Surviving Europe

 Perhaps two fall marathons after returning from Everest were a bit ambitious. 

Slow, exhausted running followed Everest, but soon normality resumed. My summer was perhaps the most productive in many years, as I repeated 50-mile weeks and even jumped up to 70 miles for a week. However, I picked up a rash early on, and soon I was covered in itchy blotches. The poison ivy was relentless, and several rounds of steroids did not crush it. At least 10 times per day, I was bathing in lotion. Itching does not stop you from running well, but sleeplessness will. For almost 3 weeks, I couldn't sleep more than an hour or two at a time. Never have I been so exhausted, and my fitness plummeted. Tempo runs got slower, and I couldn't complete 4-6 mile efforts at marathon pace. After two miles of reeling, absolutely hammering just to hit the times, I would have to pull to the side of the road and walk. The heat and humidity left me exhausted every day. Throw on top of this an impending move to Europe alone, and things were not going in the right direction.

Once in Vienna, I happened upon an elite running group called Vienna Running Collective. They sponsored workouts and long runs at a fairly decent pace, and it was not a place for the casual runner. They would do 24k long runs, never having to stop for a crosswalk, all at about 4:20-4:30 per k. Every Tuesday brought intense runs, sometimes 400m repeats with 90 seconds rest; other times 3x3km at sub-4 per km. It was fun to be running again at a strong pace, and it came easily. Each day, I was nervous for the evening workout, and once it started, I found that I felt fantastic, and after leading my groups, I would wonder if I should have stepped up to the next level. Then everything went to crap. 

On Monday, my leg hurt. After Tuesday's workout, it felt better, but by Wednesday, it was trouble. Running was no longer possible, and I could only walk with a limp. Serious shin pain would not go away with rest, icing, and meds. Into the sports medicine doctor I hobbled. It took an MRI and x-ray, but it was revealed that there was no stress fracture; however, I had MTSS - shin splints. They are extremely painful, and while they happen in undertrained, younger runners, they usually heal, but mine did not. Punishing physical therapy sessions were accompanied by more ice and anti-inflammatories. But time was running out.

A year prior, I had tried - and failed (again) - to get a lottery spot at Berlin, and knowing I was moving close by, I just decided to pull the trigger on a travel package; pay for a hotel room (at a premium), and they will include a bib number for you. So I did, booked my flights, went to Everest, and got back to business. My goal: Qualify for the NYC Marathon (sub 3:05). But now, with about a month to go, I was injured and unable to run, right when I needed the long runs and key workouts. At first, I thought, "There goes sub-3." As time went on, I knew NYC was gone. Then I hoped maybe for a few weeks of running and maybe a decent time, like a sub-3:10. A few more trips to the physio and I knew it was over. I couldn't run. But with the trip booked, I went anyway. After all, this was a chance to see my guys from South Africa, reliving the great times of the past and doing what we all loved to do together. We had dinner, some of the most seasoned runners sitting together, and I even had a couple of beers, which I normally don't prior to a race. The body is going to dehydrate enough, so don't push it, but on this night, I had nothing to lose. 

Race dinner with some very accomplished runners

The SA +1, my old Fourways group

We took some pictures at the race start and made our way through the very lengthy approach to the start line. Long-time running mate and Comrades Coach (and South African Olympic Triathlon coach) Lindsey Parry, Kirsten, and I reminisced of amazing races and suffering in Africa. Lindsey's wife was in another wave, Kirsten in the A corral, so Linds and I shuffled into the B corral and made our way up front, but not too far, as neither of us expected to run our best. My leg was taped up thanks to the physio, and I prayed as the gun went off to not suffer too badly. Luckily, I did not, at least at first. 

The first 10k went by successfully. Having not run for a month, I was pleased as I ticked off the early K's. But the bliss soon faded as the miles set in. After the 10k mark, I was very surprised to come up on Lindsey, who seemed to be off the pace for his goal. We would leapfrog each other several times throughout the race. I crossed the halfway point in about 1:39, which would put me on track for a sub-3:20. Laughing, I knew this was not going to happen. With a month off, the wall was coming, and when I hit it, there would be no breaking through. Soon after the halfway mark, my pace began to slow, albeit subtly. Each K just required a bit more effort to maintain, and soon I watched the seconds slipping away from the average. My left hip flexor and quad felt depleted, probably as a result of overcompensating for my injured right leg, which - surprisingly - gave me no trouble during the race. As I approached 30k, the wheels really started to come off. My body was shutting down, muscles not responding to the task. When I started the day, I thought. "Maybe I can get to 25k before having to walk." 25k came and went, and I said, ok, let's get to 30 and call it good. But the problem with 30 is that 12k left is a long way to go. So I passed 30 and said, let's just get to 32, that leaves 10k. And once I hit 32, I knew that each step was delaying the inevitable, but also one step closer to home. At 34k I started to lock up, weaved to the side of the road, and came to a walk. It was needed! In case you are wondering how far one can run with no running before that, apparently, it is 34k. 

From here, life was not fun. An 8k run is a regular morning most days, but in the heat, injured, and untrained, it is a marathon in and of itself. Berlin was hot, and people were suffering for it. Not alone in my walks, I now needed about 1 minute of walking every mile to 2k, and ended up taking about 6 walk breaks in the last 8K. My legs were tight, stomach off, and head wandering. Joy was not present as suffering set in. Crossing 40k, things had really taken a turn, and the pace was now no longer respectable, although I never went over 6 min/K. However, I did pull to the side and accept a Dixie cup full of beer to excuse another walk break. The final stretch at Berlin is a grand one, crossing the Brandenburg Gate, people shouting on either side stacked 10 deep. If I had run a decent race, I may have been buoyed by it, but I was feeling such shame and disappointment that I traversed the blue carpet in silence, desperate to hit the finish line. Despite my performance, I postponed my body rejecting me and made my way out of the finish area as quickly as my carcus could muster. It was a long journey back to the meeting point, where I found the group, all of whom had finished before me, and most of whom had missed their goal significantly. 

Together again, we wandered out of the race venue to the river and grabbed lounge chairs, and the beers were soon flowing. We talked and re-told stories of the day and of 15 years earlier, back in South Africa, sharing the road. Unfortunately, no food was ordered, so after a few rounds, the body reacted. My bag was at Kirsten's lodging, so I bade farewell to the boys and walked back with Kirsten's sister to the apartment, gathered my things, and jumped on the public transport to the airport. An evening flight and then a late train ride got me back in Vienna around 1am. By 2 a.m., I was up to use the toilet. My head spun, I fell to the floor, smacking my head on the sink, and lay in pain for 10 minutes, drenched in sweat. My body had revolted, clearly suffering from the trauma of running a marathon on nothing. Having not eaten right after and taken in beer on fried legs, everything was out of balance. 

Glad to be done

Before the pain really set in

I recovered slowly, but there was no need to train. A couple of more physical therapy sessions, or all I could do to improve my chances of running, as the Dublin Marathon was just 5 weeks after Berlin. Long before, I decided to run the Dublin Marathon because it aligned with a fall break. However, when I went to apply, despite being many months before the race, they were fully booked, so I had to do a charity entry. Asking for money is something I refuse to do. Well, I put up a notice on Facebook, only two people contributed, which, if you think about having more than 500 friends on social media and getting only two people to support not only your goal, but the charity supporting Mental Health, that is frustrating. Three of the guys that I climbed with on Aconcagua generously donated, bringing me closer to my goal, but I still had to fork over nearly $700 to cover the difference. With this kind of investment, skipping the race was not an option. Although my shin improved, it was still very noticeable, and I was not able to do any running in the interim. So after a week of bouncing around Ireland, eating burgers and fish and chips, enjoying beer and music, I again toed the line to attempt a second marathon on zero training.

Race morning dawned cold and windy, although the rain that had been promised was absent, which was good, as it was a horribly long walk to the start line. The beginning of the race, as it usually does, felt fine, and my optimism rose, that is, until about 5 km in. A tightness and pain were developing in my left quad, probably from the compensation protecting my right shin. By 10 km, the rain returned in full force, and no one was quite the same from here to the end. I started to pay for my early pace, which was probably too fast for zero training. Dublin is a rolling course, so there were plenty of opportunities to challenge myself on the hilly terrain. Uncomfortableness grew in my body, reminding me that not training is a less-than-ideal way to approach a marathon. Crossing halfway in 1:48 (nearly 10 min slower than Berlin and 20 min longer than my last Boston), the struggle was real. A new challenge emerged, and the goal now became to run, run, and not stop with each step,  \the willpower to keep going faded; my pace was slow, this wouldn't qualify me for anything, it was cold and wet, and after this, I would require significant time off to heal both my body and specifically, my shin. But somewhere in the back of my brain, that little voice called out, eager for the opportunity. Not stopping became my only mantra, and with each passing kilometer, this grew more difficult. The pace faded further, and true grimaces of pain crossed my face. Near the end, outright cries of pain burst forward during each tight corner. But never did I walk, and after 42.2km in the rain, I crossed the finish line for my 93rd finish, having run the whole way on absolutely not running.

The long walk from the finish to the gated area blocking spectators was significant. By the time I burst out into the crowd, I was soaked to the bone and starting to lose control of my muscles. We had arranged a meet-up here, thinking a side street would be obvious, but thousands of people were waiting. Calling them, they found me, and after a brief reunion, I told them to walk; standing around was leading to disaster. We had hoped to catch a. cab north of the meeting area, but that was out of the question; our only chance was to walk more than a mile to lunch. Without a doubt, it was the hardest mile of the day, with legs cramping, stomach turning, and head swimming. When we finally reached Brewdog, I faced a climb upstairs to the bathroom and a difficult change of clothes in a stall. Still waterlogged, my hands shook uncontrollably, making eating and drinking difficult. With some calories coming in, the body soon returned to normal, and I avoided the shutdown experienced in Berlin after facing the long, lonely flight back. 

While there is no reason to run not one, but two marathons on no training inside of 5 weeks, the investment was too high to skip them. The money spent was gone either way, but now I have clicked off two more bucketlist runs, one of them a Major, and although I won't aim to run another marathon on no training, I know I can.