How do you spell euphoria? For me it is 3-5-9-4-3 as in 3:59:43 the time I ran at the Philadelphia Marathon, the Sunday before Thanksgiving. Although I would have been very pleased with 4:00:17, it suffices to say if you’re going to be within 17 seconds of a round number you might as well be under it.. While the time was the worst of my three completed marathons it was far better than I could have ever expected and it put to rest some unfinished business.
Exactly six years ago I had been on the same starting line in far better shape but with an unrealistic attitude. I was obsessed with running a Boston qualifying time of 3:20 and forgot the first rule that every marathoner should know-the objects are to run smart, have
fun, listen to your body and finish. If all those adages are observed a good result is likely to follow although sometimes Mother Nature has the last word.
On that day in 1997, I don’t think I ever smiled. At least two runners who knew me said I looked too tight. I checked the splits religiously and when I got to the half in 1:38 I sensed that I wasn’t going to get my time since I had always run the second half at least ten minutes slower. One mile later my calf started hurting and that was a good reason to drop out and save myself for another marathon.
It took six years for that next marathon and in that time my running had pretty much sunk to lower and lower depths that I would have never imagined. Finally in 2003 I started to show some improvement and as spring turned to summer I thought about marathon redemption at the place that housed a cadre of demons.
As anyone training for a marathon knows there were many days where I thought “Why bother “ but every time I wanted to cut my run short I kept thinking about how awful a feeling it was on November 24,1997 when I could find no record of myself at the Philadelphia Marathon. My three long runs were nothing great. I’m not even sure they were 20 miles but they were well over 3 hours and the end of all three were pretty brutal.
My last one on November 1 caused me to be late for coaching my daughter’s soccer game and it was the only one we lost all fall but the sacrifice had been made. That’s why we have assistant coaches.
As the quality of my runs deteriorated during the final three week taper, my expectations kept lowering from an original sub 4 hour to 4:10 to 4:20. But I didn’t care. I just knew I would finish. somehow I would finish.
But then my luck changed. The most important variable a runner can’t control is weather. Unlike most of my marathon running brethren who had to endure lousy conditions at just about every marathon this year, the weather at Philly was all anyone could ask for the perfect intersection of good conditions for runners and spectators. The organizers also had the good sense (are you listening New York?) to start the race at 8 am sparing the runners the worst of a virulent late November sun.
As I waited on an interminable port-a –potty line it became obvious that I would miss the actual start. It didn’t concern me as all I really cared about was my chip time. And it better fit my mind set to perhaps be with a slower group of runners than if I had started almost immediately. The course had been slightly changed but I hardly noticed since I could barely remember the first time anyway. I talked quite a bit to other runners and tried to smile as much as I could and enjoy the sights. There was a dog chewing on one of the green gloves that a runner had thrown away. There was an overdressed woman taking off and throwing away her long sleeve shirt(She had another one on underneath). I enjoyed the first seven miles through the downtown area past the University of Pennsylvania, Chinatown and Independence Hall.
When we headed to the toughest hill at mile 8 in Fairmount Park I noticed a spectator offering a 16 ounce Gatorade bottle to any takers. I finally relieved him of it and jokingly asked if there were any strong runners with dry hands. Of course nobody volunteered so I used my singlet and opened it. Though I offered to anyone within earshot it wasn’t disappointing to me that I had to drink the whole thing. I was not going to allow myself to be dehydrated! The tough climb up the hill to Memorial Hall is more than compensated by the fast down hills leaving the park.
Soon it was time for my first big psychological test. As we approached twelve miles, my clock time was right around the time I had dropped out last time. To make things tougher my left quad and hamstring were both feeling tight, an ominous combination. I got through the halfway point in 1:55 a full 17 minutes slower than 1997 and 4:10 was looking very challenging. Then came the biggest moment-I passed the spot that I had dropped out and went past the big crowds at the finish line.
The last twelve miles are six miles out and back along Kelly Drive.
Once you go out away from the starting line to the 15th mile there is little choice but to try and finish as if that was ever a choice to begin with. By 16 we were seeing the leader at
24 on his way to a 2:16. I was still feeling good, enjoying the day and holding my pace under 9 minutes a mile. I struck up various conversations and tried to be positive as the miles to go kept dwindling. Entering the hills of Manayunk I see two of my training partners, both who are deservedly way ahead of me. We give each other encouragement although they are two miles ahead of me and on their way back.
Finally we reach the turnaround and it’s appropriately at 20 miles. I hit it at 2:58,still under 9 and my second ten is only four minutes slower than my first ten but 4 hours is still a pipe dream. Surprisingly my legs still feel good and we’re heading back towards the finish. The only people I will see on the way back are behind me, an encouraging thought. More uplifting is that I continue to get through the mostly downhill miles and feel good. At 23 with only 3.2 miles to go, I do the math and realize if I hold together I should easily break four.
I try to encourage my new running partner, a girl named Lisa that if she resisted walking she would break four. She eventually has to stop and I later find out she had done 4:04 but I trudge on. I hit 24 and am amazed at the amount of runners going the other way, just at 16. Even though I am slowing down I am still passing a number of walkers. As I get to 25 I realize I need 11 minutes for the last 1.2. I summon up all my energy but 26 takes forever to arrive. I lose my dream of beating my first marathon time of 3:58:08 and realize that I will break four although not on the race timer. the chip is all that matters to us and my watch says 3:59:42. The official time was one second slower but what’s a second when you have exorcised six years of demons. It will be a good Thanksgiving.
