Running My First Half-Marathon

Jog for 60 seconds.  Walk for 90 seconds.  Repeat for 20 minutes.  That was my very first week of training with the Couch to 5K program.  That’s how all of this craziness began 18 months ago.  Up to that point in my life I honestly do not think that I ever ran a mile consecutively without stopping.  I trained for a 5K and had fun.  It was my intro to running.  Never at any moment during that time did I consider myself a runner nor foresee ever becoming a runner.  It just wasn’t for me.  Now, I’m part of the club.  On September 27, 2014, I ran the Akron Marathon.  Here are the random thoughts that were running through my head at every step during that race:

Prior to race start:

Waiting in Corral C @ the starting line.

• Damn, there's a lot of people here.

• Can I even finish this race?  After tearing my right calf muscle, I only “ran” one mile in the two weeks leading up to the race.  I can’t quite call it a run; it was more like an elderly shuffle.  If I was on a NFL injury report, I’d be listed as Questionable.

• Did I pee enough?  No explanation needed.  I'm dead set on not stopping to go on the course.  If nature called, I’ll pull a Harry Dunne and just go…man.

I'm doing MUCH better than the poor girl in front of me.

• This is going to be the hardest thing that I’ve ever done in my life.

Mile 1:

• Let everybody pass you.  There is no need to start quick.  You injured your leg and you have a buttload of miles to go.  Slow and steady wins the race finishes with a very mediocre time.

Mile 2:

•  Hey look – there are my parents!  This is the most un-Simcox thing to ever happen in my family.  I don’t know if the looks on their faces are showing pride or complete befuddlement as they wonder why their son would ever willingly run without somebody chasing him.  I'm glad they're here, it helps to have support.

• My calf is starting to warm up and I am getting into my groove.  Hopefully this keeps up.

•  I hope I don’t get shot as I make this left turn on Tallmadge Avenue.
•   Side story:  I went to school in North Akron at St. Anthony on this block that I am running.  Every day we had to walk across the parking lot and into the church basement to get to the cafeteria.  One day there was a blown drug deal across the street from the school in which somebody got shot and then stumbled on to the school property bleeding heavily.  The shooter was on the run and not detained.  Needless to say, we didn’t get lunch that day.  Love me some Akron.

Mile 3:

•  Man, the Y-Bridge is longer than I thought – it’s probably not going to be fun running across this again 9 miles from now.  Spoiler alert…..it wasn’t.

•  Oh wait, crap.  Now I have to run all the way to Firestone Park and back?  That’s pretty far.  It sure would help if I didn’t know this city like the back of my hand.

• But….I just ran 5K.  18 months ago, this was the biggest running accomplishment I would ever hope to achieve – now I’ve upped the game.  Let’s get this.

Mile 4:

• Hey look! – there is my sister Stephanie and my wife Eileen!  Warning, emotional stuff ahead:



My #1 Fan

• There were moments during this race that were super emotional.  The strongest of these moments was when I saw Eileen and her 8 month pregnant belly cheering me on.  I stopped to give her a kiss and then proceeded to cry buckets for the next half mile.  I’m not afraid or embarrassed to admit this; it was one of the most emotional moments of my life.  I lost it when I saw her.  The emotions of running my first race, seeing my proud wife, and becoming a dad for the first time collided right there on the corner of Exchange and High Streets. There are many reasons why I started running seriously.  A few are quite selfish.  But the biggest reason was for Eileen and our baby.  I want to live a healthy lifestyle and always be there for them – and I want to be the absolute best and happiest version of me.  Running allows that to happen.

Mile 5:

•  I kind of hope that an official race photographer snapped a few photos of Weeping Ryan.  If there is something I enjoy more than breathing, it’s willingly throwing myself under the bus.  I’d share that picture everywhere.  Please Mr. Photographer, please be in the right spot.

Mile 6:

• Is that guy walking faster than I am running?  Yes, yes he is.  There is a man, easily in his 70's that is “mall walking” faster than almost everybody else around him is running.  He is also running (or walking?) the half marathon and all I keep thinking is, “I better beat this guy across the finish line”.  I am not allowing Elderly Mall Walking Guy to beat me. No way.

Mile 7:

•  Halfway home!  At mile 6½ I am halfway finished, and still very far away from Canal Park.  I am now 1 hour and 15 minutes into my run and I don’t feel like I’m completely dying.  I have that going for me....which is nice.

Mile 8:

• Hey look! – It’s Elderly Mall Walking Guy!  Let’s pass this guy and put him in the rear view mirror for good.  By now, I am slightly concerned with my level of competitiveness and also my revised goal for the marathon.  Before I got injured, I wanted to run a sub 2 hour race - a goal that was ridiculously lofty considering that it was my first race, but one that I felt obtainable based on my splits during training.  Now, I am puffing out my chest with pride in passing a 70 year-old man that is walking.  Read that again.  Yes, it’s pathetic.

Mile 9:

• You’re entering the toughest part of this race.  There is a decent elevation change ahead of you and you're mentally starting to doubt yourself, just keep going.  Trust in your training.  Again, you totally can do this.

Mile 10:

•  I’m back in downtown Akron.  Only 4 more miles to go.  At this point of the race, I begin breaking down the remaining miles into more manageable goals.  Just get to the next mile.

• Wait…..I’m back in downtown Akron? How the hell did that happen – I was just in a neighborhood in Firestone Park, right?  The most mentally draining part of the race is now before me.  The next 3 miles echo the first 3 of the race….meaning that I have to run the Y-Bridge again.  Remember when you thought that kind of sucked the first time?  Well it’s not getting any easier now.

•  I just ran under a Welcome Home LeBron banner hanging from a walking bridge.  I'm so happy that my favorite player is home playing for my favorite team again.  I wonder how David Blatt is going to handle the rotation?  Is Dion Waiters going to be a wrecking ball to team chemistry?  Do I spray champagne in my baby's face this year if the Cavs win the championship?  These are all of the things running through my head under that bridge.  For a moment I'm not thinking about the pain - thanks LeBron.

Mile 11:

• My. Calf. Is. Killing.  Do not be ashamed of yourself for walking, you are still finishing a half-marathon.  I had to absolutely stop and walk for a minute to mentally reset myself and give my leg a short break.  I read in a blog to listen to your body when it is hurting and do whatever it takes to fully run that last mile of the race.  Walking is the only option here.  Whomp, whomp.

Mile 12: 

• Just made a left onto Mosser Place and ran past St. Anthony church.  I know that it’s a big racing no-no and I will never do it again, but I stopped for a second and took a selfie in front of the same steps that I walked up to get my first communion and the same steps that I walked my grandfather’s casket down.  Many, many memories in that church.  I’m not going to pretend that my grandfather would have even began to comprehend why I was running a marathon, but I do know that he would have been proud of me anyways.  I miss him and felt a little closer to him as I was running past the church he loved so dearly.  Emotional Ryan in full force.

St. Anthony selfie.

• Crap, my phone died.  That’s what I get for taking a selfie during a race – I deserved that.  No more music.  That’s okay though, I want to hear the crowd as I run the home stretch anyways.

•  My. Calves. Are. Killing. Plural.  I physically hit a wall within the past 5 minutes.  Not being able to complete my last two weeks of training was getting to me.  I stop on the Y-Bridge and stretch for 2-3 minutes.  Anything to feel better.  I’ll be damned if I’m not running that last mile.

Mile 13:

• One more mile to go! This is my victory lap in a long, 16 weeks of training.

•  Hey look!  There is my Uncle Brian in his police uniform and on duty.  I give him a high five and he assured me that there is one more mile to go.  I text Eileen and let her know that I would be arriving in the stadium within the next 10 minutes.  

The last 10^th of a Mile:

• I bleeping did it!  Except the real word came out of my mouth, Ralphie style.  I can’t believe that this is happening.  One more left turn – I see the back of the outfield wall!

• The finish line is ahead, I am in the stadium – Hey look! – There is Eileen again!  I raise my arms up and point to show her that I see her.  We're both sporting the biggest grins in the history of grins.  What a rush!  I cannot explain this feeling.  I envisioned the finishing line every single day during my 16 weeks of training.  I did all of my long runs down at Sand Run and my “finish line” was always the intersection of Portage Path and Sand Run.  I kept pushing the end of training until I hit that intersection.  Now this is the real deal.

• Arms up.  Fists pumping. Finish Line!  I am officially a marathon runner.  02:28:49. A slow marathon runner, but a marathon runner nevertheless.

Proud owner of a Half-Marathon Finishing Medal

The feeling that you get when crossing a finish line is like no other.  It’s a definitive end.  It’s a validation that all of the hard work, dedication, and sacrifice that went into training were worth it.  All of the aches, the pains, the awful digestion problems (you runners know what I mean!) were worth it.  Most of all, it’s an overwhelming confirmation that you can do anything that you put your mind towards.  It’s an important life lesson that I always heard, but never truly learned until last week – and one that I look forward to teaching my child as they grow older.  I can officially call myself a runner - it's a great obsession, one that I would encourage everybody to try.  13.1 – it’s more than a number or a sticker on the back of a car, it’s a way of life.  I'm proud that I am in the club - when's the next race?