My 3rd Chevron Houston Marathon (CHM for short). The longer I'm in Houston, the more special this race becomes to me. Perhaps it's due to seeing my friends and fellow runners come togeather at once for a big trial. CHM is the culmination of a years worth of hard work and effort. While we have nice, mild winters (apart from the various freezes that practically shut down the whole city), our summers really kick us into shape if we allow them. At 5am in the summer time, it's often in the mid 70s, and the humidity makes it feel like 80 degrees Fahrenheit. The gulf coastal plains just don't really get a chance to completely cool down at night. All of the concrete certainly doesn't help though. The inner city feels like a big heat bubble in the summer compared to some of the more wooded areas. It's a stark contrast to my time in Sanibel, a coastal island of Florida. There, the wind sweeps over the ocean providing a nice breeze to evaporate your sweat. The island's inner town remains quite hot, but at least the abundant shade helps keep the sun off you and allows for the gentle breeze to swoop in and do its' thing. Compare that to the dreadful summers of Houston where the sweat just rolls off of you and a breeze is just a waft of warm, humid air. I'll never forget the sight of visible steam radiating off of my running mentor/sensei after a hard hill workout one summer morning. People will often run in the morning when the sun isn't out yet and still run the risk of heat related issues. Your body just can't quite cool down fast enough, partly because your sweat doesn't really evaporate in this summer climate. So your heart rate just climbs and climbs as your body works harder and harder to move heat away from your internal organs. And just like that, you've reached your threshold heart rate on what's supposed to be an easy run in the summer. That's what training for CHM in Houston feels like.

Last year I ran it in 3 hours and 11 minutes. For the longest time, I thought that a time under 3 hours was reserved for the elite; But here I was just 11 minutes away from that fairy tale. The question of, "what if?" began to turn throughout my mind. I never would've imagined myself as someone who could do that up until now. Before my 2nd CHM, I began training with a local running club, 7run3, and they helped make that a reality. While I never run specifically for time, I wanted to see just how far I could push that time down. So I laced up a pair of Altra Vanish Tempos and hit the streets of Houston. The first 9-ish miles are always a blur to me, and it's partly because you run with the half marathon until past that point. So there's always quite a lot of hullabaloo from other runners and spectators as they cheer you on. An uncanny silence tends to fall once you split away from the half marathon at Rice University. You can actually hear the foot steps and even breaths of those around you now. At this point in the race, I found my groove, locked in my cadance, and had one of my salted watermelon gels. It was time to get serious, but strangly enough was not the right move.

As I ran through West University, I felt a blister making itself known to me on my left foot. Anything can happen over these 26 miles, so I fully accepted that this might just turn into a fun run from here on out. But it never did... Despite the discomfort, I was somehow able to move along at the pace I dialed in. The pain never sharpened or became razor like, so I kept going. At mile 15, you begin running through the Galleria and surrounding neighborhood. It's always a treat running up Post Oak, but I couldn't help but be nervous for what was next, Memorial Drive. Once you turn off of Chimney Rock onto Memorial Drive, it's a snaking 7.2 mile slog fest Eastbound to get home. This last section of the race has always elluded me. It's often where my tires begin to fall off. Last year my calf muscles nearly locked up on me as I slowed things down and enjoyed some doughnuts and Karbach along Allen Parkway. This year I did better with my electrolytes, so my legs didn't exactly quit like last time. Instead, the fatigue was so great that it felt like there was practically no feeling in my legs as I attempted to turn them. I began to feel the weight of it all at mile 20, and I tried to hold it together for as long as I could. Once I hit Allen Parkway for the final 5K, that's when I completely lost my groove and my pace slipped. I knew I was going slower at that point, but the magnitude was a mystery to me. Each step felt like I was lifting an invisible slab of concrete along with me. Somehow, I was still running between 7 to 7:30-ish minutes per mile. I kept glancing at my watch thinking, "will I make it under 3 hours?" None of that mattered though, eventually I just tried to give everything I had left. It hit me near that last mile. Where was that bubbling joy that I'm so often characterized by? Where were my Rocky quotes, or those Goggins quotes, that I love shouting out loud when the going gets tough? The whole race I was subconsciously chasing a time, a silly little number. One that's simply cosmetic for runners whose paychecks don't depend on it. I was too serious about chasing that time that I lost that inner joy of mine. It's one of my other reasons for running, for the thrill of it; And today it was lacking. I realized that on the home stretch as everyone cheered us on. "NO PAIN!" I shouted with 1 mile to go as I attempted to save face running through downtown Houston with what was left. After I crossed the finish line, I dropped a half used gel. As I reached down to pick it up I could feel the nothingness in my muscles. A kind volunteer rushed over to grab it for me so that I didn't topple over myself. And that's when I saw the proof of my valiant effort. My left shoe had a blood stain. That blister of mine became a blood blister and popped along the way. I couldn't help but smile as I hobbled on numb legs through the ocean of finishers knowing that I truly gave it my all.

I watched the clock slowly roll over from 2:59:59 to 3:00:00 on my finish line sprint. Earlier that morning, I crossed the start line after 30 seconds or so. I knew I had some wiggle room on the clock. After I got inside one of my fellow club members broke the news to me. 3:00:10. That was my finishing chip time. I couldn't help but smile and laugh. Sure, I was dissapointed. However realizing that I wasn't running my way helped me quickly accept this fact. Some people are more goal oriented and like to chase finish times. If that gets you moving then more power to you; It just doen't work for me. I'm not exactly a goal oriented person with respect to running. It's not my element. Instead, I often find myself chasing for the thrill of it rather than for a particular achievement. Of course I still have goals, dreams, and grand visions. They're a great tool that helps to orient or align myself towards the future I desire; But the moment I begin persuing that gold trophy simply because it's a shiny accomplishment is the moment I become truly lost.

Lessons Learned:
• Shoes: The Altra Vamish Tempos were good, but I need more practice in them. I'm not used to that stack, weight, and aggressive form.
• Fluids and electrolytes were good. 2 gels and alternated gatorade and water throughout each fluid stations. 3 gels are probably more ideal though.
• Tangents need more work. I ended up running an extra 0.10 to 0.25 miles simply from not running tangents well enough. This is especially important along Allen Parkway.
• Most importantly, I cannot lose that happy-go-lucky attitude on the race course.