My beach vacation got better in the second half, but my half marathon on Sunday did not. In a race where I thought 85 minutes was my floor, I ran 86:31 for sixth place. I’m confused by my official place because I counted myself in fourth when I passed my wife at mile 8, and got passed by five people after that. It doesn’t really matter.
The only goal I met for this race was the implied imperative to compete for position. The field went out hot, and I went with them, splitting 6:15 through mile 1 and sitting in sixth place. I felt decent, the weather was excellent, and I had my super shoes on, so I wasn’t too concerned to be a bit quick; I expected to settle in a bit and cruise from there.
I never settled. I latched on to fifth place and hunted him through mile 2, then moved ahead and chased down fourth over the next mile. It felt good. I wasn’t sure I could hold it, but it felt like the right pace to be running. I set my sights on third place and tried to pull him in.
By mile 6 I knew I wasn’t moving up to third, and that’s when I started to consider how much farther I had to run. It was too far, but I wasn’t sure by how much. If the race were ten miles, could I hold it?
That’s a terrible thought to be having at mile 7 of a half marathon. It was also optimistic! I imploded crossing over the Turnpike as I was approaching mile 8. I knew my wife was going to be there and I thought very seriously about a DNF. I thought about how appropriate it would be, given the name of this blog.
When I got there, I couldn’t do it. I want to say that I saw my family and couldn’t quit in front of them, that I needed to fight it out for my son, and maybe that was part of it, but my foremost and most negative thought was that my mother-in-law was taking pictures, and I’d look like an idiot if my surrender was caught on camera. We fight a lot of stupid demons out on the race course.
So I gave my wife a thumbs down to signal that all was not going to plan and settled in for a long, painful cooldown—physically and psychologically. I already mentioned I got passed by five people.
There’s not much else to be said about this race. I’ll let my heart rate graph from Strava finish the story:
Last week, I wrote that I’ll know my endurance has faded if I can’t measure up to my Sunset Classic performance. I couldn’t and it has. Maybe I could have run faster with better pacing, but there’s no telling by how much. Perhaps I could’ve run 85 minutes. Would it have mattered?
The feedback this race has given me is that I’m not ready for a marathon block this fall. While my fitness over shorter distances has been remarkably stable—and perhaps even improved—since my son was born, I need a lot more miles in my diet to get back to marathon shape. So that’s the assignment.
Registration opened today for the Jersey City Marathon, and I’ve already signed up. Boston hopefuls keep raising the BQ bar; I’ll have my work cut out for me.
It’s time to stack up some serious fall mileage and hit 2026 in full stride. We’ll see what my son has to say about that. At least now he knows I won’t quit easily.
theDNF 
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