2011 Buffalo Marathon Race Report

Posted on 30. May, 2011 by Joe in Races

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Well, there were days I thought I would never be sitting down to write this post.  A race report for the 2011 Buffalo Marathon.  Those days were the ones where I was slapping on my trusty Yaktrax, donning three layers of clothes, and cursing the street crews for not plowing my street yet.  On days like those, a marathon on Memorial Day weekend seemed light years away.

It is remembering those frigid mornings scattered throughout the past sixteen weeks that makes it just a little easier to accept the toasty Sunday morning that greeted all of the Buffalo Marathon participants yesterday.  I could bemoan the heat and sun bearing down on me, but it really was better than those mornings where I wondered if my foot was going to go out from under me because of some unseen ice patch.

That said, the 2011 Buffalo Marathon was, again, a stifling experience.  I read that last year’s race was hotter, but I was off the course by 9:35 AM for that one as I did the half marathon.  I was in it for the long haul this year.  The morning began with a 4 AM wake-up.  Well, kind of.  I’m not really sure I slept all that much.  Being paranoid about missing my alarm and all.

After my buddy Peter picked me up and we cruised down the I-190, I remarked about the lovely overcast conditions.  We wondered how long they would last.  They didn’t last too long.  As I nervously shuffled my feet awaiting the start I glanced up at the sky.  The cloud cover was breaking up and I knew right then and there it was going to be a repeat of last year’s race.  Only doubled.

Once the gun went off, I immediately got cut off in the start line throng from Peter and one of his acquaintances we had met up with.  Knowing what was ahead of me along with those memories of last year’s half marathon firmly in my head, , I was content to attack this course on my own.  What that meant was religiously sticking to a pace between 10:18 (the pace my training program allegedly prepared me for) and 10:45 per mile.

With another year of running and a much more grounded approach to attacking this race, I have to say I absolutely running the first half of this race this year.  The marina leg of the race was great, despite the near claustrophobic feeling of it with so many people in a narrow space.  The crowd support for this part of the race is the best out of the entire course.  I literally got chills a few times.

After exiting the waterfront part of the course, I got the privilege of passing the HSBC Arena, home of my beloved Buffalo Sabres.  I enjoyed that small part of the course because I knew what was next.  The leg of the course that bludgeoned me last year.  The Tour of Overpasses.  Someday I will be bored enough to sit down with my map of Buffalo to see if it is really necessary to have the course span this many overpasses.  Until then, I will simply adjust the strategy to accomodate.

This year, they would not take me down.  I held enough in reserve and hit each one with enough restraint that I would not get KO’d by them.  I almost beat them.  The only punch they landed was because I only remembered four of them from last year.  There were five.  Thankfully, outside of a brief moment of despair, it didn’t set me back.  On I went.

Once the overpasses are behind you, it is time for the bittersweet part of the race.  It is borderline intoxicating to be around the half marathon runners as they reach the final two miles of their race.  I especially enjoyed this part fo the race because it was such a painful struggle for me last year.  This year, I got to witness the pain and joy on the faces of the runners finishing their challenge with a clear head.  I won’t soon forget it.

Alas, witnessing all of that presents a marathoner their first real mental challenge of this race.  As you approach the half marathon finish, the marathon runners are steered away a block.  I still haven’t decided if this is a good thing.  Logistically, I think it makes sense.  Mentally, I think it is a jolt.  You go from curb to curb euphoria, to virtual loneliness in an instant.  But, I guess that would be the case regardless.

That instant is where the real work begins.  That work is more mental (and emotional) than it is physical.  It is an immediate and poignant change that you have to adjust to quickly.  You go from being surrounded by countless people to next to nobody.   From this point forward, I could see no more than ten people at a time ahead of me.  Sometimes less.

What I did have, however, was a great moral victory.  As I crossed the 13.1 mile mark, I glanced at my watch.  2:20.  2:20 as in a whole 15 minutes faster than my half marathon finish time from a year before.  And I felt GREAT.

Of course, this whole thing couldn’t possibly smell like roses.  Some where along the interminable trip up Franklin Avenue and Linwood Avenue, the chinks in the armor began to appear.  By the I time reached Forest Lawn Cemetery and mile 16 the seeds of doubt began to appear.  There isn’t a whole lot of shade by the time you hit this part of the course and the wind inconveniently gusts in your face.  I knew my support crew was waiting in Delaware Park at mile 18 and I had to find a way to grind it out to get there.

Once I hit mile 17, the nasty gremlin that would haunt me for the rest of the race appeared.  Ever so slightly at first, but a very noticeable twinge in my right quadricep became evident.  Once you enter Delaware Park, you enter what I feel like is the Bizarro period of the race.  All kinds of people are circling the park rollerblading, walking jogging or biking completely oblivious to the fact you are knee deep in a marathon.  Equal parts odd and cool at the same time.  By this point in the race, my quad was bothering me enough that I had to do a couple walks to ease the pain.  I was in desperate need of a pick-me-up.  Thankfully, mile 18 was the time to see my wife, my son, and some friends.  If you ever do a marathon, do not discount the importance of this.  I absolutely needed it at that moment.  Nothing can compare with a quick hug from your boy and your wife.

After that, it was grind time.  Shortly after meeting up with the support crew, the quad really started to rebel.  The final eight miles of this race would be an epic battle between my will and the pain emanating from my leg.  Ironically, this was “the moment” for me.  That moment where I knew I was hooked for good.  I could have folded the tent and said this was for the birds. Instead, I circled the wagons (to coin a phrase…maybe not).  Despite the fact I (literally) felt like my quad was being squeezed in a vice, I rolled on.  I’d run until the pain was too much, then I would walk until it subsided.  Rinse, repeat.  At one point, there was a man bellowing through a megaphone “I can’t believe this guy is still smiling!!.”  I didn’t have the heart to explain the difference between a wince and a smile.

Why this was the moment I was hooked is I absolutely enjoyed the challenge it presented.  This was the time where every chip I had was put on the table.  399 miles of training.  The 99 pounds I have lost over the past decade. The mornings I woke at 4:30 AM.  It all flooded into my head and I was absolutely not going to fold there.  No matter how much it hurt, I was carrying on.  This point in the race became a math exercise to me.  If I walked from here, what would my time be?  As long as I get that medal (by finishing in six hours) I was good.

As I gimped my way down Richmond Avenue and mile 24 the walk breaks were becoming more frequent.  It was clear my favoring of the quad was causing other issues.  My right foot was starting to hurt and my back was tightening up. Then the left quad started getting tight.  From a physical standpoint, it was quickly becoming a debacle.  From a mental and emotional standpoint, I honestly wouldn’t trade it for the world.

I’ve spent more than a decade rebuilding myself from the shell of a man I was, so this was the perfect test of how far I have come.  By the time I had hit mile 25 I had willed myself to run the final 1.2 miles straight through.  No matter how much it hurt.  And let me tell you, it HURT.

As I rounded Niagara Square, it became evident this was the very end.  I made the final turn with my wife (who was the foundation of this whole trip), son, and friends cheering me on.  Everything hit me there, I desperately tried to hold it together, but seeing the two people I loved the most there and hearing your name over the PA system was just too much.  I crossed the finish line in 5:00:39 with tears fighting their way out.

After looking like death at last years half marathon finish I so wanted to look strong in the finish pictures this year.  I doubt that will be the case.  I’m not too proud to admit I was crying as I crossed the finish line.  I’ve heard you learn alot about yourself during the course of a marathon.  What I learned yesterday was that this wasn’t a crowning achievement for me.  This was the beginning.

I’m just getting started.  :)

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Tags: half marathon, marathon, pace, running events, training program