CHICAGO MARATHON by Romadel Delasalas

SHE’S MY RUSHMORE -

A brisk wind breezed between the Chicago skyscrapers on the chilly warmup run.   Marathoners made their way to the Grant Park start line.  My hotel was only few yards across the street.  Careful logistical considerations were set once I received event acceptance in January.  However, serious race training started immediately after a poor 2019 Boston Marathon.  On Patriot’s Day 2019, I carried ten extra pounds leading to disappointing results.  I knew changes needed to occur to the body, heart and mind.  I took my goal 3:05 goal with determined ferocity.   This cool windy Chicago day energized my redemption.

TEMPERING STEEL –

Square One in the plan involved improving the core and losing weight.  Weight loss proved easy without starving or anything faddish.  I maintained disciplined eating through balance, timing and eating more.  I ate more fruits, minimized fats, and ate at times right after a run while the body was still burning calories.  Never full or empty.  Improving the core was as simple, no sit-ups.  Timed front and side planks stabilized my core and back.  Weekly yoga sessions supplemented my flexibility, meditation, and strength training. 

A marathoner must run.  I boosted my mileage from 70 miles per week in May to 80 miles a week in June.  By July and August, my monthly mileage was 360 and 475miles for the months.  Each run accomplished something meaningful while quelling demons and doubts from within.  Discipline on the road mattered most regardless the hour, night or day.  The 4AM run became common-place.  My mind needed to say to itself, “We can do this all day.”

SHARPENING THE SWORD –

Razor sharp blades cut the deepest.   Luckily, I have one of the BEST edge-shapers in Memphis.  Four years working together, Coach Kevin Leathers knew my weaknesses and strengths.  In this cycle, he noticed a higher level of fitness and endurance.  To sharpen the running prowess, emphasis needed to be place on the long run and racing. 

The long run simulated consistent moderate speeds that kept me on my feet for an extended period always on the move, my lungs had limited recovery time.  I preplanned routes and stashed water & fuel along the way, so I’d never need to stop or take a break.  At a point after the halfway, the pace would increase to a fast tempo.  The evolutions took great patience and discipline from a tendency to go fast at the beginning.  If played correctly, the runner should have a lot in the tank at the finish. 

Racing provide me the mental confidence to run with anyone.  Many think a race is a matter of beating competitors.  Truth be told, it’s about being with another person trying to get to the finish line just like you.  I would even train with competitors who would turn out to be great friends such as my Tipton Country Running Friends.  I was learning not to be afraid of other runners since they are running their own race.  I completed nine races after the Boston Marathon placing well.  I faced down my internal demons by facing competitors and friends.  Chicago awaited. 

CHI-TOWN ARRIVAL –

My Mother, Ninang (Filipina Godmother), Grace (wife) and I scheduled our flight arriving early Friday morning to avoid the crowds.  Organizers automated the entire check in.  Upon arriving to the first checkpoint, an attendant scanned my packet pickup barcode sending an instantaneous notification to my pickup location.  Once at the pickup location, two fellows greeted me, “Mr. Delasalas, Your Packet is ready.  Pleases review.” Talk about high speed. 

I didn’t dilly-dally with too many Expo sponsors.  I sought out to speak with my coach at the St. Jude booth talk about the game plan.  He asked what I envisioned.  My entire plan relied on staying behind a pacer and following them to the end.  Coach Kevin responded, “That may work, however, you have to depend on yourself if things go awry.”  He referred to my 2018 New York City Marathon where crowds swept me away from the pacers and I panicked then blew up my pace.  “If you must, make sure to mark time on each of the mile clocks and remember what time you started.  Then go ‘old school’ and calculate your pace.  Be engaged in the moment and THINK.”   

HOLY COW!  IT’S SATURDAY –

My parents attempted the 2017 Boston 5K.  My Mom PR’d (43 minutes) while my father blew out his knee on the first mile requiring me to carry him 2.5 miles to the finish.  This year only my Mom and I took on the Chicago course.  Despite the wind and cold, I remained positive telling my Mother, “It’s going to be okay.  It’s not too cold.  You are going to be Great.”  She was rolling along in beautiful form throughout the entire race despite minor knee discomfort.  Before she knew it, she found herself at Mile 3 running to the finish with new PR of 42minutes!  We celebrated with a nice brunch at the hotel.  Taking my coaches advice, I stayed off my feet for the entire day to watch college football or sleep.  I would only get up into the evening to celebrate Catholic Mass. 

Tucked between tall buildings, St. Peter’s Catholic Church rested in the middle of the Chicago Downtown Loop.  My Mother, ever the churchgoer, settled us at the second row.  At the end of Mass, the Priest asked all marathon participants to the alter for a blessing.  He was surprised to see over 75 runners join him. 

Leaving the church, I noticed Father speaking to man wearing a Bank of America Official’s badge and a Road Racing Club of America (RRCA) sweater.  I introduced myself and told the man I was a registered coach of that organization.  He shook my hand telling me he was the National President of the RRCA, Mr. Mitchell Garner of Michigan.  I mentioned that I certified to give back and volunteer coach.  Moved, he pullout a cloth from his briefcase.  It was an Olympic flag signed by many Olympians including the Great Captain Billy Mills, USMC (Gold Medalist 10,000m Tokyo-1964).   As we left each other, Mr. Garner imparted words of wisdom from Capt. Mills to help inspire me for the marathon.

"Your life is a gift from the Creator. Your gift back to the Creator is what you do with your life."

RACE DAY –

Following a great slumber, I woke fresh at 4AM as if it was a normal workout day.  I grabbed a granola bar, took a brisk two-mile run, and returned to dress into my race kit.  I headed to Grant Park at 7AM, I was in Red Wave, Coral B.  The wave gate would close at 7:20.   Once, I figured out the lay of the venue, It was already 7:15, my gate would close in 5minutes and I still had my check-in bag!  I quickly checked in my bag.  Now, I had less than one minute to the gate.  Apparently, ten other runners failed to monitor time like me.  We sprinted to the gate with only 10 seconds left to spare.  Still sprinting, we funneled fast like X-Wing Fighters though the Death Star corridors leading to our corals. 

Once in the corals, I looked for the pacers.   As feared, the pacers were at the very front of the coral and I was at the very back.  Shades of NYC Marathon were repeating.  However, instead of concern, I drew upon Coach Kevin’s advice and game plan.  The strategy involved staying close to goal time (7:03s) for two hours.  Then at the third hour, put the hammer down. 

With a prayer, I crossed the start with glance at the clock reading 7:35AM.  My start was only 5 minutes behind the running clock.  My forearm listed each mile mark time.

GO TIME –

The start itself was magical.  Coral B was only a few yards from the head of a gigantic line.  After crossing the line, runners sped to their pace through a dark quiet tunnel heading to a light.  Once in the sun the intensity of cheers roared with people lining the sidewalks.  Pockets of dead-spots isolated runners at Boston and New York.  Not Chicago, spectators lifted every marathoner to the very end,

My race started slow and I found myself losing time, two to five seconds per mile.  However, I didn’t feel the need to tense.  In fact, my circumstantial running partner amused me.  A Japanese man dressed in a Minnie Mouse outfit (skirt and all).  The crowd would yell out cheers for “MINNIE”!  I chuckled and gestured to the running Minnie.  In those moments, I realized not to take the moment to seriously and enjoy the run. 

Unfortunately, Minnie didn’t run fast enough.  By the 13.1mile (Half) mark, I was a 1.5 minutes behind schedule.  However, I didn't panic.  I kept telling myself, “You are fine, relax, your time will come.”  As luck would have it, Coach Kevin happened to be at the half-way rooting me on.  His presence boosted my morale. 

At mile 17, I threw aside 2 hours of patience and unleashed 7 months of focused energy.  Recalling Jack London’s ‘Credo’ to fit the moment, “Run Like a brilliant blaze.  A superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow. Runners and Spectator alike will know YOU ran this Day!”  I would either become burnt ash or lightning flash at the finish. I took inventory of any pains. Feeling none, I flipped the switch. “Nine miles to make something special.”

THE PUSH –

I felt my speed increase to sub 7’s.  I ran hard the next mile and my watch confirmed my feeling.  Now rolling under 6:50s, I kept the pace going into 20 miles.  My mind fully engaged, my body ran like a finely tuned sports car, and I passed bundles runners.  I was flying fast, relaxed and awake in the moment.

Mile 23 and I'm going for it. I know I have less than 25minutes left of this race.  No sign of leg cramp, stomach pain, chest cave or light-headedness.  No signs of anything that hindered me in past Marathons.  My system in full operational and ready for MAXIMUM EFFORT! 

I flew through Chinatown and gave a quick nod-bow to a temple.  I hit Southside and slapped hands with guy holding a Boom Box.  I cruised through a school zone speed indicator reading 9MPH.  I crossed the bridge headed back into the Chicago Loop, this race was close to over.

THE FINISH - FLY THE ‘W’ –

Leave nothing on the table! Bet everything on you!

Back onto Michigan Avenue toward Grant Park, I knew I had made up the time and more to meet my 3:05 goal. With every step, the euphoria started to seep into me. Full sprint to the finish, I cross the line both fists clenched in my personal victory and let out a WARCRY. The kind the Marines taught me at Officer Candidate School that comes from Chest, Heart and SOUL! I didn't beat a person. I beat internal limitations. I Out-Ran Myself Today.

Sashaying in happiness back to the hotel, I noticed I defeated my pre-race soundtrack of 46 Tracks making it to only 45 songs.  Reaching the front of the hotel, my jubilant family celebrated with me.  My mom gave me a balloon just as she did when I won a 50yrd dash in Catholic Youth Sports as an 8yr old boy.  It was cool then, darn if it wasn't cool today.  I knew I did something very special.  Initial online results read, 3:03:22 (six-minute personal record). 

I reflected on another quote from Capt. Mills.  "The ultimate is not to win, but to reach within the depths of your capabilities and to compete against yourself to the greatest extent possible. When you do that, you have dignity. You have the pride. You can walk about with character and pride no matter in what place you happen to finish."

❤ YOUR RUNNING / ❤ YOUR NEIGHBOR

 
On my way home from Rin's Hill, I stopped to greet the elderly man whose wife past some months back. I expressed how much his words meant to me last month and how I appreciated the chocolates she'd give me. He said, She was the kindest and most beautiful woman. The 54years of marriage was the happiest of his life. He loved when she smiled. She smiled every time I ran by saying, "There goes that runner." He chuckled as he thought of her. I formally introduced myself. He introduced himself as J-A-Y Bailey. 
Well Mr. Bailey, I'll be stopping by to check up on you and we can share smiles together.

MRTC RRS 1st 5M (August 2019)

Mystery Achievement - Master's 1s Place
4th of 1031 Overall 
1st of 72 Age Group 50-54
Chicago training ramped mileage to +100 week with more intensity on hills and track-work (400s). My legs should be tired, but with good rest Saturday, race day seemed like a good day to accomplish something special. However, soupy humidity played havoc on everyone at sunrise. I stood at the start, the fog I drove to the event in did not lift. The thick dense mist felt like scenes from a Stephen King novel. This was going to be a heck of a ride with a goal of 33minutes. 
The gun sounded and my engine rose to churn my legs into gear. Like a shot, I went right after the lead pack. I stuck right behind them. Rayder the Legend disappeared in my first few steps. “No need to chase that,” I though. But the cluster lead of 5-7 runners including the amazing Rita Jorgenson (2015 RRS Winner), seemed abnormally within my reach. “Was the heat doing that much damage to them?” 
I tailed the group for the first mile until the pace quicken. The 5miler notoriously rounds many curves. The key is to run the tangent and fix the line to the best cut. Find that course and don’t deviate. As other runner rounded wide on a turn, I cut sharp and accelerated hard and fast. By mile three, I was in sixth position. 
Target one showed kinks in his armor immediately, his head stooped, shoulders drooped, and he kept looking at his watch. Though painful, I knew I wanted to be on that course more than he did. I approached him and made an inside move on his wide turn then gunned past. I didn’t bother to turn to look at what I did, I went immediately after target two. 
Bogie #2 was relatively close to my last pass. A false flat opened an opportunity. Not a hill grade, the street rose just enough to cause discomfort. Instead of treating it as flat, I lifted my knees, effort and air intake. I charged hard up sucking in the warm morning liquid vapors. Each breath was clogging my lungs like a clove cigarette at a New Wave 80’s dance club. I knew I needed and liked the air, but this air was not good for me at all. However, in the back of my mind I though, “If this is bad for me? This is really bad for the guy in front of me if he didn’t train in it this week like I did.” With that thought, I opened-up and went passed him in a hard charge.
All that was left was the park. I had not looked at my watch once since mile one. However, I knew two things: I felt fast and I hardly had any targets ahead. I couldn’t even hear the last person I passed. I could only run this for myself, for my time. 
The park rounds a baseball field and onto another windy paved path. My mind danced a game of let up or hammer hard. If I let up, who would care? No one would know if I cruised the last 1/2mile. No one would know but YOU. My burning psyche would never allow “Money Left on the Table”. The IT monster in the Fog and inside me rose up and unleashed a horrendous fast leg rotation. The IT reasoned, “You are running a brilliant race. YOU WILL NOT FINISH WITH ANYTHING LESS THAN YOUR BEST DARN IT!”
As the finish approached, the clock read 31:XX. My Personal Best was 32:24. I crossed the line at 31:48. I just crushed my best 5miler by +30seconds. With hands on knees almost in prayer, I looked back to see no runners approach. I left the monster on the course…….

"WE RUN FOR LOVE"

A funk drew a cloud over me since Monday. A +30yr memory occupied my psyche. I took to running, RUNNING HARD. At times at torrential paces. I asked friends for prayers and tore into the track and road. During my evening 6miler, the triviality of it ceased.
For years, running to Rin’s hill meant running by this white home (pictured). An elderly woman occupied the porch with her little Pug pooch. It would bark frantically at me while she told me the little guy meant no harm. Passing her brightened my run and provided encouragement just before taking on grueling intervals workouts up Rin’s Hill. Sometimes the sweet woman offered me a cookie or chocolate bar when my body dragged from the hard work out. 
Over the past months, I notice she wasn’t on her porch bench. She wasn’t out there today on a pleasurable evening. As I approached her home, her husband drove his tractor to the front of the home. I paused and waved for him to stop. 
“Beautiful Day,” I said, “I notice the Missus hasn’t been around”. 
The elderly man pleasantly smiled, “My wife… She died now 18 months back in January 2018.” 
I gently grabbed his arm and replied, “I am So Sorry My Friend.” 
He patted my hands in appreciation. “It was her time son…. You know, she thought the world of you. You were an inspiration to her with all that runnin’. She sure loved to watch you run.” 
I gently tightened my grip on his arm. “Thank You Sir. God Bless You.” His other hand continued patting my hands. I let go and smiled. Turn back to the Road. With a sigh and deep breath sped on my way.
My funk of previous days reared itself from memories five American Presidents past. Yet, just as inconsequential saw a woman on a porch waiving hello now passed away. The later put into context my what I must cherish; Those who care about me in the present. To be at peace with old spirits and Love what is in front of you. Especially when she gives you cookies. 😉

MRTC RRS 1st 5K (July 2019)

Master's 2nd Place
15th of 1206 Overall
1st of 79 Age Group 50-54

Apprehensive over coming back to the MRTC RRS since 2017, not dread but the feeling of being good enough again. Estimated goal time Sub20.

With cloud cover, sprinkles and a minimized heat signature, the worry faded the moment my magnetic chip triggered. Everything my coach (Kevin/Can't Stop Endurance) instilled (over 4 yrs worth) activated by steading my tempo to match lead runners.

Weary not to blast the first mile, the focus was to maintain good breathing and sense runners next to me. Closing in on each runner, my thoughts calculated what cards their labored breathing held. I read their tempo and patterns. The moment a runner missed a beat, it opened a moment to capitalize. No domination, just acceleration and ensure the next target was in view. The race became a Mario Go-Kart video game, the fun came back, this was JOY my body remembered.

In the final mile, my senses felt my tank held more reserves. This body can go for something more than the pre-race goal. In front of me, 200 meters and four runners. Hunt down just one. Tally-ho! With a swift pass by one of the four, my trajectory punched it to the line.

At race end, Coach Kevin handed me a “Recovery Popsicle”. Recapping my last push, I told Kevin, “Man, all I could think was Fast Feet, things we talk about over the years”. He replied, “You know the program more than most.” Likely its ingrained now.

Excited for the up coming series events and what this old body can do. @ Memphis Botanic Garden

THE SEATTLE ROCK & ROLL HALF MARATHON 2019: The Cruise

PROLOGUE

The excitement built as we prepared for our first cruise.  As a Naval Officer in the late 90s, driving a warship along the Alaskan coast did not compare to the relaxation of a 7-day pleasure excursion.

Notoriously known for the gluttony of eating and sloth of lounging,  cruise ships furnish daily activities uncommon to me.  Determined to arrive on board in great shape, what better way to prepare than to enter a Half Marathon race the day of departure?

Yes, you heard that right.  Hours before boarding a joyful cruise ship, a crazed Half Marathon needed competing.  “Typical Rome!”

Just a week prior, the Navy Ten Nautical Miler (11.51 miles) garnered a Master’s (+40yr old) win.  Emphasizing running from within and a clear mind, the effort earned an overall place of 4th among 1300 participants in a time of 1h18m10s (6:48 Pace).  The race turned out better than hoped affording time to spare to attend church in Sunday slacks and dress shirt.

Top - Getting my Bib at C-Link; Bottom - Training on Rin's Hill; Right - Finishing the Navy 10 NM (1June2019)

The fitness and aesthetic aspects in a half marathon provided one motivation.  However, another motivation came in the form of my Nanay (Grandmother) Rosing passing just two years ago.  Running the Half honored her as a “Celebration of Life”.  A mere four seconds accomplished the 1h30m a mission that day

Determined to make a better showing, the goal of 1h29min set the stage.  However, this course presented a much harder challenge.  It rolled through the city for two miles, then on Interstate-5 Express way for 3miles and flattened for another 5 miles.  The toughest challenge came at mile 10 where the steep 9% grade of Queen Anne Hill elevated runners 350 feet straight up in one mile.  Just surviving loomed and the race didn’t look like a Personal Record (PR) event, but hope reaching the goal required mental fortitude. 

GETTING INTO SEATTLE

We arrived at SEATAC Airport at 2AM and at my Aunt’s condo by 3AM Saturday morning.  After a needed five hours sleep, the three-mile run to C-Link Stadium to obtain my race bib gave me a fresh start to the day.   Anticipation for a hustle bustle day with family lunch and a mini-high school reunion dinner.

Being fit helps me focus and provides a confidence to speak to everyone as if in the presence of kings or giants.  My mind and body pay respect to those present with full attention.  In previous meetings with high-school classmates, my unhealthy lifestyle cause me to wither or turn to a drink.  However, with mental attentiveness, the night’s laughter and conversation brought joyful camaraderie, reflection, and united good will within us. 

John F. Kennedy High School Class of 87 Mini-Reunion.
Right to left: Fred Baisch, Me, Do and Van Nguyen, Tara and Ed Esteron
Spaghetti Factory, South Center

The amazing night lent itself to a warm comfortable exhaustion appropriate for a great slumber.

MORNING HAS BROKEN LIKE THE FIRST MORNING

A mile separated my Aunt’s home and the start line.  Getting to the venue, factoring a Port-a-Potty break (also considering the long lines) and getting to Coral #1 linked itself into place.  Unfortunately, to reach my coral required me transit through a sea of 12,000 runners, almost two city blocks. Making it just in time, my ritual of saying the “Lords Prayer” for a safe race started my event.

Previous starts in Coral #1 caused anxiety by lining up with running elites.  However, the apprehension didn’t dawn on me today.  In fact, calm determination and concentration ruled the morning.  A special meeting and pleasure cruise awaited me upon completion of the race.

Coral #1 lead the way as the gun sounded.  With quick glances at my watch, my strategy implemented itself immediately like a lightning bolt.  Fast acceleration during first mile after which locking into a pace on the edge of contentment and insanity all the while keeping a harmonious break-neck rhythm.

Starting next to the Seattle Space Needle, the Monorail line shadowed the first mile leading to Westlake Center (the heart of the city) then down to the Columbia Tower.  These same streets just 35 summers past, saw a cigarette in hand and days of wandering youth.  Today, this greying man scorched down the same streets to a left-turn into the I-5 Expressway tunnel.

The dark and quite tunnel eerily sounded like New York City Marathon’s Queensborough Bridge with its patter of runner’s footsteps.  The location that shred hopes of a PR.  However, on this morning, my pace remained steady alongside charging runners as we rolled over the Ship Canal Bridge heading off the Freeway towards the University of Washington.

Negotiating a hard sloping right turn onto Northlake Way and the 5-mile marker, in another mile my dear friends, Rob and Vicky patiently waited to root for me.  The previous day, a message was sent to Vicky to expect me at the Freemont/10K mark around 7:15AM (45 minutes from race start).  Luckily, they arrived five minutes early because my velocity approached them with a 42-minute 10K.  As they cheered me, I yelled back “I LOVE YOU GUYS”.  Seeing them raised my spirits and emboldened my pace.  

Seeing Rob and Vicki on Northlake Way (Photo taken by Vicki Stewart)

With half the race completed, Mile 7 approached quickly.  Running to conserve energy gave me a better chance to survive the looming Queen Anne Hill.  However, my mind said, “Stay with the pack, keep up, and don’t let UP!”  Flashing by the Burke-Gillman Trail and over the Ballard locks, Mile 9 provided the last relatively flat surface.

Queen Anne rapidly approached.

QUEEN ANNE HILL

My path turned right at Mile 10, the beginning of going one mile straight up Queen Anne Hill.  In my 30s, occasionally training this hill instilled a tempered mental toughness.  At 50yrs old, this reacquaintance invoked visions of relentless pain.  My beloved Rin’s Hill near my home rose merely 75 feet elevation change over a quarter mile; Queen Anne towered four times longer and higher.  No hills in West Tennessee compared.    

Approaching the hill, my mind cleared then filled with positive thoughts.  “He we go, this is your MOMENT!”  My cadence steadied but more power resonated in each step.  “Bound and Dance this Hill”, my mind willed my body to pass struggling runners. My system in full throttle and resolute on the task at hand staving off any discomfort for as long as possible.

At the middle of the hill (half-mile up), the hurt started to chip at my pain shield.  By the ¾ mark to the top, the lungs gasped for breath, sunrays penetrated my skull, and wrenching strain found its way into every leg fiber.  “LIFT!” was the constant reminder, “Don’t You Dare Give IN!, Don’t worry about time, just keep form.”  My respect for Queen Anne started many years prior.  A beautiful backdrop to the city, she was an epic challenge to the course.  I felt a strange honor in running her slopes giving my best while never slowing to a walk. 

Any negative clamor met a smile and a singing intonation, “No one can take this from me for I made the MOMENT happen.  Enjoy everything about it, even the discomfort.”

The apex finally arrived.  The one-mile ascent somehow took less than 8 minutes.  The Rock and Roll organizers promised a gorgeous Emerald view at the top.  They did not disappoint with the appearance of Elliot Bay, West Seattle, the Waterfront, Space Needle and, of course, Mount Rainer.  “The Treasures of Seattle” adored since my childhood continued my love Pacific Northwest.  The rest of the race finished downhill. Unfortunately, the most dangerous part of the course.

Thankfully the typical rain of Seattle did not encroach this day.  Wet road might play serious havoc with a slippery decline.  The steep decent crushed quads and missteps could cause severe tumbles to serious injury.  A female runner flew by me with reckless abandon as she flailed her arms.  My tactic utilized controlled caution by shortening the length of my stride and speeding up my leg revolutions as gravity provided the boosted.  The base of the Space Needle closed in, the same location where the race started.

FINISHLINE: “The End of the Race but Not of the Day”

The final kick came with the last turn to the finish line.  Reminding myself, “Be Light, and get “Fast Feet”, my closing dash drew me to the line where the clock read 1h29m and a goal accomplished.  However, hardly any runners populated the finishing area.  
Looking back, just three runners rounded the last turn.  The finishers venue harkened of a ghost town.  Working my way to the results computer, the unofficial results read 1:29:12 and 71st overall (later finding out 9,925 participants completed the half marathon) good enough for the top 1%.  The bulk of runners would approach 20 minutes later.

Rushing back to my Aunt’s home ordered the new mission with little time to celebrate.  My wife and son already packed our bags.  My parents soon arrived with surprise that the race already happened.  With a quick shower, change of clothes, and packing of the car, we made our way across the city to West Seattle for our special meeting.

My Grandmother died the morning of June 9, 2017.  Today was June 9th.  Though the purpose of coming to Seattle mainly involved boarding a ship for a week of fun, no way would we miss the chance to see her on this day.

Our Special Meeting for the Day.

With a kiss on her gravestone, a prayer and showing off my medal to her, we departed uplifted by her spirit.  My watch read 10AM.  The day started with a half marathon, a drive across the city, and visit to my Grandmother all within 4-hours.  A chuckle formed in my chest. I made the most of my time.

Time for Vacation.

The St Jude Pacer 2018

The St Jude Pacer

“A pacer tries to keep a pace to help others reach their goal.  They must be CONSISTENT.”

I have been blessed with great pacers in both full and half marathons.   They have helped me achieve times beyond my personal capabilities.   Just a year ago, I ran the 2017 St Jude Marathon with pacers.  The day before the race, I introduced myself to two pacers (Anthony Cendana and Paxton Bennett) who’d guide me through the course.  What made it daunting was the speed in which I was going to keep up with these runners.  However, with proper training, I knew I physically prepared, but mentally didn’t believe.  Once the race started, I shut-off all thought.  I had my music playing in the background and went into a zone I never went before.  I let my pacers do all the work.  All I had to do was follow them.  They blocked the wind, kept time, reminded everyone to drink or take fuel.  At the end, I found myself with the two pacers at the finish with a PR within the Pace Goal time.  I gained so much respect for them after that experience.

In the Spring, I joined the Germantown Thoroughbreds for long training runs.  I found out that one of the leaders (Mr. Charles Hurst) managed the St. Jude Pace Team with fellow coordinator David Tuttle.  I told Charles about my St Jude experience.  I asked if there was an opportunity for me to pace.  With my marathon time, I was good enough to run with the 4:00 group.  Typicaly they like placing Pacers in groups 20-30 better than the assigned group.  I was also racing the New York City Marathon (NYCM) in November, I’d already have good training to go the pace required. 

Coming of a decent NYCM, I recharged and took to the Memphis streets.  My good friend (Scott) and I prepared from Downtown, to the Riverside, and Overton Park.  On my own, I’d run my lunches to get that feel of 9:09 (the required pace) on both the track and roads near work. 

Being part of the pace group there were time requirements.  The daunting one was getting within 90 second window of the finish.  In my case 4-hours, which meant I must finish between 3h59m00s and 4h00m30s.  In support of the runners, we couldn’t go too fast for the runners nor to slow that they didn’t achieve their goals.  I took it very seriously and it would be put to the test.

RACE DAY “Nothing goes as Planned”

Storms, Lightning and Thunder awaited me at the AutoZone Park pacers suite.  The rain was coming down very hard with flashes and booms awakening the stadium.  St Jude organizers used caution and delayed the run.  Instead of an 8:00AM start, the Half and Full Marathon would start at 9:00AM.  As necessary as the delay was, it would also take some runners out of rhythm.

I got to meet my fellow 4:00hr pacing partner (Paul) the morning of the race.  A veteran of over 20 pacing activities, he drove in from Oklahoma City to participate.  In fact, other pacers from various locations participated some as far as Kentucky, Iowa, and California helped to support St Jude runners.  All of them with distinguished running experiences. 

Paul and I took to the start line with the other pacers 30 minutes prior to the run.  The rain had subsided but something felt strange.  Heat and humidity started sneaking its way through the clouds.  We were located in Coral F with many hopeful runners stirring near us. 

I had customized the rod for my pacer flag with paint, a roped handle, an inscription (Psalms 26:2), and a list of the exact times for each mile and 5K increment we’d need to hit.  The goal was to stay within 5-10 seconds of each mark.  Example would be hitting the first mile at 9m09sec or the first 5K in 28m24sec.  Anything within 5-10sec of that time would be good, otherwise we’d need to speed up or slow down to meet the next mile on time.  A pacer tries to be like a Japanese subway system to be always on time, but the reality is it’s more like a Greyhound Bus in traffic.  There will be some obstacles slowing you down. 

The first part of the marathon was energetic.  Runners wanting to go fast.  I just wanted to get into rhythm.  However, some misplaced runners were already gotten tired and started walking or stopped in the first miles causing pile-ups on the road.  Paul and I were having to navigate and slow up or rush through.  The energy and excitement reached its pinnacle at the St Jude Campus seeing all the children and the real reason we were running.  We were far ahead of mile times that we need to slow down by quite a bit on the way back on Riverside Drive.  We would eventually get back on pace as the half-marathoners split off on Washington Ave. 

There were six full-marathoners left in my pace group.  Even with the humidity warming up, everyone still seemed quite strong.   At the 13.1 mark, my watch read 2h00m17s, only 1-sec off mile pace.  I felt pretty good about their chances.  My optimism would crack in heat.

WEATHERING DOWN

The heat took its toll on two members of my group who were stonewalled at Stonewall Street.  Then another two dropped off at Overton Park.  I was left with two hopeful runners.  But something very strange had happened.  After mile 17, my time had read that I was only 30 seconds ahead of pace.  However, at mile 18, I somehow found that we were now behind of the mile mark by 70 seconds.  I didn’t feel my rhythm change but somehow we were now behind.  In a panic to keep time, I bumped the pace.  As mile 19 passed, we were now 50 seconds ahead of the mile mark.  I had to slow us down. 

My fellow pacer Paul was in trouble; the humidity was getting to him.  Just two weeks prior to this race he paced another marathon.  The toll of that marathon and the heat caused him to slow and lose the pace.  I would have to go it alone with these two runners.

With only 7 miles left, I had Danielle from Raleigh, NC and Jared from Cordova.  With the faux pas on mile 18 (which turned out to be miss located), I had to get their spirits up with pep-talks and mental games.  I told them to think of “clickers”.  Each time a mile came, “Click It” off as complete as one step closer to the finish.  I was trying anything to keep them positive and on my tail. 

Unfortunately, at the 20-mile water-stop, Jared was lost.  I turned around and he was nowhere to be found.  Danielle was the only one left.  We traveled on to North Parkway.  She picked up her pace, so I let her run ahead.  It was a good feeling knowing she felt strong.  But, that positive feeling wore away when I noticed her running left to right on the road.  As I kept my own pace, I caught up to her and gave her more words of advice.  “Stay on the dashed road lines, stay straight and don’t let this marathon get any longer by swaying.”  She took my advice, but, she finally succumb to the humidity by mile 22.

HOMESTRETCH

I was on time, on pace, and alone.  A pacer with no one to pace. 

The turn onto Danny Thomas Street confirmed my fears that it was a bad day for everyone.  Like a scene from the “Walking Dead”, runners were now turned into walkers fighting fatigue, humidity and an oncoming wind hitting their faces.  Yet, I was still running past them, trying desperately to give hope or words of encouragement.   One hopeful walker tried to follow me, “C’mon Man!  Stay on my hip and I’ll bring you home.”  I’d try to block the wind for him as he tried keeping behind me, but he couldn’t keep my pace. 

My wife, was above the Monroe St overpass, all I could do was shrug.  I reached mile 26 to cheers of “Good Job Pacer”.  But in my mind, I didn’t feel that way.  I crossed the finish line at 3h59m04s, less than a minute of my required time.  My body, system, and legs were all in good working order.  I felt spry and lively.  However, inside I was dejected.  I finished alone.  I felt like I had not helped anyone.  

I got back to the pacer’s suite and found fellow pacer Paxton.  He had helped me reach my goal the previous year.  He offered up sound words of advice.  “Pacing for others is not about you carrying them.  The runner has to do their own work in training, preparation and execution.  You are there as a guide, support and example.  In the end, their success is not your success.”

GIVING BACK

This race means so much to runners in this city and region.  More importantly, it means the world to the children on at that St Jude Campus.  Pacers and runners have to endure only a morning of running.  The children and medical staff at St Jude endure much more for a longer time period.

I plan to comeback to St Jude as a pacer hopefully in fair running weather.  I know as I run/train downtown and see those St Jude buildings, I’ll put into context their struggle compared to mine.   Hopefully I can fight and endure as gracefully as them.