Seeking the Runner's High: My 2019 Race to the Top of Vermont

I’m seeking a runner’s high, 3,850 feet of height to be exact. That’s the elevation at the top of the Mount Mansfield toll road. The summit of Mount Mansfield (Vermont’s highest mountain) is located at 4,393 feet. However, the toll road begins at the base of the mountain in Stowe and takes you to 3,850 feet, which is still plenty of altitude. Today’s mission is not to drive up the mountain but to ascend it using muscles, not motors. Some will choose to cycle and some will hike, but most (myself included) opt to run.

This is the Race to theTop of Vermont, a race dubbed as; The Hardest Race ANYONE can do. Anyone willing to accept the challenge of climbing the 4.3 mile toll road (with an average incline grade of 12% ) and register before the cap of 800 participants is met can partake in the event.

I participated in this event for the first time in 2018 and enjoyed it tremendously. That’s right! You read that correctly, I got enjoyment from running up a mountain. But, before you call me crazy, read on and you'll find out why.

I’ll admit it did seem like a somewhat daunting challenge, especially when doing it for the first time. So why did I enjoy it so much? Well, first of all there is the beauty of being in the mountains. The elevation combined with nature gives one a fresh perspective on the world. Its beauty is evident and the elevation can make day to day stressors seem small.  Secondly, the feelings of empowerment that accompany completion of such a challenge transitions into everyday life, providing strength and perseverance to deal with the challenges life throws our way. So, here I am back for more.

My goals today are to make it to the top and enjoy the experience with minimal walking. I’d also like to stay within shouting distance of last year’s time of 49 minutes. I haven’t done much in the way of hill training this year, let alone any mountain running, so I’m not anticipating being able to best that time. If, however, I can be within two to three minutes of it I’ll be pleased.

The “30 seconds until the start” announcement is made. As the seconds tick down my excitement goes up. The countdown finally reaches zero. We are off and running! The course starts off with a steep climb of roughly a 12% grade, so avoiding succumbing to the temptation of going out fast is wise. Fortunately, I learned this in advance last year (the hard way) by doing just that. In preparation for the race I did a training run up the mountain; starting too aggresively, I ended up walking before I had even gone one mile.

After about two-tenths of a mile the course transitions from pavement to dirt and levels off significantly. Don’t get me wrong, there is still plenty of elevation to climb (this is a mountain after all) but the incline is more gradual. The course winds its way up and up through switchback after switchback with frequent fluctuation in the percent grade. Our journey takes us through an abundance of wooded areas with occasional clearings providing views of ski trails and ski lifts which rest in solitude as they await the busy winter months. At about two miles we are greeted by a charming mountain chapel.

As the course winds its way further up the mountain I find myself needing to take a walk break at about the 2 ½ mile mark. The break isn’t long (only about 15 seconds) but it provides just enough of a recovery to help me start running again and power myself up and around the next switchback. (I jokingly tell people I signed up for this race because I heard there would be a lot of Switchbacks, which is in reference to the ale brewed in Burlington, VT)

At just over 3 miles the course opens up to stunning views of Mansfield and the surrounding mountains. If I wasn’t running I would say the views were breathtaking, but since I’ve been running on an incline for 30 minutes my breath has already been taken.

The positive imagery of the landscape comes at just the right time as it provides a beautiful distraction from the steepest part of the course directly ahead. After several seconds of taking in the sight of the amazing mountainous landscape to my right I decide I need to face reality. As I turn to look straight ahead the reality is the steep incline that awaits me. I can see about two-tenths of mile of the toll road, which does nothing but go straight up.  I don’t know the specific grade of this portion, but it is well over the twelve percent average. It’s got to be at least in the high teens though since some sections of the course are less than 12 percent. Regardless of the numbers, it’s steep!

I tell myself to make forward progress by any means necessary. There are numerous poles serving various functions along the side of the road in this section. I decide to make them my focal points. Run to the first pole then focus on the next. Like climbing a ladder rung by rung these poles are my short term goals helping me get to the top. I walk 3 times up this steep section but keep each walking segment very short so as to not lose momentum.

Chug, chug, chug I think I can, I think I can…I keep chugging away and moving forward. At last, I reach the top of the steepest section but as the course rounds a corner the climbing continues. I can only see the next turn and nothing more. I know that the course levels off soon, but when?  Chug, chug, chug I think I can, I think I can…

I hear slightly muffled cheering. I’m getting close! Not to the top, but to the point where the incline levels off, which happens to be my favorite spot in the race and occurs at 3.7 miles. It’s not my favorite because of the welcome change in terrain (although this helps) but because of the multitude of emotions I feel and the delight brought to my senses.  A spectacular perspective of the top of Mount Mansfield is visible at this point which shows its contours, ski trails, hiking trails, and rocky ridgeline. The cheering from the spectators, race officials, and volunteers lining the course brings enthusiasm to my tired legs. Knowing that there is only .6 miles until the finish, with the hardest part behind me fills my heart with excitement. All of these factors combine to create a feeling of complete exhilaration!

The final .6 miles finds my running resembling something of a makeshift fartlek run, with my pace varying frequently to correspond with the varying level of power my legs can provide. The road is straight but of course continues to go up with periodic short steeper inclines. The road then makes repeated S-turns with a sharp increase in grade at each one. A musical duo playing guitar and violin provides entertainment at the first turn. I remember them from last year, the finish is around this bend. Ugh! No it’s not!  It’s around the next one, it’s got to be! I can hear it. I can hear cheering. I’m getting close. The road goes straight for a short stretch and then turns to the left. Rounding that left turn I can see the finishing chute. Yes! I gather up the remaining power I have in my legs and kick to the finish, finishing in 51 minutes.

Although I finished 2 minutes slower than last year I was close enough to it to feel satisfied with my performance.  Now it’s time to enjoy the runner’s high. With endorphins aplenty and a spectacular view from the elevation this is a literal and figurative high. 

Recently, I watched the award winning documentary Free Solo about Alex Honnold’s historic climb of El Capitan. There is a scene in which his brain activity is tested and it is discovered that he has practically no activity in his amygdala. The amygdala is the region of the brain which processes fear and sends out signals to trigger the fight or flight response. With this in mind, it makes sense that he excels at the sport of climbing. While he is at heights that would make the average person shutter in fear, his brain is telling his body everything is fine, so he remains calm.

I summited this mountain a different way and for the opposite reason. My amygdala is quite active, and so I run. Running is quite literally the flight response.  It quiets the sensations in the brain which scream that danger is present. Running tells the body the safety is near and all will be okay.  It helps the brain slow down the pace of the thoughts that race through it every day and helps it focus on just being in the moment. 

Being in the mountains has the added benefit of bringing perspective to life. Things that we stress about on a daily basis are often molehills that we are viewing as mountains. Being in the actual mountains brings this fact to light. Too often we become consumed with our day to day tasks. We hustle here and hustle there not paying attention to the beauty that surrounds us. Running to the top of Vermont is also a wonderful reminder of how much beauty we are missing if we don’t look up every once and while.

  

Getting Comfortable With Discomfort: The importance of stepping out of your comfort zone.

“This isn’t comfortable anymore!” my client Kristin declared in the midst of running the Green Mountain Half Marathon in South Hero, VT.  Our once comfortable pace was now becoming a bit more challenging for her and even the beautiful scenery along the shores of Lake Champlain weren’t enough of a distraction from the discomfort associated with the increased effort.  Her goal was to break 2 hours, which she had last done 10 years ago with a time of 1:59. Going sub 2 hours again would be such an empowering accomplishment for her that she asked me to help pace her through the entire race. Recognizing how important it was to her I couldn’t say no.

Maintaining our pace was becoming a bit more laborious for her, although based on her ability to still converse with me it was still reasonable. I replied; “It’s not supposed to be comfortable!” We continued on our way, reaching the half way point right on target to go sub 2 hours. The course meandered through the Vermont countryside with continual breathtaking views on both sides of the road. Besides the scenic vista of Lake Champlain we also passed lakeside cottages, farmhouses, fields with cattle or horses, apple orchards, a winery, and even a birdhouse forest (with a random dinosaur patroling the land).

All of these sights provided a wonderful distraction from the physical demands of racing.  Overall our pace fluctuated a bit with the terrain changes, but when we reached the 10 mile mark we were on target to run a 1:57. I had avoided telling Kristin where we were at pace-wise as she seemed to be locked in to a bit of a zone and I didn’t want to interrupt her concentration. However, once we reached 10 miles I let our progress be known to her. I could tell she was starting to struggle a bit more to keep the pace so I wanted to let her know she was doing well. “We have 30 minutes to cover 3 miles. This is going to happen! You just have to hang in there and keep moving” She accepted this news with delight.

Ahead of us at mile 11 was the biggest challenge of the day, a hill about ¾ of a mile long which climbed steadily up to the 12 mile mark. At 12 miles it would be either flat or downhill to the finish. “When we get to the hill don’t worry about speed”, I instructed her.  “Just keep moving! You don’t want to burn yourself out on the hill and have nothing left for the finish”.

As we got to the hill I thought of the children’s classic book. The Little Engine That Could in which the little engine repeatedly told himself “I think I can” when attempting to climb a hill.  Although I like the little engine’s “can-do” attitude, the words “I think” leave the door open for doubt. While inspirational indeed, I did one better and uttered the words, “I know I can” to Kristin. As in, this is what you need to tell yourself to ensure success.

Steadily we climbed, breaking the hill up into increments, focusing on going from tree to tree, signpost to signpost. I spied a street sign ahead in the distance which marked the intersection with South Street where we would turn left and reach the 12 mile mark. I pointed out the sign to her; “That’s the top of the hill right there. Keep it up, we’re almost there!”

Shortly thereafter we reached the summit and joyously made the turn. As we reached the 1 mile to go sign I turned to Kristin and said; “You have 11 minutes to make it one mile. This is going to happen but you can’t get cocky and slow down.” She chuckled a little bit at the thought of getting cocky, but the message was obviously received and understood. Pulling in front of her I acted as her rabbit to chase to the finish. I mentioned that the final mile is flat and downhill (a gradual downhill but downhill nonetheless), but it is also straight. This means the finish line is like a mirage in the distance, never seeming to get closer. So, we initiated the same tactic as on the uphill climb, taking it tree to tree, sign to sign, or house to house until finally the finish was upon us. Kristin dug deep to kick to the finish in 1:58. Mission accomplished! But it was more than just a sub 2 hour performance. She also set a PR, besting her time from 10 years ago by one minute.

After taking a few minutes to absorb the magnitude of what she’d just accomplished she said to me; “I get it, I get it now!” I often tell people, and I’ve also stated this in earlier blog posts, that running is a metaphor for life. Exactly how, is what she now gets. Earlier in the race I told her that it’s not supposed to be comfortable. That is true in running as it in life.  If you want to become a faster runner, than you need to have times when you run at a faster pace, which isn’t comfortable. But, this allows you to acclimate to the faster pace and raise your threshold for what is considered uncomfortable.

In life, we sometimes go through challenging times, but these challenging times make us stronger. We learn and grow in the process, improving our capabilities for handling adversity. There are periods of comfort in running and in life, which are necessary. However, if we never leave our comfort zone we never grow stronger. Our accomplishments are limited and we never find out that we are capable of far more than we imagined.

I also stated on the hill that the goal was just to keep moving.  It’s very easy to fall into the mindset that we need to have quick progress when we are working toward an objective. We think that, when making an effort to accomplish something, if results don’t happen quickly they are not going to happen at all. But success doesn’t happen quickly, especially when what we are pursuing is a challenging goal. But if we place emphasis on just making forward progress, we find that what once seemed unattainable, is in fact, within reach.  

We should not be afraid to experience discomfort. Actually, we should become comfortable with it. Discomfort by definition does not imply comfort. But, when experiencing it, if we recognize and understand its value than we can accept it as a necessary process for making life a wonderful adventure. For without it, we don’t have the contrast that allows us to make the good times great, or to experience the thrill of high achievement. We end up just existing instead of truly living.

From Hopkinton to Boston 2018: My Soggy Journey

In the howling wind comes a stinging rain
See it driving nails
Into the souls on the tree of pain

These lyrics from U2’s Bullet the Blue Sky echo through my mind as I carefully plod through the muddy field at the Athlete’s Village at Hopkinton High School. The wind is gusting and the rain is unrelenting, it is in fact a stinging rain at times as the precipitation straddles the line between rain and sleet. My start time is about two hours away. I need shelter! 

As I venture into one of the tents set up for this purpose I can feel it; Heat! Precious heat! Runners fill practically every nook and cranny but I manage to find a spot near the back entrance where I settle in to enjoy the warmth for as long as I can. Just outside the opposite entrance from where I stand, the Gatorade tent blows by. That’s right, the tent actually blows by. The force of the wind pulled its stakes out of the ground causing it to topple over and roll like a tumbleweed about 20 feet. This is going to be a wild one today, I think to myself.

I’ve been running competitively for over 30 years but never have race day conditions been as extreme as they are today.  There is wind, rain, and sleet and unfortunately I’m not talking about an Earth, Wind, and Fire cover band that's serenading runners on the course. The wrath of the elements is prominent as the temperature with the wind chill is    -1 degree Celsius. My goal originally was to beat my qualifying time that got me here (3:15 set at the VT City Marathon.). However, today’s conditions dictate a change of plans. The new goal is simply to finish, running as efficiently and swiftly as the conditions allow.

After hanging out in the tent for about 45 minutes I finally have to give in to nature’s call. As much as I hate to do it I need to venture back outside to wait in line for the port-o-let. I pick the line that looks the shortest and patiently wait my turn, periodically bouncing up and down on my calves with my arms folded in front of me to stay warm. Slowly but steadily the line moves. By the time I exit the port-o-let the time has come for me to work my way towards the starting line. The adventure begins!

Still unsure of what specifically I want to wear for layers, I jog towards the starting line to get a sense of how I will feel when I’m running.  On my lower body I have my shorts with wind pants over them. Up top I have a running cap, running gloves, a short sleeve wicking shirt and arm warmers. But wait, there’s more!  Over the short sleeve shirt and arm warmers I have a long sleeve wicking shirt. For my final layer I have a clear garbage bag with slots cut out for my arms and another for my neck. I never thought I’d be a garbage bag wearer, but it’s a good way to stay dry and desperate times call for desperate measures.

I know I’ll ultimately be uncomfortable in these wind pants so I take them off and place them in one of the bags of clothes for charity. Continuing to jog down Grove Street towards the starting corrals I am fairly comfortable, but I can’t help but think that with my current layers I’ll be overheating by the time I get to Framingham. Getting the right layers feels like such a crap shoot today. The line between too few and too many is razor thin. 

I gotta do it! I gotta at least try running without the long sleeve shirt. I pull it off and am left with just my cap, gloves, short sleeve shirt, arm warmers, shorts, and of course the stylish clear garbage bag. Hey, this isn’t too bad! I feel a slight chill, but I’m not running very fast. By the time I get a few miles into the race I should be okay. I decide to ditch the long sleeve shirt, so I put that in one of the charity bags too.

I proceed to my starting corral ready to get this party started. I recently read a book titled; The Way of the Seal by retired Navy Seal Commander Mark Divine. In it he uses the term; embrace the suck, as a strategy for getting through tough situations.  Basically, instead of focusing on how miserable the conditions are, embrace them and make the most of them. With this in mind, my plan is to pretend to be a kid out playing in the rain, having fun splashing through puddles on my 26.2 mile jaunt. 

Standing near the front of my corral I hop up and down to stay warm. The weather conditions are too bad even for there to be the usual flyover by either military planes or helicopters.  The starting gun can’t happen soon enough. I look to my left and see 2014 winner Meb Keflezighi walking towards the front of the pack. Although he officially retired from competitive running he’s back to run this year for charity as a member of Team MR8. Meb and I have the same fashion sense. He’s sporting a garbage bag too. If this was the red carpet at the Oscars and I was asked; “Who are you wearing?” I’d have to say “Glad”.  I wonder what Meb would say.

Finally the starting gun sounds and we are off. My mission is to spend the first few miles just feeling things out. Not worrying about running a specific pace, just seeing what feels manageable and using heart rate as a guide as well.

Fortunately, the weather hasn’t prevented some diehard spectators from showing up! They aren’t as numerous as usual, but there are enough to provide some much needed energy to the environment and to be a positive distraction from the elements.

The first 3 miles are at a controlled pace as I focus on adapting to the conditions. I cross the 5k checkpoint in 23:06.  Hey, this is fun! I’m actually enjoying this. I legitimately feel like a kid out playing in the rain. My chosen apparel, including my garbage bag jersey from the Glad collection, is providing me with adequate warmth. 

I focus on just being in the moment as the course exits Hopkinton and travels through Ashland. Much like in Hopkinton, the number of spectators is down from the usual, but still there is valuable extra energy and enthusiasm supplied to the environment by their presence. 

After Ashland we enter Framingham. Framingham is rocking! Music fills the air. Spectators with enthusiastic non-stop cheers of encouragement line both sides of the street all through town.  It seems to be the race day party spot it always is.  What a great adrenaline boost!

The 10k checkpoint is located in Framingham, which I cross in 45:58. My pace is pretty consistent with where it was at 5K. I am starting to heat up to a slightly uncomfortable level, which could mean if I don’t make a change I will be much too hot by the time I hit Wellesley at 13.1 miles.  I decide it’s time to lose the garbage bag. I tear it off, leaving me with all the other layers of clothes, with the exception of my gloves. I take those off too and am tempted to toss them. But they are small and not much of a burden to carry, so I hang on to them in case they are needed down the road.

Since the start of the race there has constantly been precipitation of some form, only the intensity has changed. It’s gone from moderate rain to heavy rain to sleet and back again.  The varying headwind speed of 30+ mph sometimes even causes the rain to blow sideways. Yikes!

By the time I arrive in Natick (10 miles) my childlike enthusiasm for the conditions is gone. My legs are feeling a little numb and I’m drenched. I alternate between putting my gloves on and then after several minutes I take them back off again. I can’t get the right combination. I’m too warm with them on and get too cold when they come off. Having a miserable attitude isn’t going to help matters so I need to refocus as I have absolutely no intention of dropping out. A quote from the film Hesher starring Joseph Gordon Levitt comes to mind; Life is like walking in the rain…you can hide and take cover or you can just get wet. I’ve trained too much to let anything, including the elements, stop me. I will run and I won’t hide. I will just get wet.

At 12 miles into this soggy marathon trek we pass Wellesley College (aka the scream tunnel), where the women of the college typically line up in force to cheer on all runners with their decibel chart busting screams. Today’s weather has greatly reduced the size of the tunnel. Even though far fewer women are out than usual, you wouldn’t know it from the decibel level. The women who are here are more than compensating for the fewer numbers by screaming even louder, which I didn’t think was possible. Their cheers give me a rush and provide an invisible force that pushes me through to downtown Wellesley (the halfway point) which I reach in 1:38:31.

With half the marathon still remaining my plan is break the large goal of the 13.1 miles into smaller ones. I’ll focus on getting from one landmark to the next. The next one that comes to mind is the fire station in Newton on the corner of Route 16 and Commonwealth Ave. This point in the race marks the beginning of the infamous Newton Hills and is located at around mile 17.

The rain and sleet continue to show no mercy, coming down with a vengeance. First the rain then the sleet then back to rain. The winds continue their head on attack with a speed range of 30-40 miles per hour.  I’ve been running with my gloves off but can’t seem to put them back on again. The fingers are folded inside out and I can’t seem to undo them. The gloves are soaking wet at this point anyway so I don’t think they would do much good even if I could get them on.

The level of numbness in my legs is gradually increasing and it seems to take more exertion to move them. My heart rate monitor shows me that my heart is beating at 165 beats per minute, which is normal at this point in a marathon but usually I’m about 30 seconds faster per mile. The conditions are most certainly having an impact.

In preparation for the demands of the Newton hills I reach for a GU energy gel from my fuel belt. The weather conditions have caused the dexterity in my hands to be slightly impaired, so I clutch the gel packet as best as I can and tear off the top with my teeth. It takes two attempts but the mission is accomplished.  The flavor of choice is Jet Blackberry. The “Jet” in the title is due to the 40mg of caffeine, which I’m hoping will have a similar effect on me that spinach (no, this isn't a flavor suggestion) has on Popeye.

  

For the past couple miles I’ve felt a slowly building need to pee. I don’t like to stop unless I absolutely have to and rarely do I need to pee during a race, but these extreme conditions mean my body doesn’t have to sweat much to stay cool. The water has got to go somewhere, hence my growing need to pee. There’s no way I can hold it until Boston so I decide to go ASAP. I spy a port-o-let at the side of the road but another runner is entering. There’s bound to be another one soon (I hope), so I keep running.

At last I reach the Newton Fire Station and turn onto Commonwealth Ave to begin the ascent of the legendary hills of Newton.  I tell myself to just keep my legs moving and be on the lookout for a port-o-let.  Like most other sections of the course the spectator numbers here are lower than usual  too, but there is still an enthusiastic bunch who showed up to provide much needed support.  I steadily ascend the first hill, as I get to the top I think to myself, “one down two to go” (this is in regard to the 3 major hills in Newton, the 3^rd being Heartbreak).

The terrain is gradually rolling leading up to the second Newton hill. As I reach hill number 2 and begin my climb towards its summit I see them, there are 3 port-o-lets lined up side by side about half way up the hill. Oh sweet relief! Never do I recall being so happy to see a port-o-let. The best part is one is actually available. (Phew!). After what felt like an eternity I leave the port-o-let slightly rejuvenated.* I lost 1 full minute but the benefit was well worth it. Now I can run without that distraction. I cross the 30K checkpoint in 2:25:25. My pace is slowing but that’s not a concern. My primary mission is to just keep moving forward.

*For some reason there were no news stories about Moe Brown stopping to visit a port-o-let like there were for Shalane Flanagan. LOL

It’s not long before I reach the infamous Heartbreak Hill.  My pace continues to slow. I’m wet, cold, and fatigued from fighting a headwind for 2 ½ hours, so it’s no wonder. But I know that there is salvation ahead at the top of Heartbreak Hill. The top of Heartbreak is mile 21, at this point the terrain is either downhill or flat (relatively speaking). I make a mental note that the rain seems to have lightened up. Seconds later all that changes. The sky opens up and down comes one of the heaviest rainfalls of the day, perfectly synchronized with my ascent up Heartbreak Hill. I can’t help but chuckle at the irony of this.

After rounding each bend I look ahead, anticipating the beautiful sight of the cathedral located on the campus of Boston College. Unless you are delirious from your marathon journey and experiencing a mirage, the sight of this cathedral means the top of Heartbreak Hill is near. Steadily, I stride up the hill; left, right, repeat…left, right, repeat, until finally the cathedral is in view. I continue on…left, right, repeat...left, right, repeat.  At last I have reached the top.

There’s still 5 miles to go, but at least the most challenging terrain is behind me. My energy goes through peaks and valleys (figuratively speaking). I take advantage of the peaks and pick up my pace. During the valleys I just focus on keeping my legs moving.

I need to have another GU but my hands have even less dexterity than before. I use the same technique as before, holding the GU packet in place with my hand (which feels more like a claw now) and let my teeth do the work. The GU gives me a bit of a boost as I make my way through Brookline, then Coolidge Corner onto Beacon Street. My pace continues to fluctuate but I’m making forward progress and every step gets me closer to Boylston Street and the finish.

The Citgo sign in Kenmore Square comes into view. “I’m almost there”, I jubilantly think to myself. I reach the 40k checkpoint in 3:21:51. Doing math during marathon running doesn’t always go well, but I have enough experience with kilometers to miles translation to easily calculate that this is about 24 miles (24.8 to be exact). I’m typically finished by now but that doesn’t concern me. Today is about survival and I am oh so close to the finish line.

I feel something lightly brush up against my leg. Looking down I see that my race bib is hanging by a thread and hitting my leg. Over the course of 24 miles the strong winds have caused the bib to continually push against the lace locks holding it in place. One of them has slowly but steadily slid completely off the fuel belt. Now, just shy of mile 25, by bib is being held in place by just one lace lock. It may survive the remaining 1.4 miles but I don’t want to take any chances. In order to be an official finisher I need to have that bib on me.  I have battled the elements for close to 3 ½ hours. If I didn’t get recognized as an official finisher after all this it would suck to no end. I don’t want to take any chances. I hold the bib in place with my right hand which slightly alters my gate, and probably looks a little funny, almost like I have a cramp in my side. But I don’t care. I’m going to do what I got to do to get to the finish line.

1 mile to go. The sign in Kenmore square reads. Running through Kenmore Square never fails to bring about goose bumps. Not because there is one mile to go (although that sure is nice) but because it’s one of the busiest sections (if not the busiest) of Boston and it’s closed to traffic, enabling spectators to line the streets three, four, and sometimes five rows deep(possibly even more if the Red Sox game has finished). The energy from the crowd’s cheers here is off the charts. I’m going to make it! I’m getting colder and my patience for the conditions has almost expired, but I can absolutely make it 1 more mile.

I continue at whatever pace I can muster, which at this point fluctuates within the 8:30-9 minute mile range. I run down Beacon Street, then through the tunnel that goes under Mass Ave and back up to reconnect with Beacon St. With ½ mile to go I then make what I’ve heard referred to as the two most famous turns in sports; right on Hereford, left on Boylston. All while continuing to keep my bib clenched tightly to my side.

When turning on to Boylston the finish line is immediately in sight off in the distance. The sight of it fills me with excitement every time. Today is no exception. I’ve run 3 ½ hours through the most extreme conditions in Boston Marathon history and I’m going to make it to the finish line. I have persevered through the storm. I will do this!  

The finish line is only about 3/10 of a mile in the distance but it looks like 3 miles. I keep my eyes focused on the road about 50 feet in front of me, periodically glancing up to see how much farther I have to go. Little by little I reel myself in closer and closer until at last the glorious moment arrives. I cross the finish line in 3:34:50.

I am shivering uncontrollably as I walk down Boylston after finishing. The area on Boylston right after the finish is where runners get their medals, food, and a Mylar blanket for warmth. I am intensely cold! I don’t think I have hypothermia but I will soon if I don’t get warm.  I don’t have any recollection of ever being this cold.   Where the @#*! are those blankets!?  My legs are tight, so my walk resembles more of a stagger. On top of my uncontrollable shivering I also feel nauseous.

As tempted as I am to just stop, I know that I need to keep moving in order to get warm. My Mylar blanket awaits me not far ahead and my dry clothes are about a block away.  My stagger ultimately brings me to the first station, which is where the medals are handed out. Receiving the medal is what makes finishing feel official, so I try to cherish the moment. But, my constant shivering is too much of a distraction for me to revel in the moment for very long. Once again echoing through my brain is the thought; Where the @#*! are those blankets!? 

I stagger on, finally making it to the Mylar blankets. The volunteer wraps it around me. It gives me some relief but no wear near the level I need. I just can’t stop shivering.  Taking deep inhalations and exhalations provides me some relief from the nausea, but more than anything I just need to go someplace warm and sit down.  I continue on but my walking ability doesn’t improve much.

I grab a food bag a volunteer hands me, but don’t take time to consume anything from inside it just yet. I’m on a mission to get my dry clothes ASAP. As I continue staggering forward my nausea seems to subside, but not my shivering.  My enthusiasm rises as finally my staggering has carried me to the baggage area where I can get my dry clothes. 

I happily claim my bag, but now I need to put on my clothes. Wherever do I do that? A volunteer informs me that there is a heated tent for changing and some businesses are letting runners change in their rest rooms as well. Specifically which ones she’s not sure. Like a fish swimming upstream I work my way back in the direction I just came from, since that is where the heated tent is.

Much to my dismay there is a line of soggy, shivering runners like myself waiting to get into the tent. Ugh! If I have to wait any longer I may just collapse. I’m almost hypothermic and walking like a drunk penguin. I don’t have the patience to go around from business to business asking if I can use their rest room to change.  That’s when I see them. Right there on the street corner near the tents is a row of port-o-lets. Once again a port-o-let offers me my salvation. It might not be the most glamorous or spacious location to change, but I could get hypothermia trying to find just the right spot. I enter the port-o-let and about 15 minutes later, like Clark Kent exiting a phone booth as Superman, I emerge a new man.

Despite the conditions and my time, this Boston Marathon is one of my most memorable and one that I will recall “fondly”.  The conditions were brutal but I didn’t give up. I weathered the storm. I persevered and became stronger as a result. I feel like I am empowered to take on whatever challenges life throws my way.  I think of it as a metaphor for life. Sometimes in life things get tough and may seem overwhelming. But by focusing on just making forward progress, even if it’s slow, we ultimately enter better times.

You've Got This! Redemption and a BQ at the 2017 VT City Marathon

“Follow me”, the race official says as he leads me to the entrance of the preferred starting corral at the 2017 People’s United Bank Vermont City Marathon. Because I had run a half marathon time that fell within the parameters of qualifying for a preferred coral spot, I was receiving a dose of what felt like VIP treatment. The start of the race was only 5 minutes away and I needed to get to the starting line-pronto!



I usually don’t like to cut it so close, but my arrival had been delayed by a much needed detour to the port-o-potty. Hustling through the crowd to get to the line and unclear of the quickest way to get there caused me to utter in frustration-“how the hell do you get up there!” The race official (God bless him) sensed my need for assistance and quickly responded. Now, here I am at the line, moments away from what I am hoping will be a redemption run. Redemption from 2 years ago when at this very race I experienced my first ever DNF (see my blog post Exposed to Kryptonite).

 

As I stand at the line in anticipation of the starting horn I feel optimistic (because my training had gone well), excited (it’s race day, how can I not be?), anxious (it’s race day, how can I not be?) and even though it might seem contradictory- at peace. The sense of being at peace was because I was placing no pressure on myself to run a specific time. Sure, I had goals--the primary one being to improve upon my Boston qualifying time of 3:20 from the 2016 Clarence Demar Marathon-but achieving that goal wasn’t going to be my sole measuring stick of a good day. I also wanted to enjoy the journey and have fun. I get to run today after all. Run in the beautiful city of Burlington with a stunning view of Lake Champlain and enthusiastic spectators. Positive energy is all around me.

At last, the horn sounds and we are off and running. The glorious sound of ringing church bells mixed with the energizing cheers from spectators make goose bumps appear. As we loop through the city for 3 miles I feel pleased with myself. Pleased because I feel I have been running smart. My pace is not too fast yet not too slow, putting me in a good position to better negotiate the challenges of the upcoming 24.2(can’t forget the .2) miles.

For miles 4-8 the course exits the streets of downtown and enters the wide open and rolling stretches of the Burlington Beltline (route 127). This part would be tough mentally if it weren’t for the fact that it’s out and back, allowing runners to encourage each other as they pass. Runners are also treated to the much needed energizing rhythms from a band playing Brazilian music at around miles 5 and 7. My effort is consistent throughout this section although my pace does waver some due to the rolling terrain. As I climb the hill that exits the beltline at mile 8, I am happy with both how I handled it and the fact that it is behind me. Upon re-entering downtown the energy from the spectators pushes me along like a strong tailwind.    

In the 2015 race mile 9 is where I felt the unraveling begin, with the wheels finally coming off at mile 10 as I slowed to what felt like a walk. Even though I’m very well prepared and my spring allergies haven’t reached threat level red like in 2015, I can’t help but have some flashbacks and feel slight anxiety. The voice of reason in my brain immediately kicks into damage control mode, making the proclamation; “You’ve got this! You trained. You’re prepared. Remember, you’re here to have fun.”

Suddenly, while descending spectator rich Church Street, a loud voice (not in my head this time) shouts-“Go Moe!” I don’t recognize the voice but it gives me a burst of energy and happiness. Further driving home the point the importance of enjoying today’s journey.

Turning from Church onto Main Street the cheers dampen momentarily as spectator numbers decrease briefly, only to return again as Main turns onto Pine Street, bringing spectators in abundance.  Energetic tunes blasted from a band on the corner add excitement to the moment. All this and the decline at the beginning of Pine Street provide momentum, pushing runners down this straight 1 ½ mile open stretch of the course.

As the course winds its way through partying spectator abundant neighborhoods, then through picturesque Oakledge Park, there is no shortage of positive vibes in the air. I soak it all in while staying alert to my pace. At Oakledge I cross the half marathon checkpoint in 1:33:57. I’m feeling good, running smart and having fun, right on par with my mission.  Spectators and athletes mingle in the vicinity of the half marathon checkpoint, which is also an exchange zone for the 2 person relay.  Once again, an unknown voice shouts from the group-“Yeah, Go Moe"! This bit of encouragement gives me just the extra boost I need to carry me through the miles leading up the biggest challenge on the course, that being Battery Street Hill.

It’s starting to get a little toasty as the temperature and the humidity start to creep higher. Not a crazy amount but it is taking a slight toll. I’m noticing my perceived exertion level is climbing a bit even though my pace is holding steady. With minimal shady spots until mile 21 it will be essential to take precautionary measures to stay cool. This will involve the periodic self-induced dousing with water when passing through an aid station (oh yeah, and drinking it too) and running through the water sprayer stations scattered about the course. I will also consume my power pills I have stashed in my shorts pocket.*

*Actually they are electrolyte capsules. Calling them power pills is more fun.

After a loop that includes Oakledge Park and some surrounding neighborhoods, the course reconnects with Pine Street, this time ascending it before turning on to King Street. About half way up Pine is a water spraying station, I leap through like a kid running through a sprinkler on a hot summer day. Gotta stay cool!



King Street is a downhill stretch which is nice change, but I know what is lurking around the bend-the infamous BATTERY ST HILL. Each foot strike brings me closer to this impending climb. From the corner of King and Battery to the top of Battery is ½ mile. It’s a straight ½ mile and looking into the distance towards the top can be a bit intimidating. It looks like you are running to infinity, never making any progress towards your goal.

As I turn onto Battery I hear the motivating beats of the Taiko drummers coming from their standard location just prior to the steepest section of Battery (the last ¼ mile). Despite their presence I know that looking towards the top of the climb could still be psychologically detrimental. When we have a goal sometimes achieving it can seem like such a lengthy process, making it appear overwhelming. However, if we break our ultimate goal up into multiple smaller goals the process becomes far more achievable. I take this approach with climbing Battery. My smaller goals are ascending the hill 10-15 feet at a time, which is where I keep my eyes focused. 

Before I know it I’m at the top. At the top of the hill I have a momentary flashback to 2 years ago. This is the point where I finally pulled the plug and dropped out of the race. “Not this year”, I think to myself, “I got this!”

Shortly beyond Battery Street is the 16 mile marker. I cruise past if feeling good but cautiously optimistic. A lot can happen in 10.2 miles after all.  As a precautionary measurement I repeat the affirmation in my mind- “You have strength! You got this!” There is some fluctuation in my pace but overall it’s pretty consistent.  My journey continues.

Just beyond mile 17 the course loops through Lakewood Parkway. Always a festive loop this community regularly wins the runner's vote for most spirit. Music fills the air, cowbells ring, cheers are screamed, and someone even took it upon themselves to make a kissing booth. On the final section of the loop the group Sciatica (the Burlington Marathon band) rocks out for some extra motivation. Or, as their description says on their Facebook page: Sciatica gives runners at mile 18 a sonic baptism of pure rawk. All these sights and sounds are great distractions from the unavoidable fatigue associated with having run 18 miles. Plus it's kind of cool to know I've been sonically baptized. 

The course meanders through various streets and neighborhoods until at last I cross the mile 20 checkpoint in 2 hours 27 minutes and 2 seconds. My average pace is 7:21 per mile. The increased temperature has definitely taken a toll as my pace has slowed from the first half in which I averaged 7:10 per mile. But, I’m still on track to achieve my primary goal. I give myself a mental high 5.

When getting close to achieving a goal the process usually becomes more challenging. It’s as if we are being tested by the Universe to see how bad we really want success. The marathon is no different. Miles 20-26.2 are the most challenging both mentally and physically. The finish line is near, but even when keeping the same pace every mile can feel like 2. It’s when this struggle occurs that our abilty to persevere is tested.  Perseverance is essential for success in any venture. This is one of the many ways marathon running is a metaphor for life.

To get through these final miles I typically use some mental trickery. When I have 6 miles to go, I don’t think to myself, “only 6 miles to go.” Instead, I think of it as six one mile runs. For example, since today I am averaging slightly over 7 minutes per mile I tell myself, “only six 7’s to go.” I focus on 7 minutes and then the next 7 minutes and so on. Running 6 miles at my current pace will take over 42 minutes, which in a fatigued state can seem like an eternity when thinking about it. But, surely I can run another 7 minutes. Time still seems to go by slower but at least mentally it is easier to deal with 7 minutes at a time.

My pace starts to waver as my energy ebbs and flows. 7:30 pace one mile, 7:45 pace the next, and then back to 7:30.  I don’t feel like I’m in danger of hitting “the wall” but my legs are feeling heavier, so I need to run smart.  Go too fast and I risk hitting the wall. Go too slow and I risk falling short of my goal. These final miles are dance on the line between these two paces.

At mile 24 I look at my watch and see that I am still very much on pace to be sub 3:20. How far below will depend upon how my legs respond during the final 2.2 miles. I estimate that at my current pace I should be able to finish with a time of around 3 hours and 15 minutes. As if on cue, the 3:15 pace group cruises by me on my left. “Keep them in your sights Moe and you’ve got this”, I tell myself.

My brain sends a command to my legs; “C’mon, cooperate for 15 minutes, then you can rest all you want.” My legs reply like Scotty in the engine room of the USS Enterprise; “We’re giving it all we got Captain!”  

The presence of a pace group in my sights acts like a slipstream. I am by no means running in this group, but knowing that they are in front of me helps me find another gear. I run strong and steady, my pace never wavering. Before I know it I am passing North Beach at mile 25, then I’m on the new stretch of bike path at 25.5.  Excitement builds with every step. My inner voice shouts out- “You’ve got this Moe. It’s yours! It’s yours!” I dig deeper into my energy reserves to knock off every additional second I can. Turning onto the chute to the finish I hear the race announcer call out my name. Giving whatever I have left in my kick to the finish to cross the line in a time of 3 hours 15 minutes and 18 seconds. 

Happily reflecting upon my race, I feel as though I ran one of my smartest marathons. First of all, I accomplished my primary goal, besting my previous Boston qualifying time by 5 minutes. Woohoo!! In the process I paced myself well, staying fairly consistent throughout the race; I made adjustments along the way to correspond with the conditions; and perhaps most importantly, I enjoyed the journey. I soaked up all the energy and excitement on the course and as a result I had fun. As obvious as fun’s importance may seem, it is often forgotten when we pursue our goals. It’s easy to become so fixated on the process that we overlook the value and importance of it. Without it we cannot become our best selves. It helps us relax, stay positive, and transmit that much needed positivity into our environment. 

Another important part of life is to celebrate successes. With that in mind, I thank my legs for getting me through and tell them now they just have to take me to the beer tent.

Assorted Thoughts Over 15 Miles

39 degrees is what my smart phone weather app tells me the current temperature is. But wait! The “Real Feel” is 37 degrees.  Guess I better put on that extra layer, I think to myself with a chuckle.  I realize the value of the “feels like” temperature, but sometimes it seems a bit humorous to think that when the difference is so minimal anyone would step outside and say; “Hey, hold on. It’s not 39, it feels like 37! I’ve been lied to!” 

I’m going for a run and with the high today expected to reach 57 I expect to warm up quickly, so I decide to skip the extra layer. Today’s long run route is spontaneous. By that I mean I planned on running but I don’t have a specific route mapped out. I’m just going to run and decide where to go at the time I’m presented with an option. To paraphrase Yogi Berra, when I come to a fork in the road I’ll take it.

My intent today is to build endurance. However, since it’s April and I’m experiencing a bit of cabin fever, my other goal is just to enjoy being outdoors.  I’m in the mood to zone out and not deal with traffic, so I decide that I will seek less traveled roads. 

My primary distance goal with today’s run is to do at least 14 miles, which will put me in a good position to perform well at the half marathon distance or to train for the inevitable fall marathon. I have brought along my ipod so I can listen to podcasts as a positive distraction and a way to learn while I burn (calories that is).  I insert my ear buds and press start, starting my first podcast while simultaneously cueing me to start my run.  I begin with an episode of the NPR’s TED Radio Hour. Today’s episode is titled “What We Fear”, it examines the pros and cons of fear, what causes fear, and how different people deal with it.

Fear is described as something that is both beneficial and restrictive. It is beneficial because we need fear for survival. For example, if we are out in the wild and see a tiger fear lets us know we should flee the scene for survival sake. However, it can be restrictive because our brain also allows us to be storytellers. When confronted with an uncertain situation, such as starting a business or changing jobs, we often tell ourselves the worst case scenario story. We devise elaborate thoughts of how things can go horribly wrong thereby possibly preventing us from taking action that will help improve our lives.

My journey takes me by the back entrance to the nearby fairgrounds. This is a less busy time of year there with most events taking place inside their event center, not in the outdoor sections. I’ve run through the grounds before under similar circumstances and it has been quite pleasant, so my internal GPS tells me to turn right and proceed into the fairgrounds.

I ascend up the primary roadway that goes through the grounds then turn left into the main exhibition area. If it was September this area would be filled with excited fair-goers while the smell of fried foods and cotton candy satiated the air. Today though, all the shops are boarded up with nothing but the crispness of spring filling the air. I run through the heart of the fairgrounds and then loop back around the backside of the grounds, following a dirt road that runs along a wooded section. 

Suddenly, my focus is pulled away from the road ahead of me as I see movement in the corner of my right eye.  Turning and looking in that direction I spy a fox about 30 feet ahead of me walking towards the woods. Because my unexpected appearance has startled him, after glancing my way he does a short sprint towards the safety of the woods before stopping to study me from afar.  The road I’m running on veers to the left away from the woods, so I continue on it so as to not disrupt the fox’s plans. Recognizing that I’m not a threat he continues about his business, which based upon his repeated wandering with his nose to the ground is looking for critters to prey upon.

My first thought is that this looks like a grey fox not the more common red fox. However, I know that red foxes can look like grey foxes upon brief examination. However, I got fairly close to to this fox and didn't see much that resembled red. I always appreciate wildlife sightings,but since I was able to get so uncommonly close I was especially appreciative of this moment, regardless of the type of fox.

(Upon returning home I looked up the differences between the two and learned that red foxes have black on their legs that kind of resembles black socks. I don't recall seeing black on its legs at all. It makes me wish I had a camera during my run so I could have possibly gotten a photo to look back upon and figure out what type of fox I  had the pleasure of witnessing. I'll have to remember that for the future).

Grey Fox

                                                                 

About 25 yards later I turn to look back towards the fox. He continues to walk back and forth along the woods, searching the grounds. He then sits down in the common seated dog position, with his butt down and front legs fully extended supporting his torso in an upright position as he looks out toward me. He appears calm, looking my way in a manner that indicates he is as intrigued by me as I am of him. Within about 30 seconds of this moment two fox pups emerge from the woods. It looks like the “he fox” may actually be a “she fox” and mama is keeping tabs on her young.

   

                                                                  Red Fox


I love having these synchronistic moments. It makes me feel like my day is unfolding the way it is supposed to.  If I had started my run 30 seconds sooner or 30 seconds later I would have missed being in this right place at the right time.  

I watch the foxes for about another minute and then resume my run, following the dirt road until it reconnects with the paved roadway as I head back towards the fairgrounds exit.  After exiting the fairgrounds I continue down a more well traveled road, with the plan to turn off onto a lesser traveled town road about a half mile ahead. This road also has a pedestrian path along the side of it which will allow for a more comfortable running route.

After a couple of minutes on the main road I pass a local small auto garage and car dealership. The cars on display are all used, or pre-owned to use current terminology. They don’t look new enough to have a rear view camera or brakes that are applied automatically by the car instead of the driver.  Some of them may even have, dare I think it, manual transmission. 

The thought of modern cars having so many features makes me dread the act of having to buy a new car, which hopefully won’t happen for a long time.  I don’t want all these features. I want to be the driver not the passenger. I want to be the decision maker.  I want to be the one who applies the brakes, who steers, who looks behind me as I backup. 

In the not too distant future cars are reportedly going to be able to drive on their own, essentially turning the driver into a passenger. I’m really not a fan of this. Driving should be an experience not a mundane task, there are already enough of those in our lives. I'm reminded of an ad campaign that Volkswagen had years ago in which their slogan was, " On the road of life there are passengers and there are drivers". I really like that slogan because I feel it is a good metaphor for life. People who are drivers are in charge of their life, they are taking their life in the direction they desire. Whereas passengers just let life happen to them. Cars that do the driving are symbolic of living life just as a passenger.




Also, being aware of and reacting to things in our environment (as is necessary when driving) is part of having a healthy body and mind. Having to do this contributes to helping us stay mentally sharp and improves communication skills between the brain and the body. Driving in itself doesn’t help with physical health, but at least there is that brain/body communication component. Take that away and there is one more factor in our world that contributes to poor health.

When I was in elementary school we were supposed to have jet packs by the year 2000. I’d rather have one of those than an automated car.

Making my way onto the pedestrian path the TED podcast ends and  I tune in to the next podcast in the cue which is “Garbage Time”, a sports and pop culture podcast from FS1 (Fox Sports) with host Katie Nolan. Her intelligent line of questioning and sense of humor make it a very enjoyable listen. This episode is an interview with Tom Werner, chairman of the Boston Red Sox whose resume' also includes time as a television producer.  He mentions that after working at ABC in the 70’s he was cocky enough to leave the network and become a producer (and a very successful one at that).

  

The word cocky can conjure up imagery of arrogance, which can have negative connotations.  However, he was using the term to describe his confidence based on previous success.  Having confidence is a component of success in any venture.  I think about how well this compliments the information from the TED podcast on fear.  Confidence is important for success but I feel a certain amount of fear is as well. Having some fear allows us to make smart decisions so that arrogance doesn’t lead to foolishness. 

At this point I’ve completed 13 miles and I’m feeling pretty good, so I decide to extend my run 1 mile further than I originally planned, making it 15 miles total. I do this by taking miscellaneous side streets.As I wind through the maze of suburban streets my legs start to feel a little heavy, so with about a mile and a half to go my run starts to resemble more of a fast paced shuffle. About 20 feet ahead of me a chicken walks across the lawn of one of the homes and begins to cross the road.  I’ve run through here dozens of times in the past and never encountered a chicken. Even though it is a small town it still seems like an unusual location for a free roaming chicken to appear, so I briefly think maybe I’m hallucinating. But I quickly realize it is a real chicken, which as I get closer completely crosses the road. 

Something I’ve noticed about running is that the longer I run the goofier my sense of humor becomes.  Today that leads me to think I should go to the chicken and say; “Dude, let’s end the debate once and for all. Why exactly did you cross the road?”  I laugh to myself as I think this. At this point I’m heading straight back home which is probably a good think so my goofiness doesn’t get too extreme. 

As I approach my driveway and slow to a stop I realize how happy I am that I didn’t have a pre-determined plan for today’s run. It allowed me to enjoy it so much more. Sometimes in life you just gotta go with the flow.