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Writing this post sucks.

In the days following the Miami Half Marathon, the pain in my butt area didn’t so much as improve, as it did move. After a couple of days, the “pain in my butt” localized, and I suspected that my Piriformis pain was actually being caused by a tight hamstring. I tried a short 5 mile recovery run on Wednesday – no good. After gutting it out for the first mile or so, it seemed a little better, but after about 4 miles, I had to walk home. Nervous about my training for Boston, I tried to run again on Sunday – a week after the race. Again, no good. I walked home. Time to take a little time off.

After a week of rest and stretching, the Piriformis pain went away, but the “Pain in the butt remained”. I finally saw the doctor, and he delivered what I feared – Partially torn hamstring and a Grade 2 strain in my left hamstring. The tear is right up near where the hamstring connects to my pelvis. It had been 2 weeks of no running, and only 2 attempted 5 milers in the last 3 weeks. He wanted 2 more weeks off. No biking either. He said I could swim and strength train my upper body, but no legs. He wants me to start Physical Therapy in early March. When I asked the question that I had to ask, I already suspected the answer. “Can I run the Boston Marathon?” “When is it?” “Mid April”. “I won’t rule it out, but it’s ‘Doubtful’”. As we had this discussion, I was already doing the math backwards. April 16th is 8 weeks away. 2 more weeks off. Even if I can resume a normal marathon training week of 50 miles per week (which I couldn’t) the day I start PT, that gives me 6 weeks until race day. Add in a 1 week taper, and there is no way I can be ready. At least not to race it. Probably not to even finish it at a leisurely pace. So, just like that, a tight hamstring appears in training, a slip on a patch of ice, and my Boston dreams are over – for now. I qualified once, so I’ll do it again. I’ll get my first Boston – someday.

I ran the full marathon in Miami in 2011. I had a great race until a prolonged stop in a port-a-potty at mile 19 derailed my aspirations of a PR. In short, though, I loved the course and wanted to return. The race takes place at a great time for me since I’m already in Florida on business at this time. In September, I registered for the Half Marathon, thinking it might be too close to Boston to run the full, but I decided to leave the door open for that option. While I decided to train like I was running the full marathon, my training never really hit the level I’d have liked to run the full marathon, and several nagging injuries put a stop to any further thoughts of changing my registration to the full marathon. Those nagging injuries included a mild Sports Hernia, and most recently, a bout of Piriformis Syndrome (a pain that is in the butt cheecks and crotch and can extend down into the legs when aggravated). It is near the Sciatica, so anyone who knows that pain can relate. It’s not pleasant to run with, so I took it very easy the last 10 days or so hoping the rest would do me good. Making matters worse, I developed a cough and some chest congestion over the last week.

Last year, my brother drove me to the race site from his house in the West Palm Beach area 90 miles away. We left at 3:00 am for a 6:00 am race. It was a hassle, so this year, I booked a hotel a mile and a half from the start/ finish area. I’d stay in the city, get a warm up run to the race, and a cool down run on the way home. Great plan – until I actually got to the hotel. It was falling apart in an awful part of the city. Homeless people everywhere. “Working Girls” on the streets out front, and “self employed” gentlemen pushing shopping carts full of whatever they could “find” (to turn to “gold”) on the streets of downtown Miami. No chance I’m even getting out of the car. I changed the reservation as I was driving away from the hotel. Unfortunately, the only place they could find for me was 20 miles south of the race site. “I’ll take it”. On to plan B.

The new hotel was nice enough. When I got back to the room after walking out to grab some dinner, there were 4 fire tucks in the parking lot with lights flashing. Immediately, I had thoughts of sleeping in my car. All ended well and I was out by 9:00 pm. Afraid I was going to oversleep, I was up before the alarm at 3:20 am. I couldn’t get back to sleep, so I flipped on the TV and started watching reruns of Cheers while I stretched out my tight Piriformis. I was out the door by 4:30 am for a 6:15 race. Traffic was light until I got to close proximity of the race site, where it turned to a stand still. My GPS said I’d be at the site by 4:50 when I started driving. As I sat in traffic and tried to find an open parking lot when I was moving, I watched the arrival time on the GPS move to 5:15, 5:30, 5:45… I started to geniunely worry that I’d be in my car when the gun went off… I thought of all the people in running clothes I saw waiting for public transportation when I was driving in and said “what a hassle” aloud as I drove past them. I now faced the realization that all of these people were probably in their start corrals while I was STILL in my car. At 5:45 I found a place to park. I made a quick note of where I was and realized that I had to carry my car keys with my during the race – Nice!! I made the short walk to the race site and was in my start corral before 6:00. PHEW!!

Race day saw temps higher than normal (low 70′s), and very humid with a nice stiff breeze… Not ideal, but workable. I knew that my unclimatized body might have some issues with the humidity. My goal was a sub 1:30 half marathon – or 6:53 pace. A tall task when healthy and trained. I wasn’t either of those things. I shifted it to 1:32, and that seemed like a tall task too. Secretly, I was just hoping for a new PR at the distance (mid 1:34 ish). We’d have to see what the day brought us.

The gatekeepers who were letting people in to their respective corrals didn’t do a very good job. The guy next to me had a camera around his neck. Two girls near me were talking about hoping they “wouldn’t get trampled” at the start. Many runners with “non-runners” physiques (not to stereotype, because they may be able to run too), were scattered all around. Like last year, this was going to be a slow start.

I felt slighted when I got my corral assignment – Corral C. I’m not the fastest guy here, but I wondered who in the world would be in Corrals A & B. I got my answer – Corral A was for Wheelchair participants who got an early start, and Corral B was for the Elites – a varying collection of past and present Olympians, professionals, and other guys who can flat out fly. Cool. I’m good with Corral C. At 6:05 the Wheelchair racers go. At 6:15, the elites go. 10 seconds later, we go. Oddly enough, when it’s our turn to go, we walk to the start line. That’s right… we walk, in an orderly fashion to the start line. How strange… So, with little fanfare, we were off. Despite being about 50 feet from the start line, it still took me over a minute to get there. Once on course, it seemed like I was in last place. There were literally thousands of “runners” ahead of me, with no signs of open road ahead. Walkers, a lady in a hula skirt, a guy in a matador costume – they were all ahead of me. 9:00 min miles (and slower) seemed to be the norm. Out of the gate, we make a right hand turn up over a bridge to head towards South Beach. People were walking – already… How did these people get ahead of me??? Like a fool, I tried to make make my way through the crowd – I spent 2 miles weaving through this mess. My pace didn’t really suffer because of it, it was just a hassle. 7:03 first mile, 6:38 second mile, 6:56 third mile. 6:45 miles seemed easy, so I went with it. 21:30 for the first 5K. The first part of the course heads from downtown Miami towards Miami Beach. We passed Cruise Ships that were all lit up and people cheering from their balconies. It was just a strip of road out over water linking the two land masses together.

As we got onto the island of Miami Beach, we started seeing incredible spectator support. My body felt OK, but the humidity was tough. Sweat was pouring off me. Against my plan, I stopped to take a gel at the 4 mile marker and I walked through the aid station to drink. I felt better. 7:26 mile 4, including the stop. 6:57 mile 5, walked to get a drink through an aid station and went 7:07 in mile 6. By this point, my “pain in the butt” was bothering me, I was sweating like crazy from the humidity, but, thankfully, I wasn’t coughing (I put cough drops in my pocket… just in case). The pain in my butt was moving down into my leg. Not good, and I knew I was on borrowed time. Even still, Running through South Beach at dawn is a favorite – such a contradiction… Seeing the ultra health conscious crowd merge with the party-all-night crowd – each in their element at the same time. The crowd support in South Beach and Miami Beach were both very uplifting. They cheered without bias – we all got a warm reception.

I walked an aid station in Mile 7. 7:21 with the stop. 7:10 for mile 8. My pace for the day was still hovering around 7:05. Pretty good, all things considered. We ran past Miami Beach Golf Club around Mile 8. I chuckled thinking of how the golfers who enjoy peace and quiet must have reacted to the cheering and live bands that were lining the perimeter of their golf course. Into Mile 9 and we headed back towards the mainland. For me, that couldn’t come soon enough. I planned on a gel at the 9 mile aid station. Slow stop with lots of water. 7:32. My butt (and leg now) were in rough shape. My hip was bothering me too. Just hold pace. My body was in rough shape, and this would be an interesting finish. One good note… As the temperature went up, the humidity actually went down. By this point, I wasn’t sweating as much, and it was quite comfortable.

I walked the aid station at mile 10. 7:22. Through mile 10 in about 1:12:00. With 5K to go, I was still on pace for a new PR, but gone are the thoughts of sub 1:30. The sign for mile 10 is on the upslope of the last bridge heading back to the Miami city limits. Off the bridge and up one block is one of the most electric areas that I have ever run in. I knew it was coming, and coming off the bridge, I turned to the guy next to me and I said “Are you ready to feel like a Rock Star?” He looked back and smiled and said “Ohhh Yeah!!!”. The road is closed to traffic, and the 2 lane road in each direction narrows to 2 lanes total. People are crammed in between the buildings and the barricades – 20 deep at spots. All yelling – for us. As I entered that section, I gave the “raise the roof” sign. The place went nuts. Love it!!!!

For a brief quarter mile, I was running on pure adrenaline, and I could not feel the pain. As the crowds dwindled, my pain resurfaced. Mile 11. The pain was also on my right hip now. Running hurt. It was tough to even walk. My mind is saying “C’mon, only 17 minutes to go. This is EASY!!”. My body is saying “not a chance”. I walked for 30 seconds to rub my butt, hamstring area and right hip. It did the trick. My goal was to trot it in and get this thing over with. People are passing me by the truckload. I can’t believe I even care about that at this point. “Grit your teeth and get outta here”. I run. 7:51 for mile 11 with the walk. 7:34 for mile 12. No stops, just slow running – it’s all I got left. I tell myself I have less than 10 minutes to go. I try to pick up the pace… at least I’m not getting passed anymore – getting passed bugs me. Mile 13 passes in 7:17. I’m around the last corner and I can see the finish line. Some kid sprints past me. Same kid stops to puke – in the finish chute – before the line. That sucks. I think of the 16,000+ behind me that have to run by that and have a whiff… yuck. I give it all I have. 6:15 pace for the last 1/10th. 1:36:13. Disappointing, but still the second fastest Half marathon I’ve ever run.

While I was disappointed with my time, it was impossible to be less than thrilled with my placement – both overall and in my age group. I finished in 431st out of 16,000+ (top 2.5%), and 47th out of 1,000+ in my age group (top 5%). All that, despite being passed by hundreds in the final 2 miles of this race. It really left me wondering what I can do at this distance. I know that if I’m healthy I have a sub 1:30 in me – somewhere. To go 1:36 on a day where nothing seemed to go right left little doubt. On second thought, I change my mind. One thing did go right… After wandering the streets of Miami for 30 minutes after the race, I did manage to stumble upon my car. Bonus…

***As a footnote to this story… After a couple of days, the “pain in my butt” localized, and I suspected that my Piriformis pain was actually being caused by a tight hamstring. After a week of rest and stretching, the Piriformis pain went away, but the “Pain in the butt remained”. I finally saw the doctor, and he delivered what I feared – Partially torn hamstring and a Grade 2 strain in my left hamstring. Meaning… I ran this race with a partially torn hamstring muscle, and, as I look at the results, I chuckle. I wonder how it could have been if I was healthy.

Ahhh… the calendar flips to January and Old Man winter decides to show up. Better late than never, Bud. Through January 12th, Rochester, NY had a whopping 5″ of snow, and most of that happened while I was in Florida over the holidays. My rake is still in front of my snow shovel, and I have yet to wear any of my winter running gear. Only one run over icy sidewalks (the TIGR Irondequoit Marathon), while there have been several in shorts in December. January 11th was 50 degrees and sunny… What’s going on here?

As they say, that was the past… January 13th saw temperatures fall to the low teens, and, with snow and wind, we were reminded what it is supposed to be like in Upstate New York in January. Six inches of fresh snow was beautiful to look at. In the back of my mind, all I could think about was – I have to race in this stuff tomorrow morning. I desperately hoped that it would get a little warmer, the snow would stop and a plow would scrape it off to bare pavement. No luck on any of those three wishes. 14*, still snowing, and the unplowed roads were the consistency of cookie dough under a 3″ layer of fluffy white snow. To add a bit of a challenge, these roads were plowed yesterday afternoon, and that left a thin sheet of ice in the low spots, and… since you couldn’t see it, you didn’t know where the ice was to avoid it.

I train on these roads almost every day, so I wasn’t missing this race. The Goldrush running group that I run with on Saturdays was the sponsor of this race, and it is named in honor of Don Curran – a founder of the group who passed away on one of those Saturday morning runs. While I never met Mr. Curran, this was even more reason to get to the starting line – regardless of the weather.

As I drove to the site, I couldn’t help but look to my left to have a look at Lake Ontario. She was rolling over – whitecaps out quite a ways. The lake should be frozen by now, but it’s still in the 40′s. We’re in for it if the wind changes. My thoughts return to the race, and I went from “Have a great race” to “I hope I don’t get hurt”. I saw Gibby as soon as I pulled in, and we decide to warm up together. I wear a jacket and a pair of trainers (trying to keep my racing shoes dry). It’s chilly and very windy. The roads are slushy and awful. I know this is going to be a lousy run, even though I feel great. As we get to some pavement, I hear this sound – it sounds like someone has a rock in their shoe… It’s not me. Gibby… He says he put screws in the bottom of his shoes. Sly dog!! Lesson learned. After a 2 mile warmup, we get back to the start. I head to take off some clothes and change my shoes. I wanted to try racing in less this season, so, despite the 14* temp, I was wearing a performance mock, arm warmers and a tech shirt. The wind was a concern, but it’s a 20 minute race. We’ll soon find out if this is OK.

We get in the starting corral, and my shoes are icing up just standing there. I stomp my feet to remove the ice. Again. And again. All of a sudden, I hear “Runners SET”, “GO!!” I’m way off to one side, but one row back from the front. We surge forward as the start is downhill. Immediately, the pack thins out. As we pass the 3 mile sign (facing the other way), 1/10th of a mile into the race, we are almost single file already – strange this early into a race, especially given the size of the race (250+ runners). The roads are slippery, and my frozen shoes are taking me all over the place. Running down that first hill, I pass Gibby. Just a clue, but what the heck am I doing??? I try to slow, but I can’t. As we get the the first corner, I look ahead to see the pavement on Lakeshore Blvd. Just as I’m happy to see that, I hear a splash, then another. I look down, and the first one was the guy in front of me soaking my right leg. The second one was me soaking my right shoe and my left leg. SUPER!!!

Gibby's in the Green Jacket. What am I doing??? DUH!!! Starting to run in tire tracks.

Up Lakeshore at a crazy sub 6:00 min/ mile pace. I know it’s too fast, and I know I’d pay on a normal day, but I suspect that I’ll need as much time as I can get when the roads are decent, and I’ll be forced to slow later, so I go with it. Onto Colebrook – frozen. Onto Oakridge. Horrible. We are running single file. There is one tire track, and we are all in it. If you move out to pass, you’ll slow down, so I just stayed where I was. We turn onto Edgewater Dr. for a brief downhill reprieve before continuing uphill. The 1 mile mark is on that uphill, and I pass it in 6:22. I’m really lucky to be going that fast, and I know the fast part of the course is still ahead of me.

As we run up the hill, we lose our tire tracks, and my feet start slipping all over the place. I can’t get a grip, and there is no push off. People start running by me. This stinks!! As we round the corner onto Colebrook, I hope for better roads. No such luck. My pace slows to around 7:00/ mile. We get to Washington and I hope to really fly here. Almost 60 feet downhill over a 1/2 mile stretch. Last year I was on a sub 6:00 min/ mile pace through here. This year – 6:45 and happy to be upright. As we turned onto Eaton Rd, there was a glimmer of hope – a clean (but wet) intersection. That was short lived, however, since Eaton was just like all the rest. No tire tracks, just frozen slop. Past mile 2 with a 6:52 mile and running at 6:37 for the race. I know this race is going South, but I can’t do anything about it.

The rest of the way is pretty flat, but the finish is uphill. I was hoping that I could hold my 6:37 pace to the finish. I knew this would be a tall task.

Down Eaton Rd. back to Colebrook and then to Lakeshore. At least this was downwind now. I pick up the pace as much as I can (I get down to the low 6:00 min/ mile pace right before we head back into the park. All that’s left is about 1/4 mile – uphill in the slop. I try to hold the pace and I can’t. My legs are going everywhere. I can see the finish line and it says 20:44. Ughh… that’s not so good for me. Over a minute slower than last year. Gibby yells “Pick it up!!! He’s gaining on you!!” I try. There’s not much left. The guy 2 people ahead of me slips and falls on the timing mat – not good. I cross in 20:56 and was able to hold off the guy behind me. 20 seconds slower than last year. Good thing I held that guy off – he was in my age group.

"Pick it up!!! He's gaining on you!!"

I ended up finishing in 27th place overall, and 4th in my age group despite my time. I guess it was tough for everyone. While I don’t know where I rank in the series, I did beat the guy who beat me in the first race. There were a couple of VERY fast times in the 2nd race (that I didn’t race in), so I’m guessing I’m probably in 3rd or 4th place with 2 races to go.

Afterwards, Gibby and I took I nice easy recovery run through the roads in Durand Park. The snow changed to big, fat flakes, and for a moment, the sun came out too. Running though the fresh powder with the snow clinging to the pine tree branches reminded me why I love running when it’s a winter wonderland. Add in some great conversation with a good friend, and it was a perfect ending to a nice race day. Funny how we were able to turn a 3.1 mile race into an 11 mile run with a 3.1 mile race in the middle of it.

1700 miles of run training. 2100 miles on the bike. 4 hours in the pool – LOL. OK, it was 14 swims in 7 hours. 23 races (1 was a DNF). 19 PR’s. For races that I’d previously competed in, all but one were faster in 2011 than any other year (I was sick for the one that wasn’t). This was a season that allowed me to hit performance levels that I thought were “impossible” in the fall of 2010. Times and paces that I thought were unattainable, now stood next to my name. Top 3 placings were routine – in fact, I had 18 top 10 Age Group finishes (the 4 that weren’t top 10′s were top 10%). A USAT National Ranking in Duathlon? The Boston Marathon? Pinch me.

On a recent run, I reflected back on the 2011 season, and then my running and racing up to the 2011 season (I feel that I turned a corner sometime in the summer or fall of 2010). The reflection was intersting. I remember agreeing to my first marathon and my brother said “Go buy “The Competitive Runner’s Handbook” by Bob Glover”. I did. In the book he talks about categories of runners (Elites, Local Champions, etc. all the way to Novice Competitors). I tried to figure out where I was. Being competitive, a reasonably good athlete and clueless, I assumed I fell into the “Advanced Competitor” group. I chuckled as I remembered this. My first 10K was a 51+ minute affair that left me gasping for air and thirsty for more. That effort produced a middle of the pack finish for a very average runner. I remember thumbing through the results that Thanksgiving day and wondering. How? How in the world do these people run THAT fast?? It’s funny, because I still wonder the same thing after every race. There are fewer ahead of me now, but those that are run ridiculous times that leave me scratching my head. According to Bob’s book, I’ve graduated to a Local Champion and his description of that groupset is very flattering – This level is achieved by those with the talent, dedication and energy to reach at least the top local class. This is a serious level of competitve training. The local champion usually finishes in the top 5 or 10 of his age group in local races, and sometimes wins. Wherever I fall, It has been a challenging, but fun and rewarding ride. 2011 was a season to remember for me. It was quite a ride.

Rather than break this recap down by race (I’ve already done that in previous posts), I thought it’d be fun to look at the season as a whole…

In February, 2011, I won 3rd place in the 40-44 Age Group in the Freezeroo Winter series. This was a 6 race series in which your top 4 races counted towards the season series. I had only run 4 races, so they all counted. I had a 6th, 2nd, 4th, & 5th place Age Group finish in those 4 races. My overall finishing places ranged from 18th to 29th (in fields of 250+).

In March, 2011, I started a quest to compete in the Rochester Runner of the Year (RROY). 11 races. You need to race in a minimum of 5 races and your top 6 count. I only raced in 5, and one of those finishes was outside of the top 10, so, my score was only computed on 4 races. Still, I managed an 8th place finish for my Age Group for the season. Until this year, I had only scored points in ONE RROY race.

The Summer brought on the start of the Triathlon/ DUathlon season. My love affair with Triathlon Swims isn’t growing, so, I put more energy into the bike and run this year and changed my focus primarily to Duathlon. In the past, I’d use DU’s to prep me for Tri’s. This year, I used Tri’s to prep me for DU’s. The 2011 SCORE THIS!!! Multi-sport series consisted of 4 races. I registered for 3 of them (and subsequently dropped out of one due to illness). The season score was based on your top 2 races. I managed 2 PR’s, and (2) 3rd Place Overall finishes. These 2 performances were good enough to earn me the third place Overall Male for the 2011 Series (Overall, not Age Group). Racing in smaller fields, but being in contention to win taught me a new way of racing – racing up front and racing against the field as opposed to racing against my own previous times. I liked this new style of racing very much.

Funny thing happened as my racing improved in 2011. In Triathlon and Duathlon, each race is “scored” in order to give each athlete a National ranking. The scores I was receiving for the races I was racing were improving – dramatically. Last year, my season average for DUathlon was 79.52 – good enough for a national ranking of 117 in the 40-44 age group. This year, I’m up to 85.45. Moving up 1 point in these scores is a seemingly impossible task. Moving up 6+ points is unthinkable. For 2011, in my Age Group, I ended up finishing in 72nd Nationally and 6th in New York State. My Triathlon score improved too – not by as much, but there are more people, so the smallest jumps leapfrog a lot of people. I moved up 3 points and almost 1000 spots in the Triathlon rankings. In my Age Group, I finished the year ranked 1168th Nationally and 67th in New York State for 2011. Too bad they don’t have this for runners…

In September, 2010, I was driving home from Augusta, GA and trying to figure out what to do next. I had some unfinished business with the Marathon distance, and I really wanted to give myself a shot at running in Boston. So, I trained – hard. I was in a precarious spot. My qualification time to get into Boston was 3:30:00 since I’d be running it in the 45-49 age group. I had only run 1 marathon slower than that, but… anything can happen on race day, and, I really wanted to get in with a Sub 3:20:00 effort – the way I was originally trying to qualify. In January, 2011, I ran a 3:23:09 in Miami and I got my elusive BQ. It wasn’t a great race for me, and it wasn’t the way I wanted it, but I got it. Two weeks later the BAA changed the registration process for the 2012 Boston Marathon – even though I had run my BQ, I thought I might still not get into the race. That wasn’t an option for me. I needed a better time to get into Boston, so I registered for the Cleveland Marathon in May, 2011. I ran a 3:17:52. A new PR (by 5+ minutes) and a BQ the way I really wanted it to happen. On September 16th, 2011, I was officially accepted into the Boston Marathon.

This season has been beyond my wildest dreams. Until I got into this season, I could not fathom racing at the speeds that I was able to race at in 2011. All of this is not without sacrifice. Several people have made me better, driven me to be better or allowed me to take the steps to be better.

To the Gold Rush Runners… The day I started running with Ya’ll, is the day I started getting better. You guys make me a better runner every Saturday morning. Your race times were the ones that I thought were just goofy 18 months ago, and now I dream about getting them with you guys. Thanks for the push, the advice and the good times.

To JB, Gibby, and Barry… Everyone needs someone to train with. You guys are the best. I love the camaraderie and the stories. I look forward to every run, ride and swim. Just when I can’t go any faster or further, you always do. You three make me better. I’m grateful for that.

To Mom and Dad… Thanks for coming to my races and listening to the stories about them when you couldn’t come. I’m sure the stories bore you, but I love telling you about them. Dad, the message you left me after I got accepted into the Boston Marathon was one of the most special things you’ve ever done for me. It meant more than you’ll ever know. And Mom, I love seeing your smiling face at the races. I can picture the two thumbs up and hearing you say “Go, Jim!!!” when I need it most (usually in some form of Oxygen debt from racing too hard – LOL). Thanks to you both!!

To T… We talk on the phone more days than not. We bounce questions and ideas off each other. Unfortunately, we only get to train a few weeks per year together, and we race together even less. You are an unbelievable triathlete – the whole package. I envy that and you drive me to train harder (probably without knowing it). Your performance at Ironman Louisville was beyond inspirational. I got choked up following you on the internet that day. You truly are an IRONMAN. More than that, you are the best friend and brother that everyone should have.

To Jackie and the kids… Thanks for all your support. I LOVE having you three at every event you come to. It seems like whenever I need a smiling face, a sign or a cheer, a high five, or someone to run down the finishing chute with me – you’re there. You stood in the wind and rain on a miserable mid-40 degree day in Cleveland to watch me bust a new PR in the marathon and get my ticket to Boston. You froze right along with me at the freezeroos. You ran with me at the Fathers Day and Fourth of July races. You got up at the crack of dawn to watch me exit the water of the finger Lakes tri and then disappear for two hours on the bike and run courses – but you were there when I finished. I’m inspired by all you do – athletically or not. Danielle with your gymnastics and Adam with your hockey and baseball. To you both – your grades… Those must come from your Mother. . Jackie- you’re the glue that keeps us all together. I’m not sure how you do it. Thanks for the notes you leave me in my race bag when you can’t be there – I bring them into transition with me or carry them in my Fuel Belt for good luck. Thanks for dealing with my bikes all over the house and my sweaty clothes hanging in your other closet. Thanks for listening to every race detail and putting up with my ugly feet. LOL I know that this hobby of mine adds a strain to what we can do as a family, and I sincerely appreciate all the latitude and support you give me while I follow my dreams.

3800 miles of training. 320+ hours. 300+ workouts over 365 days. Over 300,000 calories burned. Other hobbies and activities are cast aside. Running in the dark, or the rain, or the 90+ degree heat, or the snow covered roads. Riding at the crack of dawn or at break-neck speeds to beat the setting sun. Lap swimming, treadmill running and riding the bike on the trainer. Sneaking in just before the first pitch or the first vault because I was racing on the same day. Limping and hobbling at family picnics due to a tough workout. Having to bring my bike and a bag full of running stuff, swimming stuff and nutrition and fuel on a family vacation. Is it worth it?? Selfishly, of course it is.

I can only hope 2012 will afford me a season half as much fun as this one was.

To me, this isn’t the last race of 2011. Instead, it’s the first race of the 2012 Season. Since the Freezeroo series is just that – a series – it seems logical to me that this one should go with the rest of my 2012 races. Right? Right. I did the Freezeroo Series last year for the first time. It’s a series of winter races that are reasonably short – from 5K’s to 8 miles – in generally bad conditions that help us fill the racing calendar at a time when there isn’t much else to do. There is a race every other weekend from mid December through the end of February. Last season, I found myself really looking forward to these races. I raced hard and finished 3rd in my Age group for the series. Needless to say, I was looking forward to another strong finish in the series this season.

I was planning on running the first race in the series anyways, but as I looked at the schedule and my calendar, it became clear that I needed this race (you need a minimum of 4 races to be eligible for the season series and your best 4 results count as your score). I knew I’d be out of town for the 2nd and 4th races, so this one mattered – not that they all don’t, but I wanted a good finish. I hadn’t run this race in the past, so I didn’t really know what to expect of the course. I didn’t really have the time to find out beforehand, so I’d learn as I went.

As I said in the post for the Race with Grace 10K on Thanksgiving, I hadn’t been doing any fast running since the summer, so I didn’t know what to expect. I still haven’t done anything since the Race with Grace either, and I did actually try a week or so, and the result “wasn’t pretty”. My expectations were getting lower. I talked to Gibby about the race. He said “just go out there and Rip it”. Why did that sound so easy??? I tried to come up with a good goal. I came up with two. First, my 5 mile PR is 33:02 (6:36/ mile) – try to get in the ballpark of that. Second, have a good performance relative to the field and my age group

I got to the race and saw Barry. He rode his bike to the race – probably 10 miles from his house and chilly (perhaps 28 – 30*), but sunny and little wind. He told me how much clothing he had to bring – I think I’d rather drive with heated seats… James Brennan was there. I also ran into Dr. Katz, from my CC of Mendon days. He and I started running competitively about the same time. We ran a 2 mile warmup together (perhaps the first 1 1/2 miles of the race course). It was nice to catch up. As we finished the warm up, I started to think “why did you run that far to warm up when you’re needing fresh legs for the race?”. Oh well, water under the bridge. Five minutes to go. I took in a gel, ran a few strides at race pace, and got in the pack at the start line.

Nothing beats the start of a race – especially a short one. Everyone is jockeying for position. People who belong there and people who don’t. Start to fast and you risk blowing your race. Start too slow and you may not catch back up. I think adrenaline always gets the best of me, so I try to start further back to not go out so fast. I’d rather pass (hunt) then be passed (hunted) anyways. I saw James line up a few rows from the front, and I thought I’d start just behind him. 5…4…3…2…1…0… Horn goes!! And, we’re off. I want to run my race, and I want to run it by feel. I vow to only look at my watch at the 4 mile markers. The first mile is very flat, and it feels very fast to me. I’m moving along at a good pace, but it feels too fast. I passed James in this stretch. He passed me back right around the 2 mile marker. They say there are some hills between miles 2 – 4, so I ease off a little. I pass the “Bad News Guy” as he says 6:20. I had that mile marker a little long and had 6:13 for the first mile. Wayyyy to fast for a race this long. Around the 1 mile mark, we start to descend to the low point on the course – a whopping 19 foot descent over a half mile. I couldn’t tell we were going downhill, but I see a ripple in the road ahead of me. We go up 19 feet over the next half mile. I know the hills are coming. My watch beeps right at the 2 mile marker sign. I look and it says 7:07 pace at that moment and 6:25 ave. for the race. Jennifer Rea passes me right at the sign. I feel like an idiot for being ahead of her – she can really run. I see Charley Plummer ahead of me. He can run too. There aren’t many turns in this race, so I can see who is ahead of me. It’s nice to watch the race unfold as I participate in it. Again, we’re running downhill – 15 feet over .6 miles – but it feels flat. That leaves us at the bottom of the “Monster” – a 30 foot climb over 1.6 miles. There were stretches where it seemed somewhat uphill, but, for the most part, I couldn’t tell it was uphill. I pass the 3 mile marker. I’m not gaining any ground, but I’m not losing any ground either. I can still see Jen and Charley. James is nowhere in sight. The 1.3 mile stretch that I was just finishing was into whatever wind there was, and it was the toughest for me in the race. I crossed the 3 mile mark after a 6:49 mile, but my average pace for the race was 6:33, still under my PR pace. I was hurting. I started to tell myself “12 minutes to go. Nope, can’t go that fast. 12 1/2 minutes. Probably more like 13. That’s 6:30′s. Maybe 13:30… Who cares? It’s not very long, just keep going!”

At the 3 mile mark, I started passing people who took the early start option. Then, I see a guy on his bike riding down his driveway. Not a fancy road bike, a single speed Huffy beach cruiser. He pulls right out into the race, right in front of me, and starts riding with the race. He’s riding slower than we’re running. I have to pass him on the grass. “Get a clue…” Passing him and the other slower runners has added some spring in my step. I wasn’t moving any faster, but I FELT like I was and it sure seemed easier. I was moving faster relative to the field. Charley and Jen were getting closer to me. By now we had turned and we were running downwind. Slightly uphill but downwind. From that point, my pace started to drop. I passed the 4 mile mark at a 6:41 pace, and my race average was 6:39. I knew it was now or never. I also knew a PR was unlikely. I was at my limit, and I figured I needed to make up 15 seconds in the last mile – or run a sub 6:20. Wasn’t gonna happen. I knew it was a good race anyways. I still started to drop it in gear. Charley was now right in front of me. The pass was inevitable, but when to make the move? 2 corners to go. I slingshot around the first one and I pulled right next to him. I didn’t mean to do that. I decided to keep going and hope I could hold on. I was running in the 6:15 range and didn’t know if I could hold that pace or if he could catch me. He couldn’t. But 2 others almost did. They finished 2 seconds and 3 seconds behind me respectively.

Almost Done!!!

Last mile was 6:30. Overall time was 33:17. It was 15 seconds slower than my best 5 miler, and it was the second best 5 mile run I have ever run. I finished in 31st place overall and 3rd in my age group. I was pleased with all of those results. Jen… She finished 25 seconds ahead of me. James… He was 50 seconds ahead of me. Dr. Katz… 35:12 – a new PR for him. Barry… 39:09 – a new PR for him too. Great running everyone!!! Now we really can start running the 2012 races in the 2012 calendar year.

Thanksgiving… A day to spend with family – after a good, hard run first thing in the morning. This race is special to me. When I started running as an adult, my first race that I started training for was the Jacksonville Marathon (duh… how clueless could I have been). No point in fiddling around with “short” races, why not just go right after the Mac Daddy??? In preparation for that marathon, I thought I needed a “tune up race”. I was running out of time, with about a month to go before the marathon, so the Race with Grace 10K on Thanksgiving Morning in 2007 looked like a perfect fit. I signed up the night before.

That first race was cold and rainy. And windy. And it took forever. The hills felt like mountains. I crossed the finish line that day thoroughly exhausted and knowing that I couldn’t possibly run 1 second faster. The clock at the finish line said 51:04. An 8:13/ mile pace. 18th place in my age group (out of 44) – top 41%. 237th overall (out of 703) – top 34%. While I was mildly disappointed in the time, I was impressed with my effort and my placings. I also knew that this race had won a place in my heart.

The 2011 version of this race had a new added meaning. It was going to be the last race in the 2011 Rochester Runner of the Year series. That meant this was the last race to grab any points, and it would surely grab an exceptional field. I had taken 2 months off racing to heal up and get my mind and body to race again as I started to train for the Miami Half Marathon in January and the Boston Marathon in April (followed by another full season in 2012). In 2 months, no swims… 3 bikes (1 on a mountain bike)… Mild sports hernia… Didn’t run at all for 9 days, then a few days later I took 5 more days off. My average mileage for the weeks that I was running was around 30 – pretty low for me. Worse yet, the intensity was down (no speed work or intervals), and my long runs weren’t really that long. Suffice it to say, I wasn’t feeling that great about this race.

I too, was looking for Rochester Runner of the Year points. I was not a factor in the overall category, but I sat in 8th place in my Age Group. In a few days, I’d learn how this would play out, but, for today, all I could do would be to race hard. The 42:26 I ran last year was about a minute faster than my previous best 10K, was good for 7th place in my Age Group and 83rd overall. A tough act to follow if I was in shape. I lowered the bar to make myself feel better and promised myself that I’d try to do my best.

Race day was a picture perfect day. Low 40′s, but bright sunshine and a light breeze (that would increase as the day wore on). I ran my warm up and my legs felt like lead. I stretched (yeah, I just said that), but it didn’t help. I did some strides. No help. Oh well… I resigned myself to the fact that it wasn’t my day and I joined the herd of 1000+ other runners making their way to the start area. I actually thought about this race, and tried to game plan the best way to run it. My thoughts… The first 2+ miles are down hill and generally down wind – start easy. Turn it into a 4 mile race. The 3rd mile will be flat but straight downwind. Now it’s an uphill, into the wind 5K – not appealing, but manageable. I thought if I was smart, I could start racing at the halfway point. As I rehearsed this plan, the gun sounded and we were moving. “I guess I’m ready to go…” I don’t look at my watch, but I want to run this by feel – NO hard breathing!!! As I approach the 1 mile marker, I hear the “Bad News” guy (the guy who yells our times on course – he’s bad news, because he always gives me the news that I’m running too fast too early in the race). 5:55, 5:57, 6:00. Are you kidding??? This is gonna be HELL. I pass him in 6:20. The strange thing is that I’m passing no one, and several people go trotting past me. Seriously??? I can see the 2 mile marker. Another bad news guy… 13:03. Good job slowing down… Dead downwind for mile 3. I cross that marker in 19:45, and 20:26 for the 5K. A great 5K time (averaging 6:34/ mile), but I also know that I’m at the LOWEST point on the course, all of the downwind sections are behind me, and I’m breathing hard now. The next 20+ minutes were gonna hurt. Mile 4 is a slow, but steady, uphill climb and into a cornering wind. 7:02. Hard for me to do much better. We turn the corner and the wind virtually shoves me backwards. I need big bodies to hide behind. Any that I can find are slowing way down. I run it on my own. I see a shadow of another runner behind me. I hear the footsteps. I know someone is using me to draft. We’re almost to the corner to head back towards the finish (another mile and a half away) and I look to tell this person behind me to help share the load. I look and this tiny little girl goes trotting by me. I hold back my comments. Even if she did try to block for me, it would be like a goose flying behind a hummingbird – a pretty accurate simile in retrospect. Still into the wind and still uphill. I was uncomfortable. Mile 5. 33:40 (6:45 pace – I don’t know how). I ran that mile in 6:57. 1 Mile and a par 4… Pick up the pace!!! Still uphill and still into the wind. Still getting passed and still not passing anyone. I begin to wonder if my watch is broken and I’m really running slower than it says I am. I can see the finish line. Finally!! Mile 6. 7:02 pace. 40:44. A good lap around the track is 1:30. 42:15??? Could that be possible?? Gotta pick it up!! My pace is dropping like a rock. 6:47 with .22 to go. 6:30. 6:22 with .11 to go. 6:15. I cross the line at a 5:54 pace – my fastest of the day. The clock says 42:09. 15 seconds faster than last year. WOW! Really? I averaged 6:47/ mile, and this was the 3rd fastest 10K I’ve ever run. I finished in 9th in my age group (out of 66 – top 14%), and 88th overall (out of 1011 – top 9%).

Like 4 years ago, I left feeling happy with my placements, but wishing I’d been able to run just a little bit faster, even though I knew deep down that I really couldn’t have run 1 second faster. After a quick recovery run with Gibby and Dave Culp, I was smiling because the rest of the day belonged to my family.

I can’t believe this race is here already. Unfortunately, this is the last Triathlon or Duathlon of the season in this area. From here on out, the weather is too sketchy to rely on. Today, we got an early dose of that. I watched the forecast all week, and it kept getting worse until it bottomed out at a high of 57*, a 70% chance of showers, and 13 MPH winds out of the NNE (read: right off Lake Ontario). I wish that’s what we got. When I got out of bed, the rain was pounding off my roof, the wind was howling, and the temperature managed to raise the mercury all they way to 45*. By the time I got to the race site, it was 42*, raining harder, and the wind was now gusting.

The Rochester Autumn Classic Duathlon is in it’s 8th year, but this is only my third try at it. This year, this race was a biggie for me. I was hoping for a good finish. I tapered for it, and spent a lot of time working on my bike to get it ready for this race. I have an “A” game, and I wanted to bring it to this race.

This race takes place in and around Mendon Ponds park. The runs are done partly on trails, partly over fields, and partly on roads. The course is hilly and full of surprises. This day was no exception. Mud (the deep, thick, gooey kind), rocks, roots, logs, puddles, and long, wet sticky grass was the flavor of the day on the run course. The bike course is done on the roads that run in and around the park. The course is moderately difficult – challenging, but not ridiculous. Today, however, we got to battle a little wind and a monsoon. The roads were going to be soaked. Streams and puddles from poor drainage were everywhere. Cornering would be difficult, and high speeds wouldn’t be too safe. This might level out the field.

I suspected that the bike times would be slower due to the deteriorated road conditions, so, a hard but smart run could ratchet me up the leaderboard. I decided NOT to use my race wheels (that I spent 12 hours working on over the last few weeks). I was concerned that the brakes on Carbon rims wouldn’t grab as much as I needed them to. I also thought the wind might effect the stability of the bike with the deep dish rims, so I opted for my standard training wheels instead. I dropped the pressure in them to get a little extra grab (sacrificing a little speed in the process). While I brought the carbon wheels too, I was confident I made the right choice.

When I got to the race site, the weather was awful. If I wasn’t already registered, I’d still be sleeping. I was registered for the F1 Duathlon – a 2 mile run/ 10 mile ride/ 2 mile run/ 10 mile ride/ 2 mile run. I contemplated changing to the Super Sprint (a shorter race that omits the 2nd bike and 3rd run), but I wanted to try the longer race. I got set up in transition and tried to keep everything as dry as possible – no easy task, and an unsuccessful one on this day. At 8:00, I decided to take a short warm up to get a look at the course. It was muddy and very wet, but it didn’t look too bad. I decided to save my energy. By the time I got back to the transition area, my feet were soaked, my legs were dripping wet, my clothes were drenched, and I was freezing. Nice warm up. Transition was closing, so we headed to the start area.

It seemed like it took 10 seconds from when we got to the start area until we went. No need to enjoy the day. Basically, we got there, had a few laughs, heard “DUATHLETES, SET…..GOOOO!!!” And we were off. My plan was to start in front, get a decent start and hang in front to avoid any problems on the first trail which was muddy (with a big puddle) and would certainly be single file, then settle into a pace. I did it – just like I wanted to. There were 4 or 5 guys who took off – really took off, then one guy, me, and another guy behind me. I had no idea who was behind him (other than the rest of the field). Through the trail single file, just like I expected. I was in 5th or 6th. Left onto the dirt road and up the hill. I passed the guy ahead of me. 50 yards later, 2 guys pass me – one on each side. What the… really?? Seems like I haven’t been passed in a race in a long time – much less double passed. I was so surprised that I actually looked at my watch. It said 6:04 – going uphill. Have at it boys. Turns out one of those runners was Scott Bagley – one of the best runners in the area for the last 30 years. I can live with that.

With the rain pouring down, it was tough to focus on the trails. Water was pooling in the single track trail. Mud was thick on both sides. My line was on the side of that. Through the under brush. Stepping on roots and rocks and running fast enough that I was genuinely concerned about rolling an ankle. Through the first mile in 6:26. That’s fast. I needed to slow a touch. The course would make me slow, but wouldn’t give me the break that I needed. Around the bend and off the the single track we headed into some serious slop. Pavement was dead ahead – finally. Onto the road, I found a rhythm. The road had standing water everywhere, and I caught myself daydreaming about riding on this same road in a few minutes. Back off the road, I turned and had a look behind me – there wasn’t anyone in close proximity to me. Through the grass again, and I started to feel my feet – they were freezing. So was my face. And my hands (which were in gloves). The bike was going to be seriously cold (and I was in a tri shirt, arm warmers, gloves and tri shorts). Over the little hill, using the roots as steps, I was still running a sub 7:00 pace. This was turning into a strong run. Back on the dirt road, we pass a water stop. A girl yells “you’re looking great. Strong run. You’re in 6th!!”. I hear her say “you’re in 7th” to the guy behind me who must be gaining. I pick up the pace. Down the hill, I can hear him right behind me as we go back through the single file trail. Through more mud, up and over another hill and he pulls even with me. He passes me on the flat section before the transition area. I come into transition in 7th with a run of 13:59. This is a great run in these conditions over this course.

I keep up the pace into the transition area. Off with my visor while I’m running. I get to my bike and put on my helmet as I kick off my shoes. I unrack the bike and run towards the bike course. In and out in 41 seconds – one of the top 10 fastest transition times of the day. I passed the last runner who passed me in transition. I’m back in 6th. I had a rubberband around the water bottle cage and the strap on my bike shoe. It stays perfectly level as I run past the bike mount line. I step on it, swing my leg over the seat and I’m gone. I pass another guy who is having bike troubles just outside the transition area. I’m in 5th.

I pedal with my feet on my shoes for a bit, then slide them in, one at a time. I reach down and fasten them without missing a beat. The road is a mess. Standing water. Streams running down the road. Puddles everywhere – some of them are fairly deep. I begin to wonder if a bike will hydroplane. The roads were terrible for this race in the spring. Not this time – freshly paved and not even striped yet. I know wet tires attract debris. Lower pressure makes them stickier. Fresh pavement tends to have small sharp objects embedded in it but protruding until the cars can press it down. Basically, I’m riding in “Flat heaven” and I wonder how to best navigate through this, since I’m not carrying a spare tube. Anyways, back to the race – I’m not going to flat. I’ll just stay a little left and keep in the car tire tracks.

A mile in, we are heading uphill. The guy I passed in transition passes me and I pass him back a few hundred yards later. The first 2 miles of this course is a few hundred feet uphill, so it’s a tough start after trashing your legs on the hills in the run a few minutes earlier. My legs were feeling it, but I crested the hill and headed towards the first tricky corner on the bike course – a sharp 90 degree right hand turn that is downhill in and out. I wasn’t sure how the bike would handle in the wet conditions. Apprehensively, I took it easy, but the bike was great. I pedaled hard out of it. I could spot the guy ahead of me and he became my target. Suddenly, I heard the “Voom, Voom, Voom” of a disc wheel coming up on me from behind. Without looking, I knew it was the guy I’d been flip flopping with over the last 10 minutes. It was. Back in 6th, but gaining on the guy in front of me. Through 2 miles, I was at 19 MPH. Slow in the grand scheme of things, but I knew this was pretty strong given the uphill and the conditions.

My feet are freezing. I feel the water pooling in my shoes. I look down, and as I pedal up, I see water running out of my shoes. This ROCKS!!! A quick glance at my Garmin computer and it says I’m traveling at 24.7 MPH – on the flat. I’m moving. The “Voom, Voom” guy is pulling away from me, but the guy in front of me is right there. I pull out and pass him. I’m back in 5th. SWEET!!! I pull back in and I hear another “Voom, Voom” guy. I watch him pass me and can’t help but think he’s nuts for riding that wheel in the wind and rain. Back in 6th. My front end feels sloppy. I look down and it looks OK. A few more pedal strokes… I feel the rim. Awww, no!!! I look down again and the whole tire is hanging out on the right side of the rim. And just like that, my day and my season were over.

Off to the side of the road, I took off my shoes and started walking back towards the last intersection – perhaps 3/4 of a mile away – in my barefeet, in the rain, it the 42* miseryfest. I hooked a ride back to the transition area, and packed my stuff while the race went on without me. 24+ minutes into a race that should have lasted 1:45:00, my brain and my body didn’t feel like they should be done, but I handed in my timing chip and had to take a DNF. How disappointing… As I drove home, I couldn’t help but ponder what a day it could have been…

The Boston Marathon… To a runner, you need not say more. To a non-runner, you probably wouldn’t understand. As a golfer, I say the Boston Marathon is like the US Open of Running – it’s where the best of the best go to race. As runners who race the marathon distance, the Boston Marathon is the ultimate prize, the king of the hill, the big Kahuna. Adding to the allure of the Boston Marathon is it’s deep tradition. It started over 100 years ago – in 1896. The mission was to run from “here” to Boston – a 24 1/2 mile run. A quick heel drag in the dirt to make a start line, and off you go. Who knew what it would become?? 15 runners took the train from Boston and ran that first race. 2012 might see 27,000. The Boston Marathon is the only exclusive race in the world. There is a Qualifying System – a time standard set for each age group, male and female from 18 to 80+. To get in? Athletes need to run another marathon on an approved course under the time standard for your gender and age group. While there are a few charity spots, it’s the only way in. If you can do it, you earn a coveted “Boston Qualifier” – or “BQ”.

In recent years, the Boston Marathon has become a bit of a “Bucket List” thing for runners around the world. as recently as 2004, the race didn’t sell out. In 2008, it sold out in February. In 2010, it sold out in 3 weeks. In 2011, it sold out in 8 hours. Sold out? Yes, sold out. That meant that even if you were fast enough to run your BQ, but you weren’t fast enough on your computer (to register), you still may not get a chance to run the race. For 2012, the BAA (Boston Athletic Association) (the group who runs the race), decided that some changes needed to be made to ensure that the highest quality field was obtained, so they modified the registration process whereby the runners who exceeded their BQ by the most (20 minutes below or more) registered first, then the 10 minute plus group, and so on until the field was full. Within each group, runners were accepted into the race by priority – not first come, first served – so, those who beat their BQ by the most had the best chance to get in. For 2013, they have taken it one step further and lowered the Qualification standard by 5 minutes for every age group (this will eliminate 10,000+ BQ’s alone). These two changes ensure that Boston is THE prize in running. For a runner like me, just having a chance to get into this race is an accomplishment. Earlier today, I received this email from the BAA:

My BAA Acceptance letter

For me, this journey started while lying on the infield of a track in Jacksonville, Florida with my brother. Minutes earlier, we had just completed our first marathons together. He started it… Back in August, 2007, he said he wanted to run a Marathon with me. I didn’t have a good excuse not to do it, so I said I would. Although we lived 1500 miles apart, we trained the same way – the same distance at the same speeds – each day. Race day came, and the plan was to run the race together, and for 25+ miles, we did. My IT band was screaming at me to stop for 18 of those miles, but 4:00:02 later, I crossed the finish line. He snuck it in in under 4 hours with a 3:59:30 something.

My sister-in-law asked my how I was feeling. All I could manage to say was “Never Again…”. I couldn’t get up. I felt just awful, but the sense of accomplishment was beyond words. I called Jackie to let her know that I was still alive. She said “So, how was it?”. I said “If you ever let me do another one of these, I’m leaving you”. We laughed, but I think she knew.

Jacksonville, 2007

While I was in pain and happy to be done, something inside me was mad that I didn’t get it done in under 4 hours. I had no time goal going in, but the difference between a 4 hour marathoner and a 3:59 marathoner is a BIG deal to a runner. On the plane ride home, i had time to reflect and think – a dangerous combination. One thought was …if I ever do another one of these, I think I’d do this, this and this differently… That’s all it took. I told those thoughts to Jackie on the way home from the airport. She simply said “I knew it”.

By May, 2008, my running was really improving. To the point of where the unthinkable became a goal of mine – i wondered if I had what it took to get into the Boston Marathon. Six months earlier, that seemed so far out of reach and so ridiculously hard core, that it was unfathomable to me. In June, 2008, I started training for the Rochester Marathon with the hopes and dreams of finding a ticket to Boston at the finish line. After 18 weeks of training, we were greeted by a day that was extremely hot and humid. With some severe dehydration issues, I DNF’d (did not finish) for the first time in my career.

Rochester Marathon, 2008

To say I was bummed after that is an understatement. The next day, I registered for the Winglass Marathon, which was to take place 3 weeks later. I was determined to make this one count. I did – almost. I needed a Sub- 3:20 marathon to get into Boston. I ran a 3:24:19. While it’s tough to be disappointed with a 35+ minute PR, I was. I really wanted that sub 3:20.

Winglass Marathon, 2008

The Disney Marathon was next – in January, 2009. I kept my training up after Wineglass and showed up to the starting line tired and mildly injured. I had a problem with my foot, but I could run through it. Walking through the expo, I KNEW this was my race. Another PR – 3:23:07, but no BQ. UGH!!! What do I have to do? I finished in 391st place out of 15,000 runners, and it started to validate what I was hoping was true – for the first time in my running career, I thought maybe I’m not dreaming. Maybe, just maybe, I am good enough. I knew I needed to work harder.

In the fall of 2008, I began to get interested in Multisport races – Triathlon, Duathlon, etc. My body was beat up from almost 2 straight years of run training for marathons. I needed a break, and multisport was that break – for almost 2 years. After finishing my first Half Ironman Triathlon in September, 2010, I was driving home and I had time to reflect and think – that deadly combination again… I thought I was in pretty good shape, and, with winter coming, it would be a shame to let this fitness go to waste. I though maybe it’s time to run another marathon. Afterall, if I ever wanted to try to get my elusive BQ, THIS was the time. I was 44, but the 2011 race was sold out, so I was working on qualifying for the 2012 race – when I’d be 45. At 45, my qualification time would go up to 3:30. With that, I registered for the 2011 Miami Marathon. I met Dan Giblin (Gibby) several times through our sons baseball season, and we chatted about running and triathlon. He made a comment that I never forgot – he said if you want to be a better runner, you have to run with the runners. The Saturday after the Augusta Half Ironman, I took my first run with the Gold Rush Runners. These people are all runners. Many have the same goals and aspirations as I do. Many have already been to Boston (Including Gibby, who’s running his 10th straight in 2012). I got a crash course in how to run. I had 4 races on the schedule in my Miami training. Three PR’s. The fourth was the Tour of Irondequoit Marathon. I won the race and set a new course record. The 3:42:13 wasn’t a great time, but it was in December on unplowed roads and paths, it was unsupported (no water, etc. on course), it’s among the hilliest Marathon courses anywhere, and I ran the last 18 miles alone. I was very proud of that effort.

Tour of Irondequoit Marathon, 2010

January 30th, 2011. Miami, FL. THIS was my day. Good first 10K, PR’d the Half Marathon. Felt great. Everything went great until an unexpected 3 minute pit stop at the 19 mile mark threw me off course. After that, I couldn’t get back on track. Anything can happen on race day. Still, I finished in 3:23:09. No PR, and I was mad. For 18 weeks of training, I focused on nothing else but running the race in under 3:20. Walking through the finish corral, I thought of nothing other than my time, when, all of a sudden, it occurred to me… I just qualified for Boston! I JUST QUALIFIED FOR BOSTON!!! It wasn’t the way I wanted to have it happen, but I did it. Someone handed me my finishers medal – I looked at it and said “this is MY ticket to Boston”. Finally… Just as I was getting lost in the emotion of the moment, some guy who I never met comes over to me and says “Did you do it?”. “Do what?” “Qualify for Boston?” “Yes, I did.” He said “I did too”. “Congrats”, and I reached out to shake his hand. He hugged me – sweaty body and all – and started to cry. He said “For 18 years, I’ve been trying”. It occurred to me just how special this accomplishment is. I’ll never see him again, but it’s a moment I’ll never forget.

Two weeks later, the BAA announced the new rolling registration policy and the new times for 2013. My heart sank. I had no idea what to expect, so I asked around. The consensus was a 50/50 shot at best. So, even though I had my BQ, i might still not get to run the race because that qualifier wasn’t good enough to actually get me into the field. Really??? So, I got back on the horse. I registered for the Cleveland Marathon in May, 2011

May 15th, 2011. The weather was horrible. Rain, cold, wind, yuck… Didn’t matter. I already had a BQ, so this was a bonus run. My only goal was to run for less than 3 hours and 20 minutes and find a better ticket to Boston at the finish line. Still I trained hard. I was ready. I was learning how to race a marathon, and today was the day I was going to get it right. As I turned into the finishing chute and caught a glimpse of the clock – it said 3:17: something. THIS was how I wanted it to happen. I crossed in 3:17:53. Another PR by 5+ minutes, but more importantly, I had a BQ that was 13 minutes under my qualifying standard. I was a Boston Qualifier and I did it with a PR and a sub 3:20 marathon. I ran the first 15 miles with a guy from Boston who was also trying to qualify. For 2 hours we shared our goals and dreams of running THE race. Less than 80 minutes later, we met again in the finishing corral. “Did you make it?”. “Yup, you?”. “Yes, see you there, Bud”. A high five and we went our own way, probably never to see one another again. Never was there a mention from either of us of the PR that we both ran – just the congrats on the BQ. Three years of training covering thousands of miles – done. The goal was reached the way I wanted to reach it. I started to get choked up thinking about it, and then I saw Jackie and the kids. Choked up turned into jubilation in an instant. I was going to BOSTON!!! We were going as a family. With all their sacrifices to allow me to do this – they earned the trip as much as I did.

Boston, Here I come!!

So, with that, my work was done. All that was left to do was wait – and hope to get lucky during the registration process. On Monday, September 12th, Registration opened for the BQ-20 group for 2 days. Almost 4500 applied and were accepted. This sure sounded like a lot, but I still hoped I’d get in. On Wednesday, September 14th at 10:00 AM, registration opened for the BQ-10 group (my group). At 10:01, I submitted my application. I was given Submission ID # 4779, and was told that after verifying my BQ time, I’d find out on Friday. Friday?? I can’t wait for 2 more days. So I wait. I check Facebook and the BAA website to gauge how many have registered. Over 9,000 at the end of the day on Wednesday. Almost 10,000 by the end of the day on Thursday. I knew they were taking 19 – 20,000, so I was pretty comfortable I was going to get in. Friday, September 16th. I get up and check my email. Nothing from the BAA. Seriously? I don’t want to wait any longer. Then, at 8:27 AM, it came. It’s official – I’m in.

On April 16th, 2012, I’ll be toeing the start line with the best runners in the world in Hopkinton, Ma. We’ll go past Wellesley, up and over Heartbreak Hill, down Boylston Street and finish in Copley Square in downtown Boston. I can’t wait. Se ya’ll in Beantown!!!