My fastest marathon was probably Berlin in 2013. I say “probably” because my chip didn’t register on the timing mat at the start line, so I’ll never know exactly what my time was. My gun time was exactly 2:43:00, and I suspected I crossed the start line roughly a minute after the gun, for a time of roughly 2:42:00.

Six years later, I ran the Austin Marathon in 2:42:51. Nearly the same time, but not quite as good. I could now confidently say my best marathon was 2:42-something, and I simply thought of it as “2:42.” At that point, I was 35, meaning my Boston qualifying time was already getting more generous. From here on out, it was unlikely I’d ever run a faster marathon, and it always bothered me that I’d never know what exactly my best time was.

Leading up to the San Antonio Marathon though, there was a chance that might change. Training had gone unbelievably well in the six weeks leading up to the race. In particular, I’d had a few breakthrough training runs, in which I held a pace I didn’t realize I was capable of. After each such run, I tried holding the same pace or better on similar runs, and most of the time, succeeded! Was a new PR in the cards?

Going into the race, my optimistic goal was 2:40 (new PR!!), anything under 2:50 would make me happy, and anything over 3:00 would mean something went terribly wrong. I also felt like I had a reasonable chance of winning my age division (M 40-44), and maybe an outside shot at the overall podium. However, those weren’t necessarily personal goals, because they depended as much on other people as they did on my own performance. I inwardly resolved to simply run my best race, and if I place, great.

After 2-3 hours of restless “sleep,” I downed some oatmeal, a kiwi, a spoonful of almond butter, and a couple caffeine tablets (a bit less than a cup of coffee). Made the 1.5 mile walk to the start line, in front of San Fernando Cathedral, adjacent to the Riverwalk. Even at 6:00 AM, an hour before the race began, there was a DJ at the start line pumping club music at ear-splitting volume. I’d wanted to listen to my own music to get in the right mindset before the race. Good thing I’d done that on the walk over.

The weather was cool and cloudy at the start, perfect for running. I disrobed and got into corral 1, giving my pants to my dad and my puffy jacket to Goodwill. Chatted with a few runners around me, particularly a short redhead named Courtney who’d won the women’s marathon the year before. How odd that this was the second time I’d met a redhead at a race, named Courtney, from San Antonio, who was an award-winning runner.

The race began at 7:15, exactly at sunrise, and from the get-go, the pack was moving fast! I kept looking at my watch and had to tell myself easy there, calm down. The pace was much faster than what I’d had in mind for a 2:40 finish. But it didn’t feel difficult! Should I just keep going?

The pack slowly started to thin out, but there were always a few people around, often in clusters with gaps in between. I did my best to latch on to the tail end of a cluster and draft off them, sometimes hopping from one cluster to the next. There was a lot of leapfrogging going on. Was everyone else holding an uneven pace, or was I?

There were several volunteers on bikes guiding the lead group on the course. After ~20 minutes, I overheard them discussing the positions of the leaders. As it turned out, most of the group around me was in the half marathon. Knowing that the half marathon course would split off after 15 km, my strategy was to go ahead and hold this fast pace, taking advantage of drafting off half-marathoners while they’re still around. After they’re gone and I’m on my own, slow down if necessary.

Shortly before the courses split, we took on our first hill of the day. I managed to only slow down a bit and charged past several other runners. Since the half marathon was 70% done, were they running out of steam? Or was I passing full marathon runners who’d gone out too fast? Since the race bib is worn on the front, you’d have to stop and turn around to find out what race someone is in, so it was impossible to tell.

Crowd support at this race was solid! Most marathons have a crowd at the start, the finish, and 2-3 other spots along the course. In many cases, the entire 2nd half of the course is pretty much dead. Not this time! The crowds came surprisingly often, and there were a handful of good bands along the course. More than once, you’d be running along and come across a mariachi band, complete with full brass and string sections, along with baile folklorico dancers in charro suits with sombreros and in the big flowy Jalisco dresses.

At the course split, the vast majority took a right, in order to finish the half marathon. I took a left. There were now only a few people around. From overhearing the bike escorts, I learned that I was in 5th place, and the two guys ahead of me were (naturally) in 3rd and 4th. A spot on the podium was only 50-60 meters ahead of me. I tried subtly speeding up to latch on and draft, but instead, they started opening up a gap. No matter. I’d simply worry about running my best race.

The middle half of the course is where it gets hilly, and my pace sagged noticeably. 2:40 was still on the table, but if I kept slowing down like this, it might slip away. I could try forcing my way back up to a quicker pace, but considering holding this speed was already difficult, and it was less than halfway into the race, that seemed a bad idea. 3rd and 4th place eventually got a block ahead of me.

Beginning at roughly the halfway point, there was a 5 km reprieve in which the course was flat more often than not. I managed to get a 2nd wind, and once the hills reappeared, the downs were a little bigger than the ups, whereas previously, it had been the other way around.

Years of trail running and living in Hill Country have sharpened my downhill technique, and I flew past other runners whenever the course plummeted. You have to use the downhill and run through it. If you’re doing it correctly, you use your core more than your legs.

After passing a couple runners, I wound up running side-by-side with another guy for about 5 km, the two of us essentially tied for 3rd. As it turned out, the bike escorts had counted wrong, and I’d actually been in 6th place for a while. Matthew, all of 26 years old, is a 2:22 marathoner and was treating this as a training run. Damn. We were too far into the race, and moving too fast, for anyone to be a pretender. The idea he could run like this on a routine Sunday run is incredible.

At 30 km, we were running through a residential area and passed a small crowd on the left. It wasn’t until the second time someone in the crowd yelled “ROBBY!!!” that it even registered.

Wait…are they calling out to me? Well, who else would it be, the only other guy here is named Matthew. But who would that be?? No one’s called me “Robby” in at least ten years.

By the time I processed this, I was already a few steps past the crowd, and I had to turn my head around to even look. A short gal with brown hair was among them.

“PEYTON?!?”
She waved.

Holy crap! Was that? I hadn’t gotten a good look at her face, but she was about the right height. I haven’t seen her in 15 years!!

“Who was that?” Matt asked.
“Uh, ex-girlfriend, actually!”
“Uh-oh! Better run faster!”
I laughed. “Nahhhh, one of the good ones!”

One one of the larger downhills, I managed to leave Matthew behind for good. Hot damn, I’m beating a runner of *his* caliber?? I was now in sole possession of 3rd. The podium was within grasp!

With 9 km to go, the last meaningful uphill was complete. The course flattened out and ran on a walking path through a botanical garden, which is an unusual but cool addition. After that, a long stretch around an army base.

At km 35, still in the base, there was an entire 60-piece high school band. As I approached, the director counted them off and they started playing - basically just for me. Once they’d gotten underway, the band director took a couple steps backward, turned to me, and fist pumped. For the only time in the race, I took a couple steps over and gave him a high-five. Deep down, I’m still a band kid.

Shortly thereafter, with only 6 km to go, some guy I hadn’t seen in an hour surged past me. I hadn’t been slowing down. Dang, how is he speeding up at this point in the race?? For only about 10 seconds, I tried picking up the pace so I could draft off him and stay with him, but it quickly became obvious I wouldn’t be able to hold his pace for long. I let him go. Goodbye, 3rd place.

For the last 10 km or so, each of the lead runners had been “assigned” a bike escort. Mine was Will. If I had to guess, Will was about 30, a gregarious-but-easygoing guy who’s into bikes, the kind of guy with whom I’d enjoy going for a ride. After I got passed, and it was mostly me and him, I started chit-chatting with him to help myself get through the last bit. Running was getting difficult. My feet were getting sore. I was wearing out.

“I can see the tower from here! All I gotta do is run over there! No biggie.”
“It’s only another 5k. How many times have you run a 5k? Easy.”
“Just 20 more minutes. You can do anything for 20 minutes, right? 10 minutes after that, I’ll be drinking a beer.”

Will mostly just let me talk and smiled back. That was pretty much all I needed.

For about 2 km, the marathon and half marathon re-join each other. The courses are separated with cones and tape, but inevitably, half-marathoners cross the line into the marathon course, which is only 2-3 meters wide. There were thousands of them and only one of me, finishing in the same amount of time. Will led the way through, blowing a whistle to get half-marathoners back on their course and clear a path. As I passed, most of them cheered me on.

For the last 2 km, the marathon and half marathon courses split back apart. Once again on my own, it got much calmer and quieter. Will pulled up alongside me.

“Alright, we got through that!” he exclaimed.
“Yes. Thank you! It was very exciting.”

Will stayed on my wing and relayed info about how the approach to the finish works.

“There’s gonna be a chute. At that point, I’ve gotta peel off and let you go. There are a few turns, but it’s all fenced off, just follow the chute. Got it?”
“Got it! Thanks for sticking with me!”

I ought to volunteer as a marathon bike escort. I like riding bikes, I like marathons, I like helping people. What’s not to like?

At this point, it was obvious I was going to smash the 2:40 barrier, and…could I finish at a pace of under 6:00/mile? My watch’s settings are on metric, so I tried to convert units. I wasn’t sure if I was above or below that pace, but it was close. For the last 2 km, I hit the gas and picked up the pace. No sense holding back now!

Upon looking at my splits later, it turned out “picking up the pace” only resulted in not slowing down. After 40 km, that’s not bad!

The sun had come out and the weather had warmed up, but thankfully, not by too much. I did my best to smile as I ran past the Alamo and across the finish line.

The 3rd place guy was still there, having finished only about a minute ahead of me. Roughly a minute later, Matthew came through in 5th. The three of us exchanged big sweaty hugs. Distance running is a unique sport in which the competitors root for each other.

I eventually managed to find my dad in the finish area, picked up a free beer, banana, sport drink, granola bar, chocolate milk, and consumed it all while walking back to the hotel for a shower. The two of us stopped in both San Marcos and in Austin to meet up with good friends for a minute. After running 42.2 km on very little sleep, I expected I’d sleep through most of the car ride, but I was too wired and excited, and instead stayed wide-awake the whole time.

On the way back, I couldn’t resist and texted a number I hadn’t used in a long time.

Me: “Was that you??”

Peyton: “If this is Robby, yes! I live in San Antonio and my husband was running the marathon.”

Me: “Yep! Though I usually go by Rob these days.”

Peyton: “You were booking it!”

 

Fun Facts

• 2:35:32 total time

• 4th place overall

• 1st place M 40-44 age division

• 3:41/km pace (5:56/mile)

• Personal best by seven minutes!

 

A friend had to point this out to me later: at the pace I was going, seven minutes is over a mile. In other words, if I were racing my previous best self, I would’ve crossed the finish line a mile ahead.

I’ve long considered San Francisco to be my best marathon, in a time of 2:43:52. Sure, I’d run two races faster, but only by about a minute, and San Francisco is a tough course. But even that race wasn’t perfect; I’d stopped to use a toilet, which cost me probably about a minute.

For the first time ever, I feel confident saying I ran a “perfect” marathon. Sure, no race is truly “perfect,” there must have been a handful of small things which might’ve had me finish a few seconds faster. However, it’s just as likely, probably more so, that any change would’ve resulted in a worse result, rather than a better one. As far as I’m concerned, there was nothing which could’ve gone better.

So what’s next? I’d considered running the Cowtown Marathon in February, but I no longer saw the point. I’d accomplished everything I’d hoped for, and more. There was nothing I could do in Fort Worth which would top this performance. This is my magnum opus.

Name:
I am a carbon-based life form.