Random acts of stupidity

Although I’ve already posted my initial report, here are some further thoughts on yesterday’s Akron Marathon.

First, there were many random acts of kindness. When I crashed at mile 26, I stopped dead in my tracks and screamed out in pain. There were only a few spectators around, and not too many other runners going by. The three cops showed up almost instantly to try to help. They were kind and considerate, but I told them I was okay because I didn’t want to wind up in an ambulance. It was a lie, but there you have it. The woman who rubbed my leg was wonderful. She had come out of nowhere and seemed to know just what to do. It felt good, but when I tried to resume running, I didn’t get far before the sharp pain also resumed. Before Julie Boggs came by, another runner stopped to try to help me. I may have been able to hang onto his shoulder and finish, but I didn’t want to slow him down, so I said no thanks. It was Julie and the Salt Sticks that truly did the trick. A miracle, for sure. These folks were all great, and I want to reiterate how much I appreciate the kindness. It often happens when we are in need of it most.

I think the guy who stopped to try to help me run in was Scott McKanna. I had seen him during the race, but had gotten ahead of him. Until my mishap. He wound up winning our selfsame ancient age group, finishing a minute and forty seconds in front of me. Maybe I should have allowed him to carry me across the line such that my bib registered ahead of his.

Now for the random acts of stupidity. Mostly, it’s the thought that I had a chance to break four hours. I had started conservatively, and I still thought it possible at halfway, which was 2:01 for me. But the second half of a marathon is a long way, and at Akron, it’s where the uphills take their toll. The final two miles are downhill, and although by that point, four hours was impossible, I still picked the pace back up and felt good doing it. Until I didn’t. In retrospect, I just wasn’t as fit as I needed to be to have such a goal.

The thing is, I’ve been at this long enough to know when I’m fit. And when I’m not. All the caffeine and gels weren’t enough. But some Salt Sticks would have helped prevent the worst from happening.

I’ll get over this. Really. Next up is the Veterans Marathon on November 1. I’m hopeful about that one.

Akron Marathon Race Report

Yeow!!!!! I stop completely (at mile 26 according to my watch - and about mile 25.75 according to the race) because I can't run or even walk. Any movement at all causes intense pain from the sudden cramp in my right quad. Three cops converge on me from different directions. They seem to want to get medical help. "Thanks," I say, "but I'll be okay." I want to finish. But I'm not okay. A nice lady appears and massages my leg. It helps a little. I thank her for being such an angel. 

I try to walk a bit, but the cramp recurs. Then another angel appears from behind. It's Julie Boggs. She gives me her bag of Salt Stick electrolyte chewable tablets. She offers to help me walk in, but I tell her to go on and finish. Now I'm taking a handful of those tablets and drinking from her water bottle. 

The effect is immediate. I'm able to walk and even jog a little. I am flabbergasted. I had no idea that the tablets would be so effective so soon. Not that I did well today. I cross the finish line with a time of 4:16, but until very recently, I'd thought that 4:10 was possible. After all this though, I suppose finishing at all is an accomplishment.

Just before the start: Julie Boggs, Theresa Wright, Laura Hutson, Dan, Ladd Clifford

It was great to see all my friends before, during, and after the race. The Akron folks put on a wonderful show. And for a change, the weather cooperated and was quite nice today. Even though I wasn't as fit as I wanted to be, I had thought a sub-four-hour time was possible. It wasn't - not with the hills in the second half. And then the cramping.

For my next trick, I know what I have to do: get (more, much more) fit and also lose a couple of pounds. Yeah. That's the ticket.

Signs

When Marathon Day is approaching, I look for signs. The signs more or less inform me what to expect, how to pace myself, and generally how I'm going to do. The Akron Marathon is pretty much done approaching now; it's here, less than 48 hours away. Here are the signs.

Weather: This is a huge sign, and it looks good: low in the upper 40s and high around 70, with clear skies. This is about as good as it can get these days. It always seems as though I get poor weather days when I'm feeling well trained, with the opposite being the case as well.

Weight: Another big sign. I think I heard the formula as 2 seconds per mile per pound of excess weight. So, if you're one pound overweight, you will run a marathon 52 seconds slower. I know: there are so many other variables that weight matters less than you might think. Yet I pay attention to it, and it's not good news. I've been over 160 pounds most of this year, although today I managed to coax the scale to show 159.8. I race better when I'm under the 160 mark.

Training Volume: Most of my training weeks this year have been around 70 miles. (70 slow miles.) Still, it's a good thing.

Training Intensity: Two benchmarks that I pay attention to are my long runs and my Yasso workouts. If I can nail both of those, I am confident that I can perform well in the marathon. This time around, I haven't been quite so consistent with speedwork. It's another area for improvement.

Other Races: Of course, the best predictor of marathon performance is performance in recent races, assuming that recovery is complete. My racing season has had its ups and downs this year. The Cleveland Marathon was disappointing, and most recently, the River Run was fairly awful, excuses be damned. Other half marathons were so-so. Slower than last year, but (barely) acceptable. I think my best race performance so far this year was at the Hermes 10-Miler in April.

What does all this tell me? Mostly, don't go out too fast (since I probably wouldn't be able to maintain such a pace) and don't set expectations too high (since I'd probably be disappointed). Hey, I've got an idea: Go out easy and try to enjoy the experience, no matter what.

Inarguably Inaugural: the 1978 Cleveland Marathon (again)

This is a short excerpt from my book, Run a Lot. It comes up because I've been in communication with the Cleveland Marathon Race Organization about their upcoming 50th anniversary. I've made some minor modifications. 

I'm the one with the headband

The date was May 14, 1978. I lined up for the Inaugural Revco Cleveland Marathon. At the ripe old age of 25, it was also my very first marathon. 

I enjoyed seeing the sights of my hometown as we started near Cleveland State University and traveled out and back to the West Side of town and the western suburbs. I enjoyed the crowds cheering me on and the perfect marathon weather. I ran better than expected for much of the race. At eighteen miles, I felt so good that I picked up the pace even more. I did not have a time goal, but it was beginning to look like I might break three hours. But at twenty-two miles, I had hit the wall and was almost entirely shot. In the final miles, I hobbled over the Veterans Memorial Bridge (aka Detroit-Superior Bridge) and finally made it to the finish line. My time was three hours and four minutes.

After one look at me, the finish-line volunteers immediately placed me in the medical tent, where they covered me and fed me ice chips. My wife, Debbie, found me there. I said those now-famous words, "Never again!"

I did not make good on my pledge. A few years went by, but I began to run other races, including marathons. I’ve now done over 130 marathons and over 40 ultramarathons, and I’m still running those 26.2-milers. I’m planning to run the 50^th annual Cleveland Marathon in 2027. Hope to see you there.

race registration insurance

Registering for a race and considering buying insurance? Consider what happened to me when I filed a claim.

When I registered for the Kauai Marathon, I purchased the associated race registration insurance from a company called ViCoverage. The non-refundable Registration Fee was $315, the Service Fee was $19.78, and the insurance Fee was 23.68. The race was cancelled due to the approaching Hurricane Lowell, so I filed a claim with ViCoverage.

Seemed like a slam-dunk. I provided all the required documentation, including even more when they followed up with some requests via email. The claim was denied.

“We have carefully reviewed your claim for the cancellation of the 2026 Kauai Marathon and Half Marathon. The event was cancelled by the organiser on 5 September 2026 ahead of Hurricane Lowell, rather than being a case of you personally being unable to attend.

Your policy's weather coverage states:

"'Inclement weather' during the 'admission day(s)' for at least one (1) day which results in 'your' inability to attend or remain at the 'admission day(s)' location... If the 'admission day(s)' is cancelled due to weather, 'you' will not qualify for this coverage."

Because the event itself was cancelled by the organiser due to weather, rather than you being unable to attend an event that went ahead, this falls outside what the policy covers. This is the case regardless of the severe weather conditions involved or the fact that your registration fee is non-refundable.

We have also checked the policy's other cancellation provision, which only covers involuntary job loss after at least three years of continuous employment. This does not apply to your circumstances.

As a result, we are unable to approve this claim.”

Before and even after I filed the claim, I have been unable to find this language about their coverage. Regardless, I tried to follow up to say that I couldn’t get there due to the storm anyway, but their denial still stands.

I can’t help but believe that all and all claims are denied; some reason will be found. I will never buy such insurance again.

Knowing when

You've got to know when to hold 'em
Know when to fold 'em
Know when to walk away
And know when to run
You never count your money
When you're sittin' at the table
There'll be time enough for countin'
When the dealin's done

That's from Kenny Rogers' song, the Gambler. It applies to today's running most intensely at 7:00 AM, as I've stopped at home for a pit stop. I've run 6 1/2 miles, including some slow speedwork, but I wanted to also get my daily total up to double digits. Getting back out the door seems to be a problem, however. Why the hesitation, you ask? Because I'm tired, stupid.

The Gambler lyrics run through my brain. Despite my tired, old, sore body, back out I go. After some mighty effort as well as some slow slogging, I somehow manage to do another 3 1/2. 

There are times when it's okay to allow yourself to fail. Not making it back out would have been a failure today. Other times, you ought to tough it out, like I did this time. The really hard part is deciding when to do which. Someday, maybe I'll be smart enough, or tough enough, to figure it out.

River Run Half-Marathon Race Report

Let’s start with the excuses:

1) It was hot and very humid.
2) I got back to Cleveland from the Stone Age (in hurricane-ravaged Kauai) only 23 hours ago. Still feeling the jet lag.
3) I ran a hot un-marathon only a week ago. Still feeling that as well.
4) I’m old, fat, bald, ugly, and slow. But you knew that.

There are probably a few others, but you get the picture. Before the run, I talk with my grandnieces and grandnephews. I also see my friend Larry Orwin. It’s all tons of fun. Until the gun goes off.

The River Run is point-to-point on the Cleveland Metroparks Parkway from Berea to Rocky River. It’s slightly downhill, and the road curves back and forth a whole lot. It’s very scenic with lots of trees and views of nearby Rocky River. This is Cleveland running at its finest. 

My first mile is a little under nine minutes, and it nearly kills me. But if I can only keep this up, I think, I’ll have an acceptable, decent day.

Alas, I can’t. Mile 1 turns out to be the fastest mile of the day. I never lose my marbles completely, but I just can’t seem to hold a decent pace. Despite my best efforts, I can’t even break the two-hour barrier today. My finish time is 2:02:51, my slowest in several years. I suppose you could say that I deserved it. I’m second in my age group, missing first by three minutes.

Now, I had better get in shape for the Akron Marathon. It’s only two weeks away, and I’m afraid. Very afraid.

The 2026 Kauai Un-Marathon Un-Race Report

Part 1: Before the race

The Hilton Garden Inn is adjacent to Lydgate Beach Park. It’s good (really good) for a few morning miles. I sometimes venture further afield, however. Kapaa is only a couple of miles up to the North, and I can also run inland and uphill to the West. So, yes, I have options.

Lydgate SP

My primary consideration, running-wise, for this trip is the Kauai Marathon. It’s about halfway through our ten-day visit. Before the race, I do a couple of ten-milers as well as some shorter stuff. 

Sunrise at Lydgate SP

Part 2: The Un-Race

They wouldn't dare cancel the race, I say to the Lady Adventurer. Hurricane Lowell is still far away. My confidence is bolstered further when we attend the race expo to pick up my shirt and bib. We talk with someone from the race organization, and she is confident as well. But, she says, if the County of Kauai informs the race committee that cancellation is necessary, there's nothing they can do. And of course, that's what happens.

At the expo

I learn of the decision the evening before the race. I'm tapered, carbo-loaded, packed, and ready to go. I guess I won't be going anywhere. Lady A. feels bad for me. Now, as I'm unpacking my running gear, a thought occurs: I can do my very own Kauai Marathon. The storm is still far away, and the weather hasn't yet been bad.

It's 3:00 A.M., and I get out of bed. It's the time I would have gotten up to drive to the start in Poipu. But I'm not driving anywhere today. 

It's (just) before four, and I'm out the door. I plan to run ten to twelve 2+ mile U-Shaped loops around and back through Lydgate Park. Not very exciting, but I won't have to think too much, and I'll have access to water and restrooms. This strategy, like all such plans, goes out the window once the shooting starts. After a few loops, I decide that I need a diversion. So after a pit stop, I run on the sidewalk toward Kapaa. 

I discover that the sidewalk goes much further North than I thought. After some winding dipsy-doodles, I’m in the heart of Kapaa, close to the shoreline. By about 6:45 A.M., it’s getting light, and I realize that I’m about halfway done. Best of all, I’m feeling fine. I am running near a group of three young ladies going in the same direction and pace, so I ask if I can join them. They enthusiastically say yes. 

In fact, Kayleigh, Allison, and (I can’t remember the third one’s name) are enthusiastic about everything. They cheer on all of the other runners who are out and about. It turns out that everyone (including me and these three new friends) have the same idea: I’m in Kauai to run a marathon,(or a half), and dad-gum-it, I’m going to run a marathon (or a half). We see dozens of others, many wearing the official race shirts and some even wearing their race bibs. I later learn that many more runners ran on the actual course itself. I was happy to not have to drive anywhere.

With all the camaraderie and fun, it’s beginning to feel like a race. And we’re running in scenic Kauai on a beautiful, though windy, morning. The ladies’ boyfriends are supporting them with water and Gatorade, and this adds to the race feel. The guys graciously support my efforts as well. They’re all from Oahu, here for the Half-Marathon. The cancellation doesn’t upset them in the least; they’re doing it anyway and having fun.

We turn back, and I’m still doing great. Until I’m not. I hit the wall hard at mile 21, and the three ladies float away. My ten-minute miles suddenly become sixteen-minute miles. I struggle mightily to get back to the Hilton. The rain starts when I have around three to go. It feels good, but it doesn't do anything for my speed. With one mile to go, I pass by and manage to say goodbye to my friends who are getting into their car.

My time for the 26.2 is a pretty-darn-awful five hours and twenty-two minutes. It was a slow start, a pretty-good middle, and an abysmal finish. Had this been the real Kauai Marathon, my time could have been even worse, since the elevation would have been a factor. As it was, the heat and humidity really got to me.

I later learn that the race insurance I had purchased would not pay the $315 race fee claim. Their fine print evidently states that events cancelled by the organizer are not covered. I'm not at all happy about this.

Part 3: Aftermath

I'm pretty sore and tired after the race. On top of that, it's now raining due to Lowell's approach. The day after the un-race but the day before the storm hits completely, it's raining cats and dogs, I run on the hotel treadmill. It'll have to do, I think. But the day after the storm is gone, it's nice again, so out I go,

The power has been out, and I can't see a dang thing in the early morning darkness. I left my headlamp in the room in case the Lady Adventurer needs it. I step gingerly, trying to stay vertical and not trip over any fallen trees, branches, or other debris, of which there is a lot. The devastation is of biblical proportions. I'd looked out before the run, and the stars were as bright as I'd seen in years. Because I'm moving so slowly, I don't get too very far. Even when it gets light, I'm still shuffling. But eventually, I do manage to do something else that's unique for this trip: I run on the beach for a couple of miles. 

Non-trail runner that I am, I don't do well on beaches either. But it's kind of fun this time. The entire beach is completely deserted; it's just me and the scurrying crabs, and it seems like the world may have ended. 

In a way, it has. You can read more about this trip, including how we wound up in the Stone Age, by selecting this post from my travel blog.