timmac
DIS Veteran
- Joined
- Jul 18, 2007
- Messages
- 1,872
Key Bank Vermont City Marathon takes place in Burlington, VT. The starting area, Battery park, is not far from the waterfront. Approaching 8AM, I stood near the starting area. I was chatting with my wife who was, for the first time, with me on race day. I met up with an old friend, had a few quick words, and headed for one last trip to the port-a-john before heading to the starting line. I found the lines so long that I didn't bother to wait, and just headed to the starting area, a mass of people two blocks long. There was a slight drizzle in the air, and the sky looked very cloudy.
Due to the way the course looped, I would pass my wife not only at the start, but also at miles 3, 8, and 15, before seeing her again at the finish, just a few blocks away. Once the starting horn went off, it was several minutes before I came to the actual starting line, but soon enough, my slow walk turned into a little jog, and eventually became a nice slow and steady run.
Since this was my first marathon, I made no expectations about pace, but nonetheless had some rough figures in my head, to determine if I was starting too fast, and roughly how I was doing. I knew that an 11:15 pace would mean 22:30 every two miles, 45:00 every four miles, or 1:30:00 every 8 miles. This was relevant because clocks were placed every two miles along the course. I also knew in the back of my mind this pace probably couldn't last forever, but it was a comfortable pace for me, so that was as good as anything.
Soon enough, I passed mile 2 at 25:00.... above the 22:30 I had "planned" for, but given the lag between gun and chip time, I figured I was probably right on track. By this point, the slight drizzle had become more of a steady rain. By mile 3, we saw the first wheelchair competitors pass us going the other way... there were on mile 8. A few blocks later, my wonderfully supportive wife spotted me, camera in hand. I made a hand gesture and shouted as best I could that I'd see her again in five miles. I had my phone on me to text her periodically as well.
Mile 4, 46:00, I was approaching my theoretical pace on track with the gun, but it meant the past two miles were are 10:30 pace. The next two miles would bring us out on a freeway, closed only once a year, for this race. Along the way we passed the mascot for a local radio station, an eagle, who was giving out free high fives. Soon enough, the turnaround point, and mile 6... 1:07, still a 10:30 pace, and now ahead of the gun for my theoretical pace. I knew I was going a bit faster than I could maintain for the duration, but it was comfortable, and slowing down actually seemed more labored. Either way, I felt good and was enjoying the experience, so it didn't matter.
Coming back towards town, we went uphill and passed mile 8... 1:29. 11:00 pace for the past two miles, no doubt the hill had something to do with it. Received a text that my wife was near the surf shop. Soon enough, I caught a quick glimpse of her, and tried shouting something about 7 more miles.
Soon enough, it was mile 10 at 1:51, and mile 12 at 2:13. In addition to coming up on the halfway mark, I knew we were also going to come upon the "Assault on battery" shortly after mile 14. It's just over 1/4 mile long, at 13% grade, certainly the single most challenging section of the course. Just before mile 13, I came alongside an older gentleman known as "Dead man marathoner", and had some brief conversation. He'd been a runner for years, having completed several marathons. He got his nickname two years ago, when he had emergency open heart surgery after having been clinically dead for two hours. He came back from that to continue running marathons. And, today would be the 49th of 50 states. He high-fived his wife as we passed her at an out-and-back... for her, today's race was her 50th state.
Up next I passed a few TnT members, one of which was the team trainer. We came to a slight downhill section, and she demonstrated a sideways shuffle kind of movement, speaking of how it helped stretch out the IT bands, so I joined in. While I suppose it did help loosen things up a bit, I found the motion to also be physically draining, so I would not be repeating it later in the race.
We came across the halfway point which was loud and chaotic, as it was also the swap point for the 2-person relay teams. I would later find out my chip time at this point was 2:23:25, essentially a 32 second PR on the half. Wow. I didn't feel like I had been pushing it that hard.
We had about a mile and a half through a bike path leading back to the big hill in town, which gave me some time to think a bit about strategy for the said hill. Namely, do I go for overall performance and walk up the hill to save the energy I'll need for the back half of the race, or do I have a good time with it, and just power up the hill? When I got a text message from my wife, my question was answered. She was waiting at the bottom of the hill, right next to a huge team of drummers. It was going to be time to enjoy the experience. A few hundred yards from the corner before the hill, I took a walk break to regain some strength. It was only the second time this race I had walked, water stops included. I was feeling really good, but knew I needed the brief rest. Approaching the corner, I started my run, and rounded the curve. My wife was there with the camera, and I tried yelling that I'd see her again at the finish in a little over two hours. I doubt she could hear me over the drummers, though. They were loud, and they were good... the music provided a nice boost. That the rain had stopped by now helped as well.
Up the hill I started. I was immediately glad for my decision. The street was lined with thousands of screaming spectators. "Nice pace", "keep going", "looking good!" I kept hearing as I made my ascent. I figure they may well have been lying, but I knew I was giving it my all, and felt good about it. A few minutes later, I was at the top, and passed mile 15. From here on out, it was almost entirely flat or slightly downhill. The hardest part was over.
Miles 16 through 18 came relatively uneventfully with only occasional crowd support, as we wound our way through various housing developments. Shortly past mile 18, which I passed at 3:26, I started to feel some pretty good pain on the inside of my right shin. I texted my wife on my position, noting that I was in pain. She wrote back that she knew I could do it. As I took another walking break, I sent an e-mail to a friend from work (whom I mentioned in a previous race report), nicknamed "Brick". I said, "If you get this, I need some mojo, another 7.5 to go".
I was happy to see vaseline offered at an aid station around mile 19, as my nipples were pretty raw from rubbing. It seemed to help. By this point, I was taking walk breaks leading to, and coming out of the aid stations. It was enough to keep me going. Not at any record breaking pace, but going forward well enough. Mile 20 came on an otherwise unassuming side street. The timing mat beeped at 3:50, and I continued on.
I knew my pace was slow by this point, but kept in the back of my mind that with a good run/walk combination, I could still come in under 5:30. Brick had told me not to even think about pace until mile 20, so now was that time, and having a goal to work towards helped keep me moving. I'm sure my wife was getting impatient, as this was the longest stretch of the race (11 miles) where she wouldn't see me for quite some time. I'd later find out she was able to pass some of the time by shopping at the various tents in the finish area. I should have known, I suppose.
Passing mile 21 and continuing, the course made its way onto a bike path that paralleled the lakefront for the remainder of the distance. Views of the lake were actually pretty limited, due to the heavy tree covering of the area, but the shade was a welcome thing, as the temperature by this point was over 70 degrees, and the sun was shining brightly. I settled into something of a 5/1 run/walk combination. Slow and steady would win the race at this point. I got an e-mail back from the Brick, along with my requested mojo. I replied with a "Thank you!" and "4.5 to go". Moments later I got a "Go T-mac go!!!"
Mile 22 passed at 4:22. During that next mile, I met a young gentleman who said he came up with his sister and her roommate. They were seasoned runners, but he had only started training (from no running at all) just four months previous. He was clearly hurting, but determined there was no way he was going to be "the one" from his group to get the DNF. He explained that when he signed up for the race, and looked at the course time limit of 6 hours, he questioned who would need that long to complete it. I suppose those words tasted bitter now. At mile 23, 4:37, we broke back into a run, but in mere seconds he said he had to drop back to a walk. We bid each other best wishes, and I resumed my run/walk.
Mile 24 came at 4:53, and I could start to hear the noise from the finish area. Though I had not a care in the world about time by this point, it seemed a 5:30 finish was still well within reach. I lost count of how many "Yes you can" posters I passed along this final stretch. I decided that at mile 25 I would resume full-time running, to finish strong, and if nothing else, at least I'd look good for the crowd. In fact, by mile 25 I could make out some of what the radio DJ was announcing. It seemed he was calling out names at the finish, which seemed exciting.
It wasn't long before I entered the finishing area, where the course would make one small loop around towards the inside of the park. With a quarter mile to go, I passed by lots more spectators, and picked up the pace as best I still could by that point. I spotted my wife against the fence, and gave her a high five as I passed. "Almost there!" I shouted.
I rounded the final curve and headed towards the finish, passing over a mat. As soon as I did, the DJ called out "Tim MacDonald!". I pumped both fists in the air, and then quickly lowered them as I forgot about the pain for just a moment and got down into an all out sprint for the last hundred or so yards of the race. As it made the crowd roar louder, I just ran faster. Just over the finish line, medical personnel were making sure I slowed down before running into anyone, someone bent down to get the timing chip off my shoe, someone else put a medal on me, and I stumbled over to my lovely wife, who was as happy as I was that I made it. The time on the clock, once I finally thought to look at it, was 5:26. My official (chip) time: 5:22:29.
Just like that, 258 days after first lacing a pair of running shoes, I became a marathoner. I say that not to promote myself, but in response to some things I've seen posted, even here. With the 2010 WDW half already full, some are disappointed, thinking they could never be ready for the full marathon in time. Well, it's still 229 days away. You can do it... I know you can.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bsvdw5MtHjo
Due to the way the course looped, I would pass my wife not only at the start, but also at miles 3, 8, and 15, before seeing her again at the finish, just a few blocks away. Once the starting horn went off, it was several minutes before I came to the actual starting line, but soon enough, my slow walk turned into a little jog, and eventually became a nice slow and steady run.
Since this was my first marathon, I made no expectations about pace, but nonetheless had some rough figures in my head, to determine if I was starting too fast, and roughly how I was doing. I knew that an 11:15 pace would mean 22:30 every two miles, 45:00 every four miles, or 1:30:00 every 8 miles. This was relevant because clocks were placed every two miles along the course. I also knew in the back of my mind this pace probably couldn't last forever, but it was a comfortable pace for me, so that was as good as anything.
Soon enough, I passed mile 2 at 25:00.... above the 22:30 I had "planned" for, but given the lag between gun and chip time, I figured I was probably right on track. By this point, the slight drizzle had become more of a steady rain. By mile 3, we saw the first wheelchair competitors pass us going the other way... there were on mile 8. A few blocks later, my wonderfully supportive wife spotted me, camera in hand. I made a hand gesture and shouted as best I could that I'd see her again in five miles. I had my phone on me to text her periodically as well.
Mile 4, 46:00, I was approaching my theoretical pace on track with the gun, but it meant the past two miles were are 10:30 pace. The next two miles would bring us out on a freeway, closed only once a year, for this race. Along the way we passed the mascot for a local radio station, an eagle, who was giving out free high fives. Soon enough, the turnaround point, and mile 6... 1:07, still a 10:30 pace, and now ahead of the gun for my theoretical pace. I knew I was going a bit faster than I could maintain for the duration, but it was comfortable, and slowing down actually seemed more labored. Either way, I felt good and was enjoying the experience, so it didn't matter.
Coming back towards town, we went uphill and passed mile 8... 1:29. 11:00 pace for the past two miles, no doubt the hill had something to do with it. Received a text that my wife was near the surf shop. Soon enough, I caught a quick glimpse of her, and tried shouting something about 7 more miles.
Soon enough, it was mile 10 at 1:51, and mile 12 at 2:13. In addition to coming up on the halfway mark, I knew we were also going to come upon the "Assault on battery" shortly after mile 14. It's just over 1/4 mile long, at 13% grade, certainly the single most challenging section of the course. Just before mile 13, I came alongside an older gentleman known as "Dead man marathoner", and had some brief conversation. He'd been a runner for years, having completed several marathons. He got his nickname two years ago, when he had emergency open heart surgery after having been clinically dead for two hours. He came back from that to continue running marathons. And, today would be the 49th of 50 states. He high-fived his wife as we passed her at an out-and-back... for her, today's race was her 50th state.
Up next I passed a few TnT members, one of which was the team trainer. We came to a slight downhill section, and she demonstrated a sideways shuffle kind of movement, speaking of how it helped stretch out the IT bands, so I joined in. While I suppose it did help loosen things up a bit, I found the motion to also be physically draining, so I would not be repeating it later in the race.
We came across the halfway point which was loud and chaotic, as it was also the swap point for the 2-person relay teams. I would later find out my chip time at this point was 2:23:25, essentially a 32 second PR on the half. Wow. I didn't feel like I had been pushing it that hard.
We had about a mile and a half through a bike path leading back to the big hill in town, which gave me some time to think a bit about strategy for the said hill. Namely, do I go for overall performance and walk up the hill to save the energy I'll need for the back half of the race, or do I have a good time with it, and just power up the hill? When I got a text message from my wife, my question was answered. She was waiting at the bottom of the hill, right next to a huge team of drummers. It was going to be time to enjoy the experience. A few hundred yards from the corner before the hill, I took a walk break to regain some strength. It was only the second time this race I had walked, water stops included. I was feeling really good, but knew I needed the brief rest. Approaching the corner, I started my run, and rounded the curve. My wife was there with the camera, and I tried yelling that I'd see her again at the finish in a little over two hours. I doubt she could hear me over the drummers, though. They were loud, and they were good... the music provided a nice boost. That the rain had stopped by now helped as well.
Up the hill I started. I was immediately glad for my decision. The street was lined with thousands of screaming spectators. "Nice pace", "keep going", "looking good!" I kept hearing as I made my ascent. I figure they may well have been lying, but I knew I was giving it my all, and felt good about it. A few minutes later, I was at the top, and passed mile 15. From here on out, it was almost entirely flat or slightly downhill. The hardest part was over.
Miles 16 through 18 came relatively uneventfully with only occasional crowd support, as we wound our way through various housing developments. Shortly past mile 18, which I passed at 3:26, I started to feel some pretty good pain on the inside of my right shin. I texted my wife on my position, noting that I was in pain. She wrote back that she knew I could do it. As I took another walking break, I sent an e-mail to a friend from work (whom I mentioned in a previous race report), nicknamed "Brick". I said, "If you get this, I need some mojo, another 7.5 to go".
I was happy to see vaseline offered at an aid station around mile 19, as my nipples were pretty raw from rubbing. It seemed to help. By this point, I was taking walk breaks leading to, and coming out of the aid stations. It was enough to keep me going. Not at any record breaking pace, but going forward well enough. Mile 20 came on an otherwise unassuming side street. The timing mat beeped at 3:50, and I continued on.
I knew my pace was slow by this point, but kept in the back of my mind that with a good run/walk combination, I could still come in under 5:30. Brick had told me not to even think about pace until mile 20, so now was that time, and having a goal to work towards helped keep me moving. I'm sure my wife was getting impatient, as this was the longest stretch of the race (11 miles) where she wouldn't see me for quite some time. I'd later find out she was able to pass some of the time by shopping at the various tents in the finish area. I should have known, I suppose.
Passing mile 21 and continuing, the course made its way onto a bike path that paralleled the lakefront for the remainder of the distance. Views of the lake were actually pretty limited, due to the heavy tree covering of the area, but the shade was a welcome thing, as the temperature by this point was over 70 degrees, and the sun was shining brightly. I settled into something of a 5/1 run/walk combination. Slow and steady would win the race at this point. I got an e-mail back from the Brick, along with my requested mojo. I replied with a "Thank you!" and "4.5 to go". Moments later I got a "Go T-mac go!!!"
Mile 22 passed at 4:22. During that next mile, I met a young gentleman who said he came up with his sister and her roommate. They were seasoned runners, but he had only started training (from no running at all) just four months previous. He was clearly hurting, but determined there was no way he was going to be "the one" from his group to get the DNF. He explained that when he signed up for the race, and looked at the course time limit of 6 hours, he questioned who would need that long to complete it. I suppose those words tasted bitter now. At mile 23, 4:37, we broke back into a run, but in mere seconds he said he had to drop back to a walk. We bid each other best wishes, and I resumed my run/walk.
Mile 24 came at 4:53, and I could start to hear the noise from the finish area. Though I had not a care in the world about time by this point, it seemed a 5:30 finish was still well within reach. I lost count of how many "Yes you can" posters I passed along this final stretch. I decided that at mile 25 I would resume full-time running, to finish strong, and if nothing else, at least I'd look good for the crowd. In fact, by mile 25 I could make out some of what the radio DJ was announcing. It seemed he was calling out names at the finish, which seemed exciting.
It wasn't long before I entered the finishing area, where the course would make one small loop around towards the inside of the park. With a quarter mile to go, I passed by lots more spectators, and picked up the pace as best I still could by that point. I spotted my wife against the fence, and gave her a high five as I passed. "Almost there!" I shouted.
I rounded the final curve and headed towards the finish, passing over a mat. As soon as I did, the DJ called out "Tim MacDonald!". I pumped both fists in the air, and then quickly lowered them as I forgot about the pain for just a moment and got down into an all out sprint for the last hundred or so yards of the race. As it made the crowd roar louder, I just ran faster. Just over the finish line, medical personnel were making sure I slowed down before running into anyone, someone bent down to get the timing chip off my shoe, someone else put a medal on me, and I stumbled over to my lovely wife, who was as happy as I was that I made it. The time on the clock, once I finally thought to look at it, was 5:26. My official (chip) time: 5:22:29.
Just like that, 258 days after first lacing a pair of running shoes, I became a marathoner. I say that not to promote myself, but in response to some things I've seen posted, even here. With the 2010 WDW half already full, some are disappointed, thinking they could never be ready for the full marathon in time. Well, it's still 229 days away. You can do it... I know you can.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bsvdw5MtHjo
