This was my first sub-three hour marathon. It didn't quite go as well as I would have liked, but I was still very, very happy. Here's what I thought of it in 1994:

The Marine Corps Marathon started for me the the day before the race. My friend Chris Adcock, who I was staying with near Washington DC, and I drove to the marathon expo. The expo was full of Marines to make sure we knew which line to stand in. Since there were over 16,000 runners, there were plenty of lines. While we waited in the line to pick up my runner packet I asked the guy behind me what the course was like, specifically if it was flat. He told me that while there were no hills, there were plenty of rises. The source went over two bridges and on and off several highways, so we's spend some of our time going up and down entrance and exit ramps. he went on to tell me that he usually ran his slowest times on this course and that Chicago was much faster. Just what I wanted to hear for the race that I hoped to run in almost 15 minutes less than my personal record.

Sunday morning I got up at 5:50am (EST). I had laid out my running clothes the night before after a day of carbo loading. I put on my band-aids and Ben-Gay and sweats. It was still dark outside when Chris and I headed towards the city. When I stepped outside I was dismayed to see that it had rained the night before. Even more upsetting was that in the first light of dawn I could see threatening clouds and light feel sprinkles.

We made it to the Pentagon at 7:30am. The race didn't start until 9:00am, so I had some time to kill. The next 20 minutes I sat in car hoping that the rain would stop. It didn't. By this time the Gatorade I had drunk during the drive in wanted to leave my system. So I left Chris and headed towards the shuttle busses that would drive us the mile or so to the starting area. The lines to the busses and the port-o-potties were too long for my liking so I decided to join a long string of people walking to the start.

On the trip was a single port-o-pottie with a line of only five people. I stopped, figuring it would be the shortest line I'd see. when it got to be my turn I had to decide whether to settle for number one, or try for number two. The state of the porto-o-pottie and the lack of toilet paper swayed my decision, number one.

By the time I made it to the starting area, it was time to shed my sweats and get in the starting line. I turned my bag into the Marines and headed to the start. On the way I found an open pole and started my pre-race stretching. My calves, hamstring, quads, groin and iliotibial band were stretched thoroughly. Just as I finished my routine several Marines marched my way yelling for people to make way. I turned and expected to see the general who was to start the race. Instead of seeing a brass filled general, I saw Oprah Winfery. Earlier in the week someone had asked me if I was running with Oprah. But I assumed that she was running in Chicago. People called out to her and she waved as she passed by. My brush with celebrity greatness was over and I left to push and shove my way to the beginning of the starting group.

The crowd was already forming as I entered. To one side was a slightly wooden area, or, for the masses of very hydrated people, more places to relieve themselves. It looked like a good idea to me, so I hopped the fence and joined in the fun. Before entering the crowd again I moved up closer to the start. I was now in the area supposedly for people running a 2:30. But when I heard people talking about running 8:30 miles, I knew I should move further up. So I pushed and shoved my way further up. As we waited people talked about the rain, which had not let up. Whenever someone said it would quit soon, it would rain harder. My shirt and shoes were drenched and I had no hope of having anything dry.

Just before 9:00am the MC told us that this race commemorated the 50th anniversary of battle for Iwo Jima. We were told of the battle that resulted in over 23,000 America wounded and the nearly 6000 dead, of Admiral Nimitz's quote of the men who fought, "Uncommon valor was a common virtue", and of the flag raising on Mt. Suribachi. At 9:00am a 105mm Howitzer fired to signal the start of the race.

Five seconds after the start I crossed the starting line, not too bad. I chanted 6:40 to myself as the crowd thinned. The four lane start made for a fast first mile of 6:18, much faster than my 6:40 pace. The second mile came in a little less than six minutes. I was going too fast, but I wasn't breathing hard. Still I tried to slow down. Mile three came at about 18:49, over a minute faster than my 6:40 target pace. The next five miles were all about a minute faster than my target pace. By now I had settled down and was running my race. People streamed by passing me. I forced myself to let them go so I could keep my 6:40 pace.

Still it was hard to keep from running fast. At ten miles I was running about a 6:30 pace. But the rain never stopped and the puddles were deep and covered the course. After the start we had run back to the Pentagon, around it and then back towards the start. As we passed by the crowd cheered us on, sometimes so loud I couldn't hear myself think. We headed north and then crossed the Key Bridge and ran through Georgetown. Around ten miles we passed the Watergate Complex the Kennedy Center. Then past the Lincoln Memorial, the Washington Monument. At the halfway point we passed the Capitol Building and I was at 1:26:50, a 6:37 pace. We circled the Capitol Building and headed back west. It was starting to get harder here. My feet had started hurting at mile six and hadn't stopped. The cold and wet made my shoes heavy and hard. Each stride felt like hitting a bruise on the bottoms of my feet.

But I was on pace and managed to keep pushing. Water and Gatorade at the first half aid station helped keep me fresh. And the Marines knew how to hand runners water without slowing us down much. At the Lincoln Memorial we made a U-turn and passed the 17 mile mark. I was now a few seconds slower than my pace. I tried to press a little, and at 18 miles I managed to shave a couple seconds off and make it there in about 2:00:15. I was now only 15 seconds behind my goal and had 8.2 miles left and about 55 minutes left.

That was the good news. The bad news was that the worst was yet to come. The rain had never stopped. It's intensity had changed from time to time, but it was still a steady down pour. I was running through three inch deep puddles. My left calf was tight and hurting. I decided to switch from my 6:40 pace to a 7:00 pace. I swerved off the road to throw my pace chart into a garbage can. But my effort was wasted, I missed and wasn't going back to get the rebound. A 7:00 pace the rest of the way would give me a finish of a little more than 2:56, still under three hours.

Mile 19 was at about 2:07:30. We were running south along the Potomac River towards Hains Point. I had read that this was a tough part of the race. It was miles 19 through 22, late in the race, windy, cold and lonely. There were no spectators and the aid stations were only at the beginning and end of this leg. If that wasn't enough, the rain had washed out the road and we had to detour onto the muddy grass. The run back along the Washington channel wasn't much better. The road was wet and slippery. My 7:00 pace was turning into more of a 7:05 pace.

We crossed the Potomac River on the 14th Street Bridges and passed mile 23. I was still running right around seven minute miles. But I was fading fast. At mile 24 I was at 2:43, a minute slower that I had hoped. I had lost my concentration and let my pace slip. I faded mentally as the pain got worse. My 2:55 goal was gone and I was now afraid I wouldn't get under 3:00 either. Just then the rain started coming down harder. My legs hurt, my feet hurt, I was breathing hard and running slow. I was determined that this was the last time I would do this. Well, maybe the 100th Boston Marathon in 1996, but then I was going to hang it up. This wasn't worth it. I had worked to hard this summer and it was all slipping away.

Most of the last two miles were up and down Jefferson Davis Highway. The up hills were grueling. But even as I faded I was passing people. It was a steady state though, just as many people passed me. Still I had 17:00 to run 2.2 miles and break three hours. I felt capable of running, so I pushed. But mile 25 just wasn't coming. I didn't look at my watch, I just ran harder.

Finally I saw a mile marker in the distance. I couldn't read it, but I hoped it was mile 26 and I had somehow missed mile 25. I had missed the nine mile marker, so anything was possible. My worst fears were confirmed as I got closer. It was mile 25, I wiped the rain from my watch and saw that my time was 2:53:30. As much as I had pushed I still ran a ten minute mile. I was crushed. Even as I entered the last 1.2 mile and the roaring crowd I felt horrible that my sub 3:00 had slipped away and I'd have to wait another year to try again.

There was nothing to do but run to the finish. As we passed the starting line I began looking for the Iwo Jima Memorial hoping to find it and gain some inspiration and see the finish line. I was looking to my left as we started up the last big hill. I was now passing people and not getting passed. But I couldn't find the Memorial. I turned my head forward press and work up the hill. As I did I saw the Memorial of the Marines raising the flag. The "Uncommon valor was a common virtue" quote ran through my mind and I saw the mile 26 marker. I looked down and saw my time was 2:58. At the time all I thought was that I had two minutes to run 385 yard, and I could do that. If Carl Lewis could run 100m in ten seconds I could 385 yards in under 120 seconds, even if I had just run 26 miles. I burst into an all out sprint. As I rounded the final turn I saw the big finishing clock reading 2:59:21. I knew I had broken three hours, all I had to do was to keep from falling. This wasn't as easy as I thought. We ran the last 20 yards on grass, which was wet and muddy. But I managed to stay up right and stop my watch at 2:59:34, and finish in the top 300 runners.

Entering the finishing chute Marines to the left and right congratulated us. When I got my medal the Marine who handed it to me said "Congratulations, Sir." I hadn't quite made my 2:55 goal, but I broke 3:00 and it was one of the happiest moments of my life.

On the bus back to the Pentagon I talked to a couple of runners about the mile splits. I hadn't thought about it, but if the last two mile markers were right I ran a ten minute mile followed by a sub 6:00. Then the last 0.2 miles were at a 7:50 pace. All of these splits are wrong. I ran a faster 25th mile and certainly a faster last 0.2 miles. The misplacement of the mile markers nearly cost me my three hour time. But it didn't and even with the rain and hills I ran pretty strong. We'll see how much I can recover this week and then how running in the Chicago Marathon feels.

Oh yeah, I beat Oprah by and hour and a half.

Back to the Running Vita of James B. Elliott