So, @dickwhitman , what was yesterday like? Explain what it was like after 2 miles ... 5 miles ... 10 miles ... the 20th mile ... 25 miles when you've still got another 1.2 to go ...
So, the first 15 miles or so are pretty much just relaxing, almost boring. I would even put miles 16, 17, and 18, maybe up to 20, into that category. The difference is that once you get around 18, you start anticipating that the real challenge is ahead. You know how they say the Masters begins on the back nine on Sunday? I would say that a marathon begins at mile 20, or the last 10K.
If you care to geek out, here were my miles splits through 18:
1 - 7:12
2 - 7:06
3 - 7:11
4 - 7:09
5 - 7:08
6 - 7:14
7 - 7:16
8 - 7:09
9 - 7:09
10 - 7:10
11 - 7:13
12 - 7:04
13 - 7:12
14 - 7:14
15 - 7:11
16 - 7:12
17 - 7:13
18 - 7:10
Getting the first mile under your belt, at pace, is so important, at least to me. I always have this irrational fear going in: What if I get out there and my legs just won't go fast enough? What if they won't warm up? In actuality, it's way easier than it is during a training run, because I've been up for about three hours on race day. I've traveled to the starting line, I've hung out for a while. I ended up striking up a conversation with a woman in her mid-30s doing he first marathon, who also had a couple kids at home, so we just chatted about balancing family and running schedules. That kind of thing. Anyway, the point is, you're awake and raring to go on race day, as compared to some random Saturday morning in August.
I'm someone who gets freaked out whenever my pace falls below what I need it to be during the course of a mile - I'm afraid I'll never get it back. That said, yesterday's splits were almost entirely dictated by the elevation on a particular mile. The course didn't have a lot of hills, per so, but it did have long, gentle climbs and long, gentle downhills.
So anyway, I had bought a Columbia wind breaker to wear, in the event of rain, which was in the forecast. I got rid of that at about the second or third mile. Just trashed it.
Because the first ~15 or so rote, I listen to music to kind of disassociate myself from the process of getting to crunch time. At mile 18, I think, I started to notice some discomfort in my legs. So I took the headphones out - which I've never done before in a recent marathon - and put my phone in my pocket. (At this point, I had my phone in one pocket and my wallet and phone charger in the other, since I never gear-checked them, having left my enormous gear check bag at the hotel.) This was really helpful - it allowed me to concentrate on pace, fully, rather than AC/DC.
Miles 19-22 went like this:
19 - 7:08
20 - 7:14
21 - 7:15
22 - 7:15
Now, I was
slightly concerned at this point to be hitting 7:14s and 15s, rather than staying comfortably below that pace. But the pace group leader told us that we had been uphill for a few miles at that point, and that the next couple miles were going to be downhill. It makes a huge difference. Miles 23 and 24:
23 - 7:05
24 - 7:08
I knew my wife and one of my best friends, who is also a runner, were tracking me on the tracking app, and it kept alerting them after each mile what my pace was. So I kept thinking:
You cannot disappoint these people. At this point, they believe you are going to do this.
In the past, I had started to fade with some 7:2x's by mile 20 or so, then really hit the wall starting at 22 or 23. So it was pretty exciting for me to get through 23 and 24 at those sub-7:10 splits. Nonetheless, I've run enough of these, and done enough long training runs, to know that there are times when your speed goes, it
goes. Although I occasionally thought about my goal time of under 3:10, which I have been stalking forever now, and all the time and effort and early mornings, what I was really doing was taking things one mile at a time. It's a cliche, of course, but it's the mentality you have to have.
I started 25 in the 7:30 range, through about 25.3, and I basically knew I had to will myself to get it back into at least around 7:20 and hopefully the high 7:teens. I think it was slightly downhill most of the mile, which helped. I figured if I could get to 26, I could find the willpower to power through the last 1.2.
25 - 7:19
There's nothing like the last mile of a marathon. I was hurting by now, but I knew that I had to do whatever I could possibly do to power through. There are times in your life when you have to rise up to meet the moment, and this was mine. By this point, there were a lot of spectators lining the sides of the road. (Best sign: "Even Christian Yelich thinks you're a badass.") I've always downplayed how helpful they are - I feel like you are either prepared or you aren't. But I do think that they gave me at least a slight boost. I was in the high 7:30s for most of the 26th mile, and I kept checking my watch for both the current mile pace, as well as my overall pace. At some point, it slipped from 7:11 to 7:12, but it had hung on a long time even as I had fallen below 7:11, so it seemed like if I could maintain 7:30s, I could get it done. The only thing that was a bit worrisome is that over the course of the race, my watch had fallen about a block behind the course miles. (And, indeed, my watch reads 26.30 as my mileage from yesterday).
I was ecstatic as the pace for mile 26 stabilized in the low 7:30s, and I crossed the 26th mile mark at 7:33. By this time, the streets were lined on both sides with screaming fans. I think that I spotted the finish line off in the distance, which is always a boost. I beared down and tried to gun it to the end. At some point, I saw that it was ticking away 3:09:10 or so, and it seemed like I had enough time to get there, but I wasn't sure. My watch still said 7:12. When it read 3:09:25, I distinctly remember that I was close enough that I knew I'd get there. I started pumping my fist, Tiger Woods-style, and shouting, "Fuck, yeah! Fuck, yeah!" I looked over my head as I crossed the finish line and it read, 3:09:41, I think, and my own watch read 3:09:35.
It got a little dusty after that, combination of the accomplishment and the end of the effort. I sat in a folding chair for a couple minutes, limped my way to get a chocolate milk and Diet Coke, and found my family.