State Number 46 - Atlantic City Marathon

State Number 46 – Atlantic City Marathon

Atlantic City, NJ

21 October 2018

Running with shore-footedness along the Jersey shore – perhaps not the MTV series that chronicles the lives of eight rollicking housemates in their vacation home – but rather a marathon along the shore’s famed boardwalk.  That’s where my next chapter and the small strides into my quest takes me.

Atlantic City’s connection with the Monopoly game gave Atlantic City its nickname, “Monopoly City” and a popular Eastern Seaboard vacation destination.  Monopoly landmarks, photos, and plaques sited around Atlantic City are perpetual tokens of the time-tested board game.  Besides the famous boardwalk and beach, some tourists and beachcombers include Atlantic City on their vacation itinerary simply because of the games’ connection with the city, but for runners, we see the Jersey Shore as the home to this time tested long-standing marathon.

I find at my age, realizing a runner’s two favorite letters, a PR, gets farther and farther from happening as time passes.  By completing two full marathons in one weekend, I was either setting myself up for failure or exhausting myself beyond comprehension and spending the following week suffering from the debilitating effects of two marathons.

In the words of former long distance runner and exercise physiologist Pete Pfitzinger, “If you have less than four weeks between marathons, you’re on your own.  Your main concern should be recovery, recovery, and more recovery, not only from your first marathon but also from the lobotomy that led you to come up with this plan.”

Why would anyone want to run a second marathon a day after the first?  I’ve often ask myself that question.  Maybe some of us in the running community run another due to a disappointing show in the first.  But for this Fifty Stater, running a double is a matter of efficiency and time management in cranking out the states.

The Expo/Packet Pick-up – The Night Before

My wife and I left Baltimore tired and fatigued with stiff and achy legs, and the thought of another marathon in less than 24 hours didn’t stimulate my mojo.  As we arrived at our hotel, Showboat Atlantic City, 2.5 hours later, the last thing I wanted to do was exit the car.  But, I knew that wasn’t going to happen.

No casino!

A long line greeted us at the check-in desk at the New Orleans themed hotel, but something was missing – no casino!  I thought a hotel without a casino would stave off most guests, maybe I was wrong.  No smoke, no gambling, no losing money, no hoopla, no problem.

With little time to waste before the marathon expo closed up shop, I decided to walk to the expo while my wife stayed back to check in.  How far could it be?

Bally’s Hotel hosted the marathon expo – purportedly a short walk from the Showboat.  As I began to walk along the boardwalk towards Bally’s, it was anything but short.  In fact, it was nearly one mile.

With the setting sun directly in my line of sight and a cool breeze blowing in my face, the last thing I needed was a two-mile walk – reeling with soreness and discomfort.  Perhaps a pleasant walk would loosen up my muscles and assist with my short recovery period.

As I arrived at Bally’s, one important question loomed – where is the expo in the large hotel complex?  After querying a number of hotel employees, it was located in a small banquet room on the sixth floor.  The expo was small, typical of a small low-key event with the usual players and purveyors of merchandise. 

I secured my race bib; however, to secure my wife’s bib, I needed to present her ID, but she needed it at the hotel.  With a little convincing and charm, the race volunteer handed over her bib with a smile on her face.  I picked-up our event shirts, but somehow exhausted their supply of men’s large sizes, so I ended up with the last XL size.  Great!  Just what I need, a long-sleeved hoodie polyester tech shirt that drapes over my shoulders.  Oh well, I’ll find a use for it.

After a long painful walk back to the Showboat, it was time to eat a pre-race meal and turn in for the night.  As always, getting ample rest the night before a marathon can be a difficult task.  Pre-marathon insomnia seems to be common for me.  I was tired, fatigued and sleepy-eyed, so why was it so difficult for me?

On top of the insomnia, crazy rambunctious people in the hallways and in neighboring rooms, likely with a little too much alcohol in their system, were yelling and slamming doors, enough to drive me to drink and piss-off anyone blessed with good humor.  So, I tossed the “getting enough sleep before a marathon” rule out the window and salvaged what I could.  Since Kidd Rock canceled his concert, I guess they needed something to do to let off some steam.

Let’s Do This

OMG.  Do I have to?

Morning came too quickly.  With sandman dropping out of our eyes, we insipidly packed up, loaded up the car and drove to Bally’s to begin a new 26.2-mile journey along the Jersey shore.  

With a marathon special rate of five dollars to park in the resort garage, it was well worth a dreaded one-mile stroll along the shore’s promenade.

Cold temperatures prevailed in the early morning hours, with strong blustery northwesterly winds, something this Californian doesn’t experience much.  Sustained winds were in the 20-25 mph range gusting to over 40 mph.  I anticipated a wild marathon ride! 

I usually do not wear a jacket while running since I quickly heat up.  However, this day was different.  I layered up with a running jacket and gloves because of the cold wind.  At first I questioned whether I needed the additional layers, but at the end of the day, I’m glad I wore them.

Yes, I have to.

The 60th running of the Atlantic City Marathon begins on the springy wood decking of the boardwalk in front of Bally’s Hotel and Casino at 0800 hours.  A crowd of anxious and nervous runners gathered inside the casino area sheltering themselves from the outside elements, stretching, keeping warm, consuming last minute pre-race nutrition or using the facilities.  Shaking off my last minute jitters, I wished I had brought my sunglasses to block the stiff winds that kept all the runners bathed in cool refreshing Atlantic Ocean air.  It was game time!

The first half:  (10:26, 10:38, 11:20, 10:34, 10:35, 10:55, 13:36, 11:02, 12:15, 11:40, 13:56, 12:41, 12:25)

The starting line scene became a little chaotic at first.  As the gates opened, it was a mad rush for runners to herd into the corral.  Some climbed over the metal barricades whiles others patiently waited their turn to enter.

The marathon began promptly at 0800 on the boardwalk.  After a few deep breaths of the cold air, the National Anthem played and an air horn sounded followed by a barrage of Garmin watches beeping and we were off!  Full and half marathon runners began the race simultaneously driving themselves for about 100 yards before veering off the boardwalk onto MLK Blvd with a slight left onto Bacharach Blvd near Marathon Mile 1.

I felt somewhat stiff and sore at first, but within the first mile, I limbered up and sensed I could stay in control of myself and not go out so fast – similar to an easy stroll.

I kept pace with the 4:40 pace group up an overcrossing that transitioned onto the Atlantic City – Brigantine connector and into the controversial 2,000-foot long tunnel under Horace Bryant Park.  Being in a tunnel while staying connected with the global GPS isn’t an ideal circumstance, but my Garmin somehow maintained a solid fix.

The 4:40 pace group didn’t leave my sight as runners entered Renaissance Point and through the Borgata and Harrah’s resort hotel multiplexes.  My legs began to feel the effects from Baltimore around Marathon Mile 5, but still pushed myself knowing this would likely bite me in the end.  I began to recall the adage, “Whatever time you take off at the front end gets added on at the back end – with interest!” 

Soon, I crossed paths with the 4:50 pacer.  I realized I needed to reduce my pace until the half marathon split, but I know it was perhaps too late.  This was suddenly becoming a “hang on and hope for the best” run.  I crossed the ten kilometer split on Melrose Avenue with a time of 1:07:30.

With a left onto New Hampshire Avenue, runners proceeded towards the Atlantic City Aquarium with a brief out-and-back at the King Neptune statue while a man dressed in traditional Scottish attire entertained runners with bag pipe music at the foot of the statue at Marathon Mile 7.

Following the brief out-and-back, runners proceeded in a southeasterly direction along New Hampshire to a ramp leading to the most northerly portion of the boardwalk at Marathon Mile 7.75.

Running on the boardwalk was slow, tedious and simply, long.  While it was an OK day for running, spectators bundled up in heavy layers likely found that the cold wind made for a torturous day.  The boardwalk offered no shade and my pace felt harder and harder to maintain.  The boards were soft and some were even loose, wobbly and rotten.

As runners paraded down the wide boardwalk, the course was not specifically cordoned-off and marked for running lanes, so spectators, beachcombers and runners had to coexist.  Spectators generally kept to the side, but other beach enthusiasts leisurely strolling the boardwalk, having no idea a marathon taking place, succeeded in transecting and crisscrossing some runners’ paths.

Shortly after Marathon Mile 9, runners are blessed with passing by the finish line in a crowded narrow lane – demoralizing in some fashion.  As I approached the finish line area, half marathon runners paraded in the opposite direction down the boardwalk with smiles on their faces indicating they were done bucking the headwinds and can enjoy their post-race merriments.  For me, I still had seventeen miles left of my windy and turbulent adventure, in the meantime, dodging the half marathon runners, spectators and other boardwalk pedestrians.

The remaining 3.5 miles were strictly boardwalk running.  The half marathon turnaround was located just after Marathon Mile 11 when the number of runners markedly thinned out making for lonely running.  The winds were fierce and gusty and I seemed to be holding my hat in my hand a majority of the time so it wouldn’t blow off into the adjacent dunes.  At around Marathon Mile 12, I noticed a motorcycle cop with its blue and red lights flashing as it approached me.  It had to be one thing, the lead marathon runner.  To distract my wary mind, I quickly computed an impressive 2:30 finish for him.

When I feel fatigued and tired, I have a tendency to put my head down and “just run” when I seem like I’ve had enough.  The diagonal herringbone board pattern of the boardwalk made me feel dizzy at times, but also minimized the wind and sand grains ravaging my face.  Yes, one could say I was ready to pack it in by the time the course departed the boardwalk at Washington Avenue in the city of Ventnor City, but I had still thirteen miles to go, and best of all, no more boardwalk – at least for a while.  At this point, I saw the lead female runner whiz by me as I crossed the half split in a time of 2:36.  I was in the head down mode as I veered onto Atlantic Avenue and into some mutable nasty cross-winds.  I kept telling myself, “I’m not quitting.  I’m doing this!” 


The second half:  (12:56, 12:57, 12:59, 14:51, 13:44, 12:50, 13:13, 12:19, 14:46, 15:20, 12:28, 14:06, 13:05, 12:22 projected pace [final 0.41 mi])

Suffice it to say, each mile after the half split was slow.  Every time I broke into an energetic jog, the stiffness from the previous day would singe into my legs forcing myself into a slower but consistent jog.  In that time, the one thing I managed to do very quickly was burn through the five stages of grief.

Denial: This can’t be happening.  This is my thing, running is MY thing, and I’ve proven to be worthy of my accomplishments.  There’s no way that this discomfort of a double is really such a big deal – I’ve don’t it before.  I just need to keep running to loosen up my muscles.  After that, everything will just click.  All pains eventually go away, the wind will be at my back side, so it’s just a matter of ignoring these little hiccups, steal yourself, use mind over matter, and pretend they don’t exist.   Just keep moving.

Anger: Ow, ow, ow, this is bulls**t and not working.  Although I put in a minimal amount of training for this weekend, still I should be able to complete another marathon without a single major issue.  There’s no reason why my adductor muscle should be hurting this much.  I was fine in Baltimore, so why start now?  I didn’t even push myself yesterday and suddenly it’s punking out like it’s never experienced a race before?  Unbelievable.  Ow, ow, ow…

Bargaining: You know, if I switch my gait to my old, maligned heel-strike, then I can actually pick it up a little.  Maybe I can stay with this run/walk business until the end.  Can I hobble the full distance?  I need not worry about missing our hotel check-out.  I know I wouldn’t be able to shower until I got back to Baltimore – is that such a bad thing though?  Is it too much to ask my wife to wait and then endure the mephitic odor of an unwashed runner in the car for over two hours as we drive back to Baltimore when I can finally shower? 

Depression: This sucks.  And the wind really sucks.  I came all the way here and now I think about bailing?  There’s a reason that many runners re-brand DNS from “Did Not Start” to “Did Nothing Stupid” and I’m about to discover just what “stupid” is.  Man, each step hurts; this is a bunch of crap – the wind is a bunch of crap.  People are going to give me that smirk and tell me SEE?  They KNOW running is bad for your muscles and joints, and the proof was in my gelatinous-like pace.  I hope people and other runners aren’t staring at me.  I know, I may be walking this mile, thanks for your concern, but please move along, enjoy your run – maybe I’ll see you at the finish.   The absolutely last thing I want to do is to come back for a New Jersey do-over.

Acceptance: …or do I?  This slower pace and awkward stride is actually working pretty well.  In fact, I most certainly can keep this up for the residual miles and stay on track for all fifty states.  Every stride I take is one less I have to do.  Hopefully I can chat with someone to kill time.  It wasn’t my original plan, but if I stop running and go home now, I’ll be very upset at myself.  I’m not alright with calling it quits and doing perhaps just a “half” marathon.  I know I’m slow when faced with the resistance of two marathons.  As long as I continue on, I’ll be fine.  I’ll count the hours until I can sit in the car and travel back to Baltimore.

I would love to say that a smile burst from my appearance as I waltzed happily during the remaining miles.  Instead, I was locked in a grimace, a vestigial emotion leftover from the anger phase.  Denial was quickly overcome – there was no getting past the obvious discomfort I felt.  I bargained with my goals and ultimately accepted that I would rather not crawl or get a ride to the finish, kill my enjoyment of the event and ruin everyone’s plans.  But anger would ultimately stick around for several thousand more cadence strides.

It wouldn’t be until Marathon Mile 16 that I began to feel as if I could “run” again as I swallowed some caffeine pills and sucked down some nutrition gels.  I wasn’t in the clear, as my adductor muscle discomfort was still giving me nuisance pains, but it was no longer feeling like it was getting worse.  

At the turnaround! 
Note flag whipping in background

The out-and-back section of Atlantic Avenue terminated in the city of Longport at the Great Egg Harbor Inlet at Marathon Mile 16.  The winds seemed even fiercer after the turnaround.  I just wanted to be done!  I was tired of the wind, my legs felt like shredded meat and I constantly argued with myself to keep moving no matter how much pain I felt.  Walking doesn’t allow me to resume running again.  I had to keep moving.  It took a lot of willpower, self-discipline and pleading with my body to get me through.

At Marathon Mile 17, the course deviated toward the harbor waterfront for yet another four-mile out-and-back section.  I saw my wife pass by me in the other direction chatting away with another runner as she approached Marathon Mile 21.  “Yikes,” I thought.  “She’s four miles ahead of me!”

The course looped around Jerome Avenue Park in Margate City.  I caught a great tail wind that propelled me to a faster pace.  I took full advantage of the tail wind until merging back onto Atlantic Avenue when I once again confronted a head or cross wind for the next two miles, quickly extinguishing my internal flame.  Need I mention the steep camber of Atlantic Avenue?

As I once again joined the boardwalk at Marathon Mile 23, I faced incredibly difficult running.  I had five kilometers remaining on this unexciting and mind-numbing walkway of the herringbone pattern design.  I kept my pace slow and steady and finally able to converse with two other runners who have finished the fifty states.  It was helpful to gain some insight which marathons they recommend in my remaining four states.

For me, the final miles were exceptionally challenging.  Not only was it sunny, hot and windy, but the boardwalk was crowded with people who didn’t seem to realize or care there was a marathon going on and I had to weave my way through groups of people.  I couldn’t even tell who was ahead of me as runners blended in with non-runners.



The inflatable arch marking the finish line was ahead, but didn’t seem to get any bigger.  I was running and running, pushing the pace with what little oomph I had left, but it seemed as if I was running on a treadmill, not getting any closer.  I kept my eyes focused on Bally’s and again on the arch, and there I was, dashing my way down the chute passing several other runners while hearing my name announced over the PA system.  Spectators along the barriers were whooping and clanging cowbells.  Did I black out?  Is this the end?  I “sprinted” with every little thing I had left, crossing the finish in a time of 5:32:35.  Unbelievable, but I did it.

Crossing the finish line!

What felt like an increase in my pace, toward the end and only then did I let myself smile.  Maybe I hadn’t really accepted what I was doing until this point, as if the last three hours had only existed to get my mind off what felt like cheating or giving up.

I walked over to a volunteer who draped a finisher’s medal over my neck.  I grabbed a water and a Gatorade bottle and limped through the exit barriers to meet up with my wife.

All runners gained access to the finishers Beer Garden at Harry’s Oyster Bar featuring Double Nickel Brewing Company, “Great Beer from the Great Garden State!”  I would certainly disagree with the “great beer” catchphrase, as I am not a fan of craft beer.  Because of my finish time, most of the food vendors either left the area or exhausted their supply of grub.  Oh well, since I’m usually not hungry after a marathon, I waited to eat a large meal in Baltimore at the end of the day.

Skål

RACE STATS:

Distance: Marathon (26.2 mi) – my Garmin clocked it at 26.41 mi

Date: 21 October 2018

Bib No.: 1012

Weather at start: 50°F, cloudy canopy with gusty 20 mph NW’ly winds

Gun time: 5:33:36

Chip time: 5:32:35

Average cadence: 150 steps per minute

Average pace: 12:41 per mile

Overall rank: 560 of 806

Gender rank: 377 of 504

Division rank: 75 of 101

Elevation: 689 ft gain / 778 ft loss

Half split: 2:36 (11:57 pace)

Average finish time: 4:39:09

Standard deviation: 0:50:52

Age graded score: 42.74%

Age graded time: 4:47:41

Garmin splits: (10:26, 10:38, 11:20, 10:34, 10:35, 10:55, 13:36, 11:02, 12:15, 11:40, 13:56, 12:41, 12:25, 12:56, 12:57, 12:59, 14:51, 13:44, 12:50, 13:13, 12:19, 14:46, 15:20, 12:28, 14:06, 13:05, 12:22 projected pace [final 0.41 mi])

LIKES / WHAT WORKED:

• Small and challenging course on the Jersey shore. 
• Flat course.
• Very well organized event from packet pick-up to the multiple aid stations along the course.
• Super friendly volunteer support.
• Hats off to the great spectators displaying their support!
• Easy parking race morning.
• FINISHING!!

DISLIKES / WHAT DIDN’T WORK:

• The non-stop wind, but there’s nothing one can do about that.
• The food variety at the finish line could be improved.  
• Not closing off a dedicated running lane on the boardwalk.
• Marathoners crossing the path of half-marathon runners who are finishing.
• Miles of boredom on the boardwalk.

Final thoughts:

The last miles of any marathon are awful no matter how good you feel.  But today I had found a happy medium.  I wasn’t exactly phoning it in by finishing in a certain time, the aches and pains in my legs certainly bared witness to the struggle.  But I wasn’t killing myself doing it either.  It was, dare I say it, fun.  It certainly helped that I was running a beautiful race surrounded by the beach and boardwalk, put together by volunteers and local supporters who were cheery and happy to be out there – wind and all.

Even though I didn’t do well as planned through the Monopoly game inspired city, I was somewhat dissatisfied with my performance, nonetheless.  I ran the fastest race I could on this particular day.  I made a lot of mistakes and I wasn’t adequately prepared enough (sleep, nutrition, GI issues, too much downtime, whatever), but I ran with my head.  I am thankful I had the strength to pull off the last few miles when the going got tough.

While I may be proud of my achievement, I am more proud of the fact that I have this experience under my running belt and the knowledge I can crank out a double marathon weekend and still walk away with a lesson learned.  I am looking forward to some down time to prepare for my next marathon in January.  In the meantime, I plan to pace two half marathons before year’s end.

As for the race itself, I did enjoy it.  It was easily one of the flattest courses I’ve ever run, especially the second half.  What begins in commercial and residential neighborhoods on wide roads eventually became a tour of New Jersey’s many seaside communities, from Longport to Margate City to Ventnor City and Atlantic City.  Several miles were run on the coastal air-soaked wooden planks of the boardwalk, which felt elastic after seventeen miles of black asphalt concrete surfaces.  I enjoyed the smells of salty sea air mixed with cotton candy and pizza as runners loped on the boardwalk through each new community, with the crowds lining the shore growing as the miles ticked upwards.

With State No. 46 now behind me, I have Massachusetts, Connecticut, Ohio and North Carolina yet to run, thus bringing my fifty states journey to a provisional close.  The culmination of my incredible journey is in sight.  In between now and then, I’m not going to let myself be lured down a new path, other than to explore the uncharted terrain of my final 104.8-mile trek. 

Onward and upward.