Marathon

The half marathoners are just finishing. I look at them enviously as they stream up towards the chute. My legs are burning. Why did I go out so hard? Why didn't I eat anything? Why did I completely ignore my race plan? I am only half-way finished and I'm a total wreck, pretty much done in. Grimly I begin the long, slow trudge that will take me once again over the course I just finished, each step feeling like it will be my last...and then I wake up. Just an anxiety dream (whew!). I look over at my clock, and it's still 30 minutes before my alarm, but I swing out of bed anyway. I have gotten loads of sleep. I feel strong and ready, like nothing's going to get in my way today.

A couple of hours later, I am in Hyannis, picking up my number and poking around the race expo. They have 26.2 stickers! Superstitiously I decline from buying one, as the race isn't run yet. I also run into Mike and say hello, but I'm feeling too restless to stay in one place and socialize.

I head back to my car to make last-minute preparations. My plan today is simple. I am going to run even splits, as slow as possible for my goal pace of 3:10. I've chosen 7:06's (really 7:00 - 7:06), figuring that would give me 3:07:25, assuming I run long by 2 tenths of a mile. Every 5 miles I'm going to have a gel and wash it down with some water. If necessary I have shot bloks (more runner candy) to eat over the last 10k. If things are going really, really well, I might try to pick it up a little at mile 21, but I'm not counting on it.

I'm actually not thinking of this race in miles at all, but in leagues (three mile intervals). That way I can think to myself, "I'm only running 9! Hell it's even a short 9, that's not so far!").

Minutes before the start, I have lined up by the 7 minute/mile pace sign. (This turned out to be unwise; the starting queue filled from the front, and newcomers pushed us back from our chosen starting position. A little irritating, but the race is chip-timed at start and finish, so I guess it doesn't matter much). Someone next to me says, "anyone here looking to run a 3:10?" and I say I am. He's a pretty fast-looking guy with sport sun-glasses running over his ear warmers, and a 70.3 tattoo on his left calf. That's good-- I won't say no to some company.

Race start. I knew this would be hard and I wasn't wrong. People are streaming by me. Even though I queued up at my goal pace, which I am now running ruthlessly, looking at my garmin every few paces to be sure, I apparently queued up too high--I'm one of "those" runners! d'oh! My erstwhile pacing buddy is off like a shot. Too fast for me; I'll either see him again or I won't.

I see for Melissa for the first time. She looks like she's settled into her goal pace already, just like me. There's a lot of traffic between us so I just drift on, mentally wishing her luck.

Mile 1 passes; for me I am reading 1.02. Worse than I feared, but it's the first mile, which is always hard to run efficiently because the mob hasn't thinned out yet. Second mile comes: 2.04. Shit! I am a little worried. If that keeps up, I'll run 26.7, a full extra half mile; and I thought I was being conservative guessing I would run 26.4!

The miles drift by. The 10ks turn off around mile 5, and things thin out still more. The weather has really cooperated. It's cloudy and cool, with no rain. I am enjoying myself (first 20% of the "enjoy every mile" goal? Check!)

By mile 10, I am pretty much surrounded by half marathoners, and I start to feel a little residual pull as they all hasten into their last 5k. I keep it cool and have my second gel. Things have gone right according to plan so far and I'm trying to keep it that way.

End of the first loop. The half-marathoners turn up towards the hotel to make their finish. I was worried this would be disheartening, but actually I feel super hard-core and kind of inspired that I'm going to be doubling down on what was the entire race for most of the field. I am working on my 5th league, and things still feel great.

As I start league 6, I'm already thinking about league 7; I know it will be a critical one, where I expect to find out if my pacing assumptions were on the money. It's deliciously quiet. The clouds have cleared away and I can see blue sky. A bit of a wind picks up, but I'm not complaining. Given the nor'easter I spent so much time last week worrying about, it would be hard to ask for a nicer day.

Around mile 18 I start to feel my old friend, the Resistance. He is way ahead of schedule. I am suddenly filled with worry and doubt. I've got another 8 miles to do here! I remember what I said to myself ages ago: "if you run into the Resistance and it doesn't seem like you can go on, just run another 2 miles. That's not so bad, right? 2 miles against the Resistance, and you don't have to feel too ashamed of yourself."

I make it another 2 miles, then eat my mile 20 gel, walking.

I don't want to dwell too much on the next 10k, because it was pretty ugly, and you can probably read most of the story in the pace chart. The disappointment, the gradual certainty of my pace goal slipping away, all present and accounted for. I would pick some visual goal, run until I reached it, then walk for a quick 0.1 until the burning subsided somewhat in my legs, and then repeat. If I were to be a determined optimist, I would say my walk-jogging technique has improved significantly, even since Martha's Vineyard.

(One bright note: remember my erstwhile pacing buddy, the one who took off like a shot? I caught him! He was walk-jogging too, even slower than me).

After some unreckonable period, I reach the last mile. The muscles in my calves are rippling spasmodically and I'm a little worried about them. Despite everything I still want to finish and at least get a time. This is full on Xeno's Paradox mode; the first half of the race seemed equal in time and difficulty to the next 10k, the next 5k similar, right on down to this interminable mile.

The last quarter mile. I imagine myself setting off around a track. One loop, that's it. It's awfully nice of these people to hang around and cheer in us marathoners. Somehow or other I make it up the hill to the finish. The clock says 3:25:56.

I really wanted to hang around and find Mel and Mike after the finish, but my mental state just then was not so good. I don't think I really appreciated how much I had invested physically and psychologically into the race until it was over. Now all I could think about was slinking away some place quiet to sulk, and that's what I did.

I am still working out how to feel about my first marathon. I am mainly disappointed, but on the other hand, I know plenty of people who would be happy to run a 3:26. I am not ashamed of it or anything. I could certainly have run a mentally tougher race, but even if I had fought like a tiger I don't think I could have shaved 16 minutes off my time. I wanted to enjoy every mile. I wanted to be so strong that I could run the last 10k of a marathon with strength and confidence. And I wanted to qualify for Boston. I did not do any of those things.

Well that's all a bit of a pity-party, but it feels good to get it out of my system. The nominal purpose of this blog has concluded, but I am somewhat in the habit of it now and I expect it will continue. Stay tuned for a post about my next running goal!

Final Tally:
Time: 3:24:56 (edited; official results took 60s off my time)
Distance: 26.2 (26.55 by garmin)
Place: 39 overall, 18AG (out of 383 finishers).