Something to Be Proud Of

Races used to be little more than crossing the line first. Hundreds of races later, I still try to win, but there’s a lot more to it than that. The 2008 Lincoln National Guard Marathon had me running down memory lane before the race started and long after it finished. We came as strangers from every state and territory, but it felt more like a family reunion. On the surface, we had two things in common: being a member of the National Guard and being runners. Those common ties were enough to drop the barriers and see that our annual meeting was more than just a marathon. We talked about fallen soldiers and airman, lost loved ones, stories of success and so much more that this marathon was, in a lot of ways, insignificant.

I arrived in Omaha, Nebraska on Friday and waited to meet my Washington team mate for the first time. With a small number of athletes from each state/territory, I suppose it was much the same for a lot of us. We had a little over an hour to talk on the way to Lincoln. This was my fifth trip and his first, so I was glad to be able to answer his questions. All guard members were staying in the Embassy Suites, which is also the host site for the expo. I’m so grateful that they allow the troops to stay at the government rate, which is far less than what they usually charge. This is a high end place that takes excellent care of its guests. Our check-in requires a bit of a military processing line, which is necessary since we’re on orders to be there.

The atmosphere was comfortable and easy. Wearing team apparel or anything indicating I was military was enough to get a warm greeting from anyone else. Usually it was military, but the town is very supportive of the troops. It definitely makes one proud to serve. The connection with other athletes was unbelievable. It didn’t matter if we knew each other or not, we were brothers and sisters. A few I have raced with previously as an All Guard Marathon Team member, which is the top 40 men and top 15 women. Others were triathletes whom I’ve raced with and against in civilian and military races. We came as a host of teams, but it was apparent that the only time that would matter was when they added up the times of the athletes to determine the top five.

The first night there, I volunteered for the beginner’s recruiting and retention class. We get our funding to serve as recruiter’s aids, rather than just as a military sponsored team. In that sense, we have to earn our keep. We have a booth in the expos for the races we attend in order to provide information about the National Guard and our team. As an athlete, you probably know just how awkward it sounds to have someone who doesn’t even know how to pronounce triathlete try to talk to you about your sport. Having an athlete to connect with makes the conversation a lot more productive. After the class, we nearly took over the Spaghetti Works restaurant for dinner as we got to know each other.

The next day, I got up early to help out with another class for a while before cutting out early to solve my missing race entry problem. My name wasn’t on the list and the race was full. As it turns out, the race director had been informed through the guard coordinator that I wasn’t on their list. I was fully prepared to explain my situation in detail. I went to the information booth, they asked me my name and I suddenly felt like a big deal among 6,000 runners. They ushered me to the head of the packet line, handed me a packet they had already prepared, refused to take any money and were prepared to continue helping me in whatever way they could. It made me feel pretty good. They did that because they genuinely care, because it’s clear from my results that I’m not even close to being a contender in this race. After working the expo booth and doing some shopping, I went to hear Dean Karnazes speak. It’s truly fascinating to hear about something so extreme in such down-to-earth terms. Most have heard about his adventures in ultra running, but if you haven’t, then I encourage you to do so. It’s a good read.

I asked a number of people if they’d like to walk across the street to see the movie Ironman. Rather than getting a bunch of excuses as to why they couldn’t, if they weren’t working during the show time, they said they would love to and proceeded to rope some more people in coming along too. Everyone of us said we liked the movie, which is a good marathoner endorsement. We had lunch at Subway and headed back to our rooms. There was just enough time to get my daily run, so I headed for the treadmill in order to save my legs from a little road pounding. Some guy was trying to change the channel on the TV, which only works from remote. I searched around until I found the remote and delivered it to him. To my surprise, it was Dean Karnazes that turned around to thank me for the help. So, it’s just Dean and I working out in the exercise room and chatting about sports. He’s really quite nice and easy to talk to. Like most people, he respects the talents that are different from his. While he respects the speed of others, his endurance gets a big dose of respect in return. His plan was to run around 3:30. He clearly has nothing to prove.

At our annual team gathering, we had some guest speakers, including a rather unexpected showing of a Miss USA finalist, Miss Utah. She just happens to be a member of the Utah National Guard. It was amusing to hear a soldier talk about the transition from soldier to pageant contestant. We also had Dean there to speak more in depth about his story, which was really entertaining. My favorite part of the night, which is probably the same for most, is the role call of the states. Each state will get up and deliver some sort of poem, tidbits, cheer, or whatever desired. This is usually very creative and highly entertaining. Rather than heading back to our rooms to get some sleep for the “national championship,” we hung out and talked a bit too late.

I woke the next morning with a sore right quad and foot. There was nothing I could do about it, so I just went on with my morning and rehearsed my plan. It was really simple. I’d keep my GPS average around 6:04 to 6:08 for the first 20 miles, then push for a 36 flat closing 10K. After a light breakfast and a short nap, I headed out the door to head to the race. I ate a pack of shot blocks and got a drink of water shortly before the start, then worked my way toward the line at the last minute. I didn’t make it there, but it didn’t matter. We had plenty of time and lots of open road to work my way to where I should be. With the half and full starting at the same time, I wouldn’t know where I ranked anyway. It took me five seconds to get to the line from the start. I went at a very easy effort for the first quarter. Going easy is about the only way to start a race at goal pace instead of way too fast. A quick check after about a minute and I was running right around 6:05. It’s only the start of a race that this actually feels somewhat slow. After a while, the body will catch up with my mind and let me know just what I’m doing to myself.

It usually takes about two miles to see those who went out faster than they’re able to sustain. Every aid station I’d take water and every fourth mile a vanilla Power Gel. At 10K, my pace was just under 6:05/mile and comfortably hard. Although I was halfway across the country, I thought it would be interesting to get my 12K time since it was Bloomsday. I came across at 45:05, but my best 12K within the race was 45:01. According to GPS, the miles started getting further away after the 10K mark. I’m not sure what happened, but I figured it would work it’s way back since the course is usually accurate. The half marathon mark ended up .11 miles long, but I can’t use that as an excuse. My time was 1:20:36, which was :37 slow. The next 6.9 miles would be a gradual climb; therefore, it would be a bit slower. I pushed the pace a bit more and averaged 6:11 to mile 20. It would be easy enough to get time back on the way back down, so I wasn’t worried about adding a little time. Unfortunately, my back seized up on me at mile 19. I was too close to ease up before the next timing mat, so I pushed through the pain as best I could. My 20-mile time was 2:03:17. It was 1:14 behind, but figured I had paced myself just right with the light downhill grade to the finish. Unfortunately, my back was so tight that I not only couldn’t open it up, but had to ease up. Rather than closing with a 36:00 10K, I finished with a 40:10, which was long according to GPS. My official time was 2:43:27 (6:14.05/mile). If the course was long by about a quarter mile, then it would have been a little better average. Bottom line, I missed my goal by quite a bit. On the bright side, my slowest mile according to GPS was 6:24, which is a personal best for slowest mile in a marathon.

Overall, I was 14th place. The top guard guy was 3rd, but only 2 seconds out of second and is getting a lot faster every year. I ended up finishing 4th for the guard. I was glad that I kept taking it one mile at a time. It’s tough when things go awry, but easy to give up, so I’m proud to have gutted it out. If my back hadn’t seized up on me, then I would have likely broken 2:40, but would have been 11th, which is just out of the money. On the bright side, the slower finish allowed me to escape with less recovery time, unless you consider my aching back. It hurts so badly that I have trouble walking, but I’ve been there before. We had a nice post race pasta lunch and awards ceremony for the open race. Later the guard had its own awards ceremony. Our top male and female both placed 3rd overall, but less than a minute and just over a minute respectively from the overall winner. Washington State only sent two runners, so we weren’t able to be ranked among the team competition. On the other hand, our neighbors to the south, Oregon, won the overall team competition.

Following the race, several of us went to eat at the Red Lobster and talk about our races and the weekend overall. The triathletes among us noted how different the atmosphere was in comparison to how triathlon has become. It seems that this marathon weekend was more like how I envisioned triathlon sixteen years ago. We were different people from all around the country, but didn’t draw any lines between us. It wasn’t a popularity contest or a competition to see who we would eat, train or hang out with. In contrast, here at home, I’ve hosted swimming and brick workouts at my house fifteen times. It’s one of the very best places to train with a lake that doesn’t allow motor boats, plenty of great roads to bike on with little traffic and several great races to run. Yet of all those times, I found it was just Marathon John and the Real McCoys that would come over. Others would rather drive past my house to and from Waterfront, leave things unattended on the beach, swim almost to my dock, then head back for a ride and/or run. We’d pass in the middle of the lake and that’s about all there usually is to it. Sports evolve and people change, but I had always hoped it would be triathlon that would set the example. It’s not about who likes me, is willing to train with me or one’s preference of training location. It’s the underpinnings of these behaviors that I’m pointing out. People are always going to be part of different groups, but sharing that common interest shouldn’t be a barrier that separates people and changes how we treat one another. My observations aren’t anything new. People talk about it more and more every year. It just took something great to really understand the big picture. Most aren’t willing to concede this is the case when they’re on the inside looking out. Perhaps it’s just the psychologist in me, but it’s something to take a good look at. For now, I’ll just keep putting one foot in front of the other and try to change the sport from within. I'm pretty sure it won't require everyone joining the National Guard to find the same thing.