Detroit Half Marathon 2012 Edition

Lots of people standing around in the cold and dark at 6:15 am: it must be a fall marathon

In 2007 I made the Detroit Half Marathon my first substantial distance race. I had never run 13 miles in a row in my life and I signed up on a whim to prove to myself I could run farther than a 5K. Well, as we all know, that race led to seven more half marathons, five marathons, a Boston Qualifying effort, and too many 5Ks and 10Ks for me to count (though I could look them up, I'm too lazy).

On Sunday, October 21, I was back in downtown Detroit, where it all began five years ago, to run my ninth half marathon. I had put in the weeks of training necessary and I felt physically ready, even if I knew I wasn't going to be running very fast. I anticipated finishing in 2:10, though I really wished I could finish faster than my time from the Dexter-Ann Arbor Half in June (2:04:22).

The race started at 7:00 which meant we had to be parked downtown by 6:00 in order to avoid street closures (which meant we were up at 4:15 and left just after 5:00...ugh). I use a parking lot in the Greektown area for events like this, because it's easy to get to and I sneak into downtown off I-375 to the east, thereby avoiding the traffic jams caused by everyone trying to take the only way they know into town (Woodward Avenue). We zoomed past a gigantic line of cars backed up on I-75 waiting to get off at Grand River (SUCKERS) and reached my parking lot (almost empty and $5.00 for the whole day) without ever having to wait behind another car.

I'd tell you where to find it but then I'd have to kill you. MY PARKING LOT. MINE.

We walked to the starting corral area and I hopped into a porta-potty that had NO LINE to take my third crap of the morning. The coffee I made was doing its job a little too well. Then it was time to...stand around for a while.

Trying to stay warm

I wore a crazy bright shirt so I was easy to see

At 7:00 the first wave of runners took off. My wave didn't cross the start line until ten minutes later. I settled into my normal cruising speed and looked forward to the miles ahead. The visual of a long line of runners, backlit by the rising sun and ascending the Ambassador Bridge at mile 3 was, as always, the visual highlight of the race. The view from the top of the bridge was beautiful. We descended into Windsor, Ontario and at mile 7 entered the Detroit-Windsor Tunnel for the "Underwater Mile." I HATE the Underwater Mile. It's hot, stuffy, loud, and smells funny. When the cool, fresh air hits your face upon exiting the tunnel at mile 8, it feels SO good. People all around me were audibly going "Ahhhhhh." Shortly after leaving the tunnel, I spotted the Engineer in the crowd. I veered over to the barricade to give him a high five; then it was back to business. Five miles to go!

Around mile 10 my knees started aching. This bothered me as my knees have never been a source of discomfort in the past. I felt great otherwise, knew I was almost done, and forged on toward the end. I kept my pace steady in the final quarter mile and finished strong, stopping Garmy at 2:09 and change. While I was slightly disappointed, I knew that stopping for a bathroom break at 8.5 miles hadn't helped my time.

I found the Engineer and we went back to my car where I changed into fresh clothes. We walked backwards along the marathon course to the Motown-Ann Arbor hash kennel's beer check at mile 24.5, where I got to enjoy a well-deserved Stone Ruination IPA. (We were handing out PBR to the runners; I raided the secret stash of good beer.)

Every job well done deserves a beer!

Watching the tide of humanity stream past for an hour and a half cemented my resolve: I am going to run another marathon before the end of 2013. I will turn 40 next year and this is the goal I have set for myself before I hit that milestone.

The same weekend of the race, I dog-sat for my friends' little dog. I brought her to my house that Friday afternoon and...well, various hijinks and scuffles and shenanigans ensued. Bouhaki hid (I barely saw him all weekend), Darwin couldn't have cared less, but Melvin was VERY PUT OUT at the presence of this INTERLOPER in his house. Annabelle was sitting on my lap Friday afternoon and Melvin was circling my chair like a shark. He paused to glare at her and I snapped a picture. The Engineer turned it into a LOLCAT.

Feel the rage!

Race Report: Detroit Free Press/Flagstar Marathon

Where the journey begins.

My first marathon.

I haven't had a "first" quite like this for a long time. I thought all my "firsts" were over and done with. First word, first step, first lost tooth, first car, first day of college, first kiss, first...well, you know, first hangover, first job, first house. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think I would add "first marathon" to the list.

In the predawn chilly chaos before I went to the starting corral area

Saturday we went out to dinner and I said "no" to the wine and "yes" to five rolls, the same rolls of which I won a dozen in the Run for the Rolls. I chowed down on chicken pasta (carbs and protein!) and went to bed around 9:30. I had a decent night's sleep and bounced out of bed when the alarm went off at 4:30. We were on the road just after 5:00 and parked in downtown Detroit about an hour later. I found the bar that Running Fit had rented for the RF501 team and made some final prerace preparations: strap on the heart rate monitor, pin my Gu packets into my shorts, put on my new headband, don the throwaway sweatshirt which John sacrificed to the cause of keeping me warm while waiting for the start.

Standing in the corral immediately before the start, I was overcome with emotion and had to scrub briskly at my face to dispel what might have turned into tears. I just couldn't believe I was about to embark on this crazy adventure. I thought, I'm going to run a MARATHON. It was totally dark, freezing cold, and I was about to take the first step of thousands on my 26.2-mile journey. I folded my hands and tucked them under my chin to keep them warm. This was not the time for weepy introspection.

And then we were off.

I'm in this teeming mob somewhere.

In the Beginning

I ditched the sweatshirt around mile 1. I wasn't cold anymore. I felt great. I breathed deep, slow and even and let the excitement of the day sweep me along. I passed the lonely monolith of the one remaining side of old Tiger Stadium, fallen victim to progress and the wrecking ball. As we neared the bridge around mile 3 the sun was just beginning to rise. A long line of runners, silhouetted black against the sun, stretched across the span of the bridge. There were just enough clouds to turn the sky pink and orange (just like my headband!) and I thought it was beautiful. My friend and fellow RF501er Erika caught up to me on the bridge ascent and we started running together at a good pace. We came down off the bridge and then we were in Canada. From the other side of the river, Detroit didn't look so bad, the glass of its buildings shining in the morning light. After three or so miles of Windsor we looped around and headed for the Detroit-Windsor tunnel. Last year this was my least favorite part of the race: hot, loud, crowded, and stuffy. This year it was less loud, less hot, less stuffy, but still really crowded. We were spat out of the tunnel at mile 9 and the crowd support there was awesome. After a cruise through Corktown (where we saw a woman running totally barefoot) I was almost at the halfway point and feeling great.

(Miles 1-12: 8:34, 8:27, 8:30, 8:46, 8:21, 8:33, 8:23, 8:40, 8:58, 8:07 (yikes!), 8:28, 8:15)

The Pivotal Moment

Somewhere during mile 13 I said to Erika, "I have to stop. I have to go to the bathroom." We had been hanging just behind the 3:45 pace group for miles and I thought I had a good shot at meeting my top goal of a BQ time. I had been feeling twinges of unrest for a few miles and knew the beast in my GI tract wouldn't stay under control for much longer. I pulled over at a Porta-Potty stop; unfortunately I chose one with a line and SOME SLOW-ASS PEOPLE DOING WHO KNOWS WHAT IN THERE FOR WHAT FELT LIKE FREAKING 15 MINUTES. I stood there getting colder and colder, feeling my muscles start to chill and stiffen, as my Garmin whirred on and about a bazillion people passed by. FINALLY it was my turn and I wrestled my shorts and underwear off (they were recalcitrant and glued to me with sweat), took care of business (AAAAAAHHHHHH) and wrestled my clothes back on, popping a pin in the process, sending a Gu packet to the ground, where I snatched it back up after an instant's pause (ohmygod it fell on the floor in a PORTA-POTTY...oh, what the hell, I can't leave it there) and burst out of the john with my shorts all bunched up and askew, underwear half hanging out, and my rear on display because the hem of my shorts had gotten tucked inside the liner. I saw that the 3:50 pace group had just gone past, and I bolted after them, rearranging my shorts as I went. I turned it on hard because I wanted to catch back up with the 3:45 group so badly. I passed the 3:50-ers and by the halfway point I was somewhere in between the two groups and feeling the first pangs of something deep in my quads.

(Mile 13, the Porta-Potty Stop Mile: 10:02)

Approaching my family at the halfway point. I'm the crazy person waving my arms.

Things Get Ugly

I saw my assembled family right at the halfway mark and I ran exuberantly over to the side and gave John a big high five. My time at the half was 1:54:44, an 8:45 pace, and faster than my official half marathon race PR I set in May. I was now on a course out of the city that would lead me to Belle Isle. I had heard unpleasant things about the Belle Isle portion of the course (miles 17-20): windy, dismal, boring, no crowd support. Shortly after mile 17, I had to make a quick stop at a Porta-Potty again. I just groaned when I realized I needed to stop again. My quads were now officially singing an aria of pain the composer of which I did not know. This level of pain and interference with my performance was new to me. Never before had my muscles rebelled so thoroughly against what I was asking of them. I had smoothly run 16, 18, even 20 miles before without experiencing this mind-boggling ache. When I left the Porta-Potty the 3:50 pace group had just gone past and I staggered after them. Try as I might I would never pass them again. I slogged onward. I found the Belle Isle miles rather pleasant from a scenic perspective. The 20-mile mark was right after I crossed the Belle Isle bridge back to Detroit.

(Miles 14-20: 7:47 (still playing catchup), 8:13, 8:37, 8:33, 9:53 (Porta-Potty stop #2), 8:36, 8:41)

Closer, but more blurry. I still look happy!

On my way out of the city toward Belle Isle. A long 13.1 miles still lie ahead.

Running along the Detroit River Walk around mile 16.

On the way to Belle Isle.

The Long Run Home

I was now in uncharted territory: over 20 miles. As I came off the bridge I thought, Only a 10K to go. What's a 10K? I can do this. I came up behind a familiar blue shirt: it was my RF501 teammate Ted. He looked less than his usual self. I asked him how he was doing and he replied he had been in pain since mile 5. We hung together for a long time, trading places back and forth as the course wound through the Indian Village neighborhood. Around mile 21 things really started to disintegrate. I could feel myself falling farther and farther off my intended pace as the pain in my quads reached a crescendo. I zeroed in on a spot on the pavement about 20 feet in front of me and stared at it grimly as the street slipped by under my feet. I didn't even look around at the beautiful old homes which normally I would squeal over. I even passed up a table full of shots of beer (sorry, Viper). I just wanted it to be over. The course made one final turn onto Lafayette around 22.5 miles and then it was just one long-ass straight stretch (death march) all the way back into downtown and the finish. As I swung onto Lafayette and saw the Renaissance Center miles away in the hazy distance, I cried inside, knowing I had to run all the way there. How was I ever going to be able to do it?

One foot in front of the other. Just keep moving. I couldn't even see the 3:50 pace group any more. The 3:55 group hadn't passed me yet, and I decided that if I couldn't meet my A Goal of a Boston qualifying time, I was going to move mountains to finish in under four hours and meet my B Goal. I gritted my teeth and pressed on. At a water stop at mile 24.5 I was walking (well, lurching would be more accurate) with my cup when my friend and fellow runner Fritz, who was spectating and helping cheer on the RF501ers, came across the road to me. I rolled my eyes and gasped, "I'm in so much pain." "You're almost there, just keep going," he said. I staggered off, legs clamoring in protest as they were forced to start moving again. Not long after, shortly after mile 25, I passed another table full of little cups and a sign that said, "BEER." I thought, Oh, why the hell not, and swung over to the side to grab a cup. The guy handing out cups yelled, "ALL RIIIIIIGHT!" as I tossed back a shot of warm, nasty, light beer. Why couldn't it have been something really awesome, like Motor City Nut Brown Ale or Atwater Brewing Vanilla Java Porter? I thought, Well, if this makes me feel gross, at least I'm almost done.

At long, long last I was back downtown. The course made a 90-degree turn to the north, a little curve to the west, and then plunged south down Woodward Avenue to the finish. When I rounded that final turn and saw the finish line in the distance I reached down and scraped up everything I had left to make a strong run to the end.

This is the face of suffering at Mile 26.

All of the spectators were screaming and rattling cowbells and the banner over the finish drew closer and closer. I saw the clock reading "3:53:XX" and I rejoiced because I knew I was going to come in under four hours. I reached my arms up and crossed over, mashing the stop button on Garmy, and finally, finally, it was OVER. I looked once, tiredly, at Garmy and it said 3:52:00. I then lapsed back into a daze, repeating to myself, I ran a marathon. I ran a marathon!

Can you feel the power of the moment?!

Don't forget to stop Garmy!

(Miles 21-26: 8:59, 8:47, 9:18, 9:11, 9:33, 8:54, and the final 0.2 at an 8:13 pace for my official chip time of 3:52:01, an 8:52/mile average)

Aftermath

A finisher's medal which weighed approximately 50 pounds was slung around my neck, a Mylar wrap found its way around my sweaty body and promptly sealed itself to me, a bag of food was pressed into my hand, and I ambled out into the bright sunshine of a gorgeous October morning to find my family.

My mom and I

John and I

One newly minted marathon runner.

After a rambunctious reunion we made our way back to the RF501 HQ where I changed clothes and gathered my things. A mere 45 minutes later we were tucked into a booth at Zingerman's Roadhouse in Ann Arbor where I enjoyed my first beer in five days, a delicious Stoudt's Pale Ale. I inhaled both the beer and my lunch of the best macaroni and cheese (smoked chicken & Monterey Jack) known to mankind.

I know you've seen this one already but I like it so much I had to post it again.

What you haven't seen: what happened after I finished my beer!

I stayed conscious enough to take a shower and put on clean clothes once I got home but then I crawled into bed and took a long nap. I got up around 5:30, hung out downstairs for a couple of hours, and was back in bed around 7:30 (reading) with lights out at 8:30.

I was exhausted, sore, but triumphant.

What Next?

For the first time in four months I do not have to get up and go running each morning. This is not to say I don't want to, because I do. I'm just a wee bit sore. However, I believe the mornings of 8-mile runs before work are over for the time being. I have a few months to relax and just enjoy my running before I start training for the Cleveland Marathon. Oh, wait, did I just say that? Yes, folks, I already have my next marathon picked out. I ran my first in my adopted big city hometown of Detroit. Now I shall return to my roots and run my second marathon in my real big city hometown of Cleveland. And this time I'm going to qualify for Boston.

I AM A MARATHONER!

The Best Part of the Day

To tide y'all over until I finish my official race report for the Detroit Marathon (I'm working on it, I swear), here's a picture of me enjoying a well-deserved pint of Stoudt's Pale Ale at lunch on Sunday:

This was one of the most delicious beers I have ever had.

It's Over (Detroit Marathon)

3:52:01

Full race report...eventually...but I can now say four special words:

"I am a marathoner!"

As Ready As I'll Ever Be

Personal Trainer and Fashion Consultant Bouhaki approves of Smartwool socks.

Bouhaki also approves of my new Bondi Band.

Everything a girl needs for her first marathon.

Here we go! Catch y'all on the other side!

Brotherly Love

I just finished talking to my brother. He wished me luck in the marathon tomorrow and then said, "Well, have as much fun as that can be."

LOL...thanks, bro. ;)

Keep Your Eyes Ahead

Let's talk About Goals, Baby:

• A Goal: Qualify for Boston Marathon with time of 3:45:59 or better.
• B Goal: 4:00 or better.
• C Goal: 4:15 or better.
• D Goal, as in Massive Ankle/Fibula Implosion: Just Finish. Crawl If Need Be.
  

Ankle-Fibula Update: After an entire week of RICE, Redneck Style (I did upgrade from the dish rag to an Ace bandage provided by my co-worker so instead of a trashy gimp I looked like a more professional gimp) and a drastically reduced running schedule, I am happy to report that the problem seems to be nearly resolved. Pain while walking is nonexistent and pain while running is very slight and disappears as I warm up. After weeks of pain and worry this is a welcome feeling indeed.

Mental Health Report: I'm freaking out. Yeah. Like, totally. My helpful friend said, "They should totally invent some sort of 'chill pill' that people could take a couple of days before a big event. Oh, wait, it's called Xanax... anyway, probably not a good time to be all hepped out on Xanax."

Sadly, I think you're right, E. I'm going to have enough trouble managing the adrenaline rush.

Nutrition Report: I have been hitting the carbs pretty hard this week and wonder of wonders I have not had any alcohol since Tuesday night when I went out with a bang by ingesting a Nutty Martini (vodka plus Frangelico) and then a Stone Brewing Co. IPA and an Erie Brewing Co. Misery Bay IPA. It's been teetotaler town since then. And lest ye think I'm forswearing my Booze Hounds Inc. credentials, I have been looking longingly at John's dinnertime beers all week. One of the first things I have on my list of things to do after the race (aside from "collapse in a heap") is to have myself a big frosty one at the party headquarters for all of the RF501 people.

Random Thoughts: Nerves aside, I'm so ready for this. I'm in fantastic shape. I'm healthy. I've been training for months. My confidence is high. I can't wait. I can't wait to stand shivering at the starting line with 4,999 of my closest friends come Sunday morning as we all embark on our personal journeys.

I checked with the Free Press web site's list of registered marathon participants and my name was on the list. I had this fear that I was going to arrive at packet pick-up tomorrow only to be told they had no record of my registration.

My biggest dilemma: which headband am I going to wear? I have to make a STATEMENT, people! I need to select one that will scream "Here I come!" to any folks who might be keeping an eye out for me. Right now I'm thinking the black one with the really big white and pink polka dots or maybe one of the brightly-striped ones (the one I'm wearing in the picture might do the trick). I'll be wearing my official RF501 shirt and some variety of shorts, probably my blue Asics ones because they're the most comfortable and least prone to binding and chafing.

Motivation: The Helio Sequence, "Keep Your Eyes Ahead." I've been listening to this on a nearly endless loop at work all day today.

Keep your eyes on right
Keep your eyes on right ahead

Keep your rudders right
Keep your rudders right ahead



LET'S GO!

Run & Race Reports (Weekend Wrap-Up)

Saturday: I sacrificed sleeping in and lounging around in my pajamas drinking coffee and reading the paper to drive 40 minutes to Kensington Metropark to run 20 miles. Wait a minute...every Saturday is like that (minus the driving) and has been since June. *sob*

I jest. Really! I was up cheerfully at 6:30 and on the road before 7:00, pulling into Kensington around 7:40 to check in with the RF501 person on-site. The place was swarming with people who were there to run the Kensington Challenge. I was there to pound through 20 miles. I did the run totally by myself; there were a lot of fellow runners on the path but I wasn't running with anyone. I passed people, was passed by people, crossed paths with the Kensington Challenge field (twice; I saw the leaders up close and personal around mile 13 due to course overlap-- the second-place male zoomed past me and said, "Great job, looking good" and I said, "Thanks-- you too!"). The weather was amenable (about 60 degrees at the start, overcast) and the scenery pleasant. I can't argue with woods, water, and birds including a group of four sandhill cranes which were foraging right next to the path. I stopped to watch them for a minute. I was about 3 meters away from them. It was crazy! I love birds.

I felt good. Really good, in fact. So good that I finished my run in 2 hours 52 minutes which was a 6-minute overall and 20 seconds-per-mile pace improvement over my 20-mile run three weeks ago. I averaged 8:38/mile for the duration.

Stop right there.

bq

If you recall a few weeks ago I posted this. I was only off that pace by one second the other day.

bq

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know I have to push through an additional 10K. The truth is I felt extremely good on Saturday. I definitely had enough zest to keep going. If I start a little bit quicker...try to sustain an 8:40-8:45 pace for the first half and then take it up a notch for the second half and get down to around 8:25-8:30...

BQ

That little voice in my head is getting louder and louder. It's driving me MAD, I tell you. I KNOW, I KNOW, I should be thinking, "Shut the hell up about Boston! Just concentrate on finishing! It's your first marathon! You should not be thinking about qualifying for Boston!" I do think that, actually. I did it on Saturday while I was running and realized I had done two 8:26 miles in a row (miles 17 and 18). Shut up about Boston. Shut up about Boston. SHUT UP ABOUT BOSTON!

But...you know...if I'm physically capable of running at the required pace, which I appear to be...THEN WHY NOT? Why not give it my all? Why not go for glory? If I crash and burn, I can at least say "I tried my best" and move on, looking ahead to a future race and another chance. I will be driven more insane by an aftermath of "if onlys..." and wondering what could have been if I had really made the effort. Thus, I have decided:

BQ or bust, baby! I'M GOING FOR IT!

Now you all can tell me I'm completely nuts.

Sunday: I was in Ann Arbor for the second annual Big House Big Heart 5K. A warmup jog quickly made me realize this wasn't going to be a day for breaking personal records. I was rather creaky from the previous day's long run. Add to that an unorganized field of thousands and my unfortunate position trapped way at the back and I really wasn't going to be setting any records. I decided to use the race as an easy recovery run and just enjoy myself. 3 miles feels like a fleeting wisp of nothing these days, you know? So that's what I did. I moseyed through the first mile in about 8:54 and by then I had worked my way past most of the walkers and slower-paced people. I was able to open up my stride and cruised easily through the final 2 miles of the race. Unlike last year when I was working really hard over the final half mile and could barely enjoy the trip through the tunnel into the stadium and then the final 50 meters on the playing surface, this time around I ambled into the bright sunlight (or should I say "ran into the sun," LOL) at the end of the tunnel and gazed around at the splendor of the Big House. I was treading the same sacred ground on which struggling Michigan (no snark; they're REBUILDING this year!) had pulled off an unbelievable comeback and massive upset of 9th-ranked Wisconsin the previous day! I kicked into high gear for the final 50 meters and finished in 27:06. The scene at the finish was total chaos as thousands of runners were funneled into a tiny choke point at the apex of two angled lines of water tables. TERRIBLE PLANNING! I shuffled along with the rest of the crowd, grabbed a water, a banana, and some oatmeal cookies, bumped into someone from my training group (unbelievable coincidence given the swarming melée of people) and then split to go meet up with a friend.

It was a good weekend. Quality running, quality recovery napping with tabby cat (Saturday afternoon), quality beer (Celis Grand Cru, Celis White) on Sunday evening ending a three-day hiatus from all adult beverages (due to the unholy trinity of warm weather, an old friend, and a bottle of Maker's Mark last Thursday).

Oh, and by the way: IT'S TAPER TIME!

I Would Run One Thousand Miles...

On the road again...

Disclaimer: I actually can't stand that song but it seemed fitting.

Yes, people, I cracked that barrier yesterday. One thousand miles. Too bad I was so wiped out at the end I completely forgot about flashing the super-secret sign of the "Thousand-Mile Club" as suggested by Big. I busted through my 16-mile run at an average pace of 8:40/mile, which was perhaps a wee bit faster than necessary, and I paid for it later in the day when I collapsed for a good two hour nap.

I scared the crap out of an acquaintance of ours whose house was conveniently situated around mile 10 of my run. I was fighting "the urge" and we decided to stop there to see if someone was home so I could use the bathroom. Upon arrival we found the front door unlocked, cars in the driveway, but no one answered our shouts and so I went directly inside and upstairs whereupon I caused a massive dog ruckus and our friend was roused out of sleep in the most unfortunate way: by a flushed, sweaty person dancing from toe to toe in his hallway while two dogs emitted frenzied chaotic barking. Fortunately we're on good terms with the guy so barging unannounced into his house at 10:15 am wasn't a problem. I zipped off with a new spring in my step for the final six miles of the run and even pulled off a couple of 8:25-ish miles I felt so good. New route, nice weather, husbandly accompaniment, passing 1,000 miles, four weeks left until the marathon.

Country roads, take me home...

My personal trainer Darwin will show me how it's done.

Here is where all I could muster was a thumbs-up. I was on the verge of total meltdown.

Final stats:
16 miles
2:18:48
8:40/mile
1000.5 miles for the year!
Post-run rehydration: Michigan Brewing Company's Superior Stout and Screamin' Pumpkin Spiced Ale. I also sampled the Imperial IPA...OOOOOEEEEE!!! We went to the brewery for lunch. John bought a starter homebrewing kit. Look out!

The Middle Of Somewhere

Today's post is intended to act as my contribution to the Runners' Lounge Take It And Run Thursday: Middle Miles.

I am now squarely in the middle of my training schedule for the Detroit Marathon. 9 weeks have elapsed since I took my first steps towards becoming a marathoner and I have 8 weeks to go until I can finally say that with certainty. (I refuse to say "I am a marathon runner" until I've completed the race. Because until I cross that finish line...I am not.)

I'll be honest: it's starting to wear on me. I haven't reached a point where I slip on my running shoes with a grinding feeling of dread like I'm about to set out on the Bataan Death March, but there are days when I would much rather just not run.

I felt like that this morning when the alarm went off in the pitch blackness of 5:30 and I slid out of bed with a groan. Multiple days of late-night Olympics watching plus a post-Demolition Derby trip with friends to a local watering hole and two pints of Bell's Two-Hearted Ale does not for an easy rise make. By the time I left the house at 5:50 the first glow of sunrise was visible on the horizon. I peeled off a couple of miles and hit the cemetery driveway going east, facing a sky colored a startling red. Red sky at night, sailor's delight; red sky in the morning, sailor take warning, I thought. I wonder if it will rain later? The driveway, hemmed in by thick woods, is always darker than any surrounding road, and this morning was no exception. The faintest shimmer of silvery blue reflected off the drive, showing me the way, and the air creeping in from the swamp was exquisitely cool and moist. The stillness was palpable. I breathed deeply, savoring it. My fuzzy head cleared, my leaden legs awakened. Two more miles and I was at the head of a mile-long stretch of gravel road, the sunrise now well under way and the lurid red of 20 minutes earlier had yielded to a sweet, subdued yellow streaked with clouds. Rabbits grazed on the berm and blankets of mist lay low over the grasslands. Not another soul was stirring. I thought, clearly: Why do I complain about this? I love doing this. Look around. It's beautiful out here. I would never see these things otherwise. I never did see these things until I started running. And now look. I'm running eight miles before most people even get up. 2 years ago I couldn't even run a half mile without feeling like I was going to pass out. I've come so far. I'm going to run a marathon, for pete's sake...

I lifted my gaze from its customary spot about 15 feet in front of me and really looked into the distance. The next intersection was about a half mile away. I kept my eyes on the stop sign as it grew from a red dot into life-size.

My goal-- the marathon-- is in front of me, not yet full-sized, but I can at least see it. Each day, each mile brings me closer.

I reached the stop sign and turned left.

Stop? No.

I would rather keep going.

Confidence: High(er)

After my 14-mile run on July 19 I was sure I would never be able to run an additional 12 miles to finish a marathon.

After my 14-mile run on August 2 I am sure I will be able to run those additional 12 miles and successfully complete my first marathon.

I never thought I would reach a point where I would classify running 14 miles at once as "fun" and "enjoyable" and "not that bad, really," but there it is.

We set out around 7:40 am Saturday; me on foot and John on bike as my Personal Support Crew. Water, Ultima, and Gu were on board along with a bag of toilet paper (just in case). It was a lovely morning, cool and dry with occasional cloud cover. Traffic was light as it usually is out in the country. I started off with a 9:17 first mile; it would be my slowest mile of the run but I did not know that. As the miles slipped past I felt better and better. They ticked off one by one: 9:09, 9:03, 9:03, 9:07, 9:03, 8:56, 8:56, 9:02, 8:49, 8:59, 8:55, 8:43, 9:02. See that? I ran the second seven miles faster than the first. And what is up with that 8:43 13th mile? I should have been totally dead! OK, it might have had something to do with my desperate dash for the Port-A-Potty in the cemetery. And look: my time for the "half marathon"-- 1:57:53-- is only slightly more than a minute slower than my time for the Historic Half from May. I ran another sub-2 hour half and I didn't even intend to. I did the distance at an average pace of exactly 9:00/mile.

We finished, I stretched, I ate protein, I rehydrated, I cleaned up, and then we went to B. Nektar Meadery in Ferndale to participate in National Mead Day. We came home with four bottles of mead and then, finally, those 14 miles caught up with me and I just crashed like a ton of bricks. Somewhere in there I came to the realization that I will be able to finish this marathon. I felt great Saturday. Really, spectacularly great, better than a person should during and after a 14-mile run. My legs weren't even sore, not one tiny bit.

I will be able to do this.

My route on Saturday:

The big green oval blob at right center is Four Mile Lake. The line bisecting the loop is the Detroit-Chicago railroad which is parallelled by Dexter-Chelsea Rd. My "half marathon" was in the cemetery. Yes, it is mostly farmland. Yes, it is flat. It is wonderful.

Get Ready...And We're Off!

This morning I did the first of many, many, many marathon training runs to come over the next four months.

No turning back now!

I also attended my first Running Fit 501 session last night during which I ran a two-mile time trial. I hammered it and put up two 7:12 miles for a total of 14:24. That was a mite faster than I expected but that performance bolstered my hopes for a new 5K PR (and the shaving of my 5K Stubble Time) at a race I will be doing this coming Sunday in Cleveland Heights, Ohio.

Finally, everyone visit Viper my fellow drinker with a running problem and wish him good luck on his Towpath Trail Summer Solstice Challenge, aka the "I think you're nuts but whatever floats your boat" run.