2/1/09 Mardi Gras Marathon: Berto Pacer Report

I got up at 4:30 AM to get my morning ritual and coffee before heading out. I'm not a quick riser. I'd laid everything out the night before so things went fairly smoothly and I was on the road by 5:45. I drove to the 16/23 mile mark and parked in a spot that would allow me to drive out of there unimpeded if I chose to leave before the last runners had come by. I began jogging the 3 miles to the start, nice and easy, starting right at 6:05.

It was a glorious morning, 48 degrees with zero wind. The sun hadn't come up yet. I was the only one on the road. I could hear the PA system at the start all the way out along the bayou. I got about a mile from the Dome and thankfully found a bank of virgin Port-O-Lets at one of the not yet staffed water stops.

The crowd at the dome was all abuzz. I saw some friends, shook hands, hugged and got hugged. But I couldn't find Berto. Five minutes before the start I was starting to formulate a plan B in my head. Should I run out ahead of the start and wait hoping to see him coming by? Should I just run for the hell of it and hope to run into him? Then with about 3 minutes until the gun I saw him, nestled in the crowd. I snaked my way in, smiled, shook his hand, and got ready.

We're off! It took us maybe 15 seconds to get to the start, then another minute or two to get to a spot on the course where the field thinned out enough to run at a comfortable pace. I had to tell Berto to relax and not go out too fast many times in that first mile, a phrase I'd utter umpteen times through the course of the day. The reason I was there with him as a pacer was to try to ensure that he didn't make the mistake of going out too fast. We hit the first mile in 7:42, four seconds slower than 3:20 pace, but quicker than I thought we should be going.

Some Berto background: He's out of his mind! Berto is the single most erratically paced runner I have ever seen. When he first started running with us he would just take off with the leaders, the fastest group, regardless of who was running or their pace. Then he would die horribly and quickly. Just about every one of the more experienced runners in the group have, over the past year or two that Berto's been running with us, given Berto pacing advice. Almost without exception that advice has been not to go out too fast. He flatly ignores it. I will say that he's as tenacious as they get and he's shown tremendous improvement in his fitness and his race results are getting progressively and consistently better. But he still gets a goal, usually a very ambitious one, in his head then proceeds to nose dive early on by, you guessed it, going out too fast.

In the realm of running the marathon, even if you've done everything right — been religious about the training mileage, stuck to a plan, rested when called for, run long, practiced sound nutrition, hydrated properly— the single worse mistake a runner can make on race day is to run the first few miles too fast. And coming out of the gate too fast is Berto's trade mark. So today my self-appointed role was to see to it that Berto stayed within himself. The plan was that I'd run with him until mile 16, where I'd parked, and hand him over to Doug who would take him the last 10.2 to the finish.

Even though Berto's goal pace was 3:20, which I thought was a bit strong for someone of his ability who'd only run one other marathon before, and that one in nearly five hours. I knew he had done a lot of work and was definitely capable of running sub-3:30. So I figured if I could keep his pace at least a little slower than 3:20 pace he would a good chance of finishing well.

For the first ten miles Berto kept asking me if I was sure we were not going too slowly. I keep repeating myself. "Relax, Berto! We've got a long way to go." At some of the mile markers he actually glances at his watch then sprints for three meters to make his splits look better. I have to reprimand him for this too. Berto is carrying a hydration pack with him around his waist. The bottle is filled with Hawaiian punch. He's also carrying Sport Beans, electrolyte laden jelly beans. He has a 3:20 pace chart that he's printed out in 5 point type all folded over and tucked into his watch band. The thing is soaked and unreadable after about 3 miles. I eventually take it away from him. Other than a few sips from his punch bottle, he drinks only water on the course. I try to get him to make sure he's actually ingesting some of the water. I also try to get him to let me carry the fanny pack. He refuses.

We go through the halfway point, 13.1 miles, in 1:40:31 — 3:21 pace. I know this is a bit quick for Berto in a marathon. But he's actually listened (for the most part) and hasn't gotten sucked into going any faster, which I'm absolutely sure he he would have. Miles 14 through 16 Berto begins to fade, just a bit. But it's noticeable. We get to mile 16 and there's Doug, like clockwork. Doug hops in. I give him a quick briefing. And I jog over to a waiting mimosa.

Doug keeps Berto going, albeit still fading, for the last 10+. When they come back by where I'm standing, mimosa in hand, Berto is obviously laboring. But so is everyone at mile 23 in a marathon. Doug keeps him upright and churning it all the way in for what is eventually a 3:29:49 or so. He did it! He hung on for the sub-3:30 and a PR of over an hour — an impressive race, certainly by Berto standards.

I think, and hope, that he learned something in this race. I think he could have run 3:25 if he would have taken it even easier for the first half. But maybe suffering for the last 10k, the way I'm sure he did, will give him some insight and confidence to avoid that hurt and run an even better time. I also hope it gives him the insight to run his shorter races with more prudent pacing strategy. I truly feel like he's capable. But damn he's stubborn! Nice job, Berto!