in the form of her long runs. Her long runs were in the 15- to 18-mile range leading up to her marathons.

Frank Shorter, the 1972 Olympic marathon champion, ran his long runs in the 20-mile range. He says that he ran the first half of these relatively slowly (at about 6:27 per mile) but then did the second half at about 5:00-per-mile pace.

REFERENCES

Benyo, R. 1992. Making the Marathon Your Event. Toronto: Random House of Canada Ltd.

Benyo, R. 2002. Basic training for a 3:30 marathon. Marathon & Beyond, 6(2), 113119.

Benyo, R. 2002. Basic training for a 3:00 marathon. Marathon & Beyond, 6(3), 5672.

Benyo, R., & Henderson, J. 2002. Running Encyclopedia. Champaign, Ill.: Human Kinetics.

Bloch, G. B. 1993. How to Train for and Run Your Best Marathon. New York: Fireside.

Daniels, J. 1998. Daniels’ Running Formula. Champaign, Ill.: Human Kinetics.

Galloway, J. 1984. Galloway’s Book of Running. Bolinas, Calif.: Shelter Publications.

Higdon, H. 1997. How to Train. Emmaus, Pa.: Rodale Press, Inc.

Khannouchi, K. 2003. Run your best marathon. Runners World, August 2003, 8081.

Noakes, T. 2003. Lore of Running. Champaign, IlJ.: Human Kinetics.

Pfitzinger, P., & Douglass, S. 2001. Advanced Marathoning. Champaign, Il.: Human Kinetics.

Pfitzinger, P. 2003. The Pfitzinger lab report: Essential efforts to elevate endurance.

Pfitzinger, P. 2003. The Pfitzinger lab report: Your long run prescription. Run- i ning Times, October 2003, 12.

(& What I Learned From It)

OLUMBIA, SOUTH CAROLINA, February 26, 2000—I had an unforgettable experience at the U.S. Olympic Marathon Trials in 2000. After I qualified for the Trials at Grandma’s Marathon in June 1999, I wasn’t ready to endure the pressure involved with the intense training needed to set any lofty time goals. Of course, I trained, but my main goal was to enjoy the entire event and to share this lifetime experience with my husband, Dave; my brother; and my mom who traveled to support me. This was my Olympics, and I wanted to have fun!

The excitement began during our last connecting flight—Don Kardong was seated near us! I did not have the nerve to bother him, but it was a preview of the immensity of this event that I was to participate in. At the airport in Columbia, the welcome committee had vans to take us to our hotel, and Joan Benoit Samuelson was in our van. This was going to be great! We all introduced ourselves (four athletes plus family), and Joan began talking about her concerns for the predicted warm weather. She asked whether we would sign a petition to move the start to 7:00 a.m. rather than the scheduled 9:00 a.m. We all said sure. (What did I care? I was going to have fun no matter what.) Although we engaged only in small talk, it was huge for me to meet Joan!

THE BLUE LINE

The next morning, I picked up my goody bag and socialized with other runners in the hospitality room. The volunteers were helpful and friendly and made me feel special. Dave and I signed up for the morning course tour, so we could not mingle as long as we wanted. We grabbed a water bottle and bagel and went to meet the van to follow the famous blue line around the city. I loved the idea of following the blue paint for the course and not thinking about which direction to go. With only 170 runners, I didn’t expect to be able to chase packs of runners. As a matter of fact, it suddenly dawned on me, I could be alone and even finish last! The drive seemed much longer than 26 miles, and the reality of the demanding

course hit me. Yikes! This was a wicked course! Yeah, sure, I had heard it was hilly, but where the hills were during the 26 miles seemed cruel. Well, that just further justified my intention to have fun; this was definitely not a PR course.

CHILDREN BRING SMILES

After we finished following the perplexing blue line, we happily greeted my mom and brother, Kevin, who had been flying all night. They arrived in time to go with us to Burton-Pack Elementary School. I had signed up for the sponsor-a-school program and for months had been corresponding by mail with students at this underprivileged school. Their letters kept me and my husband laughing for hours; they were adorable! The two other athletes assigned to this school were Miranda Shapiro and Christine Clark. We first met with the fourth and fifth graders in the cafeteria. They asked great questions. For example: “I can’t believe they make you run 26 miles. They should make you run one mile because 26 miles will tire you out real fast—so try to practice running 26 miles.” (Excellent advice!) “Do you get paid for your job?” (Paid to run? Ha! If you call sore muscles, fatigue, and GI distress a form of payment.)

Next we went outside to meet the K-2 students. /QQ: kindergarten through second grade? XQQ/ This was definitely a highlight of the trip. They treated me as though I had won the Olympics! These students had been working for weeks

Courtesy of Mary Coordt

A The author with her pen pal students from Burton-Pack Elementary School prior to the Olympic Trials.

eo A The author leads the students on the blue line to the finish.

preparing speeches and a ceremony for us. Each runner was given a key to the school, a victory medal, and flowers. After the ceremony, we were directed to line up behind each other with the students. Some children carried flags, and one lucky little boy held an Olympic torch. While one class formed the Olympic rings, the rest of us followed a blue line recently painted on the school lawn, symbolizing our journey to take place the next day and how they would be there with us. We reached the finish line banner where we spent the rest of the time visiting, hugging, and taking pictures with all the wonderful children. Their smiles lifted our hearts. Of course they all told us to win the Olympics. Little did they realize that this was my Olympics, so I had already won. As for Chris Clark, well, who would have thought? (Chris won the Trials in 2:33:31.)

THE BUBBLE

We returned to the hotel in time for the mandatory technical meeting. This was when we received our race numbers and instructions on the race rules. Excitement and tension filled the room as the race directors went over start time, special fluid tables, drug testing, and so forth. Wow, I was sure glad I did not have to worry about special fluids and drug testing. I had to concentrate only on finishing and having fun!

Then they described the bubble. Why didn’t anyone tell me about the bubble? I learned that the zone beginning with the lead runner and extending to the last runner is defined as the bubble, and a van would be at the end of the bubble, at the three-hour mark. If you are at the end of the bubble, the van might sweep you

Courtesy of Mary Coordt

up if you are not holding a three-hour pace. What? Are they kidding? Suddenly my stomach tightened, and I saw my envisioned fun marathon being carried away by the bubble. First the blue paintbrush got lost as someone tried to paint the flat course, and then the weather was forecast to reach mid- to upper 70s, and now the three-hour bubble! Do they not want three Americans at Sydney? And what about us happy-to-be-here runners? OK, not to panic. I just needed to redefine fun. Visual techniques are always helpful for good athletic performance, so I see myself running from the Pillsbury Dough Boy (that is, the bubble). He will be too big and tired to make it up the two-mile hill at mile 21, not to mention the 90-foot climb at mile 25. Yeah, this can be fun.

RACE MORNING

Since the start was outside the hotel door, most runners stayed in their rooms until the last 20 minutes to relax and use their own bathrooms. I got restless at 8:15 A.M. and went downstairs. Many runners were pacing back and forth in the lobby, while other women sat in corners trying to get focused. After a few minutes, I was relieved to find Sharon Servidio and Cathy Pearce, who also did not know what to do to kill time. There was no reason to warm up as it was already 65 degrees outside—Joan was unsuccessful at moving the start time from 9:00 a.m. to 7:00 A.M.—and with only 170 runners, there was not the usual hour needed to stand in line for the porta-potties.

The three of us walked to the starting line, and after talking to several women, we gathered a group of six or seven runners who were also apprehensive that they might start too fast but did not want to be caught outside the bubble. So we all agreed to start at a 6:30-per-mile pace. The gun went off. Hundreds of people had gathered to watch the start, and their cheering gave me chills as we ran by. As I looked for my family, I realized that this event was much more emotional than I had ever expected.

IS THIS FUN?

The first mile was 6:40. We actually managed to start conservatively!

The next nine miles seemed painstakingly long, but I was pleased that I was running with a group. Although I was maintaining the pace, my stride did not feel comfortable, and the warm temperature already seemed to be draining me of energy. It was then that I realized this was going to be my toughest marathon ever. I stopped taking splits but no longer feared the bubble, as many runners had already fallen off the pace.

My new goal was to get to each of the aid stations, which were well stocked with bottles, not Dixie cups, of sports drinks and water. I would take one water bottle and one sports drink each time and drink as much as I could. Only minutes

A The author on race morning mugs with her brother, Kevin (left) and her husband, Dave.

later I was already thirsty, with my mouth so dry that I couldn’t form enough saliva even to spit. At the halfway point, the clock just turned 1:25. I thought about how I felt the last time I had noted 1:25 at the halfway point of a marathon. It was at Grandma’s Marathon the previous June, when I qualified for the Trials with a finish time of 2:48:02. Every second was crucial at that marathon, so much pressure to hit each mile marker at a specific time. Suddenly, a sense of calm came over me because I did not feel that type of stress, and I realized that this 1:25 half meant that only 13.1 miles remained and the Olympic Trials would be over. Suddenly, I knew I must appreciate every moment no matter how difficult. It had to be fun.

Reaching Fort Jackson at mile 15 was just what I needed to start having fun again. The synchronized cheering and yelling of the spectators invigorated many of us at a point in the marathon when most had forgotten why they were putting their bodies through this pain. The encouragement felt like a shot of adrenaline.

The 18-mile marker is the point in marathons where I usually need to dig deep to stay focused and push myself harder. I think every marathoner has some mental strategy or positive reinforcement games to use during those most agonizing miles. After running 18 miles, I use these mental games to convince myself that running eight more miles is no big task and usually attempt to pick up the pace and pass as many runners as possible. Not this time! I knew at the half-marathon mark that this was not a course to do negative splits. A 1:25 half doesn’t guarantee even a sub-three-hour marathon.

Courtesy of Mary Coordt

Courtesy of Mary Coordt

I did pass many runners but not because I was picking up the pace. Some of these women had trained for years and had specific time goals, but many began to swelter from the heat and their legs became fatigued from the challenging course. Only a few hours ago these women were focused, elite running machines. It was hard to believe these hollow-faced, withered raisins were the same powerful athletes. I did not enjoy passing them; it saddened me. I gave words of encouragement, hoping they would stay with me. Their eyes wanted to, but most just shouted back, “You go!” I had the utmost respect for these runners because they took a risk to go after their dream and gave it everything they had. They had courage. I suddenly felt as though I had taken the timid route. My only goals were to finish and to have fun.

THE LAST 10K

As I hit the 20-mile marker, I was running alone. I was hot, dehydrated (later I learned it was 86 degrees and the organizers had run out of IVs in the medical tent); my feet were throbbing; my legs felt clumsy; and my right hip, gluteus, and hamstring were screaming at me to stop. I had to try to block out the pain, avoid the negative thoughts, and dig down deeper to find some morsel of remaining strength for focusing on the last 10K and the most difficult hills ahead.

Then I saw a few runners ahead of me. This gave me motivation; maybe we could conquer the last six miles together. I was going to have fun! Although I

A The author midrace, running “her Olympics.”

eventually passed these few exhausted women, a new inspiration occurred at mile 21 where I was surprised to see my family cheering for me! Their support astonished me. They sacrificed time and money to travel to Columbia and then drove around in the scorching heat to see me as many times as possible—hardly the typical family fun-filled vacation. Making it even more special was the fact that this was the first time my mom ever saw me run. Their love filled my heart and refreshed my goal to have fun and finish strongly. These thoughts carried me up the two-mile hill, while others were not so fortunate and had to walk or limp to the finish.

CHILDREN GIVE ME STRENGTH

At mile 23, the children from Burton-Pack Elementary School lined the streets and cheered. Now that was touching! Their little faces gave new spunk to my stride as I thought about their sharing my dream. I hope that they will live out their dreams someday. The final hill ahead of me was no longer significant. Realizing the Trials would soon be over, I wanted to remember every last laborious step. I saw the crowds gathered tightly on both sides of the blue line as I caught up to another runner. I smiled as she decided to go with me, then she surged ahead of me as we were sandwiched between people yelling for us. “This is it! This is the Olympic Trials!” Another person screamed, “Mary, wake up! Kick it in!” I guess

Courtesy of Mary Coordt

A The author in the final mile of the 2000 Olympic Trials Marathon.

Courtesy of Mary Coordt

I had a dazed look on my face because I was realizing this dream was about to end: it was appropriate to tell me to wake up. I increased my stride to cross the finish line next to another woman. We congratulated each other, and then I found my family to enjoy the final moments of the dream. When they asked me how it was, I responded, “Fun!” It was fun in the most painful and joyful way possible because that was my Olympics.

TRUTH AND CONSEQUENCES

A week later, when I was on an easy recovery run, the discomfort in the back of my hip was unbearable. Suddenly, it felt as if my back gave out, and I couldn’t even walk. Luckily, I was only a half mile from my house. I got home by a combination of limping, crawling, and sitting breaks and then wanted to cry. I knew I should not be surprised that I was injured with a stress fracture in the back of my hip. I had not told anyone before the race, not even my husband, that I had been warned not to run a marathon in my physical condition /QQ : what physical condition? Warned by whom? XQQ/ without suffering the consequences. But how could I not run the Olympic Trials? It took months to be strong enough to walk again and then 2 1/2 years of aggressive physical therapy and strength training before I was 95 percent healed. Was it worth it? Yes! The pain has gone away, but my memories are with me forever.

A The author after the race with her husband, Dave, and her mom.

And What | Learned From It

Every marathon should have a painted blue line to follow. Be thankful for family. It is the most precious gift in my world.

Don’t underestimate the power of the mind. 1! convinced myself that | was going to have a positive experience, and | did. (I suppose we all have our own definition of fun.) Even though it was the hardest marathon | have ever run, | was able to find the mental strength to keep going.

Enjoy every run as if it is your last. Like many runners, | had to suffer a serious injury to remember how lucky | am to be able to run. When | was learning to run again, it took me more than 10 minutes to go around an infield of a baseball diamond.| swore at that moment that | would appreciate every step of each run in the future.

Running on two legs is better than one. If it were not for my physical therapist and good friend, Tina Beal, | believe that | would still be running with one side of my body or not at all. She spent years with me to find the weakness in my biomechanics and made me strengthen them. Now, | enjoy the miracle of running with my whole body. Like a car that has gone through too

many potholes, | was out of alignment. When in doubt concerning a F physical condition, consult a professional.

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