Run the Alamo... Not-Quite Marathon

The morning started off just fine for me, having gotten to sleep early for Central Time (basically close to my normal East Coast time). Finished my usual prep relatively quickly and got out the door to the very warm morning. It was about 90 minutes before sunrise, and it was already in the mid-60s. Great for walking and spectating, but was a harbinger of the difficult conditions yet to come for those of us running, especially the full marathon.

Just like the Sydney Marathon when I ran it, the city was totally devoid of any advertising related to the marathon. If you didn't already know there would be a marathon being run, you'd have no way of knowing it until/unless you stumbled across the closed roads. There weren't even signs in the immediate vicinity of the "runners village" area pointing people the right way. But I made it to the pacer meet-up a few minutes early despite that.

After a little socialization and a quick meeting setting expectations, and taking a few group photos, we broke, for last minute warm-ups, pit stops, etc. and then lined up. I went to the portapotties, but decided after a few minutes in line (which wasn't moving fast enough) that I had to take the chance of not going one last time before setting out. (Fortunately, that wasn't a problem.) 

But coming back up towards where I understood the start line to be, I was very confused about where I should actually be. I think the first several pace groups wound up lining up a little too close together. In the end, it likely didn't negatively affect anyone -- our signs were totally visible, and people spread out relatively quickly enough after the start, so anyone starting too far back compared to a pacer could relatively easily catch up in short order to their planned group.

The race was a bit behind schedule. In part because the person who was to sing the national anthem was behind schedule arriving to the area. And in part on the fact that he sang "America the Beautiful" first -- not typical; in fact, I've never heard anything other than the national anthem sung immediately before a marathon.

I took a moment ahead of the start to ask the people in my immediate vicinity how many of them were looking to run 4:15 (the time I was pacing). I had not quite a dozen people who appeared to respond.

But, finally, about 5 minutes late, we got to the final countdown.

And we were off!

After a little while, I started to engage in a little bit of chit-chat and found out that one of the people in my group was also named Jared -- one of the two high schoolers in the group. He and his friend Victor (a senior and a junior) were running their very first marathon. What I didn't know until well after the race was that they were taking video approximately every mile marker. It's all the more amusing in hindsight because, as you'll see, at Mile 2, they made a comment for the video that they were a little late... and I pointed out that Mile 2 was a couple of minutes prior.

(Both the videos above are courtesy of Jared.)

The mile markers in the early going of the race were particularly awkward. No one in my group saw the Mile 1 marker, myself included. Without that, I had no good way of helping to calibrate my pace. Annoyingly enough, while my Garmin was showing me one pace through about 1/2 mile (pretty much where I wanted to be), it suddenly dropped to about 20 seconds faster for no apparent reason -- though my pace hadn't changed. So, what was the true pace? I was hoping to figure that out with the marker, but with it unseen, I had to go with what the watch was telling me. OK, so pull the pace back somewhat, great. I'll never get any complaints from runners about recognizing that and doing it.

The Mile 2 marker was a very small sign on one of the cones in the road. (Apparently, as I would find out later, so was Mile 1.) And we passed that when I still had about 0.05 miles to go according to my watch. Oy, great. A short "mile" and, again, in part because of that, my pace was too fast. (At the pace I was running, .05 miles is about 25 seconds or so - a major difference in speed.) And with the new marker, I would "lap" the watch so that the lap distance would start anew, as would the lap pace, so I could continue refining the pace.

And so it would go for the first SIX miles. Each marker was too early. And so, too, my splits were too fast. Try as I might to get closer to what the average should be, because I did *not* want to burn out my group by going out too fast.

Mercifully, I was able to slow it down to closer to 10-minute miles (rather than the 9:40 - 9:44 that it should have been) for the next several miles, to try to bleed back some of that time and help conserve some of the energy stores of my runners. (I don't like the theory of "banking time" and, unfortunately, I unwittingly managed to do so because of the way the course was marked.)

As you can hear in the previous video, I was mentioning to one of the runners right next to me (who asked each mile how we were doing) that we were definitely too fast, that I was trying to rein things in.

Given the excessive heat of the day, as is my wont, I made sure to announce at each water stop that people needed to drink and douse. After the first water stop, where I discovered just how small the water cups were, and many not even half full of liquid, we would certainly need to take longer at the water stops, which would also help some with the pacing issue. Also adding into that decision was the fact that there were very few lengths of tables for each stop, and not many volunteers to help handing out the cups. Often, we had to stop still to be able to grab the cup of water in question. I never like having to stop for that. It's one thing to slow to a walk -- no issues with that -- but to have to stand still, find what you're looking for, take it, and go, I find that grating. And then starting back up, especially in the later miles when legs aren't nearly as fresh nor as forgiving, that becomes increasingly more difficult.

As it turns out, I had a few half marathoners in the group, and they split off at about mile 9 while the marathoners turned the other way. After the split, we were a group of about 6 or 7. 

But the heat of the day was certainly taking its toll. Alas, the high schoolers fell off pace shortly after the half-way point. (Surprisingly enough, not only was there no timing mat to get a split time there, there wasn't even a marker to officially indicate we had gone half way. Really?!) And then, a couple more fell off pace somewhere around Mile 16-18. In that area, though, I caught up with one of the people I knew had started out with the 4:00 group and chatted briefly with him. Given some jokes from earlier that morning when I met him, I joked that his (now former) pacer would give him a good-natured hard time after the finish. What I didn't know until well afterwards (when the pacers met up for post-race lunch/drinks) was that he was a huge bundle of nerves not because of the marathon itself (having run several previously) but because he was carrying an engagement ring, and was set to propose to his girlfriend right after crossing the finish line. (Apparently he had arranged in advance with the Race Director to permit his girlfriend (who was not running in the race) to join him for the last bit to run with him across the finish, setting up the finish line proposal and video/photo. Very sweet.)

I had two last people with me through Mile 20. About 3 hours in (so, somewhere around Mile 17-18) the sun decided it was going to come out from behind the clouds and stay out. That's when conditions really got really bad and took their most severe toll on the runners. 

Around Mile 24, I crossed paths with one other person who I knew was starting in the 4-hour group (who I knew from other previous races). The sun very much did in both him and the person he was running with. He made the choice to continue with the other person's slowed pace to help him out. Definitely a mensch.

Finally in the home stretch, with less than a half mile to go, there was a spot (the 2nd or 3rd of the course) where I was unsure of which direction to go, and there wasn't anyone else running closely in front of me to blindly follow. Thankfully, I turned my head to the right just in time to see one of the arrows being used as course markers about a block away, so I knew to turn to get to that marker and turn. 

And then my watch was telling me I was at Mile 26, but there was no sign to that effect anywhere near. I had no way of knowing how much of an additional calibration I might need to make sure I didn't finish outside my given 1-minute time window. I made sure to keep it at the ~10:10 pace that I had been doing, and thankfully that did the trick, barely. My final time was 4:14:05 -- just inside the acceptable region for my 4:15 pacing.

In the end, after collecting some of the post-race food and drink, sitting down to eat, and chat with the other pacers who were at our finish area table, I took a look at what distance my watch indicated I had run: 25.88 miles. Anyone who runs using a Garmin knows that it will ALWAYS show a distance longer than what your marked/measured distance is, because you are not running all of the tangent lines perfectly, and there's also weaving around people and to/from the water stops -- all of which adds distance on compared to what the official measurement would be. And since I did NOT cut the course (though I came close a few times to doing so inadvertently because of poor/confusing course marking), that means that the course was not just 1/3 mile short, but likely even shorter than that. Taking a quick look at the USATF certification, the only spot that I am pretty certain we ran differently than was measured is the return trip through Mission San Juan. The certification implies that we would be running back along the same exact path inside the mission as we ran going out initially. Instead, what we wound up doing is finishing the circuit of the interior of the mission, if I recall correctly. That doesn't appear to be *much* of a difference in distance, but each such similar difference adds up real fast.

I've since e-mail the race organizers, and they have acknowledged receiving similar feedback from several other runners of the half and full marathon. Enough so that they are starting off with the assumption that we are correct about the course being incorrectly set up. They are in the process of trying to figure out what went wrong and put in procedures to prevent similar issues from occurring in the future. I'm hoping to find out what the actual measurement of the course as-run was. My prediction is that it was closer to 25.75 miles.

After chatting a little while at the finish area and slowly but surely gathering up more of the pacers as they kept crossing the line, many of us went to a nearby bar -- Durty Nelly's. While others had a cold brew, I had a pretty good cheeseburger. (I know, what a shock.)

And they had a great person on the keyboard entertaining everyone.

After hanging out for at least an hour or so, I bade farewell and made my way back to the hotel to shower, change, and recover for a few hours before heading out to dinner. (Rather than continuing to watch the news, I wound up finding a couple of documentaries on Mel Brooks -- hysterical!)

Along my walk, I was caught a bit off-guard by a highly unexpected sign in one of the windows:

Granted, they were closed, and confusingly enough had a couple of lit electrical hanukkiahs, but it was still amusing nonetheless.

In advance of my trip, I had decided that I would go to get barbecue at a restaurant one of my acquaintances is associated with. Along the way, I marveled at the extremely loud (and unexpected, to me) cacophony from several flocks of birds that seemed to swarm everywhere downtown. Apparently they are great-tailed grackles. Here's a large lineup of them, as if Alfred Hitchcock was staging them.

But the sound of them -- oy!

I finally arrived at the restaurant, and was simultaneously encouraged and dismayed at the enormous line outside. Clearly, I picked a supremely popular spot -- surely it must have been as good as I was expecting, to be this busy. Shortly after I got on line, there were a couple of people who had taken the initiative to go in to find out just how long the wait would be. Both times, they returned with the report it would take an hour. I wasn't happy about that, but could deal. But the second person also reported back that they were informed the restaurant was starting to run out of menu items. It was one thing for me to wait an hour to get in, under continuing threat of being bombarded by the birds in the trees overhead. (One woman in line just in front of me actually did get hit by a little something from one of the birds.) I finally landed on a place that, as it turns out, was about 2 blocks from my hotel (as opposed to the mile away that I was).

As I was approaching, I was disappointed with my choice. The place was virtually empty. While the brisket that I did get was ok, it wasn't anything special. Oh well.

While it was certainly a difficult day, it was still a good time. Next up, pacing for Just A Short Run late this month, and then marathon (or longer) #95 for me -- Coast Guard Marathon -- the day after I turn 54 (my 6th race pacing for OnPace Race). Hopefully this time around, the neighborhoods will have traffic controlled well enough so that we don't have it coming at us (even if very slowly) from both directions when we aren't in a protected portion of the street.

No, I Didn't See Pee-Wee's Bicycle

Marathon #94 was in State #20 for me. Slowly but surely I'm getting some extra states with some of my pacing gigs. I don't yet have 50-Stater as a full-on goal, but it is something I'm shooting for long-term.

It's not often -- outside of Disney -- that I have such a blatant in-your-face display of the local landmark in my hotel room as I did when I checked in.

I was quite pleased that the hotel that I got was a little over a half mile from each of the expo and the start line. Certainly made things much easier. And given that I was actually allowed to check in to my room as early as I arrived (about 11:30am), and the expo didn't open until noon, I made sure to grab a bite for lunch on the way. Naturally, I got a good, authentic San Antonio...

...croque monsieur! 

Hey, it was barely off my route to the expo, and was the first place I stumbled across. Given the genuine French accent on the guy behind the counter, the assumption I'm going with is that him immigrated from France and opened up this bakery/bistro. Heck, I was satiated, and that's what matters! No teasing.

I finally met one of the co-owners (Paul Miller) of the pace group company that does the pacing for this race, despite having paced 4 times for them previously. (They have enough races they do that they were always at a different race that was "competing" with whichever ones I was running in.)

I hung around the pacer table for about an hour, chatting with a couple of the pacers and answering several questions from people who were planning on running either the half or full marathon. Then off to the star of the show... the Alamo.

Given how I came in, I happened upon the Alamo Cenotaph first, commemorating the fallen.

And as I am putting together this blog post, I am only just now appreciating the fact that several of the statues that I saw during the weekend have been moved to different locations than normal, presumably because of the amount of construction that is going on in the area.

Susannah Dickinson -- while all of the men were killed by the Mexican army, Susannah and her daughter were among the survivors who spread the word of what happened.

More of the original meaning of Six Flags Over Texas than the theme park.

Sing along... Davy Crockett, king of the wild frontier...

The statue of this woman was in an area that was closed off because of additional construction work. Looking her up now, apparently this was Emily West Morgan, the inspiration for the song "The Yellow Rose of Texas" for her allegedly slipping information about Gen. Antonio López de Santa Anna’s location to Gen. Sam Houston.

Around the side of the Alamo, opposite the legendary Menger Hotel, is ol' Teddy himself.

A little further down along the plaza from the Alamo were a few more statues.

That night, there was a private event that was held in honor of the 190th anniversary of the battle.

My pre-race pasta dinner at Nonna Osteria was quite tasty. I'm glad that I had made a reservation, otherwise it would have been at least an hour-long wait; definitely a popular spot.

Rather than simply bread being brought out, they brought out cubes of focaccia and an kalamata olive tapenade which was really great. The first bite was a bit bitter, but once I made sure some of the olive oil was part of what I placed on the bread, dang that was good. And then, of course, the main course.

Pasta, shrimp, and chorizo... hard to go wrong!

Back to the hotel room, watched the news for a while, prepped a bit for the race, and hit the sack early.

European Marathon Classics: Abbott World Marathon Majors Wannabe?

Feb. 25, the European Marathon Classics challenge series was launched from Vienna, Austria. 

As they state, "the initiative combines sport, tourism and culture, encourages regular physical activity, promotes responsible participation, and supports integration among runners from around the world."

The EMC challenge comprises eight marathons in:

• Rome (March)
• Vienna (April)
• London (April)
• Madrid (April)
• Copenhagen (May)
• Warsaw (September)
• Lisbon (October)
• Frankfurt (October)

As you complete each marathon, you get a coin/e-coin. Once you complete any five cities, you can get a medal into which these five coins can be placed. (The launch announcement made it sound like they were simply virtual coins and possibly just a virtual medal. The website implies physical items.) Based on the graphics, the coins are relatively underwhelming: each has its own specific color and grayscale version of that country's flag with the name of the city across the top rim of the coin.

As I've said for a while, marathoning is a great excuse for travel. Well, for anyone looking to add more countries to their passport (I know, entry/exit stamps aren't given out most times any more), this seems like a great method. It just might encourage me to go to some of these cities that I didn't have floating all that high on my list of places to visit.

For those who have run one or more of these marathons previously, sometime this summer the EMC will add the ability to put that prior result into your profile. (Neat -- I'll have 1 e-coin at that point, to account for London, where I finished my Abbott World Marathon Majors 6-star challenge journey.)

It will be interesting to see, over the next few years, how well (or not) this challenge is received by the running community. Will the fields increase in size? Or, if they are already capped, will the number of people trying to register keep increasing, making it increasingly difficult to get into them? (Certainly London will be even harder to get into, now. After all, this year over 1.1 million people tried to register for the approx. 50,000 spots.) And if registrations increase for these, will they diminish the number of people registering for some of the overlapping Majors races (Boston, Sydney, Berlin, and Chicago being the most likely to be affected at all -- Tokyo precedes Rome in March, and New York is in November)?

As the tagline for Marathon Talk goes: Enjoy the run, wherever it takes you.

R.I.P., Jeff Galloway

After a decades-long career and inspiring a movement that helped millions of people achieve their running goals, Jeff Galloway passed away at age 80.

https://www.runnersworld.com/news/a70444018/jeff-galloway-dies-at-80/

I first started running in 2002 with the goal of finishing the New York City Marathon. During my initial couple of years running, and my first two marathons, I was doing my own thing with trying to increase stamina and, to a small extent, speed. It was enough to enable me to finish, but not without a LONG recovery time.

After the 2003 and 2004 NYC Marathons, I thought I was done running marathons, until I started back up with the 2012 Goofy Challenge and then 2012 Marine Corps Marathon. That was then I heard about run/walk and decided to try it for myself. And, lo and behold, in a relatively short amount of time, I was able to drop the extra time and break the elusive 4-hour barrier. 

I continued to find additional ways to be a stronger runner and drop even more time, but I will always be thankful to Jeff Galloway for providing me the method to achieve my first big marathoning goal after I got hooked on running marathons.

R.I.P.

Another pretty hot race coming up

As of right now, it looks like the forecast for race day is going to be on the warm side once again. Thankfully, though, if this forecast holds up, it won't be as bad as Miami was -- so, that's something.

Common Ground with Benjamin Franklin

So, the area above my left ankle was hurting in the week or so leading up to marathon day, and definitely swollen. I had a minor though obvious limp while walking. And then after the race, it was very painful walking around -- so much so that I thought I might have actually broken my ankle during the race. Making my way to the taxi at the airport coming home, and then getting to and into my apartment was hideously painful.

And during the couple of days afterwards, the foot kept on ballooning. To the point where my ankle bones were no longer visible. (!)

Thankfully I was able to get into urgent care quickly the day after I returned home (and dug myself out). The NSAID that he prescribed for me has done a very good job of bringing down the swelling and alleviating the pain. (Elevating it and applying ice also helps.) Hopefully soon I will be able to run properly again, as not doing so is definitely driving me batty.

Fingers crossed this is the one and only time I have gout. Odd that I got it, given I don't match the profile of someone likely to develop it. Nor was it in a typical location. Look at me, being the oddball. (Hmm... that much isn't so out of the ordinary for me, I suppose. :-) )

Miami Marathon: Feelin' Hot, Hot, Hot

As ever, I woke up nice and early to give myself more than enough time to get ready: go to the bathroom multiple times, eat my minimal breakfast (banana and granola bars), get dressed, and in this case, and bring my baggage downstairs for them to hold (since I would not be back in time to shower and change before check-out time) before heading out from the hotel. A large portion of the pacer team was already gathering in the lobby when I arrived, and shortly afterwards we took an "unofficial" group photo before swarming out the door to head over to the Kaseya Center.

Given how close that arena is, we arrived as close to our meeting spot as possible (separated by some barricades) several minutes ahead of time. Finally, the clock struck 5am, they moved the barriers aside, and we streamed up the steps to gather for our official photo.

We were then free to go our separate ways, though we had been requested to be in our corrals by about 5:15am. That wasn't happening, as there was too much else to do (not least of which was drop off my bag at gear check and use the restroom on last time -- inside the arena, rather than the portapotty), and the crowd was so large and signage for where I needed to go so insufficient that it would take a wee bit to manage it.

And, of course, take a few photos of the area.

Ultimately, I managed to get into my corral somewhere between 5:30 - 5:45. (Still well before our corral's expected start time of 6:30am.) While it was already filled with lots of runners for both the half and full, there was enough space for me to weave my way to the front of the corral -- since my 4:30 pace time was to be the fastest of the pace groups in Corral H.

While the race started on time at 6am, it was clear pretty quickly that they were running behind schedule, as each corral was having its own distinct wave start, and it seemed like it was taking about 5 minutes or so for each. 6:30am arrived, and they were either finishing up Corral D or just about to start up Corral E. Needless to say, we were very late to start. (So, had I gotten a late checkout, it would have been largely eaten up by the delay anyway.)

Finally, they announced Corral F, and it flowed past us. We had a local running group (all wearing hot pepper hats) form a human chain in front of us, as they would be the ones to escort us up to the start line in a controlled manner.

This photo of the start line was taken by someone else, presumably before the first corral set off. Because when we arrived, there were two barricades, one on either side of the opening, making the opening that we set off from about the width of one travel lane -- maybe five people at a time could get through it. No wonder why this was going so slowly this year compared to last year!

And we were off! I crossed the starting mat at about 6:51am.

As you may recall, about half a mile in, we make a right-hand turn onto the on ramp of a highway that leads toward Miami Beach, and this on ramp is VERY narrow to start, and gets slightly narrower as you get near the top to merge onto the main roadway. So, while the start line bottleneck delayed the start an increasing amount, it had the effect (presumably intentional) of spacing out people enough so that we did not have a bottleneck ON the course at this on ramp -- thereby affecting people's actual elapsed times. OK, I can live with that tradeoff.

It was about 73F at the start, and both in the corral and in advance of each of the water stops, I made sure to remind my group of the importance to "drink and douse." While they might not need to drink the water and/or Gatorade at every single stop, they sure needed to throw water over their head each time to keep their core temperature down.

Everyone in my group (who responded) seemed to be in good spirits, despite the difficulty of the heat and humidity. 

One of my perpetual gripes relates to the water stops. Miami was no different. Although they certainly had long enough tables for their stops, and were typically in the same order (Gatorade before water) and in different colored cups (two of my biggest pet peeves that races don't usually get right), what was dismaying was that very early on (maybe even as of the first water stop after Mile 1?) it was clear they didn't have nearly enough cups available, nor enough volunteers to hand them out, and the cups of water were well over half full -- great for splashing, but not ideal for those who drink from them. (No idea about how much was in the Gatorade cups -- I never touch the stuff on course.)

As we were in the vicinity of about Mile 9, I came across someone who I knew who was supposed to have not only started after me, but intended on running slower than me. What the heck? As I was nearing him, I commented on my confusion at seeing him, to which a person who was with him indicated they were right where they expected to be at that point and that maybe I was just slower than I should be. (Um... no, that certainly wasn't the case.) Very confused, I kept on going apace. (No need to engage any further on the topic.)

At about 20km, my mom, who had come down to watch the race, caught my attention as I approached the pre-planned location (though I hadn't realized it until she made herself known in a wide open space among the spectators). In the many times she has come to cheer me on at a marathon, this is the first time I actually saw her. (And, it turns out, it sounds like the first time she's ever actually seen me, as she's often been caught up in conversation with other people around her and didn't know that I was passing.)

Shortly thereafter, the half marathoners separated from us to their finish as we marathoners continued towards Coconut Grove before making our way back to the common finish line. But with the halfers split off, it was MUCH more manageable -- there are far more of them that occupy the space than those of us doing the full.

While the vicinity of about Mile 16 is pretty, given the ocean views we get on this out-and-back stretch of the course, it is one of the most difficult simply because you bake in the sun with absolutely no shade available. Once we finish that stretch and make our turn back onto more residential streets, we at least have the chance of shade.

As is so common, especially with races run in such high heat, most of my pack slowly but surely fell off pace. In the last few miles, I only had one of the people who had been with me from the beginning (though I did wind up picking up a couple of other people along the way). As we were approaching Mile 25, I gave my standard announcement advising that if anyone stuck with me through Mile 26, rather than breaking ahead of me before then, that they must make sure to charge ahead of me at that point. I want them to finish earlier than me, at whatever is top speed for them at that point. The lady who had been there the whole time took it to heart immediately and slowly drifted in front of me - likely finishing at least a minute before me.

Late in the race approaching the finish, this gentleman and I wound up next to each other. Because of some natural drift (from one or both of us, I could never quite tell), he was constantly brushing me with his right arm. (I wonder if he was thinking similarly about me brushing him with mine.) I just couldn't shake that, and was focused on staying fairly central in the roadway.

As we approached the Mile 26 marker, my timing was such that I could slow down just a touch to aim for "the pin" (30 seconds under the time on my sign), so I did. But as we got to the last turn (which seemed like it was well over 0.1 miles after the marker), it seemed like there was a bit more distance to travel than I was expecting. So, I picked up the pace and started to charge into the last turn and towards the finish line. (Something that is unusual to do as a pacer)

While that combination got me across the finish a touch later than I wanted -- but still in my acceptable window -- it had the benefit of no longer having any bumping between me and the other gentleman. :-)

As is clear from the finisher results, it was 81F when I crossed the finish line. Very warm. But I got it done! And with relatively little pain from the area above my left ankle that had been troubling me for over a week beforehand.

However, that would soon change. It took me a while to get through the refreshments area into the finisher's village, where there was no signage pointing the way to the food that we would get for our bib ticket -- so I asked someone whose ticket had been used to point the way -- and similarly no signage to point our where the charity village portion was supposed to be. I needed to find the specific tent where the pacers were dropping off the pace sticks. It worked out just fine that it took me that much time, because by the time I was about ready to head off to pick up my gear check bag, my mom texted me with where she was located for us to meet.

As quickly as I could manage (really not very quickly at all), I got my sneakers and socks off to change into my flip-flops, lest I have nasty blisters given how soaked my socks got from throwing so much water on me, and getting sprayed many times by volunteers with hoses or water guns. And since I knew I wouldn't be able to shower and change before heading to lunch, I got my pacing singlet off and donned last year's race shirt.

Finally, it was time to head out to lunch. While it wasn't THAT far (certainly less than a mile), it took quite a long time, as I hobbled on my worsened left leg (wow, look at the swelling above the ankle), now that the race was behind me, momentum was totally gone, as was any adrenaline. 

After a brief stop to talk with one of the other pacers and his wife who were crossing the other way along our route, my mom and I finally made it to June Burgers. But, wouldn't you know it, not only was it UPSTAIRS, but the elevator in the marketplace was out of service. UGH! Get down the stairs afterwards was sure to suck. At least the smash burger and fries that I got were quite tasty -- certainly hit the spot.

We made our way back to the pacer's hotel, picked up my bags, and I escorted my mom back to the Brightline Station for her departure. It was only two more blocks for me to go to catch Metrorail up to the airport where I would catch the airport shuttle to my next hotel.

When I checked in, I asked if I could get a room with a tub. (I desperately wanted to have a cold soak before my warm shower.) The attendant looked at me a bit funny and said that they didn't have ANY bathtubs on property. Sigh. I chastised myself that I need to actually do some better research in the future. Naturally, I was assigned a room... you guessed it... upstairs on the second floor. I asked about an elevator. Of course... they don't have an elevator. I was still in enough of the post-marathon runner's fog that I didn't bother making the natural request to be given a room on the first floor, then. (Not to say there were still any available, but still...) So, limp away I go to one of the furthest rooms on property.

Finally showered and feeling more human again (though in a bit of pain), I finally lay down seated on the bed to veg out and watch some TV before making my way outside for dinner. And that's when I full appreciated the increased swelling.

Looking at that photo now as I compile the blog post, it's kinda quaint to think that was much swelling, as it has subsequently ballooned even further since then. 

After a very painful travel day on Monday (there was no getting rid of the pain despite regular doses of Tylenol and intermittent icing), and a sizable delay disembarking from the return flight, I made it home in one piece, barely managing to get to my front door -- given the mounds of unmolested snowcrete leading to it. The next day, I shoveled my walk and dug out my car fully (and without much pain in my leg, thankfully) -- in order to go to the Urgent Care center (since my doctor's office was to be closed until Thursday). Where the previous day I was worried that I may have actually broken my ankle during the marathon, given the pain and generally increasing pain, it turns out that none of my symptoms actually warranted an X-ray -- no likely break was indicated, and I was just prescribed an NSAID. The pain is almost completely gone, despite my foot looking like a club foot -- about double the size of my right foot. Though I have been advised not to run for the next two weeks to let this heal properly, I'm glad it's just that short a period of time and that it looks like I will be able to continue with my planned race schedule uninterrupted.

Next up? I get to Run the Alamo (and pace the 4:15 group). Odds that I see a photo of Pee Wee Herman in the basement? ;-)