AT&T Marathon Race Report [Entered 2/20/07]

Intro:

Ah, yes, the post-mortem. Marathons are tricky and occasionally frustrating beasts. I love all the long training runs with the Gazelles, the nifty schedule that looks so logical and exact (12 miler, 14 miler, easy week, 16 miler, etc.), and the general lifestyle of the endurance athlete. I even like the way that most of my non-running friends treat me when they ask about the latest training run or race, and I can say stuff like "Aw, we just ran 15 on Saturday." By that point in the training, it really does feel like a ho-hum thing, but it certainly is not to most of our friends and neighbors. Still, when Race Day arrives, some 5 to 6 months after starting your marathon specific training, it is with some trepidation that we toe the line. There's so much at stake, and unlike most race distances, you can't just do another one in a couple of weeks if this one doesn't work out for reasons under our control (bad pacing, bad diet, wearing brand new shoes) or not (weather, illness, getting trampled by a deer in the starting corral). So, after all this preamble, you're saying, "Get on with it! Just tell us what happened so we can go back to watching American Idol!" :-)

Sunday dawned clear and cold, exactly as Weather.com predicted. 35 glorious degrees when I peeked at the temp on weather TV. I got out of bed at 4:45am after a fairly sleepless night on Saturday, and pulled on my lucky PR racing clothing (gray BOA shorts, Gazelles singlet underneath, and red long-sleeved Gazelles shirt on top), plus other warmup type stuff for the time being. My properly broken-in Fila Providence III shoes (just 75 miles on them as of Race Morning) went on next, and I headed for the kitchen. I grabbed a bagel and a banana, some Powerade, a 12 ounce Accelerade, and my post-race Endurox, and headed for the door. The only warning sign at that point was that my weight was a pound lower than it was on Saturday morning. That's not what you want to see in the midst of carbo- and hydro-loading.

Despite my restless night of mostly non-sleep, I felt pretty wide awake on the drive down to the starting area. As I had thought, the traffic control folks had blocked the First Street exit way before the promised 6:00am closing time, so I went ahead with my driving plan and went south of the river to catch Barton Springs Road for my journey to parking. There were some lane narrowing issues, but I was able to get to the corner of Barton Springs and S. First without incident. From there, though, it appeared that there were serious traffic cone blockage issues to prevent me from going pretty much anywhere I wanted to park. I fooled them by driving through gaps in the cones (hey, it was 5:30am!), cutting through the One Texas Centre parking lot, and then skirting around the building to the side entrance to the parking deck, which neatly avoided the dude blocking the main parking deck entrance. I did take the precaution of parking in a spot that didn't have a number so that I was in less danger of being towed, but the garage was virtually empty.

Parking done, I finished off half of the bagel and the banana, and drank the rest of the Powerade. I took the Endurox and Accelerade, grabbed my gear bag, and headed for RunTex to meet up with the peeps. It was a nice walk, but I was getting keyed up a bit about the upcoming ordeal. I know that I appear to be fairly calm and low-key most of the time, but this was not one of those occasions. :-) The gang was gathering when I arrived, and it was nice to see my running friends. Alex looked really happy, but I'd say that pretty much everyone else had that look of guarded focus peculiar to the endurance athlete. Gilbert took a pretty big part of the crew off on a warmup jog, but a handful of us wanted to get our stuff to baggage claim way ahead of time instead, so we walked up to the starting area. Alex, Frank, Colleen, and Amy joined me in this mission. I was drinking my Accelerade a little at a time, to top off the tanks. We took advantage of some short facility lines, and then we pretty much got separated as we went from there to drop off our baggage way up at 3rd and Congress.

The pre-race organization was pretty good, really, but time starts doing weird things to you before a marathon, so I wasn't sure if I was moving quickly through all this pre-race hoo-hah or not. I found the DC baggage drop, and took a few minutes to strip off my warmup stuff, pin on my number, put on my lovely trashbag vest, load up my GU and Enervitene, and then I dropped off my bag. Free of all non-essential encumbrances, it was time to make my way to the starting crowds. I had the last little bit of my Accelerade on the way down to the bridge, and as I got there, the sun popped up. It was really a pretty morning, but it was soon going to be time to run, and we didn't have long to admire the sunrise.

I didn't see the 3:45 pace sign right away, so I camped out in the crowd probably 50 yards or more from the starting line, right by the 3:30 and 3:40 pace leaders. I figured the 3:45 peeps would find their way down pretty soon. I was standing around with Monique, Emily H., and Laura. Jennifer was apparently lined up with the 3:40 pace group, but I couldn't see her. By the way, thanks again for the great pre-race idea, Frank! :-) The 3:45 people settled in about 10 feet ahead of me, so I had my target sighted. Anyway, the fireworks went off behind us, which was pretty cool, and without an audible National Anthem or horn or anything else, we were moving. The race had started. Some walking, some stopping, some more walking, and finally we toed the starting mat. I clicked the Garmin, and we were off. I was some 3 minutes off the Gun Clock.

Early race:

It was seriously crowded as we headed down and then up S. Congress. I lost the 3:45 pacers in the crowd, but I kept them in sight at least ahead of me. I figured I'd just calmly get through that first big hill on S. Congress, and slowly catch up to the 3:45 folks over the easier miles that would follow. As usual, there were tons of folks who were massively out of touch with race etiquette, so I had to weave through mobs of walkers and much slower runners at the start. I guess they'll just never get a system here that takes care of that problem. Anyway, my first mile was fine, but I was pretty far behind the bobbing 3:45 sign up ahead. I sped up during mile 2, finding some clearer running room, maybe too fast, but by mile 2, I had caught up with the 3:45 pacers. I ditched the trash bag on S. First as we started downhill. There were lots of early music groups, but I didn't catch much of what they were doing in those first couple of miles. I took Powerade at the mile 2 water stop.

The first band I really heard was at Barton Springs and S. First. They broke into Buddy Holly's "Not Fade Away" as I passed them, which was pretty cool. I was doing that yo-yo thing a bit with the 3:45 people, but stayed within 30-40 feet of the sign. They did a subtle pace adjustment at the water stops, which was interesting to observe from behind them. Turn onto Lamar, down and up the underpass, and then into totally blinding sun on Fifth Street as we went east to Guadalupe. Even with a cap and sunglasses, I couldn't see anything. Finally, we turned onto Guadalupe with tons of spectators screaming at us going by. I felt pretty good, and just kept rolling along down Cesar Chavez. I took my first GU on schedule around mile 4, and I continued that alternating thing for most of the race. Powerade alone, and then 2 miles later, water and a GU. Rinse, repeat.

The course diverted from what I thought was the route slightly at Austin High School, but it wasn't a big deal, just interesting. There was a solo singer/guitarist at AHS singing a story song that involved a policeman, a guy, and either a picture of an old girlfriend or the actual girlfriend. I kinda wanted to know what happened, but I had a marathon to run. Bernard was standing just after the 6 mile mark handing out the Gazelles "Elite" bottles of Accelerade, which was really cool. I passed on that, but it was still pretty cool. Up the nasty little hill at Veterans, and then some more easy running down Lake Austin Blvd. So far, so good, all the way to Enfield. A rock band was playing "Breakdown" on Lake Austin. Was this foreshadowing?

Splits miles 1-7: 9:06, 8:19 (!), 8:27, 8:44, 8:27, 8:25, 8:42. Average pace 8:36, right on target.

The Hills:

Enfield commenced the rolling stuff and the seemingly relentless climb to the 18 mile point. We had some more sun issues on Enfield, but I stayed near the 3:45 group throughout this rolling part of the course. In the weird brain fog that I was in, it seemed that the hills had changed on Enfield from our training runs, but that was just a trick of the low sun and the tons of runners around me. Carrie was there for a second, but then she shifted to hang with her man. Once we turned onto Exposition, it got tougher. The half marathoners peeled off around mile 9.5 or so, and shortly thereafter, I think a priest blessed me with Holy Water from a tall ladder in the middle of Exposition. At least that's what I think he/she was doing. I didn't focus on who was doing the holy work, as I had my own work to do. With the crowds thinned just a little, I stayed in sight of the 3:45 group until mile 10 or so, but already I was a little out of sorts. Dennis passed me on one of the last hills. By the time I rolled up and over the Mopac bridge, I had lost the 3:45 folks for good.

I tried to find a good gear once the course levelled out on Jackson and Bull Creek, but it was sort of ominous already. Brian pulled up with me late in mile 13, and I sort of let him know, quietly, maybe telepathically, that I wasn't up to keeping up with him. By the time we had rolled down and up to Shoal Creek, he was gone ahead of me. The 3:50 people may have caught me by then, too, but I'm not sure. I had shifted to a new gear on Shoal Creek, and started calculating the pace necessary to repeat last year's 3:56:07, starting from where I was. It seemed to be a logical and makeable goal. At the time. Going backwards from the old marathon route, you got a real appreciation for how downhill the old course was. The new course was fair, but it was tougher than the old course(s). Oh, well. There was an unexpected sight at the water stop just before 2222 crossed Shoal Creek, when I saw the familiar Gazelles logo. Apparently, the Gazelles pitched in to cover two water stops, as I found out later. I got myself up White Rock to Great Northern, and commenced the first of three long straight stretches of road.

Splits miles 8-14: 8:35, 8:42, 8:48, 8:43, 8:58, 8:44, 8:56. Still okay, but it wasn't going as smoothly as I had planned. Average pace 8:41. Still on target for 3:50 or so, so I tried to hang in there.

The Abyss:

I was walking through the water stops by now, and at the second Gazelles water stop around mile 15, I loved the boost as they called out to me by name, but I was a little embarassed to be strolling by them. Yes, the internal psychological drama was starting to happen. I started heating up, so I busied myself with getting the safety pins ready to transfer the number to my singlet. Thought I'd give my shirt and gloves to Mary Anne and the kids if they were spectating at Northcross Mall as they had planned. The bagpipers were on Great Northern, and a band at the Gazelles water stop. I think he was just strumming his electric guitar when I went by. Lots of spectators again on the stretch behind Northcross, but no family. Oh, well. I held it together until I got past all those people, and then the urge to stop and walk overcame me. At the 17 mile marker, I started walking, and changed out of my long sleeved shirt, wrapping it in a neat tube and putting it around my waist. The gloves came off then, too, as my hands were really too warm by then. Bright sun, and in a singlet, at least, it was still perfect running weather. I just wasn't up to taking advantage of the conditions.

The long, straight stretch up Foster proved to be the toughest part of the whole race, mentally. For a mile or so, I mostly jogged gamely, with some walking, to the corner and the highest point on the race course. That long stretch was where I went through most of the list of stages of dealing with disappointment (anger, denial, acceptance, etc.), and I fought through some lumps in the throat and some burning in the eyes as well. Laura passed me on that street. I was totally bummed, and thought a lot about just stepping off the course and quitting the thing. I felt a lot of embarassment about letting down Gilbert and my fellow Gazelles, especially dressed in all my team clothes. I hated whatever weakness inside me that was causing this meltdown, but I didn't have enough energy to push through it. Finally, we reached the corner at Woodward and started a nice stretch that was built for gentle downhill running. However, I couldn't get going enough to enjoy it too much. I did some jogging interspersed with the walking, but it was slow going. I stopped taking GU at the mile 16/17 water stop, as it seemed silly to keep taking in carbs for what was becoming a nice recovery walk. I was done, and I had miles to go.

Splits miles 15-18: 9:28, 9:15, 10:17 (changing clothes), 9:37. Yuck. Average pace now 8:54. Maybe I could still salvage a sub 4:00?

Trudgery:

The 4:00 group passed me like I was standing still on the North Loop hills, and that pretty much ended my day. I couldn't accelerate enough to stay with them, and at that point, I broke for good. From that point on, it was a walk with some (very little) bits and stretches of jogging as I worked my way home. I wondered if I pulled off near Amy's house if I could find her house key and get Mary Anne to come and get me. That thought went away, but it did happen. The ClifShot Zone was sort of a grumpy blur. Leslie came by, happy and cruising, and tried to get me to go with her, but I just waved her on. She really tried, and I appreciate it, but it just wasn't happening today. I was in that mode of jogging the downhills and walking the uphills.

Avenue H was fun, if I had been running. There were lots of neighbors out to cheer us on. There was a graphic poster at one house that startled me, comparing running to, uh, something I hadn't considered comparing running to, which made me laugh. Across the street, there was a boombox playing "Chariots of Fire," which I haven't heard in a while. At least I laughed about it with some spectators when I muttered that the Chariots song was perfect because I was moving in slow motion just like that sequence in the movie. They got a good laugh about that. Just doing what I could to entertain the crowd. This was about when I started contemplating skipping this race next year (I've done 5 in a row, now), and thinking about attending next year's event as either on-course entertainment or some other volunteer/cheerleader role. I had plenty of time, so I started working up a list of songs and song types that I'd like to hear on the run.

Red River came soon enough, and I was in serious countdown mode. I started calculating, and I figured I had a good shot at 4:10 if I maintained my current pace. At least I had a goal now. There were familiar faces cheering along Red River closer to 38th, but I was sort of trying to become invisible. I'm sure I was a vision...shoulders slumped, pride visibly wounded. I started noticing, though, that I wasn't the only one reduced to this shuffle. That started reviving me a little, and as we passed mile 23, I thought maybe I could suck it up a little for "just 5K."

Splits miles 19-23: 10:07, 11:19, 11:38, 11:39, 12:02. Thank God I'm a pretty fast walker! Average pace slipping, slipping, slipping into the ugly...to 9:26.

Angels and Friends:

The nasty little down and up on 38th wasn't a huge bit of fun, but I was jogging a little more now, since I was getting closer to being finished with this long day. After getting up the hill to Duval, I started doing some better and more organized jogging interspersed with walks, aiming to be more mobile when I passed by the water stop at mile 24 where Sean would be working. As I eased back into a walk at the water stop to get my last fluids for the big finish, Sean spotted me. I was going to wave him off, but he wasn't going to listen to me. He was on a mission. He literally dropped his water cups that he was supposed to be handing out, and ran slowly along with me, matching my meager strides, in his full volunteer regalia, reflective vest and all. Debbie, Jorge, Patrick, and Liliana were yelling for me like I was one of the lead Kenyans. I got all verklempt. Patrick offered to call Mary Anne for me after I asked, but we couldn't get her phone to answer. Thanks anyway, Patrick! Sean ran with me for a while, talking to me and getting my mind off my unhappiness. He even gave me five reasons in answer to my question "Why do we do these things?" God bless him and my Gazelles friends! He finally peeled off at the UT campus, and I was surprised to find that I ran maybe a half mile with his help. Awesome, really, considering how things had been going. I jogged a little while longer, and then had to walk again. At least in those last miles, I was trying to do a little more running.

Miles 24 and 25: 10:52, 10:50. Time for whatever would pass for a big finish! Average slumped to 9:33.

The Big Finish:

I tried to figure out just what the 40K sign meant to me, in terms of remaining distance, but I just wasn't up to it. I guessed it was about 2K to go. That hill going up to the Bob Bullock museum wasn't too bad, really, and I kinda got it going up to the Capitol. If Gilbert was going to be out on the course, it was going to be sometime soon, and I really wanted to be running when I went by him. Even at my survival shuffle pace, I was passing people, which helped my mental state a bit. I passed up the Harriers beer stop, but I was tempted.

Gilbert was concerned for us, I think, as his face was in deep concentration as I went by. He was telling his photographer who to take pictures of as we came up to the Capitol. I'm thankful that I was running the whole time Gilbert saw me! I may have said something to him like, "I'm okay, but it's been a tough day," but I'm not sure exactly if that was just in my head or if I actually said it. Late-Marathon Psychosis, perhaps. Anyway, it was sort of lonely around the Capitol and down that steep drive, but as soon as I hit Congress, it was massive wall-to-wall spectators for those 7 blocks to the finish. It was a lot like when you come off the Queensboro Bridge in NYC, and you make a couple of turns in silence, and suddenly you pop out on First Avenue (or is it Fifth?) in Manhattan and the sound of the crowds is like a jet engine.

Anyway, I started counting down blocks to the finish line. Right at the top at 11th, seven blocks to go. Some ladies/girls were struggling ahead of me, and as I passed them, I told them, "six blocks to go," and they said, "Are you sure?" After you get lied to so often on the course ("It's all downhill from here" is my favorite), you have trouble believing anyone, even fellow runners. 10th Street, 6 blocks to go. Ninth Street, and I could sort of make out the finish structure way ahead. The gap in the street for the runners seemed to be narrowing, as spectators crowded along the sides and screamed. Surreal. Eighth Street, 4 blocks to go. Seventh Street, I looked up to the SFA Hotel to see if I could spot Mary Anne and the kids, and found them pretty quickly. They saw me, too, which was lucky because I'm sure they were looking for the promised red shirt. That boosted my spirits, and probably calmed down Sarah, who was worried about her Daddy. Right in there, I saw Stephanie Stanford, walking up the course, and that was fun.

Then, suddenly out of nowhere, Richard appeared beside me, jogging along, and just told me something like "You're looking good!" and then, more clearly in my memory, he pointed to the three people nearest and ahead of me, and shouted "Go pass them!" Dammit, now I had to run harder! Okay, Richard, here I go! Sixth Street, 2 blocks to go. I caught and passed two of the people, and was running down the next. Rumbling, stumbling... Fifth Street. One thin block to go. I saw the Mile 13 marker for the Half Marathon. I caught one more person, then one more in the stretch, and finally...Fourth Street, the finish line, and I was finished with this thing! Sheepishly, I put up my arms, and after a few steps, I punched the stop button on the watch. 4:10 and change.

Splits last 1.22 miles: 11:40 (9:34/mile pace for my "killer sprint"). 4:10:28. 9:35/mile.

Post-race:

I got my medal, and once again, the Austin medals are really nice, polished, heavy slabs of nickel or some such metal. First class medals, for sure. I started sucking down that first bottle of water, and kept moving through the finishing chute.

I saw Lisa right away, and she was terrific. She was there after running Laura in, I think, or Emily H. I forget now. But she really took care of me, and sort of aimed me towards Venus after I got my baggage. Saw Leslie, found Venus and settled down with her. She was getting her bearings back after a tough day for her as well. I was just tired of being on my feet. I got my food stuff first and then I sat down carefully, and started putting clothes on to keep from getting chilled, and drank down my Endurox. I saw Monique and Emily H., who both did better than I did. Emily qualified for Boston (of course), and I found out that Jennifer had run under 3:50 again. Those women are tough! I hung out there for a while and drank the Endurox while I waited for Venus to stop spinning (inside. She wasn't doing a whirling dervish thing.). I called Mary Anne finally, and told her I'd meet them at the DC room in a while.

After I got my nice red DC finishers shirt, I gathered up Venus, and we headed out of the hubbub. We spotted Ron, our massage guy, and he helped me sort of babble about the post-mortem of a bad run. Getting out of the runners area was very difficult. The spectators were crammed around the exit, which didn't leave anywhere for us to go trying to get out of the finisher's paddock. Finally, a stout volunteer realized what was happening, and started shouting at the specators to back up and leave us room to leave. Ron, Venus and Lisa laughed and said it was like being Rock Stars getting through the papparazzi. Venus and I headed up for a nice walk up to the SFA to visit the DC party and to get our DC finishers' swag. Since I had had so long to think about the day during the run, I was pretty much over any sadness or anger, and the walk up to the SFA was actually very pleasant.

I saw a bunch of folks at the DC room. Teri, one of my ex-Galloway peeps, was sort of the hall monitor at the first landing of the stairs. That was fun to see her. The DC setup was nice. Plenty of food that I didn't want, but the bartender hooked me up with a Dr. Pepper, and that was awesome. My family was relieved to see me when I finally got up there, and we spent some time chatting and reassuring them that I was disappointed but okay, physically. I hung out and chatted with the DC folks that I knew, and did a tiny bit of stretching as I sat on the floor. Mary Anne and the kids left after a while, and I left about 15 minutes after them. Venus stayed there to chill out a little longer, so I took another nice walk down to One Texas Centre to get the car, and I was done with the day.

The DC Finisher's stuff was pretty nice, by the way. Another backpack contained stuff from the sponsors of all the other DC races, including a cap from ARA (the 20 miler), a water bottle, and a nice little fleece blanket from 3M. Plus, I could cram my remaining post-race baggage into it for the walk to the car. Nice!

Mangia:

After a long practice with the classical guitar ensemble, I shook loose to meet Brad, Alex, and Frank at Mangia. We kept one eye on the Daytona 500, and offered up our stories of the day. It was nice to finish decompressing about the race with my Gazelles buddies. The pizza was deep dish Carnivore as usual, and it was great. The Live Oak Big Bark beer was quite tasty. After quite a stay there, we happily drifted out to head home, and the long long day was done.

What Happened?

Well, it's probably a combination of a bunch of things, but right now, I know that I messed up with my pre-race hydration and carbo-loading. It's time to do some serious work on that process, so that I don't find myself running out of gas on these longest races. I'm sure that a lot of other things were a problem, too. I won't make any pronouncements that I'm going to try to lose 20 pounds, increase my weekly mileage to 70, or start going to the gym 5 days a week, but I do need to make slight adjustments to almost everything in the running chain of causation. This running life is all about the Journey, and to get to the goals that are out there for me, I have to make sure that days like Sunday don't derail me from enjoying that journey. Running is supposed to be fun, among other things, and as long as I keep that uppermost in my mind, all the rest of the stuff will work itself out. I have a great coach, a great team of running partners, a supportive and loving family, and I'm not injured. Time to let this day pass into memory and look ahead, not backwards.