The Distance

Independence Hall, Philadelphia. I think I ran past this. Or near it.

Cantabloggia's relationship to the marathon can best be described as rocky. (Not Rocky, but more on that later.) Prior to last weekend, I had never run a marathon under 3 hours, had never failed to hit the wall at 20-21 miles, but had successfully face planted (due, presumably, to complete carb depletion) at about 25 miles in my last marathon. So, when I lined up for the Philadelphia Marathon, my first attempt at this distance in 11 years, I was planning to be a little conservative. I knew I'd be happy with 2:52, and very happy with anything under 2:50. My plan, therefore, was to run 6:30 per mile for 10 miles, then 6:25s for the next 10, then see what I could do from the 20 mile mark - if I could just hold 6:30 pace, that would get me close to 2:50.

Avid readers of Cantabloggia will know what a huge fan I am of the theme from Rocky. With the race starting on the steps of the Philadelphia Art Museum up which Rocky ran, I stated to some of my team-mates that I was fully expecting to hear the theme of every single Rocky movie, not just the first. I clearly recall hearing the original theme as well as "Eye of the Tiger" (from Rocky II if memory serves) but honestly I wouldn't recognize any other Rocky music.

There was a 15 minute delay at the start while some cars were towed off the course (I guess this was the first time people in Philadelphia - The City of Brotherly Love, after all - failed to read a temporary no parking sign). Then we were off. Mile 1 went by in about 6:20. Not a big surprise, and not so far off where I meant to be. GBTC team-mate Chris Smith was alongside me, as were Brian Hammill of Community Running and not-quite-GBTC-member Zach Ventress. Chris wanted to run 6 minute pace, Zach "just wanted to qualify for Boston" i.e. needed to run 6:50s, but was obviously going faster, and Brian wanted to run a total time of 2:42. I let them all go.

I quickly noticed a pack of women in front of me, and realized they were running the pace needed to get a U.S. Olympic Trials qualifying time of 2:47. When we hit mile 2 and it was a 6:15, I decided to let them go as well.

As the race wound around the streets of Philly's historic district, it was clear that the dominant wind was from the North, but it could swirl around the buildings and get you at any time. So I tried to hang behind other people as much as I could. Soon I was caught by Joe O'Leary of Somerville, who was pacing a woman through the half marathon with a 1:25ish goal. Like me, they were ahead of pace, but Joe is a pretty big guy so I ran behind him for a while. Back through the center of town we got the first big crowds, and I felt happy and relaxed, and I smiled and waved. I continued to run closer to 6:20 than 6:30, no matter how much I tried to apply the brakes. I decided that I just couldn't justify slowing down based on how I felt, and I just hoped I wouldn't regret this choice later.

Philadelphia Museum of Art, famous for its appearance in Rocky, and
site of the marathon start and finish.

Over the Schuylkill River to the Penn campus, and I spotted Michelle Lang's sister Patty, to whom I threw my headband and wet gloves. It was about 40 and not raining, and I was getting too hot with them on. As soon as I passed them, the course turned north into the wind and I immediately regretted the loss of my warmest clothing. Oh well. Up the first real hill of the day, and I spotted a couple more women who had started next to me and were shooting for trials. We crested the hill and one of them shot past me. I told her she was on target for the 2:47, but she said "I need to be ahead". "Don't get too far ahead" I cautioned.

Somewhere around 8 or 9 miles I found two more women running for their trials times, paced by a couple of guys and accompanied by a few other hangers on. I joined the group, and it soon became apparent that the 2 guys knew what they were doing - the pace was very even, and no-one seemed to be working too hard. We worked up the biggest hill in the course and I recorded a 6:40, the only time I would go over 6:30 and the slowest of the day. The next downhill mile easily made up for the slower one. I was still in this group when we hit the halfway mark in 1:23:30 by my watch - exactly 2:47 pace. We were already passing people who had gone out too aggressively.

Now the race headed into the final out-and-back section along the Schuylkill. No more distracting half-marathoners, and our group of 6-8 kept working together, occasionally picking up or dropping another member. Somewhere around 16 it became more of a single-file paceline, and I found myself in the number 2 spot, when the leader asked me to take over the wind-breaking duties. I felt it was only fair to do my bit, so I took the lead. It wasn't that windy, but after a few minutes I started to feel fatigue in my legs for the first time. It triggered a horrible sensory memory of prior marathons, when the desire to stop just became overwhelming. For the first time I could imagine having that feeling again - and here I was, not even at the 17 mile mark. I tried to talk myself through the feeling, but after a couple more minutes I decided to move back to the end of the line and let someone else take the wind. No sooner had I done that than we hit the next mile marker - which, incredibly, was not 17 but 18! I had forgotten the 17 mile mark! All of a sudden I could feel I was going to be at 20 in no time, and I wasn't tired any more - I was ready to race. The course went down a little incline and I let my stride lengthen and I pulled ahead of my pace group. I would not see any of them again.

Coming in towards the turnaround at 20 there was another big crowd, and I was pumped. People shouted "Go Boston" and I waved back with a fist in the air. I saw Chris Smith heading out from the turnaround and then Brian Hammill, who said "Smart running Bruce - I'll see you in about 5 minutes".

My wise training partner and marathon old-hand Kit had told me that he divides the marathon into quarters. 20 miles marks effective half way point, and 23 is the last quarter. I was half way then.

I narrowly avoided colliding with 2 volunteers who were sweeping water off the pavement at the turnaround. Then I thought "it's showtime" and I started to take the brakes off. My next mile, a 6:05, was my fastest of the race. Around 21 I got a little cramp in my calf, then another one. "Oh No, don't let it end like this", I thought. I reined myself in a bit and tried to keep back on my heels to lessen the effort for the calves. And reminded myself that I wasn't in the final quarter yet.

In the last mile, too tired to keep eyes open

Even now I was passing people steadily, and sure enough I reeled in Brian Hammill, followed by the "don't get too far ahead" woman. After 22 miles the cramps stopped, and now it was mostly about deciding what level of effort I could handle for the last few miles. I was starting to think about what I would have to do to break 2:47 - not that it would get me to the Olympic trials, but it had now become the obvious goal - something I had never considered when I thought about the race. I had had brief fantasies of maybe breaking 2:49, but never thought I would put myself in a position to go faster. Those last few miles seemed to go by slowly, although my pace was almost identical to every other mile of the race. By simply not slowing down I was passing people at a steady clip. Finally I caught a glimpse of the Art Museum that I would have to run past to get to the finish, and then up the very last hill, the 26 mile marker, the finish in sight, and some sort of kick as I saw 2: 46.xx on the clock and crossed the line. (My official net time was 2:46:51) After a few seconds on my knees, I got up, then back on my knees, than up again and managed a celebratory leap, which probably put 3 inches of daylight between me and the ground, but felt excellent.

Finally, a bit of appropriate music for the occasion:
The Distance by Cake.