2012 Nashville Marathon

20. Country Music Marathon – Nashville, Tennessee – April 28, 2012

As I said in the post about Seattle Rock-n-Roll, every marathon can be great for some people and dreadful for others. That does not mean future runners of the races will experience the same thing because every marathon is a completely different experience for every single runner. I prefer 55 degrees and overcast for marathons. And I had been fortunate in almost all of my first 19 marathons, as far as weather. I guess I was due. And, while this was called the Country Music Marathon, it was another Rock-n-Roll event, just like Seattle.

The first sign that I might be in for a challenge came in the plane. We were stuck on the runway for nearly 90 minutes before even taking off, so we didn't depart until almost the time we should have been landing. After getting to the hotel, we walked a couple blocks to the convention center for the expo. The line was wrapped around the block. Seriously. I didn’t stand in line at the New York expo. In Nashville, we had to weave around the block, through the top floor, down the stairs and all around the ground floor before even getting into the area to pick up our bibs. That’s ridiculous and completely incomprehensible. Once I got in, it didn’t take long to get the actual bib and shirt, but I was already a little cranky, and that was a bad sign for the race.

Sheryl Crow was smart enough to run the half marathon

and finish before it got too terribly hot out.

We didn’t know where we were going for dinner, and internet searches suggested that maybe there weren’t a lot of options for Italian downtown. The Renaissance hotel was connected to the convention center, so I asked the concierge for a recommendation. He called The Standard, a converted house just a few blocks away. It’s not generally an Italian place, but they added a few things to the menu just for marathon weekend. The waiter told us the specials, including bacon-wrapped bacon. I’m not kidding. The entire menu sounded delicious, but I opted for chicken parmesan. If I get back to Nashville without a race looming, I may have to go back to the Standard and try some of their Southern dishes.

Race day started very promising. We planned to walk across the bridge to the Titans football stadium, where shuttles would take us to the starting area near Vanderbilt. However, there was a taxi waiting at the curb, so we jumped in and happily paid $8 to get us within 100 feet of the starting line. About 30,000 people were running either the marathon or half marathon (80-90 percent were running the half). So the starting area was packed. I noticed there was a Marriott about a block away. Since we had 90 minutes to wait, we walked into the lobby and made ourselves at home. The restroom lines outside were about 90 deep. The ones in the Marriott were about nine deep. We were much more comfortable than most of the runners. Of course, that comfort would not last. The temperature was already pushing 70 degrees when the gun went off at 7 a.m.

I had never spent any time in Nashville, so I obviously didn’t know the area. Several people had told me that the course was great and pretty flat. But those people were lying. The entire first half of the race was a rollercoaster of hills. And just three miles in, I was soaked with sweat. This day was going to be an absolute struggle.

Despite the hills, the first half of the course was nice and fairly well shaded. It’s always funny to see all the runners crammed on 10% of the road in the shade, when the entire street is available. Of course, I was right there with them. The course covered most of downtown and Music Row before shooting out to the campus of Belmont University, which I believe is best known for music, dentistry and Vince Gill cheering for its underrated basketball team. Regardless of their courses, it’s a nice campus. I always like running through colleges. They’re always a lot more interesting to look at than suburban neighborhoods.

After a return through downtown, the course split at Mile 11 as the half marathoners headed toward the finish. I’ve never been so tempted to join them. The temperature was probably around 75 degrees at that point. My shirt was 2-3 times heavier because of sweat, and I had literally been wringing it out. I had never taken my shirt off in a race, but I could tell that my nipples were going to suffer big time if I left it on (in runners' terminology, "bullet holes"). So I went topless, much to the likely chagrin of the spectators and other runners (many of whom were either shirtless or wearing only sports bras).

Without even reaching the halfway point, I was already wondering if I’d have enough energy to finish. I ran about the same pace as a woman for a while and finally decided I needed some help, so I asked her if she would like to run together for a while. Her name was Jess, and she told me that she was graduating from med school a week later. Apparently, she wanted to run a marathon before graduating, so this was her shot. What a brutal day to run your first marathon. We ran together for 7-8 miles, walking through the aid stations while drinking at least 2-3 cups of Gatorade or water each time, but we pushed each other. My head started spinning pretty bad at Mile 18, and I told Jess she needed to go on without me. My race was pretty much over, but I was going to do everything in my power to finish. I knew if I tried to keep running, there was a very good chance that I’d end up in the medical tent. I was in for a very long and very hot walk. A guy from Boston and another from Philadelphia joined me for a couple of miles, which was nice, but I was mostly stuck only to my slightly delusional thoughts for the next couple of hours. On top of that, like Seattle, the second half is filled with out-and-backs. There’s really nothing more demotivating than watching people running the other direction, knowing you aren’t even close to the turnaround point but having no idea how long that will actually be. How easy would it be to just pivot and head toward the finish? Cheating in a marathon like that would be pretty easy. But I don’t know any runners who would even consider doing so. Most of us aren’t really racing anyone other than the clock or ourselves. And I’m sure as hell going to finish all 26.2 miles, if I can. If I can’t, I certainly wouldn’t pretend I did.

Thinking about the finish is what kept me going, even as I watched 20-25 people dropping to the ground all around me. Some were clearly far too dehydrated to continue and others were suffering unbearable cramps, which happens even more than usual when it gets this hot. The final turnaround point is in Shelby Park in East Nashville, which is on the edge of the Cumberland River. With the water so close, the temperatures were even hotter in the park. Miles 21-24 were in the midst of 87 degrees, and the humidity was even worse, too. It was miserable.

I was happy I could stay upright while

walking back to the hotel after the race.

I kept walking, and the sight of the football stadium was such a relief because it meant the end was in sight. A guy named Brian joined me for the final two miles. He was from a small town in Alabama, and as it turned out we had both run the First Light Marathon in Mobile in January. He told me about the races he’d run, mostly in the South. I may end up running Tupelo for my Mississippi race, based entirely on his recommendation. However, it’s in September and the risk of having a race as hot (or hotter) than Nashville would be fairly high. With about half a mile to go, both of us decided we could run it in. I know I didn’t have anything left when I crossed the line. But I finished. It took 5:11, marking the slowest marathon I’d ever done (I won’t say run). It was disappointing, but at the same time I’m proud to have made it through those conditions. Running 26.2 miles is a big challenge in the best conditions. Adding any challenges like heat or injuries is the equivalent of having something in your shoe or your eye. The smallest thing can be absolutely agonizing. The heat during this race was like trying to walk with a pine cone in your shoe.