It
does that, silence. It’s one of the most deafening sounds going. And, alas,
it’s how my Manchester race came to an abrupt end. So let’s begin with that and
get it over and done with.
Some
20.5mi into the race I suffered an epileptic seizure. I do that
sometimes, see: only I hadn’t had one for over a year and had had surgery over
two years ago. So it came as a bit of a surprise. Paramedics checked me out and
drove me to the field hospital at the end of the course, where a doctor gave me
another once over and discharged me. That’s pretty much all you can do after a
seizure: make sure any fall didn’t cause any cuts or bruises, that whoever
passed out has truly come around and let them on their way. No lasting damage,
just a cut on the right shoulder and a bruise along my right side. The latter
went unnoticed for hours as the paramedics didn’t check under my vest and I
couldn’t feel any pain – it was my cousin who first pointed it out to me, and
boy did it hurt when I misfired the deodorant spray! Otherwise… I didn’t bang my
head, didn’t even bite my tongue this time. And I was lucid very quickly, as
had been the case after my previous seizure, whereas it wasn’t the case in my
pre-op ones. I would include a link to my comments on the matter on my old
blog, but for the fact that… oops, I obviously forgot to mention it. That one
happened on December 19, 2012, 482 days after my surgery on November 22, 2011. Maybe
some 473 days after that I was due one, who knows? Simple fact is that it
happened and it brought an end to my race. Which is a shame, given that…
…I’d
passed the 20mi mark in 2:25’55”. Twelve months ago, when I’d completed the
race in 3:31’54”, I’d reached 20mi in 2:40’14”. Last week I let go of Mike
around mile 17 but that reflected his acceleration as much as anything. I was
feeling good, as much as one has a right to feel good twenty miles into a
marathon where he’s aiming for 3:15’ having never broken 3:30’. If it were
about looking good, I’d still be playing tennis, occasionally showing off with
some fancy trick shot and then giving the opponent The Look. Marathon running’s
not about looking good or indeed mocking an opponent: it’s about feeling good,
about pushing oneself to feats previously unimagined, be that breaking 3:30’ or
just getting round in however long it takes, and about doing so whilst sharing
the experience with thousands of fellow runners, who may be strangers but
certainly don’t feel like they are when you’re sharing tarmac or trails. For
me, the goal was 3:15’, notwithstanding I’d have been happy with anything
sub-3:30’. Twenty miles in, I could have afforded to take 2,940 seconds to
achieve my ‘A’ goal and 3,840 to achieve my ‘B’ goal. 10’19”/miling and I’d
have broken 3:30’; 7’54” miling and I’d have broken 3:15’. Now sure, my pace
would probably have dropped over those last six miles: but, until that point, my
slowest mile had taken 7’32”. Unsurprisingly, it had been mile 20: maybe
something was already kicking off in my brain, most likely I’d ‘just’ started
slowing. 8’42”-miling over that 10k would have seen me secure sub-3:20’: given that
my average over those last six miles in 2013 had been 8’31”, that would
certainly have been realistic. Not least given that I’d covered those first 20
miles at an average of 41”/mile faster than in 2013, with 7’19”/mi playing
8’01”.
What’s
that? You want all the details? Why, OK!
GMM: mile
|
2013
|
2014
|
diff.
|
1
|
7’49”
|
7’42”
|
-7”
|
2
|
7’41”
|
7’12”
|
-29”
|
3
|
7’39”
|
7’24”
|
-15”
|
4
|
8’01”
|
7’22”
|
-39”
|
5
|
7’50”
|
7’15”
|
-45”
|
6
|
7’57”
|
7’19”
|
-38”
|
7
|
8’08”
|
7’22”
|
-46”
|
8
|
8’10”
|
7’26”
|
-44”
|
9
|
8’09”
|
7’19”
|
-40”
|
10
|
8’09”
|
7’15”
|
-54”
|
11
|
7’56”
|
7’15”
|
-41”
|
12
|
7’53”
|
7’12”
|
-41”
|
13
|
8’03”
|
7’17”
|
-46”
|
14
|
7’55”
|
7’10”
|
-45”
|
15
|
8’07”
|
7’17”
|
-50”
|
16
|
8’13”
|
7’16”
|
-57”
|
17
|
8’07”
|
7’14”
|
-53”
|
18
|
8’10”
|
7’12”
|
-58”
|
19
|
8’08”
|
7’25”
|
-43”
|
20
|
8’06”
|
7’32”
|
-34”
|
21
|
8’04”
|
covered
in an ambulance horizontally |
N/A
|
22
|
8’12”
|
||
23
|
8’27”
|
||
24
|
8’45”
|
||
25
|
8’55”
|
||
26
|
8’45”
|
||
avg. (1-20):
|
8’01”
|
07’19”
|
-42”
|
overall:
|
8’08”
|
In 2013, I followed the 3:30 pacing team. I knew what I was after. This year… I
just followed Mike.
I
wrote about this before the race. As I suspected, he
was aiming for around 3:15’, the Qualifying Time for the Boston Marathon: a
time he smashed, clocking 3:10’44”. But we’d not laid
cards on the table. Even had I not passed out, I would not have got close to
that. But boy did he make my first 17 miles easier than they should have been…
…see,
I never once checked my Garmin. I knew Mike had things in control and that,
providing I followed him, I’d be just fine. Knowing the 3:15 pacing team was
behind us gave me an additional clue as to how we were doing, but otherwise
ignorance was bliss. I wasn’t freaking out at the thought of going faster than
ever and I was conserving energy by not thinking. Even once Mike had gone, I
never once checked my pace: I just found other runners to tag onto, not least
one who had previously been alongside Mike when he told me to keep up with the
pair of them. One out of two was good enough for me..!
Do
I know what caused it? Was I pushing myself too hard?
No,
I don’t know what caused the seizure. I never do. I also never feel an aura, or
I might have sat down by the side of the road. As for pushing myself too hard,
this wasn’t hurting any more than my first 10k or my first Half Marathon. It’s
all relative: on every race I’ve run I’ve gone out to do the best I possibly
could (and I do wish it weren’t always so… but I race so seldom!) and pushed
myself just as hard. Yes, this was my fastest ever marathon pace: but, equally,
I was in my best ever marathon shape. I have walked in a race, yes:
it was a 10k. I’ve never felt the need since. It’s felt quite attractive, oh
yes – many times. But I’m a bit fitter than I was 572 days ago.
So
allow me to dismiss that option. That’s not to say I don’t have one theory…
…but
look, that’s all it is. There is never any conclusive explanation as to what
triggered something or other in my brain to go awry. Indeed, this isn’t so much
an answer to the question “what caused the seizure?”, rather to “what did you
do differently compared to previous runs/races?” – because that I can answer.
I
took gels. I took a ClifBar Double Espresso Shot Gel before the start and
I took a ZipFit caffeine gel around twelve miles
in. I also took a ZipFit Bakewell Tart-flavoured gel around mile 18 and was
planning on another Double Espresso around mile 22. I’d tried them out in the
week building up to the race, as per my previous entry. But I’d done so
over shorter distances, over less intense runs – mainly to test for any
physical impact. Bowels rather than brains, so to speak. And, whilst I’d tested
a ZipFit gel, I’d not tried a caffeine one…
Am
I blaming the gels? Not as such, no. But I am contemplating the combination of
the caffeine overload after I’d gone decaf for a week. And I’d gone decaf for
the very purpose to enhance the impact on the day: I’d weaned myself off what
is a truly addictive stimulant so as to see whether it could give me a boost on
race-day. Maybe it did, maybe it didn’t. Equally, maybe it gave me the wrong
kind of boost. I don’t know. But it’s a plausible theory. Whereas trust me,
sunstroke wouldn’t be: it was perfect running weather and the sun doesn’t
engender epileptic seizures. Not in my case, anyway.
So
– was Manchester a failure?
My
answer might surprise you, but no, I don’t think it was. Now I’m not suggesting
you would have taken a different view, rather that you probably didn’t expect
me to do so. Ultimately I approached it to find out whether I could be a 3:15’
marathon runner. I close this chapter of my running shenanigans knowing that I
can.
Granted,
it didn’t happen on the day. I also approached the start line as a two-time
marathon finisher and came away from the race a two-time marathon finisher. But
a 7’19” average over twenty miles tells me that, with the right kind of
training, 3:15’ in Chester in 172 days’ time is achievable. “Right kind of
training” meaning more of what I’d been doing of late – maybe “too late”. More
tempo runs, more progressive runs, at least one speedwork sessions a week… and,
quite possibly, fewer long runs. Or shorter long runs, anyway. Those
twenty-milers are good for the soul, but ultimately not as necessary as I
thought, or perhaps as they were for me a year ago. I saw that the other
Sunday, as Mike drifted off into the distance. Now Mike runs a similar amount
of miles to me, but over more runs. Whereas my concern coming into Manchester
was my pace over long distances, his was long distances over the required pace
in recent months.
Moreover,
Manchester had been a success before it had even begun. The race, that is…
…because
Manchester began on the Saturday!
Had
another great evening with fellow runners, courtesy of Catherine who sorted out
our Carbloading Party. Spent a couple of hours with people who “get it”,
talking about the sort of stuff that bores the hell out of you lot – and had a
blast. When times like those are the prelude, the story that follows will never
be a bad one. Disappointing maybe, but never bad.
Sorry
– did someone just ask whether Manchester was the end of my running?
Hell
no!
Thanks
for asking, but no thanks. For three clear reasons:
1) Since
beginning to run/walk almost two years ago, I’ve covered almost 4,000 miles.
Manchester’s was my first seizure whilst running. Statistically significant it
ain’t
2) I
often go an entire week without getting off our estate but for running and
church. And we share this estate with around two hundred over families – it’s
not some 20-acre establishment where I can’t reach the exit within half an
hour, or some mansion with hundreds of servants wandering around! So anyone
thinking I’m giving up those eight hours or so of fresh air is mistaken
3) This
is what I do now. This is where my hopes and dreams lie, alongside frustrations
and failures
By
the way – once again, it’s not just about the running. You may read this and
think my goal is a 3:15’ marathon, or some forlorn ultra somewhere – say along
the West Highland Way in a week and a half. And sure, you’d be right.
Short-term, anyway. Long-term – it’s not about the running…
…it’s
about carrying on through middle age and into whatever may follow in good
health. It’s about being able to run 10k or cycle 20mi when all but 70 years
old, as Dad is doing. It’s about not giving my children too much to worry about
in terms of my health, the way Mum and Dad (and, indeed, Nonna – 98 not out)
do. Now granted, that’s a goal of which I’m nowhere near being in control:
heck, I couldn’t control my body for 26.2mi, let along for decades! But we can,
we must still do what we can to move the odds in our favour: we owe it to
ourselves, to Whoever gave us this body, to those around us and to those who
are no longer around us. Which doesn’t mean everyone should run at least 50
miles a week. But it does mean it’s what works for me: body, mind and soul. If
it weren’t good for me, how would I have been able to run every day for 552
days – and counting? That’s 552 days of being in good enough health to run a
mile: to get stuff done, to take care of my own…
Sure,
there are times when the wheels come off and it would be easy to just lie by
the side of the road head in hands. But that’s not what I do. I get up, brush
off and get going again. If I can do so before paramedics capturing me and
locking me in an ambulance, anyway. Indeed, better still if I can actually
avoid seizures: running is great (!), but it’d be nice to be able to drive now
and then, too(!!!).
Hah
– Manchester as the end..!
Look,
my three goals for the year are:
1.
a sub-90’ Half Marathon
2.
a sub-3:30’ Marathon
3.
getting round at The Highland Fling
I
failed goal no. 1 by 138 seconds in Bath. I may get another shot at it later in
the year but it’s unlikely, due to the lack of flat Halves around here and the
fact that the two that fit the bill both take place on the weekend of High Peak 40. Equally, Chester is hillier than
Manchester: however, with the right training (more so than the right amount of
running), it could be doable. Sorry – sub-3:15’ could be doable. Let’s make
this more interesting, shall we?
Reality
check: it’s not ideal that it’ll be a fortnight after High Peak 40 (correct, a
40-mi run in the Peak District). But let’s not worry about that just now. Let’s
worry about The
Highland Fling and its 53 miles, and after that let’s move to a schedule
with plenty of intervals, pyramid sessions, nippy ten milers… stuff all that
Half Marathon cavorting around I did last year… and let’s see what shape I’m in
at the start of September.
The
End? Heck – things just got interesting… $h1t got real, dude…
…going
forward, it will include more speedwork and more intense runs. It will not
include more caffeine-based gels: regardless of whether those were or were not
a factor, I stand to gain nothing from trying to find out or from wondering
whilst racing. Heck, it could become a self-fulfilling prophecy. Running’s hard
enough without having that at the back of your mind – whatever else may be
hanging around there!
Last
and least, let me set the record straight as to whether I finished the race or
not…
. . .
…OK,
by now it should be fairly clear to even the most casual observer I didn’t.
However, it wasn’t to start with…
…not
least because I’d set the Greater Manchester Marathon site to upload statuses
to my Facebook page, which I had been staying clear of during Lent!
But
how would that have come about? The ambulance wouldn’t have crossed the
finishing line – so how did my chip trigger a time?
Well,
I ran back onto the course, that’s how..!
I
wanted to cover the last two hundred metres or so. I asked a steward if I
could. She said: “You can’t cross here – you have go to over there”. I repeated
my question and got the same response. So I went “over there” and got on the
road, only… I didn’t cross it. I took a left, instead.
I
then posted the following on Facebook
-
and that caused people to think I’d run back six miles to run the last six
miles… noooo!!! Sorry guys… by “finish” I meant “cross the finishing line”…
ooops!
Look,
I can’t be doing with going all over that all over again. At the end of this
post you’ll find what I wrote to the organisers. If you could care less, read
it; otherwise don’t bother. But NO, I did not run back to mile 20 from the
finish to then run back – that would have made it an ultra and, quite frankly,
I’m not that stupid! Even if the
event website did post the image below to my page! Can
you spot the difference – in one I’m having a gel (!), in another I’m carrying
a drawstring bag and holding my number?
 |
| I didn't post this on Facebook. It just... appeared! |
Indeed, there’ll be chances aplenty for PBs. It’s almost more
gutting that I’m still stuck on two marathons: it takes a while to ammass these
things… indeed, assuming all goes well in Scotland (a big assumption, I know!),
I’ll be leveling up the marathons-ultras score at 2-2!
Oh, and something else annoys me, too. I appreciated the
concern and the tweets after the race: they all helped. But still I felt bad
that they took some of the attention away from Mike and Philip’s races, both
sub-3:15’ (3:10’44” and 3:14’21” respectively) and both of Boston Qualifying standard. And from everyone else’s
performance, not least Catherine’s who smashed the 3:30’ barrier to post a 3:28’57”
PB. Indeed, as Philip himself wrote as a comment to my race:
"The Race That
Didn't Quite Go To Plan". You can have that as your chapter heading when
Giacomo Squintani brings out his ultra running book. Bigger picture. You're ok.
You lace up. You go again. Plus you've already got your 2015 entry under
control :-) Good running Gia
Alternatively, the title could be: “Greater Manchester
Marathon 2014: The race I entered twice and finished… not once!” But don’t
worry. I’ll be back. Hotel’s already booked for next year.Oh, and as for hoping I get a DSQ rather than a DNF…
…I’m hoping to make Mum proud. The way I did when I got a D
on my first driving test. Aye, Dangerous I was – something about changing lanes
without checking? I think that’s what it was… I didn’t get the D for indicating
left and turning right, I’m sure about that! Anyway… ‘DSQ’ has a more edgy feel
for it. It just sounds better than DNF. But hey’, DNF is still better than DNS –
I just need to make sure they don’t have me down as a 4:17’ finisher. It’s not
fair on those who finished. And I didn’t.
(Anyway, here’s that letter to the organisers. No, I wouldn’t bother reading it either.)
(Anyway, here’s that letter to the organisers. No, I wouldn’t bother reading it either.)
Dear Sir / Madam
May I first of all thank you for last week’s Greater Manchester Marathon. It was my second time of running it and I absolutely love the course and the whole organisation. You guys do a great job… and one day, one day I will get the gist of those Iconiq pouches!
For all my meticulous preparation, I always knew
something may not go according to plan. It’s the nature of the challenge, as
any marathon runner (a club into which I was admitted on April 28, 2013) knows.
Alas, things went a tad more wrong than I’d allowed for in my mind, resulting
in me now being able to praise not just your team but also the emergency
services, paramedics and medics who attended to me after I had an epileptic
seizure shortly after the 20 mile mark. I had my first epileptic seizure aged
18 months, ending up in a coma for six weeks, so yesterday’s three minutes out
were not a novel experience. The frustrating thing is that I’d only had one
seizure since undergoing surgery in November 2012 and had indeed been able to
say I’d never had one whilst running. Well that’s a load of rubbish now…
Having left the field hospital, I felt cheated. I’d done the training, I had got myself into a great position not only to beat my 3h31’04” PB but indeed to go sub-3:15’ (my 20mi split reads 2:25’55”)… I’d put in 2,965 miles since crossing the line at Old Trafford last year… and then there I was, lying by the side of the road.
Again, let me reiterate: the medical staff were great and did everything they could and should have done. I was lucid and stable in no time and was indeed merrily walking about near the athletes’ area when I decided to try and “do something about it”…
…so I snuck back onto the course wearing my
running jacket, my drawstring bag over my shoulder and completed the last 200
metres number in hand, the chip triggering a record of a 4:17’07” finish.
Now don’t get me wrong: I never believed that made me a finisher. But it did mean I’d done what I’d come to town to do and crossed the finishing line.
I have thought long and hard about returning my
medal. I did walk away with it but didn’t let the volunteer put it around my
neck and threw it straight into the goodie bag: I wouldn’t wear it then,
haven’t done yet and never will do. Just say the word and I’ll post it back.
The only reason I’m not doing so, in spite of it being my first instinct, is
that one thing I have been able to do is look at it and tell myself that I will
be back to set the record straight. It started as a source of annoyance and
frustration, now it’s a source of motivation.
As for my finisher’s shirt, I wore it out of convenience on the journey after the race but inside out, to conceal that very word: ‘Finisher’. A friend of mine who collapsed straight after crossing the finishing line never got one – until now. Or until Monday when her post will next be delivered, anyway.
Having registered twice for this year’s race (yes, I’m That Guy) I’m all set to return to Salford next April to settle my score. Hotel’s booked (don’t worry, I can change the date)… I’m all set. Give or take a few thousand miles of training, that is.
In the meantime, please mark me down as ‘DSQ’ for this year’s event on account of the fact that yes, I started, yes, I ran a little over 20mi and yes, I crossed the finishing line… but there are six miles in between those last two bits that I covered lying on a stretcher in a motorised ambulance. I started the day as a two-time marathon finisher, I ended the day as a two-time marathon finisher. It’s that simple.
And yes, I do feel bad for breezing past those who were finishing at around 13:17 last Sunday, drawstring back on my shoulder and number in hand. I fully appreciate the effort my fellow runners put into reaching that finishing line in 4:17’ and with hindsight my behaviour towards them was disrespectful. I trust you will appreciate the emotional circumstance in which I did what I did and that this will act as no impediment with regards to my participation in future events. Because your events truly are quality.
As for how I feel now… physically I feel fine, bar a couple of scratches. And mentally…
…sure, some frustration remains. But it’s mainly
become motivation. Moreover, I’ve oftentimes said that, when we sign up for a
marathon, we’re not only securing whatever comes our way on the day, but also
motivation, support from friends, fitness… because it’s not just about the
running or the racing. It never is. And, looking back, I had a great Saturday
evening with fellow runners, and I did actually come away from Stretford with
what I was hoping for, namely the knowledge that I have the potential to run a
sub-3:15’ marathon. True enough, it didn’t happen on the day: but, believe you
me, it will. Because what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. Yorkshireman’s
honour.
Yours, in running
Giacomo O. Squintani
And
yours, too! Thanks for getting all the way to the end – it’s more than I managed! And I’d trained for it!
And now… bring on The Fling!!!
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