Mississippi Gulf Coast Marathon (Part Three)

It is no secret that race directors and the USA Track and Field organization have a bug up their butts about GPS watches.

This is, of course, with good reason.  Most runners now have the darn things and there are a lot of discrepancies that can occur because of the way that they calculate the distances between points.  Without going into great detail, the general accepted consensus is that, mile to mile, they are pretty accurate, give or take a fraction of a second.

But those fractions of seconds add up over long distances.  So if my Garmin is off even as little as a quarter of a second off per mile, that is no big deal for that one mile; but over 26.2, I am looking at a differential of more than six seconds by the end. 

Naturally, race directors and the USATF completely dismiss complaints about GPS discrepancies, claiming that their race courses are meticulously measured and thoroughly vetted, and are therefore not subject to such discrepancies.  Thus, they are the gold standard of accuracy...

...except when they are not - like at last year's Mississippi Gulf Coast Marathon or the Rehoboth Beach Marathon in 2011, when the courses were glaringly short; or the countless races where I had been sent into a wrong turn (or a missed turn).  Even at major events like last year's Mississippi Gulf Coast race, at some point, the directors have to admit, with eggs on their faces, that an error had been made (though the silent USATF never admits there is ever a problem). 

Because no matter how accurate the measurements are claimed to be, there are still humans doing it; several, in fact, for each course measurement.  And humans make errors, no matter how much people like that idiot Liza Recto from the Lower Potomac River Marathon (whose poor instructions caused runners several precious seconds) try to get around copping to it.

Also, I have read that many courses are designed to be slightly long just in case of these kinds of errors occur.

So, all that being said, if my time on my Garmin (3:04:15) was 33 seconds different from the official time (3:04:48), is it not possible that seven seconds (almost one-fifth of the differential) can be accounted for as some kind of human error?  There is legitimate proof that there was definitely some kind of error at this race, as no one could deny that the 11-mile marker was waaaay off.

I am certain that neither the race director nor the stuffy USATF would entertain a complaint (they completely ignored my legitimate and completely prove-able argument about that moron Liza Recto), and I will accept that the official time stands. But in my heart, I will always feel like the Mississippi Gulf Coast Marathon was my unofficial PR - the race in which the weather and nine years of hard training came to fruition and its triumphant conclusion.

Mississippi Gulf Coast Marathon (Part Two)

After doing a mile warm-up jog and trying to stay warm at the start line during yet another pointless playing of a recording of the national anthem (seriously, when can we stop suffering through that nonsense before a race? A freezing race starting line is not exactly the place for patriotism), we were finally off and running the Mississippi Gulf Coast Marathon.

The lead runners went out way in front and I hung back as much as I could.  Even now, 19 marathons later, I still have to remind myself not to start out too fast.  The rule is, was and always will be "If you think you are going a little too slow, you are probably about right."

I used my Garmin GPS watch to keep track of my splits and, indeed, I hit the first mile at 6:53, only slightly faster than the magic 7:01 pace that would bring me a personal record (3:03).  The next few miles were 7:00, 6:53 and 7:07.  I could not slow down any more than that; I was already having too much fun looking at all the beautiful houses on the tree-lined Scenic Drive and enjoying the awesome tailwind.  Perhaps it was too early to start talking about a PR, but I was about 11 seconds in front of the goal time and the seed was already planted in my brain.




With another sub-7 in the fifth mile (6:58), I knew I had to calm my excitement and slow the hell down.  I have done this all too many times - start out too fast, crash by the end.  I did not want this race to end in suffering.  This was supposed to be a happy race, through and through, and I was determined to keep it that way.  So the next few miles were deliberately slower - 7:08, 7:10, 7:08, 7:04, 7:11 - and it felt like I was crawling.  Plus, those miles put me about 22 seconds behind my goal PR pace and no matter how much I tried to convince myself that I did not need to go for a PR, I could not get the nagging thought out of my head that it was possible.  Perhaps that is why I did the 11th mile with a 6:58.




(By the way, if you are watching the videos, you will notice that my math was a little off.  Doing math is a great way to keep my brain occupied while running, but it is not easy to do it accurately!)

Still not certain that a PR attempt was the right move, I hung back some more for the next three miles, even getting caught up in a conversation with a fellow runner.  So miles 12 through 14 in Gulfport were 7:04, 7:05 and 7:12.




More than halfway through the race now, and 37 seconds behind PR pace, it was time to decide what kind of race this would end up being.  The flat course and the tailwind made it possible to stay so steady with so little fatigue.  If there was any chance to ramp it up and get some of those seconds back, it had to start immediately.

I went for it.

To make up 37 seconds in 12 miles, I needed to run 6:58s consistently. That seemed unlikely.  However, there was one saving grace - my PR goal pace had a built in cushion.  A 7:01 pace overall would get me to the finish line at 3:03:32.  But my PR is 3:04:42, so that gave me 70 seconds of wiggle room.

I ramped up the effort for the next several miles and made up a decent chunk of time.  Unbelievably, I ran my fastest two miles yet in Miles 15 and 16 (6:52 each) and kept the effort strong and solid, coming in with 7:01, 6:59, 7:02, 7:03 and 7:01, for miles 17 through 21.




Five miles to go and only 20 seconds off of that 3:03 goal, the PR seemed completely within my grasp, especially with that built-in cushion.  But my grasp started to slip as each mile got more labored.  There was no way I was ever hitting a wall at this race, but I could definitely feel my energy fading away as I managed to run Miles 22 through 24 at 7:02, 7:04 and 7:02 - a marvelous feat at any other marathon, but every second counted now.  I kept telling myself that I only needed to push myself a little more and it would be over and I would be triumphant.  I was picturing where I would be on my five-mile course and how close to home I would be.  I was also picturing what it would be like to cross that finish line breaking the PR that has been standing now for almost a decade.

The 25 second deficit from the goal pace would put me at the finish line at 3:03:57.  All I had to do was run the last 2.2 miles in 15:52.  That would be a 7:12 for each mile.  7:12 had been my slowest mile, when I was barely trying.  If I use every last bit of gas in the tank, surely I could pull that off.

Then, the course's one and only hill came in Mile 25 and threatened to put the kibosh on the whole thing.  Not a natural hill, this was an exit ramp off of Highway 90 and onto Interstate 110, which literally crosses over Biloxi.  At first, the incline felt good - I could finally use some different muscles (my quads were raring to go).  I even passed a few people.  But heading up the incline and into the 15 mph winds that had been at our backs (at best) and from our left (at worst, which still was not bad) knocked my penultimate mile down to a 7:16.

Still, every uphill has a downhill, so I gave it everything I had for Mile 26.  Despite my hamstrings practically screaming for mercy, I lengthened my stride as far as it would go as I saw Gloria and my friend Marshall cheering me on from the minor league baseball park where the finish line was.  All I had to do was hook around the stadium, enter from the opposite side, and traverse the outfield wall and first base line to the finish.  And with a 6:50 (my fastest mile of the race), I made up almost all the time I lost in the previous mile (my slowest).

This was it.  PR, baby.  I had done it.

Except, somehow, I had not.  As I rounded the outside of the ball field, I saw the seconds tick past the 3:04:41 that I needed.  Grunting, groaning and moaning in pain, I crossed the finish line with 3:04:48 on the clock.  An amazing result of which I am extremely proud, but inexplicable considering my pace and my splits.  How did it happen?




If it is possible to be both elated and disappointed at the same time, this would be that moment.  But at that point, who cared?  My 19th marathon was my second fastest marathon of my life - at 44 years old, no less.  There was no reason to quibble, nor was there time to do so because from that moment, for the rest of the day, it was party time.  You run a race like that, you celebrate.

Mississippi Gulf Coast Marathon (Part One)

Sometime in September, I had chosen to work toward a December marathon and, investigating races in 33 states, came across the third annual Mississippi Gulf Coast Marathon.  I had not known of the course length error at last year's race (which might have scared me off) - all I saw was a flat race on a point-to-point course in what seemed like a beautiful area.  I had only ever driven through Mississippi on the way to Louisiana and Texas, so this would be a perfect opportunity to spend some time there and visit with a friend of mine who lives in the area.

Training with Hal Higdon's Advanced 1 program involved 800-meter track repeats, hill sprints, tempo runs and pace runs, all of which I did as if I was gunning for a personal record.  While I was aware that beating my 3:04:42 from almost a decade ago was a bit pie-in-the-sky, it was important to train as if it was the goal; that way, I could decide how to approach race day on race day.  If the conditions and my body felt right, I could go for it.  If not, no big deal - run the best race that the day warrants. 

In the days leading up to the race, the forecast was showing rain, but the storm front moved quickly and, instead, it poured the entire day on Saturday.  This made for a soggy occasion for the 5K and beer mile participants, but it worked out for the Sunday marathon and half-marathon runners.  We had a cloudy day in the 40s (F), with some strong winds blowing from the north-northwest on a course that ran mostly due east.  

Cool temperature, a tailwind for most of the course and no sun.  Perhaps a PR would be in the cards, after all.  If nothing else, I could easily sail into a Boston qualifier, especially now that my qualifying time is 3:20:00 as I head into the males age 45-to-49 group.

I had topped off my training last month with a 22-mile run along a course that involved a 400-foot incline during the 16th mile.  If I managed to do that run at a 7:30 pace on the day after doing an 11-miler at an even 7:00 pace, I was pretty sure that this flat course that involved exactly one hill would present little challenge.  

It has been a long time since I have been able to approach a race with this much confidence (or, at least, this little worry). Everything leading up to the race had gone smoothly - the flight arrived on time in New Orleans, where Gloria spent Friday afternoon enjoying the last bit of sun until Monday.  Our room at the IP Hotel and Casino in Biloxi, Miss., was lovely.  Packet pickup was easy.  Our just-for-the-heck-of-it drive through Alabama to the Florida border was a fun adventure.  Parking at the Beau Rivage (near the finish line) was hassle-free on race morning.  The shuttle buses got us out to our respective starting lines (Gulfport for the half-marathon, which Gloria was running; and Pass Christian for the full marathon) with ease.  Save for the chilly morning air with cold winds blowing, everything was going perfectly at 7 a.m.

Nothing left to do, then, but run my best race.

Gloria and I flew to New Orleans on the Friday before the race, and had drinks on the plane at 8 a.m. Why not?

In New Orleans, we had brunch and drinks at Atchafalaya.

MGM Park, where the finish line would be on race day.

We headed to Mississippi on Friday afternoon to pick up our race bib packets at MGM Park, so we would have nothing to worry about on Saturday.

We checked into our room at the IP Casino in Biloxi, Miss., on Friday night and had a couple more drinks. 

Despite the rain on Saturday, we took a road trip through Alabama and to the Florida border, just because.

Trinity Academy 5K Reindeer Run

After running the Trinity Academy 5K Reindeer Run in 2013 and 2014, it was nice to return to this well-organized, friendly and fun race.

And as was the case for the races I ran in the past couple of weeks, the emphasis would be on fun.  But that does not mean I would not work hard, too.  Each of these three 5Ks were replacements for the weekly speed work, prescribed by Hal Higdon in his Advanced 1 training program.

Not only that, but I was happy to participate in this race for the first time as a married man and was thrilled that my wife would be running it, too.  When we got to the site, I remembered how the course involved a loooooong incline through the first two miles, followed by a steady decline for the last one, so I relayed that information to Gloria and we talked about tactics for handling it. The mission was to go hard...but not too hard at first.

I placed myself near the front of the pack and, at go time, darted out on the brief downhill, quickly taking my place in fourth.  But no sooner were we a quarter mile through, we turned onto Smull Avenue and began the long climb.  Pushing with a big effort, but making sure not to spend all of it too soon, I hit the first mile at 5:54.

Determined to stay in that sweet spot, I tried to give it some more oomph, but my body was not having it.  On the plus side, I was closing in on the third place runner.  So even though my second mile was a dramatically slower 6:08, I did what I have always done best - made my passing move on the uphill.  The guy was clearly gassed from the constant uphill and there was no way he was going to come back from it.

Now in third place and cresting the hill, I started laying it all out there - increasing both the rate of leg turnover and the length of my stride.  From out of nowhere, the guy that had been in fifth place bolted past me on the downhill and I found myself in fourth again, with no chance of catching him.  Admittedly, I held back a little bit because I am still in marathon training and did not want some of the aches and small strains in my groin, hamstring and Achilles tendon to be become problematic.  Nonetheless, my third mile was a swift 5:32.

Barreling into the final hard 90-degree turn into the Trinity Academy parking lot for the finish, I finished with 18:18 on the clock, even though my official end time was listed as 18:20.  Not sure how that can happen, but who cares. And even though the man who blew past me to take third was in my age group, his placement in the top three made him ineligible for an age group award, putting me at the top of the males age 40 to 44.  That means I won another warm winter hat with the race's reindeer logo. That makes three for my collection.  

A 5:54 pace not only made for my fastest of the three times I have run the Trinity Academy 5K Reindeer Run, but also a triumphant conclusion to a streak of three 5Ks in as many weeks, in which I have liberated myself from the need to run PRs and simply running the best races that I can.  As a result, I would say that fall racing season has been a success.

Full results: http://www.compuscore.com/cs2018/novdec/reindeer.htm