On my way to the starting line, I bumped into some guys I knew from high school that are good friends with my brother, so we went to the starting line together. I was trying to find a good place to start where I wouldn't get stuck behind slower people, but the starting corral was already so packed with people, that it was impossible to move up. The lines for the outdoor toilets had taken way longer than I expected, which was part of the reason I didn't get to the front of the corral. People were spending about 5 minutes in those toilets while there was a line of 40 people waiting at each one.
From the moment the race started, I was exhilarated. Running through downtown Minneapolis was amazing, and the crowds of spectators were huge. I really started taking it all in at this point. I was waving at people cheering me on, laughing at funny signs they were holding, like "toenails are overrated", and just in awe that I was actually running a marathon. I saw a line of about 50 school kids with their hands out for high 5's and I ran the gamut, tapping each one. Suddenly, "oops", I almost ran into someone, then "ooof", close call again. As the initial adrenaline period started wearing off, the massive, unending sea of runners I was engulfed in started slowing way down.
When we hit the residential streets at mile two, it was a complete mixture of extreme excitement and extreme frustration. The people all around me were running at a 9:30/mile pace or slower and I wanted to be running at least a minute per mile faster, and we were packed in like sardines. I felt stuck and spent a lot of the next 4-5 miles trying to find little openings between people where I could squeak through and get a little further ahead in the pack. I did a ton of bobbing and weaving while trying to be polite -- though at one point, it was all I could do to keep from shouting, "come on people, move!". Looking back, it probably would have been better if I had just accepted it, and ran at the slower pace.
Meanwhile, the scenery was just gorgeous around the lakes, during miles 3-7. It was still somewhat sunny and the glistening water and cool shore breeze really added to the experience. I kind of wish I would have taken more time to just enjoy that stuff and been in less of a racing mode during this point, but I guess that's part of learning how to run a marathon.
Around mile 8, the runners started to thin out a little bit, so I started speeding up more. My thought was to try to make up some some of the time I had lost from being stuck for so long earlier. This was probably my biggest mistake of the marathon. I started doing 7:30 miles, and while it felt easy and effortless at the time, I'm pretty sure it really hurt me in the end. It would have been better to only speed up to planned pace (8:15) and keep it there.
From mile 9-11 I was feeling very strong and light on my feet. I kept looking at my watch to see how I was doing and how far along I was. I knew my wife and daughters were going to try to be at the 13 mile spot, so I was looking forward to seeing them. When I hit mile 11, I heard my wife's voice. I looked over and was shocked to see her, my mother-in-law, and my daughters cheering. I waved and smiled and thought about stopping to say hi for a moment, but I was already past them and decided I'd better keep going. I made a mental note to make sure to let them know how much it means to just see them on the side of the course.
I was still feeling strong at 13, but had slowed my pace down to 8:15. At one point, around mile 14, I noticed my shoe lace was untied. When I got to the next water station, I went to the curb and tied my shoe. When I got up, I noticed my legs didn't want to get moving again. I realized I was probably more fatigued than I thought. I walked over to the table, got a Powerade, pinched the rim of the cup together like I had been shown, and started running and sipping it.
I had pretty much taken Powerade at almost every station for the first 14 miles. I think this was another mistake. I had been really worried about calories and electrolytes, especially because the Clif Shot gels were suddenly unappetizing to me. I only used about half of a gel the whole time. I think because I wasn't washing it down with water, it was just too much sweetness. Next time, I will either have to be sure to wash them down with water, or try something more solid, like shot bloks. I know coach Jack had mentioned that you need to take water with the gels, but in the heat of the moment, these things sometimes get muddled: lack of experience. I am pretty sure next time I will either make sure I take in just as much water as sports drink (no matter how much I'm sweating), or even go entirely with water and electrolyte pills, avoiding the sports drink all together.
At mile 15, I started to feel tired but could still keep my pace without too much effort. I saw my co-worker, Janene, and she had some gels and Heed to offer me. I was very grateful for this, but realized I didn't feel like eating or drinking anything but water. I told her "not yet", thinking maybe I would feel differently about it later.
Around mile 17, my stomach started feeling nauseous and I was really noticing the fatigue. I saw a former co-worker, Tim Altman (experienced marathoner/ultra runner) cheering me on. I waved to him, but pulled the corner of my mouth to the side to signal that it was starting to look bad. He nodded and smiled.
By mile 18, I could not look at the people holding Powerade anymore. The sight of those blue cups made my stomach turn, so I just started sipping water. My mind started telling me to stop running.
Mile 19-21 are kind of a blur. I just kept running forward, no longer caring about pace anymore. I was in survival mode. The nausea was getting really bad. It came to a point where I made my last semi-lucid decision. I thought, "Jeremy, you are sick and completely bonked, through and through. There is nothing you can do about that. But do not drop out of this race, no matter what. Even if you have to crawl to the finish line and everyone has gone home when you get there, you are going to finish this race". Many times I fought the temptation to go over to a tree or garbage can and wretch. I kept eying spots that might work without being too embarrassing: that garbage can over there, that tree -- no, that's in somebody's yard, they might get mad.
At mile 22 I saw co-worker Janene cheering me on again. She had fuel to offer but I pointed to my stomach and shook my head. I was very dazed and thought she said, "you are totally bonked, keep going!". After talking to her later, apparently she had actually asked if I was OK, and I was the one that said I was bonked.
I found that it helped a little bit to carry a cup of cold water while I ran and let it splash onto my hand. The shock of the cold water hitting my hand distracted me from my stomach a little bit. I could now barely bring myself to sip it, but I liked carrying it.
At this point I would run until I was on the verge of heaving, and then I would stop and walk until I got it more under control, then I would run again. I did the next 4 miles like this. I was wearing a Medtronic singlet, and sometimes when I was walking people would shout, "come on Medtronic!". I would respond by hitching my bodyweight forward and riding the momentum into a little trot until I couldn't take the nausea anymore and I would walk.
The crowds were amazing the whole way through, and packed the entire route. I loved that they were there and they made the experience so unbelievably exhilarating. However, at this point, my mind was swimming. I saw people hobbling along, limping, or hopping on one leg. It was very cloudy by now and the road looked like a never ending, dreary path to the Abyss. At that moment, it all felt like some sort of sick Roman death march with loud, jeering crowds ready to signal thumbs up or down. I think my brain intentionally decided not to encode some parts of this stretch, because it was better to not remember it. This was my lowest point.
After what seemed like an eternity, I crested the hill that overlooked the finish line. The site was breathtaking. So many people, so much cheering, the huge American flag hanging over the track. I had a moment of clarity. I knew my wife and daughters were down there and I was not going to let them see me like this -- looking so pitiful. My wife - maybe, my kids - never. I started lightly running down the hill to the finish, thinking I would keep it as smooth as possible and not jostle my stomach. I saw my family 100 yards from the finish and raised a fist of triumph to them while fighting back tears.
I crossed the finish line. They put a huge medal around my neck. I grabbed a reflective blanket, walked over to a shrubbery and thrust my head inside it. A medic standing by heard me gagging and asked if I was ok. I told him I didn't know. He brought me into the medic tent and handed me a bucket. They asked me a lot of questions and tried to get me to drink Powerade or eat a banana. I told them both were unthinkable but if they could find a Sprite somewhere, I would be eternally grateful. I started shivering and was a little worried. I'd never run 26 miles or felt like that before and hoped something wasn't wrong with me.
After spending some time trying to sip fluids down, and unsuccessfully holding them down, I seemed well enough that the medics let me go meet up with my family. I met them on the Capitol lawn and smiled for pictures. Then, I walked over to a tree and began heaving. I had my wife drive me home while I stuck my head out the window the whole time so the cold air would keep the nausea away. I held a plastic bag in my lap, just in case.
I felt sick the rest of the day but slowly got better. I knew it was not the time to think about the question people always ask, "Will you do another one?" The next morning I woke up thinking, "absolutely!". I would do it differently, much more carefully, but I would definitely do it again. For my next marathon, I will figure out where I made the mistakes that lead to my downfall and avoid them.
My chip time ended up being 4:09:09. My time at the half was 1:51:09. My first 5K was 27:56. At the 20 mile mark, my time was 2:53:44. It took me an hour and sixteen minutes to run the last 6 miles -- which is about a 12:40 min/mile pace.
From mile 9-11 I was feeling very strong and light on my feet. I kept looking at my watch to see how I was doing and how far along I was. I knew my wife and daughters were going to try to be at the 13 mile spot, so I was looking forward to seeing them. When I hit mile 11, I heard my wife's voice. I looked over and was shocked to see her, my mother-in-law, and my daughters cheering. I waved and smiled and thought about stopping to say hi for a moment, but I was already past them and decided I'd better keep going. I made a mental note to make sure to let them know how much it means to just see them on the side of the course.
I was still feeling strong at 13, but had slowed my pace down to 8:15. At one point, around mile 14, I noticed my shoe lace was untied. When I got to the next water station, I went to the curb and tied my shoe. When I got up, I noticed my legs didn't want to get moving again. I realized I was probably more fatigued than I thought. I walked over to the table, got a Powerade, pinched the rim of the cup together like I had been shown, and started running and sipping it.
I had pretty much taken Powerade at almost every station for the first 14 miles. I think this was another mistake. I had been really worried about calories and electrolytes, especially because the Clif Shot gels were suddenly unappetizing to me. I only used about half of a gel the whole time. I think because I wasn't washing it down with water, it was just too much sweetness. Next time, I will either have to be sure to wash them down with water, or try something more solid, like shot bloks. I know coach Jack had mentioned that you need to take water with the gels, but in the heat of the moment, these things sometimes get muddled: lack of experience. I am pretty sure next time I will either make sure I take in just as much water as sports drink (no matter how much I'm sweating), or even go entirely with water and electrolyte pills, avoiding the sports drink all together.
At mile 15, I started to feel tired but could still keep my pace without too much effort. I saw my co-worker, Janene, and she had some gels and Heed to offer me. I was very grateful for this, but realized I didn't feel like eating or drinking anything but water. I told her "not yet", thinking maybe I would feel differently about it later.
Around mile 17, my stomach started feeling nauseous and I was really noticing the fatigue. I saw a former co-worker, Tim Altman (experienced marathoner/ultra runner) cheering me on. I waved to him, but pulled the corner of my mouth to the side to signal that it was starting to look bad. He nodded and smiled.
By mile 18, I could not look at the people holding Powerade anymore. The sight of those blue cups made my stomach turn, so I just started sipping water. My mind started telling me to stop running.
Mile 19-21 are kind of a blur. I just kept running forward, no longer caring about pace anymore. I was in survival mode. The nausea was getting really bad. It came to a point where I made my last semi-lucid decision. I thought, "Jeremy, you are sick and completely bonked, through and through. There is nothing you can do about that. But do not drop out of this race, no matter what. Even if you have to crawl to the finish line and everyone has gone home when you get there, you are going to finish this race". Many times I fought the temptation to go over to a tree or garbage can and wretch. I kept eying spots that might work without being too embarrassing: that garbage can over there, that tree -- no, that's in somebody's yard, they might get mad.
At mile 22 I saw co-worker Janene cheering me on again. She had fuel to offer but I pointed to my stomach and shook my head. I was very dazed and thought she said, "you are totally bonked, keep going!". After talking to her later, apparently she had actually asked if I was OK, and I was the one that said I was bonked.
I found that it helped a little bit to carry a cup of cold water while I ran and let it splash onto my hand. The shock of the cold water hitting my hand distracted me from my stomach a little bit. I could now barely bring myself to sip it, but I liked carrying it.
At this point I would run until I was on the verge of heaving, and then I would stop and walk until I got it more under control, then I would run again. I did the next 4 miles like this. I was wearing a Medtronic singlet, and sometimes when I was walking people would shout, "come on Medtronic!". I would respond by hitching my bodyweight forward and riding the momentum into a little trot until I couldn't take the nausea anymore and I would walk.
The crowds were amazing the whole way through, and packed the entire route. I loved that they were there and they made the experience so unbelievably exhilarating. However, at this point, my mind was swimming. I saw people hobbling along, limping, or hopping on one leg. It was very cloudy by now and the road looked like a never ending, dreary path to the Abyss. At that moment, it all felt like some sort of sick Roman death march with loud, jeering crowds ready to signal thumbs up or down. I think my brain intentionally decided not to encode some parts of this stretch, because it was better to not remember it. This was my lowest point.
After what seemed like an eternity, I crested the hill that overlooked the finish line. The site was breathtaking. So many people, so much cheering, the huge American flag hanging over the track. I had a moment of clarity. I knew my wife and daughters were down there and I was not going to let them see me like this -- looking so pitiful. My wife - maybe, my kids - never. I started lightly running down the hill to the finish, thinking I would keep it as smooth as possible and not jostle my stomach. I saw my family 100 yards from the finish and raised a fist of triumph to them while fighting back tears.
I crossed the finish line. They put a huge medal around my neck. I grabbed a reflective blanket, walked over to a shrubbery and thrust my head inside it. A medic standing by heard me gagging and asked if I was ok. I told him I didn't know. He brought me into the medic tent and handed me a bucket. They asked me a lot of questions and tried to get me to drink Powerade or eat a banana. I told them both were unthinkable but if they could find a Sprite somewhere, I would be eternally grateful. I started shivering and was a little worried. I'd never run 26 miles or felt like that before and hoped something wasn't wrong with me.
After spending some time trying to sip fluids down, and unsuccessfully holding them down, I seemed well enough that the medics let me go meet up with my family. I met them on the Capitol lawn and smiled for pictures. Then, I walked over to a tree and began heaving. I had my wife drive me home while I stuck my head out the window the whole time so the cold air would keep the nausea away. I held a plastic bag in my lap, just in case.
I felt sick the rest of the day but slowly got better. I knew it was not the time to think about the question people always ask, "Will you do another one?" The next morning I woke up thinking, "absolutely!". I would do it differently, much more carefully, but I would definitely do it again. For my next marathon, I will figure out where I made the mistakes that lead to my downfall and avoid them.
My chip time ended up being 4:09:09. My time at the half was 1:51:09. My first 5K was 27:56. At the 20 mile mark, my time was 2:53:44. It took me an hour and sixteen minutes to run the last 6 miles -- which is about a 12:40 min/mile pace.
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