Wednesday, March 24, 2010
I have run fourteen marathons and I still don't get them, by which I guess what I really mean is I don't see the appeal. I suppose actually training for one might give me a different, although not necessarily better, perspective but to me, the marathon's greatest contribution to civilization was inspiring the half marathon - a distance I greatly prefer because it's short enough to race, long enough to challenge, and also long enough to feel like you've really gone somewhere. Even if it is just around in one big circle.
I ran the Shamrock Marathon sort of by accident, if not by mistake. A friend was looking for a spring marathon; I pointed out Shamrock and told him I'd make the trip and do the half. That presupposed that we'd register while there was still room in the half, a presupposition that proved dangerously inaccurate. Apparently I'm not the only one who prefers halfs. At any rate, I held my nose and signed up for the full; I used to think marathons were too intimidating to jump into on a whim but when you hear of all these people running multiple marathons in, like, a weekend, it kind of erodes the fear factor.
Having signed up for a marathon, an intelligent person might actually train - maybe even with legitimate long runs - but I couldn't work it into my busy schedule of Ultimate Frisbee, bitching about the cold (and the blizzards) of Dallas, and general hanging out (sometimes with ensuing hangovers). I tell you, the days were just packed. By the time I got to the starting line the morning of the race, my longest run since last December's White Rock Marathon had been 10.5 miles. Which at the time seemed like a marathon but not so much from my current perspective.
So going in, I knew it was going to be a struggle and that I was going to be doing some - as in a lot of - walking. My plan was to take one-minute walking breaks at every mile marker and stick to that schedule for as long as possible. I figured if I could make it through fifteen, I'd at least have a decent training run. As it played out, I ran the first sixteen at 8:49 (missing my walking breaks at mile one, because I never saw the marker, and mile six, because I was in traffic and stopping to walk didn't seem conducive to safety), struggled walking and running through the next four at 13:17 pace, and basically walked in the last six at 16:16 pace. It wasn't a particularly fun walk, either; the weather, which had its favorable elements early in the morning (mostly a lack of humidity), turned against us when the temperature started rising, like up into the neighborhood of seventy degrees. Clouds refused to pass in front of the sun and the course, by that point, was devoid of shade. The important thing in those circumstances is never think about how much you're paying to be there.
Beers later, the death march was just a distant memory. Which isn't to say I didn't learn a valuable lesson about the importance of preparation. Which isn't to say I did, either.
Monday, March 15, 2010
I dashed down Greenville Avenue in east Dallas for the sixth time, and fourth year in a row, and now I’m attempting to write a Dash Down Greenville story for the third time and I’m wondering what I can say about it now that I haven’t said before. It’s not like it’s the exact same experience each year – the weather changes, I change, once (last year) even the course changed (direction, mostly) – but these changes occur across a fairly narrow spectrum. I’ve run it six times and not once, say, has the race been marred by a zombie attack. Now that would be a little different.
Let me make one thing perfectly clear – I am not hoping that the Dash Down Greenville, or any race for that matter, is ever interrupted by an undead attack of any sort. All I’m saying is that if it did happen, it would at least be noteworthy. As opposed to, say, slower runners and walkers starting too close to the front, which happens all the time. Although I didn’t have as many problems with that this year as I have in years past, despite the three large-caliber people (the youngest one in jeans) who squeezed past me five minutes before the start.
My problem is, I don’t find this race that interesting but I can’t stay away, either – it’s on the morning of, and in the neighborhood of, the Dallas St. Patrick’s Day Parade, a parade which will only actually be held on St. Patrick’s Day should St. Patrick’s Day happen to fall on a Saturday. Which means 2012, if I’m working my calendar right. At any rate, I parked in the Old Town Shopping Center (across Lover’s Lane from the race staging area at Central Market) a little after seven, which was slightly later than when I wanted for what I thought was an eight o’clock start but earlier than I wanted for what turned out to be an 8:30 start. FML – just kidding! Anyway, after hanging out, running the race, hanging out some more, watching the parade, hanging out some more more, running into some friends, oozing through the human corral known as the Greenville Avenue Block Party with said friends, and finally eating and drinking at Margarita Ranch at Mockingbird Station (again with said friends), I got back to my car sometime after 5:00 in the afternoon. So it was a full, fun, action-packed day, but the race was just sort of a preamble.
I did make one poor decision regarding the race this year – immediately after I finished, I ran two easy miles to cool down (and get some mileage in), then went back to my car to change before hitting the beer (Ft. Worth’s Rahr and Sons, which may not be Shiner but isn’t Bud or Michelob Ultra, either) concession. Which, by the time I got there, had stationary lines about twenty people long. So I blew it off, chagrined, because I know that had I gone there immediately after finishing, I would have had virtually no line to deal with. Live and learn, hopefully. I mean, it’s not like I’m probably going to blow this race off next year.