The day started postcard perfect with clear, sunny skies and a cool 52 F.  We didn’t need mylar blankets or garbage bags to keep warm before the start from the access road of the new Heinz Field, home of the Pittsburgh Steelers.  Straight and level to the new PNC Park, home of the Pittsburgh Pirates, right, up and over Roberto Clemente Bridge, then left up and back down the Allegheny River, and re-crossing another bridge back to the North Side.  Cruising on fresh legs, deliberately holding back to maintain a 9-minute pace we followed the Ohio River downstream to cross the West End Bridge, while looking left to enjoy one of the best views of any city.  Truly.

The view is directly upstream to the point where the Allegheny River coming from the north joins the Monongahela coming from the south to form the Ohio River.  The triangle thus formed is a beautiful, grassy state park complete with a majestic 200-foot fountain in the foreground and a magnificent city skyline as a background.  The north shore, also parkland contains two new sports stadiums, while the south shore has a restored train station and freight houses.  Graceful bridges cross both rivers every few hundred meters into the distance.  It is a truly inspiring sight, worth the price of entry, and allowing you to forget that the West end bridge is nearly a half-mile long, half of which is uphill.

Left off the bridge for a very long straight section along the south banks of the Ohio and Monongahela Rivers.  Upstream.  Still cruising and settled into a strong 9 minute pace, we made an 800 meter return downstream, then onto the Birmingham bridge for the start of the course’s longest and steepest hill.  I crossed the bridge on pace, but slowed some to take the sharp hill up to the university area and the 11 mile mark at 1:38:0-something.  This hill never actually ends.  It just gradually gets less steep, fools you into thinking the road is level, but continues negligibly up hill to the trendy Shadyside shopping district and half way point at 1:58:12.  It was crossing the Birmingham Bridge that I first noticed runners hugging the shade near the rail.  The city had washed the streets before the race, making the pavement cool, but by now the sun was doing its dirty work and runners were beginning to feel the heat.

After a pleasant, 2 block downhill, we made a sharp right climb then left onto a long straight section that gradually and invisibly climbed for about a mile then let us invisibly descend for a quarter mile before turning left into the most economically depressed, ghetto area of Pittsburgh.  The crowd participation here in Homewood-Brushton was inspiring.  The churches hold services on Saturday and support the race on Sunday.  The music is more varied, and the kids want to high-five every runner.  It is here, however that I begin to feel a little sluggish, and by mile 17 I decide to back off on the hills that continue to rise almost imperceptibly block after block.  By mile 18 I am truly suffering with a general failure of my quadriceps, forcing me to change my gait to the “old man shuffle.”  At mile 19 I stop to stretch which helps immensely.  At mile 20 I stop for a banana, water, another stretch, and photographs.  Ryan joins me for the final 10 k to the finish line.

The course gently rolls 2 more miles through a pleasant, resurgent section of the city during which time both calves begin to cramp forcing me to stop every half mile to power walk.  I began to tell myself, “You’ve been here before.  Don’t quit.  It will be over soon.”  This helped me keep going, but it didn’t stop my cramps.  I wasn’t worried when I saw the 4-hour pacing team go by a mile back, but it sure was depressing when the 4:15 folks shouted encouragement as they passed by.  Finally, at mile 22 the course started downhill into the downtown area.  The drop was sharp and all of the accumulated elevation was lost by mile 23.  It did not feel particularly good, and I saw many people walking the downhill.  The 5000 meters to the finish was hell.  Dead level, then right, up and over the Roberto Clemente Bridge to mile 25.

Runners new to Pittsburgh wept to see the stadium from the bridge, and then shrieked in despair when they realized it was the wrong stadium.  We turned left and Heinz Field rose in the distance like the Emerald City.  Picking up the pace, and occasionally dragging a locked up calf, I approached the entrance tunnel to the stadium.  Tears of joy, coursing down runners' cheeks, turned to screams of outrage as course marshals guided us to a clockwise tour around the stadium.  That was when Ryan reminded me that we had not yet seen the 26-mile mark.  I reminded him that he had not yet seen his 19th birthday.  Finally, I made the circuit, passed the 26-mile clock and turned right, through the tunnel into the stadium where they made us, once again, take a counter-clockwise tour around the field.  We were accompanied by the roar of a crowd taking their amusement watching fool after fool complete over 4 hours of torture and smile to receive a chunk of metal hanging on a ribbon.

The clock read 4:22:31 when I passed under it, but my net time was 4:21:50.  Imagine my surprise when I got home and found that John had promoted me to a 3:50 something!  Congratulatory messages were pouring in.  [Well, the results website was reporting a 3:50:50 chip time through Mon. afternoon; they didn't get things corrected until Mon. evening--Ed.]   I actually checked the race results and asked Ryan if I was missing something.  He stroked my ego by reassuring me, “No, Dad.  You’re right.  You really suck at running.  It was definitely over 4: 20 at mile 26.”

Whew!  Thanks, Ryan.

Anyway, I ran my race and have no excuses.  I wanted to run a 9-minute pace, and I did for 17 miles.  Victory was within my grasp, but it was not to be on this day.  I did everything right, or at least made no major mistakes.  I did not go out too fast.  I did not race the steep hills.  I drank like a camel the day and hours before the race.  I loaded up on sports drinks, bananas and oranges during the race.  I consumed my sports gels early.  Truly, I did not run out of gas.  I was aerobically fit.  I was not strong enough.  I will train harder, with longer, more frequent long runs.

The good news is this:  Although my muscles are very sore, my knees, ankles, hips, and all connective tissues are fine.  I am in better shape now than I have ever been.  I need another marathon.  Running marathons gives a whole new meaning to the expression, “Waking up with a stiffy.”