Here I sit typing away having completed two marathons total, the second one just today. \u00a0Most people I know think I’m nuts. \u00a0I think, after this one, that I must be.<\/p>\n
Before I dive into that let me completely disavow posting about running in two marathons this year. \u00a0I will not be running in Seattle’s Marathon at the end of November. \u00a0Some crazed individual, with my writing style, hacked my account and wrote that utter nonsense. \u00a0Let me repeat I did not write that, or if I did I clearly have a second personality locked within my head.<\/p>\n
OK, with that out of the way, on to my experience with the Portland Marathon. \u00a0I could compare it to the Chicago Marathon from last year. \u00a0Wax on about how Chicago’s course is better laid out. \u00a0About how Portland had musicians playing at nearly one-to-two mile intervals. \u00a0About how Chicago seemed better organized. \u00a0About how Portland has the possibility of being run over by a (probably late) Amtrak train. \u00a0But I won’t. \u00a0While they both share the title of “marathon” and cover the same 26.2 mile distance, it would be unfair of me. \u00a0That is because of what I learned today. \u00a0Your second marathon, even while pouring down rain, is better than your first. \u00a0With your first, one is not entirely sure what they’ve gotten themselves into. \u00a0Trust me, I didn’t. \u00a0With the second you know what you’ve gotten into and respect it. \u00a0Without that respect you’re in for trouble.<\/p>\n
I started the race today hoping to meet or beat my Chicago time. \u00a0While I was sick as a dog last year, likely with the beginning of the flu, I was convinced that the hills (mountains for my flatlander friends in Illinois) would easily erase any gains of my non-sick self this year. \u00a0Taking shelter in the parking garage entrance that happened to be in my start coral, while wind and rain pummeled those waiting in line at the porto-potties, I could have walked away. \u00a0Clearly the god that was abusing me with wind on my motorcycle trip along the coast was back, and with a vengeance. \u00a0If it weren’t for the shelter I might have walked away. \u00a0I simply did not want to be there at that point. \u00a0However, if I had walked away I would be sorry.<\/p>\n
In our coral was the 4:45 pacers. \u00a0Being close to that last year I figured I’d stick with them, then bolt after the hills if I had the energy. \u00a0After our coral was let loose like hounds on the moor (well it felt like what I imagine a windy and wet Scotland to feel), I settled in with the 4:45 pacers. \u00a0They were going too slow — way too slow. \u00a0I kicked past them and eventually fell in with the 4:30 pacers. \u00a0Also too slow. \u00a0I caught the 4:15 pacers somewhere around mile 11 and hung with them. \u00a0They were running at nearly the same clip I was, so the world was good. \u00a0However, after a while I started to break away from them. \u00a0Then came the second big hill, the approach to the St. John’s Bridge and through to 1\/2 of the way across the span. \u00a0That thing’s kicked my butt on my bicycle. \u00a0I take my time, making sure not to over exert myself, as I slowly work up the hill. \u00a0Thinking, those pacers must be long behind me I kept plowing on ahead. \u00a0I begin my slow descent on the far side and past they whiz. \u00a0I kick it back up to catch ’em, then and only then, do I realize the toll that the St. John’s Bridge had exacted. \u00a0I bravely fought on for several miles, but in the end could keep up with them. \u00a0I was feeling kinda down as I approached the final miles. \u00a0I knew I’d been running better than last year, but I was disappointed by loosing the 4:15 pacers.<\/p>\n
Then I realized something amazing, the thought that would keep me going for the remaining miles. The 4:30 pacers hadn’t<\/em> passed me yet! \u00a0I might still rock this thing! \u00a0I pressed on, pushing as hard as I could for those last miles. \u00a0I was beyond spent as I entered the last 1\/4 mile, but pushed harder. \u00a0Passing others as I approached the finishing chute. \u00a0I zipped across the finish line and promptly forgot to turn off my stopwatch until sometime later. \u00a0I don’t clearly remember when. \u00a0It could be when I was collecting either my cranberry juice or orange juice.<\/p>\n So I’m left to ponder for the next several hours until results are posted if I did complete it closer to 4:15 (remember that I crossed the start line with the 4:45 pacing group), or if I’m closer to the 4:25 that my stopwatch read when I pressed the stop button.<\/p>\n I’ll update the post when I know for sure, but all I do know is that without a doubt in my mind I beat my Chicago time and couldn’t be happier.<\/p>\n UPDATE:<\/strong> Official time is 4:19:37. \u00a0Woo hoo!<\/p>\n Last, and not least by any means, I need to thank my beautiful wife Angie for putting up with me during the sixteen weeks of training. \u00a0Being there every inch of the way to support me even outside of the marathon training. \u00a0Without her wonderful assistance and encouragement I wouldn’t have any story to tell.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Here I sit typing away having completed two marathons total, the second one just today. \u00a0Most people I know think I’m nuts. \u00a0I think, after this one, that I must be. Before I dive into that let me completely disavow posting about running in two marathons this year. \u00a0I will not be running in Seattle’s […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[8,6],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-170","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-marathon","category-sport"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/rubschlager.com\/matt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/170","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/rubschlager.com\/matt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/rubschlager.com\/matt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/rubschlager.com\/matt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/rubschlager.com\/matt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=170"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/rubschlager.com\/matt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/170\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/rubschlager.com\/matt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=170"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/rubschlager.com\/matt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=170"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/rubschlager.com\/matt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=170"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}