On October 23, I ran the Monkey Marathon in Maineville, OH. This is a relatively small race that starts and finishes at the Monkey Bar & Grille. I never heard of this race before this year. Deb saw it on a running website and thought it sounded like a fun race. She sometimes suggests races based on their names.
Maineville is just
outside of Cincinnati. Deb and I both
like Cincinnati-style chili, so this race was an excuse to visit Cincinnati again.
We flew into the Cincinnati/northern
Kentucky airport on Friday, arriving in the early afternoon. The airport is 15 miles southwest of Cincinnati,
but our hotel was in Mason, which is 25 miles northeast of Cincinnati. Before driving to our hotel, we decided to make
a lunch stop near the airport. We opted
for Gold Star Chili, which is one of the two major Cincinnati-style chili fast
food chains. There are locations all
over, so we stopped at the first one along our route.
After lunch, we continued
to our hotel. It was raining all
afternoon, so we didn’t do any sightseeing.
Packet pickup was at the Monkey Bar & Grille, which gave us a chance
to preview the drive and the parking. We
had dinner at a pizzeria that was near our hotel.
The race was on
Saturday. The Monkey Bar & Grille
has limited parking, so we were asked to use other small parking lots that were
close, or to park alongside the highway.
Deb and I arrived about an hour early, so we could find a parking spot
that was close. I made a couple bathroom
stops, but mostly waited in the car, so I wouldn’t get too cold.
The temperature at the
start was 48 degrees. It would
eventually warm into the 50s, but I wore tights to keep my legs from getting
cold in the early miles.
The course was out-and-back
on a paved trail that follows the Little Miami River. Most of the time, the course was surrounded by
trees. At times, we had views of the
river.
I started out race-walking,
and I had every intention of walking the entire race. I went so far as to wear a T-shirt that drew
attention to the fact that I was walking.
Twelve days ago, I walked
the Boston Marathon with an average pace of 11:01. My goal for this race was to see if I could
bring my average pace under 11 minutes per mile. I wasn’t aiming to be much faster. I just wanted incremental improvement.
In Boston, I never felt
like I got into a good rhythm. The early
miles of that race were downhill, and walking downhill felt awkward. This race had a nice flat course. From the moment I started, I felt like I got
into a smooth efficient rhythm. I had a
nice rapid cadence.
I wondered if I was
starting too fast. The pace felt a
little bit tiring. Then
I remembered that I often think I’m starting too fast when I’m training, and
then I find out that my first mile was 20-30 seconds slower than I thought. For that reason, I decided to keep up the
same effort until I got my one-mile split.
My first mile took
10:42. That was faster than I intended. In the second mile, I eased up a bit. That mile took 11:04, which was much closer
to my target pace.
Everyone in front of me
was running. The faster runners left me
behind quickly. The slower runners were pulling
away more gradually. By the end of the
second mile, I could only see three runners on the trail in front of me. Everyone else was too far ahead.
I didn’t know how many
people were behind me. I never looked
back to see. I assumed there were people
who were walking or doing a run/walk mix, but I felt like I was at the back of
the pack.
There were aid stations
every two miles. As I reached the first
one, I saw they had trash cans a good distance past the tables. I was able to grab a cup of Gatorade and
drink it before reaching the first trash can.
That enabled me to drink without slowing down too much.
My second mile was just a
little slower than my target pace, so I tried to speed up a bit in the third
mile. That’s when I started to notice
how poor the traction was.
The trail was in good
shape, but the surface had eroded just enough to expose the tiny rocks embedded
in the pavement. The exposed surface of
the rocks was worn smooth. It rained
during the night, and the trail was still wet.
The smooth rocks in the trail made the surface extremely slippery when
it was wet.
As I tried to pick up my pace,
I could feel my shoes slipping against the pavement. I put much more effort into my third mile,
but I only sped up by two seconds.
This is where things
started to go awry. As a runner, I’ve generally
been able to gauge whether my pace was sustianable by how I felt. As a race-walker, I find it much tougher to
do that. There’s no such thing as an
easy pace. Just maintaining reasonably
efficient mechanics takes a lot of effort.
Going faster obviously takes more effort, but I haven’t developed any
sense of how hard I can work before the effort is unsustainable. Instead, I estimate what pace should be
sustainable based on recent races and training workouts.
I was pacing myself
according to GPS, but I started to notice that my watch consistently recorded a
split a before I reached the mile marker.
That’s not unusual, but the difference between my watch and the mile markers
was growing with each mile. When I
reached the four-mile sign, I looked at my watch. It was already reading 4.08 miles. According to my watch, I was keeping my pace
pretty close to 11 minutes per mile, but that was based on a GPS measurement
that was off by enough to make a difference.
If the mile markers were accurate, my actual pace was several seconds
slower.
When I reached another
aid station, I tried to grab a cup from the table, but I couldn’t get a grip on
it. I think it’s because I was wearing
gloves. I didn’t end up drinking at that
aid station. I had to wait for the next
one. That’s when I decided to take my gloves
off. Without my gloves, my hands felt a
little bit cold. I assumed they would
warm up later in the race, but they never did.
When I reached the
five-mile sign, I looked at my watch again.
My time was 55:53, which is an average of about 11:11 per mile. That was much slower than my target pace.
I tried to pick up my
pace but the next two miles were no faster.
I became even more conscious of the lack of traction on the wet trail
surface. It seemed the more I tried to
speed up, the more I felt my shoes slipping each time I made contact with the pavement. I wasn’t getting any faster. I was just working harder. I was wearing my self out, with nothing to
show for it.
About halfway though the
sixth mile, I saw a runner heading in the opposite direction. I was about a mile from the turnaround point
of the half marathon, so I assumed he was already on his way back. Soon, I saw two other runners on their way
back. Then I didn’t see any more.
The marathon started at
8:00, but the half marathon wasn’t scheduled to start until 9:30. That made me wonder. Were these three runners signed up for the
half marathon? If so, they started too
early. If they were signed up for the marathon,
they turned around too soon. Either way,
it made me wonder if they would get official half marathon times.
As I got closer to the
half marathon turnaround, I caught up to two runners who had been just ahead of
me for a long time. As I passed them, I
knew for the first time that I wasn’t the last person on the course. Now I set my attention on the only other
runner who I could still see. I tried to
pick up my pace just enough to keep from falling further behind. I knew I wouldn’t gain any ground. I just wanted to keep her in sight, so I
wouldn’t feel like I was on the trail by myself.
After about seven miles,
I noticed a difference in the pavement.
This section of the trail had been paved more recently. As a result, the rocks in the pavement weren’t
exposed. The trail was still wet, but
the traction was better. That was helpful,
but the help came a little too late.
In my next mile, I slowed
to 11:21. The pavement was no longer the
problem. I was already running out of
gas. I had worked so hard to try to
speed up when I had poor traction that I wore myself out. It makes me wonder how fast I would’ve been
going if I had been on dry pavement.
Maybe I was trying to walk a marathon at a pace that was only sustainable
for 10K.
At this point, I
abandoned my goal of averaging 11 minutes per mile. I realized now that I would be hard-pressed
just to break five hours. That became my
new goal.
Just before the nine-mile
mark, I went through a small town. One
of the aid stations was right in the middle of this town. After drinking some Gatorade, I noticed the
back side of the sign that would mark 17 miles when I was on my way back. I remembered reading in our pre-race instructions
that there were public bathrooms at 9 and 17 miles. I didn’t need to stop, but I made a mental
note for when I came back through here.
When I got to 10 miles, I
started to see runners coming back from the turnaround. At first, they were spaced pretty far
apart. Then they became before frequent. By the time I reach 11 miles, I had already
counted 16 runners who were on their way back.
I was still trying to keep
pace with the runner ahead of me. I was
slowing down. Despite my best efforts,
all of my mile splits were now in the 11:20s.
I thought she would get too far ahead for me to see her, but then I saw
her take a brief walking break. That
allowed me to close the gap a little. When
she resumed running, she started to pull away again.
Every so often, she took
another short walking break. My pace had
slowed down, but her walking breaks were allowing me to stay about the same
distance behind her.
This went on for a mile
or two. Then she started doing more
walking, and I began to get closer. I
eventually passed her. Then another
runner came into sight.
At the halfway mark, I
was on pace to break five hours, but only if I didn’t slow down. For several miles, my pace was in the
11:20s. I needed to keep that up the
rest of the way, but it was getting more difficult. Then in mile 14, I slowed to 11:37.
About this time, I passed
another runner who had started walking.
Now there was nobody in sight. By
now, I had seen about four runners who were still on their way out. Soon, I no longer saw any other runners going
the other way. There was nobody on the
trail for as far as I could see.
That didn’t make it any
easier for me to maintain my pace. In
the 15th mile, I worked hard to get back on a five-hour pace. It worked.
I sped up to 11:15. I tried to
keep up that same pace in the next mile, but I couldn’t. I slowed to 11:39. Now the handwriting was on the wall. I knew I wouldn’t get back on the pace I needed
to break five hours. The remaining miles
would all be slow.
After the race started, Deb
went back to the hotel. She was going to
come back to the Monkey Bar & Grille to see me finish. My friend Sandy was also going to be there.
I told Deb and Sandy that
I would finish sometime between 12:45 and 1:00.
That corresponded to a finish time between 4:45 and 5:00. Finishing in 4:45 was optimistic, but I had
been confident I would break 5:00. Now I
wondered how much slower I might be.
I came back into the town
I had passed through earlier. When I reached
the 17-mile sign, I was dismayed. I
slowed to 11:59 in that mile. I still
had more than nine miles to go, and I was slowing down noticeably from one mile
to the next. If that trend continued, I
might take 10 or 15 minutes longer than I told Deb.
Deb worries about
me. I didn’t know how she would react of
it got to be long past 1:00 and I was still nowhere in sight. If I came to this race alone, I would’ve just
accepted that this would be a long slow effort.
I was concerned, because I knew Deb would be concerned.
At the aid station, a
young boy saw me race-walking and asked me if I was walking that fast the whole
way. I said, “yes.” Then he asked, “Why?” I didn’t have a good answer. I didn’t want to take the time to explain
that I was recovering from a knee injury and race-walking was a way I could
stay in shape and compete in marathons until my knee was healthy.
I realized that I also
didn’t have a good answer for myself. Why
not just run the rest of the way? If my
running pace was even a minute or two faster than my walking pace, I would
easily break five hours. Then Deb wouldn’t
have to worry about me.
I came into this race with
a goal of walking faster than I did in my last race. That wasn’t going to happen. I had a secondary goal of breaking five
hours. That also wasn’t going to
happen. At this point, I only had 9.2
miles to go. I’ve run as far as seven
miles recently. I do that about once a week. I was already planning to try running a marathon
in two weeks. Was 9.2 miles of running really
too much at this point?
I decided to start
running, yet I continued to walk. I
found it hard to commit myself to running.
The moment I took my first running stride, this would cease to be a
walking effort, and it would become a run/walk effort. My overall pace would improve, but instead of
being a relatively fast walking pace, it would be a relatively slow running
pace.
After hesitating for
several seconds, I finally started running.
At first, I regretted that decision.
I didn’t have fresh legs. As I
started running, my legs felt like cement.
At first, it didn’t seem like my running pace was that much faster than
my walking pace.
I continued to put effort
into running. It took a few minutes, but
my legs began to loosen up. I knew my
running pace was now faster than my walking pace, but I didn’t know how much
faster. I haven’t done much running this
year, and when I do run, the pace is never faster than 9:30, even over short
distances.
I eventually reached the
18-mile sign. I never noticed when my
watch recorded a split for that mile. By
now, my watch already read 18.22 miles. I
had to wait another mile to find out my running pace.
I couldn’t make it
through the next mile without making a bathroom stop. When I got to 19, I saw that I ran that mile
in 9:13, even with the bathroom stop.
I couldn’t keep up that
pace the whole way, but I kept all of my remaining mile times between 9:25 and
9:50. That was fast enough. Instead of finishing the race well after
1:00, I was going to finish before 12:45.
In the late miles, I
regretted not having a phone or camera with me.
I was enjoying good views of the Little Miami River. It would’ve been nice to take a few pictures.
I started to pass people. Some were running, while other were walking. The ones who were running were probably doing
the marathon. I caught up to them only
because I was now running. The ones who were
walking were probably the last few people in the half marathon.
In the last few miles, it
took more effort to sustain the same running pace. Still, it felt much easier than race-walking
did earlier.
As I approached the
finish line, I saw Deb and Sandy waiting for me. Sandy noticed that I was running. I had to wait until I finished before I could
explain what happened.
I finished in
4:43:39. It’s hard to know how much time
I saved by running, because I don’t know how much slower my walking pace would’ve
been by the end. I may have shaved as
much as 30 minutes off my time by running the last nine miles.
The finisher medal has
the logo of Monkey Bar & Grille.
Post-race snacks included
bananas. That seemed appropriate, so I
had one.
Many of the runners remained
after the race for post-race drinks on the patio. I had a Monkey Light, which also seemed
appropriate.
I have mixed feelings
about my result in this race. As a
race-walking effort, it was a disaster.
I missed my goals by a wide margin, and I eventually abandoned walking altogether. As a run/walk effort, it was encouraging. It’s the farthest I’ve run in months, and my
knee didn’t bother me. I was pleased
with my running pace. While it’s much
slower than I run when I’m in peak shape, it’s faster than I would’ve expected
to run under the circumstances. The
fatigue that was causing my walking pace to implode didn’t seem to have the same
effect on my running.
While we were having
post-race beers, Sandy told us about a brewery that’s right next to the
course. It’s in one of the buildings of
the historic Peter Cartridge Factory in Kings Mill. Besides beer, they also serve food, so we went
there for a late lunch and beer flights.
When we got back to the
hotel, I was still wearing my sweaty race clothes. By the time I got cleaned up and changed into
dry clothes, it was almost 5:00. Neither
one of us was ready for dinner yet, but Deb and I eventually went to Skyline Chili. Skyline is the other major Cincinnati-style
chili chain.
We spent one more day in
the Cincinnati area before flying home.
On Sunday, there were periods of heavy rain, so we had to fit our
sightseeing around the weather. In the
morning, we went to Chateau Laroche (a.k.a. Loveland Castle). This castle was built by World War I veteran Harry
Andrews, who studied medieval architecture.
Andrews designed and built the castle himself, using rocks he carried up
from the banks of the Little Miami River.
While touring the castle,
we went up and down some steep spiral staircases. This was the first test of how my knee was
feeling after running. It was reassuring
to be able to walk up and down these steps without any knee discomfort.
Later, we went to Findlay
Market in Cincinnati.
There was another
restaurant we wanted to try, but we never got there. Blue Ash Chili is a traditional restaurant
that serves Cincinnati-style chili. They
weren’t far from our hotel, but they aren’t open on Sundays. We didn’t know that ahead of time.
Sunday night, there was a
thunderstorm, and the power went out a couple of times. By morning, power had been restored, but the
elevators still weren’t working. Taking
the stairs was another test for my knee.
It felt OK. I think I’m ready to run
my next marathon.
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