The Boston Diaries: Chapter 41
Left No Doubt
2.5 weeks ago, I got in my car and drove to the lake to run another six miles. By the time I set out, everything had changed. No, I wouldn’t be running in the 2024 Boston Marathon. No, my 5:13 buffer wasn’t good enough. I set off, not really knowing what to expect. My heart rate was higher than normal. I dealt with a wide range of emotions, among them anger and sadness. I second-guessed the Lincoln Marathon for the first time in months. All of that, over the course of 53 minutes and 56 seconds.
And when I got home, it was time to move on.
I lined up for the 2023 Des Marathon on Sunday, October 15th and felt ready to go. All the usual issues of the taper — random (often phantom) pains that popped up the closer the race got, the worries I was sick (I wasn’t), and a general concern that my legs would be too heavy and not ready to go — were gone. Where Lincoln had, the um, issue in the porta potty, Des Moines did not. The weather was perfect for a race — mid 40s, mostly cloudy. Even the wind didn’t get me down!
I entered the day with two goals: Get a PR, preferably a sub-2:50, and Leave No Doubt. The latter would easily take care of the first goal. A sub-2:50 would indeed leave no doubt. This would require running a mile at a 6:29-pace, 26(.2) times.
The Des Moines is incredibly hilly in the front half of the race1, so I decided to go out a bit slower than my goal. Instead of 6:29s, I’d aim for 6:31s. I figured I could do this until the hills ended around mile 15, drop to 6:27-per mile, and make up the lost time by the time I only had a few miles left.
It worked swimmingly. My GPS was (mostly) fine and after going out a bit too fast for the first mile — 6:23 — I settled in. Every time I’d near a flag marking another mile completed, I was right in the range. 13:00. 19:33. By the time I saw my family at mile six, I was on pace to the exact second, hitting the marker at 39:06. I saw them there, the first of many times I’d spot them on the course. It was going to be a good day.
The running community is special. I talk about this with guests on pretty much every episode of Chasing Three Hours. “What does the running community mean to you?” Why is the running community so important?” “How do we improve the running community?” I have discussed these exact topics and will continue to discuss these exact topics in future episodes.
One thing in particular I love about the running community? Race Day. The feeling at the start line, as we’re all about to take off is slowly becoming unmatched in my life. That anticipation. Excitement. Fear. The belief that a good, or even great, day is ahead. The worry it won’t end well. Assuredly, every one of those feelings (and more) were being felt by every single racer as we lined up.
As my running journey has clicked into high gear over the last few years, race day has become a bit of a reunion of sorts. On Sunday, that meant the walk over with my best friend, David McCon, chasing a PR and running Des Moines after an injury kept him away one year prior. It meant finding Chris Whitney, running his first marathon since an injury ended his 2022 in the worst way imaginable. It meant lining up next to Blake Ziegler at the start line, two weeks after the Twin Cities Marathon was canceled because of dangerous heat, both of us ready to fire off.
Meeting new friends or finding a group to run with for a few miles. The marathon has all of that. There’s nothing like asking a group of runners about what their goal is that day. Even better if you get an answer that matches your own ambition.
Miles continued to click away. By the time I approached Drake University, most of the hills were in the rearview. The big dogs were most definitely done, at least going up. Running through that campus was something else, all culminating in a trip around the track where I’d hit mile 11 and keep on going. My pacing continued to be on point as the track approached.
And then I saw Blake.
I’m not sure exactly what we said to each other, only that it involved yelling, a few expletives, and some form of “let’s” and “go!” He made his way out of the track as I dropped in. I was jacked. The home of the famed Drake Relays, I tried to take it all in, even though I’d be done in just over 90 seconds. By the time I made my way towards the exit, I looked up at one of the fans watching and said, “this is so cool.” I couldn’t stop smiling. My pace was a bit too fast, but who cares? I made my way back out, headed up a hill — one of the last ones left — and continued on.
By this point, I was compartmentalizing the final miles as a Saturday or Sunday Long Run. “Only 18 miles left,” I told myself at mile eight, “this is a normal Long Run!” A mile later, I reminded myself that 17 is now favorite distance to run. By the time I hit the halfway point in 1:25:25, I felt like I had a 2:50 in me, something I didn’t think I could have honestly said at the start.
Back in 2018 and 2019, I hated the early miles of a marathon. All they were to me was a reminder that I had so many miles to go.
It’s different now.
Instead of racing a distance, I’m racing a time. I’m trying to get a feel for where my body is at. A higher HR at the beginning of a workout is a sign it’ll be tougher, but at the end of the day, it’s a workout. The higher HR — it was approaching 180 bpm — at the start of the marathon was something I didn’t want to be concerned with, but I’d keep an eye on it.
As mile one and two went by, I had to ask myself, “do I have it today?” Even worse, “should I keep pushing, only to make things worse at the end?” It’s not like I spent miles and miles with those thoughts in my head — they were usually fleeting — but they were there.
My HR got under control, so I decided to stick with the plan. 6:31-per mile. Get through the hills. Get through the hills and you’ll be fine.
The big downhill at mile 14 actually got me off guard. For some reason I thought it was closer to 14.5-miles in. As I came upon a group of runners, I asked if there was one big uphill left. Come to find out, no, this was the final downhill. I think my reaction caught them off guard a bit. I was excited.
By this point in the race, I was ahead of pace. I spotted my family again moments before the downhill, noting I was 12-seconds2 ahead of where I wanted to be. The downhill only added to that, as my watch showed me well below the 6:27-pace I planned on hitting at this point in the race. As we kept on going, I realized something: I knew exactly what the crew in front of me was aiming for. “You guys going for 2:50?”
The silence could have cut a thick steak.
“Yeah,” someone finally said, before adding they weren’t doing anything dumb with their current pace.
Perfect, I’d hang with these guys for a while.
As the sun peaked out for the first time all day, we made our way through some beautiful tree cover. The support of locals at the race was reaching its low point, understandably so, given we had left the neighborhoods behind. With my watch showing a 6:4x pace too long for my liking, I eventually slipped past the group.
Clearing mile 16 was a huge mental hurdle, as this was where things started to unravel in May. Mile 17 approached and I realized I would be fairly alone, caught too far behind the runners in front of me as I separated a bit from the pack behind me. This race would bring a mental hurdle to clear.
I often run alone. I don’t mind it. I love being in my own thoughts. I love listening to a podcast; Usually sports, always at double-speed. It’s a great way to start the weekend or a great way to break up the morning on a weekday. During the heat of the summer or cold of the winter, I’ll often go miles and miles without seeing a single runner out on the trail.
You’ll understand why Sunday felt different. As we made our way around Water Works Park, I did my best to remain in the moment as much as possible. Mile’s 17-20 often feel like a bit of a no man’s land at the marathon. Well past the initial excitement of it starting. More than a 5k past the halfway point. You have single-digit miles left now, but it’s all a countdown to mile 20, when the final 10k of the race begins.
At the time, the math was working in my favor. The GPS was off a bit by this point, and I didn’t feel like really figuring out where exactly my pace was, so I just kept thinking 2:50 minus miles left (times 6:30). Mile 17 finished in 6:23. Mile 18, same time. Mile 19, 6:25. Mile 20, 6:27.
And yet, it was hard. I was adding to my buffer, but something just felt off. My legs were sore. Every step hurt. I wondered if I’d have enough fitness to keep this going. I was all out of mental tricks to work through the end of the race. I just was going to have to dig deep and see if I could go fast enough to go sub-2:50. I slowly felt my main main goal slip away.
Yet, I was happy. Even as mile 21 showed 6:33 or mile’s 22 and 23 showed 6:34, I was happy. That’s because I had spotted my family again.
My dad texted me on Sunday night, long after the race was ran. In three straight marathons, he reminded me, I have ran a BQ-time. Two of those were PRs.
I’m still blown away by what’s become of myself these last few years. I have to imagine they are too3. Riss often laughs when she tells the story about Thanksgiving in 2019, when I told anyone that would listen, “I’m never running a marathon again!” My dad happily shared the story of dinner after the 2019 Chicago Marathon, when I first proclaimed this new goal, everyone else rolling their eyes.
I was happy, even as my time goal slipped away, because I was surrounded by people I love. After some odd races in 2019 and 2021, where I spotted Riss a grand total of one time during all 56.4 miles, I saw her, my parents, my brother Caleb, and his wife Cass four times inside the race, not to mention at the starting line and at the finish.
I could always tell I was close, because I’d hear my mom first. “COME ON JOSH!” Usually after that, it was the cowbells. Suddenly it was my dad’s voice, screaming his heart out. And then I’d hear Riss, the excitement in her voice on race day so damn special.
I went past them, knowing it would be a half hour, at most, before we’d be celebrating.
My pace kept going down. As bad as Lincoln was, this race hurt in a different way. I never cramped, thankfully, but I often felt sick. My race fuel wasn’t sitting well. My legs, with miles of pressure at a 6:30ish-pace, were exhausted. I tried and tried to pick up the pace… but I couldn’t.
After allowing myself a moment to think about this being something to improve upon for the Eugene Marathon in April, I came back to the moment at hand and focused on finishing. Reminding myself of all the good of the day.
For the second time in 53 weeks, I was going to chase three hours and catch it.
For the second time in 53 weeks, I was going to get a marathon PR.
For the first time, I was going to leave no doubt.
I made the final turn, not even a quarter mile left. I listened for my mom. I couldn’t hear her. I kept on going, still listening. And then, unmistakeable, there she was off to the right. There they all were, off to the right.
I crossed the line in 2:51:57. 28th overall.
As I made my way past the finish line, Blake was there. He was going for the high five, in between a bunch of screaming and cheering. I went in for the hug4.
A moment, among many moments, in a race I’ll never forget. My seventh marathon in the books. My second in 2023. Another Boston Qualifier. This one, with many more minutes to spare.
Leave No Doubt. Left No Doubt.
This week in podcasting:
Matt Fitzgerald, an author I have written about before, joined me on Chasing Three Hours to discuss why he’s no longer running, the 80/20 rule, and a bunch more. This one was so much fun. I am really happy I was able to connect with Matt!
This podcast is brought to you by Peak Performance! If you’re in the Omaha-metro area, be sure to get to one of their four locally-owned stores and mention Chasing Three Hours and you’ll get $15 off your first pair of shoes at regular price!
The log:
Monday: 2 miles of walking with Banks
Tuesday: 7 miles
Wednesday: 7.01 miles with the last two at Marathon Pace
Thursday: 5.01 miles with 6 x 100 meter strides
Friday: 5.06 miles
Saturday: 4 miles
Sunday: 26.2 miles at the 2023 Des Moines Marathon
Total: 54.28 miles
Year to date: 2305.21 miles
Day 282: I do not lift weights during race week so we kept things easy with a two-mile walk to start Monday off. Walks on Mondays are much more enjoyable when my pods are discussing a Cowboys win. Given what happened Sunday night, the pods on Monday were most definitely not enjoyable.
Day 283: Tuesday’s run kept my own personal tradition of having a higher HR on the first run of race week. 8:57-per mile, it averaged 126 across the seven miles. Nothing terrible, but I was amped already as I finished, still five days away from Des Moines.
Day 284: Wednesday was a dress rehearsal, again going seven miles, but with the last two at MP. I was pretty pumped with how the run went, especially given my HR was kept in check much better than the previous day. Last two miles finished in 6:32 (second off from where I hoped to be at the start on Sunday) and 6:21 (oops, six seconds ahead!). Overall, 7:14-per mile with the HR averaging 148. This is one of those runs I know I’ll be looking back on as the calendar flips to 2024.
Day 285: The final bit of speed of any kind during this training block was on Thursday, as I finished a five-mile run with six 100-meter strides. As I wrote on Strava afterwards, it’s always weird to reach the point of a marathon cycle where I stop doing the things I was doing repeatedly for weeks. Brutal workouts, midweek runs of 12-15 miles, etc. This was another one of those runs. Bye bye, strides. Went 8:29-per with the HR at 131 throughout. This was definitely one of those runs where my HR just wasn’t in check like I’d like, but I knew why.
Day 286: Got to enjoy one more run with Derek from Strava ahead of the race on Sunday. Great catching up with him after his races in Berlin and Chicago, as well as looking ahead to my own to come 48 hours away. Our miles picked up the pace a bit in the middle and we finished at 8:51-per with the HR at 130. Always hard to keep that lower when you’re talking throughout! This was a fun one.
Day 287: To keep my HR where I wanted it — 122 is what I averaged throughout the four miles — I had to slow down to a 9:22-pace. I was so amped as I got out Saturday morning; the final thing5 I’d do in Omaha before hitting the road.
Day 288: 26.2 miles, 6:34-per mile, with the HR averaging 166 throughout. 2:51:57. 28th overall. 4th in my age group. Another BQ.
Don’t think I’ll have to worry, this time.
I finished last year with 2305 miles. On October 15th, 2023, I hit that number (and then some) again.
For the entire race, my watch said I gained 837 feet of elevation.
Apparently this moment brought about a bit of confusion as I actually said I was “12 ahead” so they were trying to figure out what the 12 meant. I figured it was obvious!
Though, maybe not. I had a discussion this weekend with someone that all of this does fit my personality. Hard to argue!
“That was a helluva salty sweaty hug,” he’d say later!
Don’t worry, I showered too.
Loved reading about your race and your approach. You definitely left it all out there and the payoff was huge. You keep inspiring me to push myself more so thank you for sharing your story and I look forward to following your journey all the way to Eugene and Boston!!! Cheers and Congrats!!!
What a day! The question you ask at the end of each podcast, "What are you chasing?" YOU! It was great chasing you (David and Blake) around Des Moines and being able to give you those shots of encouragement throughout the day! Here's to recovery and planning out the next! Well done.