Hours of Reckoning

When I began training in mid-August for my first marathon, the regimen seemed so easy.

I felt energized from the start because, after watching the last three Los Angeles Marathons from curbside, I had finally decided to get myself in shape for the next race on March 5.

I eagerly signed up for the race’s official training program with the L.A. Roadrunners, and their Saturday morning walk-jogs for beginners proved so motivating I had no trouble rising before dawn at least three days a week for 30- to 45-minute runs on my own.

Over the next couple of months, only a few family events and work conflicts deterred me from my regimen. I got hooked on the routine and could feel myself getting stronger.

My morning runs increased to 45 to 60 minutes and became so enjoyable that as I jogged along, I began to picture myself cruising effortlessly around the 26.2-mile course on race day, with a big sprint at the finish. This marathon thing, I thought, is going to be a breeze.

Then it hit me.

Terror.

As I turned the page on the Roadrunners’ training calendar one evening, the prescribed duration for Nov. 6, gave me a cold, dark stare:

2 1/2 hours.

I mumbled an expletive to myself and felt my heart race.

Now, I knew this day was coming. I had run for two hours on the two previous Saturdays--first with the Roadrunners and then by myself. And I’ve known that to finish the marathon will mean running for maybe four to five hours.

So why was my heart racing over an extra 30 minutes?

The fact was, never in my 39 years had I run for 2 1/2 hours. Those daydreams of easy marathon glory were now hitting the wall of reality: This training was getting serious.

To make matters more daunting, a long-planned family event meant I wouldn’t have time to go the distance with my fellow Roadrunners at our usual Venice meeting place. I would have to do it alone.

That Friday night I took no chances. I loaded my body with pasta and fruit washed down with Gatorade. I hit the bed early.

Saturday morning, before sunrise, I finished off a bowl of cereal, an energy bar and more Gatorade. As the sky began to lighten, I started running right on schedule, turning on my wristwatch timer at 6 a.m.

My route from my home near the Hollywood Bowl began with a long climb up Cahuenga Boulevard alongside the 101 Freeway and would continue down Barham Boulevard to Forest Lawn Drive, through Griffith Park to Los Feliz Boulevard and through the streets of downtown Hollywood until I was back at my doorstep 150 minutes later . . . should I survive.

For whatever reason, I felt lightheaded and had difficulty making the initial climb. But I kept putting one foot in front of the other, and my head cleared as I started down into the Valley on Barham. I kept fighting off thoughts of how far I had to go and concentrated just on the quiet early-morning surroundings.

I was lost in those thoughts when it happened.

At the end of the first hour, as I neared the back entrance to Griffith Park, a feeling came over me that I’ll remember as a milestone in my training. I suddenly noticed I was in a nice rhythm. I wasn’t breathing hard. And I just wanted to keep going.

That feeling--the famed runner’s high--continued for the next hour or so. It faded, yes, in those last 30 minutes when my legs got harder to lift and my sweat-soaked shirt became a weight on my shoulders.

But I kept going, right to the base of the hill below my home, where I turned off the timer at 2:32:06.

I walked up the hill and into the house, surprising my wife.

“Back already?” she said.

“Already?” I responded. “It’s been . . .” I read her the time on my watch.

I liked the sound of it.

That was the last Saturday run on the training schedule that was done for a block of time. Now we’re measuring the distance in miles, 15 this week.

What’s the difference between running for time and running for miles? I covered about 16 or 17 miles in my 2 1/2 hours, so it’s not just the physical test. It’s now becoming a mental one.

“Most of the people, when we switch to miles, are already doing that distance,” said Roadrunners coach Pat Connelly. “They have to start acclimating themselves to the mileage because when they’re on the course on race day, those [mile] banners are hanging up there . . . and they have to learn to deal with that.”

Connelly encourages Roadrunners to call him. About a third of the calls are from runners dealing with injuries.

“The other type of message I get,” he said, “is from people who say, ‘This is so great. I never thought I’d make it this far.’ ”

I’m fortunate to fall into the latter category. On Nov. 21, I ran in a 15K race in Venice. According to my timer, I finished in 1 hour, 13 minutes and 33 seconds--just under an 8-minute-mile pace.

There’s no way I could keep that up for a marathon. In fact, I started too fast and really had to hang on at the end. But I surprised myself in being able to run that fast for that long. I had hoped to run 9-minute miles.

“You’re pretty much echoing what a lot of other people are experiencing,” Connelly told me.

“That recognition of self-development is such a slingshot into the next level as we step it up.”

Step it up, indeed. There’s a half-marathon race looming in early January, followed by a 20-mile run two weeks later, followed by a 30K race in February, followed by . . .

Well, I’d better just focus on where I am at the moment. I’ll get there. And I’ll keep you posted.

How to Get Info on the L.A. Marathon

For more information on the L.A. Marathon training program, call (310) 444-5544 or go to the marathon’s Web site, https://www.lamarathon.com.

*

The first part of this series and a bulletin board discussion about training for the L.A. Marathon are available on The Times’ Web site: http://ukobiw.net./intraining.