Race
Report from Greg McDowell:
Wanna hear a long story?
May and I had a nice visit with one of her youngest sisters (Leslie
is a twin), her husband Rob and their twin 10 year olds (Tavi and
Jon). We arrived in Albuquerque Friday (still a.m.) and rented a car
for the day since Leslie and Rob are both high school teachers and
busy till afternoon.
I tested my calf again, after having run little the previous week.
Once again, it began to tighten up after a mile or so. Saturday we
went to Old Town, near the race finish, after dropping off the rental
car at the airport. May asked the chair massage person at the racepack
pickup hall to give my calf some attention, and after 5 minutes, I
felt some relief. Optimism renewed.
With a 5:30 a.m. start on Sunday, which would follow a 40 minute drive,
a 2:30 wake-up was necessary. We were on the road shortly after 4:15
and arrived at the start in plenty of time, along with about 300 runners.
I found a seat on the grocery store sidewalk and we mingled with runners,
finding some we had previously met in Williamson, WV (Hatfield-McCoy)
in mid-June. Many of the folks you meet at smaller marathons are making
the rounds, completing their 50 states (this would be my 8th). We
took pictures of each other and listened to stories of previous and
future marathons, of course.
The start couldn't come soon enough, as I tired of sitting, wondering
how I would hold up. We walked 50 yards to the start, still in the
(very) dark. After the playing of the national anthem, we took off.
I started near the back of the pack and began very conservatively,
about 11 min/mi. In the past 10 days, I had not run more than 10 minutes
without stopping. This day, I would make it 2 miles before taking
a walk break. I was trying to get a bottle of Accelerade down for
a couple of reasons. First, it was quite humid, despite relatively
low temperatures in the 60s. Second, I was carrying two bottles so
I was anxious to drop one, as I'm more accustomed to carrying just
one bottle for many miles.
After 3 miles, the leg cramped but not badly. I stopped and massaged
it a bit and then resumed running. Not bad. I can do this. After 5
miles, the incline was noticeable. In round numbers, we started at
5400 ft. elevation and would climb past 6100 at mile 8, before descending
1000 feet. I was also sweating profusely due to the humidity. And
the sun began to come up. It was overcast, we wouldn't see much of
the sun, but the lightening sky confirmed the schedule. At mile 6,
I stopped to massage the complaining calf once again and then jog-walked
a couple of miles because it seemed counter-productive to push too
hard up the remaining incline. Some folks were noting a lack of oxygen.
I just thought I was out of shape, having run so little since my 20
miler of 3 weeks ago (and San Fran half 4 weeks ago). At 8 miles we
turned west. The sun (if it peeked from the clouds) would shine on
our backs as we ran downhill. Between 8 and 10 miles, I forgot about
my calf, only concerned to not run too fast and pound my quads. My
pace quickened to about 9 min/mi, although I knew my average was still
10:40.
Mile 11 - downhill
I had not texted May until mile 6, and she confirmed that she and
Leslie would meet me between 12 and 13, as planned. I would obtain
provisions (Gu, G2, etc.), make an equipment check (change socks,
shoes if necessary), unload a hat and take on sunglasses.
Fresh
socks and a lube job
I was running so smoothly
at 12.5, I was almost sorry to see them. But it seemed a good time
to sit and prepare for the "longer half." I didn't suspect
just how long that second half would be. May walked 50 yards with
me and then I resumed my run, feeling pretty good with fresh socks,
freshly applied vaseline and a new bottle of G2. I passed 13.1 in
2:19. Quite conservative. Maybe that would bode well.
It didn't. At precisely mile 14, my calf clenched up. I sat and tried
to relieve it and it wouldn't stop. I walked, hoping. I tried to jog
- 2 steps and then NO! I walked some more. Surely, I could find relief
and not have to walk 12 miles. Not sure I'd ever walked that much
in my life. And how long would that take? There was a 6 hour course
limit, shorter than most.
After texting May, and estimating my arrival time at mile 18, I tried
many forms of walking. I found I could race-walk at about 4.5 mph
(thanks to my Garmin GPS), compared to a leisurely stroll of 3 to
3.6 mph. But race-walking quickly tired my arms. I tried a modified
jog where I landed on my left heel. I could reach 5 mph or more, but
my right hip began to throb, so that didn't hold much long-term promise.
And I realized that gaining a single mph or so could lessen the chances
I could complete this endeavor. If my hopes had dimmed at mile 5 or
10, I might have decided it was a good day for a half-marathon. But
I didn't really give up hope of running until I reached mile 16 or
so, and then it was "only" 10 to go. But a 3 hour walk was
not in my original plan. Even that would require a consistent 15 min/mi.
pace.
May and Leslie met me at about 17.5 and walked with me till mile 18.
They encouraged me, and thankfully did not try to dissuade me from
completing the journey. Mostly, I was being passed by runners I had
left behind many miles earlier, but I realized there was dignity in
the effort, despite the ability or speed of the participant. Those
of us in the back of the pack were a bit more encouraging than my
mid-pack brethren. There was no "racing" back here. There
were "characters." I met some Marathon Maniacs and several
50-staters.
Between 18 and 21, we were on a community bike path and there were
many community members "sharing" the path. I stayed "off-road"
in the dirt to avoid being run over. I didn't know whether to laugh
or cry when the bikers hollered out "good job" or "hang
in there." I wanted to explain that I'm a runner, just injured.
But I don't think anyone really wanted to know that much. I talked
on the phone to my sister in Florida and my brother in Texas ("does
this really count?" he inquired). I proclaimed that I would receive
a finisher's medal if I crossed the line by 11:30am, so I thought
I'd count it. Also, I explained that there really wasn't much of an
option at this point.)
May texted that she would walk the last 5k with me and I looked forward
to mile 23. My feet had begun to ache in ways I had not felt before.
I was approaching 4:45 and would exceed my previous "PW"
(opposite of Personal Best) shortly. My body confirmed for me that
it takes a certain amount of exertion to cover the distance, regardless
of speed.
May
and Greg walking...
May was happy to join me.
We said goodbye to Leslie and I grabbed pretzels at that pit stop
and settled into a 3.6 mph pace. I was sure to break 6:00 (woo-hoo),
and there were not many other goals to shoot for. I was afraid to
sit or attempt to release the calf from its hold on me, so I just
continued. May and I had a nice talk (I was not "winded"
from actual Running!) and she encouraged me as needed. We continued
to be passed, but as far back as we were, there were few (I guessed)
left to catch up.
..and
running!
At 25 miles, I was anxious
to finish and after 25.5, I told May I was going to try to "run."
Surprisingly, she joined me. I found that if I took very small, quick-steps,
I could approximate the running-type speed...of an octogenarian. Maybe
I exceeded 5 mph, but not for long. Everything hurt. But I looked
back, saw some folks coming and really didn't want to be passed again.
With less than a half mile to go, I bid farewell to May after Leslie
took our picture, running together. May actually did run a bit (and
may have been bit by the running bug - we'll see). I made it to the
end without being passed again, but I also did not want to disrespect
the fellow in front of me who had been walking quite a while. I slowed
near the finish, but he insisted that I pass. We shook hands and crossed
nearly simultaneously.
Number 11.
5:38:43 - wow. Slowest by 44 minutes.
2:19 for the first half; 3:19+ for the second.
First marathon west of the Mississippi.
First marathon west of Louisville, KY.
#251 of 277 finishers. (Yes, 9% were slower...plus some who must have
dropped out.)
#31 of 34 men in my age group.
Long run...long memories. Got my money's worth. I found the massage
person who had worked on me Saturday. After waiting in the light rain
for her (there were 3 tables), I asked her to whip me back into shape.
I told her she only got me through 14 miles, but I think she considered
her results a success.
"Any finish is a good finish" said Ron via text later Sunday.
I'll have to keep this in perspective.
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