Race Report: Marine Corp Marathon
Having been issued a lightweight Don Joy knee brace from my new found friend, Mr. Orthopedic Surgeon, I prepared myself for an interesting day in, and around, our Nations Capitol for the 33rd running of the Marine Corp Marathon (MCM).
Having run this race twice previously I had a good handle on the pre-race logistics. Usually a 30,000 registrant race, it’s always crowded. Despite some knee issues and coming off an Ironman distance Ultra-triathlon four weeks earlier, I decided to join the Clif bar pace group for a 3:50 finish time (See October issue of ‘Runners World’ article on the Clif Bar Pace Team and "Starr" the pace leader who was leading our group this day).
Crossing the start line I was feeling confident, strong, and self-assured of a PR - just stay close to the cute gal with the balloons on a stick (Starr). Easy enough.
Miles 1-3: You need to be smart here as this is mostly uphill and its easy to go out to hard with early race excitement. The pace group really helped here. I fell a bit behind the pace group-at-large by allowing surrounding runners to jockey for positions, but the group was a mere 20-25 yards out in front of me.
Miles 4-7: On pace, warmed-up, and getting into a nice rhythm. I stopped once to quickly re-adjust my now seemingly bulky and slipping knee brace. This stop and the first water/aid station put me approximately 30sec behind the pace group. But, at mile 7 my watch reads that I'm 45 seconds above a 3:50 finish pace. I feel really good despite the awkwardness of the brace.
Miles 8-13.1: I caught back up with the pace group and even went out ahead a bit to compensate for the aid stations, which I hit for water, take my Hammer Nutrition e-caps and HEED. I felt almost jubilant crossing the half at 1:54 - dead on for a 3:50 finish or better.
Miles 13.2-18: As if on cue after crossing the halfway point my right knee decided it had had enough punishment and was very quickly beginning to tell me so with pain. Acute pain. 'Man up' I said to myself. ‘I’m halfway there - don't slow down now!'. By mile 16 the acute pain was accompanied by an overall stiffness and swelling that engulfed my entire knee area. I was beginning to slow down. I lost sight of the balloons. I was no longer with the pace group and having a huge mental conversation with myself. I was having to re-evaluate my day’s goals and coping with the painfulness of not just the knee, but of possible failure. My first DNF? I had to pull back on the reins. I needed to get a sense of the situation in order to gauge how to proceed. I went to the curb and stopped. No longer running brought full senses to bear. I was in trouble. I could barely get my leg to bend to a 45 degree angle. To add insult to injury - I started too severely cramp-up at the inner thighs and calves. I needed to keep moving. I came to grips with the reality of the situation - no PR today.
Miles 19-26: Pure hell. I was reduced to a run/walk gait that would have made Dick Cheney look like a Kenyan next to me. I heard a spectator, or two, give the sympathetic "Aw, man" or "That guy looks in bad shape" However, no matter what, I was resolved to cross the finish line. It was also when I heard a female spectator’s voice say "it’s alright, honey…” Thankfully she wasn't speaking to me; but to a young woman whom I just passed. Looking over my shoulder, I saw her walking and crying rather heavily. Sobbing, in fact. My heart went out too her. I stopped and allowed her to catch up beside me. "C'mon" I said with a slight grin "If I can...so can you" which caused her to spontaneously blurt out a laugh before returning to a few sobs. Quietly, I said "Let's go" she nodded and together we jogged a bit and walked a bit and talked a bit, then jogged some more and I just continued to speak positive words of encouragement to her. At a certain point, I had no choice but to slowly walk/hobble with one leg locked straight. Between breaths, my new found young running mate said "Those were the toughest miles ever in my life. You're what I needed. I think I'm going to run it in from here". With that, and a brilliant smile, she was off ahead of me. I sent her off with a hearty "Go Get'em!” I wasn't the only one having a lousy day today; but it just felt right helping a fellow runner with it all. With just under two miles to go, I calculated if I stepped it up I just might get in under five hours. That was my sole purpose from this point. I WILL finish this S.O.B. under 5 hours - no matter what. My glorious new running form had me hurting in places I wasn't aware I had. Everything was cramping up, including my biceps (which was a first).
Mile 26.2: The road sides were now thick with encouraging spectators, droning on “You’re almost there!!” With a last huge (not to mention demonic) uphill push, I heard the announcer rallying the racers and all the families, freinds, and fans watching. I could finally see the finish line. No joyous arms overhead on this day. For the first time, I simply ambled across the line. 4:58:32
With a space blanket and new hardware around my neck (gratefully awarded to me by a Marine Lt) I slowly shuffled through the various chutes for water, food, and aid. I was a wreck and somehow a better person for it.
Since the race, analysis of the MRI/x-ray shows that I'm a prime candidate for a ACL replacement in my right knee. Oh joy.
Marine Corp Marathon. I'll beat you next year, just you wait and see.