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October 08, 2007

That Stanky Chip-Less Marathon Better Known as The Mohawk Hudson River Marathon

Deb's MHRM Race Report

M., J. and I started out in good spirits yesterday at the unseemly hour of 4:00 AM to make the trek to Schenectady. From the start line in Schenectady, J. would drive to the finish in Albany, park the car and run backwards from the finish line to meet M. around Mile 23. (J. is the newest member of Team Yonker, and an AMAZING sport to give up her entire Sunday on this crazy quest.)

Though I was initially very optimistic about this race which claims to be “one of the ten fastest courses in the U.S.”, and which every year has a record number of Boston qualifiers, my optimism quickly turned to contempt. Upon picking up our race packets, we discovered that this race has NO chip. That’s right, people – NO CHIP. This is practically unheard of, with the exception of poorly attended local 5Ks here in Oswego County. We also learned that the tech shirts that we had reserved with our registrations were available only in size large, despite the fact that M. and I had both ordered mediums when we registered MONTHS ago. The sullen race volunteer explained that the mediums had all been distributed at the expo, and so we were left with no choice but to accept the voluminous garments. As a lanky person with gorilla-like arms, the large will be just fine for me, but M. might have to use hers for a nightgown, a roof tarp or a 4-person tent. (Or perhaps all of the above – it’s a big damned shirt.)

The gun went off promptly at 8:30 AM, and away we ran. Upon leaving Central Park, we spent the better part of this race on paved bike paths which run parallel to the Mohawk and Hudson Rivers. The paths were generally very isolated, allowing for few opportunities for spectator presence. All in all, I’d say we saw far more sewage treatment plants than cheering spectators. The view was fair, but the odor was NOT. One would imagine that one would become accustomed to the vile smells emanating from the rivers, but somehow that was not the case. It’s as if the sewage from each township had its own unique stank, and so one’s nose was continually assaulted from Colonie to Cohoes to Watervliet and beyond. And I don’t know what those people had been eating, but they should really just stop.

Despite the slight nausea induced by the stank, I managed to keep up with my pace bracelet all the way to Mile 15. Starting at Mile 9, however, it became increasingly more difficult to do so. I was definitely struggling, but trying valiantly to maintain my pace so that I could finish in 3:45:59, thus qualifying for Boston. At Mile 16 I was 30 seconds too slow. At Mile 17 I was 58 seconds too slow, and by Mile 24 when I encountered J. all hopes of BQ-ing had long since been dashed. I was minutes off my time, completely demoralized and moving like a penguin with a broken pelvis. J. pleasantly inquired, “Can you go just a little bit faster?” and I belligerently responded with “Nooooo!!!” She left me, as any sane person would do, and headed back to find M., whose Southern background and sweet disposition ensure kind responses even under painful and grueling circumstances.

I walked a fair amount, and tried to tell myself that a PR, while not nearly as good as a BQ, was still a desirable and worthy goal. Some quick mental calculations, however, determined that if I did not pick up the pace I would not beat my previous best time of 3:58:24. Thankfully, it was just at that time that the Throat Clearer descended upon me. This was a woman whose face I never saw, but her maddening nose-whistling, throat-clearing tendencies made me nearly hate her, sight unseen. Alright – I’ll be honest. I DID hate her, and it was that fiery, burning kind of hatred. I have a remarkably low tolerance for mouth noises of any kind. I hate to hear chewing, coughing or even loud-ish breathing and so I knew that I needed to put some distance between me and this vile creature lest I go postal and pitch her into the shit-stank river. There must be something energizing about all that throat clearing, though, because that she-devil was hard to shake. I eventually prevailed, and crossed the finish line at 3:57:something. Official stats are not yet up (damned chip-less race), but according to both Vic (my Garmin training watch) and the finish clock, I just barely PR-ed.

Upon crossing the finish line, I looked less like myself and more like hammered shit and countless concerned strangers catered to me, offering me water and sticking straws in my juice. I briefly considered going back to find M. and J., but my traitorous legs locked up before the thought was even complete. It’s as if my entire nervous system was conspiring to keep me from even attempting movement. I went with it, and leaned against a tree while gorging myself on juice and donuts. Before too long, M. and J. crossed the finish line, M. deliriously professed her love for me (it is her sacred marathon tradition and it is not just reserved for those she truly loves but for any random person with whom she makes even brief eye contact) and we all had more donuts.

We shambled to the car like zombies from a horror movie, only muttering “Meat! Meat!” rather than “Brains! Brains!”, and following a quick shower at the YMCA, we consumed our total weight in sirloin at Ponderosa (another sacred marathon tradition).

This morning I feel as if I’ve been run over by a truck. My penguin/zombie gait is even more pronounced today than yesterday, and I’m just grateful that I needn’t do “Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes” with my kindergartners today as it is European Native-Annihilator Day and we’ve the day off.

I remain committed to someday qualifying for Boston, but it looks more and more as if that is a dream that is not coming to fruition anytime soon. My next marathons will likely be the Buffalo Marathon in late May, and then the Wineglass a year from now. Hopefully by then I’ll be walking upright once again.

Posted by mryonker at October 8, 2007 02:42 PM

Comments

Posted by: fran at October 9, 2007 03:38 PM