The Boston Diaries: Chapter 18
So what!
I was sitting in a portapotty and I couldn’t go.
All week long, I figured it was the heat that would be my biggest obstacle at the 2023 Lincoln Marathon.
Which, yeah, it was, but I felt heavy. I felt full. This would come back to haunt me.
Since my running journey kicked into high gear to start 2020, I’ve set a new personal record (PR) in every single race I’ve ran. Whether it be a 10k, a 10-miler, a half marathon, or the marathon, I’ve consistently set goals, met them, and exceeded them, beating previous milestones in the process.
As training unfolded for another marathon, I figured another best was in the cards. 2023 began with hopes for a sub-2:55 in Lincoln but as training unfolded, I pushed my goal to sub-2:50. Workout after workout, long run after long run, I thought I had what it took to reach another goal, give myself some extra breathing room for my Boston Qualifier (BQ), and leave Lincoln happy.
For the first time since 2019, I went home from a race without a new PR.
By the time an extended forecast was available for Sunday’s race, I knew we’d be in for one of those days. Optimum weather for me on race day is somewhere near 45 degrees1, a bit overcast, with the sun peaking out for the final couple miles. On Sunday, Lincoln would have lows close to 60, highs in the 80s, and throughout the week I watched the forecasted temperature for the 9:00 hour of the race — the third and final hour I’d be out there — climb higher and higher.
I decided to back off my plan a bit. Instead of going for a sub-2:50, I’d aim for the original 2:55 goal. Rather than aim for a 6:29 average, I’d go for 6:40. If I was feeling good at mile 20, I’d push the pace a bit. I’d see what I could do. On Friday, I embraced the mindset of SO WHAT! I couldn’t control the weather, but I could control how I responded to it. I wrote the phrase on a sheet I put together before every race, where I plan on my mile split goals for the race. I thought about it often. So what!
Yet, by the time I arrived in Lincoln2, the temperatures had cooled off a bit. Humid, sure, but I felt chilly at times. Instead of going out at a 6:40 pace, I'd aim for somewhere in between 6:30 and 6:40. My A Goal was 2:50, but I wasn’t going to push it just for the sake of doing so, especially after what I wrote last week. This was the first of three marathons over the next 11 months. Plenty of time to improve.
Given my, um, issues referenced above, I worried about an unexpected stop the bathroom might be in the cards. I don’t like getting out for a run, let alone a race, after an unsuccessful trip like that, but what could I do?3
7:00 am arrived in Lincoln, Nebraska, and we were off for the 46th running of the Lincoln Marathon.
While the temps were cool enough, the humidity — 92% according to Strava — was noticeable from the start. Yet, I felt good. I felt strong. 3.5 miles in, I was running 6:34s4. 3.5 miles later, 6:33s. I was pushing myself, but I wasn’t doing anything crazy. My pace consistently showed numbers in the 6:30s, occasionally dipping into the 6:20-range, as well as peaking in the 6:40s. My gels — Maurten’s, for the first time ever in a marathon — were going down well5. I was warm, but never felt like I was in a danger zone of any kind. By the time I crossed the 10-mile mark, I was at 1:05:26 — a 6:32-per mile pace — and I felt stronger than I had in Chicago at this point.
In the miles to come, I felt the first signs this wouldn’t be my day. I was still humming right along, yet I asked myself if I should turn off and finish with the half marathon runners. I was grabbing two cups of water, one to get dumped on my head, the other to drink. I felt warm. But my legs were keeping up just fine.
Rather than turn right and finish at 13.1, I kept on going. I had never run a Lincoln Marathon before. I heard the second half — a down and back, the turn at Holmes Lake — was tougher than the first. Not as many people, the monotony of running six miles, before turning around and doing it all over again.
I went through the first half of the race at 1:25:48. A new half PR. On pace for 2:51:36. I was excited.
And wouldn’t you know it, the wind was right in our faces as we headed east towards the lake. I joked with a couple of other runners, before reminding them (and myself) that we only had to deal with this for another six miles. It would be at our back on the way to the finish.
I spotted Riss and my parents, Tim and Chris, within the next couple miles. They were standing on a bridge, cheering me on. I couldn’t stop smiling. I felt so good!
It was the last time I felt good.
The first signs of trouble showed up at mile’s 16 and 17. 6:44 and 6:48 miles6, I realized I didn't have some grand finale of a finish in me. My goal of sub-2:50 was officially off the board.
By the time I saw Riss and my parents again, I was 18+ miles in. My pace was slowing down considerably. I had just put together a 7:02 mile. Worse, I was losing even more steam. And, for the first time, my gels weren’t going down well. My mouth felt chalky. Riss handed me a water bottle and I told her, “I’m hurting.”
In the previous three marathons — virtually in Omaha in 2020, the Twin Cities in 2021, and Chicago in 2022 — I never had a moment like this. Even without telling Riss, I could tell they knew. Of course they did. My times were slowing down and their cheers, previously full of so much belief I could reach my goals, instead were of support.
“Dig deep!”
“Keep going!”
“We’ll be right here when you come back!”
I needed those words more than I needed the water. I powered on.
The next couple miles ahead of the turnaround turned into a math problem. The sub-2:50 was long gone and soon with it, so was sub-2:55. At this point, I had one goal left; give myself some extra buffer for my BQ. As I crossed mile 20 at 2:13:46, I quickly figured out what I had to do — a 10k in 46:00. If I did that, I would have a new PR and I would add a second to my qualifying time. In March, I’d ran this distance in 36:44. I thought back to that.
And I laughed.
Well, I laughed inside. I didn’t have the strength to do a proper laugh.
I wouldn’t set a new PR in the 10k, but I thought I had what it took to at least beat my Chicago time from last October. I needed to put together six (point two) miles around 7:26 per. I tried to push.
And I couldn’t.
Those next few miles were a combination of a slog and disappointment. I reminded myself I wouldn’t have a bunch of running on the docket over the next few weeks. I hadn’t thought of something like that during a race, at least not since 2020. I suddenly looked forward to the break from running, whereas I’m usually antsy about it. I was in my feels in a way I never had been. I felt sorry for myself.
Yet, there was my family, cheering me on, imploring me to believe in myself with a little over a 5k left. At this point, my only goal, besides finishing, was to run the entire time. I didn’t want to stop to walk. My legs, tired, felt fine for the most part. I wanted to power through.
With two miles left, a runner came up behind me. “You ran in the Early Bird race, didn’t you?” he asked. I had indeed. We finished around the same time. I looked over at him, suddenly recognizing him. “Let’s finish this together,” he said.
We talked a little bit, about how the heat got both us, how we both probably started a bit too fast, but had felt so good in the moment. By the time we hit mile 25, he told me we had about ten minutes left. I did some quick math, thinking that was way too much time. Then I looked at my watch. “Yeah, you’re right, we’re running an 8:40something pace.”
He asked me my age. “34,” I told him. I asked him the same. “36,” he told me. At that moment, I realized that, while the race hadn’t gone as we hoped it would, we were both on our way towards a BQ.
He went in front of me, I went back in front of him. I saw Memorial Stadium to my left as I turned south before the final two turns. I was going to finish and do so without walking.
And there was my dad, cheering me on. Moments later, my mom and Riss, doing the same. I turned left one more time, mustered every ounce of strength to raise my arms into the air, and crossed the line. The most grueling race of my life was done.
I finished the marathon in 3:03:34. All that work since January, as hard and good as it was for me, ultimately didn’t replicate the conditions Lincoln threw at me on Sunday morning. I would have taken 38 degrees with it raining sideways7; I had ran in that before! The last time I ran in weather like Sunday was sometime last summer. My body just wasn't ready for it. Combine that with being a bit too aggressive to start, and it's no surprise it turned into what it did for me, and so many others8.
I wanted progress to be linear.
I wanted to feel like a failure.
But no one in my life would allow that to happen.
The emotions hit me in waves after the race. First, it was tears of sadness. Then, it was tears of… well, I don’t really know. A weird sense of pride, sorrow for missing my goals, and just being spent. “You BQ’d again!” my dad told me. “You finished 55th!” Over the course of the day, Riss would remind me of those two things constantly. 55th overall, another BQ. In those conditions. A year ago, what I would have done to hear those two things said, and now I’m supposed to feel like a failure? I did those two things, ran my second fastest marathon ever, in those conditions, and was disappointed?
I couldn’t allow myself to think that way.
So what, I didn’t set a new PR. So what, I didn’t go three hours. So what, it was the hardest race I’ve ever ran. I did it, didn’t I?
So what.
The log:
Monday: Almost 3 miles of walking
Tuesday: 7 miles
Wednesday: 7 miles with the last 2 at marathon pace
Thursday: 5 miles
Friday: 5 miles with 6 x 100 meter strides
Saturday: 4 miles
Sunday: 26.2 miles at the 2023 Lincoln Marathon
Total: 54.2 miles
Year to date: 1097.23 miles
Day 121: I mentioned it in my newsletter last week, but I decided to keep weightlifting off the table for race week. Didn’t feel like adding some extra strain to the week. Instead, I started the day with a walk with Banks before getting in another mile and a half after work. Outside of the wind, both were really enjoyable, and a great way to begin race week.
Day 122: Sans Wednesday’s run with race pace + Thursday’s final mile with strides, darn near every mile leading up to Sunday this week was done at an easy pace. I really noticed my legs feeling strong as the week rolled on. Tuesday’s run was no different. Ended up running the seven at an 8:46 pace, with an average HR of 129. Stop me if you’ve heard this before, but the only negative was the wind! Decided to head to the lake, so I could finish with it at my back vs. what it would have been like on the usual trail. Was pretty pleased with how it went.
Day 123: I told a lot of people throughout the week that I had gotten unusually lucky with race day conditions over the last three years. By the time the extended forecast came available at the end of the week before, it seemed like Sunday’s Lincoln conditions had two possibilities: Warmer than I’d like or thunderstorms. It got to the point where I was actually looking to see if there’d be any other marathons near Omaha I could try my hand at, if the race got canceled.
By Wednesday morning in particular, I started mentally preparing myself for a run in warmer temperatures than expected. Oddly enough, Wednesday was the first warmer morning the week had seen, which was good for me, as it was the dress rehearsal for Sunday. Wore the outfit I’d have on race day and ran a total of seven miles, aiming for 6:29s on the final two. Knocked those out in 6:25 and 6:28, and did so as the temperatures climbed closer to 60 degrees, which was good to feel. Overall, 7:13 pace with an average HR of 153.
Day 124: Was on a bit of a time crunch in the early part of Thursday morning, so I saved some time by keeping the run inside vs. going to the trail. Tried to find the silver lining though, and three days out from the race, it was pretty easy: Lower impact running. 9:14-per mile with an average HR of 116. Every week leading up to a marathon, I find myself having a bit of an elevated HR on a run. Whether it’s excitement or nerves, I’ve never gone into a race without that happening to me. Thursday was the first time I felt it this week.
Day 125: Final run with strides of the cycle and it was nice to get a humid morning Friday in preparation for Sunday. 8:36-per mile overall with an average HR of 132. A solid five miles and I hoped it would set me up well for Sunday.
Day 126: The last shakeout run of a training cycle is always a special one. My legs felt incredible and I took things very easy, running 9:22 miles with my HR at 122. The biggest thing I worry about when I’m finishing up a block of training like this is injury. Every crack in the sidewalk, every elevation change, etc.; I’m paying attention to it all. Thankfully left this one without a concern and prepared to relax the rest of the day.
Day 127: The final stats from Lincoln: 3:04:34, 7:00-per mile, 160 average HR.
When running, you can usually add about 20 degrees to the actual temperature in terms of “feels like” out on the course, trail, etc. A 45-degree day feels like 65 — perfect shorts/shirt weather. A 70-degree day thus feels like 90.
After one of the foggiest car rides I’ve ever had. Thanks for driving us, Riss!
This was a first for me, something I chalked up to the nerves of the day, weather, etc.
This is according to the official date from the marathon itself.
I started training with them this cycle and was a big, big fan.
This is according to my Strava data. On the app, I finished at 26.32 miles vs. the actual distance of 26.2 So add a couple seconds here or there to those two miles, as well as any other miles I reference individually moving forward.
All the spectators are saying, “uh, settle down Josh!”
In the hours since the race, I have found out that my experience was similar for darn near everyone out there. Certainly has taken the sting away, a bit.
Although not a 2:50, 2:55 or 3:00, the work you put into it to get to the start line, "2:50 ready" is what matters. It would be one thing if you missed a workout here and there, didn't put in the strength work, hills or speed work and then expected a PR. Take what the day give you. You battled the elements and actually won the day! 55th and another BQ to boot! Take some time to reflect and celebrate and then get ready for Des Moines! Good work.
Josh...first, congrats on a really great race, in some very challenging conditions. It was exactly what happened to me last year at IM Des Moines. It's hard to prepare for the heat when you don't see it like that until summer. And finishing with the time you did in those conditions means you are doing all you can do to be prepared for a great race.
As you know, one of the hardest things in the life of an endurance athletes is missing a goal! Regardless of whether there is good reason or not, that pressure to perform and achieve something is what drives us often. I ran on Sunday here in KC, and wow was it hot and humid. My thoughts as I ran did drift to your race and whether it was going well for you. I am so glad you were able to find the positives in your race. You really are an incredible runner!
One of the things I do after every race now is ask myself 2 questions. First, did I do all I could to be ready for it. Did I control what I can control! And second, and more importantly, did I have fun! I am a big believer in the journey and if I can say yes to both questions, I smile, celebrate, and look to how I can get even better for the next one.
Congrats, again, on a great race. Thanks for sharing your story and good luck as you recover and look to your next one. Happy Running and Cheers!