Marathon #17
Hunter Valley, Pokolbin Australia (wine country)
July 17th, 2011
When the title contains "Valley", it's going to be hilly. The race website read, "60% flat, 25% rolling hills, and 15% hilly." To run well, I would have to be light. Three months out I was in summer condition, which meant not much training and a good 10 pounds overweight. All that changed after receiving a text message in late April.
Mike, a top runner in the city, learned I lived about a mile from him. He sent a text message, "Going to do six miles at 5:30 tomorrow; want to meet me at the corner store?" I texted back, "5:30 a.m. ?!" When he confirmed yes, I sent, "No sorry, busy work schedule," which was true. A minute later I thought, "When a better runner asks you to train, best get your butt out of bed."
We did a hard six miler. Not because Mike pushed it, but because of the typical South Texas summer weather. At 5:30 am, it's already 80 degrees with 90% humidity. After a moderate six miles, you're three-quarters dehydrated and covered in a mesh of morning bugs as they stick to your sweat-drenched body like fly-paper.
After three weeks, Mike said one morning, "We should assemble a South-Side group of quality runners to push each other to a sub 3:00." We both have the goal of finishing a marathon in under three hours (statistically only 2% make it). My PR is 3:10; Mike has three sub 3:10s. He recruited three other quality runners (tri-athletes) Jeff, Jamie, and Robert, all potential sub 3:00.
We met five days a week in the early morning, and four days a week I would be left behind within 15 minutes. They're all a nick-faster than I, especially given my weakness in warm-weather runs. Being the "wussy" of the group is the best motivation. I suddenly gained a granite willpower to abstain from junk food. Within two months, I dropped my ten extra pounds and was running well. However, there was one substantial negative-side effect to the 5:30 a.m. training.
A marathoner's core training is the "long-run." My typical 12-week cycle includes three 20 milers, and another dozen-and-a half runs between 15-18. Even for a summer marathon, I still get in at least two 20 milers. It's impossible to run these distances well in the summer heat so I hit the treadmill in the late evening (10:00 p.m. to midnight / 1:00 a.m.). After the 5:30 a.m. training, I just couldn't endure a three-hour midnight run. But every night I would do a 5-8 miler on the mill (daily doubles).
By race week, the longest run I did the entire three-month cycle was one 12 miler; that's it, nothing else farther than single digits. In spite of the heterodoxy in training, I felt I was in reasonable condition, and content with my weight. As always, the only remaining factor was the weather. Fortunately, our brutal summer was mid-winter "down-under" in Oz.
Race morning the weather was good; it wasn't cold, but cool (51 degrees). I wore a tank-top, beanie, but no gloves. The biggest factor was the current and forecasted "cloudiness." Two-thousand runners assembled in the staging area, but only 150 were registered for the Full; the rest were half-marathons / 10k. Two minutes to gun, I chatted with some local runners. "Right mate, I ran the Sydney marathon in May," I overheard one say. I replied, "I've run some sections of that course; man it's hilly." He chuckled, "Yeah, fair dinkum; but it's not near as hilly as this run."
The starter came forward, "Yeah, right now; this is not a sprinters course; go out even first 10k, and try to enjoy the course." With that, I knew my general-standing goal of sub 3:10 was out. I focused on my ancillary goal, trying to place in my division. That would require a top 10 to 12 place finish. I lined up at the start accordingly; the gun fired and we were off.
The start weaved through the botanical gardens. About a half mile in I could literally count 11 runners in front of me; I was running comfortably but could feel the elevation changes. Then two runners passed by, then another two, and then three. Over the next half-mile about a dozen runners seemed to pass. As we finished mile one the positions started to hold. After some moderate climbs from mile 1 to 3 passing through the vineyards, I saw it.
At mile 3 there was an intimidating 80-90 foot climb with a challenging grade (see pic). Halfway up I thought about stopping my watch as I wasn't going to need it the rest of the day. I reached the top, then up and down a few more hills till mile 5, and then down a steep decline; the downhill was the type runners dread more than uphills; you have to lean back and plant/brake each stride hard to prevent yourself from flipping over forward.
Reaching the bottom we turned left and headed out of town along a well-paved country road lined with trees. No houses, no buildings, no cars; just cattle populated fields in the foreground and large forest covered hill ranges along the horizons. I love it!! You can just zone-out and sync to the rhythm of your stride. Though relatively-flat, the road elevation rose and fell 10-15 feet over one-third to half-mile stretches.
Slightly warmer, I tossed my beanie and settled into a stride. At mile six I found myself with the female leader side-by-side and alone. She was covered in large tattoos and spoke with an indecipherable accent. I turned toward her, "You're looking good." She replied, "Farkin nock gloosh nic farfallea mokin mokin mokin poopie," then snorted twice and burped once. Sadly, I think she was speaking English. To be courteous, I lightly laughed, nodded, and said, "Yeah, I know, you're right," then accelerated ahead as fast as I could five paces.
She was very atypical. Top runners usually have a long efficient stride that looks effortless. She ran with a moderate but powerful stride. It looked laborious; I initially assumed she'd fall away by mile 8. However, I discovered she had the perfect stride type for hill running, which she aptly proved. At beginning of each incline she would accelerate head of me and gain 3-5 strides; then on the backside declines my longer strides would push me past her by 3-5 strides.
About a mile from the turn-around, I began counting runners headed back the opposite direction toward town. When I made the turn at mile 9.5, I was in 20th position. At mile 10 "Agnieszka Flak" and I were still trading position up and down each incline. When I slowed to walk three strides at the mile 11 water table, she ran through. I never caught her again and she went on to win the female division, finishing exactly one position place in front of me.
Back in town, I weaved through the botanical garden to finish the first lap and begin the loop again. I resolved not to even look at my watch until finished, but by habit I looked when running over the timing mates to start the second lap, 1:43:01; I altered my goal to run a sub 3:30, which wouldn't be easy having to do the hills again, and feeling some sun rays peek through the sky.
I tossed my shirt, and made my way back to the big hill (mile 16 this time). To focus, I concentrated on counting the rhythm of my stride, "1,2,3…10; 2,2,3,4…10; 4,2,3,4…10." At 272, I reached the top. Surviving the large drop at mile 18 (mile 5 first lap), I headed back out of town feeling great. With the cloudiness back, and the major hills over, I could focus on the challenge of gaining on the field. Returning to the outbound turnaround at mile 21, I started to count returning runners again. This wouldn't tell me my overall position since some were already by me, but it would give me a gauge of who I might be able to catch. Over the next half mile to the turn-around, I counted 12 runners; which meant there were a dozen runners within a mile of me.
This is unusual for a small marathon; typically the top 20 runners are spread far apart over 5-6 miles. Feeling good, I believed I could catch 4-6. Unfortunately, there were a half dozen runners behind me thinking the same thing. I increased my stride and passed three runners between mile 21-25; and three runners passed me between miles 21-25.
With a mile to go, I could see I was barely off a 3:30 finish. I went into a full stride and headed into the final weave of the botanical garden, which by now was inundated with 10k runners who started at 9:30. As usual, they were concatenated three wide fully blocking the narrow paths. Rather than slow me down, it pushed me faster. It's a real ego boost to call out to the 10k-ers, "Morning, marathoner coming up on your right." "Morning, running between you to finish the marathon." Most casually tilt to the side; some jump over and encourage, "Yeah, awesome." And a few mumble, "Those guys are way too serious."
Half a mile out I went into a full sprint but just couldn't hold the momentum through the 90-120 degree garden turns.
I crossed the finish in 3:30:30 placing overall 20th out of 131 finishers; 8th in my division.
One of the more fun courses I've done; too difficult to do a serious PR, difficult enough to be a challenge. However ,this was mainly due to the weather; wouldn't do it again, would hate to try on a sunny day.
On the plus side, best summer shape I've been in a while. If Mike and the 5:30 group can keep shaming me, perhaps I'll be ready for a solid PR once I resume my long-runs in the fall season.
(Large hill at 3 and 16. This picture was taken about halfway up the first time; the ponds in the lower right at the base of the hill give a perspective on the elevation and grade. That's Agnieszka Flak behind me, the overall female winner; a minute ahead of me at the finish).
