We were in a pretty nice hotel pretty close to the start/finish for the Portland Marathon. So I wasn’t surprised to find other runners in the elevator when the doors opened to let me on. It was still too early to head for the start – we were all on reconnaissance missions to check the weather and decide what to wear. It was dark out, and there was a bit of a breeze whipping around the corner of the building. It felt like a pretty good temperature for running, maybe even a bit too warm. It wasn’t cold enough to require more than a garbage bag overcoat for waiting at the start. Portland air has a softness that always surprises me – something like the smell of flowers – even in October. I had on my lightest shorts and lightest top, and decided I was perfectly dressed. I went back up to the room with nothing to do but wait. I was ready.
Liz was finishing her preparations. She would be a spectator, but her preparations were more extensive than mine. Liz likes to appear in as many places as possible when spectating. She’d worked out a plan to see me in nine locations. She’d developed her route when I last ran Portland – in 2004. But I was hoping to be 45 minutes faster this time, so she knew the timing would be tight in a couple spots. She had her timing charts, maps and cow bells ready. It’s a huge treat to have Liz cheering! She was a marathoner before I was, and she’s resumed training for her own marathons. In the future she’s likely to be in the race with me, so it might be a long time before I again have the pleasure of looking for her along the sidelines. Perhaps I’ll be her cheering section one day soon. For this race, though, we had complimentary roles and we were both ready.
I headed out into the darkness. The start had been changed to accommodate construction, so I gave myself a few extra minutes to figure it out. The start area turned out to be better organized than when I’d last run Portland, so the extra time was not needed. Pace group leaders appeared and each was holding a stick with a balloon attached. Each balloon was printed with the target finish time for the group. I was hoping to beat 3:10, so I kept an eye on that balloon. I spotted a couple familiar faces , Tim and Dru from Redmond. In races we’ve run together I’ve always finished behind them, so I was surprised to see them quite a ways behind where I planned to line up. It was explained that it was Tim’s first marathon and they had decided he should start out conservatively. About 15 minutes before the start it was suddenly getting crowded in the start area. I made my way to the 3:10 balloon and tried to stay relaxed. It seemed most of the crowd was as nervous and excited as I was. After a bit the horn blared and off we went.
The new start had three 90-degree turns in the first four blocks. Those turns caused a lot of jostling and crowding. It was still pretty dark out so I was intently focused on not falling underfoot. After the tortuous turns, we straightened out for a long downhill stretch on Broadway. At this point I was able to look around for my balloon of choice. The only balloon I could see was half a block ahead of me. I knew I’d been slowed through the turns, but the size of the gap surprised me. I picked it up a bit and started gaining. It was still too dark to see my GPS/heart-rate-display/watch so I didn’t have a clue what the pace was. I felt loose and relaxed and it felt good to be cruising, so I figured all was fine. About this time I saw my lovely wife jumping and cheering on the sidewalk. I caught the balloon as we reached the bottom of the hill on Broadway, and I could see that I’d been chasing the 3:00 balloon. Well, I knew that was wrong! I had no business keeping up with that group, so I eased off a bit as we turned a corner, leveled out and headed into the wind. The 3:00 balloon slowly pulled away, and I lost sight of it after a couple of miles. Before it was out of sight, though, I heard cow bells and spotted Liz for the second time on Naito.
After a noticeable climb into the wind there was a hairpin turn at about 3.5 miles and we were heading back downhill and with the wind. As I neared the bottom of the hill I noticed I was closing again on the 3:00 balloon. I realized they must be running even pace where I was running even effort. They pulled away on the uphill and into the wind and I gained it all back on the tailwind-aided downhill. I still felt great but knew I shouldn’t expect to stay with that balloon. There was now enough light to see my watch and I was right at my target heart rate. I did very well at ignoring the 3:00 balloon and running my own program, but found myself staying right behind the 3:00 group. I started to believe I belonged with the 3:00 group. I was tucked in with my newly-adopted group when I saw Liz for the third time.
I was still with the group when I saw Liz again just after mile 7. At about 9 miles there was an aid station and another hairpin turn. I slowed for water and found the 3:00 group had gapped me a bit. We were headed back into the wind and I realized how nice it would be to be tucked-in with the group instead of by myself 30 meters behind them. I increased my effort a little to close the gap. The wind was really making a difference and I wasn’t closing on the group. So I pushed a little harder. I really wanted the shelter of the group. I was definitely above my target heart rate, but felt it would be worth the effort to catch the group. Somehow I kept myself in a state of denial as I chased them for a couple miles without closing the gap. I’d been above my target effort for 15 minutes. I had been seduced by a balloon!
I came to my senses a little after mile 11 – easing up and letting the balloon pull away as I passed Liz for the fifth time and just before I turned and headed uphill again. After a few turns and another short downhill, I saw Liz for the sixth time and entered the last, long downwind stretch. I passed the half marathon chip mat at 1:29:02, and could see the 3:00 group quite a distance ahead of me. They were a little ahead of pace, but that made sense with the tough section coming up.
The next few miles went by easily and I was feeling very good about the race. At mile 16 or so the road heads up a short but pretty steep climb to the St. Johns Bridge. The bridge spans the Willamette River and is the start of my least favorite section of the Portland Marathon. It’s a 150 foot climb to the center
of the bridge (which is lovely by the way). After a gentle descent to the bluffs on the east side of the river there’s a steep 100 foot drop to a hard left turn and a climb right back up to the top of the bluff.
I made it to the top of the bridge just fine and still felt well. The view was great and the wind was actually refreshing – cooling me off after the effort of the climb. Starting down, though, I felt the first hint of trouble. My legs didn’t have the easy, springy feel I expected on the gentle downhill. My troubles vanished, though, when I heard the cow bells and saw Liz’s bright face at the end of the bridge. But the subsequent drop, turn and climb back up reminded me I was in trouble. By mile 19 I was fading fast.
I was paying the price for chasing that darned balloon. My legs were getting heavier and thicker. Turnover was becoming more and more difficult. It cheered me to see Liz again at mile 22, but then I realized she was running alongside me shouting encouragement… and she was keeping up with me pretty easily. Uh oh. A gentle downhill should have helped, but it felt like an uphill. I couldn’t get my legs to turn over. I was having trouble with arithmetic, too, but my calculations were casting a doubtful cloud over my 3:10 goal.
More and more people were passing me. There were a few sad folks having an even tougher time than I was, but there was no joy in passing them. On the climb toward mile 24 a tall, strong looking guy came by. I realized it was Tim and was momentarily delighted to see how well he was doing in his first marathon. I told him he was looking great, and he replied that he must look better than he felt. He lingered alongside me a little, and it looked like he might give in to an urge to slow down. Happily, though, he snapped out of it and pulled away. He inspired me and I tried to match his surge. I couldn’t stay with him, but I had a tiny bit more energy. When I reached the top of the hill I knew I had only two miles left, and that helped, too. After one more bridge across the Willamette I saw the sign for mile 25. With a mile left to go I had given up hope of finishing under 3:10. It was starting to feel like I might even miss a P.R. (I needed to beat 3:14:48 to get a new personal record). I realized I needed to get positive. I rallied my energy with the idea of a new P.R., and that was enough to keep me going.
I quit looking at my watch and just focused on moving forward. As I approached mile 26 I saw Liz for the ninth 
time and she was really animated! I realized she was saying, “You did it!” I was confused and wasn’t sure what I’d done. Could I still beat 3:10? I gave it all I had up the last hill and was delighted to see 3:09:15 when I turned the corner with one block to go. I heard the announcer call out my name as I approached the finish, and enjoyed hearing him say “53 years young.” I crossed the mat with a chip time of 3:09:21 and felt relieved and happy.
I found Tim and was happy to hear he’d finished in 3:07. Dru was right behind me with a 3:10. Liz was waiting for me at the exit from the finish area. I hobbled back to the hotel with her and got cleaned up. We were out of the hotel by check-out time and Liz drove us back to Bend.
I really got my money’s worth from that marathon. I’d felt the highest highs and the lowest lows. I’d enjoyed an hour or so of thinking I was going to run a 3:00 marathon. I’d suffered through a period thinking I’d blown my 3:10 goal. I’d managed my way through the huge sag. I had the joy of seeing my lovely wife all over the course, and the extra bounce when she told me I’d made the 3:10 goal. It was the most emotional race I’ve run.
