When I signed up to do the New Jersey Marathon with Team in Training, the date of the marathon seemed very far away, but sure enough, the big day finally arrived last Sunday. I had an amazingly successful fundraising campaign, and am deeply grateful to my many sponsors for helping me raise over $5000 for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. Even without setting foot on the course, that was enough to make my Team in Training experience very worthwhile. I did, however, set feet on the course - many, many times - and that’s what the account that follows is about. It’s on the long side, I know, but hey, so was the marathon.
Pre-race check-in and expo
One of the perks of participating in Team in Training is that travel and lodging for the event you sign up for are covered. (Those costs are built into the fundraising goal, but over 75% of the funds raised still go directly to research and patient services for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.) Since the New Jersey Marathon takes place in Long Branch, NJ, it was a local event for our chapter and there weren’t any travel arrangements involved. However, we did get to stay at the Ocean Place Resort & Spa the day before the race, which is a very nice hotel on the shore. The Start/Finish line for the marathon was on the boardwalk right next to it, so having a room there eliminated any stress about getting to the event and finding parking on time.
The hotel we stayed at was also the event headquarters, so getting there early made it easy to check in for the race and get my bib (that’s what those numbers that racers wear are called) and to check out the expo in the ballrooms when it wasn’t super-crowded. The expo consisted of vendors selling all sorts of running clothes and gear. There was lots of cool stuff, but I was specifically interested in finding one thing, and that was either a belt with elastic loops for gels, or a smallish waist-pack that would comfortably fit a few that I’d brought for the race. While training, I relied on a waist-pack with a water reservoir to carry water with me, and it had pockets that I kept my gels in. For the marathon, I knew there would be water stations, so there was no point to carrying my usual pack just to carry some gels. None of the belts I saw had as many loops as I wanted, so I settled on a small waist-pack.
Go Team!
I mingled with teammates and coaches during the afternoon, but the official TNT festivities didn’t kick off until the evening. We gathered in the lobby at the appointed time, attired in our bright green chapter t-shirts as instructed. We knew we were headed for the pre-race pasta dinner down the hall, but we didn’t know (at least, I didn’t know) we would be treated to a little heroes’ parade on the way in. When we were told it was time to leave the lobby and head for the banquet room, coaches, mentors, and TNT support staff lined the halls and raised a happy ruckus for us on our way in. They rang cowbells, blew horns, clapped, yelled “Go, Team!”, and made it a very fun way to enter a room.
Inside the banquet room, my first thought was, “Wow, I never expected this many guests,” because there were a lot of people already in the room. It didn’t take long to figure out that we were just the last chapter to arrive, so these other people were from other TNT chapters like Southern NJ, New York, and Eastern PA. I’m not putting down those other chapters, but let’s just say that none of the other chapters were wearing matching shirts, and if they got cheered on the way in before us, we didn’t hear it from the lobby just down the hall.
You know how stress tends to either increase or decrease the appetite of most people? I’m one of those people whose appetite is reduced when I’m stressed or nervous, and I don’t have much of an appetite to begin with. Combine that with my determination not to eat anything I was afraid might contribute to “intestinal discomfort” during the race, and I didn’t feel much like eating in the day or two preceding the race. I knew fasting would be a bad move, so I had some pasta at the dinner even though I didn’t want it.
We heard words of encouragement, gratitude, and inspiration from a TNT campaign coordinator, a doctor who treats pediatric leukemia patients, and a TNT teammate who is herself a non-Hodgkins Lymphoma survivor. We were congratulated on a very successful fundraising campaign and they recognized the top three fund-raisers from each chapter. I was surprised to find out that thanks to the generosity of all my sponsors, I had the third-highest fundraising total of my chapter, which is out of about eighty participants. Our chapter alone raised over $200,000!
After the banquet, our chapter met in a smaller room to go over some logistical issues, get last-minute pointers, and hear more encouragement. Coaches handed out awards like the “Multi-Marathon first-timer” to the guy who already ran 26 miles once, just to make sure he could. (The max training mileage that’s called for is only 20 miles.) I got the “Blog of the Year” award from Coach Alison, along with a pinwheel with a map attached, to commemorate the “Coach Spins-a-lot” reputation she got after I blogged about her odd map-spinning ways. Her attention to detail was impressive, because the map she attached was centered on exactly the point where I first witnessed her unique style of rotational navigation.
No matter what event TNT’ers are participating in, they get a purple shirt or singlet (basically a tank top) to wear for the race, and that makes them easy to identify and cheer on during their event. At the end of our chapter meeting, we were invited to decorate our shirts and singlets if so inclined, and they had an assortment of markers and paints available. My impression was that no marker was likely to show up very well on the purple material, but as a 37 year-old man, I’m also not wild about putting “puffy paint” on my clothes. Clever man that I am, I had shopped for some paint pens a couple days earlier and picked up white, gold, and silver. My plan was to write my name on the front (that’s highly recommended by experienced TNT’ers, so people can cheer you by name) and all my sponsors (first names) on the back. I started with the white pen, and it was immediately obvious that it wouldn’t work at all on the material. The silver and gold pens were marginally more successful, but with the material tending to move around and having to go over the same area many times, it was slow going. It took me about an hour to finish just my name, so I unfortunately had to abandon the plan of adding all my sponsors’ names, but as far as I’m concerned, they were woven in. There was an easily-markable box on the back for honored teammates’ names, so I marked “Reilly” in there in big block letters, and to the side added Mom H., Mom S., and Lee for people I was walking in memory of.
Closing in on the starting line
I had read and heard about how people get all wound up before a marathon and often have a hard time sleeping, but like the nervousness of the preceding week, I was still surprised when it happened to me. My roommate was David, one of the runners, and although I hadn’t met him, rooming with him made me wish I had because he was a cool guy. There wasn’t any really good TV to choose from, so we put Pearl Harbor on and wisecracked for a while about how awful Ben Affleck was in it. We had to be checked out and race-ready in the lobby by 6 am, so we adopted a Seinfeldian strategy of wake-up call backed up by a watch alarm, and the clock alarm in the room being set. It wasn’t easy to fall asleep, but I finally did. Unfortunately, I woke up having to go to the bathroom a couple hours later, and falling back asleep wasn’t easy. If I were at home, I’d have put the TV back on, but I didn’t want disturb my roommate. I finally fell back asleep and got maybe a couple more hours of sleep before the 4:45 alarms went off.
I ate a Powerbar that I didn’t really want, because I wasn’t going to have breakfast, and a Powerbar before a long walk or run has become habit for me. I also “read my Sports Illustrated” for a few minutes, which is my normal code to Kat for, “I’m going to the bathroom and you won’t see me for a while.” Like the eating, I didn’t go because I had the urge, but to do everything I could to make sure I wouldn’t have to go during the race. I didn’t want a repeat of what I went through on my 20-mile training walk. After Rick Reilly and a little freshening up, I slathered my feet in Body Glide, put on my race gear and sunscreen, checked out, and met the rest of the team in the lobby.
The lobby was a sea of purple with all of us decked out in our Team in Training shirts and singlets. I met up with the other walkers and walking coaches and we went over our plans again. Most of the walkers were doing the Half Marathon, so Coach Lynne and Coach Pat would walk with and keep track of them; Coach Alison would stick with the full marathon walkers - me, Joanne, and Kathy - and try to make sure we made the halfway cut-off with time to spare. As I described in my previous post, the halfway cut-off of 3 hr. 15 min. would require averaging a faster pace than what I was used to in training. I was reassured to know the other full walkers were anxious about it, too, and willing to jog a little if necessary to add some breathing room. All of us felt like it was really going to be two races: the first race was to 13.1 miles and had a time limit on it, while the second race was repeating that distance, but without having to worry about the clock.
When I knew we’d be going out to the starting area soon, I made a final trip down the hall to use the restroom. It made me appreciate even more the luxury of having had my own room at the hotel with a private bathroom that morning, because I’ve never seen such a line of men for a bathroom before, and the line wasn’t for the urinals. I was able to walk right in and use a urinal but the line was for the stalls.
The marathon was set to start at 7:30 am. Our group of walkers headed out to the starting area at about 7:00 and positioned ourselves halfway between the “6:30” pace flag, and the “5:30” flag. There are so many entrants that it’s impossible for everyone to actually be on the starting line for the start, so people line up according to target pace. I’m accustomed to “pace” usually being expressed in minutes:seconds per mile, but in this case, the numbers were for the target time it would take, so halfway between 6:30 and 5:30 meant we were aiming for a six-hour pace, which would mean completing the first 13.1 mile loop in three hours.
Alison’s good friend, Cara, came out to support us all day, but in the starting area she helped me in two direct ways. First, I had followed the advice to bring a sweatshirt that I wouldn’t mind throwing away so I could keep warm while standing around at the start, but be able to toss it as soon as it wasn’t needed. (There are people who collect discarded clothing at marathons and give them to charity.) I was expecting to discard the sweatshirt, but Cara offered to take it, so she saved me a sweatshirt. Second, and more importantly, she had a suggestion that I think saved me a lot of pain. As we were stretching in the starting area, I mentioned my shin splint problems and expressed that I wish I knew of some stretch that might alleviate or prevent them. Cara said she had similar problems before and what helped her was to do a bunch of fast toe-tapping, going straight up and down at first, then tapping a little left, then right, and just keep doing that alternating feet for a while. I gave it a shot, and while I can’t say it completely prevented my shin splints, they were a lot less severe and shorter in duration than I had feared, so I’m much obliged to Cara for that suggestion.
The last bit of business before the race started was some guy singing the National Anthem. Maybe in keeping with the marathon theme, he really took his time about it. If he had started singing it when you started reading this recap, he’d be close to finishing up by the end of this paragraph. A few minutes later than scheduled, the race finally started. Remember, we were lined up at least a couple thousand people away from the starting line, back with the 6-hr. crowd, so even though we heard the start over the loudspeakers, we couldn’t see any movement for a while. After a couple minutes of remaining at a standstill, we started slowly shuffling toward the starting line and finally crossed it almost seven minutes after the start - which was actually a little quicker than I’d expected. All participants wore ankle bands with electronic timing chips in them to measure each individual’s actual time from the crossing the start line to crossing the finish line, but the halfway cut-off of 3 hrs. 15 min. was based on “gun” time, not chip time, so the cutoff clock was already ticking during those first seven minutes. To make the cutoff, we’d have to average 14:20/mi. or better from the time we crossed the starting line.
The first race
Once we hit the line, most folks started running, so even though it was a little crowded at first, it wasn’t congested enough to impede our walking pace. After all the anticipation, nervousness, and excitement, it was good to finally be under way. The early going was easy (even though we were walking fast) and it was interesting to see people like Larry the Lighthouse and some guy dressed as a windmill pass us. The route took us through a lot of residential areas, and a quite a few local residents were out to cheer on the marathoners, which included a lot of “Go Team!” shouts by people who knew what the purple shirts were for.
Probably my favorite neighborhood cheering section was a block where all the houses had made and hung posters and all the neighbors were out having a good time. They could have just stayed inside and bitched about being trapped in their houses because the streets were blocked off for the race, but instead they made a block party of it. They had a funny but slightly cruel sign that said something like, “2 miles, only 24.2 to go”, which wasn’t cruel for showing mileage, but for under-reporting the elapsed mileage. There were official mile-marker banners throughout the course, but the block party sign that said you’d gone 2 miles lowballed the distance by about a mile, which is a dispiriting thing if you don’t recognize it as a joke. Other good signs from the block party were “Bloody Mary Station” (as opposed to the usual “fluid station” signs), and my favorite, “In our hearts, you’re all Kenyans”. If you don’t get that last one, read up on where most of the elite marathoners in the world are from.
There were fluid stations about every two miles, where you had your choice of Gatorade or water. (A couple stations also had food like orange slices or pretzels.) I did my best to properly hydrate leading up to the race, so because of that and also not wanting to risk having to stop for a bathroom break before completing the first loop, I started out only taking one of my gels and water at every other water station. Although I lightened my load by not carrying my own water as usual, the trade-off was being stuck with some pretty nasty-tasting tap water.
There were not official mile markers at every mile (I wish there had been), and some had race clocks while others didn’t, but there were enough of both to be getting an idea of whether our pace so far was good enough to make the cut-off or not. It was difficult to tell for the first several miles, because even though we were pretty sure we were walking close to a 14:00/mi. pace, the official clocks included those seven minutes before we got to the starting line, making it look like our average pace was slower than it really was. We knew this, but it was still hard to figure out how much breathing room we did or didn’t have.
There were a couple of spots along the route where bands were playing, and that was a nice little shot of energy each time. One band was playing under a big gazebo at the only part of the course where racers passed each other on opposite sides of the street, so when we got to that part, we saw runners going the other way, and cheered on every purple shirt we saw running by. It was a deceptive part of the course, because when you’re passing other racers like that, it feels like the turn-around point must be just ahead. In fact, it was about four and a half miles more before we got to that other side of the street across from the band.
Around Mile 9, our pace was looking pretty good for making the cut-off, but we all agreed (Alison, Joanne, Kathy, and me) that for a little extra peace of mind, we felt good enough to add in a few short runs. So, at three different points, we increased our pace to a slow run for a couple hundred yards or so, and then resumed our fast walk. It was only a slow run - nothing fast enough to get too tired to keep walking fast - but it gave us more leeway with the cutoff. I hadn’t run in months, and I have to say, it felt really good. The three little runs combined probably amounted to less than half a mile, maybe not even a quarter, but it was my first run in months and my right knee felt completely normal.
The Start/Finish line is on the boardwalk, so when you get back to the boardwalk, you’re about a mile and a half away. You can’t see the line at first, but you know you’re close, and you feel close because you’re back on the boardwalk like you were at the start. By the time we got to the boardwalk, it was clear that we’d make the cut-off with no problem, so the first race was almost won. I knew that my wife, my honored teammate, and his mom were planning to be there at the halfway point to cheer me on, but I wasn’t sure they’d make it, and I hoped that if they did, they’d find a spot beyond the line so I could complete the first loop, not be worried about time, and stop for a quick hug and a picture or two. That all worked out just like I hoped.
We completed our first 13.1 miles in 3:07 (gun time), eight minutes clear of the cut-off. (My chip time on that loop ended up being 3:00:14, for a first-half pace of 13:46/mi.) Kat, Reilly, and Pat had found a perfect spot on the sidelines just a little ways past the line, so I was able to go over and spend a few seconds exchanging hugs, thanking them for coming out, and taking a couple pictures. I jogged a little to catch up with my teammates and felt strong heading into the second half, especially now that the race to beat the cut-off was already won.
The second race
The second half of the marathon looked and felt a lot different from the first. It was the same loop, but not the same atmosphere. A lot of people (~2750) were there to run or walk the Half Marathon, so with that many people being finished after the first loop, it meant there were a lot less people on the course for the second loop. That was true both of participants and spectators. Most of those cheering neighbors were gone, although the block party crowd was still having a good time. They were a little mellower, but still partying and had updated their gag sign to reflect second-loop mileage. The lowballed number for elapsed miles felt a little more cruel the second time around.
At the first set of porta-potties on the second loop, I made a brief pit stop (not the intestinal distress kind) and when I got out, none of my teammates were there. There were six or seven porta-potties there, so I hoped they’d just all gone in, but until Alison stepped out of one, I wasn’t sure that they were still with me. It turned out that Kathy had gone on ahead, so I continued on with Alison and Joanne. I expected to catch up to Kathy within a couple of miles because she had started talking about foot pain on the first loop, but after being able to see her in the distance for a while, she finally got far enough ahead that we didn’t see her again.
We weren’t dead last, but we were definitely among the rear contingent, so the deeper we got into the race, the more sparse the crowds and support. There were still TNT coaches, mentors, and other supporters (and Cara 2-3 times per loop!) and that was definitely great, but a lot of the locals were done cheering for the day, the bands were gone, and even the water stations were packing up and I think in one case, closed entirely. (I may have misremembered where they were, but it seemed like there were more on the first loop.)
When we were passing one of the mile markers with a race clock, a van came and picked it up as we were passing, and we could see other race clocks already stacked in the back. We said something half-serious, half-joking like, “Hey! Even the people in the back like to know how much time has elapsed!” and for the rest of the race, they’d wait till we got to the clock, give us a wave and a smile, and then load it up and drive past us to the next one, where they’d wait for us again.
Although I know it was an illusion, I could swear that they somehow stretched out those miles on the second loop, because the mile banners seemed to be much farther apart than they were the first time around. As the mileage crept into the mid and high teens, I felt like I still had stamina to spare, but the fatigue in my legs was increasing, and my feet started to hurt. The foot pain started as an achy sort of thing, but after a while, I could feel blisters forming on the usual areas — both heels and the balls of my feet behind the big toes.
I started having a harder and harder time keeping up with Alison and Joanne. Even though we’d talked about hustling to the cut-off and then being able to relax and more-or-less coast the rest of the way, their pace still felt like hustling to me. For a while, it was like no matter how hard I tried, the best I could do was to keep half a step behind them. That mystified me, because if I could remain half a step behind them, why couldn’t I make up that half-step and then just maintain? In my mind, I secretly accused them of conspiring to speed up by half a step any time I caught up, but I did not share this accusation in the interest of protecting the camaraderie we had going.
By the time the mileage was into the twenties, I was unable to match their pace even at a half step behind, so I just started walking the best I could while a gap opened between us. To be honest, I felt a little embarrassed. I knew absolutely no one would think anything less of me, but I just felt like having walked with them so much, I should be able to keep up. My stamina was there, but my stride was already as long as I could make it, and my sore feet just wouldn’t let me walk any faster. Ironically, I could actually run with less discomfort, but I wasn’t in this thing to run. So, I walked a few miles within sight of, but not next to, Alison and Joanne.
On the first loop, any time there was an intersection or turn to navigate, all you had to do was follow the people in front of you. On the second loop, especially the last half of the second loop, there was often no one to follow. It was still pretty well marked with cones and cops to direct traffic, but it wasn’t always obvious which way to go. There were a couple times when it took a cop pointing us in the right direction to stay on course. There was one short little section when Alison and Joanne got far enough ahead of me that I couldn’t see them or anyone else ahead of me anymore. I was a little perturbed when I could see a truck up ahead picking up cones at the next turn, because with no cones to aim for or people to follow, staying on course could become an unforseen problem. I was also confused because I knew I was still on pace to finish well under the 7 hr. overall time limit, so it seemed like they were dismantling the course earlier than they should have been. Anyway, that was when I decided to jog to catch up to my teammates, which I planned to do in several little bursts instead of one sustained run.
When I rounded the corner where I had last seen them, I came onto a long straight stretch that started at about Mile 23. I still wanted to catch up, but there was no danger of them dropping out of sight on this stretch, and I recognized this last part of the course now, so catching up wasn’t as urgent. The cone truck drove by, and a guy on it yelled, “The pace car is catching up!” Honestly, I didn’t quite know what it meant then, and I still don’t know what he meant now, because I hadn’t heard about any “pace car”, and like I said, I knew I wasn’t in danger of being disqualified on the 7-hr. time limit. However, it sounded ominous enough to make me afraid that somehow I was in danger of being disqualified after all, so that renewed my urgency to catch up to my teammates and after a few short runs I was even with them again.
I told Alison and Joanne that the running didn’t really hurt, but I just couldn’t walk very fast anymore, but mainly, I didn’t want to cross the finish line alone. They assured me that they had no intention of crossing without me, and I believed them, but I still felt better being able to catch up to them for the last part than having them stand and wait for a couple minutes or more at the finish line until I got there. I’m not sure if they took mercy on me and slowed down or if I drew on some reserve energy that I didn’t know I had, but I was able to keep up with them as we arrived at the boardwalk.
On the first loop, getting to the boardwalk felt close to the line. On the second loop, I couldn’t believe how far away from the line we could still be, even after getting to the boardwalk. What the hell is the 25-Mile marker doing way up there? There’s no way that thing was so far away last time! This last stretch was where I appreciated and needed the support of TNT coaches, staff, and general well-wishers more than at any other part of marathon. My feet felt like they were done miles ago, but I was eager and determined to get to that line.
With just under a mile to go, I felt the heel blister on my left foot blow out, which hurt quite a bit. In the next couple of steps, it became painfully obvious that I couldn’t put my weight on that heel anymore because of the friction it caused on the popped blister, so I started limping in a way that I only put pressure on the ball of that foot. Shortly thereafter, I heard a vehicle behind me so I turned around and maybe a hundred feet back there was a truck. Again, I didn’t know for sure if it was anything to be worried about, but that warning of, “The pace car is coming!” still had me spooked, and I was afraid of being disqualified less than a mile from the finish line, so I sped up my hobble.
I don’t know how much later exactly, but with maybe a quarter or half mile to go, the heel blister on my right foot blew. That put me onto the balls of both feet, where I was just hoping those blisters wouldn’t pop before I got to the line, because I was running out of places I could put pressure on. Alison and Joanne had gotten a little ahead of me again after my first blister popped, so since I was more comfortable on the balls of my feet anyway, I jogged a little to catch up again. Down the stretch, there were lots of TNT people - coaches, staff, teammates - whooping it up for us. I was touched that my roommate, David - who I’d never met before this weekend - had stuck around to give me a high five as I crossed the finish, even though he’d finished running his marathon nearly two hours earlier.
I proudly crossed the finish line - walking! - with a chip time of 6:30:41. Alison and Joanne finished with me, and I’m grateful to both for helping me get there, and I’m not just talking about walking with me on Sunday.
I didn’t see my time as I crossed because I’d followed the advice of coaches and staff to make sure we smiled as we crossed the line so our official photo would show that, instead of showing us looking down at our watch or up at the time clock. I saw Kat on the other side of the spectator barrier just beyond the finish line, so I headed over to her first thing to celebrate with a hug and kiss. While I did that, a finish line official dived at my ankle to remove the timing chip — they’re pretty militant about that. With the timing chip turned in, I was presented with my finisher’s medal and a couple other goodies, and then I limped around the barricades to join up with Kat and other TNT’ers and soak in the satisfaction of having completed my first marathon. Except for my body, I felt great!
