What did I learn? It’s not that easy.

Some notes on today’s Marine Corps Marathon. I’ve been excited about this race for a long time, months, since I decided to run it. But honestly at the tail end of this month, it’s been a little bit in the shadows of my mind. Time to quickly rectify that!

I arrived at yesterday’s expo at the DC Armory at 1pm. There was a holy moley massive line winding every which way, looping around a block in multiple directions. I was trying to think of something similar I’ve ever been in and failed – maybe a queue at Austin City Limits? But you can always say screw it I don’t need a beer, you can’t say forget this I don’t need my number. YJP and I wait in line for 90 minutes to get my number, then a second line another half hour to get into the expo itself to get the shirt. I should have eaten beforehand. YJP keeps saying “this can’t be what they intended” – by the apologies they posted later on FB & twitter, I think they agree. Anyway.

When I booked my hotel for Marine Corps I got the one I did specifically because it was closest to the race start. What I didn’t realize was the big block of green that I thought was a park between the hotel & the start was actually Ft. Myers, a fairly well locked down military base, which meant come 6am, I had to walk around it. This involved crossing a couple highway sized roads and skirting a good long sidewalk-less section through a construction site. This part of Arlington is not friendly towards pedestrians, but some 40 minutes later I finally made it.

Fortunately I was in time at the St Jude tent for the team photo & to check my bag with them. After the lines at the expo I was thrilled to not have to deal with the public gear check.

To the start! The actual start of the MCM is marked by a shot from a giant howitzer, fired off twice, once for the wheelchairs and once for the main field. This is a big & impressive sounding piece of artillery.

Before the howitzer fired though a series of parachutists jumped, most landing right next to the loosely defined “corral” I was in. This was super cool – several of them had giant American flags in tow. I think the announcer mentioned one of them was the largest flag jump that had been attempted – it’s hard to get a scale of these things from the photos but one star here is 5 1/2 feet across.

To the race!

Start: Big gun & rolling downhill. The start is on a highway that’s been shut down, in both directions. This is a big, big race. My watch, which had busted in Columbus, pretended to lock a satellite but once I started running it revealed itself to be broken completely. No pace, no distance, nothing. This was incredibly frustrating to me for the duration of the race.

Mile 2: The biggest hill of the race is right up front. I see YJP here on the left, but some dude right in front of me steals my high five. WTF GUY. Running up this hill it dawns on me that I’ve overdressed, warmer than I want to be, but there’s nothing to be done now as my long compression layer is below everything else.

Mile 3-5: This is a downhill winding section through a particularly scenic area. I don’t know why I thought the course would be flat, but these high arching bridges overhead strike fear into the heart. There are cliff faces, steep ones, along the course here, which is cool.

Mile 6-9: Out and back along the Rock Creek & Potomac Parkway. Scenic here, but not many fans, as all access is blocked on this road. I see three people wipe out here within a minute – the part of the field I’m in isn’t too dense, but since it’s an out & back I can tell the field behind me is crazy dense, spreading past the large construction cones that split the road. The people I see fall seem to be tripping into these things, stepping on the edges. I drift toward the far side of the course. This race probably could do with a stricter corral system and a more dispersed wave start to avoid this congestion. But what do I know.

Mile 10: I see YJP here again and toss her my gloves. Here, enjoy toting around my soggy cotton detritus, friend! Lots of spectators here, back along the river. We’re actually running right behind the Lincoln Memorial here but I don’t realize it til later (having not particularly studied the course map, bad).

Mile 11-14.5: this is the dullest bit of the course, a long loop around the East Potomac Park peninsula. Round about here is where I realized I wasn’t going to have the best day of my life – I’ve run enough of these to know when I should be getting tired, and mile 12 is not that mile. One interesting part here is a long row of american flags for the Wear Blue to Remember the Fallen folks. There’s one person standing exactly on the 13.1 timing mat, cheering us on actively & individually. I like this guy, am grateful he biked all the way down.

Mile 15: back to civilization here! People cheering, and bands. and I’m trying to perk myself up, but the reality is it’s early, and I’m already struggling. Two things happen in quick succession. First, I find myself surrounded by a mass if people much denser than the race has been, which turns out to be the 3:35 pace group rolling through me. Right as this happens, I hear YJP screaming from the right side of the course. I had been looking for her on the left, and given the pack of people I’m in there’s no way to get over. As I’m swept by I hear her say she’ll see me at 19. Later I saw that she said I was “leading the 3:35 group”, which is one way to look at it. Another way is to say within the next two minutes they had all left me in their dust.

Between this point and 19 is the most interesting part of the course, running along the north side of the mall toward congress, looping around the capitol reflecting pool then back west. At this point I start to feel really sick. Eventually I have to stop for the one bank of portapotties I’ve seen in miles, which is very helpful. I find YJP again somewhere around 19 & turn down the sports beans she’s brought for me as I still feel so nauseous I don’t want to eat anything. In retrospect leaving the calories behind was a mistake. She walks with me 100ft or so, listens to me complain, lies to me that I’m looking ok. “Regardless of how you feel, you’re doing ok”. Ok. She is lifting me up, I try to let her, try to borrow her conviction as my own is lost.

Mile 20: Beat the bridge. This is a cutoff for runners behind me but I’m just trying to finish at this point and am not running strong. I have no pace from my watch which has at this point shut off completely, and it feels like I’ve been averaging 10 minute miles. Later I find out that I was at 8:14 splits through 30K so was doing reasonably well on my race goal (sub 8:20), but I don’t know this, and the weak part of my mind is giving up. I see a guy, skinny, fit, fast looking, lying on the side of the bridge with an oxygen mask on his face and surrounded by EMTs. If that guy can’t make it… I am weak.

Mile 23: I’m looking for YJP again but don’t see her (she goes into her own escapades trying to get to this mile marker if you’re interested). There’s a lot of energy here in Crystal City though, DJs and crowds that are more enthusiastic than I feel. If I were to get over the wall I’ve been sludging through for the last four miles, it’d be here. But it doesn’t happen, not really.

Mile 25: The Pentagon is here on the right, behind acres of parking lots and a large police contingent, watching us. The marines along the course have been helpful, cheerful, enthusiastic. I get the feeling these cops are protecting the Pentagon from us, not there for our benefit. I’m too tired for the implication and trudge on. We loop back up an onramp onto the same highway we started on, then finally come through the start area. I feel like walking again before I see a sign that says “You can run slow tomorrow when no one’s watching”. This makes me kick it up as I take a last left up towards the Iwo Jima Memorial. It’s steep, but like all hills has an end. I cross the line at 3:48:28, six minutes off last weekend in Columbus and 18 minutes slower than Chicago. This is good for 3288th overall (of 23,732), top 14%.

I don’t go into the main running village, and instead work my way back to the St. Jude tent where I’ve checked my bag. Normally it takes me 30 minutes or so to recovery to a point where I don’t want to die. Today that’s closer to 90. Fortunately (or not) YJP is lost and trapped with no phone and can’t find me for that amount of time anyway. I am not good company, can’t regulate my thermal systems, can’t really function. I’m frigging tired, weak and feel beaten.

But all that said, if I can draw back to the bigger picture. With the completion of this race I finished what I started to do. One week at a time, I ran four wildly different marathons in one month. I went into Chicago and set a new marathon PR, got to see Mike & Kristie & Alexandra in Columbus, some of my very most favorite people in the world. My parents & Team HB were able to come see me run & cheer for me in New Hampshire. And regardless of what she thinks, YJP really did save me this week. It’s been a tremendously long & difficult month, but now that it’s over, it’s very, very satisfying.

My splits, for posterity. :)

Finish Net 3:48:28 Finish Gun 3:50:06

Song of the week, Museum of Flight by Damien Jurado.