I feel like a party pooper adding my race report to the carnage of hot weather reports from the midwest this last weekend. I almost want to apologize for the ideal marathoning conditions for the race I did. Sorry about all the heat in the midwest, that's miserable.
Here's what it was like in St. George.
This was the third time I've raced the St. George Utah marathon. I kind of view it as my personal benchmark, being the biggest race nearby and from my home state even though I'm not there anymore. It definitely helps to run the same course so you can plan, know what to expect, and mentally prepare for the course.
My training had not included the same volume as last year but had been reasonable. The quality was there, and I did have several fairly big weeks in the high 60's, and a time trial 10k I do on the same path every year was a little faster this year. So I went into the race not quite knowing what to expect. I felt I had the speed and lactate threshold type of running qualities through my training to go for a PR, but was worried I'd be risking a crash and burn scenario as the quality and quantity of my 18 plus mile training runs was only about 2/3 what it was last year for the 4 months leading up to the marathon. In the end I decided to go for a PR, but just barely. I'd hit the half about 3 minutes faster than last year and see what happened.
For those of you not familiar with the St. George Utah marathon, I'll give you a quick synopsis of the event, organization, course, etc.
It's capped registration at 6800. It's a lottery to get in, held in the spring. It's a little hard to get to as it's 4.5 hours south of Salt Lake City, and about 2 hours north of Las Vegas, with a small airport in St. George which when I have looked didn't have "cheap" flights to get into. You could, however, do a nice vacation and see the Grand Canyon, Zions Nat'l Park, and many other redrock scenic areas that are close. The weather is almost always perfect every fall. For those finishing in the 3:30 plus times, however, it can get hot some years as it is the desert and typically cool in the morning, getting up to 80-90 by mid-day that time of the year typically. The course is spectacular. You start at 5228 feet in the high desert plain north of St. George. There are some rolling hills, with more down than up for the first 7 miles, you then have a mile of a pretty steep, steady uphill, a bit of a break for 3/4 of a mile, then another moderate uphill, then a last uphill mile getting a bit steep towards the end. By around mile 11 you've done most of the serious climbing other than some rolling hills around mile 16-17, then it's either downhill or flat (mostly downhill). It can trash your legs, but if you train for it appropriately, running lots of hills, including downhills, you can run that elusive negative split marathon. The scenery is amazing. You start in the dark with stars, then catch an amazing sunset over cedar lined hills, reflecting across an open expanse with red and white rock formation vistas. Around mile 14 the sun is up over the edge of the horizon and you turn a corner and start a very steep downhill mile overlooking an amazing canyon of red and white rock crags and crevices. It's called Snow Canyon, and it's stunning. You drop quickly for a mile then come out into the lower desert where it often starts to heat up a bit and you're in full sun the rest of the way. The spectators are very enthusiastic, but only numerous once you hit around mile 23 at the edge of town (although there is one spot at Snow Canyon where people park and it's usually crowded there with a cheering section). The race is extremely organized. It always starts on time, the aid stations are always well staffed and supplied, the medals very nice, the shirts are great designs and colors, the food at the end is great, etc., etc... You do have to get up early however to get bused to the start. Alright, I'll finally get on with my report:
Multiple factors with travel conspired to get me into town about 2 hours later than I had hoped Fri. night. We were driving in around 6:30 PM and the expo is only open until 8 PM, with no race day packet pick-up. I would have liked to have eaten my last meal by 6-6:30, but decided to drop by the expo quick so I didn't miss picking up my number and chip. I was travelling with my wife, a good friend I run with and his wife. We hit the expo, which of course took longer than we planned as we wanted to quickly check out the booths and deals. I bought a couple obligatory pairs of cheap shorts and singlets-- shopping done for another year-- yeah! A couple gels for the race, and we were OTD. We drove around in vain looking for somewhere to eat. Finally we decided to check into the hotel quickly and ask for a nearby italian restaurant. Time kept going by. We hit the restaurant but it was a 30 min. wait to be seated. We left the wives to run to the grocery store for supplies for breakfast. We saw Pizza Factory by the grocery store, went through the line and got some pasta and marinara sauce with breadsticks. Called the wives and let them know we had to eat now to give it time to digest, and we then went back and sat with them as they ate about an hour after that after being seated and ordering. I guess I ate around 8:30 PM, about 2 hours later than I would have liked. Went to bed, felt tired, but stared at the dark celing for a couple hours before I could fall asleep probably eventually around 11-11:30.
The alarm went off way too soon at 4:15 am. I jumped up, showered (force of habit, and the hot water helps me relax race morning). Ate my two Eggo waffles and one banana at 4:30-4:45 AM, 2 hours before race start. Sipped on Gato-rade, drinking about 1/3 to 1/2 of a 32 oz. bottle prior to start at 6:45 AM. Caught a bus at 5:10 AM for the approx. 45 minute ride to the starting line. Tried futiley to sleep on the busride up, with a ski cap on my head, leaned against the vibrating window as we rattled along. It seemed like a long ride, and I kept thinking it was a long way to run back this same route. Eventually the bright white lights of the starting area spotlights and football stadium type lights jarred me from my fitfull, drowsy state. Here we were. Now it was time to try to do the final preparations. I was dressed in a ski hat, light gloves, a thick sweatshirt and sweat pants, with a windbreaker on top (all over my shorts and singlet). I was still cold. Your breath caused steam-- it was around 33-35 degrees. It's really a well organized start. They line a long stretch that parallels the road, on an adjacent dirt flat, with big firewood stacks placed about 25 feet apart, two wide. As runners un-load, a guy with a torch walks around and lights the pre-soaked (in gas or kerosene it looks like) wood and a roaring fire bursts into flames. The fires and groups continue to fill up over the 1-1.5 hours before the race as busses arrive. There are lots of porta potties but still about a 20 minute wait. I head there, wanting to take care of those issues-- always a must before the marathon. Fortunately the timing was good and things seemed clear in that regard after the pit stop. Phew! Then over to hang out by the fire. Soon it's 10 minutes before start. I take my two extra strength Tylenol with a last sip of gatorade, strip off the warm clothing, leave the gloves, and toss my bag into the back of the open U-haul truck collecting bags/clothing. In the dark, it is also nice as you're in the middle of the desert and there are cedar trees right there so if needed, one can make do a very quick, last minute bladder emptying right before race start, which many, many people seem to do if all the crowds walking into the dark edge of the cedars then re-emerging are any indication.
Line up, national anthem, spotlights, nervousness, warm good feeling about the whole event, the country, those who make our freedom possible, etc., they start the wheel chairs, let 5 minutes pass, then a brief runners ready, and BAM! The race is started before I know it.
Mile 1- 6:14. Start a few rows back and just try to find a comfortable pace. It's dark, and it's cold, but it feels great to get running finally. It feels effortless as I glide along in the mass of runners. As always, a few people are dodging and darting and running quickly up around the side of the road to get closer to the front-- I don't understand this, whatever. I slowly pick my way up a bit until I feel it's a nice effort and pace. I actually see a good friend from the other half of my home state who is shooting for a 2:32 and figure this will be the only time to say hello so I briefly surge up just a bit and yell hello, and he waves back and then I let me go on with his pace, and I settle back into mine.
Mile 2- 6:33. Bit of a gradual, 1/2 mile uphill, I settle in with a pack of about 5 women who are obviously shooting for Olympic Qualifier 2:47's, as my plan is to go through the half in 1:23-24. They're a chipper bunch and all encouraging each other to hang tough together throughout the race. They just happen to be at my pace, but I'm not the only man in the pack so I don't feel like a total party crasher.
Mile 3- 6:05. Try to pick up pace slightly to hit 6:20's. Still feels effortless and before I know it I'm passing the mile marker. Take a gatorade and drink about 1/4 of the cup for the calories. Doubt I'm sweating at all. My stomach still feels full and a little queasy, I think from the late night dinner. The breakfast felt a little like I was stuffing myself but I know from past experience to eat the bigger breakfast, and push the calories and fuel early if I can take it, as it will pay dividends later.
Mile 4- 6:05. Uneventful. Cruising along, feeling good. The 2:47 group women all have their own drinks at the aid staions and honestly this seems to be a detriment as they run over to their tables, get their drinks, then catch back up. In other words, it seems they would slow through the aid stations, then speed up, and I would just cruise through and keep pace. I suppose it's personal preference but I don't do well slowing down and speeding up like that.
Mile 5- 6:08. Surprised at how smooth and easy everything feels. It seems the miles are just clicking by and I'm resting practically. Still a good group of around 8-10 runners in a pack. There is a bigger, about 20 person pack about 10 seconds ahead, but no one seems to want to push a little to catch up, so we keep on this pace. Gatorade again, this time about 1/3 a cup. Stomach still feeling a bit full.
Mile 6- 5:51 Fairly steep downhill into the town of Veyo before the uphill stretch. Sun is creeping up, beatiful views. Biggest crowd I've seen in Veyo in the 3 times I've been here. Everyones cheering. First real spectators so that's kind of nice.
Mile 7- 6:34. Steady, pretty steep climb here. I ditch the gloves at the aid station. I take my first gel here, sipping it down slowly starting about 2 min. before I hit the aid station, following it with a half cup water. I didn't want to take this because I still feel full, but stick with my plan (regular gel at mile 7, 1x Caffeine at 13 and 19, 2x Caffeine at 23). Here the race typically sorts out a bit and packs string out. As you climb, there is a big volcano ahead and to the right that you curve past on the road. I don't even worry about splits for these three miles. I just go by feel. Many people have blown the St. George marathon in these three miles. You can't worry about an extra minute or so, you have to save your legs to crank out some speedy miles on the downhills to come. I'm starting to sweat, and as I feel little bits of burning creep in from the steady climbing effort, I back down the pace to just below that, trying to maintain a good rhythm, but not over-exert myself up these hills. It feels like a good solid half marathon effort here and I hold it at that.
Mile 8- 6:36. Avg. of two miles, as I missed a mile marker here: A bit of a reprieve. A flattening and slight undulation down briefly before another hill. I just go easy and try to get some good breathing, recuperating a bit from the steep hill climbing effort. The pack is now all broken up. Most are behind, a couple are ahead, a couple nearby, with everyone basically on their own world here.
Mile 9- 6:36 (avg. split of two mile time). Steady uphill, but not as steep. It had been windless (on weatherunderground it says there was a 5 mph head wind but I hadn't noticed much of anything until this point). Definitely a cold headwind, angling a bit across as well from left to right. Two of the women near me seem to be breathing hard and struggling. I slow just a bit to pull the nearest one along, trying to block wind a bit as I'm feeling good and running well here. I briefly confirm she's shooting for 2:47 and tell her I ran that last year, stating I will be trying to hit just under that this year, hinting to stick with me and I'll try to help pace her through. She falls in a bit, and we catch up to a guy and we fall into a mini pace group. The other woman is struggling and falls back so we move on up through the wind and the hills. Gatorade at aid station.
Mile 10- 6:36. More steady, but not steep uphill here.
Mile 11- 7:00. Last of the uphill, steepens quite a bit the last 1/2 mile here, and coming on top of the uphills before this, it's starting to take its toll. The other years I struggled a bit here and always doubt myself and my pace. This year I feel okay, in fact feel very good, and am amazed. But clearly my pace was a bit slow.
Mile 12- 6:34. Basically flat, trying to re-establish a good turnover and stride, trying to get breathing back into a good rhythm after the slower uphill miles. This is a recovery mile. Gatorade. Wish I hadn't dumped the gloves at mile 7 as my hands got cold by mile 8 and have been freezing ever since, they hurt, but legs feel fine.
Mile 13- 6:42. Catch back up to a one of the people who broke off the original group at the Veyo hill. Pick up another runner. Kind of missed this mile a bit. Starting to feel like I'm racing finally and I guess lost focus, and ran this mile a bit slow. Need to pick it up. Drop the woman I talked to briefly through the hills, she's on her own I guess. Head on with an older runner and what is either a close young friend or his daughter or he's her coach? based on their brief exchange as I run with them. Still holding back a bit as I know it's too soon to start pushing. In this race I always wait until the turn down into Snow Canyon around mile 14.5. The course takes a very steep turn and that's when it's time to just let it go and try to hold on to the finish. Gel #2 with 1x Caffeine.
Half split: 1:24:13--- right on target, feel good about that and know I've got a good shot at a PR if I can keep it together.
Mile 14- 5:51. Finally feel recovered from hills and get legs back, and start to push the pace a bit. Feels like a good solid MP now, not killer, not easy, but a nice solid aerobic effort. Sun finally up enough that hands thawing out and have feeling back.
Mile 15- 5:58. 200 ft. drop this mile, starting to pick up pace. Everyones starting to push a bit and I'm just staying with the small crowd.
Mile 16- 5:39. Here's where it turns down into Snow Canyon. What an incredible vista. I see the familiar curve dropping down around the corner and know it's race time. My goal is to not let anyone pass me from here on out. Forget the splits, forget everything, just hold it together and run fast. Hit this hill hard and hold my speed out onto the flats. I take two Ibuprofen gel caps. From past experience, one of the rate limiting factors by mile 23-24 is the pain in the calves from the downhill. This will be absorbed and take the edge off I hope. There is a very hard headwind here. Even though it's steep and downhill, I can't fly like I'd like because of the stiff breeze. Another guy catches me and comments how distressing this suddenly gusting wind is. We start to work together a bit.
Mile 17- 5:56. Part of this mile is downhill through the canyon. Then it opens up into the lower desert terrain. Suddenly it feels like full sun and I'm starting to warm up. It feels okay though as it's been cold. The next few miles stretch out before you here and you can see the rolling hills leading into town. The packs are all broken up here and everyones on their own. I was running side by side here with one of the early group who talked with her coach or dad or friend briefly earlier. She's pushed to stay with me and seems to be running strong. The wind dies as suddenly as it came on-- thank you! The girl and the guy decide to push the pace a little bit more and forge ahead. I'm okay with this, despite not wanting to fall behind anyone at this point in the race. I'm still concerned about my base and decide it might be foolhardy to over reach, so I hold my pace, which feels strong and hard.
Mile 18- 6:07-8. Avg. of two mile split. Curving, winding, in open with sagebrush and sand. No spectators, just St. George way off in the distance, my breathing, my feet keeping a nice rhythm on the pavement. I'm getting a bit warm. (It was only low 50's but the sun, the sand, and the effort and I feel a bit warm). I start to feel a tightening in my right hamstring on a little downhill here. I have flashbacks of marathon #2, when out of the blue that same hamstring became a knot within seconds at mile 22.5, bringing me to a screeching halt to stretch it out, walk it off, and struggle through the last 4 at a slow pace, if pushed one Newton of force faster, ratcheting the knot tight again. Hoping that won't happen, but nothing I can do but hold pace and try to relax.
Mile 19- 6:07-8. More of the same. Still feel right hamstring as a little tight, but holding in there. Starting to feel the effort more and more with each passing mile. But don't feel awful and know I'm now under an hour left to run. I grab an orange slice at the aid station as I go through, hoping for a few potassium molecules to be absorbed and get to that hamstring-- I guess it's worth hoping. Feeling a bit of a stomach cramp, but not terrible. I take a 1x Caffeine gel here. I don't feel like it but again, have made this mistake in the past and I force it down. I feel a bit nauseous, but push on, holding pace.
Mile 20- 6:29. A few rolling uphills in succession. One a little steep, but short. It actually feels good, stretching my calves out a bit. It's a newly paved road here since last year. Nice! It feels nice on the soft, smooth clean and brightly painted asphault. That's a wierd thing to be excited about, but that is what was on my mind. I know I just need to push through these few hills and hold pace then it's a cruiser until town and the last 5k. It's definitely getting hard now. I tell myself to run strong, than I'm almost to the 10k left mark, and I'll see my wife at around mile 22-23, and I want to run strong and fast past her, so keep it up at least until then. The last couple miles a guy has caught me and been very strong. Now I'm in full don't let anyone pass me mode and have struggled, but stayed with him. He's one of these run hard, stop quickly at aid station, then run on guys so I keep passing him, only to be caught back up to, etc. through a couple aid stations in these rough stretches. We pass a few people fading here, but it's quite thin here and I'm not passing people a lot like I was last year here (that 3 min. faster on the half put me up with a faster group of runners).
Mile 21--5:41. A very steep downhill here for about 1/2 mile. Pain!... but fast. I'm just clobbering my legs here, but I know I'm within 10k and my time is looking good so I push on. The guy that was with me speeds up even more. I just can't hang on. I'm a little disgusted with myself, but still leery of a crash, and know that 1 minute could cost me 10 if I'm not careful as I feel I'm teetering here. I'm in that zone now that I hit in the last few miles of a long run done on empty (no caloric intake, just water), trying to push through a fast finish. I feel bad, and exhausted, but can keep the legs turning over.
Mile 22- 6:14. Hold on until the next aid station. Catch a woman I haven't seen all race. I go to pass but she bucks up and hits stride with me. I've passed a couple people in the last couple miles who have crashed and burned, either walking or stretching out cramps. I'm passing a few people, and no one is catching or passing, so I keep pushing. I'm struggling so decide to take a minute to count my turnover rate. 92. Okay, 1 minute passed, keep running.
Mile 23- 6:05. Another downhill, and I keep the legs turning over. Miles are clicking by and I'm in a fog, but know I'm getting close. Now I'm starting to check watch, thinking about total time, how much time left to run if I keep "x" pace. Am determined to not have any miles under 6:20 (goal) pace. Start to feel cramping in calves, oh well. Keep it rolling. Gatorade at aid station. Dump a cup of water on my head, feels good. Scrap the plan for the gel here. I'm feeling nauseated and doubt much will be absorbed before I finish. Just hang on to the finish. Just a 5k! 20 minutes or less left if I can just keep going. The negative thoughts are creeping in, but having been there, done that, and know to fight through them, realizing it is worth the pain at this point rather than the regret later. The green singlet woman starts to fade and this actually gives me a lift, making me feel stronger. I encourage her as I start to pull away, and tell her "come on, don't let me drop you! Let's go!" She picks up the pace and stays right behind me. I pass my wife. Yeah! She and my friends husband are cheering wildly. I manage a sick grin and a double thumbs up for the camera, along with a weak wave. We're hitting town in earnest now and here are the crowds.
Mile 24- 6:20. Passing all the crowds gives me a lift here at the 24 mile marker. There are two guys about 15 seconds ahead, and me and the green singlet woman single file here. The crowd is cheering loudly. We turn off of the long straightaway for the last winding couple miles through town. There is a bank of misters here that I run through that feel great. Someone yells my name and I see a good friend and the husband of a very talented masters woman, who takes 3rd in masters womens that day. I am really feeling awful all of a sudden. It's pancake flat here and I'm just trying to turn them over. Suddenly that awful wave of nausea, pain, and negativism starts to overwhelm me. I was low on glycogen before, but this is "the wall". The desire to stop pushing, to slow down, it's too much. I glance at my watch and know that if I mail it in and run a couple 8 min. miles here I'll still post a very respectable time and be happy, all things considering. The green singlet woman passes by, and leaves a passing "let's go, come on!" as she goes by. It pulls me out of my chasm of misery briefly, somehow penetrating the black thoughts blinding my mind to my hearts aspirations. I think push back the thoughts of failure, and giving in to the pain, and decide to just do one minute of counting my strides, trying to hit that magic 90. I focus on my breathing, counting my strides. I pass an aid station but nothing sounds good so I toss a cup of water over my head after taking a minute sip. I hit 92 again. And I'm able to pull myself back from the brink of "give up land" into the land of struggling, fighting, focusing until the finish. The job is NOT done yet I say. I think a couple people might have passed me here, I vaguely recall being discouraged about that but couldn't reel them in.
Mile 25- 6:23. It seems like the guys in front are speeding up. I don't even know what happened but somehow the green singlet woman that had passed me and encouraged me is now behind me again. Whatever. I like the band playing. I like the tree lined street with a little shade for the first time. I'm thinking I can reel in the guy about 10 seconds ahead of me. Just get a bit closer and I'll leave everything on the table the last 800 and take him there. Apparently, he's thinking the same thing about the guy 10 sec. ahead of him and he surges a bit. I try, but falter and can't hang with him. There's absolutely nothing left in the tank. Two more turns, then the finishing stretch. Pass a band playing Eye of the Tiger. I get that last little surge of Epinephrine and get into that angry, hyped up mode where I'm yelling at myself to come on, just go! My mind is the proverbial jockey's whip to my legs and heart at this point as I come 'down the stretch'. Nonetheless, I won't catch the horses ahead of me and I resolve to just try to keep the legs going for "one more mile!"
Mile 26- 6:17. It felt like everyone was speeding up and I was struggling just to keep from falling further behind the guy ahead. I knew I had no chance of catching him, but I was trying not to lose sight as he turned the last two corners. I came around the corner to the finishing stretch. I saw the orange spectator barriers off in the distance. You can't quite see the clock or the finish line here, just the barricades along the last 400 or so. There are large crowds here, loud music, and it's all a blur to me. I'm almost done! About half way down the stretch, I sense someone coming from behind and I take a brief peek back. It seems there is someone closing fast, and I'm fading. My calves go into complete knots as I try to pick up the pace. Agony. I don't care, I've come this far, I'm not letting anyone pass me in the finishing stretch darnit! Everything feels wobbly but I push to put some distance between us and am successful. I fall back into pace and he charges again. Again, I give it everything I have and keep him at bay. I can't imagine what my form looks like. The knots in both calves are such that I think I'm running on my tippy toes because they won't relax to let my heels down. Now I'm within 200 yds. and he makes a last surge, and once again I counter a last time and am able to hold him at bay. I don't even see the time as I cross the line as I was so focused on not getting passed. I cross, stop my watch, and start to walk. Suddenly I feel like rubber, waves of nausea combined with dizziness and blackness surge over me. I see the marines and think uh oh, I'm going to need their services as I begin to stumble and fall forward. Two strong soldiers grab me and support me-- this is a terrible re-run of last year. I try to relax and get some strength back as they hold me up. Again the legs go and I start to crumple down but they hold me up. I give up and just let them fully support me for a second as I breath and lower my head a bit. They start walking me to the med tent but after about 15 seconds I start to feel stronger and finally waive them off after a hearty thanks for the good catch. I see my wife over past the chutes and go give her a great big hug. I'm totally spent yet feel an overwhelming sense of joy and gratitude that I was blessed to hold it together for all 26.2 and perform at what I felt was the absolute best possible for my current conditioning and training. And thankfully the weather cooperated as well.
Finish time: 2:44:xx, almost exactly 3 minutes better than last year!
Sorry for the novel. I use these as journal entries to record my races and like to go back and learn from them-- thus the blow by blow painfully exhaustive treatise.
Last .2- 1:25:58 (6:40 pace)
Here's what it was like in St. George.
This was the third time I've raced the St. George Utah marathon. I kind of view it as my personal benchmark, being the biggest race nearby and from my home state even though I'm not there anymore. It definitely helps to run the same course so you can plan, know what to expect, and mentally prepare for the course.
My training had not included the same volume as last year but had been reasonable. The quality was there, and I did have several fairly big weeks in the high 60's, and a time trial 10k I do on the same path every year was a little faster this year. So I went into the race not quite knowing what to expect. I felt I had the speed and lactate threshold type of running qualities through my training to go for a PR, but was worried I'd be risking a crash and burn scenario as the quality and quantity of my 18 plus mile training runs was only about 2/3 what it was last year for the 4 months leading up to the marathon. In the end I decided to go for a PR, but just barely. I'd hit the half about 3 minutes faster than last year and see what happened.
For those of you not familiar with the St. George Utah marathon, I'll give you a quick synopsis of the event, organization, course, etc.
It's capped registration at 6800. It's a lottery to get in, held in the spring. It's a little hard to get to as it's 4.5 hours south of Salt Lake City, and about 2 hours north of Las Vegas, with a small airport in St. George which when I have looked didn't have "cheap" flights to get into. You could, however, do a nice vacation and see the Grand Canyon, Zions Nat'l Park, and many other redrock scenic areas that are close. The weather is almost always perfect every fall. For those finishing in the 3:30 plus times, however, it can get hot some years as it is the desert and typically cool in the morning, getting up to 80-90 by mid-day that time of the year typically. The course is spectacular. You start at 5228 feet in the high desert plain north of St. George. There are some rolling hills, with more down than up for the first 7 miles, you then have a mile of a pretty steep, steady uphill, a bit of a break for 3/4 of a mile, then another moderate uphill, then a last uphill mile getting a bit steep towards the end. By around mile 11 you've done most of the serious climbing other than some rolling hills around mile 16-17, then it's either downhill or flat (mostly downhill). It can trash your legs, but if you train for it appropriately, running lots of hills, including downhills, you can run that elusive negative split marathon. The scenery is amazing. You start in the dark with stars, then catch an amazing sunset over cedar lined hills, reflecting across an open expanse with red and white rock formation vistas. Around mile 14 the sun is up over the edge of the horizon and you turn a corner and start a very steep downhill mile overlooking an amazing canyon of red and white rock crags and crevices. It's called Snow Canyon, and it's stunning. You drop quickly for a mile then come out into the lower desert where it often starts to heat up a bit and you're in full sun the rest of the way. The spectators are very enthusiastic, but only numerous once you hit around mile 23 at the edge of town (although there is one spot at Snow Canyon where people park and it's usually crowded there with a cheering section). The race is extremely organized. It always starts on time, the aid stations are always well staffed and supplied, the medals very nice, the shirts are great designs and colors, the food at the end is great, etc., etc... You do have to get up early however to get bused to the start. Alright, I'll finally get on with my report:
Multiple factors with travel conspired to get me into town about 2 hours later than I had hoped Fri. night. We were driving in around 6:30 PM and the expo is only open until 8 PM, with no race day packet pick-up. I would have liked to have eaten my last meal by 6-6:30, but decided to drop by the expo quick so I didn't miss picking up my number and chip. I was travelling with my wife, a good friend I run with and his wife. We hit the expo, which of course took longer than we planned as we wanted to quickly check out the booths and deals. I bought a couple obligatory pairs of cheap shorts and singlets-- shopping done for another year-- yeah! A couple gels for the race, and we were OTD. We drove around in vain looking for somewhere to eat. Finally we decided to check into the hotel quickly and ask for a nearby italian restaurant. Time kept going by. We hit the restaurant but it was a 30 min. wait to be seated. We left the wives to run to the grocery store for supplies for breakfast. We saw Pizza Factory by the grocery store, went through the line and got some pasta and marinara sauce with breadsticks. Called the wives and let them know we had to eat now to give it time to digest, and we then went back and sat with them as they ate about an hour after that after being seated and ordering. I guess I ate around 8:30 PM, about 2 hours later than I would have liked. Went to bed, felt tired, but stared at the dark celing for a couple hours before I could fall asleep probably eventually around 11-11:30.
The alarm went off way too soon at 4:15 am. I jumped up, showered (force of habit, and the hot water helps me relax race morning). Ate my two Eggo waffles and one banana at 4:30-4:45 AM, 2 hours before race start. Sipped on Gato-rade, drinking about 1/3 to 1/2 of a 32 oz. bottle prior to start at 6:45 AM. Caught a bus at 5:10 AM for the approx. 45 minute ride to the starting line. Tried futiley to sleep on the busride up, with a ski cap on my head, leaned against the vibrating window as we rattled along. It seemed like a long ride, and I kept thinking it was a long way to run back this same route. Eventually the bright white lights of the starting area spotlights and football stadium type lights jarred me from my fitfull, drowsy state. Here we were. Now it was time to try to do the final preparations. I was dressed in a ski hat, light gloves, a thick sweatshirt and sweat pants, with a windbreaker on top (all over my shorts and singlet). I was still cold. Your breath caused steam-- it was around 33-35 degrees. It's really a well organized start. They line a long stretch that parallels the road, on an adjacent dirt flat, with big firewood stacks placed about 25 feet apart, two wide. As runners un-load, a guy with a torch walks around and lights the pre-soaked (in gas or kerosene it looks like) wood and a roaring fire bursts into flames. The fires and groups continue to fill up over the 1-1.5 hours before the race as busses arrive. There are lots of porta potties but still about a 20 minute wait. I head there, wanting to take care of those issues-- always a must before the marathon. Fortunately the timing was good and things seemed clear in that regard after the pit stop. Phew! Then over to hang out by the fire. Soon it's 10 minutes before start. I take my two extra strength Tylenol with a last sip of gatorade, strip off the warm clothing, leave the gloves, and toss my bag into the back of the open U-haul truck collecting bags/clothing. In the dark, it is also nice as you're in the middle of the desert and there are cedar trees right there so if needed, one can make do a very quick, last minute bladder emptying right before race start, which many, many people seem to do if all the crowds walking into the dark edge of the cedars then re-emerging are any indication.
Line up, national anthem, spotlights, nervousness, warm good feeling about the whole event, the country, those who make our freedom possible, etc., they start the wheel chairs, let 5 minutes pass, then a brief runners ready, and BAM! The race is started before I know it.
Mile 1- 6:14. Start a few rows back and just try to find a comfortable pace. It's dark, and it's cold, but it feels great to get running finally. It feels effortless as I glide along in the mass of runners. As always, a few people are dodging and darting and running quickly up around the side of the road to get closer to the front-- I don't understand this, whatever. I slowly pick my way up a bit until I feel it's a nice effort and pace. I actually see a good friend from the other half of my home state who is shooting for a 2:32 and figure this will be the only time to say hello so I briefly surge up just a bit and yell hello, and he waves back and then I let me go on with his pace, and I settle back into mine.
Mile 2- 6:33. Bit of a gradual, 1/2 mile uphill, I settle in with a pack of about 5 women who are obviously shooting for Olympic Qualifier 2:47's, as my plan is to go through the half in 1:23-24. They're a chipper bunch and all encouraging each other to hang tough together throughout the race. They just happen to be at my pace, but I'm not the only man in the pack so I don't feel like a total party crasher.
Mile 3- 6:05. Try to pick up pace slightly to hit 6:20's. Still feels effortless and before I know it I'm passing the mile marker. Take a gatorade and drink about 1/4 of the cup for the calories. Doubt I'm sweating at all. My stomach still feels full and a little queasy, I think from the late night dinner. The breakfast felt a little like I was stuffing myself but I know from past experience to eat the bigger breakfast, and push the calories and fuel early if I can take it, as it will pay dividends later.
Mile 4- 6:05. Uneventful. Cruising along, feeling good. The 2:47 group women all have their own drinks at the aid staions and honestly this seems to be a detriment as they run over to their tables, get their drinks, then catch back up. In other words, it seems they would slow through the aid stations, then speed up, and I would just cruise through and keep pace. I suppose it's personal preference but I don't do well slowing down and speeding up like that.
Mile 5- 6:08. Surprised at how smooth and easy everything feels. It seems the miles are just clicking by and I'm resting practically. Still a good group of around 8-10 runners in a pack. There is a bigger, about 20 person pack about 10 seconds ahead, but no one seems to want to push a little to catch up, so we keep on this pace. Gatorade again, this time about 1/3 a cup. Stomach still feeling a bit full.
Mile 6- 5:51 Fairly steep downhill into the town of Veyo before the uphill stretch. Sun is creeping up, beatiful views. Biggest crowd I've seen in Veyo in the 3 times I've been here. Everyones cheering. First real spectators so that's kind of nice.
Mile 7- 6:34. Steady, pretty steep climb here. I ditch the gloves at the aid station. I take my first gel here, sipping it down slowly starting about 2 min. before I hit the aid station, following it with a half cup water. I didn't want to take this because I still feel full, but stick with my plan (regular gel at mile 7, 1x Caffeine at 13 and 19, 2x Caffeine at 23). Here the race typically sorts out a bit and packs string out. As you climb, there is a big volcano ahead and to the right that you curve past on the road. I don't even worry about splits for these three miles. I just go by feel. Many people have blown the St. George marathon in these three miles. You can't worry about an extra minute or so, you have to save your legs to crank out some speedy miles on the downhills to come. I'm starting to sweat, and as I feel little bits of burning creep in from the steady climbing effort, I back down the pace to just below that, trying to maintain a good rhythm, but not over-exert myself up these hills. It feels like a good solid half marathon effort here and I hold it at that.
Mile 8- 6:36. Avg. of two miles, as I missed a mile marker here: A bit of a reprieve. A flattening and slight undulation down briefly before another hill. I just go easy and try to get some good breathing, recuperating a bit from the steep hill climbing effort. The pack is now all broken up. Most are behind, a couple are ahead, a couple nearby, with everyone basically on their own world here.
Mile 9- 6:36 (avg. split of two mile time). Steady uphill, but not as steep. It had been windless (on weatherunderground it says there was a 5 mph head wind but I hadn't noticed much of anything until this point). Definitely a cold headwind, angling a bit across as well from left to right. Two of the women near me seem to be breathing hard and struggling. I slow just a bit to pull the nearest one along, trying to block wind a bit as I'm feeling good and running well here. I briefly confirm she's shooting for 2:47 and tell her I ran that last year, stating I will be trying to hit just under that this year, hinting to stick with me and I'll try to help pace her through. She falls in a bit, and we catch up to a guy and we fall into a mini pace group. The other woman is struggling and falls back so we move on up through the wind and the hills. Gatorade at aid station.
Mile 10- 6:36. More steady, but not steep uphill here.
Mile 11- 7:00. Last of the uphill, steepens quite a bit the last 1/2 mile here, and coming on top of the uphills before this, it's starting to take its toll. The other years I struggled a bit here and always doubt myself and my pace. This year I feel okay, in fact feel very good, and am amazed. But clearly my pace was a bit slow.
Mile 12- 6:34. Basically flat, trying to re-establish a good turnover and stride, trying to get breathing back into a good rhythm after the slower uphill miles. This is a recovery mile. Gatorade. Wish I hadn't dumped the gloves at mile 7 as my hands got cold by mile 8 and have been freezing ever since, they hurt, but legs feel fine.
Mile 13- 6:42. Catch back up to a one of the people who broke off the original group at the Veyo hill. Pick up another runner. Kind of missed this mile a bit. Starting to feel like I'm racing finally and I guess lost focus, and ran this mile a bit slow. Need to pick it up. Drop the woman I talked to briefly through the hills, she's on her own I guess. Head on with an older runner and what is either a close young friend or his daughter or he's her coach? based on their brief exchange as I run with them. Still holding back a bit as I know it's too soon to start pushing. In this race I always wait until the turn down into Snow Canyon around mile 14.5. The course takes a very steep turn and that's when it's time to just let it go and try to hold on to the finish. Gel #2 with 1x Caffeine.
Half split: 1:24:13--- right on target, feel good about that and know I've got a good shot at a PR if I can keep it together.
Mile 14- 5:51. Finally feel recovered from hills and get legs back, and start to push the pace a bit. Feels like a good solid MP now, not killer, not easy, but a nice solid aerobic effort. Sun finally up enough that hands thawing out and have feeling back.
Mile 15- 5:58. 200 ft. drop this mile, starting to pick up pace. Everyones starting to push a bit and I'm just staying with the small crowd.
Mile 16- 5:39. Here's where it turns down into Snow Canyon. What an incredible vista. I see the familiar curve dropping down around the corner and know it's race time. My goal is to not let anyone pass me from here on out. Forget the splits, forget everything, just hold it together and run fast. Hit this hill hard and hold my speed out onto the flats. I take two Ibuprofen gel caps. From past experience, one of the rate limiting factors by mile 23-24 is the pain in the calves from the downhill. This will be absorbed and take the edge off I hope. There is a very hard headwind here. Even though it's steep and downhill, I can't fly like I'd like because of the stiff breeze. Another guy catches me and comments how distressing this suddenly gusting wind is. We start to work together a bit.
Mile 17- 5:56. Part of this mile is downhill through the canyon. Then it opens up into the lower desert terrain. Suddenly it feels like full sun and I'm starting to warm up. It feels okay though as it's been cold. The next few miles stretch out before you here and you can see the rolling hills leading into town. The packs are all broken up here and everyones on their own. I was running side by side here with one of the early group who talked with her coach or dad or friend briefly earlier. She's pushed to stay with me and seems to be running strong. The wind dies as suddenly as it came on-- thank you! The girl and the guy decide to push the pace a little bit more and forge ahead. I'm okay with this, despite not wanting to fall behind anyone at this point in the race. I'm still concerned about my base and decide it might be foolhardy to over reach, so I hold my pace, which feels strong and hard.
Mile 18- 6:07-8. Avg. of two mile split. Curving, winding, in open with sagebrush and sand. No spectators, just St. George way off in the distance, my breathing, my feet keeping a nice rhythm on the pavement. I'm getting a bit warm. (It was only low 50's but the sun, the sand, and the effort and I feel a bit warm). I start to feel a tightening in my right hamstring on a little downhill here. I have flashbacks of marathon #2, when out of the blue that same hamstring became a knot within seconds at mile 22.5, bringing me to a screeching halt to stretch it out, walk it off, and struggle through the last 4 at a slow pace, if pushed one Newton of force faster, ratcheting the knot tight again. Hoping that won't happen, but nothing I can do but hold pace and try to relax.
Mile 19- 6:07-8. More of the same. Still feel right hamstring as a little tight, but holding in there. Starting to feel the effort more and more with each passing mile. But don't feel awful and know I'm now under an hour left to run. I grab an orange slice at the aid station as I go through, hoping for a few potassium molecules to be absorbed and get to that hamstring-- I guess it's worth hoping. Feeling a bit of a stomach cramp, but not terrible. I take a 1x Caffeine gel here. I don't feel like it but again, have made this mistake in the past and I force it down. I feel a bit nauseous, but push on, holding pace.
Mile 20- 6:29. A few rolling uphills in succession. One a little steep, but short. It actually feels good, stretching my calves out a bit. It's a newly paved road here since last year. Nice! It feels nice on the soft, smooth clean and brightly painted asphault. That's a wierd thing to be excited about, but that is what was on my mind. I know I just need to push through these few hills and hold pace then it's a cruiser until town and the last 5k. It's definitely getting hard now. I tell myself to run strong, than I'm almost to the 10k left mark, and I'll see my wife at around mile 22-23, and I want to run strong and fast past her, so keep it up at least until then. The last couple miles a guy has caught me and been very strong. Now I'm in full don't let anyone pass me mode and have struggled, but stayed with him. He's one of these run hard, stop quickly at aid station, then run on guys so I keep passing him, only to be caught back up to, etc. through a couple aid stations in these rough stretches. We pass a few people fading here, but it's quite thin here and I'm not passing people a lot like I was last year here (that 3 min. faster on the half put me up with a faster group of runners).
Mile 21--5:41. A very steep downhill here for about 1/2 mile. Pain!... but fast. I'm just clobbering my legs here, but I know I'm within 10k and my time is looking good so I push on. The guy that was with me speeds up even more. I just can't hang on. I'm a little disgusted with myself, but still leery of a crash, and know that 1 minute could cost me 10 if I'm not careful as I feel I'm teetering here. I'm in that zone now that I hit in the last few miles of a long run done on empty (no caloric intake, just water), trying to push through a fast finish. I feel bad, and exhausted, but can keep the legs turning over.
Mile 22- 6:14. Hold on until the next aid station. Catch a woman I haven't seen all race. I go to pass but she bucks up and hits stride with me. I've passed a couple people in the last couple miles who have crashed and burned, either walking or stretching out cramps. I'm passing a few people, and no one is catching or passing, so I keep pushing. I'm struggling so decide to take a minute to count my turnover rate. 92. Okay, 1 minute passed, keep running.
Mile 23- 6:05. Another downhill, and I keep the legs turning over. Miles are clicking by and I'm in a fog, but know I'm getting close. Now I'm starting to check watch, thinking about total time, how much time left to run if I keep "x" pace. Am determined to not have any miles under 6:20 (goal) pace. Start to feel cramping in calves, oh well. Keep it rolling. Gatorade at aid station. Dump a cup of water on my head, feels good. Scrap the plan for the gel here. I'm feeling nauseated and doubt much will be absorbed before I finish. Just hang on to the finish. Just a 5k! 20 minutes or less left if I can just keep going. The negative thoughts are creeping in, but having been there, done that, and know to fight through them, realizing it is worth the pain at this point rather than the regret later. The green singlet woman starts to fade and this actually gives me a lift, making me feel stronger. I encourage her as I start to pull away, and tell her "come on, don't let me drop you! Let's go!" She picks up the pace and stays right behind me. I pass my wife. Yeah! She and my friends husband are cheering wildly. I manage a sick grin and a double thumbs up for the camera, along with a weak wave. We're hitting town in earnest now and here are the crowds.
Mile 24- 6:20. Passing all the crowds gives me a lift here at the 24 mile marker. There are two guys about 15 seconds ahead, and me and the green singlet woman single file here. The crowd is cheering loudly. We turn off of the long straightaway for the last winding couple miles through town. There is a bank of misters here that I run through that feel great. Someone yells my name and I see a good friend and the husband of a very talented masters woman, who takes 3rd in masters womens that day. I am really feeling awful all of a sudden. It's pancake flat here and I'm just trying to turn them over. Suddenly that awful wave of nausea, pain, and negativism starts to overwhelm me. I was low on glycogen before, but this is "the wall". The desire to stop pushing, to slow down, it's too much. I glance at my watch and know that if I mail it in and run a couple 8 min. miles here I'll still post a very respectable time and be happy, all things considering. The green singlet woman passes by, and leaves a passing "let's go, come on!" as she goes by. It pulls me out of my chasm of misery briefly, somehow penetrating the black thoughts blinding my mind to my hearts aspirations. I think push back the thoughts of failure, and giving in to the pain, and decide to just do one minute of counting my strides, trying to hit that magic 90. I focus on my breathing, counting my strides. I pass an aid station but nothing sounds good so I toss a cup of water over my head after taking a minute sip. I hit 92 again. And I'm able to pull myself back from the brink of "give up land" into the land of struggling, fighting, focusing until the finish. The job is NOT done yet I say. I think a couple people might have passed me here, I vaguely recall being discouraged about that but couldn't reel them in.
Mile 25- 6:23. It seems like the guys in front are speeding up. I don't even know what happened but somehow the green singlet woman that had passed me and encouraged me is now behind me again. Whatever. I like the band playing. I like the tree lined street with a little shade for the first time. I'm thinking I can reel in the guy about 10 seconds ahead of me. Just get a bit closer and I'll leave everything on the table the last 800 and take him there. Apparently, he's thinking the same thing about the guy 10 sec. ahead of him and he surges a bit. I try, but falter and can't hang with him. There's absolutely nothing left in the tank. Two more turns, then the finishing stretch. Pass a band playing Eye of the Tiger. I get that last little surge of Epinephrine and get into that angry, hyped up mode where I'm yelling at myself to come on, just go! My mind is the proverbial jockey's whip to my legs and heart at this point as I come 'down the stretch'. Nonetheless, I won't catch the horses ahead of me and I resolve to just try to keep the legs going for "one more mile!"
Mile 26- 6:17. It felt like everyone was speeding up and I was struggling just to keep from falling further behind the guy ahead. I knew I had no chance of catching him, but I was trying not to lose sight as he turned the last two corners. I came around the corner to the finishing stretch. I saw the orange spectator barriers off in the distance. You can't quite see the clock or the finish line here, just the barricades along the last 400 or so. There are large crowds here, loud music, and it's all a blur to me. I'm almost done! About half way down the stretch, I sense someone coming from behind and I take a brief peek back. It seems there is someone closing fast, and I'm fading. My calves go into complete knots as I try to pick up the pace. Agony. I don't care, I've come this far, I'm not letting anyone pass me in the finishing stretch darnit! Everything feels wobbly but I push to put some distance between us and am successful. I fall back into pace and he charges again. Again, I give it everything I have and keep him at bay. I can't imagine what my form looks like. The knots in both calves are such that I think I'm running on my tippy toes because they won't relax to let my heels down. Now I'm within 200 yds. and he makes a last surge, and once again I counter a last time and am able to hold him at bay. I don't even see the time as I cross the line as I was so focused on not getting passed. I cross, stop my watch, and start to walk. Suddenly I feel like rubber, waves of nausea combined with dizziness and blackness surge over me. I see the marines and think uh oh, I'm going to need their services as I begin to stumble and fall forward. Two strong soldiers grab me and support me-- this is a terrible re-run of last year. I try to relax and get some strength back as they hold me up. Again the legs go and I start to crumple down but they hold me up. I give up and just let them fully support me for a second as I breath and lower my head a bit. They start walking me to the med tent but after about 15 seconds I start to feel stronger and finally waive them off after a hearty thanks for the good catch. I see my wife over past the chutes and go give her a great big hug. I'm totally spent yet feel an overwhelming sense of joy and gratitude that I was blessed to hold it together for all 26.2 and perform at what I felt was the absolute best possible for my current conditioning and training. And thankfully the weather cooperated as well.
Finish time: 2:44:xx, almost exactly 3 minutes better than last year!
Sorry for the novel. I use these as journal entries to record my races and like to go back and learn from them-- thus the blow by blow painfully exhaustive treatise.
Last .2- 1:25:58 (6:40 pace)
