"Mental toughness is to physical as four is to one." This could not have summed up Sunday's race any more appropriately. Give credit to one of my favorite train wrecks, Bobby Knight, for that one.
The temperature in Houston on Friday before the race was a blustery 72 degrees and humidity was at my favorite 100% level. Climate remained status quo on Saturday and I was drenched in sweat after my last run before the marathon, a quick four miler through the neighborhood. By Sunday at 4am, temperatures had fallen to 38 degrees and the wind had shifted to blowing 10-20 out of the northwest. So what could make this worse? Rain? Great, give us rain...
Emily and I left the house at 530am on Sunday morning and were downtown by 550am. We made a quick trip to the George R. Brown convention center to warm up, not our muscles, our body temperatures. Since I was in the "A" corral for the marathon, I had to venture out earlier than she did as they closed this corral off at 640am. About 100m into my walk to the corral it began to sprinkle. Mind you, it is still 38-40 degrees outside. By the time I made it to the corral and found the 3:40 pace group, the sprinkle had turned into a full-fledged rain. Runners were huddling in together and the guys who were wearing hefty trash bags looked like geniuses. I, not being a genius, had planned the night before to wear a long-sleeved cotton shirt and a pair of old running shorts which could be pulled off and donated to the Red Cross clothing service for the homeless. I wanted to wear my triathlon suit underneath to simulate IMTX. This turned into a terrible idea, and it wasn't until mile 25 that I actually shed the outer layer. So I was soaked before the gun even went off, head to toe. I found out later that a very dear fried of ours was walking up and down the corral trying to find a dry spot, and stumbled upon a trash bag which she put on and ran the first mile with.
A quick rundown of the course itself...running over the Quitman bridge(s) from mile 0 to mile 2 was brutal. The wind was up and the rain drops were begin launched at our faces as if someone were shooting them through a pellet gun. By the time we got to the Heights, crowd support began and the natural adrenaline picked up making running easier. Crossing over I10, Memorial and then Allen Parkway, I saw one of the best signs I had ever see in a race....a lady in her mid-40's with enormous (insert bodily appendages here) was jumping up and down holding a sign that read "I love a man who can FINISH." I laughed out loud along with 100 other runners in the pack we had formed. The straight away continued past the turnaround for the halfers and into West University. I was hoping to see the priest who splashes runners with holy water, and sure enough, he was there so I guess I am blessed for another year...the route then takes you up Weslayan to the US 59 frontage road at which point you will head north on Post Oak towards the Galleria. This stretch of the run was my albatross in 2011 where my quads locked up and I paced down to a brisk walk. I kept telling myself that this would not happen this year so I turned up the volume on my iPod, threw down some more Endurolytes and paced up all the way through Tanglewood. Phew, finally made it to Memorial Drive.
The last stretch of the run is a 7 mile straight-away into downtown Houston that takes you through Memorial Park. The large buildings are a mirage as they taunt you into thinking you are closer than you truly are and this is the point in the race where people realize they are in trouble. You begin to see people falling down, bending over to stretch, crying, running hunched over in agony...I even saw a Pace Crew member doubled over at mile 22. The real savior came at mile 23 when I approached the Miller 64 tour bus. I was hurting...my arms hurt, my head hurt, my feet were on fire and my hips were flipping me the bird. A girl literally walked out in front of me and handed me a mouthwash-sized cup and I drank it. It turned out to be beer, and it was perfect.
The last mile of this race is spectacular. Crowds line the street four deep to see runners come through so they can yell out the name on your bib. You feel like you are floating through them and there is no more pain, only relief and a sense of accomplishment. Your body is in bad shape having been depleted of all of its nutrients and performing the same task with redundancy for the last 3-4 hours. But you don't feel it. You feel nothing until you enter the convention center and stand in line to pick up your finisher shirt. Then it hits you, ouch.
10k split: 55:04 @ 8:52/mi pace
15k split: 1:22 @ 8:47/mi pace
Half: 1:55 @ 8:47/mi pace
30k split: 2:43 @ 8:47/mi pace
Finish: 3:56 @ 9:02/mi pace
I guess I am a man who can finish? Even if I had to slow down a little at the end...
What I learned from this race was how to properly hydrate and feed my body to avoid cramps. Water, Gatorade, Endurolytes, Hammer Gel and of course, beer. I also remembered a passage from the book I am currently reading titled, The Divine Arsonist where the author discusses stepping out of your body's past experiences in order to live with more passion in the present. It could not have been more appropriate for me in this race.
Next stop, Ironman Texas 70.3 (April 7) followed by Kemah olympic distance (April 28) and Ironman Texas 140.6 (May 18).
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