Not One of My Better Runs, But Still a Win

Andrew Todd Smith
Mar 2, 2019
4 min read

My father inspired me to start running. It was January 15th, 1980 something... and my dad woke us up to go watch this thing called a marathon.

To be honest, I don't remember it fondly. I was in Jr. High and he woke us up one freezing cold Sunday morning to load up in our family station wagon to go watch some crazy people run a marathon.

I was about as excited about it as being bitten by a shark, actually probably a little less, since a shark makes a much cooler story, but to watch people run at 7 AM on a super cold Sunday morning just didn't make any sense to me at the time.

I don't know about you, but to me, the absolutely only thing crazier than the people running a marathon in the freezing cold were those that came out to watch them. I still remember thinking it was one of the stupidest things that he ever made us do, but, he planted a seed in my brain. One that didn't grow until several years later.

It was my junior year of high school to be exact. It was then that I decided that I wanted to join these absolutely crazy people and run my first marathon. I wanted to join the elite club which only 1 out of 200 people belongs to--those who have completed a marathon.

Today, I decided to dedicate my marathon run to my father, who earlier this week had open heart surgery. I ran for him today; but, he is in the marathon of his life right now. Anytime you dedicate something to someone you want it to be an outstanding performance, but unfortunately, this was not one of them.

Sometimes your body just doesn't want to cooperate with your brain. My brain decided that running this was a great idea, and my body asked: "why didn't you consult us first?"

The running conditions were ideal (55 degrees and cloudy, little to no wind), flat course, I got great sleep the night before, carb-loaded the last couple of days and made sure I was hydrated, both before and during the race. Got a massage, created a new playlist, ate a good breakfast, laid out my clothes the night before, and even ran with my son and a friend, Will Cole, the first 7-8 miles, but when I made a pit stop at the port-o-can and fell behind, I physically could not catch back up to them.

Sometimes even when you do all the right things, it is out of your control.

Part of my frustration is that I can't put my finger on it. I don't know why I didn't do better. I crashed in Houston back in January, because my legs locked up. It started in my glutes, moved to my hamstrings (which I've been having issues with since October), then my quads, knees, calves & shins.

It wasn't like that this time. I had a little tightness in my glutes, but nothing like the tightness I experienced in Houston. I wasn't short of breath. I just found myself running each mile slower and slower than the mile before. It was just a tough run for me, and I don't have any excuses or answers as to why.

I still consider the race a win. Anytime I don't get injured and finish the race (especially a marathon or other long-distance run), I believe it a success. By no means does that mean that I wish I didn't do better, but I can live with it. I never seriously considered quitting the race, and earning my first (DNF - Did Not Finish), but my body certainly felt like it at times. Running 26.2 miles is hugely taxing on the body.

Our excellent coach, Leanne Rosser, got us VIP passes for the lounge after the race. As I entered the tent, the hostess said she needed to put a band on my wrist. I said sure, but she mentioned that it might stick to my arm hairs and hurt when I took it off. In my sweetest voice, I kindly reminded her that I just completed a marathon and that I was thoroughly sore and tight all over and that my arm hairs were the least of my concern.

The only consoling thought that I've had is that maybe I went through some of the obstacles that I did today, was because my father is experiencing some of the same things, but on a completely different level. Maybe once I decided to dedicate my run to him, I needed to experience some of the situations, setbacks, & frustrations that he has encountered.

We all hoped and believed that he would be recovering much better and faster than he is actually doing, but sometimes life doesn't go according to our plan. It's not a bad thing, it's just a more significant than us thing.

Regardless, it was a great day. Got to hang out with good friends, complete my 12th marathon, remain injury-free & enjoy our 13-year-old son's amazing sub-4-hour first marathon (I'll write more about that in a separate blog post).