May 6th, 2006
Flying Pig Marathon (I’ll do it when pigs fly; get it!?)
Cincinnati OH
Several postings to the race’s website about last year’s event contained phrases like: “…challenging course…”, “…uphill at the start…”, “…rolling course…". The salient feature on the course’s elevation chart is the 350 ft. climb between miles 5 and 8. I also noted, while driving the course the day before, three bridge crossings in the first four miles and a series of rolling hills in the later sections.
However, the net elevation change over the entire course was zero. As long as the declines weren’t too steep, I hoped to pickup some time on the downhill sides. I employed two strategies in preparation; the first was obvious, more hill training. With all the treadmill work I do, that was done simply by increasing the incline. Secondly, I lost an extra five pounds knowing the reduction could be material over the entire course.
I was apprehensive about setting a personal record (PR) on this challenging course. Additionally, it looked as though I would have to also face my perpetual bête noire, hot weather. Just five days out, the high was forecasted to be 82. The day before the race I heard another runner say that a storm disturbance was suppose to blow-through that evening dropping Sunday’s high to 70. I was dubious. But sure enough, as our running group was eating our pre-race paste dinner, winds began gusting and a 15 minute rain came through. It was by no means a cool/cold front; but it did drive all the humidity out making race day dry and cool at the dawn.
Six-thirty Sunday morning, I stood in the pack behind the start-line and next to my good friend John. He was instrumental in helping me achieve a PR in our previous race. In addition to the comradeship a running mate provides, John is a highly disciplined racer. Using his GPS wrist watch, his mile splits deviate by less than a couple of seconds. Unfortunately, he would be no help to me that day. Though equally fast as I, John did not run his previous marathon goal time due to cramping. He thought it best to complete that goal before trying for a faster time this run.
A quartet sang the National anthem and we were off. As always, I was a half-a-minute behind pace after mile one due to the herding mass. But unexpectedly, the course opened up early in mile two. I suspect the relays teams helped. In additional to the full-marathoners, there were four person teams running. They tend to go out faster which helps thin the course. They were also responsible for the funniest comment heard during the race. Near mile 14, I ran past a relay team member. A spectator noticed the runner’s beleaguered appearance and shouted supportively, “Just two more miles and your halfway there!” For those who miss the humor, I will translate the spectator’s comment into an algebraic formula, the solution of which is the total distance the runner had completed: X + 2 = 6 / 2.
I was already absent my pacer, John, but at both miles three and four the course crossed under long overpasses. My GPS watch lost its signal and mistakenly altered the distance covered by a quarter mile. That made its “average pace” display, on which I heavily rely, useless. My only indications of pace from that point forward were the total time elapsed since the start and how I felt.
At mile five I began the continuous incline that peeked at mile eight. Experienced runners have told me that a good uphill strategy is to think of what you consider a slow pace, and then run even slower. To avoid lactic acid build-up, that makes sense. However, there comes a point that you artificially shorten your stride and that disrupts your rhythm. I slowed down but held a stride that felt natural.
It was at the half way point that I was first able to determine my pace. I simply noted the total elapsed time and doubled it. The result was excellent. I was almost a minute ahead of what I considered an aggressive finishing goal time of 3:35. My initial thought was, “Just try to hold onto this pace and you’ll do it.” With that thought, all motivation left me. The connotation of “…just try to hold on…” negatively affected my psychology. I re-thought, “Still try for a negative split!” This challenge instantaneously excited me though I knew the risk. I had already pushed a pace far exceeding my expectation. Increasing it might cause me to implode after mile 20 and completely obliterate any chance at a PR.
I picked up the pace. At mile 17 the sun was high and bright. My breathing was still flowing, but I had fatigue in my legs and mid-section. I tossed my shirt at mile 19 hoping any light breeze would refresh me. My pace was still strong but my confidence was waning. I began the cardinal sin of counting miles, “Don’t stop here; just make it until mile 20, ….just make it until mile 21…., …just to mile 22….”
At mile 23 I was hurting in every aspect. My body was getting heavy, my breathing was shallower, and my posture was no longer vertical. But there was my pace! Though struggling at the limits of my endurance, I later learned through the course’s tracking mats that my pace had remained constant since I accelerated at the half-way point. “Just make it until start of mile 26. Nobody runs 25 miles to walk during the last one.”, I repeatedly told myself.
The start of the final mile did pull me. For the first quarter mile my pace increased significantly. Rounding a bend, I saw the cruelest of designs, a freeway on-ramp uphill with less than a mile remaining. I stopped at the base and walked. I hiked up for 20 seconds taking deep breaths. Running again I turned left at the top and then took off trying to make up the 10 seconds lost.
To involve the local populace, marathon designers like to snake the last mile like a labyrinth through a half-dozen downtown streets. If you’re a local, this may be fun. For others, the disorientation drains any remaining strength. Additionally, before rounding every turn spectators yell out, “The finish is just around the corner!” The absence of which is like a punch to the gut.
Approaching the fourth inner city turn, I again walked for 15 seconds. Finally, I saw the finish. I raced the finally stretch, pumping my fist the last 100 yards. I bested my previous PR by more than six minutes on the most challenging course I’ve run to date. I finished in 3:32:41 and placed 441 out of 3,980 finishers.
David
