Grand Rapids Marathon Race Report (Long)

Grand Rapids Marathon – October 18, 2009

Race day is a combination of those things you can control, those you can’t and then the things in between. Weather being the biggest item in the second group, I was very happy to see the high temperature for the day was due to be 50, there was no rain in the forecast, and the wind was only slight. It was cold at the start line but you can’t ask for much better weather. For the things I could control I followed my normal pre-race routine of pasta the night before, eating only a little bit 2-3 hours before race time, and not eating or drinking anything beginning at one hour to go.

One of the tricky things was trying to time when to get to the start line being unfamiliar with the race and the situation at the start line. Of course you want to make the final porta potty stop as late as possible within reason. As it turned out I miscalculated on the length of the lines. So when I got to the back of the starting corral (right behind the 5:30 pace group) the starting gun went off… oops. So I went off to the side and walked through as many people as I could on my way to the start line (figuring it would be safer to pass them now than when we started running). My original plan was to get in behind the “Pi group” (3:14 pace) and let them slowly move away from me during the race. As it turns out I never even saw this group except at turnarounds. So, for my sin of poor bathroom planning I got to spend the first mile and a half dodging, weaving and passing. (Not easy but nowhere near as bad as Chicago or another big marathon would have been.) Once I got past the large 4 hour pace group things opened up nicely.

OK, time to get locked in on a pace. I settled into a nice 7:20 pace and let things go. I ditched my outer layer at mile 4 and ran the rest of the race in short sleeves and a vest. The first thing I had planned to do but didn’t was to take a gu packet every 5 miles (5, 10, 15, 20). At 5, it just didn’t seem right so I waited. I ended up taking my first packet around mile 8. I had put 2 packets in the back pocket on my shorts but my hands were so numb (despite 2 layers of gloves) that I had a very hard time getting them out of my pocket and getting the pocket re-zipped. At one point my small emergency pack (extra Band-Aids, Advil, and tissues) fell out of my pocket and I had to circle back to retrieve it. So, what worked fine on a 70 degree day on a training run didn’t work so well with numb hands, gloves, and frayed nerves. Anyway, I continued on and really felt pretty good through mile 10. I even kept my promise and walked through a couple of water stations (although not for very long). I started to think about speeding up but I decided I would just cruise along at this pace and if I felt good I would “step it up” between 15 and 20. Good decision in retrospect I think.

There was no ½ marker at 13.1 so I didn’t have the chance to see how I was doing at that point. I didn’t want to know anyway. I had my watch set so that all I was looking at was my one-mile lap settings. I just kept trying to keep each lap slightly under 7:30 figuring that if I did that, the totals would take care of themselves. I also was starting to feel some aches and pains like the top of my right foot (I even stopped to adjust my shoe because I thought something must be rubbing) right Achilles, left hip; the usual culprits. Took second gu packet (3 miles later than planned).

The run gets a little lonely in the middle. You go a long way without seeing anyone but other runners which can be a little discouraging. As I was heading towards the turnaround at 17 I first saw the leaders and then I saw the 3 hour pace group coming back towards me. The three hour pace group all had that look about them. “Those dudes are runners” I thought.
About this time I started to think about the two “halves” of the race. The first half is where you do things that will allow you to be strong later on. The second half is where you don’t worry about those things because it’s now the time you were saving it for. I’m not sure where that is but I think it’s around 17 or 18. Anything you do before then (taking walk breaks, eating enough, staying hydrated) should pay off in what happens after that. Conversely (my theory went at the time), there’s no use walking through water stations and eating and (over) hydrating late in the race because by the time you feel the effects, you will (hopefully) be done. Such was my theory as I took the last gu packet at mile 18 and decided not to walk through anymore water stations if I could avoid it.

The highlight of the course for me was the turnaround near 17. There is an area about a quarter of a mile long near the turn around where people can watch. There were some nice crowds including my wife and kids with signs and everything. It was awesome. A friend jumped in with me and ran with me for about half a mile as I prepared to head back into the loneliness of the forest. It was nice to have someone to talk to. I was definitely starting to tire but did not have any significant “issues” yet. That was about to change.

As I headed back into the forest my left leg started to lock up bad. The trail has a slight peak in the middle which I had not noticed on the way out but now my left leg felt like it was taking all the pounding. I tried running on the middle stripe but the pavement was bad there and there were a lot of people coming at me so I thought better of it. “Oh no” I thought. “It’s way too early for this to start. You can work through this for a mile but not for 7 miles.” I looked at my watch and saw my lap slowing down as I struggled to “unlock” whatever was going on. “Get me off this pavement” I thought. Not surprisingly these two miles (19 and 20) were among my slowest. And then… ever so slowly, it started to release a bit. Not a lot, but enough where I could stride a little bit more normally. I had lost a little bit of time but I hadn’t crashed.

Normally miles 22 and 23 are the worst miles for me in a marathon. You are not close enough to be “almost there” but you certainly are feeling all the stress and strain from the day. My mental image is always of that horrible stretch in Chicago where you are still heading south (away from the finish), with almost no spectators, all the way to 35th street. I hate it. Maybe it was the tree-lined trail but somehow I never felt that same despair mentally this time. Essentially from 22 on it was a slow deterioration but not a melt down. My stride got worse, my legs hurt more, and I also started to (for the first time) really breathe heavily. I didn’t worry too much about it because I was breathing like it was a 5K and hey, I only had 5K to go so I figured that would be OK.

I played all the games with myself; saying that 24 was the finish line; trying to catch “one more person”; thinking about something else, etc. As I headed past Mile 25 I heard a clock tower at GVSU chime (11:15). “Ok, that means if the race started on time I’m around 3:15 minus how long it took me to get to the start line.” For the first time all day I started trying to figure out what my time was. I really had no clue though.

I finished and after a few seconds I finally dared look at my watch. 3:16:04. Deduct a couple seconds because I forgot to stop it right away and I was around 3:16. I couldn’t have been happier.

After I got my medal and was sipping some Gatorade, I completely locked up. I sat down in a chair and just curled up while my legs did whatever it was they were doing. The real bad stuff only lasted five or ten minutes and then I could at least walk somewhat normally again but it was painful and completely debilitating. If that had happened during the race, I realized, I would have had to stop and walk.

My family looked a little worried as they saw me in the chair but I knew it would pass, and it did. (By the middle of the week I should be able to go down stairs without a handrail). :-)

There are just so many things that can go wrong during a marathon and I realized that except for some very small stuff, none of them had. That is a blessing and something over which I have no control and can take no pride, I am just very thankful. That was a gift.

As I always pray at the start line, the blessing is being there, everything else is gravy.

Epilogue - Other lessons learned
Except for some slight “wardrobe malfunctions”, pretty much everything went as well as could be expected. My pace, which felt easy for 10 miles was probably correct based on the fact that I had nothing left at the end and I was breathing like my body was under significant stress.

I’m still not sure I’ve “mastered” the art and science of pre-race and race nutrition. I tend to eat less because my greatest fear is nausea/intestinal distress but I’m starting to think that proper (and increased) calorie intake may be part of the answer to preventing late race breakdowns.

I’m not sure what works for other people but I think what works best for me is to try and run an absolutely even race (no significant positive or negative split) but expect a slight deterioration in the last few miles and a corresponding positive split. Maybe someday I’ll adopt a different strategy but I can’t imagine going out easier than I did and trying to make that up late in the race. Maybe that’s an experiment to try sometime.

The course was very well run and stocked, however it is nothing like a big city marathon. You spend long periods by yourself as you run through very scenic (but sparsely populated) areas.