I sit tonight in my usual blogging spot: butt firmly planted on the love seat and feet resting comfortably on the coffee table.  It’s been awhile, I’ll admit.  To see people commenting on the automatic race updates seems somewhat pathetic (pathetic in that they have nothing better upon which to comment), but I’m nevertheless grateful that I have a few faithful followers left in spite of my lack of motivation to do pretty much anything over the last few weeks.

You see, I’ve felt burned out.  Since the Walt Disney World half marathon, it’s been a struggle to get up in the morning to do any sort of workout and it’s been even more of a mental struggle to log my runs (or lack thereof) and blog about them.  Oddly, that all changed on Sunday.  What’s even weirder is that it all changed on a day that I didn’t meet my goal.  I mean, who would have thought that I would lose motivation after achieving my goal in the Disney half marathon by 49 seconds, only to gain it all back after falling over 3 minutes short of my goal in the Gasparilla marathon.  I can’t really explain it myself, but here’s the story of my second marathon (with pirated photos for your viewing enjoyment):

It really all started last June when I crept out of my solo running shell and met Drew and Richie for a 10 mile run along the water.  Drew had contacted me after reading this blog and beating me by over a minute in a local 5K, and I had been introduced to Richie over Facebook by a mutual friend.  My regular readers know that I spent most of the summer running with Richie, while Drew was injured with shin splints and we never trained together again- though his story is slightly intertwined with my experience in this marathon.

After Richie finished the New York City marathon in 3:01:23, he convinced his friends Justin and Steve to run the Gasparilla marathon.  Since I had been planning for this race all along, I joined them all on their Saturday long runs.  In January, Richie developed a groin injury and was unable to continue training with us, but Justin, Steve and I pressed on religiously meeting every Saturday morning for long runs.

On Saturday, Justin invited us all over to his house for a pasta dinner.  It was excellent with Meatballs and sauce from Mazarro’s Italian market.  I had two servings and Alice made me pancakes later in the evening.  In the morning Steve got up at 3 to cook pancakes, but I just had an energy bar.  I met Justin, Steve and Richie at Steve’s house around 4:15 am.  Together, we all drove over the Tampa for the marathon.  Unfortunately, Steve forgot his Garmin, so we had to turn back.  We were still there in plenty of time and each arrived in the starting corral with our respective pace groups: I in 3:20, Steve in3:30 and Justin in 3:40 with about 10 minutes to spare.

In the starting corral, I introduced myself to Chris, the 3:20 pacer.  His wife, Lauren was the 1:40 half marathon pacer so they got to run together for the first 7 miles.

After a few announcements and the national anthem, we all start moving forward without much fanfare.  There’s no horn, no gunshot, and certainly no fireworks like Disney.  It’s all pretty low key - which is just about how I feel.  I’m basically wearing my Disney outfit: shorts, a sleeveless shirt, a green St. Petersburg high school stocking cap, tube socks on my arms and the old white gloves I used to wear when I stocked the dairy at the grocery store in college.  On top of that, I’m wearing one of Richie’s son’s old sweatshirts.  It’s awkward and keeps slipping off my shoulders.  I chuck it at the one mile mark.  The temperature is in the mid forties.  The wind is fairly calm and unlike Disney, there’s no precipitation.

I’ve got 5 Chocolate flavored Clif shot gels in my pockets.  The plan is to take one at miles 5,9,14,18 and 22.  They’re a little inconvenient at the moment.  They swing uncomfortably against my thighs, but I’m mostly focused on keeping Chris in sight.

The crowd is thick and it’s hard to keep up with Chris simply because of the people.  Mile one takes us through several sharp turns and over a bridge to Davis Island.  Continuing around the residential streets of the island, the crowd remains thick.  I know I don’t have the be right next to Chris, but on several occasions,  he gets uncomfortably far away and I have to fight my way through the crowd to stay in contact.  We’re slow through the first few miles mostly due to the crowd, but we begin to pick up the pace about 4 miles in.

I’m feeling kind of crumby for the first few miles of a marathon.  The pace isn’t horrible.  My legs feel fine.  My breathing is steady.  There’s just something weird.  It’s a feeling like I’ve got a long way to go and I’d rather be back in bed.

We continue around the edge of Davis Island, running along Tampa Bay most of the way.  The crowd slowly begins to thin out and after about 4 miles, I’m able to tuck in right behind Chris.  Just before the 5 mile mark, I remove my right glove, reach into my right pocket and pull out my first gel.  It takes about a quarter mile to get it all down, but it’s timed perfectly.  As soon as I take my last swallow, we motor into a water station.  I grab a Gatorade, take two drinks, throw it aside, then grab a water.  I hold onto the water, drinking from it slowly over the next 200 meters.  Once I’m finished, I throw the cup aside, put my glove back on and wipe the excess chocolate gel from my face.  I’m feeling much better now.

Shortly after the five mile mark, we pass a house with two coolers set up at the end of the driveway.  A young girl is sitting with the coolers, offering Gatorade to the runners.  It’s pretty damned cool, but unfortunately not a scene that is repeated later in the race.  Many in the group wave at her and thank her for coming out.  Now that Chris’ wife, Lauren has taken her half marathon group about 20 yards ahead, needing to pull them back on pace over a shorter distance, our group has firmly materialized.  From my vantage point near the front, it appears to be about twenty guys - female free for the moment - and moving as a pretty cohesive unit with sporadic conversation here and there.

We head back over the bridge toward the start area.  The course has cleared out and our pack stands out pretty well now.  We’re the first marathon pace group and we get a lot of “Yeah!  3:20 pace group, you’re lookin good” types of cheers.

10K into the race, we come down the bridge and make a hairpin turn.

“Go Brian, lookin good!”

It’s Richie shouting from the crowd.  I raise my hand in salute.

“Feelin’ good, coach!”

Then, I tuck back into the group.  A few seconds later, I’m surprised to see Richie running alongside.

“How’s it going buddy,” he asks.  I’m a little bewildered that he’s just popped into our pace group.

“Going good,” I say awkwardly, “how are you?”.  He doesn’t seem to hear me and shouts some more words of encouragement to me and the rest of the group before peeling off to wait for Steve.  The other guys in the group ask me about him as we get a preview of the finish.  I tell them about how we ran together all summer and his finish in New York, followed by the groin injury.  It eats up about a half mile and we’re getting good crowd support as we pass the 7 mile mark.

Soon after, we split from the half marathoners who loop back around the finish for a short jaunt down Bayshore drive before returning for their finale.  We’re headed into downtown Tampa.  The streets are empty as we leave the cheers of the crowd and the music behind.  Without the half marathoners, the field is now very spread out, but the pace group still represents a formidable pack about 20 strong.  A young tattooed lady hangs about 10 yards in front of us as though running from a ravenous pack of horny teenagers.

As we run against the wind, one of the group members offers to hold the sign for Chris.  Chris happily hands it off, making sure to mention he can hand it back at any time.  I’m honored to be in the company of such a charitable group member, but I figure Chris can run a 2:47 and I’ll be lucky to hold onto 3:20 so there will be no sign carrying for me today.

Near the 8 mile mark, we get our first glimpse of the race leaders charging back toward us.  They’re roughly 2 miles ahead of us at this point and looking mighty lonely.  The top 4 or 5 runners are spaced over 100 meters apart and there’s very little crowd support at this point in the race.  We cross another bridge and make a hard right turn.  In the distance, I recognize Drew running alone back toward us.  I hadn’t seen his name on the registration list, so I was worried he had gotten injured again.  He’s looking pretty good and I shout some encouragement to him.  He recognizes me in a few seconds and shouts something back to me.

We pass through a water stop and I make a mental note of it since I’m pretty sure we’ll soon be running through it again on the other side of the road.  We make a hard right, cross the river again then make a hard left past the 9 mile mark.  I can see a hairpin turn in the distance.  It’s strange.  There’s just a cone.  There’s no mat to record our chips and no one even standing there.  We could have easily skipped about 3 miles of the race.  Everybody dutifully heads to the cone and loops around it.  We’ve reached the northernmost point of the course.

On the way back downtown, we see the next pace group in the distance.  I scan for Steve and find him about 15 yards ahead of the group.  This is typical.  He’s usually the one setting the pace during our long runs.  He’s in pretty good shape so I’m not too worried.  In fact, I might have suggested he start with me in the 3:20 pace group if it hadn’t been his first marathon.  I yell at him, but he can’t hear me because his headphones are too loud.  This too is typical.

We make a hard right.  I remove my left glove, dig into my left pocket (gotta even out the load) and pull out another gel.  I squeeze it in to my mouth and slowly suck down the contents.  Meanwhile, we pass the 3:40 pace group and I see Justin tucked into the back.

“Yeah J-dog!”, I yell, but he too has his headphones on too loud and I get only a smirk in return.  We make a hard left and we’re back at the water station.  I skip the Gatorade and quaff only water this time.  I slide my glove back on and wipe my face again.  My hands aren’t necessarily cold, but these gloves sure are convenient for wiping chocolate off my face and snot off my nose.

Shortly after the water stop, we approach a woman on a bike (Bike lady).  She services a few members of the group (food and water - get your mind out of the gutter) and then hops on the bike to zip ahead of us.  Tattooed lady still comfortably sits about 10 yards in front of the group, relentlessly holding off our pursuit.   We pass the 10 mile mark, head across the river again and back into downtown.  The wind is at our backs and the course declines slightly.  We all comfortably cruise through the next mile back toward the finish line.

Here, we merge again with the half marathoners - only now we’re merging with slower runners as our 7:38 pace colleagues in the 1:40 pace group are now only 2 miles from the finish.  As we close on runners, the group parts like the Red Sea, isolating each runner briefly in the pack before reforming in front.  We hear several comments from these runners:

“Jesus!”

“Oh crap”

“3:20?  What?!?  Huh?  Oh shit, they’re running the marathon!”

These comments fuel me.  I’m no elitist.  As far as I’m concerned, the bigger the race, the better.  I don’t care how slow you are.  Jump into a race.  Barring injury, you’ve got no choice but to get better.  I was once where these runners were and I’m getting high off the fact that I’m where I am now.

I’m expecting to see Richie again, but he’s nowhere to be found.  Later, I’d find out he took a bus to the 16 mile mark and fell asleep during the ride.  We pass the 12 mile mark in 1:31 and change.  I think about my Disney finish and how I was through 13.1 miles 2 minutes faster than I’m through 12 today.

“Piece of cake,” I think.

We head back across the start line, make a left turn and wind up on Bayshore Blvd.  It’s just a long out and back now.  The pack continues to engulf half marathon runners as we head south on Bayshore Blvd.  Tattoo girl has also been absorbed by the pack and ejected out the back.  Bike lady rides alongside, yelling encouragement at us.

“3:20 pace group!” she yells.  “Looking steady!”  Someone remarks to Chris that he’s going to have to answer to her if he doesn’t bring us home under 3:20.  He laughs.

“That’s a lot of pressure”.

We’re past 13 miles and the course map indicates that there will be a water stop right at the 14 mile mark.  We soon pass a water station and this worries me.  That seems awfully close to the 14 mile stop.

Right glove off. Gel from right pocket.  14 mile mark.  No water stop.

I’m feeling a little dry.  I run along with an empty gel packet in my hand and chocolate gel on my face.  It seems like a long way, but we hit another water station just after 15 miles.

Gatorade.  Water.  Right glove on.  Wipe face.

Felling better, I run right alongside Chris with a steady rhythm.  Shortly before the 16 mile mark, we pass another water station and I see Richie darting from one side of the course to the other.

“Richie!” I yell.  He looks startled to see me.

“Hey!  Brian up in the front of the 3:20 group!  You’re looking great!  You look comfortable!  Want a gel?”

“Just had one.”

“3:20 pace group!  Lookin’ strong!  Take it home boys, take it home!”

Through 16 miles, we are looking pretty strong.  I’m not sure who we’ve lost or who we’ve gained, but the size of the pack hasn’t changed much since the 6 mile mark.  We have pulled in another woman.  She’s tall, blond and not very talkative, but unlike Tattoo girl, she tucks in and maintains the pace.  I think back to the 16 mile mark of my only other marathon at Walt Disney World in 2008.  It was at the 16 mile mark that I sadly watched the 5 hour pace group disappear into the distance.  I figure I can stop, walk the last 10 miles and still beat my 5:22 PR.  That’s pretty cool, but I feel strong and I won’t be walking anytime soon.

We soldier on as members of the group point out potholes, warning those behind to steer clear.  Bike lady continues riding alongside yelling encouragement.  The course leads us away from the water into a neighborhood setting and we see the race leader charging back toward us.  He’s more than 4 miles ahead at this point.  We pass the 17 mile mark and the markers seem to be coming more slowly now.  I keep my eyes peeled for Drew coming toward us in the other direction, trying to gauge if he’s on pace for a sub 3 hour time.  It seems like a long time before I see him, but he passes just as I’m getting ready to pull out another gel.  I shout some more encouragement and he shouts back.

Both gloves off.  Gel from left pocket.  18 mile mark.  Gatorade.  Water.  Both gloves back on.  Wipe face.

We’re in Gadsen park.  It’s the southernmost point of the course.  We make our way around a lake up against the barbed wire fence of MacDill airforce base - home of Central Command.  We’re past the 19 mile mark now.  The group numbers about 15 and the tall blonde is still with us.  We’re “out”.  All that’s left is the “back”.

“I want to be crossing the finish line by myself staring at your backs,” Chris remarks as we leave the park.

“Sounds like a good plan to me,” I reply.  It also sounds pretty feasible.  My plan commits me to stick with the group through 20 miles, but I’m not feeling strong enough to make a move off the front at the 20 mile mark.  I figure I’ll stick with them and make my move in the last mile.  My quads are getting sore, but I’m in a great rhythm and it’s easy to ignore.

We miss the 3:30 pace group.  They must be rounding the lake already.  We pass the 3:40 pace group coming at us in the other direction and Justin is still tucked in with them.  Through 20 miles, I still feel good.  I feel comfortable telling the group that my previous PR is 5:22 and they they need only carry me to the finish in 3 hours for me to PR.

“I don’t want to jinx you,” says a fellow member, “but congratulations.”

I thank him as we wind through the neighborhood, passing many other pace groups coming the other direction in the process. They all yell their encouragement.  We pass the 21 mile mark still a strong pack.  We pass Richie shortly after.

“Right up front, Brian, looking great!” he says as he briefly jogs alongside. “3:20 pace group!  Taking it home!”  It’s like Richie is our personal announcer.

I’m definitely feeling it at this point, but hell it’s only about four and a half miles to go.  I try to stay in the zone, and keep my legs moving.

“You’re looking great, Brian!” remarks Chris with almost a chuckle of disbelief.

“Thank-you, I reply,” trying not to expend too much energy.

At the 22 mile water station, the group breaks apart.  I run through and it’s suddenly just me and Chris.  I’m a little bewildered and I wait for the rest of the group to catch up, but they never do.  I don’t know where they are.

I hang with Chris for the next two miles, passing another water stop.  My gel remains in my pocket.  My head is focused on the finish.  I’m getting sick of chocolate gels and quite frankly, the whole process of reaching into my pocket and tearing the top off the gel seems like too much work.  My quads are burning as we pass the 23 mile mark and it’s taking a lot of focus to maintain contact with Chris.  I scoot across the road to grab some Gatorade and fall about 10 yards off the back.  Chris looks back at me.

“Come on Brian!” he yells.

I pick up the pace and pull him back, but I only hang on for about a minute before my right calf cramps.  My foot flails out and I work into an exaggerated heel strike to stretch it out.  This seems to work, but I’m about 20 yards behind Chris again.  When I try to increase my pace to catch up, the calf hints at a cramp again so I slow down.

Finally, near the 24 mile mark, the left calf goes into a crazy spasm.  I have to stop briefly to stretch it, but I know that stopping for too long will tell my body it’s done running and once that happens…well, my body will be done running.  I walk for about a minute, then get myself back into a jog for about a half mile before both calves cramp again.  I walk for about 30 seconds, stretching out my calves as former members of my pace group begin passing me one by one.  I manage to jog for a while with the goal of making it to the 25 mile mark.

Shortly before the marker, I hit a water station.  I jog right up, grab a Gatorade and walk as I drink.  Hoping the electrolytes will do me some good, I throw it off and jog again.

“Come on Brian, you’re almost there!” someone yells from the crowd.  It’s encouraging and I pick up the pace, but my right calf cramps again.  The change to my stride is ugly.

“Oh, he’s cramping up!” says someone in the crowd, “look honey, he’s cramping up!”.  I just exaggerate my heel strike a little more to stretch it and try to continue.  It all probably looks pretty heroic to the very encouraging crowd, but in my mind, it goes something like this:

“Why the hell didn’t you take your last gel at 22 miles?  You dumbass.  You just ruined your shot at your goal.”

I manage to drag myself back into a jog.

“Hey, it’s Brian!” I hear from the crowd. “Yay!  Go Brian.  Woo hoo!”.

I’m a little delirious and I don’t immediately recognize Richie, Steve and Justin’s wives cheering me on.  Eventually, my brain starts to work and I raise my right hand in salute to them.  It’s the last encouragement I need and my feeble jog pace picks up as I carefully pick my way toward the finish.  Mercifully, I soon enter the finishing chute.

“Brian Darrow from St. Petersburg, Florida now finishing!” says the announcer.  A small cheer rises and I stop my watch.

“Are you okay?” a woman from the medical team asks.

“I’m fine,” I reply as I stagger through the gauntlet of medical professionals to my long awaited medal.  In addition, I receive a towel for finishing.  Pretty cool, I guess.  I wrap a mylar blanket over my shoulders, looking back at the finishing clock.  I make my way around and back toward the finish just in time to see Steve and Richie come across the finish line together.  Meanwhile, Drew pats me on the back and asks how I’ve done.

“I cramped up in the last 2 miles, but still made it through in 3:23.”

“Great job,” he replies.

“How’d you do?”

“I managed to finish.”

“What time?”

“2:55″

“Whoa man, you killed it!  Congratulations!”

I shake his hand and then yell to let Richie know how well Drew did.  Steve has finished just under 3:26 and Justin later crosses the finish line in 3:43.

It’s a great first marathon for Steve, an 18 minute PR for Justin and nearly a 2 hour PR for me!

Brian Darrow @ Finish in 03:23:21 (NET). Pace: 7:45. Powered By metroPCS

Brian Darrow @ 22 Mile in 02:48:07 (NET). Pace: 7:38. Predicted: 3:20:21. Powered By metroPCS

Brian Darrow @ Half in 01:39:10 (NET). Pace: 7:33. Predicted: 3:18:20. Powered By metroPCS

This was another not so hot week. I’m really starting to realize that I peaked mentally/emotionally for the Walt Disney World half marathon. Right now, I’m just kind (poorly) going through the motions of training for a marathon. I think I’m there. I’m not going to set the world on fire, but I think I’m in good enough shape to take 2 hours off my previous PR and that’s basically my goal this time around. When I compare my long runs, especially, I’ve done two 18 milers and 3 20 milers this time around compared to 1 of each last time. On top of that, I’ve put in some fast miles during a few of those runs too.

It’s not totally burnout, though. The rest of life has been pretty stressful lately and that especially gets to me in the morning when I don’t have a lot of motivation to face the day in general. If not for running with Steve and Justin and injured Richie’s text message coaching, I don’t think I’d have put in the long runs. I have to say, though that Saturday afternoons have been the best times of my life lately. The week is behind me and I’m exhausted from the long run and I just vegetate in front of something that pretends to be educational - I’ve become especially fond of Revolutionary War specials on the History channel.

In any case, I’m 3 weeks from the marathon and it’s time to taper! Though this week was so pathetic, I may just run more mileage in my first taper week. Here’s how it went:

Monday AM: 1 hour (21.5 miles) stationary bike
Tuesday AM: 6 miles (2.5 at 6:40 pace)
Friday AM: Almost a mile, though I’m not counting it
Saturday AM: 20 miles at 8:35 pace
Total: 26 miles

I’m going to try to get a 2×3 miles at 6:45 pace workout in this week and the “long” run will probably be 14 this weekend - and that seems positively short!

I made a pretty good comeback this week.  Even though it was sometimes difficult to get out of bed, I hit all of my planned workouts this week.  I’m 4 weeks away from the Gasparilla marathon.  I’m officially registered and I’ve only got one more week before the taper.  Here’s how it went:

Monday AM: 21 miles (60 mins) stationary bike

Monday PM: 6.1 miles with Alice at 10:20 pace

Tuesday AM: 8×1200 m in 4:45-4:51 with 30-60s rests.  10 miles total

Wednesday AM: 6 miles at 8:15 pace

Thursday: Off

Friday AM: 6 miles at 8:40 pace

Saturday AM: 2×1.5 miles at 6:45 pace + 17 miles = 20 miles in 2:42

Sunday AM: 6.2 miles with Alice at 10:35 pace.

Total: 54.3 miles

The speedwork on Tuesday went quite well.  I was surprised to get all 8 1200’s in at under 6:30 pace.  I’ve gotta believe I’m capable of a sub 40 min 10K now.  Saturday’s long run was tough.  I did 2×1.5 miles at 6:45 pace before meeting up with Steve and Justin (they were running 13).  I ran about 11 with them and Steve drove the pace over their final 6 miles at 7:30-7:40 pace. That wore me out for my last 4 miles which were straight into a 22 MPH headwind.  I held onto my run despite an extreme desire to walk and finished my 20 miles in 2:42 - which is actually a 20 mile PR for me.

I’m starting to feel pretty confident about the marathon even though the distance is still intimidating.  I’m definitely ready to tackle it and then spend a few weeks without a training plan to follow.

Here I am at the peak of marathon training.  This is how I roll.  Here is the kind of week I put in at the peak of marathon training:

Monday AM: 3 miles at 8:16 pace

Tuesday AM: 21 miles stationary bike (1 hour)

Friday AM: 40 minutes stationary bike + 2 miles treadmill at 8:22 pace

Saturday AM: 18 miles (12 easy + 6 at 7:30 pace)

Sunday AM: 2.6 miles

Total: 25.6 miles(almost a marathon!)

Yeah.  That’s about what Ryan Hall did this week, I think.  The Saturday run was a solid 18 miler, but it’s pretty sad that I couldn’t put together enough miles in the 6 other days of the week to even equal a marathon.  I’m pretty mentailly drained right now.  I’m ready for the race to be over so I can get up in the morning and run (or not run) however many miles I feel like at whatever pace I feel like without a schedule to follow.

5 weeks to go.  I’ll try to be better this week.

I’ve lived in Florida for nearly 12 years now.  The first time I saw snow in my current home state was at 5:00 am on Saturday January 9th, 2010.  I was wearing a sleeveless T-shirt and shorts.

I’m getting ahead of myself.

As many of you know, I expected some cold weather for the Walt Disney World half-marathon.  It had been cold pretty much all week.  I stopped by the local running store and inquired about arm warmers, but the only ones they had were at a different store, were coated in silver and retailed for $35.99.  Ultimately, I found an old pair of long tube socks in my sock drawer, cut off the feet and Raffi sewed the ends together to make some nifty homemade arm warmers.  I tried them out on a 3 mile shakeout run after my visit to the chiropractor on Friday and they were plenty warm.

Friday evening, I arrived with my family at the race expo.  It was the typical Disney race expo - large and crowded.  I quickly collected my race number and chip, then got my goody bag and browsed through the expo while Raffi, Alice and Wendy made signs at the Sharpie booth.  We spent about an hour at the expo and then headed to the Animal Kingdom Lodge to check in.

After check-in, we headed to dinner at the quick service restaurant at the hotel.  I had a chicken flatbread.  I had thought about meeting Patrick at Downtown Disney later in the evening, but I was feeling relaxed and a little sleepy after dinner, so I seized the opportunity to get a good night’s sleep.

Back in the room, I tried out my racewear, then placed it in a neat pile.  I set the alarm and called for a wakeup call at 3:00 am, then went to bed.  I slept pretty well, though I was waking up every ten minutes from 2:00 am on.  The alarm roused me at 3:00 and I canceled the wake-up call.   I immediately went to the bathroom.

It may seem weird to mention, but part of my training this year has been the post-wake-up poo.  I haven’t necessarily consciously trained myself for this, but it’s just kind of happened.  I used to have to have breakfast and move around a bit to get the gears going, but now I can pretty much crap right after waking up.  It rocks.

Anyway, I dressed myself, quadruple checked my gear, then headed down to the bus. The bus was pretty cold, but I was wearing my running jacket and an old pair of mesh lined nylon pants that I had left over from a trip to Salt Lake City.  I was extraordinarily calm.  I felt confident.  I had been here before.  I knew what to expect at the start and I was ready.

We arrived at Epcot and I stepped off the bus.  It was cold, but there was no rain like the weather channel had been predicting all week.  The temperatures must have been in the low thirties.  I chatted with a guy who was running the Goofy challenge for the first time.  He had lots of questions about the course and I was delighted to answer them.  I shook his hand when we arrived in the staging answer, then dug into my bag for my homemade energy bar and orange juice.

I have to note at this point that the wind wasn’t fun.  There was a DJ playing some tunes, but everyone was pretty much huddled behind tents, trucks, trashcans and whatever they could find to block the wind.  I found a spot in a crowd and slipped my jacket off to pin my number on my sleeveless shirt.  Once I had it on, I slipped my jacket back on and went to work on the D-tag.  The D-tag always takes me awhile.  I’m no genius, but I do have a Ph.D. and I always have to read and re-read the instructions for the D-tag before I finally get it attached to my shoe.

Once that was done, I started to jog around the staging area.  There was plenty of open space since everyone was huddled around the edges.  I kept speeding up as I did 100 m strides and it felt nice.  It also warmed me up.  Eventually, the green army men came out and started to herd everyone through the baggage claim area.  I stopped near the baggage claim and removed my jacket.  I put on my homemade arm warmers and replaced the jacket with an old torn poncho.  I put the jacket into my bag with my cell phone and checked the bag.  It was almost time.

On the other side of the baggage claim, the crowd steadily built.  People were waiting in line for the port-a-potties and others formed a big mob waiting to be released to the starting corrals.  Knowing there would be more port-a-potties near the corrals, I just kept walking laps around the holding pin to stay warm.  Eventually, they paraded the wheel chair participants through and to the start.  Then, we were released to the start.  That’s when it got a little weird.

“Hey, is that snow?” I heard someone say.

There were giant floodlights illuminating our way and as I looked up into the lights I saw small gently falling flakes of snow.  I pulled the hood of the poncho over my head to keep my hat from getting wet.  I pondered the whole snow thing all the way to the starting corrals.  I figured it was better than rain - at least better than driving rain anyway.

I hit a port-a-potty near the corrals, then set about running warm-up strides on the road alongside the starting corrals.  I had no idea what time it was and I just kept running to stay warm.  The good news was that race pace felt pretty comfortable.  The bad news was that the light snow had turned into a moderately hard sleet.  In the carnival-like atmosphere, music pulsated from giant speakers and the cameras focused in on small pellets of ice gathering on the road.  There were news crews interviewing participants about the cold.  There were people bundled up and huddled in corners.  Others were running back and forth along the road.

I headed to the woods and peed one more time.  The announcer mentioned we were 9 minutes from the wheel chair start and I entered Corral A.  It wasn’t yet very full and I easily made my way to the front.  I parked myself on the far right side, up against the fence.  As the announcers introduced the national anthem singer, I pulled the poncho off and threw it over the fence.  I stood calmly as she sang the national anthem.  I looked around and managed to find the 1:30 pace group some distance behind me on the other side of the corral.  My race plan developed.  I’d start off very slow, wait for the pace group to catch me and then follow them the rest of the way.

The lady next to me asks me if I want the poncho.

“No,” I reply.

“I know someone who does,” she says.  She hops the fence and grabs it, handing it to a man who has been hiding behind a truck on the side of the road.  He wraps it around himself and they both hop the fence back into the corral.  As the wheel chair participants depart, I strip off my pants and throw them over the fence.  My legs don’t feel as cold as I expect and that’s a good sign.  I look back to see 18,000 people behind me launching their outer clothing in giant arcs over the fence.  It’s a beautiful site, but I also notice that many more people are keeping their outer clothing on compared to last year.

Soon, Mickey, Minnie, Donald and Goofy take the stage and they start the countdown.  At 10 seconds, fireworks go off and the elite runners take off.  It’s a little early, but that’s cool.  I’ve been anxious to start.  I take it easy through the starting chaos.  I’m near the front and the road is fairly empty.  I look back and can’t see the pace group.  I float along as people streak by.  I keep looking back and still can’t see the pace group.  My planned pace is 6:50 and I’m well over 7:00 now.  I’m through the first mile in 7:35.  I’m 47 seconds off the pace I need to be on to finish in 1:30:00.  It’s manageable, but I don’t want to get myself any further in the hole.

I look back again and still see no sign of the pace group.  I start to think I might have to do this without the pace group.  It’s disconcerting, but I focus on putting my pace around 7 minutes per mile and dig in.  We head down an exit ramp and onto World Drive.  At the bottom of the ramp, I see a giant silver ball.  I’m briefly disoriented.  I’ve just left Epcot at my back, but now I’m staring at Spaceship Earth!  After a few seconds, I realize that it’s a hot air balloon.  Thankfully, I haven’t gone insane.  I pass the 2 mile mark, still about 40 seconds in the hole.  I do some math.  I’ve got to pull back about 4 seconds per mile.  That’s doable.

There’s still no sign of the pace group and the wind is blowing in my face.  The ice pellets bounce off my face and begin to sting.  One falls into my mouth and I crunch it in my teeth, slightly amused.  Another pellet flies right into my eye.  The novelty quickly wears off.  Ahead, I can see the entrance to the Magic Kingdom parking lot and I know that means the 3 mile mark.  At 3 miles, I’m about 36 seconds in the hole.  I’ve pulled back 4 seconds and that’s all I need.  I’m satisfied with that as I cross the 5K mark and head into the transportation and ticket center.

I’m looking forward to this.  It will be the first crowd support and the next few miles will be the most enjoyable of the race.  I run through the parking lot.  The race is strung out, basically in single file with moderate gaps between runners.  There are a few groups of 3-4 here and there, but the crowd is sparse considering the situation in the starting corral.  I can hear the crowd in the distance and I pick the pace up, passing a few people.

The course takes a left turn and we head down and into the transportation and ticket center.  The crowd is enthusiastic and I pick up the pace again, passing a few more runners.  I feel a little worried about this, but I decide to take advantage of the crowd and hold the increased pace.  I’m surprised to find that I’ve pulled back no time as I pass the 4 mile mark.  I don’t let it bother me - I haven’t lost any time either.  I hold the increased pace through the crowd, then ease back as I exit the transportation and ticket center.

As I head toward the Contemporary Resort, a lone, cold and wet DJ reminds us that we’re almost to the end of the headwind.  Soon, we’ll turn and head back to Epcot.  The thought bolsters me.  I tell myself to hold onto my pace now and I’ll be able to make up my lost time on the way back.

“Piece of cake,” I tell myself, though I’m still not 100% convinced I can do it.  My thoughts drift to mile 9 and I wonder if I’ll hold up.  The course dips down underneath the Seven Seas Lagoon and then comes steeply back up on the other side.  I focus on getting up the rare hill in this race and pass another runner.  I pass the Contemporary resort, then hit the 5 mile mark, still 32 seconds in the hole.

I make a sharp left turn and look back over my shoulder.  I don’t know why.  I’m not sure what I’m looking for.  Is it the pace group?  Do I want to see if the guy I just passed is coming back on me?  It doesn’t matter.  All I can see is a blur of lights and traffic cones.  I hear Richie’s voice in my head.

“The race is in front of you, buddy.”

I curse myself.  I don’t care where the pace group is.  I’m pretty sure they’re still behind me, which means they’re further off pace than I am.  If I’m going to hit my goal in this race, I’m going to do it by myself.

I’m entering the Magic Kingdom.  I dip down an incline, under the railroad tracks and into a backstage area.  A left turn leads me through a gate and into the park.

“You go, you little studmuffin!” yells a woman carrying a purple parasol and dressed  in 1920’s garb.  I can’t help but smile and my pace picks up.  I make a sharp right turn onto Main Street USA.  The crowd is large and a beautifully lit castle fills my view.

I charge up Main Street, then veer right into Tomorrowland.  This is the best part of this race.  I cruise through Tomorrowland and into Fantasyland.  I’m feeling fanatastic.  The air is now calm.  The park is lit up.  There are characters and other cast members everywhere.  I fly through Fantasyland, past the Dumbo road and make a left turn to the back of the castle.  The timing is perfect.

Trumpeters atop the castle raise their trumpets and begin playing a royal welcome.  I charge through the castle and emerge on the other side in a flurry of flashbulbs.  Ahead, I can see runners entering the Magic Kingdom and momentarily, the whole park seems laid out before me.  I veer right and down a ramp from the castle.  Then, I make a right turn into Liberty Square and the 6 mile mark.  I’m about 28 seconds in the hole now.  I’m pulling back time at the prescribed rate, but it doesn’t sit quite right.  This is the most magical mile of the whole thing and much of the rest will be lonely miles on the road.  It’s time to kick it up.

I pass several runners on my way through Frontierland and stride over the 10K mark.  Now backstage, I pass a replica of the Black Pearl and raise my left arm in salute to Captain Jack Sparrow and his pirate crew.  Like good pirates, they yell a hearty “Arrrrrr!” back at me.

I make a right turn, cruise through a water station, passing several more runners, and then make a left across a small bridge.  I’m halfway home.  The next few miles will be dark.  The runners are all strung out and I’m running like I ran the Race for the Taste.  I’m catching a runner, hanging with him and then accelerating past to catch the next runner.  I hit the 7 mile mark, only 3 seconds in the hole.  I’ve run the 7th mile in under 6:30.

My chase of runners continues as I do the math in my head.  I need to hit the 8 mile mark in 54:56 to be on pace.  My spirit is lifted greatly when I spot the mile marker in the distance and the first two numbers on the clock are a 5 and a 3.  I run a celebratory fartlek to the mile marker and pass it in 54:48.  I’ve got 8 seconds in the bank now!

The crowds start to pick up as I pass the Grand Floridian and Polynesian Resorts.  I’m still passing a runner every minute or two, but I’m starting to feel winded.  The next runner ahead is a young woman in 3/4 length tights.  I catch her and run just behind her for a few minutes.  By now, we’ve reached the Magic Kingdom parking lot and I can see the throngs of people just entering the parking lot.  They’ve just passed the 5K mark.

I pass the young woman and pull into a large gap.  There’s a group of about 15 runners around 100 meters ahead.  I pass the 9 mile mark with 20 seconds in the bank.  At the 15K mark, there’s a lift over the course with some photographers.  I raise my arms up over my head as I pass under the lift.  I’m all by myself.  The road is empty around me.  Across the median 4 lanes of asphalt are completely crowded with people who are only 2.5 miles into the race.  The feeling is incredible.

“Catch that group and you move up 15 places in the standings,” I tell myself.

Shortly, we run through a water stop and the group splits.  Some go left, some go right and others go through the middle.  I pass those who’ve stopped for water and tuck in with the 5 who’ve run through the stop.  We pass the 10 mile mark and I’ve got 40 seconds in the bank.  I realize I can run 10 seconds slower than my goal pace and still make my goal time for the race.  It’s a good feeling, but I don’t slow down.

We reach a cloverleaf in the highway and make our way up the entrance ramp.  There’s a slight incline around the curve and the group begins to break up.  I pass a few runners and hang with a few more.  Together, we start to reel in the runners ahead.  Atop the overpass, I look down to see the runners below.  It promises to be an awesome sight, but I’m blown away by the rush of wind that has hit me again.  After 4 miles with the breeze at my back, the cold crosswind is slightly shocking.  I suddenly realize how sore my butt is getting and it becomes a struggle to turn my legs over.  The course begins to climb up to another water station and the 11 mile mark.  I cruise through the middle with about 50 seconds in the bank.

I’m getting tired, but I know I’ve just got to keep going to the finish and my goal will be achieved.  The good news is that the next mile is almost entirely downhill.  I cruise down, letting gravity pull me.  It’s glorified falling, but apparently that’s a pretty efficient way to run (if perhaps a bit damaging to the knees).  I pass a few more runners and then make a sharp right turn.  I quickly head up another small overpass and then downhill into the Epcot parking lot, passing a few more runners in the process.  I pass the 12 mile mark in 1:21:50.  I’ve got 8:10 to run 1.1 miles.  I can do that.

I pass into the backstage area of Epcot and then out next to Spaceship Earth.  I want to fly, but the legs just aren’t turning over as fast as they were earlier in the race.  I’m still under 7 minutes per mile, but I’m pretty sure I’m off the 6:52 pace.

“Just don’t fall down and you’ve got it,” I tell myself.

I run out into Future World toward World Showcase.  I round the giant Christmas tree thinking I’ve only got a half mile to go.

“A half mile to go!” yells a cast member, confirming my suspicions.  I charge back toward Spaceship Earth, passing another runner.  I veer right backstage, pass a Gospel Choir singing hymns and zip past another runner.  I’m past the 13 mile mark with time to spare and I enter the finishing chute with a great sense of accomplishment in my heart.  I cruise through the finish line with my arms raised in victory.

My chip time is 1:29:11.  I’m 120th out of over 17,000 finishers and 20,000 entrants overall.  I’m the 102nd male to cross the finish line and 20th out of 926 in my age group.  I slow to a walk and smile.  It feels good.

I get my medal, collect water and powerade, then get my picture taken with the medal.  I then go through the food tent and grab some breakfast for the family, trying to hold everything in place along with the mylar blanket around my shoulders.  I enter the baggage tent and throw everything on the table.

It took them 10 minutes to find my bag, during which the cold weather finally managed to give me a chill and my legs started to tighten up.  I pulled my jacket out of my bag and put it on, then walked to the family reunion area to find my family.  I checked my cell phone and found out they were lost and now weren’t being allowed into the Epcot parking lot.  They had to go back to the hotel, so I just took the bus back and met them there.  With some complaints to the hotel staff for the idiocy of the marathon staff giving Raffi directions to closed roads, we were granted a free night’s stay, 8 park hopper passes and a special safari in the Animal Kingdom the next day.  Raffi, Alice and Wendy had spent more time in the car trying to get to the race than I had spent running.

On the  bus back to the hotel, I finally ran into the leader of the 1:30:00 pace group.  He told me it took the group 8:10 to get through the first mile, but he got them to the finish only 25 seconds after me.  Kudos to him for pulling them back from that deficit and through the finish just under their goal.

Today, I found out I was the top local finisher in the race.  The local paper devoted a small paragraph to me.  It’s buried in the middle of an article about a completely different event.  Hey, you gotta start somewhere :-).

BRIAN DARROW @ 15K in 01:03:38 (NET). Pace: 6:49. Predicted: 1:29:30. presented by CIGNA, Disney Destinations LLC

BRIAN DARROW @ 5K in 00:22:00 (NET). Pace: 7:04. Predicted: 1:32:49. presented by CIGNA, Disney Destinations LLC