Vermont City Marathon 2009

It’s the day after the race and I’m still on an adrenaline rush from yesterday so I’m going to use the energy to type up the recap before I forget it.  Vermont was, in a word – amazing.  When searching for spring races, VT seemed like a good bet both for me and for Barry, who was running his first ever marathon.  It’s not too small, with 8,500 total runners comprised of marathoners and marathon relay teams.  It’s semi-close to home, is fairly flat with just a few notable hills and has good crowd support.

We arrived in Burlington on Friday and immediately headed to the expo to get our numbers.   We browsed around a little bit and then headed downtown for dinner.  You only have to spend about 30 seconds downtown to realize that the marathon is a BIG deal in Burlington.  There were banners everywhere and practically every establishment had a “Welcome, Runners!” sign.  When we sat down at our table in the restaurant, they even had a little display on the table with marathon facts and history and a map of the course.  It was a really cool atmosphere all around.

 

On Saturday, we spent the day doing nothing of importance.  We had some random errands to run and that helped occupy my brain and kept the nervousness at bay.  My family (a.k.a. cheering squad) arrived in town as well as a friend from running club.  We briefly visited with my family and then toured the course with our runner friend and then finally settled in for the night.  Or so we thought.  I did have one minor freak out when I realized that my stomach was growling.  I’d never truly carbo-loaded over the previous 2 days due to the drive up to VT and all the running around.  I mentally tried to add up how many carbs I’d eaten and the result was: not many.  I felt like I was in a bad dream.  Since our dinner was heavier on the protein than carbs, Barry saved me and ran out to the grocery store for some last minute pasta.  Finally, with my belly uncomfortably full, I went to bed and fell into an immediate, deep sleep.

On Sunday morning, I woke to discover a weather forecast that was a complete 180 of what had been predicted all week long, right up until the day before.  I expected sunny, cool and low humidity.  Instead, it was cloudy, about 10 degrees warmer, with a 30% chance of rain and higher humidity.  It was a shock for sure but I’m glad they didn’t predict it all along because it would only have stressed me out.  Finding out a mere hour before the race meant that I didn’t have time to panic.

After the usual morning routine, my parents picked us up from our hotel and we headed to the starting line.  The moment we parked, it started to sprinkle.  Not a great way to start things off.  Barry and I said our good-byes to my family and headed to Battery Park to use the facilities and stand under the trees to stay dry.  I started getting nervous but I knew that as soon as I began running, I’d be fine.  We lined up in the corrals (a bit farther back than we wanted) and soon the gun went off and we were running.

From the very beginning, this was a different race than Philly.  Knowing that I’d have Barry with me the entire time was an enormous benefit.  After 18 long weeks of training together, he’d become my security blanket.  It was also exciting for me to be able to accompany him on his first marathon.  When I did mine, it was the best feeling in the world and I was thrilled that I would get to watch him experience the same thing.  The first miles passed quickly and pleasantly.  The course wound us all around the city and the fan support was spectacular.  Barry was grinning ear to ear and said “this race is awesome!”  We saw my family cheering and waving signs at mile 3 or so and it was a nice little boost.

 

Up until that point it was still drizzling but it felt nice, given the temperature of about 60 degrees.  However, as we began an out and back section along a highway (not as awful as it sounds) the rain picked up considerably.  Soon, we were completely saturated.  I just did my best to stay out of the puddles and tried not to let it get to me.  The only saving grace was that the rain was coming straight down and my visor kept it out of my eyes.  (It’s the blow-in-your-face type of rain that has the tendency to break me down.)  The highway section ended with a fairly tough hill at mile 8.  I was still feeling fresh so I was able to get up it with no problem.  For Barry, who always attacks hills like a maniac, it was a piece of cake. 

Thus far, we were maintaining a decent pace.  With no earthly idea of what I was even shooting for, I thought I’d just try to maintain our 9:15-ish training pace for as long as it felt comfortable.  With the exception of the first two crowded miles, we pretty much did just that.  Our splits were:  9:56, 9:35, 9:20, 8:59, 9:01, 9:10, 9:12, 9:23 (the hill).  The pace felt easy so we continued on.  The next stretch brought us back through town and the wonderful crowds.  We were soaking wet but still all smiles when we saw my family at the 9 mile marker.  We did a water bottle swap and grabbed a quick picture together.

 

We only stopped for 10 seconds or so but my Dad urged us:  “Keep going, keep going!” so we did.  The next part of the course was a long downhill followed by some residential areas and then onto the bike path.  Somewhere in there, the rain finally tapered off and we were more comfortable.  That comfort wouldn’t last for long though.  We knew that a major hill was coming up at mile 15 and we wanted to conserve some energy.  This sounded good in theory but was hard to execute, especially coming off a downhill.  We never did find a way to change gears and slow our pace.   Instead, our splits remained consistent:  9:14, 9:00, 9:23, 9:04, 9:11, 9:21.

As we exited the bike bath, we knew the hill was just ahead.  Coined “The Assault on Battery Hill” this part of the course is a long 3/4 mile stretch up Battery Street spanning 6 city blocks.  It begins with a gradual incline and then gets steeper and steeper as you near the top.  Fortunately, the crowds are plentiful and a group of taiko drummers performs at the bottom to boost your spirits.  It was there on Battery Street that I finally appreciated all the painfully hilly courses we’ve trained on.  As people slowed and walked around us, we were able to keep it going.  It was not a fun hill but we made it to the top, stopping for a brief second halfway up to do another bottle swap with my family.  As we crested the hill, I knew that the worst was behind us and it was all downhill (in a good way) from there.

While the hill itself wasn’t so terrible, it wreaked some havoc on our pace.  We covered that mile in 11:18, way off our target.  It was followed by another slow 9:54 mile as we tried to recover our energy.  I started to worry about losing my groove.  I had done well up until that point but I knew that the race could potentially start going in an entirely different direction if I didn’t pull myself back on track.  To compensate, I tried to go faster and overdid it a little.  Miles 17 and 18 were done in 8:46 and 8:40 which was a bit faster than I wanted with 8 long miles still ahead of us.  Finally, despite 4 miles of roller coaster splits, we stablized and got back onto our 9:15-ish pace.

Thus far, Barry and I had been talking the whole way, giving high fives at every mile and generally enjoying the run.  By mile 19, it started to get labored.  We were away from the big crowds, weaving in and out of residential areas and then back on the bike path where the crowds were thinner.  I put my iPod on really low to try to motivate myself.  It helped for a couple of songs but I quickly tired of it and turned it off.  We continued to high five each other at each mile (I was becoming a bit superstitious about it) but our conversation dried up almost entirely.

They say that in a marathon, there exist two races:  the first takes place over the first 20 miles.  The second race begins at mile 20.  This rang true in VT in a way that it didn’t during Philly.  Somewhere between miles 19 and 20, the real race began.  I was tired at 19.  Each mile thereafter became progressively more difficult until mile 22 when I was insanely ready to be done.  I was thoroughly worn down but not far enough along that I could tell myself:  “You’re almost there!”  In reality, I had about 40 more minutes of running ahead of me and I could not imagine running for 40 more steps.  My feet felt like bricks.  Every single step forward was a test of my willpower.  I could tell that Barry was struggling beside me as well.

Shortly after the 22 mile marker, I broke out in goosebumps, which terrified me.  It was hot.  The rain had ceased.  The sun had come out full force and the temperature had risen.   Goosebumps could only mean dehydration.  Having experienced this before, I knew it would stop me in my tracks if I didn’t do something about it.  Therefore, as much as I hated to do it, I forced myself to stop and take every cup of water that was offered to me.  I was afraid I’d cramp if I slowed down but I couldn’t ignore my body’s need for water.  I was too close to the end to risk complete physical decline.

Somehow, I continued on but mile 23 brought on Barry’s toughest mile.  He was hurting and told me to go ahead if I felt good.  I assured him that I certainly did not feel good and we stuck together.  At mile 24, we did a role reversal.  Barry grabbed a cup of beer (!?) and suddenly got his wind back.  I, on the other hand, fell deeper into despair and wanted to cry at the thought of two more miles.  I told Barry to go ahead but he wouldn’t leave me.  I just kept breaking it down and telling myself that in about 18 minutes, I’d be done, 15 minutes and I’d be done, etc.  The miles seemed to stretch endlessly.  Beyond all reason, our pace was only slowing slightly.  Miles 19-24 were:  9:12, 9:13, 9:18, 9:24, 9:36, 9:28.  Unfortunately, I lost my GPS signal between 24-25 miles so those were the last splits I’d record.

In the final two miles people around us were dropping like flies, stopping to walk or stopping completely.  It was hard to resist joining them.  I know most people would wonder how someone could quit so close to the finish.  I can 100% understand why they would.  Those final miles mess with your head.  For me, nothing in that moment mattered.  I ceased to care when I finished.  I’d put in long weeks of hard work but it was irrelevant.  Had Barry not been with me, I could easily have stopped.  However, as long as he was moving forward, I was going to move forward with him.  I really believe that’s the only thing that kept me going.   If I have one complaint about the race, it’s this part of the course.  The bike path was narrow and with so many people stopping to walk, I expended far more energy dodging and weaving than I’d have liked.  Every movement was a monumental effort and the added obstacles nearly killed me.

As Barry and I hit mile 25, we knew it was just about done.  We could hear the crowds ahead and knew we were going to make it there running.  The last half mile or so finishes in Battery Park where there are tens of thousands of spectators.  It was overwhelming.  I was so happy and wanted to sprint but it was nearly impossible.  My body was done and it made no bones about it.  As we rounded the final curve, we saw my family.  Their cheers were energizing and gave me just what I needed to give one *teeny tiny* push to the finish.

Barry and I crossed at the exact same time with huge smiles on our faces.  I was dazed for the next few minutes and conflicting emotions washed over me:  joy, exhaustion, excitement…I was torn between the desire to jump up and down and the desire collapse to the ground and weep.  If I thought that the reward would be less sweet for my second marathon, I was wrong.  So completely wrong.  It was every bit as satisfying as Philly after all the effort that went into achieving it.

Barry and I gave each other a big sweaty hug and I remember saying “You’re a marathoner!”  I was so thrilled for him, for both of us.  Philly was awesome but sharing the event with Barry took this race to a whole new level.  The marathon is an experience like no other and to go through all the highs and lows with my husband was nothing short of amazing.  Truth be told, the battle began long before 8 a.m. on May 24th.  Race day was the prize.  The hard part was what led up to it.  Training on my own was difficult.  When 100% of our household was training, it was even harder.  With both of us running 4-5 days a week, our life fell to pieces around us.  It was hard to fit in other social obligations, not to mention household chores, taking care of the dogs and simple things like eating dinner.  I’m afraid to admit how many nights I came home to a messy house, ate ice cream for dinner and passed out at 8:00.  With Barry in training too, there was nobody to pick up the slack.  We were grumpy.  There were moments when we wanted to strangle each other.  Even so, we got through it.  The race played out much like the rest of our life leading up to it.  It was a struggle but we supported each other to the end.  I like to think we came through the experience even stronger.

In the afterglow of the race, Barry and I celebrated with my family.  We had a delicious dinner out on Church Street and then opened a bottle of wine we’d been saving for several years from our trip to Sonoma.  It was a perfect end to the event.

 

As for the final stats, I couldn’t be more thrilled:

• Lauren:  Net Time:  4:05:02 (A PR by 40+ minutes.)  Avg. Pace: 9:21, Division Place:  71/228, Overall Place:  1105/2410
• Barry:  Net Time:  4:05:02, Avg. Pace: 9:21, Division Place:  130/206, Overall Place:  1106/2410

It was a little tough to miss breaking 4 hours by such a small margin but I’m not too upset.  After all, I’ve gotta have a goal for Chicago….