The Mississippi Blues Marathon:

Hills, Hills, and Did I Mention Hills?

As the fall of 2014 became the winter of 2015, I continued my quest to complete a marathon in every state.  The options have become smaller as the number of states dwindle.  I am almost done with the eastern half of the country and, of course, winter means heading either south or west.  

Originally, I was going to go to Texas in January for the Houston Marathon and then to Mississippi in March for a marathon in a state park.  But I learned that not only was Houston sold out, but that there was a lottery to get into it.  In actually I was months behind any possibility of going to Houston.  So in looking at other possibilities, I finally discovered that I could go to Mississippi in January and Texas in March.  In Texas I would actually fly to one of the two Houston airports and run a small marathon at Seabrook, a bit outside the metropolis.  This actually appeals to me more than Houston itself.

For Mississippi, I chose the Mississippi Blues Marathon in Jackson, Mississippi, the state capitol.  I flew down on a Thursday evening for the Saturday event, because flying Friday would have made things tight, especially getting to the expo.  I did have a sighting of a somewhat famous person.  The plane from Philadelphia flew to Reagan National in Arlington.  We then transferred to another plane which would go directly to Jackson.  Being a smaller plane, we had to get on a transport that would take us out to the plane away from the terminal.  While standing in this vehicle, I watched as others boarded.  One man has hair so perfectly coiffed, it looked like it might have cost $500 to style.  Then I noticed his glasses and the shape of his face and realized we are going to Mississippi.  I turned and asked someone else if he was from Mississippi  When he said he was, I asked "Is that Trent Lott(former MS senator and now lobbyist)?" It was.

Once off the plane, I went to obtain my rental car.  I usually reserve a compact, but I was given a choice of a Jeep or a Camaro.  I chose the Camaro, which may have been a mistake.  I found it too low slung for a person of 6'5" and looking out the side windows for traffic alongside was difficult because of the way the window goes down to a corner in the back with the roof and side blocking the view.  I also turned on Onstar trying to adjust the mirror and had to fiddle with the buttons quickly so that it went off before making a connection with the operator.  When I went to fill the car up before returning to the airport, I could not figure out how to open the gas lid.  In my Honda, there is an inside release, but in the Camaro, you push on the lid and it pops open.  But I did not know that and asked another driver, who called a friend who has a Camaro.  I also was not impressed with the gas mileage of this vehicle that growled any time I nudged the accelerator.

I easily found my motel and settled in for the night.  The next morning after I ate the motel self-serve breakfast, I went out for a walk and headed to a CVS for a few supplies.  A couple of the streets were part of the race course and I started to get a first-hand inkling of how hilly it was going to be.  I had read comments on Marathonguide about the hills and now I was discovering for myself.

Later I drove down to the expo and scouted out the parking for the next day since the race started right there. The expo was small, but I rarely shop at them anyway.  Soon I was outside again.  I walked back to my car and dropped off the bag and then headed down the street to the Iron Horse Grill that I had scouted out in advance on Google Maps.  It was close enough to the lunch hour, so I ordered one of the local craft beers as I studied the lunch menu and later had a second.  The restaurant was in a restored building that was part of an old meat-packing business.  The meat was loaded onto the railroad which ran right next to it, hence the "Iron Horse" name.  Several other runners came in and sat at the bar and we engaged in running conversation.  One guy remembered me the following week and made a Facebook friend request.  

After I ate, I had the afternoon to kill.  I wandered back past the expo and checked out the finishing area.  Right there was a planetarium so I went in and saw most of a show (as I dozed off some between the food, beer and reduced hours of sleep the previous night).  Later, I went into the Mississippi Museum of Art and spent an hour looking at the various periods of artistic output of Mississippians.  I found photographs from the depression era, particularly of black residents to be most interesting.

Later I went to a place for dinner called Burgers and Blues.  Apparently I was there too early as few people were there on a Friday evening.  A musician was just starting to set up when I was ready to leave.  But I wanted to retire early because I would be getting up at 3:30 A.M. in order to have some breakfast before the 7:00 A.M. race start.  Even though an all-day breakfast chain was right down the street from the motel, I had been to one of those (which was remain unnamed) in Huntsville and I found the food to be greasy.  I had done a previous search and found a Denny's about halfway back to the airport.  But it was worth the ride as that food was OK.  I also found the cheap price of gas at the truck shop and decided to stop back in the afternoon on my way to the airport.

Returning to the motel, I went through my preparation rituals and headed out to the car by 5:45 A.M. I wanted to make sure I got a spot in that parking lot.  When I pulled into it, I found it was already filling up.  I wanted to move closer to the front, which would mean a shorter walk from the finish.  As I moved forward in the unlit lot, which apparently used to have buildings in it and perhaps an alley, I drove off a curb in the middle of the lot and scraped the back bottom of the car.  Well, it passed inspection when I returned it, but I did not mention this incident.  Once parked, I sat, alternately running the engine and turning it off, listening to music and taking sips from a gatorade bottle.  By 6:15 the sky was beginning to lighten.  Jackson is in the Central Time Zone, but a lot farther east in that zone than Wilmington is in the Eastern Zone.

Around 6:40 I got out of the car and used a short wall to avoid a waiting line at the portajohns.  Then I gathered my fuel belt and gloves and off I went to join the gathering runners.  It was 26 degrees with a slight breeze.  Around 4,000 runners were starting together in the marathon, half marathon, quarter marathon and marathon relay.  I found the 4:20 pacer, figuring that with the hills, I would be fairly conservative and shoot for a time about five minutes slower than my two previous marathons.  

After the start we ran about a quarter mile before encountering the first uphill.  The first three miles were comprised of a small loop through Jackson State University, a name I remembered from around the time that four students were killed at Kent State.  At JSU two students were killed and twelve injured protesting the invasion of Cambodia, but since those students were black, the incident did not receive as much attention. This loop was moderately rolling hills.  As we headed back through the area where the race started, a woman running by asking if that was it for the hills.  I said no, they are just getting started.  OK boy, was I right.

As usual, the pacer, capable of running faster, had started out too fast.  I told him we did the third mile in 9:23. when we should be averaging 9:55.  As we encountered more hills, I noticed he took them more easily and pulled away.  I followed him for miles, but he was fading into he distance.  Then I lost sight of him.  Next thing I knew he was beside me as he had stopped at a portajohn.  He asked how I was as he went by me.  At this point there was no one with him and he was running on his own.  

By the time I had covered a half marathon, I was slightly under a ten minute pace, but already was feeling the effects of the endless hills.  These hills were not big, but they did not end.  Some, particularly in the latter stages, got pretty steep.  My strength was slowly sucked away.  After twenty miles, I had to take some walking breaks on the uphills.  I logged miles of 12, 13, 14 minutes.  Around mile 23, I saw a guy with white hair go past me, still chugging up the hills, while I was walking.  I had a sense that I had just lost a first place age-group finish.  Later I confirmed that I was correct.  At mile 20, he was four minutes behind me, but he beat me to the finish by almost seven minutes.  I looked up other race times of his.  He consistently ran times over 4:30, whereas I was usually ten or fifteen minutes faster than that.  But despite the hills, he ran his normal race, about 4:33. whereas I slowed down to 4:40.

The race course did take us through some nice quiet streets in neighborhoods at times.  One area in particular was really for those at the high end of the socio-economic scale.  There was one house in particular which had a massive wrought-iron fence around the property.  Another runner later commented that the price of the fence alone would probably cover the cost of two homes of ordinary people.

There was a pretty good selection of food at the finish, especially tomato soap.  I did not wait around as I wanted to get back to my motel which had granted me late checkout to clean up.  I was miffed that no results were available at the end.  I was told to download an App (which would not work on my inherited iPhone 3 anyway).

After I cleaned up and left the motel, I went back to the gas station near Denny's halfway to the airport.  For some reason, there was caution tape around the entire section of gas pumps.  Later I found another station with the price of 1.89.9, which at the time, was 25 cents cheaper than gas in Delaware.  This particular road also had a number of restaurants and after some searching, I found one that offered beer and food.  I got the strong impression that this racially integrated crowd at the restaurant was united in their interest in shoveling in the calories.

I sat at the bar, which was being tended by a young black woman.  On the other side she was tended to two black women, whose appetizers and salads alone would have been enough for me, but who also had a main course served as I was leaving.  Early on the woman tending the bar asked the two woman, "How's my booty, look?", apparently concerned she might be getting a little hefty.  Naturally, I had to make an independent judgement as I gazed for a moment at said subject.  One of the women on the other side looked up at me, grinned, and made some comments to the bartender.  She kept glancing at me.  Well, the question was asked!  But after that I did all I could NOT to study the area again.

Getting into the airport, I quickly got through security and to the terminal.  There had to be a half dozen more runners all leaving on the same plane, which was going to Charlotte, a hub for USAirways.  We spent time comparing our runs and looked up the results, which most had not yet seen. I confirmed I had finished second, after first previous firsts in my age-group in marathons since turning 70.

After Charlotte, on the leg back to Philadelphia, a guy from Bucks County, who had run  the marathon, sat with me and we spent the entire flight talking running.  He's a 50 stater also and he was giving me tips about flying and how to save money, which will be useful in the years to come.

Recommendation:  Well, I have not yet mentioned the medal.  It is a replica of a guitar, over nine inches long, chrome on blue plastic, with a pick hanging off of it, which says the 2015 date. I think the finishers in the shorter races got smaller guitar medals also.  Everyone who has seen it is impressed.

I also got a vest, a small harmonica, and a CD of blues music that I will not listen to again since it was mostly unknown lone male guitar players doing droning acoustic versions of songs that were rather plain.

If I had been there with my wife and we were staying longer, I would have hung around at the finish, listened to the band. and then gone to one of the local restaurants later which were part of the celebration of the running.  The course isn't for a PR;  the Space Coast Marathon would probably be flatter for a Mississippi course.  There is not much going on in Jackson.  It was good for me as an in-and-out, no tourism marathon.

The Fall of 2014 and Year-end Marathon Summary

This year I took a slight step back from the 15 marathons I did in 2013.  Because our daughter was pregnant with our only grandchild, it was not feasible to be traveling during the summer.  I did five marathons in the winter and spring and then took off doing them until October and got three more done in those last three months. 

I also used the summer to do some track work which eventually indicated that I might be able to run a sub-four-hour marathon and possibly break the existing Delaware men’s 70-74 state record of 3:57:04.  However, I had also run some 5Ks and my times in them told me that I was still not fast enough.

As it turned out, my fastest marathon of the year was the first one I did in January in Louisiana – 4:10:06.  It was definitely the flattest with the only “hills” being some elevation change in downtown Baton Rouge, including crossing a bridge twice. When I got to the fall marathons, I ran the first one on the Mo’ Cowbell Marathon course, which was advertised as fast and flat.  But the first half had some hills and the second half was on a gravelly path, which crested in the middle, making for uncomfortable running.  That time was 4:22:20. 

The second and third marathons, Savannah Rock and Roll(4:14:43)  and Rocket City(Huntsville, AL)(4:15:48) were flatter, but not as easy as Louisiana.  I had hoped to do better at Rocket City than RnR, but the cold, sunny weather at the start turned cloudy and breezy.  Although I hung in pretty well during that one, being only three second soff my RnR time at 23 miles, heading into the breeze at the end and a somewhat uphill finish slowed me up.

Not only did I do fewer marathons in 2014 than in 2013, I also only added four new states to my 50 states quest (as opposed to nine states last year).  Of course, I have gotten to most states east of the Mississippi River, so the trips will be getting longer and more costly.  Now in a mood to add more states while I am healthy and relatively fast for my age-group, I have already planned on doing marathons in these new states in 2015: Mississippi(January), Texas(March), Michigan(April) and Colorado(July).  I’ll also do one I’ve done before in Florida (A1A) in February and, of course, will continue my streak of doing all of the Delaware Marathons (May).  I am researching on races in other mid-west to far-west states.  By April Tennessee will be the only state left east of the Mississippi.  Currently I have done 28 states, but will be up to at least 32 in July.

I have concluded that I am probably able to run my best time on the flattest marathon course (like Erie) in about 4:04 at best and tougher conditions will add more time.  I doubt that speed work will do enough for me to drop over seven minutes to break the state record.  But I have found a marathon course which might do the trick.  The Revel Run Marathon course outside Denver drops close to 5,000 feet.  That’s an average four percent downgrade, but the first half is steeper than the second.  The race website states that with the downhill racing, the fact that one is starting at over 11,000 feet is not an issue as far as oxygen is concerned because one does not have to work nearly as hard aerobically.  Being long legged, my stride naturally lengthens when running downhill.  So it may not be any more taxing aerobically to run a nine minute pace downhill, which would be good enough to break the state record I mentioned.  However, what I will have to do is practice a lot of downhill running to get my legs, mainly quads, inured to the pounding of such running.  At least in my mind, it’s somewhat of a plan that I will pursue.  Even if I don’t break the record, the downhill running will be the way I need to train and will have to help.

I ought to mention that I won my age-group in each ofthe three marathons I have run since I turned 70.  I know I am only a somewhat local class runner, so why is this so?  Two factors: I am fortunate not to have been injured nor do I have any old leg issues from earlier in my life, unlike many other runners who played sports in school. Secondly, other men runners just seem to mostly disappear at age 70.  There are certainly few in the age-group in even mid-sized marathons. Perhaps a number of even experienced marathoners considerate it more prudent to simply run shorter events.  But I’m hooked on doing marathons. I’ll get beaten now and then. There are much faster runners around.  But I actually expect to be among the top three age-group finishers almost every time for a few years.  It’s hard not to be when there are less than a half-dozen in the group.

As far as recommending these last three marathons, here is my view:  Mo' Cowbell is certainly not as advertised, but if you want to do one in Missouri and are not looking for your best time, it is not far from the St. Louis Airport.  The theme of the Mo' Cowbell is from a SNL skit about the cowbell in Don't Fear the Reaper, which is played before the marathon - with cowbell accompaniment. Rock and Roll Savannah is well done logistically.  The course is fairly easy, but has boring highway sections.  I generally do not like RnR events because of the price, but Savannah is a nice place to visit for several days and flatter than many other parts of Georgia.  Of these three marathons, I liked Rocket City the best.  It is easy enough to get to on USAirways with a connecting flight in Charlotte.  The race is put on the local running club, so they understand runners a bit better.  It is not too expensive, and there is no  other race, like a half-marathon, so everyone is in it for the full distance.  It finishes with the runners going into an arena and running over a rug on an ice surface of a hockey rink (yes, in Alabama!).  It does take a few minutes to negotiate one's way up the steps into the stands and out to the hallway around the rink.  But there is plenty there for the recovering runner to eat and drink, starting with hot soup. Somehow the beer garden, which was promised, was not present.  Another great aspect of this event is that it has a deal with the aquatic center a block away where one can get a shower.  Unless one is staying at one of the two very close hotels, which I was not, this was a very convenient feature.  I simply left my motel room that morning, used the shower, and after the times were posted and I received a generic age-group medal on a ribbon, I went back to my car and right to the airport.

Summer and Fall of 2014: Training and Reality

It’s time to update my blog.  I’ve been reluctant because I said I was going after a state record and now the reality has set in that it may be more difficult than I imagined.  In fact I’ve concluded that going after that record entails more training that I wish to take on at the age of 70.

To recap, I was aware that the state record in the men’s 70-74 age group for the marathon is 3:57:04.  Last fall I ran 4:04:14 at the Erie Marathon.  I figured that if I incorporated speedwork into my running routine, I could get down to that time.  Through the summer, I gradually built up doing series of Yasso 800s until I got to complete ten in one session.  The idea, espoused by Bart Yasso of Runner’s World 20 years ago, is that if one can do a series of 800s in a specified number of minutes and seconds, one should be able to do a marathon in a similar number of hours and minutes.  I aimed to do the 800s in 3:56, hoping to complete a marathon in 3:56.

However, I left something out – the caveat is that one must also complete the other elements of training – enough miles, long runs and tempo runs.  Well, I always do long runs.  But I didn’t do tempo runs or enough mileage.  My mileage was still averaging less than 30 per week.  That may be enough to finish a marathon, even to finish fast enough for a 70-year-old to qualify for Boston.  But apparently it is not enough for a seventy year-old wishing to be able to run a sub-four-hour marathon.

As the fall approached, I ran a few 5Ks for speedwork after I had finished the track workouts.  The 5Ks were showing times in the 25 + range.  But race predictors said I should be running a 5K in about 24:30 in order to be fast and strong enough to run a 3:56 marathon.  I began to doubt I could do it.

Then I went to the Mo’ Cowbell Marathon outside St. Louis in early October, my doubts were confirmed.  The course for this event was not as flat or fast as I had hoped.  The second half was on a sloped gravel trail and I really slowed down, finishing in 4:22.  But early on I knew I wasn’t running fast enough.  My 2:03 first half was already at least five minutes too slow to assault the record.

After returning from Mo’ Cowbell, I began to distribute my door hangers for my political campaign for state representative.  During the next four weeks, I imagine I walked about 40 miles per week.  Somewhere in there I ran the Eracing the Blues 10K in the fastest time I had done in nine years.  But other than that, I was only running a couple times a week.  While I had already abandoned the idea of another attempt at the record in the next marathon, I thought it would be interesting to see how I did after a lot of walking, but a spare amount of running.

The Saturday after the election in early November, I flew to Savannah and ran the Rock ‘n’ Rock Marathon.  I finished in 4:14:43 almost eight minutes faster than the last one.  The course was easier, but not as easy as I had hoped.  I was happy enough with that time and, as a bonus, as the first male finisher over 70, beating the next guy by 27 minutes.  I think I’m going to have to get used to that as male runners over 70 seem to be a vanishing breed, compared to those 65-69.  Maybe injury and time is simply catching up.  But I count myself lucky that I feel healthy with no serious running issues.  Missouri and Georgia represented my 26^th and 27^th states in which I have run a marathon. I have busy planning on several more in the next few months – Alabama, Texas and Michigan.

As for the two I just ran: I would not recommend Mo Cowbell because it is not fast and flat as advertised, but it is easy to get to from the airport.  Savannah is a nice town and this race could be incorporated as part of a tourist visit.  I am not particularly fond to the Competitor group, which organizes the Rock and Roll events.

The 2014 Boston Marathon

The 2014 Boston Marathon

I have been hesitant to write about my experiences at the 2014 Boston Marathon.  It’s one to which I have been a dozen times before.  So I am not giving a review of a new road course, which is legendary for its early downhills and later series of hills in Newton.  I am also hesitant because of my views of the events of 2013 at the Boston Marathon.  I won’t go into them here because they do not befit an article about running.  But I will say that when I discovered the lengths that things were being taken in the name of “security”, I regretted that I had signed up and won’t do it again.

For a couple years I had slowed to the point that I could not qualify for Boston.  As I have previously written, I resolved to do something about it and began a walking program, in addition to my normal amount of running, at the beginning of 2013.  By the time of last year’s Boston Marathon, I had already lost most of the weight.  The next month I qualified for Boston at the Delaware Marathon by two minutes and one second.  I did not think that would be enough to get in with so many people wanting to run in 2014.  So I went to the Erie Marathon in early September as the registration for Boston was already starting.  There I ran five minutes and 46 seconds under the maximum of 4:10.  So I was assured of getting in and applied the next day.

It was not clear if there would be a Delaware Sports Club bus trip to Boston this year because Doug White had retired from doing it.  Fortunately Lee Kauffman, who would be running his 28^th straight Boston, decided to take over the duties with Pat Patnaude helping.  On early Saturday morning the runners met at ATI Physical Therapy on

Limestone Road to catch the bus.  Paul Schweizer graciously offered us parking and bought coffee for the gang.  He was not qualified and could not go this year because of the stricter (and, in my view, unnecessary) policy on bandit runners.

After posing for a group shot, we were off.  About quarter to three we pulled up to the Hancock Center on Boyleston Street in Boston to get our numbers and bags.  It was a mob scene because of the extra runners this year (about 35% larger field).  We had to go through security just to be able to get our numbers.  Then we went into the expo, but it was mobbed.  I stayed just to buy a 2014 Boston Marathon cap.  Then we left, went across the street and had a beer while waiting for the bus to come back to pick us up.

Out we went to Natick, which is only eight or nine miles from the start of the marathon, to check into the Crowne Plaza hotel.  After settling a bit, we hoofed it out to a restaurant, an English Brewpub I had found, for dinner.

With the marathon being on Monday, Patriot’s Day, which is a state holiday, we had Sunday to do as we please.  In the past we have taken the bus back into Boston and made our way around the city.  But this year the bus was only going into Boston once and returning to pick people up at three, which we felt would not give us much time.  So, instead, I persuaded Carolyn to walk with me over to the course in Natick.  It took about 35 minutes each way.  I showed her the little cobbler’s shop, which belonged to Henry Wilson, who was the 18^th Vice President of the United States.  Then we searched for a place, which served Sunday brunch that I had found online, but it was closed for Easter.  We walked back and while going through the shopping center that is next to the hotel, we found a Jewish place, Zaftig’s, which was open.  The food was great! 

Back at the hotel, we read for a while and I checked email and Facebook.  There I saw Lori Culnane post that she was at a steakhouse, watching the Flyers’ matinee game.  Carolyn and I hiked over to John Harvard’s brewpub and watched the second and third periods over a pitcher of suds.

After dinner (if this sounds like a continuous round of eating – it was!), I made my final preparations.  I got up a bit past four, dressed and headed out to the Dunkin’ Donuts next door for coffee and a bit to eat.  By 5:30 all the runners were on the bus for we had to get into Hopkinton before they closed the roads.  That was done and we parked at our usual spot at a gas station.  We had had to make preparations to bring extra throwaway clothes in case we were told to leave the bus and go to the athletes’ village, but it wasn’t necessary.  Then began the long wait for the actual race to start with the first wave not going off until 10:00 A.M. 

By 7:00 A.M. I had made my first call to Carolyn.  Non-runners were not allowed to come to Hopkinton – another unnecessary restriction in my view.  So I carried my phone to give her updates.  I mentioned the barriers being erected and the four busloads of soldiers to help maintain the barriers.  The time was spent eating bananas and granola bard, doing crossword puzzles and occasionally getting off the bus to use the station’s rest room, which was much better than having to use a portajohn.

Slowly the bus emptied as the first wave left and then the second.  With a half hour to go, I got my race shoes on.  It was warm enough that I had already decided against my gloves. 

I had to walk a block back from the bus in order to go around a barrier to get toward the corrals.  After a several minute walk, I was ten feet from where I started, but on the other side of the barrier.  Then I had to submit to having a wand passed over my body.  I guess the authorities had decided that any runner could be a potential terrorist, willing to carry a bomb.  Like I said, I have my doubts about returning.  In fact I wore a sign on my back, a quote from George Carlin talking about security and how it is used to f**k with you.  I got a few laughs with people agreeing and no negative feedback.

Once in my corral, standing among others with similar numbers, who should have qualified in the low four hour range, I saw four guys who appeared to be in their early thirties and burlier than the other runner.  I know there are an organization through which  police can get into the race, so I figured they must have seeded them throughout the corrals, according to their actual speed, not a required qualifying time.

Once our wave started, it was a fairly quick walk to the starting line and the running got to about the right pace very early.  I was conservative in those first miles, essentially race-walking down the hills, in order to spare my quads.  Before I even got to the first water station at two miles, I had already rolled up my long sleeve tech shirt as close to my shoulder as I could in order to have as much skin exposed as possible.  I resolved to take fluids every miles, each time a slug of Gatorade and a bit more of water as a chaser. 

Bud Bettler, a former resident of Delaware, who retired to Florida, started near me. But even though he said he intended to take close to five hours, he was off down the hill and I lost sight of him. By mile one, I saw him running with a woman, who was also on our bus.  But it took me four miles to catch up. I was not about to inflict any damage to my quads.

The miles clicked off.  The crowds seemed to be bigger than ever.  In certain wide-open areas and in passing through municipalities, the sun’s rays were warming me.  I continued to hydrate.  As is the usual case, the young women at Wellesley were as loud as ever and it seemed that every fourth or fifth one had a sign, which said she would kiss a runner – something I was never tempted to do.  But among them I saw another person - a first for this crowd.  It was a guy with a sign, which said, “I’m queer!  I’ll give you a kiss!”  I do not know who took him up on the offer.

I passed the half-marathon point in 2:07:26.  I thought running under 4:25 was possible.  I called Carolyn, which I had also done at 10K.  She had told me that Meb had won the race, an American for the first time since 1985 won.  He is 38, which is usually considered beyond the peak marathoning years.  Great for him!

Then the Newton Hills started, actually with a pass over I-95 after crossing the low point at Newton Falls.  Each hill takes a little more resolve out of the body.  At one point a woman near me heard my heavier breathing going up the hill and wondered if I was all right.  I went on by her, not having breath to form words at that point.  Cresting the next hill at mile 18, I was again breathing hard when I hit the water stop.  I grabbed the Gatorade and threw it down my throat, but forgot to stop breathing.  It went down my windpipe.  I spit it out as best I could, but spent the next mile coughing, trying to clear the stuff out. 

At the base of Heartbreak Hill, I found the Hashers.  I took a slug of warm beer and yelled “On, On!”, before starting my jogging trudge up the hill.  Just like all the other times I’ve run Boston, once cresting Heartbreak, it doesn’t get easier going downhill. Despite my caution, I still had quad pain.  But I took it the best I could.

Near Cleveland Circle, about mile 22 or 23, I passed Anne Hessel, another runner from the bus, who had started in the same corral that I was in.  She seemed pretty flushed and in pain.  I asked her if she was all right and she replied that she would get there somehow.  It turns out she was running with a bloodied toenail.

More misery watching the Citgo sign come into view, which would signify one mile to go when I got there.  Then down through an underpass and back up.  Then turning on to Hereford.  Why were four people walking abreast on the left side of the road where we all wanted to run?  On to Boyleston, with the slight downhill allowing me just a tad more speed.  At mile 26, I had 4:27:42 on my watch.  It was all I could do to do that last two tenths of a mile in 2:17 to finish in 4:29:59. 

After finishing I pulled out my phone and called Carolyn, who was helping to direct runners from our bus to get to the bus from the family greeting area. I told her I’d be there in several minutes.  As I closed my phone, an official up on a lifeguard stand, who was looking at me, got on a bullhorn and said “No using cellphones in the finishing area!”  After he paused, he then said he was just kidding.  I was not amused and was reminded of what George Carlin said that I had on the back of my shirt.

As I started make to my way down the street, I saw Bob Hempton, another runner from the bus, who is in my age group, walking toward me.  I got his attention.  He was a bit disoriented and wondered where was the bus.  I told him to stick with me.  Despite being a better runner than me, he only finished a minute and a half in front of me.  It turns out he had developed a blister and had to keep retying his shoe.  He also stopped to say a prayer near the site of the bombing last year.  He told me that when he passed me after one of his stops he did not want to let me know he was there lest I pick up the pace (fat chance of that happening!).  Later I told him he should have said a longer prayer to give me a better chance to beat him!

I got to the bus, changed out of my wet shirt and proceeded to down a few beers and eat some chips.  The bus was three blocks from the family greeting area.  When I needed to relieve myself, I realized that no portajohns had been placed outside of the official marathon areas and I had to walk back to the greeting area to use one.  Eventually, Doug White and Bill Funk finished. Once they got to the bus, we took off for the hotel.  A shower felt great.  I was too tired to go out, so we ate at the restaurant in the hotel.

The next morning the group gathered in front of the bus for another photo op and it was off to Delaware.  Everyone seemed pretty satisfied, despite the times, which disappointed most people.  The sun just got to everyone, more so for the older, slower people who started later and dealt with more warmth.

Once home, I checked the race results and did some comparisons of my performance to others in my 65-68 year age group.  Of the 537 men in the group who finished, I was number 269, placing me exactly mid-pack.  I went through the results and checked to see all who were behind me at the half-marathon point, who finished ahead of me and all who were ahead, who finished behind me.  There were six behind who finished ahead, but there were 113 who were ahead who finished behind.  Another way of looking at this group was to find all who had higher numbers, meaning they qualified with a slower time than I achieved, who finished ahead of me and all who had a lower number, meaning they had faster qualifying times, who finished behind me.  This was slightly more balanced as 33 slower qualifiers (plus five charity runners, who did not qualify) finished ahead of me.  I finished ahead of 143 faster qualifiers. 

What these numbers tell me is two things.  I was familiar with the course and knew how much the early hills would take out of me if I ran down them too fast. So I probably saved myself for later better than some of the others. Secondly, I was aware that a sunny, dry day, starting in the upper 50s, but raising ten degrees, would cause sweating that people would not realize was happening.  I was careful to continue to hydrate at every mile, while others did not do enough early on.  The worst example in my age group was a man who ran the first half in 1:54, thirteen minutes faster than I did, but who did not finish until 6:48, meaning he spent close to five hours on the second half of the course.  It took him two hours and a quarter to complete one of the late 5K segments, which indicates to me that he probably stayed a long time in a medical tent trying to re-hydrate before continuing.  I guess I’ve learned a few things after 112 marathons.

Two Rivers Marathon

I was quite disappointed with this event.  In fact I don't really wish to write it up.  Instead, I've copied the comments I posted about it on Marathonguide.com.

Having read the previous year's comments, I can say that while the director is responsive to email, and makes promises to fix things, he doesn't.

1. The course is supposed to be certified, but the finish area in a park was frozen over, which is no excuse since it has been that way for weeks and they could have gotten their own ice melt.  So it finished a block away, not on the certified course.

2. So, at least you would expect an accurate course.  Instead, the 1/2 marathon was 3/4 of a mile short and the marathon was 9/10 of a mile short.  They blamed the problem on their signs, put out the day  before, being stolen.  But a certified course should have the miles painted on the road and they should have had that for reference to place signs. I ended up walking around in order to accumulate 26.2 miles on my GPS.

3. Despite the promises, the lack of hydration was as bad as the first year.  A friend who was walking the half, had only one place to hydrate half-way through.  Sometimes a station was out of fluids, sometimes cups.  Very little Gatorade on the course.

4. No hot food as promised at the end.  No water by the time I finished.

5. No place to change (other than your car), even though it finished at the fire station that was being benefited.

6. For some reason there were four races, marathon, half, 10K and 5K and the next day they were all going on again.  It would be better to focus on one day, less races and get it right.

I would not run any race directed by this race director ever again.  He obviously disrespects runners, just going through the motions to make money.

A note on the course:  It's pretty.  The early downhill miles are tough on the quads  I was conservative, race walking down the hills (and also up some).  That helped my to run fairly strongly to the turn-around, which is supposed to be about 19 miles.  The section along the Lackawaxen River is slightly uphill going out and downhill coming back.  When I turned around and started downhill, I could feel it in my quads.  I went slower each mile.  At 24 miles (by my GPS), knowing that the course was off, I walked to the finish.  There was no point in suffering through to the finish of a poorly measured "marathon".