It is 3 AM, February 28th, race day for The Phoenix Marathon. The alarm shrieks, not that I've been sleeping well, and I am wide awake immediately. I feel some trepidation being under trained, having had a big hole in my initial training plan. I try to rationalize that I have a strong aerobic base from bike riding and the enforced “long taper” is to my benefit...well, maybe. The plan is to walk through every other water stop alternating water and Gatorade, and take every gel offered although I am carrying my own, just in case. My goal is 4 hours which according to all the internet pace calculators is achievable based on my half marathon times. We'll see. I've often heard that no plan survives first contact with the enemy (the pavement?), and as someone once told me, “All you have is all you brought, there ain't no more.” So, did I bring enough? (BQ, Boston Qualification, for me is 4:10, but I want some margin for blisters, water, food, potty stops, tears, whatever.....)
I perform the usual pre-race eating, dressing and packing routines (banana, gel, hat, Gatorade, sunglasses, etc.), practiced on every recent Saturday long run. Things immediately go amiss traveling to the drop off. There are roadblocks set up for the race and I don't get to the proper drop off spot (self inflicted – trying to take a shortcut from the hotel). A number of us discover we are in line for the half marathon bus and take a ¾ mile run to the marathon buses as the clock ticks down to 5:30 AM and the last bus. We make it and see five more buses loading behind ours...plenty of time! A pre-boarding warm up run, great! I won't be cold on the bus.
The bus ride to the start takes forever. Where are they taking us, is this a 50 mile run? Off the bus I immediately get in line for the porta-potty. Afterward, I take a walk around the drop off area, re-lace my shoes for the third time, take off my sweat pants and get in line for the potty again. I get nervous, leave the long line, and head for the weeds. I sit and eat my banana. The PA call us to walk to the start. Once there, I do some lunges and leg swings. Whoops, time to head for the weeds again, darn Gatorade. I devour a gel and look for either the 3:50 or 4:00 pacer. Hmm, the 4:00 is quite a bit ahead of the 3:50, what is this? I'm in front of both and decide to stay there. Starting my watch I see a funny screen. It is still dark, I only have my sunglasses and can't really see my watch very well with or without glasses. Somehow it is set to “other activities,” not run. How did that happen? It gets fixed almost a full minute before the starting gun. Nervous much?
We are off and it is down hill for 5 miles. I keep telling myself to slow down, but only meet with marginal success. People around me are talking, having a good time, and someone says, “every second above your pace at the start costs you three seconds on your pace in the last half.” Again, I try again to slow down and tell myself there are 26 one mile segments, just take them one at a time and enjoy it. I listen to some podcasts. I'm saving the running music for the end when I will need a boost. At mile 5 there is a hill, ugh. I try to shorten my stride, lean a bit more forward, and accentuate my arm swings. I pass some folks, some pass me, and some start walking, yikes! There is an aid station with gel at mile 7, but I eat one of mine about mile 6.5. I was hungry and didn't realize the aid station was so close. I eat half of their gel at mile 7 and realize I am over eating, but that doesn't cause me any digestive problems...nervous energy burning calories?
I settle down, steady my pace, and then space out to a Freakonomics podcast. To further distract myself, I think about everyone at TRP I've had the pleasure to run with on Saturdays, trying to convince myself this is just another long Saturday run. That sort of works. I check my watch, change the screen and woops, I need to quickly hurdle one of the cones I'm about to hit. A person on my left, running in the proper lane, inside the cones, applauds. No blood, no foul I think, but that was close. About mile 10 the 4:00 pacer is now just in front of me and I am determined to stay with her. However, that means I have to catch her every time I walk through a water stop. I slip into a mindless groove and pretty soon we are at the half marathon start. I'm feeling good, at this halfway point, but can I do all this again?
Just past the half marathon start, Florence is on the side of the road with a bottle of Perpetuem (Hammer endurance product). I awake up from my mindlessness, just in time to see her and grab the bottle. I carry it to the next water stop, drink about half and toss it. I don't think I needed it, and in the end don't need the additional gels I am carrying either. I'm running along side a graduate student in exercise physiology at ASU and entice her to talk about nutrition. Another young man joins us and we decide to tell jokes to pass the time. Of course at this point I can't remember any really funny ones. I manage to recall one and but tell it poorly (as I tell all jokes). His running mindless methodology is to concentrate on the feet of the people in front of him. I can't do this well. I imagine how their toes look (as bad as mine?) and don't want to think about that. He stops at the next water stop and we never see him again. No more jokes, darn. About mile 17 the 3:50 pacer group comes around the 4:00 pace group and it gets crowded for a bit. Quite a few folks try to accelerate and pick up their pace, but for most it proves futile. They fall back but most are then dropped from the 4:00 group also. However my new friend hangs in there with the 3:50 folks and I never see her again. Soon there are only four runners in the 4:00 pack.
I'm feeling pretty good, staying well hydrated, getting enough calories, but my feet are starting to feel like hamburger, and I know this is costing me a toenail. Heading west on Brown Rd. we have a headwind to contend with. I try to figure out the percentage of the run remaining, but my math skills have deteriorated in direct proportion to the length of this run. I put the music on and try to keep my cadence up as I realize my pace has fallen off a bit. I cross the 20 mile timing strip and stumble just a bit, but not seriously. I have a talk with myself about staying present and alert for cones, timing strips, etc. I have been running just behind the 4:00 pacer, but she is starting to swing the sign she is holding and I go around her, for safety. Since my longest training run was 20 miles, I tell myself every step is a PR.
I'm counting off the last miles. Five miles is about 45 minutes, plus water stops. It begins to go a bit quicker mentally. Hmm, I might just survive this, and try to imagine it is just like a 5 mile Saturday river path run, Craycroft to Campbell. One last water stop at mile 24. I walk a bit past the stop but chide myself as I am close to my goal time and don't want to lose time walking. At the first barricades, Jeff and Brenda are cheering me, and that lifts my spirits. I think my pace increases ever so slightly. At the finish line I see the clock, a bit over 4:00 (even though the pacer is behind me). BQ, Woot, Woot!! Florence is at the end of the chute and I kiss her, sweat, snot and all. Jeff meets me in the finish area and is ecstatic with my results. He organizes a picture with both of us, and escorts me to the timer as I hobble along. I am still a bit ditsy. I do realize I have qualified for Boston, finished second in my age group, and am very happy. I have a silly grin for the picture.
At the awards ceremony I have recovered my wits enough to convince my fellow age groupers on the stage that we will not ascend the placement podiums, nor will we stand behind them as suggested. We will instead sit on our respective blocks in deference to our age and accomplishments. This was an easy sell, as even ascending the steps to the stage was hard on all of us.
Still hobbling, I begin dreading the next marathon I had signed up for at the end of May. That was to be my “A” race to qualify for Boston. No need now. However, a few days latter and I'm figuring out training plan adjustments, pacing levels, water stops etc. to take some minutes off my time. Can this be addictive? Go figure!
Post-race celebration dinner
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