...That's how I thought about starting this post a week or so ago; before I knew what was in store for me during the Mount Desert Marathon, in Bar Harbor Maine that I just ran. This post was then supposed to be filled with stories of what a "maniac" I was as I threw this race down like it was nobody's business! I guess it's about time I had a race that didn't go as planned, but for more of the "wrong" reasons than right.
After you read this entire post you'll probably be left thinking I'm crazy for feeling the way I do about this marathon. Especially those of you who (in my opinion) think that all that matters in running a race is your end time (or min/mile). If you've been reading my running posts over the past few years you'll know that I appreciate a good finishing time, placement or PR just as much as the next guy. I guess the point of this post will be the proof that those are only secondary to my first two goals: Enjoying myself, and doing my best in every way - but mostly beating down the mental battle that comes with racing.
Let's start at the beginning:
The day before the race Amy and I drove the course to see what was in store for us.
We saw a whole lot of incredible!
This course runs mostly along the southern end of Mount Desert Island and in and out of the Acadia National Park. It was voted the second most beautiful marathon in the world by Runners World. That's the main reason that I chose to run this particular marathon. I wanted an amazing experience, beautiful, and something that I could just truly enjoy!
I guess I kind of noticed the constant hills during our drive, but I suppose I was a bit distracted; as evidenced above.
But it wasn't the hills I was worried about. What gave me pause for concern was how I felt the day before on my "keep it fresh" 2 mile run. I coughed the entire run, felt like I couldn't breath, and generally didn't have any energy. I knew that if I felt that way on race day I would be in for it - heaven forbid if I felt worse. I had been in denial about the onset of some sort of sickness. My attempts to OD on Vitamin C, Zinc, Echinacea, and any other helpful remedies was not going as planned.
I tried to stay positive as the race began,
A little chilly, but I knew that would turn into perfect running weather once I got moving!
And as predicted the weather was beautifully perfect the entire run. Overcast to partly sunny and around the 50's the entire run. Couldn't have been better.
I knew what splits I needed to hit to achieve the time that I knew I was capable of getting. I set off doing what was "expected" of me. The coughing started soon into mile one. That lasted about 3 - 4 miles before it thankfully subsided. I tried to keep the thoughts of doom out of my mind but the reality was I was already tired by the time I hit mile 2. Ahead of me awaited 24.2 more miles, all to be run on sheer will power, and whatever remaining energy I could somehow discover or magically create.
I talked with a few people along the way to distract me. It helped. Soon enough I realized all those hills I had "missed" the day before. A man at the starting line had off-handedly stated, "Don't ever choose a marathon with 'Mount" in the title." I laughed at the time. Oh so witty. Now his words made a lot more sense!
This is what it was like: up, up, down, up, dowwwwn, up, down, up, down, up, up, up, up, dowwwwwn, up, down, up, down, up, down, down, down, up, up, down,up, up, up, uuuuup......you getting the idea?
We were either running up or down. Not a whole lot of flat stretches here folks.
But beautiful. Just keep focusing on the beautiful....I tried.
Mile 6. And yes I realize that this 50 year old lady next to me looks in better shape than me! I can only aspire to her fitness when I'm her age! We had fun conversation until she slowed up around mile 10. I decided to stay to myself after that to make sure I kept on target with my pace goals. The distraction of talking had been nice but made staying focused on my pace a bit harder. Though now in hind sight, it probably would have been better for me mentally if I'd just stuck with a buddy. Justin, Amy, where were you when I needed you!? :)
On my own now I looked forward to seeing Justin and the girls at mile 11 or so.
I was hanging in ok, but really still having a hard time breathing.
About at mile 14 is when my biggest challenge hit me.
See in any marathon there comes a point for everyone (who is running their race the "right" way) where they hit a mental wall, which may or may not coincide with a physical wall they most likely will hit as well. The toughest wall to get through is the mental one. For most marathoners this comes sometime after mile 20. For me this wall came at mile 14.
The wall consists of a mental debate you have with yourself.
"I should just stop running. There's no way I can sustain this for 'x' more miles."
"No I can do it. I've trained for this. I'm am totally capable."
"Maybe I'm not, though. I feel like crap. I'm so tired. I want to just walk, or maybe I should just sit down and rest for a minute."
"There is no way I am going to sit down or even walk for that matter! I am way tougher than that. I can take this. This pain won't kill me. I just need to hold on a little longer."
"Walk!"
"NO!"
"This is never going to end!"
"No! The faster I run the faster this will be over."
And so on..... You get the idea.
I am very good at pushing through this debate all the way to the end. I pride myself on this ability of mine, if you will. I value the mental power that I posses. It has taken a lifetime to develop, and I don't stray from it easily. It is one of my greatest strengths.
But when Justin called me at mile 15 to see how I was doing, I didn't have good news to share. I was really struggling breathing and I already felt like quitting! The mental wall had been hit, and I was currently doing all I could to knock it down, climb over it, or some how completely demolish it! I asked him to just stay on the phone with me. I couldn't do much but listen and just find comfort in the fact that he was there. That phase of the debate doesn't usually hit me until the last couple miles. Here I was at mile 15, with 11.2 more miles to go and already shutting that part of my brain down! Mayday! Mayday!! Runner already in distress! Big time trouble ahead!
He was waiting for me at mile 18 and I just tried to hang on until then. I even was able to still manage a sort of smile.
Nouvelle was a great little cheerer when she got the chance. How could you not help but try and smile if you saw this cute little thing clapping for you?
At mile 20 I was still on track with my pace expectations. Close to losing it, but still holding on as best I could. But at around mile 20 comes about 5 miles of consistently long up hills with very few down hills for any sort of respite (Refer to graph above). Mile 20 marks when I fell off pace. I was suppose to be shifting into high gear at 7:45 min/miles, which I probably could have done - minus the sickness (I had now finally admitted I was dealing with) and those motha lovin' hills! It was all I could do to just maintain the pace I had set up to this point.
Justin was waiting again around mile 20.5. As you can see I'm done smiling, and I don't even wave or acknowledge that he is there. By now the debate in my mind is RAGING and I'm losing more than winning.
The real, seemingly endless hills start now.
This is what the start of defeat looks like at mile 22:
At mile 23 or so I think is the point where I lost most of my ability to debate with myself all together. I lost sight of all of the powerful mantras that are used to get through the toughest miles. The only thing I was successful at was not stopping and not walking, despite the SCREAMING in my head to just give up.
At this point I was absolutely sure that I didn't look like this (Exhibit A):
But like this (Exhibit B):
and I kind of got mad at Justin for telling me "You're lookin' great! Looking strong!" and "You got this!" I mustered up enough energy to tell him, "I hate it when you say that!" I know horrible, inconsiderate wife! I just couldn't handle hearing it one more time! Hey we all have our weird breaking point. I guess mine comes around mile 23 or so as the pain creates an aggressive monster who I can only compare to a woman in labor! I claim guiltlessness. The endorphins, testosterone, or whatever, made me do it!
The start of mile 25 was down hill - finally - and it was all I could do to speed up even a little bit. My legs where shot by this point too. And then some kind soul decided to end the last .5 miles or so on another upgrade. Geez, thanks. So considerate of you! Somehow I made it across the finish line.
That's right power-walkin' across the finish line. No, give me some credit. Of course I ran across. In fact, I felt like I was sprinting. Evidently not (Refer to picture Exhibit B above).
Even though the clock said 3:34:57 - something like 22 minutes faster than my last marathon just 7 months ago, and 3 minutes faster than the first 26.2 miles of my 50k back in June (both of which were my first and second time goals for this race) I couldn't help but feel completely defeated. Not quite a complete failure, but pretty crappy none-the-less. I didn't do as well as I could have, was "suppose" to. I feel like I wasted all that physical training. My mental strength had been depleted, completely sucked out of me. I didn't even have the ability to think clearly, let alone breathe. In fact it had been so hard to breathe throughout the run that when I finally stopped I was so light headed I thought I'd pass out. Instead I just had Justin hold me up for a few minutes.
This was definitely the worst (meaning hardest) race I've run up to this point. I guess every runner needs a "failure" under their belt. Yes, yes, I know, I know. This is where most people will start to think I'm crazy. I told you when you first started reading this that you would think that, didn't I? I know. I did "amazing" I got an "amazing" time. But really you must realize that what matters to me most when running is how I feel I met the challenge placed before me mentally. Though I didn't walk or stop (thank heavens I can at least say that) I feel like the race got the best of me mentally - and that just isn't suppose to happen - not to me! :)
I've been trying to gain perspective on this over the days since the race. Finally getting over my bronchial cold or whatever it was, has helped me find the energy to think a bit more clearly. I realize I was faced with a mental challenge unlike most I've faced in running up to this point. I've never had to survive that mental debate for so long (gives me pause in ever considering truly getting into more ultra marathons - or maybe this was the perfect mental endurance training run?). 11 miles is a long time to fight that mental battle. Six is a long time. Eleven? It did me in.
I'm glad I finished. I beat two time goals. I"PRed." I placed well (blah blah blah). I'm proud I didn't walk. I'm even more proud I didn't quit. I don't want to think about another big race for awhile - but let's face it, I probably will sooner than later.
*side note: The day after the race I was even more sick. I came home from the Dr.'s with an antibiotic and an inhaler. Nothing like a day late and a dollar short.
