Portland Marathon 2010

At seven in the morning, it was pouring rain, frigidly cold, and pitch dark. I was just counting down the seconds until the race would start. I kept trying to cheer myself up, but between the rain, cold, darkness, and EVERYONE complaining about it, it was tough to keep a bright attitude. I think we were all thinking the same thing, “I should’ve ran the San Diego Marathon.” This race was going to suck.

Then just as the gun went off, I overheard the woman next to me exclaim, “DOES THE RAIN MAKE MY TITS LOOK BIG?” After that, I knew this was going to be a good day.

To preface this post, I was training semi-seriously in the beginning of the summer, doing consistent long runs up to 15 miles. But the past couple months I’ve probably been running less than 20 miles a week. If I was even going to finish this marathon, it was pretty much going to take a miracle.

Oh, and it turns out, running a big marathon, I’m guessing any with 10,000+ people, is really a big celebration for all the running you did to get there.

Coming from the Boston Marathon, I wasn’t expecting too much support, but I was pleasantly surprised at how much of the city came out to support the runners. There are bands and water stands filled with enthusiastic kids along the way. Some runners even dressed for the occasion, including a green tutu wearing fairy, complete with wings and wand. I’m assuming he lost a bet or something, but then again, Portland’s pretty weird, so you never know.

Miles 3 – 16 pretty much went on like this, I was enjoying the celebration, smiling and all. I felt smooth and comfortable, but I knew somewhere around 2 to 3 hours I was going to hit a wall.

Around mile 16, some bulky looking tough guy rolled up next to me clearly running faster than everyone else. I was still feeling pretty good at this point, so I lined up behind him and we must have split out some sub 7 minute miles. Sidenote: I feel like I was just doing long runs at that pace, but not running competitively makes you appreciate how fast that really feels.

He kept stopping for water at every station, so I used those seconds to catch my breath until we were chugging along again. I kept at it though, and eventually after one water station around mile 19 I dropped him, and I was feeling strong.

It was right around this point I knew the wall was inevitable, so I started slowing down at more water stations to grab the rip-off Gatorade and gummy bears. With all the sugar, my energy level was staying high, but right around mile 22 my quads slowly tightened more and more.

I figured, if I can’t stride normally I’ll just increase my stride rate! This sounded like a great idea at the time, but the awkwardness of my stride was probably somewhere between a goose and Jackson Cabo.

This worked for a while, until the 23 mile mark, right at the beginning of a downhill, when my left hammy cramped up with the kind of intensity that shoots you out of bed. Probably as a result of overcompensating for my tight quads. My running intuition told me this would pass, so I just massaged it out and walked around in circles for a few minutes before starting up again.

From there, I kept tightening up more, and slowed, and slowed, as all the people I had overconfidently blown past from miles 16 – 22 slowly came whipping past me on the decline back to downtown.

As everyone raced past me, I was trying to figure out if this sucked, if I felt helpless, or regretted my lack or training, but then I realized, I was at mile 24! There was really no way I wasn’t going to finish. It felt surreal, both easier and harder than I imagined.

Before I knew it, I could see the finish line. I kind of had this image of kicking past a ton of old guys here, but at this point my top speed was probably around 10 or 11 minute mile pace, so I was the one getting kicked on. I crossed the line at 3:35. And stopped. It felt like most milestone accomplishments do, great but not quite on par with what you imagined.

So am I done running forever? Well no, I signed up for a race next August called Hood to Coast, a 12 man relay race from the mountains (Mt. Hood) on the east side of Oregon, to the coast on the west side. But I am done letting running limit my freedom.

So, in the famous words of Caleb Roupp:
Friend: Ken, are you cooling down? (Ken plugs in headphones and prepares to nap)
Ken: Welp, I’m not running again till August.

from ken

Are you trying to change your life? I'd love to hear about it! ken.e.noguchi@gmail.com

photo by kk+