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gretriever
Hipster Doofus
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Joined: 16 Jul 2003
Posts: 19385
Location: A moving target in a firing range.
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 Posted: 10/02/06 - 20:13 Post subject: Toronto. A long report and analysis.
Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront Marathon (September 24)
(Reader discretion advised. In the report part of this is an unaltered and un-edited profanity. I left this in because it was said in the course of events, and I feel it pertinent to the things going on at the time. I would ask and hope the managers of this site respect this and leave both it and the disclaimer as is)
The report.
Retrievers die, they do not surrender. This day, the Retriever died.
I truly hate to make predictions as to how I'll do in a race. It puts pressure on me, and gives people false expectations. Now my coach does this with - to - me, but I know why she does it. Besides, that's what a good coach is supposed to do. Based on Brookings and a flat course in Toronto, I only thought that another sub-four hour result was certainly doable.
It certainly started out well enough, although a temperature of 67 and humid should have tipped me off. Went at an extremely steady pace for the first half (saw LC somewhere along the 12th mile), and got to the half at 1:57:58 - pretty much a nine-minute pace. A bit slower than I wanted but still fine.
Just past this point is a bathroom, which I needed. I get there just as an old guy (70s, maybe) goes in (this is the only bathroom at the spot). He is in there ten minutes - and from what we could see (there were about seven of us waiting when he was, uh, done), he was standing in there. No one stands ten minutes to drain it, if you get my drift, and I think you do.
Once I get out, it's a disaster. For the next two miles, my chest is tight. Not in a coronary way, but I simply could not get a deep breath. At about sixteen miles, my nemesis from Chicago comes - cramps in both legs. Accompanied with. Really bad cramps in my stomach, and a high ankle sprain. I have no explanation for any of this - I had no trips, mis-steps, or
run-ins with anyone.
By eighteen miles I know I am in serious trouble. The cramping forces me to walk - I talk/force myself to run. Just five minutes, is all I tell myself. I can't. Then four. Then three. And so on. I get to where I can't even run for thirty seconds. Then it makes me stop altogether. I'm furious - I am fully aware of where I am, and fully aware I can't even walk. By twenty-one miles I know it's over. A DNF is out of the question. I'll walk the last five miles and I'll drag my left leg (the one with the cramp and the sprain), and I'm not even aware I'm dragging it. My body is just operating (?) in its own little world.
I get to the final stretch. A run underneath a cross-street, and to the finish. I lock up again at the start of the run back up from the cross-street, and I do it again at the top. For a couple minutes - my legs won't move. Finally something happens and they get going, and I get to the finish line. My second slowest thon. I won't post the time because it was the worst race I've ever had.
I get to the finish and three medical staff come to me. The following conversation ensues. I'm bent over at the waist, and one of them puts his hand on my back.
- Son (this guy was about ten years younger than me), that was the gutsiest thing I've seen today.
- What?
- Do you know you're dragging your leg?
- What?
- Do you know where you are?
- Scotiabank Marathon. I crossed the finish line. I'm flip-up big time, and I can't find my wife.
They then ask what the problems are. I'm more concerned about LC - turns out at around 4:30 she knew I was in trouble and started going to all the med tents looking for me. I tell them I have to find her, and they recommend I go to a tent. First though I have to get the chip off. My eyes look straight at that area, and my legs go o the right and I go over the temporary fencing. I get the medal, I find LC after about fifteen minutes, and we go back to the hotel.
The analysis.
For the love of all that it is good I don't know what happened. I didn't know then, and I don't know now. I am not going to make excuses - at the end, the reports will only show your name and time. But these are things that I considered as contributing to this episode. In no special order.
1) Pre-race food. Nope. Nothing unusual, and I actually ate my big meal around 2 pm on Saturday. The usual fare as well. And I went before the race started. Why I had to go again at thirteen, and got the stomach cramps, I have no clue.
2) Weather. Three good races - Brookings, Madison, Nashville. All rainy and cold (except or part of Nashville). Three bad races - two of Chicago and Toronto - sunny, humid, and hot (except for Toronto). The time of year doesn't guarantee the weather on race day - it's a roll of the dice. It was supposed to be about 60 and cloudy with wind; all I got was the last of those.
3) Course lay-out. Good races - rolling hills - nothing dramatic but enough variety to make one work the different muscles. Bad races - flat as a pancake. This one I can have control over.
4) It's the shoes. I'd had no trouble with my shoes (Air Max Motos, the same model I wore in Brookings) before. Today though they felt as if the laces at the top were piano wire cutting into my insteps. The one positive from the delay at the half-way point was I was able to address this issue somewhat. I know that specifically did not cause the cramping or ankle injury.
5) Hydration, or lack thereof. Again, I don't think this was a factor. I hit all but three stops, alternating between water and gatorade. Two of the three were after twenty miles, when it wasn't doing any good anyway.
6) The wrong man for the wrong race. Maybe I am not meant to run marathons. I don't exactly have the body to be a god runner at any distance. But the training goes well for these, and then it blows up come race day. Perhaps 26.2 is the limit - I know I'd never think of an ultra. This race was a re-affirmation of that.
7) The "I suck" theory. Hear this out, it's not as bad as you might expect. If you do not have a natural gift at a sport, all the training, research, tactics, and desire won't put you at the top. It doesn't matter what the sport is. I'm not sure how to get to that step, or if I can. Conversely, I can't be a Penguin. No offense to anyone here who may be (I don't think there is). But I'm not wired that way. So I find myself as a runner in the vast wasteland. Faster than some, slower than some, and once in a very great while able to pick up an AG.
LC said on the drive home that I have to run - she sees the good it's done for my health, physically, mentally, and spritually. And I agree with her. But this is no call to fine tuning, this is a complete overhaul.
So, that's the basic story. Ask questions, criticize, whatever you want. But. Please don't say "you just had a bad race." No. A bad race is when you go out and are just flat, and can't accomplish anything. This'n's a bit more, uh, interesting.
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here's to better days and better running in the dawg's future.
Here's to GDawg!
