Redemption at
Chickamauga
After winning the 2010 Chickamauga Battlefield Marathon, I felt a certain obligation to go back in 2011. “Defend the title” if you will. Plus the competitive side of me liked the thought of being called “Repeat Champion.” I spent early summer of 2011 injured. I developed Achilles Tendonitis in my right leg that kept me from running for six weeks from June to July. When I finally got back to training, I had a small hitch in my giddy-up that caused some hamstring soreness in the late miles of all my long training runs. Nonetheless, I was able to get through three 20 mile runs and several workouts that fall, so I decided to stick with it and try the marathon again. The conceited side of me thought that if I had run 2:39:44 before, then I could at least match that while coming off injury and a little less trained. I went out at the same pace I did in 2010; 6 minutes a mile. At mile 18, my hamstring started to tighten up and I had to slow to 7 minutes a mile for the remainder of the marathon. As a result, I led the race for 22 miles until I was passed by James Pearce (who won in 2:39:51). I still managed to get second in 2:45:59, but finishing the race was the accomplishment that day. I had to spend more than 30 minutes in the medical tent. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Kristy so panicked or scared in my life.
I thought about that race for 364 days. It is easy to remember the wins. When everything goes as planned, you can celebrate and move on to the next goal. When things fall apart, you spend countless hours rehashing what you could have done differently and what you would do should you be given that opportunity again.
I was healthy all of 2012. I trained more that summer than I ever have before. More miles. Faster miles. Determined miles. Not a run went by that I didn’t think about getting passed after leading for 22 miles. I set personal bests in the 8K (26:59 at Pigeon Forge Midnight 8K) and half marathon (1:12:47 at Columbus Half Marathon) in tune-ups prior to the 2012 Chickamauga Battlefield Marathon. I went into race day confident. I wanted to run my race. I wanted to start off relaxed, and finish strong. I wanted to hit that 18 mile mark and feel healthy. I wanted to get to 22 miles and push the throttle. I wanted to cross the line and immediately hug my wife and son.
When the cannon sounded, two men went out ahead of me; both of them were running the half marathon. I keyed off them but kept my distance as they were running just slightly faster than I wanted to run. My first 6 mile splits looked like this: 5:56, 6:01, 5:56, 5:55, 5:56, 6:01. Right after the six mile mark, the half marathoners went one way, the full marathoners went another. The bike lead who was picking me up said “I guess you’re my guy.” “Yep,” I said. “Just you and me.”
As I followed him, my next two miles were 5:56 and 5:58. At mile eight, the marathon course takes an out and back section. It is approximately half of a mile in one direction, so the whole section is one mile once you have doubled back. I was exiting that section as the second place runner was entering. I knew at that point that I was exactly a mile ahead, and at least 6 minutes ahead. Miles 9-14 were 5:57, 6:04, 6:00, 5:54, 6:01, 5:55. Just after mile 14, I saw Kristy at the northernmost point of the Battlefield loop. She told me I looked great. I smiled, nodded my head, and kept on. Miles 15-18 looked like this: 5:58, 5:59, 5:57, 6:06. This is at the southernmost point of the loop which happens to be the hilliest section of the course. The 6:06 split for 18 made me a bit nervous, but I took a deep breath, remembered how I had felt a year earlier, and focused on the job at hand. I would see Kristy again just before mile 20; keep on pace until then, and then go from there. Mile 19 was 6:02. I saw Kristy at 19.5 and knew that the next time I would see her would be at the finish line. Mile 20 was 6:01.
As anyone who has run a marathon before knows, the last 10K can be just as difficult as the first 20 miles. The huge advantage to a double loop course, in my opinion, is that I am passing lots of half marathoners at this point in the race. They were great. All of them cheering me on and shouting words of encouragement. Mile 21 was a 6:12. At 21.5, I am again exiting that out and back section. There is no sign of the second place runner. I know that I am at least a mile (and at least 6 minutes) ahead of second place. My guess was that I had doubled that gap since the first time going in and out of that section. I wasn’t feeling great. And I knew with the advantage that I had, that even pulling off the throttle some would enable me to coast in for a victory. The worst thing to do at this point is overdo it and end up not being able to finish the race. Mile 22 was another 6:12. Even though I wasn’t feeling great (of course not…it was mile 22 of a marathon!), as I passed that exact spot that James Pearce had passed me the year before, I felt a sense of rejuvenation. Finish strong. Let’s do this. Mile 23 was a 6:07. Mile 24 was a 6:05. During the last two miles, the course exits the Battlefield loop and goes through an off-road section that was rocky, muddy, and slippery. Nonetheless, I was passing tons of half marathoners and felt the synergy between them, the spectators, and myself. Mile 25 was a 6:16. Mile 26 was a 6:28. I rounded the corner onto Barnhardt Circle with a completely different feeling than I had had the year before. As I turned to the finish line, I saw Kristy and Jackson about 50 yards short of the line. She was cheering but screaming at me. I recognized the scream and knew it meant one of only two things: There was a guy on my heels, or I was about to hit a significant time goal. Either way, I had to hammer it home. I ran the last 0.2 at a 5:41 pace; good enough to hit the line in 2:38:52. As soon as I finished, I gave my wife a hug and a kiss. I kneeled down and gave Jackson a hug and put the finisher medal around his neck. I felt amazing. I felt redeemed. I felt fresh. I even played with Jackson on the bounce houses less than an hour later. Second place ended up being 2:56. While I didn’t have anyone pushing me on that day, it was a day that I was not going to be denied.
As I write this, it has been six weeks since I won that race. I don’t have any regrets about my training, my race plan, or my performance this time. Some days I remember “I won a marathon recently.” Some days I don’t.
After winning the 2010 Chickamauga Battlefield Marathon, I felt a certain obligation to go back in 2011. “Defend the title” if you will. Plus the competitive side of me liked the thought of being called “Repeat Champion.” I spent early summer of 2011 injured. I developed Achilles Tendonitis in my right leg that kept me from running for six weeks from June to July. When I finally got back to training, I had a small hitch in my giddy-up that caused some hamstring soreness in the late miles of all my long training runs. Nonetheless, I was able to get through three 20 mile runs and several workouts that fall, so I decided to stick with it and try the marathon again. The conceited side of me thought that if I had run 2:39:44 before, then I could at least match that while coming off injury and a little less trained. I went out at the same pace I did in 2010; 6 minutes a mile. At mile 18, my hamstring started to tighten up and I had to slow to 7 minutes a mile for the remainder of the marathon. As a result, I led the race for 22 miles until I was passed by James Pearce (who won in 2:39:51). I still managed to get second in 2:45:59, but finishing the race was the accomplishment that day. I had to spend more than 30 minutes in the medical tent. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Kristy so panicked or scared in my life.
I thought about that race for 364 days. It is easy to remember the wins. When everything goes as planned, you can celebrate and move on to the next goal. When things fall apart, you spend countless hours rehashing what you could have done differently and what you would do should you be given that opportunity again.
I was healthy all of 2012. I trained more that summer than I ever have before. More miles. Faster miles. Determined miles. Not a run went by that I didn’t think about getting passed after leading for 22 miles. I set personal bests in the 8K (26:59 at Pigeon Forge Midnight 8K) and half marathon (1:12:47 at Columbus Half Marathon) in tune-ups prior to the 2012 Chickamauga Battlefield Marathon. I went into race day confident. I wanted to run my race. I wanted to start off relaxed, and finish strong. I wanted to hit that 18 mile mark and feel healthy. I wanted to get to 22 miles and push the throttle. I wanted to cross the line and immediately hug my wife and son.
When the cannon sounded, two men went out ahead of me; both of them were running the half marathon. I keyed off them but kept my distance as they were running just slightly faster than I wanted to run. My first 6 mile splits looked like this: 5:56, 6:01, 5:56, 5:55, 5:56, 6:01. Right after the six mile mark, the half marathoners went one way, the full marathoners went another. The bike lead who was picking me up said “I guess you’re my guy.” “Yep,” I said. “Just you and me.”
As I followed him, my next two miles were 5:56 and 5:58. At mile eight, the marathon course takes an out and back section. It is approximately half of a mile in one direction, so the whole section is one mile once you have doubled back. I was exiting that section as the second place runner was entering. I knew at that point that I was exactly a mile ahead, and at least 6 minutes ahead. Miles 9-14 were 5:57, 6:04, 6:00, 5:54, 6:01, 5:55. Just after mile 14, I saw Kristy at the northernmost point of the Battlefield loop. She told me I looked great. I smiled, nodded my head, and kept on. Miles 15-18 looked like this: 5:58, 5:59, 5:57, 6:06. This is at the southernmost point of the loop which happens to be the hilliest section of the course. The 6:06 split for 18 made me a bit nervous, but I took a deep breath, remembered how I had felt a year earlier, and focused on the job at hand. I would see Kristy again just before mile 20; keep on pace until then, and then go from there. Mile 19 was 6:02. I saw Kristy at 19.5 and knew that the next time I would see her would be at the finish line. Mile 20 was 6:01.
As anyone who has run a marathon before knows, the last 10K can be just as difficult as the first 20 miles. The huge advantage to a double loop course, in my opinion, is that I am passing lots of half marathoners at this point in the race. They were great. All of them cheering me on and shouting words of encouragement. Mile 21 was a 6:12. At 21.5, I am again exiting that out and back section. There is no sign of the second place runner. I know that I am at least a mile (and at least 6 minutes) ahead of second place. My guess was that I had doubled that gap since the first time going in and out of that section. I wasn’t feeling great. And I knew with the advantage that I had, that even pulling off the throttle some would enable me to coast in for a victory. The worst thing to do at this point is overdo it and end up not being able to finish the race. Mile 22 was another 6:12. Even though I wasn’t feeling great (of course not…it was mile 22 of a marathon!), as I passed that exact spot that James Pearce had passed me the year before, I felt a sense of rejuvenation. Finish strong. Let’s do this. Mile 23 was a 6:07. Mile 24 was a 6:05. During the last two miles, the course exits the Battlefield loop and goes through an off-road section that was rocky, muddy, and slippery. Nonetheless, I was passing tons of half marathoners and felt the synergy between them, the spectators, and myself. Mile 25 was a 6:16. Mile 26 was a 6:28. I rounded the corner onto Barnhardt Circle with a completely different feeling than I had had the year before. As I turned to the finish line, I saw Kristy and Jackson about 50 yards short of the line. She was cheering but screaming at me. I recognized the scream and knew it meant one of only two things: There was a guy on my heels, or I was about to hit a significant time goal. Either way, I had to hammer it home. I ran the last 0.2 at a 5:41 pace; good enough to hit the line in 2:38:52. As soon as I finished, I gave my wife a hug and a kiss. I kneeled down and gave Jackson a hug and put the finisher medal around his neck. I felt amazing. I felt redeemed. I felt fresh. I even played with Jackson on the bounce houses less than an hour later. Second place ended up being 2:56. While I didn’t have anyone pushing me on that day, it was a day that I was not going to be denied.
As I write this, it has been six weeks since I won that race. I don’t have any regrets about my training, my race plan, or my performance this time. Some days I remember “I won a marathon recently.” Some days I don’t.
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