The Main Event: The San Francisco Marathon

The race: 26.2 miles in 3:43:56

Well, that was insane.

I finished. I didn't meet my goal, didn't feel like I ran a good race, but I finished and I'm glad to have accomplished that. 94% of goal isn't that bad!

Race Morning

True to Thomas' prediction, I didn't really feel like I slept. I had put in good hours of sleep Thursday and Friday nights, basically did nothing taxing all day Saturday, so I wasn't too concerned, but it was a bit frustrating to toss and turn for 6 hours and then have the alarm go off at 10 to 4am and be already awake when that happens.

My brother, my wife and I got ready and left the house. My wife dropped us at an office near the start, as we were being hosted before the race by Galen. We met up there with Galen, and other K-Stars: Zach, Chris, Ari, Kevin and Matt, plus Galen's co-worker Ted. It gave us a chance to drop our extra sweats, take care of any final details, and use a bathroom one more time.

We reached the throng of people queuing for the start just about five minutes before the main starting gun of 5:30am, hearing the tail end of the National Anthem. It was a little challenging to navigate the crowd, but once reached the entry for Wave 2, it was remarkably clear (the congestion of people were lines for Port-A-Potties). It was still dark outside when an announcer started trying to whip the crowd up, and the view of the Bay and the buildings along the Embarcadero was pretty stunning. Wave 1 was released to a starting gun, and our wave shuffled forward. Galen, Chris and Ari were a bit in front of me, and my brother was next to me. When the start came, I gave my brother a quick hug and set off. Follow along on the course map if you like.

The first few miles

Immediately, it felt like everyone one passing me. I was constantly trying to remind myself to go out slowly and run my own race, since I knew I wanted to put in a few slower miles warming up before I got to any real work. When we approached Broadway, I knew from prior research that we were at the half-mile mark, and I saw that I was still going out too fast (3:50, equating to a 7:40 per mile pace, when I was shooting for 8:30). I managed to slow it down, seeing many more runners go out faster and pass me, and came into the first mile marker banner at 8:11 (pretty much the right pace for that half-mile).

[The mile marker banners were something I had seen at the Expo, the day before. The top half was white, with a red circle and a number in it. The bottom half had original artwork, such as a painting of the Japanese Tea Garden or of Bison from Golden Gate Park.]

On to Fisherman's Wharf, where the running has never been easier: the street was open to us and any tourists were watching from sidelines. Plus, being before 6 am, there simply weren't crowds of tourists watching. In fact, this is sort of a shame, as a large and seemingly endless stream of runners passes through a neighborhood virtually devoid of spectators. There had been some spectators at the start, but these dwindled quickly to where anyone you saw on the sidewalks were individually noticeable. At mile 2, I clocked in a 8:00 for the mile, 15 seconds faster than my prescription for that mile.

Mile three features Aquatic Park, which seemed to zip by. One fellow was lying on the benches just watching, and part of me felt like exhorting the few people there to cheer for crying out loud. Around the corner we faced the first hill: Fort Mason. Very steep and a bit longer than it seems, I fought my Cross Country hill-climbing instincts and told myself to take it nice and easy. Down the slope of Fort Mason and onto Marina Green we went.

My wife was there, holding a big sign that said "U R My SuperStar" and yelling "your wife loves you!" I smiled, noting that I completed mile three about 10 seconds slower than my pace band directed me, but feeling that the effort was right considering the hill and the early going. I also saw K-Star Kings with a bicycle, encouraging me and telling me he'd see me in the Park.

As I continued along the Green, into the little buttonhook, I completed Mile 4 just as I passed Matt and realized I hit that one right on pace, 7:43.

Crissy Field has never been so wind-free. As dawn was approaching, we seemed to approach Lincoln Hill with ease, just as I was being passed by the 3:30-goal pace-leader and his crowd of followers. I figured he must have started in Wave 3, and my slower-than-goal start would account for why I'd see him at this point. I saw the mile marker for Mile 5 and realized that I had given myself an allowance for the hill, but most of the hill was yet to come, so I wasn't concerned that my 7:52 split was 26 seconds ahead of what my paceband suggested. I sucked in the hill and kept pace with the 3:30 group, and the hill was a bit longer before the Bridge than I recalled it to be.

The Golden Gate Bridge

What a pleasure to run, unobstructed by cyclists and unobservant pedestrians on the Bridge! As I got there, I looked up and noticed the absence of fog. While there were clouds in the sky, the typical channel fog was not there! Also not there was a mile marker banner for Mile 6. I had yo-yo'd back and forth with a couple of guys who were running side by side, and I asked them what pace they were running ("We're doing Eights" was the reply). I knew my goal was to be ahead of these guys, and I started to pick it up a little because I knew that my pace for the bridge segment was to be a little faster, 7:26. I soon started to see runners coming back from the Vista Point turnaround, and the first guy was tall, lean, and fast, with a wide margin over the next two who were closer to each other. Then a small pack, which included K-Star Owen (whom I cheered for).

At the far end of the Bridge, I again didn't see the marker for Mile 7, so I had to start adding desired splits in my head so that when I would see the next mile marker I would get feedback. Through the Vista Point Plaza on the other side, I sucked on my water bottle and took my first energy gel. There was an unexpected little hill coming back out of Vista Point, heading back over the Bridge. Still, I pushed a little bit to stay on pace.

On the way back over the Bridge, I saw my brother heading out who waved and cheered me on. Maybe a minute later, I saw John, a fellow I made friends with in a training class a couple of months ago and forgotten that he was running too. He yelled my name and cheered and I broke into a great big smile because he told me to "kick ass."

Presidio to the Park

Off the Bridge, up the last bit of Lincoln hill, I finally saw a mile marker, Mile 10. (According to other runners, the mile markers on the Bridge were there, but they were different from the banners on the rest of the course, and less noticeable.) With some quick math in my head, I concluded that I had lost almost two minutes on the bridge, being behind the pace I had set for myself. My next mile was to be done in 7:54, but it started almost immediate with a long stretch of downhill. It was a lot more serious of a downhill than I remembered, and it just flew by with just a little push. There was a nice throng of spectators in the Presidio, and I reached the 11 mile mark in just 7:02, perhaps a bit fast, but that hill was easy to run down.

The turn down Lake Street was next, and I realized that I was being directed down the alternate (26th Ave instead of 27th). As I had noted from the time I ran this alternate, this was a much more rolling-hill circumstance than the main route, and I cursed my luck.

As such, I didn't keep pace. I was trying to hit 7:54 for the mile, and I struggled a bit on each uphill, coming in at 8:28. I started to fret and tried to focus on the advice Grethe gave me on my first 20 miler, about how in every marathon there's a point where you might feel trouble, but if you can just work past it, it can go away.

Golden Gate Park

We reached the entry to the park and I had forgotten how it included a slight incline. The number of spectators had certainly grown at this point, and it was great to have more people around. In fact, I saw both Kings and Mike who cheered loudly for me. But I was beginning to struggle to keep pace at this point. I brought in an 8:03 mile in a stretch that included some downhill (target: 7:22), and when the route really headed downhill and I was supposed to fly a bit, I missed the target again, though I did put in a 7:32. However, I was now at Mile 14 and the hard work of conquering the uphills in Golden Gate Park had begun.

And I felt slow. I finally had ditched my makeshift and nearly empty water bottle a couple of miles back and took water at a water station, along with a hastily ingested second energy gel. The cups sloshed, but I managed to get some water down. Perhaps not enough as the gel wasn't sitting quite right for me (same gels I always used, though).

MLK and Middle Drive never seemed so long before. The hills seemed to slow me down, but not insurmountably. I was only 7 seconds behind when I reached the 16 mile mark, but I could tell I was slowing down instead of speeding up as I pushed onward. Turning the corner back onto JFK, I saw Kings again, who cheered. I reached the turn into Stow Lake and struggled a little to keep pace. There was some more uphill in the approach to Stow Lake than I had recalled. I hit the mile 17 marker with an 8:32 mile, 40 seconds off pace.

Then, I walked. Perhaps I was discouraged to again miss the pace goal, and I know I wasn't feeling very strong. I looked at my watch and decided to walk for just 30 seconds and get going again. I got running again, and came out of Stow Lake thinking that things weren't going well, but on time to only miss my mile 18 target by 5 seconds. I came up JFK with lots of commotion (due to the finish line for the first half-marathoners on my left). I saw a lot of spectators, and then saw my wife, with our friend Erin, cheering and holding a different sign with offers of water or paper towels (I declined both and kept pressing on). A little later on JFK, I saw my friend Daniel with a stroller (his son Mark inside, no doubt), and he cheered me on.

This section of the park is largely flat, and I was to pick up the pace a touch, but I reached the mile 19 marker, just outside of Lake Alvorad Tunnel, with an 8:32 mile, another 46 seconds lost to my goal.

Up the steps and out of the Park, I crossed Stanyan to enter the Haight.

The Haight and The Mission

Danielle was there to cheer from the corner of Haight and Stanyan. I knew that in this mile, I'd have a four block downhill, and I knew I was supposed to pick up some time. I could also see the uphill section of Haight Street looming ahead. At this point, the pair of guys I passed on the bridge who were "doing 8's" passed me, shortly followed by the 3:30 pace-leader. I pushed to complete mile 20, and found myself more than a minute off pace, even with the downhill. I reached the incline portion and took another walk-break of 30 seconds. I felt like I was flagging. The 3:30 pace leader was gone, and I realized that my goal of breaking 3:30 was out of reach. I resolved to finish and finish strong.

I reached the union of the alternate (which I didn't have to take) and the main course at Buchannan, and Kevin came upon me, telling me I looked good (but I told him I was moving slowly). Kevin passed me and we headed down the steep block to Market. I expected my quads to hurt on this downhill, but it wasn't so bad. I headed down Guerrero, some downhill, and felt a bit slow but not too bad.

At 15th and Guerrero, I was greeted by Arno, holding a sign and jumping up and down cheering. Next to him were Robert and Amalia, also jumping up and down with not-yet-two year-old Miriam. A little further along was Rich, on his bike. Rich greeted me and starting riding along the sidewalk, parallel to me. I missed the split on my watch, though, having passed Mile 21.

The turn onto 16th Street was welcome, because I could eye the hill. However, this section started to feel slow, really slow to me. I think I took a brief walk break before the hill, but managed to work my way slowly up that hill on route to the 22 mile mark. My average time for those two miles was 8:54, about a minute slow per mile.

Potrero and Dogpatch

Then I started to become unglued. I walked a bit. Then, at the water stop before the 23 mile mark, I grabbed two cups of water, drank them both while walking, and got going again. Crossing under 280 was the mile 23 mark, and my split of 9:46 really discouraged me. I wasn't making up time after walking, and I was barely sustaining. In fact, I felt like my quads were telling me to shove off, and my hamstrings were tightening up. I started to alternate between walking and running.

It was uphill a bit when going south on Indiana Street, and I felt terribly slow. I saw the oddest thing along the course there: a small band playing music and a woman dressed like genie, balancing something on her head. Turning left onto 22nd Street, I was able to get moving a bit as the course went downhill. Rich was still nearby on his bike. I approached the corner of 3rd Street and 22nd and saw Karen and Stephan. Karen was jumping up and down and shouting encouragement. Across 3rd Street to Illinois and the turn up towards Embarcadero...

...and I was toast. Completely exposed, starting to feel warm in the morning sun, and a bleak, industrial backdrop. I barely gained any inspiration from being able to see the ballpark: it just seemed so far away. I walked. I ran a bit, but my legs felt heavy and painful. I walked some more. I ran a bit more. I came across David and Ariana with their pre-toddler Sunny, and they had made a sign for me and were cheering for me. A bit later, another runner asked me if I was the same Brent he had seen all the signs for, and I nodded. He said, "you must have a lot of friends."

This made me feel really good. I mean, so many people had come out to cheer me on, and to even have other runners notice... I just didn't see such support for other runners.

Nonetheless, upon reaching the 24 mile mark, I knew I must have hit the wall, as my split was 10:32. I kept trying to run and ended up walking. I walked through the next water stop, drinking two cups again, and tried running a bit more. I reached the 25 mile mark and felt like I could barely make it, and my split was 10:59. I looked over to Rich, on his bike, and told him I had fallen apart. He said, "no you haven't. You have less than a mile to go."

The Finish

I started running again. I think reached the ballpark and walked a fair bit, but past the ballpark, I somehow reached the 26 mile mark (in 12:09) and picked it up for the final 385 yards. I managed to keep going as the finish was pretty near, and just before the finish I saw my wife and Erin again, this time with another sign, screaming for me. I struggled my way to the finish line, saw the clock time of 3:48:something, and crossed, stopping almost immediately to walk.

Almost immediately I was greeted by volunteers, one to check off a box on my bib, and a navy sailor in dress whites who put the medal around my neck. I saw Galen, Ari and Kevin close by, and went in their direction. A volunteer clipped off the pace chip from my shoe, and I left a gate and greeted the guys. I wandered forward a bit to see what food and drink was available, grabbing a few things, and when I reached the end of the food area, I saw Rich on his bike, and my wife and Erin, and yet another sign that read "BRENT: San Francisco Marathon! HURRAH". They were cheering for me.

I found it hard to sit down. My legs were very sore, and I both did and did not feel like eating. Galen mentioned that he had had a hard race too, and that it was much warmer than forecasted. We used my wife's phone to get chip-timed results for several of us. We headed back to look for Chris and Zach and return to Galen's office, where I tried to take a quick shower in time to get back to see my brother finish, expecting he'd be slower than his goal due to the hard course and the heat. However, shortly after we took our places near the finish line, we pulled up his chip-timing and it made it look like he had already finished! I went looking for him and found him. I felt pretty bad that I hadn't been there to cheer him in the finish. He set a PR of 4:37!

Aftermath
Lunch at a nearby restaurant with seven of us. Beer (not much appetite for that, either). Drive home to drop of my brother, then to drop of Erin, then a massage. Then back home for a nap. Took my brother to the airport and then back home for dinner and crashing on the couch, and early to bed.

• • •

I cannot help but have mixed feelings about this result. I am suffering from post race pain (my legs are arguing with me about walking or bending), and there is a sense of withdrawal now that the big event has come and gone.

On the one hand, I prepared so diligently, I worked so hard, and I studied so many aspects of how to do this that I feel sort of crushed to have fallen apart in the race. I mean, I followed the Advanced Marathoning training very closely. Maybe I'd feel different about it if I had had a goal of 3:40 and ran the whole way, or maybe then I would have felt just as bad, wondering why I didn't have those extra few minutes in me. I can't tell if I feel worse about not meeting my goal of 3:30, or just how horribly those last miles went.

On the other hand, many people are telling me how this was a good time for a first marathon, and to place in the top 15% of all finishers and the top 21% of my age-group doesn't seem half-bad. And finishing a marathon, no matter what the time, is an accomplishment not to be overlooked.

Regardless of how I feel, however, those who have been reading this blog or those who know me will realize that I have to think about it. What went wrong?

• Was my goal too ambitious?
• Did I minimize how hard the course is?
• Did I not compensate for the heat and humidity well enough?
• Was I under-prepared?
• Did I carbo-load poorly?
• Did I hydrate enough the week before?
• Did I run too much while tapering?
• Did I just start out too aggressively?
• Did I lose it all on the 7:02 Split in the Presidio?
• Did I just not suck it up and keep going?

I described the experience as "falling off the cliff", and here's why:

Variance of Mile Splits versus Pace-Plan

Variance of Actual (total time) versus Plan

In the end, I have lots to think about. My body is laughing at me that I might have a thread of thought about ever doing this again, and I have a lot of things happening in the coming months that will take my time away from running. I think the best thing to think right now is "we'll see".

• • •

There will be a few more entries on this blog next week, after the party. Please come!