Sunday, April 18, 2010

River City Marathon Race Report

Somehow I got it into my head that I am in good enough shape to run a Boston qualifier (a marathon on a certified course faster than 3:10:59 for my age group) and so I started today with that intention.

My thinking was something along the lines of this: a month or so ago I ran a 10K in training at the requisite pace (7:15/mi). I've been training pretty hard for a month. I always perform better on race day than I do in training (for road races), mostly because of adrenaline and tapering. I've learned how to properly fuel for longer races. After a few ultras I'm now comfortable tackling distances in excess of a marathon.

It all seems to add up right? Well, if you've run a marathon before you probably see where this is going.

I was more nervous for this race than I have been for any in a long time. In hindsight I think I was nervous because I was setting out to do something that in my heart I knew I was physically incapable of doing. When I woke up at 4:00 am this morning said heart started racing immediately. I badly wanted to go back to sleep and forget about the race, but that's not how one does these sorts of things, is it?

The logistics of getting to the starting line were somewhat complicated. Wake up, eat, get dressed. Then drive to the finish line by 5:30. Then sit on a bus while the stragglers are accounted for. Then travel on the bus to the starting line (26.2 miles on a bus takes quite awhile!). Disembark at 6:30 and wait until the race starts at 7:00.

All of this was done in 48 degree temperatures, meaning that I needed to bring an extra sweatshirt to stay warm, which would be discarded prior to the start (as it was too hot to run in). Jen had such a sweatshirt that she was planning on giving to goodwill (which is where discarded race gear typically ends up anyway). It was her race sweatshirt from the Big Sur Marathon, which she ended up skipping because she is now pregnant (very exciting), and wants to get rid of it as it reminds her of something she has to give up for a bit. It really was a nice sweatshirt, and it pains me to discard such things, but at least it will go to a good cause.

In my warm ups I was feeling out a 7:15/mi pace and it felt pretty comfortable. I know a 7:15 pace because for me it's the pace just short of pushing- I have to push myself for a 7:00 pace, but a 7:15 just seems to flow.

So, with start I settled nicely into my stride. The only two hills of note on this course are in the first three miles, so I felt if I could stay strong through those I had a chance of hitting my target.

My first mile was a 7:20. A little slow, but not to worry. Three of my next four miles were sub 7:15, and the slow one was 7:17. After 6 miles my average pace was 7:16 and I was on target for a 3:10 finish.

As fantastic as that was, I realized at this point that I would be unable to maintain the pace for the entire race. So I moved to goal "B", which was to beat my marathon PR of 3:17:58. Such a feat would require the more leisurely average pace of 7:30, which definitely seemed doable, especially given the first 6 miles that I had squeezed extra time from.

By mile 12 my average pace was 7:24.

During mile 13 everything started to come apart. I was feeling horrible. I had more than half of the race to go, I was exhausted, and I could hardly bear the thought of continuing. I very seriously considered the possibility of abandoning at the half-marathon mark.

In running races people usually refer to quitting as a "DNF" (Did Not Finish), as that's what is listed on the results for racers who don't cross the finish line. I prefer the term "abandon", at least for what I was considering. Abandoning suggests the failure to honor a responsibility, in this case one that you've assigned to yourself. And in fact this thought was one of the few things that kept me moving forward... a "DNF" sounds like no big deal, and should in my view be reserved for injuries or emergencies. This was neither, but I wanted it to end so badly.

It was a classic quit-point: the race staff were there to send off the half-marathoners, I could have easily persuaded one of them to drive me to the finish. I even started working out what I was going to say to the person I talked to. I would happily relinquish my timing chip and my bib. I would talk about how it just wasn't a good day for me, and I didn't have anything to prove by finishing as I'd already missed my two goals and this would just be another marathon for me.

NO! That's not me! I signed myself up to do this race... paid good money and challenged myself to achieve a goal. I had bravely pursued that goal, and it didn't work out today, but just because I made some miscalculations didn't mean I could or should throw in the towel. Damn it, I've run 50 mile races before. I can't hang on to this one for 13 measly more miles of slightly downhill pavement? NO!

I took what I've learned from ultra marathons, slowed the pace down, continued eating and drinking, and broke the remaining distance into manageable chunks. I decided that goal "C" was that there would be no walking (I've walked in every single marathon I've run, even my 3:17 PR run).

My outrage at myself was validated when I saw one of the race staff at the 13.1 mile mark. I laughed at the idea of explaining my story to one of these folks. Silly.

Despite slowing down, I still finished the first half-marathon in 1:37 (7:26/mi).

The next 13.1 miles were miserable. Every mile was literally "just make it to the next mile without walking". Mile 14 was an 8:03. Mile 17 was 8:58. Mile 23 was the slowest, an appalling 10:03.

I had forgotten how bad it feels to finish a marathon on which you've gone out too fast. It's agony. Literal agony.

And it was getting hot. Another miscalculation I made was in selecting what to wear. I had planned to finish around 10:10 AM, at which point the projected temperature was about 62 degrees. When I actually finished, it had soared to about 68. The hat and arm gaiters were not the right attire for 68-degree weather.

And I was dehydrating. The aid stations were spread out a little farther than a typical marathon, but I didn't want to carry my own bottle for a race like this. I couldn't seem to get enough water though, despite taking two cups from every station.

But I didn't walk. I had to stop for a few seconds five or six times to stretch out a cramp in my hamstrings, and I walked at the last aid station so I could down three cups of water without wasting a drop, but besides that I was always running (well, jogging at this point). I was going to make it at goal "C".

My finishing time was about 3:37 (an 8:23 pace... but it's actually not quite clear what my time was, because the official time said 3:41, but my watch said 3:37).

I started off too fast, I wore the wrong clothes, I didn't stay hydrated. I missed my target time by almost 30 minutes. By most measures this marathon was a disaster.

But for some reason I'm really happy about it. I was in more discomfort in this race than I have been in a long time, and I was certainly closer to abandoning than I ever have been before, but I managed to push through all that and make it to the end.

I'll post final results when I get them.

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