It's the day before the NYC Marathon - yay!!
It's also Halloween - yay!!
Uh oh. Problem.
I realized this pretty far in advance, and while I know the NYC Marathon is always the first Sunday in November, I was bummed that fate conspired so that the year I was running it was the one in seven that Halloween is the night before. How much does that suck?
Those who don't know me would think that this schedule would necessitate giving up on the Halloween drinking and carousing. But you, my dear readers, know better. When do I ever give up the chance to dress in a skimpy outfit and run around drinking my face off? Never. And so the Halloween plan was born.
With Halloween being on a Saturday (and therefore with people not having to work during the day), I heard about various pub crawls going on. You might think a pub crawl would be exactly the wrong idea, as it would require traipsing around the city, but I heard "afternoon pub crawl" and thought, "yay, an opportunity to get everyone to shift their drinking up from late night so I can get to bed early!" The plan, therefore, became this:
1. Spend the morning getting myself together, laying out my Halloween and marathon outfits side-by-side.
2. Spend the afternoon pregaming at my apartment and hitting the bars, while my mom traveled down from Albany to be in Manhattan by nightfall. Be sure to drink primarily beer (carbs!) and not liquor or wine (fewer carbs! Hangover!). Try to stay sober enough to be able to...
3. Meet up with my mom at a predetermined restaurant with my friends (having warned her in advance that we'd all be pretty darn drunk). "Predetermined" would take away the chances of me just getting greasy pizza or fried food, and would be some sort of pasta place where I couldn't go wrong with my pre-marathon food choices, despite the level of drunkenness.
4. If everyone else is not ready to go home after dinner, go home with my mom, knowing that they'll all be too drunk to enjoy themselves in the second half of the festivities anyway.
5. Pass out by 10 PM in order to wake up at 5:30 AM for the race. Drunk sleep? Maybe, but hopefully quantity will make up for quality.
We'll see how it goes!
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
My pacer for Sunday has fallen through!
An e-mail from my uncle:
Laura.......
Stuey wanted to run alongside you this weekend to inspire and coach you to another fine performance but so far, he hasn't been able to find his other pair of running shoes.
You may have to start without him.
Look for him at the finish line!
Good luck!
We'll be hoping all the runners from Kenya trip or fall down.
Marty
Laura.......
Stuey wanted to run alongside you this weekend to inspire and coach you to another fine performance but so far, he hasn't been able to find his other pair of running shoes.
You may have to start without him.
Look for him at the finish line!
Good luck!
We'll be hoping all the runners from Kenya trip or fall down.
Marty
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Race Report: On the Road for Education Marathon
The alarms went off, and I immediately headed over to the window. It was very dark, but that wasn't the real reason I couldn't see: it was foggy as heck! I could barely see five feet away from the window, and I peered through the glass, trying to figure out if it was raining. Though the cars in the parking lot were wet, it seemed like it had stopped raining. I hoped it would stay that way.
I got dressed and headed down to the hotel breakfast bar, where I brought my own whole wheat bagel for toasting along with some crunchy organic peanut butter - yum. I've recently changed up my eating strategy for marathons, preferring to eat about 300 calories for breakfast and then use only one or two 100-calorie gels during, as opposed to my old strategy of a mini Lara Bar (~120 cals) for breakfast and then four or five gels during. Same number of calories; just different timing. However, getitng to eat a more substantial breakfast satisfies me more than getting the same calories through a little silver packet, which I tend to discount.
Heading out to the car, I realized it was chilly, but it wasn't that cold out. My outfit would probably be fine - as long as it truly wasn't going to rain anymore. We got to the school and had a while to hang out before the next (and last) shuttle bus, so I spent the time milling around, calling Boyfriend to say good morning, and checking out the pictures on the walls of the school. I found it interesting that there didn't seem to be any girls' sports teams - instead, each of the boys' teams' pictures just had a random girl or two stuck in the middle. How sad!
I waited till near the end to board the shuttle bus that was loading near the front of the school, and found when I got on that there were no seats left. The bus driver encouraged us to push toward the back to make room for others to stand. Then, as more runners came on, he started turning them away, telling them that there was another bus pulling up right behind him. So why was I standing? Those of us standing tried to make our way to the front of the bus to get off and take the next one, but before we could do so, he closed the doors and started driving. Okay, standing it is! I hoped that the ride wouldn't be long.
We arrived at Music Man Square, which had been prominently mentioned and talked up in the course description. However, it wasn't overhyped at all - it was really awesome! It was basically an indoor plaza that had been decorated to look like an old-fashioned outdoor street (like in The Music Man). There was a cobblestoned street down the center, and each of the storefronts had an awning over it... it felt like being on Main Street at Disney World. What a neat place to wait for a race!
I chatted with a few other 50 Staters for a bit. They were easy to find, as is often the case with small races where it's just locals and 50 Staters who are trying to fit a state into their schedule. Gradually, people started heading out to the start, but I held off as long as possible to avoid the cold for just a bit longer. However, when it was five minutes to the start, I couldn't wait anymore - it was time to go.
I walked outside to find a very small starting line with several dozen people lined up next to it. A truck stood literally next to the starting line, and I just took my sweats off, stuffed them in the bag, and handed it off - no lines, no walking miles from the line of trucks to the start, just easy. Small races are so nice logistically! After a (simple, nice, and not off-key) rendition of the Star Spangled Banner by a young soprano, the race began.
I found it odd that while there was chip timing, there was no mat at the start. The entry fee and the field were small enough that I didn't think chip timing was really necessary, but it always confuses me when they have chip timing but only use it at the end. I settled into a nice, even pace, enjoying the crisp fall air. It was perfect weather for marathoning, and I was happy with my skirt/long sleeved t-shirt decision, which made me utterly comfortable.
We ran through some residential streets, and then turned onto a dirt road that led us through some type of office park, running on sidewalks bordered by grassy areas and small ponds. There was a little bit of up and down, but nothing to really be concerned about. From there, we did a short connecting segment on a paved road with farmland around, and finally turned onto a dirt road that took us all the way out to mile 10.
I made the mistake of calling Boyfriend while I ran, and we ended up getting to an argument, which totally, totally sucked. There is nothing worse than running a marathon when you're unhappy, because there's nothing to distract you from it and you just have to keep going no matter how upset you are. I've said it before and I'll say it again: the marathon is much more a test of mental endurance than physical endurance. If you're straining your mental capacity with unhappy thoughts and arguments, it just becomes an impossible task. Though we ultimately dropped the subject and agreed to discuss once I was home, the argument took its toll on me and really slowed down my time and energy.
On the dirt road, the fog was still so thick and the field so spread out that I could barely see anyone around me. There was one person in orange who seemed to be about 5 seconds ahead of me, and I could hear some people in the distance behind me, but I was mostly by myself. I listened to Taylor Swift on my iPod while I ran - my latest favorite for alternately helping me relax and settle into the miles as well as pep me up and spur me on.
Glancing at my Garmin around mile 7, I realized I had a problem: though I had started it properly, I had inadvertently stopped it a few seconds later, probably when I went to lock the bezel so I wouldn't hit it accidentally. There were no clocks on the course, so I had no idea of my time other than looking at the clock on my cell phone and assuming that the race had started promptly at 8 AM. When I approached mile 8, I tried to reconcile that mile marker with the mileage on my Garmin, and determined that I should add a little over 6 miles to whatever it said on my watch. It was a good thing I wasn't going for a PR, because it would have been really hard to keep track of my pacing with such faulty data.
Around mile 11, we turned back onto a paved road, this one taking us out of the farmland and back into a more residential (though still nowhere near suburban) area. Shortly thereafter, I met up with a Maniac I had met a few weeks earlier, and we took a quick walk break and chatted for a bit until we got to the next water stop. I asked him what pace he was aiming for, and he replied that he wanted to do 4:45. Uh oh! Was that really what I was on pace for? I was hoping to do somewhere under 4:15, and I knew that I had been slow in the first half, but I hoped I wasn't that slow. I knew this was supposed to be a flat, fast course, and I wanted to come in with a time that reflected it.
As we approached the halfway point, we started coming into a very suburban area, and saw a few people who had come out on their lawns and porches to watch. One of them made a comment that now forever sticks in my mind as the classic example of someone trying to be nice and encouraging but really just not helping at all: the guy called, "Awww, looks like they save the prettiest for last!" I appreciated the initial compliment, but last? LAST?! I was most certainly not in last place (at least, I didn't think so), and I didn't want to hear that apparently so many women were ahead of me.
I pushed his backhanded compliment out of my mind, and made it to a parking lot where a family had gathered to cheer for the runners. (They told me I was looking good and made no mention of my place in the race). A few blocks further, we turned off the roads and onto a trail that I knew would comprise the major out-and-back section of the race.
It was pretty, and exactly the kind of trail I like to run on: quiet, secluded, but not technical at all. The path was cleared enough that I didn't need to worry about tripping on something or hitting a branch, so I got to just run and enjoy the beauty of nature. Funny, I never thought I'd be saying that phrase - growing up, I was always a "creature comforts" kind of girl, preferring to sit in my house than go up to our lake in the Adirondacks where I might get (gasp) bitten by a mosquito. But now, particularly living in the concrete jungle of New York, I'm starting to appreciate how nice it is to just see nature all around you and be alone.
Not that I was entirely alone, of course. Because this was an out-and-back, there were runners passing me in the other direction every so often (I said hi to John as he went by about a mile in). Plus, with my new faster pace, I was overtaking and passing runners going in the same direction as me. I was fortunate that the trail was wide enough to do this easily.
The trail section turned out to be not a straight out-and-back, but a lollipop design (meaning out, then loop, then back along the "stick" part). By the time I reached the loop, there wasn't anyone that I could see in front of me. However, as we went through kind of a field area, I didn't see any markings or heavily trodden footprints, and I started to wonder if I was on the right track. I glanced back and saw other runners about a few hundred yards behind me, which was reassuring (I was not going to get lost in the middle of nowhere!), but I hoped I wasn't leading them astray by having missed a turn or something. Fortunately, just as I started to worry, I caught sight of another marking, and the trail took a turn back in the general direction of the "stick" portion.
On the return leg, I was disappointed to find that I wasn't passing nearly as many people going "out" as had passed me going "back." Maybe that spectator was right, and I was one of the slowest? I found it hard to believe that, because I felt like I was maintaining a good pace, but it was hard to tell thanks to my incorrect Garmin. I know I could have calculated my pace manually (and it would have given me something to think about and with which to distract myself), but I didn't really care that much, and I preferred to just let my thoughts drift. Sometimes I find it hard to get into that state where I don't have anything to think about and I don't care, so I wanted to enjoy it while I had it.
Out of the trail, I headed across the road (thank you, helpful volunteer!) and onto a dirt road that bordered a creek. I wondered if this was the same road I had been on very early in the race (around mile 1 or 2), but I didn't remember the course map enough to be sure. There were a few little ups and downs as I went along the road, and it was nice to have the steep short inclines to help me pick up the pace a bit.
From there, it was back to the main roads (well, as "main" as they get in Mason City, Iowa), and then through a park. While the organizers had been excellent about getting a volunteer or policeman to be at every intersection, there was a road through the park that was unmanned - presumably because it was through a park and the cars were supposed to watch for pedestrians anyway. However, as I crossed the park drive, a car decided not to stop and nearly hit me. What the heck? I'm out here at mile 20 and you won't stop for me? I was really annoyed, particularly since, as I said, it was a park and the driver should have been cautious even if there wasn't a race going on.
The last few miles took us on a lot of twists and turns through neighborhoods. I had no idea where I was, or from which way I was going to be approaching the finish (you guessed it - as usual, I hadn't really studied the course map). There were a few familiar sights along the way, and I would recognize a store here or there that I had passed at some point either driving from the airport or between the hotel and the school, but I really had no clue where I was until I got to mile 26 and finally saw the finish ahead. Because my Garmin wasn't working, I had only the mile markers to rely on for how much I had left to go, and it was then that I realized how much that sucked. There is nothing worse than running and running and not seeing a mile marker and just wondering when the heck you are going to be done! This course was very well-marked, but I can't imagine if I didn't have a Garmin on some of the courses I've run, that are missing mile markers.
With the sun coming out, I was happy to be reaching the finish, and hoped that I had done a good time (thanks to the messed up Garmin, I really didn't know). Approaching mile 26, there was a woman ahead of me, and though she put up a good fight, I managed to pass her and head down the finish chute all by myself. Both John and Catherine had already finished, so they were cheering my name, as was my friend Gary, who is super speedy (he came in third place overall!). The announcer called out my name as I came through the grassy chute and across the finish line, which was adorned with bales of hay (I love it!). "What was my time?" I asked John, panting. "Just about 4:10 - great job!" he replied. I was really pleasantly surpriesd - even after all that chatting on the phone and going slowly in the first half, I had come in with a pretty fast time.
The finish tent had a great assortment of food, and I opted for the somewhat-healthy-but-somewhat-indulgent choice of apple slices with caramel dipping sauce - yum! John and I headed back to the hotel to get showered and changed, while Catherine opted to stay at the school and use the showers there in order to save time. When I went to change and shower, I discovered that my legs were streaked with dirt and mud - one of the hazards of doing a trail run, I suppose. I felt great though!
When we stopped back at the school to pick up Catherine, I had one last duty to complete. A few weeks ago, Boyfriend had surprised me with a gift of a little stuffed animal - a dog he named "Spot" who wore a shirt that said "someone in New York loves me." Boyfriend explained that I was to take it to all my marathons, and that way I'd have someone to cuddle with when he wasn't there. Awww! However, I decided to one-up Boyfriend by explaining that Spot got jealous of my medals and wanted to earn one himself. Thanks to the generosity of the announcer at the finish line (and the fact that Spot "finished" slowly enough to not have any other runners around), I was able to snap this pic:
Spot's first marathon! Combined with a great time on my part, and it was truly a day to celebrate :)
I got dressed and headed down to the hotel breakfast bar, where I brought my own whole wheat bagel for toasting along with some crunchy organic peanut butter - yum. I've recently changed up my eating strategy for marathons, preferring to eat about 300 calories for breakfast and then use only one or two 100-calorie gels during, as opposed to my old strategy of a mini Lara Bar (~120 cals) for breakfast and then four or five gels during. Same number of calories; just different timing. However, getitng to eat a more substantial breakfast satisfies me more than getting the same calories through a little silver packet, which I tend to discount.
Heading out to the car, I realized it was chilly, but it wasn't that cold out. My outfit would probably be fine - as long as it truly wasn't going to rain anymore. We got to the school and had a while to hang out before the next (and last) shuttle bus, so I spent the time milling around, calling Boyfriend to say good morning, and checking out the pictures on the walls of the school. I found it interesting that there didn't seem to be any girls' sports teams - instead, each of the boys' teams' pictures just had a random girl or two stuck in the middle. How sad!
I waited till near the end to board the shuttle bus that was loading near the front of the school, and found when I got on that there were no seats left. The bus driver encouraged us to push toward the back to make room for others to stand. Then, as more runners came on, he started turning them away, telling them that there was another bus pulling up right behind him. So why was I standing? Those of us standing tried to make our way to the front of the bus to get off and take the next one, but before we could do so, he closed the doors and started driving. Okay, standing it is! I hoped that the ride wouldn't be long.
We arrived at Music Man Square, which had been prominently mentioned and talked up in the course description. However, it wasn't overhyped at all - it was really awesome! It was basically an indoor plaza that had been decorated to look like an old-fashioned outdoor street (like in The Music Man). There was a cobblestoned street down the center, and each of the storefronts had an awning over it... it felt like being on Main Street at Disney World. What a neat place to wait for a race!
I chatted with a few other 50 Staters for a bit. They were easy to find, as is often the case with small races where it's just locals and 50 Staters who are trying to fit a state into their schedule. Gradually, people started heading out to the start, but I held off as long as possible to avoid the cold for just a bit longer. However, when it was five minutes to the start, I couldn't wait anymore - it was time to go.
I walked outside to find a very small starting line with several dozen people lined up next to it. A truck stood literally next to the starting line, and I just took my sweats off, stuffed them in the bag, and handed it off - no lines, no walking miles from the line of trucks to the start, just easy. Small races are so nice logistically! After a (simple, nice, and not off-key) rendition of the Star Spangled Banner by a young soprano, the race began.
I found it odd that while there was chip timing, there was no mat at the start. The entry fee and the field were small enough that I didn't think chip timing was really necessary, but it always confuses me when they have chip timing but only use it at the end. I settled into a nice, even pace, enjoying the crisp fall air. It was perfect weather for marathoning, and I was happy with my skirt/long sleeved t-shirt decision, which made me utterly comfortable.
We ran through some residential streets, and then turned onto a dirt road that led us through some type of office park, running on sidewalks bordered by grassy areas and small ponds. There was a little bit of up and down, but nothing to really be concerned about. From there, we did a short connecting segment on a paved road with farmland around, and finally turned onto a dirt road that took us all the way out to mile 10.
I made the mistake of calling Boyfriend while I ran, and we ended up getting to an argument, which totally, totally sucked. There is nothing worse than running a marathon when you're unhappy, because there's nothing to distract you from it and you just have to keep going no matter how upset you are. I've said it before and I'll say it again: the marathon is much more a test of mental endurance than physical endurance. If you're straining your mental capacity with unhappy thoughts and arguments, it just becomes an impossible task. Though we ultimately dropped the subject and agreed to discuss once I was home, the argument took its toll on me and really slowed down my time and energy.
On the dirt road, the fog was still so thick and the field so spread out that I could barely see anyone around me. There was one person in orange who seemed to be about 5 seconds ahead of me, and I could hear some people in the distance behind me, but I was mostly by myself. I listened to Taylor Swift on my iPod while I ran - my latest favorite for alternately helping me relax and settle into the miles as well as pep me up and spur me on.
Glancing at my Garmin around mile 7, I realized I had a problem: though I had started it properly, I had inadvertently stopped it a few seconds later, probably when I went to lock the bezel so I wouldn't hit it accidentally. There were no clocks on the course, so I had no idea of my time other than looking at the clock on my cell phone and assuming that the race had started promptly at 8 AM. When I approached mile 8, I tried to reconcile that mile marker with the mileage on my Garmin, and determined that I should add a little over 6 miles to whatever it said on my watch. It was a good thing I wasn't going for a PR, because it would have been really hard to keep track of my pacing with such faulty data.
Around mile 11, we turned back onto a paved road, this one taking us out of the farmland and back into a more residential (though still nowhere near suburban) area. Shortly thereafter, I met up with a Maniac I had met a few weeks earlier, and we took a quick walk break and chatted for a bit until we got to the next water stop. I asked him what pace he was aiming for, and he replied that he wanted to do 4:45. Uh oh! Was that really what I was on pace for? I was hoping to do somewhere under 4:15, and I knew that I had been slow in the first half, but I hoped I wasn't that slow. I knew this was supposed to be a flat, fast course, and I wanted to come in with a time that reflected it.
As we approached the halfway point, we started coming into a very suburban area, and saw a few people who had come out on their lawns and porches to watch. One of them made a comment that now forever sticks in my mind as the classic example of someone trying to be nice and encouraging but really just not helping at all: the guy called, "Awww, looks like they save the prettiest for last!" I appreciated the initial compliment, but last? LAST?! I was most certainly not in last place (at least, I didn't think so), and I didn't want to hear that apparently so many women were ahead of me.
I pushed his backhanded compliment out of my mind, and made it to a parking lot where a family had gathered to cheer for the runners. (They told me I was looking good and made no mention of my place in the race). A few blocks further, we turned off the roads and onto a trail that I knew would comprise the major out-and-back section of the race.
It was pretty, and exactly the kind of trail I like to run on: quiet, secluded, but not technical at all. The path was cleared enough that I didn't need to worry about tripping on something or hitting a branch, so I got to just run and enjoy the beauty of nature. Funny, I never thought I'd be saying that phrase - growing up, I was always a "creature comforts" kind of girl, preferring to sit in my house than go up to our lake in the Adirondacks where I might get (gasp) bitten by a mosquito. But now, particularly living in the concrete jungle of New York, I'm starting to appreciate how nice it is to just see nature all around you and be alone.
Not that I was entirely alone, of course. Because this was an out-and-back, there were runners passing me in the other direction every so often (I said hi to John as he went by about a mile in). Plus, with my new faster pace, I was overtaking and passing runners going in the same direction as me. I was fortunate that the trail was wide enough to do this easily.
The trail section turned out to be not a straight out-and-back, but a lollipop design (meaning out, then loop, then back along the "stick" part). By the time I reached the loop, there wasn't anyone that I could see in front of me. However, as we went through kind of a field area, I didn't see any markings or heavily trodden footprints, and I started to wonder if I was on the right track. I glanced back and saw other runners about a few hundred yards behind me, which was reassuring (I was not going to get lost in the middle of nowhere!), but I hoped I wasn't leading them astray by having missed a turn or something. Fortunately, just as I started to worry, I caught sight of another marking, and the trail took a turn back in the general direction of the "stick" portion.
On the return leg, I was disappointed to find that I wasn't passing nearly as many people going "out" as had passed me going "back." Maybe that spectator was right, and I was one of the slowest? I found it hard to believe that, because I felt like I was maintaining a good pace, but it was hard to tell thanks to my incorrect Garmin. I know I could have calculated my pace manually (and it would have given me something to think about and with which to distract myself), but I didn't really care that much, and I preferred to just let my thoughts drift. Sometimes I find it hard to get into that state where I don't have anything to think about and I don't care, so I wanted to enjoy it while I had it.
Out of the trail, I headed across the road (thank you, helpful volunteer!) and onto a dirt road that bordered a creek. I wondered if this was the same road I had been on very early in the race (around mile 1 or 2), but I didn't remember the course map enough to be sure. There were a few little ups and downs as I went along the road, and it was nice to have the steep short inclines to help me pick up the pace a bit.
From there, it was back to the main roads (well, as "main" as they get in Mason City, Iowa), and then through a park. While the organizers had been excellent about getting a volunteer or policeman to be at every intersection, there was a road through the park that was unmanned - presumably because it was through a park and the cars were supposed to watch for pedestrians anyway. However, as I crossed the park drive, a car decided not to stop and nearly hit me. What the heck? I'm out here at mile 20 and you won't stop for me? I was really annoyed, particularly since, as I said, it was a park and the driver should have been cautious even if there wasn't a race going on.
The last few miles took us on a lot of twists and turns through neighborhoods. I had no idea where I was, or from which way I was going to be approaching the finish (you guessed it - as usual, I hadn't really studied the course map). There were a few familiar sights along the way, and I would recognize a store here or there that I had passed at some point either driving from the airport or between the hotel and the school, but I really had no clue where I was until I got to mile 26 and finally saw the finish ahead. Because my Garmin wasn't working, I had only the mile markers to rely on for how much I had left to go, and it was then that I realized how much that sucked. There is nothing worse than running and running and not seeing a mile marker and just wondering when the heck you are going to be done! This course was very well-marked, but I can't imagine if I didn't have a Garmin on some of the courses I've run, that are missing mile markers.
With the sun coming out, I was happy to be reaching the finish, and hoped that I had done a good time (thanks to the messed up Garmin, I really didn't know). Approaching mile 26, there was a woman ahead of me, and though she put up a good fight, I managed to pass her and head down the finish chute all by myself. Both John and Catherine had already finished, so they were cheering my name, as was my friend Gary, who is super speedy (he came in third place overall!). The announcer called out my name as I came through the grassy chute and across the finish line, which was adorned with bales of hay (I love it!). "What was my time?" I asked John, panting. "Just about 4:10 - great job!" he replied. I was really pleasantly surpriesd - even after all that chatting on the phone and going slowly in the first half, I had come in with a pretty fast time.
The finish tent had a great assortment of food, and I opted for the somewhat-healthy-but-somewhat-indulgent choice of apple slices with caramel dipping sauce - yum! John and I headed back to the hotel to get showered and changed, while Catherine opted to stay at the school and use the showers there in order to save time. When I went to change and shower, I discovered that my legs were streaked with dirt and mud - one of the hazards of doing a trail run, I suppose. I felt great though!
When we stopped back at the school to pick up Catherine, I had one last duty to complete. A few weeks ago, Boyfriend had surprised me with a gift of a little stuffed animal - a dog he named "Spot" who wore a shirt that said "someone in New York loves me." Boyfriend explained that I was to take it to all my marathons, and that way I'd have someone to cuddle with when he wasn't there. Awww! However, I decided to one-up Boyfriend by explaining that Spot got jealous of my medals and wanted to earn one himself. Thanks to the generosity of the announcer at the finish line (and the fact that Spot "finished" slowly enough to not have any other runners around), I was able to snap this pic:
Spot's first marathon! Combined with a great time on my part, and it was truly a day to celebrate :)
Race stats:
Distance: 26.2 miles
Time: 4:11:02
Pace: 9:34
Overall place: 64/105
Gender place: 15/27
Age group place: 5/6
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Night Before the Race: On the Road for Education Marathon
Okay, it's redemption time. I hopped on a flight to Minneapolis this morning, where I met Maniacs John and Catherine for a 2 hour carpool down to Mason City, IA. "What's in Mason City, IA?" you may ask? This bustling metropolis is the birthplace of Meredith Willson (composer of The Music Man), boasts a wooden door factory and a metal door factory, and also produces Kraft pudding cups. But most importantly to us, it is the host town of the On the Road for Education Marathon.
We got into town around 4 PM and headed to the packet pickup, which was held at the local high school. Several booths were set up around the lobby: one for registration, one to get your pre-registered number, and one with the stuff. Sounds pretty standard, right? Well, have you ever run a race where they hand you a package of beef summer sausage with your bib? I sure hadn't - so random! We were also pointed to a table with an assortment of running socks, and got to pick a pair. Most had cuffs, but I was pleased to find one pair of ladies low-cut socks - my favorite for running. I wasn't going to be bold enough to wear them the next day, but I was still excited to get a new pair.
We went back to our hotels to drop off our stuff and settle in, and then it was back to the school for the pasta dinner. At only $6, reviews on Marathon Guide said it was a great value and not to be missed! Following the signs to the school cafeteria, I was expecting something like the dinner at the Mesa Falls Marathon, which I loved.
The woman who was taking tickets let me in without paying... because children under 16 eat free. I tried to correct her, but she waved me forward anyway. Do I really still look that young?? The next day, I donated $6 at the food stand after the race - it was all for a good cause, so I didn't want to stiff them.
After going through the cashier for dinner, we were now in the main cafeteria line, where we waited. And waited. And waited. Boy, first Rhode Island, and now this - it seems like I can never get my pre-race meal when I want it! Rumors were that they had run out of pasta and were making more, but after 15 minutes had gone by, we wondered if they had run out of stock completely and had to go to the grocery store or something - it doesn't take that long to boil water! Still, for a free meal, I wasn't complaining.
When the pasta finally did come, it was very simple: some spaghetti, meat or marinara sauce, and a roll. There were pre-made bowls of iceberg salad we could have, and for dessert, the town's famed Jello pudding cups. The woman serving pasta didn't really give me a big portion, and I asked for a bit more, but didn't want to be greedy, so I figured I could just go up for seconds later. However, it seemed that we had gotten there at just the right time - shortly after we got our pasta, they ran out again, this time leaving about 40 people waiting in line for another 30 minutes! I didn't know what was up with their "supply chain mismanagement" (you can take the girl out of consulting...), but it was definitely disappointing. With so many people waiting, there was no way I was going to try for seconds, so I figured I'd just go without and then maybe get a snack later if I really still needed it.
We headed back to our hotel, and I found that while I wasn't quite as full as I usually like to be, I wasn't starving either. I hoped I would be well-fueled for the race the next day, but it was supposed to be a fairly flat and easy course, and I wasn't going for time anyway, so I didn't worry too much about it.
What I was worried about, though, was the forecast. Rain again! I was already apprehensive about attempting another marathon after last weekend's depressing DNF, and to throw rain in there was really scaring me. I asked Catherine and John what they planned to wear, and realized that once again, I was unprepared: I had brought only a skirt for the bottom, and a tank and a light long-sleeved shirt for the top. When am I going to learn to get some running tights and a windbreaker jacket?! I am an idiot. Catherine was debating between pants and shorts, as was John, so at least my attire wasn't totally crazy... but both of them were planning to wear a light windbreaker and then maybe take it off at the start. I had sweats I could leave at the start, but nothing else to wear while running.
Now completely nervous, I went to bed, just praying for the forecast to clear. I've been so depressed all week long after quitting on Sunday, and I don't know what I would do if something went wrong and I had to do it again (at least, for the second consecutive time - I'm sure I'll have more DNFs somewhere in my career).
It's been a long time since I've gone to bed this scared before a marathon.
We got into town around 4 PM and headed to the packet pickup, which was held at the local high school. Several booths were set up around the lobby: one for registration, one to get your pre-registered number, and one with the stuff. Sounds pretty standard, right? Well, have you ever run a race where they hand you a package of beef summer sausage with your bib? I sure hadn't - so random! We were also pointed to a table with an assortment of running socks, and got to pick a pair. Most had cuffs, but I was pleased to find one pair of ladies low-cut socks - my favorite for running. I wasn't going to be bold enough to wear them the next day, but I was still excited to get a new pair.
We went back to our hotels to drop off our stuff and settle in, and then it was back to the school for the pasta dinner. At only $6, reviews on Marathon Guide said it was a great value and not to be missed! Following the signs to the school cafeteria, I was expecting something like the dinner at the Mesa Falls Marathon, which I loved.
The woman who was taking tickets let me in without paying... because children under 16 eat free. I tried to correct her, but she waved me forward anyway. Do I really still look that young?? The next day, I donated $6 at the food stand after the race - it was all for a good cause, so I didn't want to stiff them.
After going through the cashier for dinner, we were now in the main cafeteria line, where we waited. And waited. And waited. Boy, first Rhode Island, and now this - it seems like I can never get my pre-race meal when I want it! Rumors were that they had run out of pasta and were making more, but after 15 minutes had gone by, we wondered if they had run out of stock completely and had to go to the grocery store or something - it doesn't take that long to boil water! Still, for a free meal, I wasn't complaining.
When the pasta finally did come, it was very simple: some spaghetti, meat or marinara sauce, and a roll. There were pre-made bowls of iceberg salad we could have, and for dessert, the town's famed Jello pudding cups. The woman serving pasta didn't really give me a big portion, and I asked for a bit more, but didn't want to be greedy, so I figured I could just go up for seconds later. However, it seemed that we had gotten there at just the right time - shortly after we got our pasta, they ran out again, this time leaving about 40 people waiting in line for another 30 minutes! I didn't know what was up with their "supply chain mismanagement" (you can take the girl out of consulting...), but it was definitely disappointing. With so many people waiting, there was no way I was going to try for seconds, so I figured I'd just go without and then maybe get a snack later if I really still needed it.
We headed back to our hotel, and I found that while I wasn't quite as full as I usually like to be, I wasn't starving either. I hoped I would be well-fueled for the race the next day, but it was supposed to be a fairly flat and easy course, and I wasn't going for time anyway, so I didn't worry too much about it.
What I was worried about, though, was the forecast. Rain again! I was already apprehensive about attempting another marathon after last weekend's depressing DNF, and to throw rain in there was really scaring me. I asked Catherine and John what they planned to wear, and realized that once again, I was unprepared: I had brought only a skirt for the bottom, and a tank and a light long-sleeved shirt for the top. When am I going to learn to get some running tights and a windbreaker jacket?! I am an idiot. Catherine was debating between pants and shorts, as was John, so at least my attire wasn't totally crazy... but both of them were planning to wear a light windbreaker and then maybe take it off at the start. I had sweats I could leave at the start, but nothing else to wear while running.
Now completely nervous, I went to bed, just praying for the forecast to clear. I've been so depressed all week long after quitting on Sunday, and I don't know what I would do if something went wrong and I had to do it again (at least, for the second consecutive time - I'm sure I'll have more DNFs somewhere in my career).
It's been a long time since I've gone to bed this scared before a marathon.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Raking in the Big Bucks
In reviewing my 2010 health care plan elections, there is a new item listed under lifestyle bonuses to our healthcare flex spending accounts.
NEW for 2010! Participation in a Sports Program
Award: $50 for any of these programs
o Running in a marathon
o Playing on a team (softball, volleyball or similar team sport)
o Coaching a team
I really want to e-mail benefits and ask them if I can get the $50 for every marathon I complete. Perhaps they will say yes, thinking I can't possibly do more than two or three. Little do they know!!!
NEW for 2010! Participation in a Sports Program
Award: $50 for any of these programs
o Running in a marathon
o Playing on a team (softball, volleyball or similar team sport)
o Coaching a team
I really want to e-mail benefits and ask them if I can get the $50 for every marathon I complete. Perhaps they will say yes, thinking I can't possibly do more than two or three. Little do they know!!!
Monday, October 19, 2009
The Day After I Failed
I woke up still totally depressed about the race yesterday. I was totally dreading going into work. My coworkers may not know much about marathons, but that I know that I do one or two every weekend, and they're used to me coming in on Monday mornings and coloring in another state on the marathon map that hangs over my desk. And it's not just my close coworkers - I'm constantly being asked about it by random passersby who see it and want to know what it is. We joke that you can tell which state I've done most recently because the ink on the pink highlighter I use is always darker when I first color it in, and it takes about a month to fully fade. And this morning, I wasn't going to get to color in a state.
However, I had a mission. Right after I showered, the first thing I wanted to check was the date of the Rhode Island 6 Hour Ultra that I knew a few people were doing (like Steph). The verdict? November 15 - the day after I'd be pacing the Sun Trust Richmond marathon. Well, at least it wasn't the same day as another race. I'm in!
From there, the details started to fall into place. I can fly from Richmond to Boston on Saturday afternoon, and my mom will meet me at the airport and we'll drive together to Warwick, RI. I snagged a nice hotel room with a Starwood hotel, where I have platinum status and can therefore guarantee a 4 PM checkout. There's even a choice of two flights back to New York that night, either of which give me plenty of time to hit up the post-race party at a local bar. Nice!
Now I just had to deal with my lingering feelings of failure. I couldn't believe I was the only one who quit, but a preliminary look at the results showed a lot of my friends finishing the race (albeit slower than usual). I updated my Facebook status ("I feel like a total failure right now. Rhode Island 2, Laura 0.") and also posted a topic on the Marathon Maniacs' bulletin board, asking "Have you ever quit? I had a lot of reassuring responses on the bulletin board, but most were in regards to quitting due to injury. Meanwhile on Facebook, I was getting comments telling me that it was probably smart to quit... but they were mostly from people who had run Rhode Island and actually finished. However, when I got home from work, I had the best reply waiting for me, from my friend Tim (whom I had seen at the start of the race):
I bailed on Rhode Island at the half marathon finish and I was stupid to wait that long! Keep in mind that I have finished 35 marathons since the beginning of the year. You're only a failure if you don't try again. You are listed on the maniacs calendar as running the 6 hour ultra in RI next month. The FIRST thing I did this morning was to register for that run. I will see you on November 15 and we will finish that stupid state together! I would be willing to bet that the weather will be nicer this next time around. Sunday was insanity, glad I wasn't the only one I know who recognizes that. I counted an awful lot of blue marathon bibs in the tent at the half finish. Many people bailed on this one!
Just knowing that I didn't make a silly, wimpy, amateur decision has made me feel loads better. See you in Warwick, Tim!!!
However, I had a mission. Right after I showered, the first thing I wanted to check was the date of the Rhode Island 6 Hour Ultra that I knew a few people were doing (like Steph). The verdict? November 15 - the day after I'd be pacing the Sun Trust Richmond marathon. Well, at least it wasn't the same day as another race. I'm in!
From there, the details started to fall into place. I can fly from Richmond to Boston on Saturday afternoon, and my mom will meet me at the airport and we'll drive together to Warwick, RI. I snagged a nice hotel room with a Starwood hotel, where I have platinum status and can therefore guarantee a 4 PM checkout. There's even a choice of two flights back to New York that night, either of which give me plenty of time to hit up the post-race party at a local bar. Nice!
Now I just had to deal with my lingering feelings of failure. I couldn't believe I was the only one who quit, but a preliminary look at the results showed a lot of my friends finishing the race (albeit slower than usual). I updated my Facebook status ("I feel like a total failure right now. Rhode Island 2, Laura 0.") and also posted a topic on the Marathon Maniacs' bulletin board, asking "Have you ever quit? I had a lot of reassuring responses on the bulletin board, but most were in regards to quitting due to injury. Meanwhile on Facebook, I was getting comments telling me that it was probably smart to quit... but they were mostly from people who had run Rhode Island and actually finished. However, when I got home from work, I had the best reply waiting for me, from my friend Tim (whom I had seen at the start of the race):
I bailed on Rhode Island at the half marathon finish and I was stupid to wait that long! Keep in mind that I have finished 35 marathons since the beginning of the year. You're only a failure if you don't try again. You are listed on the maniacs calendar as running the 6 hour ultra in RI next month. The FIRST thing I did this morning was to register for that run. I will see you on November 15 and we will finish that stupid state together! I would be willing to bet that the weather will be nicer this next time around. Sunday was insanity, glad I wasn't the only one I know who recognizes that. I counted an awful lot of blue marathon bibs in the tent at the half finish. Many people bailed on this one!
Just knowing that I didn't make a silly, wimpy, amateur decision has made me feel loads better. See you in Warwick, Tim!!!
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Race Report: Breakers Marathon
After last night's disastrous hotel/dinner excursion, I figured the race had to go better. It seemed like things were good: the forecast was no longer for snow, but for rain, and mom had even heard some runners in the lobby saying that the rain might start later in the afternoon. Unfortunately, when we woke up at 6, it was pouring. I could only hope it would let up.
The packets had said that the shuttle buses would run from 6 AM to 4 PM (back and forth even after the race), but didn't give an ending time to make the start, so I was hoping that 7 AM would be fine for an 8 AM start. We headed over to the race a bit later than we anticipated, nearing the shuttle buses at 7:15, but instead of dropping me off and then having my mom continue to find a spot at the finish, we decided to just follow the bus and go to the start by car. Since my mom wouldn't be parking, hopefully it would be fine.
We had no trouble following the bus, and my mom dropped me off just a few feet from where the bus was unloading. Score! I took a few minutes to get myself together (namely, get my trash bag on my body to keep me dry), and then headed out. They weren't letting any runners into the visitors' center at the start (except those who still needed to pick up their packets), but next door, I saw tons of runners going in and out of the Marriott. Sure enough, this had become the haven for runners trying to stay warm and dry until the start of the race. I ran into my friend Tim and another Maniac, Jeff, whom I hadn't met before. Before long, they headed out. I stayed in the hotel as long as was possible, and finally, reluctantly, headed out into the rain as well.
Next to the start was a big covered walkway, so I headed there, where I found my friend Jackie. We stood under the walkway for the pre-race announcements and the National Anthem. I don't know what it is with Rhode Island, but they just have the worst National Anthem singers ever. Last time I was there for a race (the Cox Providence Road Races half-marathon), the singer forgot the words halfway through (you laugh, but I'm dead serious). This time, we had a gospel wannabe who knew all the words, but was changing the notes as she saw fit. I've seen many singers take artistic license with the National Anthem, and I don't like it (if you're a truly great singer, you can make it awesome as written), but this was especially egregious because it was clear she was only changing the notes because she couldn't hit the high ones otherwise. Terrible! I wasn't the only one who thought so - people were actually laughing aloud at how bad it was.
With that done, they finally got ready to start the race (already 10 minutes late - thanks for keeping us in the rain even longer!). Prolonging the start further, they said thaty wanted to give us some more musical inspiration, and I groaned inwardly. However, this turned out to be a good thing: they played that song that starts with "you ready for this?" and then goes to a techno beat. It actually did get me pumped, and I jumped up and down to the beat for a bit, partially to get warm and partially to get my spirits up.
With that finished, the starting gun went off, and we funnelled from the sides into the crowd before the starting line. I hadn't seen if there were corrals or signs to indicate pace times, but it didn't matter - so many slower runners had been waiting in the start chute and were now at the front, and so many faster runners had been waiting under the walkway and were now at the back, so it was really chaotic. However, I wasn't worried about pace at all; I was just playing a massive game of bob-and-weave in order to avoid the potholes that were now filled with water and were soaking the feet of many a runner. I had gone with my New Hampshire Marathon trick of wrapping plastic bags around my socks, but that technique wouldn't help if I actually submerged my foot.
The first two miles went down the streets of what I think was lovely downtown Newport, but I was spending all my energy staring at the ground and watching for puddles, so I didn't get to see it. From there, we headed down "Ocean Drive," so named because it goes along the ocean (duh). Unfortunately, when you combine pouring rain with 35mph winds and 39 degree temps (and I'd assume that those wind and temperature estimates were based on inland measurements, not along the shoreline), you get the worst conditions ever. The rain was going into my eyes in a pounding, stinging way, both hurting my eyeballs as the drops hit, and also making me afraid of losing my contacts. Meanwhile, I was regretting my decision to poke armholes in the garbage bag around my body, because my (sleeved) arms were now so soaked that they were dripping with water. Finally, the wind was not at our backs but going against us, so every step forward took a colossal effort. Was this really how it was going to be for the whole race? The idea of quitting came to mind, but I've never gotten a DNF, and I didn't intend to start today.
Mile 3 took us by a Woodstock-themed waterstop - fun! I was also relieved that we had turned away from the ocean. Unfortunately, about a quarter mile later, we were right back by the breakers (hence the name of the race). Some guy commented on my trash bag making a lot of rustling noise, which was true.... but at least it was keeping me (sort of) dry. However, his comment made me then hyperaware of the rustling noise, and I tried to hold it down so it would stop flapping around so noisily.
We turned into a residential area, but then I noticed the houses take a turn for the beachy feel. Uh oh. Sure enough, another turn brought us again face-to-face with the crashing surf. We passed a water station where volunteers were trying to fill the cups all the way to the tippy-top in order to weight them down, but the cups were blowing away anyway thanks to the strong winds. Finally, the volunteers just started pouring the cups individually for each runner and putting them in hand. It was the best they could do, and I say this not to fault them, but to point out how horrible the conditions were.
Unfortunately, the winds were also taking their toll on my garbage bag, which had split at the armholes and was providing less and less protection as it was ravaged by wind. I knew my mom was planning to wait to see me at the halfway point, so I made a quick call on my cell phone to tell her about the disastrous conditions and ask her to please procure a replacement garbage bag for when I stopped by.
I pushed onward, but started taking walk breaks as I tried to wrap my arms around my body and get some warmth. I was reluctant to take many, because I knew that every walk break I took meant I would be out in the rain longer, but I needed to try to conserve some energy in order to stay warm. It was a delicate balance to strike. Meanwhile, I still had to expend a lot of energy trying to dodge the puddles (and rivers and lakes) that had sprung up on the road.
I tried to turn my attention away from the cold/wind/rain and toward more normal marathon thoughts, like looking at the bodies of the two female runners ahead of me and trying to figure out who I was more like (yes, I play bizarre mind games when I'm out there). Unfortunately, in doing so, I briefly took my eyes off the ground and managed to step into a massive lake-sized puddle. Despite my precautions with the plastic grocery bags, all the waterproof running gear in the world can't withstand total immersion, and my feet were now soaked. Now I started wishing that I had provided my mom with a totally dry set of gear for me to change into at the halfway point, including socks! I hoped that the Aquaphor I put on my toes would keep them from developing blisters.
I was getting brutally pounded by the wind and rain at this point, and the arm holes I had put in my trash bag were now so enlarged so that I had to hold the bag around me in order to make its protection any use. I started to cry, and just when I was about to call my mom and sob to her, my friend Jackie pulled up alongside me. Up to this point, I hadn't really talked to anyone (focusing instead on just moving forward), but Jackie's presence got me talking and kept me going. We commiserated over the conditions, and I told her that I was starting to wonder if the smart thing to do was to quit. I pointed out my inadequate gear, and she cheered me up somewhat by pointing out that no amount of gear was keeping people warm and dry in these conditions. True!
We started running through the famed mansion district at this point, and... wow. Before I had thought the beach houses were awesome (and even mistakenly thought that those were the mansions), but now I saw what true mansions were. Big brick-walled estates with doorbells on the gates and signs pointing out the service entrance around back... it was like something out of Gossip Girl (if not set in NYC). Gawking at the homes definitely helped to pass the time, and soon we were at mile 11 and heading into the campus of Salve Regina.
In addition to being cold and wet, I was now starting to get tired, and I desperately wanted a walk break. While Jackie had kept me going for the last mile or two, I made the ill-fated decision to let her go on again and take that walk break. I assured her that I'd catch up, but knew in my heart that I was actually just letting her go on in front of me. In hindsight, I wonder if staying with her would have kept me going? Who knows.
Now I was on my own, and my mantra became "two miles till Mom." I couldn't wait for both the friendly face and the fresh garbage bag, and I hoped that having that extra layer of protection back would solve all my problems. Until then, it was one foot in front of the other, and eyes to the ground to avoid the puddles. By now, the fleece pants I was wearing had stopped being water-resistant and were completely soaking up the water, making my legs super heavy and causing my pants to start slipping off my waist. I called Mom with an update to let her know how far away I was, and also asked if the garbage bag she had found was clear or opaque. I figured if she had found a black bag, maybe I could ditch my pants and just wear the bag like a skirt to cover my butt. Unfortunately, she had a heck of a time getting a bag at all, and it was clear, so no dice. It was probably for the best, as I realized that the bag would have blown around like crazy and completely exposed me anyway. My mom did seem surprised that I wasn't further along. Yeah, I know; sucks for me too :(
Finally, I turned onto a main road with only 1/2 mile to go until the halfway point. We were on a slight downhill, and I managed to pick up the pace just a hair (with the thought of a fresh garbage bag motivating me). Though we weren't yet back by the oceanfront, the wind was still nasty, and my bag kept ripping more and more until it was scrap - not even staying on my body unless I held it wrapped around me like a plastic sheet. At this point, I ditched it - it wasn't offering me any protection whatsoever anymore, and it was getting to be a huge pain to have to clutch my arms in front of me instead of being able to swing them for a little added momentum.
Just after tossing the bag, I found myself on the oceanfront, and I knew my mom wouldn't be far. I started scanning the crowd, a look of pure misery on my face as I did so. Finally, I saw her ahead, sheltered by the 2nd floor deck of some restaurant and smiling. When she saw me and my distraught face, however, her face turned to concern, and she bustled toward me quickly to help, imploring me to take a quick break and come sit in her car while I decided whether to keep going. I knew that she would probably try to convince me to quit, but I also knew that if I really wanted to keep going, I could probably win the battle, so I didn't need to be asked twice about taking a quick shelter break. My only concern was that I was going off-course to get to her car in the parking lot, which I felt a bit guilty about. Then again, it was only about 20 feet away, so it probably wasn't affecting anything. Just in case, to be perfectly honest and upright, I made sure not to take any diagonal shortcuts, and went exactly parallel to the main route.
We got into the car, shut the doors, and cranked the heat - amazing. With the rain no longer pounding, I realized just how soaked through my clothes were, and I put my gloves and headband on the dashboard in an attempt to dry them out at least a little bit. I calmly started talking to my mom, who was not-so-calmly trying to convince me to buckle up and she'd drive me back to the hotel for a shower. After she saw that I was being rational and reasonable and actually contemplating the idea of quitting, she calmed down as well, and we started debating the merits of each option. I also picked up my cell and got Boyfriend on speakerphone to get in on the decision.
On the one hand, if I could just keep going another 2-2.5 hours, I'd be done. I'd have Rhode Island all checked off, and I wouldn't have to rearrange my marathon schedule to try to get back again. I wouldn't have to pay for another hotel, make my mom drive out from Albany, and spend another night going from restaurant to restaurant just to get something to eat. I also wouldn't have spent an awful two hours in the wind and rain for no reason - my time would have been worth something.
But on the other hand... this sucked. I was freezing cold, and this was only marathon #4 in my string of 9 marathons in 8 weeks. If I got pneumonia or hypothermia, that would take me out of a whole string of marathons, including the all-important hometown race in New York City on November 1. Was it worth sacrifice one race to save others?
I tried to think about when the other Rhode Island races were, but I had no idea. I knew that the Cox Providence Marathon was the only other marahton in the state, and that it was on May 2nd, but I also knew I had another marathon scheduled for that day. Which one? I didn't know, so I couldn't think if that one could be shifted. I wouldn't really have a way to replan my schedule until after I got home and got to my computer.
Meanwhile, I was still trying to figure out what the "smart" decision was. Jackie had seemed okay when I was running with her, though she remarked that the conditions were tough. However, my mom's car was sitting right next to the halfway point, and I hadn't seen any other Maniacs or 50 Staters go past. Did that mean they had all quit already? I wished I had an experienced marathoner's number to call for advice. I didn't want to quit because I was a wimp, but I didn't want to do anything dangerous.
Well, you all know me - I like to try stupid things in order to prove my bravery. After one last dose of the warm air from my mom's heater, I bundled up again (oooh, these clothes were cold and wet) and opened the car door. As soon as the wind hit me, I was shaking. I walked the 10 feet back over to the course, and started running, hoping that my body heat would warm me up. However, I just kept shaking, and shaking. I crossed the halfway checkpoint barely at a slow jog - my muscles were expending so much energy shivering that I couldn't really do much more than that. And then I realized...
If I was shaking this badly, and jogging this slowly, there was no way I would be done in less than another 3 hours (or more). I would be shaking the whole way, probably getting constantly stopped by volunteers wanting to take me out of the race, and then I'd have to sit around and wait for the sag wagon to take me back here. Meanwhile, they had tents with hot food set up, and my mom was right here. Decision? I just can't take this - I'm done.
I asked a volunteer if it was possible to switch mid-race to the half-marathon instead of the full. He told me yes, and that I just needed to circle back around the two chutes and enter on the half-marathon side, so it would register my chip as finishing. I shuffled over, angrily stomped my foot down so the chip would register, and walked off. Maybe not the best display of good sportsmanship, but I didn't care. No one else seemed to notice anyway - a volunteer swiftly approached me with a huge smile on her face, offering me a medal and a congratulations. I accepted it nicely, but inside I was steaming. I had come here to run the full marathon - leaving with a half-marathon medal just hurt.
I called my mom, who had been on her way back to the hotel to get our stuff before checkout. She hadn't even left the parking lot, having seen what happened when I crossed the halfway point just a minute after getting out of the car. We met in the food tent, where I guiltily ate two pieces of piping hot pizza and a cup of chicken noodle soup. Delicious, but I was annoyed at myself for eating all those calories when I hadn't earned them by actually running the full.
Once I had showered and was warm and dry and on the road to the airport, I spent the rest of the day second-guessing my decision. If only I had stayed out a few more hours, I could have made it work, and I wouldn't have to come back to the land-of-no-tables-at-restaurants! How on earth was I going to make this up with my aggressive marathons-every-weekend schedule? I'm at a loss.
Race stats:
Distance: 26.2 miles
Time: DNF
The packets had said that the shuttle buses would run from 6 AM to 4 PM (back and forth even after the race), but didn't give an ending time to make the start, so I was hoping that 7 AM would be fine for an 8 AM start. We headed over to the race a bit later than we anticipated, nearing the shuttle buses at 7:15, but instead of dropping me off and then having my mom continue to find a spot at the finish, we decided to just follow the bus and go to the start by car. Since my mom wouldn't be parking, hopefully it would be fine.
We had no trouble following the bus, and my mom dropped me off just a few feet from where the bus was unloading. Score! I took a few minutes to get myself together (namely, get my trash bag on my body to keep me dry), and then headed out. They weren't letting any runners into the visitors' center at the start (except those who still needed to pick up their packets), but next door, I saw tons of runners going in and out of the Marriott. Sure enough, this had become the haven for runners trying to stay warm and dry until the start of the race. I ran into my friend Tim and another Maniac, Jeff, whom I hadn't met before. Before long, they headed out. I stayed in the hotel as long as was possible, and finally, reluctantly, headed out into the rain as well.
Next to the start was a big covered walkway, so I headed there, where I found my friend Jackie. We stood under the walkway for the pre-race announcements and the National Anthem. I don't know what it is with Rhode Island, but they just have the worst National Anthem singers ever. Last time I was there for a race (the Cox Providence Road Races half-marathon), the singer forgot the words halfway through (you laugh, but I'm dead serious). This time, we had a gospel wannabe who knew all the words, but was changing the notes as she saw fit. I've seen many singers take artistic license with the National Anthem, and I don't like it (if you're a truly great singer, you can make it awesome as written), but this was especially egregious because it was clear she was only changing the notes because she couldn't hit the high ones otherwise. Terrible! I wasn't the only one who thought so - people were actually laughing aloud at how bad it was.
With that done, they finally got ready to start the race (already 10 minutes late - thanks for keeping us in the rain even longer!). Prolonging the start further, they said thaty wanted to give us some more musical inspiration, and I groaned inwardly. However, this turned out to be a good thing: they played that song that starts with "you ready for this?" and then goes to a techno beat. It actually did get me pumped, and I jumped up and down to the beat for a bit, partially to get warm and partially to get my spirits up.
With that finished, the starting gun went off, and we funnelled from the sides into the crowd before the starting line. I hadn't seen if there were corrals or signs to indicate pace times, but it didn't matter - so many slower runners had been waiting in the start chute and were now at the front, and so many faster runners had been waiting under the walkway and were now at the back, so it was really chaotic. However, I wasn't worried about pace at all; I was just playing a massive game of bob-and-weave in order to avoid the potholes that were now filled with water and were soaking the feet of many a runner. I had gone with my New Hampshire Marathon trick of wrapping plastic bags around my socks, but that technique wouldn't help if I actually submerged my foot.
The first two miles went down the streets of what I think was lovely downtown Newport, but I was spending all my energy staring at the ground and watching for puddles, so I didn't get to see it. From there, we headed down "Ocean Drive," so named because it goes along the ocean (duh). Unfortunately, when you combine pouring rain with 35mph winds and 39 degree temps (and I'd assume that those wind and temperature estimates were based on inland measurements, not along the shoreline), you get the worst conditions ever. The rain was going into my eyes in a pounding, stinging way, both hurting my eyeballs as the drops hit, and also making me afraid of losing my contacts. Meanwhile, I was regretting my decision to poke armholes in the garbage bag around my body, because my (sleeved) arms were now so soaked that they were dripping with water. Finally, the wind was not at our backs but going against us, so every step forward took a colossal effort. Was this really how it was going to be for the whole race? The idea of quitting came to mind, but I've never gotten a DNF, and I didn't intend to start today.
Mile 3 took us by a Woodstock-themed waterstop - fun! I was also relieved that we had turned away from the ocean. Unfortunately, about a quarter mile later, we were right back by the breakers (hence the name of the race). Some guy commented on my trash bag making a lot of rustling noise, which was true.... but at least it was keeping me (sort of) dry. However, his comment made me then hyperaware of the rustling noise, and I tried to hold it down so it would stop flapping around so noisily.
We turned into a residential area, but then I noticed the houses take a turn for the beachy feel. Uh oh. Sure enough, another turn brought us again face-to-face with the crashing surf. We passed a water station where volunteers were trying to fill the cups all the way to the tippy-top in order to weight them down, but the cups were blowing away anyway thanks to the strong winds. Finally, the volunteers just started pouring the cups individually for each runner and putting them in hand. It was the best they could do, and I say this not to fault them, but to point out how horrible the conditions were.
Unfortunately, the winds were also taking their toll on my garbage bag, which had split at the armholes and was providing less and less protection as it was ravaged by wind. I knew my mom was planning to wait to see me at the halfway point, so I made a quick call on my cell phone to tell her about the disastrous conditions and ask her to please procure a replacement garbage bag for when I stopped by.
I pushed onward, but started taking walk breaks as I tried to wrap my arms around my body and get some warmth. I was reluctant to take many, because I knew that every walk break I took meant I would be out in the rain longer, but I needed to try to conserve some energy in order to stay warm. It was a delicate balance to strike. Meanwhile, I still had to expend a lot of energy trying to dodge the puddles (and rivers and lakes) that had sprung up on the road.
I tried to turn my attention away from the cold/wind/rain and toward more normal marathon thoughts, like looking at the bodies of the two female runners ahead of me and trying to figure out who I was more like (yes, I play bizarre mind games when I'm out there). Unfortunately, in doing so, I briefly took my eyes off the ground and managed to step into a massive lake-sized puddle. Despite my precautions with the plastic grocery bags, all the waterproof running gear in the world can't withstand total immersion, and my feet were now soaked. Now I started wishing that I had provided my mom with a totally dry set of gear for me to change into at the halfway point, including socks! I hoped that the Aquaphor I put on my toes would keep them from developing blisters.
I was getting brutally pounded by the wind and rain at this point, and the arm holes I had put in my trash bag were now so enlarged so that I had to hold the bag around me in order to make its protection any use. I started to cry, and just when I was about to call my mom and sob to her, my friend Jackie pulled up alongside me. Up to this point, I hadn't really talked to anyone (focusing instead on just moving forward), but Jackie's presence got me talking and kept me going. We commiserated over the conditions, and I told her that I was starting to wonder if the smart thing to do was to quit. I pointed out my inadequate gear, and she cheered me up somewhat by pointing out that no amount of gear was keeping people warm and dry in these conditions. True!
We started running through the famed mansion district at this point, and... wow. Before I had thought the beach houses were awesome (and even mistakenly thought that those were the mansions), but now I saw what true mansions were. Big brick-walled estates with doorbells on the gates and signs pointing out the service entrance around back... it was like something out of Gossip Girl (if not set in NYC). Gawking at the homes definitely helped to pass the time, and soon we were at mile 11 and heading into the campus of Salve Regina.
In addition to being cold and wet, I was now starting to get tired, and I desperately wanted a walk break. While Jackie had kept me going for the last mile or two, I made the ill-fated decision to let her go on again and take that walk break. I assured her that I'd catch up, but knew in my heart that I was actually just letting her go on in front of me. In hindsight, I wonder if staying with her would have kept me going? Who knows.
Now I was on my own, and my mantra became "two miles till Mom." I couldn't wait for both the friendly face and the fresh garbage bag, and I hoped that having that extra layer of protection back would solve all my problems. Until then, it was one foot in front of the other, and eyes to the ground to avoid the puddles. By now, the fleece pants I was wearing had stopped being water-resistant and were completely soaking up the water, making my legs super heavy and causing my pants to start slipping off my waist. I called Mom with an update to let her know how far away I was, and also asked if the garbage bag she had found was clear or opaque. I figured if she had found a black bag, maybe I could ditch my pants and just wear the bag like a skirt to cover my butt. Unfortunately, she had a heck of a time getting a bag at all, and it was clear, so no dice. It was probably for the best, as I realized that the bag would have blown around like crazy and completely exposed me anyway. My mom did seem surprised that I wasn't further along. Yeah, I know; sucks for me too :(
Finally, I turned onto a main road with only 1/2 mile to go until the halfway point. We were on a slight downhill, and I managed to pick up the pace just a hair (with the thought of a fresh garbage bag motivating me). Though we weren't yet back by the oceanfront, the wind was still nasty, and my bag kept ripping more and more until it was scrap - not even staying on my body unless I held it wrapped around me like a plastic sheet. At this point, I ditched it - it wasn't offering me any protection whatsoever anymore, and it was getting to be a huge pain to have to clutch my arms in front of me instead of being able to swing them for a little added momentum.
Just after tossing the bag, I found myself on the oceanfront, and I knew my mom wouldn't be far. I started scanning the crowd, a look of pure misery on my face as I did so. Finally, I saw her ahead, sheltered by the 2nd floor deck of some restaurant and smiling. When she saw me and my distraught face, however, her face turned to concern, and she bustled toward me quickly to help, imploring me to take a quick break and come sit in her car while I decided whether to keep going. I knew that she would probably try to convince me to quit, but I also knew that if I really wanted to keep going, I could probably win the battle, so I didn't need to be asked twice about taking a quick shelter break. My only concern was that I was going off-course to get to her car in the parking lot, which I felt a bit guilty about. Then again, it was only about 20 feet away, so it probably wasn't affecting anything. Just in case, to be perfectly honest and upright, I made sure not to take any diagonal shortcuts, and went exactly parallel to the main route.
We got into the car, shut the doors, and cranked the heat - amazing. With the rain no longer pounding, I realized just how soaked through my clothes were, and I put my gloves and headband on the dashboard in an attempt to dry them out at least a little bit. I calmly started talking to my mom, who was not-so-calmly trying to convince me to buckle up and she'd drive me back to the hotel for a shower. After she saw that I was being rational and reasonable and actually contemplating the idea of quitting, she calmed down as well, and we started debating the merits of each option. I also picked up my cell and got Boyfriend on speakerphone to get in on the decision.
On the one hand, if I could just keep going another 2-2.5 hours, I'd be done. I'd have Rhode Island all checked off, and I wouldn't have to rearrange my marathon schedule to try to get back again. I wouldn't have to pay for another hotel, make my mom drive out from Albany, and spend another night going from restaurant to restaurant just to get something to eat. I also wouldn't have spent an awful two hours in the wind and rain for no reason - my time would have been worth something.
But on the other hand... this sucked. I was freezing cold, and this was only marathon #4 in my string of 9 marathons in 8 weeks. If I got pneumonia or hypothermia, that would take me out of a whole string of marathons, including the all-important hometown race in New York City on November 1. Was it worth sacrifice one race to save others?
I tried to think about when the other Rhode Island races were, but I had no idea. I knew that the Cox Providence Marathon was the only other marahton in the state, and that it was on May 2nd, but I also knew I had another marathon scheduled for that day. Which one? I didn't know, so I couldn't think if that one could be shifted. I wouldn't really have a way to replan my schedule until after I got home and got to my computer.
Meanwhile, I was still trying to figure out what the "smart" decision was. Jackie had seemed okay when I was running with her, though she remarked that the conditions were tough. However, my mom's car was sitting right next to the halfway point, and I hadn't seen any other Maniacs or 50 Staters go past. Did that mean they had all quit already? I wished I had an experienced marathoner's number to call for advice. I didn't want to quit because I was a wimp, but I didn't want to do anything dangerous.
Well, you all know me - I like to try stupid things in order to prove my bravery. After one last dose of the warm air from my mom's heater, I bundled up again (oooh, these clothes were cold and wet) and opened the car door. As soon as the wind hit me, I was shaking. I walked the 10 feet back over to the course, and started running, hoping that my body heat would warm me up. However, I just kept shaking, and shaking. I crossed the halfway checkpoint barely at a slow jog - my muscles were expending so much energy shivering that I couldn't really do much more than that. And then I realized...
If I was shaking this badly, and jogging this slowly, there was no way I would be done in less than another 3 hours (or more). I would be shaking the whole way, probably getting constantly stopped by volunteers wanting to take me out of the race, and then I'd have to sit around and wait for the sag wagon to take me back here. Meanwhile, they had tents with hot food set up, and my mom was right here. Decision? I just can't take this - I'm done.
I asked a volunteer if it was possible to switch mid-race to the half-marathon instead of the full. He told me yes, and that I just needed to circle back around the two chutes and enter on the half-marathon side, so it would register my chip as finishing. I shuffled over, angrily stomped my foot down so the chip would register, and walked off. Maybe not the best display of good sportsmanship, but I didn't care. No one else seemed to notice anyway - a volunteer swiftly approached me with a huge smile on her face, offering me a medal and a congratulations. I accepted it nicely, but inside I was steaming. I had come here to run the full marathon - leaving with a half-marathon medal just hurt.
I called my mom, who had been on her way back to the hotel to get our stuff before checkout. She hadn't even left the parking lot, having seen what happened when I crossed the halfway point just a minute after getting out of the car. We met in the food tent, where I guiltily ate two pieces of piping hot pizza and a cup of chicken noodle soup. Delicious, but I was annoyed at myself for eating all those calories when I hadn't earned them by actually running the full.
Once I had showered and was warm and dry and on the road to the airport, I spent the rest of the day second-guessing my decision. If only I had stayed out a few more hours, I could have made it work, and I wouldn't have to come back to the land-of-no-tables-at-restaurants! How on earth was I going to make this up with my aggressive marathons-every-weekend schedule? I'm at a loss.
Race stats:
Distance: 26.2 miles
Time: DNF
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