4:33:00. I did it. I completed my Year Defining Goal (YDG) for 2024. I ran a marathon.
I highlight ‘ran’, because walking at any point felt like not completing it.
That was my base goal headed into race morning. I didn’t want to set a time goal. It wasn’t fair to myself to put a time on something I was doing for the first time.
I used a goal strategy I call “Base, Mid, Stretch”. This isn’t a wild idea, and I am sure that someone else has a better title for it. But here is what each of those goals were:
- Base Goal: Finish the race without walking.
- Mid Goal: Beat a time of 4hrs 45min.
- Stretch Goal: Beat a time of 4hrs 15min.
For this type of goal setting to work, your base goal is all you can care about. It has to be something that feels like an accomplishment, but is also known to be achievable. Otherwise you leave an event feeling like you suck.
At the end of the day, it is already a huge accomplishment to have pulled it off in the first place.
I know myself. If I set a Base Goal of 4:45, and I got 4:48, I would have thought I failed. I did this during my first half marathon. The goal I set was break the 2 hour mark, which I missed by 24 seconds. Everyone told me “you did it!” But I knew…
What I should have been looking at was, “you ran further in one sitting that you have ever run in your life. How fucking awesome is that?!” But my brain didn’t compute.
I was successful in reaching my Base Goal, and I beat my Mid Goal. And my stretch was truly a stretch.
…
My wife is an amazing human. I am a lucky man.
This was a big moment for me, and I talked about it all year leading up to race day. But I didn’t feel like anyone cared. Probably a common feeling in today’s world.
I didn’t care if they didn’t care. I was doing this for myself. It was not about them.
Then something I never expected to happen, happened. My wife had invited every parent in my life – Mom, Dad, step-moms, in-laws – to come and support me on race day. It blew me away.
To have everyone be witness to this day is a memory I will take to my grave, and I am thankful they took time to come out and see me accomplish this.
…
All kids have a desire to be seen by their parents as successful. We all want that validation from our creators. Some of us never get it.
My parents have always been supportive. While they may not have been to every game, concert, speech, they have been at all the events that signaled achievement. Graduations, wedding, birthdays. I am blessed in this regard.
But to be honest, I figured after you turn 18, the only milestone left in a parent’s eye are getting wedded. Being married 10+ years ago, I figured those celebrations were long passed.
But my parents showed up on this day. Soul filling.
…
The day before the big day I was nervous.
“The race is the celebration of all the training you have done up to this point. Just have fun with it!”
“Why are you nervous? You aren’t even getting paid for this.”
“You got this!”
There were tons of words of encouragement, but it didn’t matter; I was nervous. A low level hum of anxiety in my body. I was restless, brimming with energy, but I needed space and quiet. It was a weird place to be in.
I was nervous I wasn’t going to be able to do it. I was nervous I was going to get hurt. I was nervous all these people showed up for nothing. I was nervous if I didn’t hit my base goal, that I was going to have to do it again.
I thought I was a long distance runner, not a mental gymnast…
My night sleep the night before was surprisingly good. I figured I would be a restless mess, but I slept like a log. The alarm popped off two hours before the race, and I began my routine.
…
Showing up to a big race like this, where 10,000+ people are coming together to do the same thing together is an amazing phenomena. This type of crowd never used to come together unless it was a battle in a war. Now we were all prepared to run, for fun, at the same time.
I had to pee.
So did literally everyone else. Even with bays of 50+ porta-potties, the line for each of them was 20 runners deep.
18 minutes later, with my business completed, I made my way to the starting chute.
…
Standing in the chute was nice. The morning was chilly, which made for good running weather, but being outside in as little gear as possible gave me the shivers. Luckily once you get in the chute you people surround and protect you from the wind.
There was a live national anthem, then fireworks, prior to us starting the race. It felt official. No turning back.
But then my phone stopped cooperating. The way I was going to track the distance, and the podcast-like coaching I was going to receive from Coach Bennett, were something I was looking forward to.
The cell towers were jammed with too many people.
I started to panic. The race started to run as the first waves were let out. The entire mob started to walk, nothing was downloading. The mob’s pace picked up and I had to start without the coach who got me to this point.
I crossed the starting line in silence.
Luckily about .5 miles down the road I was able to get it to download, but unfortunately the app has me only running a 25.8 mile run. I promise I ran the whole thing.
…
I always had a plan of coming out of the gate slowly. I am not sure I accomplished that, but I started in the back with the “slow” people. I didn’t take into account that we were going to be co-mingled with the half marathoners, and they were running at a faster pace. So, I was pacing myself incorrectly.
Fortunately the adrenaline of the day carried me.
I saw my family the first time at just shy of the 4 mile mark. Marcos ran with me a bit which was fun. I felt like I was in the Tour de France. I was expecting to see them, and I felt good.
The most shocking part that caught me off guard was Andy had made cut outs of my head on popsicle sticks. It was an awesome gesture that made me chuckle for miles.
…
The hardest part of the run is the mental game. Sure my legs started hurting around mile 21, but the mind has so many thoughts that it force feeds you the whole time. Good ones and bad ones. Some things on your to-do list. Some things that made me well up with pride that I was actually finishing this goal.
What I learned from this mental war that raged in my brain, was that thoughts come and go. They don’t hang around. But if you want them to hang around, you can do so by trying to hold on to them, OR by fighting like hell to get rid of them. The harder you push them away, the more set in stone they become.
It is a weird phenomena, like walking down the street. As you are strolling along the sidewalk, if you tip your cap, smile and say a gentle hello, the person keeps walking along on their day. Another person comes along and keeps moving.
But say it is an attractive person. Someone you want to hold on to. You grab them by the wrist, give them a big, almost creepy, smile and say “stay with me.” You may be able to hold that person’s wrist for as long as the person can’t out muscle you or get outside help. But as soon as you flinch they bolt away as fast as possible.
But then there is that last style of altercation. One where the person walks towards you. You get hostile and push them. You say “Fuck you, get away from me.” You get the exact opposite. You get a swinging right hook to the temple. They are ready to stick around and fight. That person’s pride is going to get the best of you or die trying.
This is the exact same as your thoughts. Learn to smile and nod.
…
I felt good for the first half – 13.1 miles. It was a good reminder of how far my fitness has come. I look back on that first half marathon and I realize how big of an accomplishment that was for me at the time. But during this race, that was the warm up. Although I was running at a slower pace, it was still pretty cool to feel that improvement.
There was the last big hill right after the halfway point, and I knew I could get in a stride after that. And that stride was comfortable until mile 21. Back to that in a second.
I lost contact with my family cheering posse during this stretch, but I had a surprise visit from Johana’s colleague, Joanne, which was a nice pick me up. She cheered, jumped, clapped. That is runner fuel. It works, I never believed that before.
I picked up a running companion around mile 17. The guy had caught up to me, but for some reason he hitched his wagon to me and hung around.
It was an unspoken companionship. We both knew, but we didn’t say anything. We were carrying one another through this stretch of the race. He stayed right off my left shoulder and together we made the “homestretch” turnaround at about mile 19. I heard his breathing begin to labor. I was carrying him at this moment.
It was a surreal experience to make community in that fashion. Two guys working together, for no other purpose than accomplishing our own personal goals.
Unfortunately, about a mile later there was an aid station. We both slowed down for water. Grabbed a cup, and walked three steps to drink it down. I started my trot. I never saw him again.
This is the one thing I still wonder about during this race. What happened to that guy? I will never know. I don’t know what he looks like, other than he was wearing a dark blue or black shirt with no sleeves. But I worry about him. I hope he made it to the finish line and accomplished his goal. I hope he enjoyed the day.
I hope he knows I am grateful for our time together.
…
I had a moment at mile 20. “Everything from here on out is unchartered territory.” To date that had been the longest I ran. A mental pat on the back, because I felt in control.
Then, somewhere between mile 21 and 22, things changed. I had my first cramp.
Muscle cramps, if you have never had them during working out, are not pleasant. They can completely lock you up. Your limb can stiffen and be near impossible to bend. And they scream with pain.
Lucky for me we didn’t start with a DEFCON 1 level cramp. It came on gradually on the top of my right calf. I cursed out loud in disappointment.
A little further down the road, my body offered to take my mind off my calf… my quad above my left knee starting to ping. “Oh dear, this is never a good sign.”
I had packed a lot of electrolytes into my water bottle I was carrying with me. But of the three bottles I started with I was empty on one, and down to 1/4 tanks in each of the others. I decided I need to slam them to curb any further advancements. From here on out I was running on empty.
The aid stations were sporadically spaced through the final 4 miles. They all had Powerade, but I stuck to water previously because I found they never mix it right and it can be way over concentrated. I didn’t care now though. I wasn’t failing at this point. I started taking double Powerade at each table.
Long story short, it worked.
…
The hardest part of this race was the day before. The nerves and concern for whether or not I would make it. But the second hardest part was the last 5-ish miles. It is a mental game. I had done the training and my body felt capable, besides the cramps. But the brain starts telling you some spy level sabotage.
The cramps were the start of that. The little hills that felt like bigger hills didn’t help. This stretch of the race has the least amount of spectators, so no cheering. It gets tough.
But there are two things I always came back to:
- I would be disappointed if I looked back at this moment and I had quit. “Don’t quit.”
- And something my wife always texts me when I doubt my self: “When you think you can’t, you fucking can.” (that is a lie, she never says the fucking part. I always add that to the mantra for a little extra fire!)
I worked through these things, over and over. I pumped my arms a little more on the up hills, and focused on my breath a bit more on the down.
I stayed in the moment, and knew it was fleeting, for good or bad.
…
I hit mile 25 and things started to hit me a bit. I was going to complete this. It wasn’t a question at this point. “I can do anything for a mile.”
It was crazy to look back at the 9-10 months that led up to this. Looking back at that moment, this was a stretch goal. A marathon seemed like a bridge too far. But today I did it. Proud of myself.
I came around the final turn into about a 1/4 mile straight stretch into the finish line. Each step battling the little cramps I had been keeping at bay. But I had to look tough now. There were family waiting for me, and they had cameras.
I crossed the finish line in 4 hours and 33 minutes. Not the fastest, not the slowest. But I did not stop. Again, I was proud. I got the gulp in my throat, apparently where tears originate from. They were of the happy variety.
…
Having my family witness this achievement meant a lot. Being seen is important in life, in healthy amounts. The hugs, the “so proud of you’s”, the pictures beaming with smiles. They mean the world.
My mom was the last one to come in for the event, so I had not seen her until crossing the finish line. She came in for the the finish of the race and a celebratory meal after. Her hug of validation is what a child yearns for. It felt warm and like home.
My dad was proud in his own way. He asked me why I hadn’t shit my pants or if I needed a diaper change. I can’t remember the exact joke. His approval was important too. Your parents have a weird pull on you, even when you battle so hard to make it not the case.
Jamie has always been my inspirational coach. She has that background, and she is good at boiling things down to matter of fact coach speak, but in a supportive pressure kind of way. Her support has always been palpable and her hugs are always welcomed. I love having her in my life.
Andy made a unique memory for me in this race that I will always be grateful for. Seeing my head on a half dozen popsicle sticks was the most humorous part of the race. I know lots of people around me got joy out of it as well. Her addition made this race extra special.
Blanca got some great pictures, and her support throughout of this has been beyond helpful. She checks in regularly, reaffirms my abilities, and lights candles for me. All which I am beyond grateful for. She also is somehow the fastest adult at the end of a race/event/moment. Her ability to swarm to you is next level. Her excited and emotional hug is something that I poke fun at, but it the most authentic hug you can ask for. It always adds to my soul.
Marcos is my aspirational figure in a lot of ways. His guidance as a father figure is something that came along with my union with my wife. He does not lead by words, but rather by presence. Not sure he knows how much he has rubbed off on me. But every step of the way on this journey, he has had influence. Having him run along side me like the Tour de France, is something that I will always remember about this event. His stoic presence, sitting in silence, is always welcome.
Eliana is the cutest cheerleader. Her high fives, “go daddy go’s” and “you got this’s” are things that carry me through a lot of moments during this training. While she was a trooper, and completely over it at the end of the race, her support during the race was enough. Thank you, sweet girl.
My wife is the shining beacon of my world. She is the lighthouse in the dark that helps me from beaching ashore the rocks. She brightens my days when the storms try to roll in. Her support through all this has been needed. As I sit here and type, I am wondering if I do enough in return to help her reach her goals. The way she rallied my family together to support me on this day was a special moment I will take to my grave. And the tears we shared at the finish line were some of the first I have had in a long time. I am grateful for her, forever and always.
…
I would say looking back on the year defining goal of a Marathon, it was a tough but perfect choice. It showed me that I could be disciplined. It taught me what feeling good and healthy was like again. I am not sure I noticed how unhealthy I felt when I started. Pains me for the rest of society. Not that everyone should run a marathon, but I felt like I was in decent shape/health at the beginning of the year and I was wrong. I can only imagine how the balance of society feels.
I can do hard things. That is a takeaway. I need to do hard things.
What I liked about the marathon is it had a plan, outlined by someone else, that felt like it had a little bit of accountability. It didn’t have a ton of variables, and it was a clear path that took brute force to achieve.
Also, speaking up and putting out your goals into the universe is important. I am not sure if it is the universe gifting it back to, or if it is gifting you accountability. But I had built up a level of internal shame of not finishing that kept the discipline in place. I am grateful for that but realize it may not be the healthiest of approaches.
It was an overall wonderful experience. And I leave this with one thought that I am not sure I have ever said to myself:
I am proud of me.