Pace Is the Trick

I had three goals in mind when attempting this past Sunday's Cape Cod Marathon:

1. Optimistic: Finish under 4 hours.
2. I'd be pleased: Finish under 4:30.
3. Realistic: Because of my recent injuries, simply to finish upright and not have to bail and take the van back to the start.

So Sunday I woke up at 5:30 to the sound of very heavy rain and winds. Updated forecasts called for the Falmouth, MA area to clear up in the early morning. I could only hope as I downed a glass of water and a Pop-Tart and got ready. At 6am we drove down to Falmouth, a 1.5 hour drive from where we were staying. Along the way I picked up a coffee at race sponsor Dunkin' Donuts and ate half a banana. Got lost for a few minutes. As we approached Falmouth, either it had never rained as much as Eastham, or it had cleared much earlier--it was cloudy but the rain was gone. Whew!

We arrived at the highschool that was the race headquarters with 45 minutes to race time. I stretched out and walked over to the starting line. There were 1200 marathon participants and another 200 relay team members. And at 8:30, we were off.

I felt really good at the start and tried to keep from going out too fast. I felt like I was running slower than usual, but the 1mi. mark had me at just under 9 minutes, which was my training speed for mid-distances. A couple of ladies in front of me looked much more experienced and so were probably better paced, so I decided to just run with them. I knew I could do the first half at 9 minute miles, minimally. Ends up they were from Palo Alto CA, near my hometown of San Jose. That was a nice coincidence.

I was warned that the back half of the race was very hilly, and was prepared to slow down during it. I was not prepared for the first half to have many long, gradual uphills as well. As we rounded the coast, the beach was misty, and the views were fantastic the whole way. This race was counted as one of the top 10 most scenic marathons in the country by some racing magazine or other. I believe it. The fall colors were a great distraction.

At mile 10 I had to hit a port-a-potty so lost my Palo Alto pace-runners, but I still felt fantastic--my knee showed no sign of bothering me yet. I passed the half at 1:57, basically the same pace I did my half-marathon last year, but with 2 minutes of restroom time out. I was pleased. Had the race been flat, I might've made it just after 4 hours, maybe 4:10. But the "real" hills began just after the half. Until mile 13 the course was thoroughly enjoyable. After, the work began. Around mile 15, a guy behind me wretched something horrible. I didn't turn back to look.

The "rolling" hills rolled on until mile 21 or so. By around mile 16 I could tell they were really taking it out of me. I took to running maybe half way up, then walking the crests of each hill. I took particular care to maintain good running form--a main focus of my post-injury training.

I kept my thoughts positive as much as possible, though the pain was dominating. I thought about what finishing would feel like, but I would not know until later that mile 22 would be my top-of-the-mountain moment. I was thoroughly exhausted from the hills, and was walking the crest of one of the last rises. The sun had just broken out and it was a very nice clear day. On my left, a very nice lighthouse, on the right, waves crashing on the rocky coast. At the top, a man was playing a bagpipe. This was funny at first; I think of two things when I hear bagpipes: first, I think of cats being shoved into meat grinders, then I think of funerals. I felt like the first and ready for the second! Still, as I rounded the lighthouse it all coalesced into an amazing moment of clarity, one of those sublime moments where all is right with the world. My Scientologist friends would call it a state of being "clear," if I had any Scientologist friends. After savoring it for a minute or two, I dove back into the final leg of the race.

Those last 4 miles were just surviving, and were broken up into sections of alternating brisk walking and more jogging, as I developed a stitch in my side. My knee never reared its ugly head. As I picked up for a last push into the finishing area and crossed the finish line, I realized that finishing wasn't the best part. I was too exhausted to bask in it.

L: 8:15am, still waking up C: about mile 16 or so, still alive R: 1pm, ready for bed again

I finished the race in 4:27, spent the next half hour cooling down, stretching, and trying to stave off post-race nausea, then showered and tried as best I could to return to homeostasis. It was very difficult to eat for a couple hours but I managed some bread and a little complimentary clam chowder.

Thanks for your patience in reading about this running stuff. It's time for a week off of running. If you missed some entries and want to read back, click the "running" link at the bottom of this post.