Caveat
First, I have to say I feel a bit guilty writing up a report for a marathon that went perfectly, given all the hardships many other marathoners had to endure on Sunday... anyone who ran Chicago, Twin Cities, or any other overheated marathon: you all have my sympathies and respect. I ran Boston in '05 when it was 75, nothing compared to what you had to endure, and it destroyed me.
Executive Summary
Now then! As I said, my marathon went perfectly. The bottom line is that I targeted 3:10, and ran 3:08:50, with a 2-minute negative split. That's a 3 1/2 minute PR for me. Also, I finally managed to beat my first marathon time, after seven more tries!
Now... the rest of this is rather (OK, extremely) long-winded, I'm afraid. You don't have to read it! But it's not every day you PR in the marathon, so I sort of couldn't stop writing.
Background
Coming into the race, I felt well prepared, and reasonably confident. My training (Pfitz 18/55) and tune-up races supported 3:10. The forecast was for 55°. My biggest concern was calf cramps -- I always seem to get them late in a marathon, if there are any hills. This year at Boston I finally found a pacing strategy that held them off. I took the first half very easy, picked it up a bit at the half, then finally, when I had cleared Heartbreak Hill at mile 20 at a comfortable pace, sans-cramps, I was able to open it up and crank in the last 6 miles for a negative split and a decent time. Similar to Boston, the most salient part of Portland's topography is a big hill at mile 17. Thus, like Boston, it is not usually a negative-split course. But I planned to use the same approach here. Also, I carried electrolyte pills.
Pre-race
Sunday morning, I was up at 4 am. I prefer to finish eating and drinking at least two hours before race start; Portland starts at 7. My wife drove me to the start around 5:45. She had run Portland 10 years ago, long before I was a runner. (I feel guilty to this day that she had a botched start because I didn't set the alarm clock right.)
I had paid extra for the "celebration lounge", which is a private tent in which you can hang out before the race -- most importantly, with plenty of porta-potties with no lines!!!! -- and in which you can recover and get a massage post-race. So I had a relaxed wait for the start. Celebration-lounge volunteers wrote BOB down each arm for me in black and red magic marker. My wife calls me an exhbitionist when I do this, but, hey, more cheers, more energy! We were escorted to the start at 6:30. This became a bit disorganized as we approached the line. I wanted to start near the front, but had to enter about a block back and work my way up. That wasn't too bad -- the first time (read on!). I found the 3:10 pace guy, very near the front. I didn't actually plan to run with him. I had made a custom pace band, for a 3:11 finish, with even first-/second-half splits, topography adjusted, further modified to speed up over the last 7 miles for 3:10. (If you can follow all that. Yes, I'm pretty geeky about this.) But I figured I'd catch him late in the race. Next, I turned on my Garmin. Problem - we were in the shadow of a very tall building. Guy next to me said, "oh yeah, I couldn't get a signal lock here. Had to go back a block". Great. So, I made my way back through the line, now more crowded. 6:42. Hmm. Back to the intersection. It took a long time to get a signal. Frantically, I re-entered the line, and tried to work my way back to the front. This time it was wall-to-wall people, and very difficult. Finally I made it, 6:52, not as late as I thought. But of course, the Garmin then lost the signal anyway. Great.
Well -- not really a big deal, I realized. All I care about are the mile splits and the average lap pace readout, and I knew the Garmin would eventually lock on and start reporting pace; the total distance display wouldn't be accurate anyway. So, I didn't sweat it. I downed a 12-oz. bottle of Gatorade & water I'd brought, and snarfed most of a banana. I had another 12-oz. bottle to carry with me the first couple of miles.
The Race!
The wheelchairs went off about 6:58. I barely remembered in time to turn off auto-lap on my Garmin, and double tie my laces; all the scrambling had distracted me. I got my first cheer of "Go Bob!" from the sidelines before the race even started. Then finally, we were off! I knew it would be crowded at the start, so I'd planned on a slow, warm-up, 7:25 for the first mile, even though it was downhill. (3:10 = 7:15 pace.) Without a Garmin signal, I was pretty sure I would be faster than that, but I tried to take it easy. A few blocks in, I got my next "Go Bob!". I turned to look -- it was my wife! I'd thought she was going to head back to the friend's house we were staying at and go back to sleep, then see me at mile 12.
Mile 1 went by in 7:05 -- yep, faster than planned. I passed the first aid station, still carrying my bottle. But I heard them call out "Ultima! Gleukos!". Huh? One reason I was carrying the bottle (well actually, I always do that) is that Gleukos (the drink with carbs) was not supposed to be at the first two aid stations, only Ultima and water. Don't ask me why. Why anyone would want a sports drink without carbs in a marathon is beyond me. A marathon is not the place to be trying out the Atkins diet!
By this time the Garmin had locked on; that was a relief. Last time I started a race when it hadn't locked on it took 4 miles. (It doesn't like to lock on while moving.) So, I could start pacing correctly now. Mile 2 was flat. Mile 3 was up a steep hill, the 2nd-biggest hill on the course. I still had some cushion from the first mile, so I backed off even more than my planned 7:36. Tossed the empty bottle around mile 3, and grabbed Ultima (no Gleukos!) at the aid station. This section was a loop through the south part of downtown. We hit the high point, turned back, and started downhill. We'd already passed a few of the very many bands on the course (including a lone harpist!), which is one of the features that makes Portland a nice course to run.
The next mile or two was fast, but I was gradually using up my cushion, settling in about 10 seconds ahead overall. My wife was watching me from atop a bridge at mile 5, but I didn't see her. Around mile 6 we finally left downtown and headed northwest into an industrial area for a long out and back. I started chatting with a guy next to me -- he was targeting 3:20. Huh. I was running a bit slower than normal 3:10 pace, but I figured this guy was probably asking for trouble if he was where I was then. I don't know how he did.
At 9 miles, we turned around. At this point I was back to just about on pace target. But then WHAM -- we were running into a stiff headwind. If the forecast was right, 13 mph. Felt stronger. I lost some time over the next couple of miles. I began to have second thoughts about my pacing strategy. The last 7 miles would also be into this wind. And that's where I wanted to crank it up a notch, and run 7:06's?? The one nice thing about the out-and-back stretch was that it gave you a chance to see a lot of other runners. I was wearing my yellow Marathon Maniacs singlet, and I must have seen and waved at 30 or so other Maniacs in this stretch (including Hippo and srlopez).
We left the out-and-back and turned out of the wind around 11.5. My wife was waiting around mile 12, but I didn't see her until I was just passing her; we were on opposite sides of the road. (Later I discovered she had WALKED between all the places she saw me! She must have been walking all morning.) I also missed the 12-mile marker, so I wasn't sure how I was doing on time. The fueling situation here was annoying. No Gleukos again at the aid station at 10.5, so it had been 3 miles since I had any carbs. And at 12, there were people handing out cups on both sides of the road, and they were all white cups. I figured out where the Gleukos was (only on the right, in front) just too late to be able to reach it. ****. I had brought a gel just in case (though I prefer to fuel with Gatorade), but now I couldn't even take that, because I'd just passed the aid station. I need water to wash it down.
At mile 13, I was 9 seconds ahead of target. So, I'd sped up a bit too much to make up for losing time to the headwind. But still, pretty good. The timing mat at the "half" was placed right after 13, not at 13.1, so I didn't get an accurate half split, but based on my mile-13 time it must have been about 1:35:21. So much for the "slow" part of the negative split. Actually I wouldn't really speed up until mile 19, but at 3:11 even-split pace, I would now start passing lots of people. Everybody positive splits Portland.
The next few miles were flat, as we headed northwest along the Willamette River, approaching the high point of the race, the St. John's Bridge. I'd heard this could be demoralizing, because you could see the (tall!) bridge from a long ways off, and it didn't seem to get any closer, and you were still running away from downtown. But I didn't really notice any of that. I was feeling good that I was on pace, with a small cushion, and looking forward to the big hill. Finally toward the end of mile 17 we started up the hill approaching the bridge. This was the steepest part. No problem -- I'd put 7:32 on my paceband for mile 17, and I was still a bit ahead. It's nice to run like that. You always think, "OK, I'm supposed to run 7:15 this mile, but it's not a big deal if I run 7:25 instead." Makes the 7:15s easier. We hit 17 miles most of the way up the hill. At the top, we turned on to the bridge proper, and kept going up. The views were great from the top of the bridge, although the perfect (for running) overcast skies meant the view of downtown to the south was not picture-perfect. The bridge photographer accurately captured me doing what I was doing most of the race:
We were now at the high point of the course, but I wasn't quite ready to speed up. We still had one more short, steep uphill. I pulled out my one gel here, ready for what I was sure would be an imminent aid station at which to wash it down. Across the bridge, now on the east side of the river, we turned back to the south, towards the finish, and went up the short steep hill. Still no aid station. Huh. (It finally appeared after what seeemed like a very long time.) Now -- at mile 19 -- I felt pretty good, with no calf issues, and I was finally ready to open it up. The return trip to downtown was along a large, mostly flat bluff on Portland's east side.
I still had my 10ish-second cushion. I thought I might need it right away, with the stiff headwind. But I was reluctant to give it up now, knowing I had several more miles of headwind. Over the next few miles I alternated between feeling that I had been too conservative shooting for 3:10, that I should really start thinking 3:09 or less now, and thinking that pulling out the 3:10 would be a challenge. Overall, I never really got into too negative a state. Tired, yes. Hurting, not really so bad. I cranked out the 7:06s as planned, and even began to build up my cushion. At mile 22 I had 20-some seconds in the bank, and mile 23 was the biggest downhill on the course, giving back most of the altitude we'd gained going over the bridge. Conservatively, I'd put 7:00 on my paceband, but midway through the mile I was averaging 6:31, per Garmin. Now I thought I might actually up my cushion to nearly a minute by 23. But then it levelled out, and at the end of the mile I'd only run a 6:48. Maybe the most frustrating thing about the last few miles was that there was no way to draft to avoid the headwind. By this point, I was going much faster than everyone around me.
At 23.5 we made a slight turn from Greeley to Interstate Ave., down which the MAX commuter train runs. A bit later, this would be the site of near tragedy, as a bicyclist who was pacing his fiancé in the marathon got distracted, bumped a curb, and flew right in front of a MAX train. The train hit him and he went under it, winding up under the second car by the time the train stopped. Amazingly, in that particular spot the ditch was just deep enough, and he had landed precisely so as to be able to pull all of his limbs in. He had some broken bones, but survived. Bicyclist vs. train -- the firefighters had already called in the heavy-lifting jacks to raise the train off the body. Everybody assumed he was dead.
From 23-25 there were some small rollers, but at this point they didn't feel so small. Somewhere in here the sun started peeking out, but it didn't get too bad. Finally, at about 24.75, we turned onto the Steel Bridge, to cross back into downtown, and I knew I was going to make 3:10.
Finally I really opened it up. No risk now of blowing up; the last mile was flat. Midway through mile 26, I saw I was averaging 6:34. Wow. If I could actually hold that, I could beat 3:09! I tried to pick it up some more. Then, ping! The calves finally started to cramp, just for an instant. OK, I would have to be careful. Coming around the next-to-last corner, a few blocks from the end, my wife was waiting again, cheering me on. I called out and waved. The woman next to her said, "I'm amazed he has the energy to wave at this point!" (She replied that well, I was an exhibitionist!) I cranked up the next couple of blocks, slight rise, and around the final turn. There was the finish! I gave it all I had, and crossed the line in 3:08:50!
I missed the 26-mile marker, but I had run the last 1.2 in 7:51, a 6:31 pace. My fastest mile of the race.
Post-race
I got my medal, my blanket, a towel, a pin, a rose (this is the City of Roses, you, know!), and a tree seedling to take home and plant. I consumed lots of water, chocolate milk, and bagels, then (pretty loaded down by now!) made my way back to the celebration lounge. I was the first finisher of all who had signed up for it. I found my wife, on the friends-and-family side of the lounge, then headed back for my massage. At Boston, everybody gets massages. But here it's only those who spring for the celebration lounge. So, I wound up getting the first massage of all the finishers, I guess. Unfortunately it turned out to be rather painful. Both calves locked up, and wouldn't stop cramping. I had to get up and stand on them. They still hurt a few days later. (But now, Friday, they're fine.) I wish I could figure out what's up with my calves. They really complicate marathoning for me.
I had finished 159/7736 OA, 20/531 M40-44. The race results list splits at 10K, 9.1M, "half", 17.2M, 20M, and 35K. Looking at those who finished ahead of me, every single person was ahead (usually way ahead) of me at every single split. That's how big I negative split this relative to the field. NOBODY passed me, the whole race, and finished ahead of me. Soooo... was my pacing strategy brilliant, or too conservative? Could I have finished faster with even or positive splits? Maybe. But I think that in this case, I did the right thing. I wanted the best chance at 3:10. And looking at most people's splits, most of them clearly went out too fast and died. That's no fun. What I did -- that was a blast!!!
Bob[/URL" target="_blank">
http://This message has been edited by bhearn (edited Oct-13-2007).
First, I have to say I feel a bit guilty writing up a report for a marathon that went perfectly, given all the hardships many other marathoners had to endure on Sunday... anyone who ran Chicago, Twin Cities, or any other overheated marathon: you all have my sympathies and respect. I ran Boston in '05 when it was 75, nothing compared to what you had to endure, and it destroyed me.
Executive Summary
Now then! As I said, my marathon went perfectly. The bottom line is that I targeted 3:10, and ran 3:08:50, with a 2-minute negative split. That's a 3 1/2 minute PR for me. Also, I finally managed to beat my first marathon time, after seven more tries!
Now... the rest of this is rather (OK, extremely) long-winded, I'm afraid. You don't have to read it! But it's not every day you PR in the marathon, so I sort of couldn't stop writing.
Background
Coming into the race, I felt well prepared, and reasonably confident. My training (Pfitz 18/55) and tune-up races supported 3:10. The forecast was for 55°. My biggest concern was calf cramps -- I always seem to get them late in a marathon, if there are any hills. This year at Boston I finally found a pacing strategy that held them off. I took the first half very easy, picked it up a bit at the half, then finally, when I had cleared Heartbreak Hill at mile 20 at a comfortable pace, sans-cramps, I was able to open it up and crank in the last 6 miles for a negative split and a decent time. Similar to Boston, the most salient part of Portland's topography is a big hill at mile 17. Thus, like Boston, it is not usually a negative-split course. But I planned to use the same approach here. Also, I carried electrolyte pills.
Pre-race
Sunday morning, I was up at 4 am. I prefer to finish eating and drinking at least two hours before race start; Portland starts at 7. My wife drove me to the start around 5:45. She had run Portland 10 years ago, long before I was a runner. (I feel guilty to this day that she had a botched start because I didn't set the alarm clock right.)
I had paid extra for the "celebration lounge", which is a private tent in which you can hang out before the race -- most importantly, with plenty of porta-potties with no lines!!!! -- and in which you can recover and get a massage post-race. So I had a relaxed wait for the start. Celebration-lounge volunteers wrote BOB down each arm for me in black and red magic marker. My wife calls me an exhbitionist when I do this, but, hey, more cheers, more energy! We were escorted to the start at 6:30. This became a bit disorganized as we approached the line. I wanted to start near the front, but had to enter about a block back and work my way up. That wasn't too bad -- the first time (read on!). I found the 3:10 pace guy, very near the front. I didn't actually plan to run with him. I had made a custom pace band, for a 3:11 finish, with even first-/second-half splits, topography adjusted, further modified to speed up over the last 7 miles for 3:10. (If you can follow all that. Yes, I'm pretty geeky about this.) But I figured I'd catch him late in the race. Next, I turned on my Garmin. Problem - we were in the shadow of a very tall building. Guy next to me said, "oh yeah, I couldn't get a signal lock here. Had to go back a block". Great. So, I made my way back through the line, now more crowded. 6:42. Hmm. Back to the intersection. It took a long time to get a signal. Frantically, I re-entered the line, and tried to work my way back to the front. This time it was wall-to-wall people, and very difficult. Finally I made it, 6:52, not as late as I thought. But of course, the Garmin then lost the signal anyway. Great.
Well -- not really a big deal, I realized. All I care about are the mile splits and the average lap pace readout, and I knew the Garmin would eventually lock on and start reporting pace; the total distance display wouldn't be accurate anyway. So, I didn't sweat it. I downed a 12-oz. bottle of Gatorade & water I'd brought, and snarfed most of a banana. I had another 12-oz. bottle to carry with me the first couple of miles.
The Race!
The wheelchairs went off about 6:58. I barely remembered in time to turn off auto-lap on my Garmin, and double tie my laces; all the scrambling had distracted me. I got my first cheer of "Go Bob!" from the sidelines before the race even started. Then finally, we were off! I knew it would be crowded at the start, so I'd planned on a slow, warm-up, 7:25 for the first mile, even though it was downhill. (3:10 = 7:15 pace.) Without a Garmin signal, I was pretty sure I would be faster than that, but I tried to take it easy. A few blocks in, I got my next "Go Bob!". I turned to look -- it was my wife! I'd thought she was going to head back to the friend's house we were staying at and go back to sleep, then see me at mile 12.
Mile 1 went by in 7:05 -- yep, faster than planned. I passed the first aid station, still carrying my bottle. But I heard them call out "Ultima! Gleukos!". Huh? One reason I was carrying the bottle (well actually, I always do that) is that Gleukos (the drink with carbs) was not supposed to be at the first two aid stations, only Ultima and water. Don't ask me why. Why anyone would want a sports drink without carbs in a marathon is beyond me. A marathon is not the place to be trying out the Atkins diet!
By this time the Garmin had locked on; that was a relief. Last time I started a race when it hadn't locked on it took 4 miles. (It doesn't like to lock on while moving.) So, I could start pacing correctly now. Mile 2 was flat. Mile 3 was up a steep hill, the 2nd-biggest hill on the course. I still had some cushion from the first mile, so I backed off even more than my planned 7:36. Tossed the empty bottle around mile 3, and grabbed Ultima (no Gleukos!) at the aid station. This section was a loop through the south part of downtown. We hit the high point, turned back, and started downhill. We'd already passed a few of the very many bands on the course (including a lone harpist!), which is one of the features that makes Portland a nice course to run.
The next mile or two was fast, but I was gradually using up my cushion, settling in about 10 seconds ahead overall. My wife was watching me from atop a bridge at mile 5, but I didn't see her. Around mile 6 we finally left downtown and headed northwest into an industrial area for a long out and back. I started chatting with a guy next to me -- he was targeting 3:20. Huh. I was running a bit slower than normal 3:10 pace, but I figured this guy was probably asking for trouble if he was where I was then. I don't know how he did.
At 9 miles, we turned around. At this point I was back to just about on pace target. But then WHAM -- we were running into a stiff headwind. If the forecast was right, 13 mph. Felt stronger. I lost some time over the next couple of miles. I began to have second thoughts about my pacing strategy. The last 7 miles would also be into this wind. And that's where I wanted to crank it up a notch, and run 7:06's?? The one nice thing about the out-and-back stretch was that it gave you a chance to see a lot of other runners. I was wearing my yellow Marathon Maniacs singlet, and I must have seen and waved at 30 or so other Maniacs in this stretch (including Hippo and srlopez).
We left the out-and-back and turned out of the wind around 11.5. My wife was waiting around mile 12, but I didn't see her until I was just passing her; we were on opposite sides of the road. (Later I discovered she had WALKED between all the places she saw me! She must have been walking all morning.) I also missed the 12-mile marker, so I wasn't sure how I was doing on time. The fueling situation here was annoying. No Gleukos again at the aid station at 10.5, so it had been 3 miles since I had any carbs. And at 12, there were people handing out cups on both sides of the road, and they were all white cups. I figured out where the Gleukos was (only on the right, in front) just too late to be able to reach it. ****. I had brought a gel just in case (though I prefer to fuel with Gatorade), but now I couldn't even take that, because I'd just passed the aid station. I need water to wash it down.
At mile 13, I was 9 seconds ahead of target. So, I'd sped up a bit too much to make up for losing time to the headwind. But still, pretty good. The timing mat at the "half" was placed right after 13, not at 13.1, so I didn't get an accurate half split, but based on my mile-13 time it must have been about 1:35:21. So much for the "slow" part of the negative split. Actually I wouldn't really speed up until mile 19, but at 3:11 even-split pace, I would now start passing lots of people. Everybody positive splits Portland.
The next few miles were flat, as we headed northwest along the Willamette River, approaching the high point of the race, the St. John's Bridge. I'd heard this could be demoralizing, because you could see the (tall!) bridge from a long ways off, and it didn't seem to get any closer, and you were still running away from downtown. But I didn't really notice any of that. I was feeling good that I was on pace, with a small cushion, and looking forward to the big hill. Finally toward the end of mile 17 we started up the hill approaching the bridge. This was the steepest part. No problem -- I'd put 7:32 on my paceband for mile 17, and I was still a bit ahead. It's nice to run like that. You always think, "OK, I'm supposed to run 7:15 this mile, but it's not a big deal if I run 7:25 instead." Makes the 7:15s easier. We hit 17 miles most of the way up the hill. At the top, we turned on to the bridge proper, and kept going up. The views were great from the top of the bridge, although the perfect (for running) overcast skies meant the view of downtown to the south was not picture-perfect. The bridge photographer accurately captured me doing what I was doing most of the race:
We were now at the high point of the course, but I wasn't quite ready to speed up. We still had one more short, steep uphill. I pulled out my one gel here, ready for what I was sure would be an imminent aid station at which to wash it down. Across the bridge, now on the east side of the river, we turned back to the south, towards the finish, and went up the short steep hill. Still no aid station. Huh. (It finally appeared after what seeemed like a very long time.) Now -- at mile 19 -- I felt pretty good, with no calf issues, and I was finally ready to open it up. The return trip to downtown was along a large, mostly flat bluff on Portland's east side.
I still had my 10ish-second cushion. I thought I might need it right away, with the stiff headwind. But I was reluctant to give it up now, knowing I had several more miles of headwind. Over the next few miles I alternated between feeling that I had been too conservative shooting for 3:10, that I should really start thinking 3:09 or less now, and thinking that pulling out the 3:10 would be a challenge. Overall, I never really got into too negative a state. Tired, yes. Hurting, not really so bad. I cranked out the 7:06s as planned, and even began to build up my cushion. At mile 22 I had 20-some seconds in the bank, and mile 23 was the biggest downhill on the course, giving back most of the altitude we'd gained going over the bridge. Conservatively, I'd put 7:00 on my paceband, but midway through the mile I was averaging 6:31, per Garmin. Now I thought I might actually up my cushion to nearly a minute by 23. But then it levelled out, and at the end of the mile I'd only run a 6:48. Maybe the most frustrating thing about the last few miles was that there was no way to draft to avoid the headwind. By this point, I was going much faster than everyone around me.
At 23.5 we made a slight turn from Greeley to Interstate Ave., down which the MAX commuter train runs. A bit later, this would be the site of near tragedy, as a bicyclist who was pacing his fiancé in the marathon got distracted, bumped a curb, and flew right in front of a MAX train. The train hit him and he went under it, winding up under the second car by the time the train stopped. Amazingly, in that particular spot the ditch was just deep enough, and he had landed precisely so as to be able to pull all of his limbs in. He had some broken bones, but survived. Bicyclist vs. train -- the firefighters had already called in the heavy-lifting jacks to raise the train off the body. Everybody assumed he was dead.
From 23-25 there were some small rollers, but at this point they didn't feel so small. Somewhere in here the sun started peeking out, but it didn't get too bad. Finally, at about 24.75, we turned onto the Steel Bridge, to cross back into downtown, and I knew I was going to make 3:10.
Finally I really opened it up. No risk now of blowing up; the last mile was flat. Midway through mile 26, I saw I was averaging 6:34. Wow. If I could actually hold that, I could beat 3:09! I tried to pick it up some more. Then, ping! The calves finally started to cramp, just for an instant. OK, I would have to be careful. Coming around the next-to-last corner, a few blocks from the end, my wife was waiting again, cheering me on. I called out and waved. The woman next to her said, "I'm amazed he has the energy to wave at this point!" (She replied that well, I was an exhibitionist!) I cranked up the next couple of blocks, slight rise, and around the final turn. There was the finish! I gave it all I had, and crossed the line in 3:08:50!
I missed the 26-mile marker, but I had run the last 1.2 in 7:51, a 6:31 pace. My fastest mile of the race.Post-race
I got my medal, my blanket, a towel, a pin, a rose (this is the City of Roses, you, know!), and a tree seedling to take home and plant. I consumed lots of water, chocolate milk, and bagels, then (pretty loaded down by now!) made my way back to the celebration lounge. I was the first finisher of all who had signed up for it. I found my wife, on the friends-and-family side of the lounge, then headed back for my massage. At Boston, everybody gets massages. But here it's only those who spring for the celebration lounge. So, I wound up getting the first massage of all the finishers, I guess. Unfortunately it turned out to be rather painful. Both calves locked up, and wouldn't stop cramping. I had to get up and stand on them. They still hurt a few days later. (But now, Friday, they're fine.) I wish I could figure out what's up with my calves. They really complicate marathoning for me.
I had finished 159/7736 OA, 20/531 M40-44. The race results list splits at 10K, 9.1M, "half", 17.2M, 20M, and 35K. Looking at those who finished ahead of me, every single person was ahead (usually way ahead) of me at every single split. That's how big I negative split this relative to the field. NOBODY passed me, the whole race, and finished ahead of me. Soooo... was my pacing strategy brilliant, or too conservative? Could I have finished faster with even or positive splits? Maybe. But I think that in this case, I did the right thing. I wanted the best chance at 3:10. And looking at most people's splits, most of them clearly went out too fast and died. That's no fun. What I did -- that was a blast!!!
Bob[/URL" target="_blank">
http://This message has been edited by bhearn (edited Oct-13-2007).
