26.2 in the Dirty Dirty

Despite having a house full of babies, recovering from childbirth, and not having spent much time together, Kristen has supported all my pursuits this fall, from working odd hours to attending cheetah flip school. When I got home, I started planning to run the Atlanta Marathon on Thanksgiving Day. We typically run in the half marathon because it's a fun race and we traditionally spend the weekend at my sister's place in Marietta. The day before we planned to leave, Kristen packed everyone's suitcases and we were ready to drive as soon as I got off work until my sister called to tell us that her daughter had RSV (some kind of respiratory virus). Since RSV is contagious and potentially lethal in babies, we discussed it and I planned on staying home, missing the race, and eating the $85 entry fee. I really wanted to go because I worked hard to get ready, wanted to qualify for Boston, and hate the idea of burning that much money. Kristen suggested that I go by myself to run the race and come home on Friday instead. While it sounded good, I told her I was going to stay home because I wanted to show her that I do not always have to do the things that I want at the expense of our family and left it at that.

When I woke up Wednesday morning, Kristen asked what time I planned to leave. I told her I was not going, when she explained to me that it was not appropriate for a grown man to make excuses and that I needed to run the race. With that, I finished my business in the office for the day and drove to Atlanta.

Atlanta is not a fast course, but the great part about it is the mental challenge of the layout. Most of the course consists of gently rolling hills until miles 20-25, where the elevation has a significant elevation increase. At that point, most runners already feel fatigue and doubt, but the added stress of running five miles uphill makes it even harder. My goal was to run a 3:10:00 and qualify for Boston, which is an average 7:15 pace, but a sort of life milestone in my eyes has always been a sub-3:00:00, or a 6:52 pace. At the start of the race, I was surprised to find that I could maintain 6:35 miles consistently for the first eight miles or so, then sort of tapered off to 6:45's right up to mile 20, even with a 45-second potty delay at mile 10. I was feeling confident and strong until I hit the bottom of that hill on mile 20. I started thinking about having a 10k left to run, about not finishing, about hopping on MARTA and going home. I was running as fast as I could and kept turning 7:20's. The idea of the sub-3:00:00 started fading fast. I almost cried when I had to stop because I dropped my car keys while reaching into my pocket for the last gel. At mile 25, I saw the clock post 2:51 and change. I tried to kick into high gear, but was walking the fine line between pain that I can fight and the point where your legs lock up and stop working. When I saw the finish line just just past the 26 mile mark, the clock was at 2:58. I don't remember much about the fifteen minutes or so after that except that it was rather painful, emotional, and I called Kristen right after. I imagine that the race photos are going to be rather embarrasing. I finished at 2:59:48, got some water, and started driving back home.

In summary of the preparation, I came home in late July at 185 lbs and unable to break 20:00 in a 5k. I trained for two and a half months at 7:15-7:05 pace with one speed and one distance workout with only about 25 miles a week total. Food was consistently in Zone portions. I ate a gel every four miles during the race and a protein bar at mile 13.1. I'm now clocking in at a sickly 147 lbs.

By the time that I got home at three in the afternoon, Kristen cleaned the house, all the babies were napping, and dinner was nearly ready. Despite having zero preparation the day before, Kristen laid out a Thanksgiving spread with turkey, four sides, all the fancy table settings we have, and even managed to get all dolled up to make it look like everything just happened by itself. I don't know how she does it or why, but that girl never ceases to amaze me. Something I have learned from our latest pregnancy and the kindness of our friends is that there comes a point where you cannot repay grace and love because their value at the time is more than you could ever return.

Of course, no holiday would be complete without it's share of disappointments. Caleb got his Charlie Brown specials confused, and after the meal, he was nearly in tears to learn that we would not be walking around the neighborhood singing Thanksgiving songs to the neighbors.