Yesterday
morning’s long run, Week 6 (16M) of 16 for November’s Harrisburg Marathon, was
a relatively pleasant one, finishing in the mid-70s, which was the starting
temperature of many of the prior weeks. A light breeze also helped to keep
everything relatively dry, or at least not dripping. There’s also the slightest
intimation of fall—along with cooler and faster runs! The course, one of my
usual ones, is moderately hilly, including the steady uphill of the almost 1.5-mile-long
approach on Route 216 to the I-95 interchange (Mile 8 plus parts of miles 7 and
9). I didn’t have much problem maintaining a steady pace up the entire
approach. (Btw, these approaches to major highway interchanges and bridges are
great training for sustained hill work—though one definitely needs to stay
alert crossing all the on- and off-ramps!)
A
very different story was Week 2 (12M), also moderately hilly but with ending
temperature in the low 90s. The last ~0.7 mile of Mile 10, along Route 29 just
south of the Patuxent River, was a steady uphill. Though the distance was only
half of yesterday’s approach to I-95, it felt twice as long--an epic slog
(certainly how it felt at the time)! I really wanted to stop and walk--but I
also really didn’t want to stop. It was a heated debate. Especially during the last
half of that 0.7 mile, I was cycling though every item in my mental toolbox (next
road sign, 10 more guardrail segments, count to 50, I got this, believe!),
trying to just keep putting one foot out after another. That struggle through the
heat (and humidity) reminded me of those two salt-encrusted runs of Pocono 2015 and 2019. What it reminded me of more, though, was what happened at the
2018 Wineglass Marathon (Corning, NY) and, in general, the mental aspect of
marathons--the power of believing.
I
was at the aid station around Mile 25, drinking and walking, trying to figure
out how to hang on and manage the remaining mile or so to the finish without walking. For that
race, 4:10 was my target time. So, when the 4:10 pacer that I was trying to
stay ahead of passed me, it was a tremendous letdown. However, just as I was
struggling to respond to that, another runner (Janet S.), who had been running
with the same 4:10 pace group, briefly stopped and said, “come on, let’s do
this!” That was it. But it was like a charge of energy. I’m sure many runners
have experienced the same thing, though it’s really hard to describe. All I
know is that those few words made holding on, one stride at a time, to the
finish easier. I believed. We ran alongside each other for most of Mile 26. I
was able to manage a mini-end spurt to the end and finished (4:11:40) 24 seconds
ahead of her. Afterwards, I felt I should have run with her to the finish. I
did, however, wait for her to cross the finish line and thank her for providing
that simple yet timely and critical encouragement. One of the benefits of
running is being part of an amazing community, the best characteristics of which are often seen during races.
That
was by far the highlight of Wineglass 2018. As for the rest of the race, I’d already
covered that in some detail in previous reports. Wineglass is definitely one of my favorite marathons. The point-to-point course goes
through several towns, and it is great fun to run through each of them. In the
rain, the spectators were still there, with umbrellas, cheering the runners on.
Early October in upstate New York can be chilly, so the big tent at the start
line is really thoughtful and appreciated! What most impresses me, I think, are
the buses near the finish line taking runners to the start of both races (full
and half). The total number of riders is about half the population of Corning.
Very efficiently done.
