Greetings from Virginia Beach. This is the second straight Labor Day weekend I’ve spent down here and run the Rock n Roll Marathon. I went back to last years blog writeup and was glad to see that it stood up well over time. My closing thoughts from last year provide a good kickoff for this year’s report:
Bottom line was we all agreed to do it the right way next year, with a 2 night reservation for hotel on the beach within walking distance of the concerts and within warmup distance of the starting line where [the kids] can watch cable tv while we race and we don't have to worry about hotel security as we try to cop a few z's on their well manicured shady lawns. We'll bring the rest of the family and hopefully some other folks as well, and keep talking about how it was more fun the first time around.
Indeed we did it the right way this year. On Friday the family plus Kevin (aka the original British gecko and practically family by now) drove south through the lashing winds and driving rain of Tropical Storm Ernesto, and pulled into Virginia Beach on the other side of the storm. We checked into a beachside hotel overlooking the concrete boardwalk that will constitute the final miles of the race course. The room and the hotel were a bit damp from the storm, but the weather was fine and looking good for the weekend. Saturday morning was overcast and cool, and Kevin and I took advantage of this with a morning run on part of the course (4.5 in 42:37). I’m geeky enough to have hoped that the weekend would remain cloudy and cool, but the sun came through about mid afternoon, which we spent bodysurfing, playing Frisbee and reading. Then it was a mighty tasty dinner at a seafood restaurant on the bay and a concert by Carbon Leaf, one of Maricela’s faves and the only band that was interesting among a whole bunch of bands that were playing along the boardwalk and on the beach (headlining that night was Kool and the Gang). Finally it was back to the hotel to get to bed early.
Kevin and I got up at the crack of 5am. Stepping out onto the balcony, the weather was cool but the stars were shining bright. Not promising weather conditions. A group of cheerleaders, noisy and giggling in the false dawn, got to the boardwalk as we left for the start. We wondered if they realized that the first runners would not get to that point for another two and a half hours. The walk to the start was about a mile and a half. Last year, when we stayed in Norfolk, we had to park off-site and due to logistical screwups did not get to the corral until mid- National Anthem, about 4 minutes before start. In contrast, pre-race logistics this year were relaxed and, other than running into a quartet of Wissahickon Wanderers, including Chris and Polly (only know them by first name), was uneventful.
The gun went off and I followed my plan and started relaxed. No maneuvering around runners who had no business being that far up front, or trying to keep up with folks I knew would pull ahead of me anyway. Mile one went by in 6 flat and instead of fretting I smiled. Mile 2 took us up the bridge over the Rudee Inlet (one of two “uphills”) and passed in 5:52. I still felt fresh and picked up the pace a bit. The nice thing about this tactic is that it let me steadily reel in people ahead of me. Mile 3 passed in 5:45; already 23 seconds ahead of last year’s split at this point. I kept overtaking runners ahead of me, hoping to find folks I could work with but ultimately continuing the move ahead. The miles stretched along shady roads south of VB and through a military camp. Miles 4 and 5 were a bit uneven but more or less on what I wanted – 5:50 & 5:42 – and after the latter split I thought this is the pace to hold. Having said that, mile 6 slowed to 5:54. The highlight of mile 7 was that I came within range of a grey haired guy ahead of me and locked in on the target. I blew by him and the mile passed in 5:43. Mile 8 took us back to the top of the Rudee Inlet bridge (5:49) and back down into VB. The remaining miles would go up Atlantic Avenue (the shoreline drag) and back down the boardwalk to the finish. The race was now on.
Down Atlantic Avenue (mile 9 in 5:44 and mile 10 in 5:42) I used two pairs of club types to pace off of and ultimately pass. I was ahead of them and in no-man’s land in mile 11 and lost time, slowing to 5:53 and falling in again with these four guys, who had bunched into one pack. Now it was onto the boardwalk and into a hot, intense sun. One guy dropped out holding a hamstring and we were a group of four. I finally got people to work with (or work against now), and I am desperate to hang onto them. I call upon my pre-race visualizations, the karma from the good wishes I received, and music to keep me going. Mile 12 was a disappointing 5:51 and in response I picked up the pace. The other guys hung on and this mile was agony, more so as the finish was now visible in the distance. Mile 13 was a 5:42 and I was coming home. I had nothing left for the last tenth of a mile and the other guys all dutifully kicked, leaving me behind to watch as the clock turned over to 1:16 and up to 1:16:07 when I crossed the line.
Its usually disappointing to cross the finish a few seconds after a new minute turns, but I could not have kicked any harder even had I known how close I was. After the finish I stopped my watch, grabbed onto my knees and sucked air, grabbed water, and congratulated the guys I ran with. I took a gulp of water and got sick to my stomach, a feeling that lingers even as I write this. And then I realized how drenched in sweat I was. Drenched like I came out of the ocean. It felt as hot as I remembered it last year. I lurked around the finish waiting for Kevin, who had a bad day and finished in about 1:30. Chris finished just ahead of him, and I also chatted briefly with Lee Cox, a VF Striders guy against whom I have dueled a few times in local races and who wisely ran (i.e., not raced) today. After Kevin came by we got food (mistake), gear bag, and Spenco sandals (nice), and unceremoniously walked the half-mile back to the hotel along Atlantic Ave, where hordes of runners were still making their way towards mile 9. Always great to get back to the hotel, to the shower and fresh clothes. From the balcony Kevin and I watched a seemingly endless stream of runners run the last half mile or so to the finish, by now a procession of mostly determined but miserable looking people. The cheerleaders continued on in full cheer mode and I drifted off into sleep with their chants still in my ears.
Addendum
Ricky Bobby: “You’re either first, or you’re last. You taught me that [Dad]. I lived my whole life by that.” Ricky's Dad: “Why that don’t even make no sense boy. I was high when I said that. You can be second, third, fourth. . .hell you can even come in fifth.”Its now Sunday evening.
Back from dinner at an Irish pub (my stomach has finally settled) and seeing Joan Jett & the Blackhearts (better than I expected) and the tail end of WAR (wish I had seen more).
The results are now up and my 1:16:07 is official. This time is good enough for 56th place overall (out of 16,000 finishers) and 3rd masters place. Unfortunately only the top masters finisher, with a 1:14 time, got cash so I will settle for some age group trinket that will get sent to me someday. Still, the race is big enough where this is a good accomplishment. I’m also satisfied in that, both time and placewise, I did everything I set out to do and for once I stuck to a pre-race strategy (see previous blog entry) that was something other than start out fast and hang on to the finish. My final 5 km time, at 18:06, was a little faster than my initial 5k, at 18:12. No one ahead of me had a slower 5k time, and I counted 14 runners who finished behind me with faster 5k splits (meaning I passed them at some point after 5k).
Today also marks a big improvement over last year’s finish, which was 1:19:41.
Checking Weather Underground the temps at 8:15 were in mid 70s and only 2 degrees “cooler” than last year’s race.
Enough geeking; time for bed.
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