This past Halloween I ran my 10th marathon. That's 262 miles over the course of about 5 years. My first marathon was October 2005, this one was my last - for now.
I ran the Cape Cod marathon starting and finishing in Falmouth Massachusetts. It was a very scenic, well supported, and well attended race. It's the fifth course I've run - Hartford, Marine Corps (D.C.), Boston, Lowell (Bay State), and now Falmouth. I really liked the course. If you are a first time marathon runner, expect this course to abuse you severely. As a tenured runner, I was surprised by the ease with which the course reduced my pace as time went on.
My friend Gerry and I met at the start and planned on running the first few miles together. Gerry and I trained together a few times but were targeting different paces. We ran together until about mile two where I sped up just a bit to ease into my target pace. The run along the coastline was reminiscent of my many summer trips to Gloucester or the Maine vacation hot-spots.
After a bit I found myself running with another gent who was running his twentieth marathon. Wow. It's amazing how many marathons some folks have run. We parted ways after a mile or so and before long I was running with another gent who had run hundreds of road races - 350 I think. This was his eighteenth marathon, the rest of his road race time has been spent doing 5, 10, and 15Ks. Wow. I love running but imagine it could be quite taxing to spend so much time in road races - the logistics of getting to the races can be taxing as they are generally several miles from home.
Then I passed a few runners here and a few runners there and before long I was at mile 6. Only 20.2 to go. I'd been tracking my pace with my watch at had built up a surplus of about 20 seconds. This buffer was very nice because the hills were ahead.
At some point, I realized I needed a very simple baseline to track my pace. The race started at 8:30 AM so at 6 miles/hour (10 minute mile) - I should be at mile 6 by 9:30. My target pace was 8 miles/hour (7.5 minute mile) so that means I should be passing even numbered markers every 15 minutes. Fairly easy to remember.
By 10:00 I was on target and still cruising at a solid, steady pace. Target finish time: 11:50 - 3 hours, 20 minutes. Some races have huge packs at the starting line. Falmouth did not. This means that your gun time and your start time can be very close to the same. The benefit of this I could keep an eye on the race clocks around the course and not need to add or subtract to get my actual time. It turns out that my actual start was a few seconds later than gun time so sticking to this plan gave me a few seconds buffer. I would definitely need that later.
From 10 to 10:30, the hills started taking their toll. I made a point to cheer and smile for the support crew at each stop and they responded in kind. Very nice. There was a couple wearing purple shirts and they had a black dog with a purple shirt too. I gave them a big smile and cheer and said "nice dog". They laughed and we were instant race friends. From then on, they were at every water stop to cheer on their friend and made a point to smile and cheer me on too. Once they were stuck in traffic and didn't make it to the water stop, the guy hung his head out the drivers window and cheered for me as I ran by his car. Big smiles were exchanged and it made the next leg that much easier. The next water stop I had a minute to say HI while passing them, they said they were hoping to catch up with me. Wow. It's amazing how good it feels to know that someone is looking out for you. Very cool. Marathon runners and fans continue to impress me with how friendly they are.
As 10:50 approached, my pace was falling a bit behind my goal. I ran up to one of the water stops and decided it would be OK to take a short walk instead of continuing the push. The water lady held our her hand and I walked the last 20 yards approaching her. She smiled that "you're crazy to do this but I'm sure you can" smile and I nodded back, took the water, and resumed the run mildly refreshed.
The last hour was a grind. The best part was knowing that Robyn, my wife of course, was waiting for me at the finish line. For nearly every minute after 11am I reminded myself that she made a special effort to come down and support me on that day. There was no way I'd let her down. Even if it meant pulling all the stops and being sore for a few days.
Approaching the final 6 miles, you start to see very large painted numbers on the street. This section of the course is the same section used for the Falmouth Road Race. A seven mile race that follows the coastline south of Falmouth. Very scenic and, unfortunately, very fragrant when the tide is out. The crustaceans along the waterline give off quite an aroma when the tide is low. The weather this day was perfect for running - a light breeze, cool air temperatures, and semi-over cast. I imagine how much more fragrant this area would be if the sun were just a bit hotter. As it was, my appetite was fading fast and it became hard for me to take in more food or water. The old standby of "make yourself eat" is a tough challenge when the stomach is wrenching.
The final 3 miles saw some of my worst mile splits for the whole race. 8:19/mile was the worst one. At this point, I needed to maintain 8:00/mile to finish on time. Still, that 8:19 meant 19 seconds were gone. 19 seconds that I could simply not recover this late in the race. I was still hopeful because there were only two miles to go. I held on to the idea that a steady and comfortable pace would bring me in to the finish before my 3:20 deadline.
A gal and I jockeyed for the lead about a dozen times during these last two miles. I'd let her pull ahead because it was getting too grueling, she'd fall back on the next hill. There was no talking or even acknowledgement - both of us clearly in the "get it done" zone.
Back around mile 18 I had passed my last marathoner. This race has a relay and a full marathon on the same course so it's not uncommon to have people pass you late in the race - typically the relay teams. The marathoners don't tend to pass one another near the end. We just pick a pace, stay in packs, and grind it out. The relay crews on the other hand are not distance runners. Well, they run between 5 and 7 miles so these are generally not sprinters but they do not have the slow-and-steady-wins-the-race attitude that marathoners live by. A few times the new relay runners pulled passed me at the water stops - starting out like a shot. Then, a few miles later, I'd pass them. I try not to measure myself by these small victories but when grinding out 26.2 miles, I take the cheer where I can get it.
The marathoner I passed at 18 was only slightly slower than me so we jockeyed for a while - him catching up, me catching up, but it was clear that I had more in the tank and, once I took my 20 yard lead, the gap kept increasing. Then I saw a guy running with no shirt and a full beard. It became quickly apparent that I had met my pace maker. He heard me coming and sped up ever so slightly. He crossed the street to shorten the corner, and so did I. We went back and forth like this for the next 8 miles. I'd get close and he'd speed up. He'd slow down and I would take a breather. Around mile 22 I lost sight of him and nearly resigned myself to letting him take the big lead only to find him again after mile 23 - the downhill runs on this course help offset the pain of the uphills. I got pretty good at speeding up on the downhills and that's where I caught him. From then out he was no more than a few yards ahead. Having a pace maker keeps you honest. The GPS watch gives you some feedback but the minute-per-minute variance is too large to really keep you honest. A running partner keeps you on track and typically makes you faster.
Mile 25 and we are now running through the neighborhood approaching downtown Falmouth and the finish line. The crowd is building back up. We can hear the band playing. Finished runners are walking back through the course to cheer on their friends. I'm watching my distance. Watching the clock. Watching my pace. Not feeling my feet. Oh, did I mention my toes? Well, at my last marathon before this I managed to smash 6 toes - 3 per foot - into black oblivion. This happens when toes get pushed too hard into the front of the shoe. It can happen if the shoes are too small - they were not; the socks are too thick - they were; or the foot does not land flat and even on the hills - my feet did not land flat and even at the last Boston. The good news is that at this race I was much more aware of my foot-falls and kept them flat and even. By mile 25, I had no significant toe pain and was looking forward to no black toe nails. In the end I only had two black toes and only slightly black at that.
Mile 26 and it's only about 1000 feet to go. That 1000 feet is enough to put anyone into cardiac arrest. The race clock reads 3:18. I have two minutes. That's PLENTY of time if I can just maintain my 8 minute pace. Heck at an 8 minute pace, 1000 feet should take me about 1:36. That gives me 24 seconds of slack. OK, so I didn't do all that math on the course but I knew I had some slack time so pushing extra at this time was far less important that maintaining pace.
Rounding the last turn, I saw Robyn all smiles and cheer. Wow. What a feeling. She was bright eyed and bushy tailed and cheering and shouting "you can do it" and "the finish line is right there!". Wow. Now who wouldn't want to put on the steam with that kind of show? I did. I pulled out all the stops and moved my pace from 8:01 / mile to the whopping 7:59 / mile and did I feel it.
When I crossed the finish line the shirtless pace maker had crossed a few seconds before me. We exchange high-fives. He said he knew I was back there and he was afraid he'd get passed. I thanked him for keeping me on pace.
It was an excellent race. 3:20 is the Boston qualifying cut-off for men my age - 40 at the time of this race - so now I have officially qualified for Boston.
As some of you know the process for getting into the Boston Marathon has gotten very complicated. This year the race "sold out" in a mere 8 hours. So I don't think I'll be in a hurry to get into the queue for next year and I'm definitely not running Boston this year but I will "retire" from marathons comfortably knowing that I did, in fact, make the qualifying time for Boston.
The ride home was tricky - Patriots traffic on 495 - otherwise the evening was as calm and easy going as you can expect for a Halloween night where both parents were away for the whole day. Candy was handed out until about 8:30. I fell promptly to sleep at 8:32 and, despite my best effort to rise from bed and go to work, slept through most of Monday. And then again on Friday.
