I'm always watching the weather. Mostly because I want to know what to wear on my lunchtime run. But leading up to a race I become an amateur meteorologist. I don't just check the weather, I check it from several websites and compare. This mostly happens when I am looking for hope. Like hope that it won't pour marathon morning. I didn't find any hope from the forecasts.
The entire weekend was set to be a washout and Sunday morning in the C corral, it started to drizzle about fifteen minutes before the start to the race. Some people wear a garbage bag or a throw-away long-sleeve t-shirt or jacket before a race. I didn't. I just had a bottle of water (this little tidbit plays an important role later) which I sipped at as much as I dared. I was concerned about the humidity, so I wanted to be as hydrated as possible at the race start.
This was the first race I've participated in that started in waves. The elites and the A and B corrals all started "on time" at 7:00 AM, then they ushered the C (and presumably the D and E corrals to the start and we were off about six minutes later. (
This was not the case in 2009 when the nine- and ten- minute milers merged into a confusing mass that covered the first mile in about nine and half minutes) As we were moving towards the start line, my eyes darted right and left for port-a-potties. There were none. They were all back behind the corrals. I had no hope of getting to one before the race started.
As
I'm sure you remember, my plan was to run the first ten miles at about a 8:45 pace, climb THE hill, hit the "lap" button on my watch (to reset the average pace) and glide nine-minute miles the rest of the way to the finish.
Well, it didn't quite work out that way. With an achingly full bladder, I stopped at the first port-a-potty on the course. Not at the first mile, not the first block of port-a-potties, but the very first one I saw. And of course it was occupied. So I waited. And waited. I started to wonder if maybe it wasn't a runner in there at all, and was actually a homeless person seeking shelter from the overnight rains. Finally, the poor guy came out (he was a runner) and I was able to take care of my business quickly and get out and on my way.
That delay started to mess with my head. And it apparently messed with my Garmin Forerunner, because it read 1.2 miles at the first mile marker - nearly twelve minutes after I had crossed the start line. This was messed up. I was running with a group of runners going much slower than me, way behind the pace I wanted to be going and to top it off the Garmin was already 20% off. This was the opposite problem that I had at
Harrisburg last Fall. I flounder for another mile, then had an epiphany. Hit the lap button.
I hit the lap button and just tried to work on averaging an 8:45 mile until THE hill. I lost a little time at the port-a-potty, but I had a buffer in my plan for just such an occasion and the time lost was well within that buffer. I checked my pocket for the Clif Shot blocks I had carried with me. GONE. No worries, there would be plenty of GU on course and I still had the PowerBar Gel and a couple of FRS chews to get me through.
30 minutes in I got hungry. Rather than wait and stick to my gel-on-the-hour plan, I downed my power gel. Now I was down to just my FRS chews and whatever GU I could get on course.
It went a little slowly at first, after a water stop my average pace was down to 9:30, but I was whittling away at it. And passing a TON of people. I didn't consciously try to make up the time, but just have fun, drink plenty and give high-fives to any spectator with their hand out - including a guy in a Buzz Lightyear costume.
Aside: at mile 10 there were a bunch of people in superhero costumes giving high fives and cheering the runners. I may be wrong, but I think one of them was Brian Sell dressed as Superman. It sounds like something he might do.
By the time we reached the point where the half-marathoners broke off from the marathon course I had my average pace (post-rest stop) down to 8:35 per mile. A little fast, but I was feeling good and could chalk that extra ten seconds per mile to making up that early delay. Having the half marathons leave the marathon course opened up the course nicely and the reduced congestion instantly relaxed me. From here on out I'd have a lot less "East-West" running to get around slower runners. And I was still well behind the 4:00 pace group.
As we crossed the bridge over the Ohio River, I tried to relax and steel myself for THE hill that was coming. I planned to run until I was even the slightest out of breath, then walk the rest of the way. No need to walk. I reached the steepest part and continued jogging the rest of the way up. There were Nike signs with the slogan "kill the hill" on it at the final turn towards the top which became something of a mantra for me as I reached the crest. That was it? That was THE hill that slowed me to a walk in 2009? THE hill that I allotted an extra three minutes to climb? My average pace had only dropped a few seconds per mile over the course of the climb, but I hit the "lap" button on my watch anyway.
You could say that three mantras dominated my thinking for the first 19 miles of the race. The first was "patience." I couldn't make up those lost minutes at the port-a-potty quickly without burning myself out. I had 25 miles to make up that time. The second was that Nike sign: "kill the hill." Then after that successful slaying of the hill, the mantra was "way too fast". For the first half mile after THE hill, my average pace was 8:10. Whoops! I slowed down, but I just couldn't get myself down to those 9-minute miles I had planned. I was back at an 8:35 average pace and feeling really comfortable. So I went with it.
It was only a couple miles after halfway that I passed the 4:00 pace group - about the same place I was passed by them in 2009.
I was making sure to take water at every aid station and had a gel after 30 minutes and 90 minutes. My plan was to take my FRS chews at 2:30, then a final gel at 3:00. The second gel I picked up at the aid stations was a pineapple flavored GU Roctane. I've never had Roctane, and even though it was a "no-no" to try something new on race day, I pocketed it to use as that 3-hour mark gel.
After the aid station at mile 17 I saw my friend Brad running up ahead. Fresh off his finish at Boston a month ago, he was pacing his brother, Kevin in his first marathon. Brad looked fresh as a daisy - as if we were in mile 3 instead of 17. Kevin, not so much. He didn't look like he was necessarily struggling, but he wasn't looking strong. I chatted with Brad for a bit and he mentioned he had been looking for me, knowing that I was planning to start the race at an 8:45 pace. I told him how good I was feeling and that I was just rolling with this 8:35 pace. It was clear that they weren't going to match my pace so I went on ahead after a little less than a mile of their company. After the race I learned that Kevin had collapsed and had a seizure at mile 25 from dehydration. Fortunately, that's all it was and he was released from the hospital Sunday afternoon.
When I reached the 19th mile marker I was still feeling great and did some quick math. If I kept up this 8:35 pace I would easily finish in under 3:50. Keeping a pace in the last few miles of a marathon is never a guarantee, in fact 95% of the time you can count on dropping off your pace considerably in those last few miles. But I decided that if I could catch the 3:50 pace group that I would plan to finish ahead of them rather than hold back.
A little past 20 miles I got the first signs of dehydration - my head was starting to feel cloudy and a baby headache was forming. A bit later I took that GU Roctane and every drink of water I had after that began to clear my head. As I mentioned before, I had never tried Roctane in training, but after that experience I am SOLD!
At Mile 21 I saw them. Then in the long downhill in the 23rd mile I passed them. I had forgotten that Pittsburgh had the opposite of heartbreak hill in the 23rd and 24th miles. I think they did quite a bit of damage to my quads (I was still sore a couple days later), but the boost they provided was well worth it.
I kept waiting for the wall. The point where I just wanted to stop and walk. Where nothing was a good enough motivation to keep running. There was no wall. And I was passing
everybody. Just after the 25th mile marker there was a water stop and even though I was in a hurry to get to the finish, I grabbed a cup, got out of the way and walked and sipped, just taking it all in.
Aside: I'm always amazed at the number of 4-hour marathoners who insist on running while they drink their water. Not even really drinking, more like throwing it in their face and hoping some will trickle down their throat. On a day like Sunday, when it's humid and you're going to be out there for four stinking hours, the seconds you save by running while drinking won't make up the slow down you experience if you get dehydrated.
I had never felt so good in the last mile of a marathon. I didn't stress about my time - going under 3:50 was assured. I just let myself relax, enjoy the cheering crowds and let my tired, but still strong legs glide to the finish.
Oh, and I was still passing
everybody.
I crossed the final bridge and began the last half-mile dash to the finish line set between PNC Park and Heinz Field. 3:48:12! A PR by nearly 17 minutes.
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| My experience on Sunday makes this one of my favorite marathon medals! |
After the finish, I grabbed
some a lot of water, a foil blanket, a banana, some pretzels, and a smiley-face cookie for Beth and headed to the "family reunion" area to meet Beth and hurry back to the hotel to make our 12:00 check-out time!
I had signed Beth up to receive text alerts for my 10K, halfway, 20-mile and finish line splits. They told quite the story: at 10K my average pace indicated a 4:00:23 finish and that projection dropped steadily the whole way until the finish line.
The funny thing about having such a great race, though is that I learned very little from it. Except that I think I can probably do it faster.
3:40 here I come!