Instead I'm Just Crazy, and Totally Mad

In 2006 I had lofty goals for the marathon – something with a finish time around 2:50. I rolled through the half that year in 1:23:59, eventually falling apart around mile 19 with some strained core muscles that would end up bothering me all winter. I struggled to the finish line and ended up with a hugely disappointing 3:33:13.

In 2007 I lowered the goal to simply qualifying for Boston (3:10:00). This was the year of severe heat and apparent water shortages. After starting out at 7 min pace I quickly succumbed to the conditions and by mile 10 was already slower than my goal pace. It wasn’t my day, and I bailed on the race shortly after crossing the halfway point. Knowing it was only going to get hotter, and that I was already feeling the effects of the day, I didn’t need to prove to myself that I could finish a marathon. I’d done that 9 times already. I fell out of training after that; sat out the marathon in 2008 and generally stopped competitive racing.

You know about the EBONY goal for 2009, another resolution for the year came in the form of a challenge from my best friend on New Year’s Eve 2008 (mano y mano at the Shamrock Shuffle). This throwing of the gauntlet got me back on the horse, and I seemed to be working myself back into some sort of respectable running shape. Two 5k races in April followed the snowy & slushly Shamrock performance, and May brought about the Soldier Field 10 miler. My training wasn’t as aggressive or consistent as it could’ve been, but progress was being made. The wintertime inception of the Old Man Track Club helped for needed company on weekend long runs, and being asked to carry the heavy mileage on a coed Madison-to-Chicago 200 Relay team gave me something else to train for.

Another 5k followed in July, the long runs got longer in August, and a respectable half-marathon in September during my highest mileage week gave me reason to believe I might actually have a good marathon coming up in October. I’ve never trained as aggressively post-college as I know that my body and ability-level are capable of, but these are the sacrifices we make with jobs, responsibilities and social lives. I’ve always struggled going into marathons trying to find a balance between what I *know* I’m capable of and what I’m capable of *right now*.

So we arrive at the start line of the 2009 Chicago Marathon – the goal is to sit on the 3:10 pace group for 5 miles, catch the 3:00 pace group after 10 but before 15, then switch from pacing to racing for the last 10k. I’m not wearing a watch, choosing not to waste mental energy obsessing over each and every mile split.
The race starts and everything is going according to plan. The 3:10 pace seems easy, and around mile 4 I notice that I’ve pulled away from them. I don’t feel like I’m pushing things yet, so I decide to keep this effort level. Clock watching, I can tell I’m moving faster than 7 min pace, so it’s probably a little faster than I want to be. Slowing down on purpose once you’ve hit a comfortable pace is difficult, and I clearly failed at this. Split times would later show from 5k to 20k I was averaging 6:46 miles. I go by the half at 1:29:54, faster than planned, but well on target.
Tim (the catalyst for me getting back in shape to begin with) is cheering at mile 14. I run by. He doesn’t cheer for me, instead observing that the mustache I’ve given myself for the race, “Makes you look like a pedophile.” High School kids working water stations would cheer for the 'stache as well.
Around mile 15 I need to make a quick bathroom stop. Historically this has been an issue for me, so I’ve gotten pretty damned good at it. This mile probably has an extra 40 seconds, spent as efficiently as possible.

Mile 20, friend & savior Matt jumps in with me as I’ve just started hurting badly. My hamstrings and quads are as tight and sore as they can be, and my legs just feel shot. It seems getting under 6:50’s as early as I did was probably a bad idea, and I have a long history of falling apart anywhere between 18 and 24 miles into the race. Matt convinces me to stop and stretch for a minute, hoping that will help me to rebound. It does, to an extent. We get to a water stop right before the 21 mile marker. I walk with my Gatorade and tell Matt, “Here’s the deal. You get me to mile 25, don’t allow me to run anything slower than 8 minute miles, and I’ll do the rest.” We start the shuffle again. Every mile Matt reads my time, offering encouragement and a few well-placed yells. Mile 22 goes by, 7:43. Mile 23 goes by, 7:48. Mile 24 goes by, 7:55. I’m slipping further and further away from the 3-hour goal, and the two stops I made earlier during mile 20 have severely impacted my race. Boston Qualifying is 3:10, and I know I’m inching closer and closer to that time. The 3:10 pace groups, people I haven’t seen since Mile 4, begin to pass me. The wheels are coming off...
Matt and I roll by the 25 mile mark, and he doesn’t tell me my split. I ask for it, and he doesn’t say anything. I give him the death stare and demand my time. He replies, “8:11.” I reply with a very loud F-bomb that startles runners around me. We start picking it up again. I think of my friend Dan, who completed the Kona Ironman the day prior. All I'm doing is running a marathon. I think that in this year that I found out how to run competitively again I still seem to not be able to finish up a marathon. I think that I'm simply not a marathoner. I doubt myself, I curse myself, and Matt keeps talking me into pushing the pace. I yell at my legs. We finally see the turn for Roosevelt.

While I was expressing my doubts a few days prior to the race my friend Beth made her attempt at motivational speaking. She wrote to me, “Negative thinking kills everyone in everything. That’s why crazy people are so successful. Because they are so crazy they don’t think anything can stop them in what they are doing. Just get all Crazy-Kyle on the marathon. go ahead, spaz out, spaz. There is nothing to stop you. And how much does it suck to know that your dumb head is the only reason why you might mess up. It’s just a head.”

I make the turn up Roosevelt and I know my time is perilously close to the 3:10:59 I need to be under to make it to Boston. I’m pissed that once again I’ve fallen short of what I planned on running, but I know it’s still not too late to miss out on the secondary goal. I get to the top of the hill and know it’s a desperation sprint to the finish, shutting off my brain, going crazy, and I can still probably make it. Muscles burned, joints hurt, my usual rational, calculating brain has been turned off. Crazy people cannot be stopped. Crazy people cannot be stopped. 3:09:51.

A former college teammate heard them announce my name as I finished. He was 40 seconds ahead of me, so he stood and waited after the finish line. We walked through the finish area together. He’s also had a history of spectacular collapses, he ran well today, and he says, “this is the fastest I’ve ever been able to walk after the finish.” I reply, “I just want to sit down on the curb and cry for a few minutes.” We congratulate each other.

So I’m training through the winter for Boston. Halljams will be joining me. We’re now waiting for Internet Celebrity Baumer to qualify in his first marathon, and then the OMTC will be sending a trio to beantown in April. So thanks to everyone involved in my running support-group over the last 10 months – you’re much appreciated and I thank you.
I didn’t hit my goal, but it was the first full-marathon effort I’ve had in 3 years. It was the first time I’ve broken 3:10 in 5 years. And oh yeah, I’ve been to, like, y'know, 200 bars so far this year.

3 days after the marathon I've already put back on 7 lbs. They'll be shed soon enough, casualties of the solitary darkness of winter mileage.

Rick and I have some work to do these last 2.5 months. Check in often, cuz we’ll have updates. We did knock off bar #140 during Sunday night's post-marathon celebrations. I'll let Rick author that entry...he owes you a few entries anyway.

Elsewhere...check out what my brother is doing for the next two weeks.