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2009 PORTLAND MARATHON

October 4, 2009 (Morning)

Exercise Type: Run

Weather: mid-40s at the start -- high 50s at the finish

Comments:
Woke up at 0445. Did lots of prep, ate, stretched, and mounted up for BATTLE. Finch and Nicki left a bit earlier than me. I gathered up my stuff and slow-jogged to the start, where I met Matt. KEY to have him there, as I was able to warm-up with extra clothes on, then hand them off right before the start.

Did an easy "2" (14 min, but SLOW) from the hotel to the start, then around downtown. Felt pretty good. It was odd to be out in the DARK that early, with TONS of people around.

Got to the start with MAYBE 8 min to go! Eeek! I was tweaking just a bit trying to get through the masses, but I made it. Matt was right at the start to take my stuff. I decided to hold onto the visor, just in case it rained (which was forecasted).

Pre-start for Wheelers, then a quick good luck to Finch (who had BARELY made it to the front!!!), and we were off.

It got out pretty easy with lots of guys up front -- so many that I did not get a toe on the start line. Finch took a 20m lead as we had a gentle descent north on Broadway. He hit the mile at a leisurely 5:47; us at 5:55. Then things opened up a bit.

I just kept things easy as we turned south, then up some hills early. Before I knew it, I was ALONE, which would be the theme of the day. 2nd mile was slow, but I still kept it easy. Took some fluid just before 3, then whipped around the corner and down the hill back toward DT.

I wasn't feeling all that great, so at 3.5 I took a mocha gel. I was TOTALLY GAPPED, which sucked, as we were now into a light headwind.

Matt met me at 4.5 and I got a bottle, which was KEY to gut the gel, then in the next mile I worked on reeling in 2 guys ahead of me. During that time, we encountered some OK crowds...that obscured the mile markers. As such, I missed THREE IN A ROW. So no clue what I was running.

I caught the two guys and let them reel me into the crappy industrial out/back at makes up 6-11. BORRRING. But it was nice to settle in with a nice pace. However, I just wasn't feeling that great.

We were cruising along when FINALLY we saw the leaders loop back, and there was FINCH, right up there with another guy. We were both running near the middle of the road and, without saying anything, drifted towards each other for a HIGH-FIVE as we passed each other. Finch later said the 2 guys I was with had very odd looks on their faces after that, but I LOVED IT. I got a good adrenaline boost from that, which helped round the SINGLE CONE in the road for the 180 turnaround. HATE THOSE.

Maybe 800m after rounding that, the guys I were with "took off". I'm not sure what happened -- it's funny like that -- but like that they were gone. So many times you get some water, or take a gel, and you LOSE time and spacing. So they were gone, but at least I had some tailwind, so again, I kept it chill.

The mile splits were VERY INCONSISTENT -- another reason I didn't aggressively pursue those guys. One would say 5:40, then the next -- with no change in effort -- 6:10. WTF??

Rolled back into town, past 10, feeling OK. Saw Nicki, then Matt at 11ish and I got another bottle. Just before then, as I was fishing out another gel, I felt something fall out my back pocket. I looked back and my S-CAPS were on the ground. In the split second, I decided NOT to pick those up. I think I'd regret that later...

Got the bottle from Matt just before 12, as we rolled through a nice neighborhood before spilling onto the shitty US30. I definitely slowed as I tried to drink that and run with it at the same time -- again, which sucks. I saw a guy up front and passed him after 12. That would be the last guy I'd "run with" until 21.

BORING AS HELL on US30 heading out of town, toward St. Johns Bridge. Slight headwind, wet road, traffic a lane away. I tried to stay in it by cutting the "tan-yents" and keeping my eyes up on the nearest guy, who was maybe 300-400m ahead. L foot began to give me a couple issues, so I did some toe curls in the shoe.

Hit the 13.1 at 1:16:02. Not bad, but I knew there'd be NO WAY I was going under 2:30, unless I felt miraculously better on the 2nd half.

Kept tooling along: 14, 15, then 16 at the base of a HUUUUUUUUUUGE climb up to the St. Johns Bridge. Maybe 600m climb, and the steepest hill I'd ever run in a marathon. That was the first time my legs felt legitimately SHOT. Not good. I lost ground on my guys ahead and could barely see them as I got onto the bridge and CONTINUED to climb across the span before a merciful downhlill.

Downhills are nice, but PROBLEMATIC: I came about "this close" to a full-on diaphragm cramp running down that: the combo of 1:30 of "breathing fatigue", then the tension from leaning back on the downhill. Took a lot of focus to keep that cramp at bay.

On the N side of the Willamette, the course snaked around some corners, then down a STEEP, block-long hill and a L, back up. VERY TOUGH to get back into a rhythm. Then finally it leveled and straightened. Hit 18 feeling very so-so.

I tried really hard to convince myself that "I'm feeling FINE! I'm running STRONG." Important stuff, but not very accurate. Matt said he'd be at 18, but I didn't see him 'til just before 19. Took a Clif Shot Expresso just before 19, where I saw him with another bottle. I took it but it was difficult to drink -- even though I needed it. Felt bloated -- AGAIN, due to lack of salt (as I would later discover). F.

After 19, things got REALLY TOUGH. Went from "sketchy" to "not good" to "OH FUCK". Slow and clunky at 20, which was maybe 1:56? I didn't trust their markers OR their split readers, so I wasn't sure.

The big focus was "long strides" and keeping the form and stride together. It was effective because I didn't slow very much: some very low 6s and high 5:50s. But I feared that at any moment (A) something would cramp or (B) I'd start grinding 7s or 8s. It was that bad.

The neighborhoods along Willamette Blvd were OK. Not much for crowds, and I didn't give a fuck anyway. At about 21 a felt a guy roll up on me; about 400m later he rolled by, but I was unable to do anything about it -- I was merely trying to survive.

My SAVIOR was a HUUUGE, SUSTAINED downhill from 21 to probably 23.5, as we descended the high river bank, approaching central PDX again. Again, the diaphragm was sketchy, but I relaxed and was flat-out TALKING TO MYSELF, saying "open up, relax, let it go" to make the most of the hill. I kept the guy up front in sight and barreled down, and if anything, that loosened things up and got me going again. Got back to low 5:50s.

The last 2.5 were pure will: just GRINDING. At this point, I was a "tweak" away from full-on calf cramping, so it was all about "ALL QUADS", "LONG STRIDE", which thankfully kept them at bay. Down some industrial-ly (the theme) area, and FINALLY across the Broadway Bridge into PDX proper. The end was near!

Rounding down the off-ramp, I saw a guy up front. I was doing the math: 1.5 miles to go, 2400m, 2K... I passed the red jersey guy at that 2Kish point and kept lumbering south toward 26. Once we rolled beneath the Burnside Bridge, there were SUBSTANTIAL crowds, which were great.

Only 4 people cheered for me that I knew: Finch (on the turnaround), Nicki, Matt, and...randomly, near that 800m to go, Joe Henderson -- who I'd met recent at ERC for my marathon clinic. That was cool.

The crowd was probably 2-3 deep at 26, where we veered right and UPHILL in the last 400m. The legs were SO-SO up to this point, but those uphills were suicide. I kept rolling, but as I hooked that final left into the finish I was barely able to extend my legs. I lumbered towards the finish, feeling stooped over and ready for an all-body cramp. Meanwhile, I saw the clock on the left of the finish, reading 2:34:50s and climbing.

I gave it the rest of what I had and stumbled through the finish at 2:35 low. It was a damn good thing that final straight wasn't a block longer, or I might still be laying there.

It was slow, it was TOUGH, it felt like SHIT, but man was I glad to have done it. 2:35:03, for 12th. Not the best, but still a 75s PR on a SHITTY COURSE.

The splits were AWFUL and inaccurate, but for posterity here's what I've got:

5:54
5:44
6:04
16:40 (missed a bunch)
5:46
5:41
6:10 (KITTIN ME?)
5:42
5:41
6:09 (HUH?)
5:51
HALFWAY: 1:16:02
5:50
5:51
6:04 (starting the climb)
6:27 (THE CLIMB + the bridge)
5:51 (choppy/winding downhill)
5:56
6:01
6:11 (ouch)
5:54
6:01
5:54
6:09
6:03
last 400m: 1:18
====2:35:03


Post-Race: After weaving through a SHITTY, SHITTY food area (chocolate milk, string cheese, grapes -- KITTIN ME???), I found Finch at this "massage table", which was this random stroking shit. I took part, only to lay down, but this chick had my rolling over so many time I felt like a rotisserie hot dog! Sheesh!

I could BARELY WALK around that park block, back toward the staging area. I'd lost Finch, who went ahead to look for Nicki, but I randomly saw GULIA, so I hung out with her for probably 20 minutes or more as I looked for Matt. I had NO FOOD and I was FREEZING. So much so that I wound up grabbing abandoned clothes from the start area to throw on, as I was beginning to shiver. NOT GOOD.

Finally met up with Matt, then reunited with Finch. From there we walked back to the hotel and midway, Matt re-appeared from a trip to his car to retrieve "the post-race treat" -- a 22oz "Black Butte XXI" -- a special double-malt BBP aged in bourbon barrels. We hobbled back to the hotel and, once back there, I popped it and gave Finch the "victory drink". Very cool.

After cleaning up our first stop was to Deschutes for a couple pints. Finch got one on the house for being the champ.

Went to the awards after -- which consisted of two people reading results, to a "crowd" of maybe 8 in the basement of the Hilton. That was fine, though, because both Finch and I were able to pick up plaques and his champ award. I got a plaque by virtue of my 3rd place 30-34. I'll take it.

Post-awards chow at Henry's, with good beer, then "nap time" back at the hotel. At 5 I met Shana at the Triangle Bar for one, then re-convened AGAIN at Deschutes!

FUN DAY but a short evening: Matt headed home and we went back to the hotel, where I was in bed before 9! Exhausted.