Thunder Road 2011: A Reunion

As it turns out, this is the first official blog that I have written concerning my training and racing.  My good friends and teammates (whom will be mentioned here shortly) have inspired me put together my own recap of the 2011 Thunder Road Marathon. It was a day filled with magic, excitement and passion.  It was a day that will not be forgotten.

Part One: My Marathon Training in a Nutshell and Some Brief History

       

For the greater part of 2010 (and maybe even a bit prior to that, come to think of it), I was getting a bit overweight.  Add about 35 pounds to what I weigh now, and you got it.  But we're not going to think too much about the guy that I was then.  I am going to put the spotlight on the guy that I became (again) because of training and running competitively.  If any of you know me, I was always a distance runner.  Let's just say that a re-birth took place; a return to my roots after a bit of time off.  Endurance running is my greatest passion in life.  I find that nothing can keep us from our passions as long as we believe in them.

I was sitting in my kitchen on an April night in (probably drinking) and had an idea: "Why don't I run the 2011 Grandfather Mountain Marathon in July?" So, I did.  I trained on my own, and I trained like an animal.  When I began my training, I was hurting when attempting to put in 4 mile runs at an 8.5 minute pace.  Next thing I knew, I was putting in 16 mile runs several times a month.  Speed work became a twice a week occurrence, as did hill repeats on the A.R.Jr. Bridge.  I was logging 60-70 + miles a week, and at times, more than that.  Three weeks before the race, I logged a 22 miler on the Blue Ridge Parkway.  At that point, I truly felt confident that I had put in the work.  At the Grandfather 26.2,  I ended up 14th overall with a time of 3 hours 25 minutes and some change.  If you know anything about that course, you'd know that a time like that is quite an accomplishment, especially for a first timer.  It was without a doubt what turned into the best day of my life.  So when Daniel Eggers insisted that I join him and Jason Blackwood for Thunder Road in November, there was no resisting. The chance to race again, along with long-lost running soul-mates sounded like a dream come true.

       

The training for Thunder Road was similar to my prep for the Grandfather 26.2.  Trips to Western NC for some crazy long runs at the highest altitude I could get my feet on, some solid 16, 19, and 20+ milers, speed sessions on the trail and on the track.  I had a blast all around.  I saw my average ppm (pace per mile) steadily getting quicker in my training runs, and knew I was nearing sub 3 hour territory for the 26.2.  I have to say, I was extremely eager for this event.  Knowing I'd be back in the competitive environment after the isolation of training solo, having friends and teammates along side me, and craving my next 26.2 all played a huge part in the energy that was building inside of me.  But perhaps one of the biggest driving forces was the fact that I had been out with injury for the greater part of July and all of August of 2011.  It was time to bounce back, and being healthy again was an incredible primer.

Part Two: Race Day

I woke up at 5:30 sharp in my Westin hotel room.  I felt great. Well rested, well fed from an eggplant dinner the night before, and incredibly stoked, I began to limber up in the hotel room as I prepped myself for the cold outdoors.  It was in the mid 30's that morning.  I would be running this race as close to naked as possible.  It's just gotta be that way for me.  I spent the hour before the race with a brisk warm up for about a mile, and popped indoors a few times to stretch and heat up.  I could not find Daniel Eggars, David Brinkley or Jason Blackwood until literally a few minutes before the race, but we gathered near the front of the corral to well-wish one another.  There was a  great energy in the air.  

       

At the start, I knew I'd be somewhat fast, given the pack mentality and the race adrenaline that was in my blood.  6'49" for the first mile.  Felt right though.  It was just a bit slower than I needed to average for the entire 26.2.  Feeling confident and knowing I had a plan, I trusted to patience and faith.  During the first mile, Daniel had mentioned the need to have faith in your pace; faith that you'll be there in the end, right where you need to be. It's just so easy to go out too fast if you don't know yourself and your pace.  My biggest rule in Marathon running is to know yourself.  Have total trust in your training.  Total faith in your pace.

      

      

In the second mile, I let Daniel go ahead of me.  He had told me at the beginning of mile two that he wanted to keep David in his sights.  I was slightly tempted to go with him, but I sat back and relaxed.  Second mile at 7'25".  I had allowed for this slower pace because I knew that it was critical to establish my comfort zone with my stride early on.  That was the second to last time I saw my watch hit above 7 minutes.  Third mile 7'04".  But after the 3rd I began to start finding my groove and that gut-instinct I needed; that feeling of knowing I could really afford to start dropping my splits, and I knew I'd need to start making up for those + 7's with some 6'30"'s at some point.

       

Although Daniel was pulling away, I kept an eye on him for a few miles.  He's hard to miss, especially when you've run with him for a number of years.  It's funny how we all develop distinct characteristics in our strides and nuances in our running habits.  I insisted to myself that I needed to let him go.  I was aware that he knew his race strategy, and I was beyond confident that I knew mine.  After mile 4 or so, he was nowhere in sight.  That, however, did not phase me, even though I really wanted to work with him on pacing for sub 3 hours.  I was used to running on my own and pacing on my own, and I had plenty of bodies around me to overtake.  Up the hill on Providence, I felt fantastic. A bit slower than I wanted, but I could feel that the surge would be coming.   

       

...Patience.  That's the key.  Don't sleep on the job.  But shut your mind down.  There is no distance.  There is no time.  There is only the stride you are taking,  only the breathe you are currently inhaling and exhaling.  Your legs are oiled machinery.  You have maintained the machine well...  These were many of the thoughts I used to prepare myself for the ensuing mileage.

       

I had a pocket full of Gu Chomps.  I suck on these.  I don't chew them up, unless the mood takes me.  I pop one of these nuggets every 4 miles or so.  On this race I began ingesting them at around mile 4 or 5.  No real strategy with eating these guys.  I just don't start eating them too late.  Two cups of gatorade per station.  Some of it gets in my mouth, but my body was sugar coated by the end of the race.  I have to say that the cold liquid on my mostly naked body in sub 40 degree weather was pretty chilling at times, especially in the shade and especially when my private areas were soaked.  But I truly did feel fantastic.  You could not have paid me to put any additional clothing on my body.  I reckon that I was the only racer in so minimal of a running uniform.

       

Sharon Lane through Arbor Way felt great.  A lot of crowd support greeted us, and as we spilled out onto Sharon the pace was quickening a bit.  I realized that most of the runners around me were participants of the half (13.1), so I kept in mind that I'd be losing a lot of companionship after midway.  I took advantage of the thicker groupings of runners by engaging in a little friendly palaver, and used them to keep the overtaking mentality strong.  

I was nearing the point that, where in a training run or in a race, I begin to apply Zen tactics.  By this, I mean to say that the only important thing becomes the here and now.  The next mile does not matter, the next stride does not matter, the next breath does not matter.  Only the current space you occupy, the current stride you are taking, the current state of your mind.  You will only deal with that next mile when you reach it.  This, to me, is crucial to reaching your full potential; your focus is not lost on thoughts.  This is critical when reaching for the next level of speed; you leave the chatter inside of your head behind.  You are in the "empty zone".

I plowed through the halfway point feeling very happy.  The crowd definitely had me going, and i was steadily passing people.  One of my goals when racing distance like this is not to let people pass me and to always be steadily overtaking other racers.   On the west side of town, I caught a tight-knit pack that David was leading.  A mile or two prior to that, I thought I had heard Mr. Blackwood ( he was standing on a street corner cheering us on) yelling Jason's name.  Not sure, but pretty sure.  I was definitely expecting him to pull up along side me within a few miles.  And here, I must say, I was beginning to feel some leg trauma.  I was realizing that I'd have to keep that current pace and faster to stay where I needed to be.   

       

It was at this point, mile 15 or so, that I had my first Eggers sighting since mile 4.  Dressed in blue, it made him easy to keep on my radar.  I am pretty sure that this sustained me on to the end.  Him and Ping.  But more on Ping later.  Around this point, I had to allow myself to slip out of the "empty zone" for a brief moment in order to re-assess my situation.  Having mobility between shutting your mind off and and turning it back on becomes important.  Then you have to be mentally strong enough to "shut down" again and turn on the boosters.    

Back in the middle of the city, I steadily overtook several runners.  Once we were on the east side of town...that's when it became a psychological battle between success and failure.  Daniel and Chris McFarlane in sight, I began to set up my next strategy: gain about 5 seconds per mile.  Reel them in bit by bit.  I knew that they were working together, and that was one thing that I needed.  My prayers were answered shortly after.  With the arrival of a phantom runner (the guy drafting you that you can't see) on my heels around  mile 17, it was time to work with him and to go into what I call "psycho mode", or "the empty space".  Don't lose focus, though.  Maybe find a mantra to have in your mind.  Whatever works.  Maybe that mantra is the silence.  However you do it, it's now or never.  Having been steadily in between 6'35 and 6'50" for most of the race, I realized that I had to keep this going.  For a while I felt completely isolated, and realized it was going to take real strength of character to keep sub 3:00 at this point.  I let the runner behind me push me, and I am sure that I was pulling him.  Give and take.

       

When we had turned onto the Plaza, this newcomer (I later learned that he had been tailing me for a majority of the race) was literally breathing down my back.  Mile 22 hit us and he blew past me.  This turned out to be Ping Hu, an older Asian gentlemen, about my size and build.  It seemed like we were a perfect match.  I wanted to go with him but I simply couldn't.  He pulled away.  And kept pulling away.  I was holding pretty steady, and thankful that I was holding the pace with legs that were quickly feeling the fatigue of 20+ miles.  There were a few decent crowds ahead with music and cheering.  More drink.  My mouth was thick with the taste of Gu Chomps.  A few people (I'm not sure who) were calling my name in encouragement.  "Gotta go now", I told myself.  Oh, it hurts so good! 

       

Somewhere inside of mile 24 I found myself about to overtake Ping.  I took him on the uphill, witch was probably the steepest one yet.  Short but steep; a real killer.  Kill the hill before it kills you; that's one of my rules.  I was quickly closing the gap on Eggers and Chris.  Around a sharp turn at the crest of that same hill,  Daniel was within range for overtaking.  I was feeling strong.  My only focus was to turn on the afterburners from here to the finish.  At this point in a race like this, there is no choice, at least not for me.  This was critical; one of those moments.  I realized I'd have to really pass with a burst to drive in the final nail.  Afterburners engaged as I passed him, I heard Daniel  distinctly say "PR!"  I had no words for Dan in return, begging his pardon.  I caught Chris McFarlane.  Passed him.  Ping passed him.  Mile 25.  The clock read 2:50 and some change.  Ping passed me.  Chris back up front.  I passed both of them.  I held them off all the way up to the 26th mile.  The last .2 was a straight shot. A straight sprint.  To me, this is as good as it gets.  A last-chance, short-range shoot-out.  It's what a racer craves after all of that endurance: the chance to have a fast, competitive finish.  It's times like these when it feels that your spirit is entwined with those of your competitors.  It's times like these and situations like these where I feel like it's why I'm alive.  Just to feel that alive!  That much pain and that much joy all at once.  As Daniel said after the race, "It's gotta be like giving child birth!"  The clock read 2:57 as I give every last bit of what I had.  2:58:11.  Absolute joy.  I had never been happier.  It makes me all the more excited about what's to come for all of us, as runners and life-livers.

       

Both Chris and Ping got the better of me in that last .2 miles.  We did not know it at the time, but we were battling it out for 10th place.  We all finished within 6 seconds of each other.  I waited just past the line to cheer Daniel on as he made his way down the final stretch.  A PR for him at 2:59.  I finished with a new PR as well at 2:58, 1st in my age category, and 12th place overall.

Here is a split-list from mile 1 - 26.2

1 - 6.49

2 - 7.25

3 - 7.04

4 - 6.54

5 - 6.58

6 - 6.55

7 - 6.55

8 - 6.48

9 - 6.44

10 - 6.42

11 - 6.45

12 - 6.49

13 - 6.44

14 - 6.47

15 - 6.35

16 - 6.40

17 - 6.41

18 - 6.41

19 - 6.37

20 - 6.41

21 - 6.51

22 - 6.54

23 - 6.42

24 - 6.46

25 - 6.35

26 - 6.31

.2 - 1.29 

One thing that I have learned and continue to learn as a runner and a competitive racer is the interconnectedness between physical health and spiritual health.  I believe that no matter how strong a person is, no matter how healthy they are, they will never feel truly healthy and strong  without a healthy mind and heart.  Someone with darkness in their heart and in there mind can never fully utilize all of their training and conditioning.  So much of the run is inside of you.  You must simply understand how to grasp what's inside and have the knowledge that what is inside is your strongest weapon. 

I hope this gave a bit of insight into what I experienced out there.  Only a runner knows.

Always searching for a new Key Experience,  

-J. Brewer