Cynthia's Marine Corps Marathon

After months of logging miles, resting like it was my job when I wasn’t running, and eating carbohydrates to my heart’s content, I finally made it to the 50th Marine Corps Marathon weekend.

My body battery on my Garmin watch read a rare 100% when I woke up on Saturday, October 25, and I wished the race was that morning to take advantage of my high energy. I did a quick easy 3-mile shakeout run at sunrise, bought 3 bagels for the weekend, and shortly after showering we were on our way to Washington D.C.

Since Mark was driving, my mind was able to wander during the almost 5-hour road trip. Because I was so excited to finally be doing this race, I was not prepared for an emotional rollercoaster. I was welling up with tears because of how proud I was for getting through a tough training cycle, for being able to run when some people close to me cannot, and a little scared that I would have another panic attack before the race like in 2021 before my second NYCM. I had to keep telling myself that only about 1% of people in the world run a marathon, and I was about to run my third; it didn’t matter if I got a PR so long as I get through it safely.

Without having lunch, we parked at the hotel in Crystal City and made our way to the expo. The metro’s vending machine was the most confusing thing I have ever seen, and while we’re trying to get our passes, a man that saw we were from out of town came screaming at us saying the ATM took his money and he lost $20. I’m street smart from my years in NYC and knew not to engage, but it was still beyond annoying to get our metro cards while making sure the man wasn’t going to pickpocket us. He clearly wasn’t homeless, and we just thought the audacity of demanding $20 was ludicrous when in NY actual homeless people are begging for change or $1. It was an interesting “Welcome to D.C.” moment.

Shuttle buses took us from a metro stop to the convention center for the bib pickup and expo. The traffic was absolutely insane for such a short distance, and we saw the lines to get into the expo wrap around out the door. Luckily once we got out of the bus, it took about 20 minutes to get into the long TSA-worthy queue. Having seen the Instagram stories of what the expo looked like inside without people, I knew that once we got around the partition, it would be a tight squeeze after bib pickup.

I got my bib, patch, finisher quarter-zip, and we walked quickly to the area of the expo for pre-ordered merchandise. It was so packed in the expo that we just walked quick as we could around the vendors and didn’t even bother taking freebies except for the free Nuun water refill since I barely hydrated the entire day. I had such a headache from dehydration, hunger, the noise, and from my poor posture from lots of sitting. It took over a half hour for the next bus to take us back to the metro, and by the time we walked from the Crystal City stop (a mile from our hotel) to check in, it was basically our dinner time. One of the elevators was broken, and this happened to be the hotel where the Ainsley’s Angels were staying at (the disabled wheelchair athletes), so we had to climb up and down lots of stairs to bring our stuff to our room. As annoying as it was to climb extra flights of stairs, I felt bad for that disabled team that needed the elevators most to work.

We dashed up the road to try to find an Italian restaurant, but they all had lines out the door and reservations, so we went into a sports bar for dinner knowing there would be plenty of options. It was louder than I would have wanted at that moment, but the small plate of very boring spaghetti and meatballs I ate was the sustenance I needed. I chugged the glass of water they gave me. I debated getting more food since I ate it so quickly but decided I could munch on a bagel back in the room.

I was exhausted. I took a quick hot shower to promote sleepiness and started drifting off early. Unfortunately, I woke up around 2 a.m. feeling uneasy and couldn’t go back to sleep. My eyes were closed, but I couldn’t relax so I started getting ready right at 4 a.m.

I made Vietnamese pour-over coffee using our own tea kettle since the hotel only provided 1 caffeinated K-cup. I slathered on anti-chafe cream, applied my ZenToes to my foot, wrapped the opposite toe in anti-blister tape, and changed into my race gear. I poured the LMNT powder into water bottles and started chugging the salty lemon-lime beverage, though it’s not the most appealing taste before dawn. My digestive system wasn’t cooperating with me at all, so I had several rounds of nervous tummy in the bathroom. I made sure to pack extra toilet paper and baby wipes knowing how poorly stocked the porta potties can get in the start village. We got out the door a little after 5:30, so later than intended but I felt better and stayed warmer longer.

Obligatory pre-race selfie as I lined up in (very late) into a corral.

We walked to the shuttle buses where Mark dropped me off and it was a quick trip to the start village. I needed the bathroom again, so I waited in line for almost 45 minutes not knowing that there were so many more bathrooms available past security. As soon as I went through, I searched for the ones nearest where I needed to line up for the race. I took off my beloved GRHS lacrosse sweatshirt that I’ve been wearing since 2005 and dropped it on the rest of the discarded clothes. I heard the National Anthem being played, and I was nowhere near the start line. The corrals were on the right side of the highway, and all of us late faster runners walked along the left side to get closer to our respective pace groups. I kept going until the Marines shepherded us to the corral and I ended up near the 4:35 pacing group before the start line. Everyone past the start line looked like they were running exceptionally slow, so I knew this was going to be a rough start for me.

I started jogging a few feet before the start line with the rest of the crowd and hit the button on my watch, and we were off! Sort of…

I felt impatient. I wasn’t going to go all-out in the beginning, but I had no room to create my own little running bubble. My leggings were falling down slightly from the cold weather and lack of sweat holding them onto my body, so I spent this first mile or so on Route 110 adjusting my outfit while trying not to drop my frozen water bottle in one hand, and doing all this while wearing mittens. There was a little bit of crowd support as the herd slowly made its way up a minor gradual hill into Rosslyn with a few turns that made it challenging to weave around participants that walked any incline. My watch said my first mile was 10:27, and I don’t remember ever going that slow even on the steepest hills in training, so I was annoyed and hoping for an opening soon to pick up the pace a little bit to make up time. I continued “climbing” westbound on Langston Blvd toward Mile 2 and my watch pace showed 8:45; much better!

I know that I sound like I’m complaining. After the previous day’s chaos, poor sleep, and nerves that were all beyond my control, my mindset was in cynical mode. My website is called “Cynically Cynth” for a reason! I had to get out of this state of mind, so I actively worked on it starting after Mile 2.

The narrow course turned right to head eastbound onto Spout Run Pkwy and we were met with blinding sunlight. I put my sunglasses on, but they immediately fogged up and were impossible to see through, so the blind lead the blind for the next mile or so. I could see the thick, humid air evaporating from the asphalt as the temperature rose a degree or two. The lovely fall foliage scenery was disrupted by the massive number of male participants that had to pee. They practically created a wall of men with their backs facing the course, and I was both glad that I didn’t have to pee and jealous that if I did have to go, I didn’t have the convenient equipment to do so. Instead, I felt the familiar cramping of Aunt Flo’s arrival in the early miles, and I was afraid of a wardrobe disaster since I was wearing my light blue mermaid leggings. If it got bad, I would become a marathon meme and have to “speak out” about something that happens every month for millions of women across the world.

I let the thought pass by and cared more about finishing the race and doing so in a good time. I knew Mark would be watching me around Mile 4, so I kept my eyes out for him while still trying not to trip on uneven surfaces and people with the sun shining in my face. I saw him a moment after he cheered me on, and continued toward the first bridge of the race, which crossed over the Potomac into Georgetown. I loved this neighborhood; it had a nice downtown feel with many restaurant options, and the crowd support was great! I also had room to speed up a little bit and get around a few more runners in Mile 5 as the course rounded an entrance ramp onto Rock Creek Pkwy.

MCM had an app so that spectators could track their runners as they moved along the course.

Miles 6 through 9 were on scenic Rock Creek Pkwy, first gently rolling up and down northbound, then a tight pivot at about 7.5 miles to head southbound. It was very narrow, and I was still stuck behind in a slower pacer group, so my legs were still very fresh from not going full speed ahead. I also spent a lot of time looking down watching out for potholes and energy gel wrappers on the ground. I loved having the quieter foliage around me, but when I could see the 3:45 and 3:55 pacing groups 2 miles ahead of me heading in the opposite direction, I wished I had as much leg room around each participant. It felt like the runners in the section I was in didn’t want to break out of the mass, and it reminded me of my daily commute to work where a group of cars decide to travel as a pack instead of speeding up a little bit to break out of the pack. The stop-and-go traffic in a car can be nauseating; in a running corral, this is what can make or break your race (and toenails)!

I recall passing two female runners wearing rucking vests, two male soldiers in full combat uniform, and a woman dressed as a hot dog as I headed southbound on Rock Creek. I tried to keep my eyes peeled for the MarathonFoto photographers to avoid adjusting my hydration belt and slurping on Huma gels in the photos I prepaid for. It was tough to see them ahead of time because of the narrow roads, but I smiled whenever I noticed them.

Some runners were hitting what would normally be a half marathon “wall” around Mile 10, but I still felt strong thanks to sticking to my fueling strategy. Every 3 miles I would start downing my Huma gels and sip my frozen water bottle in hand if there wasn’t a nearby aid station. I had trouble figuring out my pacing because of all the earlier weaving, so I had no idea how fast or slow I was going and what I needed to catch up to attempt staying under 4 hours. At a few of the mile markers, I would look at the elapsed time on my watch and compare it with the pacing wristband I saved from NYCM a few years ago. I was behind, but I couldn’t figure out by how much. I ran by feel and decided I’d try and go all out at the end if I needed to.

I realized that I hadn’t put my music on yet; it was so crowded and lively that I didn’t need the extra distraction. My plan was to pause my music for the Blue Mile as a reset and reflection time, but I didn’t need to do that. The Blue Mile was actually about 2 miles long starting at Mile 12 and features photos of fallen Marines. I missed the deadline to submit my brother, and as others were slowing down, I took this time to pick up speed and honor the fallen in my own way. Just the fact that this “mile” filled up 2 miles was so sad.

After reaching the half marathon marker, I saw that I was a few minutes behind in pacing, but I still had 13 more miles to go. The Untapped sponsored gel station was between Mile 13 and 14, and post-race is now known as the “Sticky Mile” because of the maple syrup remnants all over the ground made our shoes squeak with every step.

I was relieved when the squeaking stopped between Miles 14 and 15 in East Potomac Park as I ran north along the Washington Channel. I was still carrying my (now defrosted) giant Poland Spring water bottle and planned to swap it around Mile 17 where Mark was stationed to see me next on the course. I took intermittent sips and slurped another Huma gel between Mile 15 and 16 because I knew there would be plenty of MarathonFoto spots as I entered the National Mall. I was hoping to abandon the bottle before the photo I expected near the Washington Monument, but the photographer appeared on the ground like a mirage, so I just had to smile and keep a good posture. It’s one of my favorite shots I got from this race.

I threw the bottle right before the aid station and grabbed a cup in each hand. I expected to see Mark farther on Mile 17, but he was right at the aid station and videoed me in my feral water-drinking state. I thought he would have my next bottle ready for me, but it didn’t look like it and I was losing time, so I kept running without a handheld. I still had plenty of the LMNT electrolyte water in my hydration belt flasks, so I wasn’t totally doomed. I felt free to move better for the remaining miles.

The National Mall between Miles 17 and 18 was lively and full of spectators. I finally had plenty of room around me to move at my preferred pace. People cheered for me when they read my name on my shirt, and each small validation from a stranger was a little boost to speed up and keep going. I saw the Capitol in the distance as I rounded the Mall and was amazed at the size of the dome.

There was an aid station between 18 and 19, but this one greatly aggravated me. The course is already narrow, and it looked like part of it was under construction so one section was even more narrow. That wouldn’t normally be a big deal since I had more room to move around than before, but it was the exact spot that MCM decided to place an aid station, so between the bottlenecking, abrupt stops from other runners, puddles, and paper cups all over the ground, it was one giant tripping hazard and I had to walk through it for about 30 seconds so I wouldn’t fall over.

I continued heading southwest on Mile 19 and started noticing a lot more people walking or running in a lethargic manner. Thanks to my race fueling strategy of hydrating and replenishing carbs early and often, I was still on a roll. I remembered on the MCM group posts on Facebook that some people thought this last bridge was challenging, but a few YouTube videos said it’s really not much of a hill. It looked pretty flat in photos (and I’ve run NYC twice), so I wasn’t too worried about the incline. I knew there would be a “water monster” on the bridge in case I needed to fill up my bottles. I would have done so to be proactive about the last leg of the race, but there were concrete barriers in front of the water that people had to climb over (like in a Spartan race) to get to, and I said aloud, “Aww hell NO. Are they f***ing kidding me?”. No way was I going to risk hurting myself and get even more behind on my time to refill; I was hydrated enough to make it to the finish line without it. My list of frustrations about the planning of this race just kept getting longer.

I turned on my music sometime after Mile 20. I only had 10k left to run, and I needed the music to focus on my cadence, block out other runners’ labored breathing, and hype me up to run faster. It was GO time.

I found Mile 21 to be really annoying and disorienting; because of ongoing construction, it curved around a parking lot near the Pentagon. I tried staying as close to the cones as possible so I’d save time from weaving around more people, but everything bottlenecked again. At Mile 22, I started sipping my gel earlier for the energy and so that I wouldn’t have it in my mouth the next time I’d see Mark. I made my way south into Crystal City where the crowds were the liveliest. The road was tight again, and I was searching for Mark among the crowd, ready to smile at a moment’s notice. Of course the two guys right ahead of me stopped abruptly and saw their fans right next to Mark, so I had to run around them instead of getting a quick powerup kiss or a high five from my own fan. I was annoyed it didn’t go my way again, so I darted ahead of people with no mercy.

Smiling because I’m so close to the finish line, but really pushing to make up for lost time.

The course looped around and came back on Crystal Drive again, then there were a few sharp turns before Mile 24. I could see the Pentagon in the distance, and I only had 2 more miles to go. I mentally said to myself that it was only 20 more minutes, even though I know I can run faster than that for a short distance.

More and more people started walking or excusing themselves to stretch a cramped calf. I hate seeing others struggle because it tricks my brain into thinking something is wrong with me, but I pushed those thoughts out of my mind. I was trying to do mental math to figure out how much faster I needed to run to beat 4 hours, but I found it difficult to do between my watch mileage being ahead of race mileage and my foggy migraine brain. I held steady and sipped on my electrolytes as I passed the start village and the Mile 25 marker.

I could hear the loudspeaker and DJ ahead announcing the names of those who were completing the race around the time I wanted to clock in. I glanced at my watch and already missed a PR attempt, so part of me wanted to just not try hard anymore and the other part of me wanted to shoot for an even 4 hours. I picked up the pace a little bit more with each quarter mile, but still holding back knowing there was going to be a steep hill at the end.

I crossed Mile 26, turned left, and started pumping my arms to climb the hill. There were people walking in my way and I had to weave around them. I swung my arms as hard as I could, turned over my feet as quickly as I could after enduring 26 miles, looked up at the camera to smile and darted through the inflatable finish line arch. I stopped abruptly to avoid colliding with the runners ahead of me, and stopped my Garmin. I saved it, not knowing my real time but it was 4:03 according to my watch. I just missed the mark.

Mermaid hyperfocus on the finish line at Mile 26! I was pumping my arms to get up that hill!

As with any race where I put all my effort into the finish line, my vision went white for a moment, and I felt my pulse catch up to me. I waddled to the Marines handing out water bottles and downed 2 of them immediately. Many runners were sitting on the curb for their recovery, but I never do that because I need to walk. Between the direct east-facing sunlight and sweat pouring down my forehead, my eyes were burning and I could barely see when the Marine put the medal around my neck with a Semper Fi salute. I waddled toward the Iwo Jima statue and exchanged phones with a woman about my age so that we could each get a photo with it (and all the other people) in the background.

Mark texted saying it was going to be awhile to get to the meetup spot because the metro platform was packed, and I was still slowly making my way through the finish village picking up my snack bag, Superman cape, blanket, and free watermelon along the way. As with my other two marathons, I felt like a penguin; this is the only time I wish there was snow so I could glide to my destination on my belly. I got to the meeting area and saw that texts weren’t going through, so I called Mark and he found me within about 5 minutes. It was so packed in the family area that I couldn’t tell where the Crystal City shuttles were and the MCM official app crashed, so I couldn’t look that up. We went into the Rosslyn metro station nearby even though Mark said it was jammed.

It was more than jammed; the escalator was broken and the metro staff didn’t even know what to do. They closed the station behind us, and had we known that was what they were doing, we would have made the trek to the shuttle buses wherever they were. I was overstimulated from the noise of everyone talking loudly, being packed in like sardines, and my heart is still recovering from a hard effort. I felt a level of anxiety creeping in and between sips of water and taking bites of my snacks, I practiced my breathing.

The metro station workers finally let us make our descent down the steepest escalator I have ever seen, and with my fear of heights and jelly legs, I had to just take one step at a time. This was a dangerous situation, and I was not going to rush it. Thankfully nobody behind me was complaining or pushing past me, but I had to stay focused for an extended period to safely reach the bottom. I sighed a breath of relief once my shaky leg stepped off, and I was amazed I didn’t fall face-first.

After some more time on the platform and a quick ride back to Crystal City after all the waiting, door-to-door from the finish meeting area to our hotel took almost 2 hours to go 5 miles. I expected the crowds and delays, but this was insane. It was 2pm and we needed to eat something soon. I showered instead of an Epsom salt bath, and before I could get too cozy on the hotel bed, we headed to my Marine cousin’s house in Quantico for a visit and dinner. I never knew how comforting a shepherd’s pie could be after a long day. I went to bed early, though restless legs made sleep difficult, and we headed home early Monday morning.

I was so glad I ran the 50th Marine Corps Marathon. It was a tough training cycle due to the extreme heat and my anxiety, there were a lot of inefficiencies with the bib pickup and race logistics, and other factors beyond my control made me feel like I’m a complainer. I didn’t get the PR I was shooting for and I didn’t stay under this arbitrary number of 4 hours, but 4:03:57 is still a great accomplishment for a marathon. Out of 30,085 finishers, I got 7,541st place. Out of 12,327 females that finished, I was 2,088th place. And for females my age F35-39, I was 246th out of 1,411. Nobody could take that away from me. Although I’m disappointed in the outcome, I finished without injury or illness and felt ready to work out again two days later. I trained properly for this event, and if I do another marathon soon it will be redemption.

Never run from a Marine’s little sister; you’ll only die tired…

Sign up for updates