Portland Marathon Race Report

In shocking contrast to my first marathon, the last six miles of the Portland Marathon destroyed me. Everything started out just fine. The 3:20, 3:30 and 3:40 pacers were all next to each other at the beginning of the race… and I was motoring along just fine. 7:32, 7:31, 7:58, 7:45, 7:28, 7:51, 7:41 and 7:55 miles to start, and I felt fine. One thing that worried me around the 8 mile mark, is that I was sticking with the 3:30 pacer and still clocking under 8 minute miles according to my watch. (Which means the watch I trained with showed me going 7 seconds per mile faster than I really was all that time)

They say you have a 2% fudge factor in a race. If you run more than 2% faster than what is in you… you will pay for it at the end. Just the watch difference alone was more than 2% for me. Around mile 10 I decided that I needed to drop back to 8:30 miles to finish without a problem. I ran a 20 miler at 8:30 per mile a few weeks prior… so no problemo I thought. Silly me.

There is a hill in the Portland marathon that is pretty nasty… about ½ mile or so and pretty steep… and it peaks about mile 18. I knew it was all easy sailing after the hill. As I started up it… my legs screamed. Not good I though. I kept running… and the hill just kept sucking the life out of my legs. By the time I crested the top of the St. John’s Bridge… instead of knowing I was home free… I knew I was in serious trouble. I was pressing down on the gas pedal, and nothing was happening.

My pace up the hill was 10:25, and I did manage 9:40 for the next mile, but by the time I took my first step into the last six miles, I knew I was done. I wanted to cry, but of course I’m in the middle of a marathon, there are people all around, and well… I’m dehydrated. All thoughts of finishing were a decent time were gone. I just wanted to finish… and the way I was slowing down… I wasn’t sure that was going to happen. I told my wife I’d meet her by 11:30 at Pioneer Courthouse Square, and if I wasn’t there by then something must have happened to me. That was a good HOUR after I hoped I would finished… but suddenly it didn’t seem like a good idea to have said that.

My running slowed to a jog, then a shuffle… then at one point I realized that walkers were going just as fast as I was. The only piece of dignity I had was that I would not walk in a marathon. I must have look pitiful moving just as slow as the walkers though. Mile 26’s pace was… get this… 13:21 per mile! The last few miles took an eternity, and I finally crossed the line at 4:08:26. Ugh. Just ugh.

I had to hobble over to my wife as quickly as possible. When I found her I had to disappear into a porta potty to dry heave for 20 minutes. I was sick… dizzy, and could hardly walk. Then I started to freeze. I didn’t bring sweats because I didn’t want the hassle of picking them up at the finish line… but that was a bad call. I was shaking the entire train ride home on the MAX.

SO now I am left deciphering the train wreck of a race. On one hand I am glad I got to experience the wall. I think it will make me a better runner… and certainly it has context for me now. I really wondered what the heck was wrong with all the people I was passing in Eugene at the end of that marathon. I know now… boy do I know.