Linda showing her latest piece of marathon bling.

This post is way overdue.  Lately my blog posts like my training runs are been way too infrequent.  Not the perfect statement from someone blogging to encourage people to be more active.  Two weeks ago, I was in East Meadow, Long Island getting ready to run my fourth marathon.  As I waited for the race to start, one though kept going thought my mind.  “Why did I sign up for this marathon?”

     Five weeks earlier, my friends and I were in Washington DC running the National Marathon.  During training, I started thinking about how my body would react to running two marathons in a few weeks apart.  It seemed like a good idea at the time, on this Sunday morning I was about to find out.

     During training for the DC, I looked at the race calendar for a local marathon — I found two, the New Jersey Marathon and the Long Island Marathon.  Both were flat courses, that shouldn’t be too hard I thought.  Unlike the National Marathon, this time I was not able get any long training runs in.  I ran the Colon Cancer Challenge, a 15K race in Central Park and did a few short training runs — but none were longer than nine miles. 

     It wasn’t for lack of planning.  We signed up for the Hook Half Marathon, and I was going to run as Esther’s pacer for the More Half Marathon on consecutive weekends.   The Hook was a disaster for me.  Because of a mental error, I did two 5K runs when I took a wrong turn — one on the course, the second when I found Esther coming back.  To further add insult to injury, Esther asked me afterwards, “Why didn’t you just go back to the start and go again?” 

     Allergies, a crazy work schedule and cold rainy weather caused us to pass on the More.  We figured it wasn’t worth it to get sick a week before a marathon.  So my training races went out the window.

     Standing at the start line, under gray skies on a humid Sunday morning, I began wondering if I was mentally ready.  I knew I could cover the distance — but the time would not be one to write home about.  I was more concerned how I would feel at 18 miles when the demons come out asking about the wisdom of running another marathon, with almost no training.  I knew they would be tough miles.

     On race morning, we got up at 5am — just like we would a work day.  I did my usual pre-race weather check — I took Chico for his walk.  The skies were gray and cloudy, but it looked like it might clear up.  The weather forecast originally called for rain, but then changed to Sunny and 75 to 80 degrees and humid, great weather for watching a marathon, not so nice to run one.  Just to be safe I packed my rain gear.

     The Long Island Marathon is run on a flat fast course, but no one will call it scenic.   The first half starts on Charles Lindbergh Boulevard, passing Museum Row and the Nassau Coliseum before heading to Westbury, to Jericho Turnpike and Brush Hollow Road.  There was good support here especially at the Westbury railroad station and other areas along the course, my favorite being the minister standing in front of his church wearing his robes and cheering as we passed him.   Then we got to the Wantagh Parkway. 

     Before the race, several people told me about the 13 mile out and back stretch on the Wantagh, many called it boring — others compared it to sitting in a dentist chair.  Many runners skip the Long Island Marathon because of this long lonely part of the course.  Linda and Esther downloaded new music to their Ipods in an effort to combat the boredom.  Esther and I both posted on our Facebook pages asking friends and family to come out to support us. I closed the post with “No Running Required.”

     As I got deeper into the race, I knew it wasn’t going to be a good day.  I use 18 miles as a guide, if I can make it to 18 miles in three hours or less, I’m doing ok.  Working my way down the Wantagh I was dumping more water over my head than I was drinking, it had gotten hot and humid and the water at some of the rest stops was warm when the cups were handed to us despite the volunteers best efforts. 

The 18 mile marker. The place in a marathon where I can usually tell whether or not I am going to have a good day.

     When I passed the 18 mile marker in about 3:05, and I as fading, I knew I didn’t have a shot at beating the 4:22:10 time I put up in DC.  I felt fresh blisters on both feet as I was doing a steady run/walk like most of the runners around me as we took turns passing each other.  I downed a warm cup of red Gatorade and took a bottle the bottle of water that was handed to me, and kept shuffling down the Wantagh.

     Nearing 20 miles, only three miles left on this miserable parkway.  I did some mental math.  I was at 3:28:12 my last two splits were 12:13 and 12:28 and the voices were howling, “Great idea Frank.”  I did some quick mental math figuring how I can salvage this marathon.  I couldn’t tolerate finishing in over five hours — but how much less could I do? I decided on 4:50 — or less.  I had a goal, to occupy my mind as I battled my cramping calves and blistered feet.

     I saw Linda as I reached 23 miles — she was on the off ramp leaving the Wantagh as I started my slow ascent up the ramp.  I welcomed the shade of the tree-lined street after 13 miles of beaming sunlight.  I kept my walk/run going, picking up my pace as I got closer to Eisenhower Park.  “I could finish in 4:45, I thought.”  Once in the park I was running with three other runners, all of us wanting to finish, passing each other on the run, and giving back the ground we took on the walk. 

     I was elated to see a sign stating a half mile to the finish, I kept chugging along.  “It was almost over!”  Making a turn on a grassy patch, I could hear faint music in the distance and the sound of an announcer announcing the finisher’s names.  I picked up the face and could see the finish in sight.  I also saw a runner in front of me.  He was slowing down and I decided after a day of frustration, I was not crossing the line behind him.  I kicked in and took off, passing him by a second or two, finishing in 4:43:10.  Sure it seems a bit childish now, but I was all I could think about at the time.  I shook his hand after he crossed the line.

     I found Linda in the med tent, stretched out, getting a post-race massage.  I told her I was going back for Esther and Leo.  I headed back — it didn’t take long to find Esther between miles 25 and 26.  As we chugged along to the finish line, she told me my cousin Scott was at the 18 mile mark with cold water for her and Leo.  How did I miss him?

     I watched Esther cross the line and went back for Leo.  I saw him running in at the half-mile marker.  When I saw him I said to him, “Let’s finish up so we can have some Mexican pain killer, some cold Coronas, we can even add the lime.”  We made our way to the finish and headed to med tent.

Post Race

Leo and I laughing laughing in the med tent after the race.

     We call ourselves Team Never Quit, we are not the fastest, but we finish what we start.   Now that we finished we were all in the med tent — my first post-race trip.   Leo, got ice packs for his knees, while Esther and I had our blisters taken care of.  We compared notes on the day and the course, and laughed a bit about the wisdom of running this race. 

     After we cleaned up, we went to a local Hooters for our post-race celebration.  We limped in and sat down all proudly wearing our bling, our race medals.  We talked more about the day the course and the heat. 

     It was a rough day for all of us.  I brought up the fact that between the four of us we have completed 32 marathons, Leo, Linda and Esther has 28.  We have run 3 marathons in the last six months and we started thinking about what’s next.

     We decided to take a rest, how long or short, we don’t know yet.  Esther and I have decided to get on our bikes out a bit, we want to do a century ride in July and maybe another long ride or two.   Leo and I are thinking about the Down and Dirty Mud Run in October.

     While we ate chicken wings and Leo and I drank a few Coronas, grateful that Linda and Esther were the designated drivers I thought about the day’s event.  I decided to test myself, and I gave myself and incomplete.

Me, with Esther, Leo, and Linda at our post race celebration. Another thing I goofed on, I forgot to bring my race t-shirt.

  I didn’t train for this race and I paid for it.  Yes the weather was hot and humid, and the 13 mile out and back on the Wantagh Parkway were not the most aesthetically pleasing, but runners run.  This was a good local marathon.  It was not New York or Boston, but it did not try to be.   It was decently run, there were clocks at all the mile markers, and they gave every finisher a great hooded sweatshirt at the end.

     Thank you to the volunteers who were there offering encouragement, I for one appreciated it.  Thank you Scott for showing up at mile 18, how I missed you, I still don’t know, thank you Leo, Linda and Esther, my teammates for running another marathon with me, on short notice with little training, because I wanted to test myself.

     In the past two weeks, I’ve been thinking, whether or not to come back and try to have a better showing.  Only time will tell.