Well, marathon over. I can tell you this my friends, the marathon is no joke. You've got to respect it. Your body is just not meant to run that far. I learned that the hard way yesterday. Here's a recap:

I usually set 3 goals for myself on race day. 3 different times that I would be happy with. One time represents everything going perfect, even better than perfect. The next time is a stretch, but an attainable goal. The last time is what I would be happy with if everything that could possibly go wrong, goes wrong. Let's just say I wish I would have picked 4 times for this race.

The day started off well. The weather was absolutely perfect for racing. Overcast with the start temperature around 48 degrees. We started off in downtown Phoenix and I felt awesome. I was actually running ahead of my best goal time at about a 7:45 min/mile pace. I got into a groove and kept going. Then, shit started to hit the fan. At mile 12 I tripped on something in the road. I wasn't sure what it was, but it made me fall ass over head in the middle of the course. It disoriented me, but I gained my senses and realized I was sitting in the middle of the course facing runners coming at me. I got up quickly and started my stride again. Starting up again after stopping or falling is no easy task. After running for 12 miles already, your body and legs are in this mechanical, almost automatic, motion. When you stop, you throw a serious wrench in thoes mechanics. I started to do damage control to figure out how bad I fell. My hands hurt from bracing myself, but my right butt cheek took the brunt of the fall. My time was still really good. I ran a 1hr 45 minute half marathon at that point.

About half a mile after the fall, it felt like I had a rock stuck in the tread of my right shoe, right under the ball of my foot. Over the next few miles I kept trying to drag my right foot once in a while to try and dislodge the rock, but to no avail, I couldn't shake it loose. Mile 15 was the turning point for me. My body started to feel the pain. I'm not sure if my altered gait from the rock in my shoe really made a difference, but in retrospect I think it did (more to come at the end of this blog).

At mile 16 I retreated into the "dark" place. For distance athletes, this is a place your mind goes at some point during every long race. It's a mental state that you either succumb to, or fight through. I kept battling through, but my body was trying to quit. I was just taking the race mile by mile at this point. My only goal was to make it to the next mile marker. Not such a great strategy, but it had to do in this case. Every part of my lower body was killng me. My ham strings were so tight and combined with my glutes, kept cramping at every step. My feet have never felt this bad. The ball of my right foot was in agonizing pain. By mile 20 the wheels had absolutely fallen off. I was down to running about 10 min/mile pace. Basically doing the "marathon shuffle" down the racecourse.

Well, I made it to the finish line. The second half of the marathon was basically just damage control and felt like I was just inching my way to the finish line over the last 13 miles.

Here's the kicker:

So, I can barely walk after I cross the finish line, but Amanda and Jerome (my step-dad) walk me over to the post-race grass area and I lay down. I asked Jerome to pull my legs up to stretch out my cramping ham strings. When he does, he looks at my right shoe and says, "what's this". "What's what?" I replied. He takes off my shoe and proceeds to take 5 minutes unscrewing a 2 1/2" drywall screw from the ball of the sole on my right shoe. Apparantly that fall that I had at mile 12 was me somehow driving a drywall screw into the bottom of my shoe. The supposed "rock" that I kept trying to dislodge from my tread was a 2 1/2" screw that I ran on for over 14 miles of the race. No wonder my foot was killing me. The screw was completely lodged into the tread, where all you could see was the head of it. I ran on it for so long that I actually grinded down half of the head of the screw! I'm guessing it made me alter my gait to compensate for the pain in my foot, which also probably contributed to the rest of my legs getting so fatigued and cramped.

Well, I missed all 3 of my time goals, but I crossed that finish line still running. It was a crazy day, but in hindsight, it was worth it. I also want to congratulate my friends Vance Cobb and Mitch Hill. Both of them kicked my butt and qualified for Boston. Awesome job guys!!

Lessons learned:
1. Respect the marathon! It's no joke!
2. Set 4 time goals :)
3. Be proud of yourself for just finishing a race.
4. Bring a screwdriver to the next race.