Detroit International Marathon 2013

"When are you coming to Michigan?" my grandmother has asked for the last few years.  "I'm not going to be around forever, you know."

"If you run the Detroit Marathon, you'll have a place to stay and free food!" my friend JaCinda has hinted repeatedly.

"You can visit your Aunt Audrey and her family, and your godfather Paul!" exclaimed my dad.

So, after years of reminders ranging from the not-so-subtle to the downright blatant, I decided to run the Detroit Marathon.  Race reports I'd found online, and testimonials from some friends who have run that race in the past, made it seem like it would be pretty perfect:  flat, with the only elevation gain to speak of happening early in the race as the course crosses the Ambassador Bridge into Canada; an "underwater mile" through the Windsor Tunnel back into Detroit; temperatures averaging in the high 40s to low 50s; well-supported and with enthusiastic crowds; and a few surprisingly (it is Detroit, after all) pretty neighborhoods.  Plus, free room and board--a strong argument indeed.

And it pretty much was all these things.  The race started at 7am, which meant the sun was just coming up as I crossed into Canada.  (Side note:  because the race is an "international" race that runs for almost 5 miles in Canada, runners were warned repeatedly to have current passports--"show your passport at the expo, or you won't get your bib!"  Procrastinator that I am, I waited and waited and waited to send my passport for renewal, which I finally did--one week before the Federal government shut down.  Luckily, I'd paid for expedited processing!)  The few miles in Windsor were very pretty and peaceful, and the temperature was just perfect, in the low 50s.  In fact, that stayed consistent for the entire race:  I don't think it got above 53 all morning.

Leaving Windsor and reentering the US via the Windsor Tunnel was an interesting experience.  For one thing, being in the tunnel with all the other racers made that the warmest (and most humid!) part of the entire race.  For another, somehow my Garmin did not lose its signal!  However, the battery did die shortly after I got back to Michigan, at about mile 10.  I'd seen the "low battery" warning starting about mile 6; I chose to use however long it would remain active to practice running at between 8:30 and 8:45 pace, figuring if I could settle into that feeling, I could conceivably maintain that pace for the rest of the race (excluding my walk breaks--yes, I still do those, but now for about 45 seconds).

Although I was flying blind from that point, I felt pretty good.  I was reasonably certain I was holding my pace, averaging just under a 9-minute mile (later review of my splits confirmed this) and feeling strong as the course made its way north through miles 11 to 18.  My friend JaCinda, apart from being a gracious host (and cook), was also a terrific cheerleader, who encouraged me at a few points along the course.  The weather was perfect, nice and cool and with even some good cloud cover up to this point.  And, because there were two half marathons, one which ran the first half of the course (the "International") that started at the same time as the full, and the other which ran the second half of the course (the "US-only") that started at 10), the field remained pretty packed with runners throughout.  The only thing I hadn't factored on, and that I didn't even notice until I was on Belle Isle, was the concrete.

As I ran over the MacArthur Bridge onto Belle Isle at mile 19, I was starting to get a bit tired.  In addition, the cramp in my right leg that I'd been studiously ignoring since about mile 8 ("Just run though it and it'll go away.  It knows what we're doing, it knows better than to pull something like this today") was becoming harder and harder to disregard.  Then, as I transitioned from the concrete bridge to the concrete road that circumnavigated the southern tip of the island before going back to the concrete bridge again, I realized that was what I'd been running on the entire race:  concrete!  A non-runner might say, "What's the difference?  A road is a road!"  But runners know there's a difference between concrete and asphalt.  ("So do engineers, I suppose.")  Bottom line, 26.2 miles on concrete is tougher than 26.2 miles on asphalt.

If I'd ignored that realization, I might still have maintained my pace, or only slid off it a little bit.  But I didn't.  My insecurities took over, and my motivation fled.  I tried to rally, but couldn't muster more than a shuffle for most of the last 10k--and in fact, my last 2 full miles were done at a (still relatively brisk-ish) walk.  But JaCinda's smiling face and encouragement just before the 26 mile sign ("At the top of a short but steep hill--what's up with that, Detroit Marathon?") got me running again, or at least jogging, to get across the finish line.  It wasn't perfect, it wasn't pretty, but it was done.

Official Time: 4:20:37
YTD Race Miles: 95.3
YTD Total Miles: 1310.6
Post-Marathon Tradition: JaCinda and I met my godfater Paul and his wife Donna at a nearby Red Robin for burgers and beers