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January 26, 2005

Beat 3

So here's Andy's story:

This was my 4th Houston and 14th marathon. Houston is a well-supported, flat, fast course with the big unknown being the weather. Last year I hit a new PR of 3:07:33 when it was upper 40s, low 50s and a mild wind, nearly perfect, but this year’s forecast looked even better, promising upper 30s, low 40s and mild wind. Last year I followed Pfitzinger/Douglas’ 12wk 70mi program and this year I extended to the 18wk plan. I was excited but guarded since this year I had no pacers and my training was weak in the weeks before the race coupled with shoe/foot issues. My only prospect for a running partner was a guy named Jeff from Austin whom Jen heard was also trying to break 3 but this news came on Friday afternoon and I’d never met him and couldn’t contact him. I had his picture and knew he’d be wearing Texas shorts but that was it.

Saturday, we hit the expo in the afternoon and then headed to my parents’ house in NW Houston to pack in some final carbs of spaghetti and bread. Jen was in bed around 9 while my sister, Holly, and I hung out with Mom chatting and getting organized for the morning. I got my clothes together, stuffed 3 Clifshots in my shorts, and spelled ‘BEAT 3’ in duct tape on the front of my shirt knowing that the crowd support was going to be key. I was in bed around 10pm.

Gun time was 7am so I was up at 4am drinking my Boost, eating half a toasted bagel, and making final preparations. Final preparations included removing my chip from my Brooks Adrenalines and lacing it onto my new New Balance 856s, my biggest mental dilemma going into Sunday. The question was did I want the pain in my instep from the Brooks or the pain in my Achilles from the NB. I leaned towards the Achilles pain but was worried since I’d never run more than 5 miles in the NB but they were fresher shoes where the Brooks had over 225 miles on them and I couldn’t afford a stress fracture with Austin just 4 weeks away. Off we drove, Jen and I following Holly to downtown Houston where we found a parking garage and an empty elevator.

Entering the downtown Houston street from the parking garage, the first thing I felt was a breeze across my face and I thought, “Wind...#$&%...the one factor that could ruin this, otherwise, ideal marathon day.” We walked on towards the George R Brown stopping momentarily at a row of available port-o-cans on the way. Continuing through the streetlamp-lit darkness with hundreds of other runners headed in different directions, we entered the GRB and made our way to the bag drop. I stripped down to shorts, long sleeves, gloves, and a stocking cap and then pulled a trash bag on for last minute warmth. A final kiss for Jen, we parted, and Holly and I headed to the Hilton to stand in line for a final bathroom break before the race.

As I headed out of the bathroom, I heard Holly behind me. She told me that there were two of her friends from San Antonio in the bathroom and they were shooting for 3 also. Right then, she thought one of them came out and urged me to catch him. I fought through the sea of runners in the hotel lobby, tapped him on the back and asked him if he was Arnand from San Antonio to which he replied, “sorry, wrong guy.” My only hope for a running partner is to find Jeff in this crowd of thousands of runners…ughhh. Out of the warm lobby, into the chilly Houston air, and into the starting area on Crawford I went. The corral of runners was growing dense but I was able to work my way near the front where I could see the 3:10 pacer. Moments later the announcer was introducing Shawn Colvin who sang the National Anthem as a pair of F-16s flew overhead. The cannon sounded and the shuffle over the mats started.

I hit the starting mats with 15 seconds showing on the official clock and worked into a comfortable stride quickly, hoping to hit low 7s for the first mile which I did, 7:16. I was searching the crowd for those Texas shorts and saw several but no one matched Jeff’s picture. Picking up the pace slightly in the 2nd mile, I was feeling relaxed and didn’t have to weave through other runners too much. Near mile 2 the marathoners merged with the half marathoners and somewhere in the mix was the 2 mile marker which I missed. My watch showed 7:22 which I knew was off but I didn’t know by how much. I was suddenly distracted by Texas shorts ahead of me and I picked it up to catch him. “Are you Jeff?” “Yeah.” “I’m Jen’s husband, Andy.” “Oh, hey, good to meet you (handshake) and this is Ricky (handshake)” We chatted a little but were focused on pace which was a bit fast for the next couple miles until we settled down. Jeff’s friend Chris met us at mile 6 to pace the final 20 right about the time I saw Brent cheering from his balcony, “Good Job, Stew!” Chris set the pace out in front of us. When he heard the pace called out around mile 10 as 6:52, he said that we needed to push that down to 6:50. Too fast for me. I could feel those couple seconds difference he was running versus what was comfortable for me and I struggled with staying with them for the company or letting them go and running alone at my comfortable pace. They were very focused on pace and weren’t too chatty so I decided to run my race, my pace. They stayed nearby and I’d catch up to them and then they’d pull away again. Constant shouts of “BEAT 3, GO 3, ALRIGHT 3, You’re on pace for 3!” followed me. Around mile 12 I heard a familiar voice cheering for me and saw it was Keri and Anne all bundled up. After the half, Jeff and Chris pushed to maintain the pace as the wind grew noticeably stronger and I fought to draft with them. I took my first half of Clifshot (chocolate) and held the second half until the next water stop near 15.

Mile 15, 6:39, big surprise at the time but looking at the times now it looks like 15 may have been short and 16 long. After mile 15 I let Jeff and Chris pull away again and was alone headed toward Post Oak where a headwind was blowing at 16mph, the highest recording of the day, recorded around the minute I was fighting it. Post Oak is a straight, open stretch nearly a mile long typically with good crowd support which was lessened by the weather conditions. I could see Ricky about 100 yards ahead of me in the middle of a draft line of about a dozen male runners led by a female runner; that looked cool. Jeff was drafting off of Chris about 50 yards behind them, 50 yards in front of me. There was no way I was going to attempt to close the gap to draft but the wind in my face had my mind suggesting that I go for 3 on another day. I kept telling myself that I was still on pace and though I may drop a few seconds here, the final 5k should have more crowd support to help me get the time back. The wind in my face was torture and my mind kept talking louder encouraging me to throw in the towel. This was my day to break 3 and here I was alone with a headwind still questioning my shoes and still feeling the ache in my quads that started before mile 13. “BEAT 3, You’re gonna do it!” “Hmmm, as much as I’d like to, I can’t keep fighting this wind.” Mile 16, 7:00, “Damn!” I knew I had some time in the bank but I couldn’t afford to lose that much in a single mile (now it looks like the mile was long). I opened another Clifshot (MochaMocha w/ caffeine) and took down half of it saving the second half for the next water stop around 18.

After the turn off of Post Oak, it was a relief to be out of the wind but the effects lingered. I continued to give up time in 17 and 18 running 6:56 and 6:55. The crowd was thin after 18 but my mind was busy, frantic. Was I or was I not willing to keep fighting, how much time was in the bank, which mile was I at, is that wind still in my face?? I was still near pace. My legs could still go even though they weren’t 100%. The motivation was lacking and I was alone. In a stretch of sparse crowd support leading to mile 19 there was a group of young black girls, maybe 15 of them, who went freakin’ crazy when I ran by. “What the….?? Why are these girls yelling?! There’s no one here but me!” I saw the mile marker and hit my watch- 6:50! I looked back to see what mile it was. Mile 19, not 20 like I thought for a split second, but I’m ok. I felt energized. I was on the verge of throwing in the towel, just backing off completely but now this?! This group of young fans urging me on. Why? I was headed toward the final 10k, and I had actually got a couple seconds back. I realized that I was still in the game and that if I stuck with it, I could have a shot at beating 3.

Entering Memorial Park there was a very familiar song playing as I got closer to the Bayou City Runners area. They were blasting Dave Matthews's Ants Marching, one of my favorite songs! This was a sign. I remember the stretch through Memorial Park last year being dead but this year it was lined with music which is exactly what I needed. I had dreaded reaching this stretch since before the race started. I knew that if I could make it through here, I was golden. I didn’t foresee nearly caving at mile 16, 17, and 18. I was still wounded but my outlook was brighter and I also knew that my parents were waiting to cheer me on at 22.5.

Around 21 I took the first half of my final Clifshot (also MochaMocha) and continued to try to hold pace and enjoy the music. As I approached the turn between Memorial and Allen Parkway, I could see the neon green signs with sparkling streamers bobbing up and down. My parents had spotted me. My eyes flooded. I rounded the corner thanking them and high-fiving my cheering mom. Onward to the final 5k.

Though my spirits were higher, I’d continued to give up time after 19. I’d see the mile marker and look at my watch thinking I was on pace but the seconds ticked too fast. I couldn’t beat them! I’d nearly sprint the final steps to the mile marker to try to get a 6:52 frozen on my watch but I couldn’t catch it.

The big crowds I expected to carry me down Allen Parkway to the final mile didn’t show up, too cold, I guess. There were some supporters but it was more sparse than usual. Miles 23, 24, and 25 were 6:58, 6:54, and a crushing 7:07. I was fighting so hard to keep my pace and my new energy but the lacking crowd-support nagged at me. My legs were tired and I was becoming disappointed at the thought of just missing breaking 3. The cheers of “Go Beat 3, Go 3, You’re Gonna Beat 3!” continues here and there and at one point I heard the cheer followed by a muffled, “He better hurry up!” which is exactly what I was thinking.

This year’s finish has the final 2 turns just past 25 and then it’s a straight shot down a downtown street to the finish. You can actually see the arch over the finish line from nearly a mile out! When I made that final turn, I suddenly wanted that carrot! I snapped; I was mad! I could see it at the end of the street, that big, blue arch with the official clock ticking below it. I looked at my watch and the total time was still under 3 hours but my tangled mind couldn’t compute the reality of the ticking seconds. I had to constantly blink my eyes to clear them to read my watch. I pushed down the homestretch, solely focused on the time rapidly approaching 3 hours. The gap between me and the finish line seemed unchanging. I increased my pace and thought, “Am I pushing as hard as I can? No. You’ve got more. Dig. Deeper, Damn it! There you go. Go!” Turning my legs over as fast as I could, I was in a dead sprint now closing that gap. I suddenly recommitted to beating 3 even though I had no idea if it was possible; I was just unloading everything I had left. The on-looking crowd grew dense. Their deafening screams were a muffled cloud in the back of my sharp, focused mind. I was in a rage sprinting past one runner after another to get my foot on the mat; me versus my watch!

Around the 26 mile marker one loud little voice penetrated my focus. It was Jen yelling, bouncing, cheering me on. Again, my eyes flooded. “I’m gonna do this!” I thought. I passed a blue and white blur that was Ricky. I glanced at my watch frantically as I watched the official clock ahead of me pass 3 hours. My chip time was still under but not by much. The final chute was lined by a roaring crowd that couldn’t be ignored as I grinned. I hit the finish line mat and yelled “COME ON!”- a final prayer for a sub-3 official time as I clicked my watch. I stared at the display through tears. 3:00:01. I knew my foot hit the mat before my finger hit my watch but was it 1 second, 2 seconds? I didn’t know but I was sure it was under 3:00:01 and I was ecstatic! I pulled my gloves from my waistband and put them over my eyes to catch the tears as I stood a few yards past the finish line. I couldn’t believe it! I had almost given up! (the 1.2 mile pace comes to 6:25 and change! Where that energy came from, I’ll never know.)

After posing for a photographer, I entered the finisher’s area in the GRB. It was almost empty, only a few volunteers and runners milling around. The food and water tables looked nearly untouched. Now I realize that finishing in 3 hours in Houston puts you around the top 100 so the crowd was behind me. It was a bit strange but good to have some time alone. I grabbed some Gatorade and water and couldn’t help sob a little. It was a similar, uncontrollable emotional experience to my first marathon. I really thought I couldn’t do it and here I was on the other side of the finish line. I remember cheering at the finish line the day my brother-in-law first broke 3 and I thought, “That’s impossible.”

Heading to the bag drop area, another runner read my shirt and asked, “So, did you do it?” It felt surreal to smile and say, “Yeah, I did.” I found my walkie-talkie and radioed to Jen who was waiting for Holly to pass 26. Over the radio she asked what my watch said and I could barely get the words out. I found her at 26 and we cheered for Holly as she passed looking strong running with Mike Chica.

As usual, we had a big crowd at Star Pizza and celebrated with pizza, beer, and a big chocolate cake, courtesy of Mom. The Johnsons, Betsy and Jeff, Cory, Tiffany, and Madison all made it out along with Mom and Dad, and a big San Antonio crew including Ricky. After the party, we returned to Mom and Dad’s house to grab a nap before the drive back to Austin. I didn’t nap much and wasn’t tired at all as I drove back to Austin. I couldn’t believe what had happened earlier that day. I got several congratulatory calls Sunday and Monday and was made to feel like a celebrity among our running friends. My legs began to ache Sunday night and my first steps Monday morning were difficult and painful. My quads were very sore and my left Achilles hurt as did the instep of my left foot. 2 toenails on each foot blistered but were relieved with a needle. Tuesday my quad pain was minor, my left foot pains were gone, and I ran 3 mile fairly comfortably. I skied very comfortably over the weekend and must now prepare to pace Austin!

Splits 7:16, 6:52, 6:51, 6:41, 6:49, 6:50, 6:42, 6:45, 6:51, 6:52, 6:52, 6:50, 6:50, Half 1:30:28, 6:51, 6:39, 7:00, 6:56, 6:55, 6:50, 6:57, 6:53, 6:55, 6:58, 6:54, 7:07, 7:50 for 1.2mi. (6:26 pace)

Final Clock 3:00:14
Final Chip 3:00:02
Final Official Pace 6:51 (equals 3:59:36)
Final Watch 3:00:01 (after crossing mat)

So, did I beat 3? I’m really not sure but I’m proud of myself for my perseverance and know that when I face life’s challenges, I can always reflect back on that lonely mile up Post Oak with the wind in my face.

Posted by jenandmats at January 26, 2005 7:37 PM

Comments

Andy,

Wow, what a great read, and a strong congratulations to you! What a fight you put up against the wind, a tough stretch of road, and your psyche! Perseverance is, indeed, the name of the game, and you should be so proud! I'm pretty sure that reading this has been tremendously motivating, even for my much smaller marathon goals. Thanks! And, again, congratulations on beating 3! Awesome!

Jen,

Now is that motivating or what?

Posted by: Meghan at January 26, 2005 9:35 PM

What an awesome report! If that's not motivating I don't know what is.

Posted by: Alex at January 27, 2005 9:00 AM

What a wonderful story, Andy! Perserverence, strength - very inspiring. I'm looking forward to seeing you either at the expo or at Freescale by the way, I think I'm going to go for 3:45 and I happened to see your name on the pace group list... very cool.

Posted by: Richard at January 27, 2005 9:59 AM

Thanks for the positive feedback! Looking forward to seeing everyone in this little blog neighborhood at Freescale!

Posted by: Andy at January 27, 2005 5:57 PM

Way to go! Awesome race and report. I believe you got under 3 and that is just an enormous mental barrier. Have a great time in Austin!!

Blondie

Posted by: Blondie at January 27, 2005 7:24 PM

An incredible runner AND incredible writer! "My eyes flooded" too while reading your story. What a rollercoaster yet noone could tell. You are always the calm of my storm before any race (even on my wedding day!) I love hanging with you in the GRB or bathroom lines. YOU are the eye of the tiger! I am so proud of you! Do you bill by the hour for pacing? I'll have to run that much faster to afford you in my PR!

Luv, your proud sis

ps - must be nice to know you 'still got it' with the laytays - even at the 'wall' in a marathon

Posted by: Hol at January 27, 2005 9:42 PM

Andy, I just wanted to say that I enjoyed reading your race recap immensely. I could put myself in your shoes and feel all the emotions you were going through. Great race! I'm so happy for you.

You should try to publish this....

Posted by: Leilani at January 28, 2005 7:26 AM

I really enjoyed reading about your experience as well. I was particularly impressed with how strong you finished - 6:25 pace at the end of a marathon??? That just means you have even more in you for the future.

Posted by: Alison at January 28, 2005 10:53 AM

What a great story and timely inspiration for all of us running Freesacle. You are truly a Jedi my man.

Posted by: Daryl at January 29, 2005 1:50 PM