Newport Marathon

I don't have any photos from the marathon and I'm kind of glad.

I didn't sleep well, but everyone expects that before a race, right? 

But I hadn't slept well in the several days before the race, which is really what matters. I'm not sure why. It wasn't like I had specific things keeping me awake. I wasn't rehashing a race plan in my head or doing visualizations or anything (though maybe I should have?). I could fall asleep but I couldn't stay asleep. The room was too hot. Or too cold. Or it was too light out. Too dark out. I was stuffy. My thighs touched. My knees touched. The pillow was too flat/puffy, etc. 

So I'm up at 4 a.m., even before my alarm and wakeup calls go off. The race starts at 7. The shuttle to the race comes at 6:04 (and kudos to Newport Marathon organizers, it departs right at 6:04. Portland Tri-Met, you can learn something from your sister to the south.) Do the usual pre-race things. I feel nervous but like, FINALLY, let's just get this shit over with. Can I do this? I think I can do this. Let's do this!

I think this was the first time Newport also offered a half-marathon in addition to the full. That's great and all, but if you're going to have several hundred more people in the race you might want to, I don't know, add a port-o-potty or two? I got there early enough so I didn't have to wait long but the lines! 

I did some stretches. I stretched in front of a friend of mine and I didn't even notice. I did some warmup strides to check my shoes. I then realize I'm right in front of another friend of mine. We exchange pleasantries-slash-sandbags "You ready for this?" "No. So no. I want to go back to bed." 

My achilles feels FINE. No pain. 

The Newport Marathon is small enough that you can drop off a gear bag with your warmup clothing like 5 minutes before the air horn goes off to start the race, and that's what I did and cue up the Garmin, cue up the iPod, BLOOOOP! goes the air horn and we're starting. No national anthem, no sponsor announcements, no foofy, let's get this show on the road. I appreciated that. I appreciated how fucking PROMPT everything was.  

Newport's race course spends a few miles running around the town before you do an out-and-back by the bay. The turnaround is at mile 15ish. My plan was to go out conservatively but to have even effort. Hold back in the first and then pick it up after the turnaround. I'm pretty sure I can do a 3:45 but I'd like that cushion of a 3:43 or faster. I don't think it's a lot to ask for. 

Runners have a saying, "The hay is in the barn," when your training has gone well. To butcher the metaphor, I'll share that I'd had some hay in the barn, but it was placed in there haphazardly, pressing out the door, coming out the windows.

Actually, it was probably more like (spoiler alert!) the silo scene in Witness. 

People are zooming by me at the beginning. I'm holding back, but doing the right thing, running the tangents when I can. There are some hills at the beginning: I run them well, slower on the up, race on the down vs. powering on the uphill and recovering on the down. I run downhill very well. 

Mile 1: 8.34

Mile 2: 8:19 (downhill)

Mile 3: 8:29

Mile 4: 8:25 (downhill)

Then we leave downtown and head out to the estuary. I try to dial in the pace a little more since we're supposed to flatten out and be more consistent. But what I said in 2007 comes back to haunt me: this is not a really flat course. 

There's a photographer around this point and I give him a thumbs-up. 

This will also come back to haunt me.

Mile 5: 8:32

Mile 6: 8:33

Mile 7: 8:30

Mile 8: 8:31

Mile 9: 8:33

Honestly, by this point I am BORED. I am ostensibly checking my Garmin to check for pace--which I am--but I'm also checking how many miles have gone by. Around mile 8 I am feeling like, "What do you mean it's only been .4 miles?!" and getting kind of mad and antsy about it. I try to lock in and just cruise but it's just not happening.

I don't need bands and cheerleaders and multiple Elvis impersonators (Elvii) and shit every three feet on a race course, and I did the majority of my training alone, so that's not the issue. I'm just bored. What should feel like a victory (yay! I'm healthy! I've made it here!) just feels like a boring-ass slog, and I am not even at 15k.

I see Justin on his bike around mile 6, which surprised me because I knew he'd be at 8. Maybe he's bored too. He offers me a fresh water bottle but I shake my head.  I yell back at him, "Don't take anything I say seriously this morning, I love you!"

Weather: It's cloudy and a little breezy but not bad. I'm just trying to get my head and my body in the right place. And that place is not Newport. I try, though. We all have lame parts of races, right? Maybe this is one of those where I will finish strong. That's happened in some training runs. 

Mile 10: 8:35

Mile 11: 8:27

Mile 12: 8:29

Mile 13: 8:25

I look at my watch and notice the time on it: It's a PR in the half. It wasn't like I tried to do it, but I'm surprised because I feel like I'm running slower than that. I'm pleasantly surprised: Too bad I'm running the full. 

Mile 14: 8:29

I'm still telling myself I'm going to be conservative. The turnaround is at mile 15 and I can just make it to the turnaround and then pick it up. I'll feel like doing that, right? My music is good, I can do this. 

I was SO BORED though. I didn't have anyone to run with. I couldn't occupy my brain with running the tangents because there is traffic on one side of the road and then faster runners are coming back on the opposite side of the same side of the road and the road cants. I haven't had IT band problems before, but hey! No time like the present, right?

Here's the thing though: My body felt fine. My achilles was a little stiff in the early miles but then I didn't feel a thing. I was just...dulled. I wondered if I could pick it up. Fueling-wise, I did what I normally do and in training runs, which has worked for me just fine. I do feel a little nauseated, though, which happens sometimes. I have the Clif Shots and I just kinda let one dissolve in my mouth as opposed to chewing. It's like, something to do. Because I am SO BORED.

That reminds me: I know some runners who say "racing is never boring." It's like when my parents say, "money is never boring." Actually, they both are. They can be interesting at times, but they are often boring and dull and drone-y. Kind of like race recaps are for people who don't run. AND I AM SORRY FOR THAT. 

Finally, after looking at my watch more than the road, the turnaround point comes and then I keep going and did I mention I was bored? 

And then all of a sudden it's like the sun is out and it gets hot and the wind, hellooooo, here you are and you are NOT HELPING ME, WIND. 

I can get to mile 17, right? Then it's just a 15k and I like 15ks. 

Mile 15: 8:35

Mile 16: 8:31

Mile 17: 8:25

Okay, so maybe I'll get in under the wire. But I can still pick it up! And save some for that SADISTIC HILL AT MILE 25, right?

I take out the extra-caffeinated Clif gel, because I don't feel like I have any energy and maybe extra caffeine will help. I usually take this around 22, but at mile 17 I feel like it's mile 22-23, where you are hunting your brain to remember your own name. 

And then I start to get nauseated some more. I pop an antacid from my pocket (race ready shorts are awesome, by the way). 

Mile 18: 8:34

Mile 19: 8:36

I see Justin. He's all, how are you, I'm all, I feel like shit, he's all, keep going, I'm all, I fucking hate this and you and everything in the world I don't think I can and now I am overcaffeinated. 

And then that's it. Mile 18, really, the wheels started to come off, and I'm surprised my splits don't show that. Around there I saw an aid station and I walked through it, and then that's when the Walk Monster grabbed me. 

The Walk Monster is like the quickest virus ever in the world. He lures you in with the "Oh, it's just a few steps through the aid station. Everyone does that, it's just FINE!" and then it's "see, wasn't that niiiiiice? want to do it again!" and when the wheels have bounced off and you are getting smothered by the grain silo of uncertain training and race planning, the walk monster is the snake in the Garden of Non-Eden that is your race. It truly is the Blerch.

So that's kind of my story. I felt like I was going to vom. It got hot. There was a 20+ mph headwind. I gave into the walk monster. I tried running after that and my splits went from 8:20s to 11:00s. IT SUCKED. 

I thought about DNF'ing (Did Not Finish) and when I saw Justin I'd asked him where he parked. He said, "The finish."

Fuck!

I could have taken a spectator bus back to the start but they never came around when I was needing it.  My race became a mission to find Justin on the side of the course. He didn't know I was doing this but I was. 

It wasn't just me, though. There was some serious carnage on the way back. Most of the people I know who ran this either DNF'd it or ran the last 8 miles MUCH slower than expected. I don't know what was in the air today other than the wind but there was some sort of bad race juju. It's not the fault of anyone behind the Newport Marathon; they are delightful, but there was some kind of weird feng shui out there and it was unpleasant.

My Garmin's splits here are weird because of the walking and occasional stopping to do IT band stretches. I walk/ran a good chunk here.

Have you ever tried to slap yourself sober? This was the race equivalent. I was actually shouting, "Go! Now! Do this!"

Mile 20: 10:01 [which is weird because I thought I fell apart before 20 and this was the first time I have ever hit The Wall]

Mile 21: 10:00

Mile 22: 9:51

Mile 23: 11:09 [I was almost crying here; not because anything hurt, but because I was wanting to be crying out of boredom and like, this is never going to be DONE, this is so embarrassing]

Mile 24: I got this weird second-wind here; yet a still embarrassing (for me) 9:18. I'm better than that.

Mile 25: 9:43

Mile 26: 10:16 WHO THE FUCK PUTS A HILL AT MILE 25 AND ADVERTISES THEIR RACE AS A BOSTON QUALIFIER?!

Last .2: 7:54.*

*The last .2 miles of Newport are a screaming downhill. So even when you completely cock up the  race and feel like complete and total shit about the athletic ability you think you've acquired over the past nine years running, you can come zooming into the finish like A REAL RUNNER!

And that's it. 3:54 on my Garmin (which says I ran 26.3 miles, by the way). The clock said 3:55 when I came in but that was an additional insult. 

I don't think I went out too fast. I really don't. I wasn't out of range for my expectations for the race and based on my training. I just think it wasn't my day. Am I glad I finished the fucking thing? Yes and no. It feels good to have accomplished that; on the other hand, did I really need the additional mileage to prove a point?  But I ran the last several miles so slowly that maybe that will hasten my recovery and I can run the marathon in six weeks that is my backup-to-the-backup? I could have bailed at 17 and called it a training run.

But I had to get back to the car.

My achilles is not sore at all. My quads are. 

So what do you think? Try for another in six weeks? I'd really like to get to Boston next year. I think I'm capable. 

But first I need to get down the stairs.