I ordered the steak. I can substitute a salad for the garlic mashed? Why on Earth would I do that? Another bottle of wine? I think we will. Dessert? Yes, please.
Why should I care at this point, anyway?
These past few months have been a bit of a roller-coaster ride for me. I lost focus on my training. I can blame it on a lot of personal struggles – the laundry list of excuses are all there. But that’s all they are is excuses. Because running doesn’t care if you just went through a divorce. Running doesn’t care if you’ve moved into a new home or if you’re adjusting to life as a single father. Running only knows running – and if you’re not training properly for a big race such as a marathon, then running is going to get its revenge.
A few weeks ago, with a little less than two months left to train for the Marine Corps Marathon, I took an assessment of my fitness and it was not very good. My initial goal was to run back-to-back marathons in Washington DC and New York, but I knew right away that I was not going to get there and that it would be better to run only one this year. So I immediately deferred my NYC entry until 2016 and decided to focus only on the Marine Corps Marathon in DC.
I had a training plan to get there and initially things were fine. But week after week I would consistently miss my long-run distance targets. If I planned for 12 miles, I’d stop at 10. If I planned for 15, I stopped at 12. And last week, with only two weeks left until the race, I went out for 16 miles, and came to a painful, screeching halt at 11.5. It seemed the only thing I was really training myself for was failure.
I pondered this development over a few days. I couldn’t even finish a half marathon – what made me think I could complete a full one in only two more weeks? I thought about employing a run/walk strategy. But even when I walked a half marathon on the treadmill a few weeks ago (while watching The Walking Dead Marathon), my legs started to hurt over time. I feel like I weigh too much – I’m about 15 pounds north of my previous marathon-running weight. Maybe my form isn’t the best – I develop tremendous pain in my heels lately. Maybe it’s my sneakers – which are new but were the same style of what I’ve always used. All of these possibilities are worth exploring… but I only had two weeks!
Additionally, the MCM is not like the NYC Marathon in one big way: The Bridge. At mile 20, there’s a bridge, and if you don’t reach the bridge in what amounts to a 14-minute mile pace (which is 2 mins slower than my prior marathon averages, but I’m no longer in that kind of shape), they open it back up to traffic and force the slower runners to go onto a “straggler bus.” If you are on the straggler bus, you don’t get to finish.
Now, I’m no quitter. But I know when I’m beat. And I felt beat. If I had any other option; if there was any other way, I’d give it a shot. But there seemed like no other way. I sat down and wrote a difficult email to my contact at American Cancer Society’s DetermiNation team, essentially pulling myself out of the race.
And then there I was… at a business dinner, perusing a menu filled with delectable items that were now an option, since I had no reason to diet anymore. I took advantage of the moment and indulged. I went home and watched the Mets game and had a few beers before bed – another no-no. but who cares? A day with no workout and lots of calorie intake, but at this point it didn’t seem to matter.
The next morning I woke up and regret began to seep in, ever so slightly. I opened the car and saw the sheet with my bib number on it – but I couldn’t bring myself to throw it away. I had a conversation with my Dad and thought about making new plans to go see him the weekend of the race – which in an odd way made me feel more guilty for quitting. I thought about all the people who had donated to the American Cancer Society to support me and how they deserved to see me at least give it a go on race day. Furthermore, I’m just not a quitter. Even though she may never know or remember that Dad stayed home on race day, what kind of lesson was this teaching my 6-year old daughter?
Today the response from my initial withdrawal e-mail came, and it wasn’t a simple, “Ok. You’re out of the race.” Instead, it said, “I am pretty sure you will regret it more if you don’t do it, even if you have to walk. You will wish you had done it… trust me.” Ok… So I’m trusting you, Ramon Bermo. I’m doing it. My body has sent me signals in practice that I’m just not ready for it. I’m a fairly analytical person and I don’t know that my body is in any condition to complete the 26.2 mile journey. I can certainly see me earning a spot on the straggler bus. But I think in the end, that would still be better than quitting. So, I unquit.
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| All aboard the Straggler Bus |
One thing I know, is that you can always accomplish more than you thought you could if you just keep going. (I call that “Dori’s Rule” for you Finding Nemo fans. “Just keep swimming, just keep swimming…”) Last year’s NYC marathon was the hardest thing I ever did and I was in much better shape that time. In many ways that makes this challenge more difficult, but the only advantage I have now is to draw upon my prior experience. I need to devise a race plan that somehow reserves enough energy for me to make it 26.2 miles while avoiding the straggler bus. I’m resigned to the fact that it’s going to hurt – even if I am walking much of the time.
But I can’t quit. It’s not in me. Ramon was right about that. Two days after quitting, I regretted quitting. I would like to think that I would have gathered myself and turned my focus on the next task at hand (the Ft Lauderdale A1A Marathon in February, 2016). But there’s a chance that I would have kept on regretting it through more unhealthy dinners, bottles of wine, and however many playoff games the Mets might have left. Maybe I would have never got back on track.
So if you’ll excuse me, I have to go now. I have 10 days left to train for a marathon.
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