January 29, 2024 - Miami Marathon Misery

The Miami Marathon. It's by far my favorite marathon to pace of those I have run. I love the course. I love the energy. I love the people. I just love it. And I've been looking forward to pacing at the Miami Marathon for months, almost as much as I looked forward to my own race at California International Marathon last year. But, alas, I had my worse performance as a pacer ever at the Miami Marathon yesterday. A truly shitty day. One that has me questioning marathoning (and definitely pacing) until I figure some things out.

(Warning: poop content begins below. I meant "shitty day" quite literally. No photos, though.)

I was set to pace the 3:20 group at the marathon. This is the fastest group I had ever paced, and had only done it once before. On that prior attempt, I missed my time slightly, as I had to make a late 24th mile emergency porta-potty pitstop and just couldn't catch up in the small amount of course left. But I had no concern about the pace for the Miami Marathon. Even with the weather forecast turning quite warm with a 71 degree and 90+% humidity morning forecast, I had zero concerns about the pace. Heck, I'd just run a very disappointing 3:04 last month when everything went off the rails and I had to stop in a toilet twice! 3:20 was more than a minute per mile slower. Nothing that caused me a moment's hesitation.

I did have one concern, that I'd have the same issue I had the first time I paced 3:20...the need to go to the bathroom late in the race. But I had a plan, pay attention and go early. I had actually done this when pacing at Miami last year, when I had to stop twice at miles 6 and 14, but had no difficulty getting back on track and never left my pace group for more than a few minutes while I caught up. So, with fitness in hand and a plan to manage any GI issues, I arrived at race morning without many concerns. I even managed to have a relatively successful bowel movement in the Kaseya Center about 45 minutes before the race was to start. (What a luxury to have a starting line next to a fancy NBA arena, which is open to racers for toileting needs instead of the conventional lines outside stinky porta-potties!)

The race began a bit late, but just a few minutes. I love Miami Marathon, but it does have one monster frustration. The first mile of the course is a total mess. Just over a quarter mile out of the starting chute, there is a hard right turn onto Rickenbacker Causeway. The course narrows from a four lane major road to not much more than a lane and a half wide. On top of that, there is a VIP corral which anyone running at any pace can enter by paying some amount that departs the start immediately following the elite runners, but before everyone else. Now, don't get me wrong. I find nothing but joy in seeing runners out running at all paces. But when you're starting a large marathon in the dark, trying to find your pace, working through the pinch point of that right turn, and encounter a group of walkers walking four abreast; it creates a massive problem for everyone! And this year was extra challenging as there was construction on that narrow point, narrowing it even further. We were near a walk for nearly a quarter mile. For a pacer, a bit of a nightmare. I had warned my group (a rather small group) before we began that we'd encounter some challenges here, but I hadn't realized how bad they would be. Alas, we eventually found our way into open course and hit the one mile mark a minute behind pace. I had also let my group know we wouldn't try to make that all up immediately, but to be back on pace around the 10k mark. 

From here on, things seemed to be going very well. We slowly chipped away at that deficit, 10 seconds or so per mile. We weren't quite there at 6 miles, but were basically right on pace at mile 7. The morning was very humid, but really didn't feel that warm. My legs weren't feeling great, but the pace was coming easily and effortlessly. I did have to make a super quick stop around mile 7 to fix a poor shoe tying job that was causing some lace bite. Not a big deal. I excused myself from the few runners with me, but had caught up to them within 90 seconds. Shortly thereafter, we turned off Miami Beach and headed back into the city.

Around mile 8, I had the first inclination that I'd need to make a more substantial stop. Pressure was building in the gut. I was gonna have to poop. Not a big deal. We were on pace. It was nice and early in the race. I could roll back to the group without an issue. I asked one of the runners in the group if they'd carry the sign for me until I got back, then watched for a porta-potty. There had been TONS of these so far in the race. But suddenly they all disappeared. Finally, mile 10 I was able to make my stop. I timed it to know how much I needed to make up. 90 seconds, in and out and time to go. I ran at roughly my December target marathon pace, and caught my group right around mile 12. It took a mile or so to get the heartrate back to the easy effort it had been so far, but I mostly got there. No damage done. 

We rolled through the half way mark, then continued on the course. All was good. It was feeling quite warm in the sun exposed spots of the course, but the humidity had dropped considerably. My legs were a bit heavy and I realized there will be a little battle in the last few miles, but nothing beyond a regular training run. Nothing to be worried about, just something to be prepared for. Then, just passed mile 18 it hit hard...serious pressure in my gut. I would have to poop again and urgently! There was no waiting, no choice (unless I was gonna just poop in my pants.) I had to stop. I apologized to the one runner left with me, gave him some strong encouragement as he was running very strong and let him know I might struggle to catch up so near the end. Mile 19, I found another porta-potty in what felt like just the nick of time. This time it was no regularly poop. This was explosive diarrhea, chills, the works. I finished again in about 90 seconds, exited the porta-potty, took about 4 steps, and raced right back into the porta-potty for round 2 of this stop! More of the same. Explosive diarrhea, chills, pain, and I took a few moments to consider if maybe this was a heat exposure issue and I should just pack it in and walk back to the finish area. But I was sweating plenty, peeing plenty, had been taking in lots of liquids, didn't feel unusually hot or cold, everything seemed fine. Just my insides expelling themselves unexpectedly, painfully, and violently. 

As I emerged back onto the course, I estimated I'd lost about three minutes. 7 miles to go, three or so minutes behind, a 7 minute mile should get me back on time. And I set out at that pace. But with that last stop, I had also lost energy and power. I assume I hadn't really been processing the nutrition I was taking in and was now running on low calories and a body rebelling internally. I also stopped eating afraid to put anything else into my stomach and began only taking water at the water stops. I could run a 7 minute mile for a while without the heartrate going crazy, but the legs were just heavy. So heavy. I was only able to average approximately my target pace of 7:30ish and wasn't making up time. I was hurting the deeper I pushed. But I continued to give it my best, pushing when I felt I could, backing off when I just couldn't. Not gaining, but also not losing much time. I was hoping that I would find a second wind with the turn back into town after mile 20 when I would also literally have the wind to my back.

And I was able to push a bit for a mile or so. Until the third poop emergency struck. It was painful and urgent, and there just so happened to be a porta-john nearby this time. I tucked in for a third time this race and spent even more time inside the glorious confines of those infamous outhouses. This time I didn't try to rush in and out, and instead took my time knowing I had no chance of recovering back to my target pace after this stop at mile 22. I knew I was no longer fighting to do my job, but was just going to have to cruise back to the finish line with who knows how many more breaks to evacuate my bowels along the way. Another couple rounds of explosiveness and chills, but I was also feeling rather empty at this point. Like a bit of a husk. 

I exited and got back on course to finish the run. I was no longer trying to push the pace knowing I had failed spectacularly. I also felt dirty and stinky and not very good about myself. I cruised gently through the final 4 miles at about a 8 minute per mile pace. I did not have to stop again, thank goodness, and eventually stumbled over the finish line in 3 hours and 30 minutes, over 10 minutes late. I had missed my time once before, but just by a little bit. This was a true failure. A total miss. And I was deeply disappointed. This is the race I most love to pace. 

This felt worse than not hitting my time target at CIM in December. At CIM, I knew I was running right at the edge with huge risk of failure. I was okay with that, even somewhat expected to come up short. I walked away from that having been satisfied with my attempt. Today felt different. Today felt like failure when no risk had been taken. And there should be no risk taken when pacing. This felt like me just flat screwing up.

But even as I think about it today, I'm not sure what I could or would do differently. The pace was easily within my ability. The weather wasn't all that terrible. Heck, I only felt hot on two occasions I can remember. I tried eating in a manner that was a bit less stomach stressful the day before the race. I switched to a nutrition gel that was supposed to be easier on the stomach, and trained with it beforehand. I even avoided coffee on race morning! I had really done everything that's suggested to avoid GI distress during running. Yet here I was, having the worst GI distress of my running life! Quite literally sick on course! I think I would have had the same day had I paced the 3:30 group, the 3:40 group, even the 3:10 group. I was going to miss on this day. I was going to spend too much time in porta-johns to make it work an come up about 10 minutes behind, whether trying to run faster or slower. I feel like I totally failed, yet don't know what could have been done differently.

And it didn't end there. After the race, I quickly returned to my hotel room to be able to shower off before check out time. But not before I had to race back to my room with my bowels ready to explode again! And then it continued for the remainder of the day. I barely at anything yesterday, not a great way to recovery from a long run. I am eating today, and find myself on the opposite end of the spectrum. Dried up, perhaps a bit dehydrated, with sore abdominal muscles, and unable to pass anything. 

Today I'm left baffled. This is four marathons in a row in which I've had to stop at a bathroom. CIM was twice. Miami Marathon last year was twice. Space Coast before that was once. I've only run one marathon since 2020 without stomach distress. I am unsure how to fix this, having tried multiple "solutions." 

But I am sure of two things. One, this problem partly goes away as I move away from a marathon focus to this High Five By 55 project. In ultras, I generally have the opposite problem. I find myself unable to poop and running painfully full. And two, I shouldn't volunteer to pace anymore until I can find a resolution. Failing as a pace group leader is simply not acceptable to me and I'd rather not do it at all than do it poorly.