This is the tale of another running fail.
Apparently, 2016 is NOT my year for marathoning, but I am confident that these experiences are making me a stronger runner and person. Cliche, but true!
The Boston Marathon Bust was back in April. Phil and my parents all encouraged me to do another race while I was in marathon shape, but that seemed ludicrous at first. Initially, I didn't even want to think about it. Boston was too fresh, and my pride was still bruised. A few weeks after recovering from that, I screwed my head back on and laced my shoes back up. I decided to register for another marathon with the goal of re-qualifying for Boston. I knew I was trained and ready, and I actually wanted to RUN a race and make all the training worth it.
SO...I flew up to South Bend, Indiana for the Sunburst Marathon on June 4th.
All the stars seemed to be aligned.
My parents were able to join me for the weekend. Phil was able to stay home with the kids without taking any days off. The weather cooperated. My body was healthy. I had my own bed in a quiet room. The perfect equation for running success.
(I actually just found the picture of the start line, and I am directly under the "ST" of the start sign. You can see me in my pink tank if you enlarge the picture.)
Running jargon ahead...skip to the bottom if you don't care about times and numbers.
Officially, I need to run an average mile pace of 8:23 per mile to qualify for Boston.
However, Boston qualifications keep getting faster, and they have turned away qualifying times because the field is too large. SO, with that in mind, I really need to run an average pace of 8:12/mile. I can do that. I have done that. I trained for that. I hit the ten mile mark at 1:09:56...just under 8:00 minute miles. On pace and feeling good. There were a few quirks about the race (like running through a tiny zoo where birds were dive bombing runners, lots of switchbacks and s-curves, etc.), but you overlook that because you have no other option. Things fell apart between the 10-11 mile mark. My GPS watch read 11.42 miles at the 11-mile mark, and I heard other runners remarking on the miscalculated distance of the course. When you're in the middle of racing, however, there isn't much you can do. You just hope that the distance gets made up for in the next mile. Usually everything evens out.
At this point, the race was mixed with 10K runners, half-marathoners, and full-marathoners. The infamous hill of the Sunburst Marathon (Hallelujah Hill) was around the 12-mile mark, and I knew the marathon was supposed to split from the rest of the runners somewhere around there. I kept looking for it. I am OCD when it comes to running, distances, times, etc. I was vigilant about watching the course. After charging up Hallelujah Hill, and seeing the 13-mile marker, I knew that something was wrong. I stopped running (a total derailment of any race strategy) and asked a race official where the marathon split was. He told me that it was at least 1.5 miles in the other direction, and I had totally missed it. I just stood there. Frozen. At that point, my race was over. I wasn't going to turn around just to finish a marathon with THREE EXTRA MILES. No thanks. I ended up finishing the half-marathon and feeling completely discouraged and frustrated. How could I have missed it? What on earth went wrong? I had to borrow a stranger's phone to call my parents who were waiting for me at the 14-mile mark. There was nothing positive to be said. My mom (who is always positive, encouraging, and able to see the sun through the clouds) tried to play Pollyanna and find the silver-lining. I wasn't ready for that. I called Phil, who was anxiously awaiting good news in FL, and immediately broke down. Yep, I cried about a failed race. But, it wasn't just this race. This was my second failed race. It was the giant question of, "WHAT ON EARTH?!" It was the months of what felt like wasted training. The list goes on and on.
I showered, packed up, and left the hotel around the same time that I should have been crossing the finish line with another Boston-Qualifying time. There was a lot of processing on the drive from South Bend to Grand Rapids.
Grand Rapids was my silver-lining.
My niece, Mavis Marie, was born in Grand Rapids less than 24-hours prior. I was able to spend time with her, and Brian and Marcie, that I would otherwise have spent running. I was able to hold a newborn and soak up some quality time with them before flying back to Florida.
Follow-up:
About one week after the race, I (and the other 7,000 runners)
received an email from the race director.
Here's the gist:
- There was insignificant signage and communication in the race. Several people missed the marathon turn and got turned around in the race.
- The course was mis-measured, and it was 0.4 miles too long. That was exactly what my GPS watch showed between miles 10-11. While this seems completely INSIGNIFICANT, it is the difference between qualifying and not qualifying. For me, 0.4 miles is roughly 3.5 - 4 minutes. I don't have that much wiggle room in my qualifying time, and that extra distance would have likely prevented me from qualifying. SO, missing the turn might have saved me further disappointment.
- I got a full refund or the chance to run it again next year for free.
- I took the refund. :)
- I know that this experience is a silly hiccup in the big picture of life. I get that! I have a healthy dose of perspective, but I still wanted to document this for my own sake.
- I know that this experience is a silly hiccup in the big picture of life. I get that! I have a healthy dose of perspective, but I still wanted to document this for my own sake.
Anyhow, I am confident that there will be another chapter to this story. It won't be anytime soon since I'm in a training hiatus, but there will be running redemption in my future.
