The half-marathon was Saturday. I had prepared well, and patiently. I took every precaution, down to eating a very specific pre-planned amount of food in the morning of. I thoroughly hydrated, and used the foam roller on my legs beforehand. I did very well, clocking an outrageous PR of 1:33. This also qualified me for the KeyBank Vermont City Marathon’s preferred corral.
The next morning, taking the advice of an ultra-marathon legend, I ran to recover. While I was planning on ignoring the training plan I had and only running 3 miles, I ran the full five. My knees hurt arriving home, I knew I was at the limit of pushing my legs sans-injury.
I treated the rest of Sunday and Monday as rest days, very careful not to use my legs weirdly and to take care of them. Tuesday rolled around, and it was time for my eighteen mile training run. This is the story of that run.
Pain Party, or How I Learned Not To Run 17.5 Miles In A Downpour Immediately After A Race.
Tuesday morning at 2:30 AM my alarm went off. It was time to see if the lunar eclipse was visible. Nope, clouds. Fantastic. Drank some water and went back to sleep. 7:30 AM, alarm #2. Time to get up and get ready for class. I got to the bus late, but still on time for class. Just at that moment Ben at CCTA texts me and says his Mac mini won’t boot at Cherry St. Looks like I was right on time. I stopped in and fixed the computer with time to spare to catch the next bus.
After class, which involves sitting for three hours with one break, I bussed downtown, bought a new rain jacket to run in, some fruit, and walked home. It’s a bit of a walk, about a mile. I ate and prepared. The forecast showed that in three hours or so the temperature would start dropping landing at about 40-35F, and snow would start. It was already raining at 60F. Now or never! I wore board shorts with compressions underneath, and my longsleeve thin smartwool under the raincoat. I had BodyGlide on my thighs to prevent chafing, which is mandatory on these long runs.
I couldn’t find my water bottle, and put my stainless kleen kanteen bike bottle inside my Nathan bottle caddy to help hold onto it. This would prove invaluable.
Starting out, I was unsure if I was up for this. I kept thinking maybe I should just do 5 miles, or 10. Maybe I should do this tomorrow instead. I was barraged by rain and wind, keeping my head forward and letting the hood take the brunt of the rain. At one point I started to fear hail, and was looking for cover. By the time I was at three miles I knew I was past the point of no return for treating this as a rest day. I had run down the Ethan Allen Homestead path that skirts the intervale and US127.
My left Achilles had started to complain a little. It was at this time that I noticed I had more control than I used to over my ankles and calves, and I think the race must have unlocked another level of conscious muscle control. This happens occasionally in running, the more you run (especially at intensity or fatigue) the more you learn your own body. I thought this was very cool, and began to leverage this to offset the Achilles issue.
My hands had started to grow cold. My right especially, gripping the metal bottle, but it seemed to have actually helped warm it. My left was mostly shielded by the jacket sleeve. I climbed the hill to the bridge at the end of the path, and began the crossover through the New North End. Running down Leddy Park Dr, I chanced upon my mother who was driving to the supermarket. I chatted with her a moment, probably looking ancy to get moving but secretly enjoying having a chance to stop. I asked if my water bottle was in the Jeep, still hoping to ditch this metal ball and chain.
Continuing on, I reached the champlain bike path. I felt tired but it seemed consistent, so I thought I can do this… and continued on. There were still thoughts of There’s still time to go get a ride back and There’s still time to cut this short and not do the whole distance. I pushed these aside, calling them doubts.
Around mile 6 I stopped at the lookout stairs looking over the north side of the bay. The rain was hard, and the lake choppy. Water lapped against the shore full of tree-size driftwood. I listened to the water, and for one of the first times since leaving Hawaii, I completely zoned out in the sound and breeze, ignoring the pain and the rain.
A minute later, having finished stretching my legs again (left especially), I started off. At this level of fatigue, starting again feels like trying to push a car. It eases up though, and the body just falls into it eventually. My left ankle had loosened up, this was good.
Running up the path, I thought back to the episodes during the race, and recognizing all the memories of the people showing support and the small boy giving me lemonade. Time to eat! I chose the almond butter and maple syrup for more lasting energy, saving the peanut butter and honey for the home stretch. I sank my teeth into the packet and pulled every last bit of food out. Oh… my water… well, halfway empty, probably more-so. Better ration it.
I passed a woman running, at which point I mustered all the charisma I could to say “Good Afternoon!”, to which she replied “It’s not that bad, right?”. It was still raining fairly hard. This at least helped to validate my being out here, slowly growing colder and wetter as water snuck in through the sleeves and collar, and sweat slowly did its job from the inside out.
A short while later my right Achilles arrived at the Pain Party fashionably late. I welcomed it with a grimace and continued on. At this point chafing was beginning to become a problem, but I didn’t think it bad because I knew I had anti-chafe on.
The waterfront path has the unfortunate design of going flat in a straight line. This can make it seem endless, which either helps you zone out, or becomes a personal hell of mileage. I finally reached the bridge after what seemed like an eternity. Running up it, I could see the river and lake were both very high, and flooding was at the brink of occurring near some houses. I ran down the concrete path (which felt pleasant), then out onto the road. Half-heartedly dodging puddles with tired legs, I continued on toward the park. Avoiding puddles wasn’t entirely necessary, but they do add a level of wetness that somehow escapes after a while and I didn’t want to have happen too many times.
I reached the park where the race had started three days ago. I hit the gravel path and took every chance I could to run on grass. The Garmin vibrated. 9 miles. You can run to the causeway, but you need to stop at 18 miles on the way back I promised myself. Almost to the causeway, there was still snow on the side of the dirt road in the drainage. Being an adult, we don’t often see these things anymore and really think about them, but it brought me back to a time living in North Brattleboro and wandering up the dirt road during mud season. Running is an incredible way to get old memories to seep out of the cask of time, and one of my biggest thrills in the sport.
I reached the causeway at 9.6 miles. Actually resting, I dropped my bottle. I contributed to the lake’s ecosystem. Then I stretched my legs again. This sort of helped my right, but not really. I had stopped for too long, I was getting cold beyond recovery. I started again, with little water left. Just halfway to go.
Immediately I felt the type of drag that makes one not want to leave bed in the morning. I knew the temperature was dropping fast and I had to make it home in good time, but part of me wanted to just curl up on the side of the road and fall asleep. My right Achilles was still alive with soreness and I was already hungry again. I shoved all this physical trauma into the back of my mind and focused my thoughts elsewhere.
When runs become this difficult, it’s sometimes impossible to reach “flow” as some call it, and I end up focusing on the run itself for miles. Reaching Buckingham Drive for the second time, I was now following Saturday’s race course for the next handful of miles. The pain also blurs memory and I forget details to a certain point.
I looked out at the water one last time and broke back up Leddy Park Dr. I stopped in at the park to check the water tap, but it was still shut off from winter. Same situation on every building I found. I knew I was hydrated enough to make it back, but it was barely. Instead of taking the recreational path back home, I took the rest of North Ave. I figured the traffic and distraction would be valuable, and it was better to not be alone where nobody could find me.
I ate my peanut butter and honey pack early, knowing I needed it. I also downed the last half-mouthful of water in my bottle and tried to catch rain in my mouth. I didn’t care about puddles at this point, my feet were drenched. Arriving back in my neighborhood, I still had just under a mile left. I opted to run once around the block and end at that. Just before this point, I started to have real foot pain in my right foot. Apparently I found my maximum mileage. I continued landing in puddles on purpose because the cool water helped, and seemed to absorb some impact between my foot and sole too.
Arriving at my stoop, I felt destroyed. I did basic stretches on the steps. Getting inside, the first thing I did was grab a mango and walk into the shower. My thighs were bleeding from chafing and my very unfortunate left nipple was sore. I stretched a bunch and took all the supplements I had. I then downed a smoothie of 6 bananas and a cup of strawberries, and extra protein powder. Following this, I promptly laid down and watched the Google Ara Developers Conference in bed.
