Shamrock Marathon
Virginia Beach, Virginia
March 18, 2007
I was really worried about this marathon. It was only my second, after the Marine Corps Marathon in October, and I had not been feeling great on my long runs – hip pain and, more lately, post-run knee pain. I was also in an awkward spot in terms of footwear. My barefoot running was coming along great – my longest barefoot run was over 15 miles – but I was not ready to run a full marathon barefoot yet. And at the same time I hadn’t worn my regular sneakers since the MCM. When not barefoot I wore my H Streets – super-lightweight shoes that are kind of like bedroom slippers – but I’d never gone very far in them either. So I was sort of caught in transition between two different approaches and was really nervous about how that was going to play out. I’ve also noticed what I’ve called my “second event curse” – every time I do a certain distance for the second time, I have a bad experience. Probably a function of complacency or something. So I was fully prepared not to finish this race. Fortunately it was a figure-8 kind of loop so bailing out at the halfway point if I wasn’t feeling good was a definite option. I ran the MCM in 4:18, and beating that time was not at all my goal; for now I just wanted to complete another marathon, and have it be a relatively good experience.
I set out for Virginia Beach on Saturday about noon with Sean Libberton & Will Colston. Just outside Williamsburg, Sean’s car broke down (transmission problem) – fortunately Dave Turvene was just leaving Williamsburg & was able to double back to get us and once we had Sean’s car towed and parked at a garage, we were on our way without too much trouble. We went to the expo, got our race packets, did a little shopping, then checked in to the hotel & had a pasta dinner at a restaurant called The Jewish Mother (the sandwiches looked a lot better than the all-you-can-eat pasta we all ate, but we resisted temptation not wanting to try running the next morning with a big lump of corned beef or what have you in our stomachs).
The next morning Dave & I, who were sharing a room, got up in time to see Sean & Will off (they were running the half marathon, which started at 7:00, an hour earlier than the full). I was feeling the heavy hand of doom on my shoulder. . .
Dave & I cabbed down to the starting area, hit the porta-potties, and walked around for 30 minutes or so. It was freezing cold and windy. Finally when we couldn’t delay it any further, I reluctantly stripped off my sweats and super-warm Patagonia fleece and we checked our bags. Then we shivered to down behind the starting line and to the back of the shockingly (compared to MCM) small crowd lined up to start.
Off went the gun, and off went Dave & I. Right from the start I was feeling various aches and pains, but nothing too bad & overall it felt good to be moving (and warmer! The second we started to move, even in the few minutes before we crossed the starting line, I felt warmer.) We settled into a nice slow rhythm – Dave was sticking with me partly as a strategy to keep himself from going out too fast as he did at the MCM. I decided to hit my watch each time we passed a mile marker and for the first 6 miles we averaged 9:25.
In the next 7 miles I continued to feel pretty good. My hip was definitely a wee bit sore, and usually I didn’t feel that until 13 miles into a run or so, so that was definitely a worry – but for now I kept chugging along. The first half of the race took us through the main drag of Virginia Beach, over a bridge, down a pleasant kind of parkway road, through Camp Pendleton, a kind of grim-looking military base that seemed deserted, except for one squad of head-shaven grunts who were chanting something in unison at us as we passed, which I think was meant to be encouraging. All I could see was a bunch of kids who were destined for the meatgrinder of Iraq. The course brought us back up along the boardwalk, which was really nice (though windy). We saw Will there (who had finished his half in an impressive 1:35) at about mile 12, which was fun.
Overall I felt good for the first half, and didn’t think of stopping as we passed the 13.1 mile timing mats. Around that time, however, I began to get a little weary of the whole, you know, running thing. And that’s when we found ourselves on a loooong straightaway that just seemed to go on forever. This stretch, which I now see is about 4 miles, was arrow-straight, boring, and felt like increasing drudgery – and by the end of it (I was all to aware) we still had 10 miles to go. My hip was definitely sore, but the good news was that it didn’t seem to be getting any worse.
Somewhere along here I popped two 8-hour tylenol I’d been carrying in my water belt. I was wearing that because ever since my bad experience on the Diamondman triathlon run, I like to have control over my drinking and not be dependent on the aid stations. I had each of the six 7-ounce flasks filled with Gatorade fortified with a 112-calorie scoop of Carbo-Pro, a tasteless white malodextrin powder. So each of my flasks tasted like regular Gatorade but packed around 160 calories, the equivalent of one and a half gels. I took roughly two of those an hour plus took in a mix of water and endurance formula (extra salt) Gatorade at the stations.
Once we rounded off Atlantic avenue and onto nice verdant Shore Drive, I immediately felt better. I was still with Dave, though he was tugging ahead a little and was often 10 feet ahead of me or so, I was surprised to be with him still. I definitely felt that he was unconsciously making me run a little faster than I might have otherwise, and began to worry that this would come back to haunt me in the last 6 miles, when inexperienced marathon runners like me PAY for their hubris when they run too fast in the first 20.
In all my long training runs, I had always run partway with my H Streets, and then removed my shoes. My intention was to do the same here, and all along the race I had been mulling over when to take them off. I was thinking mile 16, maybe 18. Finally I decided to split the difference and take them off at the 17-mile point. So at the 17-mile marker, I stopped and quickly stepped out of my H Streets, continuing along in my tube socks, then sped up a little to catch back up with Dave. We ran along together for about another 2-3 miles and then somewhere in there he eased off ahead. It was great running with Dave, it made it feel like a regular Sunday training run, and I think really kept me relaxed, which I’ve always thought is key to a good performance since you can waste so much energy tensing unnecessary muscles. But now I was on my own, surrounded by a bunch of strangers and facing the trial of my final 6.2 miles.
At that point it really began to become a slog. Taking off my shoes gave me a sense of liberation and a boost in energy as always, but this asphalt was turning out to be old, cracked and rough, and by mile 21 the effect had worn off. I was really tiring, and also putting a lot of focus into trying to find smooth parts of the road to run on – the painted line here (always more comfortable), a sidewalk here, a little grass or sand on the side of the road there. Here I am around that time running in front of the Cape Henry lighthouse, which marks the southern boundary of the entrance to the Chesapeake Bay:
At mile 20 I noticed that my stopwatch said 3:03. I realized that if I could just manage six 10-minute miles, I’d actually break 4:00, which was something I’d kinda hoped would happen on the MCM, but wasn’t thinking about this time. But I was too tired to do anything except run the best I could. Either I would make it or I wouldn’t.
Around mile 22, I did a spot of running on some grass beside the road, and got a bunch of prickers caught between my socks and my skin. So I stopped to take off my socks, and as I lifted my foot, my entire right hamstring ripped into a rock-solid cramp. I flashed on limping home the final four miles at a walk, but figured I could run it off as I had on previous runs I’d done. I gave it a quick massage & stretch until the pain was gone then resumed running, somewhat stiff-legged at first.
Now fully barefoot, I attracted quite a lot of attention running through the water station at the junction of Atlantic & Shore Drive around mile 22.5. I tossed my socks aside (I leave socks on when cold is an issue as the cold makes the feet extra-tender, but now I found they were perfectly warm).
Around this time, I had a new dawning: hey, here I am past the 22-mile point, none of my worries have panned out, I’m feeling pretty good, and you know what? I’m passing a lot of people, and no one is really passing me. Hell I must be going kind of fast! Look at all these people around me who are walking. And I might even break four hours! My feet are feeling free – slightly sore from this rough pavement, but 5 more miles will be no problem. And I actually have the energy to speed it up a little! This is great! Woo-hoo!
What a great feeling! Around mile 24, I did the math and realized that there was no way I was going to break four hours – I would come close, but it was actually 3 minutes past the three-hour point when I passed the 20-mile marker, plus there was that pesky two-tenths of a mile at the end to take into account. So I set myself a goal of beating 4:04 to keep myself motivated and kept running hard.
I rounded the corner onto the final stretch of the boardwalk, and saw that the finish line (marked by a giant statue of Poseidon) was distressingly far in the distance, but it was nice to be on smooth concrete and I kept chugging away. There was a big crowd at the finish – and a lot of people shouted comments about my bare feet (I actually felt like a bit of a phony since I hadn’t run the whole race barefooted). There were no runners visible in front of me as I approached the finish, which was kind of fun, so all eyes were on me as I came across. I saw Will just before or after the finish, I don’t remember, and then it was over! Yay, I did it! And without setting out to do so, shattered my MCM time by over 15 minutes.
Here I am in the final stretch just before the finish line:
My final time was 4:02:16. My average pace was 9:15 per mile. In this race I was in the top half among men (593/1219) and just below the top half among men ages 35-39 (113/217). When I looked at my watch after the race and graphed my mile splits, I saw that the times did correspond with my subjective memory of how the race went. Here’s the graph with my Shamrock splits (in pink) and my MCM splits (in blue) for comparison:
The 3 spikes at miles 7, 16, & 23 are where I took pit-stops (two for quick trips into the bushes and one for the socks removal/cramp). Discounting for those, I was much more consistent than in the Marine Corps. As in the MCM, I started to flag at the end – but this time, I rallied again. I also maintained my pace much better after mile 13. Here is the “after” photo of us outside the finish tent (where they served beer and yummy Irish stew): 
Overall, it was a very satisfying experience, even though my legs are VERY sore afterwards. Right now I’m thinking my goal on my next marathon will be to try to further smooth out my pace and do consistent 9:15 or maybe slightly faster miles for the first 20+ miles, and then hopefully have some juice left over at the end again to bring me under four hours. Also, to dispense with the shoes altogether.
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