Sunday I woke in what I knew to be the calm before the storm. It was warmer than it ought to be, the air was still and the city was silent. I quickly got ready and stole out in to the dark morning. The weather was holding and I kept my fingers crossed that the rain would hold off until the afternoon. Last year's pre-race temperatures were in the mid-20s. This year they were in the low 50s. It was perfect weather for a race as long as we didn't get caught in a downpour.
I got to the Pentagon about 30 minutes before the start. I made my way over to the Runner's Village, quickly checked my bag, and got in line to, ahem, take care of business. Unsurprisingly, I was still in that line when I heard the cannons fire, indicating the start of the race. As I'm no speed demon, I was able to make it to the start line with most folks running my at pace.
I'd decided to stick with a 10:00/mile pace for the race. It's substantially slower than my half-marathon pace and, as long as my IT band and knee didn't act up, I could sustain it over 26.2 miles. Slow and steady, I climbed the hills in to Arlington, reminding myself that after mile 7 I'd have a 13 mile break from uphill climbs. I hit the Key Bridge feeling awesome, grabbed some water, and got ready for the first quiet stretch of the race. Or so I thought. A guy a few feet behind me decided to sign Ke$ha at the top of his lungs from mile 5 to mile 7. He was horribly off-key, but it was entertaining. Even more entertaining were his friends, half of them begging him to shut up, the other half joining in. Other than that, miles 1-7 were relatively uneventful. I high-fived a lot of Marines and saw Santa. Santa is a bit of an MCM race legend. He's a dead ringer for the Santa Claus from everyone's childhood stories and always stops on the course to ask children what they want for Christmas. He's easy to spot in his Santa hat, North Pole Marathon Team tank, and red or green shorts. I'd wanted to see him ever since my first MCM - I guess the third time's a charm!
Miles 8-10 are some of my favorites because you get to run through the Palisades, where people in the neighborhood bring their kids to watch and are incredibly supportive, and straight down M street in Georgetown. I know MCM likes to tout the cheering section in Crystal City as one of the best places to watch the race, but Georgetown is leagues ahead. In Georgetown the sidewalks are packed, the music is blaring, and everyone is excited. This year Georgetown had, hands-down, the most enthusiastic set of spectators I have ever seen in a race in DC.
I saw my dad during mile 10. I wish I'd taken a photo, as he was hanging out near the band and having a great time (he said they were really good). At this point I was beginning to feel the effects of the almost-empty cups of Gatorade at water stations (my only gripe about this race this year - it didn't happen in prior years), so I asked him to have a bottle of Gatorade ready to hand off to me the next time he saw me. As I continued on, I had to take two cups of Gatorade at a couple of water stops in order to stay hydrated.
Miles 12-15 were on Hains Point. In past years this was one of the most psychologically grueling parts of the race as there were no spectators. This year, it was tough for other reasons. Wear Blue: Run to Remember had set up signs beginning around the mile 12 marker. Each sign had a photo of and information about a fallen Marine. These served as a poignant reminder that we run this race not just for ourselves, but to honor those who serve and have served our country, protecting our individual freedom and our rights to make choices like whether to run a marathon. I got choked up and nearly had an asthma attack trying not to cry. After the signs, they had volunteers holding American flags.
The other side of Hains Point was a bit tricky. As you can somewhat tell in the photo above, the wind had picked up. There were steady winds of around 20-25 miles per hour, which aren't unmanageable by any means, but when you are running on a peninsula and the wind is coming right off of the water it tends to feel stronger. I ended up walking mile 15 as my left IT band was starting to act up.
Miles 16-20 were on the Mall and I enjoyed all of the spectators who had come out to support us. I saw what was, by far, my favorite sign at mile 16. A man who was at least in his late 50s was holding a sign that said "No more Saturday runs means Friday night sex, baby, OORAH!" I couldn't help but laugh. I saw my dad again at the mile 16 marker and got the bottle of Gatorade I was so desperately in need of. I downed it in less than a mile. Oops. Around the time my IT band started acting up again and my right knee started to bother me I saw someone holding a sign saying "Pain is inevitable; suffering is optional." It was a great message and it gave me the strength to push past the pain for another mile and a half. At 18.5 miles I knew I needed to start walking again.
I felt bad walking past the spectators lining the mall and in front of the capital, but I knew it was the right thing to do. I still had quite a while to go and I didn't want to injure myself to the point where I couldn't finish. So I read signs a little more closely, took a photo of the Capitol as I approached it, and kept moving forward.
Getting to the 14th Street Bridge was a huge relief. I'd "beat the bridge" and knew I could finish the race. I was only a few minutes over where I needed to be to finish the race in 4:30:00. If I ran the rest of the way, I could still hit my goal.
But I was in huge amounts of pain. I needed to walk more. I saw my dad around mile 21 and stopped to remove a rock in my shoe that had been tormenting me for the past 2 miles. He and I talked and decided it would be best for me to walk the bridge and take things from there. So I walked a little, stretched a little, walked some more, stretched some more, took some Advil, downed another bottle of Gatorade, and started feeling a lot better. By the time I reached the mile 22 marker I was ready to run again.
A funny thing happened in Crystal City: I found my second wind. The Advil had kicked in, my legs were feeling better, and I had a flat, spectator-filled stretch ahead of me. The lululemon cheer station gave me the energy boost I needed to adjust my attitude, put on a smile, and enjoy "Crystal Run."
I cruised through the next mile and a half, until I discovered a (literal) bump in the road. In changing the Crystal City portion of the route in 2012, the race organizers forced us on an overpass around mile 24. No one was happy to see the unexpected hill, but I charged up it, reminding myself that there were less than three miles left. I coasted down the other side of the overpass, blew by the donut holes (as if I could keep those down) and found myself by the Pentagon, high-fiving more Marines. My IT band and knee started acting up again, but there were only two more miles to go. If I pushed through the pain I could still finish in under 5 hours, meeting my secondary goal.
I started seeing more and more spectators as I ran through where the start corrals had been. There's something nice about passing where you started to get to the finish. At mile 25.2 the pain was getting to be too much. I knew I wanted to finish strong, so I allowed myself .5 miles to walk. When I hit mile 25.7 I told myself that, ready or not, I was running. There were less than 5 minutes left and I was going to give them my all. I saw my dad again right before the sidelines got packed thick with spectators. It gave me the mental boost I needed to push past whatever pace I'd decided on and run as fast as I could. As I rounded the corner and started up the hill at Iwo Jima I saw a lot of people stopping to walk. I refused to let that hill get the best of me and let myself go. My legs were tired and I was starting to run out of breath, but I wasn't stopping until I crossed the finish line.
And I did. At 4:59:02.
I'd beaten the bridge, kept myself in one piece, and finished in a respectable time. Best of all, it still wasn't raining. I got my medal, shuffled through the line to get a thermal blanket, snapped a photo of Iwo Jima, and prepared myself for the madness surrounding the food lines.
The exit was crazier than in past years and as I approached I saw why - jackets! The MCM jacket isn't something I would wear around town (it's far too big and it's not made of a sturdy fabric), but it was a nice, unexpected touch which was perfect for wearing around Rosslyn as I got my checked gear and found my family.
Post-MCM with my family
The thing that sets MCM apart from most marathons is the overwhelming military presence on race day. The pre-race flyover, wounded warriors competing, and Marines lining the course cheering you on prepare you for the signature moment at the finish line - having an active duty Marine place your medal around your neck. I always look forward to receiving my medal, shaking their hand, and saying "thank you" - not just for the medal or for being there on race day, but for everything they do for our country.
As my finisher's jacket says: mission accomplished.
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