Morning arrived far quicker than desired. But I jumped out of bed immediately and started on my usual pre-race morning routine: quickly scarf down a banana and granola bars, go to the bathroom multiple times, get dressed, make sure all of my drop bag materials are set, etc. Given all of the pre-work that I had done, I was able to get us out the door almost exactly when I aimed for: 3:45am. The drive to Rosslyn took about 45 minutes. Despite the fact that I’ve been parking in the same garage in the Hyatt Centric Hotel (just outside the perimeter of the Finisher’s Village for years), I doubted myself as far as the road I was on to get to the hotel. At my request, Jess typed in the address to the hotel and we quickly started getting directions. While they were totally different than I had ever done before, I figured it might actually be doing something a drop more direct than what I do, so wasn’t overly concerned. Until the turn it wanted us to make was blocked off by road closures already in effect. I had to turn around and get back to where I was to make my way towards the hotel. Sure, I was anxious about the unneeded diversion borne out of self-doubt, but we had the time padding.
Finally, I made it back to where I needed to be and was one turn away from the short block to get to the hotel entrance. Murphy decided to crash right into me, again. This time in the form of a police blockade. Much like they did about three years ago, the police set up their road closure in such a way that a car could not drive to the Hyatt Centric. The year after the previous time this happened, I had gone to the hotel, explained the situation, and asked if they would be willing to give me a non-functional keycard – one that would simply be used for flash purposes this one day a year if/when the police set up their perimeter here again. They had obliged, and the card has lived in my car ever since. Well, this was the first time I had the occasion to pull it out and display it, along with the statement “I’m trying to get to the hotel. Here’s my key card.” The motorcycle officer I was talking with said it didn’t matter, no one was getting through. He then rode off.
I was forced into a left turn, looked at the spaces on that block, but the few that were open were all in a zone that indicated it was 2-hour parking, and didn’t have any statement as to what days/times that restriction was in effect. Rather than risk a ticket and tow, I continued driving. Mercifully, after one turn, I spotted a sign that looked like it said “12-hour parking” next to an open space, flipped a U-turn, and parked. Sure enough, a fantastic spot very close to where I was originally planning. Again, no indication of timeframe, so I dutifully scanned the QR code and purchased the time. All the visual queues in the app implied that Sunday was free parking (the fee was $0), but I decided to complete a transaction – which cost me a $0.55 platform fee. Better safe than sorry.
At this point, Jess and I went our separate ways, since I was still anxious about whether I would be able to get through security properly, or if I’d be forced to return and get onto the first train to Pentagon (and be late). For whatever reason, they had put the security and bag check MUCH earlier than in previous years, and I sailed through in seconds – being the only one trying to get through at the time.
Intermittently, I chose to jog, still anxious about whether I would be permitted to continue all the way to Runner’s Village. Any time I saw a group of Marines or other security personnel, I would slow to a walk, readying myself in case I needed to prove my legit presence again. Sure enough, two times along the way, I was called over by a Marine patrolling the area. Once I got close enough for them to see my special bib, they let me keep going. A third time, as I was on Richmond Highway at this point, one Marine a decent bit away shone his flashlight on me but didn’t say anything. I made sure to open my MCM poncho wide so that my bib was visible and kept walking. He never waved me over and eventually turned off his flashlight, apparently satisfied.
As I continued walking, I got to a place where there were timing mats, but no arches yet. It was only just about 5am at this point, and they were literally rolling out the deflated arches and starting to prep them to be inflated. Kinda neat to actually see this part of the process.
On my way to Runner’s Village, I came across another runner who was making his way towards the starting corrals, holding his drop bag and wrapped in what looked like a sleeping bag to keep warm. He was very worried about whether he would be able to go to his corral, then go to the UPS trucks only moments before the start, to then return to his corral. I advised that plan wasn’t realistic, rather that he would need to drop his bag at the UPS truck before heading to the corral. Anything he had on him at that point he would either have to wear/carry the whole time, or be willing to sacrifice, either at the start line or somewhere en route. We both continued the short distance left to Runner’s Village. But before we could make it, yet one more Marine stopped us asking if we were running in the race, and looking for our bibs. Upon satisfying the request, we both entered and made our separate ways.
As I crossed the parking lot on my way to meet up with the pacers, I made a quick pit stop as well as a brief stop at the memorial set up.
I’d seen one like this at the Coast Guard Marathon, but didn’t recall seeing one like this at MCM before. Finally, I made it to the pacer tent, and saw plenty of activity.
They were in the process of putting together all of the large feather flags that about half of us would be carrying. (Little did I know at that point how this was prompted by Murphy having arrived for Paul Miller (one of the couple who runs OnPace Race).) During our morning meeting, he let everyone know the story, and was fully transparent by even posting it on Facebook.
I put my stuff down and jumped into the fray. Having just put one together two days before – just to see what the process was and to hold one of them, since the two that were on display at the expo were tied onto some poles – I knew exactly what to do. And it was clear that everything was being done assembly line style. While several of us assembled the poles, there were others who were placing the flags onto poles that had already been assembled. In the end, we had one heckuva lineup of flags placed on the ground in order.
We had a little free time with which to go to the porta potty one last time and do whatever other routine we needed before meeting up again.
After our morning meeting – repeating expectations on the day, grounding everyone, and reciting the Serenity Prayer as is SOP for OnPace – we lined up in our assigned order, hoisted our feather flags, and set out. The only thing that would have made that all the more impressive would have been someone playing the Olympic anthem at the time we started marching up.
As we arrived at our respective corrals, it was business as usual: being present to answer whatever questions the slowly amassing runners would ask – usually about our strategy for the day. I asked someone to take a photo of me next to this flag to show the perspective of just how big it was, and also availed myself of another runner to actually hold the flag and walk with it to the start once we were to get underway. Given the fact that I had my normal pacer stick as well as my water bottle and sleeve of ShotBloks that I would be carrying, this extra huge flag that realistically requires two hands to carry was too much for me. Thank you, Kevin, for the extra hands doing that, and dropping it off on the median as we neared the start line.
While in previous years, we would have some members of the military parachuting to the area, often with smoke and enormous flags, this year we had only the flyover by four Ospreys. But, boy, were they impressive. Fellow pacer Paul Lloyd took this video of the flyover right as the countdown to the start of the marathon was happening
Finally, we were off! And I was immediately shocked about the fact that there was breathing room right at the start. What the heck? I was expecting to be packed like sardines as early as the start line, which we certainly were last year, and pretty much most years. I was happy for the space to allow me to go at a comfortable pace with a normal stride.
As we approached one of the cut-throughs in the median between the two sides of the highway, the vast majority of the runners chose to move to the left. While I was a little concerned with how my group might react, I advised them they did not need to cut through – that doing so would needlessly be putting them on a bigger, longer hill than if they stuck with me on the right-hand side of the road. They followed – and for about a half mile, we had completely open roadway in front of us, otherwise unheard of for this large a field and being this far back a pace group. Wonderful! This was one of few points where I could actually ask a question and hear any answers, given the crowd along the course was so loud this year. Given that, there was a fair bit less interaction with the group writ large than normal for me; conversation was much more one-on-one with the people that were immediately in my vicinity.
We finally met up with the left roadway at the intended point near Mile 1. I was expecting to see Jess at Mile 1, but things didn’t work out to enable that. Too bad, because this would have been an amusing sign to have caught right at that point.
Through the streets of Rosslyn, it was a bit more crowded because of the amount of roadway we had available. So, as planned, it was slower because of the crowding and the several steep hills. But, not to fear, because once we summited, it was a really fast descent onto the GW Parkway – we made up a decent bit of time there; I did my best not to go TOO exceedingly fast down toward that flat.
The morning fog was really pretty, especially running along and crossing the Potomac towards Georgetown. As we did, I pointed out the fog-shrouded National Cathedral to a few of my cohort. Right about this point, I was expecting to see Jess with yet another sign. Alas, she didn’t make it in time – there were snafus with the app, tracking, and her connectivity, so it just didn’t happen.
A couple of turns later, and I was keeping an eye out for the famous Lien James who had posted the night before that she would be handing out banana bread at Mile 5. I let my people know about it if they wanted to indulge, too. We made the turn, and very quickly, there she was with some banana bread still left. Scrumptious!
Soon enough, we made our way down past the Watergate Hotel and into Rock Creek Park. This is a notoriously horrible stretch of the course, in my opinion, not because of the long slow hill on the out-and-back portion, nor for the condition of the road, but because of the narrowness of the roadway and the water stops here are usually so congested and people create a huge bottleneck at the first length of tables. This year, the clogging wasn’t nearly as bad as prior years. Sure, it was pretty tight, but there wasn’t any cause to weave through people to maintain my target pace – often a problematic tactic.
The worst part of this stretch this year was the fact that the Mile 7 marker was VERY late. It didn’t show up until about 7.15 miles. Pacers have to trust the course. After all, “the course is always right” is what we’re ingrained to work with – we check ourselves at least every mile by comparing our elapsed time to our pace band and the Mile marker on the course. With a marker being that exceedingly off, if I were to actually assume they were correct (like I was supposed to), then I would need to speed up, since my pace band would otherwise be telling me that I was as much as 2 minutes late to that point. And Miles 8 and 9 were similarly late, though properly spaced one mile from each other.
Having run this course so many times, though, I was trusting that it would even itself out, and I wasn’t adjusting my pace at all. Another great decision – the Mile 10 marker showed up much earlier than it should have in comparison to Mile 9, but precisely where it should have been compared to the full course. I was instantly back on time without having changed my pace at all. The course caught back to us!
A couple of miles later and we were approaching the Blue Mile. One of the people in the group took a nasty tumble on one of the cinder blocks in the roadway, but very quickly sprang to his feet and kept on charging forward. I couldn’t see any blood on him, but I’m sure he was scraped up – that road rash would be nasty later. Then we entered the Blue Mile. It was as quiet and somber as it always is. And where I usually run with my pacer stick raised straight up to be seen by runners far behind me, I always dip my pacer stick here, as if I were dipping the flag in honor of the fallen. Along the way, I noticed one or two runners who had stopped by a specific soldier’s display to kneel and pay their respects. Surprisingly, though, this stretch of photos was finished in just over 1/2 mile. Faster than expected, I started to hear the sound of the flag-bearers just beyond cheering on the runners. So, as we neared the exit of the display, I asked my group to give me an Oorah in honor of the fallen. They gave a resounding “Oorah!”, louder than any they gave when I asked them how they were doing, even early on.
Several miles later, after exiting Haines Point and making our way into the District, we made our turn at the Museum of African-American History to make our way up one side of the National Mall and to Mile 17. This time I caught Jess’ sign.
Given the amount of text, it took me a quick moment to process, but gave a hearty laugh once I discerned the message. While she made it generic so that any runner could appreciate it, it was clearly talking about the snafu with my watch from the night before. Definitely something to laugh at in hindsight.
We rounded the circle in front of the Capitol, and I kept my eye out to see if one of my co-workers who had intended to cheer us on with her kids was in the vicinity; alas, I didn’t see or hear them. We made our way back down the other side of the Mall. Yet again, another Mile Marker was very late. Mile 18 was about .15 too late. Sigh – the race was making it difficult on the pacers, especially those who don’t know the course or those who want to “correct pace” immediately. I kept on keeping on. Then, at Mile 19, I saw the last of Jess’ on-course signs.
She knows my thoughts on several of the cliché signs that are far too frequently written by people who think they’re being unique – hey, when you’ve run this many marathons, it’s hard to get new-to-you signs – and she decided to be ironic and combine two of my least favorite. Nice.
Then we were off to Beat the Bridge, meander our way through the extremely tight Crystal City, past the Fireball stations (I don’t know if anyone in the group took a shot), before making our way through the last couple of very quiet miles towards the finish.
After we got past Mile 25, I made multiple announcements to the several people who were still with me that I wanted them all to get in front of me and stay there by the time we hit Mile 26. I wanted to be yelling at/cheering them from behind as we charged up the hill.
Soon enough, at a comparatively fast clip, we charged up that last hill, made the last turn, and crossed over the finish line. Only to have EVERYONE stop dead in their tracks. Oy! Move forward people! Don’t just stop just past the line!
I congratulated those around me as we slowly made our way to collect our medal, get a photo at the Iwo Jima Memorial, and then exit while collecting our food, drink, and commemorative goodie – apparently a sports towel.
This will certainly be helpful as a car seat covering for those races where I have to drive home without the benefit of showering and changing first.
Oorah! Marathon #100 -- MCM #13 -- 5th time pacing MCM or MCM50K!
In the end, my official time was 4:14:45, in the one-minute window that I had as the 4:15 pacer. Two of the people who were frequently by my side throughout the race also finished under time – one pulled out in front of me without my seeing to finish in 4:14:31, and one finished just behind in 4:14:54. Another person in the pack faded ever so little in the final mile to finish just over goal time in 4:15:02 – still an amazing effort. Of the others whose bibs I have been able to identify in photos so far, they faded earlier and finished further back – still a valiant effort put in by all.
Here’s some more of what the day was like for the team. Can you spot yours truly in the mix?
https://www.facebook.com/reel/2257494878433005/?s=single_unit
After making a not-so-brief pit stop and chatting a bit with some of the pacers who were at the finish area pacer tent, where I returned the stick but kept my personalized sign, I made my way towards the exit. While I was happy that the chaos of the reunion area with spectators was pushed back from where it previously had been, it was virtually impossible for us to actually make our way out, through the madding crowds, and towards the UPS trucks. And I don’t know what the problem was this year compared to previous years, but this was an atrocious mess. Where in previous years it was a painless 30 seconds to approach the truck, show the race bib, and get one's bag by the time you arrived, this year there were lines for many of the trucks. And my truck had TWO sets of bags in it (bibs starting with 13 and 15, not just one number). And, unbeknownst to the people in line, there were actually two different lines feeding towards the truck – on either side of another UPS truck lined up in front of it. What usually took 30 seconds took closer to 30 MINUTES! Unsat, people. Whatever lessons you unlearned, you need to re-learn for next year.
What made things all the worse for Jess and me, we hadn’t been explicit in where we would re-meet after the race given the monkey wrench that not parking at the hotel threw. (Originally I was going to say to just meet back at the hotel. That went out the window, and I didn’t replace it – nor realize that I hadn’t.) While I received her text messages, she couldn’t see that, and she wasn’t getting my replies – cell service was overwhelmed. She did manage to catch me at the truck while I was still waiting on line – good thing she knew my bib number. There was one final sign, taking into account all of my marathons and two ultras.
The first way we tried to exit to get around to my car, it was a crazy slow slog because of everyone who was forming lines to get onto Metro. So, we diverted towards the heart of the chaos a block away, marveling at everyone lined up on the sidewalk in both directions trying to get into Metro. We also heard someone announcing to people that they were providing free MetroBus service down to Crystal City, where people would be able to board Metro Rail there. Slowly but surely, we rounded the corner, made our way a few blocks uphill, and soon enough, we were back to my car. After switching my flip-flops for wool socks and fresh sneakers, we made as hasty a getaway as could be done on the overcrowded streets for several miles until we got to Route 66.
Home, showered, and changed, we went for a tasty lunch at Melt in Leesburg. If you get the chance – go. They have great burgers, and sweet potato fries, onion rings, and shakes. We each got a burger and shared the onion rings. But we held off on the shakes. While the original plan was to get ice cream at The Yard in One Loudoun, given how outrageously large they are, we opted for more low-key at the Bruster’s Ice Cream that’s closer to my apartment.
Alas, that brought the weekend to a fast end. I had a massage scheduled for the next day that I was certainly looking forward to, and then a weekend off of racing before I have three back-to-back weekends of pacing -- race reports for those to follow, obviously.
