Once Upon a Time...
Since the summer after my freshman year at MIT, I've been something of a runner. I first started running because it seemed like something fun to do -- I wanted something to keep fit, having been a coxswain for my crew team in high school. So one day, I decided to go to the gym and run. The very first time I went running was on a treadmill, and I think I did all of about two miles, but I was hooked.
In fits and starts, I got more and more into running. Once that summer ended, I came back to school and hardly ran at all. Occasionally I went out for a short run, but rarely anything serious. By Christmas time, I had decided that enough was enough, and I was going to get back into it -- in fact, I was going to run a marathon.
As they say, the rest is history. Around Easter (maybe even on Easter, in fact), I invited my mom, who had been somewhat interested in the running I had been doing, to participate with me. In fact, I invited my entire family to participate. Most of them thought I was crazy.
My mom and I decided to run the Richmond Marathon, to be held on November 9, 2002 (the 25th anniversary of the race). It also happened to be my 21st birthday, so it seemed a very appropriate occasion.
Marathon #1
My first marathon was great -- sort of. I was thrilled to have run it, and felt completely ecstatic when I was done (although that may have had something to do with the fact that I was done more than anything else). I finished in 4:23:11, which wasn't as fast as I had hoped for (my goal was 4 hours), but it truly was one of the most wonderful experiences of my life. I cried like a baby when I finished, because I was so happy to have done it -- I felt such a sense of accomplishment. After I calmed down a bit (and ate approximately two pizzas), I waited for my mom to arrive, and when she did, the two of us resumed the crying I had begun.
The biggest problem during the marathon came towards the end (as it does for most), between miles 19 and 20. One of the most ironic points during the race came around mile 20, where the organizers had set up a cardboard ``wall'' that we were to run through (symbolizing how we were breaking through the wall). I wasn't breaking through the wall at that point; instead, the wall was falling down on top of me. Through the first 18 miles of the race, I had managed to hold me goal pace quite well -- in fact, I was a bit under my pace until that point. I came through the halfway point at 1:55:54, approximately an 8:50 pace (versus the 9:10 I needed to make my goal).
The fact that I was a bit faster than I had intended was part of my downfall, but the real damage came from the fact that I was terribly underprepared. A good rule of thumb is that before your marathon, you should aim to do at least a few long runs on the order of 20 miles before the marathon. I had done one. Oops.