Wineglass Marathon
Corning NY
October 7, 2001

	I slept well; infact, I remember having a dream about getting to the Hamilton Round-the-Bay Race, with my 
brother Mark, and we had to drive from Don Mills down.  Very weird.  A very good sign, though, to have dreamt and 
have slept well. There was quite an amusing scene in the hotel lobby.  It was a big debate over what to wear.  The 
weather is cold and windy, and the forecast is for cloud and rain.  The question is tights or shorts?  long or 
short-sleeved shirt?  Ann was saying that after a frozen experience in Washington in 1997, there was no way she 
was gonna be cold - it was tights and ls shirt for her.  I chose my long shorts, and my ls shirt, but I packed my 
thick, Running Room t-shirt with me, incase I wanted to change my mind.  I left hotel with the gang @ 7:10am: 
Clark & Jane, Ann, Maureen & Craig, Hilda, Mandy, Rod, Michelle & Claude.  We got the 7:30 bus and we took over 
the back and made quite a noise - we were loose and chatty and giggly - a real riot.  We kept yelling at the bus 
driver to stop and let us off - "You've gone too far!"
	By the time we get to the start line, the sun is out and few clouds in the sky, and the wind is cold.   
But I decide to switch to my ss shirt, which I do. I lament having only my yellow lenses for my sunglasses, and 
not the dark ones, and only having my 'solid' hat, not the warm-weather one.  But, no point worrying about these 
now, though, because I can't do anything about them now.  I should have brought them in my race bag.  I do my 
pre-race prep - an early washroom stop and late pee in a bush (my urine is yellow - bad! I am slightly 
dehydrated); stretching; eating an energy bar; a short walk to loosen up.  I see other Nepean Running Room people 
- Fran, Guy, Silvia, Jim and Annette, andd Joe Henderson, the 'celebrity' for the race, whom I had chatted to 
yesterday, sees me and gives me a 'good luck' handshake.  Nice of him.  As a group, we huddle in the cool wind 
waiting to start.  Seeing the others around me, many wearing white shirts with Canada flags on, and the nervous 
chatter and bouncing up and down.  I feel included and comfortable.  A nice feeling.  I am happy with my clothing 
choices for the race.  The only modification I can made during the race is to put on/take off my gloves.  I took 
get #1 as we moved into the start line.

	Start.  Victory!  I made it!  I ask Jesus to run with me and take care of me, as I really don't know what 
this race will be like, whether my injuries will come back or bother me or not, whether I will have the energy and 
stamina in my legs to last to the end.  I am planning to run 1 mile marker at a time, thinking only about the next 
one, not how much farther I have to go; take a walk break every mile marker; take diluted gatorade at every aid 
station; gels every 3 miles to the 15 mile marker; and above all else, run how I feel.  I don't want to care about 
time at all!

	Mile 1 was crowded, but with a nice downhill.  Through Bath, we are already being crowded onto the side of 
the road.  I am not liking the camber to the road at this point.  Mile 2, my left foot ache is there, but it is 
not growing any more.  I can manage with this.  My left foot also is "pins and needles" a bit.  Are the shoe laces 
too tight?!?  I wiggle my foot to work it out, and it works, and I forget this potential discomfort for the rest 
of the race.  There are nice old houses to look at in Bath.  And a flying witch!! he! he!  I kept my gloves on 
until nearly the mile 3 mark, then tucked them in my shorts incase I wanted them later.  No need to throw them 
away - they stay tucked in my shorts (which are spandex-tight) without moving or bothering me.  At mile 3 I took a 
gel and also had to juggle to water and gatorade.  This is going to take a bit of practice and planning to get all 
my fuelling right.  I am starting to notice people with jackets tied around their waists, and other signs of 
excess clothing having been shed.  I am glad for my experience and apparently wise clothing choices.  Past mile 4 
is our first hill, a short climb up.  And there was Joe Henderson to cheer me on!  How encouraging!  This hill was 
immediately followed by a nice downhill.  Then my right soaz muscle begins to hurt.  No problem.  I've dealt with 
this before.  I notice it for a while, and then it too leaves my conscience.

	I am running mile by mile, and no more.  I reach a mile marker, take a walk and water/gatorade fuel break, 
and physically point forwards to the next one, saying "Ok, now mile ."  I am thinking only of the next mile 
marker, nothing more.  This mental strategy is working.  I feel good, running well, comfortable, not worried at 
all about how much farther I have to go.  My only concession is that I have the last 2 miles planned - I want to 
run them as hard as I can.  I walked them yesterday, so they are in my mind already.  
	The scenery is GORGEOUS.  Trees are in fall colours, and the sun is out to show them off.  It is nice to 
have the strong, cool wind at our backs.  I am comfortable, although I wish I had my other, lighter hat.  We are 
parallelling the freeway, sometimes near, and sometimes far, so the noise is sometimes bothersome, and sometimes 
not.  The course basically does this all the way into Corning, so I can expect some rolling hills, and the wind to 
be at my back most of the time.  Very nice.  It is at this time that I have nicknames for a few of the people I am 
running with - 'lighfoot', because she had a nice light stride (later found out her name was Sarah); blue man 
(Paul); and the Canucks (Canada flags on their socks - they were from Burlington).  Later I ran with 3 southerners 
(at least I thought so because of their strong accents) - they sure talked about all sorts of silly things.

	There is a long gradual uphill climb to mile 8, where the official race is.  I think I forgot to smile as 
a posed.  There was another photographer (or the same one?) later on in the race  (on the bike path before mile 
23? - I can't remember exactly), but I did remember to smile that second time.
	I reach Mile 9 and the first chip mat.  It is the town of Savona.  The clock reads 1:27.  Wow!  That was 
fast!  I knew I was running a bit fast, but, is that too fast?  I took a long time getting a gel, and I lost the 
gang I was running with.  Running without a watch is kinda neat, because I was so much less aware of the passage 
of time, and was so much more "in-the-moment".  The time on the clock really did come as a surprise to me, as it 
really wasn't registering how long I had been running.  Also, running from one mile marker to the next would have 
contributed to the "lack-of-time-appreciation".
	Then I began to struggle abit.  I felt signs of tiredness/fatigue/exhaustion in my calves.  I thought the 
hills had already done me in, like they had at Potsdam.  "Oh no!"  Instead, I tried to ignore it and enjoy myself. 
 There was a nice tree-lined lane from mile 10 - 11.  I put my gloves on briefly during this stretch because of 
the strong, cool wind.  I cut the corner to the railway? overpass.  This is followed by a short, sharp up and 
downhill.  I feel good.  I have started running with the 3 southerners.  I take the tylenol I've brought @ mile 
11.  I hope they will help me over the rest of the race, and I hope I don't throw up like the last time I took 
tylenol during a race.  My stomach so far is having no problems with the diluted gatorade or the gels.    The 
course still surprisingly mainly flat, and the lovely scenery and fall colours makes it so much more enjoyable.  I 
reach the  13.1 mile marker, and am happy.  I jump to land squarely on the 1/2 way line.  I am half way to my 
goal.

	Then I settle in, the fatigue in my calves disappears, and I begin to run great!  I catch back up to 
lightfoot and the 3 Canucks, and I notice that I am starting to catch and pass other people as well.  I am still 
running mile-by-mile.  The '26 1 mile runs' strategy is working to perfection!  Then comes the highlight of my 
race.  The hill just after mile 14 that Sylvia told as about.  It really isn't much to it, and it crested to the 
most gorgeous "Avenue of Autumn" that I can remember ever seeing - a long gradual downhill hemmed in by blazing 
glory trees, the wind blowing leaves across the road all around.  It was fabulous!!  At the bottom, I was tempted 
to run back up and do it again, it was SO nice!!  The weather is still perfect - sun and cloud, no threat of rain, 
and the strong wind pushing me home.  Through mile 15, and i take my last gel.  It is nice to have that concern 
done with.  I point forwards, and say "Ok, mile 16 is next."

	Then comes the most un-scenic part of the race.  From mile 16 past mile 17, the course is right beside the 
freeway.  Yuck! Noisy.  A bad, rough road.  Few trees.  Fortunately it doesn't last too long.  And, incredibly, 
there are people stopped on the side of the freeway, clapping and taking photos.  That could be dangerous for 
them.  Wow!
	I now lose my running group.  Approaching mile 18, lightfoot and the 3 Canucks all disappear into the bush 
for a bathroom break, and I leave the 3 southerners behind.  Only blue man and his buddy are still infront of me. 
 I am catching and passing more people.  The only ones passing me are relay runners, and I am even passing some of 
them.  I catch and pass Jenn from the Running Room.  We urge each other on.
	At the 18.2 mile marker is the second chip mat.  The clock there says 2:58.  This is a slower 9 miles than 
the first 9 miles.  That is ok.  I am still ahead of any time that I projected for myself before the race had 
started.  I hope I don't slow down too much.  The course goes through Coopers Plains and onto a major road.  The 
runners are squeezed onto the side of the road.  Not very comfortable.  I catch and passed more people, including 
3 ladies @ the 20 mile mark who are running 3 abreast into the road in the way of traffic - not very safe at all. 
 I tag onto a couple of guys, one with big frizzy hair.  We are moving faster than the cars, and I and a couple of 
other runners around me urge the people in the cars to give us some music.  One driver did oblige, and we cheered 
them.  But, for the most part, it was quiet, disinterested people looking at us like we were nuts!  Oh well!  One 
of the southerner ladies passes me running strongly, and she eventually passes out of sight.  I bet she was 
holding her pace back for her other 2 companions, and when they slowed, she left them behind and ran her own pace. 
 My left quad is starting to hurt now.  I know that the much loss of training will come back to haunt me now - my 
legs are not as built-up as I would like them to be.  Still, I am running well and free.  I am still taking it one 
mile at a time.  The weather still great.  
	There are aid stations at every mile marker from mile 20 on in.  The mile 21 aid station was funny - 
ladies and girls all wearing Dr. Seus hats.  I told them that I would remember them as "My Dr. Seus ladies!" :=). 
 Now I am off the major road, away from that yucky traffic, and down a short, steepish hill into a park.  I am 
able to do my  "Quick feet! Quick feet!" routine, and it works.  I blast past one girl, who had stumbled on a hole 
in the road.  And now I'm running with another.  Together, we make a big turn into the wind.  This was no fun.  I 
am so glad we didn't have to go the whole race into this wind.  It is strong and cold.  In residential side 
streets now.  Suddenly, the mile 22 marker came up, faster than I expected.  I said "Wow! That was fast!".  The 
girl I was running with, who was running relay, said "Well, today you are kicking butt and taking names!"  I 
couldn't agree with here more.  She is so impressed with all of us who are running the whole marathon, and tells 
me so during our chatter.  I told her that the way she was running, she could do an marathon one day.  I leave her 
behind at this point.  My quads are hurting more now, but this pain is still not inhibiting my pace or stride.

	Onto the bike path now.  And I feel my legs weakening, and know that I will/am slowing down.  In the 
underpass I hear my footsteps, and they are not light - slap! thump! thump! slap!  Pain and exhaustion is setting 
in, in my quads and calves.  I try to remain focused on only reaching the next mile marker, and keeping on going, 
knowing my pace is now slowing.  I am still passing some guys who are struggling even more than me, walking and 
shuffling.  This encourages me.  I pass a guy in a red shirt.  I reach the mile 23 aid station.  Walking feels 
good now.  The pain in my legs is sharpening.  I must fight to keep running, not give in to the impulse to walk 
except where it is planned, at the mile markers.  I'm not quitting today.  I want to reach the next mile marker.  
I go down a hill toward the 24 mile marker.  There are people are walking up.  There is no clapping or 
encouragement from them.  How disappointing.  I sure could use it!  I reach the mile 24 marker, and I need the 
walk break.  The pain and exhaustion is intensifying.  I am getting feelings of weakness in my calves and 
hamstrings.   I get a couple of minor tremors from the hamstrings, but they hold up for the rest of the race.  
Praise the Lord!  A few others who i passed earlier now pass me back - blue man, the 2 Canuck ladies, and one 
other bald guy.  They are running well and strongly, and the leave me in their dust.  Good for them, but still I 
feel back for not being able to hold with them.
	I turn onto Pulteney St. and now I know the rest of the course by sight, because of my walk yesterday.  I 
can see the Museum of Glass buildings up ahead.  I run with a guy in gray.  Working VERY hard.  Pain.  One step at 
a time.  Some of the street signs I notice are encouraging:  "No stopping at any time" - no, I won't.  "Dead End" 
- for the road or for me?  I turn away frrom the Museum, and to the Mile 25 marker.  I wasn't planning to take a 
walk here, but I do.  I need to, to get a break from the pain.  I collect myself for one last push to the finish. 
  In my mental 'go-over' of the race before-hand, I wanted to be running as hard as possible here, but, at reality 
time, I am hurting too much, and that feeling dominated over any 'need' to finish with a bit spurt. I get running 
again, and run over the bridge and onto Market St. to downtown.  I am still running with the man in gray, but I 
feel my stride shortening, and he leaves me behind.  I am disappointed in this, but don't care.  Real pain.  I 
turn past the info centre.  I feel like I'm going quite fast over the red bricks - they blur.  Or is that my 
eye-sight failing me?.  I go over the pedestrian bridge, into the wind, and feel like I am barely moving, in 
quicksand almost.  Then down the slight incline to the YMCA.  I know I  am nearly there now.  I just have to hang 
on.  Pain.

	I turn the corner and see the finish line banner.  I tell myself to just hang on till then.  Suddenly, 
Mandy bounces out of the crowd, high-fives me, and runs with me towards the finish.  I am incredulous.  She 
probably finished only a few minutes ago.  How can she still be able to run?  I squint and can see the clock - 
4:18:54.  Wow!  Disbelief!  Surprise.  I'm gonna be under 4:20!  Wow!  I didn't think I could do that.  I run 
across the finish line, aiming to run across all the chip mats, but I stop before the last one as I here the 
beeping as I cross the first ones.  Official time  of 4:19:06!  I am ecstatic!  There are Hilda and Michelle to 
welcome me!  A volunteer holds me up for a minute as my legs are wobbly.  I did it!  I can't believe I did it, 
through all the injuries and cross-training and discomfort, today's pain, and to finish with such a time!  I exult 
"I can die happy now!"
	Claude comes in just behind me, not feeling very good (dehydrated) and there is concern in the group for 
him.  We hang together, welcoming others as they finish - lightfoot and the male Canuck come in together in 4:24; 
I see blue man (Paul); the relay running lady who so encouraged me around the 22 mile marker; Jenn, whom I'd 
passed @ 18miles; Susan, who ran on a stress fracture (when asked, she says her leg is sore) to her PW of 4:37, 
but was happy to have run and finished.  I see Jim and Annette.  Soon I see saw Rod.  He is happy because he ran 
20min faster than his first marathon, which was in the spring; Mandy was 17min faster than she had been in the 
spring, and she had beaten Hilda in a sprint to the finish line, and she was jumping all over the place.  Michelle 
was a little disappointed (I could see it in her face) that she missed qualifying for Boston (couldn't hang with 
Mandy on the 3:50 pace), but still PB'd by 10min. I also heard that Richard had run a great race, as had Jane and 
Clark.  So many excellent results in the group!

Final Thoughts
==============
	This was a wonderful, group therapy, event for me.  From the ride down with Rod and his family, to the 
pasta dinner all together, to the laughing and bonding on the bus ride to the start, and the hanging together 
after the race.  I got lots of group photos to share.  I am very happy, even surprised, with how well this race 
went for me.  My pace throughout the race was quite consistent, infact.  Although my pace slowed marginally 
throughout the race, the slowing wasn't as significant as i originally thought it had been.  My slowing wasn't 
unexpected considering how much training time I had lost, especially in September.  I knew I was running a bit too 
fast to start, but it didn't come back to haunt me very much.  Surprisingly, my foot was ok.  It cramped up 
overnight and was sore for days afterwards, but no significant pains.   I was very sore in my calves and quads, 
and took an extra day or two over normal to lose all that pain.  I had no big collapse in this race.  My 
pace/stride was slower/shorter at the end, so those last 4 miles were likely at a 11:00/mile or so, but I did not 
stop, or even walk other than at the planned places - every mile marker - to give in to the pain and weakness.  
And the slowness of the last 4 miles did not do serious damage to my overage race pace, which was 9:52/mile.  I 
THOROUGHLY enjoyed the scenery, which helped my mental state immensely.  Running without a watch was perfect.  It 
prevented me from running for time.  I was genuinely surprised when I saw the finish line clock, and that is how 
it is supposed to be.  Running from 1 mile marker to the next was also perfect.  It kept me in the moment, not 
thinking too far ahead, or "I can't go another x miles.  I'm dead".  I was able to enjoy the race so much more 
because I just ran, without think "how far".  Knowing the last 2 miles of the course helped, not because I was 
able to run them hard (as I had hoped/wanted to), but because I knew how much farther I had to go.  An interesting 
thought: for the 2nd year in a row, my fall marathon has been 12+min faster than my spring marathon(s).  Maybe I 
should concentrate on fall marathons?  It was so nice to see Joe Henderson on the course.  I like him.  He made me 
feel special.  He really is a champion of the everyperson-runner.  A very nice guy.

Stats
=====

my official (chip) times:

to 9 miles - 1:27:34 - 9:37/mile pace
to 18.2 miles 2:57:40 (1:30:06 - 9:54/mile pace)
to 26.2 miles 4:18:43 (1:21:03 - 10:08/mile pace)

finish 
	gun - 4:19:07 
	chip - 4:18:43
overall pace - 9:52/mile

467/654 total finishers
26/39 male 30-34

other stats for the training I did for this race:

- only 375km running (normally I do 550-6600 km of running to train for a marathon)
- 965km of cycling.  This includes ONLY sspecific training rides, not my commuting to/from work.  This is 
equivalent to ~300km of running.
- 10+ hrs of pool running.  Equivalent too ~100km of running.
- 7 physio treatments; 7 doctor's visits;; and 3 sets of xrays for 4 separate injuries.  Wow!

    Source: geocities.com/marathon13man