Philadelphia Marathon 2021

Philadelphia, PA

Sunday, November 21, 2021

It's been eighteen years now since I ran my first marathon, which also happened to be the Philadelphia Marathon.  So many rookie mistakes were made that debut marathon race, including wearing a cotton shirt (seriously!), throwing out my space blanket immediately post-race and feeling like I was freezing a few minutes later, sitting down in a chair just after I finished and then unable to stand up on my own (a stranger and Jana worked together to get me up), and driving back to RI post marathon, a painful experience.

Finish line at my 2003 Philadelphia Marathon,
baggy shorts, cotton t-shirt, race belt, and all.

Fast forward 18 years, and let's see how my race four days from now goes.  I'll throw out my goals now, and then revisit them post-race and see how I did:

• "A" Goal:  sub-2:50.  Yes, that's seriously aggressive, but I'm running well and want to at least try.
• "B" Goal:  a PR (i.e., sub-2:51:55).  Again, aggressive.
• "C" Goal:  sub-3.  One could even argue that's aggressive, as the past few marathons I've run, I've just barely gotten in sub-3.

Saturday morning Matthew and I took the train from Westerly to Philadelphia.  Driving home from Philadelphia after my first marathon in 2003 was pretty miserable and uncomfortable, so I decided to make the travel a little easier and more relaxing this time (especially as I can travel for "free" on Amtrak, based on all the money spent commuting daily on Amtrak to Boston for 13 years).

Philadelphia Amtrak Station:
nice building inside and out

Arrived Philadelphia about 1pm, and after lunch, checked into the hotel and went to the expo.  The expo was pretty small and unremarkable, but mandatory to attend, show vaccination proof (vaccinated only at this marathon), and pick up shirt, bib, and drop bag.

Expo was well laid out and inviting

I set out everything I would need for the marathon
before going to bed:  clockwise from upper-left:
gear check drop back, face mask (required to get into
starting corral), gloves, Garmin watch, red
bracelet needed to get into security area and
proving vaccination screening, 3 x GU,
running clothes with bib pinned,
and maroon corral designation.

Race start jitters and errors:  Set the alarm for 5am (7am race start one mile away).  Had a bowl of oatmeal with dried cranberries and blueberries we picked up from an organic store last night, plus half a bagel.  (Note to self:  never microwave a bagel again.  Never.)   Got into my race clothing, and then rested until about 6:15am, before stretching out and heading to the race.

I was feeling confident as I jogged in the pre-dawn darkness to the race and feeling excited as I saw hundreds of other runners, police, fountains, and the flag-lined start at Ben Franklin Parkway near the famous Philadelphia Art Museum and "Rocky" steps.  I showed my bracelet (which we got after validating vaccination status yesterday), got to the start at about 6:40am, and thought I'll do a few strides, shed my quarter-zip and gloves into the gear back, drop my gear bag, and be ready to go.  If only it were that easy ...

Fountain at Logan Circle, near start,
as I arrived about sunrise

And then it hit me:  I was woefully unprepared for the enormity of this event and ensuing logistics of the start area.  I better drop my bag right away.  Where is that bag drop?  Three times I had to follow the pattern of 1) asking a volunteer which way the bag drop was, 2) run/jog between scads of people in the general direction I was pointed, 3) repeat process of finding and asking another volunteer.

So now I've arrived at the bag drop.  It's 6:50am.  Ten minutes to start.  Uh-oh.  The bag drop consists of maybe a dozen UPS trucks backed up and lined up ready to accept gear, and then facing the trucks are long lines of hundreds of runners ready to drop off their bags and stretching out further in the distance than I can see.  Now what?!  Hide the bag behind a tree instead?  No, someone would probably throw it out and I have my cell phone in the bag.  Carry my bag while running and hand it to Matthew whenever I first see him?  That doesn't sound good either.

I flash back to the Vermont City Half Marathon, where I held onto my gear until about three minutes before start and then dropped off my gear bag and still had time for a few more strides.  Irrelevant comparison!  Vermont City Half had 442 finishers, whereas Philadelphia Marathon has more than 7,500.  

Ran alongside the long line until I got to the back.  Other runners are also questioning whether they'll get to the start of the race by the 7am start.  Then one runner points out you don't need to be there by 7am; you just need to be there by the time the final runner in the final waves crosses the starting line.  OK, so I won't miss the race, but I don't want to miss my wave either and have to start at the back.  That would be horrible.

I stay in line and the line moves quicker than I expected, but I am constantly staring at the minutes ticking away on my watch and it feels harrowing.  I am getting very close to the start of the line when we hear announced that the wheelchair division just got underway.  OK, my wave is two waves away, but I don't actually know the time separation.  I check my bag, get my bag receipt, stuff it in my back pocket, and run towards the start.  During my run to the start, I am getting close to the entry for my "maroon" wave, when I hear announced the start of the elite and seeded wave.

I pull into the maroon entrance and on to the starting road, Ben Franklin Parkway.  I walk towards the front of the pack, sidestepping many runners, and get up to about the 3rd row.  I hear a speaker giving tips on the race, and look to my right.  About three feet from me, up on a reviewing stand platform, is Meb Keflezighi speaking!!!  I also recognize Aliphine Tuliamuk on the platform (maybe because I just read an article about her and her husband).  Pretty cool.  This helps just a tiny bit in calming my nerves.  The crowd chuckles as Meb says, "If this is your first marathon, you are going to have a PR!"  

We are packed in like sardines here.  I take solace in the fact that every single runner here is fully vaccinated.  Honestly, I hope this vaccination requirement becomes a trend at races, or at least larger races.  The next thing I remember is another race official starting a countdown to the start, and we're off!

Start to Mile 10:  I've often heard the marathon referred to as "two 10-milers, plus a 10K", so I'll outline this report from that perspective.  Even though I made it up to the third row, I didn't have the clear running path that I had anticipated.  People ran ahead of me only to slow down (in a marathon, right at the start, really?) and there were people in front of me that were clearly much slower than me that I had to weave around.  It was really tight for the first half mile or so, then it thinned out at least enough that I didn't have to do any more weaving.

Busy, packed in start
(from race FB photos)

This gives you a feel for how many runners were on the course.
I tried to stay to the outside as much as possible for efficiently passing people.

I heard and recognized Matthew's voice as I went past where he was standing outside the corralled off running lanes.  The first two miles of the course head east through Center City (where we spent the night), Chinatown, and towards the Delaware River.  About two miles in I go past a runner pushing a wheelchair participant, and he is blasting "Thunderstruck"!  Gave them a huge thumbs-up.  Inspirational!  

As we get to the Delaware River and turn to head south along its banks for a mile and a half, I come up on to the tail end of a massive group of runners, as in hundreds and hundreds of them across the width of the road for as far as I can see.  What gives?  The only two waves that should be ahead of me are the wheelchair division which started at 7am, and then the elite/seeded section a few minutes after that.  I panic a little as I weave through runners, but then smarten up and decide it's best for me to run on the far left side of the mob, where there is plenty of room for me to pass runners, and pass them I do.  I glance to my left a few times, but the warehouse look of Camden, New Jersey on the opposite side of the river is less than appealing.

We head west through a downtown area, and there is a two mile section (Miles 6 and 7) that are among the liveliest on the course.  Throngs of spectators are out cheering, many with homemade signs.  I notice the "Run like the Wind" sign that is ubiquitous at many marathons, but I am intrigued with the "Lauf Langsamer" sign (translated "Run Slower") and wonder if the person got the wording wrong or else why slower?  As we run past a pizza joint, I notice the cheeky if not mildly inappropriate slogan, "Where you always get a piece" and chuckle to my immature self.  I then hear AC/DC's Thunderstruck a second time, as a random spectator is blasting it.  This section is really motivating, and perhaps explains why I logged my two fastest miles of the race here, with Mile 6 a 6:05 and Mile 7 a 6:04, at least according to my GPS watch.

Based on those two splits and the fact that every other split to date on my watch registered 6:16 or faster, I figured I was well ahead of my target pace of 6:20 for the first twenty miles, and decided to dial the pace back a bit.

HOWEVER, it turns out my actual pace for the first 10K, unbeknownst to me at the time, was 6:22, not the 6:12 or so that I had projected based on my GPS splits.  More on that later.

At about Mile 8.  Form is still good here.
(Note I don't mind buying an occasional photo
at $5 or $10, but $30 apiece is the price for a download of these photos!)

We close the first ten miles with two back-to-back climbs, a 60' climb followed by a downhill into a 100' climb as we enter Fairmount Park.  I felt the second climb and it was only offset mentally by watching the leaders come through the opposite direction towards us as we started a 2.5 mile loop here.

Miles 11 to 20:  The hill plateaued and we ran a couple of easy flat miles before the descent back out of the park.  

Towards the end of Mile 12, I looked over at the runner I came up on and thought he looked similar to Justin Madry of New London, a runner I met earlier this year while running the John Kelley Half.  Nah, can't be.  He already ran his fall marathon a few weeks earlier.  As I get right up to him, he calls out to me.  Yes, it's Justin!  I asked him, didn't he just run a marathon?  Yes, he explains, he ran at Chicago (3:12), but didn't do well, so he's back at it today (where he would run a 2:58).  It was pretty cool to be 250 miles away from home and randomly run into a runner you know, while running.  At any rate, he encouraged me to keep going and finish strong, and I moved ahead.

I enjoyed the ensuing downhill, but we almost immediately went into another uphill.  I had studied the course and was quite sure there were two hills at Miles 8 and 10, and that was it.  Well, obviously I missed something as I had a 90' climb in Mile 13.  Ugh.  I am feeling this one.  I go through the half in 1:23:07, which is pretty much right on target for my plan of 6:20s for first 20 miles, then I can afford up to 6:50s for remainder.  It's at this point I realize I haven't covered as much ground as my watch would indicate.

After another loop in a different section of the park, we descend the final hill down to begin basically a 10-mile OAB along the Schuykill (pronounced skoo'-kil) River.  At this point, at Mile 16, I see Matthew on the side of the route.

The run along the banks of the river is pleasant with plenty of room spaced out between runners at this point.  Except for this one annoying runner, whose family is following him on bikes on the bike path on the side of the course.  He keeps turning his head around to check out where his family members are and isn't really running an efficient straight line.  Why do I care?  Because he has already cut me off once and I have to make slight stride alternations when he crosses the path in front of me.  My guess is he's much younger than me, so I don't care that he's ahead of me, but just that he occasionally affects my gait and I find his loud conversations with his family hard for me to focus.

On a positive note, the hills are truly done now and I'm able to resume target 6:20 pace for most of the miles from 15 to 20.

Miles 21 to finish:  Just after Mile 20, there is a cone turnaround.  The dreaded cone turnaround.  Many marathons have them, and that is a shame.  Especially this late in the game.  This is what did me in at Newport Marathon in 2017, when I was running 6:20s and 6:30s with Tommy 5K through Mile 21 turnaround, and then I blew up and my pace ballooned to an 8:15 and I just eked out a time under 3 hours.

I take the turnaround as wide as I can to hopefully lessen impact.  I am thrilled to have made it this far at this pace, but I am tired now, and have six long miles to go, with all the remaining miles pretty much the same monotony.  I'm fighting the mental urge to just slow down and be very happy with a PR (sub 2:51:55) or even happy with a sub-2:55, the likes of which I have only seen once, and not in seven years.  I need something to take my mind off the mental battle going on in my head and the return trip along the river, which seemed scenic on the way down and now monotonous on the return.  I decide to employ a mental strategy I've read about and learned to help get you through the final six miles.  The tactic is to dedicate each of the remaining miles to people close to you in your life, and reflect on that person during "their" mile to get your mind off the struggle.  OK, here goes:

Mile 21:  This one is for Dad.  Long departed, and never a runner, but he was always there for me and always encouraged me to do my best.  One of his phrases to me was, "If it's worth doing something, it's worth doing it right".  6:39.  Can I keep it at 6:45 or around there?

Mile 22:  Mom.  Supported me at so many running events; was even there for me at my first Boston Marathon.  6:28.  OK, that's more like it.

Mile 23:  Brady.  Seriously, a dog?  Yes!  Boundless energy, provides me with entertainment and laughs, and is always up for a run with me.  6:38.  OK, still sub 6:45.

Mile 24:  Mark.  Wished me good luck at today's marathon.  He's pretty much independent now and lives 1,000 miles away, but I'm still flattered when he checks in with me for advice on life and financial topics.  6:40.  I am in pain now.  Hang in there.  Just over 2 miles to go.

Mile 25:  Matthew.  One of my most stalwart running partners and believes in me and my running capabilities even more than I do.  He is somewhere out on the course cheering right now.  6:50.  Pain in my legs with every stride, but I have to keep pushing.  I do the math in my head, and it looks good for a sub-2:50, but awfully close.

Mile 26:  Jana.  Always supportive of me and my crazy endeavors, from volunteering, to cheering at far flung places, including flying to my last marathon (Myrtle Beach in 2019), to putting up with me returning from trail runs bloodied and muddied.  7:05.  Fading and hurting, but not blowing up.  Hang in there.

Somewhere towards the end. 
I am in pain.
My form is breaking down now,
and doesn't look strong like in
previous pic.

That final 0.2 is so long.  Where the hell is that finish line?  I'm ready to walk.  Or cry.  Or both.  Come on man, keep it together, would you?  I finally see and cross that finish line, as I hear the announcer say, "Crossing the line now is Jeff Walker, who today is Jeff Runner".  26.62 miles on my watch.  Not good.  That final 0.62 miles was at an average 7:25.

Final results:  2:50:16!  Average pace 6:29/mile.  166th overall out of 7,511.  1st of 254 in age group.  Full results here.

Done.  Spent.

No, I didn't hit my A Goal of sub-2:50, but as I had mentioned, my goals were pretty aggressive, I came pretty close, and I beat my PR by more than a minute and a half!  And that was when I seven years younger at the ripe young age of fifty!  Pretty ecstatic with that!

I finished the marathon at 9:58am.  For the next several hours, I went through stages of pain, shivering, and weakness.  I picked up my finisher medal, some food and drink, got my photo taken, and ambled off to the UPS trucks that were serving as drop bag collection today.  I ambled up to the table in front of "my" UPS truck, handed my baggage ticket to the young attendant, and put my stuff down on her table as I winced in pain and leaned bent over against her table.  There was clearly something wrong with locating my bag as people who came after me were leaving with their bags while I waited for mine.  I didn't have much voice at all, but asked at least twice more if someone was getting my bag, only to be politely reassured each time that they were working on it.  After what seemed like an eternity, a young Asian man came out of the truck, apologized to me for the delay, and handed me my bag.

I looked around to see where I could sit to eat my food and wait for Matthew to arrive.  Many runners were sitting on the edge of a fountain already, so I went just past that to the base of the steps in front of a small statue of reindeers, which in turn had a huge horse statue at the top of the monument.  That is where I shall sit, and spend the rest of my days as I will surely never get up again.  I painfully lower myself to sit on the steps, and for some reason, type only the word "Help" to Matthew.  It is 10:15am.  It has taken me seventeen minutes to get from the finish line to here.  It felt like hours.

I'm in pain, but still warm at this point, and keep my mylar blanket wrapped around me.  The temp is in the 40s, but the direct sun feels really good as I drink my chicken broth soup, and eat the food provided and slowly give Matthew some visual clues to help find me.  What I don't realize at the time is he has to walk a long way to get around all the fenced off enclosures and that I am in a secure area that he can't reach.  22 minutes later he's close enough to see me, and I very slowly stand back up and start to walk in his direction.  Navigating sidewalk steps is painful and when a runner next to me yells out a profanity as he has to step down over a sidewalk, I chuckle and empathize.  The hotel is one mile way, but fortunately there are shuttle buses close by that will bring us to two blocks away from the hotel. 

Getting out of the bus and back into the fresh air, this time I am cold.  Really cold.  In the short walk back to the hotel, I start shivering and my teeth start chattering uncontrollably.  Even inside the hotel, this does not abate until I am able to get into a hot shower.   A long hot shower and a change into dry street clothes finally takes care of the issue.

Feeling very weak now, we checked out and went to a diner Matthew picked out to have a late hearty breakfast.  Fortunately, it was a very short walk.

We took our time getting to the train station as I reveled in my results and checked out many of the details in race results and Strava.  Again, super happy with the results!

Official splits from race.  (As sent to me by Chris Garvin)

Same source, web version.

In Tommy 5K fashion, what went well:

• Reasonably consistent pacing for 20 miles (you can see in above graphics that at least through 30K [18.7M], I was consistently averaging about 6:20 pace)
• I persevered and hued very closely to the plan (6:20 for 20M, up to 7:00 for the last 6 - you can see above my average pace from 30K to finish was 6:51)
• Beating everyone in my age group in a very large race.  Stoked with this as well.  I received an e-mail from the race organizers the next day indicating they would be mailing a prize to me.  Looking forward to it!

What could've gone better:

• Not having enough time pre-race to drop bag.  That one is completely on me.  I unrealistically based the time I needed on the much smaller Vermont City Half Marathon, and didn't take into effect the added logistics of a much larger race.
• Having hundreds of runners in waves ahead of me.  Either many runners just went ahead in the Elite/Seeded heat where they didn't belong, OR related to my botching my time preparedness, is it possible that I actually missed my wave and started in whatever the next wave was?  Either way, it was several miles of running through hundreds of runners in a packed field.
• Failing to know there was a 3rd hill coming.  It wasn't huge, but mentally, I honestly thought I was done with hill climbs at Mile 10 and I wasn't prepared for climbing yet another hill at Mile 14.  Again, that one is on me.  I think I was studying Strava maps from previous years, which only had 2 hills.  (The course was changed slightly this year due to construction.)
• My watch showed 26.62 miles, an extra 0.40 miles!  Obviously it's a certified course, but I can't tell if 1) I ran an extra 0.4 miles, perhaps in part because of the weaving around runners early and inability to run tangents, 2) my GPS was off, perhaps in part because GPS doesn't work well in an area of tall buildings, or 3) the more likely scenario, a combination of both.  I looked at my GPS mileage recorded in recent past marathons (chart below), and this was tied for my highest mileage recorded at a marathon.  If I really ran an extra 0.4 miles, well that is extra time added that I didn't "budget" for.  If just a GPS error, then it at least impacted me mentally as I intentionally slowed a bit to compensate.

I certainly "faded" the last 6 miles, but comparing to above,
I guess I didn't "blow up" like I did at 2014 Hartford, 2016 Sugarloaf, or 2017 Newport.

My 21st and fastest marathon.  Yet.

One of the coolest medals I have earned.
The Philadelphia Marathon 2021, and my PR, is in the books.
Now what's next?