Little Rock Marathon

4:(motherfucking)56:41, with splits of 12:45, 12:17, 12:28, 12:13, 12:50, 11:00, 12:38, 11:38, 11:54, 12:30, 12:02, 11:40, 11:43, 11:48, 12:10, 11:01 (at 16 miles, by Walt's old house; and then, onto the fast part of the course) 9:56, 10:06, 10:20, 10:07, 10:41, 10:11, 10:27, 10:27, 10:36, 9:25, and 1:47. I'll write more later, after I have written a love letter to Emily Jones in the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette.

BY ROCKAMUNDO
ARKANSAS DEMOCRAT-GAZETTE
It seemed possible, but just barely.
I told someone last summer I wanted to break five hours in the Little Rock Marathon: “That might not be very realistic. We’ll see,” I said.
Fifty years have passed since my birth. I have endured 27 of those years as an insulin-dependent diabetic. Generally speaking, a lack of discipline during the first decade of my disease decimated my potential, robbed me of physiological characteristics that once placed me consistently among the upper five percent of finishers in road and track races. I still brag about the “glory days,” the 1:54 half mile, 4:22 mile, the 34-minute 10Ks, a 3-hour, 36-minute marathon as a 15-year-old. I reminded friends of those last year, after I struggled from the start to finish the Little Rock Marathon in 7:03:52; ahead of 47 of 1,241 finishers.
Sunday afternoon, a little after 1 p.m., I walked slowly through the parking lot of the post office on Capital Ave., on the eastern edge of downtown Little Rock, past the drone of traffic on Interstate 30.
“How’d you do?,” I heard.
I looked to see a man about my age as he walked with a teenage girl.
“I had a great day,” I said.
I told them of my sub-five goal, then showed them my watch, still set to its “chrono” mode. It read: 4:56:41.
Terry Jones, and his daughter Emily, traveled from their home in Springfield, Ill., to run the half-marathon. Both finished a minute or two over two hours, times which seemed remarkable to me.
We cannot know how our smallest gestures impact those around us. Terry and Emily Jones, I am sure, had no idea the joy they added as they celebrated the numbers on my watch. It was clear they understood the extent of my delight.
They didn’t know of my debacle last year, of my nine months of 30- and 40- and 50-mile weeks, that I have dropped 20 pounds since the 2008 marathon, or that the improbability of my time extended from last July to somewhere in the neighborhood of the 20-mile mark, perhaps two hours before we met.
Tom Zaloudek, a fellow Little Rock Hash House Harrier, called a few days ago to ask if I would run with him. Tom was once a borderline star. He completed a marathon under 2:40 in the early 1980s. I responded to his request with a qualified “yes.”
“Tom, I will run very slowly,” I said. “If you think you can tolerate that, then, sure, come along.”
We ran the first 13 miles of the 26-mile, 385-yard race in 2:37:38, an average of 12:07 a mile. We walked as many as seven minutes each mile.
“I’ve never walked in a race before,” Tom said.
He stopped to use a portable toilet as we passed the Capitol Building at the halfway point. I ran ahead and did not see him again, not until late in the race in Murray Park, when we met going opposite directions on the out-and-back section of the course. Tom was at 19 miles, I at 22. He limped, and said something about tight quadriceps. I said something about breaking five hours and he spoke encouragement: “Go for it.”
It seemed possible.
As a diabetic, I have developed tests independent of technology for an assessment of blood glucose levels. Foremost among them for races is an ability to work simple math in my head. I passed 16-miles, high up in Hillcrest, in 3:12:37. It was easy to calculate I would have to run the final 10.2 miles in 1:47:22 to break five hours, or would have to average about 10:30 a mile, so suspected I was not hypoglycemic, and that five hours remained elusive.
But the slow first half left me as hoped with a relatively fast feeling, and I cranked out mile after mile in under 10:30, fueled and protected from hypoglycemia with a 100-calorie tube of energy gel extracted each 3.5 miles from my plaid golf shorts.
I went through 20 miles, after the 19th in 10:07, in 3:53:06; “OK,” I thought, “you have to finish in 1:06:53. That’s roughly 10:45 a mile. Let’s go.”
My splits to the finish were 10:41, 10:11, 10:27, 10:27, 10:36 and 9:25 through 26 miles completed in 4:54:53. With 385 yards left, my sub-five goal conceived last summer was a lock.
I spoke with Dr. Jim Sheffield, the Little Rock Marathon’s medical director, on Thursday. Sheffield has completed many marathons, and said he usually has an emotional response to finishes. I remembered that as I ran the last yards into the River Market and became aware of tears.
My blood-glucose level was at 130 milligrams/deciliter when I measured it in my car, about 20 minutes after the finish. That is slightly above the normal range (80-120), but, under the circumstances, easy to accept.
By then, about five minutes after my conversation with Terry and Emily Jones, my eyes were dry.