2018 Glass City Marathon: In a word, BUH

Buh.  Every single part of my body hurts from running the Glass City Marathon in Toledo, Ohio yesterday.

hurt hurt and more hurt.

I had some high hopes for a PR yesterday.  Alas, it wasn't meant to be.

It's not that the day didn't have a lot going for it.  The weather was fantastic, the course was as flat as ever, I had a good breakfast, my old friends who put us up made some pretty excellent pre-race coffee (and let us crash at their place), and Mother Nature managed to call before the race (for once!).  Also, pretty much no one showed up to race, so I had the course to myself.

Not really.  There were plenty of people there to watch me suffer.

Before the start, I was feeling pretty confident about a stress-free race.  I owed that good feeling to that Mother Nature call, but also to my Christmas Story throw-away shirt and my tie-dye shoes.

How could I not have had a good race with
these good luck charms?

But that good feeling had disappeared by mile 13.  I won't bore you with every little thought that went through my head per mile (most of those thoughts were "WHY IS THIS SO HARRRRRRD"), but I will bore you with my own little breakdown of the race:

Miles 1-4: Hey I'm doing OK....I have to go to the bathroom already?!?.

These were some good miles.  I was really focusing on not starting out too fast and running a 9:30 pace, which I pretty much did...until I had to use the port-a-john at mile 4 and wait for a bazillion years.  But I reasoned that it was still early, and I could make up the time...so I darted out of that port-a-john with a spring still in my tie-dyed step and resolved to catch up the 4:15 pacers.

Miles 5-9: Why does this feel so HARD?!?

I did catch up to and managed to pass the 4:15 pacers, and then I continued to truck along at my desired pace.  But by mile 9 my legs were kind of tired...and my left hip began to feel sore.  My hamstrings had started to whine a bit as well, but I kept telling myself to suck it up, buttercup--a marathon isn't supposed to feel good.  It's supposed to feel bad because that's why we run these things, don't we?  To make ourselves feel bad so we can collapse at the finish and swear at people.  Or, at least that's why I do it, anyway.

Miles 10-15: Let the BUH begin.

Mile 10 began with a nice trip to another exotic port-a-john along the side of a bike path.  I then managed some decent splits (9:30) until it all fell apart in mile 15.  My legs were heavy and dead, my left hip was really nagging me, and my left calf had decided it was going to join my left hip in whining at me.  My left leg pretty much didn't feel like it was going to work for much longer....so I decided two things: 1) my PR wasn't going to happen today, and 2) I was going to do walk/run intervals: 4 minutes on and 1 minute off.  The intervals were just what my left hip and calf needed, until....

Miles 16-24: Just busting out some intervals until I wear myself out 2 miles before the finish line.

While the intervals were a great idea, running the 4 minutes at breakneck speed to make up time was most definitely not.  As a result, I had to visit yet another port-a-john at mile 21 and I was pretty much spent by mile 24, where my left calf decided to cramp up along with my hip so I could no longer do 4 minutes of continuous running without these two mutinous body parts revolting with cramps.  But that didn't stop me from taking stupid race photos; I dug deep and found the energy for some stupidness.

I feel horrible oh look a camera WHEEEE

Miles 25-26.2: Just hobbling along to the finish.

Every time I tried to run, my left calf would cramp up quite nicely, making me stop and hobble for a few minutes.  That's pretty much how I made it to the finish, sucking up that cramp as I ran through the doors to the Glass Bowl stadium so I could at least look like I was running as I crossed the finish line.

Don't be fooled - that's a grimace, not a smile.

In the end, what matters are these things:

• I got to see good friends this weekend who put up with my getting up at 4 AM on a Sunday to go run 26.2 miles.
• I finished.  I had a really crappy time, but I finished.

Double buh.

• I got the medal.

• I tried to strangle a unicorn in Indiana on the way home.

Thanks for all your NO HELP during the race, magical creature.

• I'm going to sign up for this one again and now I am freaking determined to get the PR that I know is there for me on that course.  Until next year, Toledo.

Tomorrow's workout:  I'm thinking some light upper-body weights.  If a part of my body stops hurting, that is.