Everyone is Running Downhill Except Me

So, turns out that the men's Olympic marathon was on Sunday and not Saturday...who knew? In the back of my mind, I thought Saturday was not the right day, but I plowed ahead anyway. And within maybe an hour I realized I was wrong, but really didn't feel like logging in to Blogger and changing the post, etc. So, my bad. Somehow I doubt it made much of a difference.

But, for those who didn't blindly follow my post and not visit any other Olympics-related website the entire weekend, Ugandan Stephen Kiprotich won the gold medal, claiming that country's first gold in the marathon in 2:08:01. Silver and bronze were claimed by Kenyans Abel Kirui (2:08:27) and Wilson Kipsang (2:09:37).


However, American Meb Keflezighi came in fourth after being as far back as 19th around the halfway point in the race. That's a fantastic finish for Meb, who is 37 and was the silver medalist in Athens in 2004. He covered 26 miles, 385 yards in 2:11:06. Here's an article on Runner's World about his race. These were his final Olympics, and I'm happy to see he went out on such a positive note.

Anyway, this weekend saw some wonderful weather here (for August, of course), and I completed my 5.5 miler under a cloudless sky in high 70s temperatures and low humidity. The sun was intense and it was definitely toasty in the sunlight versus the shade, but compared to some runs earlier in the summer, it was nice. I ran around the harbor and down into Federal Hill/Locust Point before turning around and coming back up into Mt. Vernon.



As you can see from the elevation chart above, the route has some decent elevation changes and the final mile or so is all uphill as you climb from sea level at the harbor up into Mt. Vernon. But I swear every time I ran uphill, I passed several other runners going downhill. But then when I was running downhill, I never once saw anyone else running uphill in the opposite direction. More than once I was trudging uphill only to be passed by another runner cruising downhill at warp speed. They ran almost effortlessly as I seemed to drag myself up the side of a mountain. Yet I never got the reward of feeling (mistakenly) athletically superior to those poor saps heading uphill as I glided, as if on two little clouds instead of shoes, downhill. "Well, everyone's a freaking Olympic marathoner when running downhill," I kept thinking to myself. Yet that didn't take away the indignity.

OK, maybe that's a bit hyperbolic, but still, when you run up a hill, you want SOME form of instant reward. "This will pay off in October" only does so much to take away the burn of the lactic acid in one's legs, you know. At some point, one needs to see someone else suffering a little to take away that sting. Yet on Sunday, it seemed I was stuck in some sort of runner's punishment where I run uphill and a.) it always feels awful and b.) never run downhill and feel satisfied that someone else is suffering too, which makes the next uphill feel more awful.

But, them's the breaks, I suppose. And really, it will all be worth it come October. Right?