Goals
I bounced around a LOT on these before race day. Coming into Sunday with a bit of a bum hip (it wasn't as tight/bad on Saturday's 2mi shakeout as Thursday, but it definitely still hurt), I readjusted my goals a bit.
90% Goal: 4:30
50% Goal: 4:20
10% Goal: 4:10
Pre-Race
I had my usual pre-long-run dinner of pasta on Saturday night, watched Spirit of the Marathon, and laid out my gear. Sleep went well, and I woke up a little before my 5am alarm. I wasn't really hungry, but knew I needed to get something in me before the race and downed a bit of water, slice of banana bread (something new on race day #1), and a few handfuls of Cheerios.
 |
| Flat Angelina, ready to go! weird quirk: I wear two right socks when I race- it started at Flying Pig by mistake, and has pretty much been a thing for major races ever since |
Weather was mild, but I still put on some donatable warm-up gear, including a t-shirt, ATC recovery jacket, and my thrift shop pants for Flying Pig (it was too warm to wear them for that race, and I loved the idea of carrying something over from my first marathon to my second). We met up with Judy and Michele, who were also staying at our hotel, and took the L down to Grant Park.
 |
| Marathoners Ready! |
I'd planned a spot for a group pic that, according to all the start area maps published, was NOT inside the runner-only security gates.... it was. D'oh. So, Jerry and I frantically re-sent messages to everyone telling them to meet outside Gate 2 instead.
Brandi and I gave each
other one last hug and then headed off to our respective corrals. Unlike other
races, she wasn’t allowed to drop back a corral to start with me. I met up with
a few other ATC runners at the 4:25 pacer, and we waited together for the gun
to go off.
Race
I wanted to start a
little ahead of the 4:25 pace group so that I would truly be between the 4:10
and 4:25 pacers, like I’d told Jerry. Being ahead of them, too, would give me
one last safety net if I saw them come through and could just hang on to cross
the finish with them. At least then I’d finish under 4:30.
Start – Mile 3.1
I ended up running by
myself for the first while, though I had Harley and Judy (other ATC runners)
that I saw on occasion. I think the biggest shock was that, during the first
mile of the race, about a dozen male runners ran to the shoulder of the road as
we ran an underpass, faced the wall, yanked down their shorts, and let nature
call. I was NOT expecting that.
Harley, who’d run
Chicago before, reminded me in our start corral that watch GPS is pretty
unreliable through the first few miles due to skyscrapers. I turned the autolap
feature off of my watch and decided to manual lap as I passed each mile marker,
and let lap splits be my guide. I wanted to run comfortably, but not too hard,
just fast enough to get to the finish line as quickly as I could without
completely feeling it.
The course offered
timing mats every 5K to help spectators locate runners. I finished my first 5K
in just under 30min, which was awesome, and a bit unexpected. “Okay,” I told
myself, “you’re over 10% done with the course. Do that nine more times, and you’ll
be beyond done.” This mental “dividing the course into manageable segments” was
essential for me.
Mile 3.1- 10K
I zoned out for the next
5K, just running alone in the crowd, hearing the background noise of the 1.7 million
spectators’ on-course. I know we crossed a few bridges, and was surprised at
how uncomfortable running on the metal grating deck was (probably due to my
minimal shoes). After the first bascule leaf, I transitioned over to run on the
carpeted half of the bridges.
At the 10K point, we
were running through a park, and I was feeling good. I felt even better when I
realized I’d hit the 10K in an HOUR. Holy Stromboli. I was making GREAT time.
Could I actually keep this pace? It was at that point where one of the
spectator/volunteer people called out “your race, your pace”, as a most timely
reminder. Whatever I was running, I just had to remember to keep it
comfortable. There were twenty miles to go….
10K – Half Marathon
From 10K until the half
marathon point, I remember looking at the skyline in the horizon, something I’d
been warned against from some veteran Chicago marathoners. Why? Because IT
NEVER CHANGES. Those buildings are ALWAYS in the distance, and it makes you
feel like you haven’t made ANY progress. Fortunately, I got distracted by a
Peachtree Rex sighting and went back to checking off minutes on my watch before
I went mad.
 |
| how can you not love this? |
Around the half point, I
saw Judy a bit ahead of me (how did she and Harley get so far up?!?). We ran a
bit together, cheering each other on, which was nice. As we neared the half
marathon point, though, I started doing mental math. I was running well, but,
if I wanted to actually hit that “PR by an hour” goal, I needed to hit 2:07:44
at the half. I hit it in 2:08:00. Ugh. I was far enough off that I wasn’t going
to make it without effort, but not so far off that I could say, “welp, better
luck next time, and take it easy”.
Miles 13-14
So… I tried to push the
pace a bit and go for a negative split. Knowing that I was already over halfway
to the end helped, and I was able to pick up the pace… but only for a short
while. By the time I saw an “(only) 12.5 miles to go!” sign, I was approaching
a mental wall.
Mile 15
“I’m so over this. I
want to walk. I want to be done. How much further?” I was surprised these thoughts came into my head so early, but
they did. I finally saw a group of port-a-potties without a line at the next aid
station, and decided to take advantage of that to clear my head (especially
since I’d been wanting a bathroom since mile 8, but didn’t want to wait in the
4+ man lines I’d seen—who knows how long of a dump some of those people were
going to have….). Well, I’m not sure my gamble paid off since I ended up
waiting almost two minutes for one of the doors to open. I was in and out
myself in less than 30s, and back on the road.
Miles 16-17
These were my biggest
struggle of the course. I felt a little defeated that I was feeling defeated
with over ten miles to go. After all, hadn’t I done runs over this distance
EVERY SINGLE WEEKEND for the past couple of months without any trouble? What
was happening to me? I decided that I needed every second, and re-dedicated my
efforts to following the spray-painted blue line on the course that marked the
tangents/shortest route from the start to the finish.
Mile 19 may have come early for me...
Mile 18
Someone tapped me on the
shoulder and said, “hey there, stranger”. I turned my head and was both
surprised and elated to see Harley! What a great pick-me-up he was. I was
feeling miserable, and he reminded me we were in the single digit countdown
now. That helped. So did seeing Peachtree Rex again around the next corner.
Mile 19
“Just get to 20. Just
get to 20.” “I hate everything.” “I’m NEVER doing this again.”
Mile 20
This mile involved more
mental math. I hit at 3:17:38, and had a 10K to go. I needed under an hour (and
pretty close to my 10K PR) if I was going to break 4:15, and that wasn’t
happening. I had 1:12, though, to hit 4:30. Barring any madness, I was going to
do it.
…and then I thought
about breaking 4:20, and realized that, if I kept focus, I could do that. A
time that began with “4:1X:XX” was soooo much better than a time that began
with “4:2X:XX”.
 |
| kind of a cool course map |
Miles 21-22
These miles sucked. Lots
of sun, a bit of a dead highway with a slight incline (just enough to make
people around me start walking and me WISH I were walking). If I’d believe I
could have resumed running the pace I needed to after stopping to walk, I might’ve
just done it, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to get back to it if I stopped at
all, so I persevered. I was constantly repeating the “just run one mile… and
then do it again” mantra in my head, watching my watch tick the seconds and
minutes away, knowing that a lap split of 4:30ish meant I was around halfway
through the mile, and could start thinking about being closer to being done
than I was to the end of the previous mile.
I’m really proud of my mental fortitude here, especially in mile 22.
Mile 22 was the worst (I may have said that about every mile from 15 to 25, though), but I had to get through it to hit 23 and begin:
The Last 5K (well, 5K + 0.1)
My watch clicked 3:47:28
as I crossed the 23rd mile marker; I had a little over half an hour
to get through the next 3.2 miles. I started to pick it up. After seeing split
upon split around or over a 10:00 for the past hour, I finally saw one in the
high 9s.
Mile 24 felt like a
death march. All around me, people were walking, or at least dropping like
flies to a slow jog. It was hard to stay on the tangents here, but it didn’t
matter much since it was mostly a straight shot. I kept telling myself that,
after this, I only had one more mile to go, and then that 0.2. Then, after
that, I’d be done.
At mile marker 25, I hit
4:07:05. There was a chance I could pull out an 8min mile for the last bit, but
that 0.2 solidified the fact that I was NOT going to hit 4:15. I pushed
anyways, wanting whatever my body would give me as my final finish time.
…and then it happened. I
felt something in my left leg, on my inner thigh. It was a weird sort of spasm,
that I can only imagine was some sort of muscle cramp starting up.
Nononononononononono. NOT when I’m this close. NOT when I can finish so strong.
I’ve waited the entire race to get here and kick.
I tried adjusting my
stride- shorter, longer, whatever- to help. I tried breathing through it.
Somehow, it went away, and then I saw the “one mile to go” sign.
 |
| Four laps of the track. One last mile repeat. Let’s do this. |
I pushed. I passed so
many people in that last mile, around that final turn and its throng of
cheering spectators, and up the lone hill on the course, “Mount Roosevelt”. It
felt good to have a hill after so much flat. I could see the finish line, and I
felt SO STRONG.
Everything hurt. My back
hurt. My feet hurt. My glutes hurt. My calves hurt. My hips, my pelvis, and
that awkward spot on my left inner thigh. It didn’t matter, though, because I
was about to cross the finish line of a marathon.
They had 800m, 400m,
200m, and 100m flags, calling off the distance to the finish line.
Go go go go go. This is
it. You’re about to be done. Finish.
I crossed at 4:17:43,
and could not have been prouder of myself.
Post-race reflections and such coming later this week. Stay tuned.
No comments:
Post a Comment