We want to thank Kinna for her race report from the Philadelphia Marathon and congratulate her on a job well done!
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I overheard some wise words from another runner the day before we ran the Philadelphia Marathon. She said, “It would be great to sub-4 tomorrow, but it’s just a race. The training is what matters, and I’m really proud of my training this season.” I was in awe of her maturity and self-confidence. I lay in my starchy hotel room sheets that night, full of water and carbohydrates, staring up at the ceiling and wondering if I was proud of my training season. My training was not pretty–in fact, it was downright ugly, and not what I would recommend for anyone else. Every time I did a speed workout, or advanced my weekly mileage, I was set back by tendonitis or fatigue. Over the 14 weeks of marathon training, my weekly mileage averaged 32 (way below goal) and peaked at 45. I averaged 3 resistance workouts (mostly core) per week. I had been doing physical therapy for almost 6 months. My sub-4 journey was ugly, and not to mention expensive—between missed races, canceled plane tickets, and out-of-network PT.
My previous PR (and first attempt at sub-4) was the Portland Marathon in Oct 2015. I went out too fast, hydrated poorly and cramped, and finished 4:01. I started 2016 strong with a few PRs in shorter races and felt very optimistic about my spring marathon goals. Then very suddenly I was sidelined with ankle pain—I had no warning that an injury was coming, and now it was painful just to walk to work. After THREE MONTHS of slow but steady improvement only to then relapse, I got an MRI, which confirmed a partial thickness tear of the peroneus brevis tendon – a relatively common overuse injury in distance runners. The orthopedic surgeon put me in a walking brace, said no surgery needed, just time, and then mocked my marathon time goals (casually bragging about how his wife just BQ’ed in her marathon). He un-empathetically advised 4 weeks in a walking brace and 8 weeks of NO RUNNING. As a medical provider myself, I know how easy it is to prescribe “rest” because it has the fewest possible adverse effects, but compliance is poor if you are treating someone who is worried about losing fitness. I needed a provider with better clinical judgment on NONsurgical sports injuries – like a runner-focused Physical Therapist. And maybe someone with better social skills. This brought me to NY Custom Physical Therapy.
The next 13 weeks of training were a battle between advancing my weekly mileage and nursing various pseudo-injuries (peroneal tendonitis in the other ankle, hip flexor tendonitis, ITB tightness). I lost a few days of training here and there, and cross-trained instead. My PT laid out a schedule for my long runs that would hopefully prevent reinjury. While I missed some easy mile days and speed workouts, I was able to hit all the long run miles, with three runs over 20 miles. I felt healthy enough to do a 2-week taper rather than a 3-week taper. One week before the marathon, I did an easy run in Central Park on a beautiful day and felt great. I was so ready to take on Philadelphia.
If I could imagine the perfect, pre-marathon tapering week – it would be the exact opposite of how my week went. On Tuesday, I broke out in full-body HIVES. Pain is a horrible thing, but nothing makes you question your own sanity quite like itching. It was diagnosed as a drug rash – an allergic reaction to a medication, likely one of the supplements I had taken (ironically) in preparation for a low-stress pre-marathon week—melatonin to sleep better, omeprazole for stomach acid, vitamin d just because. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t focus at work, I literally could not think straight. I’d wake up at 2am itching and get in a cold bath to keep from screaming. My allergist gave me a long list of dos/don’ts to try and stop the allergic reaction, but the biggest one was – DO NOT SWEAT. Sweating would just increase the histamine release, which is what makes you itch. I ran ZERO miles the week before my marathon. I did not cross train. I didn’t even foam roll, because that felt too much like scratching, and then I would just itch more. I was in hell. But by Saturday, only my legs and arms were still itchy and the hives had mostly resolved. I wrote 4 emergency contact numbers and all the medications I was taking on the back of my bib, just in case.
The day before the Philly Marathon was beautiful–sunny, 60s, no wind. We all knew what the forecast said though, and I could hear the wind whining outside the hotel that night. I slept a solid 7 hours (thanks to the preoperative sedation dose of antihistamines) and woke up feeling like it was someone else who was supposed to run a marathon that day—certainly not me. I didn’t even remember how to run. My 22 miler three weeks prior felt like a distant memory of a story someone told me about something THEY did. I’m not sure if the itch was better that morning or if I just blocked it out with sheer will (and antihistamine), but I didn’t think much about it. It was still dark when the shuttle let me off at the security check. The winds were about 16mph at the start, with much stronger gusts, and the temperature was 38. I wore my NYCM poncho, which was toasty warm, and tried to harness the confidence of having pride in my training cycle.
After mile 13, the race curved around the Philadelphia Art Museum/Rocky Balboa steps, and we could hear them announce that the winner had broken the course record. This felt encouraging – the wind gusts along the river must not be too bad. I saw a cute old lady holding a sign that said, “Run Bitches, I’m cold.” And all of a sudden, I felt HIGH AF on endorphins—I loved the marathon and everyone around me. I had to choke back tears of excitement and carefully reel in the desire to speed up. I stayed fairly consistent: 9:00, 9:08, 9:08, 8:56, 8:59. I focused on watching for Whippets coming the opposite direction and cheering them on. The wind seemed to be blowing either direction depending on where you were along the river and there were these surreal, cataclysmic moments when the gusts would form a big leaf tornado ahead of us. I looked down a few times to make sure my bib was still attached. But then the wind would relent and it gave me a little mental boost, like when you crest a small hill and you suddenly feel faster.
1st half 1:59:13
2nd half 1:58:08
Finish 3:57:21