"Yeaaaah, I did a lot of things wrong this morning, but what a beautiful morning it was.."
The word "Marathon" is synonymous with 26.2, hurt, insanity, and exhaustion amongst others. I knew of the marathon run but didn't genuinely understand what it entailed until 2011. A fellow coach of mine was preparing for his first marathon run in 25 years, and it was a rather symbolic for him as a former All American and D2 record holder. He was 50 in 2011 and needed a strong goal to go along with that feat. I knew of his running prowess but was rather illiterate with distance running times and what a strong pace was for a 5k, let alone, the near sub 3 hour marathon on his horizon.
By winter 2011, running was a regular staple in my weekly workouts but I never counted miles, and never ran more than 25 minutes on the treadmill. The 2.5 mile run was a great way to keep my lungs in great shape for full court basketball, and help lean me up from the college booze habits.
After talking with my coach, for the first time ever, the idea of running a race, maybe even a half marathon seemed enticing, exciting, an awesome challenge. My running began to evolve around this time, as did my regular blood sugars. 3 tempo based runs a week had my weight drop 10-15 lbs, and my morning blood sugars began regularly registering below 140. Morning blood sugars are oh so important for a diabetic's baseline energy and glucose metabolism for the day. My fasting glucose from 2003-2009 was regularly inconsistent. A range from 140-310 was likely, and anything above 160 was most likely.
A friend of mine signed up for the Pittsburgh half marathon in January 2011. I couldn't fathom how I'd run 13.1 miles though. The thought was exciting, but a laundry list of fears crept in. A huge fear of mine was glucose control for that duration of an effort. A low blood sugar attack was the first fear that came to mind. I had way too many questions and wasn't experienced enough of a runner to go about a half marathon race appropriately, so I backed out.
After 5 more solid years of running, some strong 5/10k performances, and epic ear beatings from an old college roommate, I was finally convinced to hit that registration link for the 2016 Pittsburgh half marathon. A rush of excitement, head shaking, and a tad bit of fear creeped in. I never ran farther than 7.1 miles, and it was March 1. I had exactly two months left to somehow make this happen. I spent all winter strength training with short sprints, and between two months, I logged only 70 miles. Talk about a hell of a base..
5 days later I ran my first "long run" of half training, and began experimenting with my insulin doses. I was hesitant to give any dose higher than 2-3 units of Humalog post long run in the beginning weeks. I came to learn that my blood sugar crept a little higher, in the low-mid 200's by dinner after a huge lunch following a run. I dialed back my Lantus (24 hr baseline insulin) by 1 unit the night before a long run, increased my meal time Humalog doses to 4 units for lunch and dinner, and nothing higher than 3 units at night if I ate a snack. I was pleasantly surprised how well my sugars were played out (6.3 and 7.0 HbA1c in 2016.)
The long runs helped me build a huge base of physical and mental confidence after each week. I eventually built up to an 11 and 11.6 miler in early April. Your body's ability to increase it's aerobic capacity with oxygen capillaries with longer runs was a huge learning curve for me. Long runs also helped my body adapt to using it's glycogen storage more efficiently, and utilizing it's fat storage justified my peanut butter/bacon addiction. I aimed to have a blood sugar of at least 150 before a run, but anything higher than 210, would leave me feeling more dehydrated towards the end. 150-180 was my sweet spot. After my first 10 miler on a Saturday morning, my blood sugar was 100. If you'd told me even a year ago that I could run 10 miles without my blood sugar plummeting, I'd immediately dismissed the thought.
My diet: oatmeal, yogurt, eggs, veggies, fruit, pancakes, meat, sweet potatoes, unsalted butter for my coffee, bacon, and heroic doses of peanut butter. I never made any dietary changes. No crazy fad diets, I simply paid close attention to my body. I was most cognizant of my blood sugars in that 6-24 hour range, post run. In non medical terms, that's the period of time that our bodies metabolism is at it's highest rate after a strong aerobic effort, hence low blood sugar hours later.
Two weeks out from the race, I hit an epic bonk at mile 9 on my long run. After six weeks of intense mileage, coming from mostly tempo based efforts, I was exhausted. On top of coaching track, the long days, the increased mileage, I found myself on a 20 minute walk back to the car feeling nauseous, defeated and weak. It was a humbling realization that I needed to desperately dial back as I was doing way too much, too soon.
Two weeks later, race day had arrived. I was feeling more refreshed but still slightly overtrained with a calf strain but I was excited to embark on this adventure. I anticipated some humbling moments, but I believed deep down, I had this. My weekly dose of a peanut butter smothered waffle and 4 pieces of bacon was consumed 3.5 hours pre race. Note to self, hold off on bacon until the post race indulgence. The waffle and peanut butter was great with a large cup of dark coffee on the menu too. My stomach felt good, no sick feeling, some excited nerves but that was it. My sugar was 105 at 330 AM. I gave myself 5 units, hoping to combat the pre dawn syndrome, and a large dose of adrenaline. Half hour before the race, I was 175. It was a huge sigh of relief knowing I was going into the race with a well maintained blood sugar. I was packed with two GU's and a nature valley chewy.
As I toed the line and looked around, soaking in the moment, I told myself, "run your race, stay steady, 13.1 or bust." The realization of running my first half marathon, a setting I never once anticipated I'd be within, was moments away.
As the mileage ticked away and my body warmed up relatively quick, the fear of a race disaster wasn't coming from my lack there of pancreas, but more so, my poor choice of attire. The weather was odd, it drizzled with dark clouds and winds, followed by a surge of sun and humidity, followed by a few cold winds again. While my Sublime cotton t shirt, and basketball shorts made for an appropriate half hour garage workout and for great pictures, running my first half marathon in this attire was damn near fatal. My clothes were heavily water logged by mile 8, and by mile 10 after a tough stretch down East Carson St, my thighs were visibly cramping. Mile 11, my 7:48 pace dropped to 10:30, followed by 10:15 for Mile 12.
The internal dialog a runner goes through to make it to the finish line can't be explained, only experienced. I experienced a rush of thoughts, questions, and emotions never before felt on a run. My thighs were screaming in a way I'd never imagined. I knew my sub 8 minute goal pace was shot as I painfully crept up the Birmingham Bridge. Instead of my pace, I focused on breathing, I focused on one foot in front of the next, and my new goal, don't stop to walk. I thought back to the nights I couldn't sleep because of hypoglycemia fear, I thought back to an athletic career that never evolved due to poor health, I thought about all the times I told myself I couldn't do this, I signed up to test myself, and my god, I was being tested. I saw the finish line in the distance yet it felt like another marathon away. I surged with whatever oxygen was left in my body. I willed my lifeless body to the finish line in 1:52:02, several minutes short of my goal. I signaled for water as I continued to walk off intense thigh cramps, but the simultaneous euphoric rush was overwhelming the pain.
A minute post finish, the runner's high was too real. It had to have been as I was drenched, cold, cramping and the smile couldn't fade. I ran into a younger friend of my wife and I's, we continued to walk to meet up with her family, and for good measure she snapped a photo of our exhausted selves for snapchat. After talking for a good 10 minutes, I was attempting to stretch and her Dad asked, "so this is your first half marathon? Congratulations, that's amazing!" I told him, "yeah, what a hell of an experience it was, I am hurting and easily the toughest thing I've ever done, but well worth it." Her Mom had a puzzled smile on her face, she asked, "Andrew, are you really wearing a black cotton t shirt, and basketball shorts?!" Without hesitation, I responded, "Yeaaaah, about that..I did a lot of things wrong this morning..but what a beautiful morning it was."
My response was a perfect summary of an 8 week crash course into my first half marathon race. From the moment I registered to present day, my knowledge of self has grown exponentially. It was a challenge that I felt confident enough to embark upon, yet still with some doubt. My biggest take away, don't let your fears become your reality, don't settle for comfort. While not everybody needs to challenge oneself to a race to test their limits, find your relative half marathon test of self, identify your doubt, and embrace the moment.
By winter 2011, running was a regular staple in my weekly workouts but I never counted miles, and never ran more than 25 minutes on the treadmill. The 2.5 mile run was a great way to keep my lungs in great shape for full court basketball, and help lean me up from the college booze habits.
After talking with my coach, for the first time ever, the idea of running a race, maybe even a half marathon seemed enticing, exciting, an awesome challenge. My running began to evolve around this time, as did my regular blood sugars. 3 tempo based runs a week had my weight drop 10-15 lbs, and my morning blood sugars began regularly registering below 140. Morning blood sugars are oh so important for a diabetic's baseline energy and glucose metabolism for the day. My fasting glucose from 2003-2009 was regularly inconsistent. A range from 140-310 was likely, and anything above 160 was most likely.
A friend of mine signed up for the Pittsburgh half marathon in January 2011. I couldn't fathom how I'd run 13.1 miles though. The thought was exciting, but a laundry list of fears crept in. A huge fear of mine was glucose control for that duration of an effort. A low blood sugar attack was the first fear that came to mind. I had way too many questions and wasn't experienced enough of a runner to go about a half marathon race appropriately, so I backed out.
After 5 more solid years of running, some strong 5/10k performances, and epic ear beatings from an old college roommate, I was finally convinced to hit that registration link for the 2016 Pittsburgh half marathon. A rush of excitement, head shaking, and a tad bit of fear creeped in. I never ran farther than 7.1 miles, and it was March 1. I had exactly two months left to somehow make this happen. I spent all winter strength training with short sprints, and between two months, I logged only 70 miles. Talk about a hell of a base..
5 days later I ran my first "long run" of half training, and began experimenting with my insulin doses. I was hesitant to give any dose higher than 2-3 units of Humalog post long run in the beginning weeks. I came to learn that my blood sugar crept a little higher, in the low-mid 200's by dinner after a huge lunch following a run. I dialed back my Lantus (24 hr baseline insulin) by 1 unit the night before a long run, increased my meal time Humalog doses to 4 units for lunch and dinner, and nothing higher than 3 units at night if I ate a snack. I was pleasantly surprised how well my sugars were played out (6.3 and 7.0 HbA1c in 2016.)
The long runs helped me build a huge base of physical and mental confidence after each week. I eventually built up to an 11 and 11.6 miler in early April. Your body's ability to increase it's aerobic capacity with oxygen capillaries with longer runs was a huge learning curve for me. Long runs also helped my body adapt to using it's glycogen storage more efficiently, and utilizing it's fat storage justified my peanut butter/bacon addiction. I aimed to have a blood sugar of at least 150 before a run, but anything higher than 210, would leave me feeling more dehydrated towards the end. 150-180 was my sweet spot. After my first 10 miler on a Saturday morning, my blood sugar was 100. If you'd told me even a year ago that I could run 10 miles without my blood sugar plummeting, I'd immediately dismissed the thought.
My diet: oatmeal, yogurt, eggs, veggies, fruit, pancakes, meat, sweet potatoes, unsalted butter for my coffee, bacon, and heroic doses of peanut butter. I never made any dietary changes. No crazy fad diets, I simply paid close attention to my body. I was most cognizant of my blood sugars in that 6-24 hour range, post run. In non medical terms, that's the period of time that our bodies metabolism is at it's highest rate after a strong aerobic effort, hence low blood sugar hours later.
Two weeks out from the race, I hit an epic bonk at mile 9 on my long run. After six weeks of intense mileage, coming from mostly tempo based efforts, I was exhausted. On top of coaching track, the long days, the increased mileage, I found myself on a 20 minute walk back to the car feeling nauseous, defeated and weak. It was a humbling realization that I needed to desperately dial back as I was doing way too much, too soon.
Two weeks later, race day had arrived. I was feeling more refreshed but still slightly overtrained with a calf strain but I was excited to embark on this adventure. I anticipated some humbling moments, but I believed deep down, I had this. My weekly dose of a peanut butter smothered waffle and 4 pieces of bacon was consumed 3.5 hours pre race. Note to self, hold off on bacon until the post race indulgence. The waffle and peanut butter was great with a large cup of dark coffee on the menu too. My stomach felt good, no sick feeling, some excited nerves but that was it. My sugar was 105 at 330 AM. I gave myself 5 units, hoping to combat the pre dawn syndrome, and a large dose of adrenaline. Half hour before the race, I was 175. It was a huge sigh of relief knowing I was going into the race with a well maintained blood sugar. I was packed with two GU's and a nature valley chewy.
As I toed the line and looked around, soaking in the moment, I told myself, "run your race, stay steady, 13.1 or bust." The realization of running my first half marathon, a setting I never once anticipated I'd be within, was moments away.
As the mileage ticked away and my body warmed up relatively quick, the fear of a race disaster wasn't coming from my lack there of pancreas, but more so, my poor choice of attire. The weather was odd, it drizzled with dark clouds and winds, followed by a surge of sun and humidity, followed by a few cold winds again. While my Sublime cotton t shirt, and basketball shorts made for an appropriate half hour garage workout and for great pictures, running my first half marathon in this attire was damn near fatal. My clothes were heavily water logged by mile 8, and by mile 10 after a tough stretch down East Carson St, my thighs were visibly cramping. Mile 11, my 7:48 pace dropped to 10:30, followed by 10:15 for Mile 12.
The internal dialog a runner goes through to make it to the finish line can't be explained, only experienced. I experienced a rush of thoughts, questions, and emotions never before felt on a run. My thighs were screaming in a way I'd never imagined. I knew my sub 8 minute goal pace was shot as I painfully crept up the Birmingham Bridge. Instead of my pace, I focused on breathing, I focused on one foot in front of the next, and my new goal, don't stop to walk. I thought back to the nights I couldn't sleep because of hypoglycemia fear, I thought back to an athletic career that never evolved due to poor health, I thought about all the times I told myself I couldn't do this, I signed up to test myself, and my god, I was being tested. I saw the finish line in the distance yet it felt like another marathon away. I surged with whatever oxygen was left in my body. I willed my lifeless body to the finish line in 1:52:02, several minutes short of my goal. I signaled for water as I continued to walk off intense thigh cramps, but the simultaneous euphoric rush was overwhelming the pain.
A minute post finish, the runner's high was too real. It had to have been as I was drenched, cold, cramping and the smile couldn't fade. I ran into a younger friend of my wife and I's, we continued to walk to meet up with her family, and for good measure she snapped a photo of our exhausted selves for snapchat. After talking for a good 10 minutes, I was attempting to stretch and her Dad asked, "so this is your first half marathon? Congratulations, that's amazing!" I told him, "yeah, what a hell of an experience it was, I am hurting and easily the toughest thing I've ever done, but well worth it." Her Mom had a puzzled smile on her face, she asked, "Andrew, are you really wearing a black cotton t shirt, and basketball shorts?!" Without hesitation, I responded, "Yeaaaah, about that..I did a lot of things wrong this morning..but what a beautiful morning it was."
My response was a perfect summary of an 8 week crash course into my first half marathon race. From the moment I registered to present day, my knowledge of self has grown exponentially. It was a challenge that I felt confident enough to embark upon, yet still with some doubt. My biggest take away, don't let your fears become your reality, don't settle for comfort. While not everybody needs to challenge oneself to a race to test their limits, find your relative half marathon test of self, identify your doubt, and embrace the moment.
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