State Number 38
– 26.2 with Donna Marathon
Jacksonville,
FL
11 February
2018
Finishing a marathon is one of the greatest feelings
in the world, whether it’s your first or the hundredth, single or a double, the
feeling never changes. Finishing one is
also a state of mind that proves anything can be possible if one believes in
himself. Knowing that I am running a
marathon for a beneficial cause left me with a great feeling.
After my humdrum performance at Hilton Head, I had no
expectations of a sub-five hour marathon.
In fact, I had seven hours to complete this one. For me, the hot, humid and sticky atmospheric
conditions unquestionably made running less than ideal and all I could do was
dig down in my inner strength and think of those struggling to beat breast
cancer.
The National Marathon to Finish Breast Cancer, also a
part of the DONNA Mission, is to raise funds for groundbreaking breast cancer
research and women living with the disease.
The foundation’s goal, in their own words:
“The
DONNA Foundation is a non-profit organization in Northeast Florida producing
the only marathon in the U.S. dedicated to breast cancer research, awareness
and care. Its mission is to provide financial assistance and support to
individuals living with breast cancer and fund ground breaking breast cancer
research.
The
DONNA Foundation provides financial assistance for the critical needs of women
and men living with breast cancer. To
date, The DONNA Foundation has served more than 10,000 families. The DONNA
Foundation also helped to develop and maintain the Mayo Clinic Breast Cancer
Translational Genomics Program. Ongoing
funding from the foundation make it possible for the laboratory team not only
to conduct state of the art breast cancer research, including the widely
publicized Triple Negative Breast Cancer Vaccine Trials, but also provide
genomics support for studies in all cancers.”
I would bet that everyone knows someone stricken with
breast cancer – I certainly do. Whether
it’s a family member, friend, colleague or just an acquaintance, this terrible
disease claims too many lives.
This popular annual event draws droves of both pink
and non-pink clad runners and supporters to northeastern Florida. Now in its eleventh year, the theme of this
years’ event was aptly titled “#FindYourFinish.” Approximately 3500 runners (half, full and the
numerous relay teams) participated in this annual fund raising event.
It goes without saying that relaxing after a grueling
marathon is a wonderful feeling. As we
motored off Hilton Head Island southbound I-95 back towards Jacksonville, I was
glad we had already picked up our Donna Marathon swag Friday morning allowing
us to direct ourselves to our hotel located in Jacksonville Beach in lieu of
fighting with the traffic in downtown Jacksonville.
Sitting idle in the car for nearly three hours comes with a
price to pay. The extreme stiffness I experienced
proves getting out of a car can be a difficult task, but once I resumed some kind
of freedom of movement, walking became a little easier. Following a shower and a lengthy soaking in
the hot tub, I felt re-energized. However;
the elusive question hung over our heads – what to have for our pre-race dinner
meal. We first tried a nearby Mexican
establishment, but with valet parking and what seemed to be a long waiting list,
we said, “No thanks!” I hate handing my
keys to some stranger so they can park my car – especially with a rental car.
At the corner of Beach Boulevard and A1A stood the
Burrito Gallery. The Burrito Gallery features
a wide variety of Tex-Mex cuisine dishes.
Because the nightlife on a Saturday night can be a little chaotic at
times, we had to wait a few minutes to be seated, but with a variety of mounted
flat screen TVs showing various sporting programs, my mind was directed away
from the wait.
To satisfy my seemingly unbounded craving of Cajun
food, I ordered a Cajun mahi-mahi burrito which I drenched with the house’s green
sauce. Delicious, but I thought it
needed a little extra kick (I didn’t sweat enough).
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| In front of our hotel |
We were exhausted and turned in early. Usually, quality sleep before a marathon can
be an impossible task, but with all the travel and 26.2 miles under my belt, I surprisingly
felt restored and rested the following morning.
I felt a little nervous about Sunday’s marathon. With morning temperatures hovering around 70°F,
the atmosphere’s high dew point was apparent.
There was this unnerving hazy darkness permeating throughout the beach
communities that had me concerned – I don’t do well with heat and
humidity. If the sun breaks through the
clouds, I may be in for some misfortune.
From what the athlete’s guide book emphasized, marathon
morning traffic on Highway A1A leading from the beach communities can become
very congested. Even though the parking
lot near the start line at TPC Sawgrass in Ponte Vedra Beach was only eight
miles from the hotel, we left about an hour early to play it safe. At that time, traffic was light and we
managed to secure a spot close the runner’s village and the start line.
TPC Sawgrass is a posh resort and golf club and the
site of the PGA’s Players Championship, one of the tour’s annual signature
events. I thought to myself, “Why am I
running the streets of northeast Florida?
I could be running a golf cart and swinging my clubs on those exclusive
golf course fairways instead.” I can
only dream, but I had a mission ahead of me and I was determined to complete
it, come hell or high water.
The weather was overcast, foggy, a little on the warm
side and very muggy. Because of this
unseasonable weather, I knew what kind of day awaited me – misery, to put it
lightly. But I kept in mind that the
pain and discomfort over five-plus hours pales in comparison to the
wretchedness cancer treatments may bring.
I strolled over to the runner’s village to peruse the region
and to loosen my muscles a little.
Besides ten times the number of porta-potties Hilton Head provided,
runners could munch on powdered doughnuts to bananas, or drink some water,
electrolyte drinks, hot chocolate or coffee for those who need that morning caffeine
fix.
Besides food and beverages, a runner could also
indulge in pre-race massages, visit the Mayo Clinic’s dermatology and pain management
tent for some sunscreen application, enjoy some of Jacksonville’s classic country
music provided by WQIK, or listen to featured speakers (which we heard from the
comfort of our car) – marathoner Donna Deegan (founder of the DONNA Foundation)
and former Olympic marathoners Joan Benoit-Samuelson and Jeff Galloway.
Jeff couldn’t stress enough that the weather was not
conducive to a PR and everyone, from the novice to the experienced, should be
mindful of his advice and take it slow, keep hydrated and most importantly,
listen to what your body is telling you.
Joan echoed those sentiments and how it was a pleasure to be a DONNA
ambassador while Donna expressed gratitude with all the supporters and runners
coming from all corners of the U.S. Her
enthusiastic energy seemed to transfer to all the participants and volunteers
that make this marathon a successful event.
The
first thirteen. When
0730 rolled around, it was game time. I
was a little late securing a decent place in the sea of runners crammed onto
ATP Tour Blvd. I wanted to be close the
first starting wave near the 4:45 pace group, but the gridlock of runners
prevented that from happening so I wound up in the third wave.
It was a sea of pink through the parade of runners as I
launched my journey in the third wave nearly eight minutes after the sound of a
confetti gun before I crossed the timing mat as Mardi Gras colored confetti
flakes rained down over the runners. I
charged out weaving around hundreds of runners and walkers hoping to catch up
to the 4:45 pace group – but to no avail.
Before the first mile on A1A concluded, I was sweating profusely. I quickly found out it was just too hot to
sustain my pace, succumbing to the desire to catch the group. I stopped to walk after one mile to wait for
the 5-hour pace group to approach, which allowed me to cool off a bit. Besides, I was in no hurry and I knew a
sub-five hour run was completely off the table.
The marathon organizers teamed up with Jeff Galloway
and his crew of certified pacers. All
the race’s pacing groups employed his method of run-walk-run. The five-hour group used the 60:30 ratio,
running for one minute and walking for thirty seconds averaging 11:27 per
mile.
I once used the Galloway method while pacing 5:30 at
Shiprock, NM (State No. 16), except I would run for four minutes and walk for
two minutes. I was curious if I could
keep up with the 60:30 ratio, but quickly found out it actually got a little
tiresome.
The two co-pace leaders seemed to be preoccupied with
counting down when it was time to run or time to walk since neither sported one
of Jeff’s timer watches. “3-2-1
walk…3-2-1 run.” I found the pace to be
just right for me considering the heat index – although the leaders were
maintaining an 11:05 pace average. Moans
and groans emanated from some runners in the group and complained that their
pace was a tad too fast. The leaders
seemed to ignore that fact hinting that most will drop off sooner or later. Not cool.
At around 1.5 miles, the course made a sharp right on to
Corona Road making a left onto Ponte Vedra Blvd a short distance later. At this point, the warm humid air suddenly
transformed into a welcomed cool ocean breeze.
For the next ten miles, the course paralleled the
Atlantic Ocean through the beach communities of Jacksonville Beach, Neptune
Beach and Atlantic Beach. In spots, the
air turned warm and humid, but overall, the cool ocean air seemed to be the
norm. I couldn’t help but notice many
homes, hotels and businesses were still in rebuilding phase after Hurricane
Irma swept through the area in September 2017.
Cheering sections were plentiful throughout the quaint
downtown sections of the beach communities along the Atlantic strand. From college fraternities/sororities,
churches, businesses, family support to strangers cheering strangers, the
never-ending runner support was amazing and uplifting. Individuals and groups holding posters
reading “Boobies”, “We love our ta-tas”, “AtTITude”, “F**k cancer” and many
other variations relating to breast cancer seemed to be the customary messages.
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| One of many messages along the course |
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| Didn't see anyone being examined |
On First Street North just past Marathon Mile 8, our
hotel appeared to my right. On the opposite
side, the Marathon Mile 19 banner hung from a cherry picker. I certainly looked forward to passing by that
banner on my way to the finish line. I
admit, the temptation was there to dash off to our room for a little rest –
perhaps wait for the group to return before rejoining. I cannot cheat myself, besides intermediate
check points are placed at strategic locations.
I intended to keep up with the five-hour group to the
half marathon timing mat. While still
maintaining a faster than the requisite pace, the group crossed the split five
minutes fast (2:25). I believe two
minutes fast is acceptable – but five?
Not good.
Mile
13 to Mile 23. From
Marathon Miles 13 to 16, the course wound through the streets of beautiful tree
lined residential streets of Atlantic Beach before essentially backtracking
along the streets we once ran.
I let the 5-hour group go on their merry way and I
began to run my own race. The rising heat
index, coupled with the fatigue of Saturday’s marathon, began to severely
affect my performance and mental state.
I looked forward to seeing the Marathon Mile 19
banner, and before I knew it, there it was, hanging proudly from the cherry
picker near our hotel. With seven miles
remaining, I had to resort to some mind games to get me through. My internal voice kept telling me it’s time
to stop, but I quickly subdued it while thinking of those I know experiencing
breast cancer treatments. My pain was
only a temporary inconvenience, but I had to do it for them. The cheering crowds got me through some
difficult stretches of the course.
The clouds began to break as I approached Marathon
Mile 20 and the brutal sun was becoming problematic. I resorted to the quarter mile walk – quarter
mile run routine for the next three miles until reaching the feared on-ramp to
J. Turner Butler Blvd leading into Jacksonville and the finish line at the Mayo
Clinic. My wife texted me that the final
three miles were along a freeway section and very difficult running conditions
were ahead. I prepared myself and thought,
“OMG, am I going to make it?” I knew of
the stretch of roadway, but I didn’t know it was a freeway.
Eventually, the walking stints gradually became longer
and longer until I completely gave up “running” if one could call it that. My new goal was to break six hours, but at
times, I wondered if that was even possible.
I mustered up the strength and stamina to run up the
curvilinear on-ramp incline from A1A to the apex of the Butler/A1A grade
separation. The heat was intense and I
was in desperate need of some hydration.
My body screamed at me to begin walking.
From what Jeff alluded to earlier in the morning, I listened.
The substantial cross-slope of the freeway shoulder
caused painful blisters to form on both feet.
In a very short time, walking became painful and I was rapidly turning
into a mess.
The
final five kilometers.
Finally, at Marathon Mile 24 near the beginning of the Intracoastal
Waterway viaduct, a water station appeared from the mirage. I grabbed several cups of water, dumping some
over my head, while snatching a couple cups of ice chips in the meantime. I savored that ice and kept it with me until
I consumed it all.
The sun was intense and powerful throughout the entire
freeway section of the course. My wife
was right – the final 5K would be tough and miserable. There was zero shade over the viaduct spanning
the swampy waterway marsh lands. The
concrete surface was sizzling, the sun was searing and I was glad I lathered up
with sunscreen before the race. Off in
the far distance looked to be a steep incline over the Intracoastal Waterway’s
main channel analogous to the Matterhorn protruding out of the Swiss Alps. It was dispiriting, but I kept walking,
enduring the blister pain, intense sun and aching muscles. What I found astounding were all the old
carcasses, tools, car parts, bumpers, hub caps, nuts, bolts, nails and assorted
crap littering the freeway.
My wife texted me wondering about my progress with less
than two miles remaining. I responded
that I was dying, taking it slow and should take another hour or so to finish. She said to hang on and that I was the hero
for the day.
The road grade began a gradual exponential increase
(at least to the point of inflection) as I ascended the bridge near Marathon
Mile 25. Out of nowhere, the 5:30 pace
group passed by. How anyone could run up
that grade at that time of day was a mystery and I was surprised how many
people were in that group. I conceived
that stragglers joined in hoping to get inspiration and encouragement from the
leaders to finish strong. Not for this
foot-dragging soul. I was set in my ways
doing my own race.
At the apex of the bridge, a good-humored man perched
upon a pair of stilts (I referred to him as Tall Man) greeted and high-fived
all who passed over the “hump”. A convoy
of Ashley Furniture trucks decked out in pink parked alongside the bridge
railings gave me a little time in the shade they provided. Drivers sat in each truck with bored, tired
and uninterested expressions on their faces.
I imagine sitting there in the hot sun for hours on end watching
worn-out runners could affect ones outlook on life. Off to my right, I could see the buildings of
the Mayo Clinic above the tree canopy. I
could hear faint sounds of the announcer and the cheers of the on-looking
crowds. I was close, but yet so far
away.
Yahoo, the final half mile! It was downhill, but I had no desire to
run. I walked with a hoard of course
volunteers who had wrapped up a day on the course and I was envious of their
fresh legs. I followed the young
volunteers as I made a right turn at the end of the off-ramp onto San Pablo
Road South (Marathon Mile 26). A police
officer called out to me to use the southbound lanes only. I said, “Sorry, but I’m very hot and not I’m
not thinking straight.”
There it was – the finish line gantry just 0.2 mile to
go. I continued to walk and told myself
I will run at the Half Marathon Mile 13 banner.
As I approached that banner, I forced myself to pick up the pace. The blisters were excruciating, but I pushed
it to the end and finished strong (at least felt like it) in a time of 5:38:57. What a relief!
Age
graded score: 41.56%
Age
graded time: 4:55:50
Average
time: 5:01:08
Standard
deviation: 1:00:10
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| Note the temperature |
I quickly took a water bottle from a volunteer, walked
over to my wife and leaned against the barrier rail happy to close out this
chapter. Once I received my large rather
handsome gold finisher’s medal featuring two dolphins on the perimeter with a
spinning ribbon logo in the middle, it was time to take a load off my tender
and throbbing dogs. Knowing how
unpleasant it is to get up out of a chair after sitting idle for a while, it
was worth the troublesomeness.
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| Whew, it's hot! So glad to be done! |
Much to my surprise, runners were offered unlimited
beer, but had to use their two beverage tickets for other drinks. I was in no mood for a beer or any food item for
that matter, so an ice cold Diet Coke hit the spot.
Shuttle buses shuffled runners back to the parking lot
at TPC Sawgrass. After a long slow walk
to the awaiting school bus, I reveled my time seated in the locker room
aroma-filled bus, but dreaded getting off and walking back to the car in a
gravel-surfaced lot. It is amusing and
entertaining watching (me included) sore marathoners doing the marathon shuffle
– the stiff, sore and painful walks we experience after 26.2 miles of pavement pounding
action – all for a medal and the glory.
It’s time to find another marathon to run – but maybe not a double.
When all is said and done, I will always remember the
beach communities of the Jacksonville area and appreciate the community spirit
shown by the great spectator turnout and those all decked out in pink that
helped me endure this marathon on such a hot day. I am glad I suffered through a tough run for
those I know dealing with breast cancer and for those who are surviving.
Even though my time was far from what I had expected, I
will always reminisce running through the coastal community neighborhood homes
and businesses displaying their support for the DONNA mission; and to all the
DJs, musicians, spectators with stereos, costumes and food/beverage
spreads. How could I forget about the
final 5 km? Knowing that portion of the
course is a necessary evil to reach the finish line, I later learned that the
tough road to the finish symbolizes the tough road cancer treatments may bring. I believe that, in a way, changed my outlook to
that final 5 km. It wasn’t so bad after
all.
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| Jacksonville Jaguar |
Getting back to the hotel was a godsend. I was spent and lacked any energy for much
beyond a shower. Hunger suddenly came
upon us, and after a recommendation we try M Shack up the road in Atlantic
Beach for some artisanal burgers, we found the place closed on Sundays. For the next best thing, we limped over to
their neighbor, Ragtime Tavern and Grill.
The lively rustic-industrial themed restaurant is known for their
southern-Cajun fare recipes. We were
lucky to have a wonderful and nice waitress who was impressed with our marathon
accomplishments and took the time to recommend a few dishes for our dining
experience. Since I missed out on one
particular dish in New Orleans, it was a must I sample a plate of étouffée. I just had to give it a try. I must say, it was delicious with just enough
kick and the Andouille sausage was perfect.
It was nice to sleep in Monday morning, relieved we
didn’t have to ready ourselves for another marathon. The weather outside was ugly – foggy, cool with
a threat of rain showers. Why couldn’t we
have Monday’s weather for the marathon?
After a light lunch at M Shack, we left for Daytona
Beach for some rest and relaxation and to enjoy our final day on the Eastern
Seaboard. My body felt much better,
enough to spend some tranquil time relaxing on the beach and soaking in the hot
tub. The waves were small and the sea
was calm, but in a few weeks, this beach will be anything be calm. The area will suddenly become the scene to some
rowdy, boisterous, raucous and drunk college students wasting away during
spring break.
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| Munching on alligator tail |
Dinner consisted of fried alligator appetizers with
their spicy dipping sauce supplemented with the ahi tuna steak at Ocean Deck
Restaurant not far from the Daytona Beach Main Street Pier.
On Tuesday, we woke to foggy skies with limited
visibility. Our flight to LAX departed
Orlando around 2030 hours, so we had some time to sightsee in the Daytona area.
Since I’m a lighthouse enthusiast, I couldn’t pass up
the opportunity to visit and climb the Ponce Inlet Lighthouse, a working
navigational light housing a second order Fresnel lens (replacing the first order lens some years ago).
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| A distinctive day mark |
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| Original first order Fresnel lens |
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| Climbing to the top |
The museum and exhibits showcasing the historical
keepers, their quarters and accessory buildings was very educational. With sore legs, climbing the 200-plus steps
up the circular stairway to the lantern room was a workout in itself. I worked up a huge sweat in the humid
weather, but was well worth the view, even though the fog prevented me from
seeing much.
Before leaving Daytona, how could we pass up a tour of
the Daytona International Speedway? For
the upcoming weekend, race fans from all over will descend into Daytona for the
annual Daytona 500. Because of that, the
hustle and bustle of RVs entering the track area, the media setting up their
equipment, racers unloading their gear and vendors setting up shop kept the
area eventful and full of activity.
Our 90-minute tour managed to wiggle around all the
activity taking place. With photo ops at
Victory Row, the media center, spectator stands and a close-up of the 2017
winning car driven by Kurt Busch, I thoroughly enjoyed myself – despite the
rain and ugly weather.
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| Me giving media an interview |
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| Kurt Busch car - even with the sod on the hood |
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| View from Victory Row |
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| Departing Orlando |
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