NYCM: 3:45:06
It started out as such a beautiful day. What the hell happened?
For those who remember, my 1999 NYCM was a series of very long lines, hours long in fact, and a hideous main event, summed up by the first 8 miles in which I felt as though I was running in a closet. People, slow people, were everywhere.
This year was much different. The expo was a delight. No 3 hour wait just to get in. Lots of good gear. Loads of fun.
The line for the buses to Staten Island were still horrible, but it was race morning and everyone was having fun. My bus, as well as an ass-load of other buses, took nearly 2 hours to reach the start area, for reasons still unknown. But even that was fine. I was warm and seated, chatting with an orthopedic surgeon who had just returned from Iraq.
I got to the tent just in time to find my training buddies packing up and heading to the gear drop. So no 3 hours shivering, urinating, and shivering some more.
My number got me into the 3:15 pace group, and my starting position was no more than 30 seconds from the line. Perfect! I was surrounded by people who were planning to go faster than I was.
The first 14 miles went smoothly, I was right on pace, and had lost less time in the first two miles than I had planned. Miles 15 and 16 are all about the Queens Borough Bridge. This monster is long and tall. It seems to go up forever, but then down not nearly as much. But I was mentally prepared for it and I managed it ok.
The turn onto First Avenue was great. The crowd was huge and loud, but I maintained my pace, resisting the urge to go faster for “my fans”. Besides, according to the course elevation profile, this was a gentle downhill until mile 20 or so, right? Uh, no. As I looked ahead, I was also looking up. This damn thing is a long, long gradual up hill. I had survived the bridge it great shape, but I wasn’t ready for this. My buddy Marty warned me, but I thought he had meant Fifth Avenue. And it seemed to be getting hotter. It was. By noon the temp was above 70. Still, I chugged on.
Around mile 18 I saw a young, fit woman already in the throes of the zombie walk, her mind delirious and her limbs failing her. Her body was overheating. I saw another 4 or 5 people on the ground the rest of the way in various states of rescue.
I managed to keep moving pretty well despite the heat and the grade, but my 3:20 was slipping away. Finally, the bridges at the 20 and 21 mile marks took their toll. My legs were shot, and worse, my heads had gone from tingly to numb. I’d hit every water stop. I’d Gu’d up at 6, 10, 14, 18 (and eventually 22) but it still wasn’t enough.
Starting around 21, with my goal gone, and now just hoping for a moral victory, I was in a heated argument with myself. My mind and body wanted to stop. They wanted to stop really bad. My only defense was shouting aloud “No!” This worked until I saw the obscene hill at mile 23. I saw the river of runners going up it. I could see the ugly hump on the course profile that I’d studied. I tried to tell myself that walking now was giving up. But at that point, I wasn’t giving up much. This hill, and the thought of climbing it with my failing body, broke me.
I don’t know how far I walked, but apparently I walked very slowly for quite some time. I recorded my slowest every split for any race; 14:28 for mile 24. Then a guy ran by me and said “It hurts more to walk than it does to run.” And that snapped me awake. I only then realized that I was moving very slowly, so I picked up the pace to a more brisk walk. Then I tried to run again. I made one stride with each leg, each bringing on vice-grip cramps in my quads and calves. Not a good idea. Still, I was determined to move as fast as I could with what I had left. The rest of the distance I resorted to a baby-step shuffle until the cramps in my calves made that impossible. Then I’d transition to a brisk walk until the cramps subsided. Miles 25 and 26 were 11:49 and 10:58. Hardly what I had hoped, but that was what I had.
In the recovery area, I felt like I was in really bad shape. I didn’t want to embarrass myself further by asking a medic if I looked bad, but I was concerned. So, I kept making eye contact as I passed the red-shirts, thinking that if I looked too bad, they’d pull me aside. But within 10 minutes I had had a packet of salt and lots of water. The breeze chilled me if I didn’t keep my space blanket pulled tight.
I stepped into the medical tent to get some Vaseline and gauze for a chafed member, and the place was packed, overflowing onto the shady lawn. On my way out of the park, just a few yards from the exit, a man went down. He was looking really bad. Thankfully he didn’t make it to the exit where help would have been less available.
Lessons learned is all that I have to show for yet another marathon. I know I should have adjusted my pace for the coming heat. I accept that I went for my goal despite yet unexplained sluggishness in my final 3 weeks of training. I made the choice to go for it knowing that it was a risk. But I’m fine with trying and missing. Much more fine that I would have been with pulling back and doing the smart thing. If/When I get to Boston, those decisions will be much easier. I won’t be faced with the prospect of passing up a chance to qualify.
So many things have to go right for a good marathon. I need to be better prepared physically. I trained very well this time, but I should have noticed that the fact that it seemed easy was a sign that I wasn’t training hard enough. The runs usually weren’t a challenge; it was getting up early that proved the most difficult. Next time I need to push myself harder on the quality days. On the long runs, I need to feel those heavy legs. It is better to have long runs that go past 3 hours then it is to press the last few miles. I also need to investigate why I peaked so early. My 30 K was stellar compared to this race, and that was with no base and no taper.
My biggest disappointment is the break. I wasn’t strong enough mentally or emotionally to survive the final push. Had I not started walking, I might have saved 7 or more minutes. In hindsight, I’ve struggled with those small breaks off and on for a few years. Racing more, getting that edge, will help with that.
As usual, I told myself that this would be my last try. I simply wasn’t meant to run marathons. But I’d like to think that there is one day in the zone out there for me when it will all come together.
For those who remember, my 1999 NYCM was a series of very long lines, hours long in fact, and a hideous main event, summed up by the first 8 miles in which I felt as though I was running in a closet. People, slow people, were everywhere.
This year was much different. The expo was a delight. No 3 hour wait just to get in. Lots of good gear. Loads of fun.
The line for the buses to Staten Island were still horrible, but it was race morning and everyone was having fun. My bus, as well as an ass-load of other buses, took nearly 2 hours to reach the start area, for reasons still unknown. But even that was fine. I was warm and seated, chatting with an orthopedic surgeon who had just returned from Iraq.
I got to the tent just in time to find my training buddies packing up and heading to the gear drop. So no 3 hours shivering, urinating, and shivering some more.
My number got me into the 3:15 pace group, and my starting position was no more than 30 seconds from the line. Perfect! I was surrounded by people who were planning to go faster than I was.
The first 14 miles went smoothly, I was right on pace, and had lost less time in the first two miles than I had planned. Miles 15 and 16 are all about the Queens Borough Bridge. This monster is long and tall. It seems to go up forever, but then down not nearly as much. But I was mentally prepared for it and I managed it ok.
The turn onto First Avenue was great. The crowd was huge and loud, but I maintained my pace, resisting the urge to go faster for “my fans”. Besides, according to the course elevation profile, this was a gentle downhill until mile 20 or so, right? Uh, no. As I looked ahead, I was also looking up. This damn thing is a long, long gradual up hill. I had survived the bridge it great shape, but I wasn’t ready for this. My buddy Marty warned me, but I thought he had meant Fifth Avenue. And it seemed to be getting hotter. It was. By noon the temp was above 70. Still, I chugged on.
Around mile 18 I saw a young, fit woman already in the throes of the zombie walk, her mind delirious and her limbs failing her. Her body was overheating. I saw another 4 or 5 people on the ground the rest of the way in various states of rescue.
I managed to keep moving pretty well despite the heat and the grade, but my 3:20 was slipping away. Finally, the bridges at the 20 and 21 mile marks took their toll. My legs were shot, and worse, my heads had gone from tingly to numb. I’d hit every water stop. I’d Gu’d up at 6, 10, 14, 18 (and eventually 22) but it still wasn’t enough.
Starting around 21, with my goal gone, and now just hoping for a moral victory, I was in a heated argument with myself. My mind and body wanted to stop. They wanted to stop really bad. My only defense was shouting aloud “No!” This worked until I saw the obscene hill at mile 23. I saw the river of runners going up it. I could see the ugly hump on the course profile that I’d studied. I tried to tell myself that walking now was giving up. But at that point, I wasn’t giving up much. This hill, and the thought of climbing it with my failing body, broke me.
I don’t know how far I walked, but apparently I walked very slowly for quite some time. I recorded my slowest every split for any race; 14:28 for mile 24. Then a guy ran by me and said “It hurts more to walk than it does to run.” And that snapped me awake. I only then realized that I was moving very slowly, so I picked up the pace to a more brisk walk. Then I tried to run again. I made one stride with each leg, each bringing on vice-grip cramps in my quads and calves. Not a good idea. Still, I was determined to move as fast as I could with what I had left. The rest of the distance I resorted to a baby-step shuffle until the cramps in my calves made that impossible. Then I’d transition to a brisk walk until the cramps subsided. Miles 25 and 26 were 11:49 and 10:58. Hardly what I had hoped, but that was what I had.
In the recovery area, I felt like I was in really bad shape. I didn’t want to embarrass myself further by asking a medic if I looked bad, but I was concerned. So, I kept making eye contact as I passed the red-shirts, thinking that if I looked too bad, they’d pull me aside. But within 10 minutes I had had a packet of salt and lots of water. The breeze chilled me if I didn’t keep my space blanket pulled tight.
I stepped into the medical tent to get some Vaseline and gauze for a chafed member, and the place was packed, overflowing onto the shady lawn. On my way out of the park, just a few yards from the exit, a man went down. He was looking really bad. Thankfully he didn’t make it to the exit where help would have been less available.
Lessons learned is all that I have to show for yet another marathon. I know I should have adjusted my pace for the coming heat. I accept that I went for my goal despite yet unexplained sluggishness in my final 3 weeks of training. I made the choice to go for it knowing that it was a risk. But I’m fine with trying and missing. Much more fine that I would have been with pulling back and doing the smart thing. If/When I get to Boston, those decisions will be much easier. I won’t be faced with the prospect of passing up a chance to qualify.
So many things have to go right for a good marathon. I need to be better prepared physically. I trained very well this time, but I should have noticed that the fact that it seemed easy was a sign that I wasn’t training hard enough. The runs usually weren’t a challenge; it was getting up early that proved the most difficult. Next time I need to push myself harder on the quality days. On the long runs, I need to feel those heavy legs. It is better to have long runs that go past 3 hours then it is to press the last few miles. I also need to investigate why I peaked so early. My 30 K was stellar compared to this race, and that was with no base and no taper.
My biggest disappointment is the break. I wasn’t strong enough mentally or emotionally to survive the final push. Had I not started walking, I might have saved 7 or more minutes. In hindsight, I’ve struggled with those small breaks off and on for a few years. Racing more, getting that edge, will help with that.
As usual, I told myself that this would be my last try. I simply wasn’t meant to run marathons. But I’d like to think that there is one day in the zone out there for me when it will all come together.
posted by Doug at
12:28 PM
1 Comments:
Valid thought Maypy. From what I've read, those who over do the water are doing water only, and are out for over five hours. The danger is dilluting your electrolytes too much.
I hit every stop, but just for a splash. Every second stop was for Gatorade, which does some replacement of electrolites.
After, I had the usual pee drought.
Possible, but not as likely an influence as the heat.
By
Doug, at 12:16 PM
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