This isn’t a running blog, so we don’t normally do “race reports,” but we haven’t posted in a while and we had such an awesome time at the Museum of Aviation Foundation Marathon that it seemed like a good thing to do.  It’s a small race run by Robins Pacers at Robins Air Force Base in Warner-Robins, GA, about an hour south of Macon.  To date, it’s the farthest we’ve traveled for a race (Warner-Robins is about four hours from Brunswick), but we’d been meaning to plan a trip to Atlanta to visit family, so we made a weekend of it.

I worked an early shift on Friday so we could do the drive that night.  We made pretty good time but were about a hundred miles out from Brunswick when I realized I didn’t grab any Gu.  There’s not much in the way of big city running geek stores on I-10 between Savannah and Macon, but I grabbed a couple of PowerBars at a supermarket and figured it would have to do if nothing else showed itself.

This is the sixth marathon I’ve run, but only the second “small town” marathon.  Austin, Philly, and Eugene all had the big-city support of a huge expo with corporate sponsors, vendors, and the logistics to close a city down.  The New Hampshire Marathon, on the other hand, had check in at the high school gym the morning of the race, and we ran most of the race in the shoulder of the road while cars went about their merry way.  Both have their pros and cons, but I’m beginning to think I’m more of a small town race boy.  Warner-Robins is fairly well positioned in the middle of nowhere, but it’s got a decent sized population outside of the Air Force base.  There are no big-name hotels, but the Super 8 we booked was nice enough (and more capable of handling a hotel full of marathoners than a certain big city corporate chain “official race hotel” which shall remain nameless) and the starting line is kind of hard to miss;  1, Find only civilian entrance large military compound encircled with fencing, 2, Enter only building that it looks like you’re allowed to enter, 3, Follow instructions and or maps.

Having the race on the Air Force base turned out to be a very cool variation.  Though there were a couple of negatives (it wasn’t fun to run by the sewage treatment corner of the base and the security measures to keep track of everyone on base that day kind of bottlenecked traffic and delayed the start) but for the most part it was very well run:

1. Closed course means less volunteers are necessary to keep things safe and organized.  You’re fenced in and can’t really get lost by wandering off the course.  In fact, every single intersection that could possibly result in you getting lost is staffed by a volunteer.  Just one.  They point.  They cheer.  They smile despite standing in the rain for six hours.
2. Military maintenance means the course is smooth and flat.  No potholes.  No road debris.  No construction obstacles.  Practically no hills.
3. Closed course means no traffic.  Unless you count the HumVee patrol, complete with wet, smiling, waving, cheering soldiers in the gun turret.
4. Closed course means it’s safe to use headphones.  I’m not a big fan of running with headphones but I’ve been trying it out lately and figured I’d give it a go on a course where if anyone needed to get my attention they’d just present a machine gun.
5. Everyone who lives on the course is employed by the facility which benefits from the proceeds of the marathon.  No grumbly old men trying to sneak their pickup out of the driveway mid-race.  Those who weren’t working the event or on duty were out on the course (in the rain) cheering people on.  It’s not a crowded course, but the spectators took it upon themselves to spread out so there’s always another person cheering on the horizon.  My favorites, at the far lonely end of the course, were a mother and daughter in a PT Cruiser blasting some metal tunes and a woman standing dancing to music only she could hear.  The full marathon was two laps around the base, and it was great to see everyone still going the second time around.
6. Instead of passing historic buildings or sweeping natural vistas, you’re running past fighter jets, bombers, carriers, and helicopters with missiles on!  From the museum pieces on display near the front to the units under maintenance around the base, nothing takes your mind off the effort of 26.2 miles like wondering what’s around the next corner (or what THAT THING does).
7. Cutting the course is not only a violation of the race regulations, but in many areas is also a violation of Federal Law.  In fact, if I read correctly, going past certain signs without the express written consent of the base commander could result in detention as an enemy combatant.  I wish I ran with a camera.
8. Big planes have big wings.  While the last fifth of a mile wasn’t packed with screaming spectators like some races, said spectators were able to hunker down under the wings of jets and planes while they waited for their friends and loved ones to come in.  How often can you say you hung out under a B-52 while watching people race a marathon?  (Ceridwen was the smart one, under our big ol’ gay pride umbrella.)

Ceridwen ran the 5k and posted a great time (40:22) for coming off her injury at Philly.  I ran the full marathon with the goal of breaking my PR (3:41:09 in Eugene ’09) and, if possible, breaking 3:30.  Somehow I pulled it off.  Lopsided and stupid, but I pulled it off.  I blame Pitbull and the Dropkick Murphys, but I ran the first half almost a half minute per mile faster than my target, which of course resulted in slacking on the second half, but I managed to pull it together to finish just under 3:30.  Maybe next time I’ll manage a steady pace.  Or not.

Yup, that says 3:29:51

Right around the moment of this photo I’m about to offend the ears of anyone nearby with delicate sensibilities.  Sorry about that.