Shortly after the Philly marathon last fall, my dear running
friends convinced me to sign up for the Gettysburg Marathon this April. It didn’t take much convincing, as
training with a group is much better than training alone. However, of the five who signed up,
only three made it to the starting line, and only two made it to the
finish. I had all kinds of ambitions while preparing for the
race: to prove that I am now in
the best shape of my life (by beating my PR from my first marathon at age 23),
to negative split or at least maintain a steady pace. However, there is that inevitable point in a marathon where
the goal changes to simply finishing.
Now, after running my slowest time ever, the accomplishment of finishing
and savoring the experience is enough.
Where to start:
the beautiful scenery or the hills? Unfortunately, they can’t really be separated. The first few miles included some of
the biggest uphills, starting near the battlefield, where the confederates
first held higher ground in the battle.
Further on, the biggest hill near mile 7 crested at an orchard in bloom.
My favorite part of the course was the downhill to flat section near mile 9
where the road paralleled a creek.
Among the many farms along the way, there was a turkey very close to the
road making crazy turkey noises, some horses running through an open meadow,
and, of course, lots of cows.
Many quaint farmhouses with historic and/or patriotic décor lined the
roads, and families came out on the front lawns to cheer the streams of
runners.
My morning soundtrack included the late Richie Havens’ “Here
comes the sun,” which echoed over and over in my mind, as this was the
quintessential spring day. After
many January and February long runs in the snow and windy winter track workouts
where speed seemed impossible, the sun broke through for a beautiful running
day. True, I was dehydrated and
taking a double-fisted walk through nearly every water stop by the last few
miles, but those winter days and much of the stress of the last four months can
be put behind me now.
What was most challenging about this course was not how big
the hills were, but how unpredictable.
I was prepared for hills in the first 7 miles and another one at mile
11, but I was expecting the rest to be mostly downhill. I didn’t anticipate all of the little
ups and downs, and I certainly didn’t train for the hills enough. While my long runs often include
running uphill back from Manayunk, that long steady climb is very different
from Gettysburg’s rolling terrain.
I struggle with hills in general, and specifically here, the need to
continually shift gears required more mental focus than I had at that point in
the race. I may have slowed down
on some uphills, and just forgot to pick it up when the hill ended, because I
was just in survival mode, perhaps lacking the brain fuel to run smart.
Around mile 17, I started counting down the miles until mile
21, where Alyson would meet me to run the last few miles. What a relief to have some company and
the distraction of conversation (with another person, not just my own
head). I am blessed to have such a
good friend there when I needed it most.
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