Long Boring Race Report

So, here's my Broad Street Run Day.

Sunday, May 3, 2009.

5:00 am. Hit the snooze for the third time and roll out of bed. This is at least 5 hours earlier than I normally would get up on a Sunday. The dog, who I've trained to sleep in, opens one eye to stare at me as if I'm nuts and doesn't even twitch any other part of her body. Start a pot of coffee and drink a large glass of water. Do bathroom stuff while it's brewing. Apply Body Glide to all parts of my body that require Body Glide. Dress in clothes selected the night before -- capri tights and a long-sleeve light tech shirt with the race bib already pinned on it. Put on a visor and attach timing chip to running shoes. Pack gear bag with extra dry shirt and socks, cash, camera, phone, chapstick, bottle of water, an apple, some tissues and an Immodium. Back downstairs to have more water, a small cup of coffee (not the bucket I usually drink), a bagel and cream cheese and a Claritin.

It's nice in the morning -- quiet and dark. It's raining out, so I put on a light jacket and call Sadie (three times) to come downstairs for our walk. After the walk, I hop on my bike and head to Broad and Pattison.

6:15 am. It's raining, not hard, but steady. The subway station is not mobbed, but it is bustling. The subway car is full. I chat with the other riders nearest me. The subject is triathlons, which surfaces when we notice the Ironman tattoo on the shoulder of one of the riders.

6:40 am. Broad and Erie. Every one piles out of the subway, most linger in the station. The race start is not for nearly two more hours, and it's still raining. Every five minutes or so hundreds of runners come up the stairs from the platforms. I pass the time by playing the Rocky soundtrack on my Ipod.

7:15 am. I emerge from the subway. Thousands of people milling about. After handling business at the portajohn, I wander over to the track at the high school near the start line. The trick here is timing. I need to check gear, do a half-mile warm-up jog, line up at the portajohn again and leave about 10 minutes after all that to get to the start. The timing works.

8:20 am. I'm wedging myself into the red corral. This is the third corral, after the elites and people who expect to finish the run under 85 minutes, and ahead of people who anticipate finishing in more than 90 minutes. It is very congested.

8:33 am. The runner's gun (airhorn, actually) goes off. It takes nearly four minutes to get to the start. I tap the Broad Street Run banner over head, check my watch, and I'm on my way. The actual running field is not nearly as congested as I feared.

I'm feeling great at the start. I am, however, overdressed. I know I will soon regret the long-sleeve shirt and the visor. The run starts on a nice little downhill.

8:45:25. First mile marker. By my watch, this is about an 8:45 mile. Too fast for my first mile. This could hurt me later. I'm concerned, and I try to force myself to slow a bit. Still feeling great though.

2nd mile marker: 8:54:15. Slower, but still not slow enough. Pretty close to the cruising pace I was hoping for, about 8:55.

3rd mile marker: 9:03:04. Timed this mile well, and I'm still feeling strong. Regretting the hat though.

4th mile marker: 9:11:58. Tougher mile. Started to get into my head a bit. I anticipated a little emotional mini-wall here, and I talk myself through it without too much difficulty.

5th mile marker: 9:20:54. Still averaging under nine-minute miles, and I can see City Hall! I've overcome the mini-wall and I'm feeling good again, except for the damned hat. I high-five the governor at Locust Street.

6th mile marker: 9:29:55. Struggling a big, I knew this mile would be challenging. I'm heading toward a more difficult wall than the one I faced in mile four.

7th mile marker: 9:39:56. Here's the wall. I'm getting cranky, it's humid and I'm hot. My breathing is heavier. I wish it would rain instead of spritz. Three miles suddenly seems like a very long distance. I do the math in my head. Even if I slow to a 10-minute-mile pace, I'll come in at 93 minutes. This would still be a great result for me. I try to slow my running to a comfortable level. There isn't one.

8th mile marker: 9:50. Bad, bad, bad. I walk the water station. I am so winded I decide to keep walking until I catch my breath. It takes at least two blocks, probably three. I start running again, slowly.

9th mile marker: ? I'm too disgusted with myself for walking to look at my watch. I know my hoped-for sub-90-minute race is gone. I am, however, still on pace to make excellent time, even if this mile is insanely slow. I took off the visor at the beginning of this mile. I thought it would mean my hair would flop into my face. It doesn't, so I toss the hat by the side of the road. Should have done this eight miles ago. I walk the water station, but I run the rest. I pick up speed to get from the Naval Yard entrance to the finish line. Where's the finish line? I can't see it, and I need it. Where the hell is it? I finally see it with about .1 mile left. I push hard and cross. I look at my watch: 10:07:56. I find out later my official time is 91 minutes, 11 seconds. Under 92 minutes! More than 11 minutes faster than my previous best. Yay!

I get my medal and make my way toward the gear check bus. I chat with the other people in line. The subject is marathons. The lady behind me is encouraging me to do New York. Right now it's hard to imagine adding 16.2 miles to what I just did, but I know it always feels that way until I actually do it.

I get my gear and food bag. It starts to pour. I want my hat.