To set the mood, a musical intro by Howlin' Wolf.

Background - After an early summer injury and resulting weeks off, my fall marathon at first looked like a wash.  Late in the game, I decided to not call it off, but to dial my goals way back.  On unorthodox, truncated training, I missed my "A" goal of sub-3 by 4 seconds and immediately went back to the drawing board, hungry to put together a good cycle and not wanting to wait for the third Monday in April to gain redemption.

Online reviews looked good for the Mississippi Blues Marathon, a January race in the Deep South, (hopefully) out of the cold and snow and leaving plenty of time to train for Boston.  When it had been a money race, the likes of Craig Leon showed up.  But then a year ago, they dropped the purse in favor of...well, no purse.  The winning time last year was 2:43.  With a target of 2:45, why not take a shot?  Looking to take a big bite out my PR was the realistic goal, and I decided to keep this attempt mostly secret for once, a tough job when transparency has been my rule.

Training - Quinn (over in L&O) put this in his Avenue of the Giants RR thread: "i found an article Amby Burfoot wrote for RW- where he interviewed all of the runners for the 2012 Olympic Marathon Qualifier. The one component that all the qualifiers had in common was weekly percentage of MP or faster miles. They ranged from 28-35% of their weekly miles at or faster than MP."  

The bold statement drove my training for this cycle.  I didn't worry about doing tons of 20+ milers or screwing around with 1200s.  Getting roughly a third of the miles in at GMP or faster was priority #1.  To that end, I made use of the TM a lot, even often when it was nice enough to run outside.  When you set the TM to 9.5, it stays there, regardless of what incline you're at or how tired you are.  There are no excuses, there's no snow to navigate, there's no dogging it up hills.  Having checked out the course elevation profile, I did a lot of "hills".

Injury did not take any time away, and on only a couple days was "fuck running" allowed to preside.

Nutrition and Other - I didn't follow a special diet, but tried to keep junk and fast food to a minimum.  Instead of buying lunch, I brought oatmeal or sandwiches.  Breakfast was usually a couple pieces of fruit, greek yogurt, and a muffin or raisin bread.  Dinners were typically healthy carb/protein -- rice, baked fries or potato, pasta with tuna, veggies, a small steak once a week.

Vitamins taken each day -- C, Calcium, Iron, Glucosamine.

I tried to sleep at least 7 hours most nights, and if the cat woke up to bug me, I put him in the back room instead of waiting for him to settle down.

Pre-race - A white-knuckle drive to the airport in heavy lake effect snow was no fun, and the plane had to be de-iced before leaving, one of few flights to not be officially delayed or canceled.  It got out of Buffalo with no trouble, however, and the rest of the trip down was uneventful.  Connecting to Jackson, the sunset over a glimpse of the Mississippi River was pretty.  I got my rental car, a red Dodge Avenger, not the Nissan Versa that Travelocity had indicated.  Nice!

Friday was a quick packet pickup, made easy by friendly, efficient volunteers.  I got a quick feel for the city, perhaps the size of Rochester NY, and then scooted back to the hotel for my self-imposed Race Eve carb sequester.  Frosted Mini-Wheats and Powerade did the heavy lifting as usual.  I plotted a parking spot and an escape route that would avoid the race course, and turned in early.

Race morning, I was up before the alarm, having not slept through the night.  However, when I did wake up, I was able to fall back asleep.

It was dark, calm, cold, and lonely.  I beat the crowds by about 30 minutes, found and used a porta-potty, and staked out a spot indoors near the bag check, housed in the Planetarium.  It was relaxing to sit in a dimly lit stairwell, waiting, watching, chatting briefly with other runners trying to stay warm.  Just being, no pressure, no nerves.  Goin' down south, got work to do.

Cryin' Won't Help Ya, Prayin' Won't Do Ya No Good - Finally, the crowds had moved into the corral.  It was surprisingly roomy, and I took a spot about 4 rows back, not knowing if a lot of HM and relay guys would go out hard.  The cold was only tolerable because there was no wind, even in a long sleeve tech shirt, hat, and gloves.  The anthem was played on a guitar, and we were off.

Within a quarter mile, I had all the room I wanted and more.  It was pretty sparse already, and I settled in for the first couple miles going back and forth with one other guy, a few others well ahead.  Around 3 miles, that guy had pulled even, and he dropped some very valuable information.  "Ya doin' the half?"  "Nope, full."  "God bless, man, that guy up there is HM, I'm relay.  You got two guys comin' up here that are 2:40s guys. Good luck."

And like that, he was gone, and the two guys he spoke of were on me.  We instantly locked pace and shortly went on through the divergence for full vs. half.  Lead pack, just like watching it on TV.  Settled into 6:00 and change, moving into hills that would remain almost constant until mile 23.  I didn't chat at all, not knowing if these guys knew each other, but they spoke rarely to each other.  Neither was interacting with the volunteers or spectators, but I didn't want to be a rude Yankee, so I returned smiles and "good mornings!" whenever possible.

Now, unlike any of my 6 previous marathons, I was in a new situation.  A legitimate race against other runners, not just the clock.  Possibly first place on the line.  We started to pull the same stuff you see the elites do... just slower.  One guy would surge, the other two would answer.  Or we'd all slow noticeably when one of their Garmins chirped.  Someone would take a tangent with a quick shoulder-glance to see who'd follow.  I didn't want to get into aid-station reindeer games, so I moved to the rear at each station and grabbed Gatorade, being careful to drink the whole cup, knowing that even with the cold, I needed the carbs and hydration.  One guy wasn't taking anything, and I found out why after a couple stations.  He had personal bottles stashed along the course, set on pieces of split firewood.  Hmmmm.

We continued well clear of downtown, on rolling hills in well-kept residential suburban streets.  My hands were now totally numb, and trying to shake them just made them hurt and feel swollen, so I stopped.

Somewhere around 12 miles, the pack dissolved.  Bottle Stash moved up to a pace that I didn't want to match, and the other guy began to give off distress indicators on uphills.   I held steady, still running 6:0x splits.  13.1 fell right around 1:20 and I started in on the mental aspect of the race.  "You can run another 1:20ish HM no problem, just hold on when it gets tough."  "Even a mild positive split will be a big PR, run smart and don't fall apart."  And so on.  But the most important voice, was the quiet little one in the background.  "What have you learned from marathons?"  "That shit can happen late in the race."  "Yes, and it can happen to your opponents.  If it happens to just one guy, you might have a chance to win.  Don't. Slow. Down."

The upper teens seemed to drag on while trying to stay positive, reassessing, maintaining.   I thought of things that I wanted to remember for the race, best practices of the elites, stuff from Running Times about how they don't use discomfort as a warning flag, but an indicator of how much harder they can go at that moment.  About how they don't set artificial limits.  Small knots of spectators kept me from going too introspective, and I made sure to greet them cheerfully.  And somewhere, sometime, one young lady said something that I've heard before, something that is sometimes impossible and sometimes not.  "Great job, you can catch that guy!"  "I'm gonna try."  I didn't believe it right then.  But more people started saying it, and I started to think that it might be possible.  Maybe.  Run your race.

Finally, an aid station with Clif gels.  Oh hell yes.  But, my fingers didn't work in the cold, and I had no grip to pull the tab.  After a moment of excessive panic, I realized that teeth can rip things and chewed off an end of the packet, carefully trying to ingest more than I got on my face.

We were back into the land of HM runners now, and like coming out of a long dark tunnel, a sunny and uncharacteristically flat stretch brought me back to full reality.  A bike rider had been dispatched from an aid station (maybe mile 21?) to specifically guide me, mostly by riding ahead and asking the HMers to move aside.  On that long stretch, I could clearly see the lead runner and his bike escort.  "Big hill coming up", said mine.  And it was, on the other side of the freeway.  As we climbed it, I noticed something.  I was gaining.

Now things started happening really quickly.  The gap closed up in a hurry, and somewhere during 22, I think, on a downhill, around a shady corner with magnolias lining the street, I passed my man.  Not wanting to show any cards, I still said nothing to him, just powered past as if maybe I hadn't even noticed.  But at that moment, I knew it was out of his hands and in mine.  Endgame, and I had just moved into first.  "Try not to completely freak out, you still have to finish this thing strongly, and you could just as easily be re-passed if you screw up."

The cyclist was quite helpful, alerting runners, walkers, and shufflers that I was coming through.  Lots of support from the HM crowd and the still spotty spectators.  I started smiling at people, thanking them for their cheers, staying the course on the razor's edge between fast and cautious.

24, the longest mile ever.  Just get to 25 and then you can bring it on home.  There was a U-turn off in the distance now, HM runners tiny as ants making their way towards downtown.  I was getting giddy, weird, laughing hysterically on the inside at how small those runners were, and then at myself for being so off my rocker.  When I reached the turn that they had been on and mile 25, a smile broke out that would carry all the way to the finish, a smile that had people yelling "way to finish strong!", people that knew I was going to do something I had only ever dreamed of.  I was going to win a marathon.

Splits:

Swag:

Blues After Hours:

After managing to not kill myself on the tape, a small swarm of media descended, and I tried to answer their questions graciously without babbling incoherently about just wanting heat and sugar and dry clothes.  After what seemed like an hour, but was probably more like 2 minutes, they finally let me go, and I hobbled up to bag check for a comical adventure in getting changed without being able to sit down or use my fingers.  I chatted a bit with a fast guy from CT while settling down, and then made it to the food tent for some pizza and red beans and rice.

While waiting for the awards ceremony, the 2nd place guy's father approached me and I learned that they were Jackson locals.  Super nice and talkative, as if we had been friends for years.  Eventually the whole family appeared.  Great folks.  I said I felt bad taking first from a local guy, but he said he'd love to race again, to which his mom jokingly replied "oh no, you stay up in Buffalo next year!"

Then there were awards, first place female was from Calgary.  Go Canada!  We were each presented a real blues guitar (sorry no pics yet, mine's going to shipped here).

After more food and well-wishes with my new friends, it was off to the hotel to clean up and rest for a bit before making it back downtown for some food, beer, and blues, meeting more cool people at the Iron Horse Grill.  I almost felt like an extrovert.

Sunday and the flight home, with another race through the airport at Atlanta due to a behind-schedule connection.  No worries, the plane to Buffalo was just as delayed, and after a long drive home, I had to shovel my way into the driveway, as the snow still falls while on vacation.

Next up:  Some recovery, some more training, some Boston.  Can't wait.

MTA: Thank yous.  Dur.

Quinn - for sharing that training strategy.  It worked, big time.

B+B - for being there.  You guys are my motivation.

L&O - for being a different there

BNAC - for being a talented anti-running-club club.  Some of the best runners in Buffalo that I have the honor of being teammates with.

Southtowns Sprinters - friends I would have never made otherwise.

Congrats on the win Jay!  That's awesome! Very happy for you.

I'm a HUGE proponent of race pace workouts. Started blending those in 20+ years ago * which, I believe, was instrumental in punching my ticket to Boston. When did you start blending those in and could you describe?

Very interesting stuff about the lead "pack". Typically, providing anything other than race supplied aid will get you disqualified. I love you sharing all the mental battles and thoughts running through your head. That's really helpful to others knowing you have to use EVERYTHING to do your best. It's a war out there! One physical, one mental.

* I haven't raced a marathon since 2010 but used that same strategy for the half marathon when my race pace workouts would range between 15k - half marathon pace up to 15k in distance. Obviously, the 15k pace work was shorter in distance [3x3000m].

Woohoo! That is awesome! Congratulations!

Thoroughly enjoyed this recap, Jay!  What a performance.  I can only imagine the joy and excitement you were feeling in those last couple of miles when you were confident you had the race won.  Congratulations on the win!  Thanks for posting this and for hanging around all of us slow B&B folks.  

Oh, I can imagine you smiling all the way from Mile 25 until you finished.  And I see the Elixirs!

Oh man, I was smiling by the end of that too. You WON a marathon! That is so awesome! Congrats on a great race, Jay

And holy cow, you're <2 minutes off of a 2:3x marathon - new goal?

Huge, huge congrats Jay! I love reading your reports and hearing your accounts of what goes nat the front. A real blues guitar? Sweet!

Jay, that was amazing! What an RR! I will never win a marathon or any race but while I was reading this I felt like I was running with you the entire way.  Now I know how it feels to win a race!  A huge congratulations to you, seriously, that is just awesome!  I also think it's pretty cool that you made the effort to smile and wave at people along the route. Best of luck to you in Boston.

"They ranged from 28-35% of their weekly miles at or faster than MP."  Definitely something to consider...

P.S. In honor of you and your win, I started growing a mustache for my marathon cycle.