MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!

I need the Abraham Lincoln and an S-3B Viking, stat!

Actually, today's race went about as well as I could have hoped. Let me break this down:

Pre-race: The race went off at 7:00 IN THE AM(!), and between the 5k, half-marathon, and full marathon, there were 14,000+ runners congregating downtown. This, together with all of the downtown street closures (the start and finish lines were on Congress Street, right in front of the state capital) meant that finding a parking spot was going to be a real bitch, so much so, in fact, that the race organizers recommended that runners get to the downtown area not later than 5:30 (IN THE AM(!)). So my day started at 4:50 IN THE AM(!). Breakfast consisted of two slices of toast with honey and a cup of tea. (One of my high school teammates who was really damn good swore by this stuff, taken a few hours before the race, and it's always worked well for me in the past).

I was able to make it downtown by 5:30, and actually found free street parking (the city doesn't enforce the meters on Sunday) a few blocks from the start line, so that was pretty solid. But my success in finding parking now meant that I had about an hour to kill before I had to start warming up for the race, and it was still fairly cold out (38 degrees). I had noticed that the marathon had a clothing drop right by the start line, so I had come dressed in some thick warmup pants, a thick sweatshirt, and some gloves and a beanie, and the plan was to keep these on for as long as possible, and they seemed to do a pretty good job of keeping me warm. So I basically curled up in the corner of some storefront like a bum for an hour or so. Started warming up at around 6:25, took some Gu around 6:45, and had dumped off the clothes (minus the gloves and beanie) and made it to the start line by 6:50 to try to meet up with the 3:00 pace group.

Gettin' started (race start to around mile 5): Started off the race pretty easy with the 3:00 pace group. My overall plan for the race was to make sure not to go out too quickly (I have a history of going out too fast and blowing up in the later stages of the race), run relaxed through the hills in the middle third of the course, and reach mile 18 with most of my physical and emotional reserves intact. The 3:00 group was doing a good job of hitting their splits, but by mile 4, I was starting to get antsy; 6:52 just didn't seem that fast, and I was feeling pretty good. On the other hand, the 3:00 pace group was the fastest pace group out on the course, and we were out at the front of the race; aside from the 3:00 group, the runners were actually somewhat sparse (say 5 to 10 meter gaps or so between single runners or pairs of runners). Leaving the pace group would mean that I'd be on my own in terms of pacing, and running at an even/reasonable pace is decidedly not my forte.

My original plan had called for between 6:30 and 6:52 splits (2:50 to 3:00 pace), and I had made a game-time decision at the start line to start off the race conservatively by locking in with the pace group, since my ultimate goal was just to hit a Boston qualifying time. However, after thinking it over for a bit, I decided to go ahead and break away, reasoning that I wasn't going to be going all that much faster, and if things really went south, I could always lock in again with the 3:00 pace group if/when they caught up to me, and let the group drag my carcass all the way to the line.

Balls deep (mile 5 to around mile 8): So after having made the decision to break off from the pace group, I started letting myself get a little faster, judging my speed primarily on the basis of how I was feeling. However, I kept hearing a little voice saying "Respica te, hominem te memento" in the back of my mind, remembering what had happened at the last marathon: 18 miles of 6:30 splits, followed by 8.2 miles of extremely painful and successively slower splits. The reason that glycogen depletion is such a bitch is that there's literally no warning; you're fine one minute, and then the next thing you know, you've completely exhausted your glycogen stores, hit the wall, and have the privilege of looking forward to a long, slow, agonizing death march to the finish.

So although I had allowed myself to speed up a bit, I was very aware of the need to keep close check on my splits until I had locked in to a new (reasonable) pace. This turned out to be a good idea, as I came through mile 6 with a 6:10 split. By mile 7 or 8, I had locked in to a good pace (around 6:30) and my primary concern turned to just staying relaxed through the upcoming hill section.

It's a long way to the top (mile 8 to mile 18): I knew this was going to be the crucial section in the race: if I didn't stay in control through the hills and come out at mile 18 still feeling good, there was a good chance I was going to have a repeat of San Diego. Fortunately, I had two things going for me: I had intentionally done a lot of hill workouts up in the Palos Verdes hills when I was back home over the break, and Matt and I had run a parts of this section of the course two weeks previously, so I had some idea of what to expect. The goal for this section of the race was basically just to lock in, space out, and stay relaxed over the next 10 miles or so. By now, the pack had started to thin out somewhat; most of the runners were going solo, and it seemed like the average gap now was somewhere between 10 and 20 meters. So not having anyone to really run with, I just sort of focused on settling in to what I thought was a comfortable pace that was a little bit slower than what I thought that I could run. I was actually quite concerned about burning through an excessive amount of glycogen on this section, and I reasoned that in the event I felt good later on in the race, I could push the downhill sections after mile 18 as we started to get closer to the finish.

However, even though I was being very careful to keep the pace slightly below what I thought was optimal, I still found myself gradually moving up the column. Beginning around mile 13, a lot of guys started coming back to me who were breathing pretty heavily, which sucks; if you're working that hard at mile 13 and have 5 more miles of rolling hills, you're in a lot of trouble.

I was starting to feel the first creeping effects of fatigue myself around mile 13, so I took another packet of Gu. That stuff seems to be surprisingly effective at reviving you rather quickly. I don't mean by providing additional carbohydrate/electrolyte (it does, but it requires some time to be absorbed into your bloodstream); rather, I'm referring to the effectiveness it seems to have at reviving your will almost immediately. Julia mentioned to me recently that she thought that it was due to just having something very sweet in your mouth, and that the effect would likely be the same if you had simply used a piece of candy. In any case, this shit is pretty awesome, so I'm not going to ask too many questions :-).

In terms of race highlights, that was pretty much it for this section of the race - I kept pace, kept it together on the hills, and kept moving up the column.

He could go all the way! (mile 18 - mile 22): I came out of the hill section at mile 18 feeling somewhat fatigued, but was still running relaxed, and went into the start of the downhill section with the goal of using it to muster my remaining energy to get through the last 8 miles. Psychologically, this is where the race really begins - you've been out on the course for about two hours, you're going to start to feel tired in the near future, and all you really want to do is get to the damn finish line. The plan was to stay relaxed, be patient (something that I'm not ordinarily very good at), and let some of the upcoming long downhill sections pull me along.

One thing I had going for me was that I knew that my pacing had stayed pretty consistently around 6:30 since mile 7, which meant that I had some spare time in the bank as far as qualification time went, so all I really had to do from here on out was just keep it together over the last 8 miles and make it to the finish.

On the other hand, this part of the course contained some long, straight sections through residential neighborhoods with which I was unfamiliar - not really the most exciting/interesting terrain. Also, the pack had thinned out quite a bit by now (maybe one or two runners every 50 to 100 meters), and I realized that this was likely going to be a completely solo effort from here to the finish. It seemed like the psychological and physical stress was starting to take its toll on some of the other runners as well; I saw a couple of people sitting on the side of the course who had dropped out of the race on this section of the course.

I think some of the psychological strain was getting to me, too, because I had felt pretty good around mile 18, but by the time I got to mile 21, I was not feeling very happy; I would say that this was actually the psychological low point of my race. I had kept one packet of Gu in reserve in the expectation that I might be feeling pretty beat up around this point in the race. Just after mile 21, I decided that now was the time to use the Gu to jolt me back to my senses before I lost control of my pacing.

So that was it as far as tricks up my sleeve; I'd be basically on my own over the last four miles.

Final approach (mile 22 - mile 24): At mile 22, we turned onto 48th Street and started running through an area of Austin known as Hyde Park. A lot of the math grad students live in this area; in particular, Karin lives there, and I'd been doing a fair amount of running with her around there over the last few weeks leading up to race day, so I was pretty familiar with the layout.

The advantages of this were twofold: I was on familiar terrain, which was a real boost for morale, and I knew basically all of the areas between there and the finish line, so I could better gauge my distance from the finish and the appropriate level of effort. So right around the time we hit the 22-mile mark, I took stock of how I was feeling, given the terrain I knew to be between myself and finish. And I came to a conclusion: I got this.

Right around the time I had passed the 22-mile mark, someone had shouted at me from the side of the course that I was in 25th place (note: I have no idea if this is an accurate count or not - I report, you decide), and I decided to go for broke. I knew that most of the other runners were getting pretty tired out; there was one guy about 100 meters in front of me who'd been keeping pace with me for about 1/2 mile or so, who I actually saw just completely crack right in front of the water station just before mile 23; the dude literally just stopped running and wandered over to the table. By now, I was feeling pretty beat up myself, but I knew that we were due for a long, straight downhill almost all the way to the finish, and I knew that I was close enough that there was no way I was not going to finish, and finish under 3:00, so I readied myself to hit the downhill, hard.

Finish (mile 24 - finish): The 24 mile marked coincided with a left-hand turn that took us out of the Hyde Park area and onto Duval Street; from here, it was a long, straight downhill down Duvall, onto San Jacinto, through the middle of the UT Campus, and straight to the capital grounds. By now, I was getting pretty excited - I started picking up the pace and picking off the dead meat. All the way down Duval, San Jacinto, and through the University campus, I was eating up distance and passing guys.

At around the 25 3/4 mark, we came out of the south side of UT campus at San Jacinto and MLK, did a sharp dog-leg over to Congress, and turned south onto Congress Street - and got our first look at the Capital since the start of our race. I can't tell you how happy I was to see the statehouse.

By now we had half a mile to the finish line, and a few other guys from farther back in the column were also trying to pick off one or two more guys before they hit the finish. One dude in a red shirt pulled up on me as we were running around the east side of the capital complex. By the time we hit the south side, he'd put about a 20 meter gap on me, and we had about a quater mile of downhill to the finish at Congress and 10.

About 200 meters out we hit the finish chute; he was still within about 20 meters of me, and looked to be running about the same pace I was, so I thought to myself: I was a sprinter before I was a long distance runner - I bet this guy doesn't have my speed. So I waited until we were about 75-100 meters from the line, and put in a massive burst of speed. I came over the guy's left shoulder about 20 meters off the line, and was probably across the line before he even had time to figure out what had happened (or at least, that's what I'd been going for). In any case, I blew right by him about 20 meters out and held the sprint across the line - I actually think that was one of best finishes :-).

Race time: 2:52:?? (unofficial) <-- This was total elapsed time from when the gun went off to when I cross the line. Official (chip times) will probably be out in the next couple of days. See y'all in Boston next year :-). UPDATE: I actually found a video of the two of us finishing online.


Lessons learned (Protips):

1. It may sound like a pain in the ass (and to some extent, it is), but consider carrying your own fluids. The benefit here is threefold.
   
   Obviously, you'll get to have whatever it is you want to drink. (For example, looking through my race packet yesterday, I had noticed that Powerade would not be available out on the course until after mile 10, although water would be available every two miles along the entire route. This meant thatm unless I brought my own, I'd have no way to replenish carbohydrate/electrolytes along the first 10 miles of the race - not an attractive prospect.)
   
   Secondly, stopping at the water tables takes time, and a certain degree of skill; you have to sort of slow down and receive the cup - trying to grab it going at your customary pace just results in the contents getting splattered all over everyone within a 10 foot radius. I passed a hell of a lot of people in the early stages of the race who were losing a great deal of time stopping at the water stations. Assuming that you lose 10 - 15 seconds per stop (which seems to me to be a reasonable estimate), just taking on water will cost you two to four minutes off your total time.
   
   I will say that, with practice, some people have learned to pinch the top of the cup closed at the same time they grab it, so that they can pick it up going almost full speed and sip out of it while running. This seems to work pretty well for them, but I think it requires a bit too much dexterity for me, especially after the 20 mile mark.
   
   And finally, unless you're up towards the front of the race, there are going to be A LOT of runners trying to get water at the same time you are, which means you're going to end up sort of jockeying for position with them, costing you even more time.
   
   
2. Both of the marathons that I've done have featured music prominently (the San Diego Rock and Roll Marathon and the Austin Marathon). I find that this leads to a much more enjoyable experience. For example, one of the things about Austin in particular is that, while you can find basically any kind of music you're into, a large portion of it is devoted to blues and rock-influenced blues (think Led Zeppelin); turning a corner at around mile 20 to find somebody shredding blues guitar is pretty fucking epic :-).