A coaching colleague of mine likes to advise the athletes he coaches to compete mindlessly. That means let the wisdom of the body take over in the competitive moment. Everyone who has hit a golf ball well (or poorly) has had that experience. Standing over a golf ball and thinking about how to execute your swing is bound to mess things up. Instead when you let the rhythm of the body take over and turn off your mind somehow the golf ball takes off.
Competing mindlessly in competition is one thing. Being mindless and thoughtless in competition is another. Given everything I have read since 1981 about marathon training, preparation and racing, if I had given any serious thought to what I was going to do on November 29th 1981, I would never have started.
Everyone who has prepared for a marathon knows that you need to run long runs of at least 18 to 20 miles to prepare for the marathon.
Everyone who has completed a marathon knows you need a hydration plan to get through the marathon.
Everyone knows you need a fueling strategy to complete a marathon.
Lastly, everyone knows if you are a collegiate athlete, you don't do something as potentially perilous as run a marathon in the middle of the school year.
As I stepped to the starting line the morning of November 29th 1981, I had never run longer than 10 miles at one time. I refused to drink water during a race or even drink anything within 2 hours of a race because I believed that would lead to me cramping, and I was too worried about stomach distress in a race to dare eat anything on a race morning.
My main fueling strategy that day had been an all-you-can-eat pasta feed the Baltimore Marathon conducted the night before.
My college coach, although encouraging us to run between the end of cross country season and the beginning of track season, did not conduct practice until the end of January and was not particularly concerned with what we were up to other than were we finishing our final academic semester papers and projects and were we studying for our exams. So I was on my own to do what I wanted that Sunday in November 1981.
I had three major thoughts that I remember that morning. How much should I warm up for a 26 mile run? What is "the Wall" that people kept on warning me about and would I hit it? And would I see Bill Rodgers the one time American Record holder and four time Boston and New York City Marathon champion who was rumored to be in the race.
I like to do a longer warm-up. However, why would I waste my energy when I was about to run 26 miles for the first time. Maybe I should just use the early miles for a warm-up? The low temperature that morning, though, was 29 degrees and the temperatures would not get above the low 40s. So I thought maybe I should warm-up as I usually did? After all it was cold! So I decided to go through most of my typical warm-up routine.
During my warm-up time, I saw him! Bill Rodgers! To me a celebrity. He was running the race.
Seeing him in the flesh for the first time right next to me caused me to freeze. Instead of saying "good luck today Bill" or "have a great run today Bill", I reached out my hand and said "Congratulations". I immediately thought "that was the stupidest thing you could have ever said." Congratulations for what? Winning a race he had not started or just being awesome? What an idiot I was I thought to myself.
Rodgers actually did not race competitively that morning. He ran about the first 18 miles of the course as a training run mostly just ahead of me. So I would have another key conversation with him later in the day.
Returning to the downtown area around 5 miles into the race along Lombard St. I climbed up the entrance ramp onto the Jones Falls Expressway (JFX) for 4 miles. I had driven the JFX hundreds of time, but now I was on it as a runner. I was feeling good and thought this is pretty cool.
As I got off the JFX I crossed the seven mile marker felt great and was entering the most memorable part of the course for me as it literally was covering my training routes. I passed numerous people I knew spectating as the course became a mostly uphill roller coaster.
I was wearing no watch so my only concept of pace was how I felt. But I also had a mid race target to guide me.
Bill Rogers was in the pack ahead of me and I wondered if I should push a little harder to catch him and say I ran with Bill. My respect, though, for what people said would be a wall after 20 miles held me back.
There were way more people out watching than I expected. I began seeing familiar faces along the course. Of course there was my brother Denis and my parents as the course went blocks from our home. But also I saw my summer time boss, many work colleagues of my dads, several neighbors and along Falls Rd. numerous people I knew from my high school years. And I started hearing a number of people yell to me a question "why are you smiling so much Patrick?"
Was I competing mindlessly or thoughtlessly or both? I am not sure but I was definitely enjoying the early miles of the marathon. It was so much less intense than any other race I had ever run before. S I was running cheerfully enjoying how good I felt and the number of people who I could wave to or say hello to as I ran north.
The toughest climb began after I crossed the Kelly Avenue bridge and at that point I also entered parts of the city I was less familiar with. However, I started to gain on the Bill Rodgers pack of runners.
It was literally a 4 mile steady climb which peaked at Fallstaff Rd. I believe somewhere around 17 or 18 miles I caught Rodgers. He was running at a training pace for him, and I was racing but I could still talk easily and told him how he looked good trying to make up for my earlier gaffe. Bill looked at me, though, and said "have you had anything to drink yet?"
I responded with no and my reasoning that I had had side stitches in shorter races when I had too much water in my stomach so I was not planning on drinking any water during the marathon. He then said, "I think you should reconsider that and get something to drink at the next aid station."
Shortly after that someone yelled "Bill" from the side of the road and he dropped out of his training run and disappeared. It was actually quite a controversy because the Baltimore Marathon had paid him $4500 (for them a top dollar) to run the race. His agent said it was a misunderstanding and his intention was always to run the first 2/3rds of the course as a training run. You can read the details below.
I would disagree with one part of the report in that I believe we were beyond 17 miles when Rodgers dropped. It seemed closer to 20 miles. However, I was just glad to talk with him a second time, and shortly there after I took a cup of water which I think helped.
The last part of the race was downhill, but I now started paying a price and hitting a wall. I was still running well. I had a conversation around 20 miles with a runner named Jay Wind who ended up finishing 10 places and 3 minutes ahead of me. So I was in contention for a rather high placing. However, I still had no idea what my pace or place was, and I was beginning to have no idea where I was.
My only memories of the last three to four miles is I was alone and I was running and every time I saw a spectator, I would ask "how much farther." They would answer with "your almost done",or "just around the corner." Then I would run another 5 minutes or so and ask another person and they would, say "I think 2 more miles." And I would be totally dejected with that answer.
My increasing disorientation clearly was related to dehydration, and I was just hoping to make it to the finish line before something bad happened. I was glad I had that one cup of water somewhere around 20 miles as I had no cramping and could still keep running.
However, I don't think I have ever been as relieved to see a finish line as that one in Baltimore. It was an indoor finish line at the Baltimore Civic Center. The change of surface and light from running on the street to running inside was a relief.
I ran across the finish line in a bit of a daze and soon saw my Dad. He walked me back to some seating area and there was my teammate and friend Steven Levin.
I would never have found myself on the starting line of my first marathon on November 29th 1981 without Steven Levin and Steven would likely say the same thing about me. At the top of this post is one of my favorite picture from the Baltimore Marathon of 1981. Third from the left is Steven in the white singlet with the hat on and white gloves. Steven ran 2:33:04 this day finishing 14th. He was only 18 years old.
Back in the seating area, we were both cold and covered by our fathers coats and jackets. We had finished well enough to go first and second in our age group and run times neither of us expected. And we turned to each other in the most mindful and thoughtful way two freezing and exhausted young men could and said that was the dumbest thing we have ever done and we would NEVER run a marathon again.
Well, obviously I did run a marathon again. And Steven did too. More on that tomorrow.
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