Saturday, November 25, 2006
Atlanta Thanksgiving Half-Marathon
You wake up on a chilly Thanksgiving morning, put on a skimpy running outfit, and make your way in the dark to the start of the race. You look back over your shoulder just before the race starts at seven and see the dawn breaking directly behind the 7,600 runners who fill the bridge. It’s a magical sight. Finally after what seems eons of waiting, the race starts. The runners in front start moving, as you stand hemmed in by the crowd it seems like forever before the wave of movement reaches you and you are off. The crowd surges ahead, then pauses, then surges ahead again. You start trying to find space in the crowd so you can get into your rhythm, but you find yourself constantly checking up, moving left and right trying to find a clear path. Everyone else is doing the same thing. Some are patient, some impatient. Some folks clearly started too close to the front for their abilities and some faster folks started too far back. It seems to take forever for the pack to sort itself out and you can finally start searching for your pace in earnest. However, really, it is only about a mile.
The Half-Marathon runs south down Peachtree (this being Atlanta, when I say south down Peachtree that means south on Peachtree Industrial Blvd which almost immediately becomes Peachtree Road which in turn becomes Peachtree Street) through the Buckhead and Midtown. For the first have of the race, it’s either flat or downhill. However, once you cross over Peachtree Creek near the halfway mark, it is time for the hills. The first and most significant hill is Cardiac Hill, which takes you past Piedmont Hospital. Once you are past that hill things ease up a bit, but more often than not you will find yourself gaining elevation for the rest of the race. You will run through one of the most beautiful sections of the city, past the High Museum of Art, past the house where Margaret Mitchell wrote Gone with the Wind, and past the Fabulous Fox Theater. The race then turns left onto Mitchell and goes past the State Capitol. This incidently is where you will find your last significant hill, known as Capitol Punishment. Once past this, it is a short half mile to the finish, but not before you pass under the Olympic Rings and pass the tower, where the flame burned during the 1996 Olympics.
I had a great race this year. I was walking to the starting line from my apartment this year, but some folks stopped and gave me a ride. The weather was in the low forties, but not particularly cold. There was not much of a wind, the sky was clear and the starts were bright. I started near the front in the appropriate time group and because of the crowd did not start at too fast a pace. The first few miles were ridiculously pleasant. Forced to run just a little slow I was able to take in and appreciate the beautiful morning. By mile two, I was running at my race pace reflecting for me how races bring out an effort that no amount of solo running can.
It was around mile five that I started to doubt myself. I felt like was going to run out of energy, that I had already come five miles and there was no way possible that I was going to be able to sustain my pace for another eight miles. A little voice in my head that urged me to drop off the pace so I would be sure to finish. I had to remind myself that I have been training solidly. I have the necessary runs in the bank. That I am fit enough to do this. I have done the work. I have prepared properly. I can do this.
I kept going, keeping my pace. It became even more of a challenge around mile ten, the hills had their chance to work on me and my energy was starting to lag. My legs were beginning to feel a bit rubbery. I began thinking that plans to run distances longer than a half-marathon might be a bit grandiose, that running a half-marathon might have been a bit grandiose, and where did all these hills come from anyway. I was positive I had not seen any hills when I glanced at the course elevation in the days before the race. I ran this race last year and did not remember all these hills. Despite all the internal angst, I kept going and crossed the finish line with a time of 1:42:53 and an average pace of 7:51. I was 68th out of 448 in my shiny new age group of 40-44. That put me in the top 15% of that age grouping.
The Atlanta Track Club knows how to run a race. They keep this one simple; you will not find any post race food, celebration, awards, or amenities. It is all about going for a long run on Thanksgiving morning, which for me is part of the appeal. Everything is well organized and well thought out. The thing that really makes the race work however is the hundreds of volunteers that come out to make the race a great experience. Small crowds of people come out to line the course. The roads are not completely closed to traffic, but the lanes for runners are coned off and there is someone staffing every intersection. I cannot think of a better way to spend Thanksgiving morning.
The Half-Marathon runs south down Peachtree (this being Atlanta, when I say south down Peachtree that means south on Peachtree Industrial Blvd which almost immediately becomes Peachtree Road which in turn becomes Peachtree Street) through the Buckhead and Midtown. For the first have of the race, it’s either flat or downhill. However, once you cross over Peachtree Creek near the halfway mark, it is time for the hills. The first and most significant hill is Cardiac Hill, which takes you past Piedmont Hospital. Once you are past that hill things ease up a bit, but more often than not you will find yourself gaining elevation for the rest of the race. You will run through one of the most beautiful sections of the city, past the High Museum of Art, past the house where Margaret Mitchell wrote Gone with the Wind, and past the Fabulous Fox Theater. The race then turns left onto Mitchell and goes past the State Capitol. This incidently is where you will find your last significant hill, known as Capitol Punishment. Once past this, it is a short half mile to the finish, but not before you pass under the Olympic Rings and pass the tower, where the flame burned during the 1996 Olympics.
I had a great race this year. I was walking to the starting line from my apartment this year, but some folks stopped and gave me a ride. The weather was in the low forties, but not particularly cold. There was not much of a wind, the sky was clear and the starts were bright. I started near the front in the appropriate time group and because of the crowd did not start at too fast a pace. The first few miles were ridiculously pleasant. Forced to run just a little slow I was able to take in and appreciate the beautiful morning. By mile two, I was running at my race pace reflecting for me how races bring out an effort that no amount of solo running can.
It was around mile five that I started to doubt myself. I felt like was going to run out of energy, that I had already come five miles and there was no way possible that I was going to be able to sustain my pace for another eight miles. A little voice in my head that urged me to drop off the pace so I would be sure to finish. I had to remind myself that I have been training solidly. I have the necessary runs in the bank. That I am fit enough to do this. I have done the work. I have prepared properly. I can do this.
I kept going, keeping my pace. It became even more of a challenge around mile ten, the hills had their chance to work on me and my energy was starting to lag. My legs were beginning to feel a bit rubbery. I began thinking that plans to run distances longer than a half-marathon might be a bit grandiose, that running a half-marathon might have been a bit grandiose, and where did all these hills come from anyway. I was positive I had not seen any hills when I glanced at the course elevation in the days before the race. I ran this race last year and did not remember all these hills. Despite all the internal angst, I kept going and crossed the finish line with a time of 1:42:53 and an average pace of 7:51. I was 68th out of 448 in my shiny new age group of 40-44. That put me in the top 15% of that age grouping.
The Atlanta Track Club knows how to run a race. They keep this one simple; you will not find any post race food, celebration, awards, or amenities. It is all about going for a long run on Thanksgiving morning, which for me is part of the appeal. Everything is well organized and well thought out. The thing that really makes the race work however is the hundreds of volunteers that come out to make the race a great experience. Small crowds of people come out to line the course. The roads are not completely closed to traffic, but the lanes for runners are coned off and there is someone staffing every intersection. I cannot think of a better way to spend Thanksgiving morning.
