Hot and hilly about sums it up, the inaugural running of the Mad City marathon. Another term which comes to mind is "ouch" as I limp around in my post-marathon glory of rigid quadriceps, turgid calves and tender toes. Amazingly, none have turned black and appear in imminent peril of falling off. I went into this marathon (#4) excited, feeling anxious and full of anticipation. Training went well, lots of long hard runs culminating in a PR at Lake County half marathon and a grueling run in the hills and pouring rain of Lake Geneva 25K. I'd gotten over my cold, was rested, hydrated and all vitamined up and my new 1/2 size larger shoes were broken in. All that remained was the road trip to Madison, the rendezvous with Karen, and a night's sleep in the Thriftlodge. We caravaned to Madison, Al and me in his car being trailed by Janet and Carol in the Perkins mobile. We arrived to a nice hot day, checked into our budget accommodations (1 PM check out, deluxe!). We toured the expo and gathered our packets, then headed to the State St. mall to eat lunch. We walked the mall absorbed in the diverse collegiate crowd. One couldn't help but notice that at one end of the mall was the capital, atop a hill, and at the other end was the University, at lake level. Definitely there appeared to be a bit of a tilt to the town.
We had a mission to accomplish before we met Karen. We had to find Lane's bakery, pick up the cake Dan had ordered for Donna, and deliver it to Josie's, the restaurant Bob Bell had selected for the Oak Park runners carbo load dinner. We got the cake, then found the restaurant. It looked very questionable. A narrow dark corner building with the classic martini glass marquee. I took the cake in through the double diner style metal doors and entered the gloom. After a few seconds my pupils dilated enough to see the naugahide booths and empty tables. I looked for a waitperson, anyone to give the cake to and found my way to the bar. The bartender took it from me and said "for THE party??" yes, indeed. Even though Al, Janet and Carol hadn't been inside, they shared my trepidation about having a meal at such a place, let alone the sacred pre-race carbo feast. Considering that there were probably a thousand great restaurants in Madison, we wondered about the choice.
On the verandah at the memorial Union, we met up with Karen in the midst of the other RNA processors, who she was easily persuaded to part company with. I ran into an old professor of mine who was at the meeting and had a taste of some of the local brews. We made it to the restaurant fully prepared to make our excuses before we sought other food. But once we found all of our buddies waiting for us, we settled in for the feast. The restaraunt looked passable in the dusk. It was rather inexpensive, and the waitress kindly pointed out the vegetarian choice. As we pushed away from the table, a new plate of food arrived and Bob Bell tore into his second full pasta dinner. Wow! we all decided that if he had a great race we would know his secret (he did, so now double pasta dinners will be included in the pre-race regimen). After Bob had consumed his second plate of pasta he came down to our end of the table to show us his T-shirt. It was from a previous Madison Marathon, circa 1988. The tight blue T-shirt appeared a remnant of a former day and was so snug that Dan thought he noticed Bob's arms were turning blue. There's got to be a cartoon in that. Dan started a finish-time pool, each of us anteed up dollar and our spouses predicted our finish times. Karen said she was torn between not wanting to insult me and picking a time that would win the pot. Then the waitress brought out Donna's cake. We all got big pieces of the chocolate and vanilla cake resplendent with flowers and lots of frosting. After we'd eaten, Bob scrounged the uneaten frosting flowers off our plates. He was going to insure he was well fueled for the run. Before we parted for the evening (some were off to bed at 8 and others of us off to check out Madison at night) we assembled in front of the restaurant for a group photo. We recruited a woman who was waiting for a bus to photograph us. We were lining up and jockeying for position as the bus pulled up and she abandoned us. Somehow we managed without her.
It seemed like moments later when the five of us gathered for a group photo just before the gun went off. Dan, Bob H and Al maneuvered forward and Bob B and I started from where we were. He and I ran the first half of the race together. We started out at sub 8 minute pace and held 8:20s through the 1/2 point. It was a pleasure running with Bob. He gave me a guided architectural tour of Madison as we plodded along. As we neared 2 miles we heard a radio announce that the leaders crossed 3 miles at 15:08 running a very fast race. At each water stop Bob stopped and walked a few steps whilst I plodded on. About 1/4 mile down the road he would catch me and we would continue our guided tour. The first real hint of a hill at mile 8 to 9 we dug in and motored up. Bob said we should "attack the hills." On the down slope from that hill as we passed the Governor's Mansion there was a group of cheerleaders rooting us on. As we neared them we shouted in unison "Hoo-Yah" and startled them into momentary silence. We hung together at the 13 mile mark then Bob exited the course briefly to visit the port-o-pot (no doubt due to his pasta extravaganza?). Janet had noted that the name of the port-o-pot company just happened to be "Bucky's" which all agreed was a good omen for me. I even saw Bucky Badger himself at mile 11 or so all decked out and cheering us on. Another good omen? Instead of Gatorade or other known fluid replacement drinks the race furnished us with "BadgerMax" which we now collectively refer to as BuckyPiss or BadgerPuke, based on our experience with it, especially Bob H.
Just past half way the course took a hard left and up the first challenging hill of the course, dumping us out near the union. As I pushed myself up it a guy ran by and said "this is the hilliest 'flat course' I've ever seen". He was referring to the race program which described the course as "relatively flat" and had a note from the race director who said she had ridden the course on her bicycle and chose a route that eliminated all the hills. Vicious lies. The first half of the course was great, slightly hilly but in the shade of big trees and very scenic. The second half of the course was different, open, no shade and increasingly hilly. Starting at mile 17 it started to rise and from 18.5 to 20 it was a steep uphill. Seeing this mountain before you as you labor in the open sun, fighting a head wind, was psychologically daunting. Actually cresting the hill and conquering it was even worse. We just don't have enough hills in Chicago to train on properly.
Out of breath, totally wasted, and feeling really bad, I hit the big down hill at mile 21 and let my self run out. I tried to relax, let my chin go slack and bounce against my chest as gravity propelled me forward. I hit mile 22 and entered into tunnel vision. I felt like I was looking through a long pipe and saw stars all around the periphery. Gooseflesh crawled over my body and I almost felt a chill. I thought, hey, this is great, if I can keep this up for 4 more miles I've got it made! But soon the endorphin rush wore off and I collided with the wall. I struggled for 3 miles, maintaining a 9:20 pace on the downhill side of the big hill, trying to keep hydrated with BadgerPiss and trying to hang on. Mile 25 hit me like a ton of bricks. I swear mile 25 was actually 5 miles long itself. It seemed to go on and on. At least it was relatively flat. I saw the coliseum, I heard the crowd, and saw the finish banner in the distance. I had no kick, but managed to raise my arms in triumph as I crossed the line. 3:53:00, miraculously, a PR.
I found Karen and Carol. Karen told me I looked "mad." Anger was the furthest thing from my mind. Bob Bell came in right behind me. He said after he visited the john he couldn't catch me but had me in sight the whole way. He looked fresh as a daisy and seemed very happy. From now on, 2 plates of pasta the night before! I found Al and Dan in the shade on a patch of grass. Al was purple. What a story he had. He finished in 3:24, an outstanding time for a first marathon under such demanding conditions. He maintained a steady 7:10 pace until about mile 23, then he crashed. He struggled at 10 minute pace for the last two miles. He said that at the mile 25 water stop he stopped to drink and couldn't start again. He walked a few steps and a guy he'd run most of the race with told him that if he could do it so could Al. So Al started to run again and all of the water stop volunteers cheered. Al said when he realized he was going to finish he started crying tears of joy. I had such a vicarious thrill, even writing this down just now I got goose bumps all over remembering how I felt at Columbus at the same point in the race when I knew I could finish and had that huge emotional release. Al forced himself through the last mile and finished running. He staggered and the medical personnel grabbed him. The last thing he heard was "you are going to pass out..." He was helped to the medical tent where they laid him out on a cot and covered him with ice. He was force fed water until he recovered. By the time I lumbered across the finish line he had been restored to good health. Dan seemed fine. He thought the hills and heat were tough, but he finished in 3:12, well ahead of what Donna had predicted for him. Both Bob Bell and I passed Bob Hakes on the down side of the big hill at mile 20. He reported suffering terribly from BadgerPuke, which was what it made him do. I know he was disappointed with his time, but most people I know would have been thrilled to have finished with him. I say blame it on the BadgerMax. It seems kind of fishy, but somehow Dan ended up winning the finish-time pool.
Now, as we rehash the event, Al and I have decided to do Milwaukee in the fall. We aim to do much more hill training, more long runs and try to have a few of those runs be 23 miles instead of just 20. Despite the intense anguish one feels for a few moments during the worst part of the marathon, the whole experience, the training, the planning, the excitement, the road trip, 20 of the 26 miles, and the immense sense of accomplishment afterwards, all make that brief little time of hell seem inconsequential. I look forward with zeal to my next marathon. And hope its not hot and hilly!