"Real glory springs from the silent conquest of ourselves."
-Anonymous
A marathon is 26 miles 385 yards. Whether you're running six minute pace or sixteen minute pace, the time and distance between mile markers can sometimes feel like an eternity. It is in those moments of progressive anguish, that any preconceived notion of target finishing times, or average splits or finish chute antics go out the window and you start living in the moment--focusing solely on each progressive step and knowing damn well that your mind is going to have to will your body to complete the task at hand.
Such was the case for me two weeks ago at the Sun Trust National Marathon, here in Washington, DC.
On race morning, it was a chilly 31 degrees and there was a brisk wind blowing across most of the course. The first few miles were relatively flat as we headed out from the start line at the Stadium Armory and down along Constitution Avenue before making a turn onto 18th St for what would be a slow, seven mile climb from the Mile 4 through Mile 11. As we crested the top of Connecticut Ave, we made a right onto Columbia Rd and passed my long-time friend Omar Popal's restaurant, Napoleon. (Sidebar: for those of you in the DC area that have not yet tried Napoleon, you're missing out. With the warm weather approaching, it's an absolute must. Ask for Omar and tell him I sent you.)
We made our way thru Adams Morgan, and soon thereafter, my two favorite parts of the entire race:
1) Best Sign: "Your feet only hurt, 'cause you're kicking so much ass." I laughed for a full mile.
2) Best Lift: Howard Students that were blasting Chuck Brown as we rolled past their dorm.
The rest of the race went downhill (metaphorically, not literally) from there. To put it in context: through Mile 20 of the race, my overall average split was 7:47/mile, which on a hilly course like that, is certainly a respectable pace. The remaining six miles--four of which were uphill--were so ugly that my overall mile average climbed up 16 seconds and I finished with an average pace of 8:03/mile and an overall time of 3:30:38.
That means for the first three marathons of the 10-12-100 Campaign, I have run:
ING Miami Marathon 3:30:18 (8:02 pace) 72 sunny/flat course
Pensacola Marathon 3:26:36 (7:53 pace) 57 rain/rolling course
National Marathon 3:30:38 (8:03 pace) 31 cold/hilly course
It was in those last six miles where the mental gamesmanship truly began. Both hamstrings were cramping and my left calf locked up as well. It was ugly and I do mean ugly. My long hours at the office, coupled with poor race-week hydration and an utter lack of sleep meant those last six miles felt longer, harder, and more challenging than the previous twenty. Add to that, the fact that the two of the last six were into a driving headwind and other four were up a rolling progression of never-ending hills as we climbed from the Anacostia River back up to the rear of the Stadium Armory for the long-awaited finish line.
Some races are just gorgeous (Miami) or seemingly effortless (Pensacola) but this race was neither. It was a challenging course, on a cold and windy day. Many readers will likely point out that I ran the same race, the same course as everyone else so why should I complain about the difficulties of the day. Well, they're right. We all ran the same course, on the same day, in the same conditions. But it is the race within the race that makes all the difference.
Marathons are not a team sport. When you're having an "off" day, you can't rely on your teammates to pick up the slack and pull you thru. When you're off, you're really off. There's nobody to make it faster, shorter or otherwise easier. If you're going to do it, you've gotta do it alone. If you're having a tough day, then the real battle and the real victory is in conquering yourself, more so than conquering the race. That is the real glory.
Like I've always said, you just can't fake your way through a marathon. Regardless, I am happy that the National Marathon is now behind me and that I've officially got three races on the books.
Three down. Seven to go.
Doug Eldridge
President
DLE Sports
