Trip Report: 12th Annual Long Branch Half Marathon, May 4, 2008 by MGG

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This past Sunday I ran my first Half Marathon. It was incredibly painful. For those of you who may never get to experience an event like this, please let me describe my experience, accompanied by a glaring lack of my own photographs.

My adventure started one Friday or Saturday evening in late March when I came home drunk. I was chatting with a friend online who told me she was running this half marathon, and that I should sign up. At the time I had been running, but no further than 6 miles on any given day. So 13.1 seemed like a challenge I might be up for.

I sat down and planned out how I would train, and even drew a nifty calendar. Here is that calendar, which you most likely cannot make anything out on because my cell phone camera is terrible.

 

All of my “long days” were on Mondays or Tuesdays, which were the 24^th and 31^st of March, and the 8^th, 15^th and 22^nd of April. At least, that is what I had planned. I scheduled to take off every Wednesday and Sunday, which I did. I also planned to run a 5k on April 26^th as a speed workout, so I planned to take off the day before that race. As you could imagine, my calendar did not exactly go as planned.

The first three weeks of training went very well. On Monday March 24^th, I ran 8 miles in 1 hour and 8 minutes. On March 31^st, I ran 9 miles in 1 hour and 16 minutes. On Tuesday April 8^th, I ran 10 miles in 1 hour and 26 minutes. The first whole week, I ran approximately 23 miles. The second week, I ran about 21 miles, including a timed 5 mile run on the treadmill that I finished 36 mins and 51 seconds. The third week, I ran a total of 22 miles, including some timed miles at 6:14 and 6:08 respectively. So far, so good.

On Thursday, April 11^th, I went for a 5 mile run on the treadmill at my gym and almost sprained my ankle when I stepped wrong. It really started to hurt to walk. So, I decided to do the reasonable thing and take some time off. How much time? 2 days. Any doctor will tell you that any ankle injury only takes 2 days to heal. So, on Monday I went for a 3 mile run on the treadmill, but used an Ace Bandage on my ankle. The Ace, not unlike Radioactive Man’s goggles, did nothing. I was in a lot of pain, and decided to ride the stationary bike the next day. Still not much better. I proceeded to force myself to take the next 5 days off. I went on a trip to North Carolina for a bachelor party, and managed to not subject my ankle to any strenuous activity.

My first run back was on Monday April 21, when I ran a little over 4 miles on the treadmill. It did not go great. My ankle was still sore. That night, and the next morning, I just said “fuck it, I’m going to keep training and if my ankle breaks so be it.” The next day I set out for an 11 mile run, which was surprisingly uneventful ankle-wise, and I finished in 1 hour and 35 mins. It was during this run that I realized how hard it was going to be to run 13.1. My ankle actually somehow felt better after this run, but it was the first time that I was incredibly mentally and physically exhausted. That Saturday, the 26^th, I ran the 5k, which went ok, I think I finished in about 21 mins and 30 seconds, but I was pretty pissed off at myself because I ran the last 1.2 miles or so like a pussy.

Race week, starting on April 28^th, I ran 3 miles on Monday, 8 on Tuesday, and 5 on Thursday. I planned to take off Friday and Saturday, and then the race was Sunday. I also had to start thinking about race day arrangements. I had to go to Long Branch to pick up my timing chip, and get my bib number. At this point I had given zero thought to what the weather might be, but it was very possible that it might rain race day. I think I was pretty indifferent to the weather, as long as it wasn’t absurdly windy.

I drove to Long Branch on Saturday, where they have a huge tent set up on the boardwalk right by the starting line for people to pick up their stuff. It was raining, and ridiculously windy. Awesome. So I get my stuff, and was going to make my way back to Spring Lake Heights. I had planned to stay there at my Aunt Kathy’s house that night, so I could take the train from there Sunday morning. I had received about 25 notifications and emails from race officials begging me not to drive to the race because there would be so much traffic due to the 8500 competitors and thousands of other spectators. I complied. You’re welcome town of Long Branch! I ate dinner with my parents in Manasquan, and went to my Aunt’s house where I took Ambien and went to sleep at 10pm.

 

My alarm ruined my life at 5am, and I woke up and got my shit together. I drove to the train station, and got on the train at 5:37am. I ate a Snickers Marathon bar on the way, and I hoped I wasn’t fucking up my body’s chemistry by eating the whole thing since I was only running a half marathon. They really should come out with a Snickers Half Marathon bar so I don’t run into this problem again. The train got to Long Branch at around 6:05, and I walked with a bunch of people to the race start. There was some kind of convention hall nearby where you could drop off your bags, so I did that and stretched, and took an awesome dump before I went outside. The weather was pretty chilly and a little misty, not too windy though. I walked around and drank some water, and eventually lined up for the race at about 7:20am.

The crowd was huge, and they had race pacers standing in there with flags that had projected finishing times on them. I expected to finish in about 1 hour and 51 minutes, so I stood near the guy with the “3:40 finish” flag. I was pretty proud of my math skills at that moment. It also hit me that I was planning to go for a 2 hour run in a few minutes. They had the national anthem, and the singer decided to change the lyrics to “…gave TOOTH through the night, that our flag was still there…” I don’t know who the bombs bursting in air were giving tooth to, but it was an interesting twist. Then, they were ready to start. “RUNNERS, TAKE YOUR MARKS…..5, 4, 3, 2 (fuck this thing is about to start), 1 (I can’t believe I’m about to do this)…….GO!!!!!” Then I stood there for approximately one minute not moving. Ok, now start.

So, we start running. I cross the first mile marker in 9:38 seconds or so, but I also took into account that it took me about 1 min and 20 seconds to even get to the starting line. I spent the rest of the race subtracting a minute or so from every mile marker. My goal was to get through 5 miles and feel like I had not strained at all yet. I did just that, and crossed the 5 mile marker at 43 mins (42 to me), and I was feeling great. There were several water stations along the way, and I did not anticipate how hard it is to drink water/Gatorade and run at the same time. At about the 3 mile mark was the first time I grabbed a cup, and I almost choked to death trying to drink. There were a lot of random fans standing around cheering. My bib number had my name on it, so people were yelling “Go …(get a closer look)…Matt!!! Good job!!” That was actually pretty cool.

Mile 6, still pretty uneventful. Mile 7, still feeling good. Mile 7.5 or so is the first time I really started to feel fatigued. I’m getting better at drinking while I run, though. I saw a guy in front of me take a cup and dump most of it out, so there’s only one sip in there and then quick gulp it, so I started doing that. Mile 8 on was a gradual descent into excruciating pain that I will now chronicle.

Around the 9 mile marker is the first time that a runner next to me stopped running. A young guy just stops running out of nowhere. That was mentally pretty damaging. I’m also starting to think about the fact that I have about 35 more minutes to go. It’s at about the 9.5 mile marker that I start very desperately looking to see if I can see the next mile marker, and this would continue for the rest of the race. I hit the 10 mile mark and notice that I’m still running next to 2 girls that I was next to at the 5 mile mark. This gave me a little bit of confidence because at the 5 mile mark, their dad said “Great pace, girls!” So I was going at the same great pace (girls) as they were. I don’t know if their dad was including me in the “great pace” comment, but I could pretend he was.  At the 10 mile marker was the first time I thought that I might not make it. I had 3.1 miles to go, which was at least 25 more mins. The thought was unbearable.

As you can see on the map, most of miles 10.1 through 13.1 were straight. Once we got onto the one straight away, I just decided to try to take it mile by mile. I made it to the 11 mile marker, but I would describe my pain at this point as “very noticeable” and my chances of vomiting were “moderate”. I slowed down to about 85% of the pace I had been running, and just put my head down and focused on the Jimmy Eat World CD I was listening to. I also started passing some people who were collapsed on the side of the road, and were receiving medical attention. I was glad that I was not them. At about the 11.7 mile mark, we made a turn towards the beach, and I knew the rest of the race would be a straight away to the finish line. I actually wasn’t too excited about this because turning is more exciting than just running straight. I could, however, see the 12 mile marker. I was also running next to a couple wearing identical outfits, and the wife was breathing like she had recently gotten a tracheotomy and sounded like she may be dying. The husband kept reaching back to hold her hand, and I was thinking that someone trying to hold my hand would probably be the #1 most annoying thing that could happen at the end of the race.

So I finally get on to the boardwalk, and I am in pure agony at the 12.5 mile mark. I can see the finish line, though, so I knew I was going to finish. There was also a building crowd, and more people yelling. The last 5 minutes of the race or so were pure delirium, but I was getting closer and closer to the finish line. I could see the big clock. I was going to finish in about 1 hour and 54 mins (53 mins for me), and I was pretty happy about that. When I was about 100 yards away, they saw my number and said “Matt Gerber from Toms River, NJ!!” over the loud speaker, and a bunch of people cheered, and I gave the “I’m #1″ hand signal as I crossed the finish line. My final “chip time” (from when my timing chip crossed the start line, until it crossed the finish line) was 1 hour, 52 minutes and 53 seconds, which was an 8:37 mile pace. I ended up finishing 633^rd out of 3,701 competitors. I was pretty delirious for about 20 minutes, I drank 3 bottles of water and eventually went back to where I left my bag, I got changed, walked back to the train, and then drove home.

Today, I am ridiculously sore, and called out of work to recover. I also got a massive blister, and my injured ankle is not feeling great. I am very, very glad that the race is over, and I’m even more glad that I made it the whole way without stopping. I don’t plan to run anything close to 13 miles any time soon, but I am glad that I did, and I feel like I will eventually attempt some longer runs, possibly a full marathon, or as the guy at the sneaker store asked me today, “when are you going to jump up to the full mari???”. Well, I can’t imagine possibly running twice as long as I ran yesterday, but anything could happen. 

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Tags: ambien, long branch, marathon, new jersey, running, Sports