Some days you have it, some days you don't. With training and tapering, of course, you hope to have it on race day.
On February 13th 2016 in the heat of Los Angeles, I most definitely didn't have it.
On a day that was a battle for everybody, I was one of the many riding the struggle bus. About 60 of the 160-ish men that started the race did not finish, myself included. I made it about 10 miles into the race before calling it a day and stepping off the course.
I actually felt pretty good on my short warmup jog. I fell into aerobic threshold effort real easy and was primed to go. The first two miles, even in the mass of humanity, were right about where I wanted to be: 5:25 and then 5:18, right on. I latched onto a group that felt like it was going the right effort, ready to hang on for a ride to a solid time.
But by the time we got to 10k, I knew I was in trouble. That's a scary feeling when you're hurting and you realize there are still twenty miles left in the race. I decided to try to stick it out through the half marathon, hoping this was just an early bad patch, but it wasn't to be. Moving backward, I was done at 10 miles.
I don't know what happened. I felt good before the race. All of my workouts and runs in the weeks prior had been solid, if not effortless. Even the first few miles were in a good groove and easy, like they should be in a marathon. And then, by eight miles, I felt like I was hitting the wall. I was just drained of energy one-third of the way through the race. Yikes.
Obviously not finishing the race is a huge disappointment. You train for years hoping to get a shot at this race, on the biggest stage and up against the best competition in the country, and it all falls apart before halfway. I still maintain that, judging by my workouts, I was (am) in the best shape of my life. Even in the heat, I thought a sub-2:20 was a distinct possibility.
But perhaps the biggest disappointment of all is for all the supporters I had going into this. My wife and family were there, as were friends and former coworkers. Back home, I had friends and family and coworkers and students all watching the race and following my results. I was so humbled by all the support, and it feels like I let all those people down. I'm proud of qualifying for the Trials, but almost ashamed of my performance there.
And the scary thing is, I don't really know what happened.
Was I overtrained? I don't think so...I backed off so much over the last 2-3 weeks that there's no way I didn't have time to recover. Plus all my runs had been feeling smooth leading up to the race.
Did I back off too much? Perhaps...about 70+ miles three weeks out, 50-60 two weeks out, and then negligible running the week of might have left me flat for race day. But then, I averaged that in the spring of 2013 and still had a decent race at Boston.
Was it the heat? Temperatures were hot to begin with in LA, and on the shade-free asphalt of the course it must have been in the mid-80s. The heat didn't help, but I can't imagine I was so severely dehydrated so early in the race.
Physiologically, I was ready to go. The only thing I can think of is that maybe psychologically I was not. Hear me out:
Fatigue is the body's response to stress. Most commonly in racing you fatigue because of the stress of running fast for an extended period of time. But other life stressors can contribute to fatigue.
In the week prior to the race, I had multiple different send-off events, TV interviews, and other various hoopla all around the Olympic Trials. I traveled across the country to race against the best running in America. I panicked being so far back in the field -- I could feel last place and I was terrified of being that guy. Not to mention all the pressure I put on myself to run a fast race. I even had a minor dental emergency (read: root canal) to deal with in the lead-up to the race.
I'm an introvert. Anything involving crowds and being outgoing is a stressor for me. The week leading up to the Trials, as it turns out, was packed with stress. Even though the physical stress was low, the psychological and emotional stress was high.
My best guess: I went into the race primed physically, but drained emotionally and psychologically. All those life stressors manifested themselves with unexpected fatigue early on in the race.
I went on to the biggest stage of my running career and psyched myself out. That sucks.
What I really want to do is race again as soon as possible. I mean, recover first (that's going to be an interesting process...) but then get back and compete again. I don't care what distance, I just want some measure of redemption; something to validate my training and fitness.
After a complete failure, sometimes the best thing to do is get right back after it. In the (possibly fictional) words of Shalane Flanagan: F.S.U.
As for the Trials: darn right I plan on being there again in four years. Now I just have four years to figure out the marathon.
On February 13th 2016 in the heat of Los Angeles, I most definitely didn't have it.
On a day that was a battle for everybody, I was one of the many riding the struggle bus. About 60 of the 160-ish men that started the race did not finish, myself included. I made it about 10 miles into the race before calling it a day and stepping off the course.
I actually felt pretty good on my short warmup jog. I fell into aerobic threshold effort real easy and was primed to go. The first two miles, even in the mass of humanity, were right about where I wanted to be: 5:25 and then 5:18, right on. I latched onto a group that felt like it was going the right effort, ready to hang on for a ride to a solid time.
But by the time we got to 10k, I knew I was in trouble. That's a scary feeling when you're hurting and you realize there are still twenty miles left in the race. I decided to try to stick it out through the half marathon, hoping this was just an early bad patch, but it wasn't to be. Moving backward, I was done at 10 miles.
I don't know what happened. I felt good before the race. All of my workouts and runs in the weeks prior had been solid, if not effortless. Even the first few miles were in a good groove and easy, like they should be in a marathon. And then, by eight miles, I felt like I was hitting the wall. I was just drained of energy one-third of the way through the race. Yikes.
Obviously not finishing the race is a huge disappointment. You train for years hoping to get a shot at this race, on the biggest stage and up against the best competition in the country, and it all falls apart before halfway. I still maintain that, judging by my workouts, I was (am) in the best shape of my life. Even in the heat, I thought a sub-2:20 was a distinct possibility.
But perhaps the biggest disappointment of all is for all the supporters I had going into this. My wife and family were there, as were friends and former coworkers. Back home, I had friends and family and coworkers and students all watching the race and following my results. I was so humbled by all the support, and it feels like I let all those people down. I'm proud of qualifying for the Trials, but almost ashamed of my performance there.
And the scary thing is, I don't really know what happened.
Was I overtrained? I don't think so...I backed off so much over the last 2-3 weeks that there's no way I didn't have time to recover. Plus all my runs had been feeling smooth leading up to the race.
Did I back off too much? Perhaps...about 70+ miles three weeks out, 50-60 two weeks out, and then negligible running the week of might have left me flat for race day. But then, I averaged that in the spring of 2013 and still had a decent race at Boston.
Was it the heat? Temperatures were hot to begin with in LA, and on the shade-free asphalt of the course it must have been in the mid-80s. The heat didn't help, but I can't imagine I was so severely dehydrated so early in the race.
Physiologically, I was ready to go. The only thing I can think of is that maybe psychologically I was not. Hear me out:
Fatigue is the body's response to stress. Most commonly in racing you fatigue because of the stress of running fast for an extended period of time. But other life stressors can contribute to fatigue.
In the week prior to the race, I had multiple different send-off events, TV interviews, and other various hoopla all around the Olympic Trials. I traveled across the country to race against the best running in America. I panicked being so far back in the field -- I could feel last place and I was terrified of being that guy. Not to mention all the pressure I put on myself to run a fast race. I even had a minor dental emergency (read: root canal) to deal with in the lead-up to the race.
I'm an introvert. Anything involving crowds and being outgoing is a stressor for me. The week leading up to the Trials, as it turns out, was packed with stress. Even though the physical stress was low, the psychological and emotional stress was high.
My best guess: I went into the race primed physically, but drained emotionally and psychologically. All those life stressors manifested themselves with unexpected fatigue early on in the race.
I went on to the biggest stage of my running career and psyched myself out. That sucks.
What I really want to do is race again as soon as possible. I mean, recover first (that's going to be an interesting process...) but then get back and compete again. I don't care what distance, I just want some measure of redemption; something to validate my training and fitness.
After a complete failure, sometimes the best thing to do is get right back after it. In the (possibly fictional) words of Shalane Flanagan: F.S.U.
As for the Trials: darn right I plan on being there again in four years. Now I just have four years to figure out the marathon.
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