I flicked off the alarm at 4:59AM, made the coffee, and hit the road by 6:00. Once I got parked and pinned the numbers in place I made the easy walk/jog towards the start line to get things moving. After taking care of business before the other 11,119 runners showed up(!), I found a nice quiet place to sit in Eakins Oval at the base of the Art Museum. When I looked around to just soak in the scene, imagine my pleasant surprise to see Steve Noone getting ready to run about 10 feet away from me.

I walked over, put my hand on his back and whispered, "Hey - where's the Guinness?"

I finally got to meet his lovely wife Renate (and learn that it's pronounced Ren-aht-ah; I've been saying Ren-eight in my head all these years), his brother, and the chat made the pre-race time just fly by. Soon it was time to wander towards the corrals (a newly added feature this year), and get ready to go to work.

When I'd filled out my application the day before, I'd filled in the "Best Expected Time" box as 1:50:00. In the "Best Previous Half Within Two Years" I'd remembered my 1:48 from this race in 2003 - both of which earned me a "#4" sticker on my number. I figured I was in corral 4 of 5 or something; I was a pretty happy Bob when I saw ELEVEN corrals stretching all the way back to the Art Museum! I shimmied into 4, and once in...I realized that I needed to pee.

Isn't that always the way?

I knew I couldn't leave the corrals - they were rapidly filling up; I'd never get back on the road. I also knew that the course wandered around downtown for the first 5 miles; no trees there. I'd just have to hold it and hope for the best. I willed the race to start on time, so of course, there was a 5-minute delay. Just when I thought I couldn't hold on anymore...

* BOOM! *

We were off. I made the starting mats in about two minutes, and settled into whatever pace I could run in the shade on the Ben Franklin Parkway. While running towards the left side of the road trying to find a rhythm, salvation came to me in the form of a grouping of little green boxes behind what would later be the finish line. Yes! No lines! No police chasing me! Without a second thought I jumped the median, galloped across the empty lanes, and took care of things. 49 seconds later (yes, I took the split), I was back on my way, my mood substantially better than it had been.

Mile 1 was a 9:07 including the pit-stop, but I was happy to get it overwith before too long. I had 12 more miles to make the time up. To run a 1:50, I'd need to run 8:20's. I did the math (I could do math?), and came up with a plan - "Just 4 seconds per mile, that's all we ask." I knew if I could hold things together I could probably get that time back...but my legs just weren't coming up to speed the way that I'd hoped.

The adrenaline of trying to get back to speed let me cook off an 8:04 mile 2, but my HR was staying low - 135 (I wore the HRM just to see how it went - not as a pacing tool). I knew I was tired from the day before, and the tough weeks in this cycle, but I was feeling it much more than I thought I would. Mile 3 slipped to 8:25; soon we were all running down Market Street directly into a rising sun that was so close and so large, I could barely look down the road before me. Everyone around me was sweating pretty well - I knew it wasn't just me. The race just didn't feel right - it didn't feel easy. With 10 miles to go, yeah, I was getting pretty scared.

Mile 4 was another rough one - 8:26. My HR was now up to 140, but mentally I was starting to slip: The devil appeared on my left shoulder, and the whispered bargaining began. "What's so special about 1:50? What's wrong with 1:51 or 1:52? That's still pretty good, right? Right?" It was tempting to surrender - I wasn't sure I could hang at all. If I could barely run under 8:30 now, what chance would I have to pick it up at mile 10 or 11?

Gulp.

I just kept on trucking. Mile 5 - 8:28. Gack!

We ran through the Ben Franklin Parkway for the second time, headed towards West River Drive and the out/back portion of the race that's always the challenge: Out on West River, cross at Falls Bridge, return on Kelly Drive. Flat all the way until the very end, where the course would climb the same finishing rise used in the Philadelphia Marathon - this time at mile 12.9. I found perverse comfort in the fact that I'd be getting there at 12.9 instead of 25.8 - that would have to feel better, right?

As if the pace-fighting was enough to deal with, there were other things trying to distract me; I was so soaked with sweat (despite the cool temps, the dewpoint had the air super-saturated) I had to keep reaching down and wringing out my shorts, or yanking them back down. For whatever reason, this pair of shorts was heading for high ground. Rapidly. Like every 400 yards. Then every 200 yards. Then, at one point, I counted SEVEN strides before they'd ridden up and out of control. It was absurd. I tried to run holding them in place, but then I thought it looked like I was running and taking a continuous leak...so that was no good.

So with my out of control clothing, tight legs, and soaked shirt, I rumbled on down the road, a Clydesdale Fashion Disaster, somehow turning mile 6 in 8:20. As I passed that marker I saw that at the side of the road, the medics were taking care of a female - F16. "Wow - an Elite Female out this early? It's not that hot - what in the world happened there?"

I never did find out, but it was a surprise for sure.

As I chugged on towards halfway, I tried to assess where I was: I was feeling bad, but no worse than I had at mile 3 or 4. I had managed to hang on and run steady, albeit off-plan miles (even if my shorts continued to try and wrap themselves around my neck every 11 steps), and I wasn't that far off 1:50 pace. I hit the halfway mark in 55:04, only 8 seconds off. There was still time to get this race into the black; I just had to keep it together. It was weird - the early miles had pushed me to the brink, but left me hanging there. It wasn't getting any better, but it wasn't getting any worse, either.

Approaching mile 7, I dared myself: "1:50 is still doable. No slacking - no surrender." I slowed to grab a PowerGel at Mile 7, and still clocked an 8:22 as we neared Falls Bridge. My HR was now cruising in the mid 140's, and I knew that once I made the turn onto Kelly Drive, we would be entering the shady side of the course. I used the yardage leading towards the bridge to get myself psyched up; "Once you step off the bridge, put down 5 solid, tempo, 'Death Run' miles. Build it. Bring it. Don't give in. Do this!"

We made the turn, and just as he has been for all the previous times I've run this race, the bagpiper was there - his tones echoing through the century-old ironwork of Falls Bridge. I don't remember what he was playing, I just remember thinking, "Pick it up - get away from the pipes before the song sticks in your head!" I plunged onto Kelly Drive - heading for home, at last.

Mile 8 - 8:15, HR @ 149. I started crunching the numbers. I knew so long as I ran 8:15's the rest of the way, I'd get my sub-1:50. If I had anything left to spare, I'd go for more.

Kelly Drive is a beautiful, meandering road. It weaves left to right to left, hugging the East Bank of the Schuylkill River. Unlike the Marathon where the course is split into two lanes, PDR uses the entire road. Amazingly, people near me were making no effort to run the best line they could; it seemed that nobody was running the tangents. I remembered that in 2003 I'd noticed the same thing, and wondered how that was possible. It's free distance! It's legal! So there I was, taking good exits, setting myself up to run the shortest line possible to the next bend, nonchalantly pickup up 10-12 people at each bend without any extra effort.

The PowerGel was kicking in - my legs started to come around, and I started to feel better with each step. It couldn't be happening at a better time!

Mile 9 - 8:13 @ 154. "That's the way - Can you go under 8:10 for mile 10?" I dared myself, again.

I kept on running my line, moving up, feeling better. It hurt, but it hurt because I was making it hurt - not because the course was hurting me like it had in the first hour. Nothing in running is as sweet as coming back together in the late miles of any race, and I knew it - I KNEW it was happening...and that just made me want to run harder.

Mile 10 - 8:02 @ 157. "Almost under 8. Can you run the last three under 8?" I knew that barring something dramatic, I was going under 1:50. I'd brought it back! My knees were coming up, and I could hear my footfalls getting lighter - my stride was no longer a plod, but the tempo-run gait I'd been working on running every Wednesday. For all those damned runs around the corporate center when it was just me and a watch as judge and jury, THIS was my reward.

Mile 11 - 8:01 @ 156. "Argh! C'mon - get into the 7's!" With only two miles to go, I was moving up more with each mile. I could feel the finish coming - I knew exactly where I was, and how far I had to go. I knew that mile 13 with its climb to the end would be the hardest mile of the day, so even with 15 minutes to go before the climb started...I got myself ready. "Turn the corner at the last boathouse...fight the long false flat. At the bend at Lloyd Hall, move right. Hug the curb. Drive with the knees...build from the bottom to the top..."

As the blue marker for mile 12 came into view, I was a new man. It was the white flag - the bell lap, and I was aware that this had been a special day; I'd taken a bad start, fought through it, and now I was heading towards the fastest half marathon I'd run in two years - with no rest!

Mile 12 - 7:49 @ 163. "Is that how you go to work? IS THAT HOW YOU GO TO WORK?! Oh, we workin' now, bro!"

I gave my shorts and shirt one last wring-out, soaking my legs and sneakers with the physical cost of 12 miles; no sense in carrying all the water weight uphill. Just as I'd mentally rehearsed, the climb to the line unfolded before me - one last mile to bring it all home.

"Past the boathouse. Lift your knees. Drive - drive, drive! Lean into the hill a bit - just a bit. Keep building...that's it. More power. More power. That's it. Just like in the Dragon Boat - 5 to build...1...2...3...4...5...now, more! Pick it up! ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIVE...!"

I had a feeling the three-hour Dragon Boat practice might have an effect on my race - who knew it would be a drummer yelling at me to pick it up? Who knew that would work? Just substitute a person to be passed for each stroke count...whoo!

I was absolutely suffering now. The sun was darting between the leaves of the trees by the backside of the Art Museum, and I knew it wouldn't be long - just a little more pain to go. As the grade of the final rise surrendered to the mercy of the flat approach to the line, I knew I could give nothing more than I was giving at that second. Everything hurt - my legs, my chest , my arms; my lungs were burning, my teeth were going numb. I was glad that St. Lynda hadn't come down to watch - I was sure I looked pretty ragged, cross-eyed, and agonized...but I was sure smiling on the inside.

Mile 13 - 7:40. Fastest mile of the day. HR @ 170.

And when I saw the blue banner across the road, that smile roared outward - the emotion of nearly two hours of doubts now overwhelmed by the first seconds of pure joy. Not only was I going to break 1:50 on my watch...but the Finish Line clock as well! In the last 4 miles I'd made up the start-lag - I'd never even considered that to be possible, but there it was! 1:49:4something!

I pointed at the clock and yelled out, "I wanted 1:50! I'M GONNA' GET 1:50! YEEEEEAAAAH!" I couldn't contain myself. I ran the last 0.1 mile in 41 seconds flat - 6:49 pace, heart red-lined at 180. I could give no more, but I needed no more.

I crossed the line in 1:48:08, race time of 1:49:51. Nine seconds. Who thinks running the tangents isn't important?

Within two steps, I was positively shattered. I was soaked. I don't even remember taking off my timing chip, getting a bottle of water, and making my way through the finishing chute. I do remember, however, spotting the post-race pedestal and getting up there, trying to show the photog my watch. It almost worked: