Race Report: Rock n’Roll Seattle Marathon

I’m trying to figure out why it’s taken me so long to write this race report. I think it’s because this marathon was the hardest one to date. Yes, I’ve only done three, but they should get a bit easier each time, right? Well, this race kicked my ass. I was dry-sobbing as I crossed the finish line (kind of like dry-heaving but less glamorous). My finish pictures look horrible (so, no I didn’t buy them). Let me take you through my journey.

Sadly, I can’t blame the weather for this race, at least not entirely. The forecast all week called for 19 degress Celcius and sunshine. What we got was about 16-17 degrees and overcast. I didn’t really notice the humidity at the time, but thinking about it now, I did sweat a lot more than I usually do. I also drank a lot more, but I think I actually got sodium depleted (more on this later).

I will say one thing for the Rock n’Roll races. They know how to rock a start line. We were in corrals, basically a staggered start, organized by estimated finish time. In a fit of what could only be pathological optimism, I put my estimated finish time at 4:30:00, which put me in Corral 21. (My friend, Jen, who put in an estimated time of 4:15:00 was in Corral 11. Huh!) Anyway, there was fun music playing even before the start and the announcers were full of energy, cracking jokes and getting participants to do the wave, and yell and scream, so it seemed more like a party than a race. This was good because my corral didn’t even reach the start line until about 30 minutes after the gun went off (more about this later).

The race started in Tukwila, about 10 miles south of downtown Seattle, in the middle of an industrial area. Not very picturesque. I took pictures of the start line, but my son deleted them from my phone. Both the half marathon and the marathon started at the same time, so the starting area was packed. My corral started down the street and around the corner from the start line, and I could not see the end behind me.

I absolutely refused to stand in the serpentine line-ups for the port-o-potties on the way to the start line, especially since I didn’t really need to go. I guess one of the advantages of starting in a later corral was that the lines dwindled once the gun went off, but I still had plenty of time to go before my corral reached the start.

I honestly don’t remember much of the first 6 miles of this race. I tried to start slow so I wouldn’t hit the wall, and I was actually feeling pretty good. My left hip was a noticeable but not bothersome; I forgot to take some Advil before the race, but I got some Tylenol from the med tent. I decided that if the hip/groin “thing” did not go away by the split-off point, I would turn off and do the half. I do remember that it went away by the 6 mile mark.

The one thing I did note was that there was a clock at every mile marker with the elapsed time. This started to psych me out a bit later on in the race because it was based on the gun time, about 33 minutes before I even started. It didn’t necessarily make me feel like I was slower, but a couple of times I thought I was further along than I was. Of course, by the end, I wasn’t even looking at the clocks anymore because I was so tired.

The sun came out at after the 6 mile mark, but it wasn’t hot yet. This part of the race was right along the water on Lake Washington Blvd. and it was really nice. Beautiful houses, a great view of the lake, and mostly downhill. The 7th mile was dedicated to the service men and women of the US Military, and it was very emotional for me. All along the route were pictures of people who had died in service. There were smiling men with their kids, and people who looked like they were barely out of high school. There were also military people handing out Gu and drinks. I was so inspired that I knew at this point I wasn’t doing the half.

Right after the split off point at the 9 mile mark was the Washington Lake Bridge. This was one of the worst parts of the route. It was about 1 1/2 miles long, cement, with no shade at all. The sun started feeling hot here, and I know it took a lot out of me. The first part was downhill, but the rest was a steady climb that seemed to take forever. There was also a wicked headwind the whole way to the turnaround. It was a bit easier after the turnaround, but I could feel the sun beating down on my neck the whole way.

Blessedly, right after that hellish bridge, we ran through a tunnel. I loved this part of the run, even though it was mostly uphill. It was much refreshingly cool, and it was fun to be running through a tunnel, since I never have before. Gotta love Seattle weather; as soon as I got out of the tunnel, the sun was gone. Then it was just an overpass and a bit until I was in downtown Seattle again.

I started to feel tired at this point, which was, after all the half-way point of the race. I looked at my Garmin and knew I wasn’t going to come in under 5 hours unless I did a negative split, and I still had the evil hill near mile 17 to contend with. I said the same to John when he met me at the 14 mile mark to trade water bottles on my fuel belt. After I left him, I headed for the longest there-and-back part of the race. It was also my downfall.

After downtown, we end up on the Alaskan Way viaduct, through another tunnel and onto Aurora Ave. Not long after the tunnel is when the really long, steep hill I was dreading came up. As with all things, it wasn’t nearly as bad as I dreaded and it definitely wasn’t the hardest part of the race. It did seem to be the never-ending hill that I couldn’t see the top of, but I managed to run almost the whole way. I took more walk breaks than usual, but really it could have been so much worse. Oh wait, it was.

As soon as I did reach the top of that hill, there was a blessed downhill on the Aurora Ave. bridge, although I was getting way too tired to make up much time on it. Right after the bridge was the turnaround. I think it took about an hour to get there, but it felt like a lot longer. Now I had to go up that hill I just went down and I just didn’t have it in me. I knew for sure that a 5 hour finish wasn’t going to happen (the 5 hour pace bunny passed me long ago), and I decided to just try to enjoy the rest of the journey, regardless of time. I also gave in and walked most the bridge back uphill (I probably couldn’t have run it any faster that I walked it, I think).

Right at the top of the hill, I started to wonder if I wasn’t sodium depleted. I had been drinking Gatorade and water, but I realized I had been sweating way more than at other races. I passed by a table with salt packets, emptied one into a cup of Gatorade and chugged it down. Within a couple of minutes I actually started to feel better. I knew at this point the rest of the race was mostly downhill, and I knew I only had 10k left to go. I made a mental note to try the salt/Gatorade trick earlier next race and actually did pretty well until I got back to the Alaska Way viaduct.

This last 5k was probably the toughest 5k of my entire life. Firstly, we passed right by Quest Field and the finish line, knowing we aren’t done. The street was right beside the train yard, so the scenery was non-existent. And the inside arch of my left foot became suddenly painful. So much so that I was actually worried I would have to drop out. I could barely put that foot down and it was all I could do not to start crying. I needed a distraction, and music just wasn’t cutting it.

I ended up listening to the end of a Two Gomers podcast, which I really think helped me to power through. Sadly, I also had to stop to use the port-o-potty at this turnaround because my stomach was cramping. Normally, I wouldn’t stop this close to the end, but I was a bit worried about a problem. I got out of the port-o-potty and stumbled back to the finish line. I actually felt like a zombie from a movie I was shuffling so slowly. But I was still moving.

The part of the race before the finish, we turn off the viaduct on-ramp back down to street level. You can see the finish line as you run down this ramp. But you still have to run a block down the street, turn left for a block and take another left for a block to get to the finish. I tried to pick up the pace a bit because I knew that I was almost done; I just wanted to be done. I finally crossed that line and I was so glad to be done I forgot to shut off my Garmin. Final official time 5:22:14. Almost as slow as my first, but I didn’t care.

I was supposed to meet John in the in the parking lot of Quest Field at the letter “O” but he met me just as I came out of the finish chute. This area wasn’t busy at all (one advantage of taking so long, I guess). As soon as I saw him I started to cry again. I have never cried so much during one race, not even after I finished my first marathon. This one was really tough!

I bet you’re asking yourself why I would put myself through this. The first reason? The sense of accomplishment. I took on something really hard, both mentally and physically, and I finished it. I’m so happy with myself for not giving up that my time is unimportant. The second reason? The bling!!!!

So now I have some questions I need to sort out, because the Victoria Marathon is only 3 months away, and the Las Vegas Marathon, for which I need to be able to finish in 4:30:00 or less, is only 5 months away. Do I run both fulls? Do I run the half (again) in Victoria and go for the full in Vegas? Or (what I’m tempted to do) do I do the full in Victoria and drop down to the half in Vegas so I don’t have to stress out so much about time and just have fun? I’ll keep y’all posted…