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.