Philadelphia Marathon

Justin had arranged for me to have an elite sticker on my bib so we could both access the private start tent. The trolley was running ten minutes late but I had the time. Coming down with a cold on Tuesday had given me plenty to worry about but by the time I got myself to the start tent this was far from my mind. I absolutely needed to use the bathroom as many times as possible before the race. I had purposely skipped coffee to prevent an upset stomach. Luckily with the elite sticker I had access to a private bathroom and took full advantage.

When the gun went off Justin, Geraint and I formed a small pace group and quickly ticked off the first mile in 5:42, right on pace. I stuck myself right behind them and focused on their feet. In large marathons I have had the habit of looking around and taking in the sights which was something I needed to avoid at this pace. My only successful marathon run had come from a slow conservative pace at the start, today I was asking my legs to hit pace immediately.

Justin is a bit of a talker on runs and the race was no exception. Within the first three miles he had already added two more runners to our marathon group. With the half marathon runners also surrounding us there was some interesting trading of places going on for me within the pack. I kept my head down except to steer myself to the side of the road for water. At mile six, completely zoned in on the feet in front of me I took my second gel (first gel fifteen minutes prior to the race).

At eight miles we were in West Philly and hitting the largest hills of the course. I quickly asked Justin and Geraint if our intention was to run effort not pace up the hills and got an affirmative. We worked well up hill and Justin later reported us to be seven seconds slow on the last mile but still on pace overall. From nine miles to the halfway mark we had downhills and several turns, including the first u-turn to negotiate. As we approached the museum the half marathoners pealed off. Turning the corner and passing the museum we sped downhill and onto Kelly Drive with a first half split of 1:14:52.

We ran in a tight pack of five to six runners completely alone. The pace was becoming an effort (this was later confirmed by Justin and Geraint, who both noted my struggle). I was sticking right behind Geraint, watching his feet and telling myself to work with the group until sixteen miles. I continued to zone everything else out and concentrate on each section of the course. I remembered our ten mile workout on Kelly drive from a month before. If I could get to sixteen miles with the group I could run that workout again I told myself.

We crossed the Falls Bridge and to my surprise a sizable group of runners passed us in the other direction. I realized they must have been running mid two twenties pace. We hit the second turn around soon after. As we passed back over the bridge and took the left to Manyunk Geraint peeled off. He had paced us perfectly (with some instruction from Justin) for over seventeen miles.

We hit eighteen miles and everything happened fast. I tried to pull up along side Justin but couldn't maintain. The gels didn't seem to help much now but I was still taking them. I dropped off the pack but as I did the entire group strung out with Justin at the lead. We moved down the hill into Manyunk and made the final u-turn at the bottom. I hit mile twenty headed out of Manyunk realizing I was slowing and losing my chance to break two thirty. Justin was visible on the hill above me, clutching his side awkwardly with a cramp. I can run my second fastest marathon ever, I told myself! I rallied as much as I could with this thought. Keep fighting I told my legs and I can run a nice time, maybe 2:32.

As the Falls Bridge appeared again on our right we passed slower runners going the other direction. It was enough to lift my spirits as I moved back and forth with a couple runners. Runners that passed me back I began to draft, locking into their rhythm and then trying to surge with them when I had the strength. Tracking pace and time was useless I was just battling to finish. The miles ticked by as I went back and forth with another runner. We hit mile twenty four and I found myself moving along side him more and more. Once mile twenty five appeared I was kicking for the finish. It was a very painful and slow move that took the effort of my entire body (my sister later commented on the look of pain on my face as she passed me going the other direction). I had no idea what my time was until I saw the clock at 26 miles about to hit 2:30:00. There was 0.2 miles to go which meant I could easily sneak under the 2:31 mark for a personal best. I kicked hard through the line and almost ran into Justin who was waiting for me.

The last fifty meters!

I had run 2:30:46, good for 23rd overall. Justin had run 2:30:09 for 20th place. We had missed our goal but it didn't matter for we had raced as hard as we could and both grabbed new personal bests. Weeks before the race I told myself that no matter what I had to fight over the last six miles. The feeling of clawing  my way to a personal best after hitting a wall at eighteen miles is hard to explain for those that don't run. It is what keeps me coming back for more. I later learned that Dan Vassallo (a fellow Maine-iacs team member) had won the race and qualified for the Olympic Trials. To top off the day I got to stand quietly by myself at the finish line and watch my sister run a personal best of 3:59 in her second ever marathon.