Denver Marathon 2012

I've had this race on my schedule for some time, with plans to be a pace group leader since Runner's Edge was again tasked with that responsibility.  My hope had been to pace the half marathon, maybe the 2-hour group like I did last year.  However, I was assigned to pace the first half of the full marathon, for the 4-hour pace group (which, obviously, would have me run the first 13.1 miles in 2 hours; in other words, essentially what I'd hoped to do anyway).  Because I am crazy...or endlessly optimistic...or possibly an idiot...or at the very least, a runner, last week I made the decision to run the second half of the marathon, after handing off pacing responsibilities to a teammate.  This, despite the fact that I ran the Pocatello marathon only three weeks before today's race.  I told myself that while I would hold to race pace for the first half (to fulfill my obligations as a pacer), I would let myself back down in the second half and walk as necessary.  Or not; if I was really feeling good, I told myself, I'd consider continuing to race.  It would definitely be a game-day (hell, game-minute) decision, but I was leaning heavily towards continuing and just backing off my effort a little bit.

There was a good crowd of people wanting to run a 4-hour marathon this morning, and I was feeling confident that I would be able to get them to the halfway point in two hours.  I felt well-rested and eager for a good run.  ("I also saw it as part of my responsibility to keep the runners with me motivated and entertained as much as possible, so I'd planned on a few jokes to tell along the way."  "Breaking in your stand-up?"  "Something like that.")  I ran the first mile in exactly 10 minutes, which was actually two seconds faster than it should have been; but I was very pleased with that.  "Mile one, ten minutes!" I told the runners with me.  "You'll notice the clock reads '14:53;' who's ready for a pop quiz?  How far behind does that make us?"  After a brief moment of silence, one runner answered correctly:  "Four fifty-three."  As a prize, I let him hold the pace sign for a quarter mile.

I want to give a quick shout-out to Eddie and the Runner's Roost team for their fantastic aid station at mile 2--and for the shout-out!  I was pleased to see so many friends that early on the course.  As I continued to run, I fielded a few questions from fellow runners about my pace and strategy.  One gentleman actually called me "Sir."  I thanked him for that, and then said, "But please, call me Doug.  And that goes for the rest of you--" I continued to the crowd.  "You can call me Doug, or--if you've ever seen Dead Poets' Society--O Captain, My Captain."  That got me a few chuckles as we pressed up the hill on 17th.

When we got into City Park, we were still on pace, and I was still feeling pretty good.  "Welcome to City Park!" I said.  "Originally the park was going to be named Denver's Central Park; but New York found out about that and pitched a fit, so they went with Denver's City Park instead."  "That's very interesting," one runner remarked.  "Thank you," I replied.  "It may or may not be true."  ("Let me guess:  Wikipedia?")  As we wound our way through Central--I mean, City Park, I kept up the encouraging words and the pace, keeping us right where we needed to be.  ("Exchange at Mile 6:  'The good news is, we're right on time.'  'What's the bad news?'  'Why would I give you people bad news?'")

I still felt pretty good for a few more miles; but at mile 10 I started fading fast.  I'm not sure what happened, but suddenly, as we entered Cheeseman Park ("Little-known fact:  Cheeseman takes its name from Ch-isee-mahn, an old Algonquin word for 'Who the hell builds a park on the side of a hill?'"  "Another fact of dubious veracity?"), holding the pace became a definite struggle.  I was helped somewhat by the downhill of Cheeseman, which was nice; more so by the sight of Coach Manthey and some of my Runner's Edge teammates at the course split; but alas, it was a short reprieve.  When we exited Cheeseman and turned onto 7th ("So named because the Governor's son could only count that high,") I knew I was in trouble.

Which brings me to the most embarassing part of this tale.  Just before the mile 12 mark, I ran completely out of gas.  I knew I'd never be able to hold the pace for that last mile.  Fortunately for the runners I was trying to lead, one of my Runner's Edge teammates, who'd been running alongside me for the last mile or so, agreed to take the pace sign and Garmin on to the exchange point at mile 13.  Yes, you read that right.  I couldn't make it, so I handed off a mile early.  Fortunately Chris was able to keep the pace and handed off to Dan at the exchange point.  As for me, I was through.  Obviously I didn't continue the rest of the race; once I was sure Dan was good to go and checked in with Coach Manthey, I walked back to downtown.

Everyone says I'm being too hard on myself.  Maybe, but I take failure very personally.  Especially when there are other people involved.  If I'd just been running my own race, I wouldn't be as upset as I am; but today I had people depending on me and I feel like I let them down.  I'll have an opportunity for redemption next month in Kansas City; in the meanwhile I can look at the 12 miles I did run today and take some pride in the fact that, at least that much, I was able to do well.

Pocatello Marathon 2012

For marathon #14, I journeyed with a couple dozen of my Runner's Edge of the Rockies teammates to the little burg of Pocatello, ID.  The glowing reviews of Jim L and Mike K had led to us choosing this race as an unofficial road trip race. ("Ironically, neither of those gentlemen came on the trip with us this year."  "Ironically and fortunately, given what happened."  "Shh!  Ever hear of 'spoiler alert'?")

The nice thing about the Runner's Edge road trips (well, one of the many nice things) is the chance to spend time with my teammates before (and after) the race, since I don't really do that during the marathons.  Friday morning, flying out to Salt Lake City I found myself on the same flight as Erin, Beth, Lynn, Stevie Mac, Susan & Mark, Nicole, and Gert.  Then, in Salt Lake, I met up with Mike M and his wife Stephanie, and carpooled with them up to Pocatello.  As someone who enjoys the social aspect of running, and making friends with the people on my team, I definitely appreciated the chance to spend a couple of hours with them, getting to know them.

The Expo at the Clarion Inn was pretty small.  Not quite as small as the Casper expo, but smaller (slightly) than the one at Steamboat.  ("For those of you keeping score at home, that would make this the second-smallest Expo I've been to."  "I can virtually guarantee that almost nobody is keeping score at home.")

The pasta dinner Friday night was notable for two things:  one, about one-third of the tables were occupied by Runner's Edge of the Rockies.  ("Ha.")  Two, the speaker, a man named Dane Rauschenberg, gave a very engaging and entertaining speech.  He told his running story, how he was a nonrunner athlete who fell into marathon running.  ("Long story short, it was because of a girl."  "That has a familiar ring to it...")  After completing six marathons, he decided to challenge himself by running one marathon a week for an entire year.  He was interesting, inspiring, and very, very funny.

I was up early this morning for the race day shuttle.  It was still dark and cold--and windy up at the start, as it turned out.  Fortunately there was a smallish barn at the start.  It wasn't warm, but it blocked the wind.  And, there were baby goats inside!  We all knew about that from Jim and Mike, and I think most of us were secretly ("Or perhaps not-so-secretly...") looking forward to that part.  I huddled in the barn for a while before the race with Erin, Beth, Lynn, Frank, Ashley, Michael & Anita, Jay, Andy, Laura, Kandy, Wayne, and Paul.

Pocatello has a pretty low-key start.  Not as low-key as the popgun that started the Steamboat marathon, though:  at least, this race had an audible countdown!  There was good crowd energy, and my energy was definitely in a good place.  Then, we were off!

The first few miles of the course featured a very steep downhill, and I found it difficult to hold back to my first- and second-mile paces.  I had three pace bands:  for a 3:45, 3:50, and 3:55 marathon.  After the first mile, I abandoned entirely the possibility of using the 3:45 splits.  But I told myself I'd stick to the 3:50 pace for the first half of the race, then maybe drop back to 3:55 pace.  After 6 miles, I decided to try to stick with 3:50 pace until mile 20, if I could.

At mile 7 there was a brief out-and-back on the course.  Normally I'm not a big fan of these, but today it offered a great chance to see Mike M, Paul, Erin, Wayne, Jay, Michael K, Debbie, Anita, and Suzanne coming back (as I was going out), and Lynn and Laura going out (as I was coming back).  Since, as I said before, I don't usually get a chance to see or cheer for my teammates on the course (since so many of them are faster than I), this was nice.

I caught up with Suzanne near the start of the half marathon, which rather sensibly followed the same course as the second half of the full.  This was at 1 hour 57 minutes (something) seconds.  This was encouraging, and I confirmed my decision from mile 6 to hold the 3:50 pace until mile 20.  But it was getting tougher to hold that pace at that point.  I managed to hold the pace for a few more miles though.  But at mile 18, things started to fall apart for me.  My legs were getting sore and I was getting tired.  I started feeling the effects of the first half of the race, and what turned out to be (once I had a chance, after the race, to review my splits) surprisingly uneven pacing efforts on my part.  I walked a lot of mile 18, and continued to walk for short distances for each subsequent mile.  Except mile 19:  I forced myself to run that in its entirety, and at a good clip (about 8:30).

Now I was passing the slower half marathon racers.  I passed Miss Pocatello (who was wearing her beauty pageant sash), and leapfrogged with her once or twice as we took our respective walk breaks.  During a walk break on the hill at mile 21, I took advantage of the opportunity to chat her up for a bit.  ("Of course you did.")  I told her I was from Denver.  "How did you happen to come here?" she asked.  "By plane," I replied (she laughed), before explaining that Runner's Edge had elected to come here as a group.  Then, I made my move.  "Being a stranger here," I said, "I don't really know the town, and would have no idea where to go to celebrate after the race.  You're a native," I assumed ("Born and raised," she confirmed).  "So maybe you could recommend some places."  She said she had a few she'd be happy to tell me about.  "Maybe you'd even like to join me in celebrating this evening," I said.  She chuckled and politely declined, explaining that she was going to celebrate with her family.  And that was that.  I started running again, for a little while.

By this time, a PR was definitely out of the question, as was a sub-4 finish.  I still thought I might be able to finish faster than I had at Cleveland in 2010 (4:08).  But because I was walking so much, and I didn't want to constantly glance at my Garmin and get discouraged with my lack of speed, I switched to the map screen.  Consequently, I have no idea what my splits were for the last 5k of the race.

At mile 24 I tried one again to rally my flagging spirits.  I'd been plagued with negative self-talk ever since mile 18, in spite of my best efforts to stay positive and derail the negative-thought train.  I told myself that all I had left was a single lap around Washington Park, but it didn't help.  The sun had finally come out (it had stayed mercifully cloudy ever since I'd gotten out of the mountains and into the exposed second half), the temperature was starting to rise for sure, and the Bio-Freeze I'd slapped on my legs at mile 22 was long gone.

Just before the 26 mile mark, there was a banner strung across the road.  From a distance, I could not tell what it was and thought it might be the finish line.  As I drew closer, I realized it was a banner for the Pocatello Zoo.  That was a tease.  But then I made the final turn and saw the finish line.  It sure looked far away.  Even when I got to the 26-mile mark, that line looked a lot farther away than 400 meters.  At that point I was shuffling along at 11-minute pace.  Determined to have as strong a finish as I could, I tried to pick up my speed.  Surprisingly, I managed to push myself to 8:30 pace.  I crossed the finish line in 4 hours, 10 minutes, and 23 seconds, just two minutes slower than Cleveland, for my third-fastest marathon time (to date).

Comparing notes with the rest of Runner's Edge after the race, we all agreed that the second half of the race was tougher than advertised (and agreed only perhaps half-jokingly to never again believe anything Jim or Mike tells us about a race).  I certainly think I ran a good race, the best race I could under the circumstances, but about 15 minutes slower than I'd hoped.

A funny postscript:  I wore my medal to dinner with the team at Ruby Tuesdays tonight.  The hostess asked me if I'd won the race.  Remembering what Dane had said at the prerace dinner last night*, I told her, "No.  I came in second."  She said I was amazing.

*His exact words were, "Tell anyone who asks that you took second.  Why not?  They'll never know--unless everyone in your group says they took second!"

Official Time: 4:10:23
YTD Race Miles: 107.7
YTD Total Miles: 989.7
Touching Tribute: Michael Fontes had been looking forward to this race.  Those of us that ran, did so in his memory, many of us with Mike Fontes memorial bibs.  During the awards ceremony, the Race Director acknowledged Michael and made a special presentation to us of his finisher's medal.