Walking from my airbnb to the start line, I came across another runner who was lost. I was wrapped in a metallic yellow space blanket and she asked if I was running the race. She asked if she could follow me to the start line. While walking, she asked what number marathon this was for me. I stumbled a bit and opted to say, “Um, my fifth.” Which is technically true. It’s the fifth this year. She was impressed and said this was her second. I’m glad I went low on my count.
It was a brisk morning, somewhere in the very low 40s. The wind was slight, but when it blew it cut through everything… even a shiny metallic yellow space blanket. They had set up a warming tent and I debated the pros and cons of that — warm up too much and just before the race you walk out into the cold again with temperature whiplash. The wind blew and I wandered inside… which was more sauna than warming tent. I only stayed long enough to snap a few photos and then cooler heads (?) prevailed.
I don’t know what acronym, mnemonic they used to sort out their corral color scheme. It sure as hell wasn’t ROY G. BIV. It was, um, BOPGGBM-elite.
As for the race itself, it was a proper city marathon… at least for the first half. We dashed through city streets and past various city sights. I know it’s an inconvenience for residents… and traffic in Philly is already as close to the anarchy of 3rd World Countries, with lanes unmarked, 18th Century designs for a horse and buggy but not SUVs, and a local propensity to just stop with hazard flashers. But running the streets of a city is always a joy – people where there are usually cars, traffic lights disregarded so you can just go-go-go. And while I always have felt “The City of Brotherly Love” was something of an irony given Philly’s, um, tough exterior (this was the city that threw beer bottles at Santa Claus during an Eagles game), the crowd support was excellent.
Somewhere around mile 9 or 10 we exited the city center and wound our way through the parks and rec of the area.
The final stretch was something like an 8 mile stretch — out to Manayunk and back to the finish. Just as I was heading into this, much like the LA Marathon, I saw the leaders heading to the finish as I had miles to go. The lead guy (see below) was WAAAAAAY ahead of anybody else. It was a very long time before I saw the second place guy motoring along.
Somewhere in here my Garmin tracking watch lost the GPS signal… or was hacked… or someTHING. Because it stopped registering distance with any consistency. I found it hard to deal with… relying on mile marker clock times as best I could but recognizing I am far too reliant and addicted to checking my pace and time. I think at this point I was a good 1.5 miles off the course distances… and it would only get worse.
The out and back was along the Schuylkill River [pronounced for anyone not from Philly as “School-Kill”]. The crowds at Manayunk were loud and supportive — a much needed boost as I was seriously flagging.
Heading back to the Art Museum for the finish, I could tell I had a better physical race than the last couple. The relatively minor hills and weather contributed. But unfortunately my time wasn’t much better than some of the races I had struggled mightily to push through. Still, a win is a win… even when it’s not exactly the outcome you were looking for.
The distance is just a bit off… but the time is pretty all right.
A quick refresh at the finish line before heading back to my AirBNB for the second of the trip’s two highlights.
***
As I think I said before, I opted to run Philly because my pal since kindergarten was coming to do it. And the chance to catch up with him also meant I could catch up with my study abroad pal.
So it was a carbo-loading with Rachel the night before (who is delightful as always — thanks for agreeing to split the tiramisu withe me, Rach!)…
…and a strip mall sports bar for a celebratory drink with Ken (who crushed it by the way — the race and the beer. Kudos, Ken!)
