Nothing new here. I'm just that with the race a week away, I am reminiscing about Cleveland Marathons past. Here are a handful of race reports from some of my 20 Cleveland Marathon finishes. They're mostly links to older blog posts, but some are BF (Before Blog) so I'm just pasting them in here.
And by the way, I just (re) published an article about the race from 2008.
2023 Cleveland Marathon Race Report
The 2019 Rite-Aid Cleveland Marathon
Brain Baker: The 2013 Cleveland Marathon - My Last (it wasn't)
Cleveland Marathon Race Report in Backwards Order So It Has a Happy Ending (2012)
2011 Rite Aid Cleveland Marathon
Where Can I Find Payne? (2009)
Cleveland Marathon (2007)
Now for a couple of older ones.
2000
Sub 3 is a "Hit"
3:00 to 3:05 is a "Near Miss"
Now then, we gotta call 3:06 to 3:09 something, don't we? Ho 'bout a "Near, Near Miss".
Bright and sunny skies and pleasantly cool (50s) temperatures greeted us at the CVS Cleveland Marathon yesterday. There were light breezes from the northeast. The course heads out and back, starting at Cleveland State University (my alma watsa matter) and heading to the western suburbs before returning. Sure was a pretty one with some blossoms out and a few views of Lake Erie.
I thought that after my debacle in Toledo two weeks ago that I'd be conservative and just try for a negative-split Near Miss. I ran the first half in 93:35, with hopes of picking it up enough to still beat 3:05.
Well it almost happened. I did get down to sub-7 minute pace for a while, getting to mile 20 in 2:22 flat and still going strong.
Alas. I did get tired and those little light breezes didn't feel so light when they were in my face those final miles.
Final time: 3:07 and change. OK, lots of change. So anyway, even splits and a near, near miss. Not too shabby for an old codger.
Great to meet Rita and the other NEO Deads.
Six Minutes and Fifty-Two Seconds (1989)
Six Minutes and Fifty-Two Seconds had been burned into my psyche for eleven years. That is the pace per mile that I would need in order to break three hours in the marathon.
Why three hours? Mostly because it was my Boston Marathon qualifying time. But also because for me, it was my Mount Everest, Four Minute Mile and First Step on the Moon. And finally because it had simply eluded me for so long.
I had come close: 3:04 in 1978; 3:10 just two months before. I always seemed to hit The Wall around the twenty-mile mark.
It was warm and sunny for the Revco Cleveland Marathon that day in May, 1989. For this race, I had followed a modified version Jeff Galloway’s training plan, which included one mile intervals and long runs of over 26 miles. I had also managed to lose a few pounds.
As the race started, I began running those 6:52 miles. The half way mark came up so fast it surprised me. Exactly one hour, thirty minutes!
At 20 miles, I began to feel those doubts and fears; but it was now or never. This time, I actually picked my pace up a bit.
Those last 6.2 miles are etched into my memory forever. As each one passed, I grew more confident. Yes, they were getting tougher. And I still wasn’t entirely sure I could keep that pace up. But I felt like I was flying; like my feet weren’t even touching the ground.
At 25 miles, I felt like I was flying. But only when I could actually see the finish a quarter mile ahead did I really relax. At that point everything changed to slow motion. I was going to make it and nothing could stop me. The spectators were cheering wildly as I sprinted past others for whom the distance and heat had taken a greater toll. I had a strong urge to do a cartwheel (this was way before such displays became fashionable among world record breakers) just before the finish line, but decided that it was too risky. I just ran through the finish line like everyone else. My time was 2:59:16. After 11 long years, I had made my goal.
A few weeks later, a friend called to tell me that Boston had relaxed their qualifying standards. All I needed now was 3:15. The 3:10 I had done earlier in the year had me qualified! But I still had my Mount Everest, my Four Minute Mile, my First Walk on the Moon.
My first - The Revco Cleveland Marathon, 1978
There was a goodly amount of fear and trepidation (can there be one without the other?) as I lined up for the Cleveland Marathon. Twenty-six miles is a long way no matter how you slice it. I enjoyed seeing the sights of my home town. I enjoyed the crowds cheering me on, and the perfect marathon weather. I responded by running better than expected for much of the race. At eighteen miles I felt so good that I picked up the pace even more. Although I had not had a time goal, it was beginning to look like I could possibly break three hours. But, at twenty-two miles, I was almost completely shot. I hobbled over the Veterans Memorial Bridge (aka Detroit-Superior Bridge) in the final two miles and finally to the finish with a time of Three hours and four minutes. The finish-line volunteers immediately placed me in the medical tent where they covered me and fed me ice chips. My wife, Debbie found me there. I said those now famous words, “Never again”. As I’ve already intimated, I did not make good on my pledge.
The date was May 14, 1978. The event was the first Revco Cleveland Marathon, and it was also my very first marathon. I managed to make it to the finish line, just before they took me into that tent.
In the months leading up to that race, I had a training partner named Paul Coleman. Paul was a co-worker and friend. It was his first marathon as well. Others joined us at times, but I did most of my long runs in the Cleveland Metroparks with Paul. From this, I learned the importance of having like-minded training partners, especially for endeavors such as marathons. It takes a village.
It was Paul who originally came up with the mantra that we lived by at the time, and which I still go by ‘run a lot.’ Another co-worker at our place of employment, General Electric’s NELA Park Lighting Group, learned of our upcoming marathon and asked, “How do you train for it?” This person was not a runner, and, I thought, probably didn’t really care or understand what we were doing. Most normal people at the time weren’t even aware of what a marathon was. Dumbfounded, I didn’t quite know how to answer, so I hesitated. Paul piped in to say, “We run a lot.” He wasn’t being mean, but it was somewhat dismissive. We chuckled about it later. Paul explained that he didn’t want to try to explain all of our training to someone who would be otherwise oblivious to it. I just loved the honesty and concise simplicity of it. Run a lot. It’s what we did. And still do.
After the race, I learned that the Boston Marathon qualifying time for men under 40 was three hours. I think I probably said something like, “Huh. Just missed it. Oh, and by the way, what’s the Boston Marathon?” Since I would never again run another marathon, I wouldn’t need to worry about this, now would I?
And even though I would never again (I thought) stupidly venture so far as 26.2 miles, I did not stop running. Running was now in my bones. Getting up early for a run was what I did. And still do. Having young children sure made a difference. I began running less, at least for a while, and waking up even earlier for my runs so as not to lose any time with the family or work.
About eight months earlier, Paul and I had run the Cleveland Heart-a-Thon, a half-marathon that also took place in downtown Cleveland. During that race, I realized that I was competing against at least two top runners: Multiple Boston and New York Marathon Champion Bill Rodgers, and Olympic Gold Medalist Frank Shorter. Even though I didn’t contend for victory with them, I thought it was rather cool that I was able to compete with some of the best athletes in the world. It’s happened several other times as well. In what other sport can an average athlete compete directly with the best on the planet?
Eight years later, and after a couple of small, local Marathons, my family and I moved from Ohio to Southeast Michigan. There, I made some new friends, and continued to run, even ramping up a bit. Now, I began to consider qualifying for and running the Boston Marathon. This is an important chapter in my personal running journey, since it drove so much of my individual motivation and progress at the time. As always, it helped to have friends who were in the same boat.
I was, by now, on another quest as well. It was hopelessly tangled up with the Boston Qualification one, but not entirely. This goal was to break three hours. Before I tell you more about these trying to accomplish this and also qualify for Boston, let’s take a look at Boston Qualification through the years.
The B.A.A. website includes a great deal of interesting information, including a ‘History of Qualifying Times’ page. Information provided includes not only the qualification times for each year that qualification was necessary, but also the B.A.A. rationale for setting such standards. To limit the field size to around 1,000 runners, the first qualification standard was set at four hours for all participants of the 1970 race. It was lowered to 3:30 and then, in 1977, to 3:00 for men under 40. Had I been able to eek out a time four and a half minutes faster at my 1978 Cleveland Marathon, I’d have been in like Flynn.
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