Ultimate Family Death March Part 2

I woke up around 5:45. Immediately, I was in a quandary about what to wear. It was supposed to be cold and windy but now the local news channel was putting the temperature in the low 60s, with lesser winds. Pants or shorts? I decided to wear pants, but take my shorts in case I changed my mind at the last minute. That decided, I had my breakfast of Sports Tea and banana bread.

The plan was to gather in the lobby at 6:45. This was a gang of Culkins, so it was minor miracle we got out of the hotel just 15 minutes or so after our original departure time.

The Metro was packed with runners. Molly kept things moving smoothly, directing us to the right stop and encouraging the crowds to move to the center of the car.




There was quite a long walk from the Metro stop to the race start. Along the way it became pretty clear that shorts were the way to go for 26.2 mile run, so it was off to the porta-potties for a change of outfits.

I checked my post-race clothes and hoped I would see them at the end of the race. Molly, Kym and I waited at the start together, while the Washington Street Culkins were up ahead in the crowd. We were punchy with nervous energy, but the Neck gals looked great in their political running shirts. (In case you can't read them, Kym's says, "Fight Ignorance, Not Immigration" and Molly's says "10 Days Until Majority." The response to the shirts is Kym and Molly's story to tell, but they certainly helped balance out the "Condi's Crew" shirts worn by a group of female runners from the State Department.)



We were set to start when news came that there was medical emergency which was going to cause a delay. While you expect a few emergencies along a marathon course, you don't expect them at the beginning of the race. It turned out a man had a heart attack 100 yards into the run and was saved only because a cardiac surgeon and a firefighter were in the crowd of runners near him.

Finally the crowd surged forward. I hit my stopwatch as we crossed over the official start line and off I went.

I knew I was undertrained for this race and had no illusions about running fast or even running the entire way. My plan was to run 11 minute miles and walk for 5 minutes every 5 miles. That pace would put me at the finish line somewhere between 5:02 and 5:03. I hit the five mile mark--on a high after entering the cheering crowds at Georgetown to the strains of "YMCA"--at 54:45. So far so good.

The next 10 miles were incredibly fun. My legs felt great and the runners and the crowds had a lot of energy. The course was beautiful--we went along a parkway covered with a canopy of fall foliage and downtown on a tour of Washington's famous monuments. Francis Dugan probably never imagined 6 of his descendants would run past the Jefferson Memorial in a crowd of 35,000 people.





I hit mile 13 and realized I was running quite a bit ahead of my pace. I had been tracking my time generally on my stopwatch, but it turned out I was running closer to 10:30 minute miles instead of 11 minute miles. 30 seconds doesn't sound like a lot, but it adds up. I was a little nervous and vowed to slow down. I still felt good though.



Somewhere between miles 16 and 17 things got rough. We entered onto Hyde's Point, a piece of land jutting into the Potomac that Molly had warned me about. It is actually quite lovely, but also cold and windy; encouraging groups of supporters were few and far between. I found out later that almost all of our gang started to have trouble at this part of the race.



My pace got slower and slower over the next miles. My slightly faster-than-planned pace earlier hurt me and the wind didn't make things easier. I'm not sure what shocked me more--that my legs could hurt so much or that they would keep moving even while hurting so much. I finally got to mile 20, at the 14th Street Bridge--this is the point that they cut off people who don't reach it in a certain time and force them onto a bus. I knew I was well ahead of the bus, but it was still a relief. Worse case scenario, I could walk it in.

While the first 20 miles of the race are beautiful, the last 6.2 are pretty ugly. You run on highways and through Crystal City, which seemed like yuppie urban development at its most annoying. (It may look better if you haven't run 22 miles first.) In Crystal City some people were having a beer bash and offering runners drinks--a runner in front of me actually accepted the offer. I can't think of anything I wanted less at that particular moment in time.





Mile 25 was at the bottom of a highway off ramp. Rarely has a piece of signage looked so gorgeous. Rarely has 1.2 miles seemed so long.




I shuffled along towards the end. I had no idea what my split times were anymore. People who had finished were out along the sidelines giving encouragement. Someone gave me a piece of banana, which tasted delicious. Finally, I saw the 26 mile marker. And then I learned some sick mind had designed a course where the last .2 miles are STRAIGHT UP HILL. A steep hill. There was no way I was going to walk it in at this point, but I probably could have walked faster than I ran. And then suddenly I was over the finish line. I was done and could still walk and was apparently still alive. My time was 5:05:09--despite my enormous slowdown, I was pretty close to my goal.



Marines directed us into lines, where we waited to receive our medals while looking at the Marine Monument. Then all I had to do was try to find the rest of the running Culkins and compare notes on this, the Ultimate Family Death March.




Coming Up: The After Party, The Aftermath.