by Jamie on November 30, 2009
An excellent start; the 2009 Philadelphia Marathon swag is the best ever. A smart Kick Asphalt technical shirt, runners’ gloves and a (zippered) mesh bag.
Sunday, 11/22, 5:10 am. It’s finally time…Kim and Kerry are running their first marathon. The mood in the car is optimistic and light.
The day is made for marathon running, cool, bright and cheery. We choose the facilities at the Starbucks on Callowhill and 20th. The line of ardent runners recount tales of race bibs purchased on Craig’s List and compare favorite marathons (it’s NY by a mile.) We women get a bad rap when it comes to time in the loo…those Starbucks men sure took their time!
The new wave start is touted. With roughly 7,500 marathoners, 7,200 half marathoners and 1,575 8K runners, the streets are mobbed for the first mile or 2.
Kim and Kerry (the K’s) are low key, savoring the architecture (the Beaux-Arts Memorial Hall in Fairmont Park is a midpoint standout), the sparkly rivers and the quirky marathoners along the way. Kim discovers her mantra at mile 4…..never say never. The ever vivacious Kerry chats with fellow runners, collecting their stories.
I’ve run Philadelphia twice. This time, I am doing the half. I’ve read of runners who purchased a half marathon bib and then proceeded to run the full marathon. Those are not my people. The leisurely half is great fun. And so is the finish line. But the day is all about the marathon; we half-runners are merely poseurs. I forgo my Mylar blanket, medal and banana.
I cheer the runners at Lloyd Hall (after mile 25.) This year, runner’s first names are boldly printed on their bibs. We yell out their names as runners grit their teeth, limp, cry or (happily) accept candy from the crowd. A group of young women are singing the Black Eyed Peas’ latest. The entire song. At mile 25.5. I don’t like them one bit. A bystander is obsessively playing the Rocky theme—a runner requests Sinatra. A middle aged man, with his entourage, is running his 100th Marathon. The crowd goes wild. A young couple run by, the man’s shirt says, “I love my marathoner”, pointing to the woman.
LDF’s, Ann and Jill, jump in at mile 23, with stories to tell, just what the K’s are craving.
Kim and Kerry run past. They seem calm, classy and jubilant. They did it.
Monday finds the K’s with the inevitable sore and unsightly toes and that painful stair walking. Talk quickly turns to their chances of getting into the New York Marathon next fall. The glorious conversation continues….
by Jamie on November 2, 2009
The Philadelphia Marathon is around the corner. Our LDFs are primed. Kim bounds up the hills. Kerry doesn’t miss a beat as she adds miles and miles to her repertoire. Kerry has collected and absorbed every morsel of essential pre-marathon wisdom.
My two cents:
The expo: you earned it, take your time and enjoy the scene. Soak up the pre-race pride and excitement, note the vast assortment of marathon bodies, grab every possible free sample and purchase a few gels or running supplies for your post marathon future.
Consider running with a pace team. The pace leaders (an exceedingly gregarious bunch) can be found at the expo; ask questions (no need to tell Kerry!) In the best of all running worlds, the optimal marathon pace (i.e. not too fast) and pace team is chosen. Fodder for tapering runs: obsessively defining and determining optimal. A pace team should slow your start enough to ensure a strong finish. For the commitment-phobe, some choices—-run near the leader, take in their coaching and encouragement or run outside the pace team’s orbit, using them as a visual guide. Either way, if the pace is not for you, drop away.
Seriously ponder your throw away clothes. A late November morning in Philadelphia can be icy cold. Consider a sweatshirt, sweats pants, gloves and hat–a blanket even. Ransack your closet; pillage your husband’s and kids’. Visit a thrift shop, Target or Wall Mart. Forget fashion pride. Chic is not the operative word pre-marathon.
We all try to run super light, but I loved the comfort a tiny Chap Stick provided during the Chicago Marathon.
Muse on mantras and alternative mantras. The words may not feel quite right until you begin. And while an apt mantra may come to you unbidden at mile 7, it’s heartening to have something in your cache before crossing the start. Poll your LDF’s on their favorites. There must be something to all this: I googled mantra marathon and found over 50 pages on the subject. A favorite of mine: Just dig in.
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by Monica on May 2, 2009
Good Luck to all those taking on the the 10 mile Broad Street Run tomorrow. I just read on the site that it will cap at 26,500 runners this year – up 20,000 from the first time I ran it about ten years ago. Of those 26,500 I counted about 150 from my hometown of Haddonfield, NJ. Broad Street is a fast, flat course through the city of Philadelphia that ends with a big party in the Naval Ship yard. A great race for everyone and the perfect prelude for those with marathon aspirations. A good race effort (and an endorphine high) often act as motivation to take on the Philadelphia Marathon in the fall. That was the progression my long distance friends and I took years ago. So with a mix of nostalgia and excitement I say to those I know who have already commited to this journey – GO FOT IT!
by Jamie on March 25, 2009
I ran my first marathon one week before turning 50. My friends and family see a direct relationship between these 2 factors—I remain unconvinced.
I am a slow runner and usually (the operative word here–usually) I am okay with this state of being. It is not a life philosophy, merely, a physical reality. At least, I can run the distance—I lived in Boston and joined the carefree marathon spectator party each year. It was Patriot’s Day after all- a state holiday! I never imagined that I could or would run it. This year, my distance friends and I decide: It’s time to run Boston.
I would have to maintain my current marathon pace until 65 years of age in order to qualify. Highly unlikely. So, in the midst of a worldwide financial crisis, the severity of which has not been evidenced in decades, Jean and I decide to run Boston. For charity (The Cystic Fibrosis Foundation). $3,000 must be collected. A piece. By the end of April. Or our credit cards will be charged. Bloody brilliant!
Contributions come in dribs and drabs. The utter humiliation of soliciting a donation is tempered by the prospect of paying the entire amount. People that I would never have considered asking to contribute in January, have received my please donate entreaty by March. I find myself rifling though dusty, old work and school phone books. How far can I dig? How low can I go?
I’ve learned something during each marathon. Philadelphia Marathon 2007: I have the fortitude to finish a marathon. And this awful secret: middle-aged woman don’t lose that much weight during marathon training. The gods must be crazy!
Vermont Marathon 2008 (mile 20): Technology fails, bring a back up ipod. Philadelphia Marathon 2008: The Bermuda triangle of marathoning exits at mile 17. And it resides in my brain. It is the soul killer that attempts to drown out any remaining good marathon karma. It screams, “Come on, just slow down.”
This year I am planning for that moment.
