On November 21, I ran the Philadelphia Marathon. I’ve done this race twice before, but the last time was way back in 2014.
I flew to Philadelphia on
Saturday and took a train into town from the airport. Before walking to my hotel, I stopped for a
slice of pizza at Rex Pizza, which was on the way. My hotel was in the city center, so I was
able to walk everywhere I needed to go.
When I got to my hotel,
they didn’t have any rooms ready, so I checked my bags and went for a
walk. I started by walking to the Philadelphia
Museum of Art, which is close to where the race starts and finishes. There’s a scene in Rocky II where Rocky goes
for a run. He’s shown running through
various neighborhoods in Philadelphia.
The scene ends with Rocky sprinting down Benjamin Franklin Parkway and
running up these steps.
In Rocky III, there’s a
scene where the city unveils a statue of Rocky.
That statue now sits near the base of the steps. On marathon weekend, the race organizers sometimes
make an extra large version of the race T-shirt and put in on the statue. They didn’t do that this year.
On my way to the museum,
I passed the Rodin museum and this fountain.
On my way back, I walked
through Love Park, where they had a Christmas village.
Finally, I went by city
hall.
When I got back to the
hotel, they had a room ready. After
checking in, I went to the expo to pick up my race packet.
This race was limited to
runners who have been vaccinated for COVID-19.
To verify vaccination status, they used CrowdPass. About a month ago, I received an email with an
event ID. I unloaded a copy of my
vaccination card and received an email form CrowdPass with a QR code. I needed to show that QR code at the expo to pick
up my race packet. Alternatively, I could’ve
shown them my vaccination card, but the QR code was easier.
Later, I had dinner with my
friends, Julia and Shane. As early as Thursday
I tried to make a dinner reservation, but all of the downtown restaurants were
booked until at least 9:00. We were
hoping to eat at 6:30. We had dinner at
Iron Hill Brewery & Grill. They don’t
take reservations, but you can go online to put your name on the waiting
list. I put us on the list at 5:30, with
hopes that we could be seated at 6:30. For
a while, it looked like we might have to wait until 7:15 or later, but we ended
up getting seated just after 6:30. They
have a varied menu that includes pizza.
Also, it’s a brewery, so they have a variety of beer.
I went to bed early. I didn’t sleep perfectly, but I got enough
sleep to feel OK. That’s all I can hope
for the night before a race, when I’m sleeping in a hotel.
When I registered for
this race, I assumed I would be race-walking.
It was only in the last few days that I decided to run it instead. The weather played a big part in that
decision. It was a cold morning, with an
overnight low in the upper 30s. I
thought I would be warmer if I ran. If
nothing else, I would finish sooner, so I wouldn’t have to spend as much time
on the course.
Because I originally thought
I would be walking, I estimated a slow finish time when I registered. At the time, my fastest walking marathon this
year was 5:15. There was a colored band on the side of each race bib that indicated our corral assignments. Mine was blue. I had to look at a map of the start area to
find out where that was. There were
eight corrals, and blue was the slowest.
The race started at
7:00. I got up at 5:00, so I could be
ready to leave the hotel by 6:00. I didn’t
have much time for breakfast. I just had
a few sips of Coke and a mini-muffin, which I ate while walking to the start.
I had to walk more than a
mile to get to the start area. When I
got there, I saw an information desk, so I asked if I could get my corral
assignment changed. I was told that corral
assignments weren’t enforced. I could
line up anywhere I wanted, except for the gold corral, which is where the elite
athletes were. I didn’t know which
corrals corresponded to which times, but I knew Julia was in the green corral,
and she usually runs marathons in 4:30.
I decided to start in the green corral, which was the fourth one.
Before making my way to the
green corral, I had to get through three lines.
The first one was the security line, where they had to inspect everyone’s
bags and screen everyone with a metal detector wand.
Next, I had to get
through the gear check line. There were
about a dozen trucks for checking bags.
At most races, the trucks are either organized alphabetically by runner’s
name or numerically by bib number. At
this race, all the trucks were interchangeable. I noticed one of the trucks had a line that
was much shorter, so that’s the line I got in.
I didn’t know it at the time, but that would later prove to be a
mistake.
After checking my gear bag,
I still had to get through the line for a port-o-potty. Then I had to make my way to the green
corral. Without knowing the cutoff
between that corral and the one in front of it, I decided to line up in the
front of the green corral.
I wore tights, a T-shirt,
arm warmers, gloves, and a warm hat.
Basically, I wore the same cheetah outfit I wore for the New York City
Marathon, but I added arm warmers. To
stay warm on the walk from the hotel, I also wore my poncho from the New York City Marathon. After taking that off and checking it in my
gear bag, I expected to be cold. Surprisingly,
I felt fairly comfortable standing in line for the port-o-potty and standing in
the start corral. After the national
anthem, I heard some pre-race announcements, and then the gold corral started.
The other corrals were
staggered by two minutes each. Before
the red and black corrals started, I heard announcements calling out a few
runners in those corrals who were in costume.
One was dressed as Santa. Another
was an elf. As my corral moved into
place, I heard mention of a cheetah. At
first, I didn’t know where the announcements were coming from. Then I looked to my right as saw that I was
right in front of the announcer, who was joined by well-known runners,
including Meb Keflezighi, Bill Rodgers, and Bart Yasso. I didn’t expect to get mentioned in pre-race announcements,
but I’m pretty sure the announcer was referring to me.
I didn’t have an ambitious
time goal. I ran the New York City
Marathon in 4:12:42, so I thought it would be nice if I could go a couple
minutes faster than that. That seemed like
an easy goal. This was an easier course,
and I wasn’t planning to stop to take pictures.
As I started running, I
immediately felt cold. Usually, on a cold
morning like this, I’m cold before the race starts, but I warm up after I start
running. This was the opposite. I didn’t notice the cold breeze until I
started running. I warmed up eventually,
but I was freezing for the first two or three miles.
The race starts on Benjamin
Franklin Parkway. Looking ahead, you
have a clear view of City Hall. The only
time it wasn’t directly in front of us was when we went around the fountain at
Logan Square.
I quickly got the sense
that I was starting fast. I think there
were two reasons for that. The first was
the way I’ve been training lately. About
half of my training has been race-walking.
The other half is running. When I
race-walk, I try to keep my cadence as rapid as possible. When I run, it’s either continuous running on
a treadmill or a run/walk mix outside. On
the treadmill, I’m always running slightly uphill. Outside, I only run the sections of my route
that are uphill. Where it’s flat or
downhill, I race-walk. I’ve been doing
this to minimize the impact that my knees need to absorb.
Running uphill, I
generally take short strides with a rapid cadence. Running on level ground, I found myself taking
longer strides, but I still had a rapid cadence. That caused me to go faster than I do in
training.
Another reason I started
fast is because I was surrounded by faster runners. Green may have been the right corral, but I
probably lined up too far forward in that corral. I wasn’t trying to keep up with the runners
around me, but when everyone around you is running fast, it tends to skew your
perception of how fast you’re running.
When we reached Love Park,
we made a slight left onto Arch Street.
As we passed City Hall, the next neighborhood we ran through was
Chinatown. From there, we continued east,
toward the Delaware River.
I never saw the one mile
sign, so I didn’t check my pace until I finished the second mile. I ran the first two miles in 16:35, which is
an average of 8:17 per mile. That’s more
than a minute per mile faster than my average pace in the New York City
Marathon two weeks ago. As I started the
third mile, I told myself to relax and let myself drift back through the pack,
rather than keeping up with the runners around me. That proved to be easier said than done.
As we started the third
mile, we were running downhill toward the river. It’s hard to slow down much when you’re
running downhill.
When we turned onto
Columbus Boulevard, the course leveled out.
Then I reached an aid station. I was
still cold, so I didn’t feel any need to drink anything yet. I stopped to drink some Gatorade anyway. Stopping briefly and then restarting gave me
a chance to hit the reset button on my pace.
As I resumed running, more of the runners around me were passing me.
My pace in mile three
wasn’t really any slower than the first two miles. I attributed that to that mile being partially
downhill. Still, the next time I reached
an aid station, I walked briefly while drinking Gatorade, and I tried to hit
the reset button again.
Whenever I wear the
cheetah gear, I get lots of shout-outs from the crowd. I also get comments from other runners. At least twice per mile, another runner would
say they loved my outfit.
Running through the
historic district, I only had a vague sense of where I was. I could tell I was running through older
neighborhoods, but I wasn’t looking for landmarks. I was more aware of the crowds. They were starting to get thick here, and
they were making noise for us.
I never noticed the sign
for four miles. When I got to five
miles, I noticed that my average pace had slowed, but not by that much. It occurred to me for the first time that I
was running fast enough to qualify for the Boston Marathon. For my age group, the qualifying standard is
3:50, which is an average pace of about 8:46.
My average pace so far was just a little slower than 8:30.
It's getting increasingly
common for spectators at races to hold homemade signs. Some are made to encourage specific
runners. Others are humorous or meant to
be encouraging to anyone. As we ran back
through the city center, I noticed a sign with pictures of cats on it. As I turned to read it, I saw it read, “Big
Cat Energy.” I was dressed like a big
cat, so I waved.
Just before seven miles,
we crossed the Schuylkill River. We
would remain on the west side of the river for almost six miles. This course isn’t as hilly as the New York City
Marathon, but the middle miles have some rolling hills. The first hill comes between seven and eight
miles. After making a couple more turns,
I saw the hill. It wasn’t steep, but it
was uphill for several blocks.
My average pace was
gradually slowing, but it was still under 8:40.
I was still on pace for a Boston-qualifying time. I wasn’t convinced that this pace was
sustainable, but I also wasn’t convinced that it wasn’t. I felt like I was putting some effort into my
pace, but I never felt like the effort was going to break me.
Going up this first hill,
I picked up my effort. I was careful not
to overdo my effort, but I also didn’t want to give back a lot of time by
getting lazy on the hills.
After cresting the hill,
I enjoyed a nice downhill section. In New
York, I had discomfort in my right knee after the downhill side of each
bridge. This was the first real test of
how my knee would feel on hills today.
It passed.
I saw another spectator
with a sign that caught my attention. It
read, “Run Like a Gazelle.” Since I was
dressed like a cheetah, I was tempted to say something like, “I eat gazelles
for breakfast.” I didn’t. Ten years ago, when I was much faster, I
might’ve been cocky enough to say that.”
I’m not as fast as I used to be.
I don’t feel like I’m fast enough to be wearing the cheetah gear, much less
talking it up. At best, I’m fast for my
age. I’m an aging cheetah, and I probably
couldn’t catch a gazelle.
At nine miles, we began
an out-and-back section that had a loop in the middle. This part of the course didn’t look
familiar. I’ve run this race twice
before, but the last time was seven years ago.
I knew the general layout of the course, but I didn’t remember all the
details. As it turns out, this section
was new.
Going out, it started out
downhill, but then turned uphill. I
realized I would have to do the same down and up later, but in the opposite
direction. I moved to the center of the
street, so I could more easily look for people I know among the faster runners
coming back. I didn’t recognize
anyone. Then I started the loop through
Fairmount Park
For the first time, I
started thinking seriously about trying to sustain a Boston-qualifying pace for
the whole race. I wasn’t sure if it was
a good idea to try. If it was any other
round number, such as four hours, I probably would’ve retreated into my comfort
zone. Qualifying for Boston is
different. I don’t have a qualifying
time yet for the 2023 Boston Marathon.
If I could knock that off, it would take a lot of pressure off me in the
coming months. I didn’t know if it was
possible, but if it was, I had to try.
For the next several
miles, I felt like I had two voices whispering in my ears. One was telling me I had to pick up my effort
enough to stay on pace. The other was
telling me I had to ease up a bit and make sure I didn’t wear myself out. I didn’t know which one to listen to. I vacillated between the two.
Mile 11 was the first one
that wasn’t on pace for a Boston qualifier.
I ran that one in 9:02, despite putting more effort into that mile. Then in mile 12, I sped up to 8:05, despite relaxing
a bit. That was my fastest mile so far,
although it’s worth noting it was a downhill mile.
After running the
out-and-back part in the other direction, I crossed the Schuylkill River
again. The rest of the race would be on
the east side of the river. I was
expecting it to be one long out-and-back that followed the river. It wasn’t.
First, we had another section that included a short out-and-back, and
had a loop in the middle. This time, I
was sure. This was not part of the
course I ran in 2012 or 2014. I was
expecting the rest of the race to be mostly flat, but this section had more
gently rolling hills.
I reached the halfway
mark in 1:53:36. I was on pace for a
Boston qualifier with almost a minute and a half to spare. It’s worth noting however, that the first
half of the race included some fast miles at the beginning. I wasn’t expecting to have fast miles like
that in the second half of the race. At
this point in the race, a Boston qualifier still seemed possible, but negative
splits seemed unlikely.
One of two things was
going to happen. In one scenario, I
would get more confident as I put more miles behind me. The fewer miles I had left, the more likely I
could sustain my pace. In the other
scenario, each mile would add a little to my fatigue, until I eventually reached
my breaking point. I’ve had both of
these experiences in multiple races. I
didn’t know yet which way it would go today.
Maybe that’s why I love to race.
You can get halfway through a race and not know what you’re made of, but
you always find out in the second half.
The end of this section
was noticeably downhill. In New York, I
always adjusted my stride on the downhill sides of the bridges. My only concern was minimizing the stress on
my right knee. This time, I had other
priorities. I ran down this hill for all
it was worth. I wanted to take advantage
of the opportunity to pick up my pace.
Shortly before 16 miles,
I turned onto Kelly Drive, which follows the Schuylkill River. I only had 10+ miles to go, but I was finally
on the long out-and-back I had anticipated.
I was mostly done with hills now.
When I reached the 16
mile mark, I saw I ran that mile in 8:10.
I couldn’t believe it. That
obviously improved my chances of staying on pace for a Boston qualifier, but I
still had a lot of miles ahead of me. I
wasn’t confident yet.
I saw runners coming back
on the other side of the road. They had
to be only about two miles from the finish.
They were about eight miles ahead of me.
I paid attention to the colored bands on the sides of their race
bibs. They were all either gold or
red. Those were the two fastest corrals.
Most of the runners
coming back were men, but several were women.
I noticed three things about the women.
First, they were all wearing their most serious game faces. They were racing hard. Second, they all had gold bands on the side
of their race bibs. Third, unlike my
race bib, which said, “blue,” theirs said, “elite.” The elite men were past this point, but I was
getting to watch the elite women race toward the final two miles.
Watching the faster
runners briefly distracted me from my own pace and effort. It was a welcome distraction. I was still keeping up with the runners
around me, but I wasn’t as conscious of how hard I was working.
When I got to 17 miles, I
saw I ran that mile in 8:20. That made
two fast miles in a row. I was comfortably
ahead of the pace I needed, I was running just as fast as I did in the early
miles, and I was almost two thirds done.
Now I believed! For the rest of
the race, I ran with confidence. Now
there was only one voice in my head. I
was racing for a BQ, and I would push hard to stay on pace.
As I continued along the
river, I kept watching the runners coming back.
I spotted my friend Cade. I knew
he was here, but I didn’t know if I would see him this weekend. As it turns out, he’s the only runner I
recognized along the course.
I saw a group of
spectators who were all dressed as different animals. I thought, “These are my people.” Then one of them pointed at me and said, “He’s OK.”
I never noticed the sign
for 18 miles. When I got to 19 miles, I
observed that miles 18 and 19 weren’t as fast as miles 16 and 17, but they were
fast enough. I also realized that I only
needed to run nine minutes per mile the rest of the way. That seemed like it should be easy. Then I remembered that my fastest stretch during
the New York City Marathon was between 5K and 10K, and that was an average pace
of 9:01.
Before reaching the
turnaround, we ran through Manayunk, where there’s always a beer stop. I spotted several spectators on the side of
the road offering beers. Normally, I
would indulge, but I was now racing for a BQ, and I wouldn’t do anything to
endanger that. Still, they didn’t make
it easy to resist. We had our names printed
on our race bibs. One guy looked at me
and said, “David, you want a beer!” Did
I mention he was wearing horns? I had my
own personal demon, but I resisted temptation.
The crowds in Manayunk
were great. I needed that. Looking ahead, I could see it was slightly
uphill just before the turnaround. I had
to dig a little deeper, but then I was able to use the downhill coming back.
Before leaving Manayunk, I
had to pass through the beer stop gauntlet again. They were on both sides of the street. This time, one looked right into my eyes and
said, “You want a beer.” I resisted
temptation again. I was on a mission.
With each passing mile, I
recomputed the pace I needed the rest of the way to finish in 3:50. With 3.2 miles to go, I just needed to
average 10 minutes per mile. I could
afford to slack off, but I didn’t. With
2.2 miles to go, I just needed to average 11 minutes per mile. I could afford to relax, but instead I dug
deep. I was no longer racing to break
3:50. Now, I wanted to break 3:47, and I
was confident I could do it. Why
3:47? At the halfway point, I was on
pace for 3:47:12. I wanted to run
negative splits to put an exclamation point on today’s effort.
The last mile was the
only one that was truly difficult. I was
feeling the fatigue, but I didn’t want to let up. I knew we had to run past the Philadelphia
Museum of Art before reaching the finish line.
I kept looking for it, but I never saw it. Amazingly, I got all the way to 26 miles, and
I never saw the museum ahead of me. Then
I realized I was already running by it.
It was on my right. All that was
left was running the last 385 yards to the finish line. It seemed longer, but I never let up. I finished in 3:46:28. I ran negative splits by almost a minute.
I got a space blanket,
which I knew I would need. I didn’t
realize how much I would need it. More
on that later.
I got my finisher medal
and walked through the food tent. I had
some orange juice, an energy bar, and a cup of chicken broth. At another tent, I got a chicken hot
dog. Then I made my way to the gear
check trucks.
Standard procedure is for
the volunteers to sort the bags while we’re running the race. After the race, you go to the appropriate truck
and tell them your number. Since the
bags are sorted numerically, they can go right to your bag and hand it to you.
That’s how it’s supposed
to work. That’s how it worked at every
truck but one. The bags in truck #4 didn’t
get sorted before runners started showing up to retrieve their bags. The only way they could retrieve a bag on
request was to go through every bag on the truck to look for one with a
matching number. That obviously doesn’t
work. There were hundreds of bags on the
truck.
Remember when I got into
the shortest line for a gear check truck?
Guess which truck it was. That’s
right, I picked truck #4.
When I got there, dozens
of runners were already waiting for their bags.
The volunteers on the truck did the only thing they could do at this
point. They would pick up a bag and read
off the number. Does anyone have #358? At first, they would call out several numbers
before finding a bag whose owner was waiting.
As more and more runners made their way over there, the probability of a
bag belonging to someone already waiting increased. Still, it was a painfully slow process. Several of us were waiting for well over an
hour.
As some volunteers were
handing out bags, other were trying to sort the remaining bags. In time, it became possible for them to look
for a specific number. When they asked
me the number of my bag, I said ,“131,” which was the number on the wristband
they gave me. More than once, I was told,
“We don’t have a 131." Are you sure you
have the right truck?” More than once, I
doublechecked that my wristband said truck #4.
Eventually, one of the
volunteers invited me to come into the truck.
He led me to the other end and confided that there were a few bags with
no numbers on them. Maybe the volunteer
who collected my bag forgot to tag it with the number that matched the
wristband she gave me. Maybe the number
fell off. There were only a few bags
without numbers, and I quickly recognized mine.
I was standing there in
the cold for nearly an hour and a half before I got my gear bag. The only thing that kept me from freezing was
that space blanket I was wrapped in. I
started walking back to the hotel. It
was about a mile and a half, and I wasn’t walking as briskly as I was in the morning,
but now I could wrap myself in my poncho, in addition to the space blanket.
While I was walking back,
I was talking on the phone with Deb. She
could hear something jingling, and she asked me what it was. It was my finisher medal. The design included the Liberty Bell, and the
bell had a working clapper. The bell
rang as I walked.
I finished the race
before 11:00, but I didn’t get back to the hotel until 1:00. I took a hot bath and did some stretches. That helped, but my knee got stiff during the
long wait for my gear bag. It doesn’t
hurt walking on level ground but it probably would hurt to go up or down
steps. Thankfully, I wouldn’t have to do
any steps today. I expect some soreness
walking down the steps in the train station tomorrow.
The guys in Manayunk were
right. I did want a beer. I just wasn’t willing to give up any time
during the race. Now that the race is
over, I plan to visit a brewery after dinner.
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