Well, along comes Cal. Intl. this weekend to give me my second chance, with a bonus gift of 350 feet net downhill. The weekend started with some very good news and very bad news. The good news was that this was our best expo ever, selling several thousand dollars worth of software and books! The highlight of that was selling a copy to Peter Maher, Canadian elite who had won CIM in 1987 and was 3rd last year. Two years ago, he had told us he wasn't into computers, that he really enjoyed using a written log and thinking about his workouts as he was writing them down (he did buy a copy of Boston Marathon from us at that expo, though). But two years later he was gung ho to buy a copy of The Athlete's Diary and doing some serious analysis of his training in preparation for Atlanta. "Oh the times, they are a-changin'" Anyway, when I say we were busy, I mean we were busy. On Saturday I had to go to the bathroom at 10 in the morning, and didn't get to actually go until 12:30!
The bad news? I was on my feet and working my tail off for 4 hours Friday and 7 hours Saturday. I was BEAT!! Definitely not proper marathon preparation. :-( The wonderful food and company at the Florentine at the Dead/Chips food encounter Friday revived me a bit. Karl Watanabe heard me talking about going out at 7:40 pace and said that sounded good, he didn't think he was really in "marathon shape" and although he's definitely faster than I am said he'd like to run with me. I'd been demonstrating the "Race Calculator" feature of The Athlete's Diary for two days and showing people how you could run 20 miles at 7:40 and 6.2 miles at 8:15 and that would produce a 3:24:29, which was my working plan.
Early to bed, early to rise, bus to the start, meet Karl and the others (Jane, Hinkmond, Ian). I told Karl I didn't think I could afford to lose too much time to the start so we pushed to a "reasonable" position in the pack, from where we took only 12 seconds to make it to the start. A wise decision!
Now I was aiming for 7:40's and Karl had promised George Parrott he wouldn't let me go out too fast and even the race instructions say take it easy on the early "rolling" miles but by God there's a lot of downhill in that first 10 miles and what they call uphill wouldn't pass for an anthill at Rancho San Antonio. :-) I do NOT think I was pushing too hard but the early miles went like this: 7:51 (crowds+12 seconds), 7:19, 7:12, 7:22, 7:23, 7:29, 7:29. The miles were just clicking by; I've never in any race felt like they were coming up as quickly as they were in this race. This is too easy! Seven miles by and I haven't had a single mile as slow as my target pace yet.
Round about this time Karl is wondering if HE made a big mistake, and asks "Say, didn't you say you wanted to run 7:40's?" Not only the general pace was too fast (according to plan), but everytime we got to an uphill I would push just a little harder (contrary to all advice and sensible race strategy) and end up a few yards ahead by the top (breaking up the symmetry of those two Dead Runner singlets running side-by-side). I told Karl I was sorry, but my "identity" is as a hill runner and if I'm going to push anywhere it will always be on the uphills.
Things did eventually come to a more sensible steady-state, and the middle miles went by in 7:40, 7:50, 7:32, 7:39, 7:48, 8:58(!), 6:27 (just *slightly* misplaced mile marker there!). So there was a stretch of 7 miles where we were almost dead on 7:40. The miles continued to just fly by. Running with someone else was certainly helping this feeling, I'm sure.
Somewhere during these miles we realized we had been running pretty much the entire way in the company of a woman (back around mile 3 or so she had even asked me if was comfortable in my singlet, and when I said yes, she took off her sweatshirt and heaved it to the side of the road). As we got into the teen miles, I realized that Karl was spending less time by my side and more running with Ann. ;-) Trying to recruit another BAD Runner, no doubt. :-) (It turned out she was from Los Gatos).
Somewhere in here a woman with powerful shoulders passes by - it's Missy LeStrange, the world's most awesome age-group triathlete, a 40-something woman who can do a 10:30 Ironman, routinely winning her age group by an hour or more. By the time I gather my courage to say something, she's out of reach. She only needs a 3:50 to qualify for Boston; hell, she's done that in Hawaii!
After the halfway point there aren't as many good downhills - you actually have to do the work yourself! 7:50, 7:42, 7:38. Still cruising through 17. During this time, Karl (and Ann) were really helping me. They were running just slightly faster than me, and after a while they might be 5 or 10 yards ahead. Well, I didn't want to lose Karl, so I'd put on a surge to catch them, them settle back. This happened repeatedly; probably Karl wasn't even aware. But he was definitely pulling me along in this stretch. 7:57, 7:48, 8:02 through 20. Deterioration is setting in but I'm still hanging on. Karl's got so much excess energy from holding back that he's high-fiving every spectator on the route. I urge him to go on and let me struggle on alone.
Karl and Ann start to pull away as my legs are getting more and more sore, and my stride turning from a flowing, graceful thing into a survival shuffle. The next few miles go by in 8:18, 8:30, and 8:31. All the while I've tried to keep Karl in site and put on another surge to catch him, but it's no use; that strategy has stopped working. When mile 24 goes by in 8:39, I know I'm in serious trouble. All along, they've been calling not only times but paces at every mile marker. Throughout the race, I had been hearing numbers in the 7:30's, then eventually creeping into the 7:40's; I believe it was mile 24 where I heard the dreaded words "7:49 pace." 7:49, of course, is what I need to average for 26.2.
I figure it's bad luck to try to calculate things too exactly, but somehow I know that if I don't manage to turn this slide around, I'm not going to be in Hopkinton next April 15. I'm not passing too many people running, but I am passing a LOT of people walking. I figure they're the ones who already missed their qualifying time and I'd probably be doing the same thing, so GET GOING YOU IDIOT! (Yes, I'm allowed to talk to myself that way). Give it everything you've got!!!
The next mile is 8:26 but by now I wasn't looking at my watch; I knew I'd just get preoccupied with thinking and calculating when only one thing would help now and that was RUN LIKE HELL so all I could do was chant my mantra PUSH PUSH PUSH. That and the fear of wasting all my training plus all the good wishes from so many of you must have worked because mile 26 was down to 8:08 which is a miracle because my legs were REALLY dead at this point. Round the final corner and Barry Spitz the race announcer says "And here comes Steve Patt the Software Guru" :-) and I cross the finish line and stop the watch and it reads 3:25:23 and I'M GOING TO BOSTON. :-) :-) :-) :-) Hey, 36 seconds to spare, NO PROBLEM. :-) Thank heavens for the TRUNC function in the B.A.A. computer. :-)
Well, actually I was *always* going to Boston (expo booth already paid for) so it wasn't really a question of going to Boston but to Hopkinton and I made it and now I can get to pee in Dick Duggan's bushes along with another 100 or so Dead runners and what a treat that will be, eh Dick?
I have to say I NEVER thought I would/could do this. Given both my natural speed (or lack thereof), my limited training time, and my inability/ disinclination to follow any but the most general of training plans, this was a chimerical dream at best. It was only because I was already going to be there that I thought what the heck give it a shot. In my heart of hearts I did not think I had a chance, and after a 3:34 in my first serious marathon in October I still didn't think so. I knew CIM was faster, but I doubted it was 9 minutes faster. I owe a HUGE debt to Karl, who undoubtedly pulled 36 seconds out of me in those middle miles. I probably wouldn't have made it without my Ultimate either, and that's no joke. At every water stop, I'd fly through and grab a cup or two of water and dump it in the Ultimate on the run, drinking later. Karl came out of every water stop 10-20 yards behind me, having to catch up. If I saved 3.6 seconds per water stop, that was the difference. And the GU, of course, which doesn't really "energize" me like Karl says it does for him, but certainly prevents the collapse which would occur in its absence. And finally, the fear of failure, not massive failure like 9 minutes which is easy to take but the fear of failing by 10 or 15 or 30 seconds which put the fear of god into me the last two miles. We passed a lot of people holding signs saying "Boston or Bust" and by god if I didn't make it I was going to bust trying.
But I made it! :-)
And did I mention George's advice, and good wishes from Tracey and many others, and the inspiration I derive every day from this list? THANK YOU, DEAD RUNNERS! I was proud to wear those black and gold colors across the finish line (even if it did mean explaining to someone at 5:30 a.m. what the 'Doctors World Conference' was :-).
See you in Boston!
Steve "Body in Cupertino, Mind in Boston" Patt
slp@alumni.caltech.edu