2:31:18
HP HOUSTON MARATHON
I do not know where to begin. I am still having thoughts and feelings about this race, even as I type this entry. There were so many positives and negatives from the race, but overall the race was a slight disappointment. But I am not disappointed so necessarily on my time, but I am disappointed to how my body reacted to an increase of sustained pace. The race plan was to begin conservatively the first 10K of the race, starting out at 5:30 pace and dropping down to 5:20's by 6 miles. At 10K I was to drop down to 5:15's and maintain that effort as long as I could. "As long as I could" was theorized to be around 18-22 miles, and then we would experience a "crash" down to 5:30-5:40 pace.
However, from the gun I could not find my rhythm. From the start I was adrift perhaps 100m from the lead pack and on my own (I would run the entire 26.2 miles alone, not to be passed by a single soul). I clicked off a 5:40 into the headwind and attempted to pick up the pace, but my left hamstring was already rebelling (not a good sign) and I backed off a little and waited until I felt more secure. Finally, I felt ready at 4 miles, but once again, I only saw 5:30-5:40 on my watch- what was happening? Regardless, at 10K, I was determined to take off and I did, finally hitting a smooth stretch of running as I began clicking off 5:20's. I held this pace and rhythm beautifully, running 5:24-5:22-5:28-5:27-5:35-5:31-5:32-5:40-5:28 before suddenly tightening to a 5:56, 16th mile (almost immediately at 25K after the overpass at 15 miles and when I caught one of the fading Ethiopians).
I thought I may have hit a bad patch- something I preach to watch out for, something you will experience but eventually get out of - but this was different. I knew I was done. And I was only at 16 miles, but I was in 8th place. I couldn't believe it. A minute ago I was envisioning working hard until Memorial and then crashing, but not this soon. I needed to relax. I kept trudging along into the headwind, where approaching 18 miles I saw a grey Nike uniform ahead: it was the young Finn who had run 1:04 last year in the Half Marathon. He was in the same state I was in, but his stride was bouncier, so with the same effort, I was running faster as I was closer to the ground. I caught him by 19 miles and kept going. However, as every minute passed I knew the runners behind me were gaining. I kept expecting the lead female or Brett Riley or someone coming up on me and I would be useless to respond. So I kept on.
I remember passing the highway and seeing a Texas Lottery billboard and it read "$133 Million" and I remember thinking, "damn, I didn't win (I had played earlier in the week), so I can't rely on being a millionaire so I'm going to need the 500 dollar top local prize money." My memorial bracelet for my teammate that was killed in Iraq would get snagged on my number whenever I would begin fading (quite timely at times) and I would be reminded of his death and sacrifice and that this temporary pain is nothing compared to what he suffered. I remember hearing Derek screaming at me, but only once I was 50 meters passed him and he was yelling his lungs out when I thought, "hey, that was Derek. I hope he ran the 5K." I remember paying attention to the crowds as I would pass: they would cheer for me and 20 to 30 seconds would pass and then I would hear a cheer again. Not too bad. By 22 miles, I would pass a cheering section and would wait in much anticipation for the next "cheer" and it was now only 10 seconds! They, whoever, were gaining! I had to re-focus and not let anyone pass me the final 10K.. no one had passed me the whole race, they were not going to do it now. I remember looking back at 25.5 miles (my only time) and seeing someone behind me I thought was the Ethiopian. I remember thinking what my Coach had told me: "Gabriel, at 25 miles you are to kick and destroy your body. You will hurt regardless if you run 2:18 or 2:22, so make something out of it." I did not want to be in a kick with an Ethiopian (it ended up being Vaughn Gibbs running the race of his life for 8th). I remember motorcycles and a car pulling off beside me and thinking "what was that for." Later I would find out it would be for the lead female, as she would run 2:32 in an amazing peformance.
I ran hard through the finish and immediately was met with my Guardian Angel for the day, Jeff Gilbert. The man emerged from the darkness to be my "support crew" and what a great job he did. He was exactly where he needed to be at 6:15 am and exactly where he needed to be at 6:45 am and exactly where he needed to be when Perla and I were done. Thank you, Jeff.
Well, till next time, I will chalk this one down as a learning experience and until Twin Cities I will be refinining my track running abilities (a.k.a., getting faster). Godspeed to all, and press on...
I do not know where to begin. I am still having thoughts and feelings about this race, even as I type this entry. There were so many positives and negatives from the race, but overall the race was a slight disappointment. But I am not disappointed so necessarily on my time, but I am disappointed to how my body reacted to an increase of sustained pace. The race plan was to begin conservatively the first 10K of the race, starting out at 5:30 pace and dropping down to 5:20's by 6 miles. At 10K I was to drop down to 5:15's and maintain that effort as long as I could. "As long as I could" was theorized to be around 18-22 miles, and then we would experience a "crash" down to 5:30-5:40 pace.
However, from the gun I could not find my rhythm. From the start I was adrift perhaps 100m from the lead pack and on my own (I would run the entire 26.2 miles alone, not to be passed by a single soul). I clicked off a 5:40 into the headwind and attempted to pick up the pace, but my left hamstring was already rebelling (not a good sign) and I backed off a little and waited until I felt more secure. Finally, I felt ready at 4 miles, but once again, I only saw 5:30-5:40 on my watch- what was happening? Regardless, at 10K, I was determined to take off and I did, finally hitting a smooth stretch of running as I began clicking off 5:20's. I held this pace and rhythm beautifully, running 5:24-5:22-5:28-5:27-5:35-5:31-5:32-5:40-5:28 before suddenly tightening to a 5:56, 16th mile (almost immediately at 25K after the overpass at 15 miles and when I caught one of the fading Ethiopians).
I thought I may have hit a bad patch- something I preach to watch out for, something you will experience but eventually get out of - but this was different. I knew I was done. And I was only at 16 miles, but I was in 8th place. I couldn't believe it. A minute ago I was envisioning working hard until Memorial and then crashing, but not this soon. I needed to relax. I kept trudging along into the headwind, where approaching 18 miles I saw a grey Nike uniform ahead: it was the young Finn who had run 1:04 last year in the Half Marathon. He was in the same state I was in, but his stride was bouncier, so with the same effort, I was running faster as I was closer to the ground. I caught him by 19 miles and kept going. However, as every minute passed I knew the runners behind me were gaining. I kept expecting the lead female or Brett Riley or someone coming up on me and I would be useless to respond. So I kept on.
I remember passing the highway and seeing a Texas Lottery billboard and it read "$133 Million" and I remember thinking, "damn, I didn't win (I had played earlier in the week), so I can't rely on being a millionaire so I'm going to need the 500 dollar top local prize money." My memorial bracelet for my teammate that was killed in Iraq would get snagged on my number whenever I would begin fading (quite timely at times) and I would be reminded of his death and sacrifice and that this temporary pain is nothing compared to what he suffered. I remember hearing Derek screaming at me, but only once I was 50 meters passed him and he was yelling his lungs out when I thought, "hey, that was Derek. I hope he ran the 5K." I remember paying attention to the crowds as I would pass: they would cheer for me and 20 to 30 seconds would pass and then I would hear a cheer again. Not too bad. By 22 miles, I would pass a cheering section and would wait in much anticipation for the next "cheer" and it was now only 10 seconds! They, whoever, were gaining! I had to re-focus and not let anyone pass me the final 10K.. no one had passed me the whole race, they were not going to do it now. I remember looking back at 25.5 miles (my only time) and seeing someone behind me I thought was the Ethiopian. I remember thinking what my Coach had told me: "Gabriel, at 25 miles you are to kick and destroy your body. You will hurt regardless if you run 2:18 or 2:22, so make something out of it." I did not want to be in a kick with an Ethiopian (it ended up being Vaughn Gibbs running the race of his life for 8th). I remember motorcycles and a car pulling off beside me and thinking "what was that for." Later I would find out it would be for the lead female, as she would run 2:32 in an amazing peformance.
I ran hard through the finish and immediately was met with my Guardian Angel for the day, Jeff Gilbert. The man emerged from the darkness to be my "support crew" and what a great job he did. He was exactly where he needed to be at 6:15 am and exactly where he needed to be at 6:45 am and exactly where he needed to be when Perla and I were done. Thank you, Jeff.
Well, till next time, I will chalk this one down as a learning experience and until Twin Cities I will be refinining my track running abilities (a.k.a., getting faster). Godspeed to all, and press on...
posted by Gabriel Rodriguez at 5:19 PM
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