Keeping the Pace

On a wall in my bedroom is a print of the Maxfield Parrish painting Daybreak.  Mary’s grandparents bought it on their honeymoon in New York City in 1923.  They’d taken the train there from New Orleans; commercial air travel was not common until after WWII.  The print is regarded as the most popular art print of the 20th century.  According to The National Museum of American Illustration, it has outsold Andy Warhol's Campbell's Soup Cans and Da Vinci's Last Supper.  The print itself is not particularly valuable, except sentimentally for Mary.  In fact, you can buy one on eBay for $10.  What makes this particular print special is that it is in the original House of Art New York frame, which adds hundreds of dollars to its value.  You see, it is how the picture is framed that matters.

It was the same for me with Saturday’s running of the Rock ‘n’ Roll Marathon which drew about 15,000 competitors.  If you look at the numbers, you’d think I’d be upset.  I covered the course in 3:07:37; 46^th place overall, 3rd in my age group.  That was over ten minutes slower than my running of the American Discovery Trail Marathon last fall.  But I was very happy with my effort.  I am 48 years old and, with my new job, have fewer hours to train than I did last year.  The big difference is that I have not been able to attend the Phidippides track workouts. 

What made the race so special for me? 

Let’s start with the course.  It winds through many neighborhoods and areas of Denver.  The city looked beautiful.  The last quarter mile is a very nice downhill which would make any runner look heroic in their finishing photo. 

The support was amazing.  The water stops were well manned with smiling faces and there was no shortage of water and Gatorade.  I tucked in behind the 1:30 half marathon pacers until the courses diverged in Cheesman Park.  I did pass the ½ marathon marker just under 1:30, so the pacers were right on the mark. 

The bands along the route were great.  It seemed like there was a band or group of cheerleaders every other mile which helps to distract runners from the discomfort they are feeling.

I doubt there was any stretch of more than 100 yards where there weren’t spectators.  In Washington Park two guys ran beside me for a few strides and told me something positive.  About a mile later I woman ran beside me a told me I was running smooth.  That was the first time a woman described anything I did as smooth.  I wore my usual ‘big race’ uniform, blue shorts and my Syracuse singlet.  It pumps me up when spectators shout “Let’s Go Orange!” or “Go Syracuse!”  I heard that a lot Saturday. 

There were some emotional low points in the race.  The slight uphill at mile ten was one.  It was then that I realized I couldn’t hold the 3:00 pace.  So I scaled back and set my sights on keeping the pace below 7:30 / mile which I did until the last three miles which were run at 8:00 / mile pace.

There was another low point at 18.5 miles, but I reminded myself that the RMRR gang would be manning the mile 21 water stop (thank you Dave Cunningham).  When I arrived there, guess what song was playing – Born to Run (see last week’s blog).  I was almost in tears.  I recognized the last figure at the stop, Scott Daily.  I did not negotiate the cup transfer too well.  I was so happy to see Scott, I reached to pat him on his left shoulder.  At the same time I reached for the cup of water in his right hand.  The result was a really awkward bro-hug. 

As I reflect on the race, I realize the toughest sections were the long straight ones.  There were two long stretches on Logan where I got a little down.  I watched my Garmin tick over to 2:58 and said to myself that a year ago I was admiring my finisher’s medal by that time.  Five minutes later I had the same thought about this spring’s Colfax Marathon.  Climbing Capitol Hill with 1 ½ miles to go was tough, but a spectator ran alongside me shouting encouragement. 

Let us not forget the philanthropy of this marathon, prostate cancer.  At the Health and Fitness Expo the Prostate Cancer Foundation handed out blue rubber wrist bands that said Athletes for a Cure and Never Give In.  I wore one during the race.  One in six men will be diagnosed with the disease during their lifetime and nearly 30,000 men will die from it this year.  Starting at age 50 men should have a PSA test.

I always like it when they announce the finishers’ names as they cross the line.  This time the announcer said “Carl Mather in red.”  My finishing photo shows me pointing at my singlet yelling “it’s orange!”

Overall I am pleased with how I ran.  I fought the whole way.  Marathons are challenging races.  At this point they’re all works of art.  It’s really how you frame it.