26.2 Almost Heavenly Miles

A week before flying overseas last August, I finished out my summer block of training with a 14 miler.  Somewhere later in that run, I committed to the marathon.  I called my brother later that morning, I jotted some notes, and for 54 weeks, it was thee unicorn.

I had established a better understanding with my blood sugar management through 2 full years of half marathon training, and racing the last 5.5 years.  My blood sugar wasn't as much of an issue as 10-15 years ago as discussed in the past.  While always a priority in my training, and daily life, I've gained a lot of confidence in that realm.  I stick to a game plan that works best for me.  My blood sugar isn't perfect by a long shot, but it's consistent.

Becoming a father and balancing our own endeavors forced me to become more creative with my time management.  Running wise, a supportive wife and being open to early mornings is the backbone to getting the time and mileage in.  I had an absolute blast getting my son out with me a handful of times this summer.  He toughened it out on a couple warm mornings, but he stayed cool and slept most of the whole time in his vented stroller.  Pushing him kept me grounded in thought and pursuit.

2 weeks before Dominic was born in January, I finally decided on Morgantown after watching a video about the course.  It looked insane, but had an awesome small city vibe.  Lots of great reviews too.  I spent some quality time with my brother and some friends in Morgantown, I love that city, it just made sense.

The more experience I gain, the more I learn, I don't favor heat and especially not humidity.  I am a bigger runner at 185 and with zero mediterrean blood in me, heat tolerance doesn't come natural.  I believe I gained a lot of strength from this summer block of marathon training, but it's not on my to do list for the foreseeable future.  Marathons and I will only meet in colder conditions.  I can't say I enjoy arctic conditions, but I run really well in colder conditions with lower humidity.  My one time at altitude stunned me with how natural I fell into breathing with a 7,500 ft decrease in my oxygen consumption.  Clearly humidity isn't my ally.

There was nothing I could do about the race morning humidity, but I focused on what I could control.  It was surely on my mind though.

We all began the 26.2 almost heavenly mile adventure at the West Virginia University's Coliseum.  From there we maneuvered around parts of the town I had never seen.  As the race progressed I connected back to some familiar ground, it was pretty nostalgic.

The air had a nice chill to it upon arrival the 7am start.  Not too far past the 5k mark though, while the clouds were still present I began to feel the thick air on my skin.  My breathing never felt forced, but my sweat rate can creep up pretty quick in those conditions.  Staying steady was a must.  I was tossing back waters at every station, rolling with what the hills gave me.  This course profile for even an advanced marathoner has to be respected to the utmost.

I found myself running on terrain I had driven on more than once in the last 11 years since I'd visited Morgantown for the first time.  During a familiar part of road, while I've driven on many times, thoughts started flowing, and I was reliving an old summer memory.

Some old friends and I ventured down one random summer weeknight because our friend had an apartment at WVU and why not?  Nothing sounds irrational at 21.  It was pretty spur of the moment.  We ended up finding ourselves quite buzzed up walking down High Street searching for pizza and fries amongst the quiet summer town.  Random enough, it was the day Michael Jackson died, why do I remember that? I have no idea either.

Nearly a decade later, instead of 2am Thursday morning, I am starting to feel funky at 8:30 am on a Sunday morning, 11 miles into a 26.2 mile road race.  Upon reaching the crest of the 5k ascent, we weaved our way down to WVU upon making a right onto High Street.  After some more nostalgia and all going well through downtown, I began to feel my stomach start to turn for the first time in a race.  I had to take a 3 minute pit stop shortly after crossing the South Park Bridge upon leaving High St.  I felt better but I remained cognizant of dehydration.

The sun is now out in full effect, I was sweating a good bit but other than using the stall, I still feel strong and efficient.  Cardio wise, my breathing and heart rate felt very controlled.  All good signs.  I knew the last few miles would hurt, but I believed I could maintain my current 7:50ish pace at least another 10-11 miles, getting me to that last 5k.  Wow, I sadly underestimated that.

After an adventurous tour through South Park, up a few steep but shorter climbs, some downhill and flat, I reached the Half Marathon mark in a controlled 1:49.  I factor in 5k climb between 6.2 and 9.2ish, and a 3 minute stop, I am more than on pace and feeling confident.  The course dips down and around South Park, onto the rail trial I believe, between 14-15, we're running flat but my effort is noticeably became more of a challenge.  A struggle to maintain a slower pace is never a good sign.  I had taken in 2 GU's at this point and waters at every station.  I learned at this point in a marathon race, some Powerade would have helped.  Live and learn.

Mile 16 clipped off on another pathway, creeping towards GreenBag Rd, and I was about to find out, the race had just begun.  Marathon Wall meet Andrew, vice versa.  I was running mostly by myself and in sections, passing other runners, and some passing me.  Cramps in my calves and thighs began to trade on and off around mile 17.  9:30 pace was now feeling like 5k pace.  Literally everything described for what goes wrong to a first time marathoner happened.  What a beautiful disaster.

Blood sugar wise, I felt no alarming signs, it was just muscle breakdown.  "So you're saying there's hope?" Not really, but I proceeded.

Had I felt a racing heart or severe dizziness, I would have stopped and taken care of myself, however this was just full throttle pain, the race must continue.

I adopted a painful Galloway method on the tough ascent of Greenbag Rd as the race blessed me with a mile 18 sign.  A fellow runner came back to life and passed me on this climb.  I strided by him a few miles earlier as he fought leg cramps.  I passed by some cops and shared, "hey, this really isn't as much fun as it looks," as I staggered by with a hefty dose of thigh cramps.  They laughed and cheered me on.

Trying to take my mind off my relentless leg cramps, I decided to update my family and assure them that I was still, kinda, sort of moving.

"Hey, no way in hell I'll be at the finish line in the next half hour.  Blood sugar wise I am fine, just can't shake these leg cramps, I'll get there eventually."  I reassured my Mom and Melissa at least thus far, no need to worry, just apart of the marathon experience.

A dozen or so runners had passed me as I turned off Greenbag and made the right to begin my extended tour of White Park.  I saw the mile 20 sign, and I gimped by it.  We're now a few ticks past 3 hours, and going sub 4 hours sounds like a stretch.  Still hoping to shake the cramps though.  I focus on breathing and not tensing up.  A tough descent and rolling ascents the next 2 miles dash those hopes.

A wise man once said, "we all have a plan until we're punched in the mouth," makes total sense.

I exited White Park and made a right for another rendezvous up GreenBag.  I shared some words of hope with a fellow struggling marathoner as we contemplated life up a steep half mile climb, "almost heavenly miles myyyyy ass" he laughed back and painfully shared, "yeah, where the F*** is this finish line?!" Not close enough my friend.

I grabbed two more waters as we hit the mile 22 sign at the top of Greenbag.  I looked at my watch and just laughed.  I was still moving, and I was painfully proud of that.  Simultaneously, Mac Miller's "Ladders" had just blessed my headphones.  Perfect timing, I needed some help.  I shared some thoughts with the late great Mac Miller, thanked him for his energy over the years, and asked him to put the cigarette down and help a fellow Pittsburgher to the finish line.  Maybe I was hallucinating but I am pretty sure he agreed and said, "this is going to hurt like hell, but you will finish."

One last steep descent, took the sufferfest down Don Knotts Blvd onto the Rail Trail.  Pain cave in full effect.  Legs totally trashed.  I winced across the road, now around the 22.5 mile mark, and all I could think of was seeing my family and telling Dom to take up bowling.

In my hopes and dreams leading up to this race, I envisioned myself clipping off sub 8 minute miles on the trail. I didn't discount the pain I'd be in, but I horribly underestimated the thrashing my legs would get from this course.  Toss in heavy humidity too.  Status of my race plan = punched in the mouth.

Mile 23 and 24 clipped off.  I am quickly approaching 4 hours, not the debut I envisioned, but I am a firm believer in taking these moments in stride, no pun intended.  Off to my right a nice brunch buffet overlooked the rail trail a few steps past mile 24.  Good lord, the idea of calling it quits for some pancakes was more than enticing.  Make that an extra strong coffee too, please.

Mile 25.  Aid station and sign in all, I am almost there.  "Hey, whoever came up with the whole 26.2 almost heavenly miles thing, brilliant marketing, but I am calling bullshit."  They laughed, encouraged the walking dead that I probably resembled, handed me 2 oranges and a water for one last dance with the devil.

The painful, never ending hill up Don Knotts back to the Coliseum was surely my entrance to the dark side that morning.  I talked to Lucifer a few times, thanked him for all he had done for me the last hour and half but asked if this could be over, he nodded in agreement, "get to the finish line, it will make sense in time."  As runners strided by, all I could do was cheer them on in amazement.  I'll join ya'll on that climb again one day.

Nearing the top of the climb, I couldn't run to save my life.  A walk sounded rough.  I finally locked eyes with my wife,  Dom in the stroller, I waved, smiled and forced myself to take another step, and then another.  Cramps still in full effect.

"Boy, am I happy to see you two, bare with me, I am struggling."  She asked me if I wanted to push Dom in, and while I desperately wanted to, I was fearful of loosing control due to how bad my legs were spazzing.  We trotted together to a few steps shy of the finish line.

Finish line, finally.  4:29:28, kind of a sick joke that I aimed for sub 3:30, and instead found myself walking in with a sub 4:30.  My Dad made his way over to me, and almost immediately I wasn't feeling too hot.  My legs were shot and the live band playing was making my head spin.  On another day, I'd love to hear them play.  I needed to sit down, even though racing 101 tells you to keep moving. I sat down a minute later, against better judgement.


Trying to stay coherent amongst the noise, my stomach was growing more nauseous and I am getting dizzier by the minute.  I checked my blood sugar, 120, freaking amazing, but I still don't feel well.  My Mom went and got the Medic, and they had trouble getting a pulse.  My Blood Pressure had dropped to 85/58, not good.  Hence why I was so dizzy.  They administered an IV while I was on the stretcher, luckily coherent the whole time, I felt at ease knowing I was getting medical attention.  By the end of the 1st IV, I am back to 120/82 with a steady pulse. Very alert too.  With another IV just to be safe, they cleared me to go after getting another 120/82 reading and a heavy appetite.  Off to Cracker Barrel to let the recovery begin.  They encouraged me to eat and drink all I could stomach.

What a wild experience.  From the initial seed being planted to getting out of the medical tent to go house some pancakes and bacon at Cracker Barrel, I couldn't believe it.  I crossed the line of a marathon.  My family was there in full support, it was amazing.  Far cry from what I envisioned, but with all great experiences comes a much deeper purpose than a finishing time or placing.

If you had told me how the whole day would have played out, and asked, do you still want to run?  I'd replied, "let me get my shoes on."

Much love to all,
Andrew