The day begins at 4:30. I must have eaten more than I can remember the previous night. I cooked up a vat of pasta, garlic bread and salad for a few folks including some fellow K-star runners. We watch chariots of fire on the 40” screen while shoveling the food down.
Out the door I get some green tea and honey at the local Starbucks (a staple for my marathons). On the bus ride over the course I feel disconcertingly unexcited. In fact I’ve had trouble ‘getting up’ for this race for the past several days. Last year I couldn’t sleep the day before the BM. This year I slept too well. I feel little besides un-anticipation and dullness. I even felt some apprehension - not nervousness - that my training was crap and that I was totally unprepared.
Anyway, I try to shut off the stream of thoughts and turn on the autopilot. On the busride over I listen to music: michael jackson ‘beat it’, some coldplay, ben folds five, vivaldi, peter gabriel… I’m with Abe - we decided to run together in attempts to break 3:00 for the 2nd time together. Abe had the GPS to keep us honest on the steep downhills that characterize the first 16 miles. We wait for the signal. Two F-14 fighter jets pass overhead in formation. Despite my distaste for military spending I was awed by the simple utilitarian beauty of these machines. The air is cool, perfect for a race. We shuffle to the start and cross the rubber line - we sound like barcodes at the market. For a moment there is an eerie stillness; total silence but for 25000 running shoes on concrete.
The first miles are easy. I still feel apprehension and what I know is an unhealthy respect for the miles ahead - unhealthy in that apprehension is not the friend of an athlete. I try to conserve my energy and use gravity to carry me forward. I know that the race doesn’t begin for me until Newton so I try to settle into some kind of rhythm and knock out the first half of the race. Up to mile 10 I can’t say anything remarkable happened. I felt strong and was continuously held in check by Abe. In looking over the numbers from last year it is true that I ran too fast in the first half. Therefore I was trying to remain slower at the start than last year, though I hoped to beat my time. Around mile 10 I actually was not feeling all that great. I decided that audacity is a virtue and that I really didn’t want to feel this dullness that was still in my legs and my mind. F- Newton, I thought, Bring it on. Over the next 6 miles all I remember is Abe keeping me from pulling ahead too much for which I am very thankful; it was like my old piano teacher, Bela, with the metronome.
The hills were pretty easy. I had decided to start attacking instead of sitting back. I remember turning to abe and saying something like ‘Where’s Newton, this thing?‘. And my legs started giving me trouble similar to my grammar in the last sentence. The up and down had taken its toll. So I curse myself for not training harder, my legs are rubbery…
Abe starts to pull ahead. I catch up. Abe pulls ahead, I catch up Shit I put on a small burst, pull ahead… Abe catches F-ing bitch! I go
By mile 22 I was holding on for life. The thing I remember above all was that I wanted to hang back as Abe was pulling ahead. I cursed myself, got angry and decided I’d rather collapse. I focus on my arms as it distracts me from my legs. Light posts become my friend and I realize the wisdom of breaking up challenges into small parts. Whereas each mile to this point was taken on a mile basis I now took it by light post increments of several hundred yards - fartlek style. Off in the distance I see the Citgo sign - frighteningly distant. My quads ceased to work in my favor, instead they felt like brakes. I stopped keeping track of my times and just kept working.
So I missed by sub 3 goal, ending in 3:01:27. I was satisfied in that I could have easily finished a few minutes slower but dug deep and pushed when I really didn’t feel like I had anything left.