Trim Tram Donovan

Live Free or Die: The Race Report to Timberman Half Ironman

If only this entry could encompass everything I experienced from the dates August 19th through August 25th, 2009. Every now and then, you have to be reminded who you are and what you can do. What you can accomplish and what you're made of. Who you were and who you are. People beg for these things--Not epiphanies but a time to cleanse yourself. Not about getting back to who you were but moving forward to who you are. Exhausting every sentiment and emotion would be arduous and relentless but neglecting moments doesn't abandon them but keeps them private and important. The kind of things that you tell people about when you only feel like it's the right time.

For you, I want this time (we have here) to be about the race. This is about making something out of nothing. When the laws of nature are against you and you feel like it's a relentless pursuit to follow your gut and your heart rather than your head. Our time in this report is about what I have become rather than who I was.

I showed up to five classes in my college Beginner Aquatics Class. I was certain I failed it but, instead, I got a 'B'. Out of 36 classes, I arrived five times and received not only a passing grade but a higher mark of 'B'. During that class, I witnessed people crying. I saw people so helpless in the water. It was like going into a battlefield every time we got into the water. My indigent water skills were the summary of a culture of a family who didn't think water skills were important. That's because their parents didn't think water skills were important. Think of my fear as a trait handed down through generations.

Standing on the edge of a diving board, my nerves were thin. One summer I was left to swimming class with my cousin Arthur. I was pushed off the high dive and I don't remember anything after that. I asked my Uncle Bill about those classes and he reminded me that he took us to all those classes.

"By diving off that board," my therapist points out, "you take ownership of the choices in the water." I was pushed when I was younger but when it came to working with a coach like Jessica, she told me that I could jump off the diving board and I did.

Time and again, I would keep showing up to Jessica's open water swim class while I kept a low profile. Trying to hope that I would fit in someday, I would go about my own set of rules. Jessica, incredibly understanding, kept an eye on me. She kept me under her wing in my first longer distance triathlon. I froze up time and again. She would help me float on my back and remind me that everything was ok. She told me jokes; I laughed. I felt like she was desperate as I was to find out what was happening to me, "There's like this moment where you panic," she contemplated, "and if you can just get over that sense of panic, you'll get it."

Two years later, I swam across Devil's Lake very slowly and she told me that there wasn't any way to get back except to swim. That's when the wrestling gave away. My mind and my body found some kind of middle territory amongst Clay's Michael Jackson jokes. I competed the next day in a triathlon with no swim anxieties. 

In two years, I had gone from hope to 'hell yea'. I told Jessica that I owned Timberman. People encouraged me that I'd make it. But something told me that I could do it. Something deep inside me knew that I was different. Something changed and I liked it. Only a few weeks ago, I got kicked off the Door County Half IM course because I was too slow on the swim. Timberman, on the other hand, was my race for the taking. 

"You should try nightswimming," Erik told me, "it's like running with a blindfold on." I stayed at the place that his wife called the 'place in New Hampshire'. Erik, his wife MP, Kitty and Christina all were competitors in the 2009 Timberman Half Ironman. Erik and MP made us at home in their amazing home close to Lake Sunapee in New Hampshire. I was far away from everything and came alone--without wife and kids.

Staying there was like a mini-camp for the race. Every day, there was an early morning swim. Every day, there was somebody running or cycling. I was only interested in swimming each morning. My bike had to be put back together. And my run was no worry to me since I knew my legs could endure virtually any 13 miles.

We had to attend the expo the day before the race. Our bikes were required to be racked on Saturday and our registration materials were waiting for us. We were given bracelets that matched the bike numbers. We had numbers for the bike. We had numbers for the run. We got numbers for our helmets and numbers for our bike. 

We left at 3:40AM for the 2009 Timberman Half Ironman from their place on Lake Sunapee. Gathering our things, all of us were silent. Gathering our needed materials, we were like worker ants insuring that we were creating a good future. It was dark on the drive and we clutched onto our respective travelers mugs of coffee. Each mug boasted a white line drawing of a moose. Beneath the moose, it read, "New Hampshire. Live Free or Die." Erik had already given his choice the day before, "I choose Die."

In many ways, this race would be the litmus test to Ironman. My choice to compete in upcoming FULL Ironman competitions would rely on today's events. How long could I really compete and fail miserably? I felt like I jumped a emotional/psychological hurdle, so this would test the pudding of that accomplishment (or so-called). Ironman cut-off is 2:20, so I would have to break 1:10 to even come close.

THERE HAS BEEN A DELAY TO THE START. WE APOLOGIZE FOR THE INCONVENIENCE. THERE IS AN ACCIDENT ON THE BIKE COURSE. WE WILL START THE RACE AS SOON AS POSSIBLE AFTER THEY CLEAR THE COURSE. THANK YOU FOR YOUR UNDERSTANDING.

I was trying to warm up my swim my going out on the buoys of the finish. The only thing it did was make me even more paranoid. Jet Skis flew by me and people gathered along the shore. Erik and MP were warming up but turned in early. The water was calm (outside of the Ski Doo's who flew by) and I tread water. I thought that I didn't deserve to be here. I don't really need to be here. I can walk away and no one would fault me. That's when I knew 1. I was going a little crazy 2. I needed to get Happy Steve back again.

The announcement went out over the loud speaker: THERE HAS BEEN A DELAY TO THE START. WE APOLOGIZE FOR THE INCONVENIENCE. THERE IS AN ACCIDENT ON THE BIKE COURSE. WE WILL START THE RACE AS SOON AS POSSIBLE AFTER THEY CLEAR THE COURSE. THANK YOU FOR YOUR UNDERSTANDING. DO NOT MAKE YOUR WAY TO THE START LINE. 

I was in my wet suit and forest green cap with goggles. Erik, MP, Kitty and I started making our way over to the start line. I went off by myself for a few moments by myself in the water. I let my body float on the shallow water in a dead man's float and shut my eyes. Like night swimming, I let myself drift.

People start suddenly. Then more. I'm in the 4th wave, I have to hurry and be prepared. I get up there. It's a clockwise swim in a 60 person wave. Every where I look, there's white men in black wet suits with forest green swim caps and see through goggles. I made the brash decision of shaking every hand of people who I thought looked nervous. I said, "Good luck" to each of them. I told myself the one and only mantra I managed to author for myself, "Define Yourself."

GO. GO. GO. GO. GO. The announcer over the bullhorn wanted to keep saying "GO" until everybody was swimming. The floor of the lake stayed with me then dropped off. It was clearest open water I've ever swam. So when it drops off, you can imagine what it made me feel.

The draft of the swimmers ahead of me as well as the excitement brought me to the first buoy in very little time. I would guess 12 minutes. Very fast. I probably sighted two times. I got to the orange triangle and was pointed way, way off. That's where the swim actually started for me.

If the mile was 1.2 miles, then the tangent after the turn was a half mile. It didn't stop. Since I veer to the left on long swims, there were lifeguards who held their oars to remind me to get back closer to the buoys. By the time I got half way through the stretch, the sun beat into my eyes. One lifeguard told me, "You're more than half way though, brotha!" A drastic change in lifeguard tone from the Door County Half IM. 

I stopped for a moment to put my head up and looked to the shore and saw the huge number of people on the shoreline. How awesome. I was so far away and it felt so close. I knew I had a long way to go. Oar after oar from the lifeguard reminded me of my veering left problem. It frustrated me a bit but it wore way after I got the the second orange pyramid.

The number of lifeguards dwindled which told me that they weren't worried about the swimmers on this leg. There were three (that I saw) and they funneled you to the finish. This where I was hit and swam-over and so on. I didn't care because I was finishing.

The signals that I finished were slow coming. 

C'mon.

C'mon.

Ok. There's the boat. Can I stand up? No. Not until you can touch bottom with your hands. Now? No. Now? No. Now? WTF? ROCKS. STAND UP. I just did it.

SWIM: 55 MINUTES.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Thank you, God. I have been blessed with the power to overcome and own what I want to own when I want to own when I want to own it. I am thankful. Some people talk to you when they're desperate but I am talking to you in thanks. Genuine, open-hearted thanks. Not that disingenuous prayer given every Sunday from those who muster up thanks. It is Sunday and THIS IS MY CHURCH.

My bare feet ran along the grass to transition while I dragged my wet suit off my torso. The wet suit rippers stood ready, WHO'S NEXT? WHO'S NEXT?

I laid down and they ripped it right off me.

My triathlon towel draped over my aero bars. It has the sketch outline of a dead body. A joke gift that Susie gave me. But her joke has the sublime understanding that my irrational fears are actually rational to me.

Dry off. Get ready to bike. Remember to keep it simple the front 15. Reserve it.

But, first I gotta pee. 

T1: 6:09

If somebody tells you that Timberman is hilly, believe it.There were people walking their bikes at three points inside the front half. I can see if it's the back half and you're out of energy but these people are already trying to either conserve or they've lost the gusto to climb.

Even though there's 1700 people on this course, I find the cyclists very spread out by mile 40. It's lonely and boring for a runner like me. Then the city creeps up on me and I'm surprised by my time. I have no computer on my bike nor a Garmin on my wrist.

The day got hotter as I turned into transition.

Bike 3:27 (16.2 MPH)

I was having some real bowel issues.

T2: 5:33

I ran out of the porta john, ready to take on the half marathon! Could I have some sunscreen? They spray me down. It felt like a very thin layer but I trusted the volunteers.

The run course was two 10K course loops. Up. Down. Up Down. The best part was seeing every one. Where Christina was. Where MP was. Where Erik was. Where Kitty was. There was something comforting in knowing they were still there racing. 

I took just about every ice cube, Gatorade, Water and cold sponge they gave me. The temps were heading close to 95. I caught up with Kitty and Erik on loop 2. We discussed about the importance of the course where the "Bubble City" was. 

Slowly, we separated. I thought it was important to finish together but I knew what would happen at the end. I would gain my legs. Erik would lose his. Kitty was starting to crash. Inevitably, we separated. 

By the time I got to the finish line, I wasn't sure what I had to do. I simply crossed the finish line. 

RUN 2:32

FINISH: 7:08:39

I knew that this was just the beginning. Just the beginning. I started crying, I was in pain. I held my eyes. They handed me a wet towel.

A camera taking photos to happy finishers, but he dropped his lens as I walked by him.

I cried. I cried some more.

My sister Annie was there with her husband and sons. I needed to sit down. They helped me out.

Not only had I just finished a lot work but I have a long road ahead of me. I have to finish something I started in 2006 and it's already 2009. Ironman Wisconsin wasn't just a race that I didn't finish but it was unfinished business.

You're Welcome to Enjoy the Rest of the Day

The 2009 Door County Half Ironman

They pulled me out of the water. To my surprise, I tried to argue how I wanted to stay in the water. STAY? Did I say STAY in the water? Yes. Yes, I said I wanted to stay in the water. I argued with the lifeguard and she took no hesitation to tell me 'no'.

I was fairly calm at the start of the Door County Half Ironman. Usually, my heart races and I feel ill. I can't stay focused on one thing and my mind darts from thought to thought--eyes darting everywhere. But last Sunday, I was swimming in the water as a warm up and it seemed to be fine. After all, I've been training since (about) January.

But as I made the first turn in the Lake Michigan swim, the waves became bolder. It wasn't ripping or creating white caps. Rather, the water made 18 inch swells that pushed me up and dropped me down over and over again. I worked to find some kind of mental rhythm, a calming place to put myself. My heart raced and I kept stroking much too quickly. I found a lifeguard and was able to rest on a kayak or a short board for a minute or two.

As usual, the people behind me were beginning to pass me. I've been used to this as long as I've been swimming in triathlons. I let everyone pass me and remind myself that it's my race. I would remind myself that I have no time limit on this race. There is a course cutoff at 5:30PM but I surely could make up the time loss on the bike and run.

I got to the next lifeguard and asked to hang off the kayak for a minute.

"Sure but we're taking you in," he tells me.

"What?"

"You're done. But you can do the rest of the course."

"I'm done?"

"You're going too slow. We're taking you out of the water. You're only a third of the way through it. This jet ski will take you back to shore."

I thought it would be easier to debate with the lifeguards on the jet ski.

The lifeguard says, "Grab onto the back of the jet ski and pull yourself up."

I grab onto the back of the water transport, "I know I can finish this. Can't I get a second chance?"

"No. It's too dangerous and you're way behind."

"I can do it. I can see the yellow turn buoy."

"We can't have you out here. Get up on the back."

This was obviously over. I got up on the back of their ride and the guy running the jet ski said, "Hold onto her waist and hold on tight." I put my arms around her life vest's waist. He sped off to the dock and pulled up to a metal ladder welded to the side. I started to get up and he said, "He's tipping the boat. He's tipping the boat."

I actually apologized. Then my goggles dropped into the water and floated down.

"We can get them," the woman whose waist once boasted my grasp.

"Forget it." I got on the ladder and the jet ski left me to climb the ladder. I reached the top where an older woman had a Door County Triathlon shirt and white cotton pants with glasses that had lenses so large that it covered much of her face.

She looked at me those two portholes, "What's your number?"

"298." I thought only for a moment about lying.

"Did you give them your timing chip?"

I thought again for a moment about lying but resisted, "No. I still have it on." She knelt down and ripped the velcro apart and took it off, "You're welcome to enjoy the rest of the day in the bike and run."

I wondered what to do. It didn't take me me long to decide that I should continue. I walked over to the transition area. I had been pulled so early in the swim that the leaders of the race had just left the transition area to continue. That would mean that I would be biking with the elite wave of triathletes.

When I saw this, I knew I had a few minutes to gather myself. I stood, looking at all my transition materials laid out, ready for use. They were neatly place to afford efficiency. Bike materials in front of run. Run materials in back. A place to put my wetsuit while it drips wet. My bike, ready to be unhooked. Bottles of liquids and nutrition packets stuffed in secret pockets of my bike and run shorts.

I took a deep breath and started to unzip my wet suit. Took off the top then slid my legs out and it all dripped. One by one elite and race leaders ran into transition. I was moving much slower but I got my bike materials on. My shoes and helmet and sunglasses.

Got on my bike. Rode away. Failure makes for a long riding companion.

Swim DNF
56 Mile Bike 3:02
13.1 Mile Run 2:04

I realize that I have another shot next month in New Hampshire when I race the Timberman Triathlon.

I received an email yesterday that read, "Need anything?"

I've recanted the story a few times but I haven't thought about what I need now. But I happily answered, "Yea, get the lifeguards at DC to lighten up.

I'll be hitting the water probably tomorrow morning with Ryan G. at Law Park. He's a bit faster than me but he's a patient dude. I'll be at OWS class on Friday. Then this weekend I'll probably hit the water for distance if I can find somebody to join me. If I can go both Saturday & Sunday, then I will.

I'm doing nothing but swimming and some light, light biking & running. I'm going to smell like my wet suit come August 23rd. I'll be black from the stains that it's left behind because I've worn it so much. Employees at Monona Terrace are going to know my swim cap. Every day that I can get in the water is a good day."

Philadelphia Marathon Race Report: At Least I Had a Good Time

Touched down Friday night and Karen picked me up with her three sleeping children. They're very young and very beautiful. Their pink, swollen bodies placed carefully throughout the car made me think that Anne Geddes was laying out photography for the automobile industry.

Our non stop discussion took us right up to Johnny & Sharon's house but I wasn't sure if it was right. They purchased a new home and it was difficult to know for certain that it was their home. The mat on the porch boasted the letter D and it led me to believe it was short for Donovan. But one never knows. I knocked on the door and nothing happened. I rang the doorbell and there was a long pause that was followed by the certain clamor from Karen who waited in the car, "ARE YOU SURE THIS IS THEIR HOUSE?" And like clockwork, Johnny opened the door. I wave her goodbye and walk inside.

The next day, our schedules are full. We have an opportunity to see his daughter Campbell at ballet class. We go to the race expo with a (soon to be) three-year-old. Because of the impatience of our third musketeer, I pass by the official race merch. Johnny tells me, "You can buy it on the web site." True. I knew my money was better spent on small runs of beer created at the General Lafayette Inn.

The annual Lehigh-Lafayette game was being televised. Just barely by broadcast standards. I wondered, as I watched the game with Johnny and Andrea, what these guys will do when all broadcast signals are required to be high def. Their standards, just at this game, were close to cable access. It doesn't matter when there is football game and the drama overrides the production quality. And beers were flowing too. We walked out of there with a belly full of beer and two growlers, one had "Blonde Ale" and one had "Chocolate Thunder".

Andrea claims we had five beers at the General Lafayette. Reviewing my poor performance at the marathon via Facebook, this is what was said between Beadling, Piper and I:

 Chris Beadling at 7:10pm November 24

No, Chocolate Thunder counts as two I am sure...glad you made it home safely. Great to see you in Philly, even if you weren't at the top of your game!

 Andrea Piper at 10:12pm November 24

well considering i had at least 5 with you....i would agree. You could run a marathon with 20 beers! Great to see you. Wish it was longer!

 Steve Donovan at 6:40am November 25

When I came up to the tv room after dinner with yet another beer, I think John and Sharon were in shock and awe.

By the time I was in bed, I was sacked. For the first time, I slept through the whole night before a marathon. Typically, I'm waking up a couple hours at a time, checking the clock. Instead, I woke at 4:45 and begun the ritual.

I took my bag and turned it upside down to find everything I needed. The temps were going to start at 27 and get not much higher. So I need to layer everything I had then carefully place the Philly P.D. fallen officers shirt that I promised to wear for the race. 

The starting line was crowded so we kept warm. The race attendance (between the marathon, half marathon & 8K) was estimated at 18,000. When they announced that the starting horn was frozen, I should have taken that as a signal that it was a day not good for running a marathon.

It was freezing and I was getting a little sick from yesterday's beer. I thought 'Maybe I can handle this.'

I still pulled off a sub 8-minute 5K even in congestion. I felt great. 

5K: 26:06 (7:50 Pace)

My stomach was doing flips while I ran around Drexel University. I had a taken a gel that didn't agree with the Blonde Ale, Wine & Blue Moon from yesterday. I belched. I burped. I never burp. But I burped more. I tried to let myself belch until I started coughing so hard that I threw up a small pile of brown stuff on the sidewalk. I heard one runner pass me by, "Ugh!" I wiped my mouth clean and decided to walk to the next water stop and try to see if I had anything left to finish this race. When the water stop came into sight, I popped a salt tablet to make sure I go electrolytes and wouldn't go into dehydration. 

I drank a cup of water. Then I took three more. It felt so good. Like taking cough syrup after a coughing fit. It coated me and re-energized me. I picked it up and tried to run from water station to water station.

10K: 51:58 (8:40 Pace)

I realized not only was I NOT going to qualify for Boston but I might not even go under four hours. Even at this point, I was twenty minutes ahead of the four hour pacers. I still understood that if I was going to finish, it would be fighting through these stomach issues.

Sure as shit, I see the back of my brother Johnny up ahead. He's participating in the half marathon and he's about twenty strides ahead of me. I work my way up as we quickly approach the art museum where the 13.1 mile mark lives, "I'm so glad this is the end for me." He tells me. That's when I thought about just ending the race.

This marathon is set up so that the marathoners basically run right by the finish line half way through the race. The half marathoners cross the finish line at that point. Argh.

I'm thinking, at this point, that I should be just walking off the course. I should head back to the row house where we stowed our stuff. Nobody would think worse of me. Nobody. It would be a funny story and I would be done with this beast. I've done 15 of these effin' marathons. What's one more? I'm not breaking any land speed records.

There's something humiliating about quitting and walking away. It sends some kind of message that you've decided not to take a chance. It runs the risk of showing that you were wrong.

Not finishing, on the other hand, can show your strength of character. You know when to fold your cards even if it means looking like a fool. 

In this case, my lack of respect for this distance and my smug attitude put me in this situation. I thought that my ability to misbehave would work along side this endurance event. This would be my responsibility and I should learn to live with it. I don't want to sound dramatic but I think if you made the mistake, there's something inside of me that wants to teach myself a lesson. Let's call it the ghost of my mother. A guilty conscience can be an inspirational one.

Half Marathon: 1:51:40

There's a large crowd around the half marathon mark along with a water station. Since it also served as the finish line, people were crammed together, held back by metal gates. They screamed what they considered were inspirational phrases like, "Keep going!" or "Half way there!" While the water on the ground was a sheet of ice from the freezing temperatures.

I walked and belched. I heard, "YOU CAN DO IT!" from the crowd.

It was only another runner who said to me, "C'mon, let's go." that inspired me to pick up my feet and try to move away from the finish line to deliver 13.1 more miles to my body.

My body wouldn't take any gels. I switched over to Gatorade and water with an occasional salt tablet. People passed my very easily as the crowds quickly thinned out along Kelly Drive. I tried to mentally find a way to deal with the stomach issues by running a quarter mile then walking a quarter mile. It was just about all my stomach could take.

My new strategy worked well since I was making some movement. I think I heard one person cheer, "Keep moving forward!" A phrase made famous by Rocky Balboa.

Marching. Plodding. The miles could not move much slower. The 4:00 pace group had caught me and I tried to stick with them but a half mile later, it proved to be useless.

30K (18.6 miles): 2:55:01 (9:24 pace)

Manayunk was the 20 mile mark. This part of the city boasts a 'main street' feeling with an uphill to boot. People offered brownies, beer, bananas and more. I wished that I could throw up some more.

As we left this charming food-offering street, it became desolate again. If you know the Philly Marathon, then you know this is where the race begins. You're back on Kelly Drive where the river shoots winds off the open space and people break down out of frustration. 

I tried to recall a time when I was flying through this part of the race. Visualizing what a successful time I had in 2005 when I finished in 3:31. I ran through this, passing people left and right. It fed into my success. Today, it was quite the opposite. I saw some who were making their personal records, passing me and smiling at what looked like a successful race.

40K: 4:09:31

Just. Finish. This. Race.

Chip Time Finish: 4:22:58 (10:10 pace)

I immediately left the finish line grounds to walk to 25th Street where I was to meet Johnny. My legs weren't in the best shape, but they weren't in horrible shape. I got there.

We went to find food. Ending up at London (restaurant/bar), the waitress brought us beers and food. I never learn my lesson. Beadling caught up with us there and probably thought the same thing as I recanted my tale of woe.

As I returned to Madison, I kept finishing the story, "At least I had a good time."

50K Race Report: Zoltan versus Steve (When Donovans Battle)

 

Elevation Profile, The 2008 North Face 50K Endurance Challenge

I was about three hours into the run when I saw the familiar short gait of the Stalky Man running. The sky was huge with the flat prairies that had ripped pathways, worn by wear. The trails would lead from tall tree forests that let you go into these open air flat lands that went on for miles only to end up inside a forest where you repeat the process all over again. The textures and tree types changed in the settings but the zen of mile-by-mile would not. Trudging on, I had reached one of those prairie bridges to the next forest. The Stalky Man was struggling ahead of me.

I worked to get there trying to reach him while my right glute was still in protest. I would reach with every stride until he stopped running and began walking. As I caught up nearly ten feet behind him but my attention was sidetracked by a man who walked out of the tall grass with his dog, dressed in blaze orange with a shotgun over his shoulder about 200 yards away.

My feet picked themselves up again and I told Stalky Man, "Keep your head up," I was gesturing the hunter who blindly walked around the grounds with his golden retriever and an assumedly loaded shotgun. Stalky Man said nothing and kept going.

This inaugural North Face Challenge 50K was so long, you couldn't help but find so many moments like those. I could recount them but it would take too long and I'm not sure what the value of stacking those crazy moments together would pay. A race this long has many moments that were surreal and fascinating but I'll try (my hardest) to stick to the race day conditions and parts of the course to note as well as some events that transpired.

I arrived around 6:00AM. The race started about two hours later but I have this rule about being early to a race that went overboard on this race day. As I got out of the car in Eagle, Wisconsin, there was no light. Even being in a desolate place like the Kettle Moraine State Park, the only light around me were some gas powered fires burning in the North Face starting line camp. The pop-up tents boasted brand names and not much more to offer. The parking was close enough that you could see the starting line and cheers came from the small village where people started running the 50 mile race. It took off and I started walking in the dark toward the light.

I checked in, got my chip in the next tent then was allowed to check one or two gear bags for the 11 or 22 mile aid station. I had one bag of stuff for 22 filled with a towel, short sleeve shirt, lubrication and a hat.

When my check-in tasks finished, I returned to the car where I spent my time playing with my cell phone and flipping through music as the sun tried its best to rise on an overcast day. 

Ran into Mike Forsterling who came in from North Carolina for this race. I only left the car once so I could to the bathroom when I ran into him. Mike has so many great mantras for race day. He would tell me things like "Play as you practice!" or "I'm just lookin' to finish." I especially liked the second one since I would be repeating it all day long.

Temp: 44

Cloudy, Winds were about 10-20 mph

It felt very cold at the start but after it got started, I found my shorts, long sleeve shirt and running cap were all the clothes I really needed. I packed a Camelpak water pack, filled with nutrition & salt tabs in the pocket.

The only strategy I used was 

1. Walk Every Steep Hill

2. Walk at Every Mile

3. Don't Go Fast Anywhere But the Last 5-10 miles

4. Eat Where They Offer Food

5. Don't Bother Worrying About Where Other Runners Are

6. Keep My Butt Stretched Out

As we started off, the pack seemed to stick together. I kept to a 8:30/9:00 pace during the running. After the first three miles, the crowd started separating. I tried to stick with Forsterling but I kept losing him. By some point, I knew I had to just go alone and make it my own race.

Mile 7 was my first true taste of the Kettle's hills. It went up and around and up and around and up and I was walking when someone said to me, "That's a good idea to walk all the hills." This man was set on my pace and we were to end up together for the next 15 miles.

The course was peppered with shotgun sounds. As the first one went off, it was 9:00AM, so I thought they were starting another distance. As the race wore on, there dozens of shotgun sounds going off. It was a little unnerving to hear BOOM at random times. You exit a forest BOOM. You start to walk uphill BOOM. BOOM BOOM BOOM. How many guns are out there? (Later, I would be told that not only were there hunters out there but also a firing range which may explain some of the gunshot sounds.)

At the first aid station, they asked to see our bib numbers and we had to confirm our last names.

"What's your number?"

"Four fifty-seven," huffing to a walk.

"Last name?"

"Donovan."

The guy who I was running with answered their questions, "Three two Three. Donovan."

"Oh, two Donovans in a row!" the volunteer beamed.

Later on, I asked him for his first name. He said, "Zoltan."

"That's a good Irish name."

BOOM.

The race wound into planted forests and a trail cut through. When it was flat, the trees were so lined up and symmetrical, you felt like you were running through a supermarket. That was made of trees. That doesn't make sense but it sorta did to me at the time as I was losing calories and energy.

The forests would sometimes become torrential. The steep slopes and rocky terrain that were covered in mud made walking once again necessary. I didn't see anyone fall but each time we would hit something as bad as that, someone would verbalize something like, "Gaaaawd!" or "Sheeeet!" or "Whoooa!" I primarily grunted.

BOOM.

At each aid station, they had a huge spread. Jugs of water & Accelerade (tm) along with pretzels, chips, PB&J sandwiches, Swedish Fish (tm), cupcakes and the list goes on. They were spread out about 5-6 miles apart so you had to depend on yourself for quite a bit. I ate at each station as well as kept the combination of Stinger/Roctane nutrition coming as well. Lunch was quickly approaching and I new that my hunger would take a new turn. Since it was so cold, much of the food was close to frozen. It was intolerably difficult to eat but you would find things like the Swedish Fish (tm) difficult to chew.

By the time noon rolled around, I was starving. I pulled out a bag of Swedish Fish (tm) to tide me over until the next station where I could get more substance and ended up eating the whole bag. I could feel myself falling behind. Zoltan and Stalky Guy were slowly building a lead while I would walk or I would stop to stretch my right leg's cheek muscle. I had to keep reminding myself that this was my race and I was the only one who would decide how I ran it. Even if there were people in front of me that I should beat, this should be a race that I enjoy and finish on my own terms. I let them go ahead and tried to take care of myself with food, water and stretching.

19 Mile Split: 3:24:44 (10:45 Pace)

There comes a time when it all becomes a state of mind where you have to tell yourself, "I'm going to be out here all day long so just keep going." If I got caught up in the distance, it would be overwhelming. I just tried to stay focused on the food oasis at mile 22 or the next hill to walk. Suddenly, I'm looking at my Garmin (tm) and noticing that I was quickly approaching the marathon distance.

There's a cruel joke at mile 25 where it goes up, then short down, then up again, then down a touch then up again.

BOOM.

That marathon mark came and went. I didn't even notice since I got so caught up in the moment-to-moment state of mind. That mindfulness suddenly turned my brain and body around. The moment was unusual where I found a gust of emotional momentum.

It was only moments before I started passing people. Zoltan and Stalky Guy. Short Guy at the 27 mile oasis told me, "You're in fourth place, go get 'em."

I just about spit out my drink and it give me a bigger boost to my boost. I told him, "Thanks. You go get 'em, too."

As I took off, I sorta slapped him on the stomach as a sign of comraderie but he only yelped out, "Ow," and clenched his eyes shut.

"Oh, sorry. You ok?"

"Yea."

I took off. I would apologize again at the finish line as well as ask him if he was hallucinating because I was more like 54th place. At the time, though, I didn't know. And as I saw people, I would reel them in one at a time. I must have passed ten people up to the finish.

My only goal in this course was to finish and to run up the last hill (mile 30). As I started tilting to the end, I passed one guy who was muttering things, "Mile 28," he held his limp arms up, "mile 28. Yes. Yes. Yes. I'm doing it. Mile 28."

Directly in front of him was a woman with curly red hair in a ponytail, crows feet worn into her temples, sculpted calves that boasted a mud covering and her right hand held her water bottle. She was working up the hills while I walked them still. I would catch her and she would still be working those last miles. She was working so hard and staying so focused, I couldn't help but watch her from time to time. The tenacity and ferocious nature she poised so well was all coming together for the end of the race.

She and I met up at the last mile where the highway crosses the course. She broke character for a minute and asked me, "How did you like your 50K?"

"I didn't."

"I love it." She told me.

"I guess I do too." We crossed the street and she seemed to pick it up as the wind started slowing us down as it whipped at us. I tried to savor the last few moments but I didn't want to walk and I didn't want anyone to pass me. I slowly jogged with the best gait possible as I re-entered the main corridor to the Kettle Moraine Park.

I crossed the finish line in the hysteria of finishing, I got my huge medal and I walked around.

Finish Time: 5:47:51 (11:08 Pace)

I cried for the first time in a long time then I collected myself. I watched some people finish but it wasn't very long until I got into my car and drove home covered in mud and forest debris.

BOOM.

 

El Guapo Has Slipped Through My Fingers: The 2008 Milwaukee Marathon

Erik Schneiderhan and I arrived in Milwaukee on early afternoon Saturday, got checked into the Courtyard Marriot, then picked up our materials at the expo for the Milwaukee's 2008 Lakefront Marathon. If you're going to stay for Saturday night, the Courtyard comes well recommended. It's a host hotel so you'll get shuttles from every part of the marathon back to the hotel and they're extremely giving. We checked out late--about 2:00PM--and they were totally cool with it. Don't plan on spending much time at the expo. I've probably seen more shopping/browsing at the packet pickup for smaller races. The highlight was probably seeing Dick Beardsley attending the expo. Famous for his race against Salazar at Boston (otherwise known as the "Duel in the Sun"), he was stationed near the "Sleep Number" beds.

After the expo, we snapped into action and went to get a burger and a beer on Water Street.

Bunk mates Jessica and Peter arrived at 4PM before our 5:30 dinner reservations. We headed over to Calderone Club for dinner (very good, very close) where we met 16 of our closest friends for dinner.

When we arrived back to the hotel, I finished drinking my traditional five Guinnesses, listened to my iPod and got about four hours sleep.

The race was set for an 8AM start though the start line is 26 miles outside of Milwaukee so you needed to be transported there. The shuttles were conveniently coming to the two host hotels at "6:00AM sharp". We finally boarded the bus at about 6:30 and the race official there at the transport kept telling everybody, "YOU'LL BE THERE IN TIME. DON'T WORRY. IT'S ONLY A HALF HOUR DRIVE." There was some slight confusion about direction to Grafton, Wisconsin but we eventually got there in a good amount of time.

They played crazy orchestral music at the beginning. Outside of the orchestral music was a song called "Stand Up" (I assume) that was a half-hearted cheer for remaining strong during tough times. They played that song twice during those 15 minutes of waiting.

The national anthem was sang flat at times and off key.

At the start, I was surrounded by fellow training partners. Mike and I were about the same pace so we had talked about running together. His Garmin (trademark) had burned out its battery so he relied on mine. The starting was smooth and we stuck together well.

Lakefront's front miles seemed a bit like rolling hills that had some work to it. We would fall back on our pace when there more climbs. Our pace seemed to average 7:16-7:20. We were right on target.

Each mile, we would walk 25 seconds to reserve fuel for the last 10K. During mile 3, one race volunteer cheered to us during a walk, "C'mon! Pick it up! Get running!"

At mile 5, we were in the middle of (what seemed like) nowhere. There was a large crowd of people cheering for us. There, we found Jess & Pete. I handed off my cell phone to Jess since it was producing too much bounce. I'm not sure why I brought it. A race day decision that was poorly made.

I stayed on my nutrition plan very well. It was working like a charm. I wasn't growing deprived and I had the energy needed for the race.

Completely out of the blue, my legs started giving out around mile 9. I told Mike, "I'm losing it. At the next mile, I'm going to give you my Garmin and you can go ahead."

He said that he didn't need it. He was gauging his race without it. At the water stop, he flew away.

My inner hips (read: groin) were cramping up so it became difficult to run. I hit mile 11 and it was getting worse. I tried to stay on task with the run/walk plan but it became increasingly difficult. By the half marathon point, I wondered if I could finish or if I even SHOULD  finish the race. After all, I had Philly planned for November so I didn't need to beat myself up.

Half Marathon Time: 1:41

There is this greedy side of me. A side of me that wants to have the medal. There is this side of me that enjoys the thrill of the finish line. There is this side of me that is driven to not give up. This side of me wouldn't let me call it a day. It may have been a bad decision and maybe some athletes would have hung it up and saved it for the next race. But Life is short and you have to enjoy every medal that can be yours. No matter where you finish, you get the same medal the person an hour ahead of you gets. Marathon is about knowing your place and who you are and taking care of yourself while being driven. Finding the grey area where the two aspects of your life: personal challenge and genuine physical pain.

I knew that I could finish. But at what cost?

Miles ticked by and my run/walk was revised to half mile walks. You could tell that you were arriving close to town as the residences were beginning to spring up. We arrived in beautiful Whitefish Bay and I was still keeping  a somewhat respectable pace for my training.

As I reached mile 20, my training partners were passing by me asking what was wrong. I was struggling to simply keep a jog going by this point. My right leg had all but collapsed underneath me. It could hardly hold thirty seconds of running. 

As I reached mile 24.5, another training partner reached me and she asked me, "Steve, take me into the finish." I was walking and didn't have anything left since my legs had become two planks of wood between the tightening muscles, the cramping and my right leg losing its power. It was painful to run but Jen started walking ahead of me. I jogged up there to walk with her. It was clear that she could MAYBE qualify for Boston if she ran it into the finish.

I told her that I could run with her. It was more important to me that she get there than me. We started jogging and we both had a difficult time. We struggled through the 1.5 miles and I tried to give encouragement. 

That area was peculiar to race. It was a bay area on Lake Michigan that cut across a grassy landing and through a gazebo.

The number of people increased as we approached the finish line. The cheering grew and we finished together. Jen missed her qualifying time but I was proud to have finished with her. Here was a woman who had been hit by a car (while she was running) right before training began. She had fallen out of running soon after and joined the training group with a bruised body that lost all the endurance training she had done in the past.

Finish Time: 3:49

In 18 weeks, she was finishing an amazing race as a fighter. She was clearly broken down but it was amazing to be a part of it. There was a sense of victory even amongst the pain and anguish.

--sfd