Twenty Six Point Freaking Two

Matt ran his first marathon on Saturday, the Ogden Marathon.  This is kind of unbelievable to me because he has only been a "runner" for the last two years and the thought of running any farther than the end of my driveway makes me nearly pass out from exhaustion.  Overall, I think it was a great experience for him; one that he's committed to doing again.  After his race was over, he was overwhelmed by all the thoughts, emotions and comments he experienced and so I told him he ought to write them down so he could reflect on the experience later.  So, without further ado, here is Matt's first ever guest post on "the blog."  Hope you enjoy it.  Special thanks to my BIL Spencer for the awesome photos.

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My First Marathon

“Just close your eyes on the bus ride up. You don’t want to know how far it is.” Good

advice for a marathon.

Some of you know that I ran the Ogden Marathon, my first this past weekend. I say

my first because for some inexplicable reason I really enjoyed the experience and

have already signed up for another. At the risk of being narcissistic I wanted to write

something about it because I’ve been so inspired by the experiences that others have

shared with me and I’ve had a lot of people ask about it.

What was I doing at 5:45 am at 5,400 ft wearing shorts in 34-degree temperatures? A

marathon. I’ve never considered myself a runner. I have short heavy legs, flat feet, a

relatively inefficient cardiovascular system and I’m easily bored – yet here I was. After

trying a 10k on a whim two years ago I’ve run a few half marathons and up to a 20 –

miler in my training. I’ve read a lot and talked to a lot of people and something crazy

told me I could do this. No one is more amazed than me that I actually got better while

training thus indulging this delusion. So here I was.

The day started at 4:30 when I woke up in the hotel (I think it was about half an hour

after Will finally went to bed.) My plan for oatmeal for breakfast didn’t work out

because I couldn’t get hot water, so I ended up eating a protein bar, some jerky, and some

shot blocks – inadequate in hindsight, then I made my way to the busses a few blocks

away. I sat next to a very nice man from Michigan who drove to Utah for his fourth

Ogden Marathon. He told me he’d been running marathons for 20 years, that this is his

second one this year (the first was Boston) and that he had another one on the schedule

in two weeks. Crazy. But he also told me that it was the best thing he’d ever done, it had

changed his life and he predicted that no matter the outcome that I would find it to be an

emotional experience. I wasn’t prepared for that.

The scene could not have been more beautiful. As the sun came up and the temperature

increased in a small mountain valley, you could feel the excitement in this crowd of

2,400 crazy people. I didn’t find anyone I knew but I did not feel alone. Am I becoming

one of them? I felt good, but my legs were still complaining a little bit about my last

training run two days earlier and I could still feel the 90 min. of basketball from the day

before. But I felt great as the mass of runners streamed across the starting line.

With the rush of the crowd and the downhill course (most of my training had been

at elevation with plenty of uphills) I was going fast – and it felt great. The winding

mountain road was beautiful and as I heard Coldplay’s Til Kingdom Come in the

background I got a little choked up. After all that work, here I was, and it was going

well. I’d set a goal to finish between 4:15 and 4:30 and as I did the math in my head my

pace was good enough that I could slow down later and still reach the goal and my heart

rate was right where I wanted it. So I settled into a comfortable pace taking regular one

minute walking breaks about every two miles and adjusting what I was listening to from

time to time.

I don’t really remember much between there and the halfway mark except that it was

going well, the scenery was unbeatable and I felt good. I’d grabbed some GU and Power

Aid at the aid stations and was moving just like I had trained. I’d slowed a little but I

hit the halfway mark at the north end of Pineview reservoir at 2:09, eight minutes faster

than the Half Marathon I ran in January. Everything was on track to meet my goal. As

we came around to head up the only significant hill towards the spillway I slowed a little

more. By mile 16 my walking breaks were starting to come a little more frequently but I

knew that once I hit that spillway it was down Ogden canyon to the finish. Surely I could

handle the downhill. It was during this time that the 4:15 pace runner went out of site

with my goal, but 4:30 was still possible. I struggled to get to the dam, but took off again

once I did.

My legs were really starting to hurt. Just before mile 20 they started to rebel. My brain

was saying run, and they ignored me. I was only able to get a couple of minutes of

running out of them before they slowed despite my pleas. Several runners were very

helpful. One man saw I was struggling and spent about 10 minutes with me running and

walking and encouraging me at my pace. I found solace with a few others who were

struggling. I kept moving forward but was getting slower and slower. At mile 22 the

cramping started, first in my right leg, then the left and then, oddly in my right forearm

– which was the worst. I was able to work through them all, but I couldn’t get running

again for more than a minute without the fatigue in my legs demanding that I walk. I

had to dig deep but I was falling apart in spite of my best efforts. This race was quickly

destroying my confidence and hope. I’ve never done anything this physically difficult,

not even close. I barely even noticed the fantastic scenery anymore.

I missed Annie, my faithful running companion. My English Springer Spaniel has run

maybe a hundred miles with me while training. With more energy than me I think she

helps pull me along, and can be a bit of a distraction. Her enthusiasm for our runs is

contagious. I needed her through the last few miles.

I passed the 25 mile marker and turned onto the straightaway toward the finish line. I

could see it. There were now more spectators and fewer runners. My goal of 4:30 was

now long gone at this pace and I was now praying just to finish, and hopefully in under

five hours. I was nearly there but I couldn’t pick up the pace. I would look at a street

sign or light or building and think “I’ll run that far before I walk again”, but I couldn’t

make it. Tears came as my emotions were starting to get to me. Had I put in this much

effort and still not be able to run across the finish line in front of all these people? Not a good feeling.

With three or four blocks to go I started to run again determined to make it to the

end. I saw Rebekah and my kids and my brother and brother in law cheering for me

from behind the barrier with just two blocks to go. I was dying but had to keep going.

Suddenly Jack, my six year old son, was running toward me. He’d jumped the barrier

and came to run the last bit with me. 

He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the

finish line. He was running as fast as he could in his flip flops and literally pulling

me with him. He cannot know how much I needed that and I could barely contain my

emotions once we crossed.

I had finished in 4:47:53. The last four miles took 51 minutes (the first four took 36.)

but I didn’t care. I was finished and, importantly, I was wiser for the experience. I had

a lot of time to think about training, pacing, nutrition, hydration, sleep and several other

mistakes I had made as I struggled through that wall at the end. I was focused and, even

at that point in time, I wanted another shot to try again and fix some of those mistakes.

My muscles were taken to their breaking point but I was uninjured – something I didn’t

take lightly. I had suffered some injuries in the past and had worked hard to strengthen

my knees, IT Band and deal with some pretty serious plantar fasciitis, none of which

caused me any significant trouble. While I didn’t hit my goal time and had more that the

usual amount of fatigue, finishing healthy was a success.

I’ve found its often easy in life to fall into the trap of thinking you’re all alone in

something and that others aren’t really paying attention to you, until you have an

experience where you realize how many people really are interested in your life and want

you to do well. I discovered later that day that my sister had recently received some

bad health news and held off telling me because she didn’t want me to worry during my

run. A colleague in Colorado not only remembered I was running but actually looked up

the race results and emailed me to congratulate me on a great race. Many other family,

friends and neighbors have shown great interest and encouragement. Some near and

far have encouraged and inspired me by sharing their knowledge and their own training

experiences. Thank you all. I am so blessed.

My companion on the bus was right. It was emotional and rewarding. I’m grateful for

this experience and I now have a much greater appreciation for how difficult this can be.

I will never forget Jack coming to my aid. I will also never forget the support from my

family that made all of it even remotely possible; Rebekah’s encouragement to go on a

run when there were other things she wanted me to do with my time; My kids cheering

and making posters and asking me how my run was. I couldn’t have done it without you.

Thank you for your love, encouragement and patience. I hope that someday we can all

have the experience together – but without the bad stuff at the end of course.