Sugarloafin' 2016

Mid-race pic of Jason, Dave, and I.

After four of the best months of training of my life came two weeks of a taper that nearly derailed it all. Three hard workouts in a row – capped by 10 miles at marathon pace on Saturday afternoon – left my right arch a bit tight and me generally tired. On Wednesday's run (11 days out) in my Zantes that arch spasmed during the first mile followed by a feeling like someone was stabbing me in the pad of the foot with a tack. I skipped my run Thursday after the pain didn't go away. Friday's run went OK, but a little tender. A lunchtime chiro visit revealed that one of the knuckles had slipped down and was pinching a nerve. Felt much better after just one adjustment. Phew. The following Thursday (3 days out) on another easy run the nerve in my left leg became irritated – remnants of my latent fibular dysfunction. Tingling and numbness. Awesome. Back to the chiropractor to unjam it. The symptoms slowly subsided. Throw in an unexpected management change at work and a kid with a fever waking me up at 4:30am on Saturday and I was close to beat before even starting towards Maine.


The drive to Maine calmed my nerves a bit. Dave got my mind back on the race day logistics and strategy. Grabbed a late lunch at Sam's, drove the course, then checked into the Sugarloaf Mountain Inn. Room was a bit warm when we got there. Dave dropped it down to 68 and we chilled waiting for the bib pickup line to die down. Gave up around 5:45 – waited 15 minutes or so before getting our bib, bag, and maple water and heading down to dinner. I picked through a couple of plates of pasta (Sugarloaf fail #1 – no sauce without peppers and onions) and we headed up to watch some TV and chill. Room was still at 77 degrees. The hotel couldn't do anything about it, so we opened the windows and put the fan on. I decided to do my normal rolling routine before getting ready for bed. I didn't realize that was dangerous. Rolling my left quad I rolled back hard and banged my foot on the kitchenette. #$%^&. Finished rolling and checked my foot. The second smallest toe was already red and swollen. Great. Popped Aleve and went to bed wondering if I would be running a marathon on a broken toe.


Didn't sleep much – maybe 3 hours. I never sleep well before a marathon but this was exceptionally bad. Heard the rain start up. When we got out of bed before 4:30 it was coming down really hard – with some lightning. Temp had dropped significantly, so at least that was good. I checked the toe. It was a little less red and a little less swollen. Popped another Aleve just in case, ate some breakfast, then waited for a bus to show up before we headed down to wait. Got down there at probably 5:35. We weren't able to get on the first two shuttles, so we waited under the overhang for the next ones. They didn't arrive until almost 6:10 – Sugarloaf fail #2. The bus got to the starting area at 6:40 for the 7am start. Hopped in the porta-potty line for 15 minutes. Checked our bags with 5 minutes to go. Stepped to the line and they were still putting down the timing mats. Huh? Doesn't that usually happen earlier? Well, not our problem and the rifle was fired at 7:03.


Our plan was to start out at 3:10 pace for the first 3 miles and then ease into 3:05 pace – taking the foot off the gas for the three climbing miles before the downhill. But I had to make it through the first few steps first. The toe didn't hurt when walking but what would happen running. It was fine – phew! We settled into 7:15 pace and started rolling. I got to the first water stop and took my first GU. I have a hard time stomaching them late and tend to skip them. This I think was a good fix for that problem. From there I settled into a pattern of water+dried pineapple, water, skip. The water stops were plentiful enough and it was cool enough to make this work. Mile 3 came and we tried to amp it up a little. That lasted maybe a mile but neither of us were really feeling it. We dialed it back to 7:15 pace. My right hip was bugging me. As we got further into the climbing miles I was basically hanging on Dave's tail trying to stay in it. The pace crept above 7:30 pace – almost to 8 for one mile. My hope was that I would somehow find a groove when we hit the downhill.


When we finally hit that downhill in mile 11 it was a godsend. It snapped me out of whatever funk I was in. The negative thoughts disappeared and I was back on task. The pace got back down under 7:10. Unfortunately that downhill didn't do it for both of us. Dave told me around mile 12.5 that he was going to dial it back. Bummer, but a smart decision on his part to keep him under 3:20. I stuck with another runner, Jason, for the next several miles. We got into a nice downhill groove until the course flattened out a bit around mile 18. Flats felt like uphills and my pace slowed. The demons started creeping in. Was the inevitable wall coming this soon? I've never run a marathon without hitting it. Another group of runners calling themselves the 3:10 pace group swept through and Jason went with them. So I was now alone to fight the demons.


From here I played mental games. I had my watch set to estimate my marathon finish time. I wouldn't let myself look at that until after mile 20. In my marathon PR I had started to bonk at mile 18.5. So each mile where I was still moving well after 18 was money in the bank. Those thoughts got me feeling mentally better with each mile. At around 21 I remembered I could look at my estimated time. It was something like 3:36. Took a minute to set in. Wait, what!? Hold on, why is the ring around the watch face yellow? I was autopaused and I don't know for how long. Well, so much for using the watch. Eventually it unpaused and I figured out from the mile markers I was shorted about a quarter mile.


This actually kept my attention to about mile 22. Still no wall. I started pressing harder – this was what I was training for so I was going to leave it all out there. I was reeling in runners, encouraging them as I passed. I'm sure they all hated my guts, but it helped my mental state. I took my second GU just in case. Miles 23, 24, and 25 went by with no wall. Never before has this happened for me. I saw and took the turn to the finish and saw the clock. It read something like 2:15. Huh? Oh...25K time. Did not see any marathon clock as I crossed the finish (Sugarloaf fail #3). I knew I had PRed and BQed, but between that and my watch fail I had no idea what my time was. I grabbed a heat blanket and a water and walked over to cheer Dave in. He fought through a lot and came in around 3:16 – a little worse for wear but well under his 3:25 BQ time. Boston 2017 for both of us!


I got my gear, texted Amy, and she said my online time was 2:08. Yeah, right. Maybe they should have put the start mat down earlier.  We eventually figured out it was 3:08 and change. Dave and I determined neither of us was in the age group running and hobbled the half mile to the shuttle back to the inn. In the shower I noticed my toe was black, purple, and blue. Nice. No matter now, the deed was done. We broke the otherwise brutal drive back with stops for beer, burgers, donuts, coffee, burgers. It was time to celebrate.