felt good to still have them there but their announcements were only being heard by us, and had a broader audience of only the clean up workers and some kindly volunteers and some family members who were waiting for the few folks like us. The lady who was sharing in the announcing looked down at me and asked in a joyful voice over the microphone, "Did you two just meet today?" "No," I replied. "We're best friends." The look from the announcer revealed her immediate understanding. David had sacrificed his race to guide his friend. She knew what I knew. It was a gift. Nothing more needed to be said. Ah, the power of non-verbal communication.
Perhaps the best moment was the sincere jubilation that Mari expressed as she waited where we came out of the secured area. She more than anyone has known of my health concerns. The Boss looked at me and stated what had been less than obvious to me even though this was my thirtieth marathon. "This is just like your first marathon. You finished." Again, she was right.
6:21:15 - That's my time. I own it. I love it. The time means I finished. That was the objective. I was back. My thoughts as I walked from the finish line to what was left of the post race food area were of Tracy Finn, Gideon Oswitch, Doug Wheeler, Lynn Anderson, my lovely daughter Lindsay, and so many others who sent me unexpected messages of support on the day before to the closing moments right before the race.
Dick Beardsley, St. Hal Higdon, and now even the gifted David Cooper who had never taken this long to run a marathon have come to understand one thing. To be out on the course for six hours takes determination and drive and a little stupidity. My finisher's medal is the same one everyone else gets who crosses the finish line.
When I began this journey, I said that I wanted to run Columbus under five hours. I realized early on that such a lofty goal was a fool's errand for me. Finishing was the objective a long time ago. 827 miles from Tallmadge Meadows in April to shortly after two o'clock on Sunday afternoon. As I crossed the finish line, I knew I left everything on the course. With "A little help from my friends," we raised over $1,000 for the Akron Canton Regional Foodbank. If that was all that happened that would have been awesome, but there was so much more. Relationships and friendships were renewed. Life is a little better. That I believe would be the true definition of success.
I know myself better now than I did at the beginning of the year. I know exactly what I have to do to improve my running performance. Like all other things in life, it comes down to how I execute my plan.
I will not run another marathon unless I can lose another twenty pounds. I weigh too much to do marathons at this age. I will be back lighter, stronger, but just as happy as I am today. That should be achieved sometime around April 9, 2016, just in time for my sixty-sixth birthday. If Vegas is taking odds, I think I have proven to myself. Don't bet against me.
As Tracy Brown and Jerry Bunn, running partners from an era long gone by from the late seventies would say regarding our running efforts, "It's time to bury the peg." I'm just getting started on this next big thing in my life which is becoming a fit animal. This is just Part 1. Based upon my donut experience at sixteen miles on Sunday, I think I have some work to do!
My future running plans are to run one half marathon each month until April 18, 2016, then run the Boston Marathon course on that date about two hours after the last runner leaves Hopkinton, Massachusetts. If you research the true history of the Boston Marathon, both my brother Phil and I will be running Boston the way it was truly done in the old days. Except in this case, it's just a couple of old war horses chasing a dream one more time in hopes of really finding a unicorn. Didn't qualify Boston? Run with us! It's the same course and definitely the true "Spirit of the Marathon."
The final image is from Mari and I hiking on Monday in the Cuyahoga Valley trying to try to stretch out our legs. It was a perfect fall late afternoon walk among some amazing colors. There was a gentle silence except for the soothing sounds of the woods. It's was all a metaphor for the rest of my training. My future quest will be done in relative radio silence. No Facebook or Twitter. For now, the quest to be a fit animal to measure up to George Sheehan standards has to be done with few others and in relative quiet.
Sharing with you and being public these past six months has been a great place to be, but now its over. "I don't have to go home, but I can't stay here." One thing I do know. I couldn't have gotten here, without all of you. And for that let me just say, "Thank you."
Thank you for allowing us to share your journey. For me, it is an inspiration! Congratulations!!
ReplyDeleteDear Uncle Donut,
ReplyDeleteYou da man! I gave up on sub 3 a long time ago.... you have stirred those thoughts once again.... Thank you Steve for being there for me when many of my "friends" turned their backs on me. It is you who gifted me. God Bless you!