Check one off the old bucket list. I ran my first marathon this Sunday, my own hometown LA Marathon, and my first marathon time was much faster than I ever would have wagered. I pushed harder and dug deeper than I have for anything else in my life, and it paid off.

Goal time: 4:10:00 to 4:30:00

Actual time: 4:00:00

Normally I break down triathlons by the legs of the race (swim, bike, run, transitions), but here I’ll go with the first half, the Zack miles, and the final stretch.

The First Half

For the first 13.1 miles of the race, I listened to Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows on Audible, because listening to audiobooks is what I normally do when I train. I didn’t want to over-excite myself and burnout early by listening to motivating music. Plus, nothing new on race day.

My training plan had been set up by Runner’s World’s training app, My Run Plan, which tailors itself to your current ability level, goals, and schedule. It emphasized consistency in pace on my long runs, and had slowly built up my miles. I wasn’t going into this with ambition, but with diligence.

I kept a pretty even pace during this section of the race, despite the hills around Downtown LA, with a slower first mile and a half as I warmed up my legs. I also stopped for a quick pee at about six miles. That was the most eventful part, which meant that everything was going well.

Around the tenth mile, I started to feel my first complaints from my right knee, but they were pretty mild, and a little bit of stretching with high knees and butt kicks mixed into my normal stride, I knew from training, would help keep it from getting too bad.

The Zack Miles

My friend Zack, who in 2016 did the Trick or Tri with me, joined me at the halfway mark at Sunset and Fairfax as what I learned is called a “bandit,” someone who runs a race even though they aren’t registered. The plan was for him to run about seven miles with me and jump off Santa Monica and Sepulveda, just after the twenty mile mark.

Zack is a much more accomplished runner than myself. His marathon pace is probably close to my 10K pace, or what my 10K pace would be if I had ever run a 10K race before. That meant that he was able to keep pretty easy conversation with me while we ran, and let me save my breath if I wanted to let him do the talking.

In the last couple of miles before Zack peeled off, I saw (and felt) myself slipping off my pace. My thirteenth mile had been my fastest, and I was now trending slower. I also saw Erik, who came down to Santa Monica Blvd in his PJs (as I had requested) to high-five us as we passed.

The Final Stretch

After Zack left me, I took a minute to stretch and put my headphones back in. He had told me before that the real halfway point of a marathon is mile twenty, and about his own emotional experience in the last six miles of his first marathon. I wanted to be on my own for that, with my own thoughts and as the only one pushing and exhorting myself.

I knew that if I were to maintain my pace from the last couple of miles, I could still come in well within my target range, faster even. But I had never run farther than 20.4 miles before, so I didn’t know how much more fatigue would set in, and what that would do to my pace. It was possible that my pace would take a nosedive, that I’d hit a wall. But I also saw the first glimmer of hope that maybe I could make four hours, if I picked up my pace back to where it had been before.

Notwithstanding “nothing new on race day,” I had made a playlist just in case. I didn’t think J. K. Rowling’s writing nor Jim Dale’s reading were going to be enough to push me to a four hour finish. I switched from Audible to iTunes, hit shuffle on the playlist, and first thing came on was “Black Dog” by Led Zeppelin.

Feeling it, I set off.

My watch told me I was immediately back on pace, and I felt cautiously optimistic. It felt like I could maybe hold it with a little determination. According to my GPS data, other than the 24th mile when I took another brief stretch break, I managed to trend slightly upward in my pace for the last few miles. My 26th mile was second only to my 13th mile.

I had been reading text messages from my family as I ran and they tried to coordinate where to wait for me to finish. At one point they asked Danielle what I was wearing, and I answered with this picture:

My sister Katelin ran out onto San Vicente, screaming my name, leaping in front of me with a sign in her hand because I had my headphones in and couldn’t hear her. My brother-in-law Ryland got it on video, and it’s worth watching with the sound on:

Even though I had wanted to do these miles alone, it was nice to punctuate it with a few messages and encouragement from my family, who I knew were waiting for me and cheering me on, even if I couldn’t hear them over Sia blasting in my ears.

The last couple of miles were the most nerve-wracking. I kept mentally calculating the pace I would need to hold to reach four hours, which was tricky because my watch’s distance was slightly longer than the official course distance, due to lateral movement along the course. Even as I could see the finish line growing rapidly closer, I didn’t know how far away it was, nor whether I would get there in time.

I reminded myself that I had exceeded my own expectations, that this was an accomplishment already, but I also knew what a sting it would be if I ended up with a time of 4:01:00 or even 4:00:10.

I kept checking my watch as the seconds ticked by. I kept running.

3:58:00. I was unsure still how far away the finish line was. I kept running.

3:59:30. I saw “4:00:01” on the results next to my name. I kept running.

3:59:50. I wasn’t going to make it. I thought I could close the distance, but it felt like I was still so far away. I stopped checking my watch and just kept running.

I threw my arms up in the air as I crossed the finish line, hoping for a good finishing photo. The cost of this was not being able to hit my watch at the exact moment I finished, so it read 4:00:05. I didn’t know whether I had made it. I didn’t think so.

After the Race

I got some water, gulping it down, and grabbed a space blanket to wrap around myself, although with the wind blowing it up, it wasn’t doing much good. I told everyone I was done and sent them a grimacing picture, wearing my medal around my neck and lots of salt around my eyes from the sweat.

But I needed to know what my final time was. I remembered that members of my family had signed up for the tracking feature from the LA Marathon app. It should have told them my final time. I asked if any of them had it. My brother Keegan answered:

you hit 4 exactly on the dot!!

no joke

literally on the dot!!!!

Katelin sent a screenshot of the text notifications she had been getting as proof.

4:00:00 exactly!!!!!!!!!

SO INCREDIBLE

I could scarcely believe it.

After walking a few blocks, when the barriers had finally opened up so runners could meet their friends and family, I found Danielle waiting with Katelin and Ryland. My parents had missed me at the finish because I had been so far ahead of my anticipated pace; they had heard I had finished from a spectator who had the app open and was tracking runners’ paces by their bib numbers as they passed.

Danielle had a big fluffy towel with her, which she wrapped around me and hugged me. All I could do then was simultaneously laugh and cry with joy.

The Takeaway

Training pays off. I know that’s obvious, but I don’t normally have a rigorous training plan for my triathlons. I push myself riding and running, but rarely with any specific goals in mind. Rather than training with set times to beat, I train and then try to predict after the fact what kind of time I’ll get in the race.

Zack told me early on, “Pick a training plan and stick to it.” He was mostly concerned with making sure I didn’t hurt myself if I didn’t train properly, and I’m glad he was. His admonitions made sure that I went into this race better prepared than I ever have been.

I am the most experienced and accomplished triathlete of anyone I know, or at least anyone I see on any kind of semi-regular basis. That’s both a brag and a lament, because it means I don’t have anyone to compare notes with, to guide me, and to correct my errors. But my next triathlon, the Breath of Life Triathlon in Ventura, is on May 20th, and I am looking to hire a coach now to help me prepare.

I’ve tasted the payout of diligence and of heeding others’ wisdom, and I like it.