Granted, it was an incredibly hot and humid day, 90+ degrees and insanely humid. The race didn’t start until 8AM, meaning that the sun had ample time to warm things up by mid course. But I did anticipate the conditions and tried to plan accordingly, increasing my dosage of sodium enhanced ShotBloks, Goo, Gatorade, etc..
It was a great course, hilly and pretty. The race starts just south of the town of Milford (the green pin on the map below) and heads north through wooded countryside, back into town and then a south loop again through wooded farm-like country around back to the start/finish area. All the way through to mile twelve I was feeling good. I had established a comfortable pace, and was feeling strong. In fact as I ran through the 12 mile marker I started thinking how good I felt and that I only had six and a half more miles to go. I didn't think that I was pushing myself, I was walking through every fluid station, making sure that I drank a full cup of water or Gatorade, sometimes even two. I was on target with my ShotBloks and Goo. I was feeling good.
As a testament to how good I felt, I was cruising along at an average pace of 9:30 min/mile, at least 30 seconds per mile faster than I thought I would do. It’s worth noting that the main pack moved out substantially faster – but even though I felt good enough to maybe run with them, I just let them run on by.One thing that tripped my up a bit was that I wanted to be able to chase my fuel with fluid (water or Gatorade), but the placement of the fluid stations was pretty half-hazard and it was impossible to predict where the next one would be. So that kind of threw me off a bit… If I had brought my own fluids that would not have been an issue.
I was going to bring my camel-back water pouch with me, but I decided against it…. I didn’t want to deal with carrying the extra weight and I was a little worried about the straps rubbing my shoulders since I was wearing a sleeveless shirt. In retrospect, I should have just sucked it up and done it.
My right calf started to cramp shortly after Mile 12 (on the map here, that would be just as I was leaving Milford itself and heading south - the red pin is where I turned off the GPS after realizing that it was over). At the next fluid station I made sure that I took on plenty of fluid and then moved on carefully. The cramps started hitting me more frequently by Mile 13, and by Mile 14, I was at a complete stop and in tremendous pain. Muscle cramps are the most horrible thing and there is nothing that you can do about it. Every part of your body is paralyzed as you try to cope with it. I knew that I was in trouble but at the same time hoping that it would pass and that I would be able to continue.
I must have been quite a sight. Picture a dirt country road, kind of woody with some farm fields here and there, and me standing in the middle of the road totally rigid, unable to move, and clearly in a lot of pain. I was in so much pain that I could not move. Worse yet, I was in the sun and I knew that I needed to get into the shade, but I just could not move. Many runners stopped to ask if I needed help, offering their water or Gatorade, and tried to get me to move into the shade. The best help I received was from a group of 3 nurses who got me to the side of the road near a tree and some shade who massaged my calves – that was incredible. Another runner gave me his last salt tablet. One guy was a physical therapist who instilled the help of another runner to help stretch me out. At first I didn’t want to take anything from any of the runners or even accept their help because I didn’t want to affect their run or take water that they would need for themselves. I got to the point where I was sort of shuffling (if that is what it was) down the road, ever so slowly closer to the finish line. But as the cramps were hitting my thighs a woman stopped and asked the question that all the others had asked “would you like me to get some help for you”, - and I made myself say “yes”. That was so hard for me to do. It was so hard. I am a runner, I am not a quitter. But I clearly was not in control of my situation. I was so angry. She ran up to the next aid station she also got on her phone and called 911.
I sort of continued to shuffle my way down the road trying to stay in the shade. Now mind you, I’m not really walking. I’m doing more of a penguin walk, kind of hunched over and moving my legs in a stiff and stilted way. After a few minutes a cop car pulls up from behind me and the police woman asks me if I was the runner that needed help. I couldn’t help myself from replying “no, I always run like a penguin….” before admitting that yes, it was me that she was looking for.
Moments later an ambulance, a fire paramedic truck, two volunteer paramedics, and a race marshal converge on me, all of them with their lights on and sirens blaring. Sooooo embarrassing… I want to crawl inside myself and disappear. I get on the tailgate of one volunteer’s pickup trucks and the EMS guys take my vitals and start asking me questions to see if was going into heat stroke. The good news was that my vitals were all good. The EMS guys wanted me to get into the back of the ambulance but I declined saying that ambulances were similar to police cars, once you get in the back of one, it’s hard to get out…
After a bit everyone leaves except for the volunteer paramedics. And I’m starting to think that maybe I could walk the rest of the way so that I don’t have to post a DNF. I only had 3 miles to go… its not that far. So I stand up, take a few steps, and both parameds say “no way”. My calves were twitching and spazing out. Walking, or any physical exertion was out of the question. I finally had to relent and agree to let them drive me back to the start/finish area. I could not even get into the front seat of the pickup truck without my legs cramping. I had to ride in the back of the truck so that I could stretch out my legs. I was crushed, disappointed, humiliated. I was beside myself.
Much later I learned from other experienced runners that DNF also stands for "did nothing foolish", meaning that choosing not to finish was the better part of valor - live to run healthy another day. Of course, in the moment of the event itself, surrendering is a hard thing to do.
Meanwhile, back to the drawing board. Training for this marathon is becoming quite a challenge. Aside from hoping for a cold October 9th for the Marathon, I need to come up with the right nutritional recipe to keep this cramping from re-occurring. I’ve learned a few more things from the internet (from other runners who have had the same problem) and I’ll work on implementing those ideas. I am still planning on doing the 22 mile training run in two weeks. I have to be able to do 20 miles or else the marathon itself may be in jeopardy. Gotta do it.
The marathon is 5 weeks from today. I have to make it work.
PS: to add whip cream on top of this shitty day, while carrying my stuff into the house I dropped my iPhone (which I had taken out of its usual Otterbox protective case) and smashed the front glass on it. @#$%!!!
PPS: the day after the event (Sunday) is a nice cool, somewhat overcast, day.... what a difference a day makes! another @#$%$!!!!!
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