Cellcom Green Bay Marathon Unofficial Race Report

Standing in the starting corral, I felt beads of sweat run down my back.  After the factory horn sounded at the start, the song Going to Boston played.  I got a little choked up and blinked back tears.  Deep within, I already knew that today wouldn’t be my BQ day.  It was 70F at the start and only planned to grow hotter throughout the day.

A quick pre-race good luck photo with my high school classmate, Natalie. She ran her first half.

I knew that if I took it easy from the very beginning I would wonder if I was able to beat the heat, so I ran the first three miles at the BQ MRP. I’m glad I’d run other marathons prior to this one because I knew what the first three miles were to feel like, and it sure wasn’t this.  I met my mom at mile 4.

The night before, we soaked sponges and froze them.  She handed me one.  It was so awesome, and melted slowly enough that I got to squeeze icy water over my head for several miles before it turned warm.  I got some strange looks with a sponge tucked into my sport bra strap, but I was keeping myself cool and that’s all that mattered.

Matt mentioned in the days before the race that I could just run MRP for a few miles and then decide to go to the half (one suggestion the race director made in an email, that for the first time in race history, wouldn’t result in a DQ) and get a new half PR.  I spent miles 4-11 convinced that I was going to be smart and only run the half, even if it wasn’t a PR, I was feeling that awful.

After my first few experiment miles, I began searching for a more sustainable effort level and pace.  It was about an 8:30-8:45/mi, then it slowed progressively as the temperature grew warmer.  I enjoyed the sprinklers that locals along the course had set out for us.  Some kids also offered to spray us down with water guns.  It really was a lot of fun running like a child through them all.

I hit every aid station along the way and by the shady spot at mile 11 where I met my family and second sponge, I hesitated to break the news.  “You’re right on target with the time ranges you’ve given me”, my mom said encouragingly as she dumped the remaining bag of water onto my head.  In that second, I changed my mind.  “I think I’m looking at about a four hour finish right now, just a head’s up for when you catch me later,” I replied before dashing off.  It was really nice to have a support system out there. Each time I passed medical tents, they had a few people in them.  I passed one man that was just beginning to get IV fluids, that was a little scary. 

Sponge matches my shirt! Woohoo!

By mile 14, I was headed south through a business district.  The brisk wind felt nice, but it quickly dried my clothes and there were no more yard sprinklers.  I was also so wet that the heel lift in my shoe had shifted to the ball of my foot.  I stopped and sat in the grass to remove it and pretty much regretted my decision to do the full 26 miles.

Just a few minutes later, a voice called out from just over my shoulder, “How ya doing today?”  Megan, the girl in green sparkles, must have seen me sit down and thought I was in trouble.  Nope, just my water-logged shoes floating around my heel lift.  She was one of the few people that consistently ran along without stopping to walk at all.  Her pace was nice, so I asked if I could stick with her for awhile.  I was on the verge of walk-running to the finish myself.  She mentioned she’d love the company.  So we ran along, both following the same type of survival mode idea.  Goal: finish the day at Lambeau Field, not the hospital.  That and when they handed us cups of water, one went inside the body, one was drizzled over the top.  Also with the ice cubes, one went in the bra, one went down the shorts.  With ice cubes clinking in our bras as we ran along, we stayed cool enough to be safe and kept moving at a pretty consistent 9:00-9:30/mi.  This seemed to work well until one ice cube lodged itself between my butt cheeks and was starting to get painfully cold.  I pretended to adjust my soaked shorts and let a few ice cubes fall to the ground as I ran along.  I hope nobody noticed, hehe.  I perked up a lot when I had a buddy.  (Anyone want to run a marathon with me next time?)

When we reached mile 18’s aid station, a voice rang through the air over the large speakers:  “The race has been cancelled.  Everyone must stop.  Cool off and start re-hydrating immediately, shuttle buses will arrive in a few minutes.”

Both Megan and I couldn’t believe what was being said.  We both had adjusted our paces so we could finish this and now we were told to stop?  What we were told is that all the ambulances and ER rooms were full of collapsed runners and they could handle no more safely.  I saw just one or two people at the med stations before but I didn’t realize it had become this bad.

Megan broke into tears.  Both anger and frustration were painted across her face.  I admit I was on the verge of crying myself.  Then I looked up ahead on the course.  Some people kept going.  “If you want to keep going, I’m game for that.  Until the aid stations are pulled, I’m okay to keep going,” I said.  Her eyes widened and she stopped crying, “Really?!”

We ranted a little bit about the day and continued on.  For several aid stations and road crossings, officials and police asked if we had heard the news and were now running at our own risk.  We said we knew and were running safely.  I remember laughing at the giant inflatable wall they put at mile 20, thinking about how I probably had hit a wall before we even crossed the starting line this morning.  We were told later that all the volunteers that chose to stay did so under their own defiance, and for that I am completely grateful.  I would not have made it much farther without their assistance.  I later learned that those aid stations eventually disappeared for anyone that was on a 4:30 pace or slower.

Our pace slowed even more as the temperatures rose into the low 80s, but I really didn’t care.  I actually felt my best during miles 18-24, go figure.  I felt like I finally got the hang of the hydration necessary to keep going.  Running in temperatures that are 30-40 degrees higher than all except two of my runs includes a pretty steep learning curve in proper hydration and pacing. My legs weren’t feeling trashed at all and I also remembered what I usually feel like this far into the race.  It almost felt easy!  We also returned to a shady area with many garden sprinklers and pranced through them right alongside the children in bathing suits.

I wasn’t sure what to expect when we made the final turn that revealed the finish area.  Would everything be gone?  Would I get a medal?  I’d be pretty pissed if I didn’t get a medal after all this.  It appeared everything was going on as usual except the band was gone and the timing clock turned off.  I took one last drenching water stop and headed for it.  The remaining distance to the finish line was lined with waiting ambulances.  In the last .25 mi,. Megan looked over at me, “sprint it?” she asked.  She had read my mind.  We ran the last  bit in a full sprint, complete with wild long strides.  Used to seeing worn out runners shuffle across the line, the remaining spectators broke out into a roar of cheers and applause just for the two of us.  I felt awesome!!!  We collected our medals, shared my Garmin finish time (she doesn’t run with a watch), and parted after a hug. 

I was so grateful for the running buddy that God had given me for the day.  The previous night, I went to mass with my mom.  I usually pray for a PR, but yesterday I prayed for the strength and courage to keep me safe and finishing healthy in the heat.  I believe this came in the form of my green glitter buddy Megan.

Marathon #7 wasn’t lucky in the sense I had hoped for, but I have never fought as smart as I did for this particular one.

The timing company was another set of the renegade volunteers that stayed until the end, so my entire support system was able to tell me my chip time, even though the race may never acknowledge it.  And that finisher’s medal was waiting for me there.

4:05.10.  9:20/mi pace.  It was 86F at the time I finished, several degrees higher than the highest temperature ever recorded in my town.