Backstory - On June 10th, something went wrong above and behind my left hip and felt seriously wrong by the end of the next day's 8K race.  Piriformis?  SI joint?  Glute medius?  Or perhaps a combination of one thing leading to another.  By the time I got into and out of PT and started to feel well enough to resume semi-normal training, it was early August.  Lots of fitness lost.

On 8/24, I did a 20 miler and was completely drained by what should be towards the bottom of my easy pace.  But I decided to not scuttle the marathon -- with just over a month to go, I should be able to at least finish the thing.   Over the next 4 weeks, I used short-cycle advice from forumites, a necessary departure from my beloved Pfitz-based workouts.  I also tried to get in as much time on my feet as possible without resorting to big, heavy hitting LRs.

With a week to go, my legs felt fresh (probably because they hadn't done much all summer), MP felt fluid in smaller servings, and there had been no complaints from the hip region.

Race Eve - I got my packet and made the longish drive back to the hotel, where I finished off the last of the requisite bag of mini-wheats that had ridden shotgun on the way up.  A short shakeout jog around the base of a small ski area (one of Gore Mtn's bunny hills, maybe) and across the upper Hudson River.  Everything laid out and ready to go and trying not to allow any nervousness to creep up.

One Loop Around Schroon Lake - The morning drive was in heavy fog.  I put on sunblock anyway;  the fog would burn off, hopefully later than sooner.  The non-competitive Early Birds started at 7:00 -- it would be a very long day for some of those souls.  After a prolonged ritual of slow jogs, stretching, hydration and bathroom visits, I dropped off my gear bag and meandered into Main Street with a loosely packed bunch of green-bibbed runners, punctuated by the orange and purple of relay folks.  The whole thing was very underwhelming and I felt almost sleepy and bored, not amped up to race.  The town supervisor yelled "GO" at precisely 9:00 AM, and off we went into the fog.  The crowd immediately thinned to just 8-10 runners in visibility, and thinned even more as one guy in a USA singlet rocketed away at roughly my 5K pace.  Game over for everyone else in less than 800 meters.

The volunteers at this race are awesome.  Super friendly and encouraging, and due to the small field, runners can personally thank just about all of them on the course, as there are no street-filling throngs.

By mile two, my watch was telling me that I wasn't sleepy or bored any more, and it was time to rein it in.  The short stretch of dirt road came and went and it was up into the woods and hills that characterized the next 10+ miles.  I was now only in and out of regular contact with two runners, Shirtless Guy and Flag Shorts.  They were pacing together and talking lots, but only exchanged a brief greeting with me.  Their speed was puzzling.  They'd pull ahead by a good deal, and then slow way down at water stations or on hills before flying by again.  Using this race as a low-key workout for better things?  No idea.  Another guy who looked like he was wildly enthusiastic in his early pace was utterly crushed by the first hill.  I wonder if he ever did finish.

Into double-digits, I had about 2 minutes banked and was holding steady, with no idea how I'd feel later.  Carry on.  Small groups would either cheer or sit quietly in their lawn chairs and perhaps offer a "good morning" or "nice job", but mostly it was running alone in the woods, just like the majority of training.

By about mile 12, the sun had come through fully, and a dry but comfortable warmth had replaced the early cool mist.  On to halfway, where the first real "crowd" of spectators hangs out by a general store.  The HMers had been bussed to this point and started at 10:00 -- we'd eventually catch a fair number of them in the later miles.

I didn't want to be bothered with math anymore, so even though my 2 banked minutes had mostly dwindled, I reset my watch at 13.1.  New race, new timer.  No one was really in the next several miles -- I caught one guy who looked in rough shape but shirtless guy and flag shorts had pulled way ahead.  It was starting to become a noticeable chore to stay in my cleaned-up form.   Having turned the bottom end of the lake, the course was now a long haul back to town with less woods and only gradual elevation change.  But at mile 18 came the highlight of the race, support-wise:  Word of Life, a boarding school/camp thingy full of raucous young people.  Lines of high-fives, music, and group after group yelling "nice 'stache!!"  over the beatlemania "woooo!"s that would give the Wellesley girls a run for their money, lacking only sheer numbers.  That mile was not a conservative one.

By 21, however, things were getting ugly, and quick.  That nice warm sun was now bordering on hot.  Fatigue and some warning signs of cramps were materializing.  Red-bibbed halfers were now all over the road, a lot of them offering support as well.  One guy was in a "Beat the Blerch" shirt, and when I went by with a "yeah, the oatmeal!", he said nothing.  Then a few seconds later, I overheard "you know it's bad when there are marathoners catching you."

22-25 were mentally hazy and miserable.  I was getting really warm.  My singlet and face were slathered with powerade, my clothes were saturated and sticking to me.  Each water station, I'd take one water to douse myself and then one powerade to slow and drink fully.  A guy I had been ever so slowly gaining on finally pulled even.  I talked a little to him to hopefully be of help, and he soon said "I'll see you at the finish", which I took as code for "I don't want to talk."  So I let him be.  He tried to surge once, fell off again, and I was left to now really worry about cramping up. I was slowing, but just wanted to be done and walk away with a BQ, no matter how slim the margin.  I had stopped caring about my watch too, only the magic signs with sequential numbers were important now.

With less than half a mile to go, Flag Shorts came into view.  I turned to the nearest HMer, said "this is a really bad fucking idea" and took off on a kick that felt both deranged and falling-down drunk.  Whatever it was, his Hell was of a deeper level and he didn't move to race.  Finally, around that final corner, and my heart probably stopped.  There, hanging in space, burning in digital chartreuse, still much too tiny, were the numbers: two.  fifty-nine.  forty-five.

Time is relative, and those seconds took longer than any I've ever raced, but at the same time they were ticking off much too fast.  Knowing that I was not going to make it.  Willing them to go slower.  No.  No.  26.2 miles defined by the unstoppable march of 15 seconds.

3:00:04.

Here are pictures.

Tough race, sounds like the conditions took their toll.  The outcome may have been different if you were in the 7:00 AM group, or maybe not.  Still, way to hang tough!  Good thing USA singlet guy showed up or you would be really pissed.

Great job!  I cannot believe you did this well under those hot conditions.  That shows how you will achieve your goal soon in better weather.  Congratulations on a job well done!  Glad to see you back from injury in great form.

I did not know you had grown a mustache???

Very impressive racing. I'm encouraged to see you were able to run such a strong race with a shortened cycle due to injury because that's the same situation I am in (had to take all of June off for a calf strain).  What was your goal prior to injury and did you adjust it for the missed training?

I'm not sure which is better, you're story telling or your running.  hmmm.  Very nice read.

What are you holding in your left hand on your middle finger?  Looks like a key ring and a mini flashlight?  ha

Bummer Jay.  Shaved head, that's a new look.

Do you think if you had not reset your watch you might have had a better idea of where your finishing time stood?  Doing math miles 24-26 is kinda like using my kids graphing calculator = not happening.

How did Road Runner finish? (The guy that blasted at the start)

Love how you name the runners you are hanging on as if they are cartoon characters.

Are you ready to move to the Adirondacks now? (lol)

P.S. The 'stache is incredible!

Yep, and it bears a striking resemblance to yours.  

Great RR.  Thanks for sharing.  Great time, especially given your injuries and the heat.