2014 Georgia Marathon

A quote attributed to Winston Churchill, and more recently in a Rodney Atkins 2006 song says that if you're going through hell, keep on going. That's pretty much how I felt over the last eight or so miles of the Publix Georgia Marathon in Atlanta.

Outside the race expo, at the Georgia World Congress Center. We didn't stay long, since I never really need to buy anything. I did *want* a lot of stuff though. I settled for a hat.

First, the backstory. The First Lady got us a wonderful hotel a few blocks from the starting line. We took MARTA to get to the race expo, but realized it was easier to walk the few blocks to the race start. It was my second race as a member of the Athens Road Runners Developmental Team, and my first wearing the team singlet, white letters on a black tank. I opted for an older pair of Nike shorts because they had pockets for the Clif bar I brought. I also went with compression shorts underneath, which was a late addition that worked really well. Thicker Feetures! socks, Nike Pegasus 30 shoes, and my headband completed the outfit.

The sun hadn't risen for the 7:00 am start, and temperatures were in the low 50s, with cloudy skies. Rain was in the forecast, but I stayed dry for the most part. I woke up at 5:15, and my body did what it could at that time. Prerace fuel was 2/3 of an apple, 2/3 of a Clif bar, and 2/3 of a bottle of Powerade. Felt good about that.

I was in corral E, and we crossed the start line just a few minutes after the elites. A vivid memory from Mercedes in 2012 was that I went out too fast and paid for it later on, so I spent the first several miles listening to chatter from the other runners, weaving through other foot traffic, and trying to stay within myself. There really wasn't anything special about the first hour or so, but getting started before the sun rose was unusual and fun. I did thank the girls for the tunes when I passed by a house that was blasting Carry On My Wayward Son, by Kansas. That's a little thing that, to me, is a big thing. Kansas (the state) has been very good to me over the years, so hearing this song was very meaningful.

The first big event was when the half marathon split from the full, near the Carter Center just past mile seven. An eerie sort of quiet took over, and it suddenly felt like very serious business. There was one quick pee stop at mile eight, but things continued OK. My quarter splits weren't quite where I wanted them to be-- a few were 2:05, many were closer to 2:15, which is north of the 2:10 splits I hoped for. I chose not to carry a bottle for the race as I had for my 20-milers, and splits were 2:25-ish when I stopped to drink. I may rethink that tactic in the future, since I saw many folks with belts for fluids. These seconds added up in the long run.

The first time I really started to hurt, ironically, was on probably the best-supported part of the course. The elevation map told me there was a solid downhill through Decatur for miles 11-16, and my Garmin supports that, but my legs did not. Part of the plan was to conserve energy and maybe make up a little time through here so that was the first sign of trouble.

On the bright side, the city of Decatur really got on board to support the running community, with church marquees sharing positive messages and townsfolk coming out to encourage us at 9:00 on a Sunday morning. But the thing I carry with me (and will remember for a long time) is their signs-- similar to the small wire signs that people put in their yards to support a political candidate. The difference here is that the signs were takeoffs on the old Burma Shave rhymes from many moons ago (ex:Y’all look great...Strong and smart... Running a marathon...Takes lots of heart. DECATUR! ). The theme was very positive, and apparently residents have been writing them for several years for the race. Some talked about what a great place Decatur is, others supporting runners, several made fun of their bad limericks, while a few said come back and spend money. They were all great fun and I laughed out loud at just about each of them.

I've said it before-- support like this (and anywhere on a race course) cannot be underestimated. We're all fighting our individual battles out there, and the positive vibes that are sent our way mean a lot even if they don't last long, and even if we can't really acknowledge much. Emory College gals ran a drink stop (mile 19?) a few miles from the actual college and were really loud and very supportive. The Morehouse College drumline was out there at mile 24 pumping out the energy. Residents of the Old Fourth Ward were out with signage and great support. Even little kids with a table set up in their front yard with free water for runners. I thought that was really sweet, so I hope those who came after me stopped to thank them. And cowbell. It seemed like everyone had one and was ringing it. All of this support was wonderful and I can't be more appreciative.

Meanwhile, about mile six I noticed my GI tract acting up. By mile 16, as we ran through Emory College, I had to deal with it. That quarter was closer to 5:00 for obvious reasons, and the time added made a difference. I felt I'd addressed this back at the hotel, but there's nothing you can do. This was also the time where I really started to feel rough. Quarters were mostly over 2:15. I'd abandoned my 3:50 goal and refocused on 4:00. What didn't help was that my GPS was about .25 ahead of the actual distance, so my Garmin thinks I actually traveled 26.47. It skewed my thinking a little, but by then you can convince yourself of just about anything. It's the point where it becomes dangerous to think of how far is still to go. There were a few MARTA stops that were starting to look pretty good.

I even recognized a few areas-- the course went through Piedmont Park, where I had an eight-miler on a sunny Saturday a few years back when I came to town to meet the wife, who was in town for work. I also ran through the neighborhood at mile 23 where we had a wonderful pasta dinner the night before.

Second musical note-- I heard Take the Money and Run by The Steve Miller Band, running right by the boombox when they were headed down to Cool Ol' El Paso. I took it as another sign of something special, since I am a native. I clapped right along with the beat which was probably not a wise choice, but I would've regretted not doing it.

Once we got past the Morehouse drumline, running through the Georgia Tech campus was next. My memories here involve focusing on finishing, and not on the positive vibe that was present. I'd driven through the GT campus before so I recognized parts of it, but I was on lockdown at this point. I also realized I wouldn't beat four hours. It took all I had to keep running, and my first goal was to run the entire race. Those last two miles felt like the longest two I'd ever run-- I thought the race would never end.

Admiring my victory swag. 

I did eventually find the finish line, and I met the goal of not stopping to walk. I was completely spent. There was nothing more to give. I got my finisher's medal and found my friend Alan who is also an Athens Road Runner. Actually, he found me. We took a picture and I went looking for the First Lady. I was just so happy to not be running anymore, and that we had a plan to find each other afterwards (another lesson from Mercedes). After accomplishing this feat, she is the one I want to share it with, since she is such a big part of this with me. It was a good thing I found her, since I was in no condition to do much other than be supervised. She brought my purple K-State hoodie and wind pants, which both became necessities (along with the space blanket) since I was so cold and tired. I was in such lousy shape I didn't even want a cup of postrace coffee. We sat for a bit and then I felt like walking around. I was never so happy that our hotel was so close, but the two blocks were also hilly, so it took much longer to get back than it did to get there.

Things improved steadily once we got back to the hotel-- crawling under the covers, hitting the ibuprofen, a hot shower, and Clemson/Illinois NIT basketball all helped me start to feel human again. We stopped for road burgers and went home. I'll say here what a big fan of ibuprofen I've become. I took a couple after my 20-milers to help me get through long shifts at work, and two postgame tablets really made a difference here as well.

I am very, very proud of the effort. 4:02:03 on a very hilly course. 9:02 was the pace through the first 10K because I was so wary of not going out too fast, and sticking to that plan helped at the end, even though my pace fell to 9:13 per mile overall. 59th in my age group, 339th man to cross, and 434th overall finisher. Not too shabby.

I know I can improve on this, and I will. Someday. For now, I am pleased. Very pleased with the race.