A few years back I would happily get up early on a Saturday morning to go run 16 miles (or more) and not think twice about it. Last year I backed off from my running quite a bit. I just sort of lost interest. I participated in fewer races and in fewer long runs on the weekend. Consequently, I found those long runs to be more difficult as my endurance base slowly faded.
By the time my father called me and suggested I make St. George Marathon my comeback race, I really was not considering running races anymore, and, probably, nothing longer than 5 or 10 miles on local trails. In fact, my leanings were towards hiking rather than running and maybe spending more time on my bikes than on my feet.
But there I was; lying in a hospital bed after being hit by a train. My elbow had been surgically put back together and my back and ribs were fractured in several places, but my legs seemed ok. The doctors said I would have a full recovery, but it would take time and my internal injuries would likely heal without any further surgery. So, when my father called and said he was looking out his front window of his home at the marathoners running towards the finish line, and he thought I should make this my goal for the next year, I committed to it.
As soon as I was able, I started walking up and down the stairs in my home and then around my neighborhood. Walks got longer and, once the doctor said I was able, I started running a little. I ran my traditional New Year’s Day race. I probably should not have, even at the shorter distance I chose, but I made it through the 5k distance and then paid for it for several days. I was forced to back off a little and walk and run (slowly) on flatter terrain until my internal injuries were more healed.
In case you are not familiar with a typical marathon training plan, it is comprised of shorter base runs during the week with increasingly longer runs on the weekend. The weekday runs are fairly consistent, but they do gradually increase a little. It’s interesting to see the progress made when the weekday runs are now as long (or longer) than the weekend long runs were at the beginning. In most cases the Saturday long runs increase a little for a couple of weeks and then decrease one week and then back to increasing to surpass the last longest run a couple of weeks later. This past week I was scheduled to run 16 miles (15.9 – close enough). Next week I will drop to 12 and then increase to 18, then 14, then 20. 20 is the furthest I will run in preparing for my 26.2 mile marathon distance.
My plan for my 16 mile run was to park my car at a good access point And use it as an aid station along the way. After loading up my Orange Mud Dual Quiver with two water bottles I headed out. I ran in one direction along the American River Bike Trail for 4 miles and then headed back on the other side of the river. I was going to cross the bridge to my car and grab two full bottles. They had been sitting in ice; one with water and the other with Gu Roctane. I also had an apple and a couple of snack choices for some calories, in case I needed them. However, as I approached the bridge at the 8 mile mark, I had used less than half of my water and I didn’t feel the need for any calories. So I continued without crossing to the car. Big mistake!
Throughout the years of running I have learned that I need about 20 ounces of water per hour (approximately every 5 miles cuz I’m slow). At 8 miles I had used almost one bottle of water and figured I could knock out the other 8 miles with one bottle of water. It had been 75* at 6am when I had started and it was starting to warm up quickly. The second half of my run was also more exposed than the first. I finished the 4 miles out in the opposite direction without any problem, but I could tell the water was not going to last 4 more miles. The temperature continued to rise and it didn’t take long before I was regretting the skipped car stop at the half way point. More walking. Trying to conserve water. Finally deciding that finishing the water with 2 miles to go was a better choice since I knew I could get some in 2 miles. I had passed a water fountain at mile 8, but had thought I could make it from there.
Obviously, I did make it, despite the now 95* heat at 9am. Legs cramping. Dehydrated. Tired. It’s not like I almost died. A lot of my life is looked at that way now. I mean, I was hit by a train and I should not have survived, but I did. I’m struggling with being retired now and not sure what to do with the rest of my life, but I am well. I get to run every day (or so) and I have the health and the physical ability to do it without (much) pain, so I do.
Truth be told, I was going to wait until I had run the St. George Marathon to write most of this, but the St. George marathon was cancelled (thank you Covid) this week. I’m still running. I’m still training. I will be running a marathon distance on October 3rd… somewhere. I am hoping to run the California International Marathon on December 6th. I’m not too concerned with how fast I run. I will get there. I’m just happy I get to do it.
It’s no longer the trainwreck, directly, that is slowing me down. I have pretty much recovered (which is miraculous). I lost a good year or two of condition in those seconds. One stupid decision set me back a year or more; and that’s just in my running. A friend of mine told me “the trails will be there when you are ready to come back to them.” I’m ready. The slower I run, the more time I get to enjoy them.
