State Number 14 - USA Fit Marathon

State Number 14 – USA Fit Marathon, Sugar Land, TX

1 February 2015

I often hear that the Lone Star State is a whole other country within the mainland U.S. Unquestionably, it is a state I can see as a place to retire.  It’s a conservative state and only one of a handful that respects the Second Amendment.

Despite time spent at Dallas-Fort Worth and George Bush Intercontinental Airports in previous years waiting for a connecting flight to other destinations like Baltimore or Boston, Houston is my first official state visit.

A few weeks prior to marathon day, my wife and I were offered the opportunity to be official pacers for this marathon.  That meant we needed to book a flight to Houston, rent a car and find a hotel on rather short notice.

Although the USA Fit Marathon was not my first marathon choice for Texas, we cordially accepted the offer and prepared ourselves for a weekend get-a-way in Sugar Land.

We left LAX early Saturday morning for a non-stop Southwest Airlines flight to Houston’s George Bush Intercontinental Airport (IAH).  We reserved a rental car from a cheapo company located near the airport.  When we arrived at the counter, we were in for an unpleasant surprise – they had no cars available!  What was that about?  We reserved one so we should be owed one. 

Being rather ticked off and with an urgent need, we didn’t have much of a choice but to spend more money for a vehicle at another company without any time to researching the best value.

Sugar Land, situated in the Greater Houston area, lies about 50 minutes southwest of IAH.  Arriving in time for the expo and packet pick-up was out of the question, however, we notified the race director before we left home.  The director told us that our race jackets, bibs and other goodies would delivered to our hotel, the Hilton Garden Inn – Sugar Land.  I was a little skeptical, but soon after checking in, the front desk clerk handed us our race packets.  Gee, with that kind of service, I felt like a VIP.

When I went to remove the attention-getting black wind breaker jacket sporting the marathon logo blazoned on the back side from the plastic wrapped enclosure, it looked big – very big.  My heart sank.  I can’t wear this.  The little tag dangling from the zipper indicated it was a size 2XL, nearly double my normal size.  As I tried it on, it felt as if two people could have fit in it.  Swapping the jacket for a suitable size was a top priority.

Dinner time was upon us and it was time for some pizza.  Across the street from our hotel was the Bombay Pizza Company.  The Food Network featured this restaurant as one of the “best things I ever ate.”  So, we had to find out for ourselves if this was a valid statement.

The pizzeria serves Italian cuisine adorned with Indian herbs and spices.  As one walks in, the colors from the sun like saffron and a roasted yellow present a comfortable and homey atmosphere with walls decorated with murals of scenes of Mumbai.  Besides classic international beers, assorted sodas imported from India are also available.

We stuck with the usual cheese pizza, but not from being afraid of trying something new, but because we stick with what works prior to a marathon event.  Was it the best thing I ever ate?  I would have to say, “No”.  It may have been true if I tried one of their fancy creations with multiple toppings, spices and essences.

Across the street was a HEB Food and Drug store.  We picked up some bananas, water and other incidentals before heading back to the room to get some rest before our marathon.

The sun hadn’t yet risen over the eastern horizon as I gazed out the hotel window towards the starting/finish line venue at the University of Houston – Sugar Land campus.  Streetlights were obscured by the thick fog blanketing Sugar Land similar to the Tule fog common during the winter months where I live.  However, this wasn’t due to an inversion layer, but from the high humidity of the warm moist gulf air creating a high dew point.

The university was just a short drive down University Boulevard just south of I-69.  The fog was moderately thick making for severely reduced visibilities, so driving down University Blvd was an adventure, especially being unfamiliar with the area.

I thought to myself I was going to have a good run day.  As I stepped out of the car, it was still dark and the weather was somewhat cool and the muggy air was laden with moisture great for lubricating my lungs and alleviating the work required for heavy breathing. 

I was going into this marathon with my mind set on pacing a 5:00 group and my wife leading a 4:30 pace group.  However, when I met up with the individual assigned to give out the pace signs, I was handed a 4:45.  I questioned the time, but his list showed me at 4:45.  “What the heck?” I thought.  This would be a challenge, but I accepted it anyway telling the assignor I would try but don’t expect miracles.  I will just have to take it up with the pace organizer at a later time. 

Once armed, fortified and equipped with my fashionable, chic and stylish pacer sign, I was ready for the challenge.  I had another job to do before start time – find the race director to exchange my 2XL jacket with a much smaller, large size jacket.  I didn’t take long to find her and she happily made the exchange.  It fit perfectly!

Race participants at start line (note the fog)

The marathon’s 0430 start time designed for walkers and those who anticipated finishing later than the cut-off time were already on the course.  For others, the race officially started at 0630.

Approximately 900 – 1000 runners (both marathon and half) toed the start line in the foggy and thick dark air.  Sweat started beading on my head just standing around and knew I had tough day ahead of me.  If the sun didn’t shine, I may have a chance to fulfill my pacing obligation.

The course is a “looped” course covering 13.1 miles consisting of three turnaround points with full marathon runners completing the course twice on concrete streets with a small portion consisting of an asphalt concrete running path.

Enthusiastic runners lined up at the start.  The horn sounded at 0630 and we were off.  Exiting the UH campus driveway, runners continued onto Lexington Blvd to the first turnaround just after Marathon Mile 1.  From there, runners continued back on University to the second turnaround located in a residential neighborhood on the north side of I-69.

After three miles, I was in need of some water, but no aid stations were to be seen.  I noticed some runners complaining of the same thing and were seen sipping water out of a hose connected to a spigot in the street median.  Wow! I thought.  Are hoses a substitute for aid stations?  Anyway, I took a large sip of the warm rubber-tasting water, but I was so thirsty I didn’t pay much attention to the unpleasant taste.  The water served its purpose for needed hydration and I just hoped it wouldn’t upset my stomach.

The weather was still foggy, but the temperature was rising as the sun rose.  It was becoming uncomfortable for me but I was still ahead of pace gradually banking some time without becoming too obvious for my group, knowing that the hard part was still ahead.  I had mostly half marathon runners with me and we were all making light about the aid station situation.

Passing back under the I-69 freeway near Marathon Mile 6, we were wondering when an aid station will become available.  I was sweating profusely due to the high humidity, as with the other cantankerous runners around me. 

Not until after passing by the university driveway from whence we began, an aid station suddenly appeared in the foggy air.  I was delighted and I voiced my complaints to those staffing the table about the absence of water for the last six miles.  I know they were volunteers, but I hoped they would say something to race officials so water would be available for the second loop.

Just after Marathon Mile 7, the skies began to clear.  Still, clouds mostly obscured the sun, but the day was heating up and my greatest fear was about to unfold – sunny skies with rising temperatures coupled with sultry air.  In other words, oppressive stifling heat.

I was nearly a minute and a half ahead of pace as I made my way to the fourth turnaround cone placed in the middle of the roadway just past the 15 km point on University Blvd.  There were a few runners in my group (half marathon mostly) behind me maintaining my pace.  I overheard several say the heat was beginning to take its toll and were unsure if they could maintain my 10:50 pace.  I agreed with them on the heat and I tried to uplift everyone’s spirits to keep going.  Soon, I began to become a little uneasy about the second half of the course, especially the six miles after the half-marathon split.

At the half marathon point (and beginning of the second half), my small group of half runners had finished and disappeared from my radar (lucky them).  I was nearly two minutes ahead of schedule and suddenly I realized I was running alone.  I began to wonder if race officials knew of the absence of water for the next six miles.  What do you know?  Marathon Miles 13 to 19 were identical to the first six – NO WATER!  Apparently no one said anything or no one cared.  I had already stocked up with several cups of water and some nutrition prior to the turnaround while embarking on my second loop.  My pace suddenly slackened between Marathon Miles 15 and 16.  The heat from the sun coupled with the radiant heat from the concrete streets was wearing down my ability to keep a consistent pace.  I was done and the last ten miles would mostly be a mind game.  My banked time rapidly dwindled and it would certainly not be enough to carry me through.

I was beginning to burn out near Marathon Mile 17 as I saw two runners passed out on the side of the road with medics tending to their calamitous needs.  One was being loaded into an ambulance for transport while the other was still on the ground being rehydrated with a medical intravenous IV drip D5W TKO lactated Ringer’s.

Seeing the EMTs hard at work and the consequences of overexertion was sort of a wakeup call for me not to push too hard and to listen to my body while paying close attention to my limits.  I was not going to hit my pace time, so I continued to try to enjoy the marathon in the best way and to finish safely.  That was more important than hitting any goal pace I had committed to.

I approached the aid station at Marathon Mile 22 when a volunteer suggested I drop my pace sign with her.  She must have sensed I was struggling.  Knowing that a turnaround point was nearly a mile ahead, I placed it on a folding chair behind the water table and reclaimed the coveted sign on my return.  Why hold an annoying stick I wasn’t using?  I wish I could have permanently ditched the sign since it served as a constant reminder of something I wasn’t going to accomplish.  Not a sole asked if I was on pace.  I wonder if it was how pathetic I looked.

When I traversed a bridge spanning a flood control spillway structure near an oxbow lake adjacent to the Brazos River, I could see the one of the university’s buildings off in the distance.  The finish was so close, yet sooo far away.  I couldn’t run anymore – even on the downhill side of the bridge.  I was so hot and sunburnt and I wanted to be done so badly.  I could only think of Marty Robbins crossing the Brazos at [Sugar Land].

During the final two miles or so, I walked.  It was painful just to walk in the blazing sun.  I was several minutes behind my 4:45 pace and if anyone would ask, I would respond with, “Sorry, I am out of service.”

A spectator saw my declining state of vigor and kindly handed me an ice-cold bottle of water.  I quickly drank half and poured the rest over my head.  It was very refreshing, but not quite enough to rev up my metabolism needed for an added boost of endorphins.

Marshaling up enough energy to run the “eternal” mile, was difficult to do in the heat.  I managed to gather my last bit of oomph to fuel my final 100 meters to the finish line in a time of 5:16:19 for a 12:04 pace.

Age graded score:  43.92%

Age graded time:  4:48:48

I was grateful I was done.  Even if I had led my original 5:00 pace group, I don’t believe I would have conquered my goal time.  The weather was just too hot for my body to handle.  I later found out that I wasn’t the only pacer to miss the mark. 

I proudly received my Texas-style finisher’s medal, picked up my finisher shirt and grabbed some grub, what was left over, and some cold drinks.  Of course, there was no shade to sit under, so I toughed out the heat at a stand-up table.

My wife, pacing 4:30, met her goal time by a couple of seconds.  I guess the heat just doesn’t bother some as it does me.

The marathon consisted of 220 runners finishing with an average time of 5:22:46 and a standard deviation of 1:18:26.  I looked on the bright side, I was above average!  I could rationally argue that the heat and humidity affected practically all of the runners.

I was more than ready to get into the car and head back to the hotel to clean up and have something to eat.

After some careful deliberation on a dining establishment, we decided on Escalante’s Tex-Mex & Tequila restaurant located in the Sugar Land Town Center.  The fashionable center near the downtown area had many dining opportunities, but a south of the border meal was very appealing.  After expending over 3500 kilocalories, pretty much anything would have satisfied my appetite.

I got the impression that Escalante’s is for those habituated with upscale social scenes and used to dining with swank décor.  The service was great, but a little overpriced, however, I must say that my burrito smothered in green sauce was pretty delicious.  The chips and salsa were a little lack luster, but okay.  I avoided the “hand-crafted” margarita with its twelve dollar price tag.  Yikes!  It was better to hydrate with ice water than with tequila.

Hermann Park attractions

Our late Monday afternoon flight back to LAX gave us the opportunity to see some of the sights in and around Houston and to partake in a Texas BBQ lunch.

Being in a big city such as Houston, finding activities to consume time can be a difficult undertaking.  This was definitely the case as Monday dawned.

I was eager to take a fifty-mile side trip to Galveston to see the sea waves crashing or sitting on the beach dreaming of the cannons flashing symbolic of the Spanish-American War.  Remember Glen Campbell?

We sacrificed the trip to Galveston and chose to visit Hermann Park, which turned out to be a pleasant substitute.

Hermann Park situated south southeast of downtown in the vicinity of Rice University, is an expansive open space that looked to be a popular and attractive destination for locals and visitors alike.  Home to museums, cultural institutions and amphitheaters, numerous water features, statues, memorials, gardens and shade trees, the park sits adjacent to the Houston Zoo and a public golf course.

The relaxing time at the park caused me to become hungry for some Texas BBQ.  Not knowing where the best places in the city are located, we found Pappas Bar-B-Q in downtown.  The establishment catered to the working stiff in the downtown offices.  I ordered a beef brisket sandwich with tangy BBQ sauce on a French roll packed with onions.  Delicious!

The time quickly arrived for our return to the airport to drop off the rental car, catch the shuttle and proceed through the dreaded and chaotic security lines at IAH. We arrived at LAX safe and sound and we were happy to check off another state, even though I failed my pace time goal.  Hey, I don’t do heat!

Leaving Houston, or Texas for that matter, was a sad day for me.  Our trip only confirmed that when I retire, I will happily leave California behind, not look back, and seriously consider Texas as my new home state.  I can fit right in with the conservative atmosphere of Sugar Land and the surrounding area.

Yes, California has a lot to offer and the state can boast about many things, but the political climate, cost of living and governmental regulations are major turn-offs for me and only fuels my internal fire of antipathy.

The marathon from my point of view?  Yes, the course is flat and fast.  Flat, of course; fast, absolutely not, since I cannot cope with high heat indices.  The humidity – common – but the high temperatures – not common for early February.  Both came together creating a hostile environment.  The weather was certainly not ideal, but the subtropical conditions made this event a testament to my actual fitness level.

Given the looped nature of the course, marathoners run past everything twice.  It’s suburban Houston – for those who run for the scenic splendor, consider another marathon.  Warning: reader discretion, science content ahead.  The concrete streets typical of Houston definitely influence runners in terms of energy absorption versus asphaltic surfaces.  Considering the high surface temperatures and the Young’s Moduli of each material, asphalt will absorb almost 100 times the energy than concrete.  No wonder my feet and muscles were killing me.

I live in a hot and arid climate with temperatures frequently exceeding 100 degrees during the summer.  But it’s a dry heat.  My hot weather training and acclimatization evidently did not prepare me enough to endure the significantly higher dew points characteristic of Houston.  Keeping pace without any water stations throughout the first six miles of each loop was a real challenge.

Surprisingly, the marathon had a very small contingent of runners.  Of course there is nothing wrong with that, I like small marathons, but the field of runners thinned out considerably once the half-marathoners finished.  Basically, I had no one in my pace group for practically the entire second half.  At least I had several flood control structures and features I could study and look at while running alone for those long stretches.

Other than people at the start/finish, spectators along the course were few and far between.  Some onlookers set up their own make-shift water stations handing out ice cold bottles of water, God bless them. 

The volunteers at the water stations were very supportive and made sure everyone was hydrated and fueled when there were food items available, pretzels, Oreos, and cookies.

Unlike most marathons, runners must complete the marathon, or half, to earn their race specific finisher’s shirt.  In a way, I’m glad that’s the case.  I wear my shirt with pride, and I think back how much it took to earn those tough 26 miles 385 yards. 

I wonder what the participation rate would be if this marathon was held on Super Bowl weekend.  Oh, everyone heads for Surf City in Huntington Beach, CA during that weekend.

State Number 18 - Bear Lake Marathon, Wyoming

State Number 18 – Bear Lake Marathon, Wyoming

Cokeville, WY

 

21 June 2015

On a long and lonesome highway, east of Montpelier, we listened to the car’s engine moaning out its one-note song.  I thought about the marathons we did the days before.  My thought wandered as they always do when I’m running five hours – but there’s nothing much to do.  When I don’t feel much like running, I just wish the race was through. 

How could a marathon event be likened to Bob Seger’s Turn the Page?  There seems to be no right or wrong answer to that question, but I know for sure that the lonely US Highway 30 leading out of Idaho sure did remind me of that great classic.

Following an action-packed Saturday centered around the Utah marathon and the fun activities in the Bear Lake region of Utah, I concluded my trifecta minus one with the Wyoming marathon.

We left Montpelier during the early Sunday morning hours for the 35-mile drive to Cokeville via US 30.  The air was cool and still – ideal for a great marathon run.  However, I knew the cool was only a temporary luxury, only to give way to the warmth of the sun as the day progressed. 

Silence blanked the open range of the Bear Lake Valley.  Darkness had long swallowed the sky soon to be overtaken by the sun as it gradually sucked out the darkness from the region.  Highway 30 led us into the rural parts of the countryside through the treeless hills and grassy lowlands.  With very few vehicles on the road, we had the opportunity to arrive in Cokeville with plenty of time to pick up our bibs and race shirts.

After a brief wrong turn mishap in the small city of Cokeville, we finally found the starting line area.  How could one get lost in a city of 500?  Only us. 

We parked at the gravel lot near the Cokeville Clinic adjacent to the Cokeville City Park.  The “expoless” and informal packet pick up was located at a picnic table under the park’s arbor.  We acquired our bibs and race shirts and made on last trip to the car before proceeding to the start line with surprisingly not a lot of time to spare.  Wow, we actually started on time, 0600 hours.

The start line was a little more urbane than Idaho, complete with a simple metal gantry that spanned a portion of East Main Street with a timing clock attached.  The out-and-back course paralleled the Bear River to the east and Boundary Ridge to the west.

In the days leading up to this marathon, we were advised by Thursday’s runners to make wise use of mosquito repellant due to the massive amount of mosquitos in the area.  While in Montpelier, we heeded their advice and stocked up with a can of OFF insect repellant from Broulim’s.

Because of the Sunday running, all of us runners were cognizant ahead of time that volunteers staffing aid stations were not a guarantee.  Most, if not all, will be non-staffed.  In light of this, we were advised to bring our own drinking and hydrating accessories.  Enough water and/or sports drinks were available at various tables along the course to fill our own bottles.  This was the first time I packed an accessory belt with two water containers while running a marathon.

The 130 or so marathon runners bolted out of the start line as the friendly race director yelled, “GO!”  No National Anthem, no fanfare, nothing.  We all hastened across the active railroad tracks of Union Pacific, hoping not to be trapped by a passing freight train, and onto Cokeville-Utah Line Road for a thirteen-mile scenic tour of the valley.  Unlike Idaho, this course is an out-and-back course on a paved roadway surface; however, like Idaho, the course is void of any shade with the exception of a group of broadleaf trees clustered on the westerly side of Cokeville-Utah Line Road just south of Cokeville.  I overheard a runner say in a loud voice as if he wanted everyone to know, “This is the only shade of the course, so enjoy it while it lasts!”  He must have run the course before.  It lasted only a couple of hundred feet, but, oh, I enjoyed it.  Knowing that I would be coming back, I fixed my thoughts on seeing that pint-sized slice of shade once again.

I was a little tired and stiff from Idaho so my plan was to take it easy and cruise at a ten-minute mile pace, more or less on that long and lonesome highway.  I had no time goal and just wanted to enjoy a long run in the remoteness of the Wyoming landscape where the only sounds are footsteps pounding the pavement.

The brief moment in the shade came and went and it was off into the agricultural lands and rolling hills of the Bear River Valley.  I came prepared for the mosquitos and the blazing sunshine everyone talked about.  I doused myself with some OFF and donned a beige-colored wide-billed hat with a sun shade fastened with strips of Velcro that wrapped around the nape of my neck and ears.  The last thing I needed was more sun exposure and a sunburn on my neck.  It kind of reminded me of a safari hat, so to speak.  I don’t believe the hat was made specifically for running, but it did the trick.

Typical during the morning hours, the mosquitos were extremely pesky as I jogged down the road.  They were constantly buzzing around my face and were categorically annoying.  When I would stop or walk, it got worse, but the DEET in the OFF kept them from eating me alive.  At the time, I was aware of West Nile, but Zika wasn’t in my repertoire of words.

The morning scenery of the lush green pasture lands along the meandering Bear River flanked by the Tunp Range and the hollows and canyons of Boundary Ridge were incredible and the cool pure 6200-foot elevation air was icing on the cake. 

The temperatures warmed as I passed by the short single runway of the region’s general aviation airport.  The airport was absent of aircraft and the tarmac, taxiway and runway pavement and markings were in a dilapidated condition desperate for some much needed repairs.  For a moment, I wondered if the airport was still active.

With the small field of marathon runners, I felt as if I was running alongside the road by my lonesome.  Sure, I could see runners ahead and behind me in the distance, but the lead runners had yet to cross my path.

When I run out-and-back races, I try to predict when I will see the lead runner.  When I see him or her, they are typically about four to five miles in front of me.  Sometimes, I do dream of being a lead runner with the runners behind me yelling out, “Way to go!” or “Looking good, keep it up!”  But in reality, that will never happen.  When I do hear “looking good, keep it up you’re almost there”, it’s not the same thing.  No, I don’t look good and I am not almost there.

Triple point monument

Another five quiet miles passed and I noticed a tattered makeshift plywood sign mounted on a fence post with “Monument Road” scribed on it.  The single-lane dirt road led up a hollow into the Boundary Ridge wilderness where one can find a survey monument marking a point common to the three states of Idaho, Utah and Wyoming.  I thought, “Now that’s where I want to go before leaving Cokeville.”  But, judging from the condition of the road, a four-wheel drive vehicle was recommended.  Oh well, maybe another day.  Besides, I don’t believe it would be as impressive as the southwest’s Four Corners Monument.

I had been counting the miles since leaving Cokeville, and before I knew it, the half-way point appeared on the horizon.  At the turn-around point, I noticed several cans of OFF placed on a table adjacent to a five-gallon Igloo water dispenser with a few one-gallon water jugs packed into a cardboard box placed on the ground underneath.  I guess other runners failed to adequately prepare themselves and weren’t mindful of the mosquitos in the area.

The number of mosquitos seemed to wane as the morning progressed and weren’t so active and bothersome with the rising temperatures.  I wanted more OFF as some insurance, but as I went to use a can, each one was empty!  I wasn’t too concerned though.  I refilled my small eight-ounce plastic containers and began the final half.

The second half of the marathon began slow and steady, passing some of the early start runners and walkers.  As the temperatures warmed and the sun becoming more intense as it neared the zenith, my pace slowed even more.  Around Marathon Mile 16, I had to resort to a run-walk-run program.  With the final ten miles, I was beginning to feel it. 

Whether it was a result of my body fining the proper balance of oxygen to counter the lactic acid buildup in my muscles or a temporary endorphin production, I would get occasional second winds making running less demanding.  Nevertheless, I was so looking forward to finishing.  Enjoying the scenery was furthest from my mind as I directed my focus towards Cokeville. 

Runners I passed a few miles back were passing me.  I guess some recognized me and provided bits of encouragement.  Were the words “struggling, please help” hanging over my head?

Rounding the final curve over the brow of a hill, I saw that little grouping of trees that provided the final shade for the first half of the course.  A woman runner holding a leash fixed to her golden retriever passed me and said some words of inspiration to get me over the final hump.  Her running looked so easy and relaxed – not to mention her dog trotting along like it was nothing.  It looked to me that her spectator husband handed over the dog while he finished the final mile or so with her.

I ran to the trees and took a little walk break in the shade.  For that momentary reprieve, I mustered up the energy for the final half-mile push to the finish line.

I rounded the corner on to West Main Street and saw the finish line gantry in the distance just beyond the railroad tracks.  I crossed in a time of 5:04:26, about a minute faster than my Idaho time (considering Idaho was short).

My Garmin measured slightly over 26.2 miles.  In a way, a noticeable improvement from the Idaho marathon.

Age graded score: 46%

Age graded time: 4:35:44

Median finish time: 5:30:05

 

I walked to the park’s arbor to pick up my finisher’s medal, had some water and chowed down several food items to refuel my depleted self while taking a load off, joyful of the fact I was able to check off another two states.

At times, I would hear several criticisms about the altitude of Wyoming.  For me, I don’t believe it had much of an effect on my performance.  The sole reason for my slower times was likely the combination of the heat and the sun.  The elevation nay have played a part, but overall, I didn’t feel it was since I am a finely tuned and well-oiled machine.  Some may disagree with that self-assessment; however.

Bear Lake overlook off US 89

After a few pictures of our successful Bear Lake experience, we changed out of our wet clothes and moseyed on down the highway to visit with my aunt and uncle in Logan; in the meantime, stopping at Merlin’s Drive-in in Laketown for a delicious burger and a frozen milkshake concoction – hey, we earned it!  Our original intent was to stop at the Bear Trapper Restaurant in Garden City (we ate there Saturday), but it was closed on Sundays.  Looking for some good food?  Try it.

US Highway 89 links Bear Lake with Logan.  Along US 89, we found a wide spot traversing a grassy prairie along the road in the upper regions of Logan Canyon to soak our achy and tired feet in the icy waters of the Logan River not far from Beaver Mountain Ski Area.  Frankly, I didn’t think the water was going to be so cold – wrong!   I could only muster a few seconds in the cold water, but my wife seemed to have a better tolerance.

Following a great visit and overnight stay with a well-deserved relaxing respite in Logan, it was back to Salt Lake City to visit one of my cousins and her family.  

My wife and I had a few hours to spare while in Salt Lake City, so to occupy our time, we enjoyed the spectacular sunny day visiting and touring the state capitol building and enjoying the weather walking through the picturesque Memory Grove Park.  The day brought many folks to the park - some walking their dogs, some jogging the Freedom Trail alongside the tranquil sounds of City Creek or some just enjoying a picnic meal – in any event, it was a picture perfect day.  I would have loved to jog the trail to cavort with nature, but after 52 miles, I thought my legs had enough.

City Creek tranquility

We made our way up the hill to my cousin’s house in the SLC area who was as busy as always.  We decided to caravan up Little Cottonwood Canyon to the Snowbird Ski Area and ride their tram to the top of Hidden Peak.

Snowbird Aerial Tram

I last skied Snowbird and Alta (just up the road, by the way) back in the 1980s, but I’ve never seen the canyon during the summer when the slopes are devoid of snow.  With the endless activities in the area, I thought what an awesome place it would be to plan a summer get-away.

Remnants of the granular, course and slushy winter snowpack still blanketed parts of the 11,000-foot peak where views of the Heber Valley to the southeast and the Salt Lake Valley to the west were spectacular on such a bright sunny day, albeit a little chilly.  Making snowballs with that slushy snow was definitely a challenge.

We took the final tram of the day off the peak back to the base station.  To satiate our appetites, we all sat down in the resort area commons to dine on a custom packed meal my cousin had prepared.  I enjoyed watching the kids chase squirrels while having a good time burning off the energy of youth.  We were even lucky enough (while maintaining our distance) to witness a young moose promenading through the resort’s parking lot.  

Unfortunately, darkness was beginning to rule the day and time got the better of us which forced to part ways.  We made our way back down the canyon into Salt Lake City to ready ourselves for an early morning flight back to LAX.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

State Number 17 - Bear Lake Marathon, Idaho

State Number 17 – Bear Lake Marathon, Idaho

St. Charles, ID

 

19 June 2015

THREE marathons, THREE states, THREE days.  The three-state area of Idaho, Utah and Wyoming in the Bear Lake vicinity is an ideal setting for a trifecta and a perfect race weekend for 50-State Club runners.

The centralized location of the Bear Lake trifecta is ideal for us Fifty-Staters and die hard marathoners who can’t pass up the opportunity to check off three states in one weekend with only a 45-minute, or less, travel distance between the three races.  How great is that?

On a side note, the Wyoming marathon was run twice, Thursday 18 June and Sunday 21 June.  Thursday was available for those wanting to run Wyoming early, did not want to run on Sunday or wanted to complete four marathons in four days.  I believe most ran Wyoming on Thursday.

We boarded a short United flight from LAX to Salt Lake City (SLC), rented a car and drove up I-15 to Montpelier, ID via Highway US 91 through Logan and Preston, ID.  After stopping for a pleasant visit with one of my cousins in the Preston area, it was off through the scenic Idaho Route 36 over the Bear River Range Mountains into Bear Lake Valley’s Montpelier.

As we entered the city of around 2800 residents lying in the heart of the farming region north of Bear Lake tucked away in the far southeastern corner of Idaho, a scary life-sized bear statue of Old Ephraim stands on a grassy patch along the main highway greeting those who drive or walk by. 

Settled by Mormon pioneers, the city is also situated on the historic California/Oregon Trail.

This trip was my first ever visit to the Bear Lake area and I was excited to run two of the three marathons.  Since I had already run Top of Utah (State No. 4) nearly three years earlier, I decided to skip the Utah portion of the trifecta.  The Utah marathon was held in between the Idaho and Wyoming runs, so a one-day break between marathons advanced my morale.

It was beautiful weather in the valley with temperatures hovering around 70°F.  The forecast called for sunny skies with warm temperatures.  NOT an ideal situation for me.  Shade in this part of Idaho seemed to be minimal, at best, and I prepared myself to be in it for the long haul. 

The elevation of the Bear Lake area averages around 6000 ft, so I was a little nervous how, or if, the altitude would affect my performance.

No, not the capital of Vermont

Some runners may claim that the Bear Lake marathons are so-called “fake marathons” just so runners can crank out as many states as possible in one trip.  While I’m not opposed to such marathons, if it is a way to knock out some states, then I’m all for it.  Some runners may like only large marathons with all the glitz, glamour, bling and swag; but occasionally I prefer small low-key events from time to time.  Besides, there’s no hassle or frustrations that come with the larger marathon events.

Idaho, as well as the other two, was a small race with a small field of runners.  The Bear Lake Memorial Hospital in Montpelier served as our bib pick-up location – no expo or swag to speak of.  The race director looked disorganized and had a disheveled look on his face from a lack of sleep and non-stop running around.  Anyone trying to organize three or four marathons without major glitches by him/herself using only a handful of volunteers must be a difficult undertaking.

This year’s course layout looked to be different from previous years.  The point-to-point course began in Montpelier and finished in the community of St. Charles nearly 18 miles to the south along US Highway 89.  Because of the point-to-point configuration, I left the hotel a couple of hours before the start time to drive and park the car near finish line area at the LDS church in St. Charles and caught a shuttle bus back to the Montpelier start line.

It was a cold and crisp morning and I was dressed anticipating warmer weather later as the day progressed.  Since the runner pool was small (around 150, more or less), runners were allowed to use the rest rooms and keep warm in the hospital lobby until the 0600 start time.

The marathon did not begin on time – surprise, surprise.  Runners gathered at the rear of a largely empty parking lot across the street from the hospital.  There was no hint of starting line delineation and the race director told everyone to “stand about here” as he pointed to the ground.  The director said the course “should be well marked with small signs and to follow the arrows.”  After that, he yelled, “Go!” and we raced out of the lot with minimal fanfare.



We start about here!

Wow!  That was it?  No chip timing?  On the face of it, low budget.  I was surprised there were a few official pacer runners.  I was concerned if the course actually measured 26 miles 385 yards in length.  I wasn’t about to complain, however, as I set out to enjoy the scenery throughout the agricultural and livestock grazing lands outside the Montpelier expanse.  The wonderful whiffs of the livestock, feed lots and grazing land aromas brought back some old memories. 

It wasn’t long before Montpelier’s asphalt covered roadways turned into county maintained gravel roads.  I’m not a fan of running on gravel roads and it reminded me of Colorado’s Mt. Sneffels Marathon (State No. 3).  With little pebbles somehow working their way into my shoes, I had to stop every so often to remove those annoyances before a blister or hot spot appeared on my foot.

Course spectators were nowhere to be found with the exception of every two or three miles or so, at a manned water station staffed with a couple of volunteers.  There was only water, but no Gatorade or other sports drinks.  Honey Stinger energy gels were available at select tables; however, I took some energy gels with me just in case. 

Beginning around Marathon Mile 7 as runners diverted to the gravel surfaced Airport Road, the course intersected an active railroad track.  I heard the sound of train horns off in the distance and wondered if any runners behind me would be stuck behind a train causing their finish times to be longer than expected.

The long section of Airport Road, with an occasional tractor or farm truck passing by, wound its way through Wardboro, the livestock fields and across the Bear River.  Of course, I took an interest with all the irrigation district ditches, take-out structures and in-stream weirs as I crossed over them or were visible from the road.

On the gravel roads

With several miles of gravel roads, I was more than ready to once again run on a paved surface.  My wish came true, even though it was only temporary, when I entered the little unincorporated community of Dingle and the first sign of any civilization or spectators.  Runners were chiefly left to their own volition pretty much throughout the entire course, and notwithstanding the solitude on the roads, I was content with running my own race.  By the way, I am my only time limit.

Besides a smattering of houses, an LDS church, post office and a park/playground, the rural community of Dingle was a welcomed relief from the emptiness of the agricultural lands and gravel roads.  It was a blessing the good folks of Dingle came out to cheer on the runners for a much needed boost of energy and confidence. 

About a mile after leaving Dingle, the paved road once again became a graveled roadway heading up the course’s only “hill” skirting the escarpment of the Eastern Bear Lake Fault overlooking the Bear Lake National Wildlife Refuge and Mud Lake situated on the northern end of Bear Lake.

For the next 6.5 miles, the steep escarpment alongside the road provided much needed shade as the sun was hastily rising to the east.  The weather was beginning to warm, but the shade turned out to be my sole luxury along that segment of the course.

I had to stop and remove all the pebbles that made their way into my shoes as I negotiated the turn leaving the gravel road at the Bear Lake Hot Springs Resort.  That’s when the wheels came off the proverbial bus.  I was now becoming worried for the remainder of the course.  The next 5.5 miles ran along North Beach Road that separated Bear Lake from Mud Lake.  With the sun at my back, there was not a lick of shade (excepting the trees at the Utah Power & Light facility), and I was becoming sunburnt, overheated and dehydrated.  The weather forced me to resort to walking most of that section.  The water level of Bear Lake was noticeably lower than the shore’s usual lake line.  The allure of running down the beach area and jumping into the striking blue waters of Bear Lake was very enticing, I had no time to spare, I had to finish.

I don’t know which was worse – walking or running.  Walking seemed just as torturous as running in the blazing sun, but running became more and more painful.  As various thoughts kept trolling through my mind, I was constantly weighing the balance between “do I want to finish sooner?” or “do I want to experience less pain with more time in the sun?”  With approximately four miles remaining, my wife texted me that she finished and expect the course to be about 0.25 mile short.  Also in the message, she informed me that she signed up for the Utah portion of the trifecta.  I so wanted to be done and the thought of the course being short lifted my spirits somewhat¼ultimately the “do I want to finish sooner?” won out. 

I had just under two miles left coming off North Beach Road and the penultimate turn onto Powerline Road.  This final part of the course was again on a gravel road, but I didn’t care.  The heat and sun were brutal.  No breezes, no shade – just sun.  But since I was so close to the finish, I put that aside and cruised into the finish line on one of St. Charles’ rustic streets, 100 North, just east of US Highway 89 with a time of 5:05:19 (age graded time 4:36:32 – age graded score 45.87%). 

My Garmin read approximately 0.25 mile short of the 26.2 miles needed for a full marathon, but I wasn’t complaining.  It was close enough for government work and I was happy to be finished after a brutal five hour run.  Time for my medal.  What?  All that work and no medal?  My wife told me medals were available in the food area near the church.

As for the altitude, I don’t believe it had much of an effect on my performance.  When the temperatures were cooler, I kept pretty much a steady pace for 19 to 20 miles.  On the other hand, with Mt. Sneffels being over 8000 feet, I immediately noticed the effects of high-altitude running just after a few short miles.  In the for-what-it’s-worth department, I train at an elevation of 350 feet, more or less, with occasional hill training that reaches altitudes of 800 feet.

Considering all the marathon participants, the average finish time was 5:09:26 with a standard deviation of 1:04:14 and a median time of 5:03:40.  Bearing in mind how awful I felt over the last seven miles, at least I was above average.

To quote George Sheehan, “Have you ever felt worse after a run?”  Given Idaho’s performance, I would have to answer that question with an emphatic “yes!”  I usually feel good after a run – who doesn’t feel better after a dose of endorphins?  My endorphin dose must have assimilated back into my system throughout the course of the day since I lacked any sense of euphoria after crossing the finish line.  Let’s see¼the other times I felt miserable, Mt. Sneffels, CO (State No. 3) and First Light, AL (State No. 9).

I wanted my medal and I was in desperate need of some water and food.  Before I could enjoy the fruits of my labor, we had to walk another quarter mile or so – maybe to make up for the course being a quarter mile short – to a community park area adjacent to the LDS church.

Stalactite and stalagmite formations

We didn’t spend a whole lot of time at the post-race festivities and drove back to Montpelier for some pool/hot tub time to relax our tired muscles.

After we cleaned up and relaxed in the hot tub, we embarked on a visit to Minnetonka Cave up the St. Charles Canyon just outside of St. Charles.  Because everyone knows, the best thing to tackle after a marathon is exploring a strenuous cave formation by hiking 444 stair steps – multiply that by two for the trip out.  While waiting for our tour group to enter the cave, we took the edge off our appetites by consuming a Snickers candy bar.  It was just enough to temporarily tame the hungry bear in us.

The one kilometer long limestone cave leading deep into Idaho’s Bear River Range mountains glistened with stalactite and stalagmite formations with large cavernous rooms bathed in blue, green and white light to accentuate the natural beauty the formations create.  Numerous bats clung to the ceiling seemingly ignoring the noise and commotion from the tour groups.  The temperature in the cave was a nice, cool, constant and comfortable 40°F, so it was a revitalizing and welcomed relief from the outside heat.

I didn’t find the passage into the cave that difficult.  Sure, I was a little stiff and sore from the marathon, but I didn’t allow that to hinder my enjoyment of our spelunking adventure and the stair climbing.  Moreover, the energy expended on the stair climbs can only further my endurance training. 

What’s a cave without bats?  Seeing the numerous bats flying in and out of the cavern was incredible.  I found it remarkable how they can fly so fast under the cover of darkness while skimming over people’s heads simultaneously avoiding the rock formations, cave protuberances and other obstructions – thanks to their biological sonar capabilities.

As we drove down the canyon road back to St. Charles, we happened upon some a herd of bovine quadrupeds sauntering down the highway without paying much attention to the vehicular traffic.  With a little coaxing from the car’s horn, they seemed to take notice and eventually moved off the roadway.

 

Yikes, this dude is huge!

We arrived back in Montpelier with a giant appetite for some lunch.  But first, we needed to strike a pose with Old Ephraim.  The effigy is a life-size representation of the bear who once roamed the area in the early 20^th century.  I was amazed with his sheer size and would unquestionably not like to encounter something that size in the wild.

For lunch?  Pizza, at this hole-in-the-wall place called Always Fresh.  It was a busy little establishment off the main highway not far from our hotel.  Packed with summer visitors and a youth sports team, it took some time for our pizza to arrive – all hot and cheesy.  Of course, we also needed to sample of their “famous” ice cream.  I wouldn’t say it was the best, but it had a pretty creamy texture with a good flavor, at least with the flavor I had.

Before heading back to the hotel, we made a pit stop at Broulim’s Grocery Store for some snacks, bottled water, Diet Cokes and some food items for pre-marathon breakfast meals.

After we got back to the hotel, I wandered across the street to the National Oregon/California Trail Center to see if anything captured my interest.  There were a several pieces of flotsam and jetsam and some interesting relics, but I didn’t spend much time perusing the vast collection of artifacts.

During the Idaho marathon, another runner convinced my wife to sign up and run Saturday’s Utah marathon in Laketown, UT in addition to Wyoming to complete the trifecta and compete for the fastest overall time.  She, too, also completed Top of Utah, but I guess accepting the challenge was just too tempting.

I was surprised by the text that she was tackling Utah and I was glad she took up the challenge.  Since Utah is already in the books for me, I was perfectly content with a rest day.  Because my wife needed to prepare for another marathon, our day was cut short for some much needed rest.

At the ID/UT state line boundary monument

Yes, the Idaho marathon was small and probably laid out on a whim with no official USATF measurement other than a vehicle’s odometer reading, but I found this marathon to large in life.  It wasn’t surprising to me that the course ran short and with the race director and his volunteers looking frazzled and stressed out. I hoped that my next marathon in Wyoming would serve me with some better results.  However, it being on Sunday, who knows what could happen.

Very few spectators lined the mostly gravelly road out and back course.  With the small number of runners, it could be a lonely time for some.  I enjoyed the peace and serenity, but when I started on the final six miles across Bear Lake, the heat and sun really took a toll.  When all is told, I did enjoy my experience in Idaho even though it was small and low key, i.e., like one of those “fake marathons”.  I would not doubt course layouts will change in subsequent years until a certified route is nailed down through the process of trial and error.  I have to give kudos to the race director and his “staff” for their unrelenting dedication to make these marathons possible.  See you in Wyoming!