Gettysburg North-South Marathon

Get ready.  This might be a long one.

After a harsh training winter, it was finally time for the Gettysburg North-South Marathon on April 27.  The race was fairly small; there were 465 finishers this year.  Over a hilly course, each runner chooses a "side" to be on (North versus South).  The top male and female times for each side are added, and each member of the winning side gets a mug (spoiler alert: the North won).

I had done the best that I could with my training this winter, and I felt that this race would be my first legit shot at a sub-2:30 marathon. Fitness-wise, I felt that I was there.  However, the nature of the course would definitely present a challenge.  Here is a link to the map.   The course generally ascends early in the race, reaches its highest point soon after 7 miles, ascends once more before mile 11, then descends for the majority of the second half of the race.

I always try to have a few goals going into a big race.  My top goal for this one, if everything went perfectly, was to run under 2:30.  This would be a stretch, so my next goal was at least to PR, which meant running faster than 2:35:30.  I felt that this would definitely be doable, but in case something went horribly wrong on the course, my final goal was to be faster than 2:40.  This would at least convince me that my time under 2:40 from last year was not a fluke.

The conditions on race morning were near perfect.  At the start of the race, the sky was clear and the temperature was in the low 40s.  The only potentially unsettling aspect was the wind.  The wind wasn't strong enough to be a pain, but it was strong enough to be noticeable.  My dad came with me to the race, and he was planning on biking out to the 11th mile mark, which was also close to the 18th mile mark.  The other runners and I gathered to the starting line, and soon after 7:30 AM, we were off.

Starting off focused.  Credit: Ken Goodfellow

I knew that I had to stay in control early if I wanted to hit my goals.  Most of the uphills were in the first 11 miles of the course, and I figured that these miles would be my slowest.  There were three major climbs that I initially worried about, the first of which occurring just before the first mile marker.  I wanted to run the first mile no faster than 5:50; I made it in 5:52.  Excellent. (I don't remember all of my splits, as I had more important things on my mind, but I remember a fair number of them, give or take a second).   Soon after that, I started to pull away.  This started to worry me, as I was then through two miles in 11:22.   I made it to the first water station, gave the volunteer a Gatorade shower, decided I needed to work on my handoffs, and split through three miles around 17:20.  Confused at my pacing, I continued at the same effort, and after a couple more widely-spread splits (a low 5 and a low 6), I was through five miles in 28:45.  At this point, I was approaching the second hill on my worry list.

Soon after six miles, the lead bike backed off a little bit to chat with me.  We talked for a bit about my goals for the course, how I had to work on my aid station drinking, and how I wasn't worrying about pace until after 11 miles, but what surprised me was that I was easily talking!  This seemed to be a good sign for my effort level.  After cresting the big hill after mile 7, I split through 8 miles in 45:20.  I knew these next couple of miles would be a little quick before the final large hill during the 11th mile, and surely enough, after another brief, unforced conversation with the lead biker, I was through 10 miles in 56:30.  I still felt great up to this point, but I still had a whole lot of race left.  I made it up the final hill to the end of the 11th mile, the point where my dad saw me for the first time in the race.  I was through 11 miles in 1:02:32; I told myself before the race that I should be through 11 in no faster than 1:03.  I wondered how long this would last and kept pressing on.  

Just after 11 miles, with most of the hills behind me and still feeling strong. Credit: Ken Goodfellow

Another few miles flew by, and soon enough, I was through the half marathon in 1:14:06 (~5:39 per mile).  This was on the lower end of my goal time; I was hoping to be through the half between 1:14 and 1:16.  (On a side note, at this point, I thought about the Flower City Half Marathon, which was going on at the same time.  My two slowest half marathon times are at Flower City, and I wondered how my split would have stacked up this year.  Turns out, 1:14 would have placed 2nd.)  Along this next mile was one of the most dense spectator areas, which definitely helped to boost my confidence; aside from the pace bike, I was still alone.  Unfortunately, soon afterwards, I had a little bit of a momentum killer. Soon before the end of the 15th mile, one of the road marshals at one of the crossroads (at which I had to go straight) shouted at the pace biker "Hey, marshal!" to get his attention after we passed.  We both turned to look, and the road marshal seemed to make a movement with his flag up one of the side roads! Confused, I SLOWED briefly and yelled "Is this the turn?", to which the response was "No."  Great.  I regained momentum while the biker talked with the road marshal.  The biker quickly caught back up to me, and all was good, or so I thought.  Soon after finishing 15 miles, we turned (onto the correct road), but there was no one to direct other runners.  The biker made a phone call, and he was instructed to go back.  I finished 16 miles in 1:30:39, and now I was truly alone.

I continued to push on for the next few miles; the worst part of the course was already behind me.  There was another small spectator crowd, including my dad, during mile 18.  Over the next few miles, my pace stayed fairly steady and I felt comfortable over the downhills, but I lost track of my splits until I got to mile 21: 1:59:29 (~5:41 per mile).  I had slowed down a little bit over those last few miles.  Doing some quick on-course mental math, I realized that a sub-2:30 was still within reach, but I didn't have a whole lot of wiggle room.  (Sitting at my computer now, I can now calculate that I had to average 5:52 for the last 5.2 miles to be under 2:30.  A little more wiggle room than what my race brain was telling me but still not a lot).  Things would have to go pretty well for the rest of the race.

Things didn't go well.

Very soon after finishing 21 miles, I got a pain in my side that I thought was a cramp. Over the next half of a mile, it quickly progressed from "ouch" to "S*** this is unbearable!". Soon after, I did something I never thought I'd do: I stopped.

At this point, my inner dialogue went in all sorts of directions, from "What the f*** are you doing!?!" to "It's okay, you tried" to "Just take a break for a few seconds" to "But you're less than 5 miles from food!" (Yes, for some reason, in one of the most unsettling moments of my racing career, I was thinking about food).  I listened to the last two and started to run again after about 10 seconds.  The pain was still very present, but I could run with it.  I finished 22 miles in 2:06:32; the combination of stopping and the reduced pace when I started again cost me over a minute!  I continued to regain some momentum through the pain.  Right before the aid station before the end of the 23rd mile, I decided to look back.  I'm glad I did, but part of me wishes I hadn't.  In the distance, I saw another runner coming in hot with a biker. I figured I only had about a minute of lead at that point, if that.  I got to the aid station, threw Gatorade at my mouth for the last time, and went to work.  I pushed even more through the pain as I crossed 23 miles in 2:12:22.

Just over 2.5 miles to go and in pain. Credit: Ken Goodfellow

I saw my dad for the last time at the turn right before the end of the 24th mile.  (He later said that I still looked great and did not see the approaching runner). At this turn, I looked back and saw that I maybe had 30 seconds of lead, and I started to worry.  At this point, I also noticed that it was starting to get a little warm, but that was irrelevant.  I had to focus for the next 2.2 miles.  I continued to push and did not take any fluid at the final aid station right before the end of 25 miles, as that would likely not help and just slow me down.  I got through 25 miles and started to surge, or at least I attempted to.  Finally, after 25.5 miles, the runner caught me and soon passed me, and for the first time, I was not leading the race. I pushed to try to stay with him, but it was to no avail.  I tried several more times to surge, but the gap kept growing.  I made it through 26 miles (and I don't know why I looked at my watch) in 2:29:43, made the last turn, and watched the winner cross the finish line.  About 25 seconds later, I crossed the finish line in 2:31:08.  As it turns out, the top three runners all broke the old course record.

Finally almost finished. Credit: Gettysburg North-South Marathon

It was kind of disappointing that a cramp cost me a sub-2:30 marathon and the win, but it's all too easy to look back and be speculative about what could have happened differently.  No matter how well preparations for a marathon go, anything can happen to anyone over 26.2 miles.  Almost everything that I could control went as well as it could have gone.  My training this winter went well considering the weather, and my volume was about as high as I could go safely before risking overtraining or burnout or increasing my chances of injury greatly.  My nutrition before and during the race was excellent; I never felt like I "hit the wall" and had enough energy to keep going.  My pace early in the race may have been a little aggressive, but from an effort standpoint, I was not straining to maintain pace, at least before the pain in my side hit after 21 miles.  My time was a PR by 4 minutes and 22 seconds (about 10 seconds per mile). In all four of my marathons so far, I've run a positive split for the second half, but this positive split of just under 3 minutes (1:14:06/1:17:02) was my smallest one yet (my others were ~3.5 minutes, ~9 minutes, and ~20 minutes).  Every marathon is a learning experience, and this race is another step towards greater things to come.

So what's next?  I'll take a bit of downtime and maybe jump into a race for fun, but my first real summer fitness "assessment" will be the MEDVED 5K to Cure ALS in mid-June, and the focus will be shorter races at least until the Bergen Road Race in early August. I'm not sure what my next marathon will be, but I'm considering finding a flat, fast race this fall for (hopefully) sub-2:30 attempt #2!  We'll see. 

Special thanks to Ken Goodfellow for coming to support me and to Roadkill Racing for letting me run in an awesome singlet and for a great team.