I was hoping for my 80th open marathon to be special. But as 2020 reared its ugly head, opportunities fell off the table. As December neared, I was about to find out if I could, in all actuality, run a marathon off the couch.
GZ marathon is done by lottery (for a look at the registration form, check this out). It was always my intention to run it, but as COVID wore on, I was stuck in the US, barely running, as we worked from 6pm-midnight or 1am, then got up to work 7am-noon or 1pm all fall. My runs, when it wasn't raining, windy, and freezing (my winter clothes are in India still), were short and lackluster. When the lottery opened, I passed, saying maybe next time. But that sense of adventure was grumbling and if 2020 has taught us anything, it is to take an experience when we can get it. I entered, was accepted, and realized I had 1 month to get ready.
However, smack in the middle of this 1 month period was a move to China. We spent the first week running all over the state for COVID tests, documents, permissions, packing, and closing the house. I barely jogged. Then we flew 2 days to get to China and were placed in a hotel for quarantine for 15 days, unable to leave the room. I made the most of it, jogging in place. FOr 15 straight days I "ran" nowhere, bouncing around the few feet allotted to me, barely getting the heart rate up. I worked up from 30 min to 1 hour, most days at 60 min, using none of the muscles I needed for distance running. To make it more challenging, we ate only delivery food for every meal, and cigarette smoke from other rooms blew into ours most of the day. The 20 min core-floor routine I set out to do left me staring, my nose inches from piles of many long, black hairs (and quite a few short ones). It was a disgusting trial and after more than 2 weeks, we had fresh air and sunshine again. The race was 6 days away.
The first three days of freedom were hectic with all kinds of clearances and registrations mixed up with shopping to set up the house. Going from 23 hours a day of laying down to 12 hours of walking and standing shocked my body. I got out for two runs along the river in my new hood, but the 4-mile jaunts left me destroyed! Shin splints ripped my legs up like a newbie 6th grader, and my quads ached. I took the next day off and slugged Ibuprofin like candy and iced with frozen hot dogs. On Friday morning, I got back out there for a 2-mile jog. I averaged about 9 min/mile. Yep. This was going to suck. That night was the school's Christmas party and to add insult to injury, I was in a 1-month no booze commitment. Mind you, this had nothing to do with the race I was about to foul up; rather, just a reset after many, many months of life in the US on a lake during COVID. With the stress of trying to get out of the country, packing, traveling, quarantine, and all the celebrations of the holiday season (and newly arrived in China), it was a real testament to mind control to put in this month. I would need that mental fortitude on Sunday.
Daily registrations online declaring my temp and exposure to the disease were required daily for the two weeks prior. A negative COVID test was also needed a few days out. We had to register for a time slot to pick up the packet and bib. There were temp checks, the COVID test results, and an app that had to be completed prior.
With three days of running (10 miles total) in the last 25 days, pain was in my future. I took the metro to the start, along with 20,000 of my newest friends. The race was highly organized and easy to navigate once on the ground (not so with the online presence). Small, red dots lined the corrals keeping people 1m apart. While this was not adhered to, there was far less scrunching and shoving than I would have expected, though I was in the B corral. We had 70 degrees and 86% humidity at the start, and it promised to be a warm one. My regimen of anti-inflammatory drugs would probably raise concerns with WADA, but it got me to the start line without the injury I had earlier in the week. The gun went off and I felt like I was in a 5K. There were too many people so it wasn't fast, but I went out in 8:21, and people blew by me like I was standing still. I had no choice; after almost 3 weeks of doing no running, I had to start smart. I ran an 8:06 and a 7:58 the next two miles, then put the breaks on. At 5k, people were still passing me by the hundreds. I have run enough races to know they wouldn't last. The only pandemic facing this group of runners was a sickness of wearing VaporFly shoes to run a 4+ hour marathon!
I was locked in pretty good to 8 min/mile pace for a long time. By 10 miles, I was right on, and my watch had me spot on 1:45:00 at halfway (the course took a jump around 11 miles and my watch and the "official" markers were no longer in sync - They had me at about 1:46 and change). The crowds were plentiful as the race ran mostly along the river. From 14-18 miles it got a little drab as we got away from the water on an out section. I kept it chill, never pushing, though the pace started to come into the high 7:40s on its own. I was ecstatic with how the run was going. I thought 4 hours might be a real possibility earlier in the week but now, with 10 miles to go, I was on track for 3:30. I couldn't have asked for more as a light drizzle washed over us.
Everything was good until 21. I slipped to an 8:12 with a water stop, and the reality that I was completely unprepared started to sink in. Somehow I brought it back under 8 for the 22nd mile, though that was the longest one of the day it felt like. The last 5K were.....a negotiation. I had no ego, no pride. There was no time I needed to hit and no one around me I felt compelled to beat. I was just glad to be out here, to be able to race during a pandemic, and to be able to run a marathon, let alone my 80th, on essential no training. I slipped off the pace but by seconds, not minutes. I refused to give in and walk. I would run till the end, no slower, and yet I didn't need to bury myself to get there. I stayed in control and maybe gave up a spot here and there to a charging young man, but for the most part, I continued to pass many people who had gone out so hard.
The final Ks were quiet as no fans were permitted in the stadium for the finish. I passed 26.2 miles on my watch in 3:29:58, and that was good enough for me. Nearly 500m later, the finish line arrived, and my time was 3:32:15. I am not going to be a Garmin bitch but I had the course 0.3 mi long and on this day, that mattered! Either way you slice it. - watch or course - I ran a deadpan even split 1st half to 2nd. It was, perhaps, one of my finest executions of the 80 jaunts so far. But before I could relish in the accomplishment, I went through some pretty rough post-race moments. The legs were done, the bowles in cramping, and I got dizzy if I stopped. It was a long and painful limp from the line to the exit, then a 1km walk to the restaurant where I toweled off in the bathroom before destroying some enchiladas. I waddled on down to Bravo Brewing and enjoyed my 1st (and 2nd and 3rd) beer in a month!
To say I did this "off the couch" would be hyperbole. I did do some running in the weeks before travel. I did bounce around during quarantine, and I didn't fit in 3 jogs the week of the race. But to do a marathon off of it, at 40 years old, let alone in 3:30? I am stoked. By 8K I had run more than I had run in nearly 4 weeks, by the half I better my longest in the fall, and at 20 miles had eclipsed what I would have to go all the way back to May to exceed. It had been more than 9 months since my last marathon, a gap I have not had in marathoning since I began. I missed so many races this year but I got this one done. I always say a marathon is a marathon, no matter how fast you go, and this was the epitome of that phrase.
