about this site | email
     
 
Chris Lear

NYC 2003 - My First Marathon
by Chris Lear

Over the past two months, Chris Lear, a Colorado-based full-time sales representative and freelance writer, has been sharing his training diary as he prepares to run in this year's edition of the ING New York City Marathon — his marathon debut. Lear, like the vast majority of this year's entrants, is not a full-time runner. Yet, as for most of the competitors running this year's event, November 2 will nonetheless represent the culmination of months of hard work and planning. Each finisher, in the end, will have his or her own story to tell. Lear has shared with you his story: his goals, dreams, triumphs, and disappointments as he prepares to tackle the 26.2-mile behemoth for the first time.

Entry #12, October 30, 2003 - That Guy

For a while in my three-week stint of job training in Chicago I was "that guy." "That guy" is the outsider because he's off doing his own thing while the gang is out together kidding and carrying on. In my case, it only took a few days of skipping out on dinner and drinks before I became "the runner." In quick succession that label morphed to "the marathoner." But it didn't stop there. I knew something had to be done when last Monday a well-meaning co-worker gave me this bushy-tailed introduction to a guest speaker: "That's Chris. He's a marathoner. He's world-class."

I almost spit up my diet coke. (Yes, I'm man enough to admit that I was drinking diet in an effort to cut a few more pounds before race day. Of course, that was my quintessentially American attempt to counteract the three slices of Giordano's Chicago-style pizza I'd inhaled in my hotel room the night before.)

Anyway, back to the story. I knew then that if I was to be one of the guys — something I'd resolved to do when I departed from Colorado — I had to make an effort in my last week in town to hang with the guys while somehow not sacrificing too much of my training. So when a buddy made the rounds with plans on Monday afternoon to go to Morton's Steak House on Wednesday night, I lit that candle.

By Wednesday, however, I was feeling the urge to back out. While I'd done my last long run for the marathon three days prior — a two-hour jaunt along Chicago's Lake Shore Drive — I'd compromised my workout of five repeat "miles" (six-minute hard intervals at my tempo heart rate with three minutes recovery) on Tuesday and done only three in order to catch "The Producers" at the Oriental Theater. I'd resolved then to do an hour-twenty on my Wednesday run to get the additional minutes I was bailing on.

So when I learned we'd have to catch a cab as soon as we got out of work to get our 5:30 reservation, I had once more to decide who I wanted to be. Perhaps not surpisingly to those who've been following my progress these past 12 weeks, I decided against being "that guy."

I knew I'd chosen wisely when I put my first bite of ribeye down my gullet on Wednesday night. Several glasses of wine later, however, I morphed horribly into another version of "that guy." On my way to the loo, amidst all the sports jackets and slacks, I bumped into a short, round white guy rocking some Ecko brand J-Lo suede sweats with a matching backwards golf cap. I did a double take to get a load of hip-hop when I noticed that he was none other than Kevin James of TV's King of Queens. As "that guy" I then proceeded to totally ass out and verbally vomit on him about how much I loved his show. Fortunately, I caught myself and scrammed before I could ask for an autograph.

It only took half a ring of my phone at 6:00 a.m. wake-up call Thursday for me to swiftly raise and lower the boom on the cordless. Unfortunately, my attempt to rise and get in that blasted hour-twenty run was thwarted once more when I realized that the late eve had left me useless. An hour later I got up and ran an easy 35 minutes instead.

I departed Chicago Friday for a weekend in D.C., content that I'd achieved a reasonable work/life/run balance in Chicago and desperate to know whether the heart rate monitor I'd run with strapped beneath my chest for three weeks had accomplished anything. On Sunday, exactly one week till NYC 2003, I hit the Marshall High School track in Virginia with one of my old college teammates, Scott "Slicko" Anderson, to run one final four-mile tempo run and hopefully get some answers.

For a while it was like old times as we ran stride for stride, at least as much as possible for a 6'5" guy and a 5'7" guy (me), and I ducked this way and that to avoid getting beheaded by one of his elbows.

When I hit the first mile in 5:30 I couldn't believe how easy it felt. I slowed from there to stay in my tempo heart rate range and finished comfortably in 22:50 — 5:42 mile pace. I knew right then that despite the interruptions, my stint at sea-level had me fitter than I'd been just weeks before.

So what does that mean for November 2? For starters, I've come a long way since late August, when I seemed to have 26.2 million reasons not to run NYC 2003. Mile by mile, week by week, I've compiled more reasons than not for "that guy" to believe it's possible.

Now there's only one more thing for that guy to do: rest up for 26.2 on November 2. The pasta is coming to a boil on the stovetop, and the fire is in the belly. How 'bout you?

[Editor's Note: Chris Lear will be wearing bib number 273 when he runs the ING New York City Marathon. Tune in to www.ingnycmarathon.org between 10:10 a.m. and 2:00 p.m. EST on November 2 to track his progress. And be sure to check back next Thursday for Lear's account of his race.]
     
Nothing contained herein may be reproduced online or in any form without the express written permission of the New York Road Runners Club, Inc.