All medalled out in the nation's capital: Gail Komm, Chris Jaworski, Ellen Kim, Stephen Sundown, Glenn Trimboli
SunTrust Rock ’n’ Roll USA Marathon & Half-Marathon, Washington, DC, March 17
Half-Marathon
Ellen Kim … 2:01:46
Marathon
Stephen Sundown (49th OA, 3rd AG, PR by 3+ minutes) … 3:06:44
Glenn “Chi” Trimboli (105th OA, 2nd AG, PR by 3+ minutes) … 3:16:29
Gail Komm … 3:52:00
Chris Jaworski … 4:16:38
Ellen Kim
My Rock ’n’ Roll weekend in DC was an interesting one. My hips had been troubling me for more than six months, and I hadn’t been able to get in any real marathon training. All I had managed to do was follow a remedial schedule with the goal of rehabilitation. In consultation with my coach, ERC’s Paul Giuliano (a.k.a. Mr. Giggs), I therefore decided to opt out of the marathon. Later, as race weekend was approaching and I was able to slide in a few decent runs, which I irrationally punctuated with a 21-mile trail race, I began to toy with the idea of doing the 26.2 as a training run. This was quickly dismissed by those close to me. Giggs advised me to run just 10 miles at an easy pace, which for me these days is between 9:30 and 9:45. So, I’d go to DC to support Chris, Glenn, and Stephen and get in a fun 10-miler with 20,000 other runners.
Three races were taking place under the Rock ’n’ Roll umbrella—the marathon, which had 3129 finishers; a marathon relay (53 teams, 106 runners); and a half-marathon (16,291).
The weekend, in a word, was seamless. As a group, we rolled with the punches, which included getting lost several times, almost missing the precious prerace carbo-loading dinner, being frosted and toasted by an unreliable thermostat, having the blaring horns of Metro trains wake us in the middle of the night, and misplacing our race-day salt bagels.
Friday evening, after finally finding a restaurant that was serving pasta without a wait, we heartily ate our meals, and then quickly headed back to our rooms.
My new plan was to run the half-marathon at 9:30 pace and at least get a medal for my $90 entry fee. So, now I too was preparing race gear. We runners are a funny lot. We all sorted through our items, tried on our race shirts, adjusted our bibs, played with our fueling options, and, finally, laid everything out for the morning.
A curveball thrown our way earlier in the week was the DC forecast for temperatures nearing 80 degrees. In March?
Game day, we all woke at 5 a.m., changed, ate, and boarded a 6:30 shuttle van provided by our hotel, the Courtyard Marriott. All our prerace rituals were done—except for eating those salt bagels. We realized we’d left them in the car, deep in the hotel’s garage. Unfortunately, there were no other salt bagels to be found within a one-mile radius. Soon, though, bagels would become a distant memory. As we would witness that day, goals could be met and conquered even when prerace rituals were not executed perfectly. Note to selves: Flexibility may be okay.
Now for the half-marathon, which started with the marathon and marathon relay at 8:00. After covering the first 2 miles at a “blistering” 8:45 pace, I got caught up in the crowds and ran the next 2 miles at 7:35. Oops. Must. Slow. Down. Trouble. With. Giggs. And I did. I pulled back and had a wonderful run. I stopped at aid stations, listened to bands, and started running again. This was the first time I felt I had permission to completely relax and enjoy a race without a care about the clock. It was wonderful. I crossed the line a couple minutes over two hours, collected my medal, and headed back to the finish to wait for the boys, and for Fleet Feet Montclair’s Gail Komm, who had traveled to DC separately and was running the marathon.
I planted myself about 50 paces from the finish line and waited, expecting Stephen and Glenn to come in around 3 hours. I saw the first male and female finishers. I started to get antsy wondering how our gang was coping with the heat. Then, around 11:07, with the second female finisher still nowhere in sight, I spotted Stephen rounding the corner in the distance. He looked so smooth and strong. As he entered the chute, I begin screaming his name, and the crowd was going wild. Moved by his rock-star performance, I was tearing up and having chills. He’d run a monster time and a huge PR. The announcer called out: Stephen Sundown, 44 years old, Upper Montclair, New Jersey, 3:06:44, 49th runner. “I know him! He’s my friend!” I screamed. I didn’t leave to meet him, as I was worried I’d miss Glenn. Sure enough, some 10 minutes later, Glenn entered the chute, alone, looking stronger than ever. Again, tears and chills. Another monster time and huge PR. Glenn Trimboli, 50 years old, Bloomfield, New Jersey, 3:16:29, 105th runner. His form was perfect chi running, and he looked as though he’d barely worked up a sweat. “I know him, too!”
Chris finished a bit past noon. Glenn and I cheered him on at the finish line. As usual, Chris ran such a strong race. Chris truly is a phenom. In the preceding weeks, he’d completed a string of long-distance races and runs, culminating in a 54-lap (13.5-mile) birthday run just seven days before the marathon. This was another impressive race, and he completed it just as he would another long run: relaxed, humble, and with a huge smile on his face.
Then we met up with Gail at the beer tent, and she was effusive. She’d completed another admirable sub-4 marathon (3:52:00) and was festively decked out all in green and wearing a Kiss me, I’m Irish … And single T-shirt. It was St. Patrick’s Day!
I was shaking my head in awe at all four of these road warriors on this auspicious day.
That evening, while decompressing, Glenn and I went online to check our crew’s official stats. To our absolute surprise, we discovered Glenn had finished second in his age group. And then Stephen: 3rd in his age group. Unbelievable!
This was altogether a successful weekend. What made it even more special was spending time with my dear friends. On our roundabout way out of DC, we managed to squeeze in a major monument tour in a New York minute. It took us longer to get our coffees from Starbucks.
My abs hurt the next day. Not from running, but from laughing so hard. I am so thankful for memories like these—and for being able to run, however far, however fast.
Stephen Sundown
After a disappointing finish in the 2011 New York City Marathon, I wanted to run a redemption marathon within two weeks. Instead, I listened to Higher Reason, the wise Mr. Giggs, and signed up for the USA Marathon, four months down the line. Then, at a beer night celebrating fellow ERC members’ NYCM performances, I promoted the DC marathon to Chris, Glenn, and Ellen. They were taken in by my desperation, and I was able to rally them along.
Training was amazing, thanks to Giggs. However, running during our warm New Jersey winter should have clued me in to what I might expect in DC in March.
Despite bringing printed maps and three smart phones with GPS, we had a tiny bit of difficulty getting to our hotel. We missed an exit or two while distracted by heavy traffic and fun conversation. But arrive we did. The hotel, we noticed, was well equipped. We also noticed it backed right up against a Metro line, which could be a problem for runners the night before a race. When we heard a train pass by quietly, we were relieved.
After checking in, we took a cab to the Armory, where we found an easy packet pickup and an efficient expo. Dinner was another story.
The hotel’s concierge provided a restaurant recommendation that sent us on a two-hour adventure on the other side of town. During the cab ride, Ellen, being the kind, caring soul she is, began offering race-bag swag to the driver, who had a newspaper splayed out on the steering wheel. With the driver becoming annoyed at Ellen’s interruption, we pleaded with her to let him concentrate on driving … or reading.
The recommended Italian restaurant was loud, cramped, dimly lit, upscale, and chic, and offered only one very expensive, tiny-portioned pasta dish—not what any of us had in mind. Our only goal was food that was quick, cheap, and in bulk. Stuffing our pockets with bread, we quickly worked our way out of our reservation and left the restaurant so we could resume our search for pasta, lots of pasta.
With smart phones in hand, we walked from place to place, but every restaurant was packed—it was marathon weekend and St. Patrick’s Day weekend rolled into one. We became nervous but remained in good spirits. We had hoped to eat by 6 p.m., but it was now nearing 8:00. Finally, we came across a unique, self-service pizza-and-pasta restaurant, Vapiano. We quickly carbo-loaded and then took the train back to the hotel.
The little sleep we got that night was disturbed by the 4 a.m. Polar Express barreling through the Metro station. Lots of grumbling and cursing. About an hour later, however, we woke up in good spirits, and got ready and headed for the shuttle van.
When we arrived at RFK Stadium, where both races would start and finish, race personnel were still busy spraying paint on the asphalt in the starting corrals and literally fanning it to dry. As the sun was coming up, so was the heat. At the 8 a.m. start, it was 53 degrees, and the temps threatened to hit the high 70s later on.
Lots of people in corral 1 should not have been there. Glenn and I, starting in corral 2, spent the first mile dodging slower runners. Eventually, the field opened up, and I was able to settle in. There was a nice breeze, and seeing the Capitol Building and the Washington Monument was inspirational. Both times when I was passing the monument, I gazed at it as long as I could to take my mind off the race. I tried to run efficiently, saving my energy for the final 10K surge. I expected more bands, this being a Rock ’n’ Roll marathon and all. Given the heat, I made sure to drink water or pour it on my neck at all the aid stations.
Where the half-marathon course split off, the field really opened up. Then I started feeling the heat. Later, at mile 20, exposed to the sun and battling a headwind off the Anacostia River, I faced my hardest 2 miles. My pace began to suffer. I was pumping my arms to get through the wind, my legs were getting tired, and then once I reached the turnaround I did not get the wind at my back. So, all that work and no payback.
Mile 23 was lonely, and the death march began. I kept moving even while runners around me were either taking walk breaks or had nothing left for the challenge. I made it through the hills in mile 24 and then, cresting an overpass, used my downhill momentum to get my legs back. I ignored the pain and pushed through and got my pace down to 6:30. I was now looking for a fight. I pulled up to a guy … no challenge. On a straightaway and on a climb toward the finish, I picked off the final two runners I had been able to spot. Low-hanging fruit. Armed with the confidence that came from having passed everyone I’d seen between the half-marathon turnoff and this point, I was not going to let anyone take me on with the finish line so near. I dropped the hammer, getting up on my toes and finishing as hard as I could, leaving everything on the course.
Dragging myself over to the medals, I knew I had run my own race, a smart race, which is how I was able to get through miles 22 through 25 without stopping. I had succeeded in getting to the final 5K before the temps got too high, too. I am very happy with my performance.
I am thankful to Mr. Giggs for working with me and teaching me race-day execution. Thanks also to Ellen, Glenn, and Chris for a fun and rewarding weekend. Finally, thanks to the Grovers and ERC for the support and good wishes. Good luck to everyone in their spring races!
Glenn Trimboli
At Egan’s last November, Stephen was talking about a March redemption race. The USA Marathon had not been on my radar, but within three beers he had Ellen, Chris, and me on the bandwagon. To get the price discount, we had to register the next day. Gulp. Stephen e-mailed us the event’s web address and came up with an itinerary right then and there. Everyone else had a lame excuse about running some marathon in Boston.
And so my training began, sort of. More than a year earlier, I had converted to midfoot running using the chi running method. The cornerstones of chi running are posture alignment and relaxation, which in combination are the best way to run faster, farther, and injury-free. In a nutshell, the chi running technique includes landing with a midfoot strike, using a “gravity-assisted” forward lean and engaging core strength (rather than leg strength) for propulsion. This approach is supposed to make running easier and healthier for the entire body.
I called my USA Marathon training plan the Experiment #10 Plan, because this would be my 10th race/experiment with chi running within the past year. I had run a PR in each of my previous nine races and wanted another one. The focus of my training was on form more than mileage. I put in my long, fast runs with Tom Eaton, Mike Skara, Harold Porcher, and the rest of the Grover gang, but my weekly mileage was not huge.
On game day, I did not know what to expect, but I committed to race within myself and to maintain my form, and I prayed for a cool morning. Thankfully, the temps and humidity turned out lower than predicted.
As we gathered at the start, we noticed there weren’t many marathon bibs. Turns out we were in the minority, big time—one marathoner for about every five halfers/relay runners. Stephen and I were standing in corral 2 (out of 26), and he was complaining he was too far back! But in retrospect he was right—he definitely should have started in the elite corral.
The gun went off. It took about a mile for the field to calm down. My next 2 miles were at 7:00 pace. Slow down! I tried to run my own race and eventually settled into a 7:20-ish pace. I was happy to drop the halfers at mile 12, as they were a huge distraction. Then the marathoners owned the road … a wee bit lonely road. Many people were still out there running, but now the race seemed small. Many times I’d find myself running completely alone—something I hadn’t expected for such a big event.
I hit mile 20 in stride, feeling great. Just a 10K left. All I wanted to do was maintain pace. At mile 22, however, I started losing momentum, and over the next 2 miles I dropped to 7:33. I began crunching worst-case scenario numbers. Yes, as long as I could keep my last few miles under 8:00, I could still hit a PR. Miles 24 and 25 were the toughest, though—wind, hills, and it was only getting hotter. Thankfully, I was able to keep a sub-8 pace over those difficult miles. Then the adrenaline kicked in, and I picked it up to 7:20 for the final 1.2 miles.
After the race, Steve and I had nearly identical stories about the final 4 miles, except his went faster. I had a great race and couldn’t ask for more. Second in my age group, to wit. LOL! Thank goodness for all the recreational golfers who came out to run in my age group that day!
We had a great crew, the four of us. No stress, no mess, no fuss. Even when desperate to find a place to eat the night before the race, we calmly worked things out. After the race, we took the Metro to another section of town, where we squeezed into Lola’s Barracks Bar & Grill and recovered and celebrated with burgers and brews. Then we returned to the hotel to clean up and rest. That evening, we began searching for more food and were directed to Bacio Pizzeria, owned by a Turkish dude who resembles Andy Kaufman, Taxi’s Latka. The pizza there was the best I’ve ever had. We asked Latka where he got his recipe, and he said from a pizza parlor in Wayne, New Jersey. As his restaurant did not have a permit for tables, we ate our pizza while sitting on the sidewalk, which was fine with us. Latka’s wife then sent us to the Boundary Stone, a great Irish bar just a couple of blocks away. There we had more celebration beer, Harp, a nice touch on St. Patrick’s Day. A perfect ending to a perfect day.
On Sunday, just before heading out for the long drive home, we did our own speed-tour of DC and the cherry blossoms.
We had such a great weekend and couldn’t have hoped for a better experience. We are now considering a marathon in Europe for 2013. Any takers?
Chris Jaworski
On Saturday, I ran more than 26 miles at an easy training pace. Odd, though: Twenty thousand other people were going in my direction, up and down the same DC streets, and not one of them told me I should be moving a lot faster … in what apparently was a marathon race!
I wish I had the training gene. In November, I got on board with buddies Stephen, Glenn, and Ellen because I thought this trip would be fun—and boy was it ever!—but even back then I knew I wouldn’t be training for the road race at the heart of it. My focus is on trail running and racing, and perish the thought of cutting back on those for four months. I also prefer to allow for spur-of-the-moment runs and races, which can easily upend a training schedule.
So I did my thing.
Frequented the trails at South Mountain and Watchung reservations. Jumped at the chance to run for the first time at Rockefeller State Park Preserve and Manasquan Reservoir. Meandered on long runs through Essex and Passaic counties. And entered two trail races: a 25K on Staten Island in December, and the 33-mile Watchung “50K” in January. I ran strong all the way at Watchung, and found my own redemption there, having DNF’ed that race twice before.
What is the opposite of redemption? Injury! My right knee began aching a few days after Watchung, and I found myself needing to take extra time off after each run, then a full week. Should I skip the marathon? Not if I could help it. I had committed to the trip with my friends and didn’t want to back out of that. Plus, I wanted to be there for Stephen’s triumph.
The knee began responding to rest, and I began testing it again. I ran 12-plus miles on February 10, and the 13-mile Fleet Feet prediction run two days later. At South Mountain a week after that, I did two days in a row, 10 miles each day, and felt … whole again. At last I was back to running without consequence—so now, of course, I wanted to run a lot. Perhaps I also wanted to catch up on “training” and to feel better prepared for the marathon. Well, there was still time to sneak in the Febapple 21-mile trail race in South Mountain; a weekend of trail running (Saturday) and road racing (nearly PR’d in the E. Murray Todd Half-Marathon on Sunday); and, seven days before DC, the pi ce de résistance, my birthday run of 54 laps (13.5 miles) around a Nutley track, with Ellen, Glenn, Phil Coffin, Sharon Morrissey, and Randy Miller helping me celebrate with shared laps, shared brewskis, or both.
Yes, now I was ready for the USA Marathon!
Despite the crowds on the narrow streets, and the volume of some of the music acts, which made it hard for me to concentrate, I ran well through the first half, matching my PR marathon pace to the second. And yet, I wanted to stop. Somehow I resisted the strong pull to the left, toward the half-marathon finish and medal, and turned right for another 13-plus miles. What a relief to be free of the crowds, and at least temporarily free of the din of the bands.
Two miles farther on, I was thinking what a mistake it had been to keep going. Now there was no easy bailout point, the warmth was getting to me, and I was tiring. My right knee began stiffening up, too, and a pain began creeping up into the sole of my left foot. To get to the finish, I decided to do two things—first, break the remaining distance down into 2-mile increments (run aid station to aid station), and, second, walk through each station to give my knee a change-up in motion. Those measures helped. In addition, at some point I unexpectedly began feeling as though I were on a training run, not in a race. For some reason, that shift in perspective helped, too. It left me thinking that finishing was only a matter of when, not if.
I was done in 4:16:38. I’m not pleased with that time, but it was no big surprise either, given what I did and didn’t do in the preceding months and weeks. I should also mention two possibly contradictory race-day oddities: minor dehydration (salt-streaked face), despite having taken what I thought were enough liquids, and no cramping.
Balm for the day: Each race is training for the next one.
The USA Marathon is billed as the only marathon run entirely within Washington, DC. The course took us through downtown and past the National Mall. What I loved about this race was running the rolling hills of the city and taking in the views, of the Capitol Building, the Washington Monument, the Anacostia River, and several lovely neighborhoods. I believe we also ran past the White House and Union Station, but my eyeballs must have been pointing elsewhere. The aid stations were good, and I even enjoyed several of the music acts!
But what made this weekend most special was spending it with Stephen, Glenn, and Ellen … celebrating the stellar, PR performances by Stephen and Glenn, and the good runs by Ellen and me … and bopping around the city as the Fab Four, laughing much of the way. We followed tips on where to eat and how to get around by Metro, and made some great finds. It seemed we always ended up where we were meant to be!
There is one highlight I must mention before closing. As we were filing out of Lola’s Barracks with our finisher medals hanging from our necks, a big group of people at a table surprised us with a huge cheer and high-fives. Damn, that felt good!
