Today I was the 1:30:00 (9:00) pace leader at the Army Ten-Miler. It's the first year the race has had pacers, so we're all under scrutiny.
I have a bag of frozen peas on my left ankle as I write this. It's been sore for weeks and although it doesn't restrict me from running, it prevents me from walking without a limp for days afterwards. My farewell-to-coaching run last Saturday was the only run I have done in two weeks. I figured I had one more ten-mile run in me so I wanted to make it count, on race day.
Pacing is hard. Rather, it's stressful, especially in a short race like a ten-miler where there isn't much time to make up for a bad mile or two.
A lot of people were looking to me to bring them to their goal of breaking 1:30. Although they gathered around me and my 1:30:00 sign at the start, on the course I often felt like I was running alone in the crowded race, with a sign thrust into the air.
There were runners out there watching me though. Runners I started with dropped away and caught back up. Other determined runners saw my sign and struggled up to me and passed me by in the last two miles. Some runners hung with me on the edges, keeping my sign in sight, acting like lurkers in an Internet chat room.
The first mile, about which I was the most worried because of the crush of people, went by in 9:15. Then we banked a little time in the early miles and got slightly ahead of our goal time by the fifth mile, passing it at about 44:10 instead of 45 flat. I knew that the long, visually daunting uphill expanse of the 14th Street Bridge was coming in the ninth mile, followed by the run onto slightly higher ground to the west in Virginia during the last mile.
Around the Capitol we had some personally satisfying 9:03 or 9:04 miles and then incredibly, as we approached the bridge, my system started going out of whack. Not enough food that morning, I think. With my head down (always a bad sign for me in a race) and worse, my heart racing, my body ignoring my yoga deep cleansing breaths, I desperately tried sucking down a GU to get back a feeling of control. Ah, within a few minutes I was back on a steady nine-minute rhythm. Sustenance, it really works.
I finished in 1:29:44 (8:58). Several people came up to me afterwards to say thanks. One went away ecstatic with my sweaty Army 25th Running wristband, and another thought me giving him the 1:30:00 sign was just the cat's meow. "My wife will just love this," he said.
I just smiled, having just finished a duty which turned out to be devilishly difficult.
Showing posts with label pace groups. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pace groups. Show all posts
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
More Charmin' Garmin
I went for a six mile run Sunday morning to practice my nine-minute miles. I’m the 9-m/m pace leader for the Army Ten-Miler Race next month. It’s something you have to practice, so your individual miles aren’t all over the board.
I went with Emily, the program director for my club’s ten-miler training program, which is the exclusive training partner for the Army Ten-Miler. She’s leading the 8-m/m pace group at Army. I don’t think I have a 1:20 ten-miler in me anymore but I know, especially after Sunday, that I easily have a 1:30 in me.
We met at a coffee shop in Arlington near the courthouse and ran down Wilson Boulevard to near the Potomac, then over Memorial Bridge into the District. Emily was as fine a back-seat driver as you’re going to find.
"You’re going way too fast."
"No, I’m doing 9:04."
"No, you’re doing 7:40. Slow down."
"Well, my Garmin says 9:04, now 9:05. I need to bump it up."
"No, I can feel you’re going too fast. What do you have your pace reading set for?"
"For the pace of the total run."
"It should be set on instantaneous pace. You’ll have to change the setting."
Yes dear.
From happily not having a Garmin a month ago, now my eyes are glued on it during a run.
"One-oh-oh. 8:48. That’s good."
"No, that’s not good enough. You’re 12 seconds off after only one mile. You’ll be two minutes off over ten miles. You have to bring it in within 30 seconds of your goal time."
"Well, I can’t bring it in at 1:30:30. People will be depending on me to break 1:30."
"That’s true. But you can’t run a fast nine miles and then dawdle on the tenth mile just to achieve your time. It has to be even."
"8:48 is close. I’m practicing. Besides, the first mile was all downhill."
"Doesn’t matter. It was too fast."
"Huh!"
We went on like that for the first three miles. Then on the Mall near Lincoln Emily pulled up saying, "Three miles. 26:10. Way too fast."
My Garmin, however, said 2.98 miles. While Emily waited, I continued on for eighty more feet before turning around to go back.
"Three-oh-oh. 26:35. That’s good. Going back is uphill and we’ll lose that half-minute. We better speed up."
"No, you’re too fast. It has got to be even. And stop looking at your Garmin so much."
This was driving me nuts. Telling me to stop looking at my Garmin was like telling Dorothy to pay no attention to that man behind the curtain. I was hooked.
I was doing the math every half mile. At four and a half minutes each half-mile, my next checkpoint was going to be 31:30. We hit 3.5 miles on the return at 31:05, twenty-five seconds fast. I knew the substantial hills leading away from the riverbank on Wilson Boulevard in Arlington were coming up. I was feeling competitive now, with Father Time. I wanted to nail 53:58 for six miles.
It was a beautiful morning for running, slightly overcast and cool. A running couple passed by us. As is my wont, I trotted out an attempt at humor. "There’s a wise guy in every crowd," I said loudly to Emily as they loped by.
The guy turned to stare at me. I waved and smiled. He waved back, and then the woman turned and gave a wave too. Whew, an attempt at humor saved by a smile.
As we tackled the hills in the last mile, I pondered how two identical Garmins traveling side-by-side could be so far off. Emily’s Garmin had read 3.0 miles at the turnaround when mine was only at 2.98. I decided that it was a cosmic mystery.
Our starting point came into view two blocks off. My Garmin was just pushing past 52 minutes. I turned my attention to time management the last thousand feet. Pacers aren’t supposed to get to the finish line early and then stand around waiting for their desired time to come up on the clock before crossing. Protocol demands that you run up to and across the line without a noticeable delay. The key is to effectively manage your last half-mile.
The acceptable window in a ten-miler is supposedly 30 seconds either way, except that you can’t be late, or even exactly on time, because nobody wants a 1:30:00. They all want a 1:29:59. So your window is in reality twenty-nine seconds, from being thirty seconds early to being one second early. It’s nerve-wracking, I tell ya.
My Garmin flashed on 6.00 miles and I stopped the timer at 53:55.49, an 8:59 pace. I was four and a half seconds off of a perfect 9-m/m pace over six miles. I have my good ol’ Charmin’ Garmin to thank for this. Even Emily was smiling.
I went with Emily, the program director for my club’s ten-miler training program, which is the exclusive training partner for the Army Ten-Miler. She’s leading the 8-m/m pace group at Army. I don’t think I have a 1:20 ten-miler in me anymore but I know, especially after Sunday, that I easily have a 1:30 in me.
We met at a coffee shop in Arlington near the courthouse and ran down Wilson Boulevard to near the Potomac, then over Memorial Bridge into the District. Emily was as fine a back-seat driver as you’re going to find.
"You’re going way too fast."
"No, I’m doing 9:04."
"No, you’re doing 7:40. Slow down."
"Well, my Garmin says 9:04, now 9:05. I need to bump it up."
"No, I can feel you’re going too fast. What do you have your pace reading set for?"
"For the pace of the total run."
"It should be set on instantaneous pace. You’ll have to change the setting."
Yes dear.
From happily not having a Garmin a month ago, now my eyes are glued on it during a run.
"One-oh-oh. 8:48. That’s good."
"No, that’s not good enough. You’re 12 seconds off after only one mile. You’ll be two minutes off over ten miles. You have to bring it in within 30 seconds of your goal time."
"Well, I can’t bring it in at 1:30:30. People will be depending on me to break 1:30."
"That’s true. But you can’t run a fast nine miles and then dawdle on the tenth mile just to achieve your time. It has to be even."
"8:48 is close. I’m practicing. Besides, the first mile was all downhill."
"Doesn’t matter. It was too fast."
"Huh!"
We went on like that for the first three miles. Then on the Mall near Lincoln Emily pulled up saying, "Three miles. 26:10. Way too fast."
My Garmin, however, said 2.98 miles. While Emily waited, I continued on for eighty more feet before turning around to go back.
"Three-oh-oh. 26:35. That’s good. Going back is uphill and we’ll lose that half-minute. We better speed up."
"No, you’re too fast. It has got to be even. And stop looking at your Garmin so much."
This was driving me nuts. Telling me to stop looking at my Garmin was like telling Dorothy to pay no attention to that man behind the curtain. I was hooked.
I was doing the math every half mile. At four and a half minutes each half-mile, my next checkpoint was going to be 31:30. We hit 3.5 miles on the return at 31:05, twenty-five seconds fast. I knew the substantial hills leading away from the riverbank on Wilson Boulevard in Arlington were coming up. I was feeling competitive now, with Father Time. I wanted to nail 53:58 for six miles.
It was a beautiful morning for running, slightly overcast and cool. A running couple passed by us. As is my wont, I trotted out an attempt at humor. "There’s a wise guy in every crowd," I said loudly to Emily as they loped by.
The guy turned to stare at me. I waved and smiled. He waved back, and then the woman turned and gave a wave too. Whew, an attempt at humor saved by a smile.
As we tackled the hills in the last mile, I pondered how two identical Garmins traveling side-by-side could be so far off. Emily’s Garmin had read 3.0 miles at the turnaround when mine was only at 2.98. I decided that it was a cosmic mystery.
Our starting point came into view two blocks off. My Garmin was just pushing past 52 minutes. I turned my attention to time management the last thousand feet. Pacers aren’t supposed to get to the finish line early and then stand around waiting for their desired time to come up on the clock before crossing. Protocol demands that you run up to and across the line without a noticeable delay. The key is to effectively manage your last half-mile.
The acceptable window in a ten-miler is supposedly 30 seconds either way, except that you can’t be late, or even exactly on time, because nobody wants a 1:30:00. They all want a 1:29:59. So your window is in reality twenty-nine seconds, from being thirty seconds early to being one second early. It’s nerve-wracking, I tell ya.
My Garmin flashed on 6.00 miles and I stopped the timer at 53:55.49, an 8:59 pace. I was four and a half seconds off of a perfect 9-m/m pace over six miles. I have my good ol’ Charmin’ Garmin to thank for this. Even Emily was smiling.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Charmin Garmin
Guess who got a Garmin. A factory refurbished 205 from Amazon for $120.40. It came on Friday.
I broke down and bought one because I need to zero in on a 9:00 M/M pace for when I'm the 1:30 pacesetter for the Army Ten-Miler Race in seven weeks.
I used it on Saturday, and now I know I went 7.1 miles on my training group's supposed 7-mile run. (I create the route.) Some folks got a little lost and went 7.6 miles. They were pissed when they got back, like it was my fault. But what's an extra half mile anyway?
Even the folks who didn't get lost were grumbling though. What's an extra one tenth of a mile? They all have Garmin's so they all know exactly how far we go. More than one came over to me afterwards and said, "You said we were doing seven today. We went 7.1!"
I told them to stop at the end of the block next time, before they reach the finish point, as soon as their Garmins chime.
What's 500 extra feet? Excuse me, 520 extra feet. These are new runners, for the most part.
This morning at 7:30 I went to Fleet Feet in the District to do a 7-mile route in Rock Creek Park with Sasha's training group. That group was late in getting going, so I said I was leaving and that anyone who wanted to do 8:30s could come with me. I had no takers so I ran alone, ahead of the pack.
Sasha had devised kind of a complicated route but I thought I knew it. Run 3 miles north up 16th Street from Adams Morgan, drop into Rock Creek Park by Carter Barron Amphitheatre and double back south towards Fleet Feet again. How hard could it be?
My Garmin kept me occupied on this solo run. Sometimes it showed my pace to be 8:10, then a few seconds later it would tell me my pace was 9:40. I think I need to read the directions. But I enjoyed watching the mileage tick off. When my Garmin got to 6.5 miles, and I didn't see anything I recognized in Rock Creek Park, I exited the park and got into some residential streets I didn't recognize. The route was supposed to be 7 miles so at 6.5 miles, I figured I had to be near Adams Morgan. I asked some suburbanites I encountered how to get to Adams Morgan from there. They looked astonished.
"Uhh, you're in Maryland. Adams Morgan is, like, six miles from here."
I had been running north in Rock Creek Park the whole time, instead of turning back south in the park. I was terribly lost and now I was in a confusing complex of suburban cul-de-sacs in Chevy Chase. That's a long way on foot from Adams Morgan.
I am thankful for my Garmin though. It told me I only had a half-mile to go and when I absolutely didn't recognize a thing, even though I'm a guy, I asked for directions.
It was the most lost I have ever been on a run.
But I did my seven, in 1:01:21 (8:46), not too bad. I took a taxicab back to Fleet Feet.
I broke down and bought one because I need to zero in on a 9:00 M/M pace for when I'm the 1:30 pacesetter for the Army Ten-Miler Race in seven weeks.
I used it on Saturday, and now I know I went 7.1 miles on my training group's supposed 7-mile run. (I create the route.) Some folks got a little lost and went 7.6 miles. They were pissed when they got back, like it was my fault. But what's an extra half mile anyway?
Even the folks who didn't get lost were grumbling though. What's an extra one tenth of a mile? They all have Garmin's so they all know exactly how far we go. More than one came over to me afterwards and said, "You said we were doing seven today. We went 7.1!"
I told them to stop at the end of the block next time, before they reach the finish point, as soon as their Garmins chime.
What's 500 extra feet? Excuse me, 520 extra feet. These are new runners, for the most part.
This morning at 7:30 I went to Fleet Feet in the District to do a 7-mile route in Rock Creek Park with Sasha's training group. That group was late in getting going, so I said I was leaving and that anyone who wanted to do 8:30s could come with me. I had no takers so I ran alone, ahead of the pack.
Sasha had devised kind of a complicated route but I thought I knew it. Run 3 miles north up 16th Street from Adams Morgan, drop into Rock Creek Park by Carter Barron Amphitheatre and double back south towards Fleet Feet again. How hard could it be?
My Garmin kept me occupied on this solo run. Sometimes it showed my pace to be 8:10, then a few seconds later it would tell me my pace was 9:40. I think I need to read the directions. But I enjoyed watching the mileage tick off. When my Garmin got to 6.5 miles, and I didn't see anything I recognized in Rock Creek Park, I exited the park and got into some residential streets I didn't recognize. The route was supposed to be 7 miles so at 6.5 miles, I figured I had to be near Adams Morgan. I asked some suburbanites I encountered how to get to Adams Morgan from there. They looked astonished.
"Uhh, you're in Maryland. Adams Morgan is, like, six miles from here."
I had been running north in Rock Creek Park the whole time, instead of turning back south in the park. I was terribly lost and now I was in a confusing complex of suburban cul-de-sacs in Chevy Chase. That's a long way on foot from Adams Morgan.
I am thankful for my Garmin though. It told me I only had a half-mile to go and when I absolutely didn't recognize a thing, even though I'm a guy, I asked for directions.
It was the most lost I have ever been on a run.
But I did my seven, in 1:01:21 (8:46), not too bad. I took a taxicab back to Fleet Feet.
Friday, April 13, 2007
The National Marathon. Review: The Last Six Miles.
The National Marathon Review. The last 10K was...a chore.
If you do marathons, you gotta do this race.
My splits.
MP Split Time Notes
1. 7:49 (7:49)
2. 7:45 (15:51) Down Capitol Hill.
3. 7:57 (23:49)
4. 8:11 (32:49)
5. 8:11 (40:11)
6. 8:11 (49:12)
7. 8:12 (56:35)
8. 8:14 (1:04:50)
9. 8:33 (1:13:23) Up the hill on M Street NE.
10. 8:04 (1:21:28) Half Marathoners split off in SE.
11. 8:38 (1:30:06)
12. 8:28 (1:38:30)
13. 8:40 (1:47:10) Over the Frederick Douglass Bridge.
14. 8:35 (1:55:46)
15. 8:42 (2:04:28) Through the 9th Street Tunnel .
16. 8:51 (2:13:20)
17. 8:53 (2:22:14) Passing Lincoln.
18. 9:49 (2:32:03) Up Rock Creek. Gu stop.
19. 9:31 (2:41:35) There's an incline in Rock Creek Park!
20. 11:04 (2:52:39) Walking the Calvert Climb.
21. 9:49 (3:04:51) My last walk uphill.
22. 9:48 (3:12:07) Up past the McMillan Reservoir.
23. 8:46 (3:20:54) Downhill.
24. 9:15 (3:30:09) The pace group passes by.
25. 9:15 (3:39:25) I attach myself to the pace group.
26. 9:12 (3:48:37) Looking for RFK.
.21. 1:59 (9:04) My pace for this two tenths.
3
:50:22 (8:48) My National.
The first twenty miles. I arrived at Milepost 20 in Adams Morgan, with its cheering throngs of spectators (Adams Morgan turned out, bless them) at 2:52, an 8:38 pace so far. (Left: We went from down there to up here in about 200 yards during the Calvert Climb.) My pace had fallen a lot in the last sev
en miles from my halfway pace of 8:15 down by the new stadium. (Right: We ascended these heights by climbing up the Calvert Climb.)
The old saw goes that a marathon is a twenty mile warmup for a 10K race. RFK and the finish line was 6.2 miles away. The race was strictly business now, the business of finishing it without wrecking it. It was no longer fun and the next hour would tell. (Below: After the Calvert Climb we still had to climb that up ahead. The view up Calvert Street towards Adams Morgan from the Duke Ellington Bridge.)
Gone was my hope of breaking 3:45, left behind on the incline in Rock Creek Park. Still within my grasp but fading quickly was my hope of beating 3:50. Still beckoning was breaking my PR at last November's NYCM of 3:52:34, although it would be close. More realistic, but not a certainty, was meeting my new standard of beating four hours.
The last 10K.
MP 21-12:12 (3:04:51). I had walked up the Calvert Climb out of Rock Creek Park on 24th Street NW. The climb on Calvert Street to Columbia Road was much less severe and I had
managed it pretty well because I was familiar with the road, having run it several times. Turning left on Columbia and running past MP 20, I left behind all familiar terrain. I had never run up here before and didn't know what to expect. It was uphill, that much was plain to see. (Left: Turning up Columbia Road after The Climb and the climb up Calvert Street. A few more hills waited up here.)
I debouched from Columbia onto a long uphill stretch on Harvard Street. Its length was visually intimidating and I broke down into a walk for the second time. After 50 yards I started running again. I was going to wreck my race right there if I started to cycle in walking breaks. I went by the Red Bull Energy Drink stand but didn't take any of the proffered elixirs. I remember thinking it was odd they were handing out energy drinks here at the top of the race at MP 21, rather than at the bottom of the race at MP 19. I missed the milemarker so at 12 minutes I punched my Timex to keep my splits correct.
MP 22-7:15 (3:12:07). I ran by the McMillan Reservoir. I had never seen this body of water before, nor even knew it existed. Running past it was uphill, as always seems to be the case when running by water is involved, but then I crested a slight ridge and started down Michigan Avenue. It was rolling hills up here but I knew from studying the topographical map that a two mile downhill stretch was half a mile away. I couldn't wait for it and its promise kept me moving forward. I took a right onto North Capitol Street and the slight downhill grade lay before me, enticing me onwards like the Sirens of Titan. This was a short mile because I missed milemarker 21, so I had no idea how I was actually doing in terms of pace.
MP 23-8:46 (3:20:54). Downhill is better than uphill. I had wanted to fly down this long decline of North Capitol Street but now my feet were striking the pavement hard, keeping my speed in check. I was too tired to do anything with the downhill. In several places the roadway dipped under an overpass, presenting an uphill section on the other side. Runners around me were walking up those short stretches. I was tempted also, but here is where I took back my race. I powered through those uphills and just kept looking for mileposts. I knew one stretch of a series of turns was coming up and then I'd be in the vicinity of RFK. This stretch was the dogs days of the marathon.
MP 24-9:15 (3:30:09). I turned onto K Street NE. From the elevation chart I knew the long downhill was over and there were several rollers down here. I was really fading, thinking that I could walk it in from here and still do all right, get my 3rd best time even if I missed breaking 4 hours. I had given up on breaking 3:50 because I knew I couldn't do two and a quarter miles in 20 minutes. I had no oomph left. The 3:50 pace group ran by. I recalled reading running blog accounts where runners late in marathons had let their opportunites slip away and just a few minutes later they were ruing the irreversible effect of their momentary hesitation. This group was led by three Naval Academy students and had five or six men with blank expressions hanging on within it. It was a moving wedge working its way down the tail end of the race, destined to hit the finish line in three miles at the appointed time of 3:50. My desired time. I stepped into the spot right behind and between two pace setters. I watched the back kick of the end one and tried to stay where her heels had just left the air on their swing forward. I was so close it probably bothered the hell out of her. I was in her space. But I was desperate that no separation occur, otherwise I was afraid I'd lose her and the group and miss my PR by seconds after almost four hours of running.
MP 25-9:15 (3
:39:25). We ran silently on. Ghost runners in a ghost group. We were definitely running past people though. I ran by my only spectator in the whole race, Jeanne, who had come from her hospital bed to encourage me on at H Street NE and 4th, just past MP 24. Her hail to me boosted my spirits. Thus energized, I hung with the pace group another half mile. Then I let them go. I was spent and couldn't keep up anymore. They had served me well, ensuring my PR. I hadn't squandered the opportunity the pace group had presented to me. There, near MP 24, stepping it up when they went by me and hanging with them for five or six minutes, was the key to my successful marathon. (Above: The 3:50 pace group at MP 24 on H Street NE at 4th Street NE. Look at those roller hills in the background! Photo credit Jeanne.)
MP 26-9:12 (3:48:37). Running alone again, I was trying to pick up my pace near RFK, anxiously looking for the stadium. I was back in an area where I had run before so I knew I wasn't far away from the finish. Determination was powering me now because my training hadn't been long enough or good enough or hard enough to take me this far. I kept thinking, Last mile. Keep at it.
.021875-1:59 (3:50:22). In sight of RFK, I passed the final milepost on the last long curve around to the plaza fronting the stadium where the finish line was. I thought about how long it would take to do one turn around the track at Washington & Lee High School in Arlington on the club's speed workout nigh.jpg)
t. I could run a lap in 88 seconds there. I did the math. I wasn't going to break 3:50 in this race. I still brought it home as hard as I could to assure myself of meeting my bronze standard of a PR. I ran across the finish line in 3:50:22 net time, 3:50:39 gun time, bettering my NYCM mark by 2:12. (Left: Finally finished. So, umm, do you think my running shorts are too baggy? My good friend S gave me my Red Chili Pepper Socks as a present at the NYCM Expo. They're hot at least.)
After the race, I had some pizza and Stella Artois in Capitol Hill with my running buddy A and her friend L, who had PR'd in the long Half. That was some good recovery repast. A, good friend that she is, patiently listened to my long boring account of the morning's run while I unwound, even though she was tired from having stayed up late the evening before to attend the Snow Patrol concert at the Bender Arena.
Man, I liked this race. Three weeks later I have come to the conclusion that, aside from the NYCM (I grew up on Staten Island where it starts), this was my favorite marathon. I liked the way the course took us through all four quadrants of the city. Of the scenic urban marathons I have done, Columbus was nice and flat and I had family there, Twin Cities was beautiful being on the Mississippi and running.jpg)
by the lakes and all, Baltimore was, well, hilly, and MCM was nice but it doesn't actually go through the city a whole lot, but this marathon occupies a dreamy part of my mind already, right there alongside New York. (Right: DC Mayor Fenty finishes in 4:08.)
If you do marathons, you gotta do this race.
My splits.
MP Split Time Notes
1. 7:49 (7:49)
2. 7:45 (15:51) Down Capitol Hill.
3. 7:57 (23:49)
4. 8:11 (32:49)
5. 8:11 (40:11)
6. 8:11 (49:12)
7. 8:12 (56:35)
8. 8:14 (1:04:50)
9. 8:33 (1:13:23) Up the hill on M Street NE.
10. 8:04 (1:21:28) Half Marathoners split off in SE.
11. 8:38 (1:30:06)
12. 8:28 (1:38:30)
13. 8:40 (1:47:10) Over the Frederick Douglass Bridge.
14. 8:35 (1:55:46)
15. 8:42 (2:04:28) Through the 9th Street Tunnel .
16. 8:51 (2:13:20)
17. 8:53 (2:22:14) Passing Lincoln.
18. 9:49 (2:32:03) Up Rock Creek. Gu stop.
19. 9:31 (2:41:35) There's an incline in Rock Creek Park!
20. 11:04 (2:52:39) Walking the Calvert Climb.
21. 9:49 (3:04:51) My last walk uphill.
22. 9:48 (3:12:07) Up past the McMillan Reservoir.
23. 8:46 (3:20:54) Downhill.
24. 9:15 (3:30:09) The pace group passes by.
25. 9:15 (3:39:25) I attach myself to the pace group.
26. 9:12 (3:48:37) Looking for RFK.
.21. 1:59 (9:04) My pace for this two tenths.
3
:50:22 (8:48) My National.The first twenty miles. I arrived at Milepost 20 in Adams Morgan, with its cheering throngs of spectators (Adams Morgan turned out, bless them) at 2:52, an 8:38 pace so far. (Left: We went from down there to up here in about 200 yards during the Calvert Climb.) My pace had fallen a lot in the last sev
en miles from my halfway pace of 8:15 down by the new stadium. (Right: We ascended these heights by climbing up the Calvert Climb.)The old saw goes that a marathon is a twenty mile warmup for a 10K race. RFK and the finish line was 6.2 miles away. The race was strictly business now, the business of finishing it without wrecking it. It was no longer fun and the next hour would tell. (Below: After the Calvert Climb we still had to climb that up ahead. The view up Calvert Street towards Adams Morgan from the Duke Ellington Bridge.)
Gone was my hope of breaking 3:45, left behind on the incline in Rock Creek Park. Still within my grasp but fading quickly was my hope of beating 3:50. Still beckoning was breaking my PR at last November's NYCM of 3:52:34, although it would be close. More realistic, but not a certainty, was meeting my new standard of beating four hours.
The last 10K.
MP 21-12:12 (3:04:51). I had walked up the Calvert Climb out of Rock Creek Park on 24th Street NW. The climb on Calvert Street to Columbia Road was much less severe and I had
managed it pretty well because I was familiar with the road, having run it several times. Turning left on Columbia and running past MP 20, I left behind all familiar terrain. I had never run up here before and didn't know what to expect. It was uphill, that much was plain to see. (Left: Turning up Columbia Road after The Climb and the climb up Calvert Street. A few more hills waited up here.)I debouched from Columbia onto a long uphill stretch on Harvard Street. Its length was visually intimidating and I broke down into a walk for the second time. After 50 yards I started running again. I was going to wreck my race right there if I started to cycle in walking breaks. I went by the Red Bull Energy Drink stand but didn't take any of the proffered elixirs. I remember thinking it was odd they were handing out energy drinks here at the top of the race at MP 21, rather than at the bottom of the race at MP 19. I missed the milemarker so at 12 minutes I punched my Timex to keep my splits correct.
MP 22-7:15 (3:12:07). I ran by the McMillan Reservoir. I had never seen this body of water before, nor even knew it existed. Running past it was uphill, as always seems to be the case when running by water is involved, but then I crested a slight ridge and started down Michigan Avenue. It was rolling hills up here but I knew from studying the topographical map that a two mile downhill stretch was half a mile away. I couldn't wait for it and its promise kept me moving forward. I took a right onto North Capitol Street and the slight downhill grade lay before me, enticing me onwards like the Sirens of Titan. This was a short mile because I missed milemarker 21, so I had no idea how I was actually doing in terms of pace.
MP 23-8:46 (3:20:54). Downhill is better than uphill. I had wanted to fly down this long decline of North Capitol Street but now my feet were striking the pavement hard, keeping my speed in check. I was too tired to do anything with the downhill. In several places the roadway dipped under an overpass, presenting an uphill section on the other side. Runners around me were walking up those short stretches. I was tempted also, but here is where I took back my race. I powered through those uphills and just kept looking for mileposts. I knew one stretch of a series of turns was coming up and then I'd be in the vicinity of RFK. This stretch was the dogs days of the marathon.
MP 24-9:15 (3:30:09). I turned onto K Street NE. From the elevation chart I knew the long downhill was over and there were several rollers down here. I was really fading, thinking that I could walk it in from here and still do all right, get my 3rd best time even if I missed breaking 4 hours. I had given up on breaking 3:50 because I knew I couldn't do two and a quarter miles in 20 minutes. I had no oomph left. The 3:50 pace group ran by. I recalled reading running blog accounts where runners late in marathons had let their opportunites slip away and just a few minutes later they were ruing the irreversible effect of their momentary hesitation. This group was led by three Naval Academy students and had five or six men with blank expressions hanging on within it. It was a moving wedge working its way down the tail end of the race, destined to hit the finish line in three miles at the appointed time of 3:50. My desired time. I stepped into the spot right behind and between two pace setters. I watched the back kick of the end one and tried to stay where her heels had just left the air on their swing forward. I was so close it probably bothered the hell out of her. I was in her space. But I was desperate that no separation occur, otherwise I was afraid I'd lose her and the group and miss my PR by seconds after almost four hours of running.
MP 25-9:15 (3
:39:25). We ran silently on. Ghost runners in a ghost group. We were definitely running past people though. I ran by my only spectator in the whole race, Jeanne, who had come from her hospital bed to encourage me on at H Street NE and 4th, just past MP 24. Her hail to me boosted my spirits. Thus energized, I hung with the pace group another half mile. Then I let them go. I was spent and couldn't keep up anymore. They had served me well, ensuring my PR. I hadn't squandered the opportunity the pace group had presented to me. There, near MP 24, stepping it up when they went by me and hanging with them for five or six minutes, was the key to my successful marathon. (Above: The 3:50 pace group at MP 24 on H Street NE at 4th Street NE. Look at those roller hills in the background! Photo credit Jeanne.)MP 26-9:12 (3:48:37). Running alone again, I was trying to pick up my pace near RFK, anxiously looking for the stadium. I was back in an area where I had run before so I knew I wasn't far away from the finish. Determination was powering me now because my training hadn't been long enough or good enough or hard enough to take me this far. I kept thinking, Last mile. Keep at it.
.021875-1:59 (3:50:22). In sight of RFK, I passed the final milepost on the last long curve around to the plaza fronting the stadium where the finish line was. I thought about how long it would take to do one turn around the track at Washington & Lee High School in Arlington on the club's speed workout nigh
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t. I could run a lap in 88 seconds there. I did the math. I wasn't going to break 3:50 in this race. I still brought it home as hard as I could to assure myself of meeting my bronze standard of a PR. I ran across the finish line in 3:50:22 net time, 3:50:39 gun time, bettering my NYCM mark by 2:12. (Left: Finally finished. So, umm, do you think my running shorts are too baggy? My good friend S gave me my Red Chili Pepper Socks as a present at the NYCM Expo. They're hot at least.)After the race, I had some pizza and Stella Artois in Capitol Hill with my running buddy A and her friend L, who had PR'd in the long Half. That was some good recovery repast. A, good friend that she is, patiently listened to my long boring account of the morning's run while I unwound, even though she was tired from having stayed up late the evening before to attend the Snow Patrol concert at the Bender Arena.
Man, I liked this race. Three weeks later I have come to the conclusion that, aside from the NYCM (I grew up on Staten Island where it starts), this was my favorite marathon. I liked the way the course took us through all four quadrants of the city. Of the scenic urban marathons I have done, Columbus was nice and flat and I had family there, Twin Cities was beautiful being on the Mississippi and running
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by the lakes and all, Baltimore was, well, hilly, and MCM was nice but it doesn't actually go through the city a whole lot, but this marathon occupies a dreamy part of my mind already, right there alongside New York. (Right: DC Mayor Fenty finishes in 4:08.)
Sunday, March 25, 2007
The National Marathon: Preview.
How I did. I ran the National Marathon yesterday. The short version is that I PRed by around a minute and a half in about 3:50:40 (8:49). I'll call it my bronze standard. I'll break the race down in more detail later for those who care. But my time benchmarks tell the tale--10 miles 1:21 (8:06), half 1:48 (8:15), 20 miles 2:52 (8:36), and the last 10K or the "second" race within the race, 58 minutes (9:30).
How I wanted to do. My gold standard was to break 3:45. My silver standard was to break the 3:50 barrier. My bronze standard was to PR. My goals cascaded downwards from there--to have my second best time, to break four hours, to have my third best time, not to walk, not to be over five hours, to finish. I call this race management--late in a marathon coming up with a goal that will spur on some greater effort, no matter how briefly.
Background. I ran the NYCM last November and PRed in 3:52:34. That broke my former best time of 3:53:49, set at the WDWM the prior January. I have always considered it incredible that I ran almost four hours then to shave a mere 75 seconds off a running time. Why do we do this? One different choice made along all those 26 miles would have eliminated my PR. Even now I find it nerve-wra
cking.
(That's me, #16976, on the Queensboro Bridge at around MP 17 in the 2006 NYCM.)
Disappointment. But I was never happy with how I ran the NYCM. The wheels came off at MP 21 and I walked a lot between there and Central Park even though I had the tremendous benefit of a running buddy during those miles (a bandit who shall remain nameless). I would suddenly break into a walk as my buddy continued sweeping people aside to create a passage for us in that perpetually congested race. Thirty yards later my buddy would look around, not see me and double back to find me again. Then s/he would exhort me to break into a trot while offering forth a bribe--a twizzler stick, a Tylenol, a swig of water, a gu.
Thanks to my running buddy! My buddy enabled me to PR that afternoon by running alongside me the last mile on the other side of the barricades lined with spectators in Central Park, whooping and hollering for Peter To Go! And I did go the last half mile, and PRed.
But because of those half dozen instances of walking, I felt like I had let my buddy, myself, and the other people who were there wishing me well, friends who had come up from DC in part due to the race, down. That's what I have carried for the last four months.
The four hour barrier. I didn't break four hours in a marathon until I accomplished this long-standing goal of mine at Disney last year in my tweltfth marathon. Before Disney I had never even broken 4:15, but more serious training led to a progression of lower times in six straight marathons starting with the 4:37:49 I posted three years ago at the Inaugural Potomac River Run Marathon.
What I have learned. I have learned that to break 4 hours in a marathon you need to keep progressing forward all the time during the last ten dreary miles. You can still walk, selectively, but you have to make sure the walking has a purpose. At the NYCM, when I broke into a walk each time, I carefully considered my watch and calculated out, at nine minute miles, the time I had left before I would be beyond the 3:53 I achieved at Disney. When I was "out of time" I finally suspended any further walking and went. Yesterday I walked briefly twice, both on steep uphills, to save the energy I would have expended on those stretches for later.
A former PR. Before my big breakthrough at Disney, my long-standing best time was 4:16 at the 2003 Columbus Marathon. I used to run most of my marathons without any spectator support. I don't think it's a coincidence that I PRed at Columbus where one of my four sisters lives.
I was driven to the race by her, I unexpectedly ran by her whole family cheering me on at MP 16, and then I saw them again along with a visiting sister, as planned, at MP 21. I went on to PR by almost 4 minutes despite painful muscle cramps the last two miles which necesitated several kneady stops. (Do I still look happy in this picture at MP 21 in the 2003 Columbus Marathon? Well, happy to see my people, certainly. Picture credit D.)
A new PR. At Disney, trying to somehow find those sixteen minutes I needed to break through four hours, I kept plowing forward. As I shuffled
those desolate miles in the early twenties on the course between Animal Kingdom and MGM Studios, I tried to affix myself for 100 yards to every runner who ran by me before I let them go glimmering off into the distance. I never stopped. Suddenly there was the finish at Epcot. It helped that Disney is incredibly flat. (I am #4790 crossing the finish line at the 2006 WDWM with a 3:53:49 net, a PR by over 22 minutes. I lowered this slightly to 3:52:34 at the 2006 NYCM.)
The National Marathon. Yesterday I dropped off my gold standard of breaking 3:45 around MP 17 as I went up Rock Creek Park. I run there often enough and I have never before been bothered by its very slight uphill grade. Yesterday it felt like I was crawling up it. I tossed aside my silver standard of breaking 3:50 around MP 23 during the decline on the long homeward stretch of North Capitol Street because I was no longer capable of executing race strategies. I couldn't pick up my pace to "flow downhill" and let gravity do some work for me. Once I turned onto flat K Street, I only had two and a half extra minutes, so laboriously "banked" in the first half of the race, to spend during the last three miles in trying to achieve my bronze standard of a PR by bringing it home under 3:52:34. If you're plodding along sore and exhausted at 10:30 miles deep into a marathon, it would be easy to slip into three 11:20 miles near the end. And you would never get those 150 seconds back again, ever. That's why they say it's better to have gas in the tank than time in the bank.
Meet Will Support. But running the last half of a marathon is about will, and it can also be about support. Two and a quarter miles from the end, I received a gift from providence. I only had to exercise the will to reach out and seize it. The 3:50 pace group ran by me.
Thank you RBF. I remembered Rich's post about his MCM and how later he regretted letting the 4:00 pace group slip away from him during the last few miles of the race, thus postponing his sought-after accomplishment of breaking four hours until a month later at Dallas. Late in a marathon, a mere moment can separate you from what you have worked so long and hard for and what you come away with.
Thank you Nathan Nudelman. I attached myself to the heels of one of the women leaders of the tiny group. It was put-up or shut-up time. I looked at the faces of everyone in the small band. The three or four men in the group were all in a zone, seeing something other than the street we were running on. The three pace leaders running abreast, all middies at the U.S. Naval Academy, looked a little strained but otherwise they were running easily. What did Hemingway say about pressure? Grace had to be the name of at least one of these heaven sent pacers.
Is four minutes an eternity? I ran with them for over four minutes, tucked up tight in the slight space between two of the pacers because I feared any separation would cause me to fall away and drift again, and I'd lose those 150 seconds I so desperately needed. I was about twenty minutes from the finish and those four minutes I was able to hang with the pace group and suspend my pain and doubt were crucial.
Spectator support. "Peter! Peter!" I looked up. Another providential gift. It was my one spectator for the day, right there at two miles out where I most need
ed an uplift. Jeanne had come to cheer me and other runners on. She had also snapped a picture. (MP 24 at the 2007 National Marathon. I am #1573 and the women in the red shirts are the 3:50 pace group leaders. Do you see anything but blank gritty determination on every single face? Picture credit Jeanne.)
You can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes well, you might find that you get what you need. Somewhere after four minutes I let the pace group go. They had taken me a fifth of the remaining distance to the finish line. That's how I break a marathon down at the very end. I didn't have the strength to keep up with them anymore, or perhaps I didn't have the will to reach out and reclaim a chance at my silver standard. But hanging with them for over half a mile had assured me of my bronze standard. I received what I needed, I did my best, and I carry no regrets away from this race.
Post race tidbits. Bex PRed in the half. Go read her account which undoubtedly shall be forthcoming. Bob, who coaches in my local club's 10K Training Group on Saturdays with Bex, Jeanne, Gary and me, also PRed in the full, way ahead of me. He ran by me with his shirt off and his heart rate monitor on at MP 7 looking very purposeful, never to be seen by me in the race again. Gary also ran the full. It was good to see Jeanne, however fleetingly, out and about cheering runners on after her recent surgery. (The TKG was a little short of coaches yesterday, with Arnetta and Kristin having to do double duty.) The brand new DC mayor ran the marathon in 4:08. Pretty cool, huh? His parents own the first Fleet Feet on the East Coast, and are prominent in the DC running scene. The store is located in Adams Morgan and the course ran within 100 feet of it as the race reached its highest elevation around MP 20. My first pair of running shoes was purchased from there in 2000 while I was shedding 45 pounds in my new running lifestyle. That purchase of Asic Gel Foundation Ones launched my affinity for Asics. The National course was tougher than I expected, more hilly in the second half than I reckoned, although it was nothing like the tough hilly course of last year. This race is a comer.
How I wanted to do. My gold standard was to break 3:45. My silver standard was to break the 3:50 barrier. My bronze standard was to PR. My goals cascaded downwards from there--to have my second best time, to break four hours, to have my third best time, not to walk, not to be over five hours, to finish. I call this race management--late in a marathon coming up with a goal that will spur on some greater effort, no matter how briefly.
Background. I ran the NYCM last November and PRed in 3:52:34. That broke my former best time of 3:53:49, set at the WDWM the prior January. I have always considered it incredible that I ran almost four hours then to shave a mere 75 seconds off a running time. Why do we do this? One different choice made along all those 26 miles would have eliminated my PR. Even now I find it nerve-wra
cking.(That's me, #16976, on the Queensboro Bridge at around MP 17 in the 2006 NYCM.)
Disappointment. But I was never happy with how I ran the NYCM. The wheels came off at MP 21 and I walked a lot between there and Central Park even though I had the tremendous benefit of a running buddy during those miles (a bandit who shall remain nameless). I would suddenly break into a walk as my buddy continued sweeping people aside to create a passage for us in that perpetually congested race. Thirty yards later my buddy would look around, not see me and double back to find me again. Then s/he would exhort me to break into a trot while offering forth a bribe--a twizzler stick, a Tylenol, a swig of water, a gu.
Thanks to my running buddy! My buddy enabled me to PR that afternoon by running alongside me the last mile on the other side of the barricades lined with spectators in Central Park, whooping and hollering for Peter To Go! And I did go the last half mile, and PRed.
But because of those half dozen instances of walking, I felt like I had let my buddy, myself, and the other people who were there wishing me well, friends who had come up from DC in part due to the race, down. That's what I have carried for the last four months.
The four hour barrier. I didn't break four hours in a marathon until I accomplished this long-standing goal of mine at Disney last year in my tweltfth marathon. Before Disney I had never even broken 4:15, but more serious training led to a progression of lower times in six straight marathons starting with the 4:37:49 I posted three years ago at the Inaugural Potomac River Run Marathon.
What I have learned. I have learned that to break 4 hours in a marathon you need to keep progressing forward all the time during the last ten dreary miles. You can still walk, selectively, but you have to make sure the walking has a purpose. At the NYCM, when I broke into a walk each time, I carefully considered my watch and calculated out, at nine minute miles, the time I had left before I would be beyond the 3:53 I achieved at Disney. When I was "out of time" I finally suspended any further walking and went. Yesterday I walked briefly twice, both on steep uphills, to save the energy I would have expended on those stretches for later.
A former PR. Before my big breakthrough at Disney, my long-standing best time was 4:16 at the 2003 Columbus Marathon. I used to run most of my marathons without any spectator support. I don't think it's a coincidence that I PRed at Columbus where one of my four sisters lives.
I was driven to the race by her, I unexpectedly ran by her whole family cheering me on at MP 16, and then I saw them again along with a visiting sister, as planned, at MP 21. I went on to PR by almost 4 minutes despite painful muscle cramps the last two miles which necesitated several kneady stops. (Do I still look happy in this picture at MP 21 in the 2003 Columbus Marathon? Well, happy to see my people, certainly. Picture credit D.)A new PR. At Disney, trying to somehow find those sixteen minutes I needed to break through four hours, I kept plowing forward. As I shuffled
those desolate miles in the early twenties on the course between Animal Kingdom and MGM Studios, I tried to affix myself for 100 yards to every runner who ran by me before I let them go glimmering off into the distance. I never stopped. Suddenly there was the finish at Epcot. It helped that Disney is incredibly flat. (I am #4790 crossing the finish line at the 2006 WDWM with a 3:53:49 net, a PR by over 22 minutes. I lowered this slightly to 3:52:34 at the 2006 NYCM.) The National Marathon. Yesterday I dropped off my gold standard of breaking 3:45 around MP 17 as I went up Rock Creek Park. I run there often enough and I have never before been bothered by its very slight uphill grade. Yesterday it felt like I was crawling up it. I tossed aside my silver standard of breaking 3:50 around MP 23 during the decline on the long homeward stretch of North Capitol Street because I was no longer capable of executing race strategies. I couldn't pick up my pace to "flow downhill" and let gravity do some work for me. Once I turned onto flat K Street, I only had two and a half extra minutes, so laboriously "banked" in the first half of the race, to spend during the last three miles in trying to achieve my bronze standard of a PR by bringing it home under 3:52:34. If you're plodding along sore and exhausted at 10:30 miles deep into a marathon, it would be easy to slip into three 11:20 miles near the end. And you would never get those 150 seconds back again, ever. That's why they say it's better to have gas in the tank than time in the bank.
Meet Will Support. But running the last half of a marathon is about will, and it can also be about support. Two and a quarter miles from the end, I received a gift from providence. I only had to exercise the will to reach out and seize it. The 3:50 pace group ran by me.
Thank you RBF. I remembered Rich's post about his MCM and how later he regretted letting the 4:00 pace group slip away from him during the last few miles of the race, thus postponing his sought-after accomplishment of breaking four hours until a month later at Dallas. Late in a marathon, a mere moment can separate you from what you have worked so long and hard for and what you come away with.
Thank you Nathan Nudelman. I attached myself to the heels of one of the women leaders of the tiny group. It was put-up or shut-up time. I looked at the faces of everyone in the small band. The three or four men in the group were all in a zone, seeing something other than the street we were running on. The three pace leaders running abreast, all middies at the U.S. Naval Academy, looked a little strained but otherwise they were running easily. What did Hemingway say about pressure? Grace had to be the name of at least one of these heaven sent pacers.
Is four minutes an eternity? I ran with them for over four minutes, tucked up tight in the slight space between two of the pacers because I feared any separation would cause me to fall away and drift again, and I'd lose those 150 seconds I so desperately needed. I was about twenty minutes from the finish and those four minutes I was able to hang with the pace group and suspend my pain and doubt were crucial.
Spectator support. "Peter! Peter!" I looked up. Another providential gift. It was my one spectator for the day, right there at two miles out where I most need
ed an uplift. Jeanne had come to cheer me and other runners on. She had also snapped a picture. (MP 24 at the 2007 National Marathon. I am #1573 and the women in the red shirts are the 3:50 pace group leaders. Do you see anything but blank gritty determination on every single face? Picture credit Jeanne.)You can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes well, you might find that you get what you need. Somewhere after four minutes I let the pace group go. They had taken me a fifth of the remaining distance to the finish line. That's how I break a marathon down at the very end. I didn't have the strength to keep up with them anymore, or perhaps I didn't have the will to reach out and reclaim a chance at my silver standard. But hanging with them for over half a mile had assured me of my bronze standard. I received what I needed, I did my best, and I carry no regrets away from this race.
Post race tidbits. Bex PRed in the half. Go read her account which undoubtedly shall be forthcoming. Bob, who coaches in my local club's 10K Training Group on Saturdays with Bex, Jeanne, Gary and me, also PRed in the full, way ahead of me. He ran by me with his shirt off and his heart rate monitor on at MP 7 looking very purposeful, never to be seen by me in the race again. Gary also ran the full. It was good to see Jeanne, however fleetingly, out and about cheering runners on after her recent surgery. (The TKG was a little short of coaches yesterday, with Arnetta and Kristin having to do double duty.) The brand new DC mayor ran the marathon in 4:08. Pretty cool, huh? His parents own the first Fleet Feet on the East Coast, and are prominent in the DC running scene. The store is located in Adams Morgan and the course ran within 100 feet of it as the race reached its highest elevation around MP 20. My first pair of running shoes was purchased from there in 2000 while I was shedding 45 pounds in my new running lifestyle. That purchase of Asic Gel Foundation Ones launched my affinity for Asics. The National course was tougher than I expected, more hilly in the second half than I reckoned, although it was nothing like the tough hilly course of last year. This race is a comer.
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