Atlanta Marathon: Hills and Thrills

I loved playing basketball growing up. This passion started at a young age, I was on my first organized basketball team in 3rd grade as part of the AV Youth Basketball League. Each year from that point until graduating from Arcadia Valley High School I was on a basketball squad bleeding Tiger blood. Basketball was my first athletic love. I still find myself daydreaming about my best games, the hardest practices, and lessons basketball taught me in life. I realize today is Halloween and while reading this you might feel "Tricked" because you expected only information about the Atlanta Marathon, but trust me. Keep reading and you will recieve your "Treat".

I grew up in a rural area in southeast Missouri consisting of three neighboring small towns, added together they held a whopping 2,400 people. Our town was known for being a basketball town. This is partly due to succesful players that have come from our area. Chris Carr, my neighbor growing up, made it to the NBA. Virtually everyone of these ball players were impacted by Coach Lashley. He remains one of my favorite people and coaches to this day. If I was blaming the refs on a blown call he would not hesistate to put me in a headlock, yell at me, and snap me out of my negativity. He would continue to stress to us athletes that we can control what happens with the ball but cannot control the refs and fans. After playing for him for 2 years and developing a friendship upon graduating, I understand more what he meant. He was stating to do your best and do not blame outside influences for your preformances. That lesson from basketball applies well to the Atlanta Marathon that I ran this weekend, I cannot blame my preformance on outside issues.

Melissa and I were both able to travel to Atlanta, which always makes the trips better. We did not know what to expect with the race. She was battling a cold most of the week, and I was going on little sleep. I just could not resist the urge to stay up late this past week and watch the St. Louis Cardinals win the World Series. Despite that we felt that we had a chance to be competitive, possibly top 3.

Race day welcomed us with a brisk 43 degree temperature at the 7 AM start time. Typically this is fine weather to compete in, but getting used to it takes a few runs. Neither of us were worried about the weather, but the 19 uphills on the course seemed a little daunting. The evening before at the packet pickup a race official stated that this course is hard because there is literally no flat sections which make pacing nearly impossible. Gee thanks for the honesty, but that haunted my dreams the night before. With a loud shout of "Go" 1200 of us marathon runners were off...

We started down a steep hill, turned right, and went up a steeper hill. That was just in the beginning half mile! By mile 2 I was in a three person pack in the front. Soon after mile 3 I found myself in the lead, I also found myself having to pee. Just before mile 4 I decided to call a "timeout" and relieve myself. Due to the 7 AM start time we were still running in the dark, this made a pitstop easier to do. Fortunately enough that stop did not cost me the lead nor did I have to stop again. The race course went past several landmarks that I have seen on television, but now was seeing in person. It was a surreal moment for me. I found myself daydreaming a lot during the race.

Running past Centennial Olympic Park I thought about the unfortunate attack that occured during the 1996 Olympics. Not far past the Olympic Park we passed under the Olympic rings. That was total chicken skin. (Goose bumps to those who do not use the term chicken skin) The Olympic Rings prompted me to recall my favorite 1996 Olympic moments, but these memories came to a crashing hault, literally. A bicyclist out on a morning leisure ride just side swipped me! I stumbled some but did not fall to the ground. I could have lash out at him, but like in basketball, I could not blame others, including bad fans. The next landmark we passed was the Atlanta Braves baseball stadium, I looked it over briefly, but tried not to lose my focus, per chance another biker tries to take me down.

The aid stations were laid out roughly every mile to mile and a half. The first few aid stations were doing everything right. The volunteers were cheering loudly, signs were marking which drinks were where, and gels were even handed out at mile 8. Things were going great. My hands were a little frozen because my gloves were wet, but besides that I felt like I was running well, but maybe I was running too fast. From mile 8 on I was running ahead of the race committee van that drove around the course to stock the aid stations. This was annoying, but to prevent any bodily harm due to dehydration I adjusted my pace and tactics accordingly.

Even without fluids the aid stations were stocked full for supporting people, but all they had to work with was a table of cups full of air. Maybe these were oxygen replacing stations instead of hydration stations. Either way I just took in the cheers and used that to keep me moving up and down the hills. One fan late in the race noticed this situation and offered me a unopened water bottle. Bless her heart, it helped a lot, but did not make up for loss of fluids. As with any dehydrated athlete I probably was a little grouchy after crossing the finish line, even though I won I was not interested in talking to anyone about how the race went. I simply wanted to sit in our warm rental car, change into dry clothes, sip on sports drink, and wait for Melissa to finish. During this reflecting time I concluded that unless I wanted Coach Lashley to put me in another headlock and yell into my ear that my excuse was, "A pile of bullbutter" I needed to be grateful for the marathon organization and this event. Even without proper fluids and a hilly course I still managed to win, which is enough to be happy about. My time of 2:33:45 was not near as fast as my goal time, but not every goal gets achieved.

After Melissa finished she too changed into dry clothes. Then we walked around the post race area. Every race volunteer was eager to talk to us about our win. Such a great group of people. This charming spirit completely made up for the lack of fluids. We were happy to be there and glad we made the trip to run the Atlanta Marathon. Winning this race together will be a memory I will reflect on later in life, but not now. I am busy thinking about my junior year in high school when the basketball team went 27-2. I sure miss playing basketball, but winning the Atlanta Marathon was also a lot of fun. I can never go back to high school to play basketball again, but hopefully I can make it back to Atlanta to win this marathon again.

"Anna would be Proud"

I often wish I had a talent. Something unique that I could do. A talent that people wanted to see and would request by stating, "Justin, do that thing you do." The problem is I do not have a "thing" to do. All of the things that I would consider strengths are hard to show off to friends and family. For example mental mathematics. I can compute math very quickly in my head, but unless someone wants me to balance their check book it really is not a talent I am asked to preform. Some people have told me that operating a chainsaw efficiently is a talent of mine. A few friends have asked me to cut up a tree that has fallen in their yard, but if I took my chainsaws to a family gathering I would be laughed at. Running is probably the talent I am most known for. Unless you go watch me race this is something you probably will never see. Sure you could request I run in place for you, but that would be awkward for both of us.

On Sunday, October 16th, I ventured out to run the Grand Rapids Marathon. This marathon is fairly local to my house. A short 2 hour drive. Due to this convenience I was able to take along some athletes I coach at Goshen College. Erin, Jordan, Billy, and Alita were excited to reverse roles with me. Now they were the encouragers and I was the athlete. My cousin Carrie Gillette was also going to be at the race. She stated she would see me at the finish line and I better win. If only it was that easy!


There was some pre-race pressure placed on me due to the extra eyes watching my performance. This pressure got drastically increased when race director, Don Kern, stated on the microphone prior to the start, "Justin Gillette is in the field today, he is a speedy young man." He might as well painted a large bulls eye on my back. Even with all the extra excitement I needed to stick to my goal of running a 2:28 marathon. You see Grand Rapids represented my 6th marathon in 7 weeks. Last weekend I ran a 2:25:44 at Steamtown so a 2:28 at Grand Rapids seemed like a hard goal to chase.

The race started with full and half marathon runners together. The courses were the same until just past mile 8. The lead half marathoner started like a rocket, while I started like an Elephant Rock. By mile 3 his pace leveled off and I was able to catch up to him. I tucked in behind him, just to enjoy a free ride for the next 5 miles. While I drafted off him a golf cart was drafting off me. This golf cart was the WJRW 1340 AM radio station that was doing live broadcast during the marathon. The broadcast was not only being aired on the station, but also broadcasted at the finish line for spectators to hear. It was neat to hear the reporter state that the battle for the lead was between the lead half marathon and lead marathon runner. We were not battling, but working together. I guess this is just a matter of prospective.

Soon after mile 8 the half marathon runner parted ways with me. For here on it would just be me and the radio guys. Near mile 9 they pulled up next to me to ask a few questions. These were, "What is your personal best?" and "What time are you shooting for?" I replied in between breaths, "2:25 is my best, 2:28 is my goal, and I want to focus." I did not mutter another word until the half way point when I seen my friends. The four athletes all had different roles during the race. Erin had my extra gels, Alita used the camera, Billy had the energy, and Jordan provided the feedback about where my competition was. Like clock work everyone did their part. Billy was jumping around pumping me up, Erin passed off a gel perfectly, Alita snapped some good photos, and Jordan...well he told me I only had a 1 minute lead the last time he saw me, which was mile 7.


I had no time to settle. I could not be comfortable. Comfort was sitting on my couch, this was a marathon. I pressed onward. The course does 2 minor out and back sections between miles 16 and 21. At the first turn around my next competitor was roughly 2 minutes down, by the mile 21 turn around my lead had grown. Barring a total collapse I should be able to win the race, but the goal was also to run a 2:28.
I felt pretty good until the last few miles. I would not say I hit a wall, but rather I slowed a little bit. My pace went to 5:50's. This is probably due to Grand Rapids being my 6th marathon in 7 weeks, but that is an excuse. Newspapers do not print excuses.

When I reach mile 25 I thought of Jordan. I had roughly 7 minutes of running left. Saturday at the Manchester XC Invitational he boldly took the lead when he had 8 minutes of running left. I yelled at him, "8 Minutes!! 8 Minutes!! Push hard and you got it." Well he was not there to yell those same words to me, but I am sure he would have. Yeah he won his race and I was going to win mine! The last half mile of the marathon course was packed full of people. Spectators were packed thicker than Donald Trumps wallet. The course, which was on a 2 lane road, was down to a six foot path as fans were all over the place.

I crossed the finish line in 2:27:46, just under my goal. After the race I chatted some with my friends but was quickly rushed off for media interviews. These included a television station, a running magazine, a newspaper, and a radio station, but not particularly in that order. The radio interview stands out the most. It was the same station what had reporters riding along side me during the course. The interview lasted roughly 10 minutes. During which I mentioned my friends supporting me. I was also asked, "At what point did the goal of breaking the course record seem out of reach?" "As soon as they shot off the gun," was my response. I then informed them of my goal of 2:28 for the race. "How did you come up with such a goal?" I was asked. "God told me that is what my body was capable of today."


God did not warn me for what was to come next. A few minutes after doing the interview I received a phone call from my dad. He never calls me after a race, it had to be bad news, and frankly it was. My Aunt Anna had passed away that morning. She was my closest Aunt and used to travel with Granny and I to races, Venetian festival was her favorite one. The news of Anna passing away hit me hard. It is rough to go from an emotional high of winning a marathon to the low of hearing news like that. I sat down on a curb to cry some and reflect on the moment. A few race volunteers noticed my position. They came over to offer help, only to find out I was not hurting physically but ached emotionally. They still did their best to relieve the pain. That is what the Grand Rapids Marathon is known for, quality people putting on a great event. The volunteers mourning with me wanted to be there as did everyone else. It solidified to me that this is a marathon worth doing again.

It was hard to be happy about winning a marathon when hearing about Aunt Anna passing away. Anna had what I want, talents. She was great at taking photos, painting, drawing, and leather craft was probably her best talent. Nearly every male in the family has a leather wallet she made, mine has a wolf on it. The ladies have purses. As one race volunteer stated, "Anna would be proud of you." She would be, and undoubtedly she is in heaven and got to see the race. I would have just preferred to tell her in person that I won. Anna you will be missed.

Good time...Sad News.

Every family needs a person like Granny around. Granny, my Grandma Gillette, is one of the strongest women you will ever have the pleasure to meet. She is a fighter, both literally and metaphorically. Growing up her nickname was, "Slugger." Her fighting nature gave her the ability to beat the odds and survive a rare disease back in 2006. I will never forget being with her at Rush hospital in Chicago watching the treatment beating her body down. She was suffering and given only a 30% chance to survive. The doctors came into the room and bluntly laid out the options, "We can continue this experimental treatment or you can give up. The person in the room next to you stopped treatment yesterday and passed away today." Granny replied the only way I could expect her too. She looked at my dad and I and stated, "I can't give up with family like this supporting me." Granny did not want to let us down and this weekend I did not want to let Granny down.

Granny is a very important part of my running career. I started doing local road races prior to being able to drive, so Granny would gladly take me to where I wanted to go. Most weekends while I was focused on running to the best of my ability Granny was working the crowd talking to the elderly men. Our family gave her the nickname of, "Granny the Geezer Pleezer." Our travels together took us to the Boston Marathon in 2002. At that point I was an inexperienced 19 year old with a 2:56 marathon personal best. While eating pasta the night before Granny failed to clean up her plate, so she urged me to eat it for her. I gladly packed it away, besides carbs are good! She insisted it would help me run my best. That was my break through race. A twenty-two minute improvement for a 2:34:11. During the race I had two focuses. Do not let Granny down and hurry to get done so that we start the trip home. Boston fell during the Goshen College Spring semester finals and Dr. James Miller gave me an extension for taking my final due to the race.

On my long drive to the Steamtown Marathon in Scranton, PA I received a text message from Granny, yes at 82 years old Granny texts. Her message was simple, "Run your best." Did she mean to try my best effort or literally run my best time? Either way I could not let her down. Steamtown Marathon represented my 5th marathon in 6 weeks. A person would be hard pressed to find an expert or a marathoning book that states this is ideal for running a personal best, but these people do not have a Granny to encourage them.

Roughly 8 minutes prior to the start of the marathon I was hunched over puking in the parking lot adjacent to the start. A mid-pack runner asked me if I was okay. My response was, "Yeah it is just nerves." Marathons are hard, intentionally pushing a pained body hurts more, but letting someone down feels down right awful. The race started at a moderate pace. I tucked into the front pack of 5 guys early on. The first 5 miles included both an uphill and a nice downhill. We hit these mile splits:
5:35, 5:37, 5:34, 5:12 (downhill), 5:23 for 27:22 combined time.

By mile 5 the front pace was down to four guys. We kept clicking off at a solid pace without any changes until mile 8. That marked the end of the major downhill section of the course, and was also the end of our 4 person group. Peter Kemboi, a Kenyan who won the race in 2:19, pulled away from the other three of us, even though we ran a 5:17 mile split. That left three of us in the chase pack, but I had no intentions of chasing down Peter.

We past the half way point in my 3rd fastest half marathon time. This is not a shock to me as I do not race half marathons often, actually my half marathon personal best is a marathon split. At this point I was pretty confident that I could run a personal best marathon, and crazy visions of running a 2:23 starting entering my head. The group of three I was with broke up. It was a nasty split, at least from my vantage point, as they dumped me.
I was too slow for them, but I was still not too slow to make Granny happy. I could run my best. A 20 mile split of 1:49:23 gave me a little boast to push harder.

I dug as deep as I could to crank out a good last 10k. As fate would have it my body was starting to break down. Maybe it was due to the frequent marathons I have ran or the hills we were climbing. Either way those are excuses, and the newspaper does not print excuses they print results. Soon after mile 23 I came nearly to a complete stop. The body would not go further without puking some more. Darn All-Sport!! The thought of dropping out entered my mind, but shown an exit door right away. My cadence was down to a slow mans shuffle as I worked through this small problem.

I still had a shot at a personal best, but needed to get my rear moving faster. This is where Jake GunderKline came in handy. The Goshen College cross country team I help coach had a meet Friday prior to Steamtown.
With roughly 350 meters to go Jake was cranking hard. He had 3 guys from a rival schools closing on him very fast. I urged him to hold them off at all costs. He one upped me and even caught another runner. When Jake finished he too was puking, he laid it all on the course and that it was I had to do. The mile working through my stomach issue was a 6:09, my next mile was a 5:42. One final mile and I was done.

I sprinted as much as my body would allow and finished in 2:25:44, for 4th place. It was a personal best as Granny instructed me to run. Once across the line I puked a few more times, grab my medal and walked the two blocks to the car. On the way to the car I saw a mom holding a baby awaiting her husband to finish the marathon. I gave my medal to the baby. He was a cute little future marathon runner. Once to the car I changed my clothes and started the 660 mile drive home. I looked at my watch and the race clock was a 2:43. I ran fast because I wanted to get home quickly, just like at Boston in 2002.

The major difference though came with the phone call Melissa gave me. Dr. James Miller, my Human Anatomy professor in 2002 and Melissa professional mentor, had been murdered. Typically when completing a marathon I update my facebook status, but this time I decided to drive a few hours to remember the conversations that Dr. Miller and I have had. He was one of the few professors at Goshen College who was genuinely interested in my running career. A great guy and a tragic loss to the Goshen College community. I will always make the connection of my Steamtown Marathon experience to his life being taken too soon.

Spare Change??

On Saturday I set off on my solo journey to the Johnstown Marathon in Johnstown, PA. Since I travel a decent amount I have prefected the snacks, clothing, and race gear I need to take with me. For this trip my luggage included: A pound Gummy Bears, Chewy Chocolate Chip cookies, 44 ounce fountain drink (Pepsi), some peanut butter crackers, oatmeal, race watch, singlet, shorts, 2 pair of racing shoes, among other items, and I had $16 dollars in cash. Now I am not bragging about my wealth, just stating how much I had with me. This seemed all fine and well until the toll road fees started adding up.

I took US 30 across Ohio to limit toll fees, and still ended up paying $8.70 on my trip to the race. Which double that, to account for the trip home, means I would need $17.40 for tolls. Once at the motel I counted all the change in the car only to be 36 cents short of the desired amount to drive the same way home.
After checking into the motel I continued through my prerace routine, time to go run for 50 minutes, even in the rain. During the run I kept my eyes fixated on the ground, hoping for 36 cents, but had the same result as when I was asking Melissa to date me during the first 3 years of our friendship. No luck, Nothing!!

That evening at the free pasta diner a great man told me he was inspired by my running. He claims I have motivated him and helped change his life. Really?? Me...maybe his ice tea was spiked, but his facts seemed accurate. He said he enjoys our blog and not long after this handed me a wad of cash. Now I never feel comfortable in situations like this, but have learned it is important to be a gracious giver and reciever. Hopefully this man learns that I gave some of that money to Stephen Velott who is doing an athletic event to raise money for cancer research, I used some for the returning tolls, and gave the rest to Melissa to purchase a picture frame to hang a wedding photo, it has been nearly 5 years of me telling her we cannot afford a frame.


Race day welcomed us with 38 degree temperatures, rain and snow mix, and the perfect wind for drying first cutting hay, but awful for running a marathon in. I started the race with mismatched gloves and 2 extra shirts. My strategy was to take these shirts off around mile 8, which is on a road I have to drive on to return home, hence I could retrive my shirts. As we approached this location I stated to the "lead" cop, he actually drove behind of beside me the entire race, my intentions of shedding my outer layers. He gladly offered to carry them on his motorcycle during the race. A few miles later I asked him, "Do you think we are going into a head wind?" He replied with, "I can't tell, I can't feel anything." He too was numb.

The cold rain and wind could have ruined my race but like I told the newspaper reporter, "The newspaper is going to print my results, you are not going to print my excuse." There were ample excuses a person could have used, one of which was a lack of energy gels. I typically ingest 3 to 5 GU gels during a marathon, but once my hands went numb I was no longer able to access the gels in the rear pocket of my shorts. I compensated by taking in more gatorade. The extra liquids coupled with cold and rain activated the bladder. My urge to pee intensified at mile 17. On a training run anywhere besides Berne, IN, Melissa's home town, I could have stopped and relieved myself by a tree.
Berne lacks trees due to greedy farmers knocking them down to farm a few more feet. Being in a race with the lead cop next to you on a motorcycle makes it a little harder to just stop and go. The last 9 miles I pushed the pace a little faster, particularly the last 10k.

After breaking the finish line and winning the race in 2:33:16 the race organizers stopped timing me, but my bladder was a explosive bomb ticking down. I shrugged off the newspaper reporter, dodged around a few fans who braved the weather, and was about to stiff arm anyone who got between me and a restroom. Well except for the lead cop, whom approach to say congrats on my race. I told him about my urge to use the restroom from mile 17 to the finish. I asked him what his reaction would have been if I went along side the road, he stated, "I would have had to give you a citation but would have waited until you finished to hand it to you." I assume he means finishing the marathon... He handed me my extra shirts and I sprinted off to the motel room, which was roughly a mile away.


A quick shower, changed into dry clothes and it was back to the finish line to see Super Joe Guilyard finish his marathon. Joe is a machine, a manly man. He is in his 50's but runs marathons like it is his job. He will do 20 this year. Just last weekend he set his marathon PR at the Akron Marathon, but taking an easy day in the Johnstown Marathon was not his goal. He PR'd again...and that is why he is Super Joe, even though PR Joe would be a better nickname. His time was 3:21.