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FLRC Newsletter - December 2004 |
| Philadelphia | |
Jay and I drove down to Philly Saturday afternoon, picked up our packets and T-shirts (which only came in large or extra large), and hung out at the expo for a while. We attended the pasta dinner, which had good food, but was way too expensive for spaghetti. Then we drove to my Aunt's house in the Philly suburbs, where we slept restfully in bunk beds. I was amazed at how easily I fell asleep: no pre-race jitters at all. I took this as a good sign, that subconsciously I felt ready for my first marathon and was confident I would do well.
My hometown is on the Jersey coast, about an hour east of Philly, so my dad was able to come and watch/help out. He picked us up at my Aunt's house bright and early and we arrived about 7:15 and managed to find parking easily about six blocks from the start. We needed to use the portajohns, and the lines were very long. We picked one and waited, and waited, as the start time got closer and closer. We were still in line as the national anthem was sung (terribly), and a minute later we finally got to the front. We did our business and ran to the start, squeezed ourselves into the crowd, and the race started about 20 seconds later. I felt sorry for the hundreds of runners who were in the portajohn line behind us, and must have missed the start altogether.
The first mile was slow, as the crowd of runners was pretty thick. I picked it up after that, running a few sub-8-minute miles, which were probably a bit faster than was wise, but felt good at the time. Jay warned me to slow down, but I told him, "I wanna learn the hard way!". I didn't really have much of a plan. I thought I was probably capable of qualifying for Boston (need a 3:40:59), but had insisted that I wouldn't worry about my time for my first marathon, and just take it easy, enjoy myself, and finish. But of course I went right ahead and worried about my time anyway. The first 10 miles passed very quickly and easily. In general, I'm pretty oblivious to my surroundings, and I didn't notice the scenery or historic landmarks that John described. Most of my focus was taken up by trying to maintain a good pace in a thick herd of runners without tripping anyone or getting tripped. Around mile 12 something in my right foot started to hurt, as a blister started to form. It felt like a pebble was digging into the ball of my foot, and the pebble got bigger and sharper every mile. We passed the half at 1:49:20, on track for Boston, and still feeling fresh and upbeat. Around mile 16 my quads started to complain, and the mile markers seemed to suddenly be very far apart. I managed to keep the pace up, but it became more painful. Jay reminded me to relax a few times and that helped quite a bit, but I usually forgot 30 seconds later and tensed back up. It was especially painful to start running again after the water stops. Still, I ran well up until mile marker 23, with splits ranging from 8:05 to 8:35. We were passing tons of runners and were in very good shape for Boston. Then things started to decline. I just couldn't go fast anymore. I was scared that if I pushed it, my quads would start spasming, or just give up altogether and I'd fall on my face. And the "pebble" in my shoe was now a very jagged rock. I stopped thinking about Boston and just dreamt about the finish line and food. I developed an irrational desire for cantaloupe. I got passed by many runners those three miles, and my splits were 8:42, 9:11, 9:22. My watch wasn't working correctly—it was giving me split times, but not overall time—so when I crossed the finish (very, very happy), it took a few minutes to calculate that I had indeed qualified for Boston, with 9 seconds to spare!
Physically, I was miserable after the race. There were not enough volunteers or chairs at the end, and I stood around dazed for several minutes hoping for a nice stranger to congratulate me, offer me a foil blanket, and help me with my chip. It never happened. A chair finally became available, and I fumbled with the chip myself. My dad came by and helped us find food, which wasn't very good. There was no way I could walk the six blocks to the car, so we stood on a corner and waited for my dad to pick us up. I couldn't even sit on the ground while we waited; the ground was just too far away and my quads wouldn't support my weight if I bent my knees. My dad finally came, took us to my Aunt's house, and we had hot chocolate and white pizza and relaxed for a few hours before Jay drove us back to Ithaca.
Overall, I thought the Philly marathon was adequate, but not great. I liked the course; not too hilly, and I enjoyed watching the fast runners come in. After the turnaround, it was encouraging to pass the slower runners who had many more miles left than me. There were plenty of well-manned water stations, and big digital clocks at every mile. However, the lack of porta-potties, medium-sized T-shirts, and volunteers at the finish, plus the lousy food, are things that can definitely be improved. Then again, it only cost 50 bucks to register at the last minute, so I probably got my money's worth.
It was really, really nice of Jay to run along with me. The crowds were not too spectacular, and I probably would have been very lonely and bored without him keeping me company. He let me set the pace the whole way, and just encouraged me and helped me stay entertained. I wish I could return the favor some day, but he is just too fast.
Thanks to Lorrie and Becky and Mark for the early-morning speedwork and long runs. And thanks to everyone in the FLRC for all the advice, and inspiring me to give this a try. I never would have considered running a marathon until I met you guys. It was an awesome experience I will never forget.
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