2009 Route 66 Marathon Race Report - Chapter 2: Middle Stretch and Into the Darkness

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Once we caught the 4:30 pace group we settled in a bit. Our pace came down to match the group and we just ticked the miles off. At around mile 9 we bid our cousin Steve farewell as he went off to finish the half marathon. Downtown Tulsa was slightly hilly but the day and the spectators were fantastic, and I tried to settle in and enjoy it a bit. At some point in this stretch I chatted a bit with a woman who had recently been hit by lightning, which was an interesting way to pass a couple miles. She mentioned she was planning to get a lightning bolt tattoo on her ankle - on the burned spot where the bolt left her leg (!!). (Note - after the results were posted I checked and saw that I came in ahead of this woman.  I believe this allows me to say I am "faster than lightning.")

At around mile 11 Jeff pulled off to hit the porta-potty, and about a mile later I moved past the pace group as we went into a water stop - just like that I was out on my own. I saw the family cheering section, fresh from their 5k finishes, just past the halfway point, and gave and received high fives. Most of the second half was a long, straight (and mercifully flat) out-and-back along the Arkansas River - I tried not to think about the fact that every step I took was a step I would have to retrace to get back to the finish line and to keep focusing on holding pace - a common theme for the day.

I was seeing a lot of runners coming back toward me in this stretch. I was a little concerned because I figured they were almost 10 miles in front of me - it would be an hour and a half before I made it back to that spot - and they looked, well, there's no other way to say it - slow. When I got another mile up the road I realized that the half-marathon had an out-and-back stretch along the same road, and I had been seeing blown-out half marathoners coming into their final mile. This realization lifted my spirits immediately. (Perhaps this makes me petty and insecure, but hey, whatever works.)

I pushed past the 15 mile mark and started trying to figure out how much further I had to go before the turnaround. I was running into a slight headwind and I was looking forward to that turning into a tailwind. Around this point it occurred to me that I was well set up to break 4:30, as I was holding pace and had five or six minutes in the "time bank" to mess with. I started to feel a surge of adrenaline, which I quickly tamped down - at mile 16 there was still Plenty Of Time for Something to Go Wrong. (see also: San Diego Rock and Roll Marathon, bonk at mile 18)

There's not much to tell about miles 16-20 except that the prospect of turning around was Very Exciting, and I was looking forward to it. I stayed on pace, drank some water, and ate a gel-pack or two. Mmm, vanilla.

When I got to the turnaround at the 20 mile mark I was surprised to see the 4:30 pace group was maybe a minute behind me and pleased to see that Jeff was right behind the pace group. I thought about walking for a bit and letting him catch up with me but I decided that I needed to Keep Moving. I don't think this necessarily makes me a bad person, but I will definitely accept the label "selfish."

The other thing that happens around mile 20 is you realize a couple things. One, you are now in the Magical Miles. As in, you have to be magically stupid to think that "if you can run 20 miles in training, you can run 26 on race day no problem! Adrenaline will carry you!" (Yeah. Adrenaline is good for 200 yards max.) Two, this was only the third time I'd covered this much distance in one day. Three, six miles is at least another hour on the road - at least at my pace. Oh boy. Did I really cash frequent flyer miles for this?

Mile 22 was about as bad as it got that day. Any psychological bump I picked up from reaching the turnaround and being "homeward bound" was long gone. My legs were fading. And as I came into the water stop I heard one of the volunteers yell out "we've got a pace group coming in!" The 4:30 group was hard on my heels, coming for me, led by a soulless pace runner - relentless, inhuman, carrying a cute stick with yellow balloons on it, followed by the 4:30 zombie horde. I did not turn to see how close they were. It was over. "The catch," as they call it in cycling, was inevitable.

Damn. I thought I was going to hold them off. Damn.

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This page contains a single entry by published on February 2, 2010 7:13 PM.

2009 Route 66 Marathon Race Report - Chapter 1: Final Prep / Start was the previous entry in this blog.

2009 Route 66 Marathon Race Report - Chapter 3: Out of the Darkness and Into the Light is the next entry in this blog.

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