07/15/07 Missoula Marathon

The Missoula Marathon was an inaugural event that many of us had been looking forward to (and signed up for) for a long time. It's difficult to describe why, exactly. It wasn't the outward allure of going to Missoula, Montana. Perhaps it was because it is one of only a handful of mid-July races. And with slim pickings comes bigger desire - especially since it was a new choice that we haven't had before.

They did a great job and I learned that Missoula is a very interesting and picturesque little town. Along with Swan Lake, this race provides an instructive example of why I do this. It certainly isn't because I'm trying to bring home trophies and prize money. It's all about discovery: meeting people and learning about cool places that I otherwise probably would never have visited. And Missoula certainly fits that description.

The race was a point-to-point starting in tiny Frenchtown, and utilizing backroads back to Missoula. This meant a 5a shuttle and a bit of a wait at the start. However, the nice thing about mid-July is that this wait was not bone-chilling cold. Then again, the flip side is that mid-July can get warm... and it had been 105 the previous afternoon. Island Boy like hot, but I've learned this summer that "like" is different from "performs better in". Past about 75, and heat saps me like it does anybody else.

Missoula sits in a valley surrounded by mountains. The race course skirted the edge of the valley. According to the elevation chart, the race would be 26 miles of gentle uphill, except for a steep up from M13-15, followed by a steep down to M16. The bump in the middle was certainly noticeable, but the gentle uphill was either really gentle or nonexistent. Most of the race seemed flat. A nice run in the country.

My goals for the race were simple, especially since I was under the impression that the course would be uphill the whole way: run evenly, finish somewhere around 3:45, and check out the sights. Just like Seafair last weekend, I was standing in the portapotty line way too close to the start of the race. An official came over and told us that we had nine minutes. No problem. Less than 30 seconds later, a different official came over and told us we had six minutes. Huh. I bailed from the line and snuck behind a building. After surprising two women crouched behind a dumpster... ooops... I waited until they left and then tried to go. Nothing happened. Time passed. I ran to the starting line.

The cannon fired (a BOOM that was felt as well as heard) and off we went. Right away, I knew this would NOT be one of those blessed days where everything felt good. I didn't feel badly, but I did feel 'blah'. There was a single portapotty at each aid station, but the first one was occupied when I went by. Somewhere around M5, we passed a pulp mill. In the distance, across a weed-filled ditch and a big field, in a parking lot, I spied a lonely potty. Off I went. And... nothing happened. Time passed. I rejoined the race. One of my Maniac friends, Linda, saw my offroad adventure and laughed at me.

The start through M9.5 was a straight-ish section of country road. Then we turned onto the Kona Ranch Road. The Kona Ranch? In Montana? I liked the name. I still didn't feel right, so when I spotted the green 'unoccupied' dot on the portapotty door at M11, I stopped again.

This was a funhouse portapotty. It had been placed on a slope... and a combination of my heartbeat and my breathing caused the portapotty to vibrate, slowly at first, and then more violently after about a minute. It was a lot like the Tacoma Narrows Bridge shaking itself apart in those old films, and I thought I was going to fall over. Yikes. Still though, I tried to potty. And... nothing happened. Time passed. I exited, and there she was. Linda. Waiting to use the facility. Before she could laugh at me, I warned her about the shaky portapotty action. Off I went.

Still sluggish, and now it was getting hot. As I approached the bump section, the 3:49 pace team caught me. The hill was actually the most enjoyable part of the race course. Oddly enough, the road on this hill was called Big Flat Road. Huh.

By M18, the 3:49 folks started pulling away from me. It seemed they were running a little fast for 3:49, but no matter what, 3:45 wasn't going to happen on this day. I just felt icky. Ok, so 3:51 (my time at Seafair the prior week) became my new goal.

Around M20, I started catching some folks I had seen at the beginning of the race. The guy from Chicago I had met at the airport. One of the two costumed women. Linda passed me in here. I tried to keep up with her for a little while. We passed lots of early starters and most of the back-of-the-pack half marathoners who had started at the halfway mark of the full. It seemed that the heat was getting to lots of people.

At M22.8, we passed over some railroad tracks and into a funky section through the mall's parking lot. This was one of the few points where there were spectators. Plus the Rocky theme. It helped. Linda pulled away from me in this section, although my mile splits show that I too was speeding up some.

A few of the last miles were along a bicycle trail with lots of street crossings. Most of these had good traffic control. Finally, we approached downtown Missoula and then the big finish.

3:53. Hmm. Factoring out the false potty stops and the offroad adventure... and factoring out the whole 'blah' feeling, and I guess I had an okay race. I definitely could have had a 3:45 race. But we don't factor those things out. My splits were pretty ok for me: 1:55/1:58.

The good news is that I beat 4 in Montana for the first time. I also felt really good. AND they interviewed me for the evening news - my very first time on television.

I'm a little bummed that I'm not running as well as I was last month, but my running logs may be pointing to the issue. In May and early June, I was doing lots of 800s (basically half mile intervals). I stopped doing them about the time I started flaming out while trying for a 3:30. I think I need to revisit my Pfitzinger-inspired schedule.

Overall, though, things are going pretty well. I've completed 30 marathons so far this year, and I feel good.

Next up: no marathon this weekend! Whatever will I do with myself? I'm running a local 10k - the Swedish Summerun, which I consider to be our hardest 10k. If anything interesting happens, I'll write about it. If not, I might write about something else.

My next scheduled marathon is the Volcano Marathon on 7/28. This is an extremely challenging race that punished me last year. It is run on the slopes of Kilauea, and unfortunately, Kilauea has been angry during the past month. Many of the trails utilized by this race have been closed since mid-June. Not sure what's going to happen.

Fingers crossed.

07/08/07 Seafair Marathon

Seafair is a month-long celebration in the Seattle area. It involves hydroplane races, air shows by the Blue Angels, a parade, and lots of other tie-in events. For several years, there has been an 8k race and a sprint triathlon during Seafair. In 2003, they added a half marathon. In 2005, they added a full. The half and full have been mixed bags. In the first years of both events, they were advertised as "flat". In fact, they were very hilly courses. They've changed a little in the past few years, but the races are still quite challenging - hilly and warm.

Seafair is one of my two "cursed" races (Grizzly in Montana is the other). In 2003, I was signed up for the inaugural half, but I showed up on race morning only to find out that I was supposed to pick up my packet the day before. In 2004, I ran the half with what I thought was a pulled right quad. Nope. I collapsed at the end of the race. It was a stress fracture in my femur. I ran the half with a broken leg :-(. I didn't run again for two months.

I skipped the inaugural marathon in 2005 so I could race Grandfather Mountain in North Carolina. And that brings us to last year. In 2006, I started out with 50-in-50-in-50 Sam Thompson... and he's a lot faster than me. Because it was the second week of his 50-in-50-in-50, he was running a 3:45 pace, which was doable for me based on races during the prior month. One problem, though, was that I had just run the Leadville Marathon the week before Seafair. Leadville was... and is... the hardest race I've ever done. It chewed me up and spit me out. This was a big problem. Here I was, eight days later, running on the faster end of my comfort zone. It wouldn't last. Sam pulled away from me by M10. And that was it. The last 16 miles were rough, and it got really warm. 3:45? Nope. I pulled in at 4:15.

One skip, one broken leg, and one spontaneous combustion. That's a cursed race.

I should add that Sam had also run Leadville. Along with seven other marathons in between. He finished hours in front of me at Leadville and indeed nailed his 3:45 at Seafair.

What would this year bring? I had two goals: 1) run evenly and 2) beat last year's time. Assuming I didn't do anything stupid... like (cough) trying for 3:30 (cough), #2 wouldn't be a difficult goal to achieve. That's alright.

The Seafair course is a loop, plain and simple. The whole course is hilly, but most of the hardest hills are in the first half. There's lots of downhill in the second half - which I didn't even notice during last year's blow up. However, they throw in a really nasty trick on this course. The last two miles, right up to M26.1 are uphill. UPHILL. Boo, Seafair.

So, I was standing in the portapotty line with BRB (Best Running Buddy) when we heard the call on the PA: two minutes until the start! Ooops. We did what needed to be done, and ran towards the line. Before we got there, BOOM, the runners were off. Luckily, this race uses chips. We jumped in after everyone had gone by and we were off too.

Weaving, weaving, weaving. Unfortunately, I wasn't paying enough attention and I lost track of BRB. The first few miles of the course went through downtown Bellevue, so I looked at the buildings. I also said hello to a few Maniacs that I didn't know.

Somewhere around M6, I came across a Maniac I do sort of know - he has the interesting nickname 'coconutboy', and he apparently actually reads my stories. So, Hiiiiiiiii coconutboy. He was running with his wife. Now, I don't want to refer to her as 'coconutgirl' because that doesn't seem to be her approved nickname, so I'll call her Sherry. Hello, Sherry. When I am having a good day, they are roughly my pace or a little bit faster... but it seems that I'm not usually having a good day when I'm in the same race with them.

About M8, I had to make the first of several pitstops. This would bode poorly for my finishing time, but as always, it makes for a muuuuuch happier running experience to deal with such things in an appropriate manner and timeframe. As I closed the door, I heard coconutboy shout, "Make sure you lock the door." Ha. Coconutboy really does read my stories :-).

I did lock the door. And that was the last I'd see of Sherry and coconutboy until after the race.

The course went up hills; the course went down hills. I passed M13.1 around 1:54.

It was hot, so I drank the nasty Gleukos that they served, but my stomach didn't like me much for it. By M16, I had to stop again. I was not able to regain my pace afterwards, but the downhills in this section helped a lot. Most of this part of the course snaked through neighborhoods and parks. Not a lot of spectators came out to cheer, but there also wasn't a lot of traffic to dodge. Overall, I was having a lot more fun than last year.

Around M18, I started catching back-of-the-pack half marathoners. I also talked to a few full marathoners... it was one of those days that distraction seemed like a better fatigue management coping mechanism than focusing.

The nasty hill at the end was everything I could have hoped for. Up we went. Left turn, and...

Robert Lopez, from Seattle.

Woohoo, I got announced. 3:51. Well, like the previous race at Swan Lake, it wasn't 3:45. It was also a couple minutes slower than Swan Lake. However, this was a harder course. And 3:51 with a smile beats the pants off of 4:15 and feeling like I want to die. My split was 1:54/1:57. Not quite even, but that's about as even as I get. I made both my goals, hooray!

I spent about 10 minutes drinking water and eating cookies, then I decided to go back out and find BRB. I took a couple bottles of water with me, and out I went. I didn't have to go far - about .2 out, here was BRB and another Maniac, Rob. I turned around and we ran in. And...

Robert Lopez, from Seattle.

HA. I got announced twice! The other Rob got announced too, but either I was shielding BRB or her number was turned around because they didn't say her name. Later on, it looked like she was right behind me in the finish line picture. Sorry, BRB. Didn't mean to block you.

I gave them the bottles of water. Kind of a weird move on my part because we were standing right next to... lots of bottles of water. But hey, I tried.

Almost 25 minutes better than last year. I felt great. I got to talk to lots of Maniacs I know, and meet new ones that I did not previously know. The weather was good... and I didn't have to drive or fly for hours to get home.

It was a good day.

Next up: Already happened. The inaugural Missoula Marathon. Would I finally break 4 in Montana? Come back real soon now and see!

07/01/07 Swan Lake Marathon

The Swan Lake Marathon is held at (and organized by) a Mennonite church camp on the outskirts of Viborg, South Dakota. And right next to Swan Lake - though I don't think it is the one from the ballet. The first thing to note is that while Viborg may not be the absolute center of the middle of nowhere, it isn't too far away. The second thing to note is that Viborg rhymes with 'iceberg' and not 'cyborg'.

Last year, this marathon had about 25 people in it. I intended to do it as a double with Marathon to Marathon, but the course made it far too convenient for me to decide around M8 that I'd switch to the half. My stomach was really bothering me that day. About two months later, I got a second place ribbon for the half, which is really funny. Little races are always funny that way.

This year, they changed the date of race. So while people couldn't double it with M2M, it was held on a weekend that was otherwise seemingly marathon-free across the country. The consequence, of course, was that registration more than tripled... and lots of 50-staters descended on Viborg. The church camp allows folks to bunk in their cabins or camp. I think they filled everything up. I chose to stay elsewhere, but it looked like people had fun at camp :-).

Now, about that course. It's a shamrock - three different loops (start-> M4.5, M4.5->M13, and M13->finish) around the start/finish. The first two loops make up the course for the half, which is why it was so easy to bail last year. Most of the course is flat, and most of it is dirt. The section around Swan Lake is shaded by trees, and runners forget for a bit about all those corn fields. But only a bit. The rest of the race, except for a few blocks in Viborg, is all about corn. And corn? Corn provides no shade whatsoever.

Last year, the race started at 6:30 or 7... I don't recall. I do recall that it got warm and then HOT quickly. This year, they moved the start up to 6a to help with the heat. Unfortunately for me, my hotel was 45 minutes away. It was a very early morning for Island Boy.

At 6a, we said a little prayer... cmon, it *IS* a church camp... and then off we went. I was coming off of two really awful weekends where I had pushed myself too hard trying to hit 3:30. My plan this week was to run a smarter race: run evenly and try to land a 3:45.

I caught my friend Amy around M1, so we chatted for awhile about various things. Amy is a breast cancer survivor and one of the faster Maniacs I know. I usually don't get the opportunity to run with her, and I managed to do it twice in three weekends - we ran a few miles together at Estes Park.

We ran by corn. We ran through Viborg. We commented on the gal in front of us running in a bikini, like I usually only see on really fast marathoners and triathletes. We ran by more corn. It was starting to get warm.

At M13, we passed my point-of-no-return. No bailing this year. Our time was right around 1:52; pretty close to what I wanted. At M15, I stopped to potty. Amy is really good about running negative splits, and I am not. I was able to see Amy ahead of me after I finished my business, but over the next few miles, she got smaller and smaller.

Corn. So much corn.

By M19, the heat was getting to me and the inevitable slowdown started. A few people passed me... including 3 teens running their first marathon. It was fun to see them working together to get to the end. At M23, I caught them at the aid station and made the mistake of saying, "Just a 5k left." The icy death stares I received convinced me that I had just been that guy. At M24, we went through a brief out-and-back and a guy in front of me yelled, "HOW OLD ARE YOU??" Er... 41. He thought I was gunning for his age group position. Not hardly. It would turn out that this guy is 56, so I was no threat even if I had been trying to catch him.

By M25, two of the teens had left the third behind. She was still in front of me, and she kept looking back. I'm not exactly sure why, but I suspect that she really REALLY wanted to beat the creepy old man who had made the stupid comment. She would succeed.

Around the corner, up the hill, and I was done. I didn't make 3:45... it was 3:49. Still though, I felt really good and I was close to my goal. Although a 1:52/1:57 split isn't great, it was way better than some of my recent races.

Amy did indeed run a negative split, and she was the first place overall woman.

The dude that thought I was trying to catch him? He ran a 3:45:00 exactly. I should have tried to catch him :-).

Incidentally, for a little race in the middle of nowhere that tripled in size, the organizers did an amazingly good job with it. I would seriously consider making this an annual excursion if it wasn't so far away. I really liked it.

Next up: it has come and gone. The dreaded Seafair Marathon, one of my two cursed races. Did I break the curse? Check back in soon. Be there. Aloha.

06/24/07 Kona Marathon

I got this picture from Johnny Landeza. This is the close-knit group from Oahu that I call the "Hawai'ianiacs". And me.

Well, I guess I'd better write about this race. I haven't really wanted to do this, but because I haven't, I'm backed up on writing about races that have occurred since then (Swan Lake and Seafair). So I need to get this out of my system.

I had been looking forward to Kona for over a year... last year, the race was a couple weeks earlier in June. Kona is my favorite race in my favorite place. I've done the full 4 times, the half twice, the 5k twice (including winning my age group), and the 10k once. My 3:52 last year was a good time for that course and the first time I'd managed to beat 4 in Hawai'i. However, I didn't run a particularly smart race; the next day I was already thinking about this year. I had dropped my times in recent months, including 3 sub-3:40s in May and early June. I PRed with a 3:34 on a hilly course in hot temperatures. My training had been going well; I had no dings or injuries. Finally, it was time for Kona (and my 41st birthday a couple days beforehard), and I was going into it in great shape.

Sort of. See, the weekend before, I had attempted to run a 3:30 in Iowa. I managed 15 miles at the right pace, but I suffered mightily after that. I wheezed to the finish at 3:46 with a 1:44/2:02 positive split. Not a great day. However, I looked at it as good heat training and besides, Kona would be next. The positive spin was that I was still ready to try for 3:30... and I could do it at my favorite race. The other side to that spin was something I didn't really consider: my body was warning me, "No, not yet. Too hot for that."

The Kona marathon utilizes the same basic course as the run leg of the Ironman World Championships, and that adds history and mystique to the race. It's an out-and-back course that starts in Keauhou, about five miles south of Kona. The first and last 6 miles of the race gently roll down Ali'i Drive - the main non-highway road on this part of the island. Lots of houses to look at; lots of shade. The middle miles of the race are something else entirely. After running through town, runners climb up to the Queen K highway and run the shoulder out to the Natural Energy Lab. The turnaround is at M13, and then everyone returns. This highway section rolls like Ali'i drive, but the hills are a bit longer. There is also no shade on this section. Additionally, the highway is blacktop, and the surrounding area is black lava.

Pretty much anywhere else on earth, this course would be considered fairly easy and perhaps "fast". But here? The race starts at 5:30 when the temperatures are about 70 and the humidity is high. Runners have exactly an hour before the sun pops over the mountain (Hualalai volcano). At that point, the temperature immediately spikes 5-10 degrees. Not a gradual climb - it is immediately hot. Within a couple hours, the highway section has heated up another 5-10 degrees. The humidity is dealable if there's wind, but there isn't always wind and your sweat just clings to your body.

Kona is a hard course.

5:30 came and off we went. It is a challenge to go out easy on this course because you know you have an hour before the sun makes everything more difficult. This is where I messed up last year... I cruised too fast through this section and was already dehydrated when it got hot. I tried to hold it back this year, but I also really wanted to see if 3:30 was in the cards.

I was running with Johnny and a couple other Hawai'ianiacs... they were in a great mood and just chatting away. Not me. I was puffing. This was a bad sign, but I ignored it. When the sun popped up, my pace was just a bit too fast for a 3:30. I let them pull away from me and found myself running with Jeannie Wokasch. Jeannie has won this race 7 or 8 times before, and it was really cool to run with her. As we headed down the big hill into the Natural Energy Lab, we started seeing the faster people coming back the other way. I counted 12. 12.

There were 12 people in front of me. That was it. Jeannie was the 2nd place woman at that point, but there was another gal just behind us (they'd wind up flipping spots later in the race). We hit the turnaround and then M13.1... 1:44. Right on pace. But holy smokes... I was at the front of the pack. And I was feeling it.

Returning on the out-and-back course, practically everyone going the other way shouted out for Jeannie. This was fun, and it helped me get my mind off the idea that perhaps, just perhaps, I was burning out too early. As we chugged along and I was waving to people going the other way, I also realized that none of the charities came to Kona this year. It used to be that Kona was a big charity draw... without them, the race was substantially smaller. I was a little sad.

At M15, we were up the hill out of the Natural Energy Lab and on the highway. It was baking now. There was no wind this year. Around M16, Jeannie slowly started pulling away. She was speeding up; I was holding my 8:0x pace. At M17 several other people started passing me.

It happened at M18. I won't call it "the wall". My experience with glycogen depletion is that when I'm out, I don't run anymore. I either sit down or I walk really, really slowly. I kept running at M18, but it changed from a nice, flowing motion into the old man shuffle. Someone hit me in the quads and hamstrings with a hammer. No matter what I tried, I couldn't get my pace under 10. Gu, coke, mental tricks, using another runner for a rabbit. Nothing worked.

At M19.5, we turned off the Queen K and headed back down towards town. Apparently, one of the Hawai'ianiacs missed this turn and continued straight. He figured it out, but he'd wind up running 27+ miles during this race. Ooops. I didn't miss the turn; I've done this race too many times. It was pretty clear, though, as I shuffled through town that I was becoming kind of incoherent. My thoughts wandered, and it was almost like I was dreaming with my eyes open. The Hooters gal at the Hooters water stop around M21 tried to help me out, but I was more interested in drinking a coke (I remember thinking "don't pour this coke on your head or your eyes will be sticky") than flirting with the Hooters gal.

Onward. I wish I had good stories to share. I don't remember anything specific. Apparently, I kept marking splits because they were all recorded on my watch.

At the finish, the announcer told everyone who I was and that this was my 27th marathon of the year. I think I waved.

3:55. An ugly 1:44/2:11 split... and considering that I kept the right pace through M18, that was a lot of pain and suffering in those last 8. I don't remember walking, but it was one heck of a slow shuffle. 3 minutes slower than last year, and I felt much worse than last year.

I hung around the finish for a bit to talk to people. Lots of the Hawai'ianiacs placed in their respective age groups. I said hello to Frank Shorter, who comes over to do the half every year. I think I drank a 2 liter bottle of coke.

And then I went upstairs and curled into a ball, motionless, for a couple hours. I haven't felt this badly after a race in several years... and this includes Leadville and Volcano last year.

In retrospect, I think I was running low on fuel towards the end... but it was the heat and dehydration that got me. I like running in heat, though it doesn't generally make me faster. There's a limit, however.

I hit it.

Also in retrospect, I'm very sure I could have done a 3:45 had I run the course better. That would have been nice. I tried for 3:30; I'm just not ready yet.

The worst part is that I don't know if I'll be able to come back next year to do better. This was my year, and it didn't work out for me. Some races are like that. There's always a bad race in the cards. I just didn't want it to happen here.

Next up: It has already happened. In fact, two races have come and gone. Swan Lake and Seafair. I'll write about them soon.

06/17/07 Estes Park Marathon

Estes Park, Colorado is a beautiful small town just over an hour northwest of Denver. Surrounded by mountains and small lakes, it sits next to the Rocky Mountain National Park. Two kinds of critters come to Estes Park in droves: elk and tourists. Sometimes the two don’t get along. In fact, the marathon apparently almost got canceled because a mom elk and her baby decided to take up residence on part of the course the day before. Mom elk are quite protective. They are also really big. Luckily for the marathoners, “residence” was a temporary thing and the elk moved on.

Estes Park is way up high… 7500 feet. The marathon is advertised as “the highest paved marathon in the world.” The area’s geography also can make Estes Park a windy place. And holding a marathon in June means that it might be hot. Sure enough, all three factors came into play for race morning – it was hot, it was windy, and there’s no getting around the fact that the race is way up high. The course itself is basically a loop – we started at the middle school and finished on the high school’s track next door. But the course does not make a simple loop shape. Instead, after a quick one mile loop around the schools, we headed out for some gorgeous (though tremendously challenging… I’ll come back to this), meandering trips through the hills, by the lakes, and around the town. The race went all over the place. In fact, there were other races that are happening at the same time. They all ended at the same finish line, but they all started in different places and had somewhat different courses. This made for some interesting middle miles in the marathon as we spotted runners on totally different paths going in other directions. “Are we lost?” No. The course was supremely well marked and had tons of red shirted volunteers at the turns. We were just witnessing other races in progress.

And now, a quick word on hills. By running over 100 marathons all over the country, I’ve learned that the word “hill” conjures up different images to different people in different races. The hills in the Estes Park Marathon were not hills nor Hills; they were HILLS. Somewhat steep – not trail marathon “I better walk it” steep, but hard work. And two of them were really long. The first one started around M1 and didn’t crest until M5.9 at the highest point on the course – over 8,000 feet. The second one started at M16 and crested around M20. In both cases, the road twisted around and around and we just never knew whether we were nearing the top until we got there. However, the course is a loop, and so it is very fair. All that elevation we gained we got back in various downhills along the way.

Race morning itself started out weird. At 6a, weather.com reported that it was 48 with a “feels like” of 44. So I bundled up in three shirts plus a throwaway layer and headed out for the school, which was about a one mile walk. Immediately outside my hotel’s door, I was blasted by hot air. It was the opposite of a chill factor. Wow. Off came the shirts… it was going to be an unexpected singlet-only day at 7500 feet.

I met quite a few maniacs, 50-staters, and coolrunners before the start. A couple folks were from Colorado, but most of us were a bit apprehensive about the altitude and the heat. We should have been a little more worried about the hills and the wind… but we didn’t know about them yet. It would not take long to learn.

My goal for the day was basically “sightseeing”. I burned myself out the day before by attempting to run Marathon to Marathon fast… and blowing up in the middle. Then there was that pesky altitude thing. The heat I did not mind one little bit, but I knew it wouldn’t make me faster. The hills and the wind? Treats yet to be discovered. I figured that sightseeing at 7500-8000+ feet meant a 5 hour finish. But I really had no idea.

7a, 3-2-1, we were off. My legs forgot my plans, and I went out too fast, somewhere between 8:30-8:45 pace. 3 minutes in, and I was immediately paying for this. It felt like someone hit me in the chest with a shovel. I adjusted my pace somewhat, but I also decided to tough it out for 10 more minutes just to see if my body would adjust. Altitude is weird. Aside from some definite altitude sickness problems at Leadville (12,000 ft), it doesn’t usually do much to me except slow me down. So when I feel short of breath at the beginning of a high race, I start wondering if it is real, or if my mind is messing with me, or if I’m simply not warmed up yet. The truth in this race was basically a little of all. Around M1, we started up the hill… and this adjusted my pace a bit for me. However, I kind of got into the hill, I forgot about being worried about the altitude, and my breathing began to regulate properly. Silly mind.

Ah, but then the wind started. As I got higher and higher up this hill, it started to get really gusty. I played leapfrog with a maniac/coolrunner friend named Amy. After telling Amy that I thought the hill would go on until M7 based on the elevation chart, we crested at M5.9. Ha. Heading down the other side towards a small lake, the wind absolutely howled. First it was a headwind that I thought might blow me back up the hill. Then we turned and it became a side wind that staggered me a few times. It was amazing, but it came with amazing views. It was warm and it wasn’t raining. I wasn’t a big fan of the wind, but it was an ok price to pay for the other aspects. I did have to switch to “backwards hat running”, though, and it felt strange.

As the course led us back towards town, the wind died down a little bit. Temporarily, at least. Around M8, Amy was just in front of me and came within about 10 feet of an elk. At first I thought it was one of those goofy statues that people put in their yards. Nope. When I went by, up popped the elk’s head. I said hello. He looked at me. A few things about this elk. For one, it didn’t try to eat me. Then again, it wasn’t a mom with a calf. For two, elk are big! For three, he (she? No horns) had no fear of me. He didn’t spring away like a deer. Pretty cool. Goodbye, elk.

The town section of the course was interesting. I made a quick pitstop in a real non-porta potty. Around M10, we ran in a coned off lane of the main road. Down an embankment by a lake was a bike trail… and lots of runners. This was the “Am I lost?” section. I wasn’t. It was also the only part of the race where a lane was coned off for runners. I was thankful for this section, and would miss the cones later on. We cut over to some bike paths and circled the lake. I hit the half at 2:05. The wind was starting to whip us around a bit again.

At M15, we zigzagged through a neighborhood and then turned onto a major road. This one did not have cones. During the pre-race announcements we were sternly reminded to run single-file, and we were told that running more than two abreast might get us disqualified. I now understood why. This was a fairly busy 2-lane road, and it had no real shoulder. Ugh. It would turn out that we’d keep this experience with us from M15 all the way until about M23.

Around M15.5, we started up the second of the two giant hills. Up and up we went. Lots of people were walking. I ran most of it, except I did walk the aid stations.

The aid stations, by the way, were generally plentiful… and by the last 8 or so miles, they were very frequent. I needed that. As we headed up the hill, my throat started closing up. Between the altitude and the wind, I was getting dehydrated and I think my throat just physically dried out. I was taking two or three cups at each station. These were full cups too, so I was easily going through 15-20 ounces every mile. And my pace was mushy oatmeal. I wasn’t wheezing… I was breathing pretty much like I normally breathe in the later miles of a marathon. But whereas my pace in the late miles of a “bad day” is usually around 9:30, these miles were all 11s and 12s. That was all I could do, especially going up the hill.

I was between M17 and M18 at the 3 hour mark. Usually, I am between M20 and M22.

The actual crest of the second big hill was somewhere between M19 and M20. I’m not exactly sure where. I do know that I ran an 8:40 mile heading into M21. That was a nice downhill, and it felt like I was running much faster. It was also short-lived. The rest of the course was roly poly. Up we went, down we went. Sometimes the wind helped, and sometimes it did not. Amy had gotten pretty far ahead of me, and I lost sight of her somewhere in this section.

At M23, we turned by the Stanley Hotel. You may know this as the hotel from the tv version of The Shining (and also where King was when he wrote the book). What a cool thing to encounter during a race! However, it was a bit of a letdown to realize that the hotel is not, in fact, in the middle of nowhere. It is, in fact, near the Safeway.

Around M24, we cut back onto the bike trail we had used earlier in the race. All the volunteers were very encouraging. At M25, we hit the last aid station. While I was looking down, a volunteer decided to blast me in the face with a super soaker. NO. Just, no. If you ever volunteer at a race, please don’t do this. Ask first. For one, it is M25 and we’re all incoherent (though possibly in need of drenching). For two, I was looking down, and it was totally unexpected. For three, don’t shoot me in the face. Wearing glasses is a double-edged sword – they protected my eyes from the blast, but when they got wet, they immediately fogged over. Boo.

No matter. At M25.8, the bike trail cut down a ravine. Up at the top were people hooting for us. Cool. At M26, we entered the “stadium” (a field with some bleachers and an excellent track), ran around the track, and that was that.

4:24. Huh. Well, I beat 5.

Some of my maniac friends, including Amy had already finished. We talked for a bit and then went searching for the post-race party. It was great! Sandwiches, burritos, cookies, ice cream, fruit, beer, soda, music. From the party, we had a good view of the bike trail. When we spotted more friends (two more maniacs and coolrunners), I chugged back over to the finish to give them a woo. While I was there, I was met by a coolrunner spectator. How nice!

I have a list of “Hardest Road Marathons”. This is a work in progress because I tend to register for tough races. Estes Park is now going towards the top of the list. I still think Crater Lake is harder. But not by much.

Aside from being very thirsty, I felt great. I dig warm/hot races a lot more than cold races, and having incredible scenery just made everything enjoyable. Hard, but fun hard.

Up next? My goal race for this part of the year, and the race I’ve been excited about for eleven months and three weeks. It’s time for the Kona Marathon.

I’ll see you there. Wear sunscreen. I recommend Banana Boat Sport, in the orange tube.

06/16/07 Marathon to Marathon

Most of the color commentary for this race adventure is actually in yesterday's post. That might be more of an entertaining read.

Hot day, but not like it could have been. Clouds moved in around the 90 minute mark which helped. However, the clouds signaled that a front had just moved through. We didn't get any rain; it stayed muggy. But the front shifted the winds around so that, once again, weather.com got the wind backwards in its forecasting. The tailwind from the start through about M10 became a pretty entertaining headwind from M16 until the end. The good side to this was it kept us cool.

I decided today to make an attempt at 3:30-3:32 knowing full well that the heat would possibly nail me, and also knowing that it would only work out if I had a potty-free race. So if I blew up, I was prepared to deal. At least it would be good heat training for next week in Hawai'i.

I went out with two guys and the first place gal, who were also trying for 3:30. I didn't really chat; I listened. Things were going well, even though it was a little hot - the race started at 6a, and it was at least 70 and 75% humidity at the start.

The miles flew by. In this race, the aid stations have a contest for best theme. The little song they were playing at M7 got stuck in my head. It wasn't a good song. Boo. They didn't get my vote.

M13.1 at 1:44. Perfect. Unfortunately, it wouldn't stay perfect. My stomach started to assert itself. It was clear that "potty-free race" wouldn't be in the cards. Not a lot of portapotties in this race. Not even a lot of trees, although there were gullies that would serve. Except that it wasn't that kind of potty. Uh oh.

This race also has a relay, and the relay points (5, 10, 15, 20.5) are the only place where they placed lonely portapotties. I kept the right pace until 15, but it was time for pitstop.

After that, I could not run the same pace. Wasn't going to happen. I tried.

At M16 we turned northward into the headwind. Ugh. It kept me cool, but it wasn't very fun.

At M20.5, the aid station had a Hawai'ian theme. They got my vote for best theme :-).

I was really struggling, but so was everyone else. I passed a ton of people even though I was now chugging 9:30s instead of 8:00s. And that was a chore. A few people passed me.

I passed a woman who looked an awful lot like the "first place woman" from earlier. I'm not 100% sure if it was her. If so, she completely blew up because she was walking. Not resting getting ready to run again... I mean "I'm done" type walking. I was going to see if she wanted to run with me, but she wasn't giving off that kind of vibe so... onward...

Towards the end, the aid stations were about half a mile apart. For the back of the pack, this would be extremely important... it was getting up around 90.

And I was done. The announcer thanked me over the PA for coming from Seattle.

3:46.

That would be a 1:44/2:02 split. Yikes. Even factoring out the 3 minute potty stop, yikes. The wind broke me a little, but I clearly went out too fast for the conditions and my body today.

Last year I ran a 3:45, but I wasn't running a bunch of doubles. Then again, I ran a much more even race last year.

Ah well. I'm not sore and I feel ok. Which is good because tomorrow is the Estes Park Marathon, at 8000 feet.

Should be interesting.

Setup for tomorrow's Marathon to Marathon

Marathon to Marathon is a small, uh, marathon held each summer in Iowa... usually, if not always, the same day as Grandmas. You can guess why it is named this way: it's a point-to-point course from one little town (Storm Lake) to the even smaller town of... wait for it... Marathon, Iowa. It ends at the community center, which is an odd place that consists of the old high school gym, a bathroom, and a couple hallways. The rest of the high school? Torn down. But they left... just... that... much... :)

I ran a 3:45 on this course last year, which is pretty good for me. The course is absolutely pancake flat; it is perhaps the flattest course I have ever run. However, that doesn't mean it is a super turbo fast course. There are a couple significant weather gotchas. For one, it's the middle of June. It could be thunderstormy... which is what it was supposed to be last year, but just stayed humid instead... or it could be H O T. And it is supposed to be H O T tomorrow. The second gotcha is wind. It is always windy here, and this course heads north and east (but not northeast... I'll get to that in a second). If the wind is coming from one of those directions, well, you are in for a very long day. Then again, if the wind is coming from the south and/or west, then that can help balance out the heat. Tomorrow it is supposed to be blowing from the south. I hope this is true, but I got burned last weekend at my race in Port Angeles. We were supposed to get a tailwind, but we got a headwind instead.

So why am I writing this race report the day before the race?

Tomorrow will be my 25th marathon-or-longer of the year. That's an artificial milestone number, but it is a lot in any case, and sometimes I kind of run out of new and cool things to say about races. This part of the US has its charms, and it is pretty in its own way, but there will be no jaw-dropping sights for me to write about afterwards. Corn. And I'm not going for a super PR or a BQ. I won't be writing about how I employed great strategy to win the race either.

So writing comes down to two things at a race like this. And, believe it or not, these are two of the main reasons why I like to travel around to race anyway.

1) I like to meet people at these things. Sometimes it is people I already know... it is a real kick to find someone from Florida at an Iowa race that I previously ran with in New Mexico. Sometimes it is new people. Sometimes I help them with their goals. Sometimes they help me with mine. I may have stories to tell about this. Then again, I may not. Youneverknow.

2) I like to come to places considered "the middle of nowhere". A race gives me a reason to travel to places I otherwise never would have thought about going. The places don't have to have jaw-dropping sights. Most places are unique in some way(s). Collecting little observations is fun.

Tomorrow, I'll add a post with some race stuff (assuming I find internet access).

For now, here are some observations about middle-of-nowhere Iowa.

Roads in Iowa go north-south or east-west. All of them. If where you want to be is diagonal from where you are, forget about going "as the crow flies". You will not utilize the hypotenuse of the triangle. You WILL go over here.... turn... and then go over there. Pythagoras would have an aneurysm.

I managed to hit Okoboji, Iowa (population: very small... SAL-UTE) at 5p. And I got stuck in rush hour traffic. Really. Who knew?

And so I stopped at a convenience store to get a drink. The store was (and is) called KUM & GO. Oh, man. This is a fairly common chain of stores in this part of the country, but it still makes me laugh every time I see one. You have to wonder whether that was an unfortunate choice of names... or completely intentional.



Here's the thing about Okoboji. There is the University of Okoboji Marathon. Fair enough. One of my coolrunning buddies, Aamos, has run that one (winning it last year, and coming in second the year before while managing to almost get lost).

Except for one thing. There isn't really a University of Okoboji. HA. Here is their entrance exam, however.

Later on, I stopped at Taco Johns to eat. Like K&G, Taco Johns is pretty common in these parts too. At this particular Taco Johns, there was a TV for customers to watch... like at a bar. They had the US Open cranked up. I can tell you that televised golf is not improved by cranking it up.

And with that, as I sit in the lovely Super 8 in Storm Lake Iowa, I realize that I need to go to bed. I have to get up at 4:30a. Too bad my body thinks it is 6:30p. Sleep ain't happening.

Besides, the guy across the hall is watching wrestlin'.