Date: October 7, 2018
Location: Scranton, PA
Not all marathons have a
happy ending. I signed up for the Steamtown Marathon certain it would be one of
the ones that did. The course is net downhill, so gravity is on your side,
creating the perfect recipe for a PR. But there were some other big letters on my mind too: BQ. The goal that had gone from an impossible
dream, to an I’m-too-afraid-to-admit goal, to a goal that I was starting to believe I might be able to reach. I knew it would take several attempts, but I had to
start somewhere. And a downhill course is a good place to start.
The qualifying time for my
age group is 3:35, so I trained for that time using the FIRST training plan. The training paces were unheard of for me, but I surprised myself by hitting
them for most of the interval and threshold runs. The long runs though... not
so much. Usually there are a few in each training cycle that kind of suck, but this
time, they all sucked. Though I ran the prescribed distances, I never really
felt strong in any of them. I chalked it up to being over-tired and over-worked
from my job and just held on to the hope that in the actual race the net
downhill course would save me.
For the second time I
would be running a marathon all by my lonesome. But ever the supportive
partner, Jin, along with our dog Xena, came to Scranton to cheer me on. I
didn’t really know anything about Scranton except that it’s the setting of The Office. It seemed like a pretty
typical small, east coast town to me, with some charming stone buildings, an
iconic clock tower (yes, the one in The
Office opening credits!), and some quaint restaurants with waitresses that
call you ‘honey’.
The morning of the race I
felt pretty calm and collected. The course is point-to-point, meaning we all
had to be shuttled to the starting line in Forest City, PA. Those shuttle rides
are both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand it’s warm and cozy and you can
sneak in a little nap before you’re out in the cold putting your body through
hell. But on the other hand, you’re literally experiencing the reverse of the
course you’re about to run and it feels really
long even from an engine-powered vehicle. But every time that bus struggled
to chug up a hill I smiled inside: another downhill for me.
At the starting area, it
was cloudy and humid. A part of me hoped the forecasted rain would come.
Humidity is every runner’s enemy. Before I knew it, I was in the starting corral
listening to the national anthem. I shook out my legs one last time, prepped my
GPS watch, put in my headphones, and… I was off.
Already, I was heading
down a steep hill. We caught a few glimpses of breathtaking views of the
mountains before plunging into downtown Forest City. The whole course would be
a series of tiny towns connected by long stretches of tree-lined road. Main Street
soon became PA-171, which continued to wind us through the trees towards the
town of Vandling. The leaves were just starting to turn colors, which stood out
vividly, against the cloud-muted backdrop.
After passing through
Vandling, the next three miles flew by. Literally, I was flying down PA-171. I
was trying not to go too fast because the net downhill part is pretty much all
in the first half and if you push it too hard you’ll really struggle on the
rolling hills in the second half. But it felt so natural to let gravity take
me. Whoops, I finished mile five under 8 minutes. Oh well, time in the bank, right? If you have
the urge to reach through your screen and shake some sense into me, good. Because yes, that is the complete
opposite of smart racing tactics (negative splits = PR). And even though I
knew the tactics in theory, I just couldn't hold back on those declines.
The course continued to follow
the Lackawanna River through the town of Carbondale. I saw the 8-mile marker,
which I’d spotted from the bus. Wow, I’ve
already made it here? There were a lot of spectators in Carbondale, many
sipping coffee from their porches. Another few miles through the trees and
suddenly we reached the town of Mayfield and more coffee-sipping spectators.
Then it was the town of Jermyn. It was deja-vu in every town.
Soon after passing the
12-mile marker, we found ourselves on the Jermyn Bike Trail, which follows the
Lackawanna River for 2 miles. It was a beautiful trail, with more vivid foliage
and the Lackawanna River flowing to the right. Despite the beautiful scenery, I
realized I was starting to feel – for lack of a more scientific term – not good.
The humidity was weighing on me, and my fast pace at the beginning was catching
up with me. I panicked. It was too early to feel this way, and I’d already used
up the net downhill part of the course! I was mentally transported back to
those long training runs, during which I also felt not good for the majority of
the runs. I allowed myself to slow down a little and made sure to take extra
Gatorade at the next water stop. It’ll
pass. It’ll pass. I kept repeating this to myself, trying to ignore the competing
voice saying but it didn’t pass in your
training runs. Seeing the halfway marker on that bike path was bittersweet.
I was happy to be halfway there, but I was anxious about the fatigue. 
There was a break in the
bike trail when we reached the town of Archbald around mile 15, but soon after
we were back on another trail. At this
point my pace was starting to fall off. I’d been averaging around 8:30 miles so
I was at the make-or-break point where a PR was still within reach IF I could
turn things around. No pressure.
I was running behind a trio in orange Navy tank tops who were going
exactly the pace I wanted to go, so they naturally they had become my pacers. Staying
with them was becoming increasingly harder, and they were gradually getting
further away from me. I can still catch
up said the small amount of optimism left in me. But after about 18 miles
just as I reached the town of Olyphant, I saw a big hill looming ahead, and just
like that my optimism shattered. Once I made it up the hill, I caught one last
glimpse of three ponytails up ahead, and then they were out of sight for good. Let
the spiraling begin. I can’t do this, how
could I have been so delusional? I had no mental strength left to keep
fighting.
I felt little joy at
reaching mile 20, which is usually one of my favorite parts. Each mile was
slower and slower which only reinforced my spiraling. I walked through every
water stop and even up some of the hills. Is
it even worth finishing? To say I was in a dark place is an understatement.
By mile 23 we were at the
outskirts of Scranton and there were more and more spectators at every turn.
The spectators were really all that were keeping me going at this point. Soon
after the 25-mile marker, we turned onto Washington Ave, which is where the
finish line would be. It’s not an exaggeration to say it felt like I was on
that street for years. My legs kept moving and I was passing building after
building but I wasn’t getting any closer to the finish line. Like one giant
street treadmill I would be stuck on for eternity. Surely, I will die on this street treadmill.
Then I saw a tiny,
precious dog up ahead with a bright green leash. That’s my dog! “Look Xena, it’s mom!” said Jin and they started to
run beside me until Xena found something interesting to smell. That gave me
just the surge of energy I needed to finally break free of the street treadmill.
I crested the last hill and the finish line was in sight at last. Coasting down
that hill and into the finisher’s chute, I felt the darkness lift. And by the
time I crossed the line I was feather-light again.
Not all marathons have a
happy ending. But for every marathon I’ve run, I’ve learned something new. Obviously
I know it was pretty stupid to push the pace so hard at the beginning. But more
importantly, this one helped me appreciate the need for mental training. True,
I hit the goal paces in my training plan, but during a run if I knew I wasn’t
going to be able to maintain the pace, I would stop for a bit, thinking it was
more important to run that pace for the prescribed time or distance, even if
that meant I didn’t run it continuously. And while there certainly is value in
that, it left one important thing out of my training: pushing through the pain.
So when things got tough on the road to Scranton, I essentially gave up. In
distance running, training your brain is just as important as – if not more
important than – training your body.
And hey, marathon number
13 is in the bag! Despite the agony and hopelessness, it actually ended up
being my second fastest time (3:51:08). My journey to BQ is just getting
started.
