Just Another Runner’s Perspective
Chronicles from the Illinois Marathon
“If you feel bad at ten miles, you’re in trouble. If you feel bad at twenty miles, you’re normal. If you don’t feel bad at twenty-six miles, you’re abnormal.” ---Rob de Castella
May 1, 2010, 7:25 am, Champaign, Illinois
“Five minutes to go until the wheelchair athletes begin, and five minutes after that, the half-marathon and marathon runners will begin.”
As Hannah, Hunz, and I stood at the starting line, I couldn’t stop shaking while listening to these words spoken over the loudspeakers. I wasn’t shivering because I was cold. After all, the temperatures were in the mid to upper sixties on this early May morning in Champaign, Illinois. Shaking has always been a typical reaction for me in response to the nervous anticipation in the last few minutes leading up to a marathon. Moments later, another announcement came over the loudspeaker. The race would be delayed a few minutes due to the 5K race not being complete. My nervous reaction continued as the wait was extended. Weather conditions made me a bit more nervous for this marathon compared to most of my previous marathon experiences. With temperatures in the mid-sixties, humidity levels approaching 90% for the start of the race, and predictions of temperatures approaching 80 degrees for the day, I wasn’t exactly brimming with confidence at my chances of meeting my goal, not to mention just finishing the race. It wasn’t as if I had never run a marathon in these conditions, but today, I was attempting a PR pace. I wasn’t sure if my body would hold up to these conditions for twenty-six miles so early in the racing season at a pace that I had never run in a marathon. It is usually late May to early June by the time my body acclimates to high temperatures and humidity.
Just a year earlier, I had run the inaugural Illinois Marathon. The experience was a very memorable one for me. The weekend included appearances from Runner’s World’s Bart Yasso, and one of our county’s top marathon performers of all time, Dick Beardsley. The race course showcased some of Champaign-Urbana’s finest neighborhoods, ending with a spectacular finish inside the University of Illinois Memorial Stadium. Perhaps what made my 2009 Illinois Marathon experience so memorable was that I was able to set a PR on the course that day.
As runners from our local running group, the Kalamazoo Area Runners (KAR), began making plans for 2010 spring marathons, a group of us decided to mark the Illinois Marathon on our calendar for May 1. This year’s race would include much of the same course, an expanded field, another finish in Memorial Stadium, and appearances from Kathryn Switzer, who was responsible for the women's marathon movement, and Jean Driscoll, an elite wheelchair athlete born with spina bifida. After the holidays, Bonnie, Hannah, Hunz, and I began planning and training for our weekend in Champaign. Later, Russ and Shane would decide to make the trip to Champaign as well. Hunz would attempt his first sub-three-hour marathon. Hannah, who had been granted elite status for Illinois, had thoughts of the marathon Olympic trials as she decided what her race goal would be. My goal was to PR, which would require a pace of 6:44 a mile or faster and a finishing time faster than 2:56:52, but if I were to at least break three hours, I would have seven sub-three-hour marathons, moving me closer to my goal of ten marathons under three hours. As our training continued through the winter, Hannah decided she was not quite ready to meet Olympic trials qualification standards. The week before race day, Hannah, Hunz, and I decided we would start together and attempt to go out and finish at a 6:44 pace. In the week leading up the marathon, I would diligently check the race day weather forecast multiple times daily. Although my confidence of reaching my goal began to fade with the threat of warm, muggy weather, I did not waver on my plans for race day. As Hunz, Hannah, and I stood at the starting line, we waited nervously to begin our quest in hopes that our bodies would allow us to reach our goals.
When Kathryn Switzer finally gave the starting command, we made our way through the sea of runners, trying to find an open area for the three of us to fall into our pace. The wind was at our backs, and we had a slight downhill for much of mile one. I had been granted the title of official pacer for the three of us. As we approached the mile one marker, I looked at the Garmin watch on my wrist and announced to Hunz and Hannah, “6:34, now it’s time to settle in.” I had warned both of my running partners that my first mile of most marathons was usually a little quick because of the excitement, but after mile one, it was time to focus on maintaining cruise control for each mile.
The wave of runners seemed to spread out as we approached midway between mile marker number one and mile marker number two. I glanced at my Garmin periodically to check on the screen that shows an ongoing average pace for the entire workout. As we were approaching mile marker number two, our average pace read 6:39 a mile. When we crossed mile marker number two, I called out, “6:44.” This was a perfectly paced mile. The nerves had finally settled, and it was time to hit cruise control. I noticed that I was sweating more than usual while running as we locked into our pace between mile markers two and three. I hadn’t sweat this much on a run since last September. This concerned me somewhat, so early in the race. I was hopeful that the heat and humidity would not wear me down. As we crossed mile marker number three, the Garmin read a split of 6:39. This was a bit too fast for our mile split, and our average pace remained 6:39. As we made our way through mile four, we made a turn and began running into the southern breeze. This increased our effort, but the breeze was welcome on this hot, humid day. Our mile marker number four split showed a 6:42 mile. We were back to cruise control pace. It was at this point in the race that I felt like nature was calling. I didn’t really want to take the time for a bathroom stop, so I continued on, hoping the feeling would pass. The split at mile marker number five read 6:46, a little slow, but close enough. Mile marker number six showed a consistent pattern as we came through at 6:43.
Halfway into mile number seven, I spotted three porta pots to the side of the course. I told Hunz and Hannah that I was going to make a stop but would catch up with them. Hunz also decided to make a stop. We both got in and out as quickly as possible, losing about twenty seconds. This delay was evident at mile marker number seven, with the Garmin showing a 7:05 split. Our average pace had dropped from 6:40 a mile to 6:45 a mile. This was a little disappointing but could not be helped. I told Hunz that we didn’t need to catch Hanna all in one chunk, but both of us wanted to find her as quickly as possible. Mile number eight was 6:35. We could see Hannah ahead of us now and were able to catch her before we hit mile marker number nine, which was 6:54. I began to feel the urge to make a bathroom stop again. I decided I wanted to bank some time in anticipation of another pit stop, so I picked up the pace. It was at this point that I started separating from Hunz and Hanna. It seemed as if sweat was rolling from every pore of my skin. The extra weight from the sweat clinging to my shorts and the two gel packs nestled in the back pockets caused another problem as I was now constantly pulling up my shorts, which seemed to be slipping with every stride. I did not want to tie the drawstring any tighter for fear of losing more valuable seconds trying to untie them in anticipation of another bathroom stop. The constant pulling up of my shorts continued until I finished my last gel pack around two hours into the race.
Mile ten was 6:54, and mile eleven was 6:34. I had dropped my average pace back down to 6:42 a mile. As I continued the faster pace through mile twelve, I spotted another porta pot and decided to take my second stop, this time losing almost thirty seconds. Stepping back onto the racecourse, Hannah and Hunz had caught back up to me, but my average pace had dropped down to 6:46 a mile. The thought of possibly another bathroom stop had definitely changed my race strategy. I was running miles faster than anticipated in hopes of banking time for possible stops. I picked up the pace again. Mile number twelve was 7:07, fast enough considering the bathroom break, and mile number thirteen was 6:31. I was now halfway through and would start my mental game of evaluating my progress every two miles.
I had started feeling a little out of my comfort zone the previous few miles. It wasn’t as if I was approaching the wall, but my perceived effort was more than I was comfortable with less than halfway through the race. The mind games began. Should I continue to pace and try to reach my goal, but chance a disastrous finish? Should I back off and wait for Hannah and Hunz? I felt that if I were to do this, I could still break three hours but risk my chance of setting a PR. With the heat and humidity, should I just slow the pace and come in comfortably? I decided I would push on and go for a PR. If I hit the wall early, I would just have to deal with my decision. Mile number fourteen was 6:37. The weather must have been getting to other runners as I noticed myself passing more and more of them. I desperately wanted to find someone who had a similar race goal as mine so that we could pace ourselves for the rest of the race. I caught up to another runner and asked him what his goal was. He wanted to run a time of 2:51, and he thought that he was a little ahead of the pace. His calculations were obviously not accurate as we were at the same point in the race, and I was on a pace to finish at 2:56 at best. I decided that he was probably not the best runner to pace with. Mile number fifteen was 6:38. I was still feeling the same perceived exertion that I had begun feeling earlier, around mile twelve, but the feeling had not gotten any worse. The next three miles were all a model of consistency as all of them were identical at 6:38. I had dropped my average pace back down to 6:43 a mile. I began to feel a surge of confidence. Again, I passed another runner and asked her what her goal was. She replied that she would be happy just to finish. This was a good answer, but I was still on my own for pacing. Somewhere in the middle of mile nineteen, I spotted another porta pot and made another quick pit stop. Despite the stop, my Garmin still read seven minutes flat at the nineteen-mile mark. Shortly after my pit stop, I passed another runner, asking him, just as I had the others, what his goal time would be. His response was identical to the last, wanting just to be able to finish the race.
With the twenty-mile mark just on the horizon, my legs and lungs were beginning to show more fatigue, but I still felt I had some miles in me at under a 6:44 pace. Mile twenty was 6:41 and mile twenty-one was 6:43. This is when I began doing the calculations in my head. Could I reach my PR at this point by averaging a seven-minute pace through the last five miles? Would a worst-case scenario of eight-minute miles still get me under three hours? I was tired, and making these calculations in my head was requiring too much of an effort. “Just keep moving as fast as you can”, I told myself. My enthusiasm was waning slightly, but I was still feeling in the game. For much of the earlier stages of the race, I like to get the crowd involved in the race. I will raise my hands, cup my hand to my ear, or simply shout, “Make some noise!” as I race by pockets of spectators. Any extra energy for this was fading. I still tried to stay involved with the crowd. Part of what gets me to the finish line of a marathon is the encouragement given by spectators, especially as fatigue begins to set in. Although I was not feeding the crowd frenzy at this time, like I had earlier, the crowd was still doing its part to pull me through. I tried my best to acknowledge positive comments from spectators with a thank you or at least a thumbs up. I wanted to let them know that their support was greatly appreciated.
Mile twenty-two was just under goal pace at 6:43. I spotted yet another porta pot during mile twenty-three, and yes, I made one last stop, causing me to come in at 7:13 for mile twenty-three. My legs were now beginning to show great signs of fatigue, but I still had not hit the wall and was able to keep running. The Garmin read 6:54 at the mile twenty-four marker. While cresting a hill in the middle of mile twenty-five, I could see a spectator out in the middle of the road ahead, cheering on the runners. As I approached him, he yelled to me, “Hey, I know you! You ran the race with me last year and beat me!” I looked at him and instantly recognized him as a runner I had hooked up with last year for the last thirteen miles. I half-heartedly begged him to run the last two miles with me, but he convinced me I could make it on my own. With the uphill and fatigue setting in, mile twenty-five was my slowest mile with a split of 7:30. As I came upon a clearing, I could see Memorial Stadium just around the corner. I knew that a PR was not a possibility anymore, but coming in less than three hours was not out of the question. I had picked the pace up a little for mile twenty-six, clocking a 7:04. I began to feel a bit of relief knowing the end was just moments away and that I would make it in less than three hours. I entered the stadium filled with cheering spectators, crossing the finish line at the fifty-yard line with the Garmin reading 2:59:32, good enough for a top twenty finish. It wasn’t easy, but I had made it. There was no PR today, but I had just finished my seventh sub 3-hour marathon which was a great feeling, but to be honest, to cross the finish line for any marathon, no matter how fast or slow, no matter how badly my body has been beat up, is always an emotional high. Considering the heat, humidity, and the time I made up with the unexpected bathroom stops, I would rank this as one of my top marathon performances.
Bending over with my hands on my knees and gasping for air as one of the race volunteers placed a medal over my head, I was totally exhausted, and I am sure extremely dehydrated. Despite the sunny skies and warm temperatures, I was experiencing the chills. I had no time to celebrate as I had to make one last dash to find a bathroom in the stadium’s concourse. After taking care of business, I came back down to he football field to find my friends.
Hannah finished in 3:05, giving her honors as the second-place female runner and a payday of $1000. This was the most exciting part of the weekend. Another friend of mine, Melissa, from Muskegon, Michigan, was the fifth-place female and first masters runner, earning her a $500 paycheck. She set a PR with a 3:16. Hunz finished in 3:19, Bonnie and Russ finished together in 3:42, and Shane completed his first marathon in 4:30. It was a good day for all of us. As I made my way back to my car, I crossed the race course just as the runners were entering the stadium. I couldn’t help but notice the aroma of meat cooking over hot coals. Parked alongside the course was a group of spectators with a party tent, a grill, and all the fixings. It smelled so good! Showing no modesty, I walked over and asked the grill master if he was selling what he was cooking. He graciously offered me a burger, no charge. I eagerly accepted his offer. My day in Champaign had ended with the same hospitality that I experienced out on the race course for twenty-six miles.
As we made the trip back to Michigan after the race, fatigue and dehydration made for a long drive back home, but there was no lack of conversation during the hours spent in the car. The weekend in Champaign was a classic.
The next day, I downloaded my race data from my Garmin watch onto my computer. This wonderful piece of technology has many features, probably more useless than useful. As I was looking at the information that it had spit out onto my computer, I noticed a feature I had not noticed before. The screen showed a column that read “Time” and a column that read “Moving Time”. My moving time was 2:56:50, which would calculate to a two-second PR. Translated, this means that my time spent for each bathroom stop did not figure into my moving time. So, the question is, could I have set a PR without the bathroom stops? I guess there is no point in dwelling on this. Regardless, this was truly another memorable marathon experience.
KEEP RUNNING!!
Until next time, this has been just another runner’s perspective.