The Half at Philadelphia

The night before was nearly as memorable as the day of. The plan was to responsibly take in a movie and be in bed by 8 or 9; in other words 2-3 hours earlier than normal.

Restlessness was exacerbated by what sounded like *quite* a party in the lobby. Totally unable to sleep from the jitters, inexplicable hunger, and periodic howling (in the strictest definition; actual howling) coming from the lobby, I did what any normal super-tweaker would do: I pulled on my jeans and shoes (no socks) and headed down to the gift shop for pretzels and water. I sat there, scarfing, first two pretzels at once, then six or seven, listening to Like a Virgin booming from the nearby bar. "OMG, I'm in the land of the world's loudest, most inconsiderate people in America: Philadelphia. Screwed. Got back to bed, only to be awoken an hour later by a piercing ring (Maybe I'm dead? I hope so.) and a voice "Evacuate the building. There is an emergency in the building. Do not use the elevator. You must evacuate the building." Some kid had pulled the fire alarm.

Got up around 4 and went out for a light jog. This is my day. I once passed a really tough exam on 2 hours sleep. Been there. Came back and heated up two packets of oatmeal. No spoon, so I used the coffee cup lid. Lots of it ended up on my face. This is my day.

The way they organized the corrals was weird. Half and full marathon peeps are all together, which was fine. But, right behind elite and sub-elite are “up to 3:10" and “up to 1:35.” Hmm? Anyways, by the time I got to the start from the portajohn line, it was like 5 minutes to the gun (of course). The only way to get into my corral was to jump over a chest-high metal barricade. Up and over and who do I find? Bryan McDonnell, who lives one town over and regularly wins local races. I was flattered that he recognized me. He told Mike he was going for two 1:24's. Yeah, see you back in Jersey. They started playing Lose Yourself and, embarrassed to say, I lost myself a little. But, some dude behind me was tearing. Come on, man; I hope it was from something other than Eminem.

Go! I was through the first half mile in like 3:15. The sub-3 pacer was cruising along, chatting with the guy next to him, and holding up his balloon stick like it was nothing. I was mesmerized by that for a bit. Forcing myself down, I came through mile 1 in 7:13.

Around mile 4-5ish, I noticed I had been running most of the way with one runner, Amanda, and asked her what she was going for.
“1:30.”
“Me, too.”
“Good.”

Running with Amanda was the best part of the race. Even though we exchanged surges, I wasn't trying to beat her and I could tell she wasn’t trying to beat me. At some point, she came up with another woman: “I found another one.” Ha.

Through 10k in 43:01.

At this point, we hit the hills. I hadn’t looked at a course elevation profile or anything before the race, so these took me by surprise. At some point I lost Amanda, and the other women lost me.

I pulled up to the to 10-mile clock and saw 1:09: 50, 51. Good *grief,* not again. Not again. At this point I started negotiating with my legs. “No more races this year. This is it. This is it. Come on.” I knew I had to run in the low 6's for the rest of the race. Plowing, plowing, plowing. “Full marathoners to the left, half to the right!” At this point, there was only one half marathoner in front of me. As I passed him, he grunted, “Yeah, finish strong.” Seeing no one else and completely delirious, I sincerely thought, for about a mile, “Am I winning? Am I going to win? Omg. I’m winning the half at Philly...No.” Later, others would comment that the course finished along “the river.” I did not know that at the time, since I was in a tunnel. The clock came into view: 1:59:40, 41. Oh no, not again. Not again. Dig, dig - Why is the guy in front of me stopping to jump and touch the clock? - 1:29:57, 58. In! Right? I later found out that my gun time was 1:29:59. Good grief is right.

How Champions Finish

HERE'S the amazing men's finish at last Sunday's the Chicago Marathon:

Track and Field Videos on Flotrack

Western States 100

THE WESTERN STATES 100 has been described as the "de facto national championship" of ultra-racing. Most runner's will not run it. Most know that they cannot ever run it. This is not a never-say-never issue. There is wisdom in never.

For an in depth look at the race experience itself - its pain and beauty - check out the reports of super-elites Anton Krupicka and Geoff Roes.

Hey, maybe one day I'll race it. You never know.
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Photo by Luis Escobar

No Formula

You came to see a race today. To see someone win. It happened to be me. But I want you to do more than just watch a race. I want you to take part in it. I want to compare faith to running in a race. It's hard. It requires concentration of will, energy of soul. You experience elation when the winner breaks the tape - especially if you've got a bet on it. But how long does that last? You go home. Maybe you're dinner's burnt. Maybe you haven't got a job. So who am I to say, 'Believe, have faith,' in the face of life's realities? I would like to give you something more permanent, but I can only point the way. I have no formula for winning the race. Everyone runs in her own way, or his own way. And where does the power come from, to see the race to its end? From within. Jesus said, "Behold, the Kingdom of God is within you." If with all your hearts, you truly seek me, you shall ever surely find me.' If you commit yourself to the love of Christ, then that is how you run a straight race.

-Eric Liddel, Chariots of Fire

Congrats to my friend Paul Kist, who completed his first half marathon yesterday.

Race Report - Hamptons Marathon

For those who may be interested, below is a report of my first marathon.

Last night, on the way to the place I was staying for the weekend, stuck in traffic, I received a call from my father:

Me: Hello
Dad: Hi, Nader. Where are you going?
Me: Long Island.
Dad: Why?
Me: A race.
Dad: Oh, oh. How long?
Me: It’s a marathon.
Dad: Yes, yes, I know. But how long? 4 miles? 6 miles?
Me: 26
Dad: What-what-what? Ohmygoodness. Nader, listen. If you feel tired, don’t be afraid to stop. Don’t be a hero! You remember what happened in high school, when they had to call the ambulance?
Me: Yes, dad. Thanks.
Dad: Ok, here’s your mother…

I woke up this morning freezing, and checked the weather, only to find out that it was 44 degrees. I looked at the super-thin sleeveless shirt I had laid out. Fabulous.

I started out the race feeling a little tight and sluggish, having consumed a bagel and coffee less than an hour before the start (a logistical mistake, but - long story short - I felt I had to choose between that and not eating breakfast at all. In retrospect, a banana might have been a better option at that point). Having not run for the previous three days, running at that point felt like a new thing I was deciding whether I liked. It felt like having dinner with a friend I hadn't talked to for some time.

The first few miles were a bit awkward. Getting and staying under 9:09 at that stage was tougher than I thought, especially because of the fear of the unknown (i.e. not knowing how much I needed to save for post mile 20) I was experiencing.

3 miles: 28:10

As I got into the meat of the race, I started to feel better and stronger. I stopped at every single aid station and this coupled with the two bathroom breaks, I think contributed to late-race tightening of my quads (something I cannot remember ever experiencing during training).

10K time: 58:56

At the half point, I looked at my watch 2:02.02! Dang.

At that point I started pushing myself, realizing that in all my previous races (and I think also this one, to an extent) my downfall was saving too much for the end. I said to myself, "Not this time. You can rest after the race. Leave nothing here."

From that point on, I decided I was going to do everything I could to keep myself under 9:00, but over 8:40.

At mile 20 I didn’t feel winded at all, but my quads were becoming increasingly tight.

At mile 22, it was all heart. "No wheels are coming off nothing. Go."

It was heart that helped me disregard the pain from pounding ("push the pain to the sides of your mind" -Mikey) and giving up and walking. It was the tightening of my legs, especially the quads that kept me, despite my best efforts, from getting under 9:15. I am only now realizing that, after mile 20, holding such a pace was totally out of the question.

Overall, I'd say the course was much hillier than I anticipated.

Final time: 4:05:06

Place: 113/294 overall; 10/20 age group; 69/157 gender

Kara Goucher Interview

Justin Young has posted an interesting interview given by Kara Goucher, who holds the U.S. record for an American woman’s debut marathon, with a time of 2:25:53. She has some helpful comments on running one's first marathon.