Last week in Pittsburgh

Now that our life in Pittsburgh is coming to a close, a new marathon cycle has started. This week, Steffi and I started training for the Amsterdam Marathon in October, a fitting choice give our new (and for me old) country. I foolishly shipped off Daniels' running formula with the rest of our stuff, so I will have to reconstruct the schedule from old training logs.

The last two Wednesdays I didn't need a training schedule, because Wayne, one of the runners of the Wednesday running group, gave us some track workouts. This was quite fun to do, especially because I typically don't run the sort of distances (200/300/400 meters) that Wayne let us do. Most marathon coaches don't incorporate those in marathon schedules, but who cares when it is fun! This week is officially the first week of training, so I did 16 miles on Sunday, a short run on Monday, the track workout on Wednesday, and 9 miles today. With a 15-ish long run in the weekend that will be a respectable first week.

I still have to build back my speed: the mile that Wayne let us do on Wednesday took me 6:29. Let's attribute that to all the 300's that we had to do before that.

Running in the Netherlands will be strange because there are no hills at all. Hill training is something you receive naturally in Pittsburgh, so I wonder whether there are any opportunities at all, or whether future hilly marathons will all be miserable. At least Amsterdam will be flat.

2009 Buffalo Marathon – Sweet Revenge and Waterguns (by Steffi)

Background: I knew I could do better than my 4:18 in Pittsburgh. Yes, I'd had a cold, but mainly I had an attitude problem: Instead of embracing the misery and toughing it out, I whined and pouted. In retrospect, I can only shake my head at myself. Once the last symptoms of the cold were gone, I felt ready to redeem myself in another marathon. Niels assured me the training benefits would still be there, and I took his word for it.
We decided to run the Buffalo marathon on May 24, which is also our wedding anniversary.

I didn't ask him to run with me, but he volunteered. (Really, he did.) To summarize Niels's recent running achievements: He ran three marathons in one month. That's Boston on April 20, Pittsburgh on May 3rd, and Buffalo on May 24 – two days after his return from the Netherlands. What a machine!

Goal: Run the whole thing, don’t stare at Garmin, don't get angry at Garmin, don't get angry at mile markers, and enjoy the experience.

Special Feature: Come catch the magic at Buffalo: enjoy the fabulous pre-race pasta dinner! It is seriously the nicest and best pasta dinner I know. Grab mysteriously yummy Spaghetti & meatballs in a church community center and listen to the race director's enthusiastic speeches! Everything is oddly perfect: The meat is firm and perfectly seasoned, the pasta is al dente and there's just the right amount of it on the plate, the salad is crisp, the cookies are sweet, the soda is sparkling, and volunteers refill the little parmesan bowls. All of that – for free!

I should add that I've participated at the Buffalo Marathon three times: 2007 as spectator, 2008 as half-marathoner, and now, 2009, as marathoner. And the pasta dinner was perfect every single time. Better than the endless lines in Boston! Better than the bizarre multi-dimensional crowd-control challenge in NYC! And...this exhausts my comparisons.

Race. First half. About 800 runners did the marathon, and many more did the relays and the half marathon. It's a good-sized race, but still nicely informal: Walk from the hotel to the start, line up – no big deal.

The usual pushing and weaving at the start...I don't mind it. It's nice to take it out slowly, and before we know it we're on a slightly uphill street that will eventually lead us to the harbor area. For now, we trot upwards. The Buffalo marathon is supposedly flat. A lie, but hey, who wants to obsess over details? There are some long uphill stretches.

Also, I'm running the first mile in six minutes – according to my Garmin. Unfortunately (or fortunately), this is because the little timepiece is so scared and confused by all the skyscrapers, and desperately tries to hold on to the bounced-around satellite signal. I would guess the first mile was probably 9:15. I'm mostly ignoring the Garmin for the rest of the race. (See below.)

Overheard conversation: One old guy to another: "I should be going at 10 min/ mile pace" (huff, puff) "...but I'm figuring I'll put some money in the bank..." Let's hope the bank had a good interest rate.

We continue to take it very easy. Running feels good. It's overcast and slightly warm/ muggy. At some point (mile 6?), I manage to lose Niels at a water station and stand a bit by the wayside, watching and waving.

The first gel. Ew. Funny how you never get used to that slimy stuff. Still, it's necessary.

There's a similarity between Pittsburgh and Buffalo, in that the first half of the course, which is also the half-marathon course, is rather unattractive compared to the second. Halfers, you're missing the show! Okay, Buffalo's first half has a nice stretch along Lake Erie, but it also has some dubious stretches through a ghost town with abandoned factory halls and...I don’t even remember. Parking lots? Highway overpasses?

It starts raining...luckily, since it takes away some of the ominous thunderstorm atmosphere.

And, of course, the need for a port-a-potty comes up at around mile 10. I also find one, but when I try the door I hear dangerous slimy kraken sounds inside. I quickly escape, not interested in the details.

One sweet moment though, when we pass a church. A monk and the priest/ minister stand outside and cheer us on, offer their high fives, etc., and they're wearing robes!

As we approach downtown Buffalo, which is also the halfway point/ half-marathon finish, there are more crowds, and they're amazing. As are the volunteers. Seriously, the first half of the course might have its depressing/ bizarre moments, but the spectators are so nice. Much appreciated.

Anyway, as the halfway point looms, we have to deal with being overtaken by the halfers who smell the finish and mount their final charge. It hurts to feel like a rock in the stream. Cruel: We're approaching the finish with them, hear the music, the announcer, etc., and then...when they get to go straight on, mere seconds away from being done...we have to take a turn. Onto yet another slightly uphill street. But there are women with oranges.

As soon as I see the citrus fruits, I'm seized by greed. I grunt something like "Hmmm, nom nom oranges yum" and grab some slices. The woman holding the basket smiles indulgently, yet again convinced that running is good for your sanity, I'm sure.

A quick glance at the Garmin reveals that we pass halfway in about 2 hrs, which is fairly slow, but as a reward I still feel very good. So does Niels. At this point in the Pittsburgh marathon I hated everything. I mean it. Everything and everyone everywhere, ever. Now I'm far from it. So far, I'm liking the "running by perceived effort" approach, even though, as I tell Niels, we probably won’t break four hours (the original goal for Pittsburgh).

Second half. We continue through nice residential areas of Buffalo. Many old red brick buildings, of which I always approve. At mile 15, things start to become slightly unpleasant, but it's still possible to ignore the fatigue for longer stretches of time.

At some point, we leave the shady neighborhoods and run along a cemetery. More hills, and no shade – the sun is coming out, and sending us a nice greeting card saying "there's more where that came from." We make our way up yet another "gentle slope", and Niels shares his personal trauma. During his last Buffalo marathon (2008) he was overtaken by a guy in a pink tutu. Pink tutu man toyed with him for a while, staying about 100 m in front, but "right here," Niels says as we approach an underpass, "right here, the pink tutu man put the hammer down." His escape demoralized Niels.

There's no pink tutu man today, but sun, sun, so much sun.

Mile marker #17 - this is where I gave up in Pittsburgh. Mile marker # 17 gets the evil eye and a soft hiss.

A port-a-potty is standing on a hill, so lonely and monolithic. Time to finally take care of business. It should have been a matter of seconds; however, the roll of toilet paper is giving me trouble. There is no loose tissue. The toilet paper roll is a closed system. It's impossible to free a sheet from its perfectly smooth surface. So in the end I'm standing in an overheating, smelly brown plastic port-a-potty pawing at a roll of toilet paper. The marathon: A metaphor of the human condition.

And we run the tangents in the sun...

Mile marker # 18! Somehow it feels significant. A man opened all his car doors and is playing loud music for us, the sweaty crazy people:
She's a brick! House!
Mighty mighty, letting it all hang out.
Yeah she's a brick! House!
The lady's stacked, that's a fact, ain't holding nothing back.

Special feature II: Kids with water guns! We're leaving the cemetery / park for a while and enter an enchanted, rich, succulent neighborhood. More water, Gatorade, and oranges are offered, and then these angelic kids appear. "Water?" Out of reflex, we say, "yes!" and they give us a shower with their water guns. How perfect! And they aren't the only ones with this bright idea. Everywhere, people are standing in their front yards, ready to hose down/ gently mist the runners. Much weaving ensues as I zigzag between showers and orange baskets, feeling like a human hoover depleting the citizens of Buffalo of their citrus fruit and water resources.

Niels: "The Big Two Oh." Now things are definitely unpleasant. But Niels also points out that the only people overtaking us are relay runners, who are still fresh. So things are okay within the parameters.

Still, the legs are getting heavy. It feels as if we slow down, but post race-analysis of our mile splits reveals that we're running at approximately the same pace all the time (excepting potty adventures). The most logical explanation: Inertia. The muscles are locked in a certain pattern and won’t stop until they just...can't...go...on...anymore.

No memory of miles 21, 22, and 23. At mile marker 24, the voice makes its first appearance. It's a perfectly reasonable, cheerful voice basically telling me that we put in a great effort so far, and that it would be perfectly fine to walk the rest. Niels encountered that same voice in his Berlin marathon, so I'm prepared for it and try to ignore it. However, it is a very, very compelling voice.

And another uphill...past a church. Spectators claim that this is the last hill, and then they laugh. Are they mocking us? Or is the laughter a hallucination? More and more resources are diverted from the brain and pumped into the already heavy, heavy legs.

All the time I'm waiting for the "real wall" to hit us, or at least me – that point where you bonk so thoroughly that you have to shuffle the rest. It's not coming, but some slow attrition is definitely happening. I shudder at the thought of how I would feel right now had I run just a little faster in the beginning. I have no idea how we're doing time wise, but it feels decent.

Mile marker # 25! Wow! This is basically it! Everyone can run one more mile. Har har.

I actually had high hopes for mile 26. Niels told me it's downhill on Delaware, which is true, however, he also mentioned a breeze, which is absent. Also, we are running towards a fountain with an obelisk in the middle, and the fountain has the astounding ability to retreat from us the faster we run. It's true!

A glimpse at the Garmin, and then total failure at mental arithmetic. Can we break four hours? Maybe. I speed up a bit. Niels, ever faithful, picks up the signal and cheerfully shifts gears, setting a brisk pace. Meanwhile, I quickly discarded my "sub 4 hypothesis," because going faster feels wrong. I try to slow down, but of course Niels can't see that. In his perception, he's gallantly pacing me to a strong finish. In my own perception, he's running away from me, and I incompetently try to keep up with him. I'm now convinced that my legs will give out, and that I'll throw up and fall flat on my face into a puddle of my own vomit.

As we are poised to breach the four-hour barrier of the marathon (or not), my thoughts obviously shift to my current favorite book, "The Perfect Mile," which details how Roger Bannister first broke four minutes for the distance. Among other things (such as, oh, actual speed), he had, apparently, the courage to "run into extinction." Surely I could exhibit the same courage as we approach our own sort-of-similar barrier (well, it has the number four in it, right)?

Nah. Not today. I so wish I could tell Niels to slow down, but I lost my voice. So he keeps doing the heroic strong finish, and I hobble after him. Mercifully, he eventually notices my lack of a finishing sprint and slows down so we can finish together. Now the obelisk is ahead of us. His mood is splendid. "Now we only have to take the roundabout, and then the last stretch..."

I hiss back: "Shut up." Of course, he knows what it's like and takes it in good cheer.

Someone at the roundabout (mile marker # 26) says: You did the 26 miles. Now it's only the final .2!" Somehow, this cheers me up. Whatever happens now, it won’t take long.

The finishing straight. Loud music: "You ain't seen nothing yet." True! And there's again the horrifying perspective of falling flat on my face in front of all these people. The finish, as always, is further away than it should be! But when we do cross the finish line, it feels great! And there are more oranges!

Final time: 4 hours and 3 seconds – sweet! First half 9:04 min/ mile average pace, second half 9:01 minute/ mile average pace, and mile 26 was the fastest, despite my unwillingness to run into extinction!

How to spend your fifth anniversary...

On the day that Steffi and I were married five years, I found myself running another marathon. Is my marriage in jeopardy? You can see the standard story: "What, you are running another race at our anniversary? What is more important to you, running or me?". But this is not the standard story.
As you can read in this report, Steffi and I ran the Pittsburgh marathon three weeks earlier. It was her first marathon, she had trained very hard for it, and although she finished, she was not happy about it. During the week after the race we tried to come up with reasons why (including me darting around her with a camera a snapping pictures of her, thereby breaking her concentration), but the reason that made most sense to me was that she was recovering from a cold, and that the cough she still had prevented proper oxygen uptake. If she would have been experienced with the distance, she would have slowed down right at the beginning, but instead she stuck to a pace that normally would have worked for her, but not on this day. The days after the race she recovered so quickly that I was convinced that the cold had held her back, and not lack of training or stamina.
So, Steffi came up with the idea to pull a "Kara Goucher", and run another marathon within a couple of weeks. Kara Goucher wanted to run the London marathon a week after her third place finish in Boston (with which she was unhappy), which she called "a 20 mile training run followed by a 10k race". That idea floated around for a couple of days before it was vetoed by Salazar, her coach.
To make a long story short, and not having Salazar around, this is how I found myself at the starting line of the Buffalo marathon at our fifth anniversary, a race that I had run last year thinking it would definitely the last time I would find myself in Buffalo.

Now, running Buffalo with Steffi would be a gamble. If she would avenge herself for her performance in Pittsburgh, and run a good race, all would be well, and the spring season would have a satisfactory conclusion. But consider the alternative: another race where the majority of the distance is pain and wishing it would be over might crush Steffi's marathon aspirations, and by extension her joy in running in general and motivation to work on the book about running she is writing. Picture the situation in half a year where running is associated with pain, displeasure and failure, and I have to defend myself for going out for a lengthy long run... Yes, maybe the results of this day were a crucial test.

The Start and first Half

Strategy for the first half: go slow. Run easy. Don't look at the time. Fortunately the race cooperated with that in two ways. First, we lined up in the middle of the pack, which turned out the be very slow. That ensured that there was no way we could run too fast in the first five miles or so. Second, the high-rise buildings in downtown Buffalo messed up everyone's Garmins (one could hear the cursing all around us), making an accurate assessment of speed impossible. The course of the first half of the race was changed compared to last year because some bridge was blocked. One advantage was that there were fewer out-and-back-again stretches in the first half, but one section of "industrial tristesse" as Steffi calls it was just replaced by a different section of industrial tristesse. In one sense Buffalo is similar to Pittsburgh: the first half goes through industrial wasteland while the second goes through nice neighborhoods. Poor half-marathoners!

Despite the uninspiring landscape (with the exception of the stretch along the water and the rounding of the ugliest lighthouse in the world), the first half went pretty smoothly, the weather was still nice and cool, and Steffi still felt pretty good approaching the half-way point. At least the first half was going better than Pittsburgh. Around us the half-marathoners were preparing themselves for their final stretch, either by picking up speed or collapsing all together, but just before their finish we had to take a right turn, and suddenly we found ourselves with just a hand-full of others around us (there were about 900 marathoners, but 2300 half-marathoners).

The second half

I don't think they even had a 13.1 mile marker, but if they had, I must have missed it. I did notice that it was around 2 hours into the race that we passed the approximate half-way point, so we were doing quite well. Of course, this meant nothing, because we also came through in 2 hours in Pittsburgh. What was more important was that Steffi was still feeling good at this point. After the half-way point the dark downtown street opened up into a very nice residential street with bright houses. Although there was not much crowd support, the people that were there gave us orange slices (very nice), and later on sprayed us with garden hoses (even nicer!).

Although earlier on it has been cool, clouded, and rainy, now the sun came out to challenge us. We now had to drink at every aid station (sometimes two cups), and were looking for any shadow on the course we could get. Nevertheless, we made steady progress, and when we reached mile 17, Steffi visibly brightened up and said that she was now ready for the rest (Mile 17 in Pittsburgh was where we could have taken a right turn into our street). Because we were running a pretty even pace we overtook many people, which is always mildly motivating to keep going at that pace. Still, the going was tough with the sun beating down on us, and the occasional hill looked steeper than it was (I recognized the one where the Pink Tutu man had struck a fatal blow to me last year). Between mile 22 and 23 I started to feel pretty beaten myself, and Steffi declared that she was hitting the wall. Fortunately, it must have been a cotton-ball wall, because she didn't slow down, but kept going at the same pace. Finally, the course turned onto Delaware street, and the obelisk that marked the 26th mile was visible in the distance. Although we were picking up the pace now (Delaware has a gently downwards slope), the obelisk didn't want to become bigger! Eventually it did, though, so we rounded it, ran the last couple of corners, and there was the finish!

We came in with a finishing time of 4:00:03, a considerable improvement of two weeks ago, and more importantly, we had run the whole distance without walking. I think our marriage is safe for at least another five years.

Pittsburgh Marathon race report (by Steffi)

Pittsburgh Marathon is a great race, even though my own experience was kind of a bummer -- Steffi's marathon race report!

Don't worry – I'm only going to hog Niels's blog space for one entry; he'll be back for more amazing conquests. The Pittsburgh marathon was my first, and Niels proposed to pace me (two weeks after Boston). So I thought I'd be the one to write the race report this time.

Well, to get the unpleasantness out of the way: I felt crappy starting at ca. mile 5, wanted to drop out at mile 17 (the point when the marathon course ventures ever so close to our house...), and in the end had to alternate running and walking to be able to finish at all. My training and previous races had let me to believe I could easily beat four hours; in the end I finished in 4:18. I still had a lingering cold – maybe that was it. It was just a bad race, period.

In the end, though, I'm glad I didn’t drop out, because the Pittsburgh marathon is a great race, especially in the second half! I would have missed out on the amazing spectators and bands, the orange slices, the music along the course, a tour of Pittsburgh neighborhoods, and the overall extremely generous and uplifting crowd support. There were cheerleaders along the course, children, musicians (not just the "official" bands, but people who apparently felt the need to bring out their yellow plastic trumpets and guitars to cheer us on), and so much more. Truly, when people raved about the great crowds at Pittsburgh, I had no idea. The marathon has been on hiatus for a while, and this year is back for the first time – I'm sure it will stay around! And, of course, I would have missed out on the opportunity of running a race with Niels, even though it was, at times, closer to creeping a "race" with Niels. But he was there for me during a potentially nasty experience, and not only that, he had enough energy to skip back and forth and make great photos of the experience. (Crazy man.) What a day. So, while the following might be a tale of misery at times, I hope it also conveys some of the excitement and the fun of running the "City of Bridges." I can only recommend this race!

Well, if you can get through the relatively lame first part. Heh.

It's also worth noting that Niels and I were grateful to be able to run the marathon at all. A couple of days ago, we found out, via the Runner's World website, that Elizabeth DiNunzio, a young woman who was also training for Pittsburgh, had been struck by a car and died while running her last training run. She had just turned 22. Pittsburgh would have been her first marathon. I know I thought about her a lot during the race, and I'm sure Niels did, too. We saw many people running in her memory – more on that below.

Here are the details:

Start:

Not feeling too bad. After a moment of silence, a young woman gives a beautiful rendition of "God Bless America." Officially, this is to honor fallen heroes of the city of Pittsburgh, but I have to think of Elizabeth DiNunzio (see above), maybe because of the woman's young, angelic voice.

After that: vile techno trash. Everyone is excited. Bill Rodgers has a few words to say, and we're off.

The first miles: Strip District

No one in the neighborhood is awake yet. I'm not feeling great at all. Dave Sobal, a running friend, manages to spot us and shoot a flattering photo. Niels is running ahead with his infuriatingly effortless Boston speed and takes more photos. We pass Penn Mac and "the Kettlecorn place" (no idea what it's called, but their Kettlecorn is yummy...).

Miles 4 – 8. North Side.

I have to admit: I'm not feeling it. Fairly boring neighborhood. Someone close to me exclaims: "Wow, check out that concrete mixer!" This to give you an idea of the thrilling industrial tristesse.

And just when the grey, humid, oppressive start to the race gets really obnoxious, the course turns around tightly, and the turnaround point is packed with people carrying signs like "You Inspire Us."


Wow. It strikes me as so generous of them, to stay out there and make signs, pom-poms, etc. just to encourage us. THANK YOU!

I feel guilty about being the seething pit of bitterness that I am, but I feel really bad already.

Miles 9 - 12. Carson Street, Birmingham Bridge

A glimpse at the Garmin (GPS-powered pace-keeping watch thingie). Crap. Considering how slow we're going (slightly faster than 9 min/ miles, normally not a problem) I shouldn't feel so exhausted. Also, more industrial tristesse. Sweat.

I think it is at this point that we encounter one of the pace leaders for the half-marathon who seems to have misjudged her daily dose of Prozac/ Ecstasy/ Meth/ Crack/ all of the above. Here a brief excerpt from her never-ending stream of "encouraging" cheers: "Wow! Oh yeah! So, now we're at mile such-and-so , so it's time to take your goooooo, your jellybellys, or whatever it is you do nutritionally, and remember to stay hydrated, folks and WEEEEEEEE!!!!! WOOOOOOO!!!!! Are you feeling great ?! We all live in a yellow submarine (woot woot), yellow submarine, yellow submarine....you are my sunshine, my only sunshine...."

Niels and I look at each other and decide to put in a surge.

The Birmingham Bridge is unnecessarily high, I find. A veritable hill in itself! Feeling really bad now, and we're not even half way. Girls cheer us on: "Own the bridge!" I feel bad about my inability to comply.

This is really odd. I would have expected to feel like this by mile 21, but not mile 12.

Oakland – The Hill, Forbes, Craig St.

Enter the only major hill on the course: The ascent into Oakland via Forbes Ave. Unpleasant, but normally not a problem. Normally. It bothers me that the end of the hill doesn’t feel good at all, I'm just getting more and more tired. When Niels asks a question and I try to answer, I'm really short of breath and my voice sounds weird, which leads me to believe it's the cold after all. My legs are just tree trunks filled with lactate. Really odd. We're still on pace, but this should feel easy, and it doesn’t.

On the upside, this is where the course becomes really exciting. People are out in droves and welcome us to Oakland. I think they're playing Dancehall, and they put up a "Welcome to Oakland" sign, which is very cool. We pass Pitt and CMU. Of course, this is a neighborhood we know very well, and it feels good to be on familiar ground.

Shadyside: Walnut St., Fifth Ave (Miles 14, 15)

Sane people go shopping here. I longingly look at J. Crew, Banana Republic, various cafés. What was the point of marathoning again?

And why did I never notice that this entire stretch is uphill? Or am I hallucinating?

This is one of the most charming parts of Pittsburgh, and people again are out en masse to offer their support.

Miles 16, 17: Point Breeze, Penn Ave.

This is "our" neighborhood. In fact, our street is a side street of Penn. In a short time, we will pass it. I will be able to take a right instead of going straight on, walk down a few blocks, and be home. In bed.

In fact, I have been fantasizing about this since the Birmingham Bridge: I'd tear off my number and stomp off the course. After all, this is pointless. There's no way I can stay on goal pace for 26.2 miles, because I'm already hurting, and it seems we're already veering off pace.

For the last couple of miles, my thoughts were very negative. And very eloquent. "I hate this. This sucks. This is pointless. I hate this. I feel bad..." etc. These negative thoughts don't make me particularly proud. In movies, people usually find some touching memories or words of wisdom to draw strength from, but I'm just annoyed.

We pass Penn & Linden, where we're expecting Dawn Garand and her daughter Kristi (also running friends) to cheer for us. I don’t look, though, because, and this is sort of sad, I really don't feel as if I could muster a smile, and I don't want to give them the evil eye, which has nothing to do with them, anyway.

Once we're (supposedly) out of their sight, I tell Niels I want to drop out.

He doesn't know what to say, since he doesn’t know how serious my problems are. I'm not sure myself. It could just be a temper tantrum.

We agree that I would be really disappointed if I dropped out now.

I also think back on a card I got from Lyn Krynski, where she said: "It might be raining, it might be humid, but what the hell, have a spectacular race day tomorrow!" So I thought, what the hell, it might not be my dream race, but let's finish.

Niels and I agreed to walk a bit, then run a mile, walk a bit, run a mile, etc. to the finish. It's a great relief.

At the corner to our street, volunteers are handing out spatulas with Vaseline. One of our neighbors is among them. I wonder what she thinks about runners now.

Homewood/ East Liberty

Music. Lots of music. At one corner, people played steel drums along with a James Brown recording. Someone (I didn't see whether it was "live" or on the record) played the "Ride of the Valkyrie" on the trumpet. (This was at a place called "Food, Glorious Food.") A young boy looked at me, stared intensely, and claimed, "You're doing excellently." Elsewhere are high school cheerleaders and bands, or just people sitting on their front steps or porches to tell us things like, "You go, big man," or even "You're part of history."

Alternating running and walking feels a bit embarrassing at first, but I probably wouldn’t have noticed any of the details mentioned above without walking! We're making slow and steady progress.

We're also meeting the first runner running in honor of Elizabeth DiNunzio, the student who was hit by a car and died while training for the marathon. It's great to see her name on the course. The news quickly spread through the online running community, and many people today are running for Elizabeth.

Highland Park (Miles 20, 21, 22)

Thing calm down a bit, but it's a beautiful neighborhood as well. This is the place where "normal" runners hit the wall. I don’t notice anything out of the ordinary, having hit the wall at mile eight or so.

Bloomfield (Miles 22, 23, 24)

Hands down the highlight of the course.

Moment of utter bliss when we run down Liberty Ave. and hear a band do an insane version of "Long Train Running". A couple of old guys, and one of them really has a thing for his, erm, organ. Incredible. Also, there are still plenty of people in front and behind of us, so despite the run/walking we're still part of the race. A couple steps further and we're listening to another song, a Tom Petty cover, and after yet a couple more steps there's "Come on Eileen," and, unexpectedly, "New York, New York" ("Show them how we do it in Pittsburgh!"). People sit outside in the cafés or promenade along the course carrying trays with orange and apple slices or water cups – this in addition to the official water stations. We feel so loved!

We're also meeting "Team Liz," in red shirts, also running for Elizabeth DiNunzio. They have photos of her pinned to their shirts, as well as a brief explanation of her story. They look very young, perhaps they are classmates?

We're also leapfrogging a woman identifying herself as "Marianne, mother of six." She looks super fit. My guess: Ultrarunner. She's not very fast; we keep catching her every time we run, but she doesn't stop, she's just motoring forward. There's no doubt in my mind as to who's the better runner today.

The final stretch: Strip District once more

This is when people start shouting, "You're almost there!" It feels incredible. By mile 17, I had serious doubts whether I would be able to finish. Now we're almost done. And we're not *that* slow. Sure, slow compared to my initial goal time, but by no means catastrophically slow. No tears on the course, no injuries – instead lots of great music and friendly people. It's all good.

Close to the finish, we meet Wayne, who does a lot of sprinting. Does he think we're crazy? He has a certain twinkle in his eyes. Also, he sees us walking, and he can probably guess that this isn't Niels's fault. Still, we get the thumbs up from him (thanks!), and then it's the final mile to the finish, which is close to the start, next to the Allegheny River. The crowds are going crazy and keep telling us the finish is "just around the corner," and at some point, they're right. Niels and I cross the finish line hand in hand. And I just can't believe it's done!

Boston Marathon 2009 Race Report

Finally the big day was there: the "113nd Running of the Boston Marathon". Steffi and I had arrived the day before, and spend the day watching the invitational one mile, visiting the expo, and having pasta dinner in a restaurant near to the hotel (instead of the official pasta dinner). The weather forecast was looking good, with the exception of a strong Eastern wind that was going to pick up as the morning would progress.

In the early Monday morning, that wind was fortunately not very noticeable yet, but instead it was very foggy. Fog = no wind, so I had no complaints. A short subway ride (whose only other passengers also carried the characteristic yellow bags) brought me to the Boston Commons, where a long line of school busses was waiting to take us to Hopkinton, the start of the race. In the bus I sat next to a runner who is a teacher in the Coos Bay area in Oregon, the birth place of Steve Prefontaine. He told me that he has children in school whose fathers had run in highschool with Pre, and that running was still a big thing in the area.

Athletes Village

The bus ride went quite smoothly, and I therefore arrived three hours before the start of the race in "Athletes Village". I had a couple of things to do there: visit the Port-a-Potties, eat and drink something, and meet up with the fellow members of the West Pennsylvania Track Club, because I was a member of their Masters team. Food and drink was distributed everywhere, but for one station there was a very long line: the coffee.

Apparently recent news on the effectiveness of caffeine as a performance enhancing drug had reached many people.

Meeting up with the West Penn people turned out to be harder. We were supposed to meet at 8 am near the medical tent, but it turned out there were two medical tents. Moreover, I had only met one of the team before, and he wasn't there. In the end I did manage to meet up with Jim and Karl, and we made a photo in front of the "Welcome to Hopkinton" sign, which was dragged into Athletes Village for the occasion.

And then it was high time to move to the start, because while we were busy making the photos the announcers had been telling us for quite a while to get going. In the end I arrived in my corral only minutes before the start. I had hoped that the lower corral (5 instead of last year's 8) would allow me a view of the start, but unfortunately it was still hidden behind the hill. Anyway, one advantage of arriving late is not having to wait very long for

The Start

This was the first time I ran a marathon for the second time, so I finally had the advantage of knowing what would be ahead of me. The challenge of Boston is overcoming the particulars of the course. The first miles are roughly downhill, then there is a long stretch that is more or less level with rolling hills. By mile 15 there is a final plunge down, followed by four hills between mile 16 and 21. Then it is downhill and level to the finish in Boston.

My plan was to run as conservatively in the first part of the race, leaving as much energy as possible for the take on the hills, and then have enough left for the final 5 miles. Last year I just made it through the hills, but then ran out of steam on the final stretch. My goal pace for this race was 7:05 minutes/mile, and I was going to stick to that, and only run faster on the downhills. In previous marathons I had always initially run faster than goal pace, but then regretting it and ending up with so-called "positive splits": running the second half slower than the first. In my first marathon in Berlin I ran a 3:30 minute positive split, in Boston last year a positive split of 4:15, and in New York a positive split of 2:05 minutes.

The first miles

Running conservatively is almost a given in the first miles, because everyone is packed close together, and overtaking only takes up energy without giving much of a benefit. I treated the first mile as a warmup, because even though this is the most downhill mile of the course, I took me 7:28 minutes to run it. In the end this turned out to have been my slowest mile of the whole race. Although it took several more miles to be able to run my own pace at will, I was running with people with more or less the same pace as me, so once things spread out a bit, I had a couple of miles right on target: mile 2 in 6:55, mile 3 in 6:53, mile 4 in 6:53, and mile 5 in 7:02. This was all reasonably on schedule, because mile 2-4 were all net downhill, but mile 5 featured the first uphill. Although we were sent off by an enthusiastic Hopkinton crowd, the first part was rather quiet until we reached Ashland. The locals in Ashland were out in full force, with children offering water and oranges.

Train support!

The first part of a marathon is always so deceptive, because it just feels easy, and there is no real way of knowing how much you can coast along, and when to push a little for speed. Only the watch can tell you to what extend your real pace matches the goal pace, but even then factoring in the hills is not very easy. Anyway, it was time to enter Framingham, another charming Massachusetts village, and coming through we were very very slowly overtaken by a train that was riding parallel to the road. It was only a little bit faster than us runners, and it honked encouragingly. The weather at this point was fairly good: the temperature around 10 degrees and a milky sun. The only thing that was less optimal was a steady headwind (that would grow stronger as the race progressed).

Fortunately, with so many runners there is almost always someone to draft off, so all in all I was not hindered very much by the winds. I think at some point on this stretch I passed Team Hoyt, the father with his son in a wheelchair who are a well-known fixture of the race. After mile 5 the course pretty much leveled off, meaning that there were as many uphill as downhill parts. For the next seven miles I kept a steady pace with mile times of 6:56/7:03/7:01/7:01/7:04/7:05/7:02.

Wellesley

By now it was time for the scream tunnel, with the girls from Wellesley College screaming their lungs out and like sirens enticing men to stop and kiss them. Although... not just men, two girls had a big sign saying "We kiss lesbians". By this time I was starting to feel a bit nervous about my pacing strategy, because all the hard running was still to come and my relative conservative pacing left me no "money in the bank". The road now brought us into Wellesley proper, and the half-marathon point. After a mile of 7:08 (there was a slight uphill after the scream tunnel), I reached the 13.1 mile point in 1:32:14.

Although the race was half done distance wise, I still had no good clue where things were really going. The running was going well, the pace seemed ok, but what would the hills be like?

The Newton Hills

Two and a half miles after Wellesley the road took a deep plunge down to Newton Lower Falls. This downhill was so steep that is was almost uncomfortable to run. Immediately afterwards, at the 16 mile marker, the first unofficial Newton Hill (but according to some the worst of them all, although I don't agree) started. Now the challenge was really on. Strangely enough, I felt exhilaration climbing this first hill. I finally felt I could unleash myself with no reason to hold back, and it felt good to test my strength against arguably the longest but less steepest of the hills. I ran the miles before the hill in 7:00/7:03/6:58, and then the mile with the first hill in 7:07. In mile 18 we made the turn at the Newton fire station, right onto the second Newton Hill. Because this one was steeper, I had to delve a bit deeper in my reserves, but managed to keep the pace still feeling strong. My pace slowed slightly to 7:12, but I was

happy enough with that. Mile 19 was a mile without hill, so I picked up the pace to 7:01. Then in mile 20, the third hill loomed, short but steep, which did slow me down a little bit, but I still ran the mile comfortably in 7:14. There now was the 20 mile marker that is pictured in every Boston book or leaflet, signaling the final challenge: Heartbreak Hill. With people left and right of me walking, I pushed for the final bit of pace, and made it up, on step at a time. Time for mile 21: 7:14 minutes. I had survived the hills!

The final stretch

Last year I had also survived the hills reasonably well, but had run out of energy in the last miles. The challenge was not over yet, far from it! The backside of Heartbreak Hill gave a half mile downhill breather, but then it was back to business. Mile 22 in 6:58, good pace, but of course assisted by the downhill. Could I keep it up with the course flattening out? Then the strangest thing happened: my right leg suddenly started to limp, for no apparently reason at all! I didn't feel anything strange, my leg just didn't do anymore what it was supposed to do. The only thing I could think of was to give it a good shake. That seemed to help a bit, but unfortunately it was not the end of it, because briefly afterwards a cramp shot through my right calf. It subsided after a few seconds, but it did give be a scare, because I had already seen people at the side of the road pulling at their unwilling limbs. I didn't want to join them! Apart from this, the running actually went pretty well: I seriously started overtaking people now, including someone dressed up as

Captain America in a very warm suit. Fatigue was kicking in, and the scare of my misbehaving right leg, but mile 23 went by in 7:05, exactly goal pace. We now reached Cleveland Circle and turned into

Beacon street, and assisted by a very gradual downhill slope I ran mile 24 in 6:57. I would have felt very good about that time if it were not for the misbehaviors of my leg increasing in frequency. I had another limp that I again got under control with some leg shaking, and a few brief stabs of cramp in the calf. Now the end was really in sight: the Citgo sign at the 25.2 mile point was clearly visible. Just this long boring road along the train tracks. I plodded through it in 7:10, and there the Citgo sign loomed over the street, a slight uphill along Kenmore Square back in to Commonwealth, a last underpass, around the corner on Hereford Street, and there was the last stretch on Boylston Street with the finishing arches in sight. The last stretch! And only 200 meters before the finish my leg started limping again, no, not now, one more shake, and then it fortunately worked again to allow me to finish in style. Last 1.2 miles in 8:45, or a 7:08 pace.

My final time: 3:05:23, a new PR, and as fast as I could have hoped for. And... a positive split of only 55 seconds. I finally managed to run almost even splits!

After the finish

Drinking, drinking, eating, the silver cape, and being very very cold because of the wind, collecting the medal, and the long walk to the luggage bus. I was very satisfied, but also very tired and cold. And, as I discovered later, very salty in my face, and therefore every medical person asked me whether I was ok. I met up with Steffi (after wrapping myself in every piece of clothing in my luggage bag), and we watched more people finishing, which was very nice.

We saw the pink tutu man, and a group with Bill Rogers in it.
I think Steffi saw him, but I didn't. I thought about waiting for Steve Runner, but I got too cold, so we decided to go back to the hotel, where we watched the elites race on the laptop. The end of a perfect day!

A few more days before Boston

In two days Steffi and I will leave for Boston, leaving Sunday morning very early. Tomorrow I will run my last training run of just a couple of miles, while Steffi will still do a 15 mile long run, her first taper week before the Pittsburgh Marathon.

I just found the blog of running friend Dan. He also runs on Wednesday nights at CMU, except that he is currently stationed in Iraq. I am quite amazed how he manages to keep up running under quite adverse conditions. I wish him good luck with his training for the shadow LA half-marathon (check out his blog if you want to know what that is).

End of taper: always the crazy quiet before the storm. Now we just have to hope the weather will hold out: the forecast has been switching back and forth between showers and no showers. The temperature is supposed to be fine: somewhere in between 8 and 12 degrees. A prediction of a headwind though, but that was predicted for last year as well, but never happened. Current state: 10 degrees and cloudy, 24 km/hour Eastern wind. Sounds ok to me, apart from the wind. Better tuck in behind other runners, shouldn't be a problem...

Middle of Taper

Some people suffer from so-called taper madness, getting all itchy in the final three weeks before the marathon when the training intensity is winding down. Personally, I love it! With the reduced running volume every workout feels great. It feels well deserved after the last intense week of training that ended with the Just a short run 5k (see photo and report below) on Saturday, followed by 21.5 miles long on Sunday. Those 21.5 miles were very very long...

Boston is now just ten days away, last Wednesday was the last track workout, tomorrow the last long run, into the last week. I can't wait!