First Marathon
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Pittsburgh Marathon
5:21:08
Indeed, I did it! 26.2 miles, done!
The short story . . .
I was aiming for 4:45, which I had felt was conservative. That would have been a 10:52 mm pace. I decided to start (and possibly stay with) a 4:45 pace group to avoid the classic beginner's error of starting too fast. As you can see from the 5:21:08 time, my plans went seriously awry.
I was paranoid about the weather, and had been checking forecasts incessantly, as I knew that my worst weakness is running in the heat. Media coverage of the recent catastrophically hot Boston Marathon gave me the willies, as it was (and is) my worst nightmare to run in 90 degrees. The only really truly miserable long run (in which I had to take walking breaks) I've ever had was one 17 miler a couple months ago when it was the first hot run of the year. Mid 70s = a miserable slog.
My favorite running weather is 30s to 40s. I think my performance probably starts to decline over 50 degrees, but it really plummets over 70. Forecasts had consistently told me it should be in the upper 50s at the race start, and hit about 70 by the end. I felt optimistic about that, especially as it was also supposed to be pretty cloudy.
Unfortunately, it was closer to 80 by the end of the race. It was also humid and very, very still, with the tall buildings blocking whatever tiny breezes might have been blowing somewhere in the area. The promised clouds never materialized, so it was 100% full sun the entire race. I was hot within a few miles, and by the second hour, I was sweltering.
I considered the oft-told advice of adjusting your pace to allow for less than ideal conditions, but I did not actually realize that the temperatures were as high as they were (as I'd been checking forecasts up until that morning). Instead, I thought maybe it was my imagination that it was infernally hot, so I discounted the idea that it was "too hot" to keep pace, as my brain kept claiming (contrary to the evidence of my suffering body) that it was still in the 60s! Plus, I had really thought 4:40 was a fair goal for me, so the 4:45 (which I'd chosen because there was no 4:40 pace group) should have been conservative. I thought those extra minutes were enough cushion to make up for a "little" heat. Right?! (Wrong.)
It was hotter than I could handle.
I don't know that I could have done any better even if I had slowed down more at the outset. Maybe, but maybe not. I don't know that I could have handled that heat any better going 30 sec/mile slower or even 1 mm slower. It was just really hot! I SUCK at heat! I'd like to be more versatile, and I will work towards handling the heat better this summer, but my temperature regulation has always been a bit wonky, so I am not confident that I will ever be able to run nearly as well hot as I could cool. I would imagine that as I get better overall, I'll get better in the heat, but I don't imagine ever being very comparable. I just think heat slows me down more than the average bear. Time will tell, I suppose.
The dirty details . . .
Hydration/Fuel Belt
I had decided to use my amphipod airstretch belt with two 10.5 oz bottles and two pouches. I could sip all the time, which is what I am used to, and only need to refill about every 5 miles. I could carry all my gels: 5 nasty clif chocolate gels, plus a pack of yummy strawberry clifbloks as insurance if I was too queasy to eat the gels, which happened once on that nasty hot 17 miler. Plus, of course, I had my inhaler, our hotel key card, some cash, Endurolyte electrolyte capsules, and my peppermint essential oil, and a tube of body glide. I was very happy with the belt, etc. Love that thing. It's the bomb. I think I did fine with fueling & hydration.
I also printed out a pace chart which I taped to my water bottles. I don't know that this is particularly useful, as once I was off by a few minutes, it's not like I'd have the energy to catch back up! My gGrmin was so accurate that I think I'd be just as well off to just rely on it if I don't have a pace group.
The People Who Made This Possible
I wanted to remind myself of some names during the race, and at first had thought I'd write their names on my hand. But, the list became too long for that, so I had decided to put the name of a person for each mile on my pace chart. I chose people who've meant something to me on this journey from couch to marathon. I ended up doubling up some of the miles because there were so many people. It is humbling to recognize how many people have helped me along this journey that had felt, for the most part, like a very solitary and soul-digging experience.
My family, of course, were critical: my three awe-inspiring kids, my dear, dead dad, my dear, living mom, my wise and inspiring athlete/coach/brother, my ever patient, sexy, and completely perfect husband who is nearly always up for whatever idiocy I propose.
(Someone was chatting with him at some point during the race about, "Why do you run?" and he answered, "Because my wife told me to." Gotta love a man with an IQ higher than 99.9% of the population who is still willing to go along with me in nearly everything. And, he's cute as hell. He cooks, too. And, no, you can't have him. He's taken.)
Anyway, my husband got the first mile and the last 0.2, as I knew the only way I could begin or finish anything important is with him by my side. I knew my family was the bomb, so I had dedicated each of those last miles to one of them, since I knew that was when I'd need someone the most. Thank goodness for that, as you will read later.
Also, the real-life running friends who have shared runs and some firsts and maybe even some lasts with me. Running with someone regularly opens the kind of instant-friendship not found easily outside of dorms and school halls. Perhaps it is the endorphins or the agony, or the need to pee in the dirt in semi-public, but running quickly tears down the boundaries that most of us grown-ups carry most of the rest of the time. Conversations rapidly broach topics that you hadn't talked about outside of a therapist's office in years. I love these women. You know who you are.
And the on-line running friends who listen to me whine and hope and dream incessantly about running stuff -- several of whom, from all over the U.S. and even around the world, had signed up to follow my real-time splits. I first thought of running because of some random mentions of Couch25k on a homeschooling board I use, and then I found a wonderful little group of online friends who were also c25k'ers and then c25k graduates. We share all our little trials and tribulations and victories and agonies. We don't "hide" eachother's newsfeeds because of incessant running talk. There, my endless running prattle is appreciated instead of dreaded. These are the only people I've ever met online who I actually think of as friends. I'd love to have them all over for a party and a trail run around my Double Bonkers Hill Loop. Damn thing is they are all over the world. Anyway, they are special people, and they have been invaluable supports to me in my little journey, and I truly enjoy being coconspirators with them on their own running journeys, too. You know who you are, and you also should know that any one of you who can make it to my little slice of heaven any time is welcome to a guided tour of my Double Bonkers Hill Loop and a cookout at my house, and more running the next day, and more food and fun, any time. I love you all, and I hope to actually meet some of you one day.
And, then the family doctor who, several years ago first suggested I lose a few pounds, maybe by running, as he was a runner and had even run marathons back when he had time. Even though I was only 20 # overweight, he was honest enough to tell me the truth that too many doctors never say: those health issues (high cholesterol mainly for me) might be helped if you lost those few pounds. It took me a couple years to listen, but I did, didn't I, Dr. M? The amazing PT who keeps healing me when I tie my body into knots. Without him, I'd never have gotten to my first HM, let alone my marathon.
The best friend from college days who had a near fatal cardiac arrest in her 20s while running -- just a couple years after her beloved only brother had actually had a fatal cardiac arrest while running -- and who now lives her life in a way that shines light through the fucking internet; she is so brilliant and beautiful. My dear friend who is always ready for a walk before, after, around running, and always encourages me in this devotion to my running thing that is not at all her thing -- who just is the kind of friend who makes my life better every time I see her just by being who she is.
So many people who have held me up, pushed me forward, and held my hand through these months. It is truly awe-inspiring to me that I have found so many beautiful souls to share my life with.
I was doing this damn thing alone, but I really was not really alone. I never am. None of us are.
The few days before
Thursday night, I could not sleep for beans. I had been doing a good job getting good rest for the prior two weeks, but my nerves got the best of me, and I got less than 4 hours of sleep, and had a busy work and kid day Friday. Friday night I slept OK, but not enough to make up for the deficit. So, I went into Saturday (before the Sunday race) dragging a bit.
The Expo
It was a bit overwhelming. I am not a big shopping mall kind of a gal (too many people and too much stuff), but if you like shopping malls, then an Expo is your nirvana, because it is like a shopping mall of 90% running stuff!
I did take the chance to look at some hydration back packs and just browse around. There are great discounts on running shoes! About 15-20% off retail on the newest models, so I was a bit sorry I have two pairs of nearly new shoes! We'd had enough browsing after an hour, and so we headed off to dinner (a boring but reliable meal of mostly carbs at an Olive Garden).
The Hotel
We chose a hotel right by the start. I splurged on it, and I was very glad for the location. It was awesome to be able to stay in our room (and own bathroom!) until 20 min before the start time. The Wyndham Grand wasn't a particularly fancy hotel (which it should be for what you pay for it), but it was acceptable and was a great location. I wish it had a bath tub in our room. And better temperature control -- it was hard to get it cool enough. And a fan in the bathroom. (Really!) Other than that, it was good. Nice bed. Clean. That's all we really needed.
Sleeping & Waking
Saturday night, I slept very poorly. My nerves were shot. I was terrified. I regretted ever deciding to do this thing. I wished I could have had a "do over" and skipped the entire idea. Really, truly. I am not exaggerating. At all.
My sweet husband slept constantly and snored loudly, but his easy slumber was deceptive. He was not sleeping peacefully either; he was having nightmares! Two of which woke me up. Between his nightmares and snoring and my nerves, I didn't sleep that much that night either. Possibly a few hours of very broken slumber.
By the time our alarms went off at 5:30, I was still tired, and now also nauseous. Presumably it was all nerves, but I was actually worried I would vomit. I managed to eat my planned pre-race meal of a banana, a handful of pretzels, and 20 oz of Gatorade. Then I settled in to wait 90 min while dressing, peeing, and otherwise getting ready to go. The 90 min window between last drink and last chance to pee worked great again to prevent any needs to stop on course to pee. I was happy to give the plentiful portapotties a skip.
The Start
Getting to the corral (the last one!) 15 min ahead of gun time was plenty early enough. Finding the 4:45 pacer was easy enough, and folks seemed friendly.
My husband stayed with me until we got to the actual start, so it was nice to be able to be with him all that time. It took nearly 20 minutes to get to the line from our place in the last corral!
He was capable of, and did earn, a much faster time than I could get, so we parted ways at the starting line.
(He got a 4:32:35 which I think is incredible for a first marathon, especially considering how short a time we've been running, and the heat, and that neither of us followed a very aggressive plan. Plus, he had some recent injuries, too. He is a natural! I am so proud of him!!!)
Then, we crossed the starting line!
Miles 0 - 6.2
First 10k. Official split: 1st 10K in 1:07:36 (10:53 mm pace)
These first 10k were right on pace. Following the pacer was extremely helpful, and I amazed to realize that my Garmin was very close to exactly right with the marked route, which it never has been on other races. That was helpful to know, especially later in the race when I lost the pacer (foreboding music starting now).
I felt pretty good. The pace felt comfortable. I was constantly nervous. I was getting really hot, and I thought about that, but I thought I'd be OK since I believed it would be in the 60s the whole race.
I focused on not running into folks and to keeping with my pacer. The crowds were intense, and I had to pay attention to avoid bonking into folks to keep up with my pacer. I also kept my eyes on the ground and on my feet, as I wanted to make sure I didn't slip and fall on a cup or something similar, as a friend had just slipped on a cup the day before in a half and had to DNF due to it! It made me especially aware of where I was stepping.
Miles 6.2 - 13.1
The next 6.9 miles. Official split: HM in 2:22:19 (10:51 mm pace)
I still felt good. I had anticipated "the big hill" in the 11-12th mile, and I had planned to slow the pace back a bit for that hill, so that I didn't lose my steam. Also, I knew I was already hot. Although I knew that "the big hill" (not really big, folks, get a grip, come visit me in the mountains) is more of a gopher mound compared to my favorite local hills, but I also knew that I didn't want to risk using up even a little extra juice just half way into the longest run of my life. So, I had planned to take it a bit easier than I needed to on the hill. I was trying to be conservative! When we were on the steepest part of the hill, and I dialed back my effort a bit, I realized that I could walk about as fast as I was running, and so I forced myself to go ahead and walk for those few minutes. I knew it made sense, and I soon recaptured my pacer, so I didn't lose time, but I hate to walk during runs, so that was a bit disheartening, as it was the first time I was admitting to myself during the race that I really needed to conserve energy because the heat was impacting me so much that I feared for the rest of the race.
Nonetheless, I made it over the hill, on to the flats, with the pacer, and all was relatively well. I was half way through, over the only big hill, and on pace.
Miles 13.1 - 20
The next 6.9 miles. Official split: 20MI in 3:54:54 (11:45 mm pace so far . . . but that works out to 13:28 mm for those 6.9 miles, so I slowed down by over 2 mm, largely due to a mile or more of walking.)
After the HM mark, I lost the pacer right soon. I am not sure how it happened, and I didn't lose them on purpose. I think I got distracted by water stops, and once I lost sight of the pacer, I didn't want to try to catch her, as I had no idea how far ahead she was. Then I lost hope of keeping that pace anyway, so I just let it go.
I started taking walking breaks around mile 15. At first they were short, a minute or so every half mile or so, then around mile 19, I really started falling apart. I walked for about a mile, right over the 20 mile mark. It was not encouraging.
Around then, I met a lovely fellow who I will call RedShirt since I never learned his name, and he was wearing a red shirt. (No relation to the RedShirt extras in the old Star Treks who are always killed off. My RedShirt is alive and well, so far as I know, and was not disposable, at all.) We had passed each other a few times during each of our run/walking intervals over the preceding miles, and I think he greeted me a couple miles back, and we'd since exchanged friendly greetings whenever we passed each other, joking that "I'll see you soon", whenever we trotted ahead, knowing full well that we'd be stopping again and the other would catch back up, as we were each doing similar irregular and suffering run/walk intervals. These were not the kind of planned run/walk intervals that Galloway fans recommend. No, these were the OhMyGodICan't walk intervals mixed with OhShitIfIDon'tRunItWillNeverFuckingEnd runs. We were sole mates. I think it might have been the first time we spoke when I pointed out that, "We have just 10 miles left! That's just a midweek run!" A couple miles later, I pointed out, "Just 7 miles left! That's a quickie run you squeeze in before work!" I was trying really hard to be positive.
Next time we met, we were both walking, and RedShirt complimented the cheerful colors of my outfit. I was wearing hot pink knee socks ($50+ CEP compression socks gift from my brother, and totally awesome), matching hot pink tech t-shirt, and turquoise compression shorts. And hot pink elastics in my pig tails. No one can say I can't color coordinate. I surely looked a lot better than I felt, and I probably looked like complete shit by that time, but I was quite noticeable anyway. No one would miss me if I were lying dead in the ditch. Anyhow, I told him, "Thanks. I feel like a fucking dying flamingo." Thus, we were bonded over dying fowl and foul weather. Match made in heaven.
I pointed out that with just 10k left, we had time to walk the rest of the way and still finish in under the 6 hour time limit. We were somewhat cheered by this consideration. I also offered that I had $40 cash, and I was pretty sure that would get us a cab back to the finish line. Later, I helpfully pointed out an ambulance that would surely give us a ride, but he said we'd have to fall down first, which we agreed would not be hard to manage. Despite my not-very-helpful suggestions, we soldiered on walking together for a mile or so. We discussed our histories, including his history of running this marathon last year, plus several half marathons, and that he was aiming for sub-4 hours, but the heat was killing him, and he'd been puking intermittently for hours at that point. We cooled a bit as we walked. I am very thankful for RedShirt for his company, and I hope he kicks some major ass at his next marathon.
Miles 20 - 26.2
The final 6.2 miles. Official split: FINISH: 5:21:08 (12:15 mm pace so far . . . that works out to 13:52 mm for the last 6.2 miles, so I slowed down even more, again due mostly to increased walking.)
Sometime in the 21st mile, I thought I could try running again, and RedShirt said he was ready, too, but he very soon decided his stomach couldn't handle it and had to go back to walking, and I went on ahead, assuring him that I'd surely see him soon. Alas, I never saw RedShirt again, as I managed to keep running for about 3 miles at that point.
Somewhere in that last 6 or 8 miles, some incredibly wonderful man had a bag of ice!! I was SO very, very happy about that ice. I took a double handful, rubbed it on my face, and then stuffed a handful in the front of my bra, right between the girls, and another handful in the back of the bra. The next mile while that ice slowly melted was infinitely better. If you are ever a spectator at a hot marathon, for God's sake, bring bags of ice. It was the best thing that happened to me during the race.
There were also several places the last 10 miles where folks had sprinklers out or hydrants spraying. I soaked down thoroughly at every opportunity. I sloshed several cups of water on my head and back every water stop. My feet were actually sloshing in my shoes by mile 20, and that worried me a bit, but they never did blister badly, so I guess no harm was done. I couldn't NOT get wet. I just had to have the little relief from the heat.
Mile 24 was my oldest daughter's mile, and I was happy to be thinking about my spectacularly amazing girl while I got to hear REM's It's the End of The World as We Know It early in her mile, which just so happens to be my one irresistible speedy song. Despite feeling unbelievably spent, I actually somehow still got a huge jolt from that song, and I ran fast for that half mile, passing loads of folks, and then kept on running for the rest of a mile or so. That was about the end of my energy, though. I pooped out, and started walking.
I walked for much of the end of miles 24 and then the beginning of mile 25. It was depressing, slow, and I felt like a failure. By that point, I really didn't give much of a damn about anything, other than just wishing to God that this was over. I guess my total walking distance then was a bit over a mile during those two miles, but I ran so slowly those last several miles that they were all very slow, even though I was running most of the time. I really wanted to cry many times during those last several miles. I thought about going ahead and letting the tears flow, but I thought that would be discouraging to the many sweet kids in the spectators, and, anyhow, it seemed like one more thing to worry about. I don't think I really decided not to cry, but maybe I was just too tired to cry.
There was a nasty dirt strip along the side of a shady underpass. As I walked by it, I thought about how wonderful it would be to lie down there in that nasty dirt in the shade.
After walking most of my son's mile (25), I figured I really had to pull it out and run some of his mile. It would be wrong to just give up his whole mile. He has a gentle heart like his dad, and a tough mind, also like his dad, and he deserved a mom who would pull her shit together and run, damn it. So, I pulled it out, and I ran the rest of his mile.
Then, my baby girl's mile came next. I had so little left in me, but I knew I wanted to run her mile, because she is all fire, and loves to run herself, and I just needed to run for her. I passed the 1-mile-to-the-end sign, and I started running again. I didn't stop again. So, I did manage to run a lot of my baby's mile, too. More than I thought possible.
My husband had the last 0.2 miles, and thinking of him pulled me to the finish line. And, just thanking God that it was ending pulled me to the finish line.
Finish Line, etc:
Anti-climatic gathering of medal, finding of husband at designated spot, near collapse in gratitude that I didn't have to walk any further than I had already to find him, and a rapid retreat to our thankfully nearby hotel. Washing, resting, then delicious dinner at 17th Street Cafe. (I highly recommend the roasted red pepper soup!) My husband and I are both sore and tired, but we appear uninjured. Recovery period is officially underway.
It was over. It was very hard. It was incredibly hard. It seemed too hard.
But, by late that night, I was googling "cold weather marathon".
And, now, a day later, I think I've found the site of my redemption:
Philadelphia. In November. Bring it on. I'll be back, 26.2. I'm not done with you yet.
Thanks to all who helped me get here. I love each of you.
Love, peace, and happy running, fellow travellers.
