On Sunday I ran the Vermont City Marathon. It would be silly to think I was prepared to run my fastest marathon ever, but I do think I was prepared to run my most comfortable marathon.
As the weekend approached, the weather forecast looked troublesome. Warm weather was being predicted. On Saturday morning, as I walked around outside before heading north to Burlington, the reality began setting in. At 9:30 I felt the sun beating down on me. I could tell myself that it would be cooler up north, but knowing that this weather system was centered in the interior northeast, I wasn't optimistic.
As Sunday dawned, the day was "unutterably gorgeous". Not only did I head into town wearing just shorts and a singlet, Kay and Claudia also were wearing no additional clothing. What I would give for more utterable weather. I drank plenty on the way in. Perhaps I drank too much, but it all went down so easily.
My preparations went well. I lined up feeling limber, rested and hydrated. The announcer said "Once again god has smiled on the Vermont City Marathon". Looking up at the Cheesewhacker Blimp in this radiant sky, I wished for a frownier deity.
The hottest marathon I have ever raced got up into the seventies for the finish. How do I respond to this new experience? Reduced expectations are a given, but how do we translate this into effort and pacing? All I can do is run. Run easily; run safely.
I line up with the seven minute milers. It takes less than 10 seconds to cross the starting line. I go through the first mile in 7:17, considerably slower than planned, but certainly no cause for concern. I spend the next several miles hovering around seven minutes per mile. The pace feels remarkably easy. Two early causes for concern are how much I seem to be sweating on the slightest of inclines, and an unsettled stomach.
The first three miles take a pleasant loop through a residential neighborhood, and downtown Burlington. With heat building up inside my shirt, I perform my personal highlight of the day. I negotiate a daring mid-run number transfer, taking it off my shirt, and pinning it onto my shorts without drawing blood.
The next seven miles are a long out and back on a major artery along a Winooski River wetland area. Like most of the course, there is no shade here. Humidity is low, so there is nothing to filter the hot rays of the sun. As the leaders start heading back, I see Hudson Valley runner, Mike Slinsky, with a considerable lead. the next few runners look good as well, but the runners start looking real rough, real quickly. They have run less than eight miles at this point.
Shortly after I turn around, a photographer call out, "It's a beautiful day for the race". I say "What?", and he repeats it. I blurt out. "No it isn't!". Irritability this early in a run cannot be a good sign.
In the past, I have heard people complain about this stretch of course, but it has never bothered me. Today it just felt interminable. The field had really strung out. In the other direction, I saw several runners that already looked troubled.
We head back into the throngs of downtown, and course the Church Street Mall a second time. Tall buildings provide some shade. The sun is too high for the runners to appreciate it., but the spectators on the east side of the street can enjoy the shade. Kay and Claudia are here with some other friends. Making like Andre Agassi or Dennis Rodman, I toss my shirt towards them. I miss Kay, but at least someone in their group catches it. Lucky her.
As we head back out of the city, I see a few runners with numbers walking back in the opposite direction. This suggests a possibility. When have I run enough?
The next two miles head south on Pine Street, a light industrial section, into a residential neighborhood. The smell of Rosa Rugosa and the sun beating down suggests languid summer days at the shore. All that's missing is sea spray. Throughout the run, my breathing seems strangely shallow. Through the residential neighborhood, it wasn't quite shallow enough. A nose full of cigar starts me gagging.
I hit the half marathon in 1:32:12. This is really quite acceptable. I expect this won't be a day for negative splits, but see no reason I shouldn't finish with a nice time. We follow the south bike path back into the city, and have several views of Lake Champlain.
On the way to mile 16, we hit the Battery Street Hill. Given how everyone talks about this hill, it always surprises me how modest it is. The runners around me and I take it easy, but cruise on up. A few of the runners then proceed to step off the course. I still feel OK, so have no reason not to continue.
The next few miles take a confusing and seemingly pointless set of detours, doing a half block out and back down and up a hill, and running across a wood chip trail. Past a wooded area, the smell of animal decay in the heat starts me retching uncontrollably. I hurt my abdomen and adductor, but not badly. My race has been run. I cannot pick up my pace without heaving. As the miles progress, the pace my stomach lets me maintain gets slower and slower.
Earlier in the season, I ran through the marathon in a hilly 50 km in 3:17. In a few miles, my thoughts went from will I even match that to will I even beat my full 50 km time. At Leddy Park between miles 23 and 24 I can see runners who have just passed mile 19. I feel great sympathy with them. They will be out in this heat more than an hour longer than I will.
As the bike path goes close to Lake Champlain, I feel a strong motivation to just jump in the lake. Somehow John Cheever's "The Swimmer" did not enter my mind. Images of Bruce Dern at the end of "Coming Home" suggested that jumping in the lake was a maudlin thought that needed to be banished.
The last few miles gave me an uncomfortable amount of time to think. By now I am running slower than my average Escarpment pace. I'd rather be anywhere than where I am, but what choice do I have? I need to get back to Waterfront Park, and want to get back as quickly as possible.
Even with the unwilling body and unhappy spirit, entering Waterfront Park was a good feeling. Seeing Kay, Claudia, Matt and Wendy near mile 26 I felt more emotion than I ever have in a race before. It's hard to say what it was about. I don't think it was about finishing times or time spent training. I just wanted to be with them rather than shuffling along the hot bike path. I hugged Kay, shook Matt's hand, and went on my way. During good runs, I always have time for a smile and wave for Claudia, but I had a feeling that peering under the canopy would have kept me from finishing.
I shuffle into the finish line in 3:37:13 by my watch. Runners continue to shuffle in for another three hours. I don't know what the temperature was during my run, but by the time I left Waterfront Park, it had climbed into the nineties. Of the 2100 marathon entrants, there were 1600 finishers. Mike Slinsky was among the non-finishers.
I don't know that there is much to learn from such a day. I've never run well in heat. Expecting to run well in a day that is suddenly 20 degrees warmer than anything I have trained in is unreasonable. The silver lining is my legs have never felt this fresh even after practice and fun run marathons. The longer long runs have brought me places I've never been. It's been a good season.
Steven
Cangemi
Red Hook, New York