US Air Force Marathon

I find it amazing what the human body can accomplish.  I find it even more amazing at what MY body can accomplish.  However, it should come as no surprise that when someone trains the body to do something over a long period of time, that body will do what it should.  Yesterday my body accomplished what it set out to do, finish another full marathon.

As readers of this blog know, I haven’t kept up with keeping tabs of my training here.  Time, family, work, and all other things have kept me from writing any recent posts.  But, with having run my second marathon I felt it necessary to post, before my brain forgets what happened. 

Training Cycle:
I spent most of the summer preparing my body for the US Air Force Marathon.  Many of the runs were with my oldest’s cross country team, which has proved to be a useful tool as I am not getting any younger.  The youthfulness of the teens gave me something I did not see at the time; a desire to keep my body in decent shape, ready for something better, something more like my own youth.  These young people pushed me to keep up with them, to stay young myself.  To the Bethel-Tate Cross Country team I say thank you!

As for my long runs, well that story isn’t as good as I would have hoped.  This summer was hot!  With a streak of 18 consecutive days of over 90 degree weather my long runs kept getting pushed off.  I had several good runs, but when it came to anything over 16 miles, the weather proved too much for me.  My longest run was 19 miles; and that was five weeks before the marathon.  For those who do marathons, five weeks prior isn’t good enough, the last long run should be between 19 to 22 miles and about three to four weeks away from the race date.  That run should have been 20 miles, but at mile 19 I had to call my wife to come get me.  My body and the weather conspired against me that morning.  My last run of any significance came two weeks before the race, and it was a mere 12.75 miles - hardly anything I could count on.  Yet I continued.

The Race:
No surprise to myself that I woke up before my alarm went off, but I tried to close my eyes for another 15 minutes - it didn’t work.  I prepared myself mentally, stretched after getting dressed and had a cup of coffee with my cousin Molly (who, actually put me up for the night).  Gathered all my stuff and headed towards Wright Patterson Air Force Base.  The drive to the base was quick and easy, but getting in the gate was something else altogether.  The line of cars seemed endless, but after about thirty minutes I was in and parked, heading to the museum.

I met up with my friend Tim and we walked to the starting area where I met up with a friend from high school.  Stefanie and her husband Mike were about to run their first full marathon - together.  I wished them well and set myself to get a little further ahead.  The national anthem was sung, the plane flew over and the cannon started the race.

I had decided to not do what I have done in most races over the past couple of years, start too fast.  I did that in Chicago last year and I think that really hurt me in the end.  I started by running with the 4 hour 45 minute pace group, but after a couple of miles it felt too slow.  I caught up with the 4:30 pace group and ran with them for a couple of miles, but that too felt way too slow.  I was keeping a steady 10 minute mile pace through the first five miles, so when I caught the 4:20 pace group I decided to hang with them, and it felt comfortable.

I ran a few miles with a couple of nice fellows, one named Aaron and the other I never got.  We chit chatted, laughed and basically enjoyed the passing miles, but I eventually got ahead of them. 

As I made my way through Fairborn I came across Mike & Stefanie, they looked pretty good at mile 9.  We passed going different directions, said hey to each other and kept moving.  Shortly after that I noticed the Wright Flyer coming toward me.  So, right around mile 11 I stopped to take a picture of the replica in flight. I literally stopped for almost a full minute to watch, take in, and photograph it.  Truly an amazing thing.

And then I began running with a retired Army Lt. Col. who was running here again.  He shared how he had been here in the early 2000’s (2001 or 2003) and he really liked the course and had a soft spot for the Air Force.  While serving in the Army he found out that he had kidney cancer and happened to be stationed on an Air Force base.  The two services fought over who would care for him, but it was the Air Force who won and performed the necessary surgery to rid his body of the disease.  Here he was, much older than I, having survived cancer, and was running a marathon at the same pace that I was.  Not only was he running this marathon, but he told me how after next month he will have run a marathon in each of the 50 states (Illinois and Rhode Island were the only two left).  A living inspiration and testimony to the human body and human will. 

While running with this incredible man I had forgotten where on the course we were.  Our conversation blocked out just about everything.  My sense of time and distance was thrown off.  I asked him where we were and his response of, “about 16.6” floored me.  What happened to miles 14 and 15?  He looked at his GPS watch and told me we were running around a 9:45/mile pace and we both agreed it was a tad fast.  But we continued.  We both hit a hydration station, but I never saw him again.  His resolve to be there was enough inspiration for me to continue.

It all felt so effortless.  Maybe it was the cooler temperature.  Maybe it was all the great people I kept talking to.  Maybe it was my body doing what it was supposed to do.  I may never know.  But I kept going, looking at the mile marker clocks wondering at what point my body would fail.  I was still maintaining around a 10 minute mile . . .

After parting ways with the Lt. Col. I found myself running along side a nice young lady.  Never got her name or where she was from, but she did inform me that her father would probably be done before the three hour mark.  She is a college athlete that usually runs shorter distance races (800m, 1600m and 5000m).  This was her first full marathon.  Like with the others I ran with during the race, we chatted about all kinds of things.  Another great distraction.  We passed a hydration station with Elvis, and shortly after that I didn’t see her again, yet I continued.

I knew what to expect from the course, beginning to end.  I had run the half marathon two years ago, so much of the course was already embedded in my head.  There were no surprises.  I knew the elevation chart and where the hills would be, and I was mentally prepared for them.

Around mile 22 it began to sink in.  Nothing was hurting.  Nothing was slowing me down.  Emotions started to kick in.  When I saw mile 23 coming up I pulled my phone out, took a picture of the mile marker and posted it to Facebook.  Things were still going so well.  My friend Tim had run his half and texted to see where on the course I was.  My response, having recently passed the 24 mile marker was 24.3.  I put my phone back in my arm pocket, and then the pain set in.

Right above my knee on the inside was a dull, throbbing pain.  In my head I thought, this is it, I’ll have to bag it at 25 and walk the remainder.  That was worst case scenario.  I pulled off the side of the course, stretched the leg and rubbed the affected area, walked for a short time, and then it was gone!

I was still right behind the 4:20 pace group.  I could hear the pace leader in his Australian accent telling the group to get ready to push.  We had less than a mile to go!  I tried, but could not keep up as they pulled ahead, further and further.  But I kept running, knowing that the end was near, very near!  To my surprise I was passing people.  The crowds were getting thicker and heavier, and as I rounded the final turn and could see the finish line, I knew that I was not just going to beat my Chicago time, but I was also going to beat the time I wanted for the day, 4 hours 45 minutes.  Right before I got to the finish line I saw Tim, cheering me on as I ran past the museum planes - a final push to the end.

I crossed the line, still running, and got in line for the medal.

Officially, I crossed from start to finish in 4 hours, 21 minutes, 8 seconds.  I walked around for a few minutes, got some Gatorade and chips, and headed for the gate. 

Anyone who had asked me in the past couple of weeks if I would do another full marathon got the same answer, “not anytime soon!”  But after crossing that line, feeling like I had hardly run, I knew that answer would not hold up.  I set out to finish, finish without injury, and get my time, I did that.  My body did what I wanted it to do.  Am I planning on running another 26.2?  Not in the coming weeks, but I’m not ruling it out in the near future . . .