Compared to previous marathon-distance races last year (re: Ironman
Madison, Chicago Marathon), I actually had more than a week notice for the LA
Marathon, meaning I could potentially train for this race (a funny concept,
huh).
While my training has been going fairly well, evinced by recent success
at last month’s Polar Dash 13.1 (blog
post here: http://samwelchruns.blogspot.com/2016/01/chicago-polar-dash-131-1916.html), I’m a lazy bum who’d rather run 6 miles hard than 18 slow and
endure these sub-zero Chicago temps any
more than I have to. And so, in this buildup for the LA Marathon on February
14th, my “long run” prior to the race was…that Polar Dash 13.1. Add that onto
the fact that LA would be roughly 80 degrees warmer than Chicago, with
exponentially more hills (I’ll be lucky to gain/lose 5 ft. over the course of a
run on the Lakefront Path), and a placement into the Open Corral (or, behind
the stroller moms shooting for a sub-6 hour finish), I went into this marathon
the same as I’d done the races prior: with zero expectations.
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| Beats Chicago in mid-February, that's for sure... |
Luckily, I was able to fly out to Los Angeles a couple days before the
race, thanks to HOKA ONE ONE allowing me to work the expo the days prior. Soaking
up the anticipation from the expo, then the excitement from the Olympic
Marathon Trials (and not to mention the vitamin D from that big bright ball of light
in the sky. What’s that thing called again?), I devoured a massive plate of
Mexican food the night before, definitely not ready for that 3am alarm.
Staying in an Airbnb in Santa Monica, I was able to simply walk over to
the shuttles bussing everyone over to Dodger Stadium, the start of the race.
I’ve never raced a point-to-point marathon before (or any distance, really),
which makes for: 1. An exciting and mentally-stimulating race; and 2. An incredibly
inconvenient start, where I huddled freezing behind the port-o-potties for 2.5
hours (my fault for not bringing pants, California’s fault for being so cold).
As the start of the race drew closer, I decided to leave the wind-shelter-slash-undead-aroma
of the port-o-potties for the start line, only to discover a veritable wall of
human bodies. Start corrals definitely exist for a reason, so you can
understand my frustration, after having emailed the race director/verbally
assaulted the bib giver-outer/pitifully begged an employee of the LA Marathon
itself, that I was stuck in the Open Corral. I understand that some blame lies
on myself for signing up for this race after the corral placement deadline, but
c’mon people, it’s downright stupid
to have someone racing 6-minute miles starting behind and trying to pass people
racing 12-minute miles.
And by racing, I mean walking. I couldn’t believe it when, crossing the
starting line, the “runners” around me were starting their own race with a
slow, meandering crawl (I’m sorry if I’m being overly insensitive here, but
just writing about this is dredging up some pretty irksome memories). I’m generally
not an angry person, and I’m definitely not one to yell f-bombs at my fellow
runners, by my goodness was it frustrating literally running into and over
people, trying to move faster than my grandparents on their casual Sunday
morning stroll.
This first mile was honestly what my personal hell would be like,
running four steps before coming to a complete stop, then taking two more
strides before barreling down a 70-year old legacy runner. My Strava data doesn’t
even show the half of it, but somehow, miraculously, I made it through that first
mile “on pace.” Despite hitting my goal of ~6 minutes per mile, though, it was
definitely a fartlek more akin to 5-minute mile effort. But getting out of
Dodger Stadium, I was able to run on the nearby sidewalks, bypassing the
masses, worth running some extra distance if it meant not dodging and weaving
every other step.
Despite a horrendously frustrating first 1-2 miles, I was able to spend
the next 20 or so passing people. Physically passing other runners has always
been such a mental boost for me, so to be able to do so for such a long
distance was perhaps the only benefit to such an unfortunate start. Pacing was
akward, though; in retrospect, it probably would’ve been nice to be able to run
with a group of fellow runners also shooting for a sub-2:40.
I guess it’s worth mentioning that a sub-2:40 was my tentative lofty
most-likely-not-likely goal going into the LA Marathon. I knew I could take
down my 2:48 from Chicago by virtue of not eating 16 Clif bars the night prior,
but my lack of long runs made any definite goal very indefinite. Also worth
mentioning: the rest of us HOKA ONE ONE tech reps have a little bet going. We’ve
all put in $100, and whoever runs the fastest marathon before our next sales
meeting (early May) wins all. The fastest PR put up by a rep had been a 2:45,
so I knew it would take at least as fast as that to win this; I would be the
first to race a marathon after making this bet though, and setting the standard
for the rest. Anyways, back to the race...
As has been the case for the majority of my past races, I made it a
priority to not check any of my mile splits, but more ran on effort. I knew a
marathon was a long race, and by now, having raced 4-7 (depending on whether
you include those trail 50Ks and 26.2-mile walk at the end of that Ironman),
found it best to consistently feel not-great, but making sure there’s enough in
the tank to make it to the finish. It’s not a very scientific method, but it’s
worked relatively well in the past, and really, there’s no guaranteed way to
race 26.2 miles. It’s gonna suck no matter what. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
I’ll be sure to post my Strava data below, but rolling at what felt
like marathon effort should be turned out to be around 6:20 pace, at least for
the first half. It was definitely hot during this section, though I was pouring
water on myself more than actually drinking any; I also took a gel right at
13.1, something (believe it or not) I’ve never done during a marathon before.
Maybe it helped? I think? Who knows.
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| Net downhill? Awww chyeah! |
What I do know, though, is that these hills really started beating me
up. Many had warned me of the hills: these large sections of road that went up
and down in gradient and that we don’t really have here in Chicago. Thankfully
I was wearing Hokas, but those can only help so much, and my pace definitely
lagged on some of the steeper uphills. I started to run scared around mile 15
(scared I wouldn’t be able to finish at this pace), then ran confident from
18-21, then back to terrified 22-onwards. Right around 20 I stopped passing
people and started running alongside them, and definitely started pumping my
arms more (a sign, since having put on a modicum of muscle mass, that my legs
were tiring and needed every ounce of effort to propel myself forward).
Again, you’ll note in the Strava data that miles 23 to the finish were
all downhill, something that I was definitely thanking the race directors for
midrace. When it came to having only 5K left to race, though, something strange
(and honestly quite terrifying) happened that’s never happened before. Trying
to throw in a surge and dip below 6-flat pace, my throat closed up. All of a
sudden, it felt as if I were breathing through a straw, and I was forced to
slow down, which fixed the problem. Of course, my body was quite fine with
slowing down, but I was at the same time frustrated my breathing was holding me
back, as it’s rarely the issue while I’m racing.
 |
| I guess it's consistent..? |
It happened twice more, both when I really tried to throw down some
fast running; slowing down and breathing through my nose helped, and it was
later confirmed through talking with others that the pollution in LA could very
well have been the issue. Regardless, I was able to throw down at least one
sub-6 at the end there, and the crowds along the final ½ mile were pretty
incredible. That final stretch was interminable, helped from some cheering from
Lindsay, whom I’d met working at the LA Marathon expo. Never have I heard
someone scream louder, and I’m pretty sure it provided a surge of adrenaline brought on by sheer terror.
Crossing the finish line was, is, and forever will be, the greatest
feeling. I had no idea what my finishing time was, as I’d started so far back
from the actual gun time (turns out, it was roughly 7 minutes). I was able to
meet up with the Los Angeles Hoka tech rep Christian right at the finish, and
he confirmed that I’d finished at 2:43:5X; ecstatic yet hating life, he helped
me limp over to the beer tent, where I proceeded to continue feeling sick and nursed
some Gatorade instead.
The race was a PR, with the official finishing time right at 2:43:59.
This is fantastic, only because I can say I ran 2:43; this sucks, because I
know I can run faster, and now want that sub-2:40 even more. Interestingly
enough, I’d (somewhat jokingly) told a friend that I thought I could finish in
the top 50, with all the actual good runners racing the Trials the day prior: 26th
place overall was quite the surprise (as was 2nd in my age group).
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| (Insert 'Not Bad' meme here) |
I’m writing this 3 weeks post-race, mainly because I’m lazy. But also
because I needed a little break from the whole marathon thing; I was pretty
wiped out, and while I didn’t miss a day (don’t worry, my streak continues), I
definitely took it easy jumping back into training. However, I’m feeling good
now, and actually hopping into a little trail half marathon this upcoming
weekend while out in San Francisco for my cousin’s wedding! Let’s hope I don’t
take 20+ days to write that report…
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| Getting to hang with this girl was pretty cool, too. |
P.P.S. Sorry for the lack of racing photos - dat ish is expensive and I looked pretty gross in all of them.
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