CHICAGO, October 24, 1999—The marathon holding the most exciting memories for me was Chicago in 1999. To put the year in perspective, I had just finished medical school in San Francisco in May, run a PR at the Rock ’n’ Roll Marathon San Diego less than 48 hours after my medical school graduation, and then run the Anchorage Marathon as my last hurrah, hours before I drove across the country to Dallas for my residency in internal medicine. I had trained for and run several marathons during medical school as a stress reliever and hoped to be able to continue to run during residency. However, I knew that having “matched” at probably the most demanding internal medicine program in the country, I would be lucky only to have time to run easily a few days of the week. After I arrived at the end of June and received my schedule for the next 52 weeks, I quickly glanced at my days off—my reprieve. I had a few scattered days off over the first few months, but my first true weekend off—the “golden weekend”—was scheduled for the same October weekend as the Chicago Marathon. Previous talks of reuniting with Angela, my marathon buddy—she did San Diego, Anchorage, and others with me!—at a marathon that year became reality as luck afforded me the opportunity to combine my weekend off with the Chicago Marathon. After the insufficient four weeks between the San Diego and Anchorage marathons, the four months until Chicago seemed like an eternity. I had moved to Dallas with only what I could fit into my car. I had only a single friend, a classmate from medical school who had also matched in my program at the University of Texas-Southwestern at Dallas. The 100-plus hours of work a week combined with the 100-plus degrees of heat outside made for interesting training. I quickly found a way to maintain my sanity and my fitness by running to and from work, about three miles each way and longer if I wanted. I had no organized training and had stopped by the SMU track a few evenings to see whether there were people with whom I could do intervals or tempo runs or just jog, but I never seemed to meet up with those who were training in Dallas. To sum up my first two months: I worked, slept, and ran—in that order. And I didn’t get to sleep much.

EARLY SIGNS OF FITNESS

My first hint that all this work and Spartan lifestyle were helping me get into shape was a 5K cross-country race I did on grass, at the end of a 75-mile week. I ran an 18:40, about five seconds faster than the best I had run a 5K in the past four years, and this was on grass! I eventually went to the track three weeks before the marathon and did a workout of 4 x 1,600 meters. The cooler (think 80 degrees, not 100s) October weather and some other people out on the track contributed to a workout that surprised me. After the first two 1,600s in under 6:00, I ran the last two in about 5:35! This was all the more impressive to me as my fastest mile in college was only 5:26. I began my taper at three weeks out. Two weeks before the race, I agreed to go power walking with a friend, as I was taking the day off. Something about the different stride caused me to get a fairly significant blood blister on my left arch, so I took another day off. The blood blister was painful and probably infected, and I began to get red streaks up my foot. I had to take three more days off of running; thoughts of all the summer training and excitement for this race developed into apprehension as I worried that this blister would prevent me from running my best. I had planned to run in the Race for the Cure eight days before the marathon as a tune-up race. The day before (and my first day back running in five days) I wasn’t sure whether I should race or use the day to get in a few extra miles instead. I decided to run the 5K, mainly because I thought the marathon might be spoiled so I might as well see what I could do for the 5K after a few days of rest. Nervously, I woke up that Saturday morning, nursed my foot, warmed up, and got ready to race. I had never run in an all-women’s race of this size (over 20,000 women!). The excitement of the helicopters overhead and my pent-up adrenaline catapulted me to an 18:10, which was my fastest 5K in six years and second fastest ever! Elated with my time and effort, I quickly cooled down and headed for the hospital to go see my patients. I had to continue my taper, as I had two 36-hour shifts still to go before I left for Chicago. The extra tapering I did—inadvertently by way of the infected blood blister—seemed to pay off in the 5K and gave me the confidence that I might still be able to hold it together for the marathon the next week.

AH! THE RESTORATIVE POWER OF SLEEP I worked at the hospital from about 7:00 A.M. Thursday morning until 6:00 P.M. Friday evening, although I did get an uncommonly extravagant three hours of sleep during that time. Exhausted, I went home and packed, then immediately went to sleep. Saturday morning I flew to Chicago. After flying into O’Hare, getting myself to the expo, and picking up my number, I headed over to meet my friend Deborah, who was hosting me for the weekend. Deborah was a second-year medical student at Northwestern, and we had run cross-country together in high school. Deborah joked that she would be happy to let me stay with her if I would be willing to help her with some pathophysiology! We got together for dinner with my friend Angela and some other friends from San Francisco. After eating some eggplant parmesan and catching up with my friends, I made plans to meet in front of the hotel where Angela and her sister were staying at 6:45 A.M. to catch a cab to the starting line. Deborah and I headed back to her modest student housing quarters, and I laid out the futon in preparation for sleep—maybe my best night in a long time! I got up early—around 5:00 A.M.—to eat my breakfast of Diet Snapple and a CLIF Bar. This is what I had eaten at San Diego for my PR of 3:02:12 a few months earlier. Deborah also got up, with her syllabus on the kidney, so I could make good on my promise to help teach her. After an hour and a half of renal pathophysiology, I headed out the door to jog the four blocks to Angela’s hotel. She and her sister were ready and said some others had told them it might be hard to hail a cab because so many people would be hailing cabs at that hour. We decided to try our luck on another corner, away from the hotel, but every empty cab was apparently heading to a booked customer. The minutes ticked by, and eventually it was 7:20 and we still didn’t have a cab, the start was two miles away, and the race started in 40 minutes. The only decision seemed to be to start running south and hope to hail a cab before we ran the entire two miles. We ended up with a two-mile warm up. We got to the starting line about 15 minutes before the start. After hurriedly stashing our sweats and gear bags and forgoing the final bathroom stop, we angled our way up to the start. Luckily, we had blue numbers, which qualified us to be up front with the first 2,000 runners, based on the past times we had submitted. Still, we had to hurdle some fences to get there. It was only about one minute after we had gotten in the corral that the gun went off. It was extremely packed, and we crossed the starting line only seven seconds after the official start.

THE IMPORTANCE OF CONTROLLING THE FIRST MILE

Although the first mile (in 7:10) was a little faster than I had wanted, it felt really easy as we were running in a dense pack. I like to start out slower than my estimated pace; having run about 20 marathons, I knew too well the cost of one or two miles too fast, too early. The second mile in 7:05 felt equally smooth, although I lost contact with Angela. We hadn’t planned on running any of the race together, so I just settled into my rhythm and concentrated on trying to relax. Because the pack was still so crowded, someone bumped my armband radio, and it turned off. I tried a few things to get it back on but finally acknowledged that it was merely going to be a form of arm decoration for the remainder of the race. I had planned on trying to hit the halfway point at 1:30 or 1:31 with hopes of breaking my 3:02 PR. Each mile just flowed, and I went through the five-mile mark at 34:40. The 10K was 41:20, and I cautioned myself that I was going to blow up despite feeling really loose and relaxed. I tried to ease up, but I was in a rhythm and each mile seemed to be at least as easy as the preceding one, with equal or faster times! We made a few turns and suddenly were in the shade, where I was reminded that it was a fairly cool day. I passed a digital clock display that said that it was 31 degrees! I continued to run miles in the 6:30-6:45 range, which was much faster than I had wanted, especially for the first half. I thought that if I could connect with a group of people and just latch onto them, I could stabilize my pace and take it a little easier. At this point, I was passing a lot of people who had either gone out faster than I had and were slowing down or had gone out faster than I had and were holding a steady pace. Either way, I was passing a lot of people. The 20K mark went by in 1:21:30, meaning that I had run 40:10 for my last 10K. This was faster than all but a few of the 10Ks I had ever run! My time at the half-marathon was 1:26:03, and it was at this point that two thoughts passed through my mind. First, this was less than two minutes slower than my half-marathon PR, so I was going to have a slow, painful second half because I had foolishly let my energy and excitement push my pace too much too early. Second, I thought that even if I blew up significantly in the second half, I might still have a decent time because of the first-half split. I had never really believed I could ever break 3:00, so as I began calculating what pace I would have to maintain to hit 3:00, I became energized.

PACING OFF OTHERS

DOESN’T ALWAYS WORK From about mile 12 to mile 14, I noticed that I had been running about 20 yards behind two men who apparently were running the same pace as I was. Since the last several miles had been in the 6:20 range, I figured these guys knew what they were doing and I would be smart to try to stick with them. I came up right behind them and locked in for a few miles, then finally asked them what time they were aiming for. One said 2:55 and the other said, “Yeah, if you want to do that you’d better move on because I may not do that today.” I guess they didn’t relish running with me, because within a half mile their pace slowed considerably, and I felt actually held back by them. I pulled ahead of them (and several others in the meantime) and got back into my rhythm. Mile 18 may have been the highlight of my race. As soon as I abandoned those two men, I settled in alone and was rewarded with a 5:55 mile! At this point, I spent the greater part of the next mile calculating and recalculating my splits to make sure my oxygen-deprived brain was not playing tricks on me. I also made a firm effort to ease off the pace a bit, as there was still more than seven miles to go and I was in unfamiliar territory. I hit 30K at 2:02:00, which was over 10 minutes faster than the fastest 30K I had ever run. I thought about the Clarksburg 30K I had run several times and how I had been in awe of the few women who could run the race that fast. Twenty miles came, and I was getting invigorated further, knowing that I was only 10K away from the finish. I continued to do what I had been doing all race, what I had done in many marathons in the past—reassess my goals at multiple points in the race, readjusting for variables that had occurred up until that time. In the past, however, it had always been a case of adding on a minute or two to what I would consider to be an OK finishing time, trying to minimize the mental anguish of training for so long and not attaining my goal. Most marathoners I know have frequently done the same thing, trying to do damage control to expectations as the race unfolds. This time was different: I went from trying to get a PR, to thinking that I could possibly break 3:00, to being relatively sure that I could break 3:00 even if I blew up, to thinking that maybe I could run a 2:55 with the two men, to where I now wondered whether 2:50 wasn’t out of the question! I had known in the back of my mind that 2:50:00 was the qualifier for the women’s Olympic Marathon Trials and never dreamed in my wildest dreams that this was within reach—until now.

SAFELY BEYOND THE WALL

Since I passed The Wall at about 2:10:00, I knew I had 40 minutes for the final 10K if I were to break 2:50. Suddenly, with a concrete (and mesmerizing!) goal, I really focused on what I needed to do. Each mile had to be about 6:25, which I thought should be relatively easy—as I had been running 6:20s for most of the second half (with the 5:55 mile 18 thrown in for good measure!). I was starting to get tired, but I was still passing people frequently, even with the thinner crowds up in this time range. I felt almost guilty at breezing by people seemingly effortlessly (although not quite) while they were slowing, walking, or stopping with cramps, pure exhaustion, or both. Between miles 22 and 23, I came up on the pace leader for the 2:50 group. He had a group of three or four people running with him, and I asked whether he was right on pace, slightly ahead, or behind. He replied that he was on pace, or maybe a few seconds ahead. Since I passed him, I reasoned that I must now be safe, on pace for my newly established goal of 2:50:00, and focused on holding it together for the final 5K. As I got to mile 23, I recalculated yet again, and having passed it at 2:30, figured I had 20 minutes for the final 5K. At this point, a 20-minute 5K seemed absolutely possible, what 6:25 or 6:30 per mile? Mile 24 came in at 2:36:30, and as I assessed the situation, I realized that I somehow had miscalculated or forgotten to allow for the final 0.1 or maybe 0.2 miles. Reality sank in as I recognized that, taking into account about a minute and a half for the last 0.2 miles, I would have to run back-to-back 6:00-flat miles just to hit 2:50:00. Somewhat crestfallen, I did and redid the math to be sure. At the very least, this occupied my time for another few hundred meters! I reconstructed my aspirations for the final time in this race as I resolved to run as strongly as I could for the final mile and a half and just savor the beautiful day and my accomplishment. Mile 25 was slightly uphill, so I was glad that I wasn’t counting on running a 6:00-flat mile! I truly enjoyed the final mile, and as I approached the finish line I was ecstatic. I saw the winner’s 2:05:47 stuck on the digital clock, which I correctly assumed represented a new world record. I watched my watch tick past 2:50:00 somewhere between 26 miles and the finish.

A FINISHING TIME UNDREAMED OF My final time was 2:50:53 (2:50:46 chip time), and for the first time ever in my racing career, I had absolutely no regrets or second thoughts about the race. I felt that I had run to my absolute fullest potential, and I found it strangely calming that I harbored no disappointment for not having broken 2:50:00. After all, I had a PR by nearly 12 minutes! I took everything in and was in my own little world as I sort of unconsciously picked up my gear bag, grabbed some water, and wandered toward the postrace area. One of the cellular phone companies was offering free long-distance calls, so I immediately called my father in California to tell him about my race. I couldn’t imagine anyone who would share my joy as much. My father had encouraged and supported me during all my high school cross-country and track races, even at my very first meet when I finished dead last in the junior varsity race. Throughout my college years, he managed to make it out from California to several races a year, despite my competing for Rice University in Houston. During medical school, he was often my travel partner, getting up early to drive with me to races, cheering me on in all sorts of weather. It gave me a lot of satisfaction to be able to share my elation with him! I had a brief conversation with him and then moved on to the family meeting areas, where I found Angela. I was impressed that she was already finished and thrilled when I heard that she broke 3:00! She ran a 2:59:50, which was nearly 15 minutes better than her PR! As the remainder of our crew assembled and compared stories, we realized that each of us (except for one) had run a PR that day. It was one thing to revel in my delight but even more gratifying to be able to celebrate with all my friends who had been through the same experiences.

And What I Learned From It

You can never taper too much. I was worried that my blood blister, which precluded my doing several workouts in the final two weeks of training, would ruin all my training efforts. Instead, it forced me to have a more significant change in my volume and resulted in a more rested and ready body.

Don’t let the little things bother you before the race. Because I had nothing to lose by racing in Chicago—it was like a reward for me in the middle of my internship—I didn’t let the little things like the blood blister, my relative lack of sleep, the two-mile warm-up rushing to the start, or my broken radio distract me. I learned to prepare for the things I can control and let the others just roll off me. There are many opportunities for things to go wrong, but focusing on the one task of running the marathon is all you need to do.

You can never go out too slowly in a marathon. Ironically, despite thinking that perhaps I had gone out too fast in the first mile, it was my slowest mile of the entire race! An early mile a few seconds too fast can make you pay many minutes later in a race, but conversely an early mile a few seconds slow will not influence your time more than those few seconds, and might even help you stay relaxed and prepared for all the miles ahead.

Last, I learned to truly enjoy a marathon. I was able to take in all the sights, emotions, and senses of the race, probably because I had not put any pressure on myself for any specific performance. While I don’t know whether I will ever run another marathon in this time, I can hope that I will push myself and come away with such a complete sense of satisfaction.

Lakefront Marathon A Long History and Attention to Runners’ Needs Pay Off.

Wisconsin, with 10 active marathon races, is a marathon runner’s paradise. When you consider that there are also four ultramarathon events in the state, you realize that an endurance runner has a wide selection of events from February through October, each with its own distinct characteristics. Milwaukee’s Lakefront Marathon, traditionally scheduled for the first Sunday in October, is not the oldest marathon in the state; Paavo Nurmi is 12 years older. You wouldn’t call it a large marathon either, but with 1,808 finishers in 2004, it’s larger (as a marathon) than Cellcom Green Bay and Fox Cities combined. Lakefront offers a consistent level of satisfaction that rivals many larger and better-known marathons. Compared with the Chicago Marathon, traditionally scheduled for the following weekend, Lakefront is logistically easier to negotiate, faster, and a more satisfying experience for the first-time marathoner. Many Chicagoans choose to run Lakefront, then work their own race, and vice versa. Some dedicated runners elect to run both. Here are some of Lakefront Marathon’s features: 1. A flat, fast, and “easy” course 2. USATF certification and accurate timing 3. Point-to-point, with free transportation to the start 4. Pleasant and scenic course, including rural farmland, beautiful neighborhoods and park areas, Lake Michigan shoreline, and excellent views of Milwaukee’s skyline 5. Enthusiastic fans and willing and competent volunteers offer care and guidance 6. Four-person relay, plus wheelchair, Clydesdale, and Athena categories 7. Technical fabric long-sleeve shirts for the marathon 8. Cash awards totaling $2,200 9. Host hotel with friendly and helpful personnel 10. Prerace expo well stocked with a wide assortment of runner products 11. The race director personally answers your e-mail questions 12. Personalized bib printed with your first name 13. Personalized finish—your name is announced as you cross the finish line 14. Postrace refreshments, snacks, shelter, and massage are offered 15. Very reasonable entry fees

HOW IT STARTED

There’s got to be some magic in the upcoming 25th anniversary date. Twenty-five years. A quarter of a century. Still, if we were to probe the past for the origins of this event, we would reach back a full 34 years to 1971, when the running movement was just starting to swell. That year Roger Bodart, manager of the Gimbels department store in Mayfair Mall in Wauwatosa, one of Milwaukee’s near-west suburbs, chose the increasingly popular running movement to promote the Gimbels name, along with Mayfair and Wauwatosa, by raising funds for the 1972 Olympics in Munich. He was assisted by Grant Nelson, a member of Badgerland Striders, a group that remains today the premier running club in southeastern Wisconsin. Together they set up a one-eighth-mile course in front of the Gimbels store and raised funds for running laps on the course, based on pledges from runners’ friends and relatives. Riding the Olympic time slot for its publicity, Badgerland Striders elected to continue the June event in the form of the All-American Mayfair Marathon in 1973. Roughly 100 runners participated in the first Mayfair Marathon and another hundred in the minimarathon. The event caught on and grew from the beginning. In 1981, in light of the success and popularity of Grandma’s Marathon, the concept of a marathon from Grafton to Milwaukee, along Lake Michigan’s shoreline, caught on. Lakefront Marathon, with its flat course and a following wind, proved to be faster than the old Mayfair Marathon. In 1981, its first year, Steve Benson set the men’s record of 2:14:09. In 1983, Nancy Mieszczak ran Lakefront in 2:39:15.

HOW IT CONTINUES

On August 23, 2004, current race director Kristine Hinrichs brought her 51 race captains together at a planning and working meeting at a local pizza parlor. If there’s one message Kris impressed on her captains, it was this: “Lakefront Marathon is a race for runners and by runners. Let’s not forget that.” That’s the way it has been since its start in 1981. Kris has been the race director only since 2000. Before that, Steve Hartman directed the race with a steady hand for a record 10 years. Lakefront Marathon has always been managed by active members of Badgerland Striders—now with nearly 2,000 members. There has never been a paid manager of the race. The lack of advertising on performance long-sleeve shirts and the lack of paid sponsors force this race to be efficient, yet runner focused. Three male runners have run all 24 Lakefront Marathons through 2004, and all three hope to continue running it for life.

THE WEATHER The average temperature in Milwaukee on race day is 54 degrees Fahrenheit, with an average low of 43 and an average high of 64. Also, at this time of year, the weather is fairly predictable. In the history of the run, there has never been a bad storm or extreme cold. Wind is the single most important weather variable during this race. Grafton and Milwaukee are generally subject to gentle winds out of the northwest, so the wind is usually at your back.

Logical Steps: I’M NEW to long-distance running. I’m 28 and have been running for 18 months. I’ve done a handful of 5K and 10K races and would someday like to run a marathon or two—or more. I would like to work shorter races into my overall marathon training plan as speed workouts to complement my one track workout on Thursdays. If I do really long runs every other weekend, would it work to do 10K races on the alternating weekends if I run two miles before the 10K and five or six additional miles after the 10K in order to lengthen the shorter races into a longer workout, thereby killing two birds with one stone, that is, distance and speed? Does this make sense? — Maggie Simmons, via e-mail

Coach response (paraphrased): Combining a 10K race with surrounding miles is a fine plan for recreational marathon training—it builds endurance and adds speed work in one outing. For more competitive aims, separate your long run from your speed/track work and let the race be your full speed session. Tempo runs (a 2-mile warm-up, 20-40 minutes at ~20 sec/mile slower than 10K race pace, then easy cool-down) can substitute for short races. Keep one quality long run a week (18–22 miles in peak training) and don’t skimp on rest days. Be careful not to add a second hard speed session if it raises injury risk. Have fun, listen to your body, and respect the marathon distance—it deserves a series of high-quality long runs and a proper taper.