State Number 40 - The Hogeye Marathon

State Number 40 – Hogeye Marathon

Springdale, AR

14 April 2018

 

I won’t tiptoe around this point, it’s probably known to dedicated marathoners that the Little Rock Marathon is famous for its mammoth-sized medals.  Now that I’ve gotten that out of the way, the Hogeye Marathon medal may nowhere be near what Little Rock offers, but the size is impressive, nevertheless.

I’ve mentioned it more than once in some of my marathon recaps and it’s worth mentioning again, I love race medals.  I didn’t get into the sport for them, because I was surprised to see young volunteers handing out little metal tokens with ribbons tied to them after finishing my first half marathon back in the day.  I honestly thought it was a little silly at first – what’s the value or significance of a trophy if everyone gets one?

But as the races piled on, I developed a fondness for the memento.  It’s nice to put in the time, energy and sweat in training for a long-distance race and have something that will remind you of it years later.  It’s become standard practice for any race of 13.1 miles or more (sometimes 5, 8 or 10K races) to give medals to its finishers, but not everyone does it.  Every now and then you’ll find races that give away other prizes besides medals: mugs, coasters, wine glasses, or belt buckles, for example.  Others don’t use metal but prefer to use handcrafted items comprised of wood, clay, or even glass.  Probably the most meaningful handcrafted non-metallic medal presented to me was at the First Light Marathon in Mobile, AL (State No. 9).  The handcrafted memento was made by, and presented to me at the finish, a wonderful lady affiliated with L’Arche Mobile. 

I consider First Light the most challenging “runs” of my career, literally, but once that handcrafted medal was placed around my neck, the toil, slogging and drudgery I experienced over those six hours seemed to disappear and dissolve into oblivion.

Most organizers try to infuse the race or host city’s character into a medal’s design, hoping that it will single-handedly capture the spirit of the marathon.  But the signature feature of the Hogeye Marathon’s medal is the cool looking hog sporting a pair of sunglasses.  Arthur Fonzarelli comes to mind, for those who are old enough to know what I’m talking about.  Aaaaay!

I’m not entirely sure of the Hogeye’s humble beginnings, but as I learned, it all began decades ago at the University of Arkansas in nearby Fayetteville when the marathon course led runners to the small hamlet of Hogeye, turned around, and returned to the university, marking twenty six miles.  Today, the course has undergone substantial route changes, but unfortunately, preserving the hilly traditions that makes this event unique.  According to the organizers, this marathon is a “pretty pig deal” for Northwest Arkansas. 

Prior to embarking on this marathoning adventure, I knew Northwest Arkansas is smack dab in the Ozark foothills.  Although it may not be the hilliest marathon in the country, I have a lot of confidence that the Hogeye course may be one of those I remember the most.  If it’s not the weather, it’s the hills – or will it be the wind or a combination of the two?  Given all those superfluities and hindrances, it won’t stop me from enjoying Northwest Arkansas.  For those that love, or even hate, hilly courses, they’ll be back regardless.  I suppose I’ll be one of those exceptions.

I didn’t take training for this race very seriously with the respect necessary to tackle a topographically challenging marathon.  I’ve been getting much faster at the quarter marathon distance, but haven’t quite seen a similar breakthrough in the full distance.  It’s hard to hill train in the flat central valley of California, so naturally my endurance levels for such inclines are not at the levels they need to be.  I’ve rested enough since Carmel, IN to ensure that I’d have well-rested legs for the Hogeye.

What did “Tennessee?”  Think about it for a moment.  Same thing “Arkansas.”  I was one of the fortunate few to run the inaugural Chattanooga Marathon.  The nasty hills of that marathon definitely tested my patience, endurance and fitness levels.  For my sake, I hope Chattanooga doesn’t mirror Hogeye. 

The Thursday before race weekend shortly after 1300 hours, it was wheels up from LAX on the big banana, Spirit Airlines, arriving at Kansas City (MCI) to warm and balmy temperatures around 1830 (CDT).  Personally, I enjoy flying into MCI.  It is a somewhat small airport, no crowds, quick security screening, easy to navigate and rental cars are very affordable.

The affordability index and convenience of MCI prompted us to fly into KC rather than Little Rock (LIT) or Northwest Arkansas (XNA), rent a car and drive four hours down I-49/U.S. 71 to Springdale.  After an intermediate rest stop for the night in Harrisonville, MO, we continued our southbound trek into the Springfield Plateau of the Ozark Mountains covering Southwest Missouri and Northwest Arkansas where spectacular karst features, common in limestone landscapes, dominated our visual backdrop.  I wondered how many sinkholes and caves are strewn around the area.

Temporary end to I-49

Surprisingly, I-49 ended just a few short miles from the Arkansas state line.  I later learned that because of funding disputes, an extension of I-49 known as the Bella Vista Bypass, has yet to find a completion date.  Anyway, once the interstate freeway designation ended, the segment of U.S. 71 connecting the missing segment of I-49 quickly turned into a congested highway across the state line and into Bentonville, AR.

We arrived in Springdale with ample time to enjoy what the expo/packet pickup had to offer.  Located in the HELP Card parking lot off Emma Avenue near the marathon’s finish line area, the small expo held inside a tent suggestive of the circus-tent like roof resembling Denver Airport, but on a much smaller scale, contained the usual vendors and some local running groups peddling their upcoming races.  However, the lack of air circulation under the big top made for an unpleasant greenhouse-like microclimate.  I could only handle the stuffy, musty and hot air for a short period of time.  It was similar to being wrapped in a plastic sheet without a way to cool off.

Besides finding ample time for the expo, there was also sufficient time to worry about the warm moist balmy air being driven from the Gulf of Mexico by a strong low pressure system over the Midwest and whether it could create enough atmospheric instability to cause severe thunderstorm activity – or the prospect of tornados throughout the Springdale/Fayetteville area.



Watch out!

As we arrived at our hotel room, a notice lying of the floor near the door informed hotel guests of a severe weather warning and the possibility of tornados and what to do in the event of such activity – not a pleasant thought.

In the lobby later that evening, we, and a host of other runners, enjoyed ourselves munching on hors d’oeuvres and other finger foods (great pre-marathon nutrition) while intently listening to the local meteorological broadcasts about impending severe weather.  Unfortunately, a destructive tornado brushed through the community of Mountainburg, south of Springdale.

The unanimous conclusion from weather junkies predicted a cold front would move through the Springdale area during the early morning hours producing near freezing conditions (freeze warnings) with strong gusty northwesterly winds.  In other words, marathon day will be cold, cloudy and windy – making for near ideal running weather, why should I complain?

After a terrible night’s rest, we arrived early enough to secure a parking spot not far from the finish line.  To kill time, we happily enjoyed ourselves in the warm toasty air inside the car watching other runners running up and down the street trying to stay warm.  Flags and banners flapping boisterously in the wind gave rise to what kind of day I should expect.

The car’s dashboard thermometer displayed 36°F.  Combined with the wind, an uncomfortable wind chill immediately surprised anyone who stepped out of their vehicles.  We didn’t bother with a bag drop, but instead braved the chilly air as we walked toward the start line a couple of blocks west of the finish. 

I settled into the throng of runners a few paces behind the four-hour pacer.  My pre-race plan was simple, settle in with the 4:30 pace group once the race began. 

It’s always great to see Ainsley’s Angles teaming up with marathon organizers.  This year’s Hogeye is no exception.  Charging out of the starting gate a few ticks of the clock before the main field of marathoners, half marathoners and relay runners, teams of Ainsley’s Angles confronted the cold, beginning their race quest to compassionate and supportive fanfare.  

After the singing of our National Anthem with Old Glory raised over Emma Avenue suspended from a fire truck’s rotating aerial ladder, the time was nigh…it was go time!  Following Carmel Marathon two weeks prior, I knew I had to maximize rest while still maintaining some sort of post-recovery workouts.  With five rest days leading up to Hogeye, I began the 42^nd running of this annual Northwest Arkansas event feeling nearly one hundred percent.  Barring some minor and superficial stiffness, aches and pains, my legs felt fresh and ready to go.  Who wouldn’t after five days?

The first half: (9:19, 9:10, 9:30, 9:25, 9:38, 9:38, 9:54, 9:56, 10:13, 10:22, 9:52, 10:24, 10:19) 

My legs felt great as a stampede of hundreds of runners hastened across the rather narrow width of the starting line timing mats and advanced down Emma Avenue. 

I quickly decided to abandon the 4:30 pace group and decided to run my own race.  Given the purportedly hilly nature of the course, I wasn’t too keen on trying to keep up with the four-hour group.  If the 4:30 pacer caught me, I thought, “Oh, well.  That’s the way it goes.  Maybe I will just hang on if that time comes.”  I just need to maintain a 10:18 pace – how demanding can that be?

The first two miles incorporated relatively flat terrain with a few minor rolling ascents and descents.  I looked at is as a warm-up of things to come and wasn’t about to get some false sense of security about the entire course.  It’s impossible to judge a course from just a few miles. 

I maintained my comfortable and natural cadence without any heavy breathing with the frigid air causing my nose to dribble like a leaky faucet.  As I approached more sustained and increasing gradients, my pace relaxed slightly.  My inner voice screamed at me to regard those hills to be some sort of a sign, counseling me to begin conserving some energy.



In Lake Fayetteville Park

Having run the first six miles on city streets, I looked forward to some alternate scenery, Lake Lafayette, for example, besides the expansive cattle grazing fields with a smattering of newer subdivision and commercial developments that come with growing communities.

The miles seemed to tick by, and I welcomed that.  Before I knew it, at Marathon Mile 7, the course led runners along the Lake Lafayette Trail which also coincides with the Northwest Arkansas Razorback Greenway.

Situated on the northern edge of the city of Fayetteville, the scenic Lake Fayetteville and surrounding city maintained park appears to invite multiple recreational opportunities like boating, fishing, hiking, running, cycling, picnicking, and disk golf.

My pace times reflect some of the hilly terrain of the trail.  Following a substantial elevation gain, the half marathon runners split from the trail and back onto city streets for their journey to the finish line.  As usual, the amount of runners significantly diminished once past the turnaround point.

Running across the earthen dam

At around Marathon Mile 9, the course crossed a lengthy earthen dam serving to impound water which forms the lake.  The gusty winds across the openness of the dam crest made for some difficult running blowing off my cap a couple of times.  Braving the cold winds were a couple of anglers sitting in their dinghy next to the dam’s intake structure.  Whether they caught any lake bass or other fish, remains to be seen.  The sight of runners struggling against the cold winds may have taken their mind off the boredom of waiting for fish to bite their lines.

As I crossed the dam, I wondered about a spillway.  I later came upon it tucked away behind a small ridge line along the lake’s shore.  Very little water flowed over the broad-crested weir structure where ducks and geese enjoyed dabbling in the green mossy water at the foot of the weir.  The non-ventilated nappe indicated a submerged flow regime.  I digress.  Hey, I’m an engineer who appreciates fluid mechanics.

After a short stop to snap a photo of the weir, I joined a platoon of runners to carry out my mission.  Subsequent to a short little incline, runners departed the Lake Fayetteville Trail and onto the Northwest Arkansas Razorback Greenway.

Broad-crested weir

Over the next two miles, the undulating Greenway trail paralleled Clear Creek, providing a beautiful venue for peaceful running.  The dense vegetation shielded the wind while the tranquil sounds of the water flowing over the rocks of Clear Creek made for a serene setting before rejoining the hustle and bustle of city streets.  I only wish I was lucky enough to have a lake or greenway trail to run and train where I live.

At Marathon Mile 11, it was back onto city streets and into a steady, but weak, headwind.  My paced slowed to a certain degree coming off the trail.  I calculated my half marathon split time to be around 2:10.  The next two miles were a little tough while negotiating a slight inclined grade and accompanying headwind.  I crossed the half marathon split in just over 2:07 as I rounded the corner off Johnson Road to the Don Tyson Parkway.

The second half: (10:45, 10:46, 12:17, 10:35, 10:57, 10:37, 11:02, 10:39, 10:31, 12:31, 12:19, 11:59, 12:05, 9:37)

Running across the intersection onto Don Tyson, I was rudely greeted with the inevitable – strong, gusty headwinds – winds affecting the full frontal area of a runner, the hang on to your cap head type wind.

The next two and a half miles of wind-sweeping open land and seemingly endless hills immediately put a damper on my pace.  I told myself that I was not going to walk and will have to force myself through some challenging conditions.  I pushed hard all the way to just past Marathon Mile 15 feeling as if I was dragging a heavy weight behind me as we entered the parking lot to Arvest Ballpark and into the newly constructed stadium, home to the Northwest Arkansas Naturals and an AA affiliate to MLB’s KC Royals.

The sounds of baseball

Running through Arvest Ballpark stadium was a treat I had not expected.  The best part?  The smell of fresh turf, the sound of batting practice and getting a break from the wind, all lifting my spirits.

Exiting the stadium onto Watkins Avenue seemed to give me a second wind, so to speak.  The gusty headwinds suddenly became a gusty tailwind.  I could feel the force of the wind at my back, assisting my efforts up and down the rolling hills to S. 40^th Street; thence to Marathon Mile 17 at Chapman Avenue to the sounds of an annoying truck horn blasting from a diesel pusher RV parked in someone’s driveway.  Were they cheering runners or being irritated with runners?  

Buzzard awaiting his road kill meal at Mile 17

Undulating fields scattered with various head of cattle was a common site along Chapman Avenue.  The hills weren’t bad, but I was getting tired of hilly terrain and just wished they would go away.

At Marathon Mile 18, the good folks at Cross Church of Springdale greeted runners with refreshment spreads of their own with inspirational sounds of Christian music emanating from a large stereo system.  My pace slowed down to under the 10:18 I needed to remain ahead of the 4:30 pace group.  I felt as if I was beginning to tire a little and my leg turnover wasn’t there anymore.  I resigned to the fact the pacer would catch me.  It was not if, but when.

Feeling good in JB Hunt Park

As I approached a water station near Marathon Mile 20, the 4:30 pacer snuck up from behind me.  He was alone, holding his pace sign down beside him as if he was “out of service”, so I joined him as I had planned from the beginning.  I asked if he was on pace and he told me he was a couple of minutes fast and since he had no one in his group, he decided to pick up the pace.  Not cool.

Runners can be a loquacious species who normally relish at the opportunity to go off on marathon experiences with like-minded lunatics.  However, throughout the entire course, I found it unfortunate that I did not talk with a single runner, so it was nice to talk with someone besides my inner self.  Talking with the pacer (a California transplant, by the way) made the miles tick away a little faster.

His inquisitive mind probed me about my marathon experiences and my 50-state quest.  We conversed about this and that for about a mile or so until I had to stop for some nutrition and electrolytes.  He didn’t stop at aid stations, instead eating and drinking on the run.  His lead increased to the point it was not practical to catch him.  It was time to again, run my own race. 

With around 10 kilometers to go, I somehow caught up with a minivan traveling a short section of the course.  I tucked myself behind it for about a half mile or so hoping to gain a small advantage.  The drafting effect made for running much easier until the van turned off the street.

Feeling strong at Mile 23

Shortly before Marathon Mile 22, I entered JB Hunt Park, traversed the curvilinear concrete pedestrian trails for a little more than a mile and, once again, hooking up with the Northwest Arkansas Razorback Greenway for the final three-mile push to the finish line.  But first, a stop at the porta-john, throwing my mindset into a slow gear.  I knew stopping would be the worst thing to do, but I couldn’t hold it any longer.

That segment of the Greenway meandered in conjunction with Spring Creek until intersecting with Johnson Avenue prior to making a left turn onto Shiloh Street.  My pace was disconcertingly slow, but remained fairly consistent.  About an hour earlier, I consumed several dill pickles with sips of the briny juice, so cramping was a distant thought as I picked up my pace.

I rounded the final left turn onto Emma Avenue with a sense of determination – similar to a runner making the left turn onto the famed Boylston Street in Boston.  Seeing the finish line in the distance, I marked a young runner ahead of me, picked up my pace and flew by her, setting the “operation let-no-one-pass-me” wheels into motion, leaving it all on the course to the final downhill stretch to the finish line clocking in at 4:36:45, slower than what I had hoped for, but satisfying nevertheless, furthering my confidence for my next challenge at the Colorado Marathon in Fort Collins, CO (a do-over state).

Age graded score: 51.36%

Age graded time: 3:59:24

Average time: 4:41:11

Standard deviation: 0:56:26

 

As I hobbled past the finish line, I had very little time to smile at my accomplishment before I got my first up close look at this year’s finisher’s medal.  I knew it wasn’t going to be nearly as big as Little Rock’s fame, but it was loud and ostentatious anyway, ornamented with glittery bling with a little charm of Arkansas hanging from the bottom.  It was something else to actually behold and proudly wear it.  The hunk of metal is impossible not to love as it rest on my weary shoulders.  Also, I cannot forget to mention the nice-looking finisher’s jacket presented to all finishers and an endearing pig nose to wear symbolizing the hog-themed event.

As I caught my breath, consumed some nutrition (chicken hot dogs) and began to recover, I soaked up the unique camaraderie that comes from the shared relief at finishing another race.  It's a strange relief, tinged with exhilaration and pride that comes from completing the 26.2 distance once again.  I'm going to assume that it's universal to all marathoners, whether they're elites, consistent BQers, age group winners, or the back-of-the-packers.  Despite the pain, the hills, the gusty blustery winds, the cold temperatures and the mental anguish of Hogeye 2018; I'm, of course, glad I did it and it's another marathon under my belt.  It’s time to firmly cross Arkansas off my list, and focus on the remaining ten states.  Let’s hope I keep building upon my quest as I continue this journey into the sometimes dark realm past Marathon Mile 20.

With Arkansas now shaded in red – or whatever color I choose – I’ve reached a new milestone – forty marathon states!  And just like that, I have ten states remaining with an undertaking I never thought possible.  Even when the thought came up with the quest of blazing a path in all fifty states, I wouldn’t have dreamed of actually pursuing it.  The best part?  Despite all those painful miles where everything aches and you can feel your vitality escape with each breath, I’m still loving it! 

My wife and I limped and shuffled back to the hotel for a long awaited soaking in the hot tub and a shower – possibly a little nap before embarking on a dinner run and settling in for the evening.

On our last day in Arkansas, the very chilly and windy weather was not conducive to any kind of wandering around outside of the car.  After a drive to Lake Fayetteville Park and walking the dam reminiscing about our marathon experience, we headed back up north to Kansas City for our flight back to LAX, stopping along the way to pay a visit to Harry Truman’s birthplace in Lamar, MO.

Snow began to fall as we entered KC.  It remained light enough not to cause any travel problems, however, our pilot decided to de-ice the plane before departing MCI.  Our flight out of MCI was delayed thanks to a delay from LAX; and with the de-ice process, we arrived home over an hour later than scheduled.

Some final thoughts.  In the for-what-its-worth department, before I sat down to write this marathon review, American Desi Linden does the unthinkable and wins the Boston Marathon.  Her “I’m in it to win it” attitude was just what she needed to charge ahead to the finish line.  She had no magic shoes, no gimmicks – it was all grit, patience, passion, hard work and consistency.  She fought hard through all her frustrations and disappointments to earn this win on a tough New England day and I am so excited for her!  The weather conditions at Hogeye paled in comparison to the conditions in Boston.  I certainly cannot complain.  With that in mind, I must congratulate all the badass Boston Marathoners, and volunteers, who braved the tough elements Boston threw at them. 

Typically, I consider myself a middle-of-the-pack runner, but there was nothing atypical of The Hogeye.  I'm cool with that – and that’s how each race goes, where most marathons seem to be more of a struggle than are easy.  If it was easy, everyone would do it.  I may be one of the “slower” runners in my age group, but I hope to get back to “fast” one of these days.  I know just how much work it takes and I haven't been able to dedicate enough time or energy to it.  For now, I lament my loss of speed and I’m just grateful for my health and abilities.

Onwards and upwards!

 

 

State Number 39 - Carmel Marathon

State Number 39 – Carmel Marathon

Carmel, IN

31 March 2018

 

“That’s the thing about running – your greatest runs are rarely measured by racing success.  They are moments in time when running allows you to see how wonderful your life is.” – Kara Goucher, American long distance runner.

I think of springtime as a balance between global extremes – winter and summer.  I believe the vernal equinox is a perfect time to pause, adjust and invite more balance and fluidity to my running endeavors.

State Number 39!  My path-blazing quest is nigh.  Still reeling from a difficult tour through the Palmetto and Sunshine States, I fought through the time between Florida and Indiana with some sort of training regimen by logging some quality miles during my post-race recovery period.

To some degree, I felt delusional about what I did to organize myself for Carmel.  I considered my last two marathons simply as LSD runs serving as motivation to train well, ensuring better preparedness for this race.  Will this ensure a BQ?  Nope, that’s a senseless thought; however, my likelihoods for a sub-five hour marathon are much greater – as long as the weather does not compare to Florida.

Instead of our customary LAX departures, the most economical flights to Indianapolis originated out of San Francisco International (SFO).  With a slight learning curve to this relatively new locale, we found the parking locations in the vicinity of the airport somewhat easier and more convenient than LAX, albeit, a tad pricier.

It was wheels up shortly after 0740 for a 3.5-hour non-stop Virgin America Airlines flight to Indianapolis (IND).  It was a somewhat chilly but partly cloudy day upon our arrival at IND.  It was tough trading eighty-degree California springtime weather (we call them California classics) for late winter-like weather of the Midwest, but hey, the warm weather will be waiting for me when I return home.

The weather in the Midwest during late March/early April comes with a large degree of changeability – ranging from snow, freezing rain, severe weather, tornados, to delightful sunny days – justifying our chilly reception.  But, looking on the bright side, the chilly air makes for ideal running.

After securing our mode of transportation, it was only a forty-minute drive from IND to Carmel along I-465 beltway around Indianapolis.

Approximately 3.5 hours from where I live in California lies the central coast city of Carmel (officially Carmel-by-the-Sea) and home to the acclaimed Big Sur Marathon.  We left coasters pronounce it as car-MEL.  However; I assumed Carmel, IN had the same pronunciation, but it immediately became apparent it’s pronounced CARmel, similar to the chewy candies.  Yes, I know what happens when one assumes.

Carmel's location on the globe

On the face of it, Carmel appears to be a rapidly growing and sprawling community of around 100,000 persons positioned on the north side of Indianapolis, and is the site of this steadily growing-in-popularity marathon.  A revitalized downtown area bounded on the east and west sides by a decorative arch frame spanning Main Street proudly displays “Carmel Arts & Design District.”  With dozens of traffic circles (roundabouts), traffic on Carmel streets appear to move efficiently, improving safety, reducing delays and eliminating the need for signalized or four-way stop intersections.  For drivers not accustomed to them, they can be a little challenging and intimidating to navigate.

Sometimes, I want to give up, really, I do.  At this point, I can do nothing else but admit outright that at times I don’t know what I’m doing.  After ten years of running and fifty-six marathons under my belt, countless different training plans and goals, I finally learned that the sport is too varied and unpredictable to truly harness.  Some super-human and the indefatigable runners like Dean Karnazes, Shalane Flanagan or Ryan Hall have managed to tame the marathon.  But I am not Dean, Shalane or Ryan.  I have yet to tame the marathon distance, but I’m not going to give up now.  It’s too late in the game for such foolishness.

This might sound a little melodramatic, so I have to back up and explain.  During the second week of February, I successfully completed, if one could call it that, two marathons in one weekend – a double marathon weekend mind you.  Though I mostly “took it easy” in the first one stopping the clock at 5:12, the second one was anything but easy with heat, humidity, blazing sun and intense blister pain on both feet, fortunate enough to break the self-confidence and morale-busting six-hour barrier.  I spent the rest of February and most of March with only a handful of short runs and a local half marathon during my post-race recovery time managing to keep any aches and pains at bay while still logging enough miles to stay reasonably fit.  However, I wasn’t able to run more than 10-20 miles a week without taunting fate.  

Just one week prior

I looked forward to running Carmel as a way to redeem myself from my previous two performances.  I’m now at peace with those finish times and consider them simply as statistical outliers, but as time goes on, I expect my performances to revert back towards my mean finishing time.  As the month advanced without a single long run exceeding much over the half marathon distance, I felt my expectations gradually wane.

Just one week before traveling to Carmel, a storm blanketed the area with over ten inches of snow, prompting winter storm warnings for a number of central Indiana counties making us wonder if we will, once again, be running during a significant snowfall event comparable to our experience at Garden Spot, PA (State No. 22).  However, as the week progressed, the weather patterns changed to heavy rains triggering snow accumulations to melt, thus winter warnings suddenly shifted to flood warnings.  OMG!  What are we in for?

Besides fearing bad weather or waterlogged streets as I entered race week, my plan was simple – get in some quality runs or two, eat well, hydrate, and get ample rest.  My race strategy, simple – not suffer, don’t go out too fast, stick with a practical pace group and to finish in under five hours.  Further, with five additional marathons scheduled to round out this year (not including any locally run half marathons) needed to complete my 50-state quest by the end of 2019, I plan to minimize the post-marathon recovery times by not overdoing myself.

How did my plan go?  I managed to eat well (mostly), hydrate, and squeeze in one medium distance run.  My rest could be considered a bust, including the night before the race (typical for me).  My weight was not within the range I wanted (under 190), as useless pounds do make a difference over long distances.  Other than that, I’m ready to go.

The gymnasium at Carmel High School played host to the marathon expo.  Being in no particular rush, we had ample time to pick up our race swag and peruse the expo.  Packet pickup was simple and well-organized.  I don't know why I even bother spending much time perusing expos since I generally don't purchase anything, besides procuring pieces of apparel on rare circumstances, i.e., Boston.

I normally browse around to see if there is anything that grabs my attention.  The 26.2 with Donna Marathon expo was awesome, was huge, with all kinds of useful free stuff.  The Louisiana marathon was also pretty good, huge, and with all kinds of complimentary items.  On the other hand, the Carmel Marathon expo was small, but had the usual players, local vendors and event merchandise you'd expect. 

After we arrived back at our hotel, I noticed I received a half marathon tech shirt.  I could not fathom wearing a half marathon shirt after all the work I do, so I drove back to the expo to exchange it.  As I walked back to the car, something told me to make sure I had the correct shirt.  Nope, another half shirt.  So back I went, but before leaving the shirt table, I made sure I had the correct one – I did.  From what I was voiced, marathon participants unknowingly acquired half marathon shirts.

We woke up around 0600 to the annoying sound of my phone alarm as it rudely interrupted my shut-eye.  It goes without saying, I didn’t sleep well that night.  I consumed my usual pre-race meal regimen consisting of two bananas, a bagel, and a granola bar.  Setting out my race gear the night before allowed me to quickly get things ready to go in the morning.  We arrived at the race site nearly an hour before the starting gun sounded, enough time to secure a parking spot close to the start/finish.  

We found parking was easy and uneventful with maybe a five-minute walk to the corrals – enough time to warm up my muscles and get the blood flowing.  The first thing on my list, find the line to the facilities so I could purge some of the fluids I had consumed even though I didn’t drink much water before the start. 

A large number of volunteers worked feverishly in the finish line area setting up barriers, tents, tables, medical supplies, pancake griddles and syrup dispensers.  I looked forward to having a stack of pancakes at the finish.  A rather lengthy line to the gear check table meandered through the busy finish line area.  With not a lot of time to spare, we passed up on gear check and secured our post-race clothing in our car as a standby.

I stood in the pre-dawn shadows of Carmel’s Palladium on City Center Drive, thrilled to be huddled with several hundred other runners.  The sun had yet to rise in the east.  Most runners dressed warmly, some braving the cold wearing only tanks and shorts.  With most runners donning earbuds protruding from their lobes, listening to their favorite set of tunes, paid little attention to their surroundings as they waited for the sound of the starting gun. 

Start line under beautiful morning sky

The biting breezes sliced through the city, channeled by the large buildings in and around the cultural arts complex, ultimately piercing through my running apparel.  I shuffled my feet while blowing warm air into my gloves and being clustered in a group of people does take the edge off the crispness and sharpness of the air. 

The eighth running of the Carmel Marathon was all but underway with a new revised course layout and start time of 0800 (kind of late, especially during a warm/sunny day).  There I stood, just another soul lumped in with looked like maybe 1800 full, half, 8K and 5K runners all eager to begin their respective epic journeys through Carmel’s enigmatic roads and trails.  The serious runners, each one with hopes of winning the race, lined up at the front of the corral appearing eager to start, jumping up and down while lifting their knees to their chests.  For me, conserved my energy by remaining in a standing position stretching my hamstrings and quads.

The new and improved course consists of two separate thirteen-mile loops.  The first thirteen miles of the marathon course is run with the half marathoners.  Full marathoners bypass the finish line similar to Newport, Rhode Island (State No. 30), ugh not a pleasant sight, but to complete the final thirteen miles, it had to be done.  See course map here. 

The second half (or loop) takes runners to new sections of Carmel deviating from prior years’ routes and incorporates a large section of the scenic Monon Greenway, thereby removing sections of busy vehicular traffic.

Before the large pack of runners could cross the start line, we had to stand through their pre-race ceremony.  The first order of business?  The race director suspended high above the street on a cherry picker acknowledged how many states and countries were represented in the race. 

After the patriotic sounds of God Bless America followed by the Star Spangled Banner, the runners seemed enthused to hear the final pre-race announcements and concluding thoughts – NOT.  We were ready to go.  Shortly, it was “ready, set…GO!”  Ready or not, my fifty-sixth marathon was underway.  Each succeeding corral started in thirty second intervals.

My pre-race plan included going out with the 4:25 pace group led by Pacer Cathy.  With the cool weather, I felt confident I could maintain the 10:06 pace needed to finish around 4:25. 

I positioned myself near the front of my pre-assigned corral (Corral C) with Pacer Cathy and a group of runners eager to begin the journey.  Besides being an ultra-runner enthusiast, she was fun, energetic, encouraging and wanted her group to succeed with their personal time goals.

Understandably, it was pretty slow at first, maneuvering trying not to clip someone from behind, but things moved out pretty quickly.  The field opened up enough within the first half mile heading south on Rangeline Road where I had room to jostle into a spot with equally paced runners.  I had to focus on the group pace no matter how slow, but occasionally I found myself nudging ahead of the group.

Over the first mile, I settled in for the long race set before me happy someone else was the day’s rabbit (I know what it feels like).  The first mile seemed to “fly” by at 10:03, a tad under the required pace.  After clocking in at 10:13 at Marathon Mile 2, I thought, "What the heck are we doing?  We need to pick up the pace a little.”  With the next mile at 9:55, I immediately got the impression our pace times were going to be all over the place and inconsistent.  Overall, I felt great, feeling as if I was harnessing some energy from Philippides in the meantime.  Perhaps I didn’t want to as the well-worn legend goes, he took his last breath and died when he finished his infamous run.

Note pace group in background

The course was somewhat flat for the first five miles until the Hazel Dell Parkway when small undulating hills, rising then falling, leading to an ascent of the “Swiss Alps” in a beautiful residential district at Marathon Mile 7.  A nice woman stood at the street corner at the “summit” offering Swiss chocolates to passing runners.  I have a weakness for chocolate, I love chocolate, but the thought of chocolate in the midst of running didn’t sit well with my appetite.

I enjoyed hanging with the pace group talking with runners from around the country.  The camaraderie of the runners seemed to make the miles shorter and the discomfort of running much more tolerable.

At around Marathon Mile 10, I couldn’t believe my eyes.  There sat a fellow perched atop a bicycle dressed in the brightest fluorescent orange suit and top hat I’ve ever seen (in fact, it’s the only orange suit I’ve seen).  He happily greeted runners as they made their way around a traffic circle.  Many exclaimed they liked his suit, but needed sunglasses to view it.  I agreed.  He was definitely bright. 

The course deviated from Smokey Row Road onto the Hagen-Burke Trail at Carmel High School’s football stadium and sports compound.  Being off pace by around thirty seconds at this juncture, I began to have doubts whether we would cross the half marathon point under the requisite 2:12:30.  But, I kept plugging along, enjoying the scenery and the slower pace.  I chalked it up as energy conservation.

One of the problems I have running slower is this – every runner has a natural stride length and cadence/leg turnover.  For me to slow down (or speed up), one of these has to change.  Shortening the stride and slowing the cadence tends to be too bouncy and can waste energy and can be hard on my knees and ankles.  So, I found it hard to maintain the current stride length and leg turnover.  I wanted to crank up the pace to my natural stride, but I focused on staying with the group. 

Eventually as the miles tick by, my form and stride tend to degrade into a geriatric shuffle.  Well, maybe not that bad, but running efficiency goes out the window when fatigue increases.  That, my friends, makes the second half of the race interesting...and I mean second half in the sense the first half is twenty miles, whereas, the second half is the final ten kilometers.

The short-lived Hagen-Burke Trail ended and merged with the city’s prominent Monon Greenway, also marking the full and half marathon’s final mile.

Main Street statuaries

The flat greenway pedestrian and bicycle trail joined up with Main Street at Bub’s Burgers through the Carmel Arts & Design District, passing various clever real-life statuary mounted on the street’s sidewalks.  With the pacer abruptly picking up the pace at this point, we crossed the “AmeriFirst Sprint to the Finish” timing mat – more on that later – indicating one-half mile to go.  It was a slight uphill grade (maybe three percent, but very noticeable) with a resilient gusty headwind.  With the faster pace, several runners began dropping from the group, but I kept up, secretly monitoring if we were going to be under 2:12:30.

I crossed the half marathon split timing mat registering a time of 2:12:28 good for a 9:48 pace over the last mile.  That was close and I could sense the concerned look on the pacer’s face.

By passing the half way point, it was time reduce the pace, hydrate and eat some nutrition before rejoining the Monon Greenway.  I ingested two energy gel packs downing it with two cups of water and self-administering two acetaminophen tablets to subdue any upcoming pain.  I was ready to tackle the second loop.

The next three and a half miles were spent on the Monon trail navigating inclines and tunnels over and under major highways before terminating at 96^th Street.  I felt like I was on an endless treadmill with leafless trees, bushes and dense vegetation on each side.  The slower pace permitted some of the previously dropped runners to rejoin the group, but at times I found my natural cadence leading myself ahead of the group, forcing me to slow down.  I think the caffeine in my pain pills gave me an added boost of energy.

The air temperature warmed slightly forcing me to slow down after Marathon Mile 17 to remove my gloves and roll up my sleeves to dissipate some of the heat energy building up inside me.  The slower pace allowed me to rejoin Cathy’s group.

I stayed with the group until around Marathon Mile 20 when my left calf muscle began to cramp and tighten causing terrible pain with each step.  I couldn’t run through or ignore it, so I reluctantly began walking with hopes the pain would subside.  The pace sign Pacer Cathy always held above her head quickly faded from view.

The walking time gave me a chance to converse with a fellow Maniac hailing from the St. Louis area.  He was in the process of running the fifty states with Indiana being his twelfth state.  I gave him some pointers, marginal advice and possible marathons he may consider on his quest.  He faced a dilemma – does he drink some craft beer at a pub after the marathon or buy some bottles to take home?

After nearly a mile of walking (14:08 pace), I found my calf hurting less prompting me to begin my running regime.  I wished the Maniac luck on his fifty states pilgrimage and bade him farewell.  On a side note, I advised him to buy some bottles of craft beer, drive and get home sooner, since his wife drives slower than he does.

I resigned to the fact I was well behind my pace group with a zero chance of catching them.  I conceded to running my own race for the “second half” trying to maintain a ten-minute pace, but, disappointingly, my calf disallowed me from picking up the pace too much.

At Marathon Mile 23.5 and another short and unwelcomed incline, the route once again linked up with the Monon Greenway for another mile and a half or so to the Arts & Design District on Main Street.  I was feeling remarkably well, enough to preserve a 10:45 pace.

As I approached Bub’s Burgers at the end of the Monon Greenway at Main Street, a light cold precipitation began to fall.  I was running alone focused on finishing strong, calculating a finish time of around 4:35.  I looked forward to the “AmeriFirst Sprint to the Finish” timing mat just ahead at Marathon Mile 25.7 to begin a solid and sustained increase in my pace.  I felt I had it in me and the challenge gave me the inspiration and motivation to finish strong, leg pain and all.

The sprint to the finish is a new challenge incorporated into the race that pays cash prizes to runners who record the biggest difference between their overall pace compared to their last half-mile split time pace (25.7 mi to 26.2 mi).  The top three finishers with the greatest difference will have a pleasant surprise in their mailbox containing prize money.

I didn’t pin my hopes on winning any money since I figured I would need to run around a five-minute mile pace.  That was not going to happen given the head wind, the uphill grade, my fatigue level, and calf discomfort.  I consider the challenge is geared towards the slower paced runners who can muster up enough energy and sprint the remaining half mile.  Whereas, the faster runners may find it next to impossible to exceed their pace by two, three or four minutes.

I rounded the traffic circle and picked up my pace to around nine minutes, leaving it all on the course to the top of the hill and the final turn to a welcomed 100-meter downhill stretch to the finish line clocking in at 4:36:17, slower than what I had hoped for, but satisfying nonetheless, giving me some hope and confidence for my next challenge at Hogeye Marathon in Arkansas.

Age graded score: 54.44%

Age graded time: 3:59:00

Average time: 4:16:43

Standard deviation: 0:53:08

 

To my dismay, the “after-party” at the finish line was a huge disappointment, to say the least.  The website promotes that pancakes are served to ALL participants along with a beer garden and to be sure to bring ID to gain entry.  However, the only items left were some water bottles; plastic grocery bags containing granola bars, Oreos, and Chip Ahoy cookies; and some bananas.  The beer garden was nowhere to be seen and the pancake griddles have since been dismantled.  I can only conclude that the 5K, 8K and half marathoners consumed all the pancakes and drank all the beer.  Sure, blame it on the cold, breezy and damp weather.

"The End" burger at Bru Burgers

Three steps after crossing the timing mats, it seemed as if my legs became encased in concrete with each joint feeling swollen.  My knees, heels, feet and even the tendon connecting my left calf to the Achilles tendon was stiff and sore.  But as you might imagine, I was far away, stuck between pride and confusion, elation and wonder.  I limped all the way to the car and reveled in taking a load of my tired dogs on our way to the hotel where I showered and changed at a sloth’s pace before I quenched my unending hunger at Bru Burger Bar with my wife, who was enjoying equal success, having earned herself a sub-four hour marathon once again and punching another ticket to Boston.

As I bit into Bru Burger’s juicy burger fittingly named “The End,” I reflected fondly on the marathon and my accomplishments thus far.  The goal is always to come into a marathon hoping to bring down my personal best and qualify for Boston.  I always visualize it, but it’s always the same – doom.

One of these days, just maybe, my legs will have the optimal amount of fresh and rest.  Or perhaps my desire for redemption will someday override the pain synapses from reaching my brain.  Either way, maybe I will be one minute closer to Boston.

I thought, “Not a bad way to conclude a marathon.”  We paid the tab and winced back to the car as nearly every single part of my legs screamed in distress and discomfort.  Not bad at all.

Our flight back to SFO departed IND in the afternoon hours of Easter Sunday in advance of an upcoming snow event that swept through the area – no April Fool’s joke.  Easter is not a favorable day for touring or experiencing the sights and sounds of Indianapolis as anyone can imagine.  In the meantime, as the temperature dropped hour by hour, we used our surplus time to see the USS Indianapolis Memorial, the state capitol (from the outside), President Harrison’s home and the Soldiers and Sailors Monument.  Unlike Daytona, a tour of the Brickyard was not in the cards this time.  Besides, it was closed anyway.

Closest to the Brickyard I will get

Sights of Indy

What are some of my final thoughts?  I have to say I really enjoyed the course, with just a few areas of concern (though not worth mentioning specifics).  It can be said that the course is flat, but, personally, I would consider it a rolling course instead.  The hills weren’t too bad, except for a short climb up the “Swiss Alps”.  I have never been to Carmel in my life, so I can absolutely say for certain that the course went places I've never seen.  

The volunteers were plentiful, and I was thankful for so many water stops, all labeled in alphabetical order.  I did not like the fact that there were no nutrition stops (GU, Cliff Shots, Honey Stingers, etc.) along the course.  I had swigs of water and electrolytes to fuel my reserves at almost every water stop, but it was up to each runner to bring their own nutrition. 

I was appreciative of the wonderful cool weather thanks to a cold front moving through the area and the sun was kept at bay behind the clouds for nearly the entire race, except for the first two or three miles, making for ideal running weather.

The rest of the race was uneventful, even though I lost sight of Pacer Cathy at Marathon Mile 20 due to intolerable calf cramping, it gave me an opportunity to give my old body a brief respite.  I felt as if I never had any dark places as I have had in prior races.  Overall, I felt pretty good.  The speed wasn't there due to lack of training, but I was okay with that and I never pushed my heart rate too far.

I write these blogs to help capture what I did, what I learned and how well I performed.  As with all my other marathon reviews, if you’re still with me at this point, I’m impressed.  If it helps others (or just entertains or puts you to sleep at 0300 without the use of drugs), all the better. 

 

Even with all the aches and pains associated with running, I have this one life to appreciate the thrill of running or finishing a marathon, and for that, I’m extremely grateful.  Perseverance is the name of the game and that’s what I need to finish my mission.

 

“Remember to look up at the stars and not down at your feet.  Try to make sense of what you see and about what makes the universe exist.  Be curious.  And however difficult life may seem, there is always something you can do, and succeed at.  It matters that you don’t just give up.” – Stephen Hawking, physicist.