U.S. distance legend Frank Shorter once remarked that the marathon consisted of two halves: the first twenty miles and the last six. You run that first half, and then race the second half.
Well, here we go. Halfway done. Time to race.
The looming feature quickly approaching is the famous Heartbreak Hill. You know it’s bad when it has a name.
Actually, in the grand scheme of things, Heartbreak isn’t all that big of a hill. The road doesn’t even rise 100 feet over the course of less-than-one-half-mile; I’ve run over similar inclines on the dirt roads around my hometown. Hell, Heartbreak isn’t even the toughest of the four Newton hills.
I can take some small solace in knowing that the hardest hills have past. I hope.
No, what makes Heartbreak Hill so dangerous isn’t he incline itself, but rather its placement, sitting right on the tail edge of twenty miles. Most humans can store about 2,000 calories of glycogen and most humans burn about 100 calories per mile of running. So, for most people, 20 miles is about the point of glycogen depletion, when your muscles start to run out of fuel to fire.
Add to the fact that, in a cruel twist of course design, Boston lulled you into a false sense of security with 16 miles of downhill pounding. Then, it softened you up with three prior hills. The course has been playing rope-a-dope with you, and Heartbreak Hill is the knockout punch. Just when your fuel begins to run out and your muscles fade from all the pounding, Commonwealth Ave. rises to ask just a little more out of you.
Oh, and by the way, you still have a 10k left.
You’ll notice you’re on the fringe of glycogen depletion -- the dreaded “wall” -- before your legs give in, because your brain is the primary organ that your body supplies with glycogen. When you are running low on energy, you body will make the unconscious decision to prioritize fuel consumption in your brain rather than your muscles.
Your entire sensory perception will start to narrow. Thoughts become harder to think; you might be stuck repeating the same thing over and over again. Like, say, the chorus of a song. Gu and Gatorade will lose their taste. You’ll hear noise, but you won’t register individual sounds. You’ll get tunnel vision. You might even hallucinate.
I’m starting to go there.
Physical, mental / Don’t slow down.
I find my focus drifting back and forth between the runners in front of me and the double-yellow line seemingly pointing to infinity. My thoughts don’t stray much between song lyrics and “go get them.”
I can tell I am approaching Boston College because the party has really started now. I can’t make out any individual spectators, though.
The road starts to slope upward, bending towards the left. This is it.
Tunnel vision sets in. I know, rationally, that the fans are fenced off the road. But this feels like the heyday when they could get as close as they wanted to the runners, leaving only a single-track clearing up the hill.
Don’t look at the top. Just keep grinding.
I shorten my stride. I lean into the grade. I try to quicken my turnover, but I’m not sure my legs can react.
Don’t slow down.
One small figure blurs by my left. I just passed another competitor. Or, was he passing me? No, I passed him. I’m pretty sure.
Someone else comes and goes, on my right this time. He was in front of me and now he is behind me, right? That means I passed someone else. Right?
This hill can’t keep going, can it? Maybe it really is the toughest of Newton hills.
As soon as I register that thought, the double-yellow starts to level out and I’m cresting Heartbreak.
It’s all downhill from here. Just one more 10k to---
Holy shit!
The lead van is right there, just 15 meters away. It has been so long since I’ve been able to read the clock. “1:41:40, 1:41:41, 1:41:42…”
I must be running a 4:57 mile!
First of the last four two-mile sections down, three to go. On to the next one. There was the negative split I was looking for.
There are only five athletes left in the lead pack. Everyone else has fallen off the pace, and I’m the only one who is bringing them back. I can get back in this!
Stay calm, stay relaxed. You don’t need to bridge the gap all at once. Take your time, be smart about it.
I try to conserve as much energy as possible, matching my tempo with the leaders and then trying to just exceed it. A 15 meter gap shortens to 14, an almost imperceptible change. Then 13 meters. Then 12. 11...
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