(I meant to finish this write up weeks ago, but I've found that since the race my motivation for exercise and related activities has really waned. So, I finally got around to this now. Enjoy :-)

Finish Time:
4:01:28 (missed my goal of 4 hours by 1:28)

Splits:
5k 28:56 28:07 27:16 28:38 29:53 28:21 28:21 28:48
10k 57:02 56:10 58:23 57:09
1st Half 1:59:36
2nd Half 2:01:52

The Good:
- Kept a very consistent pace throughout
- Didn't hit 'the wall'
- Wasn't forced to walk at any point in the race

The Bad:
- Just missed my goal
- Lost my Garmin :-( (details below)


Full Details:
The day before the race I tried and I think succeeded in doing all the things I should have done: hydrating, staying away from caffeine (at least after noon), no wine or beer, whole wheat pasta with tomato sauce (sans olive oil / parmesan cheese) for dinner, not eating too late in the evening, go to sleep early, etc.

I did manage to get to sleep around 9pm which was great, as I usually can't go to sleep that early no matter what I do. I was awakened by my daughter at 2:30am, however, because she was not feeling well. I got her some medicine and tried to go back to sleep, but never really did until just before my alarm clock went off at 4:15.

I had my usual breakfast (oat bran cereal, milk, 2 cups of coffee, banana) and did my normal morning routine, and headed out to the Vienna Metro station at 5:30.

I met my friends Kelly and Shiela from my gym there, and we got on a train at about 6:05 or so. We had to switch trains at Rosslyn to get to the Pentagon stop - where the race organizers suggested we go if we wanted to check in bags. I felt we were going fine time-wise as the race wasn't going to start until 8. What I didn't factor in, however, was the amount of time it would take to walk from the metro station to the Pentagon North parking lot (where the bag drop was) and then how much time it would take to walk from there to the starting line.

As we walked we were treated to a flyover by two V-22 Ospreys, which was very cool. I've never seen one of those before and I was amazed not just by the tilt-rotor props but also by how large they are. Having seen TV shows about them before I thought they would be much smaller than they actually were.

We all had to make a pit stop, and by the time we got to the ENORMOUS line of port-a-potties, the lines were already plenty long (what do you expect with 21,000 runners trying to get that last bathroom stop in before the race?). By the time we had finished doing our collective business, checked in our bags and walked to the end of the pack at the starting line, the race had already started.

I had hoped to at least work my way up to the 3:40-4:00 starting area so that I would be with folks shooting for the same time as me, and also possibly join the Cliff pace team for my target time of 3:50. No such luck, however. We would have to just start from the back of the pack.

Earlier in the week, a friend of mine from work who has done the race last year gave me some advice - just let the pack go and start 15 minutes later. I probably should have done this but by the time I got near the starting line I was anxious to just get on with it, so I did.

As I crossed the actual start line I dutifully started the timer on my Garmin 305, not paying attention to what the race clock said (this is an important detail...read on :-). I had studied the elevation chart well and I knew that one of the two big hills came in the first three miles, and knowing the area I knew it had to be the one you climb in Rosslyn (Wilson Blvd or somewhere close to it) as you head toward Clarendon. The hill wasn't that bad at all. The problem I was having was that there were just too many people and no way to get around them all.

My plan was to run as close to 8:46/mi as I could throughout the race and finish in 3:50:00, however my first few mile splits were around 9:45 and 10 minutes, respectively. What was worse was that my heart rate was really spiking - up around 165 to 170 for the entire stretch. After starting the downhill portion heading toward the river (on Spout Run Parkway), I picked up my pace a bit but still had trouble getting around folks. And my heart rate didn't go down all that much despite the assist from gravity.

As I was heading down Spout Run Parkway, I noticed that there were a ton of guys just pulling off to the side of the road and relieving themselves. Apparently the rules of decorum are suspended during marathons - and the more I thought about the potential for lines at port-a-potties later in the race the more I decided doing the same would be a great idea.

Heading toward Key Bridge I came to the first water station. I went over to grab a drink and found that all the cups were Poweraide, which I despise. It would take me 3 more water stations before I figured out that the plain water was in the white, not blue, cups - guess I missed that particular memo.

At the 10k mark on Canal Rd. just before the big hill up to Macarthur Blvd I was at about 57 minutes, which isn't bad but I knew was about 2-3 minutes off my target pace. The crowd had thinned out a bit by this point so I decided to try passing folks again and get back to my target pace. As I went up the hill, however, my heart rate predictably spiked, so I decided to wait for just a bit. Going downhill on Macarthur and Foxhall Rd., however, I brought my pace up quite a bit as 'take advantage of the downhills' is a race mantra for me. That mile was my fastest of the race - around 8:10 or so. Good, but not something I would be able to sustain on the flat sections and not enough to make up for the time I had already lost.

On the downhill stretch on Macarthur/Foxhall I ran with a bunch of Marines carrying the Marine Corps and US flag with them. They were getting all kinds of support and generating a lot of excitement, and at one point they started singing cadences. I can't remember exactly what they were, but they sounded authentic. They didn't call out the only two I know - "My boots are heavy my pants are tight, my b***s are swinging from left to right" and "I don't but I've been told, Eskimo P***y is mighty cold!" (that one's in Full Metal Jacket). I cracked myself up as I thought of this - it was quality distraction material, and in a Marathon you need a lot of distractions to keep you going...

The crowds in the next stretch along M St. in Georgetown were absolutely huge. It was here that I saw another memorable Marine - he was running in full combat garb, with combat boots and a fully-loaded backpack. Kinda made me feel like wimp out there being as my only burden was my fuel belt. Also in Georgetown, at the intersection of Wisconsin and M streets there was a really awesome band playing a Beatles tune (I forget which one now). The crowd was really into it, and many runners were dancing as they passed the stage. There were many bands playing along the route but this one was the best music-wise.

The next stretch of the race had us under the Whitehurst Freeway, under the Kennedy Center overhang. They were passing out oranges in this area, and I took one of them - not much nuitritional support to be had from one orange wedge, but it was another distraction. Soon after that the road was littered with orange peels and the bottoms of my shoes got really sticky from the juice. The stickyness continued for a good several hundred yards, and many runners were commenting on how sticky shoes were the last thing any of us needed.

Next was Ohio drive (right along the Potomac). The crowds here were also enormous and loud. Throughout the race I was continually amazed how all the fans were not just watching but actively cheering all the runners going by - not just those who they came to support. It was around this point (mile 10) that I started to feel that familiar 'gosh you've been running for a long time' fatigue in my legs. It wasn't so bad at this point, but I tried not to dwell on it because I wasn't even half way through. I took a swig of Hammer Gel around then soon afterwards got a nice burst of energy.

The next leg of the race was the dreaded Hains Point - dreaded because it's hard to get to on race day and therefore there are few if any crowds there. I was familiar with that section of road because that's the route that the Veteran's Day 10k uses (I ran that one last year). I didn't bother me all that much, as the scenery (view of the Potomac) is quite good on that stretch. I hit the half-way mark here, and checked 'what condition my condition was in' (Big Lebowski reference there :-). I felt fatigued, but I knew I had a bunch more miles in me. I didn't have to hit the bathroom, I wasn't nauseous, the sports drink and gels I was using were suiting me just fine - I felt good. Plus, my time was not that far off from where I wanted to be. I had hoped to do the first half in 1:56 and actually did so in 1:59. Not bad - if I could 'negative split' this thing I felt I still had a good shot of making my goal of 4 hours.

At just about 14 miles we headed around the end of Hains Point where there was a water station. By this point I had started walking briefly at the water stations to give myself a brief rest. I did this here, and as I was starting to run again I had a rather bad collision with another runner. My wrist had hit her elbow - and I apologized, as did she, and we were good. 50 yards or so later I glanced down to check my pace and I was SHOCKED to see that my Garmin was GONE!!! I couldn't believe it! I figured out rather quickly that it must have popped off the quick-release wristband I was wearing when I bumped into the other runner just past the water station. If the thing hadn't been so expensive I would have just left it there, but despite my competitive instincts I started to run backwards (stunning a number of runners who had seen nothing but people running the same way as them for going on a couple of hours by that point) to the point where I thought the collision happened. When I got there all I saw was red (similar color as the Garmin) cups littered all over the road and dozens of runners going by any given moment. I stood there for about a minute frantically looking around for it, but quickly realized it was a lost cause. I saw a young Marine on the side of the road and asked him to keep an eye out for the watch and he dutifully agreed. That was the best I could do, and about 2 minutes (at least) after I first glanced down and saw the watch gone I continued on.

I knew as soon as I started again that I needed to put this distressing development behind me, as staying mentally tough is key to a race this long. In the first mile thereafter I was pissed off about it and I think I brought my pace up as a result. That didn't last all that long, however, and I settled down into what I could only guess (I didn't actually know because I was then Garmin-less) was my target pace.

I continued on in this relatively steady pace as we came back in front of the Lincoln Memorial and onto Constitution Ave. Constitution is a very wide street and there was plenty of room to spread out. By this point, however, I was being cautious not to spike my (perceived - again no way to measure...) heart rate knowing that it had spiked so much early on in the race and that spiking too early could potentially lead to hitting the dreaded 'Wall' later in the race. Throughout the race I constantly heard the 'bee-beep' of Garmin watches as they counted off another mile split. By this point, instead of being bummed about what had happened to my particular prized gadget, when I heard the sound I would look around to find who had one and ask them what pace they were going, and everyone I asked was happy to help me out. I did this on Constitution and the woman I asked said '9:17' - yikes! I was slacking off! I immediately brought my pace up and from then on tried to be mentally conscious of when my pace was coming down.

Next they had us on the small streets on the National Mall that are right in front of the museums. The roads were narrow here but they had done a great job of keeping cars out, making more usable space. There were very big crowds here as well, and also many, many homemade signs of encouragement. It was here that I saw my favorite sign of the day - "DON'T POOP YOUR PANTS!" - good advice generally, but especially true in a race as long as a Marathon where scatalogical incidents can and do happen!

As I turned around in front of the Capitol I again sucked down some Hammer Gel and got a nice bump of energy. I was still feeling fatigue in the legs, but definitely not as much as I had felt at a similar point (18mi) in training runs. As I passed mile 20 and looked at the race clock I felt that I still had a chance of making my goal time of 4 hours, but I wasn't sure because I didn't look at the race clock back when I crossed the starting line. At best, my math was fuzzy because I was guessing at how much time had gone by when I tripped the first timing pad. All the more reason to pick it up and hang on, I kept saying to myself.

As I turned left onto 14th st I tried to pick my pace up a bit. At this point I passed by this enormous orchestra of female drummers. I have no idea what they were all about (if someone knows please comment and fill me in), but their music was really catchy - they were putting on quite a show! All of the runners passing by were just amazed and started clapping in appreciation, as did I. Nice job ladies!

Just after that point I ventured out onto what I had been told by friends who had done the race before is the toughest part of the whole race - the 14th St. bridge. It's tough because there are very little crowds and - I didn't believe my friends about this until I was actually there - it's a very long and steady uphill (who would have thought that a bridge would be uphill?) By this point I was feeling every one of those 20+ previous miles. What's more, my left foot and big toe were starting to feel blistery. I was really worried that I would pop a blister and end up limping through the last 6 miles, and I found that I was obsessing about this.

I needed to get these negative thoughts out of my head and stay strong, and it was at this point that I remembered something my friend from work who also did the race mentioned to me. She said that one of the tricks women's marathon world record-holder Paula Radcliffe uses during the tough later miles of a marathon is to count in her head. The simple act of counting to yourself distracts your mind away from thinking about things that you shouldn't be thinking about during a race - like the potential rupture of blisters. I gave this a try, first by counting backwards from 100. I quickly found that counting backwards was too mentally tiring and annoying, so I switched to counting to 100. I did this several times over and it seemed to be working. I then started to play games like 'I bet I'll count to 100 before I pass that lamppost up there.' That bit seemed to work quite nicely. I did this all the way across the bridge, and although I was feeling extremely fatigued by the time I got across (at just shy of 23 miles), I at least had stopped thinking about my foot. Another notable distraction on the dread bridge was a guy dressed up in a black trenchcoat - like the grim reaper - slowly hitting a cowbell and holding a sign which said 'THE END IS NEAR'! Priceless...

The next stretch - Crystal Run in Arlington - was billed as one of the most exciting because there were bands, tons of people and all kinds of things for kids who were dragged there by parents to do while they waited for mommy or daddy to run by. To me at that time - in my tired and somewhat achy-grumpy state, however, I found the whole scene extremely annoying. I remembered from the map that the course zig-zagged a number of times here, but as I went through the zig-zags seemed to go on forever. Where the heck was the turnaround? I finally came about 1 mile after I had expected it to, and I knew then that I had to do all those zig-zags again before I would be done with Crystal City and finally - FINALLY - hit the last two miles of the race.

By the time I was finally out Crystal City and on Rt 110 again for the final 2 miles, I was feeling unbelievably spent. My elbows and shoulders hurt from swinging my arms for so long, my stride was considerably shorter due to the fatigue in my quads, and my blistery feet were both now talking to me very loudly. I tried as much as I could to pick up my pace, however. The only thing that kept me moving at this point was knowing that I was really close to my goal pace and that if I held on I had a decent shot at hitting it. Many folks I had talked to who had done marathons before said that I shouldn't set a time goal for my first. If I didn't set a goal I know I wouldn't have been able to power though those last 6 miles, so it definitely worked for me.

Mile 25 passed, and just a bit down the road I saw what I figured had to be the final small hill up to the finish line. I had heard that the final .2 mile hill was really rough, but it didn't look all that bad to me - how could anything that short be that bad? As I started up that hill I let out a spontaneous and guttoral roar - seeming to say to all those around me 'YES! We did it! Let's take this hill!'. As I came up to the finish line and crossed I actually didn't even put my arms up. I was so tired I didn't have the energy. As I walked past the first set of Marines congratulating the runners, one of them asked me 'Sir, are you OK?' - I felt tired, but I didn't feel like I was going to collapse. Apparently I looked that way, though. Later that day I found a website which showed all the finish line footage, and when I saw myself cross the line I understood what that Marine saw - I looked like I was going to pass out!

Next I started walking very, very slowly down the shoot of a road where all the runners got their shiny silver paper/blanket thing, their medals, their finish line photo with the Iwo Jima Memorial in the backdrop, water, food bag, etc. This process took a very long time not just because of the fact that I was exhausted, but also due to the sheer number of runners. 20,900 finished the race! As I was walking with the heard, I came upon what was to be the most painful step I have ever taken in my life. I always have trouble walking down stairs after long runs as my quads tend to get really tight while running. But this was different. It was just a curb, but as I stepped down I felt a shot of sheer pain go through my legs and all the way up to my torso. Ouch! I vowed to try and avoid going down stairs as much as possible for at least the next several days!

After about 20 minutes or so of slowly walking, I finally made it out of the runners-only area and into the finish line festival in the Rosslyn section of Arlington. It took me forever to find the package pickup area, and when I did so, as luck would have it, 22 of the 23 UPS trucks lined up had almost no line, but the one where my checked-in bag was had an enormous line. It look a good 15 minutes just to get my bag. Right after I did so I saw Kelly who had just finished and made her way out of the runners-only area. She was feeling much better than me (this was her second marathon - she was already a pro) and got her bag in short order. Shiela was a bit further behind both of us and had met her out-of-town friend she had started the race with.

Kelly and I walked around the finish festival for a bit, and after seeing that there was a huge line for the beer tent we both decided that it wasn't worth staying. We walked to the Rosslyn Metro stop and found it was a complete mob scene. It took almost 30 minutes just to get down to the platform. And, Murphy's law - the last escalator leading down to the platform was out of service. So, I had to do my old man walk (taking half-steps, sideways, while desparately holding onto the railings trying to keep my weight off my legs) down those stairs to get to the train. There was a crowd of probably 30 people patiently waiting as I limped down those bloody broken escalator stairs!

After we were at the platform, mercifully, we got on a train pretty quickly and were back at the Vienna Metro stop in short order. I got to my car, very gingerly got in and headed home shortly thereafter. I took a long shower at that point and then proceeded to plant my butt in my man chair in the center of my man cave, and did my best not to move for about 2 hours. Later in the day I had a big ol' steak, a nice Cabernet and went to bed at about 8pm. All in all - a great experience!


I've already decided that, despite my initial thoughts, there will be a Marathon #2. Not Marine Corps next time, but rather the Wineglass Marathon which is run near my hometown in New York State. That course is net downhill and pretty flat, not all that crowded and has beautiful (for me, hometown) scenery the whole way. Hopefully next year I'll be able to break that elusive 4hr mark, and not lose any expensive gadgets in the process.

Not lose my Garmin. Get to the race earlier to line up with my pace grou or, if I get there late, let the pack go for 20 minutes and then start.

Primarily the crowds in the beginning.


It was a great race, but it was SOOOO huge! The after-race festival was such a mob scene that I just wanted to escape.