Tuesday, March 31, 2020

RunningIsLife Day 3: 2012 Venice Marathon


For 10 days, I’m posting a running photo, along with a brief recollection of the race where the photo was taken.  Here’s todays photo:


This is my official race photo from the 2012 Venice Marathons.  I rarely buy race photos, but I made an exception for this one.  It perfectly captured how the weather felt that day.

I do a lot of international races.  In some cases, I’ll choose a race because it’s in a place I’ve always wanted to visit.  In other cases, I’ll choose a race because it offers some type of unique race experience.  The Venice Marathon met both of these criteria.

I do a lot of solo trips, but I went to Venice with my wife Deb.  Deb isn’t into international travel as much as I am, but she was excited about this trip.  Deb has Italian ancestry, and this was our first trip to Italy.

When we arrived at our hotel, Deb didn’t even wait until we went to our room before asking the person at the front desk where we could find the best gelato in Venice.  Deb doesn’t usually feel comfortable traveling, but in Venice she said she felt like she was at home.

During our time in Venice, we took a walking tour of the city, we took a boat tour to three of the lagoon islands, we went shopping at Rialto Bridge, and we had the quintessential Venice experience of taking a wrong turn and getting lost.  We also enjoyed the food.  To this day, this is Deb’s favorite of all the trips we’ve taken together.

What makes the race experience unique is running through a city without streets.  Actually, we were only in the city for the last few miles, but those miles were intense.

The first 20 miles of the race are on the mainland.  Temperatures were in the 30s with steady rain and 30 MPH headwinds.  To get out to Venice, we crossed a bridge that’s five kilometers long.  There, we were completely exposed to the wind.  By the time we got into the city, I was so cold I couldn’t feel my hands.

To get through the city, we had to cross the Grand Canal, plus 13 smaller canals.  Throughout the city, there are numerous bridges over the smaller canals.  For the race, they put long wooden ramps over the steps.  They basically converted the bridges into a series of hills, which we ran in rapid succession.

Where we needed to cross the Grand Canal, they put up a pontoon bridge.  They can only keep it in place for a few hours, because it blocks the boat traffic.  The photo above shows me crossing the pontoon bridge.

At the time, I had a streak going.  Every time I ran a marathon in a foreign country, I qualified for Boston.  Other than enjoying the experience, my only goal for this race was to keep my streak alive.  I did.

After the race, I was struggling to keep warm as I boarded a ferry to take me back to the part of the city where our hotel was located.  A local runner who was with his family saw me shivering.  He gave me one of those plastic rain ponchos they sell to tourists.  It says, “I Venice.”  I still have that poncho, and I sill Venice.

Monday, March 30, 2020

RunningIsLIfe Day 2: 1998 FANS 24-Hour Race


For 10 days, I’m posting a running photo, along with a brief recollection of the race where the photo was taken.  Here’s todays photo:


This photo was taken at the FANS 24-Hour race in 1998.  This was my first ultramarathon.  I went in with a goal of running 100 miles.  I paced myself well and finished with 111.2 miles, despite losing about 45 minutes when everyone had to take shelter because of a thunderstorm.  That was good enough for a top five finish.

The woman running alongside me in the photo above is Sue Olsen.  Sue is a living legend.  She’s run every FANS race except the first one and has by far the most combined mileage.  She was the top female numerous times, and on at least two occasions she was the overall winner.

Six years ago, I wrote a Throwback Thursday post describing this race in more detail.  Here’s a link to it if you want to read more about my first ultra.

Sunday, March 29, 2020

RunningIsLife Day 1: 2011 Firecracker Triple


Today, I was nominated by my friend Rosie to do a Facebook challenge called #RunningIsLife.  Here’s the text of the original challenge:

Every day select an image from a day in the life of a runner - a photo from a day you felt fierce or you had a great race or a workout, and post it without a single explanation, then nominate somebody to take the challenge.  That is 10 days, 10 running photos, 10 nominations and no explanations.  Be active, be positive, be passionate. Raise awareness of the importance of running.”

I don’t usually do these Facebook challenges.  They’re sort of like chain letters.  This time, I decided to make an exception.  This blog is mostly a vehicle for writing about my experiences traveling to various races.  I haven’t run a marathon since March 1t, and it’ll probably be months before I run another one.  All my travel plans are on hold, so I haven’t had much to write about.

Instead of posting a photo without explanation, I’m going to accompany each photo with a recollection of my experience at the race where the photo was taken.  Here’s my photo for today.



This photo was taken at the Foot Traffic Flat Marathon on July 4, 2011.  This was the third day of the inaugural Firecracker Triple.  The other runner in the photo is Kim Gray.

This was the first time I ever ran marathons on three consecutive days, so I didn’t know what to expect.  On two previous occasions, I had run marathons on back-to-back days.  Each time, my legs were sore and stiff the second day.

At the time, I was consistently running times in the 3:05 to 3:15 range.  My plan was to hold back a little on day one, running just fast enough to break 3:30.  I expected to be slower in the remaining two races, but I though breaking four hours each day was a realistic goal.

I knew most of the other runners would just be trying to finish each day.  I thought if I paced myself to keep all my times under four hours that might be good enough to win the award for the fastest combined time.

The first race was the Stars & Stripes Marathon.  When I arrived at the start, I saw Chuck Engle picking up his race packet.  I quietly asked the race director, Steve Walters, if Chuck was running all three days.  Steve said, “yes.”  Chuck is WAY out of my league.  I decided to forget about competing for the best combined time, but I stuck to my plan to run just hard enough to break 3:30 the first day.   Chuck easily won that race with a time that was well under three hours.  I finished a distant second with a time of 3:26:43.

The second race was the Freedom Marathon.  I knew Chuck would win the race, but I impulsively decided to race for second place.  Surprisingly, my legs didn’t feel sore.  I actually ran faster that day, finishing in 3:22:53.

Before the third race, Steve Walters sent an email to everybody who was signed up for all three races.  Chuck opted to skip the third race.  That meant I was suddenly in first place for combined time.

Among the women, Rebecca Yi had the best combined time, but Kim Gray was within striking distance.  I remember telling Kim she could still catch Rebecca with a strong race on day three.

I started faster that day.  In contrast to the previous day, this time my legs were screaming at me.  I caught up to two friends who were pacing for 3:20.  On a long out-and-back section, all the other runners doing the triple were shouting out their encouragement.  I ran negative splits that day, finishing in 3:18:10 and easily winning the triple.  My enthusiasm overcame the pain and fatigue in my legs.  I can’t remember a day when I’ve ever felt more excited about running.

Kim also had a great race.  She came close to setting a PR that day.  More significantly, she came from behind to overtake Rebecca in the race for fastest combined time among the women.

Thursday, March 19, 2020

September Is Getting Crowded


A friend of mine has created maps showing the locations of various marathons that have been cancelled or postponed.  Cancelled races are represented by pink dots.  Postponed races are represented by blue dots. 


When I looked at this map on Tuesday, I saw a blue dot in Northern Ireland that looked like it could be Belfast.  I went to the website for the Belfast Marathon saw a notice that the race had been rescheduled for September 20.  That surprised me, since I had not yet received the email notifying me of this. 

A few weeks ago, this would have been bad news.  Now it was actually good news.  I had already decided I wouldn’t be doing this race, even if it went on as scheduled.  I didn’t cancel my flights yet, but I was hoping the race would get rescheduled for later in the year.  Now I could reschedule my flight for the new date. 

As it happens, I woke up early that morning and couldn’t get back to sleep.  That’s been happening a lot lately.  For the second time in three days, I spent the morning rescheduling my flights and hotel reservations.  This one was complicated, since it involved two airline itineraries and two hotels. 

So far, I’ve had three races rescheduled and all three of them are were moved to September.  September is going to be a busy month.  That’s assuming, of course, that things are getting back to normal by September.  If not, … I’m really not ready to think about that.  I’m taking things a month or two at a time. 

I still have two more races in May.  Both are in Europe.  One is in Riga, and the other is in Luxembourg City.  I’m all but certain I won’t be travelling to Europe to run them. But as with my Belfast trip, I’m not doing anything with my flights yet.  I’m hoping at least one of these races will reschedule for later in the year, but hopefully not on a weekend that’s already booked.  There aren’t many left. 

I haven’t had any recent communication from these races, but I check their websites every few days.  The website for the Night Marathon in Luxembourg makes no mention of any possibility that the race might be cancelled.  They’re still taking registrations.  I’m somewhat shocked by that.  Luxembourg, despite being a small country, has already had more than 300 confirmed cases of COVID-19.  More significantly, it borders Germany and France, and they’ve each had more than 10,000 cases. 

The Riga Marathon has posted this notice. 


Although they haven’t cancelled the race yet, I’m sure they will.  They’re hoping the situation will improve, but I expect things to get worse before they get better.  Since they wanted to make this year’s race a special 30th year celebration, they make opt to reschedule it as several other large races have done.  I just hope they’ll get on with making a decision.  I want to know what to do with my flights.

Monday, March 16, 2020

COVID-19 Is Changing Everything


This is a post I’ve been meaning to write since Tuesday.  It was originally going to be about the postponement of one of my races from April to September because of the spread of COVID-19 in Europe.  For a few days, I was preoccupied with how to change my travel plans.  By the time I got around to writing this, so many things had changed that it seemed like everything I was originally going to write was already obsolete.  A lot has changed in the last six days.

The COVID-19 pandemic started in mainland China in December.  By the end of January, it was spreading rapidly in China, but there weren’t many cases in other countries.  It seemed to be confined to Asia.

I wasn’t too surprised when I learned that this year’s Hong Kong Marathon was cancelled.  Hong Kong has a land border with China, and a lot of people cross that border every day.  It’s no surprise that the virus spread to Hong Kong.

What sent shock waves through the running community was the cancellation of the Tokyo Marathon in February.  That race was scheduled to take place on March 1.  On February 17, the Tokyo Marathon Foundation announced that the race would be cancelled for most of the 38,000 participants.  Only the elite runners would be allowed to race.

By then, Japan had several hundred cases of COVID-19, but most of them were people on a cruise ship that was quarantined after visiting China.  Within the general population, most known cases could be traced directly to people who had visited China.'

Then Japan had its first cases of “community spread” of COVID-19.  These were people who hadn’t visited China and didn’t have any known contact with other people who were infected.  Nobody knew how they came into contact with the disease.

Tokyo is hosting the summer Olympics this year, and they didn’t want to take any chances on an epidemic that would put them at risk of having to cancel the Olympics.  Out of an abundance of caution, they made a quick decision to restrict the Tokyo Marathon to just the elite runners.  At the time, the consensus within the running community was that they overreacted.  That was two months ago.  I doubt if anyone would still say that today.

Races sometimes get cancelled, but this was no ordinary race.  The Tokyo Marathon is one of the World Marathon Majors.  That’s a series of large marathons that also includes the Boston, London, Berlin, Chicago, and New York City marathons.  The series was originally established as the big money circuit for elite athletes.  Since then, it’s been promoted as a bucket list goal for amateur athletes like me.  Thousands of runners have a goal of running all six of these races within their lifetime.  Because of that, it’s getting increasingly difficult to get into these races, in spite of their size.

I’ve already completed the World Marathon Majors, but I still belong to a Facebook group where runners who are interested in the series share information.  I wasn’t registered for the Tokyo Marathon this year, but some of my friends were.  Through this Facebook group, I was connected to hundreds of other runners who were affected by the cancellation of this year’s race.

The next two World Marathon Majors on the calendar were Boston and London.  Immediately, everyone wondered if those races were in danger of being cancelled.  This was in February.  At the time, most people I know thought those concerns were overblown.  The situation in Europe and North America seemed quite a bit different than the situation in Asia.  Outside of Asia, there were still only a handful of known COVID-19 cases.  Most of them could be traced to passengers of cruise ships that had visited China.  I was one of the people who still thought there was no way the Boston Marathon would be cancelled.

While I wasn’t that worried about Boston, I was starting to worry about other races.  Several of my upcoming races were in Europe.  Those seemed endangered when there was an outbreak in northern Italy.  Within a few days of discovering their first COVID-19 case, Italy had more than 100 cases in the northern regions.

By then, I was following a website that tracked the number of cases in each country.  I watched nervously as other countries in Europe started to detect new COVID-19 cases.  Most of them could be traced directly to people who had recently been in Italy, but that didn’t make it any easier to control the spread.

One of the insidious things about this disease is its slow incubation period.  You can be infectious for more than a week and not have any symptoms.  By the time you know you’re sick, you could have spread it to several other people.  Another insidious thing is that it’s life threatening for some people, but other people have only mild symptoms.  I’m sure many people who contracted the disease assumed they just had a cold or the flu.  They probably didn’t seek medical attention, so they never got tested.  They also probably never saw an urgent need to isolate themselves.

My last marathon was the Atlanta Marathon on March 1.  That was my fourth marathon of the year, and it will probably be the last one I run for at least a few months.  After that I was scheduled to run the Asheville, Bratislava, and Boston Marathons.  Of those, the one that worried me was the Bratislava Marathon.

Bratislava is the capital of Slovakia.  Slovakia doesn’t border Italy, but it’s only about 120 miles away.  My trip to Bratislava was going to include two nights in Vienna, which is in Austria.  Austria borders Italy, and they were one of the first countries to have cases that could be traced to the outbreak in Italy.

I watched nervously as the number of cases spread.  At first, there were two known cases in Austria. 
Then there were five.  Then there were dozens.  Then 100.  Eventually, Slovakia detected its first infection.

In the meantime, other countries in Europe had more than 1,000 cases, forcing them to start cancelling large events.  In France, they banned any indoor event with at least 5,000 people.  Since most large marathons have expos that are held indoors, the new restriction forced the Paris Half Marathon to be postponed from March to September.  A few days later, the Paris Marathon was postponed from April to October.

Several other large races were cancelled, including all the upcoming races in Italy.  It wasn’t just marathons that were being cancelled.  I tended to hear about those first, because I’m plugged into the running community, but large conventions and trade shows were also getting cancelled.

A week ago, Slovakia had seven known cases of COVID-19.  Neighboring Austria had 144 cases, which made me nervous.  I wasn’t actually nervous about catching the disease.  I was only worried about one of my races getting cancelled.  I was still clinging to false hope that I could still travel to Bratislava in April to run the marathon.  I was in denial.

On Tuesday, I got the official notice that the Bratislava Marathon wouldn’t be held on April 5, as originally scheduled.  It was rescheduled for September 6.  That’s better than a cancellation.  I could still run the race.  I just had to change my travel plans.

My airfare was nonrefundable.  Normally, if you want to make changes to an international itinerary, you have to pay a $250 change fee.  Because of the COVID-19 situation, Delta was waiving the change fees for anyone scheduled to fly in March or April.  That didn’t mean I would get a refund.  I still had a plane ticket that I needed to use.  They were just allowing me to change my itinerary to fly on different days.

I usually fly home the day after a race.  When I’m flying home from Europe, I need to get on an early flight, so I have time to make connections in a European hub.  The closest international airport to Bratislava is the Vienna airport.  To get there from Bratislava, you have to take a bus.  The nearest bus station to the airport is about a mile and a half away.  Getting to the airport in time for a morning flight would be inconvenient to say the least.  By contrast, it’s easy to get to the airport from Vienna.  There’s an express train from the central train station to the airport.  Because of that, my original itinerary had me spending Monday in Vienna and then flying home on Tuesday.

Here’s where things get complicated.  I was already scheduled to run a marathon in Tallinn, Estonia on September 13.  My flights were already booked.  I was scheduled to depart on a Wednesday.  Ideally, I wanted to fly home form Vienna on a Tuesday, but that would mean having a long-haul flight one day, arriving home jet-lagged, and then leaving again on another long-haul flight the next day.  If I were booking this from scratch, I would just stay in Europe and make it one long trip.  That, unfortunately, was no longer an option.  I already had to separate airline itineraries.  I could reschedule them, but I couldn’t combine them.

I held off on rescheduling my flight, so I could weigh my options.  Then, over the next few days, I discovered just how much the world was changing.  President Trump announced a travel ban for most countries in Europe.  The NCAA basketball tournaments were cancelled, giving “March Madness” a new meaning.  NBA, NHL and MLB games were cancelled.  Large events of all kinds were being cancelled.  I didn’t know it yet, but that was just the beginning.

As recently as two weeks ago, the city of Boston said there were no plans to cancel either the St. Patrick’s Day parade or the marathon.  When they cancelled the parade, I realized the marathon might be cancelled too.  On Thursday, every major news outlet in Boston was running stories that the race would be postponed to a weekend in September or October.  There wasn’t an official announcement until Friday morning.  The Boston Athletic Association had to choose a new date, make arrangements for things like convention center space, and get approval from eight different cities and towns.  Deb and I watched the press conference, but by then the information had already been leaked.  The new date was September 14.

As with the Bratislava Marathon, a postponement was better than an outright cancellation.  This race, however, landed on the same weekend as one of my other races.  It was the same weekend as the Tallinn Marathon.  Technically they were on different days, but it was logistically impossible to do both races.  There aren’t any direct flights from Tallinn to Boston.  I couldn’t run Tallinn on Sunday morning and get to Boston in time to race again on Monday.  Even if I could, it wouldn’t be much fun.  I had to choose.

At first the choice seemed difficult.  I’ve never done the Tallinn Marathon, and I’ve been looking forward to visiting Tallinn for a long time.  I already paid for an expensive overseas flight.  This race wasn’t covered by any travel waiver.  I would have to pay the expensive change fee.  Even then, I would need to find a way to use that ticket for another trip by next February.  Otherwise I would lose it.  Boston, however, is my favorite marathon.  It’s the only race I do every year.

Getting into the Boston Marathon gets more difficult every year.  Because the number of applicants always exceeds the number of available slots, just qualifying isn’t enough.  From one year to the next, nobody ever knows just how fast they need to be to actually get into the race.  The exception is runners who have finished the Boston Marathon for at least 10 consecutive years.  They get to register early.  If they qualify, even by one second, they know they’ll get in.  This year will be my ninth consecutive Boston Marathon.  Next year will be my tenth, and I already have a qualifying time.  If I skipped this year’s race, it would break my streak.  I came to realize that if I missed Boston this year, the race would never feel the same.  I’m so emotionally attached to this race that I would feel lost if I missed one.

Deb is much more cost-conscious than I am.  I worried that she would be upset if I cancelled my Tallinn trip and didn’t find another way to use that ticket.  I didn’t know if she would understand how important Boston is to me.  As it turns out, she knows me better than I know myself.  I wrestled with the decision before finally deciding that I had to run Boston.  Deb always knew that was the right decision.

My next scheduled race was the Asheville Marathon on March 22.  That’s a smaller race in North Carolina.  Before the end of the day, I learned that race had been cancelled.  As usual, I have races scheduled every two to three weeks for the foreseeable future.  They were lined up like dominoes.  The first few dominoes have fallen, and there’s no end in sight.


Now I had four airline itineraries that needed to be cancelled or rescheduled.  When I tried to do it online, the Delta website wasn’t working.  It was overloaded.  I tried calling Delta, but the recorded message said the wait time was more than six hours.  Because of the European travel ban, there was a huge backlog of travelers who needed to change their flights.  Delta was asking people who weren’t flying in the next three days to wait.

Saturday morning, I woke up early and couldn’t get back to sleep.  I figured there wouldn’t be as many people trying to call Delta at 4 AM on a Saturday.  I was right.  I got through quickly, and rescheduled my flights.  I’m not sure how I’ll reuse my ticket for Tallinn.  I’m also not sure how Deb and I will reuse our tickets from the Asheville trip.  Those are problems for another day.

There’s a reason all these large events are being cancelled.  It’s part of a coordinated effort to slow the spread of the virus.  By now, you’ve probably heard terms like “social distancing” and “flattening the curve.”

The Chinese government took extreme measures to contain the outbreak in their country.  They locked down entire provinces, closed schools, shut down factories, and tracked the movements of their citizens to ensure nobody broke quarantine.  So far, it appears to have worked.  At the peak of their outbreak, China had thousands of new cases each day.  Now, they’re experiencing fewer than 10 new cases each day.  Meanwhile, of the 80,000 people who were originally infected, roughly 60,000 have recovered.  More than 3,000 people have died in China, but it could’ve been much worse.  It’s still possible that they could have new outbreaks as restrictions are lifted, but it seems like the worst is over in China.

A few other countries, such as Taiwan and Singapore, diligently tracked everyone who was potentially exposed.  Because they acted quickly, those countries were able to contain their outbreaks.

Western countries haven’t been as successful.  The following graphs show the rate of infection in six different countries.  Each graph begins at the point where a country reached 100 confirmed cases.  In each of these countries, the virus has spread virtually unchecked.  In each case, the graph follows the same trajectory.  New cases are growing exponentially, doubling every five days.


Roughly 20 percent of infected patients need hospitalization, usually requiring ICU care and the use of a respirator to help them breath.  Even with hospital care, 2-3 percent of patients die.  Without this care, more would die.  Italy has become a cautionary tale.  Their hospital system has been overwhelmed.  There aren’t enough hospital beds to accommodate all the patients that need them.  Doctors are forced to do triage, choosing who gets care and who doesn’t.  Patients who are older than 65 are left to die without care, so younger patients can have a chance to survive.

That’s where other countries are headed if they can’t slow the spread of the virus.  The United States has fewer confirmed cases than Italy, but we’re only trailing them by 11 days.  At this point it’s probably too late to contain it.  There are confirmed COVID-19 cases in almost every state.  Because testing has been limited, the known cases are probably just the tip of the iceberg.  There’s already community spread in all parts of the country.

That’s why it’s important to “flatten the curve.”  The best we can hope for at this point is to slow the spread, so hospitals don’t get overwhelmed.  It won’t reduce to number of people who will eventually get infected, but it will hopefully limit the number of people needing hospital care at the same time.  These two graphs illustrate the difference.  The goal is to keep the number of infections from going above the dashed line.


Over the weekend, several large companies have asked their employees to work from home.  Most states have closed their public schools.  Universities are moving conducting classes on-line.  Some are also closing campuses and requiring students to move out of their dormitories.  The CDC has advised cancelling all events larger than 50 people for the next eight weeks.  At least four states have banned dining in restaurants, allowing take-out and delivery only.

Hopefully this will be enough, but only time will tell.  A few countries in Europe are taking measures that are more extreme.  In Spain, you can’t even walk down the street.  Everyone is on home quarantine.

When I first learned that the Bratislava Marathon was postponed, I assumed I would look for a smaller race closer to home.  Since then, my thinking has evolved.  I realize that would be a bad idea.  I’ve accepted that I won’t be running any marathons in the near future.  I’ll keep doing training runs on my own.  I’ll have to get back into the habit of doing long training runs at least every two weeks.

I’m currently signed up for three races in May.  All three are in Europe, which is currently in worse shape than the United States.  I don’t expect to run any of them, but I haven’t rescheduled my travel plans yet.  I’m waiting to see what the race organizers will do.  For each race, there are three possibilities.

First, they could reschedule to a weekend in the fall, like Boston and Bratislava did.  Assuming the new date doesn’t conflict with something I’ve already booked, I’ll reschedule my travel for the new dates.  This is the best case.

The second possibility is that they could simply cancel this year’s race, like the Asheville Marathon did.  Then I’m left with the dilemma of how to use my plane tickets so I don’t lose them.  To get the full value of my tickets, I would need to find international races, ideally in countries where I’ve never run.  That gets increasingly difficult.  The fall schedule is already getting crowded.

It’s also possible that one or more of these races will still go on as planned.  That’s not really much different than the second possibility.  At this point, I have no intention of traveling to Europe to run a marathon until the situation improves.  I don’t want to get infected, I don’t want to infect other people, and I don’t want to be quarantined because I traveled to Europe.  The only reason I don’t cancel my plans now is because I’m waiting to see if the races get rescheduled.

My lifestyle is all about traveling and running marathons.  For now, that’s on hold.  It could be worse.  Some people will be inconvenienced far more than I will.  Some people will lose their jobs or their businesses.  Some people will die.

Monday, March 2, 2020

US Olympic Team Trials and Atlanta Marathon


On March 1st, I ran the Atlanta Marathon.  There used to be two marathons in Atlanta.  One was the Atlanta Marathon, which was originally held on Thanksgiving Day.  The other was the Georgia Marathon, which was held in March.  I’ve done both of those races before.  This year’s race was called the Atlanta Marathon, but it seems to be a rebranding of the Georgia Marathon.  Like previous incarnations of the Georgia Marathon, it was held in March, and it started and finished downtown, at Centennial Olympic Park.

In 2012, the U.S. Olympic Team Trials for both the men’s and women’s teams were held on the same course on the same day.  That was in Houston, and the trials were held the day before the Houston Marathon.  I was in Charleston, SC that weekend for the Charleston Marathon.  I remember watching the Olympic trials on TV and thinking, “Why didn’t I run the Houston Marathon, so I could watch this in person?”

In 2016, the trials were held in Los Angeles, the day before the Los Angeles Marathon.  I was signed up for that race, but I cancelled my trip, because I was recovering from injuries.  I didn’t have clearance from my physical therapist to do any running at all, much less a marathon.

This year, the trials were held in Atlanta.  I finally got my chance to watch the trials one day and then run a marathon in the same city the next day.

Friday, February 28

One of the things I like about this race is the ease of getting around without a car.  There’s a MARTA station connected to the airport terminal.  From there, I was able to take a train downtown and walk the rest of the way to my hotel.  The whole trip took about 30 minutes.

I stayed at Hilton Garden Inn, which is right next to Centennial Olympic Park.  From there, I could walk to everyplace I needed to go.  After checking in, I walked over to the Georgia World Congress Center to pick up my race packet.  After getting my race bib and T-shirt, I noticed a line at the table for the pace teams.  Meb Keflezighi was leading one of the pace group for the marathon.  He was there signing autographs and posing for pictures.


Our race packets included a thick program for what they were calling “America’s Marathon Weekend.”  It had information about both the Olympic trials and the Atlanta Marathon, including maps of both courses and bios of some of the top contenders in the Olympic trials.

I’ve been to Atlanta before, so I’ve already done most of the sightseeing, but I’ve never been to the College Football Hall of Fame.  Race participants got free admission.  You just had to show your race bib at the ticket booth.


Two things I like to sample when I travel are pizza and local beer.  I found a brewery a few blocks from my hotel that also served pizza, so that’s where I ate dinner.

Minutes after getting back to the hotel, I saw a Facebook check-in from my friends Aaron and Ed.  They were having dinner a block away.  I joined them for the rest of the evening.  I already had a filling dinner, but I had dessert and another beer.  That was way too much food.  My sleep was restless that night.

Saturday, February 29

Saturday was the day of the Olympic Trials, but it didn’t start until noon.  I didn’t have to get up early, but I woke up early anyway.

I spent most of the morning studying the route for the Olympic trials to pick places to watch.  I also organized my clothes for the marathon on Sunday.

I met four friends for an early lunch at Max’s Coal Oven Pizzeria.  This restaurant was not only close to my hotel, but also close to the starting line for the trials.  We finished eating in time to get to our viewing spot for the start of the race.

photo credit: Joan Kim

The course for the Olympic trials started on Marietta Street, near Centennial Olympic Park.  Each eight-mile loop included a short out-and-back on a section of Marietta Street that’s divided.  That’s where we found a spot to watch.  The men started at 12:08.  The women started 12 minutes later.

The pre-race favorites in the men’s field were Jared Ward, Leonard Korir and Galen Rupp, but I was curious to see how Jim Walmsley would do.  Walmsley is the course record holder in the Western States Endurance Run (a.k.a. Western States 100).  In the world of ultrarunning, he’s a god, but the best ultrarunners aren’t necessarily as competitive in marathons.  This was actually his first marathon.  He qualified using a half marathon time.

We positioned ourselves right in front of the first turn.  At this point, the runners had only covered a few blocks, so they were still bunched together.


The top names in the women’s field included Emily Sisson, Molly Huddle, Sara Hall, Des Linden, and Jordan Hasay.  I was rooting for Linden.  I’ve been a big fan ever since her impressive win in the 2018 Boston Marathon, where she had to battle through strong headwinds and cold rain.

We had a good view of the men as they went by, but there seemed to be more interest in the women’s field.  As more and more spectators crowded in around us, it was difficult to get a clear view as the women raced by.


While most of the runners were going at a fast pace, there were three women who were already falling well behind.  Two were obviously pregnant.  The third appeared to be injured.  It’s a big deal just to qualify for the trials, so I’m sure they were all determined to finish, even if they couldn’t run at their usual pace.

As we waited for the men to complete their first eight-mile loop, we found a spot to watch from the middle of the street.  We were at one end of an out-and-back section, so we got to see them go by twice on each lap.  As the men went by, two runners were well out in front.  I didn’t recognize either of them.


The other contenders were still in a tight pack.


A few minutes later, we saw the lead men coming back on the other side of the street.  I was dressed in layers, but I underestimated how cold the wind would be.  By the time the men finished their first loop, I was freezing, and my hands were starting to turn white.

My friend Joan was tracking the position of the leaders on her phone.  After estimating how much time we had before the women arrived, I ducked into a restaurant for a few minutes to get out of the cold.  When the women finished their first loop, the leaders were still bunched together.
Trying to take pictures was sometimes frustrating.  When there wasn’t another spectator in the way, the escort motorcycles would ride directly between us and the lead runners.


By the time the men finished their second loop, we moved to a corner where they turned onto Marietta.  Here it was easier to get an unobstructed view for pictures.  One of the runners who was in the lead earlier was still out in front, but Galen Rupp wasn’t far behind him.



By the time they came back from the turnaround, Rupp had taken the lead.  We continued waiting in the same spot to see the lead women return.  The leaders of the women’s field were still together.


In the third lap, the runners had a longer route that didn’t include Marietta Street.  To see them again, we had to move.  As soon as the lead women went by, we walked to the Georgia State Capitol.  We wanted to make sure we got there before the lead men did.  The capitol was next to the beginning of another short out-and-back segment that was near the 24 mile mark.  In front of the capitol, we were in the sun, and we weren’t noticing as much wind.  I finally warmed up.

The first runner we saw was Galen Rupp.  He had a commanding lead.  We eventually saw four more men who were fairly close together.  Rupp was obviously going to win, but it was unclear who the second and third place finishers would be.  The top three qualify for the Olympic team.

On their way out, they were nearing the top of a long steep hill.  By the time they came back, they had recovered from the hill.  Rupp was still way out in front.


Jacob Riley, who was in fifth place going up the hill, was now overtaking Abdi Abdirahman to move into second place.


I never spotted Jim Walmsley on the course, but I eventually learned he finished in 2:15.  That’s a solid first marathon, but not good enough to contend for a spot on the Olympic team.

When the women eventually reached our location, the women who were most frequently touted as favorites weren’t in the top three.  It was a close race for first between Aliphine Tuliamuk and Molly Seidel.  Tuliamuk would go on to win by seven seconds.  It’s worth noting that this was Seidel’s first marathon.  Like Walmsley, she qualified in a half marathon.


Sally Kipyego took the third spot on the women’s team.  Des Linden finished fifth.

After the race, I walked back to the hotel.  I relaxed (and stayed warm) for the rest of the afternoon before joining Aaron and Ed for dinner at a barbeque restaurant.

Sunday, March 1

Sunday was the day of the Atlanta Marathon.  The race started at 6:50, but the starting line was only a few blocks away, so I didn’t leave the hotel until 6:30.  To save time, I opted not to check a gear bag.  Instead, I wore a Tyvek jacket with the intention of tying it around my waist after warming up.

It was 32 degrees at the start.  I expected it to warm up to 50 by the time I finished.  I wasn’t sure how windy it would be.  I was surprised how cold the wind was both Friday and Saturday.

I knew the course would be hilly, but I didn’t know how much that might slow me down.  My last several marathons have all been flat.  I do most of my winter training on a treadmill.  You can simulate hills on a treadmill, but when I’m training for flat marathons, I also do flat workouts in training.  It was only in the last few weeks that I started adding some “hills” to my workouts.

Not knowing if I was prepared for the course, I wasn’t sure what my goal should be.  Ideally, I would shoot for a Boston qualifying time, but I didn’t know if that would be realistic.  At a minimum, I wanted to break four hours.  I had to start the race and get a few miles under my belt before I would know what kind of pace I could sustain.

There were five start corrals, with staggered start times.  I don’t remember what I put down for an estimated finish time when I registered, but I was assigned to the second corral.

My corral included pace groups for 3:30 and 3:45, but nothing in between.  At best, I might pace for 3:35, so neither of those groups was starting at a pace that was appropriate for me.

Just before our corral started, I heard the announcer telling us to be careful not to trip on the timing mat as we crossed the start line.  Apparently, some runners failed to heed that advice.  Just as I was getting to the line, two runners immediately in front of me tripped and fell.  I had to stop abruptly to keep from tripping over them.  Fortunately, I was just beginning to move.

I knew it would be hard to gauge my pace, since the course was rarely level.  You’re almost always going either uphill or downhill.  I did my best to focus on effort instead.  I tried to start at a pace that felt sustainable.

The first mile was slightly uphill at the start, but after that it was mostly downhill.  I knew I was starting kind of fast when I saw a pace group in front of me.  It had to be either the 1:45 group for the half marathon or the 3:30 group for the marathon.  As I reached the one mile mark, I got confirmation of my fast start.  I ran the first mile in 7:44.  For a Boston qualifying pace, I needed to average roughly 8:10.

I knew that pace was somewhat misleading, because the first mile was mostly downhill.  I nevertheless made a point of slowing down a bit.  The next mile took 8:00.  That seemed reasonable, as that mile was also mostly downhill.

The third mile was mostly uphill.  I allowed myself to slow down going uphill.  I continually asked myself if my effort felt sustainable.  If it didn’t, I had to slow down.  That mile was slower than the first two, but not by much.

This race made me realize that I usually pace myself by first establishing my pace and then continuing to run with the same cadence.  I don’t actually have a good feel for how fast I’m running.  I have a good feel for my gait.  On a flat course, I can maintain a nice consistent rhythm.  On a course with constant undulations, that doesn’t work.  I had to gauge my effort instead.  If the pace felt tiring going uphill, I had to slow down.  If it felt too easy going downhill, I had to speed up.  Over the next several miles, my pace varied, but I tried to keep my effort level.  Individual mile splits didn’t mean much, but I paid attention to my average.  I was on pace for a time between 3:30 and 3:35.

Besides the hills, the course also had lots of turns.  After leaving the downtown area, I had trouble keeping track of where we were.  Around four miles, we passed a familiar landmark.  It was the Martin Luther King Historic Park.  Now I knew where we were, if only briefly.

At aid stations, I generally walked while drinking a cup of Powerade.  I did that so I wouldn’t be at risk of splashing ice cold liquid onto my shirt.  The aid station at five miles was in the middle of a hill.  After I finished drinking, I continued walking long enough to take off my jacket and tie it around my waist.  I wasn’t getting hot yet, but I knew I would eventually.  Taking a walking break here allowed me to break up a long hill.

At six miles, we made a left turn onto a parkway that looked familiar.  The old course followed this parkway in the opposite direction, but I still recognized it.  We were about to run past the Carter Center.

Around eight miles, we started a long gradual downhill section.  A spectator said, “it’s all downhill to the park.”  That was a reference to Piedmont Park, which we would run through in another mile.  It wasn’t actually all downhill, but it was mostly downhill.

Where we entered the park, we crossed a bridge.  The scenery in the park reminded me of another race I ran recently.  I could picture parts of it, but I couldn’t quite recall which race it was.  In any event, this was a nice scenic part of the course.

The 10th mile was mostly uphill, and I slowed noticeably in that one.  I’m not sure if the next three miles were also uphill, but all three of them were slower than my average pace.

Since late December, I’ve had soreness in my left heel.  My doctor has ruled out a stress fracture or bone spur.  It’s most likely either bursitis or Achilles tendonitis at the insertion point.  It’s forced me to cut back on training while it heals.  It’s improved to the point where I don’t usually notice it on training runs, but I still notice it running a marathon.  I started to feel it after about 12 miles.  It wasn’t going to stop me from finishing, but I had to deal with the discomfort for the rest of the race.

We were coming back to where we started.  At 13 miles, the runners in the half marathon moved to the left side of the street.  Then they turned left to run toward the finish in Centennial Olympic Park.  Those of us doing the marathon turned left to begin the second half.

There wasn’t a sign at the halfway mark, but from my 13 mile split, I could estimate that I was right on pace for 3:35, which is the Boston qualifying standard for my age group.  That was misleading, however.  My most recent four miles had all been slower.

Up until now, I had been handling the hills OK, but the second half would be hilly too.  The hills never end.  Realizing I hadn’t trained sufficiently for hills, I abandoned any thought of trying to qualify for Boston.  If I fought to maintain my pace, it was only a matter of time before the hills would wear me down.  I had to retreat into my comfort zone to make sure I could finish without blowing up.  My only goal now, other than finishing, was to break four hours.  I expected to do that by a wide margin.

As we left the downtown area again, we made a right turn alongside a major street.  I could see runners on the other side of the street going in the opposite direction.  It was a busy street, with several lanes that were all open to traffic.  I wondered where we would cross the street.  I got my answer when I saw runners going up a ramp toward a pedestrian bridge.  At first the ramp was just another easy hill.  The last part of it was a spiral.  This was steeper than any of the other hills.  By the time I got onto the bridge, my legs were starting to feel like jelly.  The ramp on the other side was also a spiral.  The grade wasn’t uncomfortable, but the constant turning was.

Although there weren’t as many runners on the course now, there were still enough.  I always had lots of runners to follow.  That’s all I was doing now.  Follow the other runners and eventually finish.  Don’t worry too much about pace.

I never noticed when we reached 14 miles, so I was pleasantly surprised to see 15.  I didn’t bother looking at my watch.  My individual mile times didn’t matter too much.  I was just running by feel.  I wouldn’t slow down more than I had to, but I also wouldn’t risk blowing up.  I made sure my effort was manageable.

I had no idea what to expect for the rest of the race.  This part of the course was quite a bit different from the old route.  For several miles, I didn’t know where I was.  We went through a few neighborhoods where the pavement was uneven.  In a few spots, the top layer of pavement had been removed, but it hadn’t been repaved yet.  There were also a few potholes.  I had to watch my footing.

Going up one of the hills, I started to feel hot, so I took off my gloves.  After rounding the next corner, I felt a slight headwind, and my hands got cold again.  The wind on Sunday was nothing like the previous two days.  This was one of the few spots where I felt it.  Overall, I was warming up.  I felt perspiration under my hat.  I didn’t worry too much about my hands.  If I was warm overall, they’d be OK.

I saw the sign for 16 miles, but I never saw 17.  I also didn’t see 18.  It’s possible they were at aid stations.  When I’m focused on drinking, I don’t always notice mile markers.

At one point, I saw we were approaching the large viewing tower next to the Olympic rings just south of the Georgia State Capitol.  We were approaching from the west.  As we turned left, I assumed we would run toward the capitol, where I was watching the trials on Saturday.  Then we immediately made another left turn and went off in another direction.

The next mile marker I saw was for 19 miles.  When I saw it, I was relieved.  The remaining distance was like an easy training run.  At this point, so was my pace.

Between 21 and 22 miles, we left the road and crossed some grass to get onto a track.  We ran halfway around the track and then crossed the grass again to get back onto streets.  That was an interesting diversion.


With a little over three miles to go, I saw the Olympic rings again.  Now, we were approaching from the south.  This time we were going to run under them and continue north towards the capitol.  It was uphill here, and I was getting hot.  I had been wearing a short-sleeved T-shirt and arm warmers.  One advantage of arm warmers is that you can take them off when you no longer need them.  The one on my right arm was easy to remove.  It took more work to remove the one on my left arm, because it was underneath my watch.

After removing the arm warmer that was under my watch, I accidentally saw my time.  I had been going out of my way to avoid looking at my watch in the second half of the race.  My time so far was 3:18 and change.  I wasn’t at a mile marker, so it wasn’t real meaningful.  I had somewhere between two and three miles to go.  Seeing my time confirmed two things I already knew.  I was no longer anywhere close to a Boston qualifying pace, but I was also nowhere near four hours.  When I got to 24 miles, I looked at my watch again.  I estimated I would break 3:42.  That made sense, since the 3:45 pace group was still somewhere behind me.

I was wearing my cheetah tights, hat, and shirt, so I got lots of comments from the crowd.  Most where “nice outfit” or “I like your outfit.”  One spectator yelled, “Go Cheetah Man!  I have beer for you.”  I had already passed two or three other beer stops.  Those were in the first half of the race, so I skipped them.  With only two miles to go, it didn’t seem like I had anything to lose.

Another runner mentioned that he had been following me, and I was helping him keep up a good pace.  He said 3:39 was still within reach.  I was skeptical about breaking 3:40, but I decided to dedicate my last two miles to helping him finish strong.  We ran together for a while, but as soon as we reached a long downhill section, he fell behind.  I didn’t think I sped up that much.  It’s possible he slowed down going downhill.  That can happen if your quads are getting sore from all the hills.

I didn’t want to leave him behind, but there wasn’t much point in slowing down for him.  We weren’t going to break 3:40.  I continued at my own pace.

Ahead, I saw a large digital clock next to the street.  I assumed it was at the 25 mile mark.  When I got there, I didn’t see a sign for 25 miles, but I can’t imagine any other reason they would have a clock in this spot.  A couple minutes later, a spectator said, “you’re in the last mile.”  That seemed consistent.

As I got closer to the finish, I recognized my surroundings.  I was getting closer to one of the spots where I was watching the Olympic trials with my friends.  I knew it wasn’t much farther.  I also knew most of it was slightly uphill.  A spectator said, “at the top of the hill, you can see the finish.”  That was the motivation I needed.

I crested the hill, ran downhill for a couple blocks, and then made the turn to enter Centennial Olympic Park.  After turning, I could see the finish line.  It was the same finish line used for the Olympic trials.  The approach was over bricks.  I’m not usually bothered my hard surfaces, but I found it uncomfortable.  I reminded myself that all the Olympic hopefuls ran over this same surface.  If it was good enough for them, it should be good enough for me.


I crossed the line in 3:41:15.  I ran positive splits by six minutes, but I was expecting that.  In the first half, I was racing.  In the second half, I was making sure I wouldn’t blow up.  I’m glad I didn’t try to push it.  The second half was hillier than the first half.

I’m not completely sure what the design of the finisher medal represents.


After getting my medal, I got a lightweight hooded jacket with a zipper in front.  They use these instead of heat shields.  I was already putting on my Tyvek jacket, so I didn’t need to wear this jacket.  Instead, I saved it.  It’ll make a great warm-up layer for a future race.

I was selective about post-race food.  Water:  no.  Chocolate milk: yes.  Fruit cup: no.  ham and turkey sandwich: yes.  Chips:  no.  Banana: no.

I stayed in the finish area much longer than I usually do.  The sun was out, and I felt surprisingly comfortable with the layers I had.  I didn’t even need to put my gloves on.  I saw several friends who had already finished.  I also saw a few friends finish while I was there.

After getting cleaned up, I joined Aaron and Ed for ice cream at a place near my hotel that makes the ice cream right in front of you using liquid nitrogen to chill it.  Then we walked over to the Olympic rings in Centennial Olympic Park.  Later, I joined Aaron for dinner at Hard Rock CafĂ©.


Race Statistics
Distance:  26.2 miles
Time:  3:41:15
Average Pace:  8:27
Lifetime Marathons/Ultras:  402
Lifetime Sub4 Marathons:  254
Consecutive Sub4 Marathons:  10