twin cities marathon: part two
prerace
"damn, fisher's still at it." it was tough to ignore the crouping coming from the other room. nonetheless, duty called, and duty said that you had less than two hours to get to the start line. aside from the presence of lars's parents (who arrived during the night) the morning at the house was uneventful. we planned to leave at 715 for an 8am start. i can't say enough how nice it was to be inside a house with private restrooms to prepare for the run. we even had high-speed internet at our disposal for a last-minute look at the forecast (for better or worse, nothing had changed).
the five of us crawled into the car for the trip downtown, the three runners relegated to the back. lars mentioned that he was going to stick with me for the first half, and there were murmurs of fisher attempting to go sub-3. we're dropped off two blocks away from the start at the footsteps of the metrodome. given the pleasant morning conditions (48 degrees, sunny), i see no point in lugging my dropbag with me, and unload it into a wheeled garbage can for its journey to the finish (wheeled garbage cans with bib number ranges posted on the front--goddamn genius!). fisher wants to head to the start; we bid him well. lars and i head into the metrodome for restrooms and stretching (a 50,000 seat indoor stadium to shelter 10,000 runners before the gun--genius again!). some of the walkways into the ballpark proper were open; i couldn't resist a 60-second peek into the home of homer hankies and the 1991 world series. it didn't look all that bad for a domed stadium; made me wish i had tickets to that afternoon's game.
nevermind the twins; there was a race to be run. lars and i find a decent position at the start; sixth street paved the path straight ahead. the skyline of downtown minneapolis was but 800 meters in front of us. a helicopter chopped at the cloud-free sky above us as the anthem was sung.
hand over fist, this was the best start line experience i have ever had at a marathon.
miles 1-7
for the past month, i've been saying that i'm gonna run this first mile 45 seconds slower than my target pace. i go out easy. real easy. i watch the 3:10, 3:20, 3:30 pace groups pass me as if i were one of the skyscrapers that i was passing. "fools... all of them," i thought. lars and i wondered where fisher was, what he was doing. we passed through mile 1 a full 60 seconds slower than target; i could have cared less. here's the deal: 9 out of 10 people who have bad marathons have bad marathons because they "went out too fast." for the low, low price of 15 seconds, i figuratively guaranteed that i wasn't going to be one of those nine people.
mile two, in contrast, went by 20 seconds faster than planned. this was okay because (a) it was predominantly downhill, and (b) i now had calibrated two a broad spectrum of pacing. as we enter the west neighborhoods, lars notices that the ink of his pace band was washed away by sweat. now i know he'll be sticking by me tight for the first half--i fill him in on the underlying reasoning of what i'm doing in the event we split up.
over the next five miles, we pass our first two lakes: lake of the isles and lake calhoun. and in all honesty, i wasn't quite comfortable. there was a bit of being overwhelmed ("holy shit, i'm in minnesota in october"), and a bit of fear ("holy shit, i'm in a marathon"). in the meanwhile, lars seemed extremely comfortable--given that he grew up in the twin cities, he was recognizing spectators and runners at a rate of about one every five minutes, and wasn't shy about saying hello and introducing me. he'd fill me in on who he just saw: old classmate, relative, etc. despite our contrast, the air did feel nice, and the two of us were hitting my target splits in fine time.
the spectators made themselves apparent early, and set what would be the curbside tone for over two-thirds of the race course: a single line of spectators on each side, cheering. i'll take that simple midwestern fanfare over the million-person-mayhem of boston anyday.
miles 8-13
being in a different part of the country is always curious because the unfamiliar seems so familiar, but not. the alma maters on bumper stickers, the artwork on grocery store bags, etc... all different. nowhere was this more apparent during the race than on the apparel of the spectators lining the roads. i enjoyed perusing the logos and designs of everyone's clothes. then i saw a fellow wearing, of all schools, a university of northern iowa sweatshirt. it just happens that UNI is the school that my sister is doing her study-abroad master's through, and his sweatshirt made me think of her. and that just relaxed me something fierce for whatever reason. i saw the colors of fall and it reminded me of schenley park back in pittsburgh. and all of a sudden, i felt GOOD. we weren't picking up the pace just yet, but i mentioned to lars that at 13, things are going to change.
lars's mother met us at mile nine and ran with us for a short while; we weren't in much need of anything, but her visit was welcome. mile nine--presumably the most hilly mile in the first half of the race--turned out to have plenty of downhills, and we went through it ten seconds faster than expected. i had no concern of this at all.
passing by lake harriet, i come out of my game face for a moment, shake the limbs out and ask lars how he's doing. he says fine, and we make our way to lake nokomis. i feared that the southerly trip over the lake's only bridge would prove to have significant headwinds, but there was nothing more than a 5 mph breeze. albeit that was a relief, it also meant that i was going to have to tackle the northbound second third of the course without any wind assistance. translated: the negative split effort would rest squarely on my hips. i was a touch concerned, but i still felt quite fine as we crossed the halfway point.
"1:34 flat" i told lars as i looked at my watch, "that's a 3:08 finish, but there's hills ahead." as for getting lars to the halfway point in hopes of a 3:10, we couldn't have been at a better pace. as for following my pace plan, i was splitting one arrow after another. and as scheduled, i picked up the pace. lars was 30 yards behind me within a minute; he was going to attempt to finish 3:10. i elected to stick to my original plan--i flipped the switch and headed north.
"damn, fisher's still at it." it was tough to ignore the crouping coming from the other room. nonetheless, duty called, and duty said that you had less than two hours to get to the start line. aside from the presence of lars's parents (who arrived during the night) the morning at the house was uneventful. we planned to leave at 715 for an 8am start. i can't say enough how nice it was to be inside a house with private restrooms to prepare for the run. we even had high-speed internet at our disposal for a last-minute look at the forecast (for better or worse, nothing had changed).
the five of us crawled into the car for the trip downtown, the three runners relegated to the back. lars mentioned that he was going to stick with me for the first half, and there were murmurs of fisher attempting to go sub-3. we're dropped off two blocks away from the start at the footsteps of the metrodome. given the pleasant morning conditions (48 degrees, sunny), i see no point in lugging my dropbag with me, and unload it into a wheeled garbage can for its journey to the finish (wheeled garbage cans with bib number ranges posted on the front--goddamn genius!). fisher wants to head to the start; we bid him well. lars and i head into the metrodome for restrooms and stretching (a 50,000 seat indoor stadium to shelter 10,000 runners before the gun--genius again!). some of the walkways into the ballpark proper were open; i couldn't resist a 60-second peek into the home of homer hankies and the 1991 world series. it didn't look all that bad for a domed stadium; made me wish i had tickets to that afternoon's game.
nevermind the twins; there was a race to be run. lars and i find a decent position at the start; sixth street paved the path straight ahead. the skyline of downtown minneapolis was but 800 meters in front of us. a helicopter chopped at the cloud-free sky above us as the anthem was sung.
hand over fist, this was the best start line experience i have ever had at a marathon.
miles 1-7
for the past month, i've been saying that i'm gonna run this first mile 45 seconds slower than my target pace. i go out easy. real easy. i watch the 3:10, 3:20, 3:30 pace groups pass me as if i were one of the skyscrapers that i was passing. "fools... all of them," i thought. lars and i wondered where fisher was, what he was doing. we passed through mile 1 a full 60 seconds slower than target; i could have cared less. here's the deal: 9 out of 10 people who have bad marathons have bad marathons because they "went out too fast." for the low, low price of 15 seconds, i figuratively guaranteed that i wasn't going to be one of those nine people.
mile two, in contrast, went by 20 seconds faster than planned. this was okay because (a) it was predominantly downhill, and (b) i now had calibrated two a broad spectrum of pacing. as we enter the west neighborhoods, lars notices that the ink of his pace band was washed away by sweat. now i know he'll be sticking by me tight for the first half--i fill him in on the underlying reasoning of what i'm doing in the event we split up.
over the next five miles, we pass our first two lakes: lake of the isles and lake calhoun. and in all honesty, i wasn't quite comfortable. there was a bit of being overwhelmed ("holy shit, i'm in minnesota in october"), and a bit of fear ("holy shit, i'm in a marathon"). in the meanwhile, lars seemed extremely comfortable--given that he grew up in the twin cities, he was recognizing spectators and runners at a rate of about one every five minutes, and wasn't shy about saying hello and introducing me. he'd fill me in on who he just saw: old classmate, relative, etc. despite our contrast, the air did feel nice, and the two of us were hitting my target splits in fine time.
the spectators made themselves apparent early, and set what would be the curbside tone for over two-thirds of the race course: a single line of spectators on each side, cheering. i'll take that simple midwestern fanfare over the million-person-mayhem of boston anyday.
miles 8-13
being in a different part of the country is always curious because the unfamiliar seems so familiar, but not. the alma maters on bumper stickers, the artwork on grocery store bags, etc... all different. nowhere was this more apparent during the race than on the apparel of the spectators lining the roads. i enjoyed perusing the logos and designs of everyone's clothes. then i saw a fellow wearing, of all schools, a university of northern iowa sweatshirt. it just happens that UNI is the school that my sister is doing her study-abroad master's through, and his sweatshirt made me think of her. and that just relaxed me something fierce for whatever reason. i saw the colors of fall and it reminded me of schenley park back in pittsburgh. and all of a sudden, i felt GOOD. we weren't picking up the pace just yet, but i mentioned to lars that at 13, things are going to change.
lars's mother met us at mile nine and ran with us for a short while; we weren't in much need of anything, but her visit was welcome. mile nine--presumably the most hilly mile in the first half of the race--turned out to have plenty of downhills, and we went through it ten seconds faster than expected. i had no concern of this at all.
passing by lake harriet, i come out of my game face for a moment, shake the limbs out and ask lars how he's doing. he says fine, and we make our way to lake nokomis. i feared that the southerly trip over the lake's only bridge would prove to have significant headwinds, but there was nothing more than a 5 mph breeze. albeit that was a relief, it also meant that i was going to have to tackle the northbound second third of the course without any wind assistance. translated: the negative split effort would rest squarely on my hips. i was a touch concerned, but i still felt quite fine as we crossed the halfway point.
"1:34 flat" i told lars as i looked at my watch, "that's a 3:08 finish, but there's hills ahead." as for getting lars to the halfway point in hopes of a 3:10, we couldn't have been at a better pace. as for following my pace plan, i was splitting one arrow after another. and as scheduled, i picked up the pace. lars was 30 yards behind me within a minute; he was going to attempt to finish 3:10. i elected to stick to my original plan--i flipped the switch and headed north.
Post a Comment