OK, it's been long enough. I've delayed writing about this debacle as I've really just wanted to move on.
After months and months of hard training and fresh PR's: I bombed the NYC Marathon.
It was a nightmare. Undoubtedly, New York was the worst race and biggest disappointment of my running career. All I can do is chalk it up as a nasty experience and try to learn from it.
It boils down to this:
1) I pushed the redline too long with my training. I was ready weeks before I finished my peak, yet I continued to push the training. Somewhere around my Chicago Half Marathon, I tweaked something in my left calf. This problem compounded in my final peak weeks. My taper never allowed me to fully recover from this breakdown. My legs did feel better on race day - but I was still not 100%. Ultimately, I think I lost some of my zip in those weeks before toeing the line.... all other things being a non factor, and I might have been able to deal with this. BUT...
2) Race day weather was shit. Very unaccommodating for an aggressive race plan. New York's course goes North for the first 20 miles, then back South for the last 6 miles. The worst possible condition is a Northerly headwind. Guess what we got? A solid, relentless, 15 mph pounding headwind at all times for the first 20 miles, followed by swirling winds in the final miles. And of course, being the stubborn idiot I am, I decided to charge into that fucker without a care of conserving any energy for the last few miles.
3) The icing on the cake was 2 monstrous blisters, which took nearly 3 weeks to fully heal! This was poor planning on my part as they were caused by wearing socks that had given me blisters in the past. It was stupid. I felt the first blister coming on at about the half way point, and by mile 17 it was unbearable. I was forced to stop at 19 and pop it. Sitting down for 2 minutes after hammering for nearly 2 hours doesn't bode well. As a result, I unleashed a flood of lactic acid upon on my legs. After another 2 miles, I knew it was over.
SO, given that, here's how the blood bath went down...
The race plan was to try go "easy" for the first few miles over Vz Bridge, then start easing into a 6:05 to 6-flat pace. Split it at around 1:19:45.... then it was just a matter of hanging on to a 6:05ish pace. Net result was to hit 2:38-2:39.
Jason and I had planned on running together, but even before race day he wasn't overly confident about running a sub 2:40. I think given the weather, he became even more cautious. As a result, I chose to control the pace in spite of the winds.
Keep in mind, a sub-2:40 marathon in NYC puts you inside the top 150-200 runners (20+ could be female elites though, which don't run with the men). Not a lotta other guys to work with!
SO... given the relentless wind... and very few people that were around us, which always seemed to be going slower than us... this meant that if I was trying to control a pace, then I was leading the charge... and ultimately, I was not drafting at all.
Miles upon miles, my front running had me expending significantly more effort than I otherwise should have been. A 6:00 pace felt like a 5:50, if not faster. There was no way I would carry a 5:50 effort in New York. It may not have felt too badly through the half, but it eventually wore me down.
I say this because in hind sight, this strategy was flawed. At the time I was willing to accept that flaw in exchange for "giving it a shot." After I dropped to fix my blister, Jason still went on to finish in 2:41... actually a pretty solid run in those conditions. It remains to be seen if I could've hung on... regardless of my over training and the weather... but, my unforeseen fuck up with the blisters definitely blew that possibility out of the water.
My splits:
1 - 6:32.9 - A bit faster than it should've been - as we were working quite hard in the wind on VZ Bridge and getting around slower runners.
2 - 5:46.0 - More wind. Waaaay too fast!! We should've been closer to 6-flat on this down hill.
3 - 5:59.2 - More wind. Fast again! Should've been 6:10ish. Anyone who didn't belong around us was gone.
4 - 6:00.2 - More wind. On pace. No packs at all at this point. With Jason off my back, I lead the charge. We'd play yo-yo over the next several miles. I'd get a little ahead of him, then let him reel me back in as I'd take a break.
5 - 6:03.0 - More wind.
6 - 5:58.4 - More wind.
7 - 6:00.2 - More wind. Made a push to catch a small pack (or thin line) in front, with the hopes of drafting off of them. This group immediately fell apart as Jason and I hit it. We sliced right through it. A couple guys grabbed on and drafted off of us. They'd soon be dropped. It still left me leading the charge.
8 - 6:04.3 - More wind.
9 - 6:05.8 - Wind. Clifton Hill.
10 - 5:55.4 - Wind.
11 - 6:10.5 - Wind (I think you're getting the theme here).
12 - 6:01.7 - Wind.
13 - 6:06.0 - Wind.
13.1 SPLIT - 1:19:28 - 1/2 split was on the money for a sub 2:39. 17 seconds ahead of planned, but as Jason and I crossed the line we said to each other that it wasn't as easy as it should've been. I initially started to feel a blister building under my right foot. There wasn't anything I could do about it. It was just a matter of how much pain I could take.
14 - 6:10.2 - Tons of Wind. Pulaski Bridge - The wind was bad here. I recall rolling up the bridge and getting scum suckers drafting off of me. 2 guys hung did eventually hang. Everyone else seemed like they were crawling.
15 - 6:14.8 - No so much wind as up hill. Beginning of Queensboro Bridge. I was swapping the lead with one of the guys; the other dropped. The hanger was quite annoying, and actually stayed with Jason through 22 or 23.
16 - 6:17.6 - More hill than wind. Queensboro Bridge. Jason and I finally started running side-by-side more consistently. The bridge really ballooned my blister. Gripping on the up then down magnified the effect. By the time we hit Manhattan, the bottom of my right foot was on fire.
17 - 6:06.1 - 1st Avenue. Yep, wind. Mark Wehrman jumped in from the sideline and begun to pace with us. For the first time all day, I didn't feel the need to lead.
18 - 6:09.2 - Wind. The sting from my blister was unbearable. It was directly on the ball of my foot. I actually started to fall off the back of Jason and Mark. The blister was killing me. I attempted to slam my foot down on the ground with a few strides, in a hope that it would pop from impact. That only intensified the pain. By the end of the mile, I knew I couldn't go on.
19 - 7:21.5 - Wind. I was dropped by Jason and Mark. I absolutely had to pop the blister. Either that, or stop running altogether. Sub 2:40 was officially out. I didn't care. I couldn't go on like this. I pulled off to the side and immediately sat down, tore my shoe off, and began to claw at my right foot with my finger nails. The crowd stared at me in disgust as I literally ripped a silver dollar sized piece of skin from the ball of my foot. It gushed as I cut all around the sides... like no blister I've ever had before. Fucking sick, but instant relief. There was second blister in my left foot, but I wasn't worried about that right now. Just get the one done, get myself back together, and run as fast as I could.
Separately, while the spectators all looked at me as if I was a freak - a really nice guy did come over and held his hand out, waiting for me to finish so that he could help me up. It was a really nice gesture at a time of need.
All in all, the pit stop took a little over 1:30 of time. That means I dropped a sub 5:50 that mile... all in nasty wind. The adrenaline was pumping. There were no other runners around. This was a huge mistake.
20 - 6:30.0 - Lots of wind. I recognized that I pushed too hard after getting back up, so I pulled back a little. The wind also intensified as I crossed over Willis Street Bridge. I tried running with another guy at this slower pace. By the time I hit the mile marker though, I was a little concerned. It was 6:30. I didn't think I slowed up that much... and it certainly didn't feel easy.
21 - 6:50.8 - Swirling wind?? Bronx. Aside from the Yankees, I fuckin' hate the Bronx. I remember thinking the something back in 2008, when I ran through here. My little slow up in mile 20 wasn't a fluke. Pain was setting in now, only this time it was lactic acid. Sitting down to pop that blister wound up popping my whole race. My body was now pumping cement into my legs instead of blood and oxygen. Crossed the final bridge back into Manhattan. That mile was WAAAY too much of a struggle. I saw the split. I knew it was over.
22 - 7:05.8 - More swirling wind. 5th Avenue. There was negotiating here whatsoever. As soon as I saw 6:50 for the 21st mile, I pulled the plug instantly. (As if I had a choice). This was the smartest thing I did the whole day (followed immediately by the dumbest).
My race was over and I had purposely slowed up my pace. Now it was merely a debate as to how to get to the finish line. Should I stop altogether, try to freeze my ass off and find a subway? Do I barter with a cabbie? Do I find a medical tent somewhere?? I've never dropped out of a race. The smart thing to do would've been just to stop running altogether. But I did some simple math and decided that I could jog to the finish... 7:15-7:30's, and I'd still be somewhere between 2:47 and 2:50. Not good... but hell, I'd still get the fucking finisher's medal. (The logic that go through a tired, dehydrated, and weary mind).
23 - 7:27.4 - Nice 'n easy... How do I still have a head wind though?? The absolute pity is that I'm now getting passed by scores of runners. I was starting to feel embarrassed.
24 - 7:47.2 - All I could think is.... "I've come this far, and any asshole could run 3 miles. It's really just become the principle of getting to the finish. If I didn't stop after 21, then why should I stop now?? No pain here... I just can't go any faster if I wanted to. Where the fuck is Central Park?? Shouldn't it be here already?!? More runners passing... Move along, Dick. Nothing to see here.... Shit, this is a joke... I could run faster backwards."
25 - 8:10.0 - Death becomes me. Everything was stiff. Too late to bother stopping though.
26 - 8:13.1 - I saw a lady with a walker on the sidewalk... I swear she was going faster than I was. I felt nothing but sadness, anger, rage. I wanted to cry. Why the fuck did I choose to "jog" all the way to the finish line??? That was a really stupid idea.
.2 - 1:47.9 - Whatever.
Overall: 2:50:55
1/2 split - 1:19:28
2nd split - 1:30:57!!
Pace through the first 18 miles, before I stopped: 6:05. Pace in the last 5 miles after I pulled the plug: 7:45. It turns out that those last 5 miles of NYC were the slowest 5 miles I've had in a marathon in 5 years, and 9 races!!
There is no pride in what I did, and for that I regret it. Sure, I got a medal. A medal I hate and spite.
I should've just stopped running altogether after 21 miles. I still have no idea what was I thinking??
I ran a damn 1:14 half marathon BEFORE I EVEN ENTERED MY PEAK TRAINING... and then I pulled this shit.
NYC was a complete and total disaster.
So what do I learn?
1) The socks immediately got thrown out. I don't care if I PR'd twice in them. I knew right then and there that they were shit.
2) If it's insanely windy or poor conditions... don't be a hero. It's tough to admit it, but tuck and roll is a much easier and safer strategy than leading a charge to certain death.
3) Training... Not sure what I learned here, other than I knew I had an ailing calf. I thought the calf would heal by race day. It did get much better, but wasn't 100%. Maybe 85%? But the damage was done. I tapered too much to over compensate. So did I over train?? By that measure, yes. Was the training a disaster? No. Like I said, all other things being equal, and on an easier course with perfect conditions... I probably would've been alright.
Everything added up though... I busted my NYC.
After months and months of hard training and fresh PR's: I bombed the NYC Marathon.
It was a nightmare. Undoubtedly, New York was the worst race and biggest disappointment of my running career. All I can do is chalk it up as a nasty experience and try to learn from it.
It boils down to this:
1) I pushed the redline too long with my training. I was ready weeks before I finished my peak, yet I continued to push the training. Somewhere around my Chicago Half Marathon, I tweaked something in my left calf. This problem compounded in my final peak weeks. My taper never allowed me to fully recover from this breakdown. My legs did feel better on race day - but I was still not 100%. Ultimately, I think I lost some of my zip in those weeks before toeing the line.... all other things being a non factor, and I might have been able to deal with this. BUT...
2) Race day weather was shit. Very unaccommodating for an aggressive race plan. New York's course goes North for the first 20 miles, then back South for the last 6 miles. The worst possible condition is a Northerly headwind. Guess what we got? A solid, relentless, 15 mph pounding headwind at all times for the first 20 miles, followed by swirling winds in the final miles. And of course, being the stubborn idiot I am, I decided to charge into that fucker without a care of conserving any energy for the last few miles.
3) The icing on the cake was 2 monstrous blisters, which took nearly 3 weeks to fully heal! This was poor planning on my part as they were caused by wearing socks that had given me blisters in the past. It was stupid. I felt the first blister coming on at about the half way point, and by mile 17 it was unbearable. I was forced to stop at 19 and pop it. Sitting down for 2 minutes after hammering for nearly 2 hours doesn't bode well. As a result, I unleashed a flood of lactic acid upon on my legs. After another 2 miles, I knew it was over.
SO, given that, here's how the blood bath went down...
The race plan was to try go "easy" for the first few miles over Vz Bridge, then start easing into a 6:05 to 6-flat pace. Split it at around 1:19:45.... then it was just a matter of hanging on to a 6:05ish pace. Net result was to hit 2:38-2:39.
Jason and I had planned on running together, but even before race day he wasn't overly confident about running a sub 2:40. I think given the weather, he became even more cautious. As a result, I chose to control the pace in spite of the winds.
Keep in mind, a sub-2:40 marathon in NYC puts you inside the top 150-200 runners (20+ could be female elites though, which don't run with the men). Not a lotta other guys to work with!
SO... given the relentless wind... and very few people that were around us, which always seemed to be going slower than us... this meant that if I was trying to control a pace, then I was leading the charge... and ultimately, I was not drafting at all.
Miles upon miles, my front running had me expending significantly more effort than I otherwise should have been. A 6:00 pace felt like a 5:50, if not faster. There was no way I would carry a 5:50 effort in New York. It may not have felt too badly through the half, but it eventually wore me down.
I say this because in hind sight, this strategy was flawed. At the time I was willing to accept that flaw in exchange for "giving it a shot." After I dropped to fix my blister, Jason still went on to finish in 2:41... actually a pretty solid run in those conditions. It remains to be seen if I could've hung on... regardless of my over training and the weather... but, my unforeseen fuck up with the blisters definitely blew that possibility out of the water.
My splits:
1 - 6:32.9 - A bit faster than it should've been - as we were working quite hard in the wind on VZ Bridge and getting around slower runners.
2 - 5:46.0 - More wind. Waaaay too fast!! We should've been closer to 6-flat on this down hill.
3 - 5:59.2 - More wind. Fast again! Should've been 6:10ish. Anyone who didn't belong around us was gone.
4 - 6:00.2 - More wind. On pace. No packs at all at this point. With Jason off my back, I lead the charge. We'd play yo-yo over the next several miles. I'd get a little ahead of him, then let him reel me back in as I'd take a break.
5 - 6:03.0 - More wind.
6 - 5:58.4 - More wind.
7 - 6:00.2 - More wind. Made a push to catch a small pack (or thin line) in front, with the hopes of drafting off of them. This group immediately fell apart as Jason and I hit it. We sliced right through it. A couple guys grabbed on and drafted off of us. They'd soon be dropped. It still left me leading the charge.
8 - 6:04.3 - More wind.
9 - 6:05.8 - Wind. Clifton Hill.
10 - 5:55.4 - Wind.
11 - 6:10.5 - Wind (I think you're getting the theme here).
12 - 6:01.7 - Wind.
13 - 6:06.0 - Wind.
13.1 SPLIT - 1:19:28 - 1/2 split was on the money for a sub 2:39. 17 seconds ahead of planned, but as Jason and I crossed the line we said to each other that it wasn't as easy as it should've been. I initially started to feel a blister building under my right foot. There wasn't anything I could do about it. It was just a matter of how much pain I could take.
14 - 6:10.2 - Tons of Wind. Pulaski Bridge - The wind was bad here. I recall rolling up the bridge and getting scum suckers drafting off of me. 2 guys hung did eventually hang. Everyone else seemed like they were crawling.
15 - 6:14.8 - No so much wind as up hill. Beginning of Queensboro Bridge. I was swapping the lead with one of the guys; the other dropped. The hanger was quite annoying, and actually stayed with Jason through 22 or 23.
16 - 6:17.6 - More hill than wind. Queensboro Bridge. Jason and I finally started running side-by-side more consistently. The bridge really ballooned my blister. Gripping on the up then down magnified the effect. By the time we hit Manhattan, the bottom of my right foot was on fire.
17 - 6:06.1 - 1st Avenue. Yep, wind. Mark Wehrman jumped in from the sideline and begun to pace with us. For the first time all day, I didn't feel the need to lead.
18 - 6:09.2 - Wind. The sting from my blister was unbearable. It was directly on the ball of my foot. I actually started to fall off the back of Jason and Mark. The blister was killing me. I attempted to slam my foot down on the ground with a few strides, in a hope that it would pop from impact. That only intensified the pain. By the end of the mile, I knew I couldn't go on.
19 - 7:21.5 - Wind. I was dropped by Jason and Mark. I absolutely had to pop the blister. Either that, or stop running altogether. Sub 2:40 was officially out. I didn't care. I couldn't go on like this. I pulled off to the side and immediately sat down, tore my shoe off, and began to claw at my right foot with my finger nails. The crowd stared at me in disgust as I literally ripped a silver dollar sized piece of skin from the ball of my foot. It gushed as I cut all around the sides... like no blister I've ever had before. Fucking sick, but instant relief. There was second blister in my left foot, but I wasn't worried about that right now. Just get the one done, get myself back together, and run as fast as I could.
Separately, while the spectators all looked at me as if I was a freak - a really nice guy did come over and held his hand out, waiting for me to finish so that he could help me up. It was a really nice gesture at a time of need.
All in all, the pit stop took a little over 1:30 of time. That means I dropped a sub 5:50 that mile... all in nasty wind. The adrenaline was pumping. There were no other runners around. This was a huge mistake.
20 - 6:30.0 - Lots of wind. I recognized that I pushed too hard after getting back up, so I pulled back a little. The wind also intensified as I crossed over Willis Street Bridge. I tried running with another guy at this slower pace. By the time I hit the mile marker though, I was a little concerned. It was 6:30. I didn't think I slowed up that much... and it certainly didn't feel easy.
21 - 6:50.8 - Swirling wind?? Bronx. Aside from the Yankees, I fuckin' hate the Bronx. I remember thinking the something back in 2008, when I ran through here. My little slow up in mile 20 wasn't a fluke. Pain was setting in now, only this time it was lactic acid. Sitting down to pop that blister wound up popping my whole race. My body was now pumping cement into my legs instead of blood and oxygen. Crossed the final bridge back into Manhattan. That mile was WAAAY too much of a struggle. I saw the split. I knew it was over.
22 - 7:05.8 - More swirling wind. 5th Avenue. There was negotiating here whatsoever. As soon as I saw 6:50 for the 21st mile, I pulled the plug instantly. (As if I had a choice). This was the smartest thing I did the whole day (followed immediately by the dumbest).
My race was over and I had purposely slowed up my pace. Now it was merely a debate as to how to get to the finish line. Should I stop altogether, try to freeze my ass off and find a subway? Do I barter with a cabbie? Do I find a medical tent somewhere?? I've never dropped out of a race. The smart thing to do would've been just to stop running altogether. But I did some simple math and decided that I could jog to the finish... 7:15-7:30's, and I'd still be somewhere between 2:47 and 2:50. Not good... but hell, I'd still get the fucking finisher's medal. (The logic that go through a tired, dehydrated, and weary mind).
23 - 7:27.4 - Nice 'n easy... How do I still have a head wind though?? The absolute pity is that I'm now getting passed by scores of runners. I was starting to feel embarrassed.
24 - 7:47.2 - All I could think is.... "I've come this far, and any asshole could run 3 miles. It's really just become the principle of getting to the finish. If I didn't stop after 21, then why should I stop now?? No pain here... I just can't go any faster if I wanted to. Where the fuck is Central Park?? Shouldn't it be here already?!? More runners passing... Move along, Dick. Nothing to see here.... Shit, this is a joke... I could run faster backwards."
25 - 8:10.0 - Death becomes me. Everything was stiff. Too late to bother stopping though.
26 - 8:13.1 - I saw a lady with a walker on the sidewalk... I swear she was going faster than I was. I felt nothing but sadness, anger, rage. I wanted to cry. Why the fuck did I choose to "jog" all the way to the finish line??? That was a really stupid idea.
.2 - 1:47.9 - Whatever.
Overall: 2:50:55
1/2 split - 1:19:28
2nd split - 1:30:57!!
Pace through the first 18 miles, before I stopped: 6:05. Pace in the last 5 miles after I pulled the plug: 7:45. It turns out that those last 5 miles of NYC were the slowest 5 miles I've had in a marathon in 5 years, and 9 races!!
There is no pride in what I did, and for that I regret it. Sure, I got a medal. A medal I hate and spite.
I should've just stopped running altogether after 21 miles. I still have no idea what was I thinking??
I ran a damn 1:14 half marathon BEFORE I EVEN ENTERED MY PEAK TRAINING... and then I pulled this shit.
NYC was a complete and total disaster.
So what do I learn?
1) The socks immediately got thrown out. I don't care if I PR'd twice in them. I knew right then and there that they were shit.
2) If it's insanely windy or poor conditions... don't be a hero. It's tough to admit it, but tuck and roll is a much easier and safer strategy than leading a charge to certain death.
3) Training... Not sure what I learned here, other than I knew I had an ailing calf. I thought the calf would heal by race day. It did get much better, but wasn't 100%. Maybe 85%? But the damage was done. I tapered too much to over compensate. So did I over train?? By that measure, yes. Was the training a disaster? No. Like I said, all other things being equal, and on an easier course with perfect conditions... I probably would've been alright.
Everything added up though... I busted my NYC.
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