An Ode to Dad: the guy who got me up and running

The race results from yesterday's Run for Boston 5k still aren't posted (boo) so I'll hold off on that until I have my official results.  So, here's a little post in honor of Father's Day.

Dad and I post SF 10 Miler this past May

My dad has always been a runner.  He served in the military (Army - both active and reserves) and they had to do a lot of running.  So, it stuck with him and he continued to run.  My dad is also a very consistent runner.  He runs at least three times a week.  And, he's never been seriously injured either.  He's diligent about stretching and does ab work.  I look at him as the runner I want to be when I'm 65 years old.  He's managed to incorporate it into his lifestyle.

Dad finishing the Run for Boston 5K

My running background can be found here.  I was a cross country runner, but not a long distance runner by any means.  I could run about 3 miles tops.  Thoughts of a marathon never crossed my mind since I always wrote myself off as a poor runner since I wasn't particularly good at it in cross country.

At one point, my dad started training for a half marathon.  He started going out on much longer runs.  One day, he mentioned that he was going to run 5 miles.  I'd never run 5 before, but asked if I could tag along.  I still vividly recall that run that we took on a route that he mapped around our neighborhood, which was basically one big loop.  His pace worked for me and I was able to keep up.  He told me where each mile was as well.  These were in the days before I ran with a Garmin.  While out on the run, I was bite and scratched by an overexcited dog.  Thankfully, the bite wasn't serious and Dad and I just kept on running.  We didn't even bother to get the dog owner's contact information much to my mother's chagrin.

In 2010, my dad and I began racing regularly.  My dad has run our town's 5K before and convinced me to sign up.  I was so worried that I would not perform well and I'd finish dead last.  My outcome was quite the opposite.  I won the women's race and have been racing ever since.

We completed several 5ks and 10ks.  He came out to support me as I struggled to complete my first half marathon.  In 2011, we were at it again running more 5ks, 10ks and half marathons for me not for Dad yet).  In 2012, I got to see him cross the finish line of his first half marathon and I was extremely proud of him.  He came out to watch me run the Chicago Marathon last October and he was extremely proud of me after I finished.

My dad and I even convinced my mom to come out and run with us.  She's definitely not a runner per se, but I think part of her enjoys it.  I mean, she's crazy enough to run them again and again.  I think she's done with it for now, but who knows.  Last race, she was harping about it not being chip timed.  That's a lot to say for someone who supposedly doesn't care to run anymore, IMO.

Anyway, my Dad is my partner in crime when it comes to running.  His support has motivated me to go for my goals and keep running even though I sometimes fall out of love with it.  I'm extremely proud of him for all his accomplishments.  And, I cannot wait to see him after Chicago in October with a medal draped around his neck.  I can't wait to stand next to him and have the bf take our picture together.

You Always Remember Your First...

In Honor of Father's Day!  He is my Dad's half marathon race recap:

Dad proudly wearing his medal!

After my usual light breakfast of a banana, yogurt, orange juice and coffee at around 05:30, my daughter, my wife and I headed to the race. They were running the 5K race and I was doing my first 13.1. We walked the 3 blocks from the parking lot to the staging area to stretch our legs and to sort of warm up as well. I did a few strides and a slow jug in place to get ready; no need to warm up as there would be plenty of time to do that in 13.1 miles. I got a little apprehensive when I realized that I forgot to take the 60 mg Naproxen pill that would have kept my muscles relaxed so my legs would not cramp up. I would just have to gut it out now, and the temperature has already reached 80 degrees by the time I crossed the start line. "Here it goes!"

I took the first mile at about 10:40, according to the Endomondo app on my iPhone, and I thought that was too fast for me, specially in the sweltering heat. I dropped it to an 'airborne shuffle' at 11:01 on the second mile and kept it around that pace until I hit what I call the "cardiac hill"past mile 5 on Waverly Road. Climbing up that hill on tired legs and a body that seemed to be running out of gas already was just impossible if I were to go the distance. So I walked the remaining 25 feet to the peak until I got to the aid station where I ate my first GU, drank some Gatorade and splashed water on my face.  A few feet after that, I drank from my own water jug; the first of many more to come.

I kept on tracking at just past an 11:00- minute mile pace while singing old Army cadence in my head for another mile or so:
 "C-130 rolling down the strip,
 Airborne daddy's  gonna take a little trip;
 Stand up, hook up, shuffle to the door,
 Jump right out and count to four.
 If my main don't open wide,
 I got another one by my side....", and soon, keeping a nice steady jog, one foot after the other.

 "I can run to Saigon just like this..."

When I passed mile 8, my feet seemed to be on auto-pilot that I could not seem to control, and any sudden change of direction to avoid a car or a crack on the pavement threw my gait off. My breathing was good and my rhythm was fine, but I could sense an early onset of cramping on my left calf muscle. I altered my gait by running on my thighs instead of my feet and kept my pace.

By the time I reached Fort Sheridan and the beginning of a 1.5 mile stretch of straight away road without a tree, I could feel the heat draining every ounce of energy I had in reserve, so much so that when I passed mile 10 my calf muscles were on full cramp mode and my thigh muscles were sending signals that they, too were aching. Amazingly, my feet that were on auto-pilot were not about to slow down.

So after I passed mile 11, I slowed down to virtual crawl for about 100 feet before I dropped to a walk. I walked somewhat sideways, favoring my left leg. I kept thinking of the finish line which was barely over two miles away and kept moving forward while trying to ignore the aches and pain on my feet, legs and shoulders. Got to finish this, no matter what.

After a few more feet, I ate my last GU, took more Gatorade and water, and started drenching my head with water from my own jug. Then I started on a brisk walk that turned into a slow strut and then a steady jog again and kept that up until I passed mile 12.

By this time, my shoulder muscles were really screaming of pain, together with my leg and thigh muscles while my feet felt like they were on fire. But there was no stopping now; not with the finish line almost in plain sight already.

That was when I finally realized what a marathon is all about: a true test of physical fitness and mental fortitude.

I made it to mile 13 on pure will power and not much more, and I simply had to drop to walk once again, out of gas and on dead legs.

Then I saw my wife and daughter who have been waiting for me for about 2 hours since they finished their 5K run. They were less than 100 feet from the finish line and were yelling encouragement for me to finish the race and get my medal. So with that and whatever else I had in the tank, I strutted and shuffled all the way across the finish line and claimed my finisher medal for my first 13.1 mile race. All the pain seemed to have gone away as I walked around eating a banana and gulping water like a very thirsty camel. What a relief!

I still cannot believe that I put every ounce of my 65-year old body through that grueling test and survived it.