Platte River Half Marathon 2010

I almost didn't run this race.

I'd put it on my birthday list last month, but the race sold out so quickly that I figured I was SOL. But on Friday morning, my friend Barb posted a note to the Runner's Edge of the Rockies message board: she was recovering from an injury and felt it more prudent to sit this one out. But she didn't want it to go to waste, and so she offered to give it to anyone who wanted it. It seemed like a sign to me: I was destined to run this race. Even then, I chewed and hemmed and hawed all day. I'd been feeling kind of tired, and hadn't had a great running week, and was probably overtrained, and could stand to not run this one race. But that afternoon, as I was driving up to Estes Park for a gig with my a capella band, Cool Shooz, I convinced myself that, because I'd had such a blah week, I could really use a good confidence booster. I'd heard mostly positive reports about the course, and figured this could be a good race for me. I arranged to meet with Barb at the expo on Saturday, and we got her number reassigned to me.

Sunday morning I drove to downtown Littleton. I found several friends from both Runner's Edge and Runner's Roost at the starting line. We chatted for a while and wished each other luck while waiting for the race to start. I mentally went over my pacing strategy which I had developed the night before: 10 minutes for the first mile, 9 for the second, and 8:30 for the rest. That would get me to the finish in slightly more than 1 hour 52 and a half minutes. It would be a challenge, I knew, to maintain that 8:30 pace for 11.1 miles, but I believed I was up to it. After all, I'd held that pace for the Frosty's Frozen 10 Mile in February, and this was just 5k more.

As the race started, I settled into my easy warmup pace and let myself get distracted by some of the conversations near me. As I drifted along, I heard a voice at my shoulder ask, "Is there any race you don't run?" Looking to the source, I saw fellow Runner's Edge member Frank smiling at me. I was glad to have a friend to chat with for a bit, even though I knew Frank would soon leave me in his dust. He graciously held back, though, and we ran together for the next two miles, during which time my pace increased slightly to around 9 minutes per mile.

After he left me behind, I increased my speed a bit more, going for the 8:30 pace I'd planned. By this time, of course, I had left the streets of Littleton and was now running along the Platte River Trail. Fortunately the crowd had thinned, so the fact that we were now on a narrow trail wasn't as much of a problem as it could have been. And although the cement trail was only so wide, there was a wide--and soft!--shoulder on either side. As much as possible, I ran on the crusher fine shoulder, counting on the soft surface to pay dividends later in the race.

The next several miles were fairly uneventful as the trail wound its way out of Littleton and through Englewood and Centennial and into Denver. I felt strong and held an even pace. I passed a number of runners who were starting to slow down, and jockeyed for position with a handful of others for a time. I leapfrogged with a few who would pass me as I walked through aid stations, only to have me overtake them again a mile or so later. I saw some other Runner's Edge friends on the trail: Dave at about mile 10, Michelle at 6 or 7, Jessica around 11 who ran with me for about a quarter mile before leaving me behind. I saw Bret cheering and taking pictures near mile 3, and Steve doing the same closer to mile 11 (his wife and one of his daughters were running the race also). I also saw the same spectators a couple of times, folks who would wait for their racer to pass and then drive a few miles down and do it again.

Annoyingly, I felt myself starting to slow around mile 11. I was running out of steam, and knew I still had the one, big hill ahead of me. I'd been warned about it before, but figured I'd have enough still in my tank by the time I got there that I'd be able to handle it. Little did I know...

By the time I reached the bottom of that hill, at the 12 mile mark, I was almost completely out of energy. I had slowed from an easy but speedy 8:30 average to just under 10 minute pace as the trail turned and climbed slowly along 8th Avenue, up and over the train tracks. Try as I might, I couldn't find the energy to push myself faster up the trail. I dug as deep as I could, but that was just to keep myself from walking. Finally, after an eternity, I reached the top of the climb. The trail flattened out for a bit before beginning the descent on the other side. At last I was able to let gravity work to my advantage, and although I didn't make up much time, at least I was able to keep moving as I left the trail and ran along the streets for the last half mile. Seeing the cheering spectators lifted my flagging spirits, particularly when I recognized John from Runner's Roost. "Almost there," he said with an encouraging smile. After smiling back, I grit my teeth and focused on the bend in the road near the sign that read "Mile 13."

I made that final turn and saw the finish line, only a tenth of a mile away (but it sure looked like more than that!). I poured everything I had left into covering that distance as fast as I could. I could see the finishing clock ticking off the seconds, inexorably counting up. It was just about to turn over 1:54:00 as I rounded the corner; I knew I could finish before the clock read 1:55:00! I had to! I pumped my arms furiously, using their momentum to drag my legs forward with them. With only a few yards to go, I saw the clock turn over 1:54:30! I crossed the line at 1:54:34, arms thrown triumphantly upward! My chip time I knew was closer to 1:54:25. I was certain I'd set a new PR, but my brain was so fuzzy at the moment that I didn't know by how much--I couldn't quite remember what my PR had been at Disneyland (it was 1:56:21, so I'd shaved 2 whole minutes off!). I soon connected with several friends and compared notes--seems like almost everybody had PR'd (and some in some big ways). I also stopped by the First Aid tent, which was staffed by my coworkers at Back to Motion Physical Therapy. And after a quick lunch, I boarded the Light Rail to head back to my car, noting with amusement that the trip back took far less time than the trip out had!

Official Time: 1:54:20
Total Races: 4
YTD Race Miles: 53.5
YTD Total Miles: 186.1
Post-run almost-injury moment: whipping my head around in surprise at the lead singer of the Dixieland Band at the finish, who sounded so much like Louis Armstrong singing "Hello Dolly!" I thought maybe it was ole Satch'mo come back from the dead!