上個周日跑了陸戰隊馬拉鬆的50公裏超馬，寫幾句，記錄一下。跑個馬拉鬆或者超馬，值得寫幾個字記錄嗎？我覺得不值得，但跑步以外的事，或許值得。所謂醉翁之意不在酒。
上回跑馬是三年前了，芝加哥馬拉鬆，這三年裏的頭兩年，趁著疫情的尾巴，又讀了個學位，又用一年結婚生子，期間工作又增加了不少新的責任，生命的密度在這三年裏有點大， 但也熬了過來，除了至近的一兩個人，身邊的人一點不知道我在做的事。Be like a swan, paddling madly underneath the water but appearing graceful and elegant on the surface。不敢自比天鵝，說的是這個意思。倒不是刻意隱瞞，就是想專注於自己的生活和自己的事，跟別人沒關係。
孩子今年七月出生，到了九月，才算把換尿布喂奶哄睡覺弄熟練，就覺得我得做點什麽，讓自己覺得accomplished，而不是被生活淹沒了自我。我說不然忙裏偷閑，跑個馬拉鬆吧，有幾年沒跑了。妻子倒很支持，可我提醒她，就算最低標準的訓練，也得從我這分走二三十個小時原本該分擔的換尿不濕的職責，聽我這麽一說，她似有遲疑，可我立即勉為其難道，好吧，聽你的，我勉強跑一個吧，多一塊完賽獎牌給兒子當玩具。9月16號注冊了家門口的MCM 50K （陸戰隊50公裏超級馬拉鬆），距離10月27號開賽當天，六個星期. --- “Let the mission begin, God will provide”.
六個星期，眾多真正的跑者和馬拉鬆好手可能覺得被冒犯了，認為我對馬拉鬆這項運動缺乏應有的敬畏。其實不是，我當然希望能係統性訓練，全力以赴跑個PB。但是我從來也沒跑過有充分準備的馬拉鬆，因為我從來也不是一個真正的runner跑者，因而跑步從來不會成為我的優先事項。於我，生活的真諦就是tradeoff取舍，你可以追求任何東西，但不能同時擁有一切。專注於你最想要的或最重要的。懂取舍，少糾結。但話又說回來，沒有充分和係統性訓練就不能跑了嗎？趙本山說：沒有困難，創造困難也要上；我說：Whatever it takes。
問：把大象裝冰箱，攏共分幾步？--- 時間回到六個星期前，截至9月， 2024年總跑量180英裏，在長跑訓練的語境裏，約等於零. 如果我在接下來的六個星期，每周周中能有時間跑一兩次3到6英裏，這點量不能拉體能，旨在讓身體不鏽住而已，然後把長跑安排在9/16-10/27 之間的5個周末，9/21直接從12英裏跑起，9/28跑14英裏，10/05拉上16英裏，10/12再上18英裏，10/19來到20英裏，然後休息一周，周末就趕驢上架直接50公裏（31英裏）比賽。這樣算下來，MCM 50公裏超馬之前，能湊足300英裏的訓練量，again，以真正跑者動輒1000甚至2000英裏每年的跑量標準，不多不少，這個量約等於0. 可三年前跑芝馬，我也是上了350英裏的量，即使是我訓練量最大的馬拉鬆，也就是500英裏，我長期做力量訓練，我的時間和我對有氧訓練的欲拒還迎又兼戒備之心，也隻允許我為馬拉鬆付出這麽多了，真的，不能再多了。目標是不追求速度，完賽，不傷，五個周末從12拉到20英裏的計劃，我覺得是可行的。--- 答：把大象裝冰箱，攏共分三步。第一步 - 把冰箱門打開。
接下來的五個星期按照既定計劃，五個長跑，和其間的短跑中跑，湊了120英裏，加上九月之前的180英裏，整夠300. 一切按照計劃進行，除了賽前兩個星期感染了時下的流行病毒，咳嗽了10天，沒看醫生，應該是肺炎。直到賽事當天早上，沒有任何好轉，出門前還在吃止咳藥加泰藍諾，沒帶一條能量膠，但揣了一兜止咳糖。早上五點出門，開車直奔Pentagon的賽事指定停車場。咱也不用大包小包的裝備，也沒有前呼後擁的親友團啦啦隊，用不著，我喜歡舉重若輕的感覺。十步殺一人，千裏不留行。事了拂衣去，深藏身與名.......對，就是這個範。
從停車場出來，我坐的那輛去起跑點的賽事方的擺渡車走丟了，你沒聽錯。小半個華盛頓特區因為陸戰隊馬拉鬆從4:00am開始封路，擺渡車司機七拐八拐把55坐大巴開進了封路的死胡同，倒都倒不出來。當時6:20am, 車上跑馬的能等，他們的第一波次7:55am開跑，可跑五十公裏的7:15am 開跑，等不了。我跟另一個新澤西來跑50公裏的老哥跳下車，二話不說就往最近的地鐵站跑，藍線坐了兩站地，從地鐵站出來離起跑點還有1.5英裏，彼時成千上萬的選手已經黑壓壓的從四麵八方朝那個方向走去。我跟身旁萍水相逢的新澤西醫生老哥說，咱們要跟著隊伍有秩序的走，到了那就改跑馬拉鬆吧，估計能趕上第四波起跑，但要還想跑超馬，現在先得把跑馬的都超了。老哥說，我跟著你。 隨即我倆離開隊伍，從旁邊的草坪一路跑，一路喊著“借過，50公裏馬上起跑，晚了！“ 還沒日出，蒙蒙亮中就這樣一直跑過五角大樓北停車場，跑過了安檢區，前麵就是起跑區了，回頭查看新澤西的老哥跟丟沒，卻發現身後跟著十多個，都是跑50公裏的，也晚了，看到我在大隊伍旁邊跑，不斷加入，1.5英裏後，楞跑出個小方陣來！
到了起跑區，還有十分鍾起跑，剛剛狂奔了兩英裏，正好當熱身了，腎上腺素也飆上來了，也不咳嗽了，也不流鼻涕了，右腳底由於近一個半月陡然加量引起的肌腱炎也不疼了……得了，今天就是今天了。巨鹿之戰，項羽必須用五萬楚軍擊破四十萬秦軍主力，阿金庫爾戰役，英王亨利五世必須親帥幾千英格蘭長弓手團滅法蘭西整個貴族和騎士階層，今天陸戰隊50公裏超級馬拉鬆，我必須把大象裝冰箱裏。
一聲汽笛，開跑。--- “Let the mission begin, God will provide”. 天已經亮了，沿途穿行的街道還很靜，觀看賽事加油助威的人群也還沒有出來，路兩 邊隻有每隔幾十米一個的海軍陸戰隊員，50公裏的參賽選手也不多，後麵跑馬拉鬆的大部隊還沒起跑，難得的鬧中靜，我很享受這一刻。不斷提醒自己放慢速度，今天順利完賽的關鍵，在於夠慢，在於抑製住自己的可能瞬間膨脹的自我和狂熱進而不斷加速然後在最後階段無以為繼，甚至受傷。訓練嚴重不足，加上肺炎，肌腱炎，最現實的目標是完賽 。而且要盡量不傷，跑完還得趕緊回家給兒子換尿布呢。當然，最明智的做法是壓根不跑，但我從來不是個明智的人。陸戰隊馬拉鬆的賽道穿過華盛頓特區的部分及周邊北維州的部分我再熟悉不過了，也是我經常周末去散步和休閑的去處。從阿靈頓出發，穿過阿靈頓，沿著GW PWY 一直到Key Bridge， 上了橋去Georgetown，再往北沿著Rock Creek Park 一直上坡到幾乎國家動物園的南門，然後折返回Georgetown，沿波多馬克河一直跑到Hains Point 海因茲島的盡頭，然後從島的東岸向傑弗遜紀念堂跑，然後進入National Mall，經過國會山轉彎向財政部造幣局，然後上395公路橋，一路爬坡到橋中間，再朝Pentagon五角大樓的方向俯衝下去，很快就會進入Crystal City，終點就在陸戰隊戰爭紀念碑！這條線路，我根本不需要看賽事地圖，幾乎每一寸土地我都拿腳量過。
因為壓著速度跑，頭十個英裏除了身體有點鏽（之前八天因為肺炎咳嗽和肌腱炎，沒有任何訓練），沒有任何問題。但是從Georgetown來回Rock Creek Park 的 10-14 英裏，由於上下大坡加上道路超過30度的斜麵，一直擔心的右腳底板肌腱炎開始發作，導致左側大腿內收肌因過度代償而有輕度痙攣的跡象，將將一半的路程而已。如果腳底肌腱疼痛劇烈或者大腿肌肉痙攣，都將會直接威脅我完賽的目標，我是不是應該停下來讓症狀緩解一下？我經常想信仰在具體生活中的作用是什麽，於我，就是在體力，智力，意誌力發揮到極致的情況下，額外加持信仰生成的精神力。用體力，智力和意誌力，我不能揪著自己的頭發把自己提起來，但加上精神力，嗯……也許。我受教育有限，懂物理的和經典力學的別跟我較真，不值當的。想到這，也不用停下來緩解了，也不需要為可能的傷痛而焦慮，就像什麽也沒發生一樣，繼續跑，朝著目標跑，朝著終點跑。Take a leap of my faith, push myself to the limit, to make myself worthy of God's blessing.
街道兩旁已經人聲鼎沸，觀賽的人群充塞了賽道沿途的街區，過了National Landing， 我跑進了Pentagon City，離終點隻有4英裏，身體和精神都沒被推到極限，not even close. 這樣也好，最後幾英裏提提速吧，來個輕鬆圓滿的結局。在終點線前的幾十米處，卻又有小驚喜，妻子抱著兒子，還有幾個好朋友，出現在圍欄後的觀賽人群當中，大喊我的名字，為我歡呼。Come on, 最不喜歡興師動眾的，多大點事兒，不值當的，我就不能靜靜的當一個跑步的美男子嗎？不是說好了，我一早趁著家人都沒起床，一個人溜出來跑個馬拉鬆，跑完之後再跟沒事人一樣，溜回停車場，開車回家吃午飯，就像什麽都沒發生過。
對了，別忘了把冰箱門關上。
An Ultra Marathon that's mostly not about running --- How many steps to fit an elephant into a fridge?
Last Sunday, I ran the Marine Corps Marathon 50K ultra, and I thought I'd jot down a few notes—not for the race itself, since there's nothing extraordinary about running a marathon or ultra, really. But sometimes, it's what happens around the running that’s worth noting. After all, what does an old proverb say? The real meaning is rarely in the wine itself.
The last time I ran a marathon was three years ago, in Chicago. Since then, life has moved along at a sprint: I snagged another degree while pandemic winds still blew, got married, welcomed a child, and shouldered more work responsibilities. These past three years have been intense—dense, even—but we made it through. Beyond one or two close people, no one really knew what I was up to. Be like a swan, paddling madly underneath the water but appearing graceful and elegant on the surface. Not that I think of myself as a swan, but you get the idea. It wasn’t intentional concealment; I just wanted to live my life privately, in my own lane.
Our son was born this July, and by September I’d finally settled into the rhythm of diaper changes, midnight feeds, and the art of putting him down to sleep without breaking a sweat. That’s when the realization hit me—I needed to do something for myself, something to reclaim a piece of my identity outside of being a dad and a husband. I casually mentioned running a marathon again, seeing as it had been a few years. My wife was enthusiastic, but I gently reminded her of the “price tag”: even the bare minimum of training would mean I’d be peeling off a good twenty or thirty hours from our already hectic baby duty rotation. She hesitated, but before she could object, I feigned noble sacrifice, saying, "Alright, alright, if you insist, I'll ‘make do’ with one more finisher medal for the kid’s toy box."
On September 16, I signed up for the MCM 50K, right in my own backyard, with exactly six weeks until race day. “Let the mission begin; God will provide.” And yes, six weeks is far from ideal. Real marathoners are probably rolling their eyes, thinking I'm an affront to the sport for not respecting the distance. It’s not that—I’d love a structured training plan, a shot at a PR. But here’s the thing: I’ve never trained “properly” for a marathon. I’ve never been a true runner; running has never been my top priority. For me, life’s meaning lies in trade-offs. You can pursue anything, but you can’t have everything. Pick the one thing that matters most. Focus on it, and let the rest go.
But on the flip side—who says you need perfect training to finish a race? If there isn’t a challenge, create one. I say: Whatever it takes.
So back to that elephant. Six weeks, 180 miles total on my shoes for 2024, which is as good as zero in marathon training. I decided I’d run a couple of 3-to-6-mile weekday jogs to avoid rusting completely, then pile on distance with long weekend runs from September 16 onward. First up was 12 miles, then 14, then 16, then 18, then 20, and then I’d rest before throwing myself into the 50K on October 27. This would total 300 miles by race day, a “meh” tally if we’re comparing to real runners clocking thousands each year. But my biggest marathon season topped out at 500 miles, and even then, my cardio reluctance (and occasional horror) made it a one-off.
I’d come up with a modest plan: start slow, no speed goals, finish uninjured. Five weekend long runs from 12 to 20 miles. Doable. Step 1: Open the fridge door.
The weeks ticked by, and I made it to race week with my 300 miles logged. Only one hiccup: I came down with a trending virus two weeks before race day. Ten days of coughing, congestion, and wheezing without seeing a doctor (probably pneumonia, to be honest). Morning of the race, I was still coughing, downing Tylenol and cough syrup. I had no energy gels, just a pocketful of cough drops.
At 5 a.m., I left for the Pentagon parking lot, the designated start. No need for a gear bag or an entourage; I like to keep things light. One to slay, miles away. Finish, brush off, disappear. You get the vibe.
But as luck would have it, my shuttle bus got lost. Yes, in D.C., no less. Since 4 a.m., much of the city was closed to cars, and the shuttle driver had taken us on a wild goose chase through dead-end streets, completely stuck. At 6:20 a.m., those running the marathon could afford to wait; they wouldn’t start until 7:55 a.m. But the 50K started at 7:15.
A guy from New Jersey and I jumped off the bus, made for the nearest Metro station, and hopped the Blue Line, getting off two stops later and hustling 1.5 miles to the start. With thousands of runners streaming toward us, I told him, “If we’re going to run the 50K, we’ll need to sprint. Let’s get in the zone.” He gave me a nod, and we were off. By the time we got to the start area, there were about ten of us. Turns out our mini “lost souls” sprint became the warm-up we needed.
With ten minutes to go, heart racing, I couldn’t have asked for a better pump. Somehow, the adrenaline banished the cough, the foot pain from tendinitis disappeared, and suddenly, I was ready to tackle the day. Let’s get that elephant in the fridge.
Second step: Put the elephant in.
The course was surreal in the early morning, the streets still quiet. At this point, the cheer squads hadn’t fully emerged, and the only spectators were the Marines posted every few dozen yards. With no marathoners yet in sight, it was a rare moment of calm within the race. I kept telling myself to hold back, to stay slow—today, the key to finishing was restraint. Training had been thin, and with a cough and tendinitis, the real challenge was avoiding injury.
As I got into my stride, I knew the route like the back of my hand: out from Arlington, down GW Parkway, across Key Bridge into Georgetown, through Rock Creek Park, then south to Hains Point, Jefferson Memorial, National Mall, and back toward the Pentagon. Nearly every footstep was familiar, places I usually walk on weekends with friends or family.
The first 10 miles ticked by smoothly, but by Mile 14, my tendinitis began to flare up on the long, uneven slopes around Rock Creek Park, setting off sympathetic cramps in my thigh. A choice had to be made—stop and stretch or power through. I’ve often wondered what belief really does for us in life. I’d say it lets us generate the strength to lift ourselves past our limits, beyond what we think we’re capable of. Faith is that hidden arm, lifting you up even when your body is ready to falter. So, without even a pause, I kept moving, step by step, mile by mile.
Third step: Close the fridge door.
Around Mile 26, I finally broke a sweat. Realizing this, I picked up the pace to finish with something close to a sprint. As I neared the final mile, I saw a surprise waiting: my wife, holding our son, with a few close friends cheering me on at the barrier. They yelled my name, their voices a burst of energy. I wanted to roll my eyes at the fanfare—it was a nice touch, but really, I’d planned to run this race solo, slip out quietly, and be home by lunch, medals and all. Yet, there they were, pushing me into the home stretch.
And yes, don’t forget to close the door.
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