My parents & I decided to drive up early to Bristol, NH for the New Hampshire Marathon as it had a relatively late start (9am) and there aren’t a lot of cheap hotel options near the host city. It’s less than two hours from Boston, a smooth ride on 93, no traffic. My dad drove which was fantastic. I’m pretty sure this is the first race of mine he’s ever been too, considering most of them are scheduled on Sundays. The morning-of number pickup was super easy – this is a small race and with the half marathoners starting at the midpoint, there wasn’t crowding at the start, for restrooms or otherwise. The only bad thing here was we lost all cell signal at the start, fine in & of itself but frustrating to not be able to tell Christine where we were or what was happening. She figured it out, of course. Still. Build some friggin towers.
Start to mile 8.5
I had read that the opening segment was the most difficult part of the course, but I didn’t find it to be particularly bad, at least until the very end. Rolling hills along 3A North, traffic for the most part light enough to make you forget you’re running on a highway with minimal shoulder.
I see Team HB & my parents several times along this leg, every two miles or so. They’re awesome, the most enthusiastic cheerers here by far, and their energy spreads to other runners around me. Over the course of the race I hear them call out other runners around me by name, which is so cool. Nothing like is possible that in a bigger race.
This part of the course has good views of the lake here – we’re mostly above it on the eastern coast. The last mile or so of this first section was a steady climb to one of the highest points on the course, leaving me winded.
8.5 to 11
A sharp left here into a steep downhill clearly demarks this part of the course. Later in the afternoon when going back to drive the course I’ll realize exactly how steep some if these ups and downs are – it’s a little disconcerting to drive them at any speed. There are some good southward views of the lake here, including this little house you can see to the right that I immediately love.
I felt pretty fast in the segment but in retrospect think this part is what took my legs out from under me. I saw several people (who all ended up finishing well ahead of me) walking the hills here to conserve themselves. If I do this race again I’ll do the same.
I think my general race strategy with regards to hills may be flawed. I often pass people on the uphill & am immediately passed again on the next downhill. In this race it must have happened with one particular woman ~10 times (she went on to beat me soundly, dropping me around mile 13). I don’t mean to run downhills slow but maybe there’s some change I can make to help cut loose and pick up some time when there’s a chance.
11 to 16.8
I see my cheer squad here again at the Hebron common. They had recruited or somehow subconsciously engaged with some other cheerers stationed here – this was the most enthusiastic part of the course by far. After that there’s a few miles out and back here, still rolling hills but not as bad. Two things of note: I saw a flock of loose turkeys in some dude’s yard here around mile 12 – some where partially white making me think they were geese at first. I briefly contemplate a life of turkey farming hipsterdom. A bit further down the road I see a deer standing to the left of the road. After I passed I was like 80% convinced it was stuffed or somehow taxidermi-fied. I meant to look for it on the way back but forgot – the deer who cheers, he’ll have remain an unexplained mystery.
16.8 to 20
Again past the Hebron common before starting the southward trip along the west side of newfound lake. I saw my parents this time, and Steven gave me some more beans for which I was very grateful. At this point I’m still feeling optimistic, a bit more than was warranted in retrospect. Even though I’m taking both water & Gatorade at each fluid station I’m running low on fluids- at some point around 18.5 I pass off an empty bottle to Steve through his car window, Ebs refills for me at 20. Around this point I’m starting to have doubts about maintaining my pace. For some reason I have my watch set to average pace, which has been steadily creeping up from 8:30 towards 9:00. For me to be losing so much time on average pace at this late stage of the race means I must be well over 9:00 splits. I don’t switch over and check, at some level I just don’t want to know.
20 to finish
This is typically the hard part of any marathon, and this guy was no different. In retrospect I realize my cheering squad knew I was getting grouchy (I think they realize it was not at them, just at life, the universe, whoever put all these dang hills here). But in reality, I was a grump, irritable and not pleasant. Not try to excuse, just being aware.
In my mind, the last six miles were all supposed to be a gentle downslope. This was not the case. At one point around 21 Christine was next to me and I was complaining about the slight rise ahead – “it’s just a bridge” she says, and of course she is right. It was a small bridge, even. Small in reality, but it seemed huge in the mixed up logic of the moment. I’m not death marching, but it’s close. Checking my splits after the race miles 23 through 25 are all around 10:30 minutes per mile, ugly.
At mile 24 there’s a more considerable rise & I decide to walk it. At the top were directed right back onto the highway, and the last two miles are mercifully the gentle downhills I’ve been looking for. Even with that, I’m getting passed steadily, by people I know I was a solid mile ahead of a the out & back. I see Team HB one last time at mile 26 and with their help muster a small burst to pass back one of the girls who passed me in the last four miles.
My parents are waiting at the finish, the first time either have seen me finish a race. It’s very exciting but I kind of want to die instead if celebrating. I try sitting, lying in the grass and no part of my body is working. I need to vomit but can’t. Finally I worked my way to the medical tent and crash on a cot for while trying to get it together, let the body chemistry normalize.
At some point in here the announcer is doing shout outs and calls my name, mentioning it’s my 14th state – that’s a lot! I think to myself, until I see a guy with a sign on his back saying this is his 193rd marathon. Steven talks to the timing guy for me and fixes a misspelling of my name. Eben is in a great mood, cheering for those after me. Someone asks him if he’ll run a marathon someday and he says “I think so.” Tate sits quietly & munches grapes – this being his third time at one of my marathons, he’s harder to impress.
My final official time was 3:55:53, good for 47th place (of 239 finishers). That’s a 9:00 split exactly, 22 minutes off my PR but 9 or so minutes faster than the two most topographically similar races I’ve run (Mad Marathon & Newport). Next up, just next week actually – the Chicago Marathon! That’s all good and exciting, but will be different in almost every way. I’m glad to have started my October with this race, glad my family could come up and spend some time with me. I hope they’ll be able to come to another some day even though I’m running out of New England states for the fifty state project. Next time I’ll carry Eben across the finish on my shoulders.
Song of the week, After the Storm by Mumford & Sons.