It was odd to be scrambling for a local hotel and registering at packet pick up since I usually plan months in advance, but the upside was that I didn’t have time to get nervous. Because this was a small event of only about 200, including 70 full marathoners, I met many fellow participants at the spaghetti feed and Race Director’s welcome the night prior. I don’t mind missing these types of events for big city races, but for small events they are a must- you really get a feel for the local community and the area you’ll experience on race day.
Las Vegas Marathon and Ocean Drive Marathon were stirring in my head when the gun went off…
At the half marathon point, I was pleased to see Amanda announce a 1:42. I hadn’t really been keeping an eye on the clock and just assumed the wind had slowed me down more. At this pace, I was on target to beat my PR of 3:31, which I’m not sure I can even claim anymore as it was achieved 2 years ago. Despite having run the Equinox 50K last week, my body felt great and the time boosted my confidence. I wanted a new PR.
|That's me behind hat man and his very loyal pacer|
|Okay, so the bike got annoying after awhile...|
When Amanda notified me of my mile split (in this case, totaling the 26th mile) and there was no sign of a finish line in sight, I began to worry I had gone the wrong way. Dude in front of me kept turning around, probably beginning to have similar fears but reinforced by the fact that someone was on the same path. In another half mile, a volunteer from an earlier aid station pulled over and told both of us what I had suspected but didn’t want to accept: we were off the course. Apparently after the busy road left turn, there was an immediate right that would go straight to the finish.
I had been holding an adrenaline filled sub 8 minute miles during this confusion, but lost all motivation when it sunk in that I’d have to retrace my steps for over a mile plus run the correct final 1.2 miles of the course. I slowed to a 9 minute pace and my body was not hearing any other requests. The other guy flew by me as if he had intended to run 29 miles in the first place. I felt angry, embarrassed, frustrated and desperate.
|"Direction is more important than speed" - unknown|
Though it would have been a nice outlet, there was really nobody to blame. It was the police officer’s job to get me across the road safely and he did exactly that. The runner in front of me was not an official race pacer. I had seen a map and briefing of the course at the spaghetti feed the night prior. Even now, my most rational explanation is that this was my 27th marathon and it was bound to happen sooner or later.
Crossing the finish line in 3:54, I earned 5th female overall, 3rd in my age group, 8000 additional steps on my pedometer for our challenge at work, and a medal that looks cute on my dog.
I’m still angry.