Paris Marathon

It sounds sexy when you sign up, but a marathon is a terrible way to tour a city. Last weekend was my first time in Paris so everything was new to me. The course promised to hit all of the sights:




I should have remembered from Florence: all of your attention during the race goes to yourself and those around you. "Is that twinge in my right hamstring going to get worse? Am I going too fast? Will they have any sports drink at this next aid station? Why didn't I train more/get more rest before the race? How in the world am I going to get around the clump of runners by that pacesetter? What! That guy is passing me again?"

I did not notice the obelisk in the middle of the road at Place de la Concorde. I did not notice the Louvre. I was vaguely aware that I was running along the Seine. I only saw the Eiffel Tower through a haze of exhaustion. L'Arc de Triomphe? Only meaningful because when I saw it I would finally be able to stop.

This was my second marathon. My goal for the first one was to finish, which I did. Now that I had experience I decided I was ready for an aggressive time goal, which for me meant first 3:15, and later 3:10 when I clocked a faster than expected half marathon in December.

First, the Todi runners (L to R): Massimo Fortunati (my usual running partner), Giovanni Imperato, Marzio Angelini (a club member there to cheer us on, and myself)




My race went almost exactly like I wanted...for the first 30 km. The pace was definitely a run and not a jog, but seemed manageable. I had done lots of pace work on the track and as a result was breathing slowly and easily at my planned pace of 4:30/km. Clearly that work had paid off, because I held that pace very evenly for almost 30 km.

Then Wham! The wall. Not only did it get harder to hold the pace, but I quickly realized that even trying to hold the pace would end in disaster. I could see that disaster in the form of fellow runners falling to the road. At first I thought I could slow down and still make my 3:15 "safe" goal. Nope. At the exhaustion deepened I stopped caring about that goal, too. I had even lost track of how long I had been running, having managed to pause my watch when I meant to mark splits (notice this happened after 30 km when I was very, very tired--the brain goes, too). After about 35 km the race was a mix of walking breaks, slower running, and gorging myself on water and fruit at the remaining aid stations.

But I finished. There were a couple of times that I didn't want to, but I knew I would kick myself later if I didn't. Final time: 3:20:18. 10 minutes better than Florence in November.




Post-mortem: I didn't adjust my goal for the heat (61 Fahrenheit at race start, and sunny), I relied on sports drink at the aid stations, which failed to materialize, and I was only partly recovered from the cold that came on the weekend before.

There is a reason marathons are so compelling. You cannot skimp the training, but it is easy to break yourself down by training too much. Then, in the race, you have to run in a way that conserves your energy for the later stages, and you also have to figure a way to take in new energy while you run because the human body cannot store enough for the whole distance. Finally, race day conditions can completely change what is possible after months of training.

I'll do another, but not this year. And I won't expect to see the sights when I do.

Michael