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SRRC Race Reports

Marine Corps Marathon —October 29, 2006
by Alison Gittelman

How (not) to Run a Sub-4:00 Marathon

I started writing this report in my head during the 14-hour car ride to Florida, which began just 6 hours after I completed my first marathon. Upon hearing about these two activities, people who don't run told me I was insane for running a marathon; people who do run told me I was insane for taking such a long car ride . . . .

The Decision

I've been running and racing for 23 years and so, when I finally decided this spring to run a marathon, I was definitely ready. Why did I wait so long? Mainly because I just didn't have the desire to race that far, but also because I didn't feel like doing the training involved to run well. One of the problems that comes with having raced since you were 11 is that "just finishing" isn't a good enough goal, even though that's supposed to be the goal of the first-time marathoner. I wanted to finish in less than 4 hours.

The Training

I followed Hal Higdon's Intermediate marathon training plan to the letter. (OK, so I missed one run, but I was on a plane to London that day!) I've never followed a training plan, and I found that I really liked the discipline involved as well as the lack of need to actually think! All I had to do was look at my little piece of paper, and off I went. I enjoyed the training, much to my surprise! Even the long runs (and the really long runs) were fun. What's more, I was looking forward to the marathon.

T minus 1

On the day before the race, I ran a 1K fun run with my kids, and actually found myself getting wound up because we were running a little late! My back was hurting so much I made an emergency chiropractic appointment. It was just anxiety. I couldn't wait to get to the start line.

The Big Day

The good thing about having a nervous nelly attack the day before a race is that I'm always very calm by the time race day arrives, having purged the anxiety from my system. My plan was to run 9 minute miles. That would put me on target for a 3:55 finish, so I'd have a 5 minute cushion to meet my goal of sub 4:00. My first mile was a 9:55, which was fine because I knew the start would be slow. Plus, there was a decent hill in the first couple of miles so I'd told myself to take it easy. One of the things I wasn't prepared for was the sheer size and velocity of the crowd support. People were dressed in costume, waving banners and ringing cowbells and shouting at the tops of their voices. I saw a guy dressed as Pooh twice as well as a guy with a crazy wig.

The marathon mind . . .

I was overwhelmed by the fact that complete strangers were yelling my name (which I'd written on my shirt in the hope that a couple of people would shout at me towards the end) and found myself being carried along by the momentum of the runners around me and the enthusiasm of the crowds. I started peeling off 8:20 miles. I knew I was running too fast. I knew I should slow down. I tried forcing myself to run behind people, but that didn't feel right. I talked to myself. The conversation went a bit like this: Brain: "Slow down; you're going too fast." Body: "Woo-hoo! I feel great!" Brain: "Yes, but it's still early. Take it easy." Body: "But I don't even feel like I'm working here!" Brain: "You'll feel it soon enough. Slow down!" Body: "La la la, not listening!"

One of the problems you encounter in a big race like Marine Corps is the bunching that inevitably happens whenever you go around a corner. What surprised me was how, several miles into the race, people were still jostling for position. I was getting elbowed all the time (once in the collarbone!), and people would dart out in front of me, only to slow down, forcing me to break stride. I may have been racing for a long time but I still have much to learn about big races!

At around mile 6 or 7 I suddenly heard a familiar voice shouting my name and looked back to see my husband with our 4-year-old on his shoulders. I was so shocked I just said "oh s%#t!" and waved, and carried on. He had told me he wasn't coming to the race because he needed to rest for the 14-hour drive ahead of us, but I guess he'd changed his mind!

At mile 11 I took some Advil for a pain in my hip. I wasn't so concerned about that as I was the tightening in my calves. I'd consumed a boat-load of potassium during the week before the race, in the hope that would prevent any cramping toward the end. I did not expect to experience any problems so early. I raced two half-marathons this year and never had any cramping, so I don't know why this happened. At this point it wasn't impairing my running, but a little voice was telling me that wouldn't last.

I went through the half in 1:55, which meant I had a 10-minute cushion to meet the time goal. I was feeling pretty good at this stage and had managed to slow myself to a more reasonable pace. At one point I tried to run my hand through my hair and found that I couldn't: it was totally gunked up with salt from my sweat, so I took a salt tablet and chewed some more shot bloks. (Runner's alternative to fruit snacks.)

By mile 17 my legs were cramping badly. I didn't want to stop and stretch, but, after a little conversation with the Body, I knew that was the only way I'd be able to continue with any shot of that 4 hour mark. Body: "I'm hurting." Brain: "Yeah well, I told you so." Body: "Look at all those people stretching over there. We should go and do that." Brain: "We're not stopping." Body: "Don't think of it as stopping; think of it as reenergizing. Anyway, if we don't stop now we're going to have a real problem in a few miles." Brain: "Oh, alright." At 17.5 miles, halfway down the first stretch of Hains Point, I hopped off the road and stretched my calves and quads. I found that it helped tremendously, and I got in a good 2 miles before they started to hurt again. I stretched again at 21 miles, midway across the 14th street bridge, and one more time, at 23.5.

I have never walked during a race, let alone stopped to stretch, but I think that doing so enabled me to continue at a pace that kept the 4 hour goal in sight. By 24 miles I was down to 9:40 pace but I was determined not to let go of that goal. Body and Brain had another conversation during the last couple of miles. Brain: "Come on now, you can do this. Think of all the training you did, how well-prepared you were for this race. You can make it in less than 4 hours." Body: ". . ." (Too tired to talk.) I was shuffling along at the same pace as most of the people around me, but every now and then someone with fresh legs would glide past us effortlessly. Brain: "Look at that! She probably didn't go out too fast!" Body: "I hate you."

In the last mile the crowd was inspiring, yelling and screaming and urging everyone on. Brain kept telling Body how we were going to get up that hill at the end (with a desperate, pained expression on my face, as it turned out) and how great it would feel to have that medal and get a post-race massage. I slipped under the finish in 3 hours 58 minutes 4 seconds. While I didn't run a perfect race, I achieved my goal, and I learned a few new things along the way.

Next time: Sub-4:00 and negative splits!

October 2006

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