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October 10, 2005

Portland Marathon: The Recap

Right off, I'd like to apologize for not posting any of the marathon nitty-gritty until now. My last post was dashed off right as I returned to my hotel room, and before I showered.

After the shower, I didn't much feel like doing anything. That "not feeling like doing anything" turned in to "bone-dead tired" by the time I made the drive back to Seattle. By the time I reached my door I was sore, beat, and ready for a) a beer and b) bed like you cannot imagine.

So. The marathon.

The starting gun was at 7 AM, which, working backward, meant that I needed to be up around 5:45. Fellow marathoner Keith Pranghofer (UW MBA, Class of '06) split the hotel room with me, and we both Did The Right Thing by crashing around 9:30.

Despite our early bedtime, I couldn't sleep. I never sleep well before these things, and I tossed and turned until at least 2 AM (mental note to self: pack a bottle of wine before the next marathon; consume if necessary). Which meant I was feeling pretty disoriented by the time the alarm went off, and the circles under my eyes led a few people in the hotel lobby to believe that they were being invaded by large raccoons.

Keith and I hooked up with Char and Jason at their hotel, headed to the start line, and split up (Keith's like The Flash, or something, so he migrated forward to start with the faster runners). About 8,600 people do the run, so downtown Portland was packed - throngs of people everywhere, meeting and greeting ... as well as bouncing up and down to stay warm.

And then the gun went "BANG!", and we were off. (Course map available; opens in a new window.)

The first few miles of any run are warm-up; in this case, we simply couldn't go too fast because there were far, far too many other people packed 'round us. So the three of us stuck together, watched out for one another, and eventually started to break up (I'm a bit faster - those long legs) around mile three.

And then I was on my own.
It was excellent.

The first 18 miles of the run were outstanding. Heck, I blew by the half-marathon marker like I was on fire or something, just feeling light and fast and happy. There's a hill up to Mile 17 - we go across St. John's Bridge, from the west side of the river to the east - and even that was pretty simple. I ran across St. John's, over and down, hung a right at the end, zoomed past the 18-mile mark, and hit trouble smack in the face.

I don't know what it was, exactly - my left quad started to get crunchy, so certain strides felt like it wouldn't support my weight. And my stomach started hurting in a big, big way - the very thought of food was enough to make me profoundly queasy. I now recognize that I simply got too hungry - I should have eaten more, and earlier - and as a result my system was freaking out on me. But at the time, I was just trying to manage the weirdness, which meant I was consigned to run/walk the balance of the race.

This was a trick. Sometimes I could sustain running for a good mile; other times, I'd walk three times in a mile. But as I scarfed gummy bears and Red Bull from the volunteers (gummy bears, being pure sugar, were about the only thing I could get in to my bod), my energy came back, and I found myself able to sustain some momentum. I just tried to listen to my body, keep my focus. It helped.

As we came across Steel bridge - from the east side of the river, and back to downtown, I passed the Mile 25 sign and was suddenly taken with a huge surge of emotion - not pride, exactly, but almost ... relief? A sense of accomplishment, certainly, a sense that it was almost over. I actually teared up a bit, wiped my eyes, and kept on it.

And then I was off the bridge, looping around to the right, and running along Front Avenue, down toward Salmon, and eventually I see the "26" marker. It's at the turn on to Salmon, which means I'm processing, "Holy crap, I'm almost there" right at the moment I'm making a 90-degree turn, and then I'm seeing the huge, balloon arch that signifies the finish line.

And then I'm tearing up again, my emotions bubbling out of my fatigue, but I focus, put it in to my legs, and pick up as much speed as I can.

I'm running my ass off down Salmon, and then I see that the balloon arch I thought was the finish is, in fact, some kind of cruel mirage, so I make a left with the course and see another balloon arch, close - but this time, with "FINISHER" emblazoned across it. So I dig deep, push on, and cross the finish line at 4:21:35.

I was, to say the least, spent. Just ... done. My body had been pushed to its outer, outer boundary of performance, and that, as they say, was that. I staggered forward, had my timing chip clipped off my shoe by a nice volunteer, got a blanket around my shoulders, received my medal, and tried to find bananas.

If you ever feel tempted to do one of these things, one thing I'd like to call out is the importance of music. My iPod Shuffle has a wicked sense of humor - it's forever serving up the right song, at the right time, even if it seems - on paper - that the song would be potentially disastrous. As I was running between Miles 25 and 26, it brought me ... butt rock. No, really. Like, Kiss' classic hit "Heaven's On Fire". And then, as if it were out to prove that Big Hair was the solution to all running problems, it served up Def Leppard's "Pour Some Sugar On Me" as I was coming in for the finish. I should like to point out, too, that the Leppard cut was synchronized perfectly so my final footfall in the race was in beat with the last sound of the song.

(I know it sounds totally hokey, but it helped.)

One thing - a big, big thanks to everyone who wished me well, encouraged my training, and generally put out the good karma. It helped. Really, it did. And thanks, too, to Ravi, who cheered for me at Mile 2 and Mile 26 ... and that Mile 26 cheer was exactly what I needed. (He also took the photo associated with this post - it was in front of my hotel, after I'd had a bit to eat and had left the marathon finish area.)

The question I've been asked most often is, "So ... gonna do another one?" and I suspect I will. I'm not planning it anytime soon (like, before Wednesday), but I now know I can go sub-four hours if I want to. I'll have to train differently (more training at distance, for example), but it's posssible. And attractive to me, in a way I can't even express.

Tonight, though, I'm still exhausted. The bod's OK, but I need to sleep. Thankfully, there's more beer in the fridge.

I can't believe it's over.

UPDATE, November 10, 2006: One or more of the original hyperlinks on this page expired, and has been dereferenced. The hyperlinked text is now underlined.

Posted by Gavin Shearer at October 10, 2005 7:28 PM. Posted to Fitness.

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Posted by: Judy H. at October 11, 2005 12:13 PM

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