On Sunday my wife and I ran the North Olympic Discovery Half Marathon. It was a wonderful day for running, and the course is naturally beautiful.
Unlike in my first half marathon, I had more than a finisher’s medal as a goal. I was determined to defend my title of best time per pound.
When I went to pick up our packets in Port Angeles on Saturday, the woman who gave me the packets assumed that I wasn’t one of the runners. Even when I corrected her, she thought I was joking. Sheesh, you’d think the reigning time per pound champion of the Seattle Half Marathon - one of the biggest in the country - would get a little more respect at the much smaller North Olympic Discovery marathon. (I’d also like to quibble with their definition of XXL in t-shirt sizes.)
We were orignially going to run the Seattle Rock and Roll Marathon, but didn’t sign up before it sold out. We had to cut three weeks out of our training and divert to the NODM. (I would have signed up for NODM in the first place had I known about it.) My question was how would the three weeks of lost training time impact my chances…
We were up at 5, dropped the kids off at 6, and were in Port Angeles to take the shuttle bus back to near Sequim for the start by 7:30. When we signed up for this marathon the Hood Canal Bridge was still scheduled to be closed. Thankfully, it opened early (and under budget!) so we were spared a 4 AM wake-up call.
At the starting area, I spotted my competition. A dude about as big as I was. When the gun sounded we were off. My competition got off to a fast start, but I could tell he was caught up in the excitement of the race start - the mistake I made in Seattle. This time, I kept a close eye on my Forerunner, and didn’t let my pace get out of control for the first few miles. My competition was soon out of sight. I didn’t care, I knew I’d see him later.
I kept an eye on my Forerunner, but pushed a little above my training pace 1) because it was race day and 2) in an attempt to keep up with my wife, which I did intermittently. (She tended to get ahead, then I’d catch up when she stopped at the aid stations to use the facilities.)
I plugged along the course, making the tactical decision to power walk up some of the bigger hills so that I could keep my faster pace on the rest of the course.
Then with about a mile and a third to go, just as the first marathoners were passing me, I spotted my competition, quickly fading. I caught him with about 3/4 of a mile to go.
Here’s where I made the wrong decision. I should have settled in behind him for a bit more than a half mile and then made my move with about a tenth to go. Instead I got along side of him, exchanged pleasantries. Then he found his competitive urge, dug in deep for the last half mile and beat me by 45 seconds. I gave chase, but my legs burned out with about 200 yards to go. I had nothing left other than the ability to maintain a jog over the finish line.
My legs are killing me today, but I’m eager to re-take my title in Seattle in November. (I’m more eager to make total time per pound a harder title for me to win.)