Steamtown Marathon

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.