Grandma's Marathoners Time it Right
'Pacer Danny' helps
marathoners set PRs
By Joel Patenaude | The 2004 Grandma's Marathon and Half Marathon runners headed toward the harbor from downtown Duluth to finish their respective races. |
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At last year's Twin Cities Marathon, my friend Pete and I held a rock steady nine-minute per mile pace for the first 20 miles. As a couple of 30-something schmoes with little marathon experience (and only pipe dreams of ever qualifying for Boston), we nevertheless still
wonder what we're capable of.
Individually, we've long been able to maintain a comfortable pace for miles on end. But with the belated discovery of marathon pace team leaders and one high-mileage guy, whose sanity many may question we have found the secret to significantly improving our modest race day PRs.
I learned the hard way the importance of pacing a marathon. My only other attempt at the distance in 2001 taught me I'm no longer capable of
sustaining sub 7:30s for more than 12 miles. I slowed to a crawl between miles 18 and 23 before recovering just enough to finish the Whistlestop Marathon a mere 20 seconds under four hours. Yes, I paid dearly for that charge out of the gate and down along the south shore of Lake Superior.
Two years later at Twin Cities, my race experience was offset by inadequate training. So by mile 23, even though Pete and I had run so
consistently, I faltered. My aching legs gave up. They just didn't know how to run any farther, not even at a snail's pace.
A few miles earlier, Adam, my brother-in-law, had jumped into the race to help push me up that endless, gradual uphill stretch of Summit Avenue toward the finish line at the foot of the state Capitol. But he was fresh and I was mincemeat. There were no words of encouragement he could possibly utter to prevent me from walking. My clenched quads left me
roaring in pain as my goal of a sub-four-hour finish slipped away. Pete came closer but also just missed breaking that time barrier.
For reasons I still don't understand, my brother-in-law watched me hit the wall full force and perversely took from that inspiration to run a marathon himself. Go figure. Well, I couldn't let Adam, who is several years younger than I, make his first attempt alone. Besides, Pete and I still had something to prove. So the three of us registered early for
Grandma's Marathon (as well as for Twin Cities, thereafter) and committed ourselves to the basic training programs available at Runnersworld.com.
By last May, we were ready for Syttende Mai, the 20-mile race along the undulating backroads between Madison and Stoughton, Wisconsin. We ran comfortably, passing dozens of volksmarchers in the latter half, to an average 8:45 per mile finish. Based on that performance, we realized we had a fair shot at a 3 hour and 50 minute Grandma's. For
me, such an accomplishment would be sweet vindication for my Twin Cities collapse the previous fall.
Fast forward to the morning of Grandma's Marathon, June 19. Minutes before the starting gun sounded, we weaseled our way through the crowd within sight of the "3:50" sign atop the snow fence hemming all 8,000 of us runners in. We knew this might be the closest we'd come to that elusive goal, but not for lack of good prerace positioning.
But again, we surprised and even scared ourselves. Pacing 8:30 for the first 10K and beyond, we were alternately cocky and confused. Several times one of us suggested we should deliberately slow down before we had to involuntarily. But we kept at it and the miles melted away.
On this gradual downhill course, it was around mile 18 when that foreboding ache in my quads could no longer be ignored. At about the same time appeared a curious runner holding a few balloons on the end
of a stick. "Pacer Danny" was scrawled on one of the balloons. Several other runners seemed to be orbiting him, and a few of them had pieces of paper pinned to their backs reading "3:50."
My lactic acid-addled brain caught on slowly as I heard the balloon man say, "We've got 45 seconds in the bank. We're looking at a 3:49 finish." Several women runners in turn said, "Thanks for doing this, Danny. I really appreciate it."
Well, it turns out "Pacer Danny" was none other than ultramarathoner and Clif Bar Pace Team leader Danny Ripka. As the marathon progressed, I overheard him tell members of his pace group that just two weeks earlier he had won the FANS 24-Hour Run in Minneapolis. He completed 52 laps of Lake Nokomis for a total of 126.99 miles more than eight miles ahead of the second-place finisher. Ripka has now won the event three times and previously set the FANS record by
running 136 miles in 24 hours.
An ultramarathoner since 1996, Ripka became a full-time, volunteer pacer for Clif Bar a year ago. That means he's committed to pacing seven marathons annually. That's no problem for the upbeat Ripka, who runs more than 20 miles of running every day for weeks on end when training for an ultramarathon, a 24- or 48-hour event.
Apparently it was also not a problem for Ripka to pace a group at last
year's Twin Cities Marathon to a 3:49 finish the day after successfully leading a 3:40 group at the St. George Marathon in southwest Utah. Ripka said he plans to repeat that cross-country feat this coming October 2 and 3.
Ripka's own marathon PR is 2:47. But he's more than happy to slow down, he said, "for the training miles and to help a bunch of people at the same time." Eighteen miles into Grandma's, I questioned the sanity of
the pacer but I had heard enough to convince me I could trust his pace.
So to a weary Pete and Adam, I pointed to Danny's heels and gasped, "There's the sweet spot. Stick with him. He knows what he's doing."
And we did. Most of the way. Eventually, Pete and Adam fell back a bit. I, however, kept Danny in my peripheral vision. I was determined to keep moving and not to let my legs defeat me as they had at the TCM.
By the time Danny slipped out of reach at the second to last water stop, I knew I could probably walk in and be happy with my time.
I held in there through the last mile, rounding one blind turn after another that dashed my hopes for a view of the finish line. But finally, it was over. The official photographer caught me with my head down, looking at my watch in disbelief: 3:48:17.
According to my splits, I ran the last 10K only about 90 seconds slower
than my first 10K. It's that kind of a consistent, start-to-finish pace that Ripka and other pace team leaders can help fair to middling runners sustain. Assuming you've put in the training and nowhere near as many miles as Ripka runs is necessary a pace group committed to finishing in 3:10, 3:20, 3:30, 3:40, 3:50 or slower may be just what one needs to set a PR, as my buddies and I did.
Adam and Pete came in less than three minutes later than I did. Ripka
finished ahead of me, but his chip time was 3:49 and he turned back before the finishing chute to egg on the last members of his pace group.
Not more than a couple of days later, while we were all still limping around, Adam, Pete and I started conspiring to break 3:45 at Twin Cities this year.
Danny says we're welcome to join his 3:40 group. They'll be gathering under the Hubert H. Humphrey Metrodome sign on Chicago Avenue a
half hour before the 8 a.m., October 3, start of the race. Although it won't be an official Clif Bar pace race, Ripka said he'll be wearing his Clif Bar singlet.
And he may be carrying balloons.
For more information, go to www.clifbar.com, click on "Marathon Pace Team" and then "FAQ."
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