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FLRC Newsletter - Nov 2003 |
| Wineglass | |
Blake and I caught a ride out to Bath with a friend who is running his first marathon this weekend. Leaving Collegetown in the pre-dawn, we saw no one else on the streets, and encountered only a few deer on the backroads route to Bath via Tyrone. The Philips Lighting parking lot was similarly only sparsely populated when we drove in a little after 7:15, and it took only a few seconds to collect chip and bib. There wasn't even a line for the porta-johns outside.
As the crowd of ~700 gathered for the start, grey clouds moved in, blocking out the clear sunshine that had been providing respite from the cool overnight temps in the 30's. The starting gun went off suddenly, and a light but cold sprinkling of rain began only a few seconds later as the crowd squeezed across the starting mats. I quickly wove around a few ranks to arrive near the front at an easy but hard to gauge pace. And there the front runners were, just ahead. It was then that the small size of this marathon really struck me, and I'd already decided the difference from the "big city" marathons was something special. As we rolled out through the first few miles (6:24, a slow, into-the-wind or long 6:41, 6:20), runners fell into the positions they'd try to maintain for the next 10-15 miles. I ended up behind a strong masters runner who, along with Eric Maki, caught me somewhere around mile 4 on the nothing-to-speak-of "hill" that John Hylas had warned us not to worry about. We ran for a few miles as a sociable pack, swapping pacing stories, until mile 7 when Eric and the other runner made a move I wasn't willing to match so early in the race. We were averaging something just under 6:20, and my PR pace was 6:30; though the course was reputed to be flat, even downhill, and fast, I didn't want to risk it all too early.
Over the next 8 miles, one of the runners ahead fell back, but otherwise the formation remained very stable. I closed and opened the gap between #9 and me, Eric worked toward catching Boris and a green-shirted 15K'er, and everyone remained always just in sight around each curve. I ran through 10 miles in 63:05, probably a little too fast, as another short spell of light rain washed over us. The conditions were pretty much ideal, though, with a slight tailwind in large sections, no strong sun, and temps in the 40's. The rain simply added to the thrill of running along empty country roads in the upstate countryside I've come to love.
Spectators came in little groups at major intersections and villages, along with the occasional homeowner doing yard work or sitting on their porch (the Times or shotgun on their lap, I don't know which). Rather than waving wildly at a faceless crowd, I actually smiled and said "Hi" to individuals, some of who couldn't believe I was grinning. (That faded as the race wore on.) It shaped my impression of the whole run, encouraging me to focus on little details like the colors of the trees and the faces of the spectators and volunteers. I actually recognized a few groups that were moving down the course to catch their runner several times during the race.
At the 10 mile mark, I noted that Paul Tergat was just about 3 miles ahead of me, with his 63:01 split for the HM at Berlin. I vowed to try to keep the gap as even as possible for the next 10 miles -- I wanted to reach 20 before he finished. I hit the half just shy of 1:23, again pretty fast, but I felt strong, stable, and steady. And no one had changed places for miles.
Finally, as mile 17 wore on, and I knew I was slipping into 6:40 territory, I heard footsteps behind me. Though I wasn't feeling particularly competitive this early in the race still, I refused to look behind me to gauge the runner, and instead waited for him to catch me before acknowledging his presence. It turned out to be another area runner "Del", who was hoping to come close to a 2:46 PR. We agreed that we were still on pace for that, but he was definitely feeling stronger than I was. I pointed him to the guy still just ahead and let him go. As we moved into miles 18-20, I slowed down only slightly but found that the pair had really increased the gap on me. When I hit mile 20 I looked at my watch and realized that Tergat had finished over a minute ago. Gritting my teeth, I cheered up a bit as my wife Janis and friend Pat met me again (some excellent navigation on their part) and shouted encouragement. From what they said, Boris was having a great race.
At mile 21, we left the country for a residential area, and all of a sudden a whole handful of runners went by. I couldn't do anything, but I ried to imagine Adam Engst pulling away on a Cigarette interval, and managed to regain focus a bit as I tucked in behind Mr "Happy Fun". A woman who turned out to be Lynn Dempsey went by shortly thereafter, and I knew that the last 4 miles would be pretty tough. Going out too fast and paying for it in the final 10 K was the lesson I should have learned at Boston a few years ago; apparently I'd fallen into same trap again, if a bit less so and with far better training.
The world turned small and gray as we headed onto a paved path through a nice park, and I knew that breaking 2:50, then 2:51 (my PR) was gone, as I was running close to 7:00 miles. Not knowing anything about the course, I could only guess what landmark would clue me into the finish, but finally mile 25 went by and I knew the assault on my calves and soles would end soon. Janis met me again just before mile 26, and I took her word that the finish chute really was just around the corner.
That last turn offered one of the sweetest sights I've ever seen -- the finish line and a green clock that still read 2:51:xx, at least close to my NYC time. Straightening up as much as I could for the finish, I stumbled to a stop at the end of the chute to meet Joe Reynolds who instantly produced a bottle of water, and a smiling finish line crew guiding me to the medals table and the massage tent. Balancing gingerly there, trying to stretch, I participated in the usual post-race chatter after congratulating perfect strangers on well-run races. My watch recorded the finish as 2:51:35, with the final mile at 7:15, my slowest by more than 15 seconds.
A sudden cloudburst of rain hit less than 20 min after I finished, but I was already deep into my cup of delicious minestrone soup at that point and nothing else mattered.
Overall, a great marathon, both in course and organization, and an interesting contrast with Chicago or Boston -- much more individual, almost cozy. Already it seems like it was so much fun!
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