Sunday, November 23, 2003

I wasn't really sure why I was running this race.  I had a great year and there seemed to be more potential for ending on a sour note, than for ending on a good one.  Training had gone about as well as I could have expected following Ironman Hawaii.  I had one indoor bike ride and two easy swims in the last five weeks.  Since this race didn't involve either of those two events I wasn't worried.  At least the running was going well.  I had been running five days a week and, although the legs were still a little ragged, I was feeling reasonably confident about turning in a decent time.

My goal going in was to continue my string of sub-2:50s.  That meant I needed to run 6:30 miles.  Twenty-six of them.  Then just a little extra burst for that last .2 to break 2:50.  Todd and I had bet a case of Guinness on the outcome.  He was getting a 13:06 head start.  He was in shape to break three hours which meant I was going to have to be around 2:46.  Then he got hurt and wasn't able to run.  That took a little bit of pressure off.  But it also took away a little incentive.  My coach was supposed to run, helping a client to a 3:35, but she pulled up ill, so he wasn't there, either.  More lost incentive to run fast.  Renate, my wife, was home in bed with a bad back.  In my racing career, this was only the second significant race she missed.  I missed not having her there.  Well, at least the weather was going to be nice.  Maybe a little on the warm side, but no rain.

Just before heading over to the start line, I met a bunch of folks from the Tri-DRS list.  Putting faces to names is always nice.  Everyone was pretty much getting mentally prepared to run a marathon, so there wasn't much beyond introductions.  I decided that I wouldn't need my gloves for the run and tossed them into David Jones' bag.  Dave, they're from the Nortel Cherry Blossom 10 mile run in DC if anybody asks.  Their goal times ranged from 2:55 to around 4:15 and they were going to meet up near the fountain after the race.  I'd try and hook back up with them, so we could have some more relaxed conversation.  They headed over to check in their gear bags (which I had already done) and I went over to get as close to the front as possible.

The usual pre-race stuff then the air horn starting runners running.  The first little bit was spent bobbing and weaving through traffic.  I still don't understand, but I guess I do.  People that are going to be hard pressed to break four hours starting at the fast end of the pack just so their chip time and their gun time will be close.  This isn't a huge race, a little over 5,300 finishers, so what's the time difference going to be?  Ninety seconds?  Still, they pay the same entry fee as I do, so I guess they can start where they want.

A little after two miles I managed to get in with a group of fast chicks.  About eight of them.  And three of us guys.  This could be a pleasant way to spend the morning.  One guy and two girls definitely seemed like the pace setters.  I kind of hung around in the middle of the pack.  There was very little conversation, it was a pretty serious bunch, a couple of comments about pace.  Mostly just the sound of eleven pairs of feet slapping the pavement.  Quickly.  It was really quite exhilarating.

Through three miles we were running at just under 6:20 pace.  A bit ahead of what I had planned.  I wasn't sure that was a good idea, but I decided to follow one of the things I picked up somewhere.  "Take a chance and try a pace you might not be able to sustain."

There were eight 90 degree corners in the first 5.5 miles.  Fortunately, none were a problem.

Miles three to five are slightly uphill, if going up 25 feet in two miles can be called uphill.  We were still maintaining our 6:20 pace, which, I guess, was a bit much for some of the girls.  We were down to four girls.  We had picked up a couple more guys, so it was still a good sized pack.  One guy had a friend on a bike handing him fluid and gels.

Made our eighth 90 degree turn then a long two mile stretch down Chestnut Street.  Lots of cheering spectators.  Towards the end of this bit, our pack kind of imploded.  The guy who I thought was pacing the girls took off a bit.  One of the girls and two of the guys fell off the back.  We were down to three girls and two guys.  Around this time, seven miles into the race, the girls started getting reports from spectators about their place.  "Seven, eight, nine ladies.  Way to go."  They were running well.

Also at this time we started on the first of the two real climbs on the course.  One of the girls had picked up an escort of sorts.  Her boyfriend/husband/brother/whatever was running along with us.  He was staying on the sidewalk, out of the way, and just offering general encouragement.  We ran past my freshman dormitory (and where I met Renate for the first time, twenty-six years ago, almost to the day) at Penn and made another 90 degree turn.  A little down hill, then the second of our climbs.  Still our little pack of five.  We passed a girl.  "Sixth, seventh, and eighth place girls.  Keep it going."  We crested the hill, still maintaining 6:20 pace.  Which was kind of surprising.  We lost one of the girls.  We passed two others.  Right around mile ten it was "fourth and fifth girls".

At the ten mile timing mat, the clock was at 1:03:05 .  My goal was to be here at 1:05:00.  I was almost two minutes ahead of pace.  I started doing some mental calculations.  I could run 6:35s from here and finish ahead of 2:50:00.  There's some down hill here as we make our way to West River Drive.  I pick up my pace just slightly and find myself running alone.  Not really alone, there are plenty of other runners visible, just nobody right with me.  And now I'm at the halfway point.  The clock says 1:22:30, give or take.  If I keep this up I'll be right around 2:45:00.  I know that's not going to happen.  My quads are starting to feel tight and sore.  Reminding me that I recently did an Ironman.  The two chicks and one of the guys I had been running with had re-joined me.  Here's a picture.  That's me in black on the right.

Up a little rise and I'm back pretty much where I started, and where I'm going to end up.  One of the cruelties of this race.  Going past the finish line with another 12.5 miles to go.  Still, there are lots of cheering spectators and I've bunched up with some other runners again.  Well, let's head on out to Manayunk and see what's shaking out there.

Past the clock marking 14 miles.  Doing some mental calculations.  I'm two minutes and 45 seconds ahead of pace.  I can run 6:40s from here and break 2:50:00.  The guy peels off and gets something from a spectator.  The girls disappear.  I'm back to being by myself.

Pretty much right after that 14 mile marker, the number of spectators drops to not very many.  I forget exactly where the anti-abortion protestors had set up their tirade against humanity, but I was glad that Bob Mina had mentioned it me.  I ignored them completely.  I just put my head down and ran.  Fortunately they weren't all that fired up.  One of the benefits to being at the sharp end of the pack, not very many runners so the protestors were saving their energy.

At mile 16 I switch into negative countdown mode.  Ten miles to go.  Take them one at a time.  My quads are threatening to cramp, but for now it's just a threat.  I've been consuming my gel and electrolyte mix about every five miles.  Mostly I'm feeling fine for where I am.  Although the pace is slowing down.  Miles 16, 17, and 18 are 6:27, 6:22 and 6:23.  I'm still beating that original suggested pace of 6:30, but I'm not real happy with the trend.  These miles are slightly uphill, I rationalize.  And pretty lonely.

There's about a quarter mile section starting at 18.5 where the runners going out diverge just slightly from the runners coming back.  Right before this section I see the lead guy heading towards home.  It's 18.5 for me, 21.5 for him.  And then I'm in the little looping section so I can't see if anyone is near him.  Then, just like that, the outs and the backs are on the same road.  At least now I can see others going back to town.  They look like they're having not very much fun.  I'm pretty sure I look about the same.

Cross the timing mat for 20 miles, 2:06:25, more than three and a half minutes ahead of 2:50 pace.  I can run seven minute miles from here to the finish.  Hopefully it won't come to that.  The last couple of miles were good, 6:20 and 6:21.  And now my visualization changes a little bit.  I have a 6.2 mile loop that I run regularly in training.  I start to picture where I am on that course while running.

Around the big flag marking the turnaround.  Now I'm one of those people heading back to town.  And into what seemed to me like a bit of headwind.  Not horrible, just not really fun for the last bit of a marathon.  Mile 21 is 6:23.  And I can tell the drag chute has been released.  I see Dave Jones in his Canadian togs heading out.  His goal was 2:55, I wonder how he's doing.  A bit later I hear someone call my name.  That sounded like Jason.  Couldn't be.  He did Ironman Florida two weeks ago.  (In 10:07 with a 3:18 marathon.)  I must be hallucinating.

Now I'm going up the little overpass, which, at this time of the day, feels like Mt. Kilimanjaro, and back onto Kelly Drive.  Lots and lots and lots of runners still heading out to Manayunk.  Very glad I'm not one of them.  Extremely glad.  Mile 22 is 6:39.  In my mind I've made the turn off Font Road onto Route 401.  I'm running on the wrong side of the road, with traffic, getting ready for the big, ugly dog that's come across the street barking and carrying on a couple of times.  My pepper spray is in my hand.  Get a grip, Steve, snap back to reality.

I get comments from spectators about my shoes.  I'm of the opinion that the uglier the shoes, the faster.  These certainly qualify.  On both counts.  Neon yellow.  The Tri-DRS group that I met at the beginning of the race commented on them, that's how ugly the shoes are.  The guys were polite, seeing as to how we just met, but I could see the looks in their eyes.  And then they noticed my red jackass socks.  They were probably thinking "this dude better be fast since he dresses like a clown."

Mile 23 is 6:36.  Come on, Steve, hold on.  Just a little bit further.  I wasn't thinking about setting a PR.  That might have been one of the problems.  If I had been more aware of how close I was, I might have been able to push myself a little harder.  But I really wasn't thinking along those lines.  I knew I was going to break 2:50:00.  And then a girl passes me.  At some point in time, either I passed a girl or one dropped out, because the runners on the way out were telling this girl that she was in third.

Mile 24 is 6:43.  The big clock says 2:32:45.  Now the PR thought entered my mind.  I ran a 2:47:15 at Disney World in January.  I needed to run the last 2.2 miles in 14:30.  I couldn't do the math.  That .2 was throwing me off.  It's just as well.  My legs were starting to make evil suggestions.  "You know, Steve," they said, "it'd be so much easier to walk."  Shut up and run.  The PR thought left as quickly as it entered.  And I was passed by another girl.  "You're in fourth" shouted all the runners on the other side.  "Third is just ahead.  Go get her."  And I was thinking, chicked twice in the last couple of miles.  And the other runners continued to shout "you're in fourth . . . you're in fourth . . . fourth place lady . . . "  I guess it's nice that people are paying attention and getting into the race.  I wonder if the girls get tired of hearing it.  "Third is just ahead . . . you can catch her . . ."

Mile 25 is 6:50.  Nobody is commenting on my shoes.  At this point they're not fast.  They're just ugly.  I have 1.2 miles to go.  I know exactly where I am on my home course.  I know exactly where I am on this course.  It's all uphill at this point.  Literally and figuratively.  Another girl passes me.  Where are they all coming from?  I'm too beat up to really care.  I just want the thing to be over.

There's a spectating guy standing in the road.  He says it's mile 26.  I hit my watch.  A 7:00 mile.  Still going up hill.  Can't quite see the finish line.  Lots of cheering spectators.  Finally, there's the end.  The big clock says 2:47:5x.  For just a nanosecond I think about sprinting to break 2:48:00.  My mind is working much more quickly than my body.  I remain at my current pace.  I cross the line at 2:48:08.  Renate has told me I need to start smiling for the finish picture.  I forget to smile for the camera. 

I get my chip taken off. I collect my medal and mylar blanket.  I miss not having Renate at the race.  It's nice to have someone to share the finish with.  I get my bag from the gear check-in tent.  It's warmed up a bit, and it's sunny, and I'm feeling pretty good.  I manage to change into some dry clothes.  And now I'm not really sure what to do.  I wander over to the food tent and grab a cup of broth and a roll.  I'd like to hook back up with the Tri-DRS folks, but I don't think I'd recognize anybody.  I stand aimlessly between the gear tent and the food tent.  The race clock says 3:10:xx.  Dave Jones should have finished by now.  I wonder if I can find him.  I'm not thinking very clearly and I'm pretty much just wandering around, clueless.  I'm just about ready to head for home when I see Stuart Trager and Jason Bologna.  I mentioned that Jason did Ironman Florida two weeks ago.  Stuart also did Florida.  But, three weeks before that he did Ironman Hawaii with me.  Mr. T is an endurance animal.  They both ran today's race for fun.  And enjoyed themselves.

Stuart wanted a beer, so we headed over to the Coors Light table.  Stuart, of course, knows everybody, so it took a while to get there.  And then Stuart knew the beer ladies.  We quickly drank a couple of little tiny cans of Coors Light.  And then decided to head on out.  In retrospect, I should have checked to see if any results were posted.  That evening, when checking the results on the Internet, I discovered that I had snagged first place in my age group.  That pretty much floored me.  I thought a top five was possible, but never a first.  I guess I should have stuck around.  I'll have to call the marathon people to see if they'll mail my award out.

I guess now I'm in a little bit of a rut.  But it's a good one.  My last three stand-alone marathons have been 2:48:26 at Dublin, 2:47:15 at Disney World and 2:48:08 here at Philadelphia.  Next up is Boston in April.  The goal for that race is to break 2:45.  Training starts December 1st.

At this point I want to clear up a possible misconception from my Ironman Hawaii report.  I might have given the idea that I hadn't yet qualified for Boston and needed to run 3:30 in Hawaii to do it, since I made such a big deal out of running it.  I am fortunate in that I am a pretty good runner and I had qualified well at Disney World in January.  For me, being able to say I had run a qualifying time in an Ironman marathon, and that this was going to be the first time Boston allowed an Ironman marathon to be a qualifier, that was my extra bit of incentive at the end of a long day.  On that day in Hawaii, it kind of kept me going.

Anyway, thanks everybody for reading.  See you at the races.

For mile splits and other numerical trivia, go here.

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