After running a few marathons, I became aware of the clique of old guys with shirts showing which states they’d run marathons in. The goal, of course, is to hit every state. And that was pretty intriguing to me. So, without officially admitting that that’s what I’m striving for, I have to say, that would be pretty cool. If it ever happens, you can say you read about it here first. If not, I’ll pull down this post and deny I ever said anything about it.
I did a posting a while back on why I like running
. Similar to that posting, this one may contain a slightly nauseating
level of minutiae about running. So if you’re not into running, think of
it more as a travelogue. If you don’t like running or travel, you could
read it as a personal memoir. If you don’t like running, travel or me,
probably best to change the channel at this point. That being said,
here’s how the marathons I’ve run so far stack up, from most recent to
least:
Piney Point, Maryland is in
the middle of nowhere. It’s beautiful though – a thin strip of land, where the
Potomac empties into the Chesapeake Bay, with quiet water views everywhere. The
race is put on by the Chesapeake Bay Running Club, but seems really to be the
brain child of one woman – Liza – who’s e-mail address is
“shortbrownperson@juno.com.” It’s true that Liza is short and brown. And she
puts on a hell of a race.
Registration for this race
was capped at 200. 164 ended up finishing. Perhaps because the location is so
far off the beaten path, or because there is no half-marathon, no 10k, no kids
fun run, just the full marathon, or because Liza caters to the “50 stater”
crowd, there were more hardcore runners at this race than any other I’ve been a
part of. Every person I talked to had run 30, 40, 50 marathons. I met a school
teacher who ran 16 marathons last year. I met a restaurant manager who worked
until 11PM the night before the race, slept three hours and then drove four
hours from Baltimore to get to Piney Point in time for the 7AM start. People came
from all over the country. Also, Piney Point has exactly one inn and exactly
one restaurant. So most of the out of town runners were staying and eating at
the same place. All of these factors made the atmosphere just loads of fun. Endless
conversations about who had run what marathons, where they had traveled, what
they were planning next. I was with my
people.
There’s usually a trade-off
between size of a race and how well organized it is. Not at all the case at
this one. All of the accoutrements at this race were simple but exactly as
needed. Mile markers were made out of posterboard attached to cat litter boxes
filled with sand. At the end of the race there was a table piled with a
hodgepodge of chips and snacks and drinks. Just yours for the taking. A fun
moment was right before the start of the race when all the runners had to fan
out to search for the start line. It wasn’t very light out, and Liza said that
there was a white line spray-painted somewhere in the area showing where the
start was supposed to be. Finally someone found it, and we all shuffled around,
lined up, and got ready to go. The starting “gun” was a gong, brought by a DC
Korean-American running club that sends a big group to the race every year.
The course was made up of
three short out and back loops and then one long out and back loop. Because
there were so few runners, with the loops, I could count the exact number of
runners ahead of me. I ran a great race – big negative splits – so I had a good
sense of where I was going to finish overall as I picked off runners one by one
during the second half of the race. I ended up finishing 31st
overall. There are two ways to achieve a finishing position like that – quit
your job, move to Kenya and train with the elites, or run in a really small
race. I had met a friendly couple at the restaurant the night before the race
who had a house along the course. They told me where they lived and said they’d
come out and watch in the morning. They did, and I felt like they were old
friends. It’s amazing how much of an effect it has during a race just to know
that there will be two people out cheering for you, even if they’re basically
strangers.
Thumbs Up: Community! Isn’t that what a marathon is
supposed to be about? We’re all in it together! Because of the personality of
the race organizer and the intimate setup, this race was all about having a
communal experience with like-minded people. So many races are becoming so
corporate – revenue generators that just happen to have some running thing
attached. It’s so refreshing to be a part of a race that, to its core, is all
about gathering together a bunch of fanatics and helping them do what they love
to do.
Thumbs Down: None really, except if you don’t like being
out in the middle of nowhere. Even that was nice, though. Very pretty, peaceful
area. Beautiful views. Very relaxing. I guess even these “thumbs down” items
are really more like “thumbs up.”
Bottom Line: Best small race ever. The perfect embodiment
of what makes running, and being part of a community, so special. No pretense,
no hype. Just a great time with new friends.
It’s a little unfair to rate whatever marathon comes
after New York City. After the
experience I had in New York in November, whatever was next was sure to be a
let-down in comparison. But even
with a little extra leniency, Charleston was tough.
The main difficulty on the particular day the marathon
was held this year was the wind.
The course is a point to point setup, with a few small out-and-back
loops, that mostly goes south to north.
And through the entire race, there was a fierce, gusty headwind blowing
from north to south. It was
brutal. Physically and
psychologically, wind is much tougher than hills. You can’t see it, and you don’t know when it’s going to pick
up or when it will end. There’s
always some point during a marathon when the thought occurs to you, oh, it sure
would feel good to just stop. In
Charleston, I started thinking that around mile 12 – not a good sign (though,
in the end, I never did stop and finished with my third best time). The other problem is that, with a few
exceptions, the course is pretty ugly and desolate. The first six miles go through Charleston’s historic
downtown. That part is great. Lots to see and pretty good
crowds. But when that ends, you’re
on your own. There is a long
stretch between Charleston and North Charleston that’s sort of a highway access
road with industrial buildings and a lot of dirt and not much else. I overheard a cop before the race saying
to another cop that he had responded to crime scenes at every mile of the
course between miles six and twelve, multiple crime scenes at some of the
miles. There are some beautiful
areas surrounding Charleston – in particular the gorgeous, three mile, Arthur
Ravenel bridge that goes out to the marshes and beaches of Patriot’s Point and
Sullivan Island. There’s a 10k in
April that goes over that bridge, which may be the reason it’s not included in
the marathon.
All that being said, I made it through the race and had
a great long weekend visiting Charleston.
Our friends Kris and Paul, who live there, gave us a wonderful, thorough
driving tour of the city. And my
cousin Lyla and her friend Rachel came down to join Leslie and me for the
weekend (and to cheer during the race!), which was great.
Thumbs
Up: From the
heart, not at all corporate. Fun
party at the finish line, with a great band and lots of food. Free beer and free shrimp and grits
(I’m never one to turn down a free beer, but after a grueling race, the shrimp
and grits didn’t look very appetizing).
Fun destination, worth traveling to.
Thumbs
Down: Brutal
wind, and a not-so-nice course. Be
prepared for a lot of solitude that really tests your psyche and perseverance.
Bottom
Line: Charleston is a fun place to visit. Adorable, picturesque, steeped in
history, with lots of interesting sites to see and food to eat. The race itself is not the best, but
still fun, and, if you make it through the wind, quite a feeling of
accomplishment.
-->
Until last weekend, whenever
anyone would ask me which of the marathons I had run I liked the best, I would
always answer, truthfully, that I really couldn’t say, that they were all
different, that I liked such and such qualities about this one and this and
that about another one. No
more. The New York marathon is my
favorite. Hands down. No contest. It was the best marathon I’ve run and one of the best all
around experiences I’ve had. Ever.
First, a little about New
Yorkers. The stereotype about New
Yorkers is that they’re loud and rude and in your face. The loud and in your face part is most
definitely true. But I think it’s
based on a certain comfort that comes from living in a place that’s so dense
and so full of different kinds of people.
If you’re not worried about people thinking less of you because you have
a different opinion, then why hold back?
Why waste everyone’s time with decorum and insinuation? Just throw it all out there. Once you scratch a tiny bit below the
surface, it becomes clear that New Yorkers are as kind and friendly and caring
as any group anywhere. And when
all of the New York noise and energy is focused on something as positive as a
marathon, the result is something truly spectacular.
Each runner in the New York
marathon was assigned to one of three “villages” near the start, next to Fort
Wadsworth in Staten Island. To get
there, you could either take a bus from the various boroughs or the Staten
Island Ferry from Manhattan. I
took the ferry. The experience was
surreal. Before sunrise, thousands
of runners, all wearing fancy running shoes and ratty, used throw-away clothes
from the Salvation Army (to keep warm before the start), streamed silently up
the escalators to the ferry terminal.
The atmosphere was calm but intense, with everyone excited in
anticipation of a long race, but measured, knowing that the first runners
wouldn’t be leaving the corrals for over three hours. The ferry had a police escort boat next to it. The sun started to rise while we were
crossing the river. The Manhattan
skyline and the Statue of Liberty were beautiful.
The start villages were like
carnivals. Thousands of people
milled around, stretched, had snacks, waited in line for the
port-o-potties. Music and race day
rules repeated in loops on giant video screens. Dunkin Donuts gave out free coffee and warm, cotton winter
hats. (Genius marketing move – brainwash people when they’re cold and tired and
psychologically vulnerable.
Whenever I see a Dunkin now, which, in Boston, is usually about 35 times
a day, I feel warm and happy and like I want to spend all my money on breakfast
sandwiches and munchkins).
The course started at the
base of the Verrazano Bridge in Staten Island, crossed into Brooklyn, went
through all of Brooklyn and a chunk of Queens, over the 59th Street
Bridge (now renamed the Ed Koch Bridge) into Manhattan, all the way up 1st
Ave. into the Bronx, back down 5th Ave., into Central Park at 89th
Street, out onto Central Park South, back into Central Park at Columbus Circle,
and ended near 69th Street.
50,304 people ran this year’s
New York marathon. And it was
estimated that 2 million people were out watching along the course. What that meant from a runner’s perspective
is that every foot of the course, with the exception of the bridges, was lined
with spectators standing shoulder to shoulder, sometimes four people deep. There were bands on almost every block
– so many that the music often ran together and you couldn’t even make out who
was playing what. DJs, folk bands,
metal bands (one orthodox Jewish one), several Grateful Dead cover bands, drum
circles, a gospel rhythm section playing a slow jam outside of a church (if
you’re ever going to convert me, that’s the way to do it), bluegrass jam circles,
marching bands, folk singers, karaoke, reggae bands, and lots of good ol’
banging on garbage can lids. The noise level ranged from loud to complete
sensory overload.
The spirit and energy from
the crowds was like nothing I have ever experienced. Several times, I was so moved by the almost hysterical
emotion coming from the crowds, that I gasped and teared up and had trouble
catching my breath. The power of
New York crowds turning their focus on runners slogging through the streets was
overwhelming. No polite clapping and quiet approval here. Thousands upon thousands of people,
block after block after block were just letting it all hang out. People screamed at individual runners,
whether they knew them or not.
“DAAAAVVVVVE, you GO!” “Oh YEAH lady with the flower print tights, you
KNOW you’re looking GOOOOOD!” “Oh my GAWD you all are KICKIN AAAAASSSSSS!” A yuppie with a sport jacket and
loafers was jumping up and down so hard that his cell phone dropped out of his
pocket and smashed on the street.
Hipsters lost their cool and screamed like little kids. In Central Park South, almost at mile
26, when the runners were out of gas and really looking ragged, the crowd was
still deafening. People on the
sidelines looked so genuinely concerned and proud and yearning, it felt like
every one of them knew each runner like family and had some deep, personal
stake in helping him reach the finish.
After the race, volunteers
draped bright yellow fleece ponchos over the runners to keep them warm in the
crisp November afternoon. They
were like angels. Walking down the
Upper West Side, strangers said congratulations. The barista at a Starbucks next to the Wall Street bull gave
me a free coffee. The bell captain
at the Doubletree Hotel where we were staying was so excited to see me come
back after the race he was almost screaming at me – “oh MAN, you ran 26 miles!?
That is CRAZY! MAN!” After dinner
at a fancy restaurant in Chelsea, the waiter brought me a desert, on the house,
with “congratulations” written in chocolate on the side of the plate.
I don’t know if an experience
like this could happen anywhere else.
New Yorkers do things big and they do them loud. I love running because it’s so simple
and natural and good. And to run a
race where the human spirit is so powerful and distilled and focused upon
something so positive and happy – the feeling is almost beyond
description. Pure elation. People
can do horrible things to one another.
But they can also be so good to one another and so supportive that your
faith in the whole human race can’t help but be uplifted. Thanks for the show, New York! You sure know how to make a guy feel
good.
Here’s Alec Baldwin talking
about the New York Marathon. Whoda
ever thunk this guy could get me all emotional.
http://vimeo.com/28827733
Here’s a touching video of
Meb Keflezighi talking about breaking down and having to walk during the
race. Depending on how you look at
it, you could say that I beat him.
Technically, he finished the race 1 hour and 23 minutes faster than I
did. But he had to walk a little
starting at mile 19, and I didn’t have to walk until mile 24. It’s really a
tough course.
http://www.flotrack.org/coverage/250963-New-York-City-Marathon-2013/video/723689-Emotional-Meb-Keflezighi-after-NYC-Marathon-2013
Here’s a documentary about Fred
Lebow, the founder of the New York Marathon. He was just a weird, quirky dude, and not a very good
runner, who started organizing events, which morphed into the marathon. The course starting going through all
five boroughs, including the Bronx, in the late ‘70s. Not a time when skinny white runner dudes usually ran
voluntarily through the Bronx.
http://www.fredlebowmovie.com/
Going to Iceland and running a marathon was Leslie’s
present to me for my 40th birthday. The fun started months ahead of time, when people asked how
I was going to celebrate by birthday, and I got to say “I’m going to Iceland to
run a marathon.” That alone made
the trip worthwhile. Iceland is all
around wonderful. It’s easy to get
to, gorgeous and everyone there is adorable. It’s like the whole country is one big happy family
(actually, they are, almost literally, one big family). Although most everything in Iceland is
expressed in English, that wasn’t the case during the race. All the signs, announcements and
shouting were in Icelandic. But that
was fun, and exotic. There’s not
that much you have to know during a race – run that way. And since I couldn’t understand
anything the spectators were yelling, I could make up what I thought they were
saying – all of which was directed at me personally and was quite flattering. They didn’t play “Born to Run” at the
start, which was disconcerting.
But all was remedied by the Duran Duran cover band playing “Hungry Like
the Wolf” at mile three. This was
the first marathon I had run outside of the U.S., and the first one measured in
kilometers. Kilometers tick by a
lot faster than miles, but there are 42 of them, which is a lot.
Thumbs Up: Beautiful scenery along
the craggy, foreboding coastline.
Good crowds along some of the course, yelling things in Icelandic that
at least sounded supportive. Maybe
it’s just the accent, but Icelanders sound so upbeat and enthusiastic about
everything. You can’t help but
smile. The giant city-wide
post-race arts festival and all-night pub crawl are really something to write
home about.
Thumbs Down: Uninspired stuff to buy at the pre-race expo. Those socialists just don’t have the capitalist
huckster gene. Selling
outrageously priced race shirts is the very reason for having an expo. This is the one race where I really
wanted to drop some major Krona and bring home some swag. But alas, there was nothing good to
buy.
Bottom Line: Marathon or not, go to Iceland! In the end, best birthday present ever, and I kicked off my
40s with a personal best.
I had never given much thought to Cleveland. My mom went to college there and liked
it. My upstairs neighbor is from
there and loves it. I’ve heard it
compared to Detroit. Turns out to
be a perfectly nice city with some hipster districts – the Warehouse District, the
Flats, 4th Street – a college town with a full out hippy festival
every week – the Hessler Street Fair – and a pretty vibrant downtown with three
professional athletic stadiums within a few blocks of each other. There’s even a “nano brewery” on 25th
street where you can bring your bike inside and tune it up and play adult-size
Jenga. The race is called the Rite
Aid Cleveland Marathon. So it’s a
corporate affair. But Rite Aid is
not too in-your-face about it. Its
name is splashed all over the promotional materials and race shirt, but it’s no
more obnoxious than any other corporate sponsor. The race obviously has some real buy-in from the city, which
is cool. Between opening up Browns
stadium, closing off some major roads in the city, and the fact that just about
everyone I talked to knew about the race and wanted to talk about it, it was
clear that people were excited about the event, and that it was more than just
an attempt to bring some tourist dollars to town.
Thumbs up: Pre-race toilet
facilities. Instead of the usual bank of porta-potties, they opened up Browns
stadium, whose plumbing is equipped to handle 100,000 football fans unloading 9
lite beers and 4 brats each. 10,000 runners each excreting half a power bar, 3
sips of coffee and a Gatorade doesn't even cause a dip in water pressure. Open
urinals and no wait whatsoever! Unheard of. I also made the second smartest decision in my life preparing
for the race (not totally sure what the first was, but I must have done one
smarter thing than this in my life) – getting a ticket to a Cleveland Indians
game a few hours after the marathon finish. It was a hot, beautiful day, Progressive Field is a great,
modern stadium, and there is no better way to relax after a long race than
ass-planting in a seat for three hours, watching a game, and not having to even
stand up to buy beer and hot dogs.
Thumbs down: Lackadaisical Christian
bands. One was doing folk-ish stuff but just singing, not actually playing
guitar. Like Christian karaoke. Second was a rock band whose singers needed
hymn books to remember the lyrics. If you're into that kind of stuff and you
asked yourself, what would Jesus do?, He would probably say, "well, at a
minimum learn to play the guitar and memorize the damn lyrics." Probably
not a damnable to eternal hellfire offense, but still.
Bottom Line: Enthusiastic community support. Interesting route around some nice parts of town and some
eerie abandoned industrial areas.
Awesome finish line by Browns Stadium and the Rock-n-Roll Hall of Fame.
I love jazz and French and traveling, so it’s a
shocking! travesty! that, before now, I had never been to New Orleans. Of course, I loved it. As the Great Homogenization of the U.S.
progresses, and cities all start to look the same, it’s fun to go someplace
that still looks and feels completely unique. You can’t mistake New Orleans for anywhere else. The marathon was on a Sunday (why does
that always seem to be the case?) so on Saturday night, in New Orleans, I was
in bed at around 9:00. Felt a
little sacrilegious. The race
passed through a good cross section of the city. It started downtown, went up and down St. Charles Ave.
through the garden district, through the French quarter and City Park, and
along the shore of Lake Pontchartrain.
I felt good at mile 20 and still had some energy left, so I picked up
the pace for the last few miles and ended up with a marathon personal
best. After the race, I was
hell-bent on seeing some music and taking advantage of the lack of open
container laws. Even at 3PM on a
Sunday, there’s no shortage of ways to do that. In the evening, some friends of Leslie’s who have lived in
New Orleans for a long time took us to a fancy Emeril restaurant in The
Quarter, and then to see some bands in the Frenchmen Street area. The music everywhere was, as expected,
off the charts, and the 24/7 laissez les bon temps rouler mentality is for
real.
Thumbs Up
Music everywhere. There were bands all along the course and every one of them
was fantastic. The featured band
at the after-party was the Dirty Dozen Brass Band. Wow. In the
“free beer” department, the tab on your racing bib got you not one but two free
Michelob Ultras (with the little snafu Michelob Ultra’s been having with its
main endorser, Lance Armstrong, they probably can’t give that shit away these
days).
Thumbs Down
This was my first Rock-N-Roll marathon. The Rock-N-Roll franchise has turned
into big business, and they now run races all over the country and, recently,
internationally. I have to admit,
they know what they’re doing in terms of logistics and organization, but the
big business nature of it makes the race feel a little generic and soulless – a
bit on the Wal-Mart atmosphere side of the spectrum.
Bottom Line
Any excuse to go to New Orleans is a good one. As is always the case, a marathon is a
great way to see a city. This is
no exception. And if you have some
extra time after to take advantage of having earned a day / night on the town,
all the better. Running through
the French Quarter at 9AM on a Sunday morning and seeing how many people are
still out from the night before is a pretty funny experience. Flat-as-a-pancake course produces some
fast times.
I was supposed to run the New York City marathon on
November 4, 2012, but hurricane Sandy put the kibosh on that. I had trained hard and was ready to go,
and so was hell bent on finding a substitute race somewhere. Just when I was about to buy a plane ticket
and spend 36 hours somewhere in Alabama where there was a race, I found a
listing for the Manchester, New Hampshire marathon. Same day, and a 1.5 hour drive from Boston. Perfect. I signed up, found a hotel room right at the start line, and
hit the road. The race turned out
to be beautiful. It was sunny but
freezing cold at the start. The
course was comprised of three long loops, in and out of town, along the Merrimack
River and along some beautiful rail-to-trail paths in a nature preserve east of
the town. The presidential
election was two days away and there were campaign signs everywhere. New Hampshire is supposed to be one of
those harbinger states that signals where the country as a whole is going, so I
was nervous to see what seemed like a disproportionate number of signs against
my guy (of course, we know how things turned out; suck on that, Mitt). The night before the race, Journey
played a concert at the event center in the middle of town. They apparently couldn’t get Journey
themselves to come play at the marathon after-party, but they did the next
thing – got a Journey cover band.
And the cover band was so good that if you couldn’t see them, you would
have thought they were the real thing.
Thumbs Up
I was not the only person who was supposed to run
the New York marathon who changed plans last minute and signed up for
Manchester. The race was inundated
with last minute sign-ups. And the
race organizers went out of their way to be accommodating. When they ran out of full marathon
bibs, they gave half-marathon bibs to marathon runners. They announced over and over at the start line that full
marathon runners with half marathon bibs (which were different colors) should
ignore the volunteers at the half / full split-off and stay on the full
marathon course. Anyway, the
organizers and volunteers were great, and the whole race, from the expo to the
after-party, had a very friendly down-home vibe to it.
Thumbs Down
Would it really have killed Journey to stay in town
for an extra 12 hours and play at the after-party themselves? And I just can’t stand the whole “live
free or die” thing on New Hampshire license plates.
Running the San Francisco marathon was one of the
most irresponsible career moves I’ve made so far. Another marathon I was supposed to run – Madison, WI – was
cancelled, and I was in shape and hell bent on doing some marathon. So I signed up for San Francisco last
minute and made plans for a 36 hour trip to California. It turned out to be over a weekend
where a huge deal at work was closing.
All the stars aligned, and I was able to button up some details in my
office, go to the airport, work on-line during the whole flight (thumbs up to
Virgin America and its all wifi flights), run the race, take a red-eye flight
home, go straight back into the office and close the deal at 10AM Monday
morning.
San Francisco is an all around beautiful city, and
the marathon took full advantage of it.
The course started and ended downtown on the Embarcadero, went over the
Golden Gate Bridge and back, along the coast, through Golden Gate Park,
Haight-Ashbury, the Mission District, the Design District and back to the Embarcadero. Running over the Golden Gate Bridge was
an incredible experience. It was a
foggy, misty morning, and you could barely see the top of the bridge
towers. The bridge was closed to
traffic, so all you could hear was the muted shuffling of runners’ feet. The main tourist attractions in a lot
of cities are contrived and superficial.
The Golden Gate Bridge is different. It’s not just an iconic structure, but a genuine, historic
part of the city. It was amazing
to feel like I had it all to myself (well, me and 7,000 other runners).
Thumbs Up
The views, the scenery, the natural and urban
beauty. One of the most
awe-inspiring courses anywhere.
The continuous drizzle made my nip-guards fall off twice. On-the-fly nip-guard replacement is not
a skill that’s easy to perfect.
But I’ve got it down. And
it’s a skill whose usefulness should not be underestimated. The free beer at the finish line was
Sierra Nevada Pale Ale – my very favorite. I didn’t have an ID with me, and it was the official policy
that every person get carded before getting a beer. God bless the wonderful volunteer who realized she was about
to see a grown man cry and let me slip through anyway.
Thumbs Down
Security and directions throughout the race were
provided by some large, national motorcycle gang. They were actually great, and very helpful and
pleasant. But didn’t they try the
idea of using a motorcycle gang for security at Woodstock, with very limited
success? Taking a cross-country
red eye flight home a few hours after a marathon is not something I’d
recommend, unless your career depends on it.
Bottom Line
San Francisco is a spectacularly beautiful city, and
the marathon takes full advantage of it.
It also takes advantage of the extreme hills that the city is famous
for. Be ready to run up what feels
like mountains and down hills that are so steep that you really have to be
careful not to lose control and accidentally launch yourself into the Pacific
Ocean.
Mimi is just a cool city, so it doesn’t take much to
put on a good race here. The race
itself wasn’t anything to write home about. But the course went through so many interesting and
beautiful areas that just looking at the scenery (natural and human) made the
experience a lot of fun. A lot of
races now include a full marathon and a half marathon. Oftentimes, all runners run one loop
together, then the half ends, and the full marathoners keep going for another
loop somewhere else. Since there
are usually a lot more half marathoners than full marathoners, it always feels
like three quarters of humanity suddenly disappears at the half marathon finish. This was the case in Miami, and it
occurred to me that this must be sort of what The Rapture must feel like. Just going about your business and
then, boom, everyone’s gone. (No
implication here about whether I’d be one of the people remaining on Earth if
The Rapture occurred). Right after
the half marathon finish, the full marathon route went through a nasty
industrial kind of area. It was
the first time ever in a race I thought I might be lost. The course markings weren’t very clear
and there was a long stretch where I couldn’t see any other runners at
all. The neighborhood got
increasingly dicey, and I got more and more sure that I had taken a wrong turn
somewhere. I dug back to my
college intro Spanish class to try to remember how to say “I don’t have any
money in my shoe wallet and you wouldn’t be able to get more than about ten
cents if you tried to sell these nasty, worn out running shoes on the black
market.” But alas, I was not lost. Pretty soon I found some other runners
and was reassured that my navigation was right and everything was
copacetic.
Thumbs Up
Since Miami gets hot fast, even in January, the race
started before sunrise. Around 7AM
the course went up a long stretch of South Beach. The people you generally see wandering around South Beach at
7AM are not there because they woke up at 6 and are getting an early start on
the day. They’re still out from
the night before. I saw a guy
carrying his pants and belt in his hands.
And hoards of beautiful people stumbling around. It was pretty funny to get cheered
along by the South Beach crowds.
“Cheered” is probably not exactly the right word. More like “ruthlessly mocked.” Like, “holy crap, look at this hoard of
idiots who came to Miami, went to bed at 9:00 on a Saturday and woke up at 5:00
to spend four hours running through a wall of humidity.” Different strokes for different folks,
I guess. Maybe they have a
point.
Thumbs Down
The corporate sponsorship for this race – ING – was
almost more than I could handle.
They stared beating you over the head with it the moment you logged on
to register. Your application was
not complete, and could not be submitted, until you completed questions about
you occupation, income, whether you were the primary financial decision maker
in your family, if you would like to be contacted by a financial planner, and
whether you would like to be registered to win a Nissan Leaf. There was not a “NO! Just let me sign up for the goddamned
race” button. So I entered as much
fake demographic information as I could and powered through. I also can’t stand Ryan Hall, the new
spokesperson for Nissan who’s been hawking product in every running-related
publication released this year.
Yeah, yeah, god told you to run around a lake and is your best friend
and keeps you company during every difficult moment of every race, nice for
you.
Bottom Line
Corporate sponsorship at its worst. Good excuse to go check out Miami. Stay hydrated and try not to get
mugged. Be prepared to get laughed
at if you go out to dinner before 10PM.
When people ask me which marathon was my favorite, I
always respond, honestly, that I can’t really say, that they’re all just different. But if forced to choose one favorite,
this might be it. Every step of
this marathon weekend adventure felt completely from the heart. The race organizer is one guy who’s
been putting on this race since its inception. The winner gets free entry into the marathon for life. The expo featured John Parker, author
of “Once a Runner,” which is sort of a running cult classic novel /
memoir. Parker is one of those famous
to a tiny but fiercely loyal sub-strata of the population. Even the couple that owns the bed and
breakfast where I was staying wanted to know everything about the marathon day
schedule so they could help get me everything I needed. And the course is one of the most
beautiful I have ever seen. It snakes
around the perimeter of Acadia National Park and is almost entirely on the
coast. At every turn, the view of
the ocean is even more spectacular than the last one. Martha Stewart supposedly has a house somewhere outside of
Bar Harbor. Based on how almost appallingly
cute Bar Harbors is, that’s believable. For a small race, there was huge
spectator turn-out in all of the little towns we passed through. The course is also brutally
difficult. There are substantial
hills throughout, but the clincher comes at the end – a four mile steep uphill
climb to the finish. To show off a
little bit, the course website shows an elevation map superimposed over the
elevation map from the Boston marathon.
The last hill is twice as long and twice as steep as Heartbreak
Hill. Suck on that, Boston. Overall, this marathon was a
demonstration of everything I love about running and running events. It was done for the love of running and
was completely devoid of any corporate, for-profit junk. That combined with what has to be some
of the most beautiful scenery anywhere on the east coast makes this a marathon
that should absolutely be on any marathoner’s bucket list.
Thumbs Up
I have never before experienced a shower like the
one I had at the Acadia House Inn, where I stayed the night before the race. It had about 30 nozzles that
simultaneously blasted every centimeter of your skin with boiling hot,
pin-prick sharp streams of water.
After a marathon – paradise.
The owners, Anna and Ralph, were as accommodating as anyone ever could
have been. They told an obnoxious
family to pipe down when I was trying to sleep the night before, made sure my
dinner had everything I wanted, and let me come back late in the afternoon,
after the race, to take one more shower before hitting the road.
Thumbs Down
You can’t get there from here. Bar Harbor doesn’t look that far from
Boston on the map, but it takes a while to get there. And back. Of
all the advice columns I’ve read in Runners’ World over the years, I’ve never
seen one recommending getting right into your car after a race and driving five
hours to get home. There’s a
reason for that. Oh, and no free
beer at the end of the race. Minor
detail. I’m just sayin.
Bottom Line
If you do one marathon on the east coast, do this
one. And if you ever want to feel
smug and self-satisfied about being able to run hills, and want to turn your
nose up when you hear people telling epic stories about Heartbreak Hill, this
is the one for you.
Grandma’s Marathon in Duluth is famous in running
circles. I don’t know why,
exactly, but whenever you say the word “Grandma’s,” every runner knows what
you’re talking about. The name
comes from an Italian restaurant in Duluth that has sponsored the race since
its inception. It’s not that lots
of old ladies run the race. The
course is a point to point, starting a ways out of town and following the coast
of Lake Superior almost the whole time and ending in Canal Park, a nice
re-habbed area with breweries and parks and bike rental kiosks and other fun,
touristy stuff. The course is net
downhill and fast. It was the
first point-to-point race I had done where you have to take a bus out of town
to the start line and then run back.
The bus ride out is pretty unnerving. It just takes a very long time. And you can’t help but think
the whole time, “man, are we really going to run this whole way back?” There are almost no spectators at all
along the course, because it’s mostly out in the middle of nowhere. But that makes it even more exciting to
hit the crowds when you finally reach Duluth and snake through a bunch of
downtown streets. By the time the
runners reach town, folks are all riled up (and seemingly pretty well
lubricated from a long, early day of drinking). We passed a few bands, a group of not-so-small,
not-so-talented (but extremely enthusiastic) belly dancers and a “Bacon
Station” where drunk college kids were handing out strips of bacon to
runners. Hadn’t seen that one
before. To their credit, they were
very sanitary – latex gloves, tongs and everything.
Thumbs Up
Good expo.
Good after-party. Nice
scenery. Fun all-around
atmosphere.
Thumbs Down
Egregious (but, gotta hand it to them, pretty
ballsy) hotel mark-up. The Holiday
Inn downtown was two hundred something dollars a night. I’m guessing that just about any other
weekend of the year, it would be more like $70. On the other hand, they had hung decorations in honor of the
race, and set up a hospitality suite with free Cokes and candy. So, OK, you fork out some extra bucks
for VIP treatment.
Bottom Line
Just a very fun atmosphere, which is why I think the
race is so famous. It’s a good
time, from the heart and no-one seems to take themselves too seriously. If you’re planning to visit Duluth, I’d
suggest that marathon time – mid-June – is a good time to go. Better than, say, February.
Austin is about the only place in Texas that has ever had any appeal to me.
So I went down in February to check it out and run in the LiveStrong
Austin marathon. I have three friends who live in Austin, and so I got to
hang out with some friendly people who know me well and got a good insider's
tour of the area. The city was everything I had hoped it would be -
palpably funky and weird, and with music oozing out everywhere. A motel
in SoCo (S. Congress Street) advertised itself as "so close yet so far
out." I went to Cabelas Sporting Goods and saw what has got to be
the longest gun counter in the world. And I got to watch a round of
chicken shit bingo at Ginny's Little Roadsie Saloon - a sort of shack / bar
that has free hot dogs and its own free hot dog theme song - "the best...
hot dogs... aroooouund." As always, I obsessively scoped out the marathon
starting area and found a room in a hotel that was one block away. The
race started at the state capital building, an impressive, Texas-sized
monument. It was a huge race, and fun to run through the streets of
downtown with thousands of other people. The course criss-crossed the
whole city, passing through some of the funky parts of town, with lots of
people watching and yelling (my favorite chant from the crowd was "left!
right! left! right!”) and then out into some more suburban,
residential parts. It was a warm day and I was pretty spent by the end of
the race. Near the end, half-way through the University of Texas
campus, I broke down and had to walk a bit. I walked up the big hill a
quarter mile from the end and jogged through the finish line. I had
learned through Facebook (HA, to you Facebook nay-sayers) that a friend from
Oklahoma was going to be running the marathon. And, miraculously, we ran
into each other in the post-finish throng. Really fun all-around trip.
If I ever need to go back to Texas, I hope it'll be Austin.
November is way off season in the Outer Banks, so I was able to find a six bedroom house the week of the marathon, right on the beach, for dirt cheap. I couldn’t quite fill it up, but six of us from Boston and DC made the trip down. I don’t know what the weather is usually like this time of year, but the weekend of the marathon it was just about perfect running weather. Upper 50s to low 60s, and not a cloud in the sky. The marathon starts in Kitty Hawk and ends in Manteo. It’s a point to point race, so you get to see a pretty good portion of the outer banks. The terrain was mostly flat, but varied. Some neighborhoods, a little highway, some genuine trail running through the woods and a lot of water views. The outer banks is a very thin strip of sand. The race zigzags back and forth between the ocean side and the interior side, so you got to see a lot of water and get a good sense of what the area is all about. At around mile 21, you cross a three mile long bridge, which is flat for a while but then slopes up severely. For me personally, this was my best marathon ever. Not my fastest - I finished two minutes slower than my best - but I have never felt so good after. Don’t know what it was, but kept waiting for the inevitable pain and collapse towards the end of the race, but it just never happened. The later miles kept ticking by and I even sped up for the last three miles. There was a nice festival atmosphere at the end. A good band. Lots of people. Lots of food. And free beer! How can you beat that? 1600 people finished the marathon. More than twice as many finished the half-marathon, which is the second half of the full marathon course. The combination of first names printed on the bibs, and fans hanging out in front yards along almost the entire course, made for lots of good cheering.
Thumbs up. Very excited, genuine-sounding crowds (“Daaan, go Daaaan! We’re so glad you’re heeer! - and this coming from complete strangers). Free beer at the end. Nice scenery, varied terrain, and some funny sites, like a church with a Subway sub shop and a chain of drive through liquor stores called the Brew Through.
Thumbs down. A bit more chain store, highway running than is optimal. Lazy finishers’ certificates. Used to be you got a nice certificate in the mail, on nice paper, with your name and time. Then, for supposedly environmental reasons (budget reasons is what I suspect), races started e-mailing PDF certificates instead that you could print. Outer Banks e-mailed a Word doc with a space for your name and time. You enter the information yourself, print it out, and voila. Doesn’t make you feel too special.
Bottom line. Nice part of the country. Fun, varied point-to-point route. Free beer!
Charlevoix is way the hell up in northern Michigan, just south of the upper peninsula. The marathon is a very low key event with about 500 runners, starting in town and going up and down the coast of Lake Michigan. I picked this race for no other reason than because it fell at the right time on the calendar. I had planned to run the Fargo, North Dakota marathon, got a minor achilles tendon injury, fixed it, did the Fargo half marathon instead, and was chomping at the bit to do another full marathon as soon as possible. This one fit the bill. I flew into Grand Rapids, drove three and a half hours and found a room at a B&B that turned out to be right at the start line (really right at the start line, like 12 feet away). A nearby church had a spaghetti dinner the night before, where I met a bunch of friendly folks and insane runners. Charlevoix is a very cute town. Looks like a pretty upscale vacation area in a not very upscale part of the state. The race turned out to be fabulous, completely worth the long trip. Totally unassuming. Fun, enthusiastic runners and beautiful views of the lake during almost all of the race. I hadn’t trained as much as I usually do, and so had planned to take it slow and steady, with a goal of just not conking out before the finish line.
Thumbs up. Like a lot of small races, this one was very heartfelt. No fancy corporate sponsors or equipment, but lots of soul. Very few iPods. Felt like we were all in this together. The crowds were sparse but amazingly enthusiastic and persistent. A lot of people would set up camp at a bunch of places along the route, stopping to cheer, driving a few miles and getting out again. The loudest group was following someone named Jen. The first time I saw them I told them that my friends called me Jen, and, for the rest of the race, they yelled and screamed for me like a long lost daughter.
Thumbs down. Friends from Michigan had warned me (and laughed hard at my expense, making me very nervous) that the black flies in northern Michigan that time of year were horrible - as big as birds, with stingers like mosquitoes, and un-deterred by anything short of thick denim clothes. It turned out not to be true at all. Maybe my friends were messin’ with me. Maybe I just missed the season. In any case, my biggest worry turned out not to be an issue at all. I was also amazed at the $189 price tag for the fine-but-nothing-fancy B&B. I guess the capitalist American spirit and the laws of supply and demand apply even in rural Michigan.
Bottom line. Beautiful scenery. Great people. Way way off the beaten path. For a low-key, out of the way event, this was just about perfect.
The Philadelphia Marathon is a big race that takes you all around the city and through some of the outlying areas. Philly has a nice feel to it - not quite as whitewashed as Boston, and with an obviously active arts community. People joked about being scared to run through some of the neighborhoods on the route, but they all seemed fine to me. Maybe would have been different if the race started at 2AM. The marathon starts right in front of the Rocky stairs at the Philadelphia Museum of Art. The crowd packs into corrals on the wide, flag-lined Benjamin Franklin Parkway. Tiered starting times are actually enforced, based on color coded bibs, which is good because there were some very tight portions of the course. The first half of the race winds around a bunch of different neighborhoods, all very urban and dense. The halfway point is back near the start, and the second half of the race veers North of town, out to the zoo and up to Manayunk, a newly hipster-fied neighborhood of former warehouses. Starting at mile 20, you turn around and head down a long, lonely road next to the Schuylkill River, making your way to the finish. It was a pretty chilly late-November day when I ran this race. But apparently nothing like the year before, when it was below zero and dumping snow the whole time. I set a new personal best in Philly, despite starting off too fast and crashing, run/walking the last few miles. Good time, but I felt horrible and delirious (not good delirious either) after.
Thumbs up. Fun way to see Philly. You go through so many different kinds of areas, that you really get a good sense of the feel of the whole city. The start / half / end point is in a perfect area for a big race. Very regal and historic-feeling. Pretty thick and enthusiastic crowds in certain areas, especially towards the beginning, in Manayunk and at the end. Nicest finisher medals I’ve seen yet. Easy access to a million restaurants right after you finish. And kudos to the Hotel Palomar, where we stayed, for laying out a whole early-morning spread for the runners, including the most artistic arrangement of Gu I’ve ever encountered.
Thumbs down. Pretty lonely course towards the end. Might have been nice to do the isolated part of the course first and then go through the denser parts of downtown. It’s also a bit of a bummer to have to follow the half-marathoners back to the starting area and watch them finish. A big portion of the runners smile and cross the finish, and the rest keep plodding along, knowing they still have to cover the distance of a second half-marathon.
Bottom line. Excellent way to check out Philadelphia. Easy access to fine art and cheesesteaks. Big question mark as to what the weather will be like.
Yuengling Shamrock Marathon, Virginia Beach, VA, March 2009
This was a very exciting marathon for me personally because I ran the whole way and finished in under four hours (3 hours, 57 minutes, 1 second, in case you need to know for your detailed records on my progress). I know, running the whole time in a marathon doesn’t seem like such a huge accomplishment. Isn’t that just what you’re supposed to do? It is, but it was a first for me. Having run the whole race and finished without any United States military intervention (more details on that later), I felt like this was my first marathon that didn’t have any footnotes or require any “yeah, but” kind of caveat. Breaking four hours in a marathon is sort of a big deal in a rookie kind of way. It’s like beating someone at golf because you have a 25 handicap, or getting to take home the game ball from a junior varsity football game.
Thumbs up. The route: Flat as a pancake, pretty, with a five mile stretch along a boardwalk right on the ocean and another long stretch through some dense forests, and lots of shopping (if you were in the market for beachwear, a piercing or a tequila shot). Bizarre signs: There were signs all along the course with random tidbits like “how do they get teflon to stick to the pan” and “man who go through airport turnstile sideways always going to Bangkok.” Odd, but they made me chuckle. Names printed on race bibs: Great touch, since it meant that spectators could yell out runners’ names without the runners having to be all vain and writing their names on their shirts themselves.
Thumbs down. McDonalds as a corporate sponsor: I get it; you have to get cash where you can, but really, McDonalds? Don’t get me wrong; McDonalds is one of my favorite restaurants in the world. But they couldn’t settle with just throwing their logo on the tee shirt. They had a whole exhibit at the pre-race expo extolling the nutritional virtues of McDonalds food as a component of marathon training. And that just doesn’t even pass the laugh test. Executive finish line seating: For $60 per person, you could get into a luxury tent with reserved seating at the finish line. Nice to have some food waiting for you when you get done, but how about a little we’re-all-in-this-together team spirit? It’s kind of a shame to have to filter out the hoi polloi in what should be a nice communal event.
Bottom line. As flat a course as is physically possible. Lots of places to get a tattoo.
Japan Airlines Marathon, Honolulu, HI, December 2008
I injured myself in connection with this marathon. Not during the marathon itself, but on the last day of our vacation when I ran down a nice sandy beach into the ocean, only to discover that the “nice sandy” component of the beach turned into “big damn rocks” right when you entered into the water. I banged both of my heels on the rocks, couldn’t walk normally for two weeks and had to get checked out by an orthopedist. None of this had anything to do with the marathon, of course, but it demonstrates the point that you don’t have to be the sharpest knife in the drawer to run a marathon. The Honolulu marathon starts at 5AM on Waikiki Beach, goes up the base of Diamond Head volcano and up and down the southern coast of Oahu. The foremost concern of the organizers is that the heat will be too much for the slovenly mainlanders and that half the runners will drop dead before finishing. The heat wasn’t bad for the first part of the race because it was pouring rain. When the rain stopped and the temperature and humidity rose to 80 degrees and 100 percent, respectively, it got tough. It was impossible to drink enough water or to get my NipGuards to stay on (I’m not going to get into what those are right now; here’s a link to the website if you must know: http://www.nipguards.com) and I swear some weird native fungus kind of thing had already started to grow in my shoes by the time I got to the finish line.
Thumbs up. It’s Hawaii: How could anything not be completely wonderful when you’re in Hawaii? If I were a garbage man, or a leper, or in prison, I am positive that I would still be happy if I were in Hawaii. So, the race organizers had a pretty easy task here. The runners were going to love the race no matter what. Plus, what could possibly be cooler when you mention in an off-handed kind of way that you’re training for a marathon, and someone says, “where?”, and you get to say, “in Hawaii”? Just doesn’t get any better than that. Fireworks at the start line: Very inspiring to run through them right as you begin the race (also a bit strange, the start line being about a mile from Pearl Harbor). Barack Obama and family: Barack’s little sister spoke before the start of the race, and he and the rest of the family got into town the day we were leaving Hawaii. We didn’t get to see him, but it was fun to know that had he actually been watching the race and seen me go by, the new president would surely have been jumping up and down yelling, “yeah Dan, looking strong, you da MAN!”
Thumbs down. Tour groups: A huge portion of the runners were a part of tour groups. From what I could tell, they signed up for tours that included airfare, accommodations, bus transportation to the start line, an official commemorative, collectible photo and probably a continental breakfast. And it looked like most of these people had not trained at all. A huge number of people finished in over eight hours. Now I don’t mean to be a snob here, but eight hours is really a long time. There’s no shame in having to walk at some point during a marathon, but there should be a little shame when you have to start walking at around mile 6 (ugh, well, just 20.2 more miles to go). On the other hand, my percentile ranking was higher than in any other race I had done. Same philosophy as hanging out with fatter people if you want to look skinnier. If you want to feel fast, run in a marathon where most of the other “runners” are walking.
Bottom line. It’s in Hawaii, and Hawaii is the best place on Earth. Not the most inspiring crowd, but see previous sentence.
Marine Corps Marathon, Washington, DC, October 2007
The Marine Corps marathon is huge. Something like 40,000 people run it each year. As advertised, it’s run by the Marines so, as you can imagine, it is, logistically, the tightest ship you’re ever going to see. Never in my life have a seen as straight and smooth-moving a line of people as the line for the shuttle bus to the start line. And the good men and women of the United States military were nothing but helpful to me when my legs gave out and I collapsed about 20 feet from the finish line (yes, 20 FEET). The way I remember the situation, a few Marines ran right over, helped me up, shoved me off and watched as I took the last few steps to the finish line. Not so. And I can’t just lie about it, because the whole thing was documented by video and posted on the Washington Post website (stupid finish line webcam). Turns out, I flopped across the finish line with my arms draped over the shoulders of two soldiers. Not the most noble way to end a race, but nice to know that the military has got my back covered.
Thumbs up. The course: Very scenic, and you really know you’re in the capital of the United States. The route takes you through Georgetown, across the Potomac River twice and past just about every major monument in the city. The runners: Just the sheer number of people running in the race is inspiring. It being run by the Marines, there are a lot of people running in full uniform, including combat boots, and carrying flags and big backpacks. Makes you feel like a big wimp wearing shorts and running shoes. The high-tech timing chips: As with most races, each runner has a shoe chip that records the runner’s time at various intervals along the course. The technology for this race went one step further, sending out status update emails throughout the race. Sounded cool, but because of some kind of glitch, the emails didn’t go out until about two hours after they were supposed to. I hope they don’t use the same system to track, say, the arrival of troops in Fallujah.
Thumbs down. Soul: Not the most heartfelt atmosphere. It felt like what it was, an event put on by the military. Sort of the running equivalent of the scene in Spinal Tap when the army liaison is showing the band around the air force base before their gig. Or what I imagine a folk festival would feel like where Dick Cheney and Donald Rumsfeld were the social planners. Clothing swag: One of the primary reasons people run marathons – second only to the personal satisfaction of completing a 26 mile run – is the free tee shirt you always get. A typical running wardrobe is made up almost entirely of wicking tech fabric running shirts that show off to other runners what big events you’ve completed. The Marine Corps Marathon shirt last year was a brown, cotton, long sleeve turtleneck. Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but what’s that all about? Extra protection in case you get trapped in your car overnight after sliding off the road into a snow bank?
Bottom line. Impeccably organized. Not a lot of soul. Great way to explore the nation’s capital.
KeyBank Vermont City Marathon, Burlington, VT, May 2007, May 2008
This was the first marathon I ran, and the best, at least in terms of atmosphere. I liked it so much I came back for a second go the next year. The town of Burlington exudes a wonderful vibe of Vermont college town hippy-dippyness, which spills over into the marathon. The course weaves all through town, criss-crossing the downtown pedestrian mall several times, and it feels like every single person in town comes out to support the runners. Everyone along the course cheers in whatever individual way works best – beating on a cowbell or on some pots and pans, playing in a jam band, dressing up like a gorilla or a transvestite. Anything and everything. There is music everywhere along the route. A 30 person Japanese drumming group sets up next to the biggest hill of the race, providing some extra motivation right when needed most. People set up chairs in their front yards to cheer and pass out orange slices and spray the runners with garden hoses. It’s a whole continuous hodge-podge of weirdness, and it’s great!
Thumbs up. Spirit: This event is really from the heart. It’s much less corporate than any of the other races I’ve run in and, as a runner, you feel like the town is genuinely excited that you’re there. And for originality points, there’s a relay team that runs the race every year dressed in a full-body banana suit (in warmer years, I wouldn’t be too excited to be the last guy to have to zip into said sweaty banana suit). Scenery: Lots of great views of Lake Champlain, the center of Burlington and some of the hilly surrounding areas. Music: Good tunes everywhere, and all over the map. Hillbilly bluegrass, hippy jam band, Japanese drumming, DJ house grooves, kids banging on pots and pans. Very appropriate for the town that produced Phish.
Thumbs down. None! This is an all around great marathon. The only potential danger is that, if you have any inclination towards off-the-grid hippydom, you might drop out of the race around mile 18, move in with some University of Vermont drop-outs and spend the rest of your life working on a goat cheese farm and just chillin’ out. You meet a lot of people in Burlington who came to town for a weekend visit and then somehow let twenty years slip by.
Bottom line. Fun, enthusiastic and organic. A little hilly. Will make you want to drop off the grid.
