Yesterday I ran in the Philadelphia Marathon, along with 10,000 other hearty souls.
I have to criticize the organizers a little bit, because things before the race were very disorganized. The did not give me a "zip strip" to attach my computer chip, nor did they give me safety pins to attach the bib. Then when we got there, there was no one to tell us where we were supposed to go, and it is difficult to spot race officials. I didn't hear a word of the pre-race announcements, and I had no idea that the race had started until the crowd starting walking forward. So I have no idea how long it took me to reach the start line after the horn sounded.
The race itself was great though: lots of really supportive crowds, great scenery, well-organized water stations, and a pretty flat course.
My goal had been to finish, and to do so in 4 hours or less. But I got boxed in for a while and the 4-hour pace group got ahead of me. I lost them for a while. Finally at about the 5-mile mark I was able to get into a good pace, and started making up some ground. I passed the pace-group a few miles later on what those flatlanders were calling a "hill." The thing is, though, that somehow I forgot my watch, so I had no idea how fast I was running. The mile markers were no help, because the half and full marathon shared some of the same terrain, but there was no way to tell the markers for the half from those of the full. It one point I passed the 11-mile mark, then seemingly four minutes later passed the 12-mile, and then a few minutes after that passed 12 again!
We started a long out and back, and as I was passing @14 miles Just over two hours into it), the elite runners were coming back the other way. I didn't look at the clock when I passed the 15-mile mark, but I hard the volunteer call out that we were on pace to finish in 3:45. Considering how long it took me to cross the start, that meant I was about 20 minutes ahead of my goal pace. I was still feeling good then, but things started breaking down after that.
My left shoe had worked it's way lose, and by mile 18 I was starting to get really nasty blisters. Finally, just after mile 20, I had to stop to tighten my shoe. I bent over, retied it, stood up, and whoa!, head rush. I pushed on in daze for a few more miles.
My knees were starting to feel really bad now, and I fell way off my pace. At mile 23, the 4-hour pace group passed me, but they said they were ahead of schedule. I pressed on as best I could. I staggered past the 25-mile marker. My feet were dragging on the ground. I had to stop and walk for a few minutes, because at that point I was hurting myself too much. I walked and breathed through the pain for about a half a mile, and then was able to run again. The crowds were cheering, and then the finish line was in sight. A guy came up behind me and starting urging me on, so I put my head down and ran hard through the last 50 yards, with this guy right beside me. I thanked him for that push once we crossed the line.
The time I saw was 4:05, but my official time I'm sure is a little better than that. They haven't yet posted the official results, but I'll let you know when they do. And I should have some pictures as well.
Some other highlights:
- Somewhere along Chestnut Street, in the early going, a cop for some reason was letting traffic through. He was yelling at the runners to stop. There was no way I was stopping, and I doubt too many of the other 10,000 did either. Clearly, that guy needed a little better briefing on what his job was there.
- In the Manayunk section, there was a group giving out little dixie cups of beer to the runners. The place stank of spilled beer: I think it might be a while before I want any.
- The day started off a bit chilly, and runners were stripping of layers as we ran, especially in the first 6 or so miles. I was thinking that this must be a field day for the homeless.
- My knees are swollen today. But the only time they really hurt is when I first stand up, or when I try to go down stairs. Going up stairs is no problem.
- I ran for a few miles with a guy named "Chuck" who had has name on his shirt. The crowd was cheering for him wildly (because they could see his name) so I heard "Come on, Chuck!" like 50,000 times. My next marathon I think I might wear my name on my clothes, because I can't imagine how awesome that must have felt.
Labels: Philadelphia Marathon