San Francisco Marathon - Part 1

Context: This happened in July of 2010.

Encouraged by some friends, and based on my experience in Holland, I signed up in January to run in the San Francisco Marathon. I viewed it as an opportunity to see my birth place in a way that I never had before.

I am not sure at which point between January and July I made the transition to calling myself a “runner”. It might be my tenth time I woke up before the sun rose to get my miles before starting my day. It might be when I recognized the same people along the trail and waved back when they raised their hands to me. It’s most likely when I looked down to realize I was going to lose a toenail – either I was dedicated or crazy -likely both.

There were ups and downs in my training schedule (missing a day, trying to make up for it the following week) and diet (I won’t even go into some of the binges to satisfy some of the strongest cravings I have ever felt.) As the big day approached, I felt ready, but daunted- mostly owing to my strict work schedule that included a lot of travel immediately preceding AND following the race.

The preceding Thursday, I fly out to Richmond, Virginia to participate in a round-table discussion on disaster preparation strategies for a particularly large customer’s environment. After geeking out all day Friday, I fly back to San Francisco and meet Wife at our room at around Midnight.

Saturday, I wake up early despite my wish to sleep (excitement and time zone changes had me bright-eyed at around 7 AM.) We walk to the expo, pick up my bib, and wander back through the city. To satisfy Wife’s hunger, as well as our constant addiction to Irish pubs, we stop in at Johnny Foley’s – where I make the most painful decision of the day : to drink or not to drink. Flashing back to the constant advertising plastered on the side’s of Irish buildings and ask the bartender, “Does Guinness really give you strength? I am supposed to run the San Francisco Marathon tomorrow.”

“Oh absolutely. It is in no way a marketing campaign and will certainly give you strength.”

“Pour me a pint, then.”

Our next stop was another one of our favorite pubs - The Irish Bank (on Bush Street). I order Bangers and Mash for lunch and another pint. The elderly man next to me is from the south of Ireland used to train boxers (he said he was a golden gloves champion, and I believe him.) I said that most runners are “carbo-loading” today, but I am “Irish Loading” which consists of drinking Guinness, eating pub grub, and working myself into an emotional frenzy.

He gets serious and asks “Are you confident in your training?”

“Yeah, I know I can physically do it, I mean I ran most the distance a couple of weeks ago.”

He taps his temple and says, “Then it’s all up here then. If you know you can do it, you need to commit now or not show up – or you’ll regret it for years. How old are you?”

“Thirty five.”

“Well, just remember that, when you are passing mile thirteen, that if you don’t finish now, you will be kicking yourself all the way until you are seventy. You’re at the halfway point in your life and you don’t want to have that on your conscience.”

I stare into my glass, “I’ll remember that.”

He smacks my ribs and say, “You’ve got HEART, lad, leave it all out on the track!”

“I will, sir, thanks for the words, enjoy your visit to San Francisco.”

Keep your friends close, your enemies closer.

When I want to do 'hill work' (aka running up hills to make your legs stronger), I usually go to Lafayette Reservoir. It has a very hilly trail that winds around a ridge, but my preferred route is the 2 3/4 mile paved loop hugging the water-line.

Distraction helps me run which has resulted me in naming most of the hills around the loop. For example, the first hill leads to a children's play area with a castle-like structure, so I call it "The Drawbridge".

Increasing my total distance is my main goal for the day so I plan on four laps around the pond (a new personal record.) I pop on my headphones, take a deep breath and start trotting.

On the third lap the exertion catches up with me. My mind starts to go into that state of,  "Why am I doing this, again? Isn't there a computer game you would rather be playing right now?" I mentally slap myself a couple of times and concentrate on keeping pace - then I see it.

Dead ahead is the hill I call "The Beast", the steepest one of the loop. I let up my pace  and promise myself that if I can just keep moving it will be all over shortly. An elderly couple at the top see me panting upwards and move to the side allowing me to pass. I catch movement on my left in my peripheral vision and realize I am being passed.

She is Asian, in her early twenties, about six feet tall and is running like she means business. I assume this is her first lap since she isn't really sweating and doesn't seem tired at all. While training to run I have learned to discard my ego, so I could care less that she is passing me. That is, until I get to the top of the hill.

The couple at the top of the hill is still waiting for me to pass. The husband, who reminds me of Mr Miyagi, is looking at me with disgust. My iPod volume is cranked up so I can't hear what he is saying to me, but I catch the last few words which are "...by A GIRL!". He scowls, points his finger at me and then at the girl. The message is clear : don't let a girl beat you. (Side note: this song starts playing and is the theme song for what happens next.)

Exhaustion does strange things to your brain- something inside me snaps. Suddenly, my entire focus is inside a mental box. There is no pain inside the box. There is no fatigue inside the box. There is only one thing with me inside the box : "catch the girl."

I pick up my pace and she comes back into view as I turn the corner. The old man laughing behind me, I concentrate on her feet and match her rhythm (tap, tap, tap, tap.) I copy her stride and assessments of the situation bounce around my head : she's younger than I am, she's a more experienced runner, she's just started her run today, she's got a longer stride. My brain processes all this information and spits out the response.

She is history.

I increase my pace a 1/8 count to her rhythm (tap, tap-tap, tap, tap) and slowly gain on her. She turns over her shoulder, sees me and speeds up. I recalibrate the beat and compensate. We approach the series of long winding hills I call "The Dragon's Spine" and I hear a sound that could be me gasping for air or could be the wind.

About a mile later, we approach a flat picnic area I call "The Meadow" and the walls of the box crash around me. Clutching my stomach, I yell, "You win!", and grind to a halt. In response, she turns and gives me a thumbs up and sprints away even faster.

That's when it sinks in: she was never worried about me passing her, she was worried about me giving up without pushing myself to the limit.

I finished all four laps and went home thinking about the lessons I learned: there isn't dishonor in losing to a girl, a perceived opponent could actually be your ally, and if you spend all your energy on the monsters you won't be able to even walk through the meadow.

Run, stressed boy, run!

In August of 2008, my employer asked me if I would be willing to move to Amsterdam for 6 to 9 months to hire, train, and manage a support team focused on EU customers. After several long talks with my Wife, I agreed and we both flew out in November 2008. I hired someone from Hungary, Italy, and France to get a good mix of native languages that they could support in addition to English. Training went well, sales reps are excited to be able to tout local language support and things were generally upbeat.

We were at a sporting goods store and I saw a flyer for a 12K race at a nearby beachfront town called Zandvoort in March of 2009. With a bit of ramping up (and commitment on the treadmill) it sounds totally reachable - so I sign up. This is my first race and I am very excited, we reserved a B&B for the weekend of the race at Zandvoort which about 20 miles west of Amsterdam. I hit the treadmill religiously and learn that I have an ITB issue I need to keep in control, what REAL blisters are, what music gets me pumped up - all the things that you learn as you make a transition from "occasional runner in the gym" to "prepping to run for real".

Most agree that the economic conditions were painful in 2008 and 2009. The CEO of the company was replaced .. and then replaced again over the course of a couple of months. In February I was told that I would not be staying through July as planned but was to come back in April. More importantly, the new CEO decided to shut down EU Operations in my office. This means firing the team I just hired and trained - people who had left their home country just a few months earlier to come work for me.

I was a mess. I stopped working out and pretty much ate junk food all the time. People would ask me how I was dealing with it and I would say "I don't care if you are building a Lego castle for 6 months, if someone comes along and kicks it all down - it hurts. And I am dealing with people's lives here. I'm not in a good place."

After announcing to Wife I am not going to race since we have to pack and I have to close down the office I just built, she reminds me that we have a room reserved and that we should at least go and try to clear our heads- even if I don't run. It sort of makes sense, so I agree and the day before the race we go out there.

She notes that I should at least show UP to the race, just to watch, even if I don't feel like running - and maybe I should wear my gear just in case I feel like running part of the way or something. She continues to make sense, so I put on my running gear and go.

Arriving at the race location I get my numbered bib and look around. There is a lot of energy- dancers, drummers, all kinds of activity so I sit down and start stretching.

The race course is separated into three parts. Zandvoort is known for Formula 1 racing and our race begins on the race track for the cars! It does a loop around the track, then up to a beach where it proceeds for a ways and then back through downtown to finish at the track across the finish line (where the Formula 1 cars would finish with the checkered flag.)

I decide to at least run the race-track portion and get into the starting bin with all the other runners. The door opens and we all go. I am not used to running without music but something about being in a crowd keeps me going. The course leaves the racetrack area and toward the beach - I am hurting but don't want to "just quit" after all - I keep going.

I tell myself that I'll run up the beach and bow out at downtown. I see Wife sitting on a log on the beach snapping pictures and try to smile. I keep going.

I get up a hill leading to downtown and see people everywhere. Dutch is the native language of Holland and I can't understand a word they are saying, but I have my name printed on my bib and every once and a while I can hear someone call out my name in encouragement - it works. I keep going.

With about a mile left my ITB is hurting badly and I start to walk. A woman who had to be in her 60s slows down, pats me on the back and says something to me in Dutch. I have no idea what she said, but the message is clear: "Don't give up." I keep going.

Entering the race track area there is a chaos of sound. I start jogging, and then running. The next thing I know I see the finish line and all the pain is gone. I pick up the pace and smile when I hear the announcer say my name.

I go through the exit area and they give me a medal - something I was not expecting at all since this is my first race and I had no idea that there was swag at the end. I move to the side and put my hands in my face as a flood of emotion brought on by the events of the past five months just slams me.

After pulling myself together, I find Wife who tells me I deserve a pint. It's quite possibly the best idea I have heard all year.