In case you are keeping track (and I'm sure you are), the 2015 DC Rock & Roll Marathon was my second-fastest Marathon -- only 27 seconds slower than my previous PR, which was the 2014 DC Rock & Roll. But this year the race was both better and much, much harder.
For starters, it rained. and rained. and rained. It started out light, but by about mille 20, it was pouring. And forget about keeping your feet dry.
The DC R&R is strong on the logistics. Metro drops you off within 1/4 mile of the bag drop off and 1/2 mile of the starting chutes. I had brought a dry pair of socks and my running shoes in a waterproof bag, and kept my race kit covered up right until start time. Sure, my feet were going to get soaked, but it helps to at least start the race dry and warm.
Logistics Logistics. Only runners will appreciate that I did not have to wait in line at a porta-john. And I did not pay extra for "VIP" services. That's why this compelling photograph of porta-johns made its way into the 4th Discipline's official archives.
I agonized for the whole week about what to wear. Luckily, Team SunRype sent me a fantastic, rain-proof and lightly insulated running jacket that worked perfectly. I'm happy to be representing Team SunRype for another year, not only because of the cool products I get to hand out (or the great rainproof jacket), but also because of the extra motivation it gives me to give 100% in every race.
Here is the short-version of the race ...
Training - Between January 1 and race day, I only ran outside one time -- the Cloud Snapple Half Marathon. This was not on purpose. There was so much snow this winter, so much cold weather, that it was hard to do anything other than run on the treadmill. I had certainly put in enough training miles, but treadmill miles don't always translate perfectly to pavement miles. At a minimum, I knew going into the R&R that I probably wasn't going to set any records.
Mile 1 - Stepped in my first puddle. Frankly, I'm amazed that I kept my feet dry that long, but all good things must end. I even carried a pair of dry socks in my pocket for the whole race, but who am I kidding -- was I really going to stop and put them on?
Mile 4 - I caught up with the 3:10 pace group. To qualify for Boston, I needed a 3:15. I was not planning on attempting to qualify, but despite the rain and the cold, I was running very efficiently and felt strong. So against my better judgment, I decided to stick with the 3:10 pack for a while. I mean, what's the worst that can happen?
Mile 13.1 - Once I reached the halfway point, I was still trotting along comfortably with the 3:10 pace group. The back half of the R&R is really bleak, and the rain seemed to have chased away a couple of the bands that R&R promised would be playing along the course. So it was nice to run with some peers, even though I knew I was running above-threshold. A half-marathon in 1:35:46 put me about 2:07 ahead of my B.Q. pace, and about 6:30 ahead of my PR pace.
Mile 16 - Taking a cue from last year, I stuffed my face with food between Mile 6 and Mile 16 to stave off a bonk. #eatmoreSunRype. The strategy worked very well to maintain my overall energy levels, but at Mile 16 my calves began to signal some real muscle fatigue. I stopped to walk at a water station, and when I started running again, I started losing contact with the 3:10 pace group.
Mile 20 - At this point, I was still within range of Boston Qualification. I had spent the last 16 miles drafting the perfect Facebook post to announce that I had finally achieved a life goal. I was searching my mind for Boston-area friends with whom I could stay in 2016. But at about the Mile 20 marker, the rain hit extremely hard, and at the same time, my calves simply stopped firing.
A bonk or an encounter with "the wall" does not happen all at once. Any experienced runner can feel a bonk coming on gradually, and while you cannot completely avoid it, you can usually slow it down. Muscle fatigue, on the other hand, can hit with the ferocity of a bear claw to the face. My beautiful 7:15min/mile gait quickly turned to a 9:45min/mile hobble. With the rain thoroughly soaking me, and the temperature dropping, it was very hard not to have a Paula Radcliffe-like collapse. Paula who? You remember ...
Mile 23 - Hills. I had heard that the course had changed, but at the worst possible time, I encountered the new section of the course, which was comprised of several moderately steep climbs. I am normally an excellent uphill runner. It is a point of pride that I usually gain ground on other runners on the uphill portions. But I also usually have full use of my calves, and I didn't have that this time.
It is almost impossible to do complicated math in your head while you are physically tired. I kept crunching the numbers. Boston was out. But a P.R.? It was still possible ...
In an effort to save every second, I ran right by one of the many, many porta-johns, and peed my pants. Being an Ironman gives you special rights.
Mile 26 - I am usually a strong finisher. Even in long-distance triathlons, my final mile is usually my fastest. But all the adrenaline in the world could not get me to the finish line fast enough. I was practically staring at my watch for the last long bend toward the finish line. It was going to be close ...
Finish - But not close enough. I can't be disappointed that I completed another Marathon. Or that this was my second-fastest race ever. But given how close I got to Boston-Qualified immortality, I was crushed. And to add insult to injury, I could barely walk the 1 mile to the bag pickup to get some dry(ish) clothes. Here I am in front of the bag pickup, disappointed, cold, beat, but happy to be done.
Note my number -- 3024 -- 3hrs 24 minutes was my previous Marathon PR. A good omen? bad omen?
What did I learn?
1. Treadmill runs do not equal hill training. Enough said.
2. Running in the rain blows.
3. Running in the cold blows.
4. Space blankets can't keep rain off.
5. Qualifying for Boston is really hard.
Alas, on to the Cherry Blossom 10-Miler next. As soon as I can bend my calves again.
