This was my first marathon. I had basically written off the idea of 26.2 ten years ago, thinking that the distance was too much for my sprinter's physiology and the pounding too much on my troublesome knees. Last year, after a few nice experiences in the world of endurance sports, I got it in my head that I might still have a marathon in me somewhere. I settled on an 18 week beginner's plan from Runner's World. Completed LSD runs of 20 and 22 miles before winding things down during taper. Ran a 1:40:56 half mary in December, which led me to think I might have a shot at a sub-four hour marathon if things went well.

Alas, things did not go well. The split times pretty much tell the whole gruesome tale. This was really four different races for me. Race no. 1 (miles 1-6) in which I ran too fast, but felt spectacularly good. Was coasting on the downhill portions of the run, logging split times 30-45 seconds faster (per mile) than the 9 minute pace I had planned to stick with. While I understood the stupidity of these splits at the time, somehow I couldn't slow down. Too much adrenaline and too much downhill.

Race no. 2 (miles 7-13) in which I continued to cruise at a good clip (a bit slower than the first six), but still too fast for my plan. Unlike the early goings I knew during this portion of the race that I was setting myself up for a fall. I didn't wear a HRM, but I could tell my pulse was climbing as the course flattened out, and yet, the pace stayed too fast. Was already laboring at mile 11, but again couldn't seem to slow things down to a more appropriate and sustainable pace. I hit the half mary mark at 1:57 which is almost exactly the time I imagined for myself at that point in the "ideal race" scenario which I'd rehearsed all through my training. Unfortunately, I paid far too steep a price to get that split. At mile 12 i knew I was already in trouble, but I tried to put the negative thoughts out of my head. Unfrortunately, they crept back in very quickly.

At the half mary mark, I felt pretty gassed, and my legs felt heavy already. Before too long, I was slowing to a light jog, then a slow shuffle, then I started to walk, which brought me to Race no. 3 (miles 14-20) in which I settled on a run-walk regimen that slowed me down by 2-3 minutes per mile. I was taking liquids steadily, but was starting to overheat and wasn't sweating nearly enough for the kind of exertion I was putting out. Maybe the low humidity wisked away moisture too quickly without giving my body any sense of evaporative cooling? Dunno. Just felt lousy and demoralized, while experimenting with a new strategy. Ran to the mile markers, then walked two or three minutes, then ran to the next mile marker. Between miles 17 and 18, I was starting to feel nausea creeping up on me. Took another gel in the hopes of boosting my energy, but only succeeded in further upsetting my stomach. Saw my GF at mile 19, where she handed me some more Perpetuem and another couple of gels. Didn't know if I could finish, but I told her I was still determined to try. When she asked what was wrong, I told her the list was much too long for me to rehearse for her right there. Headed out for the final 7 miles wondering if I was risking a serious health problem or a trip home in the ambulance.

Race no. 4 started at mile 20, where I decided I needed to walk for at least five minutes to re-assess the situation. As it turns out I wouldn't run again until the last tenth of a mile. My legs were tightening and starting to cramp. I pulled over to the side of the course and tried some easy stretching to see if I could coax some of the acid out of my leags, but this didn't really help me, and I was worried that I might fall over if I stood in one place too long. Saw lots of runners suffering from cramps at this stage, many in much worse shape than me. Some hopping on one leg with calf cramps. Others bent over at the waist grabbing their knees. One guy was on his back, hugging his knees to his chest and wailing while two friends tried to rally him for the last stretch.

I just staggered on from there. Tried two or three times to break into a light jog, but could get no farther than a few steps. Lumbered on wishing that I might discover a secret subway station in that part of town, but there was only one way for me to get home at that point.

At mile 24 I realized that I could still break the five hour mark if I walked briskly. That cheered me a little bit, even though it was an hour slower than my initial goal. The crowds downtown were full of encouragment. Many apparently wanted to see me run, but all I could do for them at that point was smile and wave as I limped on by. Nothing at all left in my legs. Crossed the finish at 4:54:06 and grabbed some bananas and water before sitting myself down in the shade.

I paced myself like an idiot, especially considering the conditions. My tendency has always been to go out hard and come in on fire, but I really thought that pace work during my training had corrected that. Probably could have run a 4:30 and enjoyed the experience a lot more if I hadn't burned myself out early looking for a sub-four where there was none. There are thousands upon thounsands of stories like mine in the lore of marathon running, but the whole experience was still a pretty lonesome and discouraging one. I have a lot to learn.

Sat myself in the shade and sipped water while eating a banana. Walked back to the car with my knees and quads still sizzling. I didn't manage to pee until almost 6:30 PM, which says a lot about the degree of dehydration I experienced and the distress my body was in.


Heat. Inexperience. Ego.