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2001 Philadelphia Marathon
by Dave Frederick
This weekend I finally got to run a race I've wanted to run for a few years now. It would be a chance to go back to the city where I grew up^H^H^H^H^H^H^H was born, see some extended family I haven't seen for years (e.g. free room and board), and run a marathon that offers the best of both worlds - a big city marathon without the crowds (less than 4000 finishers). I probably wouldn't even need any powergels - I could get my carbs and sodium from the pretzel vendors along the way! I'd have to go up there on my own - Julie was busy with the flute convention in town - but I'd at least have some family to see while I was there. I had already missed out on the chance to run Chicago with the dirtbags because I hadn't recovered from my spring injuries in time, so I decided I might as well go and run this one.I had no idea what to expect out of myself at this race. I've had a tough year running, with IT band and a tibial stress fracture that sidelined me for almost the first half of the year, and a sprained ankle that kept me out of Carraba's half marathon. I felt like I was just getting back to where I was last year - my miles were about the same but my speed was down a bit, but I reckoned I could compensate for that by not having to deal with a postponement, bronchitis, stomach flu, and wrong turn on the course like we had at Raleigh last year. I'd done my first race of the year just one week ago - a 10K PR, which I hoped wasn't too much too close. It had left me with a tight butt/hamstring thing going on all week, which had me a bit worried.
I caught an early flight on Saturday, got in and out of the expo quickly, and spent the rest of Saturday visiting cousins, aunts and uncles, so I didn't have time to get my diapers all knotted up over the race. I woke up Sunday to discover something I've never seen at a marathon before - nice weather. No pouring rain, no 25 mph winds, no ridiculous heat. I didn't know how to deal with this - going to a race with no preset excuse. It was cool enough that I had to scrape the frost off the car window, but the sun quickly warmed things up just enough - low 40's at the start, probably mid 50's by the end of the race. Maybe, just maybe, this would be my day. Parking anywhere near the start was the only organizational problem at this race - I got there more than an hour before the start and still had to park about a mile and a half away, but otherwise things went smoothly at the port-a-johns and baggage check.
The plan this time is the same as it's been for the last three years (you'd think I would have learned by now!) - start off at a 7:30 pace, hold it until mile 24, then kick it in for a 3:15, a PR and a Boston qualifier by 5 minutes. Of course, this plan has never even remotely worked before, so I had no reason to expect it to today. Once again I decided not to be too anal about my splits - 7:30 pace is 8 mph, so if I hit mile 8 at 1:00, mile 16 at 2:00, and mile 24 at 3:00 I'd be happy.
I got a good spot at the start - only 8 seconds to cross the mat, and was able to hit my stride right away. Immediately, I noticed two things. The first was my taper had worked perfectly - I had plenty of energy and had to hold back as all the people around me were trying to set their PR in the first mile. The second was that not only was that butt-hamstring thing still going on in my right leg, but with the first step my left calf had tightened up, too. I'm running easily, but painfully right from the start. Maybe this wouldn't be my day after all.
As I go past the 1 mile mark, I have two guys running right next to me, with one saying to the other "7:25 - we were 5 seconds too fast". Great - they're trying to run my pace. I ask them if they plan to run 7:30 pace all the way, and they say yes. So I hook up with them. Both guys have run this race several times, and describe the whole course to me. They tell me, "It's flat as a pancake, except for two hilly sections. The first is miles 10-12. There's a big hill at mile 10, but you're still feeling fresh. Just don't burn yourself out on it. After mile 14, you have a long out and back, with some hills between 19 and 22. Save something for mile 22, since you have to climb an overpass. Once you see mile 22, you can cruise on in." Since I don't know what to expect from my legs, it's nice to know what to expect on the course.
The first couple of miles of the course are a bit of a surprise. You loop around and cross the finish line at a mile and a half (where everyone leaned forward to break the tape, then turn hte corner and cross the start again (with only 11 minutes on the clock - imagine doing that at NY or Chicago!). The course is pretty scenic ... considering this is Philadelphia. From the big gothic Art Museum, down to City Hall with the big statue of William Penn on top, through Chinatown and past Independence Hall to the Delaware River and Penn's Landing (where you have about 100 yards of cobblestones to negotiate), up South Street through the Society Hill section of trendy shops, then cross over a bridge to University of Pennsylvania and Drexel University. Right here is mile 8. 59:23 - a little fast. My legs are still hurting, but I'm still running easily. I spot the only other Dead Runner on the course right here - George Reid from Canada spots my singlet and introduces himself on his way by. I saw him later on the out and back along Kelley Drive and he looked good for about a 3 hour finish.
During mile 9 I lost my pacing buddies as I had to pull off to some bushes for a pit stop. They were still in sight when I got back on the course, but I wasn't about to waste energy to catch them. Mile 10 had the hill they promised, but it was just a small hill compared to what we run almost daily in Umstead Park, so it didn't bother me at all. I noticed that the streets were severely cambered for drainage here through Fairmount Park, and if I ran anywhere but the middle, my legs were getting much more achey. And by mile 12, it was getting worse. I was starting to feel a bit tired, and mile 12 is far too early to feel tired and achey in a marathon, so things aren't looking too well. I'm guessing it isn't my day. Maybe I'll even feel like dropping out when we go past my car in mile 15. Besides, what's the big deal with running Boston, anyway? And even if I wanted to run it, there are easier ways than running a qualifier, like maybe going through med school and getting one of those AMA entries...
Fortunately, since I didn't have the stomach thing I had at my last marathon, I could swallow a Powergel without vomiting. And I realized I hadn't had my usual pre-long run Clif Bar today, so I was feeling a bit hungry. Mile 13 I felt like I was just hanging onto pace, but hit the half mark in 1:37:43, still about 30 seconds fast. Then we cross the river and go past the Art Museum for the third time. We go past the big, loud crowds in the grandstand they set up, past all the kids waiting to high-five the runners, and the road surface seems to flatten out. Whether it's the powergel, the crowds, or the smoother roads, something gives me a second wind here. I'm back under 7:30 for this mile, and my legs aren't hurting so much anymore. If I work at it, maybe I can make this my day after all.
The rest of the race is an out and back along Kelley Drive, a scenic drive along the Schuykill River that's been closed to traffic. It's absolutely flat. It reminds me a lot of the run out to Hain's Point in MCM - both the scenery and the sparse crowds. Just as I was catching up to my buddies from early in the course, they peeled off at mile 16 - it was just a training run for them. It was nice to see the leaders coming back, and there was a little encouragement at the water stops (downed another gel at mile 18, too). However, the last mile or so of this out and back goes into the town of Manayunk, which is a convenient place for spectators from the northern/western parts of the city to get to. Imagine running to the end of Hains Point only to go through a couple miles of cheering throngs lining the streets. So what if mile 19 is all uphill - the crowd just seemed to carry me along. That and the fact that I was suddenly passing people all over, and being passed by no one. I wasn't slowing much - while I wasn't checking the watch that much, there were clocks at EVERY mile mark in this race (overall, this was one of the best organized races I've been in). When I hit mile 20 at 2:30:00 (exactly 7:30 pace), and still felt better than I ever have at mile 20 in a race, I was beginning to think that maybe this was the day.
We went past the cone for the turnaround, and flew back down the hill. Grabbed some more water and downed another powergel (maybe next time I should eat something before the race), got to mile 21, and what appeared to be flat. Then I remembered what my buddies told me early in the race. We veered off from the oncoming traffic for a bit, and what had been a run under a bridge on the way out was a run up over it on the way back. I was hearing comments all around me along the lines of "Oh sh*t, look at that hill". Well, isn't that just too bad? I passed about a dozen people going up the short overpass, which really wasn't much more than a speed bump, and down the other side.
I hit my watch at mile 22, and wasn't really looking, but the first digit was still a 7, and I was passing lots of people and being passed by no one, and wasn't feeling the rigor mortis setting in yet. And we were running back alongside the opposing traffic on the out and back. The best thing about an out and back course in a race, particularly when it's the first time you've run it, is that you know the course. Instead of wondering "God, how much further can it be?", you already know, because you've covered it when you were fresher. You find landmarks you've already seen - the rock tunnel, the bridge, etc. I had already covered this ground, and knew that I had a little over 4 miles of perfectly flat ground to cover, was tired but still running decently, and if I just hold on for 4 more miles, four more measley miles, I would be under 3:20 and have that Boston qualifier. And suddenly it hit me, the feeling that the 3+ years of frustration and miserable luck were lifted from my shoulders and I was going to do it. I remember John Bingham saying at my first MCM that there was this feeling you got when you knew you were going to finish the race that was unmistakable, that was just an incredible feeling of achievement. I missed out on that feeling in my first marathon since finishing was so easy it was never in doubt, but this time it was there. Of course, it was dangerous to think this so soon, but I knew I was going to make it. The only question was by how much.
I hit mile 24 in 3:00:30. Only 30 seconds behind my goal. But the kick I had imagined wasn't there (go figure - I always seem to have a kick left at the track...) Instead, I was getting tired. In my experience, I always start to tire at apporximately the distance of my longest training run. I'd done 2 in the 24-25 mile range this time around, and I was feeling it now. Mile 25 was my slowest yet - a 7:51. Still under 8 minutes, though, and I was almost there. I held on as well as I could. Finally I saw the Art Museum again, picked it up as well as I could, turned the corner to the finish and saw the clock not 50 yards from me, still saying 3:17. Finished with a 3:17:44 on my watch - about a minute from the 7:30 pace I wanted to hold, but a PR and a Boston qualifier. Missed the negative splits though, with a 1:37:43 and a 1:40:01.
In the baggage claim line, I made someone's day. The guy behind me noticed I was also from NC (he was from Davidson - the starting point for the Charlotte marathon), and struck up a conversation. I asked how his race went, and he said it was good, but frustrating. He wanted a 3:10 qualifier, but missed by a minute and a half. I asked if that was gun time or chip time? He didn't know they took chip time, but didn't think it would get him under 3:10. I told he didn't need to be UNDER 3:10, that a 3:10:59 would get him in. The guy's face just lit up. (I checked the results today - he got a 3:10:50).
Post race goomies were soup, rolls, sandwiches, juice, and fruit. No beer, just Coors Light, so I passed. I had to stagger around rather disoriented, trying to remember what my rental car looked like and where it was parked, then how to drive through all the police barricades to get out. Finally made it to me cousin's house. He asked if I'd like a Philly hoagie for lunch, and ran out for one while I was getting my shower. I came downstairs to find this a big sandwich that had to be at least 2 feet, and he refused to help me with it. Man, it was hard to finish that whole thing...
Dave Frederick SAS Institute, Inc. Member of Applications Staff SAS Campus Drive Statistical Graphics and Interfaces Cary, NC 27513 Dave.Frederick@sas.com
