First you need the history, I'll make it quick.<br><br>
I started running about three years ago when I topped the scale at 400lbs. Fast forward, a couple years and was talked into my first race ever, a half in February 2007, my time was 2:15. Second half I ran was in Fontana, a steep downhill course, time 2:10, my quads still hate me for that one. So yesterday was my third half and let's just say it ended up to be a humbling, learning experience. A few months ago I joined a running group and have been training with them; I ran a few 20 milers and some longer runs, so I'm more than ready to tackle a faster half, or so I thought. I'm 265lbs., about 20 pounds lighter than I was when I ran my second half, so about a month or so a go, I get the idea in my head I want to break 2 hours at Long Beach. I post for some advice in the PRT here at KICK and get a lot of sincere, well-thought out responses as to why that would be fool-hardy. I stiffened my lip and told myself, 'what do they know, they don't know where I've been and where I've come from, I can do it.' I also can be a dumbass from time to time, I should have said to myself, 'they are experienced runners who have been doing this for a lot longer than me.'<br><br>
The race.<br><br>
I like to start in the back of the pack, I'm embarrassed about being a big guy surrounded by tiny running folks, so I tend to migrate with the other 'big' people (who are more often than not I've seen, walkers) and start at th end of the line. This was the wrong race to do that and I knew it to. Going into it I knew my margin of error was slim to none to break two hours, that goal was lost during the first mile. The announcer is screaming, his voice is piercing, my muscles are tight but I'm feeling great. Mentally, I'm in the zone, I'm pumped, I'm screaming on the inside, let's get this bitch going. 'I've trained hard, put in countless miles and even ran 20 milers, I'm ready to kick this courses ass, there is no way I can fail,' the crowd lurches forward, I finally cross the starting line and start my watch, we're off, to walk. 'What the fuck??' Slowly, I move through people, up on the curb, dodge left, parry right, sprint through an opening, don't forget to shoot a dirty look back. The crowd is getting faster, mile one, awesome, look at the watch, 'I kicked ass weaving through people, I can't be that far behind.' Watch reads, 11:40, 'oh shit.' (I need a 9:10 pace to break 2 hours.) Quick math in my head, 'I'm 2 two minutes and thirty seconds off...dodge, weave, parry around some more folks...screw it, just run, get around these f'n people.'<br><br>
The next few miles are the same story, dodge, sweep right, reverse left, draw play up the middle, dirty looks all around. Then me and a few thousand of my most hated fellow runners are funneled onto a bicycle path along the beach, sand on either side. This makes my life even more miserable. I reach the halfway point, my watch time is just at over an hour, 'breaking 2 hours is out the window but I can still PR!!!' I surge with energy. 'I've trained hard, put in countless miles and even ran 20 milers, I'm ready to kick this courses ass, there is no way I can fail,' left, right, tailgate those that won't get out of the way, breath heavy, sing, sweat on them if I have to, just move out of the way! A few miles of this and doing everything to make up time I possibly can, by mile 8, I was in run/slog mode my knee hurt so bad, and thank gawd my knee hurt because then I would have to admit I was in run/slog mode due to being exhausted. My knee started hurting at like mile 4, which threw off my gait and made me all sorts of funky.<br><br>
At mile 10, both of my calves cramped up. I stopped and gave them the magic once over, I told you I can be a dumbass, and took off again. Only to have them cramp again and I almost hit the ground. This, combined with the knee and my frustration at not being able to get around people broke my spirit. I limped the rest of three miles in. As I was limping in, volunteers were cheering me on; almost there! you can do it! smile! I was completely embarrassed and even mad at them for cheering me on, 'just ignore me and I'll be gone in a minute,' or two or three minutes actually with my limp. Everyone I worked so hard to pass, passed me by, all of them, the cute girls running with each other chatting away, the not so cute ones, the dude with the mohawk, half of the nation of those rebuilding a nation, three-fourths of team in training, the full marathon leaders and finally, the old dude running with a cane. 'I've trained hard, put in countless miles and even ran 20 milers, I've had my ass kicked by this course, I failed.' I was pissed at myself, I was hurt physically, mentally and emotionally, disappointed and seriously thought even starting running was the stupidest thing ever.<br><br>
Then a funny thing happened, I started thinking about what a crappy race report I was going to post when all I had looked forward to for weeks was posting how I broke 2 hours and a big f'u thread to those of you who said I couldn't. I started thinking about all those imaginary people, all their heartfelt advice, their race reports, mostly amazing accomplishments but even these imaginary folks whom I hold with high regard, have had their bad days. Specifically what came to mind was EQ and his latest bout with the Equinox Marathon, anyone who has even been around coolrunning or KICK for ten minutes knows how much this race means to him. He trained ten times harder than I did and had to drop out like halfway through because he was so sick (he had got sick a few days prior but still decided to try), this had to be devastating for him, but he took in stride and has since PR'd at his last marathon, he didn't quit. I thought about arc and his quest for Boston; his indomitable will to push through pain and go faster and farther, always with a smile. I thought about orangeshorts breaking his hand and continuing on his ultra. I thought about Hippo and srlopez, the marathon maniacs, they run and push on no matter what. I thought about merigayle and muzicgrl, two amazing women who continue to push themselves to new levels of tenacity. I thought about hahaoya (I actually thought about her by her real name as I can not pronounce her screen name) always kicking ass and taking names and posting her progress and letting all share in her victories. I thought about Ileneforward, always the internet mystery but runs in like three running groups, is always looking to better herself technically and time and time again, brings home hardware from races and I'm not talking finisher's medals here people. I thought about the imaginary folks here who have shared their personal stories of triumph, overcoming alcoholism, quitting smoking, starting to run, running a first marathon, doing their first tri, attempting their first ultra, those that refused to surrender to cancer, serious injury and countless other ailments, those that have slipped disks in their back and are on the comeback trail, these folks are amazing. I thought about all of the love and support I have received from these people and was humbled. Sometimes this is more than just a website. I was a complete jackass through the entire race and needed some grounding. I was overconfident, rude and downright mean and that is more embarrassing than having my worst race ever.<br><br>
And so the things that were told to me by my imaginary friends when I first posted about wanting to break 2 hours, I learned the hard way. I need to take off more weight, I need a better training plan, I need to go out SLOW and not push in the first few miles, I need to be patient with my goals or I might end up hurt.<br><br>
So to my imaginary peeps, I stand humble and a little wiser, thank you.
I started running about three years ago when I topped the scale at 400lbs. Fast forward, a couple years and was talked into my first race ever, a half in February 2007, my time was 2:15. Second half I ran was in Fontana, a steep downhill course, time 2:10, my quads still hate me for that one. So yesterday was my third half and let's just say it ended up to be a humbling, learning experience. A few months ago I joined a running group and have been training with them; I ran a few 20 milers and some longer runs, so I'm more than ready to tackle a faster half, or so I thought. I'm 265lbs., about 20 pounds lighter than I was when I ran my second half, so about a month or so a go, I get the idea in my head I want to break 2 hours at Long Beach. I post for some advice in the PRT here at KICK and get a lot of sincere, well-thought out responses as to why that would be fool-hardy. I stiffened my lip and told myself, 'what do they know, they don't know where I've been and where I've come from, I can do it.' I also can be a dumbass from time to time, I should have said to myself, 'they are experienced runners who have been doing this for a lot longer than me.'<br><br>
The race.<br><br>
I like to start in the back of the pack, I'm embarrassed about being a big guy surrounded by tiny running folks, so I tend to migrate with the other 'big' people (who are more often than not I've seen, walkers) and start at th end of the line. This was the wrong race to do that and I knew it to. Going into it I knew my margin of error was slim to none to break two hours, that goal was lost during the first mile. The announcer is screaming, his voice is piercing, my muscles are tight but I'm feeling great. Mentally, I'm in the zone, I'm pumped, I'm screaming on the inside, let's get this bitch going. 'I've trained hard, put in countless miles and even ran 20 milers, I'm ready to kick this courses ass, there is no way I can fail,' the crowd lurches forward, I finally cross the starting line and start my watch, we're off, to walk. 'What the fuck??' Slowly, I move through people, up on the curb, dodge left, parry right, sprint through an opening, don't forget to shoot a dirty look back. The crowd is getting faster, mile one, awesome, look at the watch, 'I kicked ass weaving through people, I can't be that far behind.' Watch reads, 11:40, 'oh shit.' (I need a 9:10 pace to break 2 hours.) Quick math in my head, 'I'm 2 two minutes and thirty seconds off...dodge, weave, parry around some more folks...screw it, just run, get around these f'n people.'<br><br>
The next few miles are the same story, dodge, sweep right, reverse left, draw play up the middle, dirty looks all around. Then me and a few thousand of my most hated fellow runners are funneled onto a bicycle path along the beach, sand on either side. This makes my life even more miserable. I reach the halfway point, my watch time is just at over an hour, 'breaking 2 hours is out the window but I can still PR!!!' I surge with energy. 'I've trained hard, put in countless miles and even ran 20 milers, I'm ready to kick this courses ass, there is no way I can fail,' left, right, tailgate those that won't get out of the way, breath heavy, sing, sweat on them if I have to, just move out of the way! A few miles of this and doing everything to make up time I possibly can, by mile 8, I was in run/slog mode my knee hurt so bad, and thank gawd my knee hurt because then I would have to admit I was in run/slog mode due to being exhausted. My knee started hurting at like mile 4, which threw off my gait and made me all sorts of funky.<br><br>
At mile 10, both of my calves cramped up. I stopped and gave them the magic once over, I told you I can be a dumbass, and took off again. Only to have them cramp again and I almost hit the ground. This, combined with the knee and my frustration at not being able to get around people broke my spirit. I limped the rest of three miles in. As I was limping in, volunteers were cheering me on; almost there! you can do it! smile! I was completely embarrassed and even mad at them for cheering me on, 'just ignore me and I'll be gone in a minute,' or two or three minutes actually with my limp. Everyone I worked so hard to pass, passed me by, all of them, the cute girls running with each other chatting away, the not so cute ones, the dude with the mohawk, half of the nation of those rebuilding a nation, three-fourths of team in training, the full marathon leaders and finally, the old dude running with a cane. 'I've trained hard, put in countless miles and even ran 20 milers, I've had my ass kicked by this course, I failed.' I was pissed at myself, I was hurt physically, mentally and emotionally, disappointed and seriously thought even starting running was the stupidest thing ever.<br><br>
Then a funny thing happened, I started thinking about what a crappy race report I was going to post when all I had looked forward to for weeks was posting how I broke 2 hours and a big f'u thread to those of you who said I couldn't. I started thinking about all those imaginary people, all their heartfelt advice, their race reports, mostly amazing accomplishments but even these imaginary folks whom I hold with high regard, have had their bad days. Specifically what came to mind was EQ and his latest bout with the Equinox Marathon, anyone who has even been around coolrunning or KICK for ten minutes knows how much this race means to him. He trained ten times harder than I did and had to drop out like halfway through because he was so sick (he had got sick a few days prior but still decided to try), this had to be devastating for him, but he took in stride and has since PR'd at his last marathon, he didn't quit. I thought about arc and his quest for Boston; his indomitable will to push through pain and go faster and farther, always with a smile. I thought about orangeshorts breaking his hand and continuing on his ultra. I thought about Hippo and srlopez, the marathon maniacs, they run and push on no matter what. I thought about merigayle and muzicgrl, two amazing women who continue to push themselves to new levels of tenacity. I thought about hahaoya (I actually thought about her by her real name as I can not pronounce her screen name) always kicking ass and taking names and posting her progress and letting all share in her victories. I thought about Ileneforward, always the internet mystery but runs in like three running groups, is always looking to better herself technically and time and time again, brings home hardware from races and I'm not talking finisher's medals here people. I thought about the imaginary folks here who have shared their personal stories of triumph, overcoming alcoholism, quitting smoking, starting to run, running a first marathon, doing their first tri, attempting their first ultra, those that refused to surrender to cancer, serious injury and countless other ailments, those that have slipped disks in their back and are on the comeback trail, these folks are amazing. I thought about all of the love and support I have received from these people and was humbled. Sometimes this is more than just a website. I was a complete jackass through the entire race and needed some grounding. I was overconfident, rude and downright mean and that is more embarrassing than having my worst race ever.<br><br>
And so the things that were told to me by my imaginary friends when I first posted about wanting to break 2 hours, I learned the hard way. I need to take off more weight, I need a better training plan, I need to go out SLOW and not push in the first few miles, I need to be patient with my goals or I might end up hurt.<br><br>
So to my imaginary peeps, I stand humble and a little wiser, thank you.
