I went to this race to have an experience, and I succeeded. It was completely different that anything I could have expected. First of all everyone treated the runners like royalty, no matter how fast. Before, during and after it was like we were honored guests coming to perform a great work. Everyone was polite and helpful, and I would be shocked to learn that a single crime occurred in the city Sat-Mon. I arrived Sat night late and the middle eastern taxi driver told me I should take the hotel shuttle, which I did not know about, instead of being his fare. This was just one of many incidents of helpful and honest people, Sunday was spent at the Expo and checking out the finish line, including a group photo of at least 200 of the Utah people at the marathon. How great was that? Monday came and I was greeted by a huge plume of black smoke outside my hotel window as I woke up. Really??! You have to be kidding. Then I realized the finish line was to my south and the window faced northeast. It was just a truck on fire on the freeway. OK, that was wacky. I ran to the busses and jumped on.The garbage bag I brought as a windbreak and solar heater worked out great,I was perfectly warm up to the start.
I looked around for anybody familiar but I was unable to see anyone, then we went to the corrals. I remarked to the guy next to me that now that we could see a big sample of people as fast as us, it was obviously impossible to tell how fast someone is by looking at them. Then the elites showed up and I took the comment back. We were all towering giants next to them, with oaken arms and oversized heads. I toyed again with the thought of running up front with them for a mile or two but banished it right off because they were going to go out at 4:30. Turns out that Seth managed to pull it off (you rock Seth) and they were going out at 4:50, so I could have kept up for a mile or two. It would have been cool to have a Utah fist bump on the USA today site :)
The race started, and I was swept away as I knew I would be. I just swam in the river, gleefully watching the miles go by at a disasterous clip, 5:55, 5:41, 5:48, 5:51, kachink kachunk. Breathing was easy, but I could feel the muscles working hard on the uphills and I knew that I was running suboptimally. But I just didn't care. The crowds were amazing, I couldn't help but grin like an idiot and give two thumbs up all the way to Wellsley. But running the first 5 k 30 seconds off my record, the 10k 1 minute slower than my record, and the half 2 minutes slower, I knew I was in for destruction and death in the last half of the race. I backed off at the half to a more reasonable 6:30 and hoped for the best. Sadly, I had not been hyrating enough in the early part of the race, as I took nothing until mile 7 hoping to avoid overhydration but did not take into account the warm weather.
At mile 16 I felt the first warning signs of an empty tank as we hit the first hill. Just to be safe I walked a little, to avoid early cramping. I usually despise gels but at 17 I was willing to try anything to make it to the end of the race. I grabbed the gel and it tasted like ambrosia. That's when I knew I was in real trouble and should take it easy if I didn't want to have to use the Charlie card that was burning a hole in the plastic bag safety pinned to the inside of my pants. I started walking every two minutes on the hills, but managed to keep the average pace under 8:00 still. But by mile 22 the bonk was massive and I was climbing through the 8s relentlessly. I was determined to finish at any cost, even if I had to walk the rest of the way, and the remainder of the race was spent running to the edge of cramps, then walking to take the heat off. Everyone continued to yell encouragement from the crowd, which gave me no choice but to push back to running speed again. I had to walk up the massive hill at the overpass, and the huge mountain after the underpass was truly daunting.
I could not dishonor the race by walking on Boyleston street however, so I walked the hill up to the turn and went to a determined run. The finish looked so far away! About a tenth of a mile from the finish every muscle in my left leg seized simultaneuously and I almost went face first into the street. I somehow managed to keep running all the way to the line and gave a victory yell, then started walking (sort of since the leg was on FIRE) and hoping to find water and gatorade or anything at all. I was sleepy and disoriented, and had difficulty maintaining a straight line. The peaches were liquid gold. I had to lay down on the warm soft sidewalk for a few minutes but after the second offer of medical assistance I figured I should move on to the gym where my clothes were stored. That was the hardest mile and a half I have ever moved. But a glorious shower awaited, after which I was almost human, then I took the subway to the airport and bestowed the remaining 5 days of Charlie Card on a random stranger. After two more offers of medical assistance, a smoothie, a burrito bowl, and a 30 minute nap with my legs up agains a wall, I was back to (a very slow moving) normal and managed to snag the early flight back to SLC.
It's a good thing that marathons aren't 26.3, I think somebody would have had to carry me :) It was way better than a day at work.
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