Rock 'n' Roll USA Marathon Recap Part 2: The Race

Aaaaand I'm back! I know you've all been anxiously awaiting Part 2 of my USA Marathon recap.  If you missed Part 1, or loved it so much that you want to read it again and again, you can find it here.

And now, we take you back to the start line of the Rock 'n' Roll USA marathon.

The first mile had me worried -- my legs felt heavy and my whole body felt sluggish at what should have been an easy pace.  It didn't help that despite entering a predicted finish time of 5 hrs and being placed in corral 18, everyone else seemed to be moving faster than my 10:45 pace.  By the 5K, I had relaxed a bit and the pace started to feel easier.  It helped that during the first few miles we saw the Supreme Court, the Capitol, and a few of the Smithsonian museums, among other buildings that made my inner American government nerd jump up and down clapping.

Proof I was actually in D.C.

Things got interesting again a little way into mile 4, when we hit the course's major climb.  Miles 4-7 were a fairly steady uphill stretch that only got steeper as we went up Connecticut Ave toward my hotel, which just happened to sit at the top of the course's major hill.

Miles 4 through 7 were pretty rough for this Chicago girl

I think I managed to keep a fairly steady, if slow, pace as we went, but my legs were definitely feeling it.  Seeing this sign early in the climb, shortly after turning onto Connecticut, may have helped get me through this section of the course:

Actually took this later in the evening--I didn't have my phone out during the race

Despite a bit of leg fatigue, I stuck to my first-half plan of only taking a quick walk break every 4 miles to take a few ShotBloks.  I drank from my camelbak to avoid losing my rhythm at the aid stations, which I think was a big problem for me in Chicago last October.  Mentally, I was feeling pretty good until mile 9, when I saw a sign that said something like "4 more miles until brunch! Or 17 if you're running the full".  Tip for spectators: it is generally NOT a good idea to remind marathoners how many miles they have left to go when that number has double digits.  This led to much mental cursing, but I kept chugging along.

Then I hit the point where the half and full courses split, just after mile 12, and suddenly there were significantly fewer runners on the road and barely any spectators.  I'd like to say this is the point where I dug deep and settled in for the long haul, but in reality, I panicked and completely fell apart.  I believe my thought process went something like this: "Oh eff.  What am I doing??  I could be done right now but we're turning away from the finish instead.  And there is no one waiting for me further along the course.  14 more miles of just me and the @$!#*&^ asphalt?!  I can't keep this up for 14 more miles.  Bye bye, five hour goal."  My heart was racing, it was difficult to breath, I started getting chills, and I thought I might vomit.  I tried to start running again after my usual walk break length (2 minutes or so) but I ended up walking most of mile 12.  Way to keep your head in the game, Jess!

Not sure, but this may actually have been around mile 13 -- amazing what a camera will do

But I did eventually pull it together and crossed the halfway point just one minute over my 2:24 goal, leaving plenty of room to hit 5 hours.  From 12 to 18, my plan was to take a quick walk break every 2 miles, but I think I only made it to about 15 before that strategy turned into a quick walk break every mile.  I kept telling myself to get to 16, and then I could start counting down the single-digit miles remaining.  I made a quick pit stop around mile 17, where there was an aid station with multiple free port-a-potties and volunteers handing out cups of ice in addition to water.  I was starting to overheat at this point, and was unbelievably happy to have the opportunity to stuff ice cubes down my back and under my hat.  Things got rough again with a brutal out-and-back stretch of road between 18 and 19.  You could see the aid station when you turned the corner at 18, but didn't actually get there for another mile.  I started to regret having used up my camelbak on the first half, and tried to keep my focus on making it to 20.  Somewhere in the 17-20 stretch, I was passed by the 5-hr pace group, which had started behind me.  I kept them in my sights for a bit, but eventually lost them.  Incredibly demoralizing.  And it didn't help that by this point, the gap between my GPS watch and the mile markers was almost a full mile and increasing, so I couldn't reliably judge my pace or where I was on the course.

At mile 20, we turned onto a fairly pretty stretch of the course along the Anacostia River.  Unfortunately, 20-23 was also a stretch of the course with virtually no spectators and no shade.  I was really starting to feel the sun.  I hit mile 20 at about 3:50, just after my playlist started it's second loop. At this point I seriously doubted that I had a 70 min 10K in me, and started to think about revising my goals.  I decided that I would shoot for 5:08, which would be a 20 min PR, and would be satisfied with anything under 5:15.

You don't look like the Charles ...

The last 5 miles were a slog to the finish.  Mentally, I started to feel much better knowing that I was going to finish.  And, if I'm being honest, knowing that the sub-5 pressure was gone.  Physically, I was struggling.  I had hoped I would be ok only taking walk breaks every mile, but before long I was bargaining with myself to finish out the half mile, or the quarter mile, or the song I was listening to.  I walked every slight incline in an attempt to save my legs.  I tried to pinpoint exactly what was going wrong -- legs? feet? heart rate? breathing? -- but could never really single out one thing.  I just wanted to be done.

Finally, I passed the 25 mile marker, and before long I could see RFK stadium.  I planned to run the entire last mile, but quickly realized that this would require an incredibly slow pace.  I tried to run at a normal pace for as long as I could and then walk until I was recovered enough to go again.  Most of the last mile was a lonely stretch over the Anacostia River and around the stadium, and felt much harder than the last mile of Chicago, where there were a bunch of cheering spectators carrying runners through the finish.  I tried to push myself to beat 5:10, but just couldn't do it.  Soon enough, I crossed the 26 miler marker, and then the 13 mile from the half, and then heard my name over the PA just before I crossed the finish line 5:10:53.

BRAAAAAAAINS

Splits are a little screwy since my watch added almost a mile over the course of the race

I walked through the chute, where I got my medal, had my finisher photo taken, and picked up a freezing cold towel and plenty of fluids and food.  Then I walked staggered over to a grassy area outside the Armory to collapse on the grass (easier said than done, at that point) and rest for a bit before collecting my gear.  I took down a bottle of water, an apple, and a few bites of bagel while I texted family and friends to let them know that I was, in fact, still alive.

Still standing

Not sure why, but this makes it all worth it!

After a while, I manged to stand up and make my way to the Armory.  I picked up my bag, sat down on the gym floor, and very slowly changed into dry clothes while I drank my chocolate milk and chatted with a few other finishers.  Then I dragged myself outside to sit in the sun, eat a Builder Bar and drink some more water, and contemplate what seemed like an impossibly long Metro ride and walk back to the hotel, which oh by the way happened to be at the top of that hill from mile six.

Check back soon for Part 3 recapping my post-race adventures (spoiler alert: they weren't very adventurous).