Saturday 27 February 2016

The Beastly Marathon .... Again :-)

The Las Vegas Marathon in November last year was meant to have been my last attempt at getting another sub 3 hour marathon before I get much older. Unfortunately, the weather put paid to that as we encountered crazy winds on that Sunday evening, and I ended up finishing in 3.28. At the time, I was done. I’d done 30 marathons by then, had several sub 3’s already under my belt, and I really didn’t feel like I had anything to prove, in terms of marathon running, to either myself or anybody else.

But the marathon is a nasty beast – in more ways than one – and shortly after Vegas, I found myself entering the Phoenix Marathon which would take place at the end of February.

I didn’t tell anybody that I had entered the marathon again. I wanted to keep this one private so that I could just run without the expectation of others, and as soon as I’d done the Across the Years in December, I had a few easy days with no running before building up my mileage again in preparation for the marathon.

What I didn’t know when entering the Phoenix Marathon was that I would be invited to join the Aravaipa Running Racing Team for 2016 – had I known, I perhaps WOULDN’T have convinced myself to run another marathon. In all honesty, my love for the marathon and the enjoyment I get from racing them fizzled out a couple of years ago - I was only going back again with the intention of aiming for that sub 3 for one final time, despite knowing that I would find it much harder to maintain that kind of pace compared to when I was purely focused on road running back in my 30’s. No, my passion for running these days comes from running on the trails, and it’s thanks to the many trail races I have done in the past few years both across Europe and in North America that my love for road running and chasing fast times is no longer there.

And yet I was still excited to know that I would be running the Phoenix Marathon and with some fantastic training runs leading up to it where I was hitting my goal race pace, I was feeling extremely confident of a sub 3.

Race day arrived, and I was up at 3am getting myself ready for the 45 minute drive down to Mesa. Andy was working away, so I had to allow that extra time for walking the dogs before I headed off, and with the last bus to the start leaving at 5.15am, I needed to make sure it wasn’t too stressful for me trying to find a parking spot and hopping on the bus. Thankfully, I arrived in plenty of time, and although I was excited at the thought of a good race, I was feeling pretty calm and relaxed.

The start was out of town in what seemed to be the middle of nowhere and it took around 30 minutes to get there as we travelled in convoy on the provided school buses. We arrived in the pitch black at around 5.30am, and as the dawn started to break it certainly looked like we were just surrounded by desert with very few houses in the vicinity.

The race started at 6.30 and by then, the sky became a beautiful red as the sun started to rise in the east. There were a couple of thousand people registered for the marathon which made for a busy start line, but I managed to get near to the front and was focused on just getting to the finish line in under 3 hours.

Phoenix Marathon is actually a downhill course with a net elevation loss of around 1000 ft although there is one good, long climb just after 4 miles that lasts for a good mile or so. Other than that, the first couple of miles are noticeably downhill along with a couple of other sections, whilst the remainder of the course appears flat. Under normal circumstances, it would be considered a fast, PB course but many people start off far too fast in those early miles, and then suffer later on with tired legs from hitting the downhills at a quicker pace than planned.

I was very well aware of this and was being extremely good in controlling my pace. I’d given myself target times for each 5 mile split and was pretty much on target with my pace up until 15 miles. It was at that stage that I looked ahead and all I could see right in to the distance was a long, straight road. This lasted for a couple more miles – no turns, no obvious ups or downs, and I was starting to get bored with the monotony of running that same road. By 18 miles, as we turned a corner and saw yet another long, straight stretch of road ahead of us, I realised that I was getting extremely bored, I was starting to lose my focus, and that my pace had started to slow. My motivation for running wasn’t there, and with that sub 3 goal slowly slipping away yet again, I very nearly quit. But I was there on my own – there was no Andy today, so I HAD to get to the finish line otherwise I’d be unable to get home. I persevered, but every step I took felt like a chore. I was so frustrated as physically I felt strong – sure, my glutes had tightened a little and I’d been suffering with a stitch for a short time, but otherwise there was absolutely no reason why I couldn’t continue to run strong – it really was a mental block.

I then started to walk. Tons of people passed by me and I really didn’t care. I wanted to stop but knew I couldn’t and then it dawned on me – why don’t I just damage the timing chip so that I don’t get an official time? I can still finish, but my time would not go down in the personal history books, and it could be one of those races that never really happened.

For the next few miles, I ripped at my number, I peeled off all the foam, I put pinholes through the chip, I tore off sections of it, and I crumpled it as much as possible, convinced that it would do the job – after all, don’t they say, “do not bend” and “do not remove the foam”? As I approached the timing mat at 20 miles, I skirted around it rather than going over it, saying to a bemused police officer that I didn’t want a time so please don’t make me run over it!

That last 6km of the marathon was horrendous – I’ve never know 6km go so slowly! I was walking quite a lot now – couldn’t be arsed to run, but desperate to get to the finish. Every time I walked, hundreds of people would overtake me, but when I started to run again, I gained on them and ended up putting a huge gap between us once I’d gone past. The worst thing about it all was that these people were pushing so hard to get that Boston Qualifier, and here was I, not putting in any real effort whatsoever, and I felt awful watching what the others were going through.
Finally we had just a mile to go, and I decided that I was going to run the whole way in now – why prolong the boredom unnecessarily? Barely out of breath, and literally just jogging in to the closing stages, I was greeted by hundreds of people cheering and yelling, “Good job! You qualified!” Crossing the finish line, I did hear the timing mat beep so clearly my dramatic attempts to avoid an official time being recorded were wasted. I haven’t looked at the official time – I’ll let everybody else do that – but I was extremely disappointed and frustrated at yet another marathon attempt having gone wrong. What made it worse was all the joy at the finish – all those lovely people – spectators, volunteers, other runners – congratulating me on an “awesome performance” and I could “now go to Boston!”. I tried to nod and smile enthusiastically, but it was hard – what about all these people that genuinely deserved all the praise and attention? All the runners around me that had fought tooth and nail to get the qualifying time, that hadn’t walked and hadn’t just given up like I had? Surely they deserved it more than me?

I know that this is an extremely negative account of my experience at the Phoenix Marathon, but this is in no way a reflection of the event itself. It’s very well organised, it is a great course and it’s actually pretty scenic and well supported. I would have no hesitation in recommending it to others :-) The problem today comes from a change in my mindset when it comes to racing and running these days. I’m no longer a road runner, I’m no longer one of those runners that dabbles in a bit of everything – I really am an ultra runner, a trail runner – and that’s where my heart lies and where I want to succeed. As I said to a friend recently, when you can run 100 miles in 16 hours 53 mins – a pace that is only 1 minute per kilometre slower than what I did at the marathon today – then you really do know where your strengths lie.

I’m not the sort of person to dwell on things so I know that today won’t put me on a downer for too long. I have much to look forward to over the coming months with some great trail races planned, the next one being the Crown King Scramble 50k in April. See, I’m already looking forward :-D

Happy trails and happy running everybody :-D


Marathon Finisher Medal and a Mutilated Bib
Which did absolutely nothing to erase my result!

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