Jim TurosakBefore 2006, I had never run a race longer than 10 kilometers, and the last time I did that was in 1995. I'd been thinking about taking up running again for several reasons, not the least of which was to increase my longevity. My wife is younger, and has genes that will surely allow her to hit triple digits, and frankly, I don't want her to marry anyone else after I kick the bucket. Sometimes we get motivation from unlikely places. Another reason, perhaps the biggest one was personal - I wanted to complete a marathon as a life goal. I told myself that just once I wanted to be able to say I'd completed 26.2 miles, preferably alive, and preferably without stopping due to my ticker, at the first aid tent, or with my feet. As logic seemed to dictate, it might make sense to achieve my goals in increments, and a half-marathon seemed to be the next logical step, so I set my sights on The Platte River Half Marathon (and Relay). I had little clue how to train, so I figured that I should run more, increase my distance, and bone up on literature. Little did I know that doing this (alone) would make my life harder than necessary. I got up to running 10 miles and figured it would be enough, mostly running by myself, and mostly training too fast. I was plain lucky not to get injured. All I really knew was I needed to start slow at the beginning if I wanted any chance. I finished the race (actually 14 miles due to a police incident unrelated to the race on the course that day - the infamous "Cadaver Classic") under my non-lofty goal, and did not feel like I wanted to saw my legs off and die a lonely, painful death. I had done it, and it gave me a little lift to go on. Perhaps I could do a marathon, maybe even in that same year! I had mulled over the thought of joining a running group, but two major thoughts loomed large. Would I be able to stick with a group, both physically, and with the dedication/time constraints? And, which group would I choose? There is more than one to choose from, so I asked around, checked out web sites, and pestered a few running store employees. Finally, the people on the Runners Edge brochure looked a bit happier than the rest, so it was slightly easier than the dartboard method. I met David and Julie and about 150 others early on a Saturday morning outside of Runners Roost in Denver. Great atmosphere, a wide cast of characters, and it was apparent there were people that were very into this running thing, and also some that one would never expect to see. The idea of incremental pace groups is great, and the simple notions of how you start a training run, and at what pace you go were foreign concepts (as was the GPS watch - how, as a geek could I have missed out on that one!?). I knew after the first run I'd found something I had been missing. I didn't have to train alone, and train without a clue. And, as I grew to find, you cannot learn to run by reading, any more than you can learn to write by reading. You have to DO it, and there is no way around it. The Mantheys customized a plan for me, as I'd set my sights upon the Denver Marathon that upcoming October. It was now early June. I had a binder that covered more than I ever imagined about long-distance running - what had I gotten myself into? Surely I didn't want to be a monk, or a glutton for punishment. I had a pace group, I had new friends, I had a plan. In my training notes, I found out I'd a half-marathon in August sandwiched between a 16 and 18 mile run, and a choice expletive entered my head. As my participation grew, and I followed the advice and training, it became less daunting and more exciting. By the time August, and my second half marathon (Georgetown to Idaho Springs Half Marathon) came around, I had a lot more confidence, and I took 8 minutes off my previous half-marathon time - almost a mile ahead of the ghost of my former self. Unfortunately, after that came some setbacks. I fell to injury, the one thing you want more than anything else to avoid. I kept seeking help, and advice ? and above all I remembered one of David?s mantras - it's better to be 10% under-trained than 1% over-trained. To me, that meant to back off. It was hard, and I made some false advances that set me back further, and I almost lost sight of my goal. Cashing in seemed to be a looming option. But, I figured that if I could just scale back my training, keep stretching (my blue foam roller should have lipstick and a wig on it with as much time as I spent with it), and not do too many stupid macho things, I would have a real shot. As fate would have it, things didn't get worse, and they got better, but I definitely felt under-trained. So be it, I came to accept. I'll just do my best come Sunday October 15th. I had purposely told all of my friends and co-workers, and some friends were gathering on the route near my house (I'm pretty sure they were sober at some point in the day). I had dug my hole, with intent, and I wanted to follow through so long as there was no risk of lengthy injury. Nothing succeeds like announcing your goal to the greatest number of friends and co-workers. Saving face is important, and a powerful motivator. Come race day, many Runners Edge members joined us at the base of the Colorado Capitol - not just the runners, but many, many members who either had completed their races, or may have had one coming up soon (Chicago, USMC). Those teammates really helped, a lot - moving from place to place to cheer us on. Made us run just a tad faster, and with good form, just so we could feel we would look good. I ran the race almost all the way with David Lowry, a pace group buddy. Though we traded a bit on up/down-hills, we found ourselves pretty much together for the last 13 miles. At times, each of us was hurting, but not telling the other. Around mile 22, the Lactic Acid Fairy waved her wand all over our rapidly tiring protoplasm, and while we were ahead of our goal pace until then, we started to struggle. I forced a smile as I passed my less than fully sober friends and family, and my 9-year-old daughter ran a half a block with me, and I told her I was going to finish. From that point on, David and I were each other's wingman. We'd reached the point of no return, and you never leave your wingman. I can't describe the feeling of the last 0.3 miles, except to say it was magical. It seemed as if the fatigue and pain melted away with each step, each of which became faster than the previous. Coming down the homestretch, again cheered on by Runners Edge teammates, I felt as though I was the F-16 that roared over the starting line at the crescendo of the pre-race national anthem. I was floating in what I could only describe surreal environment. David and I raised each other's hands as we crossed the finish, and a photo of that was one of the Denver Post "Images of the Day". We finished within about one minute of our goal time. At the end, when we got our medals, I was proud of what I'd accomplished on my own, as well as proud of my teammate, David. As we worked our way towards the post-race area, we both realized that we couldn't remove the timing chips from our shoelaces, and I've never felt like kissing a total stranger more than the nice gal who removed it for me. The final warm fuzzy came, of course, near the beer tent. Teammates, families and fellow runners were all around, and the energy of the crowd was a great supplement to the fantastic weather. Teammates not only stood by our smelly, wet selves, but we got some big group hugs all around (no swaying and singing, though). Then, to top it all off, I got carded by the beer tent lady. At that point I wasn't sure what I could be more proud of, the medal around my neck or the potential bragging I could do because I got carded. Thanks Dave and Julie, not only for setting up a fantastic group, but for encouraging me to respect injury, train appropriately, and leave my 2nd marathon (of what is sure to be many to come) for another PR. I will be back for a long time, and will encourage anyone I encounter to join if they are interested in success, self-esteem, and joining a great group with some of the most well adjusted people I've met in my life. My only regret is that I fear the FBI will knock on my door for repeatedly "watering" the foliage near the Capitol, surely chock full of video cameras and footage that can be passed to Fox News on a slow day ("A Dangerous New Epidemic - Urinating on Government Property!") The Port-o-Potties were too far away from the start. Sorry, Guv. Barring jail time, with the help of Runners Edge, and my pace group buds, someday I'll be Boston Bound! That's my story, and I'm still stickin' to it. Jim Turosak |
|
