Dallas Marathon, 2007, Part 3
Part 2 click here
It’s sort of like waiting in line at a
traffic intersection, several cars back. You can see that the light is
green, but you’re not moving yet. Then you’re walking a bit, getting
closer to the start. There’s a palpable nervous energy emanating from
everyone around me. As I approach the starting line I angle to the
sidewalk and spot a tree with a folding chair under it, and stash the
clothes and water bottles under the chair. Finally I can be rid of that
obsession and get on with the race! Still walking as I near the starting
line, I can see that I’ve let my pace guy, my balloon man, get farther
ahead of me.
I cross the actual starting line about one minute
after the race starts, and start my watch at that point. Oh, it’s ON!
Since the race is RFID chip timed, there’s no penalty for walking a
minute or more to the start. As the race finally begins for me, it’s
still very crowded and I can’t run my normal pace. Oddly enough this
might be an advantage; I am always tempted to start too fast in a race. I
think most everybody feels the same way. The excitement and adrenaline
mix into a heady cocktail I like to call “l’elixir d’grandeur”, making
you think you can suddenly run a 3:05 and starting out with a pace to
match. Oh you can’t help but to take a long draught from its glittering
bottle. Luckily for me today the bottle is more like a plastic dribble
cup, and by the time the crowd has thinned out enough to run too
quickly, its heady effect has worn off.
The course runs through
downtown Dallas for starters, slightly uphill. I focus on catching my
balloon man, and of course Robyn Hitchcock comes to mind:
“…And Balloon Man blew up in my hand…” iii
Robyn Hitchcock and the Egyptians, Balloon Man
Well that’s just a silly song to have stuck in my head, but it’s got a nice jaunty beat so I go with it.
It’s
not raining right now, but it was earlier, and the streets are slightly
wet. My feet slip a little bit on the slicker portions, and this is
extremely annoying. I ruefully consider that newer shoes would not slip
so much. These damn Louisville shoes are sabotaging my race! There’s
nothing like a marathon to make you obsess over the most minute of
details. I’m thinking “well, if I lose even 1% of effort due to
slippage, then over the course of a 3:30 marathon that’s like, 2 MINUTES
of lost time to stupid wet streets! ARRRRRRGH!” So I start weaving
around looking for the driest bits of pavement, probably wasting even
more energy in the process.
At mile two I’ve still not caught
“balloon man…,” but I’m making progress. We reach the first aid station.
This consists of several tables containing water and Gatorade, ably
staffed by volunteers holding out cups to the runners as they pass by.
There will be one of these every two miles or so. Since it’s still very
crowded at mile 2, the mass of runners gets clotted up as runners slow
down to grab cups of water. Some runners slow to a walk at this point.
Again to use the traffic analogy, it’s like a sudden, random slowdown on
a crowded interstate. It’s a good place to get clipped from behind, run
up somebody’s back, or get elbowed in the head (for us shorter types).
I’m already on the right side of the street, and to avoid the mess I
decide to actually get behind the aid station and run on the sidewalk.
It’s a little tricky to navigate the curb and what not, and I have to
grab my own drink as there are no volunteers, but on the whole it works
out to my advantage. I think I actually gain on balloon man in the
process.
I spend the next mile
slowly and steadily catching up to the pace group leader. Of course to
do that I have to run faster than the group pace; they’re running about 8
minutes per mile, and I’m running about 7:40. Thusly caught by mile 3, I
slow down to the proper pace and run with the “pack” for a mile. And I
find that I don’t really enjoy running with the group, for two reasons:
One, there is a quite the little knot of people running with the pace
team – you know, everyone like me who wants to run 3:30. It’s more
crowded than my liking; I guess I just feel a little claustrophobic and
again am worried about people running into me, or me running into
people. I guess I need my space! Two, I was rather enjoying running 7:40
minute miles, and the group is going to run 8 minute miles for the
duration. I begin to consider my past performances and think (probably
naively so) that I need to “bank” some minutes in the first half of the
marathon in order to have them in reserve for the second half of the
marathon. My pace group leader is running a steady pace though. We’ll
run a 1:45 first half, and a 1:45 second half. It’s all laid out, nice
and simple. BORING. Where’s the excitement in that? Steady pace, pshaw!
What does this guy know? He’s only run like 50 marathons and has a PR of
3:00. Unbeknownst to me at the time, but obvious in hindsight, I am of
course sipping some l’elixir d’grandeur at this point. Oui, oui,
mousiour, jus’ a petit sip, es’t tre delicious! Damn elixir. Damn French
waiter. I don’t think he even knows French.Of course like a
child who just doesn’t learn, I grab the bottle and take a swig; I
settle into a quicker pace and leave the pace group behind. I mean, I
want to break 3:30, not run exactly 3:30, right? And in order to do that
I must run sub-8 minute miles. This becomes my goal. Run each mile in
under 8 minutes. The race leaves downtown and winds its way through a
nice city neighborhood, the course still tacking slightly uphill. I am
feeling good, and over the next several miles I settle into a 7:40 pace
again. There are knots of spectators cheering us on. They mostly
congregate where the race goes around corners, for some reason. I’m
grateful for their presence. This is my 8th marathon, and by far the
largest I’ve participated in. I think my previous largest marathon had
about 750 finishers. The smallest marathon I’ve ran (The Wyoming
Marathon) had just over 60 finishers! And yeah, I placed top 10 in that
one, that’s right. Over 4,000 people will finish the marathon today in
Dallas, and that doesn’t include the marathon relay folks.
I’ve
never ran a marathon with lots of spectators; it is a lot of fun to have
people cheering you on. The Bolder Boulder is similar; some spectators
dress up, and there are a lot of bands playing music along the course.
It’s a nice distraction at the very least. But there’s something more as
well. The spectators cheering me on actually at times give me a boost
of energy. I really can feel it! And I give it back to them. I try to
wave at them, or encourage them to cheer a little more. It’s a lot more
fun than I thought it would be, actually. And there are several live
bands playing for the runners as well. Around this point I see a garage
band literally playing in the garage of a house, which is an amusing
touch. Later on I would see an African drumming ensemble. Sweet. Another
band along the way is playing “Take it Easy” by The Eagles as I run by,
and I get that song stuck in my head:
“…Well I’m standing on a corner in Winslow, Arizona, such a fine sight to see…”
-- The Eagles, Take It Easy
And
the song sounds so good! I’m not unusually fond of the tune, although I
do know it by heart. It takes me back to riding in my family’s 1980
Oldsmobile Delta ’88 through the deserts of Utah. We had a cassette tape
with Fleetwood Mac’s “Rumours” on one side, and The Eagles “Their
Greatest Hits (1971-1975)” on the other side. We literally listened to
that cassette tape to death; during one trip we were rewinding the tape
and noticed that it was taking an unusually long time to wind to the
end. Finally we pushed eject, and found to our surprise that the tape
itself had literally come off the spool! At the time it was an
unpleasant moment; in a family of five, there are precious few tapes
that all five people will tolerate, that being one of the few. Now,
running and reminiscing, it was a pleasant memory of an adventure of
years past. These reveries somehow have a way of sustaining me during a
long run.
However the opposite is also unfortunately true. A bad
memory, or the wrong song, will have an adverse affect on my attitude
during a race. Heck, I only needed to go back to October for another,
less pleasant memory relating to that same song! At the end of the
Louisville Marathon there was a cover band playing along side the finish
area. They too pulled out the same little ditty by The Eagles. I’d like
to say objectively that the Dallas band played the song better than the
Louisville band, but who’s to say for sure. In Louisville I hear the
same song, having just finished poorly and feeling substantially more
overheated, tired and sore. The song sounded like garbage to my ears
then, and did not conjure up happy familial reminisces. So really it’s
probably not the band, or the song, but it’s how I am feeling when I
hear the song that makes the difference. That Dallas band could have
been playing just about anything and I’d have found some reason to like
it. Turns out it was “Take it Easy”, so off I went, singing about
Winslow, Arizona, such a fine sight to see.
Since I don’t
typically listen to music when I run, I usually get one particular song
stuck in my head during a marathon. In Dallas though, there was so much
going on that it was actually difficult to get any one song stuck like
that. Which was probably good; again, getting the wrong song stuck in my
head can compromise my mental state, and wreck all sorts of havoc on my
performance. At Ft. Collins this year, C_ got a slow ballad by the
British band “Aqualung” (not Jethro Tull) stuck in her head. As the
miles piled up and the race got tough, instead of a good tune with the
right tempo, she was repeating this, with a dirge-like beat, in her head
over and over:
“To bear the weight, and push into the sky it's easier to lie, it's easier to lie.”
-- Aqualung, Easier to Lie
Actually I don’t think she was articulating the lyrics in her head at that point. It was more like:
“Na naaa, Na naaa, Na na na na na naaa
Na na-na-na na naaa, Na na-na-na na naaa…”
It just wasn’t productive!
We
actually have a growing set of “Hall of Fame Marathon Songs” that
represent songs, for better or worse, that got stuck in our heads at
various races. “Holiday” by Green Day, “Chelsea Dagger” by the
Fratellis, “Radio/Video” by System of a Down, and sadly, even “Easier to
Lie” by Aqualung are all current members of the hall. The verdict
was still out for the official Dallas song at this point, although The
Eagles were making a strong showing early on. In the interim I continued
to keep my mile splits under 8 minutes, and continued to approach mile
9, and the grand loop around White Rock Lake. I ate the first of my Gu
energy gel packs at about mile 8. For those uninitiated, Gu is a brand
of energy goo that is popular with endurance runners. It is edible, and
comes in small foil packets that you can tear open at the top and
squeeze into your mouth, like a double-sized packet of mayonnaise from
the convenience store. Gu tastes somewhat sugary, like frosting perhaps,
and it comes in small 100 calorie-sized packets that you can carry
easily with you or on your body. They taste, uh, ok at best, but are
supposed to be easy to digest and provide energy that your body
undeniably needs during a long run. They are easy to operate as well,
which is a benefit to runners; just rip off the top, and squeeze the
goop into your mouth. It’s not terribly glamorous food, wholly serving
function at the complete expense of form. I’m reminded of the paste they
feed “Robocop”, for those of you who remember that 80s classic. But it
gets better; I do not even actively “eat” Gu; I literally put it under
my tongue and simply let it dissolve in my mouth. That way I can keep
breathing while I eat! Must. Ingest. Calories. It all may sound rather
gross, I understand. Some runners do not like them, but I rather enjoy a
little “snacky” on the course. In fact, I depend on it.
I believe
taking some food during a marathon is critical! Many runners experience
hitting “the Wall” during a marathon, usually around the mile 20 mark.
Technically this is predominately the result of complete glycogen
depletion in the leg muscles. It’s not a good feeling to have. It
typically means your split times are about to plummet and you are going
to have an extremely painful and slow conclusion to the run. One way to
delay the onset of this event is to continue to supply your body with
calories that it can process while working hard. But it’s not as simple
as a math equation (calories.in - calories.out = x. Provided x = 0, you
are a happy runner.) You can not possibly hope to replace the
approximately 2,600 calories that you will burn during a marathon. Your
body is devoting most of its attention to keeping those legs going, and
really isn’t equipped to deal with digesting, what, two steak dinners
simultaneous to your running exertions. Therefore you have to eat what
you can, without eating too much and making yourself sick. Frankly it’s a
losing battle; you just have to try to eat enough to delay the dreaded
total glycogen burnout. Everyone has a different strategy for staying
fed; some people like orange slices, or bananas. Nearly everyone likes
to drink Gatorade or something similar. Some people eat nothing at all,
even. Ultra distance runners eat all kinds of crazy things, like salted
boiled potatoes, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and even slices of
pizza. Me and Robocop prefer to keep it simple and have a few packs of
Gu at the ready, and hit that Gatorade pretty hard too.
For
the past two miles we had been descending a gradual hill, and my splits
were reflecting that fact, with a couple of 7:30 miles to my credit
there. Just after mile 9 I could see the lake. For the next 10 miles
this sprawling lake would be my constant companion as the other runners
and I circumnavigated its cold choppy waters. And it was choppy on the
lake because it was starting to get windy out there. No rain yet, which
was fortunate, but a rather stiff breeze was coming out of the North
now, and the next 4 miles would be generally Northward into the wind as
we made our way clockwise around the west side of the lake. It had
probably been windy the whole time but I didn’t notice it so much while
we were running through pleasant arboreal neighborhoods. Now that we
were exposed and in the open the wind was much more noticeable, and it
was not pleasant.And for some reason right about mile 10 the
crowds I had been running with completely disappeared. I’m sure in
reality it was a gradual process, but I was suddenly keenly aware that I
was running alone when I reached the windy spans of the lakeside. Was I
regretting ditching my pace group? It would have been nice to run in a
group and have help breaking the wind at this point, that’s for sure.
Well I’d made my choice several miles back; I was 2 and a half minutes
ahead of them at this point, and I sure wasn’t going to wait around for
them to catch up. In fact, I had enough pride and ego to use them as
motivation; I’d dissed them by running ahead, and I sure as heck wasn’t
going to let them catch me if could help it! As I like to say, “Nothing
for it” I suppose; take your medicine and power on into the wind. My
times dropped back to 7:40 but I was still feeling good. Also I figured
that when we turned around to the other side of the lake, the wind would
be at my back, and it would be far better to face the wind earlier than
later.
The course around the lake went by some of the nicest,
ritziest houses I’d ever seen. One after another, huge antebellum
mansions perched atop vast expanses of manicured green lawns silently
marked my progress around the lake. I half-expected Patrick Duffy and
Linda Gray to drive by and sneer at me in all their star-spangled glory.
I did see some lady in a Range Rover talking to a police man; she was
clearly trying to leave her driveway but alas we runners were hogging
the road. I suspect she’ll buy the race next year and shut it down, or
at least route it away from her street, so I’m fortunate I was able to
run the race this year. Irate socialites notwithstanding, it was a
pleasant distraction to see the nice houses on the course. Dallas is a
nice city and clearly has some money, and the course certainly shows
that off. I’m sure the city has some rotten neighborhoods as well, but
we mainly steered clear of those bits.
But I digress; somewhere
around the North end of the lake we passed the halfway point of the
race. Sweet! The halfway point is always a good moment. It’s “all
downhill” from here! Well not literally, unless you’re running the
Pike’s Peak Marathon. But it does give you a good chance to assess your
progress and determine a fairly realistic finish time. The race had an
official time clock posted at this point so you could measure your
progress with certainty. And Lo and Behold, I passed the halfway point
at 1:42. Multiply that by 2, and you arrive at the finish at 3:24. Way
faster than 3:30! Neat, huh? Actually not “neat” at all. I realize at
this point that I may have – again – gone out too fast. As I’ve
mentioned earlier, at Louisville two months ago I also ran the first
half in 1:42. Then I
proceeded to run the second half in nearly 1:49 and finish just shy of
3:31. In Ft. Collins I also ran the first half in 1:42, and then ran the
second half of that race in 1:50, for a rather less sexy finishing time
south of 3:32. Call me superstitious, but the 1:42 felt like a bad
omen. Once again I start to second-guess my decision to ditch the pace
group. Would I fade again this time? So much of a marathon is mental.
You think about your past failures and mistakes, dwell on them, and
you’re more likely to repeat them again. I needed to find something
positive to think about to push back these negative thoughts. I
recognized that the wind was now at my back, so that was good. But my
subconscious has a way of inserting songs into my head, songs that
probably accurately reflect my true mental state. Unfortunately for me
the song I began to sing now was called “The Sound of Settling” by Death
Cab for Cutie. It’s a great song, and actually has a really good
running tempo, but perhaps not the message I needed to hear at this
particular moment.
” Ba baaaaaa, this is the sound of settling,
Ba baaaaaa, Ba baaaaaa, this is the sound of settling”
--Death Cab For Cutie, The Sound of Settling
Oh
no it isn’t! Damn you, Death Cab For Cutie! I get to mile 15 and check
my watch. A 7:52 mile. My slowest since I left the pace group behind at
mile 5. Still faster than 8:00, but not a good trend. Ok, now what. I
need something to give me a little kick start. Another Gu seems to be in
order. I had consumed one at mile 8, and was trying to wait to consume
the next at mile 16, but mile 15 seemed as good as another. I would
still have 2 Gu left after that. Or would I? I feel under my race bib on
my shorts to where 2 Gu packs should be. There is nothing there. The Gu
is gone! The sound of settling is replaced by the sound of panic!
What
happened? My running shorts don’t have enough pockets to stash more
than one Gu, so before the race I pinned three of them under my race
number and put one in my pocket. I ate one of those pinned three at mile
8, so at this point I should still have 2 pinned to my shorts, and one
in the pocket. Unfortunately somewhere between mile 8 and mile 15, the
other two fell off their pins without me realizing it! I do vaguely
remember feeling a slight pricking sensation at some point around mile
10 or 11. At the time I shrugged it off. Now I realize that it was
probably the sound of the Gu settling to the earth, and the business end
of the safety pin giving me a couple of love taps to add injury to
insult.
I remember that I should still have at least one Gu left
in my pocket. I feel the pocket; that one is still available. So it was
as if I’d started with only 2 Gu packets instead of 4. Just like
Louisville. This Gu-falling-off-behavior, incidentally, had never
happened to be before. I recall that usually I pin them on with two
safety pins. But due to the acute and seemingly unimportant shortage of
pins in our hotel room I was only able to pin them on with a single pin
each. This clearly proved to be a fatal flaw to the Gu pack apparatus.
With all the races I’ve ran over the years, I’ve acquired an impressive
collection of safety pins. Of course I didn’t bring any to Dallas. And
the real irony was that I used several pins -- pins I could have used to
secure the Gu packs -- to attach my extra SLUSH “Pace Team Member” bib
to the back of my shirt. And I wasn’t even running with the stupid pace
team. This was shaping up to be a tragedy that Shakespeare could
appreciate. Of all the numerous things that can go wrong in a marathon,
the one that does me in is a seemingly innocent decision that profits me
nothing.
I debate weather to eat my last Gu now, or wait to eat
it later. To Gu, or not to Gu, that is the question, is it not? (Sorry,
couldn’t resist). I reason that it is possible, even likely, that some
of the aid stations up ahead will have Gu or something like it, and that
I should eat now and gamble later. So I consume my final Gu and plod
along the East side of the lake. The Gu probably helps, but nonetheless
my pace begins to decline at this point, just like Louisville. Mile 16:
7:54. Then 8:02, 7:57, 7:54. I am now flirting with the dreaded 8 minute
mile mark. I’m starting to struggle. The wind is not always at my back.
The course follows the sinuous shore of the lake, which provides ample
opportunities for Mother Nature to blast me with headwinds and
cross-winds. At this point I am at least 3 minutes ahead of target. But
running 8 minutes per mile now, I am no longer “banking” any more time
against that 3:30 mark, and it stands to reason that I might start
spending those hard-earned minutes pretty soon, by running slower than 8
minute miles. I do the math. Suddenly 3 minutes in the bank seems like a
slim margin. At mile 19 I’ve still got 7 miles to go. 30 seconds per
mile slower than an 8 minute per mile pace from here on out equates to 3
and one half minutes lost. There’s really not much to draw against in
the old bank account at the Race Pace Savings and Loan. It’s a “Long
Slow Fade.”
Cue the slide guitar and mournful Jar Farrar once again:
“The way we've tried
Left a slide into harm's way
Enough concern to ride it out
It's no surprise that it's a long slow fade…”
-- Son Volt, Long Slow Fade
Just
as I wonder in the big picture if my best race times are all behind me,
if I’ll never break 3:30, I now begin to wonder if my best mile times
in this particular race are all behind me. Was that the peak there, at
mile 9 or so? Is every mile from here on in going to be that much slower
than the last one? I knew I was watching my 3:30 bid slowly slip away
again. I also knew I would be ashamed to come all this way and make a
big production about keeping the trip “secret” if I couldn’t meet my
goal. I know it sounds inconsequential, but to face our friends with
failure would prove we were naive and incorrect about the way we
approached this race, and I had enough pride to be embarrassed about
that possibility.
I thought about C_, I hoped she was still with
her pace group back there somewhere. The race can be such a
self-involved activity that it’s actually kind of foreign for me to
think that someone I know is also out there, having a similar experience
in the same conditions. When I left C_ she was making her way to her
pace group. This was before the race even started. Now we’re more than
two hours into this thing. Anything could have happened. Is she with her
pace group? Has she fallen behind? Is she hurt? Objectively it’s one
more distraction that I have to ultimately put out of my mind. I try to
send some good vibes back to C_, wherever the road may find her.
Part 4 click here
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