My husband John, my sister-in-law Tracy, and I ran the Philadelphia Marathon yesterday, along with 7,465 other marathon finishers. The Philly was Tracy’s first marathon ever. For John and I, this was the first race we’ve ever done with more than 1,000 entrants. Including the half marathon and the 8k, there were about 15,000 runners in yesterday’s events. The last race I ran had about 600 runners. The collective energy of that many runners along with the thousands of spectators was invigorating, contributing mightily to a successful race day for all three of us.
Philadelphia is a special place for me. I was born there, and lived there until 6th grade. More recently, I spent four years in the city as I completed my PhD at Temple University. As a Southern New Jersey resident, Philadelphia is my city of choice. I love the feel of the place; the city has an undercurrent that flows with the push and pull of of my private history, as well as the collective history of a nation. I could feel this current–and hear it symbolized in the tap-tap-tap-tap of thousands of feet moving, moving, moving toward the finish line. But, the finish line is not what makes running marathons great–although it is quite a welcome sight! What makes a marathon–or any race for that matter–is the process, the adventure.
Every marathon begins about four months before you line up at the start. But, this blog post won’t be going that far back (you’ll be happy to know!). If you want to read about my training, you will find previous posts more useful, as well as the link to my training log (see the right sidebar).
This post begins with the race expo, which we attended on Saturday. After picking up our race packets, which included our bib, timing band, technical shirt, and other assorted goodies, we toured the expo exhibits. To say it was crowded does not quite capture the throng of people that choked and clogged the aisles at the expo. Just as we were getting ready to leave, my husband looked over at a line of people, at the end of which sat Bill Rodgers and Bart Yasso. For those of you who do not know these runners, Bill Rodgers is an American marathon legend. He won the Boston Marathon AND New York City Marathon four times. (Runners World recently ran a feature about Rodgers, who returned to Boston Marathon after battling cancer. Interesting article well worth the read.) Yasso is an accomplished endurance athlete, having competed in running and triathlon races all over the globe. He is a member of the Runners’ World editorial team, and has recently written a book, My Life on the Run. John and I decided these guys were worth waiting to meet. After about 20 minutes, it was our turn. What struck me most about meeting these two icons was how approachable they were.
I walked up, and gushed, “It is so wonderful to meet the two of you!” Yasso immediately put out his hand and said, “What’s your name?” As I shook his hand, I said, “Maria…and John, this is my husband John.” He shook John’s hand. Yasso elbowed Rodgers, and said, “This is John and Maria.” He jokingly pointed to each of us as he said our names, telling Rodgers not to mix us up. Rodgers shook our hands as well. Then, they chatted with us – as if we were all old running buddies, and as if there wasn’t a monstrous line growing around the aisles. They asked if we were running in the marathon, and we told them yes.
“This will be the first marathon we’ve done with this many people.”
Rodgers smiled, “Oh, it’s a lot of fun! But, the big problem is the bathrooms. It’s hard to find a bathroom.”
I laughed and said, “Yes, you of all people would know that!”
As the story has it, sometime in the 80s, Rodgers missed the start of the Boston Marathon because he was locked in a bathroom (see “The Return of Boston Billy”). After a bit more joking, they wished us well and off we went. We had met two of the rock stars of running!
After the expo, we decided it was time to eat and get off our feet. We ate pancakes at Little Pete’s, a diner across the street from our hotel. John and I love pancakes as our pre-race dinner. Add to them a few eggs and potatoes, and you’ve got some great, easily digested fuel. We ate early – it was about 5:00 p.m., returned to our hotel room, and it was lights out by 9 p.m.
As usual, on race morning the alarm clock was superfluous. I woke up at about 4:00 a.m., but I didn’t get out of bed until 5 a.m. We were ready and out the door by 5:45 a.m. As we exited the hotel, we joined the exodus of other runners heading toward the Philadelphia Art Museum, toward the famed steps where Rocky Balboa stands in triumph. The walk to the start line was a little over the mile, which was great to warm up and loosen up. The air was chilly, but far from cold. We were wearing some throwaway sweats, which we left at the starting line. The race organizers collected this clothing for goodwill. We saw others wearing trash bags–an idea I will keep in mind for future races.
Each of us was assigned to a different starting corral. The corrals were based on the runner’s projected finish time, and the start would be staggered so as to avoid too many bottlenecks (although, there still were some). Tracy was purple (4:00-4:10), I was green (3:31-3:40), and John was black (3:21-3:30). We wished each other luck, and got into our places. As I waited for the start of the race, I met another runner from Long Island who would be completing her first marathon. I told her, “Marathons are addictive. This won’t be your last one.” We talked about marathons, triathlons and training. And, then it was time. As our wave took off, I looked over to the right and there was Bart Yasso, running next to me. He looked at me and said, “Good luck,” before he took off. Wow – how cool is that?
At about the .5 mile mark, I looked over and saw my Aunt Val, who had come to cheer us on. How awesome! As I turned the corner onto South Street, I passed a string band, Philly’s signature Mummers. Running down South Street, I passed some of my favorite places – of special note, the Theater of Living Arts, which is an excellent place to catch a live show in an intimate venue.
Arch Street was lined with spectators–at some places, they were four and five people deep on the sidewalk. The spectators were cheering, waving signs, ringing cowbells. There were children holding out their hands for high fives. People called out our names, which were on our bibs.
“Go, Maria!”
“You go girl!”
“Looking strong!”
It was motivational to hear so many people calling my name and wishing me well. Despite some of the negative stereotypes about tough Philadelphians, these spectators had much love for the runners. The city of brotherly (and sisterly) love – indeed!
Spurred on by the cheering, I ran fast during those early miles. My goal was to average an 8 minute 12 second per mile pace, which would lead to a finishing time around 3 hours and 35 minutes. By mile 5, I was averaging an 8:05. Hmmmm. In training, I practice negative splits in almost all of my runs, which means I start running slower, and finish faster. But, by the halfway mark of the marathon, I realized, Uh oh. I went out too fast. I struggled to hold on to my goal pace from miles 7 through 16. But, eventually, it became clear that I had made my number one mistake: I had started too fast. I let the excitement of the crowds interfere with my race plan. But, race plans can be adjusted. I kept fighting. I kept pushing. Failing my goal, I would be brave and run the best I could. Isn’t that what Rocky would do?
During those middle miles, the spectators continued. There was a band of merry-makers, in brightly colored green, pink and red costumes, with painted faces. They reminded me of a circus. At one point, I passed by a band of tubas, saxophones and trumpets, belting out the Rocky theme (what else?). As we ran out toward Manayunk, there was a group of people with bright red T-shirts that read, “Free High Fives.” I took them up on their offer – swine flu be damned! How could you pass up that offer? Once in Manayunk, the party started. Similar to Center City, the streets were overflowing with spectators. Some were giving out shots of beer. While I declined during the marathon, suffice to say I made up for that after the event. Others were giving out squares of fudge. The sounds of Rocky blared from speakers placed on the sidewalk. It looked like one heck of an awesome party.
As I approached the turnaround in Manayunk, I was at the 20 mile mark. And, that’s where the race begins. The first 20 are simply warm up. Yet, I had used so much gas in the early miles, I struggled just to get to this point. Yet, as I saw the 21 mile marker, I concentrated on regulating my breathing and staying focused on placing one foot in front of the other. A post-race analysis of my heart rate tells me that I was laboring in the final 6 miles. And, boy I felt it! My legs felt like lead – why wouldn’t they move? According to my Garmin, I ran the last 6 miles in the 8:10ish range, but because my pace had slowed in the middle, this increase was too little, too late in terms of making my goal.
The last 2-3 miles ran along the Schuylkill River. In high school, I rowed crew, and we raced many times along the Schuylkill. As the light created thousands of sun pennies along the river, I thought of those days. I pushed on. At this point, I took notice of many runners who started walking. Rather than give in to the pain, I focused on runners who looked fresh, and appeared to be running easily. I repeated in my head, Easy, Light, Smooth, Fast. A mantra that I read in Chris McDougall’s book, Born to Run. I focused on my breath, which was coming in fast succession now.
As the Art Museum came into view, the number of spectators multiplied. Then–oh, yes–I saw the signs for the finish line. As I rounded Eakin’s Oval, the clock came into view, and I thrust myself toward it, finishing with an official time of 3 hours, 38 minutes and 59 seconds: a personal record. My previous best was 3:41. I qualified for Boston, which will enable me to run the 2011 race.
John also earned a PR, with a 3:25:14 – 20 minutes faster than his previous marathon time – incredible! Tracy crossed the finish line in 4 hours and 3 minutes – a most impressive first marathon! And, after speaking with her about her experience, I think it’s safe to say it will not be her last. Well done, well run, my friends!
After the race, we met up in front of the Rodin Museum, and shared our stories. My Aunt Val caught up with us, as well. Much thanks to her for her wonderful support: Love you!
For those of you who may be considering doing Philly in the future, I recommend it. The course is mostly flat, yet there are some elevation changes (nothing too terrible). The spectators are awesome, and the goodies are plentiful. Overall, the event was well-organized. Despite all of the people, I did not have to wait in many extraordinarily long lines. For me, I think I prefer smaller events, as the throng of people was a little bit much, particularly at the finish line. So, I’m not sure how many big events I’ll do in the future. However, the Philadelphia Marathon was well worth the experience of running through the streets of my personal and national history.
