Wow. What a great day. I can't thank Clyde and Logan enough.
I woke up race day feeling fantastic - fresh, light, fast; my stomach felt great. The weather was perfect. Everything was smooth all morning from the bus ride up, potty breaks, remembered to bring everything. Before the gun went off, I was entertaining thoughts of a 2:55, maybe a 2:50 - who knows? The first miles were excellent. I just locked in behind the mohawks and tried to relax. My splits up to Veyo were 6:52, 6:44, 6:27 , 6:19, 6:26, 6:21, 6:30 - That was a little on the speedy side in hindsight. I needed a 6:52 average to hit 3:00 hrs. BUT - I had some long training runs where I averaged 6:40s and 6:30s. So I thought I was fine. Veyo went as planned - I averaged 7:22 that mile and 7:05 the mile after. That's when I started realizing that I wasn't running very well - I was tired, having a "bad day." Up the long moderate hill after Veyo my splits were 6:50, then 7:12, and 7:00. My average at this point was still well under 6:52, so I wasn't too worried - I just kept running and waiting for a second wind...that never came! Hitting the downhill section, my splits were: 6:43, 6:41, 6:28, 6:27, 6:39, 6:43 - those times average in nicely, but I should have been able to light that section up. I was really dragging, and starting to worry. Before I hit Winchester, I remember thinking "I should just lie down and rest for 2 minutes." That's crazy! I was seriously considering taking a 2-minute power nap in the middle of the race! I had tunnel-vision and was kind of loopy. Logan and Clyde did everything but put me on their backs at this point. They recognized my plight and totally saved me. My splits for the last miles were a rollercoaster, a very slow roller coaster - 706, 6:53, 6:41, 6:58, 6:47, 7:20, and 7:40. There are some sections of the race I honestly can't remember: I know I never passed the white cement towers, never went through the Tuacahn stoplight, and I know I never ran past the church at the bottom of the canyon. Crazy. I can't remember the roundabout either.
Clyde and Logan kept dumping water on me, cheering me on, yelling at me, etc. I was "checking out" -- tunnel vision - echo voices - incoherency - numb legs. It was surreal. Clyde would run ahead, and whip the crowd into a "paul, paul, paul" chant. Sounds cheesy, but, to be honest, I needed it - I was so totally spent. Both calves, my left hamstring, and my right quads were twitching (just threatening to cramp up). I had the side stitch and everything. I look back now and think - it was awesome, just what I wanted man. Kind of a spiritual experience - trying that hard, feeling that pain, fighting the overwhelming feeling of surrender, and everything - it just makes life a little more "real." Hard to explain to someone who hasn't been there. I loved the battle.
We finally came within sight of the finish line, and I swear it took an hour to reach the line. I could see the balloons, but I really thought they must have been on a parade float that was leaving me behind. I was trying to decipher my garmin to see if I was going to make 3 hrs, and Logan kept telling me - "Paul, quit looking at it, just run!" But I couldn't quite process the math in my foggy head, so I kept staring at the stupid watch and trying to run. I am sure Logan thinks I am an idiot. He might be right. Whenever I would reply to Clyde and Logan, they would laugh at each other (with that echo-laugh you see on movies as someone succumbs to some evil medicine), so I know I said some pretty stupid things out there. I was just totally out of it. My Garmin tells me now that my last .2 miles were run at a 10minute/mile pace. I know I didn't walk, is it even possible to run that slow? I am praying there is no video footage of it, because it must be ugly. Crossing that line was beautiful. Man, it sounds cheesy, but I was so deeply satisfied. I could see my family and friends, Logan and Clyde were busting up laughing, the music was blaring ... and then I woke up in the medic tent. Totally fainted, what a dork. Seriously, that's really embarassing. No one wants to be the dork who faints because he didn't train hard enough to get his goal time. Duh. Funny, I had pictured the finish line a thousand times this summer - and I always coolly strode in with minutes to spare.Never imagined that I would faint like that. I have gone over my pre-race meals for 72 hours before the race, and blah blah blah and I can't figure out what went wrong out there. Did I choke? Was I too stressed out? I only lost a few pounds that morning, so I think I was hydrated enough (my pee wasn't too dark right after the race). I don't know, maybe I am just not as fast as I thought I was. BUT I got there in time , well, Logan and Clyde got me there in time. For our anniversary next April, I will run the Boston Marathon with my smokin' hot wife. Cool. It was worth it, all that training, definitely worth it.
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