Tokyo Marathon 2019

There’d been rain in the Tokyo Marathon forecast for as long as I’d been stalking the weather, which is weeks. I couldn’t have cared less several days out, because it’s bound to change, but dang it that rainy forecast never budged. In fact the probability of rain increased as we got closer to race day. I packed running rain jackets: 2 of them in fact, a trash bag for the corrals, umbrellas, and a giant, mid-calf-length, hooded raincoat for post-race. Color me prepared…or so I thought.

Three days after arriving in Tokyo, race day was finally here. The official butterflies started in my stomach at the stroke of midnight, Tokyo time. From then until wake-up time, I was basically up every two hours checking the time and getting up to pee. Chalk that up to nerves and optimal hydration. I rarely get nervous before marathons anymore but this one was different.

Marathon Tours warned us repeatedly that this marathon was unlike any other. The Japanese have certain rules that are not to be broken. I combed through the race handbook to make sure I knew about all of them. I’d seen accounts from too many people who’d either been swept or DQ’d for any number of reasons.

There is a very distinct process and time limit for getting to your corral:

• Find your correct gate
• Take your bag and yourself through security check
• Find your correct gear check
• Be in your corral no earlier than 7am and no later than 8, even though the race doesn’t begin until 9:10.
• Stay ahead of the course sweeps that happen roughly every 5k of the entire race
• No bottles, handhelds or packs are allowed. You need to hydrate with what is supplied at the water stations
• Littering results in DQ
• Casting off clothing anywhere other than in the donation bins results in DQ

While I knew I was capable of staying ahead of the course sweeps, all of the rules and logistics fueled that flock of butterflies. Ugh.

The view from our hotel room

Since the race began right in front of our hotel, I didn’t have to get up super early. The gate I was to enter was maybe a block away. Our fabulous hotel breakfast buffet opened early so I had plenty of time to eat, digest, regroup and head out. The forecast called for 40 degrees and showers increasing to harder rain and gusty winds toward noon. It was already raining.

My race get-up minus the throw-away sweatshirt and trash bag

I already mentioned I brought a light rain jacket and a heavier one. I ended up buying yet another one I couldn’t resist at a nearby mall. Since I hoped there’d be only spotty showers for most of the race, I opted for a light rain jacket. I figured I’d get too hot in my heavier one. 40 is warm by Chiberia standards after all.

When I got down to the hotel lobby, I slipped the tall kitchen trash bag I’d brought from home over my ensemble and headed out, ready to start the process of entering the start corral.

Our regulation gear bags were searched and a security sticker attached. Easy peasy.
I found my gate.
I found my bib color
I found my gear check
The potties were adjacent to gear check and the lines were the longest I’d ever seen. Thankfully I didn’t have to go, thanks to a very close hotel. But I’d be in my corral for over an hour. Would there be potties in the corral similar to NYCM?? What about water/drinks? The answers are no and no.

I passed a water/fuel table and grabbed some Pocari Sweat, the on-course drink I’d be forced to hydrate with, since we were not allowed to carry our own beverages. If you’ve tried SIS, it’s similar to that, with a citrusy taste.

I cowered under a viaduct for a few minutes before proceeding to my corral. Once in the corral we stood, crowded together like sardines and waited. And waited. And waited while it poured. And poured. And poured. The sleeves of the throw-away sweatshirt I wore over my running jacket and under the trash bag were soaked. My arms were already freezing. I started to shiver. I pulled my jacket hood up over my hat to try to keep my ponytail from getting soaked.

It’s weird to stand still so long in cold rain. I’d planned to shed the trash bag before starting the race but decided against it. Good move. I coveted the nice long, hooded rain ponchos many runners wore,  I’d have loved something to keep my arms dry. Oh well. A guy in front of me wore just a short sleeved tee and shorts with a small poncho over. A couple of people wore a tank and shorts and had no rain gear at all. Yikes.

After a long talk about what to do in the event of an earthquake, the race began and we started moving up. I got rid of my sweatshirt but hung onto the trash bag and put it back on, backwards at first so I fumbled around as we approached the start line until I got it right. My sweatshirt went into the donation pile. Unfortunately so did the zip-loc bag I brought for my phone. In my haste I forgot to take it out of the sweatshirt pocket.

Heavy metal music blared. As I do with most large marathons, I opted not to wear my earphones. I like to run within myself and tune into the crowd. Given the rain and the course time constraints, I didn’t plan on taking any pics so hopefully my phone would stay dry in my armband holder.

Finally we were off. I’d so looked forward to the confetti I’d seen and heard so much about but there was none. Maybe because of the rain? The starting carpets and pavement had a whitish, saliva-like film/stickiness about them though. Maybe there had been confetti for the first corral only??

Nevertheless we were off. I teared up and had a “holy shit” moment. “Marcia you’re running in Tokyo”. As one of 6 kids, the extent of our family travel adventures growing up was to Milwaukee, WI for a brewery tour every summer. Here I was in freaking Japan. Unreal. When I set the goal 10 years ago to run FIVE marathon majors, Tokyo was not part of the majors. I never truly believed I’d actually run FIVE majors let alone all SIX. Be careful what you wish for.

Despite the driving rain, the crowds of spectators were thick and so supportive. We passed our hotel and I waved at the 4th floor, knowing Maddie was there at a Marathon Tours spectating party. After seeing the start, she’d planned on taking the subway to do some souvenir shopping before heading to the finish line. I didn’t plan to see her on the course, and with all the rain, that was fine. Spectating in cold rain has to be miserable.

Goal: Run Happy, under 5 hours

While I didn’t have a specific pace goal I remembered how ticked I was in Berlin when I finished a minute over 5 hours. I’d been stopping for pics and fun running so it really wasn’t fair to be upset about it but in Tokyo I didn’t want to be over 5 hours either. I wouldn’t be pulling over for pics this time around but I would have to use the water stations, which is something I don’t usually do.

My plan was to run a decently strong (but not too fast) 10k to get out ahead of the course sweeping “balloon ladies” and then settle in. Since those sweeps are calculated on gun time, I carefully noted the clock as I crossed the starting mat. It took me about 14 minutes. Substantially better than the 20-25 minutes I’d planned on. Bonus.

The first miles felt great. Effortless thanks to adrenaline no doubt. The first 5k clicked away fast. Before I knew it I was at the first sweep point with plenty of time to spare. I pressed on for a strong 10k, since those first two sweep times are the toughest, especially for those of us in back corrals. I skipped the first water station.

The second course sweep checkpoint came up fast and I still felt good. I can do this! I stopped at the next water station and partook of some GU and Pocari sweat. My mouth felt so dry.

Was the rain letting up? No it was not. Not at all. My trash bag stayed on, although my arms were soaked and my feet squished in my brand new Asics. I made a concerted effort not to slip. The Tokyo roads were the in best condition I’d ever seen. Not a single pot hole or piece of roadkill. No cracks or banked edges. So clean and new looking.

We entered the first of three out and back portions of the course. Before long the lead pack came through on the other side. One Japanese guy slowed to a walk and drifted off to the side. I learned later he was the defending champion. Dropping out.

We made the turnaround and headed back past the halfway point. I could look across and see runners that were probably a good 10k behind me…including the balloon ladies and sweep buses at the end of the race. Yowza.

Somewhere around the 15 mile mark I started to fade. My left quad seized up and my GU was becoming less appealing. My mouth was dry again so I drank two cups full at the next stop and grabbed what looked like a large dishwasher tablet. I regretted it the second I popped it in my mouth. It was like a super-powdery sweet tart. It disintegrated in layers, leaving my mouth very dry. But then I felt better so it wasn’t all bad.

The next time I took a GU I knew it would be the last. I was cramping up and couldn’t stomach it. I swear I could have hurled if I wanted to. It was raining harder and it was SO cold. The wind was kicking up too. I knew at that point my body was done with fuel. It was working hard to stay warm. Energy to my muscles was compromised and I had nothing for digestion. The faster I ran the more nauseous I was. Ugh.

We were warned that our Garmin would be messed up early on due to the tall buildings and mine was already putting me a mile ahead of where I actually was, which is tough mentally. The course is marked only in kilometers, which is fine, except there seemed to be two sets of signs for each kilometer. I’d see one but then a few minutes later I’d see the same distance marked in a different color. Confusing.

The only time clocks on the course are at the sweep points. Every time I’d see a yellow Seiko timing clock, I’d freak a little about the sweeps. I began to not understand what the time clock meant. Was it the time of day? How long I had until sweep time? My brain was in a fog.

At one point there were women in yellow standing with that daunting yellow rope and they were moving us runners to one side of the street, as if they were narrowing the course. That scared the heck out of me. I’d wondered if I’d lost track and gotten slow enough to be in sweep jeopardy.

Not only was I on the struggle bus for the last five miles or so of the race, I was driving it. I walked mostly because that’s all I could do without throwing up. I shivered uncontrollably. A woman pulled up next to me, asked if I was okay and handed me another dishwasher tablet, except this one was a little smaller. I marveled at how kind she was. As she ran ahead I noticed her red backpack and realized she was likely a course medic. Oh Jesus.

Please don’t pull me from this course.

Because my mouth was bone dry at this point, the tablet just sat there, to the point I wanted to spit it out, but I didn’t dare, since spitting would be a certain DQ. So I ran with it sitting in my mouth for no less than 4 miles.

The kilometers crawled past. I snailed on, my fartlek run/walk turning to mostly walking. I was so nauseous and disoriented. It rained harder, blowing in sheets. I wondered what the wind chill was. In the final miles I figured I HAD to be free of the sweep checkpoints but nope, there was another cruel yellow clock at the 39k point. Can you imagine being swept at 39k??

The crowd shouted something that sounded like “Gambatta Gambatta Gambatta!” For all I knew it was Japanese for “get going you lazy cow” but it turns out it means something to the effect of persevere or stick with it.

Finally we ran down a narrow mall-like area. It had to be the last half mile or so but there was no finish line in sight. Instinctively I knew Maddie was not here and I didn’t bother to search the crowd for her. I could not run any longer without hurling so I walked and let the rest of the runners engulf me. When I made the final left, at last the finish line was in sight. I summoned what little I had left and ran. Like all large races these days, the finish area was pretty locked down. I got myself across the finish mat then sagged against a fence as my stomach revolted. I threw up (thankfully dry heaves, TMI) not once, not twice but five times, before I could compose myself enough to do the frozen zombie death march through the finish area, praying nobody would drag me to the med tent.

I’m going to save finish details and final words for another post. This one is way too long already. Bless your heart if you’ve made it this far.

Have you ever gotten hypothermia during a race?

I’m linking up with Lacey and Meranda for the Friday Five.