The Kyiv Marathon

Towards the end of the Kyiv Marathon and trying to keep the legs moving.

The following is an account of my first marathon.  It should be noted that, though I have submitted this narrative fully centered on me, I had incredible support over the course of the marathon, specifically near the start/finish.  A loud contingent of Peace Corps Volunteeers assisted us by cheering with spirit and enthusiasm whenever we passed.  I also had a wonderful pit crew, namely my friend Sara who served me Gatorade and GU upon request.  Their support was humbling, and greatly appreciated. 

For my first marathon, I ran the 2^nd Kyiv Marathon in Kyiv, Ukraine on September 18, 2011.  The following is my report of the events of the day:

As with most things in this part of the world, the event, the 2^nd Kyiv Marathon in Kyiv, Ukraine, was “organized.”  Over the duration of the four months since I registered and race day the course changed at least four times, and always for the worse.  I was excited for the first course which, though difficult, was absolutely gorgeous – going around the most beautiful cathedrals, statues and parks in Kyiv, including a quick jaunt over the Dnipro River and back.  Ultimately the course became a loop of five miles run five times following a little pig tail loop in the beginning to round out the necessary distance.  The start was Maidan Nezalezhnosti, Kyiv’s Independence Square, the main city square.  Those of you familiar with coverage of Ukraine’s Orange Revolution seven years ago would have seen this square on the nightly news.

After the start we continued down Khreschatyk, the main street of Kyiv.  Like every weekend it was closed to vehicular traffic.  It was a nice area to run down (at least for the first three laps), passing political protests and counter-protests, happy people and other varied city sights.

On Khreschatyk towards the beginning of the race

Still feeling good and smiling.  Probably towards the beginning.

The course continued on down a main street but quickly deteriorated.  The long downhill (and cruelly, later, uphill) was all cobblestone.  Through streets were not closed to traffic, and on more than one occasion I had to stop while the traffic control officer tried to bring motorists to a halt.  I even saw a car hit a runner!  (Granted it was not hard, but it’s an indication of what I mean.)  This part of the course was hardly scenic, but we soldiered on.

The next step was a bit of a challenge.  Because running a marathon is easy, and anyone can do it, we were sent to run through a roadwork zone.  Not only was it a roadwork zone, but they were busy working on the road while we were running, where we were running.  This part of the course had exposed/elevated manholes (luckily they were covered), a torn off road, and enough hot sticky tar to make me never want to see the stuff again.  At the other end of the zone our fortitude was rewarded with an aid station.  The menu had apples, bananas and water . . . until the cups at this station ran out around hour number three.  They rectified the situation, but it took about 30 minutes, a tough 30 minutes to go without water.  (Addendum:  I later found out they ran out of still water after I had passed this station for the final time.  They started giving runners carbonated water.  They had already run out of fruit at this time, as well.)

Gunning for TGI Friday's

The most important part of the race for me was a bet.  After a couple of beers a month ago a buddy said a mutual friend of ours would beat me in the marathon.  Not wanting to sound weak I took him up on the bet, and the stakes were high.  The winner of our wager would receive a dinner at TGI Friday’s; this includes an appetizer, an entre, and two beverages.  To put some context around the bet, or at least the prize, I’ll mention two things:  1.  TGI Friday’s tastes so good when you miss America and American food.  2.  A meal of this magnitude would cost about 15 – 20% (per person) of the monthly stipend your humble Peace Corps Volunteers receive.The most important part of the race for me was a bet.  After a couple of beers a month ago a buddy said a mutual friend of ours would beat me in the marathon.  Not wanting to sound weak I took him up on the bet, and the stakes were high.  The winner of our wager would receive a dinner at TGI Friday’s; this includes an appetizer, an entre, and two beverages.  To put some context around the bet, or at least the prize, I’ll mention two things:  1.  TGI Friday’s tastes so good when you miss America and American food.  2.  A meal of this magnitude would cost about 15 – 20% (per person) of the monthly stipend your humble Peace Corps Volunteers receive.

I started out pretty conservatively.  Mile one was a little slower than a crawl.  I tried to keep to a very gradual build-up strategy, which is harder in practice than in theory, especially when the course map/location of hills starts as a mystery.  I was relatively successful with my conservative pacing.  By the end of mile 6 I was about a minute faster than I had planned, which I felt fine with, because I was still going a bit slower than goal pace.  My rival[1] gained some serious distance on me from the beginning.  She jumped out to a three or four minute lead.  This was easy to tell because of the two turn-around points when we would pass each other.  Self-control has never been my strong suit, but I was resolute, and kept the reigns on the horses.  I also had a few spies on the course for reconnaissance.  I hit the half way point at about 1:54 or so.  It was slightly faster than I wanted, but I had done an okay job of keeping under control.  I stayed pretty well hydrated along the course, and took advantage of a couple GU packets, but I was better served by the bananas on offer at the second aid station.  I probably should have eaten a bit more on the course, but I was trying to avoid any unnecessary trips to the port-a-johns (which, they do have in Ukraine, I just found out).  Around mile 15 another friend running (substantially faster, he finished in 3:42) told me my rival was looking strong and asked when I would make my move.  I stayed on track at a relatively stable speed, though.  Finally, at mile 17.5 I overtook my rival.  I was starting to get tired, but still feeling pretty good.  Soon I made my fourth ascent up the long hill.  It was tougher, but still not too bad.  Going back through the main section of the race where the fans, including a number of fellow Peace Corps Volunteers were, was uplifting. 

Gatorade from Sara, and PCV's cheering in the background.

This led me past mile 20, past 21 and into the final lap.  My legs were lead, and I was exhausted, but still running decently.  With no energy to recall Ukrainian I started sharing my pleasantries with other runners in English.  The general consensus was that we all could have used a beer.  Following the final turn-around and a couple of fuzzy miles I don’t remember well, I came back upon the hill.  A former minnow, this hill became a Leviathan.  Staring at me.  Mocking me.  It ultimately defeated me; try as I might, I didn’t have it to run up the hill, and I ended up walking for a good stretch, until I reached the top.  A well-paced guy I had paced a few minutes earlier put a hand on my shoulder, and gave me a “devai, bratan, blizko” (C’mon, brother, it’s close).  And it was close.  We had about a mile and a half remaining.  I had abandoned my idea of a 3:55 finish, which at the beginning of the final lap seemed to be almost assured.  Considering 4:00:01 to be utter failure, I bumbled on with about 13 minutes between me and total (self-imposed) ignominy.  I walked a few more paces getting myself ready for a final assault on the finish.  I’m vain, as well, so I wanted my friends to see me running hard.  Through the “Start” side of the Start/Finish I was cruising.  Not pain free, and certainly not fast, but I was going.  I made the final turn-around, and had about two-tenths of a mile remaining.  Hearing my name, and English encouragements I started picking up speed like a runaway train.  Running the fastest my body was capable of and with a look of absolute fury I barreled across the Finish with a fist pump, and a few seconds to spare.  I don’t know what the time was officially yet.  I imagine something like 3:59:15 – 3:59:30, but I avoided the shame of utter failure, even after the hill defeated me.

Angry at the world, and tired as hell, about 30 seconds away from a good mood.

My favorite shirt felt appropriate.  This is probably ten minutes or so after the race.  I can barely move here.

So, I finished.  That was never in doubt, and I don't think finishing is good enough.  I also brok the four hour mark, which still seems a bit average.  I knew someone that would describe this effort as "pedestrian, at best."  The goal now is shifted.  It is resting on the Providence Marathon in May of 2012.  I'm hoping that with an extra bit of training, and some exerience and a flat course I'll be able to break 3:50.  3:45 would be a time I'd be very proud of, but I'll take 3:50.  I'm doing a recovery program as we speak, so training will start in earnest in a few weeks.

---

[1] My rival is, in fact, a friend not a rival.  She will only be referred to as a rival because she stood between me and a Jack Daniel’s burger.