Race recap: Marine Corps Marathon
October 27, 2024 | Arlington, VA and Washington, DC
In which, ow. Ow, ow, ow. Also, yay! And then more ow.
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Marathon #3: the Marine Corps Marathon. It's local!
The weather was pretty good, if slightly chilly for me. Temperatures started in the low 40s and I think got to around 50 by the time I finished. Slight breeze, kind of hazy, low humidity. I wore several layers of throwaway clothes headed to the Metro (and apparently my old sweatpants were a little
too old, because the worn-out elastic meant they kept trying to fall off
).
I ended up leaving just after 6, so only a tad later than I planned. After a very easy bike ride, I got on the Metro, which wasn't crowded until we got to Rosslyn. There were enough people that it took a few minutes to get out, though nowhere near the 45 minutes avondale had.
There was more waiting once we got out of the station - we had to pass through a narrow space, which took another 10-15 minutes, before getting to the road to the starting area.
There was a very long line for the first set of port-a-potties, so I did not stop there. The second set had a shorter line, so I stopped but it still took a while because there weren't that many of them. Next time I would wait until after security - there were way more portas on the other side.
Fortunately security was quick, and then I found the gear check. Unfortunately I forgot to swap out my regular glasses for my sunglasses, and I must have dropped my stroopwafel somewhere as I was trying to get my race gear and checked gear organized. That was a little annoying, but not a huge deal.
My warmup was shorter than I had planned because of all the waiting. I could probably have done more, but I was worried about getting to the start line on time. I didn't want to start way in the back. There were a lot of people.
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A crowd of cold-looking people moving towards the start line
As I had heard, no one was monitoring the corrals, and people were just adjusting the barricades so they could step in (which was actually good because there was not really space to move once you were in the corrals). I lined up near the 3:35 pacer, which I figured was a good place to start.
We started with a flyover from a pair of Osprey helicopters. (I didn't take a picture because it wouldn't have been very good.) Then the howitzer sounded, and we began the shuffle towards the start line. We were off!
I was worried about crowding in the early miles, but it actually wasn't too bad. It seemed like the majority of people around me had started in more or less the right place, so I was mostly able to start at the pace I wanted.
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On the elevation map, the first few miles look like a pretty steady climb with a brief descent in the middle. In reality, the hills were much more rolling, so my pace yo-yoed all over the place. The weather was cool, but I felt reasonably comfortable in my shorts, quarter zip, and gloves. There was pretty good crowd support near the beginning of the race when we were running through
Rosslyn/Court House, but eventually we made our way back to a highway with fewer people around.
This section really confirmed that I am especially bad at uphills, and especially good at downhills. On the uphills, a whole mass of people would pass me, and then we'd go back downhill and I would pass them back. Over and over
My first few miles were the slowest of the race, which is exactly what I expected because it was early and uphill. 5K split: 27:05 (unofficially - there were timing mats at almost every 5K mark, but using Strava's data involves a lot less math).
Happily, towards the end of that first 5K, the downhill bit started. This was pretty much the only part of the race where I felt like I couldn't run at the pace I wanted. Because I was trying to pass all the people who had passed me going uphill, I did quite a bit of weaving and speeding up and slowing down. But mostly it was okay.
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Somewhere early in the race - I still have gloves. I didn't really want to pay $80 in advance for photos I hadn't even seen, and now they're $90, so I'm just using the watermarked versions 
Next we crossed the Key Bridge into
Georgetown, where there were a ton of people out cheering. Yay! After the relative quiet of the highways and the bridge, the noise was almost a shock. Georgetown passed quickly, and then we were off to another quieter stretch in
Rock Creek Park. 5-10K: 24:28 (mostly downhill).
At this point, I kind of had to pee. I saw a whole bunch of dudes peeling off to go pee at the edge of the woods, and I was a little grumpy that I couldn't do that. But near the mile 7 marker were some portas with no line, so I made a quick stop there. Probably lost 45 seconds or so, but what can you do.
Since I had already taken my gloves off and my hands felt okay, I decided to toss the gloves at the next water stop. (I would regret this choice later.) After the turnaround, we were in the slightly downhill portion of the park, which was fun.
However, even though it was only like mile 8, my legs were starting to get tired. That was not the way I wanted to feel so early in the race. I thought about slowing down. But I was letting my body choose my pace, and my body seemed to think that this was the right effort to run another 18 miles. This strategy has worked out well for me in the past, so even though my brain had doubts, I decided to trust my body. It might end in disaster, but I'd never know if I didn't try. 10-15K: 25:48 (including the pit stop).
We emerged from Rock Creek Park to more adoring fans, making our way past the Kennedy Center and behind the Lincoln Memorial. A construction detour from the normal course took us past the MLK Memorial as well. Then we crossed into
East Potomac Park. 15-20K: 24:53.
The first part of East Potomac Park brought us the
Blue Mile, lined with photos of Marines killed in action over the history of the corps. At the end, volunteers formed a tunnel of flags and cheers. Going from that quiet sort of reflection to the cheers and excitement was kind of emotional - I didn't cry, but I felt a little burning in my eyes.
The Blue Mile took us to the halfway mark (officially 1:49:14). We made our way around Hains Point and into the most mentally challenging mile of the race:
mile 14.
While I definitely had more painful miles later in the race, this one was easily the most miserable. It was cold. As I predicted, there was a headwind. My legs hurt. My hands were numb - I had to use my teeth to open a gel because my fingers weren't working. (I told you I would regret tossing my gloves.) And there was nobody out cheering, so there was nothing to do but wallow in your own misery. I hated it. 20-25K: 24:51.
Right around mile 15, I thought, "screw this" and traded my podcasts for music. It was like a switch flipped. I felt instantly better. I could actually feel my form improve. Suddenly I went from a pity party to an actual party in my head. It didn't hurt that we reemerged onto the
Mall and had lots of cheering spectators again. I was happily lip syncing along to Hamilton and dancing with my hands. (I was looking for my friends who were out cheering, but I didn't see them. I thought maybe I had missed them, but it turns out the tracker wasn't updating properly and they ended up in the wrong spot
)
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Running in front of the National Museum of African American History and Culture (in the white hat and orange/yellow Metaspeeds)
As we made our way around the Mall, I felt my focus start to shift. I was paying less and less attention to everything around me and getting more and more dialed in to the race itself. My legs were hurting quite a bit at this point, but there was nothing I could do about it, so I might as well keep going. It was a little hokey, but I borrowed a mantra from The Way of Kings, the first book in Brandon Sanderson's Stormlight Archive: Life before death. Strength before weakness. Journey before destination. 25-30K: 24:41.
We made the turn onto 14th Street and headed for the bridge. There it was.
Mile 20.
Even if you're having the best race of your life (and I assure you I was not), by mile 20 you're probably uncomfortable. You're tired. And you still have 10K to go, which is not an insignificant distance. So here is your turning point: you can just get through it and struggle bus your sorry way to the finish, or you can give it everything you have left, knowing it's going to
hurt, but it's pain you chose so you could show yourself what you're really capable of achieving.
These were the miles I came for. I said to myself, "Let's f---ing go."
And by "said to myself" I really mean "screamed as loud as possible, for motivation." I was kind of thinking this might also motivate the people around me, but I'm pretty sure they actually just thought I was crazy. Oh well. I felt motivated.
In that moment, "Go the Distance" came up on my playlist and I almost cried. I'm pretty sure I'm now 3/3 on hearing this song at this point in the marathon, and really, what more could you ask for?
With all that going on, the bridge didn't feel torturous at all. It also helped that it was sort of hazy, though sunny enough that I finally ditched my quarter-zip when we got to the Virginia side of the bridge. 30-35K: 23:35, which a year ago would have been a 5K PR.
We had finally made it to
Crystal City, the last major unofficial segment of the race. The crowds were back out, and I made a quick stop to refill my water bottle again and tried to adjust it - the lid was digging into my waist, and it was getting increasingly painful. It didn't really help. Besides that, and my legs which still hurt, I was surprised to feel some power left in my legs even going uphill as we were doing the "out" portion. Then I turned around and the wind went, "Hi there!"
Every. Time.
I was starting to anxiously await each mile marker. At this point my watch was about 0.3 miles ahead of the course, so it got to be rather a long wait. I was so ready to be done. But I had to find a little more to give. 35-40K: 23:32.
As we left Crystal City and headed towards the finish, the crowds thinned. These last couple of miles were maybe the most painful of any race I've ever run. My water bottle was bruising my waist. My legs were dying: my quads and calves kept feeling like they were about to cramp up, and while they never did, it
really hurt. I had the absurd feeling that if I let my neck relax even a little bit, my head would just flop over a la
Melty Abe in the early stages of his collapse. But there was nothing I could do about any of it except keep going. At mile 26, they had photographers in a cherry picker with a banner saying, "Smile!" There was no part of me that was capable of smiling.
I saw someone on the interwebs refer to the last hill up to the finish as "
Mt. Mother[expletive removed]." When I got there, I immediately understood why: because when you've run 26 miles, and you turn that corner and see the hill in front of you, the only thing left to say is "mother[expletive removed]"
. With some groaning and quite a bit more swearing, I forced my body to give just a little more and run up the hill as fast as I could (which was not very). The crowds were back, but it was still the worst.
Once you get up the steepest part of the hill, there is yet another turn, and then you have to
keep going. How was this race not over yet?? My watch said it was over. But I could see the clock just ticking over 3:35, which meant that I, having crossed the starting mat a few minutes after the gun, was still
under 3:35. That gave me the motivation to drag out all the rest of my energy and offer it up to the capricious gods of marathons. At last, I crossed the finish line and staggered to a walk. I was done.
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Here I am looking like I'm dying as we approach the finish. I also felt like I was dying. (I'm actually really impressed that they identified this photo because my shirt is covering my bib number, and I had a different top on for most of the race.)
Finally, I was not running. Not running was nice. My legs were essentially no longer functioning, so I slowly shuffled my way along with the rest of the crowd of finishers. It was probably pretty funny to watch all these people hobbling by in a herd of owies. Eventually I found a bottle of water, which was a start. A Marine put a medal around my neck, and luckily by that point I was able to smile and thank her.
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Standing in front of the Iwo Jima Memorial with my hard-earned medal
Weirdly, the first snack they handed out was saltines. I guess I can kind of see the logic - a lot of people might be dealing with GI issues, and saltines are about the least upsetting thing you can put in your stomach. But also, even more people are at least moderately dehydrated, and saltines are as dry as it gets. I took one bite, and it was like trying to eat sawdust. They did give out bananas and snack boxes a little farther on, so that was something.
As I was trudging through the endless path to get out of the finishing chute, I heard my name. I glanced over expecting them to be calling another Kate, but one of my friends had come to meet me! That was really nice; I wasn't expecting her. So I had some company once I finally got to the finish festival.
We picked up some more snacks and drinks as we headed for gear check. Everything seemed like a very long way away. I got my stuff, changed into my sweatshirt because it was still only like 50 out, and ate my pretzel. Then we hopped on the Metro. I finally made it home and immediately took my dog for a walk, where I had to keep slowing him down because he was moving too fast for my tired legs.
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The traditional sharing of the post-race banana
After all that, I finally managed to check my official time. I ran a
3:32:25!!
I was very happy. Take that, weirdly pessimistic 538 prediction.
Not only was that an 18-minute marathon PR, I also ran an official
half marathon PR for the second half of the marathon (1:43:11). According to Strava, I also PR'ed in the 10 mile and ran my second-fastest 10K. (Strava says that I actually PR'ed everything from 15K up, but since I've never raced any of those other distances, I don't think they really count.) Woohoo! All that pain and suffering paid off in the end. Go, body! Apparently when it comes to racing, my body is smarter than my brain
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Race splits
I was only two minutes and twenty-five seconds from my new BQ time, but no regrets. I can't imagine where I could have found an extra two minutes and twenty-five seconds in this race. However. Next time. I'm coming for you, Boston
The goal is to have enough time to get through security, hit the portas, drop off my gear, do a light 8-10 minute jog*, pop over to the portas again, and then head to the starting area. I feel like an hour and a half should be plenty of time for all that, right?
Your weather forecast looks so much better, and you are much better prepared and you'll get done faster, so you'll be in a much better place for things.
And thanks for all the tips!!
look forward to reading the RR
