Spoiler Alert: He might consider running another half marathon. That's a win in my book.
Hello, Lee here.
Thought you should get a fuller picture of Saturday’s
events, from one who was there.
5 am: Alarm is set
for 5:30, but I can’t sleep. Angsting
over what shirt, shorts, shoes, and warm up to wear. Get up.
Pre-race: Things are
coming together nicely. Nothing
unexpected hurts (the over 40 readers will understand this comment.) Vince and
Mimi arrive early, we leave on time.
Traffic is a breeze and we get where we need to be with nary a
hitch. Runners depart for the
port-a-john lines. They aren’t pretty,
or fragrant (see earlier post about the unglamorous parts of running). No time for the OAR tent, so we ditch our
warm ups to be collected for the homeless.
We find our “corral.”
Apt choice of words. I learned
that big races now employ “wave” starts, sending faster runners out before
slower runners, using computer chips on shoes to keep accurate time. Estimating a 2 hour time, we are in Corral
13, out of about 4,000, it seemed.
Moo. Lots of colorful costumes,
mostly green, and a lot of fidgeting with iPods, gear, numbers, and the like. Not many people with grey hair here in Corral
13. I do find one middle aged guy, who
readily admits to being 56. He doesn’t
expect to medal today, but he has before.
Yeesh. Wrong guy to ask.
The Start: Really
cool – cameras on swinging booms, loud music, an announcer with the marathon
world record holder (I’m pretty sure I heard him call to me “nice stride!”). It has taken us twenty minutes since the
Start to make it to the Starting line. Vince,
also targeting 2 hours, has left Corral 9 to join us. What a mensch.
Mile 1: Ten minute
pace. Slow, but not surprising. We’ll go faster when the crowd thins. (foreshadowing)
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| Kate's training for Miss America next. NBD. |
Mile 2: Nine minute
pace, feeling good. Katie elbows an
overly aggressive female runner in the sternum, and feels good about it. I’m so proud.
(This last part is fiction.
Actually, Katie gets jostled by a dopey woman wearing headphones who
seems oblivious to the fact that 20,000 other people are running with her. Races seem to attract hoards of these
inconsiderate runners. Katie does curse at her like a truck driver, which does make me proud.) We run past Union Station, and
Vince is prattling on about the architecture, not because he is worldly, but
because he studied it in eighth grade in suburban DC. I reply that I went to middle school in Rome,
NY, and am far better equipped to discuss Governor DeWitt Clinton dedicating the
Erie Canal.
Mile 3: We turn on to Constitution Ave, and see our personal
cheering section for the first time. We
all look beautiful. So does the
Mall. One thing about living in DC, it’s
easy to take for granted the beauty of this place, and what a spectacular place
it is to run. On a clear, bright almost-Spring
day, I’ve never seen anything like it.
Luckily, I happened to look around during this stretch, and I smiled.
Mile 4: (don’t despair, I don’t intend to write about each
mile) We head up 18th Street
to Connecticut Avenue. “Up” being the
operative term. Driving a V-6 with 300+
horsepower, it seems pretty flat, but from Constitution to Dupont Circle is a
serious, long hill. Today, it’s also the
best part of the course, with big, enthusiastic crowds, rock bands, and some
boom boxes – one playing “Born to Run”.
We are feeling pretty great.
Mile 6: We spot our buddies Tim and Mo just past Dupont
Circle. They are there to cheer on their
daughter Kaitlin, running a half just a few months removed from surgery on both
hips. Total Beast Mode. They also have the coolest homemade sign for
Katie and me, now proudly on display in our family room. Hard to find friends like that.
Mile 8: Almost
two-thirds through the race, we reach the highest point on the course. It’s still remarkably crowded, and I am
cursing myself for not training on more hills.
Katie has been hurting for a while from her Crohn’s, which is painful and
unpredictable and frustrating and exhausting and….
It was around this time that I contemplated the possibility
that we wouldn’t finish. Remarkably,
Kaitlin wasn’t the only Domer woman in Beast Mode that day, and Katie channeled
her inner-Jillian and finished strong.
When asked later how she did it, the girl said, “I just told it to
stop.” She’s my hero.
From Mile 8.5 on, the course guide said it was mostly
downhill. Beware the modifier. We sailed down 5th Street, turned
left past a really cool building that happened to be the Howard University Water
Pumping Station (which follows immediately after the White House on the tour of
DC architecture), and then headed down North Capital Street to another
spectacular vista. Looking down the
hill, we can see that the course is still incredibly crowded with runners!
Mile 10: Just past
the mile marker, we have our second siting of our beautiful fans, and head into
Northeast DC. Katie thanks a sign-holder
shouting “Go Katie,” but grudgingly acknowledges that she might not be the
Katie for whom the lady is cheering. This
realization is hard for Katie.
Race note: Experts
will tell you that first time runners need to train to 10 or 11 miles to
prepare for a half marathon, and that “the adrenaline will carry you through
the last three miles.” I will tell you
that this advice is, in a word, baloney.
Any adrenaline I had was spent around mile 4, and from then on, it was
all will power. And by the way, nobody
tells you that races are harder than training.
You run on unfamiliar ground, you need to bob and weave among the other
runners, and you must frequently change speeds and strides, making it almost
impossible to get into a relaxed running rhythm. Train past
the distance, and run the course before the race if you can. For me, familiarity breeds confidence.
I had trained to 11.5 miles, and I was unprepared for the last couple miles of the race, especially the completely nasty and unnecessary half-mile long rise to the finish. I didn’t finish strong, but my training partner hung with me, and we finished together. She did a sweet jump at the finish, and I merely stayed upright.
“I’ll wait for you; if I should fall behind, wait for me.” –
Bruce Springsteen
Later, we toasted with some of the best tasting Guinness
ever. Some runners finish a half, and
immediately start planning for a marathon.
I am not one of those runners.
13.1 miles is a long way. Will I
do another half? Maybe, with the
encouragement of a great training partner.
Thanks, Kate.
Love,
Dad
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