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My Greatest Race

 

The 2012 Olympic Marathon Trials was not my greatest race. As a matter of fact, it was one of the most dreadful races in my career. I can look it many ways, and I choose to see it with optimism and an uneasy heart.

 

For a while now I felt that the marathon would be my perfect racing distance. I am a very efficient runner, and I can rhythm run with the best of them.

 

However, the marathon fabricated alternative plans for me. Instead of a big slice of congratulatory cake, I got served (in my coach’s words) a big shit sandwich.

 

I do not like shit sandwiches. My mom always made me try things before I declared whether or not I liked it… I tried the shit sandwich. Next time… I’ll opt for cake.

 

So many friends and family have offered their congratulations, which I am grateful for. I am tremendously fortunate to be surrounded by positive energy, support and optimistic people. However, they must realize that in my eyes, a 2:27 and almost last place in a marathon is perceived as a failure. The only trivial triumph from January 14th was not quitting.

 

I blame no one but myself and even so, I have no regrets. I would run the race exactly the same a second time, knowing completely well the outcome.

 

I know I didn’t train enough, but given my preparation time, I did what I could.

Shit Sandwich

I know I went out too fast, but I didn’t want to walk away from the trials wondering how well I could have done.

 

I wanted to compete in the Olympic Trials. Not run… compete. If I had run a conservative race, maybe I would have run a decent time, but I wouldn’t have been satisfied knowing I let the race get away from me.

 

I get to spend the next four years of my life running as much as humanly possible. Not just training harder, but training smarter than any of my competitors. I still trust that I will be the best marathoner in the country and compete amongst the best in the world, and I realize now how much time and work it will take. Over the next four years I will gain maturity, strength, race experience and I will build a callous to pain.

 

On January 14th I ran a marathon. The result plunged me into a depression I stewed in for a week. I needed to be miserable. I needed to be irate. I needed to taste a shit sandwich. Being in a state of angst and melancholy yields you an enhanced appreciation for the more decent chunks in life. And if you are lucky enough, you can return from the slums with vengeance. As trite as it is, you can’t have a rainbow without the rain. Or better yet, chocolate cake taste even better after a shit sandwich.

I know, in time, I will run faster and finish well in many marathons, but that marathon showed me more about myself and that distance than a great race ever would have.

Thanks to the lessons it taught me, the Olympic Trials Marathon might just have been my greatest race.

The "Mac Attack" Support Crew. Thank you and all Rogues for your support!

 

 

Wine, Women and Workouts

My running career today is not how I imagined it. Just as each race run, plays out differently than it was visualized. As a high school runner, my dreams were filled with Prefontaine or Virenesque races, cheering fans and girls ogling me to the point of awkwardness. I foresaw national championships, US records and lucrative contracts. There were commercials, endorsements and confidence. This is not my life.

 

After a successful high school running career I was on due course to the aforementioned.  I started the next segment of this journey at the University of Arkansas, an oasis for collegiate distance runners.  I was suddenly submerged into a system of shock and awe. I was a pawn on the chessboard. I was running next to champions, Olympians and athletes with years of experience under their belts. In high school I ran about 30 miles a week. Most of it was at a swift pace. Now I was running faster, longer and every day; it was breaking me down.  At Arkansas, everything was run fast… really fast. Our weekly long run was 12.5 miles to “The Bridge.” Most ran this between 67 minutes and 74 minutes. My best time was 62 minutes. Hard runs were followed by workouts and races and more hard fast runs… but hey, if the great runners before me did this, than so should I.

 

I wish I could tell you I had the wits to question some of the training I was completing, however my coach (John McDonnell) had won more national championships than God, and I wasn’t yet enough man to question his agenda.

 

Many of you would not believe some of the workouts I took part in. I vividly remember one of my first track workouts freshman year. At the time, my mile PB was 4:12. We warmed up at the Tyson Indoor Track and waited to hear the workout from Coach Mcdonnell.  He articulated that we were to do a ladder, “1 mile down” he said in his wispy Irish accent. (This meant 1 mile, 1200 meters, 800 meters, 600 meters, 400 meters and 200 meters, run at progressive paces.) I watched curiously as my elder teammates started to squirm. I wondered.  “What could make these guys so uncomfortable?”

Coach Mac continued to read our projected splits, “4:10, 3:06, 2:04, 1:31, :58 and :27.”

I now began to squirm as well.

 

My college years went by in a blur of booze and bad races. I did not progress the way I should have. I either trained too hard or too little. I didn’t care enough, or I cared too much. Maybe I had accepted getting beat in practice, and that translated all too easy to race day. However, I continued to have workouts and occasional races that showed a glimpse of my true ability.  I may not have outstanding track times, but I am sure I am now on course to becoming the great runner I know I can be. I know my best attributes as a runner, will probably come to fruition in the marathon.

 

This hasn’t been the career I dreamed about… yet. I have learned so much from my failures and near successes, and I know the best is yet to come as long as I have patience and persistence.

Not every domino will sit perfectly straight, but as long as it knocks down the subsequent piece the dream will stay on track.

 

Recently, when not running with my Team Rogue Elite cohorts, I have been training alone.  I have been enjoying the solitude. I feel that as a distance runner, it is vital to be alone in certain aspects of training. I have been able to fall in love with running and truly enjoy it. It is nice to know I am not training and racing for the wrong reasons. I race, knowing I truly have a passion for running.

 

My girlfriend Casey Jo Magee, recently moved to Michigan to pursue her Olympic dream. She is an International Elite Gymnast and took an offer to train and coach at Western Michigan University. This was an essential move for her development, and although it is difficult to be away from her, we see that it is necessary at least for now. When we started dating we agreed to not let our relationship get in the way of our dreams. We are both making tremendous strides towards fulfilling our aspirations.

 

In a weeks time I will run in the USA Olympic Marathon Trials, and there is only one certainty, I will cherish every agonizing stride of that 26.2 mile race. I will enjoy the journey and relish in it’s culmination.

 

Epilogue:

Years ago, upon a trip home to visit my parents I found a generous ration of scotch hoarded on a shelf. I inquired as to what they were doing with this rare store of fancy looking whiskey? They informed me that a friend of the family had given it to them, and they opt for bourbon rather than it’s relative from across the pond. They said I was welcome to take it.

I am usually a wine drinker, but… I took 2 bottles, and consumed a hefty portion of one bottle with a good buddy. He called me the next day to inform me the bottle we had abolished was worth 2 to 3 hundred dollars. Upon further review of the other bottle I learned it’s worth at about $400.

This was a drink I should save for a celebration. On January 15th, Ryan Fenton, among others, and myself will snap open this seal and swill this succulent stash! After months of preparation and sacrifice where I have abstained from the seductive qualities of life’s adult indulgences, I look forward to partaking in a parch quenching evening of nonsensical fun with good buddies. It will be a celebration worth entertaining.

 

Until next time,

Scotty Mac

 

Adopt the pace of nature:  her secret is patience.  ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

 

Progression Run: Next Stop Houston

Watch more video of Scott MacPherson on flotrack.org

Music: The Black Keys, Lonely Boy

Training @ Reveille Peak Ranch

I escaped to the Texas Hill Country in order to find solitude, train and mentally prepare for the Olympic Marathon Trials. This is the documentation of my lonely journey into the wilderness.

My Walden

 

I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience, and be able to give a true account of it in my next excursion.

-Henry David Thoreau

I will spend the next two weeks in the Texas Hill Country in order to mentally and physically prepare myself for the Olympic Marathon Trials. Take Care.

Scotty Mac

 

 

More to come…

I just got back from Dallas. I ran and won the White Rock Half Marathon. It was a good prep for the trials… despite the freezing rain… but non-the-less, I am now prepared for any type of weather I will be thrown. Now I go to the woods! I will spend a couple of weeks at a remote location in the Texas Hill Country. Running, dreaming, visualizing, praying, meditating and putting the finishing touches on my training. The Olympic Trails are just around the corner!!!

The Ball Dropper

I sent this email to my training partner Chris Gowell in Wales. I wanted to let him know how my latest training session went. I apologize for the lack of the grammar.

i rendezvoused with allison macsas and chris mcclung at zilker park in the wee hours of the morning last friday. we began to trot at 530 am central time (america). the warm up was just that, with humidity low and the temperature just above 50 degrees Fahrenheit, we slowly allowed our muscles to acclimate to the chill in the air. after a 4 mile jaunt we found ourselves staring at a monstrous wall referred to as stratford… the workout was a marathon prep, and steve insured us that we probably wouldnt finish it. with thoughts of olympic trials whizing in my brain i couldnt help but squirt a little pee pee out of my noodle! the anticipation was spine tickling.

 

the aussie, as it were, was sleeping in preparation for the frankenthon, a marathon in cedar park. his competition was sure to be tight, so i was forced to go it alone. no pacing, no help. just me and 22 more miles of a joint jarring grind!

 

with a nod and a smile i began the first portion of my torture. 3 loops of the hilly 4 mile road we call startford. i was told to push up the hill coast downhill and maintain on the flats. the first hill took the breath out of my lungs like a punch to the chest. without oxygen, i began to find my rhythm and turned on the cruise control. with a first loop of 24 mins i grabbed my special fluid (jeff knight has created a drink for allison and i to take during the marathon. he measured my weight before and after long runs, took temperature, humidty and dew points, as well as measured the amount i drank and pissed on runs in order to create a drink specifically formulated for my body and the loss of fluid we expected…) after a drink i began again, this time i took the wind from the hill’s lungs, this was my workout now, and i would be damned if a few hills would get in my way. i carried my gaunt frame over the mounds of asphalt with a surprising ease. 2nd loop, 24 mins. after more fluid i charged into my last repetition of the hilly circuit and took nearly a minute off my lap time. 23 mins and over half the workout in the bag.

 

i cruised (feeling swell) over to zilker park for the finale of my morning. 6×1 mile on the roads at marathon pace with a 300 meter jog for recovery in between. 17 miles down and feeling fresher than bottle of aftershave i put my head down and drove into the first mile. steve had told me to make sure i hit the first 3 mile repeats on pace and if i slowed down do it later on. my marathon pace, depending on shape will range anywhere from 5 mins to 5 15 a mile. as i approached the line marking the end of the mile i hit the split button on my watch and looked down and in a vexed grunt i respired whoa….. the watch read 4:36.

 

this is good… slow down, still a ways to go… “grab the controls and land the plane damnit!” i am in charge!!! 300 meters later i began the 2nd interval. 3/4 of the way around the course a table was set up, on it, our fluid and water. i approached the table reached for my 12 ounce lime green bottle and knocked it over. my sweaty mits couldnt grasp the damn thing and i was forced to stop, turn around and grab it. the last thing i wanted was to run out of fuel in this workout. having run more controlled to start and with the fluid bottle mishap i clicked off the adjoining lap in 453. looking good scott, and feeling good too. the third lap i opted for water instead of my sweet and salty fluid. the cup, just as the bottle slipped from my finger tips and toppled to the ground. again i stopped backtracked and grabbed a cup of water. crossing the threshold in 451 i felt way too easy!

the 4th installment was much of the same… again i missed my bottle and upon returning to the table shrieked a gowell like inappropriate word. at which point ruth began to laugh uncontrollably. with my peeved rant i went on to finish this mile in 4 47. on the 5th repeat, i managed to grab my fluid successfully on the first try and celebrated with both hands in the air as if it were the finish line. 446 for the penultimate lap and now i was almost done. steve squawked to skip the fluid table and finish up… he was excited as was i. 445 for the final mile and i felt as if i were the victor! 2 miles of jogging was awkward since my quads didnt feel like working properly. but there it was. 26 miles, 2 hours and 40 mins of rocking and rolling, done… soon food and beer would fill my gullet and my breadbasket!

 

the aussie called me the next day to inform me he had jogged a 236 marathon and therefore took the wind from my sails… haha what a beast!

 

i look forward to sharing stories and suds with you soon. we miss you and await your return with bells on!

 

Scotty

 

 

 

Rats!

 

I have always thought of myself as an optimistic person. I had a great grandmother who would say, “ If life gives you shit, make lemonade.” That sums up the wit and buoyant nature of my family very well. I try to find the light in any situation. This comes in handy when running, because as all runners know, not every run or race goes well.

 

This sunny side up lifestyle helps get me through life and all of its obstacles, but that’s not to say I don’t have humps and bumps and bummers! My life, just like everyone else’s, is full of “Rats!”

 

My first race of the season was… far from extraordinary. I finished 21st in the race, when I should have finished in the top 5, and I ran about a minute slower than anticipated. To be honest, it never felt like I was racing. I went trough the motions. That usually doesn’t happen to me. I tend to be a fierce competitor even in the most menial races. However I couldn’t be down on myself when I felt as though I never even gave myself the chance to compete. I raced a bunch of guys who were in the peak of a training block and at the end of their racing season. I am at the beginning of mine. I’m training for a marathon in January, so a 10-mile race in October doesn’t really tell me much. Needless to say as I left that race in Minnesota, I sat down on the plane and respired, “Rats!”

 

My girlfriend Casey Jo Magee moved to Austin to live and train for the USA gymnastics’ Olympic trials.  She loves Austin and was doing well, and then she received an opportunity she couldn’t pass up. She got a call from an old coach who wants her to train and coach at Western Michigan University in Kalamazoo. This is the break she needed and I am so excited for her. She is interested in college coaching and couldn’t miss the opportunity to train with a coach she knows works well with, as well as, get the college coaching experience she needs! It will be tough to be apart, but we have done it before and you might say we have mastered the long distance relationship.

 

When we started dating we knew we both had dreams we needed to accomplish in our respective sports. We agreed not to get in each other’s way. That means when one person has to move to Austin for a coach and training group, or if the other has to move to Michigan for a coach and the appropriate atmosphere, they go! She will be missed not only by me but our friends as well. She is a contagious person, and a little time spent with her never seems to be enough. We look forward to following her development and seeing her soon.

 

With our other roommate and friend Pat gone (he moved back to Arkansas shortly after moving in with us, he wasn’t happy here, and he needed to make a change) and Casey leaving, we have an opening in our home which until filled will cost roomie Barrett and me a bit more rent.  “Rats!”

 

Speaking of our house, last week Casey Jo and I walked into the kitchen to make breakfast. With a bewildered tone, she asked, “What happened here?” as she pointed down to a partially gobbled banana on the counter. I thought to myself, wow, Barrett is really turning into a slob. After further examination of the masticated banana leftovers, I realized the bites were far too small to have been made by Barrett. Following a more thorough investigation of our kitchen I settled on a conclusion… “Rats!”

 

It’s been an eventful few months. The last week of which culminated with me sitting on a chair in the kitchen wearing a headlight, running shorts and sandals spotlighting my homemade rattrap consisting of a box, a pen, dental floss and moldy swiss cheese.

 

With all the ups and downs, bummers and yahoos in life, I would still say I am fortunate! Things are going well, and after the workout I just completed Friday,  I have a new found confidence in my potential as a marathoner. It is said that with confidence, nothing can stop you… Not even Rats!

 

 

 

 

 

Coffee, Crosswords and The Swinging Buddha

Broke, Drunk and Happy

The past two weeks I have been on my annual hiatus from training. With out running in my life, there is a lot of time to sit and scratch the clandestine parts of my body while I enjoy one or two bottles of wine. Along with the foraging through my forbidden parts and the boozing, I contemplate.

I sit and ponder my life, my reason for being and my impending purpose on this planet.

I have come to a few conclusions. One of them being, I am broke. I have recognized that while money is a nice thing to have, it doesn’t determine my self worth or happiness.

I am given a little bit of coinage for my running and working at Rogue, I pay rent, I pay bills and I drink! This leaves me with not much money to spend on superfluous substances. I also realize once training for the marathon commences (tomorrow); I will not be boozing like I have in the past. I have vowed to become more sincere and intense in my preparations for the Olympic trials. But I don’t doubt that an occasional adult beverage will wonder onto my dinner table. However, it will be less likely to catch me at House Wine on South Lamar with a table full of empty bottles.

So…  I have no money, and I tend to drink more than is prescribed, but I am freaking happy! Life is good! I am alive, healthy, I have great friends and family and I am doing what I love… running! I have a lot to be grateful for! I just hope I wont ever take it for granted!

Another reason for my evident happiness is my girlfriend and I are finally in the same city again, and she is closing in on her dreams as well. She just qualified for the Visa USA Gymnastics Championships and is improving every day she is in the gym! I am so proud of her and have no doubt she will continue to awe the crowd and judges at her upcoming competitions.

I have a training group, coach, assistant coach, manager and a Rogue community that all believe in me. The support is nonstop and extremely esteemed!

Steve Sisson and Ruth England have made it easy to succeed. They have provided everything an athlete could desire in order to succeed, and I can’t thank them enough for creating TeamRogue Elite!

Tomorrow marks the first day of training and my new and improved focus on the Olympics. I will now turn all of my attention to preparation… crafting myself into a running metronome. I look forward to updating everyone on my training and life over the next 7 months.

Until next time… take care!

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