Marathon

Whew! It's been an exhausting month, and not in the least because I've undergone two quite monumental tests of endurance: first the Georgia Marathon in Atlanta on March 30, then Collegiate Triathlon Nationals in Tuscaloosa, AL, three weeks later on April 19. For now, I only have time to talk about the first one…

I had some #1 fans for the marathon: Mom and Dad! They came down to visit me in Atlanta for the first time that weekend. We made great use of the time together:
- Relaxing in my pleasant and bright apartment, doing crosswords and chatting on the patio
- Eating the Nova Scotia Brown Bread, granola, and oatmeal cookies (common ingredient: oats!) that I baked all in a few hours before they came
- Attending an Atlanta Symphony/Chorus concert
- Exploring Midtown, Georgia Tech campus, Druid Hills, Emory campus, and Viginia-Highlands by bike and foot
- Eating out for Mediterranean food, Cuban food, and gelato
- Spending a cloudy/rainy afternoon at the Atlanta History Center, and driving through some ritzy Buckhead neighborhoods
- Planning a marathon-viewing route

This was a great time for Mom and Dad (and all the people coming in for the marathon) to visit Atlanta—the weather was beautiful (besides the rainy afternoon), and the city was even more beautiful, with blooming flowers and blossoming trees all over, and the tall trees starting to sprout light-green leaves.

Dad lifting me on Tech campus

I'm…a helluva, helluva, helluva, helluva, helluvan engineer

Gelato from Paolo's in the Highlands, at the end of our long bike tour

At the Atlanta History Center

The Swan House (basically, an old millionaire's private palace) at the Atlanta History Center

Exotic animals outside the Swan House


Marimba "concert" in my apartment



Now, the marathon! The course route was pretty spectacular: starting in Centennial Olympic Park, we went through downtown, Georgia State campus, the Sweet Auburn district/ML King Historic Site, historic and beautiful Inman Park, eclectic Little 5 Points, Candler Park, then all the way out to the nice suburb of Decatur, Agnes Scott College, north to Emory, a winding route through my favorite area of the Druid Hills, my home turf of Virginia-Highlands, Piedmont Park, Midtown, Georgia Tech campus, and finally back to Olympic Park.


Dark and early (and cold) on Sunday morning, I took MARTA down to Centennial Olympic Park, where thousands of people were congregating in lieu of the 7 AM start. I avoided the long line for checking in belongings, opting to hide my warm-up clothes under a bush instead, used the potty one last time, and joined my assigned "corral": the first one! (Well, OK, there was also a Corral 0 for the professionals/Kenyans.)

Here's a basic run-down of my race:
First 6.55 miles: I feel really energized and loose, keep up a smooth, quick pace that still feels relaxed. I smile and nod to Mom and Dad, on bikes, cheering for me around miles 5.5-7.5. I see a line of a dozen elementary-school kids lined up by the road with their hands out, so I let out a "YEAH!!" and side-five them all, to their delight. Average mile pace: 6:42.
Second 6.55 miles: The marathon route splits off from the half-marathon, losing 2/3 of the runners in the process ("dang, I shouldn't have been trying to keep up with that person…") and starts the long trek out to Decatur. I feel good for a bit, but I am glad to get the motivational boost from the loud crowd of supporters at Agnes Scott College, and as I near the halfway point in Decatur, I am definitely not feeling comfortable anymore. Average mile pace: 6:51.
Third 6.55 miles: The most beautiful part of the course, as I well know, because I run there often. But the slight hills on the shaded, well-manicured roads through Druid Hills neighborhood are taking their toll much more than they have ever in the past. I tell a fellow runner, "I'm starting to feel it," and he replies, "yeah, you should!" Regardless, I keep plodding on, my energy dwindling fast. Average mile pace: 7:14.
Last 6.55 miles: Mom & Dad appear again as I cross into the Highlands. When I pass my street at mile 21.5, I am already in a daze. From this point on, I stop and walk for 10 seconds at each water station (spaced ~1 mile apart) to drink my water/Gatorade (before, I would just slow down and drink a few sips every 3-4 stations.) As I cross into Piedmont Park, my brain is about 1/3 gone, and my body is on autopilot. I have to start telling myself to keep going, and fight off unconsciousness. My pace has slowed significantly and I'm just plodding, clumsily weaving through the crawling mass of walking half-marathoners, but there's still over 3 miles to go. Midtown and Tech campus come and go, all in a daze, and I'm finally on the last stretch, a mile down exposed Marietta Street. At that point, my brain feels about 25% there, and when I blink my eyelids, I see spots. My legs are just running on momentum. Average mile pace: a listless 7:58.

After the finish: the most tired I've felt in my life, period. I'm so glad Mom and Dad were there to take care of me, because I quite literally could not move. I couldn't even make any inflections in my voice, so when they asked me something ("Do you need any more Gatorade?" "Are you going to eat the rest of that banana?") I would reply with a flat, abrupt, rude-sounding "No." "Maybe." Dad went and found my stashed warm-ups while I sat sprawled on a park bench, sitting motionless and shivering in a towel and heat blanket (during the race the cool temperature was nice, but afterwards my body didn't have the energy to create any heat.) Then, they supported me (and Dad man-handled me down some stairs) so we could get on MARTA and back to the warm apartment and the blessed hot shower.

On the Marathon/Half route in Candler Park (I think I've already gone by in these two photos)


Mile 21: Rejoining the half-marathoners in Virginia-Highland. If those people look happier than I do, it's because they've run 37% the distance that I've run in the same amount of time.

Crossing the finish line, at long last. As slow as I finished, my happiness at beating my goal time inspired me to manage a weary fist-pump.

Here's some extreme exhaustion.

I don't claim any responsibility or control over my post-marathon facial expressions. Is that girl laughing at me?

Hobo or marathoner? The position I stayed in for a good 45 minutes.


The conclusion: a tough, TOUGH race that I'm really happy about. Mom may have been a little scared at my extreme exhaustion afterwards, but, considering I finished and didn't collapse or faint, I couldn't have raced it much better. It wasn't the distance that made it so tough (I mean, in summer 2006 I ran a marathon distance on my own—more leisurely—without much problem at all), it was the fact that I was going for time, which ended up being 3:08:36. I handily met my time goal: to beat 3:10:59 (Boston Marathon-qualifying time). Yes, I probably should have started slower, I would have preferred to "crash" a little later than 5 miles from the finish, and it would have been nice if it hadn't taken 1-2 weeks to even start recovering from the race afterwards, but I have very little regrets about how I raced. It was a great experience, and a great accomplishment.

Oh, and it was GREAT to have Mom and Dad here, for the entire weekend. Hope they come back soon! ;-)