A couple weeks ago on July 30th, I ran the Jack & Jill’s Downhill Marathon which started in Hyak, and as the name suggests, descended 2000ft over 26.2 miles to North Bend, WA.

Training

I found the marathon early in the Spring advertized as one of the top qualifying races for Boston. I didn’t register for it until the beginning of July because I wasn’t sure if I was serious enough about training. Any time I tried to step up mileage or speed, I felt some twinge of knee pain and dialed it back down. My training never changed much from the usual: two or three 4-mile easy runs around Green Lake or up Phinney Ridge during the week and one 8-16-mile Saturday long run. In the end, I never convinced myself I was serious enough; I just told so many people I would do it that I couldn’t back out.

The Goal

Even though my training didn’t inspire confidence, I was set on trying to break 3 hours. I’d already run a 3:09 in the Seattle Marathon, so I wouldn’t have been happy with a marginal improvement. Based on how I was feeling in the week leading up to it, I decided my best bet was to go for 6:40/mi (2:55). It’s a comfortable enough pace that would give me a little leeway to fade in the final 10K.

The Race

North Bend is conveniently close to Seattle, but not so convenient that I didn’t have to wake up at 3:30 to scarf down some fruit and overnight oats, drive to the finish, pick up my bib, and catch the 4:40 shuttle to the start (my first point-to-point race!) To get 7 hours of sleep, I would need to go to bed at 8:30. Unfortunately, it was full daylight at that time, and my blinds were no match for the Sun. It was some time after 9:30 when I finally fell into a restless sleep.

My part of the morning went remarkably smoothly. I made it to the start in plenty of time unlike another shuttle and one of the pacers. For about 20 minutes, they kept delaying the start by 5 minute increments, just enough time to make me think I couldn’t make it to the kind-of-far-away bathrooms and back one last time. It was also quite chilly which was nicer when the race started than for the 30 minutes we spent huddled around the start line.

You’d think that by my 3rd marathon, I’d know what I’m doing, but I’m still committed to breaking the Golden Rule of Racing every time. This time, since the race didn’t provide gels on the course, I decided to carry 4 in my pockets without ever trying that in a training run. (I got 2 Vanilla and 2 Strawberry Banana which I took miles 5, 10, 15, and 20. The vanilla ones tasted like chocolate and the strawberry banana tasted like banana laffy taffy that has been left in a hot car all afternoon). Anyway, running with 2 gels in my pocket made them fall out the end of my shorts and flop around, so I carried them in my hand until I could eat them.

Within the first mile, the course entered an old, unused train tunnel which was longer than a mile (thank goodness they warned us to bring headlamps beforehand). It was long enough that you couldn’t really see the end from the beginning even though it was straight. It dripped and the terrain was bad enough that it made me grateful that I started kind of fast and was towards the front of the pack. (There were about 600 people total, and we started in waves, so it wouldn’t have been a big problem regardless).

If I have any notes for the course, they should add more old train tunnels. Overall, the course was gorgeous, but it was a lot of forest, mountains, and tall bridges with beautiful views. More old tunnels could have really broken up the monotony.

There was still plenty of movement in the places coming out of the tunnel, about mile 3. I found myself running next to a guy I had noticed at the start. I immediately liked him because he, like me, was one of the least swagged out people there. Everyone else had fancy packs to carry their goodies. We got to chatting, and he asked what I was aiming for; I said sub 3. I asked how many marathons he had done; he said this was his second. He had run 3:00 in the Seattle Marathon. He ran with the 3:05 pacing group until after the 520 bridge (mile ~18) when he sped up. I realized that meant we ran together for almost that whole race. He pointed out that we were currently running 6:25 pace, much faster than merely sub 3.

Despite having the Jack & Jill Marathon in my sights for months, it wasn’t until I exited the tunnel that it occurred to me how the nursery rhyme ends. At that point, I began composing this post in my head. The race felt like cheating, or at least too good to be true. But given the poetic foreshadowing, I was certain it would end poorly. I would fall apart towards the end and be reduced to walking like in Madison. Then the cheating point would be moot because I hadn’t trained hard enough anyway.

Around mile 8, our group passed someone who admonished us for speeding up. It seemed a little silly of him because I still felt invincible. But I admit it introduced some more doubt. All races are mind games, and marathons are mostly mind games with yourself. If you don’t do enough long training runs (like I didn’t), and your strategy is just to run at a comfortable pace, be prepared to constantly check in with yourself about whether you’re comfortable enough or too comfortable. Are you staying with the group because that’s your pace or because it’s just easier to do what other people are doing?

Fortunately, I had to use the toilet at mile 10. (I almost hit another runner with the door on my way out which would not have been my fault but would have been unpleasant for everyone). I say fortunately because, even though I lost my group, it gave me a chance to reset and run my own pace. Even so, I ended up passing most of the people who had passed me during my stop, including the guy from mile 8 which felt twice as good the second time.

The final truly eventful moment was at the mile 17 aid station when someone I had been reeling in for miles took both the gatorades the volunteer was holding out. I was so flustered that I dropped the one I tried to grab from the table. So I passed him out of spite.

I didn’t realize that the course passed right by Rattlesnake Lake until it did. I made a mental note to come back afterwards and jump in (which I followed through on despite the fact that the water was chilly, the beach was pebbly, and my feet were very tender. Even though it was a bad idea that I thought was a good idea, I think it was a good idea. It was kind of like an ice bath which I I usually avoid to my detriment.

In my other marathon posts, I’ve talked more about how I felt during the races. It’s not that I’m avoiding it this time; it’s just that I was in much less pain overall than the others. The most notable pain came in my feet. It started slightly before the half and grew steadily. I forgot to clip my nails beforehand, and the Brooks Ghosts don’t have a very big toe box to begin with.

The only other pain was moderate thigh soreness. The course was flat for a couple miles starting around mile 20. That was the toughest part. If there had been any uphill then, I’m sure it would have been a struggle. If I could have done mental math at that point, I would have tried to calculate when I could start walking to come in barely under 3. But by then I figured I was never going to get this close to the end of a marathon with this kind of time again, so I wasn’t going to stop or slow down. I finished in 2:47. I was 11th out of ~600 overall and 3rd among 18-24yo men.

The Postmortem

I’m not sure what to write in this section. It’s not just that I’m happy with the race; it’s so much better than I expected that it’s sort of unbelievable. The moral here is just that I underestimated gravity. Even if I could think of things to change, it went so well that it would feel presumptuous to ask for anything more.

I did come into this thinking that it would feel a little unfair if I barely qualified for Boston just by running a downhill marathon. Running so far below 3 makes me feel a bit better about that. It still feels cheap, but at least it seems likely that I could have broken 3 on a more standard course. (I think both the Seattle and Madison marathon courses are hillier than average).

What’s Next?

Boston is next! None of the races I’ve done have been the same order of magnitude as Boston. I just think it would be so fun to run with so many other good runners. Plus I probably know people in the area who I could visit.

I know last time I mentioned the Honolulu Marathon in December. Unfortunately the friend I was going to that with can’t make it, so our plan is now to defer for a year.

Hopefully, the next race I compete in will be a triathlon. I haven’t yet registered, but we’re getting into the right season for it. This is even more just for fun. I’m deciding between sprint and Olympic length. Knowing me, I’ll pick sprint and then convince myself to go up to Olympic at the last second.