Race Report: MHR Marathon

Joseph Vinciquerra | October 10th, 2006 | Posted in Reports | 92 Comments »

The Mohawk Hudson River Marathon is an event held in the capital district of New York State, notorious for it’s beautiful scenery and it’s favorable profile for setting personal records for the 26.2 distance. As it was last year, the MHR marathon served as my “season closer” – my final A-race of the competitive season. Last year, I approached the marathon as an event I simply wanted to complete. And with minimal training, I was ecstatic not only to finish, but to turn out a 3:45:00 time. This year, however, I wanted to do more than simply complete another marathon, I wanted to race it.

For those who’ve been following along over the past several months, you’ll know that I’ve been a little bit less than specific with what my goals were going into this race. To set the stage, my specific goals were to go sub-3:20 (which would be a 25+ minute PR) and as a stretch, go sub-3:11 (qualifying time for Boston). To go sub-3:11, I would need to run 7:15 min/miles for the entire course, and only then would I just scrape by with a ticket to Boston. Yet after the Timberman, when I began to drop the bike volume and all but stopped swimming in favor of stacking the run volume, I knew by my times on the track and from running tempo that going sub-3:11 might just be possible, despite the enormity of such a goal compared to what I ran a year prior. But leading into my final taper week, I came down with a head cold, which quickly wiped my energy reserves away. In the days that followed, I recovered, but faltered in my easy transition runs… Leading me right up to race weekend, when I really had no idea what to expect in terms of performance.

Race morning was a typical Fall Sunday in Upstate, NY. It was 38 degrees when I strode downstairs to make my requisite pot of pre-race brew. Frost was on the windows, and Ginger chose to stay wrapped tight in her mountains of dog-blankets rather than follow me around the kitchen. I was remarkably calm; almost to the point where I felt a bit awkward with lack of stimulation. This was short-lived, however, as after I had my usual set of two whole-wheat bagels with Nutella and a couple chaser-mugs of java, I began to wake up. By 7:00am, the adrenaline was flowing full-force, and my legs were twitching with anticipation. I’d come down from a three-week taper, and my body just knew that it was time to go.

The race starts in the park at the end of out street – so perhaps the greatest thing about doing this marathon is the fact that I can simply run out my front door, warm-up for a couple of miles by running through and around the park (as I do virtually every day), and arrive on the starting line fresh, and with no worries about parking, packing, or dressing. The forecast for the day was claiming a high of 75 and sun, despite the fact that it had only touched 40 by the time I was lacing up my shoes. I put a long-sleeve over my race kit, bundled up in my hat and gloves to help keep warm until the start, then headed down the road to get on with it. I felt fantastic during my warm-up; my legs were light but solid, and there wasn’t a single bit of fatigue anywhere in my body. All the “phantom” aches and pains I had during my taper were just that… Phantom. I knew before the gun even went off that I’d nailed my taper, despite my lingering doubts the week prior.

At 8:30am on the dot and with very little fanfare, the gun went off and we were on our way. I’d opted to wear my heart rate monitor, but not my stride-sensor. Going into this race, I wanted to run more by feel than by real-time pace data. I would time my splits just to ball-park my progress, but I did not want to find myself obsessing over pace every minute of the race (as I tend to do). Going by feel, I wove my way through the masses towards the front of the pack – hitting the first five miles or so between sub-7’s and 7:15’s. I knew I was running fast, but I talked myself down from the freak-out ledge and just continued to promise myself to run by feel. Yes it was fast… But I felt okay doing it, so why not keep on doing it. For nutrition, I was carrying my gel flask and my plan was to take a hit of Gu every 6 miles through to the finish while taking in one water and one Gatorade at every aide station (roughly every two-miles). And so at the six-mile mark, I took my first shot of Gu in what would be an event-long attempt to keep my energy levels topped off. The 10k mark came and went, and I was feeling perfect. I’d been pacing off two other runners at this point, and using their body’s cues for my own motivation. At 7 miles, one of them tried talking to me – virtually carrying on a full-blown conversation – but I wasn’t there to talk. I was there to push. And push I did, because as his pace slowly began to drop, I pulled away and kept hitting my mile marks. 7:15. 7:14. 7:16. It was one flawless mile-interval after another. With no stimulus other than the sound of the blood pumping through my veins, and the occasional catch and release of another runner in front of me, I focused on letting my mind go. I kept a proper form, upright and tight through the core, while I let my eyes un-focus and my legs work on autopilot. I took in the scenery – but ignored the details; the burning leaves and the rippling river water, appearing only as a smeared palette of colors rushing by in my periphery.

At mile 12, the only significant perturbation in the course profile comes into play as the elevation first drops, then climbs gradually before topping off with just the slightest bit of an acher-climb. I kept pushing through, like a horse with blinders on, distracted by nothing. I took the shortest lines through the corners. I took my fluids without walking, rather, I exercised my skills in drinking on the run. I took in my second major hit of Gu, and I felt the sugar explode through my system. Recharged. I came up and over the rise of the only climb on the course, rolled passed the mile marker, and hit my lap button. 7:18. A spectator shouted: “Way to go, it’s all downhill from here!” Moments later I hit the half-marathon mark and clocked a 1 hour, 34 minute and some change… For the briefest amount of time, a part of me thought I was going to be on my way to Boston. Energized, I pressed on, picking up another runner and pacing him for nearly two and a half miles. He told me he was going for sub-3:20, and I told him he was well on his way if he could keep up the pace we were running. But he couldn’t. He dropped off on one of the sharp downhill sections and I never heard his footsteps again. But the downhills were hurting me too… For the first time in the race, I started seeing the high 7–teens, and even a 7:20 here and there. On track to crush my PR, but dangerously close to losing Boston.

Somewhere around mile 18, the course elevation drops for the last time, and it’s perfectly flat from there on out. I’d kept up my nutrition and took another major hit of Gu. I felt good aerobically, but my legs were definitely beginning to feel the effort. My right calf had started cramping, and my left hamstring was on the verge of seizing. I kept my fluid uptake as high as possible – double fisting gatorade and water at every station. I managed, over those very, very dark miles between 20 and 22, to keep the pace as close to 7:15 as possible… But I was drifting ever-so-slightly away and into the 7:30s. I kept passing runners here and there, though miles 22 and beyond are notoriously lonely. Runners who bit off more than they could chew in the early miles were paying for it now. I saw many other competitors run-walk-run those miles, but I myself refused to allow myself to walk… Even for the briefest of moments, despite the reprieve it offered. I kept telling myself that “the pain is nothing in comparison to what it will feel like in Ironman” and still I pushed on. I didn’t see anyone other than the odd spectator here and there between miles 23 and 25. I’d hit the 8:00min/mile pace at mile 25. When at the halfway point Boston seemed so much like platinum in my hands, it had suddenly taken on the consistency of sand… Slipping through my hands as I tried desperately to close my fists. I began to count down the remaining distance in meters rather than miles… For some reason that always seems to make it easier. My legs had seized, and it was as though they couldn’t find their natural stride. Muscles everywhere were locked and screaming for repair. I came through the 26 mile mark at an excruciating 8:07. I couldn’t even focus my eyes on the third line of my heart rate monitor to see what my overall time was at that point. I saw the crowds, I saw the finish banner, and in the distance, I saw the clock… My vision was completely tunneled, and for that last 400 meters I dropped all concerns over times or places. I simply enjoyed that thrill of coming into the finishing chute for the last time in 2006.

Overall Time: 3:14:17

Average Pace: 7:25 min/mile

I absolutely crushed my marathon PR, and set the bar pretty high in terms of distance-performance by going sub-3:15. But it was bittersweet, to say the least, having missed Boston by just over 3 minutes. I slowed to a walk, and could barely support myself. I almost collapsed – not from dehydration, but from the pain in my body and the weight of missing such a prestigious mark by such a narrow margin. But it was temporary. Because as the world came rushing back into my senses, I’d realized I’d done something pretty phenomenal. And there wasn’t a single ounce of fight left in my system. After Timberman, I set out to build up my run volume and speed capacity in order to PR my marathon time. I purposely set for myself aggressive goals, and the aim to race this run-course, rather than simply complete it. I did this because I know Ironman is going to redefine the requirement for mental toughness, and push me to new boundaries I can barely begin to comprehend at this point. And so at the very moment that I regained stability, and I had savored the fact that I’d just run a 3:14 marathon, I realized that this marathon was not really the end of my 2006 season, but actually the beginning of my 2007 season.

Official Overall Results

Photos here

Once again, a huge thank you to everyone out there who reads along, and special thanks for all the great comments that always help inspire me.