How I Almost Crapped My Pants in Sasayama, Japan: A marathon story…

Well now…
For all of those who claim to read my blog, I received absolutely no suggestions for new posts as requested in my previous post.  The one and only suggestion came from someone I didn’t even know was reading my blog.  A welcome surprise.
I was actually getting ready to delete the blog, because nobody responded.  It will live to see another day, but seriously people…tell me what you want to hear about!

As requested, this is the story of the 2010 Sasayama ABC Full Marathon:
How I Almost Crapped My Pants in Sasayama, Japan.

Our story begins in November of 2009 at an Ultimate Frisbee tournament in Akashi (Hyogo Prefecture).  I was randomly invited to join a friend’s team only to find out that another Tatsuno gaijin had been invited to play as well, my good buddy Dillon.  Dillon introduced me to another ‘gringo’ on the team, Clancy.  Upon our first meeting, Clancy was sporting a shaved head and a beer (come to think of it, there are very few times I can recall ever seeing his beer hand empty).  Clancy seemed a normal enough guy, married and living on Awaji Island (Hyogo Prefecture) with his three kids.  Then, the tournament started and I saw him in action.  I was soon convinced that Clancy was not only clinically insane, but that he ignored (or, possibly, surgically removed) that little voice in your head that tells you when to be tactful.  Needless to say, we became friends instantly.  We had to calm him down a few times to avoid fights with the other teams.  You gotta watch out for Frisbee players, they’re vicious.

Anyway, despite losing the tournament, we all had a great time.  I mentioned that I was looking for a new way to challenge myself after getting back in shape and Clancy suggested a full marathon.  He had run many before, even a few in his time in Japan and was amped to do another one.  I thought about it and agreed that it was just crazy enough to try.  Clancy was great.  He chose the marathon (Sasayama ABC Marathon), signed me up, arranged for an overnight stay in a guesthouse near the starting point, made the itinerary for the trip, and arranged transportation.  Good guy!  I spent the next three months training hard.  I adjusted my diet to a very strict range of intake and starting running six days a week at different distances following a training schedule developed by New Balance sponsored marathon runners.  At the peak of training, from five weeks to three weeks prior to the marathon, I had to run a 21km (half marathon) three times.  The first of these was awful.  I actually thought I was going to die.  At about 19km, I started feeling light-headed, lost my footing, and collapsed in the road.  I didn’t actually hurt myself.  It was more embarrassing than anything.  I got up, finished the rest of the run (slowly), and headed back to my place.  When I got home, I had a pleasant trip to the toilet to regurgitate breakfast and then sat down in the shower with cold water running for the next half hour.  Thankfully, that was the worst of my training.  The next two 21km runs were cake; I even got a sweet time on my third (though, I forgot what it was now).

The weekend finally came (March 6th/7th).  I had dropped down to 80 kilos and was feeling confident.  I took a train to Akashi, took the elevator to street level of the world’s largest suspension bridge (Akashi Kaikyo Bridge), and waited for Clancy to pick me up in his ride.  The drive to Sasayama through the Hyogo countryside was pleasant enough, but the weather was unusually cold and damp for early spring.  It worried me.  I kept a keen watch on the weather report with my phone.  We filled our road trip with discussions about movies, music, life in Japan (as well as complaints about Japan, this is unavoidable when two or more gaijin get together).  Sasayama looked a lot like Tatsuno.  It was exactly what I was used to in my adopted hometown.  A rural area in the basin between mountain ranges filled with traditional house and rice fields.  We drove around a bit to scout out the marathon course.  There were already booths, tables, and porta-potties set up in preparation for the following day.

We checked into our room at the guesthouse, a nice place with nice people.  All of the guests were other runners.  Unbeknownst to me, the Sasayama Marathon is relatively famous in Japan, especially in Kansai.  There was even a Japanese Olympic Alum coming for the starting ceremony and acting as a guest “runner.”  Then, we went to check in for the marathon itself.  We received our numbers and information pamphlets, a course map, a T-shirt, and some other stuff that I couldn’t read and subsequently threw away.  We also got the tracking sensor chips that you tie on to your shoe.  When you run through the start and finish gates, the officials can read your time electronically.  Pretty cool.  Clancy said he had run the Sasayama race before and suggested an Indian place for dinner (yeah, I know what you’re thinking and it WAS a bad idea, but I’ll get to that later).  I had never run a marathon before and during my training, I had been following a very strict diet, but Clancy was the veteran so I followed his lead.  We ate a mountain of curry and carbs and downed glass after glass of beer.  The food was fantastic and the beer was…well…Japanese.  What can you say about Japanese beer, really?  It was cold.

We waddled back to the guesthouse and had another few beers and turned in for the night.  I couldn’t sleep.  Our room consisted of four bunk-beds (8 beds) and two of the other guests were noisy sleepers.  One of them made such horrific noises; I was convinced he was actually trying to eat himself in his sleep or something.  The other made these high-pitched whiny sounds every so often.  These two sleep distractions were piled on top of my already mounting nervousness about the following day.  I threw on my headphones to drown out the snores of my fellow roomies and turned on some Prokofiev to calm my nerves.  It didn’t really work and in total, I probably only slept about three or four hours.  Not ideal for a marathon.

WARNING:  From here on out, this story may become a bit graphic.  If you don’t want to hear about bodily functions in the context of extreme sports, don’t read on.

I woke up.  The first thing I did was check the weather.  3 degrees (37.4 F), rain, and strong winds.  Fan-fucking-tastic!
I decided to dress for the occasion despite Clancy’s warnings that I would get too hot.  I wore winter compression tights under my shorts and two layers up top as well as a winter cap.  We went down to the McD’s in town for breakfast, again following Clancy’s lead.  Though, I think he went on my behalf as he claimed that he normally eats nothing before the big race.  I couldn’t imagine not eating anything before a run, but I guess it’s all what you’re used to.  I know other people who prefer to run on an empty stomach.  I just can’t do it.  That’s too hardcore for me.  Anyway, we downed our sandwiches and walked out to the starting point.  The wind was unbelievable.  It was strong, frigid and, worst of all, constant.  The rain started soon after we arrived at the changing tents.  Thankfully, it was just a drizzle, but it was cold.

We met Clancy’s friend at the tents, a Brit whose name escapes me now.  We’ll give him a proper Englishman’s name for the sake of this story, Nigel.  hahaha
He was a good guy.  Crazy, like Clancy, but slightly more subtle about it.  He was a cancer survivor and into trail running (those people are insane, especially in Japan).  He had even done some Fell Running races in England.  If you don’t know what this is, check it out on Wikipedia and be amazed.  He was the one with the loftiest goal among the three of us.  His goal was to break the three-minute mark (if memory serves), Clancy’s goal was to beat his last time running the Sasayama race, and my goal was just to fucking finish it.  Clancy was pessimistic, because during his training period he crashed on his bike and injured his hip and leg.  I was seriously impressed that he was still going to run.  He had a massive deep bruise covering his side.  One tough dude!

We stepped into the changing tents, which, thank science, were heated by small space heaters in the center.  Though, it was still pretty chilly.  The next step was to tape up our nipples.  Yes, you heard me correctly.  Again, I was taking the advice to two veterans and I wasn’t about to argue.  If a runner does not tape his or her nipples, they chafe and become extremely painful, especially if it’s cold and rainy (I saw evidence of this later.  I’ll get to that.).  So, in true S&M fashion, we taped X’s over our nipples with tape and then covered the tape with band-aids.  We stowed our bags with the check-in desk and headed out to the starting point.  There were tents and crowds of people everywhere.  There were Yatai vendors selling octopus dumplings, fried noodles, grilled chicken, sports drinks, protein bars, and pretty much everything else you would want to stock up on before running for 42 kilometers.

As it turns out, we arrived a minute past our load-in time, which meant instead of being in the A-group (the group that starts first), we would be pushed back to the E-group.  Nigel pleaded with the guy in Japanese to let us in, because the crowds at the check-in desks had made us late and it wasn’t our fault.  The guy refused and Clancy tossed him an expletive salad.  Clancy quickly located a place for us to hop the fence and sneak into the B-group starting point.  We all hopped over and, surprisingly, avoided any accusations or negative comments from the surrounding crowd of runners.  Clancy, in true Clancy-form, pulled out a couple of Asahi tall-boys and chugged them while we waited for the gun shot (I told you he’s crazy).  The rain started to pick up a bit as we waited and, despite stretching before leaving the changing tents, I could feel by muscles tightening up.  Finally, we heard the gun shot, but nobody moved.  There were something like 15,000 runners (the exact number escapes me) and it took a long while before we actually started moving (hence the shoe mounted computer chip things).

We took off.  It felt good to move.  At first we were so tightly packed among all the other runners, we could hardly run at a normal pace or stay together.  Eventually, after the first kilometer or so, the crowd loosened up a bit.  By the time it did break up, I was a little bit behind Nigel and Clancy.  I had some catching up to do.  I carefully weaved my way in and out of the other runners as I searched for my comrades.  Eventually I saw Clancy and caught up to him.  “Where’s Nigel?” I asked.  “He’s gone man.”  He was determined to meet his goal.  I thought about chasing after him and trying to shoot for under three minutes too, but I decided, it being my first marathon and all, that I should pace myself and just focus on my personal goal…not dying.  Clancy and I stayed in pace for a while, but I think his biking injury got the better of him and he urged me to run on at my own pace.  So, despite entering the race with two friends, I ended up running alone.

It went by the numbers for the first 5km.  Despite the freezing rain and wind pelting me as I ran, I felt pretty good, confident even.  Then, I was surprised to hear my name being yelled in a Japanese female voice.  I looked around confusedly and saw my friend Shiho and my wife (fiance at the time) Yuki.  They were waving flags and cheering me on from the sidelines of the course.  The beginning of the course went through the main part of Sasayama, where all the streets had been closed off for the race.  I waved and shouted back at them.  It was the best surprise to see them there, cheering for me.  It was exactly the motivation I needed to keep going and do my best.  The course winded around a bit in town and gave the girls enough time to move farther up the course.  I saw them a second time another kilometer or so later and gave them high fives as I ran past.  I was feeling good.

After about 7km, the course headed away from the main part of town and out to the edge of the mountains.  I looked behind me several times to see if Clancy was still behind me, but I didn’t see him.  I tried out a strategy that I had read about on New Balance’s marathon website.  I marked a runner in front of me whose pace was just slightly faster than my own and stayed with him.  I was able to do this pretty well.  As we got out the edge of town, where rice fields outnumbered houses, local residents had set up tables in front of their houses offering the runners homemade food and drinks as we ran past.  The race officials had also set up watering stations every 5 or 6km.  There were also these raffle tables with random things on them, such as sports drinks, sports gels, candy, chocolate, bananas, etc.  I didn’t understand the system for these, but as we ran by, the guy behind the tables was shouting numbers in Japanese.  I later realized he was shouting the numbers we were wearing, but I wasn’t particularly interested in the raffles prizes, so I just ignored it.  The only thing I took, aside from paper cups of water or sports drink from the official race tables, was a little piece of candy from an adorable group of middle school girls who were handing them out to runners.

At around 12km, I started to notice that my lower stomach was feeling heavy and sloshing around a bit.  I hadn’t had that much to drink during the race.  Suddenly, I became worried about the effects of the Indian food.  I pulled off the road and took a piss to see if that would relieve a little pressure and cause my body to self-correct.  For a while, I felt okay again.  Then, the feeling came back.  I would have to endure.  I couldn’t lose my marked runner in front of me and I didn’t want to waste time waiting in line at the porta-potties, which were only set up every 6km or so.  I passed by the porta-potty and thought, “nah, I can take it!”  And, I did take it…for about another 10 minutes and then, passing up the chance became evident as a huge mistake.  My lower stomach felt bloated and running caused a slight pain just below my belly button.  There was a knocking at the gate (if you know what I mean).  Now, certainly the Indian food is partly to blame for this; as is the beer.  However, more than that, I think it was the running, the weather, and the nervousness.  And…………..the Indian food.  “Oh shit!  Damn Indian food!  What was I thinking?!”

I ran the next 5km like I had something trapped between my thighs, but I managed to stay with my mark.  The pain became more intense and the knocking became more intense.  I was certain I would crap my pants.  I had heard stories about pro marathon runners who would piss themselves or crap themselves toward the end of race so they could win.  I was not a pro, nor was I near the end of the race, nor was I in any position to win.  Finally, the porta-potties came into view.  At this point, I had lost my mark and was now running as if the knees of my compression pants were sewn together.  I felt like I was going to explode.  I made it to the porta-potty, ran past the people waiting as someone emerged from the plastic toilet, and flew inside.  These were Japanese style porta-potties, which meant, it was basically just a hole in the ground with nothing to sit on.  My pants shot down (thank science for elastic) and I let loose with a scene like the one in Dumb and Dumber, complete with the high-pitched screams of relief.  There was a veritable ocean inside my stomach and yet it took all of maybe three seconds to get rid of.  Efficient, no?

Feeling 50 pounds lighter and getting some laughs as I emerged from the john, I pressed on.  I caught up with my mark and stayed with him.  The rain continued, but let up a little around the halfway mark.  The course we took out to the 24km marker turned around and returned on the other side of the same road.  While I was running out to the 24 marker, I thought I might see Nigel running the other way ahead of me, but I never did.  That guy must be fast as hell.  I honestly don’t know, because I never saw him once during the race.  On my way back from the 24 marker, I DID see Clancy on the other side of the road.  We exchanged a brief word of encouragement and a high-five (though, maybe not.  I can’t remember the high-five.  Not important).  He was still running, despite the pain from his injury.  Impressive!

Around the 30km mark, I started to feel weak and a pain started welling up in my quads.  I looked around and started to see some horrible things.  There were guys with swollen knees lying on the sidelines, while race officials with muscle conditioning spray and elastic wraps tried to get them back up.  I saw a few people vomiting off in the fields.  I saw a young guy wearing a white shirt that was now streaked with red, the origin of the streaks being…you guessed it, his nipples (thank you Clancy for your wisdom.  That could’ve been me.).  I even saw this old guy do a complete face plant on the pavement like he just passed out in the middle of his run; he just collapsed.

These discouraging sights combined with the now burning pain in my legs and the fact that I had completely lost my mark made me consider the unthinkable, I wasn’t going to finish.  Clancy’s words echoed in my head, “When you reach the 30km marker, just think to yourself that it’s only 12 more and you can do 12k easy!”  I passed the 31km marker and became resentful of the kilometer markers.  Why did these bastards have to remind us how far we had to go?  I told myself, “it’s only 12km.  I do 12km every day.  12km is cake!”  The fact is, it was 12km, after having already done 30km.  That DOES make a difference, as you might suspect.

I was giving serious consideration to walking after I passed the 35km marker.  The pain was now burning all up and down my legs and my knees felt like they were giving out.  I thought, maybe I could just walk for a little while and then run again.  The truth is, I knew that if I stopped, I wouldn’t be able to start again.  It would be over for me.  I would have to walk in to the finish line with my fiance and friend watching me do it.  That was the thought that put me back on track.  I couldn’t hobble over the finish line with my fiance watching.  How pathetic would that be?  She had taken a day from work and driven to the ass-end of Hyogo (there really is no reason to ever go to Sasayama, unless you really like black beans) to support me and be there for me.  I wasn’t going to let her down.  I stuck it out and even increased my pace a bit toward the end.

Finally, I saw the finish gate.  I wanted to sprint the last 500 meters, but as I tried to push myself into a full-on run, my knees objected and I almost bit it.  I decided that finishing running was good enough.  I didn’t have a sprint in me.  I crossed the line and tried to walk.  Even though I was walking, my legs maintained the sensation of running.  It was like they couldn’t settle down.  The pain didn’t settle down either.  I walked into the finishers area and was greeted by a girl with a race officials shirt on who put a medal around my neck and said congratulations.  I hobbled into a sectioned off area, where spectators and supporters had crowded on the other side of the low fences, waiting for friends and family members to finish.  I spotted Yuki immediately and she called me over.  She leaned over the fence, wrapped a towel around my shoulders, and gave me a bottle of water.  It was really hard to stand still in one place.  My legs were in so much pain, but they didn’t want to stop moving.  I chugged the bottle of water and realized I was freezing.  Running had been keeping me warm.  Now, I wasn’t moving and I was completely drenched.  I could barely close my fingers to hold the empty water bottle.  I sat down on the wet bench and leaned down the take the tracking chip off my shoe.  My fingers were so cold, I couldn’t keep them from shaking long enough or use enough force to untie the twists on the chip.  Thankfully, a young race volunteer came over to me and took it off for me, then helped me to my feet again.

It was back to the changing tents for warm clothes and space heaters.  It took me 30 minutes to take my shoes off, because my hands were so cold and my body was so weak.  I found Clancy and we met with Yuki and Shiho and went to get some food.  We found Nigel and some friends at a soba restaurant and joined them.  We exchanged painful moans and stories of the race over a warm meal and then headed back to the guesthouse for a bath.  I weighed myself before the bath and had literally lost 4 kilos (almost 9 pounds) during the race.

Clancy went back on his own and I caught a ride with Yuki and Shiho back to Tatsuno.  On the way home, we stopped for dinner and I ate nothing but fried food the entire meal (fried foods were cut out of my marathon training diet for the previous four months).

I felt really good with my achievement.  I had finished my first marathon with a time of 3 hours and 45 minutes, under the four-hour mark.  I was extremely pleased.  I didn’t crap my pants and I ran pretty well.

I slept well that night.

Thanks to Clancy for all of his help and encouragement.  To Yuki for all of her inspiration, motivation, and love.  Shiho for coming to support me.  And, to Nigel for being British.
hahahahaha…just kidding.  Nigel’s a great guy (I wish I could remember his name) and he gave me good tips and advice.

And that’s my story.

Does anybody else have any suggestions for stories they want to hear or topics about which they would like me to post?

Much love…