Columbus Marathon 2009 Race Report

If you want the short version, I sucked. If you want the details, read on.

Training:
Looking back, I should have expected a tough race. My training was OK, but not great. After running the Boston Marathon I decided I needed to finally let my piriformis injury heal. I had been running in pain for over a year and I had had enough. My goals of qualifying for Boston and then running a repectable race at Boston had been achieved. Now it was time to get healthy.

Getting healthy meant cutting back on my training and really playing it safe. It felt good to be running pain free again and I didn't want to screw it up. So what happened was I didn't run as hard, didn't run as far, didn't run as fast, and didn't run as often. I was really running with no mojo.

My speed work really took a hit and it took me quite a few weeks to realize that I was subconsciously holding back. I was in the middle of a less than stellar tempo run when I remembered that my tempo runs used to be so hard that I would let out inadvertent whimpers while trying to breathe. So I forced myself to really push the pace and I had a break through run but it was a little too late in the training cycle.

Closing in on race day, I realized that I might run a 3:18 or I might run a 3:38 and I really had no idea which one it would be. Several days before the race I felt a cold coming on. I started pouring electrolytes down my throat and trying to get as much rest as possible. But no matter how much I rested I still felt tired and just wanted to sleep. Not good.

The Race:
I woke up on race morning feeling surprisingly good and started to feel confident that I could have a good race. I had been toying with the idea of trying to run a 3:15 but I really had to be honest with myself and admit that my training was just not strong enough to achieve that goal. So I decided to line up with the 3:20 group and if I felt good I could push ahead later and if I was struggling I could back off the pace.

We hung out with some friends at a fitness club about a block from the starting line and then made our way downstairs about fifteen minutes before the start of the race. As we approached the starting line, it was absolute chaos. People everywhere. I started trying to make my way to the front of the pack so that I could line up near the 3:20 pace group but I quickly realized that I was never going to make it anywhere close to the front. Runners were packed in like sardines for as far as the eyes could see. Meanwhile, it's getting dangerously close to start time. It's decision time. I remember a few years ago when I got stuck in the middle of the pack and spent the first 5 miles trying to weave in, out and around slower runners in a desperate attempt to find my pace. My race was over before it even started. I knew I couldn't let that happen again. I had to get to the front of the pack, whatever it took. I heard the announcer say that there was 2 minutes until race time. I pushed my way to the sidewalk and started running. I made it to the 3:20 area and then had to climb the fence. Up and over. One minute. Off with the throw away clothes. 35 seconds. I check my Garmin. It was still trying to locate a signal. Time to panic. 20 seconds. I decide I'm just going to have to run without the Garmin. Just then the Garmin finds a signal. The gun sounds. We're off.

I went out at around 7:40 pace and it didn't feel as easy as it should have. By the third mile I was still struggling slightly. I just had no energy. I decided to stick with the pace for a while longer and see if I could make it work. The race was pretty uneventful. I knew the course and hit every tangent but I just couldn't find my groove. Around mile 8, I started to have some stomach cramps. Tolerable, but I knew from experience that these things generally only get worse until you're finally force to make a pit stop.

I kept pushing but I really just didn't have it. Around mile 10 I started considering dropping out at the halfway point and just running the half marathon. I knew I had another marathon coming up in seven weeks and since today was going so poorly it would be just as well to save myself for the next race. I spent the next 2 miles trying to decide what I would do. My stomach continued to churn.

Somewhere just after mile 12, a friend caught up to me. He was having a miserable day too. We briefly compared notes and I told him of my plan to just run the half and save myself for the Las Vegas Marathon. He sounded like he wanted to keep trying so at the last minute I said, "let's suck it up" and instead of turning left toward the finish line, we pushed forward. My decision was made. We ran together for the next mile and when Ron asked me our split for mile 14 I could tell that he was deflated by my answer. For me, I already knew that a 3:20 was out of the question and my only goal was to save enough energy to finish. At this point I also realized that my stomach issues had disappeared. I had dodged a bullet.

At mile 15, my friend decided to call it a day. I certainly didn't blame him and was actually thankful that he had come along at the exact moment when I had been ready to quit and gave me the push I needed to continue.

I continued running through the campus area, remembering how we had tried to drive this portion of the course the previous day only to find it impossible to navigate. So I was interested in seeing how the course actually ran as opposed to how it looked on paper. Before I knew it we were running past the Horseshoe, home of Ohio State football. I realize this is like a mecca to many people in Columbus but trying to route a race past the stadium never seems to work. We wound up running through the parking lot and then making a 180 degree turn back in the other direction. Totally pointless, except to be able to say we ran past the Horseshoe.

From there, we hit an uphill section where we started winding our way through the other end of campus. I was in a pack of about 15 runners and I was the only one who ran the tangent. One other guy saw me and veered toward me. He tried to make a joke about saving "2 steps". I told him that over the course of the race those 2 steps would add up to close to a quarter mile of extra running for those who didn't run the tangents. He didn't say anything but I noticed he started running the tangents.

We headed into Upper Arlington and as we approached the 20 mile marker I heard an announcer call out the name of a friend. He was about 40 seconds ahead of me and I looked for him but couldn't see him. If I had seen him I might have tried to catch him but as it was I was basically just hanging on, conserving energy, trying to finish. My race had ended long ago.

I made it to Grandview and the last few miles of the race. I tried to pick up a few runners who had given up and were walking. I managed to coax one guy into running again when I told him there was a nice downhill coming up on First Avenue.

I kept pushing toward Victorian Village. I was running on fumes at this point and my pace was really dropping. I didn't really care, I just wanted to finish. On Fifth Avenue, they had one lane of traffic open and some guy in a car drove past yelling, "fuck you, fucking runners, fuckers, fuckers, fuckers..." I was laughing so hard. It was clear that our very presence had ruined his day.

The home stretch. One more mile. They're handing out buckeyes and I grab one to give to my wife after the race. Knowing the finish line is near, I try to run a little harder. I come up behind a guy and girl and the guy is yelling to the crowd that the girl is going to Boston. The crowd is cheering. I remember how 2 years ago, my friend had done the same thing for me. I remember the awesome feeling of having the entire crowd cheering for you, calling out your name, pushing you toward the finish. There's no way I'm going to pass her. This is her day, her moment. I happily tuck in behind her, smiling the rest of the way.

We make our final turn, finishing kick, cross the finish line. 3:35:24. My second worst time ever but I'm just happy that I finished.

Aftermath:
Sometimes it takes a bad race to get you motivated again. The good news was that even on a day when I had absolutely nothing in the tank, I was still able to achieve a respectable time. It also made me realize that if I want to race my best I need to train my hardest. If I had run a fast race despite minimal training then I might have never trained hard again. Instead, I've been out there all week training with the intensity that I lacked last training cycle. I'm not sure if I have enough time to put it all together for Vegas but I'm damn sure going to try.