The Oakland Marathon (an 8 minute PR!)
I ran my 8th marathon this morning. I think I’m still in shock and occasionally have to check Strava to make sure the time’s right, but apparently I ran a 2:37:38, which is 9 minutes better than my previous best. (Strava link)
This blog documents my quest to run a marathon at sub-6 pace. It’s been a dream for a long time, and became an explicit goal last year. To run sub-6 in the marathon, I need to run 2:37:19. That’s 19 seconds off my current time.
A few years ago I went to a screening of Where Dreams Go To Die, hosted by ultramarathon runner Gary Robbins. The movie documents Gary’s quest to complete the Barkley Marathons, a grueling 100+ mile race through the Tennessee backcountry.
Warning: spoilers ahead.
After 5 gruelling laps, Gary sprints to the finish line, a nondescript pole, and collapses in his wife’s arms. John Kelly, the only finisher that year, asks the race organizer if Gary made it.
John: Did he make the timer?
Laz: No.
John: How much did he miss?
Laz: 6 seconds.
It’s this heartbreaking moment with Gary collapsed in a chair, Laz standing over him looking aloof and mildly amused, and the crowd shouting words of encouragement to Gary.
Now, I can’t say that I felt anything that profound. My goal is far, far easier than completing the Barkley Marathons. But, like Gary, I do feel like I’m so close.
Strangely though, I’m not feeling disappointed. This morning, I ran faster than I thought was possible. And in fact this sub-6 goal wasn’t really on my radar; it’s only in retrospect that I realize how close I was.
Without a doubt, this goal has now entered the realm of possibility.
Race Recap
I woke up at 4:30am to force down a bagel, jam, and a banana. I’ve been trying to get more carbs in pre-race, and 3 bananas just wasn’t that appealing.
After a wake-up shower and wake-up tunes (Jon Bellion and Call Me Karizma), it was time to go. Michael and I split a Lyft to the start, Eastshore Park on the edge of Laker Merritt.
I decided to try a short warm-up, and only ran 0.8mi with one short acceleration to marathon pace. Long warm-ups aren’t necessary for marathon pace. And, if my legs have a fixed number of miles in them for the day, the long warm-up may cause me to hit the wall or cramp up earlier.
The race organizers marked the starting corral with expected paces, ranging from 12 minutes all the way down to 5, a crazy fast pace for a marathon, but within the realm of possibility for relay teams. Possibly because of the large 6:00 sign behind us, there were very few people lined up near the starting line. We heard the usual pep talk from Dean Karnazes and the national anthem, then we were off.
Michael and I ran side-by-side, putting us in 2nd and 3rd place. The first place, Semereab Gebrekidan, took off faster than even the relay teams, and we had no hope of keeping up. In any case, my goal for Oakland wasn’t to place. Michael and I agreed in advance we would try to hold 5:50–5:55 pace for as long as we could.
In the second mile another runner, Kosuke Amano, caught us by surprise. He ran with us for a few minutes but, after mentioning that he’s shooting for a 5:45 pace, slowly drew away. The difference between 5:45 and 5:50 may sound trivial, but in actuality it’s the difference between marathon pace and crashing-and-burning pace, so we held back.
At the 5 mile marker, Michael realized that we were a tad slow for 5:50s. Due to a sad miscommunication, he thought we were 1 minute 20 seconds slow, while we were actually only 20 seconds slow. He picked up the pace and I wasn’t able to keep up. While I kept Michael in site, he wouldn’t see me again until the mile 15 turnaround on the Bay Bridge.
As we cruised down Mandela Parkway, I saw Michael and Kosuke turn right, following the cones that had been lain across the race course. As I turned, I saw Michael throw up his arms, shouting. Turns out we’d been misdirected.
Any runner will realize how frustrating this is. To any non-runners, it’s the equivalent to sitting down to take the SATs only to find the last page of questions is ripped out. It’s heartbreaking, and feels like the race is over.
But because of Michael’s early warning, I only ran an extra 0.1 miles. Michael also tried to get the police officer standing there to direct runners the right way, but he appeared to ignore us. So we shouted for the runners behind to continue straight, and hoped no one else would make the mistake we did.
Michael and Kosuke quickly passed me and, except for the one or two relay runners who passed me, I was now in no-man’s land. Worse, my left hamstring and calf were both misfiring every few minutes. It was a very strange thing to happen so early in the race. Initially I thought it was due to my short warm-up, but now that I look back on it I was just running too fast, dropping down to 5:45. By mile 8 I was back to my goal pace, and the misfiring went away. It left me feeling like a hypochondriac for the rest of the race though, on vigilant watch for signs of cramping.
I soon hit the first relay exchange and was blown away with the cheers I got from the crowd of leg-2 runners. I actually looked behind me to see if the female lead was catching up but no, they were cheering for me. That really helped.
The miles up to the bridge were mostly uneventful, with aid stations providing a much-needed distraction from the taxing pace. As was the case at Big Sur, the aid station volunteers weren’t ready for us, so I’d have to shout out my order (1 water, 1 gatorade) and hope someone could cobble it together before I passed them. I missed two aid stations, but because of the high frequency of stations I wasn’t concerned.
In the first mile of the bridge (did I mention the bridge is 2 miles each way?), the female relay lead caught up with me. I tucked in behind her, grateful for the mental break from setting the pace. The route out to Treasure Island on the Bay Bridge is a gentle but relentless uphill, rising 200 feet over 2 miles. It’s difficult to see the grade, but you can definitely feel it.
As we approached the turnaround, I saw Michael running the opposite direction. He shouted at me that they weren’t handing out GU’s, contradicting the runner’s handbook. Bummer! I was planning on having a high-sodium GU every 5 miles, but ended up delaying my mile 15 GU until mile 21, the next aid station with GUs.
The relay competitor I was following swapped out at the turnaround, and I was able to pass her teammate while cruising down hill. Actually, cruising isn’t the right word. I was able to drop my pace by only 5 seconds per mile. This may have been a side-effect of running on the bridge surface, which didn’t feel like asphalt.
With relief, I passed the 20 mile marker. My goal for the race was to maintain 5:50–5:55 for the first 20 miles, then see what happens in the last 6. First 20 with the head, last 6 with the heart typically means that you slay the last 10k, creating that rare unicorn, a negative split marathon. For me, that’s not what it means. My last 6 miles are where I cramp up, and my goal is to run slow enough to prevent cramping.
I surprisingly felt fine for the next two miles, and kept up a 5:55 pace. I knew better than to speed up though — cramps are wiley, and will strike you down when you feel strongest. I learned this at the Pittsburgh Marathon in 2014, my second full, where I sped up after the halfway mark and dearly paid for it.
At mile 21, I was surprised to see Michael. I was expecting him to be far ahead of me, so I knew something was wrong. We had a quick exchange as I passed him: Basically the wheels came off. His legs and his lungs weren’t cooperating, and he wasn’t able to go any faster. I later learned that his last 5 miles were grueling, complete with near-vomiting, leg cramps, and a mandatory stretch-break. I’ve been there (and in fact go there pretty often during marathons), so I feel qualified to say that it sucks.
Part way through mile 22, I also started feeling the familiar twinges and misfirings in my left hamstring and calf. It was time to slow down.
One fantastic lesson learned from the Humboldt Redwoods Marathon last October is that I can slow down and prevent cramping, rather than maintaining pace until the cramps hit. I slowed down 20–50 seconds per mile to prevent the cramps, and was able to avoid the 60–120 second per mile slowdown that comes with full-on leg cramps.
The last 4 miles were weird. I was running close to my aerobic pace, so I was able to keep my thoughts and even laugh at a couple of the clever race signs (“Worst parade ever!” and “Join us for a beer”). But inside I could feel my left calf and hamstring misfiring more frequently with every uphill stretch.
With two miles to go, a full marathoner passed me, putting me in fourth place. I wasn’t super concerned. If I had a shot at outrunning him I would have gone for it, but the risk of cramping was too high. After a series of agonizing rollers around Lake Merritt, the finish line came within site. I decided to run all-out and just deal with the cramps afterwards, and accelerated to 5:00. Strangely though, the cramps didn’t come, even after I crossed the finish line and slowed to a walk.
Looking back on the results, it was pretty fortunate that I took that final sprint. The fifth and sixth place runners were only 20 seconds behind me!
Reflection
While the race is fresh in my mind (and legs…), I’ve been thinking about lessons learned and what I’d like to change in my next marathon.
I think I’ll stick with the short warm-up in future marathons, and will continue with this strategy of running a particular pace until mile 20, then letting the race carry me where it may. I’ll also, where safe, continue to bring music for those long-and-lonely stretches. Listening to music while racing is really uncommon among the people I run with, but I find that it allows me to mentally check out for short stretches, maintaining pace without accumulating mental fatigue. It also helps me keep my mind away from the negative thoughts that become undammed late in the race.
I liked my breakfast of a bagel, jam, and a banana, which comes out to about 100g of carbs. I’d like to mess with it, and see if I can stomach more food. Ideally, marathon runners should be eating 1.5–1.8 grams of carbs per pound of bodyweight (source), which is more than double what I’m currently eating.
The cramps were confusing this time around. In my past two marathons, I’ve suffered only from fatigue cramps, not electrolyte imbalance cramps. But this time I felt signs of cramping in my bicep, a muscle I definitely wasn’t using much during the race. I could chalk that off to hypochondria, except for a strange thing that happened half an hour after finishing. Michael, Johnny and I were joking around when, in the middle of a fit of laughter, my abs cramped up (man, that’s a weird feeling!). This makes me think that I was low on electrolytes, probably due to the missed GU at mile 15. In retrospect, I should have taken a salt pill in lieu of the GU.
I’d also like to experiment with increasing my carbohydrate intake during the race. I was talking with Chris Thoburn after the race, and he pointed out the Kipchoge consumed nearly 1000 calories during his 2-hour attempt (source). Chris believes that staying fueled can help prevent fatigue muscle cramps, and the electrolytes in GU can help prevent electrolyte muscle cramps.
Years of running after dinner has trained my stomach to put up with nearly anything (I rarely get stomach cramps). I should take advantage of this! If I were elite like Kipchoge, I could have pre-filled bottles of carbohydrate drink ready for me at aid stations, but given that I’m a regular schmuck I’ll settle with doubling my GU intake. A GU gel every 2.5 miles will provide me with 100g of carbs every hour.
Will I run Oakland again?
The Oakland Marathon is shadowed by other NorCal races like CIM, the SF Marathon, and the Napa Valley Marathon. Perhaps because of this, it feels like a close-knit, friendly race. Around mile 18 I put on my headphones, but as I started to see more runners going in the opposite direction, I took them off. They were cheering me on, and I was cheering them on. It was a heartwarming experience, and a welcome change from the usual pent-up frustration I feel late in a hard run.
I mentioned before how supportive the relay exchanges were, but it’s worth touching on that again. I had been running solo for some time when I saw the third exchange. It was pretty quiet, with most runners anxious for the final leg of the race. But someone started clapping, and soon the whole crowd was cheering me on. It was amazing!
In spite of this, I don’t plan on running the full again. WIth the course misdirection, the aid stations not being ready, and the missing GU at mile 15, too many things went wrong. I realize that race organizers have the IT Team Problem, where they get blamed for things that go wrong but are rarely recognized for what goes right. A lot went right at Oakland, including a well organized race start and finish, lots of food selection at the aid stations, and a spectacular run across the Bay Bridge. But each marathon I run takes months of training and leaves me drained for 2–3 weeks. With that much on the line, I’m not comfortable running the Oakland Full again next year.
That said, I would like to run the relay. I love team running events and was also a bit jealous of the fresh legs that passed me throughout the run.
What’s Next?
Beer. I’m headed to Barrel Head to celebrate with some friends in a few minutes. After that, I’ll run easy for a few weeks, then re-introduce workouts once I feel ready.
In the next few months, I’d like to spend some more time on trails, and maybe run cross country this summer/fall.
My next marathon isn’t scheduled yet, but I’m itching to get back out there and hit my lifetime goal.
