Predicting just how full those inbound trains would be (full of people like me who would otherwise normally just walk in from the north entrance to Runner's Village -- largely closed off this year for some unfathomable reason), after the first one arrived and emptied out, I decided to board it and go FURTHER into DC. Seeing just how full the platform at Foggy Bottom was, I went yet one more stop in to Farragut West. This turned out to be a highly successful strategy. Only a few minutes later, that first outbound Blue line train arrived, and there was plenty of space on it. While everyone at Foggy Bottom was able to get on with minimal effort, the overwhelmingly packed platform at Rosslyn had difficulty. I'm not sure if everyone there managed to get onto the train. A short time later, given bypassing Arlington Cemetery, we were at Pentagon. This is where the first enormous bottleneck of the day was experienced -- with everyone needing to get out their SmartTrip card, credit card, or phone that they paid with to enter Metro to be able to exit. It took at least 10-15 minutes for many of us to make our way out of the system and onto the long escalator ride up to the surface. Finally out of Metro, it was already just about to turn 6am. (!) I had no idea what my odds were of making it to the far corner of Runner's Village in time for the pacer group photo at 6:15am. I chatted with a couple of people along the way as the heard of lemmings made our way past a small set of portapotties (with huge lines) to the security checkpoint. They verified people were wearing bibs, but barely looked at (let alone into) the bags that we were carrying -- we basically flew through security (where I had expected an enormous bottleneck; maybe one happened later?).
With less than 5 minutes before our group photo, one other pacer with whom I crossed paths and I made our way to the designated point, where all of the other pacers were starting to prep for the photo. (How the hell did all of them get there early? Did no one else come from the first Blue line train with the two of us?)
While it was chilly, it wasn't bad enough for me to be bothered with my mylar blanket (as my throwaway sweatshirt was good enough) and I could stash (yet again) my wonderfully warm and fuzzy throwaway pajama bottoms along with my NYC Marathon poncho in my check bag along with the stuff I put in there for post-race and went to the UPS truck to drop it off. Typically, the number of the truck you go to corresponds with the first digit of your bib (if you have a 4-digit bib number) or first two digits (if you have a 5-digit bib number). Anyone with a bib number lower than 1000 would be in truck "00" which would ordinarily be right next to where we were taking the photo. Not this year! After years of having that regular and well-known (for repeat MCMers) methodology, this year they decided to put that truck at the OTHER end of the line of UPS trucks ("40"). Ugh. Fine, I'll schlep all the way to the end before doubling back to start heading toward the corrals (as I was already a drop late for doing so).
Making my way toward the corral, it appeared like the Marines weren't really paying much attention to the color of the bibs -- but that makes sense, since anyone can go in the Green corral, and I entered from the back side of the Yellow corral with a Red bib. They didn't even look for my bib, though. (Maybe they ignored it since they would have seen me carrying the pacer sign? Who knows.)
I weaved my way up to what seemed like an appropriately distanced location compared to the 4-hour pacer location, and intermittently was chatting with people asking some questions about what to expect on the day.
What was increasingly clear, though, as time progress, was that -- YET AGAIN -- they were only going to use the right-hand roadway; everyone would be going through the single arch. (You would think that they would want the iconic photo of huge throngs of people going through both arches for this race.)
[CORRECTION: Apparently, both arches were used, as is quite obvious from this video of the start line. Seems like it may have just been mostly the red wave that went onto both sides. Odd.]
All of a sudden (about 15 minutes ahead of the race start), the national anthem is being sung -- totally unexpectedly. (Hadn't heard any sort of announcement.) And then, after a few more pieces of regular business, they started the hand cycle and then duo participants. Not surprisingly given the government shutdown, there was no parachuting nor flyover, which they've had in previous years and which they were originally scheduled to have this time around, too. Soon enough, the howitzer went off for a third time, signaling the start of the marathon for the runners. Given how far back I was and the single archway taking the full set of runners, it took nearly 20 minutes to cross the start line.
Just like last year, at the first cut-out portion between the two roadways, about half the field decided to go to the left-hand roadway. Nope -- not me. The right-hand side has an easier initial hill to deal with and why should I add the extra distance of getting to the other side of the road?
I had a good group of people running with me. While only a few of them would ever really engage in answering some of my usual prompts, quite a lot of them would join in with a loud "OORAH!" any time I asked. (OK, ordered.)
Somewhere around Mile 9, there was one astonishingly stupid runner who endangered several people with his "stunt." He was weaving to get to a more open pocket -- not necessarily a problem, so long as there is space for it -- but he did it in the most inappropriate way. He actually ran between a guide and the duo team they were running with. (A duo team is one where you have someone in a specially designed racing wheelchair being pushed by another runner. HIGHLY impressive to be able to do that for a marathon.) That weaving runner forced his way in the maybe-foot-wide space between the wheelchair and the guide on the left side of it. This endangered the guide, the person in the wheelchair, the person pushing the wheelchair, and the runner himself. Not to mention everyone else who would have been collateral damage had an actual collision and/or tip-over occurred. I hollered at the guy as I saw him do it -- hopefully he kept it in mind for the next time such an opportunity "presented" itself, as it wasn't going to doing anything for the instant occasion.
What I *didn't* count on, though, was for the mile markers to be so WILDLY misplaced a couple of times in the first 10 miles of the course -- specifically in and around Rock Creek Park. These flags were placed far enough late that my watch was telling me I was more than a minute slow for the given mile, despite being on pace. While "the course is always right," yesterday this was definitely NOT true, though I had to treat it as if it was. So, dutifully noting that I was behind my needed time, I would increase pace for a bit to try to make back some of the time. And then, miraculously, the distance between the Mile 9 and Mile 10 markers was only approximately 0.75 miles. Boom! Just like that, I was back on schedule, no longer off by a couple of minutes. What the heck! Thankfully, all of the rest of the markers seemed to be pretty much accurate after that point.
Shortly after Mile 15, one of the women in my group -- who apparently had insufficient training the preceding two months because of an injury she was recovering from -- came alongside me to thank me for getting her that far. She briefly explained what was going on and that she would be doing mostly walking, with a smattering of jogging, from there on to the finish. I agreed with her assessment that it was certainly not worth risking aggravating any injury, and assured her that even if she were to just walk for the remainder, given how far she had already come in a little over two hours, there would be no problem with her making it through all of the gauntlets and finishing the race.
As the group exited from Haines Point and turned right back towards downtown DC, I gave my usual welcome, all the more apt this year: "Welcome to DC, or Dysfunction Central!"
As we were a few blocks away from the Capitol, making a couple of quick turns on the course, the duo teams were taking the wide turn on the right hand side of the road -- they need a wide berth since they can't swivel on a dime. As they were approaching, they would call out to make way. Myself and one or two others would usually join in in shouting at anyone still on the side in question to move to the left and make a hole. Most of the time people would comply, though sometimes it takes three or four such shouts for them to understand and comply. This one time, the guy who would be in the way just wasn't budging, and the duo couldn't move any further to the right. As I came level with the runner, who was drifting a little to his right, I noticed that he had ear pods in -- he was totally oblivious to any sound around him and had no clue until he brushed against the wheelchair that it was anywhere near him. "Take at least one EarPod out!"
And I had a few more nonpartisan choice words to share with our group as we approached the Capitol. "Gorgeous building. Too bad there are 535 idiots in it!" (Sure, there are some that I like; some that people who disagree with me politically like instead. But I think most voters can get behind this broad-brush statement, even if they don't think "their" Congress-critter fits the bill.)
As we made our way away from the Capitol along the south side of The Mall and past the back side of the National Museum of the American Indian, there is some construction along the route. All well and good, and unfortunate that it bumped out on the right side of an already narrow part of the road. But there was a Water Stop in that same stretch of roadway, meaning that there was an intense bottleneck artificially created.
Similarly, after we finished with The Mall and turned left to head back towards Virginia, as is always the case the people who lined both sides of the road and were enthusiastically and boisterously loud (thank you, spectators) also encroached the road on BOTH sides. Get the hell out of the way! For a little under a block, I used my sign and attempted to motion to the crowd on the left side (just focusing on the worst of the offenders) to get back, all while shouting as loudly as I could over the din, "Move back! Get back! Back up!" Almost none of them did, and they likely didn't even hear me. Quickly enough I gave up and said in a normal tone of voice, audible to the runners in my immediate vicinity, "Oh well. It was worth a shot." Thankfully it was only another couple of blocks before the street way broadened enough and the crowd dissipated, right before we got to The Bridge. Alas, since last year, the taiko drummers that used to be our last bit of encouraging noise before we got to Beat The Bridge have been gone.
As we began the long trek on the bridge (and thankfully it wasn't a hot day -- for it feels like absolute torture on such days), I advised everyone to go counter to the normal advice of looking in the distance when running. On this bridge, given the mostly silent monotony of it (and it being evocative of the scene from "Monty Python and the Holy Grail" where a crusader is charging the Tall Tower for several shots, all from a distance, before suddenly he happens upon and kills the guards), I relayed advice I first heard a couple of years ago, to focus more on the lines dividing lanes on the road.
Amid the bridge, we come up to the large unmanned tanks of water that runners can fill up their bottles with (or shove their heads under the spouts). Right after I reminder my group of that, as we approached, I saw that all of these were behind a series of jersey walls -- with no break in them available. So, if anyone wanted to get to these, they had to climb over the jersey walls, which is something that no one running a marathon should ever be required to do to take advantage of an official water stop. What the hell, MCMO! Not cool. Totally "unsat."
Finally off the bridge, rather than the left-hand turn that we usually make, we actually turned right and did a nice little tour of part of the Pentagon parking lot. This because they needed to make up some distance this year because of reroutes owing to construction on the course. Then into Crystal City. This area is always simultaneously great and horrible. What makes it great is the concentrated throngs of crowds lining the route on both sides; this place is ALWAYS filled with great energy that is especially needed right when we need it most; not only because it is already late on in the course (after having gone 21 or so miles), but also because so much gets sucked out on the bridge. What makes it horrible? It is an incredibly congested out-and-back portion which is one somewhat-moving bottleneck. While it's tempting to weave around some people on the "out" portion by swinging to the left of the cones, doing so risks running smack-dab into a huge wave of runners on the "back" portion. And vice versa, though the "back" portion is notably wider (by an extra lane, I think).
As we approached Mile 24, I mentioned to one lady who had stuck right by my side the entire time and who was shooting for under 3:04, that she should probably slowly but surely pull away from me. While I was on pace for 3:04:30 (or a bit better at that point), she needed to make up maybe 30 seconds. She thanked me for my efforts and drifted forward and soon enough out of sight. I didn't pass her at any point, so I assume she managed to hit the time that she wanted.
And, as we approached Mile 25, I made sure to tell all of the group remaining behind me at that point that somewhere between right then and Mile 26, they were supposed to get in front of me and stay there -- they were all to finish in a faster time than me. Similarly, as we approached Mile 26, I reiterated that everyone needs to get in front of me and finish strong.
That final hill may not be much in the grand comparison of all hills, but at that point in the marathon, it is HARD! It's even trickier for me, balancing my duty to stick to pace and hit my small time window on the one, and do what I scream out and motion every year...
CHARGE!
I found the other pacers who had come in before me to hand over my sign and wait for the next one to relieve me, commiserated with the ones still standing around about the multiple mile markers that were off screwing up everyone, and then made the walk out to collect the post-race goodies. On the way I crossed paths with the infamous Robert Wang (IYKYK) who had finished around the same time (though he wasn't in my group at all) and he did an impromptu interview for me to make my case to the Boston charities to which I had already applied but had not yet gotten a decision. I don't know that I acquitted myself as well during that as I could have if I wasn't still in some sort of runner's fog, but I appreciate the intent. Hopefully it will be an additional nudge to at least get me to the interview stage. Fingers crossed.
For all of the many faults that MCMO had this year between the expo and race day, one thing that was a FANTASTIC change was pushing out the perimeter where friends and family could be present to meet up. This enabled the runners to walk a bit further unencumbered by others and allowed those of us who availed ourselves of dropping off bags with the UPS trucks in Runner's Village to pick them up before being greeted by the mob. Depending on what one had in the bag and wanted to do, a runner could switch into other comfy footwear, maybe swap out a shirt, have some nutrition that they knew they would want that would not be in the post-race food box, etc. But, alas, all good things must come to an end... we finally had to brave the exit from the Finisher's area and make our way through the MASSIVE crowd basically hanging out right at the small opening of the chain link fence, trying to see their runner (as opposed to being at the respective Family Link-Up areas that are set up away from that exit). The only way that I was able to move was basically screaming "EXCUSE ME!" while having my arm outstretched and make like Moses. While the sea of humanity didn't part THAT much, it was enough that I was able to make my way to the far corner and then climb the hill the few blocks to get back to the hotel where I parked my car.
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(Photo by Mitchell Chan)
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(photo by Kelli Keifer)
After getting back to the hotel lobby, I took my sweet time to take off my bib (and back bib that had my name written on it) and swap for a dry shirt, and drank the protein shake I knew I would need. Then a more private pit stop also enabled me to full change the rest.
Getting out of Rosslyn was a bit time-consuming given some of the logistics. And while I was waiting for a traffic light to change and the cop controlling the intersection to wave me through, I noticed a text message on my phone which indicated that the Rosslyn Metro station was CLOSED because of a problem with the escalator. Shuttle bus service was being provided. Going into that Station is a slow, torturous slog after the race to begin with, but to then close down the station? Ha! I felt sorry for everyone who needed to travel that way and was so immensely relieved that all I needed to do was drive away.
Sure, it would've been nice to go straight home to shower and change before getting lunch, but by the time I finally escaped Rosslyn and made it back to my area, it was getting late enough where I figured going home would turn a late-ish lunch into no lunch and just dinner. Famished, I drove on to Melt in Ashburn and got their All-American Bison Burger -- damn, that's the best burger I've had yet there... it may become my go-to (for the few times a year I go). And, of course, a chocolate shake.
Finally home, showered, changed, and rested a little bit, I took stock of the day's "haul." The first "premium" gift was this very soft, warm blanket. It was very tempting to take two, especially when some of the Marines who were handing them out were making comments that were actually ENCOURAGING of people to take more than one. As I would come to find out, it was just as well that I didn't do so, because apparently many official finishers in the back of the pack did NOT get one, because they had run out. Totally unsat -- knowing that there were 40,000 runners registered, MCMO should have ordered that many. They'd even have some extras afterward, given there are always some number of runners who don't even start the race for whatever personal reasons.
(Semper Fi Challenge medal, for those who finished both the Historic Half in May and the Marine Corps Marathon.) The challenge coin was actually affixed by a couple of small (and not overly strong) magnets. While I was standing in the Finisher's area, before getting my bag from the UPS truck, I heard a clink on the road. Thankfully I looked down... only to see that the challenge coin on my medal had actually fallen off. Rather than attempt to re-affix it, knowing it would simply fall again at some point, I simply held onto it.
The second premium was something that was provided by DC and HBO Max in honor of the Superman movie, ostensibly because we were all superheroes for finishing MCM. If anyone has seen the ponchos that the runners who finish the New York City Marathon get -- this is the same thing. These are WONDERFUL ponchos that are extremely helpful to wear to races that have cold mornings and allow for dropping off a bag right before getting into the corral.
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