Self inflicted torture

I think back to a time around 6 or 7 months ago that I couldn’t run to the end of the block. After a hundred yards my lungs would ach, my chest would burn, and my head would take on a pulse of it’s own, beat red, covered in sweat and my head was throbbing. I remember about 5-6 months ago almost puking at 2 miles. I remember the first time I ran 2.5 miles without stopping. Even after showering I would continue to sweat for another couple hours, face still flush red for several hours after running.

I remember about 2 months ago running 4.5 miles straight for the first time. I couldn’t walk afterwards, my calves were locking up, my thighs twitching and cramping up. I remember on that same 4.5 mile run I actually collapsed to my knees one block from my house. I recall the first time I ran 5.5 miles straight at 5:30 am. The earliest I’d ever been awake during the work week and the furthest I’ve ever run in my life. I remember when I got to work at 8am I could hardly walk. Walking to get coffee was next to impossible.

Still only about 2 months ago I recall the first time I ran 6.4 miles straight without stopping. This past weekend I ran the furthest I’d ever run at 9.2 miles – and it hurt. At mile 8 I was having troubles lifting my legs to take the next step in my run, my hips were sore and it started to feel as if I was running on bone – I could feel every pounding step, needles on the sides of my ankles, knives in my hips, and little monsters with sharp teeth biting my calves.

So this past Sunday I partook in my first ever run / race competition. The Austin Half-Marathon, a grueling hill-packed 13.1 miles – nearly 4 miles, or 43% longer than I’d ever run before – and I’d never run on hills like this before. It was 6:45 AM and around 45 degrees outside when I took off my long sleeve warm-up shirt, and took my place among nearly 11,000 other runners.

After about mile 3 I was sort of wondering why I got myself into this. I just didn’t feel that into it for some reason, and realized I had a long long way to go. I grabbed my first on-the-go cup of water at around mile 4 which was an experience as well. I’d never tried to drink water while running and ended up with the majority of it up my nose and down the front of my shirt.

The torturous hills kicked in at around mile 7 – it was as if running on a treadmill for the first 7 miles then switching it up to a stair master, or literally running up 10 flights of stairs, and then hopping back onto the treadmill. It was absolute murder – but I kept going.

I recall at one point I asked another runner where we were at? He told me we were on mile 10 – and I got a huge lift knowing that I only had 3 miles to go. Then about a half mile later I asked some other people, not sure why, but I asked them – “are we approaching mile 11?” and they literally laughed – “we’re just now coming up on mile 8" they scoffed. Needless to say that deflated me a lot – I now had wrap my mind around having another 5 miles to go.

After mile 8 it was as if I had two miniature people on my shoulders. Just like you recall in the cartoons. On one shoulder a devil telling me to stop, rest, go ahead and stretch, and the other voice on the other shoulder saying – no chance, keep going, no one else is stopping, this is what you've trained for. This internal conversation would only get louder and louder over the last 5 miles – the urge to stop growing and growing with each pounding step. Each hill I would get over would just bring the next hill into focus. I could see people to my right and my left falling apart, but I could also see people twice my age running faster and stronger than I was – and the voices in my head telling me to stop, and pointing out the amount of pain I was in – but I kept going.

Along the route people would read your name on your bib and yell your name, tell you to keep going, etc., which was a big lift. I saw my family at mile 5 which also gave me a boost.

As the final mile came into focus the home stretch started on 10th avenue, and went to 9th, then 8th … etc., acting as a visual countdown to the end of the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life. At around 6th avenue or so I heard my wife and kids screaming my name, my son propped up on my wife’s shoulder smiling ear to ear – eyes fixed on me – and all of a sudden the pain was gone – the needles were removed, the monsters stopped biting, the negative voice on one shoulder vanished – and I was able to hit the gas for one last 50 yard sprint.

When I crossed the finish line I could have collapsed. My legs were wobbly and the needles returned to my ankles, and my legs started to seize up – it felt as if someone had chopped off my feet and I was walking on my bare leg bones - the acid build up in my legs was severe. I grabbed my finisher’s medal, some water, a banana, etc., and found a quite secluded place to stretch. When I bent over to touch my toes, head down, I closed my eyes, and I almost started to cry. It was such an emotional experience, a relief, an accomplishment. I didn’t stop once – although I wanted to stop after about mile 5 and every step thereafter.

I ended up finishing in 612th place out of 10,989 finishers or in the 95th percentile; my pace was at 8:03 minute miles for 13.1 miles for a total time of 1:45:30. I didn’t stop once. I got faster each mile with my fastest mile being at Mile 10. On a treadmill, if you’re interested, an 8 minute pace would be a setting of 7.5 – without any incline – for 1 hour and 45 minutes straight - however there was most certainly some extreme inclines and declines in this race.

Some interesting tid-bits. I got beat by a 70 yr old male, and a 55 yr old female – but I also beat some kids in their teens and early 20’s. I was the fastest “Allen” on the course, out of 19 others. The next closest “Allen” was 6 minutes behind me. I was the fastest “Dustin” on the course out of 9 other “Dustin’s”. The next closest “Dustin” was a full 20 minutes behind me – and he was 23 years old.