Getting my Phil-adelphia

4:00 AM:

I’m up, I might as well get going, there’s not much benefit to sleeping 30 minutes more. Dark outside, I’ll just step out and see how cold it is. Hmmm, not too bad. The TV say’s it’s gonna be cold, but shouldn’t be a problem.

I start getting ready and at some point, Mom sticks her head out to tell me it’s going to be 22 degrees at the start. Great, that can’t help my confidence. Time to head down, I’m still undecided about everything. At or below freezing, isn’t that the time I usually wear something on my legs? Dad woke up and we discussed it a bit. I gambled and went for the shorts. We went down to the lobby and there was quite a crowd. People were standing around, stretching, and in all manner of dress: full sleeves and pants and some in shorts. Looks like I’ll be okay.


I walked to the start with all of the other runners and it actually felt a little cold. I found my spot in the corrals and was struck by how far back it was. Oh well, must be right. I wandered off to the gear check and deposited my sweats. I put on my garbage bag “second skin” and wandered back to the start.

After the usual incoherent announcements, I realized what was going on. Up ahead was a sign for the 5:30 pace group. Instead of lining us up based on likely finishing times, they lined us up based on when we registered. Of course, they asked us our hopeful finishing time when we signed up, so I guess it’s my fault for thinking that they’d use those numbers for some actual reason. So, my parents, who were looking for me near the 3:30 pace group, were probably frustrated.


I did my best to weave to the front, but the best I managed was getting near the beginning of the 3rd starting group, some 10-15 minutes after the initial start and a few miles behind the 3:30 pace group. So much for that.

Finally, we were underway. The theme from “Rocky” blaring (for the 3rd time) as we headed towards historic Philadelphia. A bit of weaving, dodging, and other slalom-like activities and I managed to get pretty close to my target pace in the first few miles. The first water stop was a shock. We rounded a corner and there were a dozen frantic volunteers and a river of empty, crushed paper cups. No water here, keep moving. At least it’s cold out; on a hot day, there’d be riots. The second stop was similar, but I managed to not only get a cup of Gatorade, but I didn’t spill any of it on my hands and thus avoided having wet gloves for another 22 miles.

Shockingly, a long hill broke up the urban landscape and afforded us the chance to run upwards through an urban landscape. I heard some grumbling about the hill and joked with the other runners. The guy paid me a compliment about my apparent toughness and I repaid him by accidentally squirting a GU packet in his face. But that’s it for the hills, right?

When we turned back into the city, it got immediately colder. But the crowds picked up too. We headed back towards the city center and good sized throngs lined the streets. I slapped a few hands, kissed some babies, and kept hitting my splits. I managed to miss a mile marker and was still feeling good enough that I could keep my pace before hitting the next one and it came as a nice treat. I was around 50 minutes for 10-k and was feeling really good.

The next section was marked by a long climb up a winding hill, with views of the river (and an impossibly long snake of runners) below. A sign near the crest of the hill announced “Last Hill.” I got to the top without major trauma and I think I kept the pace pretty well on target. But that’s it for the hills, right?

A guy at the 15-k mark made me laugh and then reminded me to “keep smiling, you paid to do this.” I was thinking of pointing out I was actually here as part of a court-ordered plea deal, but I was too far away before I could answer. But now came the fun part, we’d be going back down the hill, and it would take us along the river. The river stretch wasn’t one of the most exciting of the race. The river was on one side, but a cement wall was on the other. Plus, the water stops had started to warn the runners that the liquids on the ground had frozen, so we had to tread lightly when we went though. I wasn’t entirely broken up about slowing a bit in through those areas.

We neared the half-way mark and climbed a small hill. Mom and Dad were waiting for me there and gave me a cheer. I’d been looking for them the whole race, but they hadn’t spotted me, probably due to my late start. Or maybe they’d decided to go down a few at the hotel bar and figured they’d catch me at the end. Both seemed plausible.

The half runners dropped off and now it was just us full crazies. But what’s this, we’re going down a hill? Oh, I’m not gonna want to climb that at the end. But that’s it for the hills, right? We bottomed out at the river, this time on the other side. A mile or two in, the road split and the leaders were coming the other way. I dreaded how far ahead they were and prayed for a turnaround to come immediately. The river was nice and there were trees and nature on the other side. Score one for this side of the river! It also seemed like we were going up and down a lot of small, short inclines. But that’s it for the hills, right?

I’m still feeling really good, even as we get through 15, 16, 17, 18 miles. I’m liking this, but I’m a bit worried that at any moment, the wheels will come off and I’ll be shuffling. I got a little boxed in and didn’t have the same energy I did at the start to get out of it. So, I spent about a half a minute at a slower pace before finding a seam to slip through. The road diverged and I was sure it was so we could make the turn and head back. Up a little hill we went. But that’s it for the hills, right? On the other side, we joined back up with the runners going the other direction. Chalk signs on the ground announced we were nearing the beer station. Yum.

The neighborhood we entered was cute. Lots of fans were lining the sides, screaming, handing out brownies, I think. (It was a pile of brown cake-like stuff on a giant piece of cardboard, that was the best I could think of.) I found myself nearing the 20 mile mark and going up a pretty decent hill. But that’s it for the hills, right? I rounded 20 miles as I turned back for home. I was around a little over 2:40, not bad, still feeling good. I enjoyed the long downhill and tried to let it carry me home.

I was still feeling okay, but my willingness to run was at a low ebb. I was sure I could run 5 more miles, but didn’t know if I wanted to. All of a sudden, a guy on the side of the road yells out my name. It sounded a bit like Jon, a friend of mine from college, and from what I glimpsed of the bit of his face I could see without my glasses, running the other direction, and bundled in cold-weather gear, I thought it might be him. Maybe it’s someone who will email me or send me a message. Otherwise, I’ll never know.

People started offering assessments as to how far away we were (1/2 mile, 1 mile, etc.) So, probably only 2 or so miles to go. We got back to the hill and I kind of shut off my brain. I slugged up it, trying to make 3:30. It was theoretically possible, I think, but fatigue, the crowd, and the hill were in the way. But that’s it for the hills, right?

I tried to race in hard. Mom and Dad were a bit before the end and their yelling encouraged me. I crossed the line quietly (unlike NY) and made my way through the chutes. 3:31:39.

I found M&D and as we headed back to the hotel, there was Jon and his wife, wrapped in mylar, walking towards us. I guess it is a small world, after all. Into the hotel room, shower, lunch, airport, plane. No more hills, unless the jetway's broken. Then I cry.