AM: City of Oaks Marathon, 2:33:03, 1st place, 27 miles
The short version of this race report is that I'm very psyched about it. It was one of the most challenging road courses I've ever run in some of the nastiest weather I've ever run in. I thought for sure for most of the race until the 20th mile, when I kicked up the pace a gear and had one of my best finishes of any race, ever, with a five-mile drive to the finish, hitting a respectable negative split.
Here's the long version:
My 4:45 wake up brought rain...cold, windy rain. As events would unfold, this would be the weather we'd get for most of the race. Because of traffic, Valerie and I parked with about a half hour to spare. This was not ideal, but everyone else was racing in the same conditions. I made a trip to the bathroom, jogged a half mile, stretched for five minutes, and lined up with the masses of shivering, antsy runners just as the sun was coming up.
Once the race started, any thoughts of running PR were extinguished in the second mile, when we started up a decent hill
on the "flat" part of the course. The first six miles or so took us through downtown Raleigh, where we battled serious wind gusts cutting through buildings and light rain. We were mixed in with the half-marathoners at this point. I tried to pace off of them, but at the same time I wondered what place I was in. There was one runner next to me (and/or drafting behind me in the wind...
grrr....) who was definitely in the full marathon, as noted by his separately colored bib and shoe tag, so I speculated we might be in the lead pack for the marathon. The rain ultimately alternated between light and heavy throughout the race, made bearable because I had the foresight to wear a hat. Around 10k, I grew tired of playing domestique in the wind and pulled ahead of my pack on my own as the waves of rolling hills continued. It was still early in the race, and I was just trying to stay as relaxed and expend as little energy as possible. If I had a "go word" today, then it was "composure" and "patience," both of which I kept repeating to myself throughout the race.
Splits: 5:56, 5:43, 11:42 (two miles...the wind blew some of the mile markers down), 5:45, 6:02
At 8.5 miles, the half-marathoners turned around, at which point I asked a volunteer what place I was in as I headed toward the Raleigh suburbs. "2nd place, great job."
Though second place would have been a respectable showing, this nonetheless discouraged me because despite the open expanse of road in front of me, I could see neither the leader nor the lights from the pace car. As it turned out, a guy sitting by the road in a pickup truck (the race was getting really rural in a real hurry) shouted that I had a 1:50 deficit on the leader soon thereafter. This was a little discouraging, but I pressed on over the hills, running many stretches of road by myself. In fact, at some points, I was totally alone with no signs of life other than the occasional inanimate sign pointing me in the right direction, making the race feel like a training run as I moved to the side to let annoyed drivers pass me in the open road. From this point until we entered Umstead, the hills just kept coming and coming, to the point I actually muttered "you've got to be kidding me." Around mile 12, someone watching the race from his front porch yelled that I was 1:30 back. The guy on the porch also needs a new watch or was just being nice, because I hit the half-marathon mark in 1:17:35, well slower than my splits from Marine Corps and Boston last year, and the results show that the (Kenyan?) race leader went through in 1:14:21, which given the weather and conditions is moving and that my deficit was more than 3:00 minutes. Needless to say, I still couldn't see him.
Splits: 6:09, 11:57 (two miles), 5:43, 6:01, 5:47, 5:59, 6:11, 5:59
Approaching mile 15, PMurphy, who was out in much-needed support, ran up next to me and offered water. I declined the generous gesture, but was able to quip "I have clearly underestimated the difficulty of this course." The fact that I was able to still string together a coherent sentence was a good sign that I was at least doing OK but was still worried about the monster hills in the park. I soon saw Liam and Emily, who were there offering words of encouragement at the same park where I'd put in some of my best runs with him leading up to this race.
Going into the park, the dirt road was a mud bath of red clay from all of the rain, which was picking up steadily. I was also fighting off the urge to relieve myself, and since past experience showed me that this can become distracting in the late stages of the race, I made the executive decision to pull off and take care of it. This didn't violate any sort of social graces because I barely saw anyone in the stretch of miles 15-19 that went through Umstead Park, and I knew this was my best time because I was approaching a huge downhill. Including the stop, I still hit 5:57 for my next mile, so I was feeling good about feelin' good at this point in the race. 10 more miles seemed very doable, though some of the toughest hills on the course remained ahead. I powered up the race's longest half-mile hill in 5:57 at mile 18, pleasantly surprising me that I was holding together and wasn't emptying my tank.
"Composure...composure...patient...patient...patient..."
Mile 19 brought the worst feelings in the race. Experience shows me that "rough spots" happen in the marathon, and you sort of have to ride through them and hold yourself in once piece. I liken it to biking across railroad tracks: just ride through it and for the love of God, don't crash, figuratively speaking. When I decended one hill and started to climb the last remaining tough hill on the course, I was so tired that I saw what I thought a police car pacing a jogging Kenyan doing the death shuffle.
"WAIT, that IS a jogging Kenyan doing the death shuffle!" I'm not 100% sure we was Kenyan, but I made a point not to stop and ask. My eyes grew to the size of dinner plates and I was ready to move, breathing new life into me. This part of the race was by far the most awkward logistically because after exiting the park, there was a bike trail and a road running parallel to each other. I opted for the road, but the leader ahead of me was on the trail, so I had to basically hop over a ditch to get on the trail, wanting to make a fair pass if I was indeed going to pass him. I tried holding my breath in "stealth mode," but my typically galumphing stride was just making a ton of noise on the water-soaked course. So I moved, and I moved deliberately, worried that I might shake this guy awake if he had enough time to react.
Splits: 5:57, 5:52, 5:57, 5:48, 6:05
There was no response. When I got to the top of the hill, a race official yelled that said runner was "was fading fast," and I pressed the accelerator to see what I had left in the tank. By all accounts, I was looking and feeling fine. I saw Liam again around 21, and yelled that I thought the runner behind me was done, to which I received more affirmation. For the first time in the race, I was chasing the pace car and thought actually might win this thing. I was feeling composed. I wanted to spend my last 10k putting this race away. So I did. "Composure" and "patience" gave way to "hold together" and "don't get overexcited and f*** this up."
The crowds were growing and I was running alongside the half-marathoners, who were incredibly supportive. Kudos also to the pace car for giving me some room to run, which I'd been worried about knowing that the courses converged (I've been in race in the past where this is a disaster). The officer driving kept saying, "please move to the right, I have the marathon leader with me," over his loudspeaker, which drew more cheers and was definitely uplifting and I tried to make my legs move as fast as they could 20-ish miles into a marathon. At mile 25, I hit a 5:21, my fastest mile in the race, and made one more look back to make sure I didn't have anyone sneaking up on me. All clear.
Splits: 5:40, 5:27, 5:27, 5:28, 5:21, 5:52, 1:02 (.2)
Final splits: 1:17:35, 1:15:27
Tearing through the tape of course feels amazing. Today was no different given that it was my first marathon win, made more meaningful by the conditions, the difficult course, and the fact that I thought I was racing for second for almost 2 hours. I had a ton of energy afterward, maybe even too much energy, but there was no telling what that course would have done to me if I'd been more aggressive early. And, given that I'm a grad student with basically no income, I appreciate the largest prize purse I've ever won now more than ever.
My plan beforehand was to let the race come to me and keep something until mile 22, when the worst of the hills were done. I stuck to the plan, and I'm quite happy with that. I would have loved to PR today, and I think it's obvious that I could have run at least under 2:30 on an easier course with non-squall conditions, but a win is undeniably cool. Winning a marathon was definitely on my "bucket list," and now I can say I've done that, and--dude--it feels awesome as I write this.
I'm already looking forward to Club XC Nationals next month for the GRC Kentucky road trip. Judging by how my legs feel, my recovery is going to be quicker (I'm writing this the day after the race, and stairs aren't a problem at all). Still, I'm cautiously and reluctantly taking a few days off (you're nodding your head in approval, no doubt), throw in some cross training, and won't resume workouts for at least a few weeks. I have some spring goals in shorter distances, including the 10k and half-marathon, and I'm going to attack the 2:30 barrier on a faster course in Fall 2010. I'll be ready, as I was definitely ready for it today.
So this race gets an "A" from me, and it's easily the biggest race win I've ever had at this point in my running life. After struggling in the heat this summer, and fading hard in my last marathon (MCM 2008), City of Oaks 2009 brought sweet, sweet personal redemption.
P.S. ... If you've read this far, then thank you because there is a 90% chance you have supported me in one way or another through running. You're thinking, Who else would read this self-absorbed drivel, anyway? And you'd be right. So thanks again.
