An Unremarkable Race

Taking on a new kind of challenge

It’s been a while since I posted. So, just to keep my stack, sort of active, here is a vanilla race report post, that will be completely unremarkable. You won’t comment (probably), you probably won’t be inspired (or maybe). After reading it, you might think “Maybe I’ll get another cup of coffee”, or “I should probably mow the lawn”. Two, very unremarkable things you have the privilege to do over and over and over again.

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It’s Sunday, today, and it is looking wholly unremarkable. Today is a cup of coffee.

More than we’d like to admit it, these are the bulk of our days. Repetition in a way puts us to sleep to the experience. But: if we look hard enough, take notice, we can see magic in the everyday, things maybe we took for granted, or forgot an original experience we once had. Like muscles that get used to a load, we no longer “feel” thru the repetitive experience, so we have to change perspective.

Have you ever seen something “ordinary” through someone else’s experience? Something you’ve done over and over, you join someone on that journey, and see it again, experience it again, through them?

An unremarkable Marathon

So yesterday, I ran a marathon. That’s a thing that used to be a big deal for me, and for a lot of people it still is. But here’s one thing: the more you do them, the more all the unknowns are dispelled. All the dragons, all the giants, turn into windmills. You know what’s coming, you know what to do.

In fact, when you are experienced enough, you can sign up to shepherd people through the experience. Which is what I did. A Pacer role. Carry the sign, be the anchor, and the boat, in a storm. be the mentor, be the coach. Watchful. Encouraging.

So here’s a brief tale of that race, the MISH Marathon, held in Gladstone Michigan. This was my first time pacing a full marathon, and I wanted to get it right. When they assign you a time, it has to be something that is “easy” for you, at least 15 minutes slower than your last three efforts. The idea is, you have a specific pace target (for me 9:09/miles), to hit a specific finish time (4 hours). You want to run as evenly as possible, remembering for those around you this might be a “fast” pace so don’t gas them in the first half. No big moves. If you come UNDER your goal time, it should be within a minute, no faster, no slower.

So that was my challenge, this was the battle against a new kind of windmill. To make an unremarkable distance and race somehow remarkable for me, and for the runners around me. Not just pacing, but you are a cheerleader, and on scene coach if you are doing it right. Look around, someone struggling? Ask if they’ve had a gel or hydration recently. Maybe at the next aid station, announce “we are walking through this one, get water or gatorade”. Who looks strong? Remind them to be patient, there’s plenty more miles coming.

Success then, is defined not by how fast you run, a personal finish time, but how well you do multiple things.

I won’t go in depth on my overall time, other than this. I ran pretty even splits, not just for first and second half of the race, but each mile was within a few seconds of the goal pace. One exception, where mile 9, I ran an 8:39 because I miscalculated/read my pace band wrong. (Oops). I apologized to my runners. It’s early enough they laughed.

My Group

Starting off the race, everyone’s excited, nervous, and for new runners this is a critical point where many go out too fast trying to “bank” time. I had four runners in my group, Jake, Nate, Mark, and Ann. I asked around. for “first” timers, and Nate and Mark were the newbies. I can’t say much about Ann, who was wearing Beat headphones and left us early on ( mile 5) running a little faster. Cheerio Ann, I hope we don’t see you again (spoiler: we did).

The day was cool to start, and the course ran along a finger of Lake Michigan, with a cool breeze coming in. It didn’t take long for it heat up, and the course ran along mostly in the open so the added sun made it feel a little hotter.

I held the group together through 11, and then Jake disappeared behind us. In the end everyone runs their own race, and Jake seemed all along to be struggling with talking through the 9:09 pace, sweating pretty heavily which is usually a sign of struggle.

Mark was the next to succumb to the heat and pace. He made it to the turn around at 13.1, continued to “hold on to the rope” until about 16, and then fell off as he met his crew at a crossing point.

Look: here’s the thing. You want to bring someone (or someones) in, on pace. But while you are there to support the runners, your primary job is to stay on pace. Even if you drop everyone, you might catch up to someone who needs you, who still has a four hour goal pace.

So where was I? Oh right, 16 miles. Nate and I are alone now, and I am watching him. I am talking non-stop, trying to keep him distracted. His head is starting to drop, his eyes on his shoes. I check in, “am I talking too much"‘, and he says no, please continue. I ask him when he ate something last, and since he didn’t know I asked if he had anything left. He didn’t. I gave him one my gels (I came prepared for this). It’s mile 18.

Sometime ago, like around 13, Nate had asked me about “when do you feel the struggle?”. I didn’t want to give away the obvious answer (20 miles). I did tell him the science around glycogen stores in the blood and liver, calorie intake, all are variables in making that determination. Nate glazed over, and so I just said “conventional wisdom says about 20 miles”.

So Nate takes my gel at 18. I hear him deep sighing every once in a while, knowing this is the time he is hurting.

This is the Moment I was looking For

We reach 20, and almost like a switch, Nate shuts down.

“Marty, I am sorry, I gotta walk”.

I asked Nate if he knew what “Type 2” fun was, because this was it. He smiled and said yes, he did. “And I am looking forward to enjoying this moment later, after”.

So I left him. But, this was the moment I didn’t know I needed. To take the banal, the every day, the unremarkable moment, and see it again. Deep in the struggle, in a young man running his first ever marathon, and getting him to this point, this close to success.

In the end, I can’t run it for him. Leaving him might sound cruel, but this is what he signed up for. Where you have to just face the pain cave, and find a way through it.

OK so I ran a little faster from 20-22, putting down low 8:45’s trying to catch up to a couple runners I saw ahead of me. (Did I mention this is a very small race? Like 100 people, I am so alone I can’t see anyone in either direction for a while). I slowed to help both, but in the end they too succumbed to the heat and pace. Blah blah blah. unremarkable mostly last 6 miles.

I finished at my goal time by my watch 3:59:05. I had exactly, 18 minutes left before I had to be out of my hotel room, which fortunately was 40 yards from the finish line. Literally. Small races are cool like that. I checked in quickly to see if I’d won my age group, but discovered I was “Ineligible” for any award as I was a pacer. OK, fair enough. (I checked later, I was first in the 60-69 AG, by over 30 minutes).

After showering, I looked around, hoping Nate had re-grouped and finished. I was just heading to my car, when I saw him walking across the parking lot with this group. He had a grin from ear to ear.

He came over insisted on hugging me, thanked me for all the work to get him to a spot where he could finish.

Somewhere today, is a young man, driving home with his friends and his brother, who is likely still basking in the glow of a remarkable achievement. Nate ran a marathon.

And funny thing is, that makes today more remarkable for me too.