Pre-Marathon Test -- Grade B+

Saturday really started on Friday afternoon. And to be more precise, it started on the 22nd of March when I first ran from the corner of Lincoln and Ashland, (no not that corner of Lincoln and Ashland, in Chicago, but rather, in Santa Moncia, CA) down hill to get to the paved running path the hugs the Pacific Ocean. So steep was the hill for my midwestern legs that I felt immediate quad pain. Vacation runs being what they are, I ran on successive days with only a one day, mid-week rest. Miles that week were 7.5, 8, 10 and then 12 the morning we flew back.

A week, two weeks, frankly, nearly three weeks passed and the residual quad pain of running down hill had not abated. Of course, my recovery from a 50 mile, hill pounding week was successive weeks of 45 and 43 including a 20 miler on the Wisconsin Marathon course (give or take, it's not actually marked yet).

It was with that pain, still firmly nestled in my right quad that I rattled the runner's phone chain last Friday. First I sent emails, but then I went to the phone. I did want I do best: acted indecisively. I called on the best minds I could assemble to decide whether I should journey to Milwaukee for the South Shore Half Marathon. I had pre-registered for the race, by US Mail no less, sending a check for $8. Cheap race by any standard. The race date was on my calendar for months as a planned final test before the marathon. And now, the night before the exam, I was nervous.

Opinions first came in with the idea of scaling back race plans, but still doing it. I liked that. Then came the proposal that I scratch the race and not run more than 5 miles on Saturday. My doctor, a vetern runner himself, said that "logic suggests" I not run the race in such close proximity to the marathon. Well, the last opinion I got was the one I followed. My good friend, who twice qualified for and ran the Olympic Trials, said tired legs were fine legs to take to a test race.

He reasoned that there was no risk (other than getting injured) in running the race. If it went well, it would be a confidence booster. If it went poorly, I could write it off to having fatigued legs and plan to recover in advance of the marathon. Knowing I couldn't fail was confidence inspiring on its own. Who needs to show up at the line when you have nothing to lose?

So I resolved to run the race, smartly. I went about the business of laying out running gear, shorts, wind brief, singlet, warm stuff for after, the usual.

Saturday morning I drove up from Chicago. I thought I had budgeted enough time to get to the race site, park and figure things out. No such luck, really. I guess I don't drive fast enough.

I quickly pinned on my bib and put myself amongs the runners at the starting line perched just above a deep blue Lake Michigan that was filled with wind blown white caps. The cold breeze off the lake fooled everyone, (including me) into overdressing. The outfit of the day seemed to be shorts with a long sleeve something on top. I fell for this too.

The Start

We all lined up and waited for the usual introductions, thank you's and other staples of road racing. Those invocations were not to come. Without warning, a whistle blew that evoked a basketball time out, and we were off.