Brian's Terrible Race Photos, 2018 Edition: The Love Run

When I registered for this race last fall, I got to pick out a custom name/nickname/saying/whatever for my race bib.  Rather than just put "Brian" like a normal person, I put "Dallas Sucks".

The race was in Philly, after all, and I'm a huge Eagles fan. By happy coincidence the Eagles won their first Superbowl (did you hear?) in the intervening months.

I had totally forgotten that I did this, and when I picked up my packet in the post-superbowl 52 world, I couldn't stop laughing.  I wanted to make sure that my hilarious bib got in race photos, so as I approached the photographer, I unzipped my jacket like a flasher...and well, I guess the wind got a hold of me and resulting parachute effect makes me look even rounder than I am.

I also hate when I got caught flat-footed in the picture.  Well, in this one it looks like I'm just standing in the middle of road.  Maybe I was.  Maybe I was.

Reaching the Finish LIne is always cool, and my wife and I were very happy and relieved.  I'm glad this awkward high-five was captured on film.  She was on my left.  Why didn't I just use my left hand?  I'm left handed, goddammit.

There were good pictures, too.  But who cares about those?

Race report on the Love Run coming later this week.  Maybe.

Well, That Was Stupid

For the second week in a row, my wife and I ran a half marathon.  This time it was the Love Run in Philadelphia.  The main thing about it was that it was cold.

I don't hurt as bad as I did after Shamrock, but my left leg is currently a mostly useless appendage that I'm kind of just dragging around.  But, I qualified for Half Fanatics, so there's that. (Wife is already a member.)

Race reports for Shamrock and Love Run are coming, if you're into that kind of thing.

Saturday Catch Up Post

Have I been worse at running or blogging lately?  It's probably a tie, but at least my lack of blogging probably leaves more Internet bandwidth for people to post pictures of sarcastic kitties and hence performs a valuable public service.

I had a goal of 15 miles this week and it looks like I'm going to fall a little short.  I had a really busy week of work again, but I don't want to blame that. I worked late into the night Sunday and Monday nights, so I didn't wake up early enough to go for a run on Monday or Tuesday morning, but I should have been able to get a few miles on Monday night, or a short run on Tuesday evening.  I didn't want to wear myself out or be up late on Tuesday, since I had to be out the door at 5am on Wednesday morning for a two-day trip into my company's Philly office.

I finally started to right the ship a little bit on Wednesday evening, which was great because I ate ALL DAY.  I only make it into my company's downtown Philadelphia headquarters two or three times a year, and I always bring a few boxes of one of York County's local delicacies, donuts from Maple Donuts (it's the name of the shop, not all of the donuts are maple flavored) into the office.  If I show up without the donuts, I am probably putting my continued employment at risk.  And since I am unable to resist donuts, I had two of them for breakfast.  I spent most of the day in an intense meeting, and of course there were sandwiches, salad, and brownies for lunch and then soft pretzels later in the day.  CARB LOADING!


But anyway, back to the point of this.  I had been hoping to get some miles in while I was in Philly on either Wednesday evening or Thursday morning.  While I thought it might be cooler on Thursday morning, I decided to head out on Wednesday night since I know my track record for morning runs lately is horrible, and it make Thursday morning more convenient if I didn't have to get up at 5am to run some indeterminate amount of miles.

So, I hit the old dusty trail at about 7 on Wednesday evening.  It was actually the Schuykill River Trail and it was not dusty at all.  I actually began my run from my hotel in Center City, which was a mistake.  There was just too much pedestrian traffic to really get any momentum until I get West of Rittenhouse Square.  Once I joined the trail at Walnut Street, though it was clear sailing.  I headed northwest toward the Art Museum and Manyunk, and there were a lot of runners and bikers out on this gorgeous evening, and its easy to see why this is one of the most popular places to run in Philadelphia.

It also paralleled the route of the second half of the Philadelphia Marathon. There was no way I was in any shape (or had time to) make it out to Manyunk and back, so I did a 3.something mile out and back (no Garmin) in 1:10:41, so I'm calling it 7.5 miles.  


And then I went to Nodding Head Brewery and had an amazing bacon cheeseburger.  I admit it, I run so I can eat more.

I planned to get up on run on Friday morning so I wouldn't have to run long this morning after fencing, but I was just too tried from my business trip and didn't make it out.  6.2 hilly miles today gets me 13.7 for the week, close but no cigar.

 My goal for next week is 20, so I think I'm better off just giving myself tomorrow off and having good runs on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and then getting the last couple on Saturday.  Schedule is going to be tough this week, so getting out there to run consistently is more important than an arbitrary mileage goal.
 

Race Report: 2011 Philadelphia Marathon (or "Best Time of Your Life, My A**")

I never hit the wall, because the whole race was the wall.

When I look back on the 2011 Philadelphia Marathon in the days, weeks, months and years ahead, I'm not sure how I'll remember it. I failed by all but the very minimum standard (just finish) that I'd set for myself, but I still feel like I did accomplish something. Right now, though, I'll say that it was miserable. I hit the wall at Shamrock, but I would say that I mostly enjoyed the race. Yesterday, I hit the wall earlier in the race, and I would count the 2nd half of the marathon as the most miserable, joyless 13 miles I've ever run, with the exception of one hell of a rush at the finish.

It sucked. I knew I wasn't as ready as I should have been and that it would suck, and I was prepared to accept the consequences, but I underestimated the level of pain I would be in. I don't remember much pain from Shamrock. (Though I think the pain was there and I just chose not to remember it because I am overall very happy with it. Chris is right -- i could barely walk after Shamrock, too.)I mostly remember that I "just" got to a point where my legs just wouldn't go anymore. Yesterday? Very painful.

I finished in 5:07:17, about nine minutes slower than Shamrock. Let's get that unpleasantness out of the way. I have to consider this a setback, a failure, a bad race, but I do not do think my failure was quite complete.

Pre-race
Chris, who was running the half (her second), and I got to the Expo at the Philadelphia Convention Center at around 2pm on Saturday. Packet pickup went smoothly. The expo seemed to take up about half of a very large convention room, and it was tightly packed and crowded. I bought a hefty load of Philadelphia Marathon-logo apparel, and we met up with a few other runner-bloggers who were running the race. (Thanks to Amanda from www.runtothefinish.com for organizing the meetup!). It was while we were hanging around chatting that I noticed my legs were feeling very tired (more from an overall exhausting week, I suspect, rather than a tough week of running) which turned out to indeed be a harbinger of doom.

(Oh, that doesn't look so bad. As you can see, this isn't my first rodeo.)

We looked around the expo for a little while, grabbing our Shamrock Marathon cups at the J&A booth, when I remembered that I wanted to buy a book, because I had forgotten to bring anything to read at the hotel. I was looking for something that would mostly be entertaining stories rather than serious training tips, so my choices seemed to be My Life on the Run by Bart Yasso and Run! by Dean Karnazes. Since Bart Yasso was sitting there at the Runner's World table, I picked up his book, got it signed, and chatted for a minute.



Having accomplished everything we could at the expo, we headed over to Reading Terminal Market, next to the Convention Center, to each have a cookie from the Famous Fourth Street Cookie Company. Let me just say that they are famous for a reason, and leave it at that.



We had dinner (and my pre-race beer) at Sotto Varalli on Broad Street. It certainly was adequate carb loading. With the long day ahead, we were in bed by 10:00.

(Ready to run.)

The Race
The Dream
I got up at 3:30am for a peanut-butter sandwich and some water, and went back to bed. I got up "for real" at 4:15 to do my IT band stretching and foam rolling, apply sunscreen, put BodyGlide everywhere, and try to psych myself up with some pre-race Van Halen. We left the hotel around 6am, accompanied by our friend Maryrose, who came to watch us and some of her other friends.

We were in our corrals a little before the 7am start, and I chatted with a friend of Maryrose's who was running the half and also starting from the super-elite orange corral. It was great to have some company, because it made the interminable wait for the wave start a little less, well...interminable.



The race started, eventually, and while I didn't feel great (in terms of overall energy level), I felt "ok" and I hoped that would be enough. I'm not going to be do a mile-by-mile recap like I did for the half marathon last year, because it would make me too angry to type, but over the first several sections of the course, eastbound through downtown Philly, south on Columbus Boulevard, and northwest on Front St./South Street/Sixth St., I was exactly where I thought I needed to be in terms of pace. I saw the Eagles Drumline, which made sense because my beloved Birds were in NY for their game that night against the Giants, and the Sixers dance team, which didn't make any sense at all since the Sixers don't exist in any meaningful sense right now, although I welcomed the distraction. (We did get Sixers ticket vouchers in our packet and the new owner of the Sixers ran the marathon.)

On the next phase of the course, the long flat westbound stretch down Chestnut Street, I continued to hold back. This is the part of the course where I usually make up time because it's flat and straight with great crowd support. I hit the six-mile mark at midway point of Chestnut at just over an hour. Perfection.

After Chestnut Street, things got a bit more difficult: The long hill on 34th Street, the steep up and down hills of the zoo and Fairmount Park. At least I didn't see people peeing on the zoo this year. Miles 7-11 is the hilliest part of the course. I wonder if I should have eased up more here, though it likely wouldn't have made much difference on this day.

The farthest west point on the half marathon course is just around mile 11. From there, it's a mostly downhill or flat two-mile charge back to Eakins Oval. At this point last year, I pushed myself toward a great half marathon finish. This year, I held back, knowing there were many miles left to run. I felt tired, and as I saw the signs throughout mile 12 directing half marathon finishers to the right and marathoners to the left and a turn back to the west, the wiser part of me contemplated packing it in at 13.1. Instead, I kept to the left and descended into Hell.

(You have chosen...unwisely.)

In hindsight, I believe that my familiarity with the half marathon course was part of my undoing. Though I paced myself well, I think my mindset was to think "I'm almost done" as I progressed through the first half of the course. It was very disheartening to reach the place that had always been the finish for me, where I've had two of the happiest moments of my running career, and turn back out for another 13.1 that I was beginning to suspect that I didn't have in the tank.



The Nightmare
I finished the first half of the marathon in 2:15:02, which was almost exactly where I wanted to be. But I felt weak. Not only was I under-trained (however, I had reason to believe I wasn't that under-trained), it was a warm day compared to the last two Philadelphia Marathon and Half Marathon race days, and I think for me it was just "one of those days", because things started to go wrong soon after I made the turn out toward Manyunk. Still, at some point in the race, and I don't remember exactly where but it was definitely rather early, I decided that the moment I crossed the finish would be amazing, and I wasn't going let anything -- be it fatigue, pain, the (relative) heat, or dissatisfaction with myself -- take that moment away from me.

I think the pain began to creep into my quads at around mile 15, and I had to start taking walk breaks at mile 18 instead of the 21 that I made it to at Shamrock. Pain soon became agony. I got to Manyunk, and it seemed like the turnaround point would never come. I gratefully accepted a cup of beer at the very welcome unsanctioned beer table at mile 19 and some bacon that was being handed out outside a restaurant.

I tried to run as much as I could, knowing that the more I ran, the more quickly I could end this ordeal. I could still have my moment, even if the race sucked. Even if I sucked. (I don't mean to be overly negative here on the blog, but my thought process at this point in the race was very pessimistic. I was so mad at myself.) I tried to split the race into 10-minute segments with three minutes of walking and seven minutes of running, but seldom could I maintain that. I had visions of a 6-hour finish, or no finish at all.

I rallied a bit over the last three miles, and when the 5:00 pace group passed me, I tried in vain to keep up. Still, it seemed that things maybe were not quite as bad as they seemed, and the last three miles of the race really did pass more quickly than I thought they would. It was a disaster, but not as big as a disaster as it seemed at mile 18. Since the second half of the marathon is an out and back, I'd been able to see what was waiting for me, and my impression was that I had a pretty hefty uphill ahead at mile 24 or 25, but it never seemed to come.

I hit Boathouse Row (mile 25) and was overcome with joy -- I knew that my trial would soon be over. I would guess I ran the first half the last mile, trying to decide if I should take one last walk break. I did so as I went by the art museum, not wanting to get "caught" walking by the cameras at the finish line. As I rounded the art museum, the course went downhill and I charged. I knew the finish line was ahead, but with a curve in the road I couldn't tell how far. Luckily, it was right around the bend, and I was almost in tears with relief as I crossed. There will be better days than this, I hope, but my moment was not taken from me. I'm not happy with how I did, but I endured for the medal and so it means something to me.

(After breakfast, we finally felt well-enough to pose.)

I also admit that I really wanted to finish because I didn't want to not be able to wear all the Philly Marathon crap I'd bought the day before. Whatever it takes, right?

Lessons Learned
After Shamrock, I had a whole litany of things I wanted to do differently. Some of them I did: more long runs, better pacing through the first half of the race, and a better job eating throughout the whole marathon. Some of them I did not do as well on, namely speedwork and strength training. Those are a must. I really don't care how fast I am, but I want to do everything I can to make sure no marathon is this un-enjoyable again. My quads need to get stronger. I felt like my cardiovascular endurance was sufficient yesterday despite my need for multiple inhalers to help fight off cold symptoms earlier in the week; it was my legs that were not strong enough.

There's really only lesson from this one. It's hard to accept that I didn't work hard enough, but it's the truth. I could blame the warmer-than-usual weather, since I get stronger when the temperature gets lower, say that Philly was hillier than I expected (I don't think it's considered a bad one, but compared to Shamrock, OMG.) and accept that "some days you've got it; some days you don't" is probably a part of most runners' experiences, but the lesson I want to take from this day, this miserable but still somewhat triumphant day is "Just shut up and work harder."

Virginia Beach, I am coming for you. I will not waste another chance. I'm going to take a few recovery days and then I'm going to make sure I go down to the Shamrock Marathon a better runner and stronger person than I am now.

Congratulations!
Congratulations are in order to Chris, who finished her second half-marathon and scored a new PR! Though there aren't Disney characters to distract runners, I think Philly is a tougher course. Also congratulations to Derek, who, after laying waste to our age group at HACC Dash, ran a PR 1:36 in the half, and Nick, who ran the half after recovering from the Baltimore Marathon, and had cheesesteak eggrolls before the race and still finished. Trust me, no small feat!

Feasting!
After running 26.2 miles, ok, ok, after running most of 26.2 miles, the celebration began. Brunch was at Little Pete's, my favorite diner-type restaurant.

(Our server said they'd had a steady stream of race customers. I figure the Kenyans went through at around 9:15)

I declared my intention to drink 26.2 beers to numb my aching quads. Though I only made it through 4 (post-brunch, 2 at dinner, and 1 during the Eagles game), I will say that I enjoyed them all!

Dinner was spectacular. Cheesesteak eggrolls from the Continental Mid-town.

I slept through 90% of the Eagles game, but a win's a win. We wrapped our weekend in Philly up with an amazing breakfast at Molly Malloy's at Reading Terminal Market.


Now, the race is over. The feasting is done. I have four months to Shamrock and it's time get serious. The climb up the wall begins now.

42nd and Pine

I complain about the heat. A lot. I admit that. But the past few days have been ridiculous. We're talking highs of 105 on Friday, 100 on Saturday, and about 97 yesterday. I would suggest that on Friday and Saturday it felt even hotter due to the bright sunshine and high humidity.

We weathered, sometimes with good cheer even, the heat and had a great, busy, sweltering weekend in Philadelphia with friends from Wisconsin, and while I was there I was hoping to get a run in. After all, Philadelphia is where I lived for a year starting in June 1999 and where I made my first attempt to become a runner. It wasn't a very good attempt. I recall on my first or second evening in my apartment going for a run in 95-degree heat. I made it about 2 blocks.

More often, when I went somewhere in my car, I would park at the garage at 36th and Chestnut where I kept my car and attempt to run from there to my apartment at 42nd & Pine. I never made it the whole way -- I specifically recall a freezing night where I made it about 2 minutes before my lungs were just in terrible pain from the bitter cold air and my ankles in complete agony from running in what were probably worn-out, extremely cheap sneakers. I never would have imagined that this would become my favorite weather to run in!

Returning to the present, we sweated out a crazy 18-10 Camden Riversharks game on Friday night, and since it was still 95 degrees at 11:00 at night when the game ended, I decided that there was no way I was going to try to run on Saturday morning.

According to the forecasts on display in our hotel lobby, Sunday looked like it would be a little cooler, but I would still guess it was approximately 80 degrees when I stepped out of our hotel at 5:15am yesterday morning. Still, I took off westward from 15th & Locust, the site of the job that had lured me to Philly, but choosing to turn and run up Chestnut Street since I was familiar with it from some adventures in the Philadelphia Half Marathon (except that it was about 40 degrees cooler then!) and I knew it had a bridge.

(30th St. Station as seen from the Chestnut St. bridge)

I ran up Chestnut Street and turned onto Locust Walk when I got into the University of Pennsylvania Campus, which I was somewhat familiar with since my sister attended Penn while I lived at 42nd and Pine. Once through the campus, I turned left and then made a right on Spruce, passing Allegro, my old favorite pizza place.

(No, I didn't stop for a cheesesteak. Maybe that would have helped)

I made it the few blocks down to 42nd Street and turned left. At the corner of 42nd and Pine, a familiar building:



I took a few extra steps on Pine Street to scope out the rear of the building, where my apartment is visible on the first floor (the window you see directly above the two garbage cans was my kitchen):


It never looked like much from the outside, and seems a little worse for wear 12 years later, but I had once felt at home in my little studio apartment. It was a weird feeling to be back on this corner. I wasn't really sentimental about it. There were no roots put down, no neighbors that I'd ever said much more than "hello" to, no sign that I'd ever lived here, and my memories are mostly just of playing video games and cooking turkey burgers and my indoor counter-top grill (Not the one endorsed by the boxer). It was just an odd, deja-vu type feeling, it all looked and felt so familiar, as if it had been much less than the 12 years since I'd walked down this street.

Still, when it's 80 degrees before 6am, there's no time for reminiscing. I'd reached my old apartment about 30 minutes into my run, and I was definitely feeling the heat. I headed back up Spruce Street in the direction of my hotel. After a two-block climb back to 40th Street, it was all downhill to the Schuylkill River, at which point i made a right onto Walnut Street since there's no bridge on Spruce. I took Walnut back toward the downtown and after passing Rittenhouse Square, turned around at Broad Street, a few blocks past my destination, in hopes of stretching this run to an hour.

Here's map of my route. I was out for an hour and two minutes, and during that time only got about 5 and a half miles, which was about all I could take in those conditions. Except for the weather, it was a nice trip down Memory Lane for me. Not counting my failed attempts at running in 1999 and 2000, I'd only run a few times in Philadelphia, and it had been either in races (2 half marathons and 1 Broad Street Run) or boring laps around Rittenhouse Square while training for my first 5K.

For someone who hadn't lived in this neighborhood and didn't need to revisit old, yet boring memories, I would suggest running the other direction, toward the Delaware and the historic sights of Old City instead or perhaps the jogging/biking path along the Schuykill. Philadelphia's downtown is very flat, so it seems like it could be a nice place to run. Just not during a record-breaking heat wave.

As predicted, last week was the lowest mileage week I've had in months. Of course, I rested on Monday and Tuesday for a one-mile race on Wednesday, and then the heat crushed me on Thursday and Sunday morning. I ended up with less than 13 miles, a weekly total less than my best individual run the previous week. The forecast for this week looks a bit cooler, with overnight lows in the 70s or even high 60s, so I hope I can come back strong.

The Presence of Evil, Volume IV

I had the best of intentions yesterday. I drove into Philadelphia yesterday morning for an all-day meeting at my company's headquarters. I packed a bag with running gear to go for what I'm sure would have been a beautiful run either along the Schuylkill River or Kelly Drive, or maybe a less scenic but no less fun excursion over to my old apartment building at 42nd & Pine, just to see if the place is still standing. It was, after all, when I lived in this apartment that I made my first attempt to incorporate running into my workout regimen (not counting basketball practices, when I didn't really have a choice).

My plan made perfect sense, too. Rather than fight rush hour traffic out of the city at 5:30, I'd run for an hour or an hour and a half, and cruise easily home.

But after a really long, productive day of meetings, I was really tired. And many of my colleagues live even farther from the home office than I do, and get in even less frequently than the 2-3 times a year I make the trip in. So, I invited myself out to dinner at the Continental instead of running.

I'd love to say I regretted it, but I'd be lying.


Cheesesteak Eggrolls. Go to the Continental Mid-town at 18th and Chestnut and order them. (Well, not right now since they're only on the dinner menu.) Trust me on this one.

(Sorry to put out two of these in a row, but what I'm eating is usually more interesting than where I'm running...if I'm running.)

The Toughest Race I've Ever Run: Nightmare on Broad Street

This Sunday at 8:30am, a gunshot will go off at the intersection of Broad Street and Somerville Avenue in northern Philadelphia, and 30,000 runners will charge southward 10 miles to the Philadelphia Navy Yard. Unfortunately, but for no one's fault but my own, I will not be joining them. The Broad Street Run is, according to its website, the largest 10 mile race in the United States. Last year, it was the toughest race I've ever run.

The Broad Street run billed as a flat, fast course through the diverse neighborhoods along Broad Street. And it probably would have been, had the weather not taken an unfortunate -- in my humble opinion -- turn.

Last year's Broad Street Run took place on May 2, 2010. I registered for it on February 22nd, after wavering back and forth for a few weeks and waiting to see if vacation plans would conflict with the race date. Last winter, training was a challenge as Central Pennsylvania was bombarded with more snow than Wisconsin, Minnesota, or upstate New York received. I had been running about 5 miles at a time, and probably no more than 15 miles a week before the double-blizzards that hit the week before Valentine's Day, and running was sporadic at best through the rest of the month.

However, I redoubled my efforts in March, increasing my distance back up to 10 miles by the end of the month, giving me all of April to focus on running it faster. (I didn't know about tapering "back then".) My goal was to finish the race in an hour and a half. I'd achieved that twice on training runs in York and come very close to it on a few other runs, and I thought that Broad Street would have both the disadvantage of a crowded field and the advantage of a flatter course with a net downhill. I was clearly ready for the distance.

What I was clearly not ready for was dramatic shift in weather. I'd run 10 miles on the Wednesday morning immediately prior to the race (like I said, I didn't know about tapering), and the temperature was in the low 50s. But, an unseasonably powerful heat wave moved in during the latter part of the week and by Friday it was in the upper 80s. On Saturday, after packet pickup at Lincoln Financial Field, Chris and I sweltered through one of the hottest baseball games I've ever attended. The forecast for Sunday was no better: It was predicted to be in the mid 80s and extremely humid by the race's 8:30 start time.

I admit, I was scared. Not even my favorite carb-loading dinner, Ravioli at Pietro's Brick Oven Pizza, my traditional one pre-race beer, and cool refreshing maple ice cream at Scoops Deville could reassure me. It was, I feared, the last meal of a condemned man. Have I told you I like to over-dramatize things?

I took what precautions I could against the heat. I got up several times in the middle of the night to drink extra water (One of the volunteers at the expo, who I also heard along the course, just yelled "HYDRATE! HYDRATE! HYDRATE! IT'S GOING TO BE HOT OUT THERE!" over and over, which has become a running joke amongst my wife and I.), I filled one of the bottles on my hydration belt with coconut water to restore electrolytes, I liberally applied sunscreen, and...and...well, that was about it.

I left the hotel to board the Broad Street Line subway at about 6:00, hearing that crowds made it difficult to get to the start. At this hour, this was no trouble at all, although there was a decent crowd already there when I arrived. The early arrival was a positive and negative. On the plus side, not to be gross, it gave me plenty of time to rid myself of the excess fluid I'd consumed the day before, despite long lines for the impressive number of restrooms available. On the negative, it gave me a long time to sit on Broad Street without my iPod and think about how miserable this race was going to be.

And, it was miserable -- one of those days where I was sweating profusely well within the first half mile. The course is a visually interesting cross-section of Philly that passes by or through Temple, City Hall, Little Italy, and the Sports Complex (Go Sixers, by the way!) before it's terminus at the Navy Yard. Crowd support along the whole route is unbelievable. There was army of smiling volunteers offering water, Gatorade, and encouragement. Still, it felt like the race would never end, and I did see many participants, either due to frustration or injury, head off the course to any of the numerous subway stations along the route. The main thing keeping me going as I melted was my ever-increasing desire to hurl my oft-maligned Garmin Forerunner 201, which was become more and more out of sync with the mile markers on the course, into the Delaware River.

I eventually did finish in 1:38, well below my goal, but quite satisfactory under the circumstances. I did not hurl Garmin, which said that I had run over 11 miles in a 10-mile race, into the river, since another GPS wearer reminded me that if I'd meandered back and forth on the course to frequently hit water stations or run through the fire hydrants that the city had opened to cool down runners, that it was feasible that I really had added an extra mile. D'oh!

Garmin lives on to frustrate me to this day.



I sat for about 15 minutes, completely exhausted, on the steps of one of the Navy Yard, re-hydrating and eating before Chris made her away across the crowded finishing area. The Broad Street Run, though three miles shorter, had been unquestionably more challenging than the '09 Philly Half, my first half marathon. According 6ABC, 36 runners were taken to local hospitals during the race and one man collapsed at Pattison Ave, almost within sight of the finish line, and over a million cups of water were dispensed. Although I felt like I was wise to not push myself for a 1:30 finish in these conditions, I also don't think i would have finished if the city had not opened the fire hydrants. Between the hydrants and the multitude of water stops, there is nothing negative I can say about this race as an event.

I'd looked forward to a chance to compete in the BSR again in more favorable conditions, and as the 30,000 journey down Broad Street this year, I wish them luck and will regret that I am not among them.