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.
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| 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.
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 42nd 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. 40th 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!
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