State Number 3 v2.0 - Colorado Marathon

State Number 3 v2.0 – Colorado Marathon

Fort Collins, CO

5 May 2018

As anyone knows from reading my race reviews, visiting all fifty states of the United States has been on my life-long bucket list.  I figured that if I set a goal of running a marathon in all fifty states, it would force me to travel while doing something productive and healthy.

Back in August 2012, I checked off my third state with the annual running of the Mt. Sneffels Marathon in Ridgway, CO tucked away in a beautiful piece of southwestern Colorado, dubbed the “Switzerland of America.”

As scenic as the region is, the 8000-foot plus altitude, coupled with inadequate preparation and training, outweighed any picturesque pleasure I enjoyed and made running that marathon a difficult endeavor.  My five-plus hour finish time unquestionably reflected the discomfort, anguish and torment I suffered over the hilly out-and-back 13-mile course traversing the area’s monotonous and wearisome gravel county roadways. 

I completed Mt. Sneffels in a time of 5:27:36, considered a personal worst at the time, thus putting the first unsightly and unappealing blemish on my marathoning record.  So, in an effort to remove said stain, my wife and I decided it was time to redeem ourselves with a Colorado do-over marathon.  This time, a faster point-to-point downhill course without the high altitude trepidations.

High altitude running can be a tough challenge, as any runner can attest.  I live and train at an altitude of about 320 feet above mean sea level (MSL) so I’m not normally acclimatized for high altitude running.  According to the marathon’s web site, the Colorado Marathon begins at Cache La Poudre Canyon at an elevation of 6108 ft above MSL and concludes in Fort Collins at 4981 ft.

I’ve run some marathons comparable to the elevation of Fort Collins area in states such as Utah, Idaho. Montana and Wyoming with elevations ranging from four to five thousand feet without any major difficulties.  Since Colorado consists of a mostly downhill gradient, I shouldn’t consider this run to be much of a challenge.

I recently read a comical rhyme about high altitude running.  It goes like this, “Before you hit the trail, best your urine be pale.”  In other words, hydration is the key since it’s very easy to become dehydrated, and as a runner breathes out more, he/she loses more water through respiration; and, with the dry mountain air, perspiration rates quickly increase.  So, in the days leading up to Colorado, I made it a point to drink more water than I usually consume.

This little weekend “runcation” originated from our routine stressful, chaotic and hectic LAX departure point with a short non-stop flight to Denver (DEN).  LAX parking is now becoming the foremost problem now that our convenient Lot C is currently undergoing a substantial facelift and modernization project.  Following a ninety minute drive to Fort Collins, we arrived at the expo hosted by the Hilton Fort Collins to pick up our race swag.

The expo, held in one of the hotel’s conference rooms, featured the usual players along with some local vendors hawking their products and merchandise, as well as free sample packs of dietary hemp seeds.  I’m skeptical whether I should try them as they may contain THC.  As usual, it was in and out with a smooth packet pick-up without any malfunctions or hiccups. 

As with every marathon trip, I monitor my weather apps throughout the week leading up to the race to prepare myself for what I can anticipate on race day.  There’s nothing more frustrating than making plans around a weather forecast and then having that forecast change – a cold, rainy, windy day or a hot, humid, miserable day can make one feel like there’s no point in even paying attention to the weather.  With the possibility of several parcels of air over the plains and along the Front Range, and the fact it’s springtime, it’s quite possible for weather conditions in Fort Collins to change in an instant.  Just four days before the marathon, the Fort Collins area faced winter storm warnings with 1-2 feet of snowfall in the nearby mountains.  Go figure.

No bears this time

We arrived in Fort Collins to a mostly cloudy day with warm mild temperatures.  Late afternoon thunderstorms loomed over the Front Range threatening to rain down on Fort Collins.  My weather apps provided an optimistic forecast for marathon day making for near ideal for running – cool temperatures at the start with mostly cloudy milder weather by the time I would move out of the canyon with the possibility of rain showers later in the day.  If the sun was out, I dreaded the possibility of crashing at the end once the comfort of the canyon wall shade disappeared while in the flat lands leading into Fort Collins.

We were only in Fort Collins for a brief period of time, so finding something to do didn’t top our list besides relaxing our muscles in the hot tub.  Home to Colorado State, the city’s culture appears to cater toward the young college-age population, likely influencing the town atmosphere.  We found evidence of the college flair at our chosen pre-marathon meal establishment, Stuft a Burger Bar, indulging in a tasty and succulent tequila sunrise burger.  It’s not your ordinary burger, but a knife and a fork type burger!

The Tequila Sunrise

Sleeping is next to impossible on the eve of a marathon.  I don’t know why it’s tough.  I’m not a competitive runner.  I’m not in it to win it, so why should I be so nervous?  But if I feel I got enough rest during the week leading up to the run, any insomnia the night before shouldn’t affect my performance.  Usually, the pre-race adrenaline rush typically helps me feel alert and ready to go.

As usual, I slept off and on before getting up at 0350.  We laid out our attire and gear the night before allowing us to quickly get ready and leave the hotel around 0410, have a quick breakfast bite, drive into downtown Fort Collins, secure a parking spot and line up for the mandatory bus transportation. 



Morning twilight along the Poudre

Buses loaded between the hours of 0415 and 0500 in front of the downtown parking garage on Mountain Avenue.  The forty-five minute bus ride from Fort Collins seemed to take forever winding up the dark Poudre Canyon to the starting line staging area at Stevens Gulch Campground around 0530.  A large number of runners were already on hand before our arrival and were either lined up for the porta-pots, sipping on coffee or hot chocolate, or simply stretching, relaxing or meditating by the soothing sounds of the Poudre River.

The twisty highway leading up the canyon reminded me of similar bus ride up northern Utah’s Blacksmith Fork Canyon to the staging area for the Top of Utah Marathon (State No. 4), only this time, I didn’t slip on a gravelly-sloped embankment, falling on my hind quarters.  That’s another story.

Heading off to the start line

Typically, most point-to-point races that require transporting participants to the starting lines use school buses built to accommodate young skulls full of mush.  However, race organizers contracted with a luxury bus company, built to accommodate grown-ups and those who are not vertically challenged.  Yes, it’s nice and much more comfortable than a school bus, but at the same time, I got this feeling the use of luxury buses is one of the reasons the cost of this race is so high – but, for me, it’s well worth the added cash outlay.

I was quite surprised upon our arrival to the start line.  The temperatures were unexpectedly mild and not as cold as I had anticipated.  I may have overdressed for the occasion, but I had to live with my decision.  The refreshing Rocky Mountain air was a delight to breathe and gave me a “Rocky Mountain High” type feeling.  The sounds of the snow-fed Cache La Poudre River spilling over the rocks and boulders provided a tranquil and peaceful background noise amid the mix of talk and laughter from the enthusiastic runners ready to get the show on the road.

The lines to the porta-pots were insanely long, and those who don’t find time to purge their bilge water in the portable facilities, typically find time along to course to empty their tank.  Usually within the first few miles, it seems to be a pee-fest within the herbaceous borders of the roadway.

Thin wispy cirrus clouds painted the early morning sky as the sun rose over the surrounding mountains around 0600 illuminating the canyon expanse revealing all its splendor.  The wild and scenic Poudre River canyon is a hidden treasure, with its majestic cliffs, intriguing and fascinating rock formations and the montane forest of ponderosa and lodgepole pines, subalpine fir, sage brush, mahogany and aspen trees.  The distinctive “V-shaped” canyon walls, indicative of unglaciated actions, preserved the large meanders of the river deeply entrenched into the hard Precambrian rocks. 

I powered up my Garmin GPS receiver about thirty minutes before the start, so it would have time to standardize its 3-D trilateration calculations needed to fix its position on the Earth’s global surface.  I stashed my windbreaker into my gear bag and placed it into a UPS truck later to be transported to the finish line and began my walk to the start line.  As 0630 neared, hundreds of runners made their way onto State Highway 14.  From the first timer to the veteran racer eager to capture the overall title, everyone appeared ready to start pounding the pavement.

Following the National Anthem, it was go time, but I couldn’t decide whether to run with the 4:15 pace group or challenge myself by charging out on my own to see what I can do.

The first half:  (9:06, 8:58, 9:05, 9:09, 9:02, 10:07, 9:35, 10:01, 9:32, 9:49, 10:52, 11:20, 10:39)

On your marks

It’s a matter of physics and inertia – Newton’s First Law.  What do I like about running downhill races?  With inertia, it feels nice, easy, smooth and much more enjoyable than flat land running.  Once in motion, I like to stay in motion.  However, with marathons, the more one starts to walk (usually near the end), unbalanced forces from within tend to make it tougher to continue running once again, killing any kind of impetus I had.

The sound of an air horn beckoned the beginning of my journey down Highway 14.  At first, I eased into an easy warm-up pace needed to relax any tight muscles before transitioning into a faster pace and I quickly decided to take the risk and not run with a pacer, but instead, do my own race.  Will the risk be worth the reward? 

The backdrop of the canyon was absolutely spectacular and at times depending on which way one faced, the bright sun peaking from behind the mountains blinded the eyes of runners, making it difficult to see the road ahead.

Based on my first impression, this marathon may arguably be one of the most scenic road marathons I have in my running portfolio.  My plan, simple, on this mostly downhill course – either join up with a pacer, or charge out and do my own race; however, based on experience, this is always easier said than done!

The sun in our eyes

A side-effect and direct consequence of marathon-related selective memory is that you forget how painful and arduous some undertakings are and decide to try it again – e.g., banking time, downhill running!

As I began to run, the course gradient appeared nowhere near the severity of the former quad-busting Revel Canyon City Marathon in Azusa, California I ran in 2014, so I wasn’t overly concerned about shin splints or major leg pain I experienced after running that grueling event, but it was certainly in the back of my mind. 

Marathon rules require that runners must keep left of the traffic cones marking the course.  At first, traffic safety traffic cones were set along the highway’s centerline stripe to account for the large squad of runners, and once the platoon thinned out, the cones transitioned closer to the road’s shoulder to account for two-way traffic.

My breathing seemed somewhat labored at first, but seemed to taper off once I settled into a rhythm. I felt quite content with the current pace, all the while resisting the urge to charge ahead too fast.  From my experiences, I found that banking time for the later miles doesn’t particularly bode well for me – but I’ll risk another try.  If I maintain a consistent pace, I find my finish times improving (e.g., Louisiana, Indiana and Arkansas).  As long as I kept myself hydrated and fueled on a regular basis, I anticipate this marathon to go smoothly as well.

The famous tunnel

The miles seemed to tick by as I took in the beauty of my scenic surroundings.  At approximately Marathon Mile 2.5, I approached the often talked about narrow unlined hard rock tunnel bored through a portion of a steep rock wall dropping off into the river’s gorge, perhaps 100 feet in length with a 14.5-ft vertical clearance.  A construction flagman stood guard at each tunnel portal controlling approaching traffic ensuring the safety of runners.  According to bridgehunter.com, the rock tunnel was chiseled into the rocky hillside in 1929.

Outside the tunnel’s exit portal, race officials tapered their traffic cones roughly four to six feet from the right edgeline.  A little constricted, I thought, and certainly enough to create a running hazard.

Colorado State Troopers, monitoring the participants from their motorcycles, were so intense about keeping runners to the left of the cones.  Time and time again, the troopers speeding along with red and blue strobe lights flashing kept waving their arms like we were herds of cattle, mandating that runners keep to the left, exclaiming over their PA system, “Keep to the left of the cones!  Keep to the left of the cones!”  OMG.  We’re all adults and know when to move over for traffic.  However, once they were out of sight, runners quickly moved back to where they were originally.  I thought their obsessive movements became an annoyance.

The beauty of the canyon

Eleanor Roosevelt once said, “You must do the thing you think you cannot do”.  I did charge out ahead of the 4:15 pacer, dissing my day’s plan of attack hoping I can do what I “think I cannot do.”  Over the next few miles, I held a stable pace, occasionally walking through an aid station for some gulps of water and/or Nuun electrolyte fluids and to give my legs a little respite.  I felt as if a sub-4:30 finish was very doable. 

Between Marathon Miles 11 and 12, I sensed a group of runners approaching me from behind.  As one runner nearly stumbled over a traffic cone (due to being placed too close to the shoulder), giving herself a sudden fright, the 4:15 pacer I had hoped to run with caught up to me.  It didn’t cause me any anxiety, but I joined into the group to see how far I could survive, but the pace was a tad too fast for my liking.  I felt as if my proverbial wheels were loosening and it was only a matter of time before they came off and I wasn’t even half way done.  I began to think that if the 4:30 pacer caught me, I could muster the energy to tag along, but I didn’t hold out any hope.



 At Marathon Mile 12.5

I sensed my energy level beginning to wane the closer I approached the half marathon split.  I had a good pre-race breakfast, consumed some energy gels, and hydrated with water and Nuun, so why was I beginning to falter?  Likely cause, as one descends, the air warms.  In essence, I was getting hot, and when it gets hot, my performance quickly slides downhill.

I crossed the half split (also a marathon relay exchange point) with a mix of emotions.  Even though I crossed in a time of 2:08:43, I considered that a run-of-the-mill time split and wasn’t overly concerned, but I had my doubts.  With hopes for a 4:30–4:40 finish time, I pressed on.

The second half:  (10:50, 10:40, 11:57, 11:29, 11:04, 14:07 [a not-so-lovely hill], 12:56, 13:00, 14:47, 14:34, 13:19, 16:04 [a nasty hill], 13:26, 9:58 projected pace [final 0.31 mi])

I managed to keep a consistent pace for the next couple of miles until a slight uphill grade took over the course near Marathon Mile 15.  My quads and calves seemed to tighten as I ran up the hill, burning off needed energy.  After the hill’s apex, it was downhill once again leading out of the canyon confines.



Around Marathon Mile 16, runners exited the canyon, and along with that, a drastic change of scenery, marking the beginning of a brutal and unexciting excursion towards Fort Collins passing by the locally well-known landmark, Ted’s Place, at the junction of CO 14 and US 287.  Seeing the landmark brought back some wonderful childhood memories of Martin & Shirley’s Market on CA 36.  I digress. 



Following a short little hill, it was onto the busy US 287 four-lane expressway.  I was now running in the dreaded eleven minute range at this point, and with a seemingly increased effort compared to my earlier running labors.  I really didn't know what it was – maybe I went out too fast, maybe the heat, maybe it was my nourishment, or maybe I just didn't have a fast time in me today.  Nevertheless, I knew it was way too early in the game to pick up my effort – I still had over ten miles to go!  So I told my inner bargainer voice to hold back in the 11:00 range for the time being and see if I could pick it up later.

The beautiful, shaded canyon with the scenic river was gone.  Now, it was time to focus on mental toughness.  The Poudre River has since shifted course to a southerly direction and the only scenery are the dull green rolling farmlands of the Front Range foothills, but there’s nothing that can be done about that.  Obliviously, it makes sense to end the marathon in Fort Collins, but getting through the doldrums in the meantime was a challenge, and it made me feel better knowing that each and every runner was blessed to run through this lackluster section of the course.

The worst thing about it?  Despite the snow a week ago, it was an abnormally HOT day and the next few miles seemed to be kind of a blur.  I was getting tired and my inner thigh was beginning to bother me. 

Shortly before Marathon Mile 19, runners veered off US 287 onto CR 54G towards a not-so-lovely incline into the community of Laporte.  I grabbed myself some Honey Stinger gels and a bag of shots as I was in dire need of some nutrition.  I walked up the foreboding hill and began running on the backside.  I found that opening the Honey Stinger shots bag was next to impossible with sweaty slippery fingers.  If only the manufacturer, or someone else, would score the seal, opening the packet would be much easier.




I felt like the characters

At this point, I began slipping into the 13-14 minute pace range without any effort or thought.  Granted, part of my withering pace was likely due to the “H” word – heat.  Who knows?  Maybe, subconsciously, I was just giving up since I knew a 4:30 was looking more and more remote knowing that the lone pacer had the audacity to pass me just after Marathon Mile 20.  My next option, Plan B – finish in under five hours.

From CR 54G at the Cache la Poudre Middle School, runners made a sharp right turn onto the area’s popular Poudre Trail shy of Marathon Mile 21.  The Poudre Trail path wraps around the backside of the school, and once again, connects with the Poudre River to the Butterfly Natural Woods at Marathon Mile 22 before opening up to wetland recharge ponds and wildlife ecosystems with naturally contoured river banks designed to promote connection to the Poudre River’s floodplain.  Even though the “natural area” design stimulated my engineering mind, I considered this portion of the marathon course to be very boring and mentally draining.  Besides the shade being gone, evading people on bicycles sharing the road, and dealing with Mr. Sol’s beat down, I was hot and tired and wanted this journey to soon end, but this dreaded task had to be done, so I sucked it up and thought how grateful I am to be running the course in an effort to divert my mind from despair.

Crossing the Poudre River

As I entered the North Shields Ponds Natural Area near Marathon Mile 24, the lone 4:45 pacer overtook my progress further sullying my morale.  I dubbed this section the “deadhead zone” symbolizing those around me walking or attempting to “jog” at some slothful shuffle for short periods of time.  The anguish and torment on their faces said it well, “I’m ready for this to be done!”  I needed something to divert my attention from the anguish I experienced.  By smiling or thinking of something funny gave me some unknown boost of energy.  I even had visualizations of a dog chasing me, hoping my adrenal glands would kick in some extra adrenaline.   It was time to buckle down and to keep ahead of the 5:00 pacer.

Finally after four miles of unexciting running, runners departed the Poudre Trail at Lee Martinez Park just after Marathon Mile 25.  Kids occupied themselves on the playground equipment while adults and those more interested in what was unfolding, lined the parking lot cheering on the seemingly endless parade of runners.  As I left the parking lot onto Elm Street, a menacing hill leading into the city of Fort Collins slapped me in the face.  “Are you kidding?” I thought.  It was again time to walk and I knew I was fraught with fatigue, so I just figured, “What the heck.  I'm walking this.”  I needed to conserve my precious energy for my final push to finish.  I tried to pick up my pace, but I’m not sure if I really did – at least it didn’t feel like it. 

At the top of the hill, it was south on Sherwood to Maple to Meldrum when I saw the Marathon Mile 26 flag, I was ALMOST there!  The more-than-awesome spectators kept encouraging me and saying things like, “You got this!”  “Dig deep!”  “You’re awesome!” and “You’re looking good!” (Well, that’s a bit of a stretch).  I appreciated the nice words which kept me going to the end.

I made a right turn onto Maple; thence a quick right turn onto Howes Street leading to Washington Park.  There it was, I could see the clock ahead slowly ticking away with a solid crowd lining the barriers cheering runners to the finish.  I pushed it hard throughout the remaining real estate ahead of me, heard my name over the PA system (yes, the man pronounced my home city correctly!), crossed the finish line, quickly glanced at the clock and I did it – under five hours (4:58:28).  My Garmin registered 26.31 miles, a fairly consistent differential compared with nearly all the previous miles.  Oh well, it’s nearly impossible to run the shortest path possible.

Runners came out to run today, that is for sure.  Whether it’s those who strive to conquer a BQ, PR, break a sub-three hour marathon or simply want to win it outright, runners meant business today.  I’m no exception.  I set out to run a good time and although I did not succeeded at my stated goal, I did succeed with an alternative goal instead.

RACE STATS:

Distance: Marathon (26.2 mi) – my Garmin clocked it at 26.31 mi

Date: May 6, 2018
Bib No.: 45
Weather at start: 50°F, few cirrus clouds, light winds
Gun time: 4:58:50
Chip time: 4:58:28
Average cadence: 155 steps per minute
Average pace: 11:23 per mile
Overall rank: 597 of 760
Gender rank: 344 of 412
Division rank: 22 of 33
Elevation: 161 ft gain / 1033 ft loss
Half split: 2:08:43 (9:49 pace)
Average finish time: 4:20:57
Standard deviation: 0:46:23
Age graded score: 49.09%
Age graded time: 4:18:11
Garmin splits: 9:06, 8:58, 9:05, 9:09, 9:02, 10:07, 9:35, 10:01, 9:32, 9:49, 10:52, 11:20, 10:39, 10:50, 10:40, 11:57, 11:29, 11:04, 14:07, 12:56, 13:00, 14:47, 14:34, 13:19, 16:04, 13:26, 9:58 [final 0.31-mi]

 

Most distance runners know, the marathon begins with the final ten kilometers.  Finishing those last 10 km is when it’s about what you have left in your core.  When you use all your strength and fitness over the first twenty miles, it really comes down to what you have left inside.  How much do you want it?  You have to draw deep into your pockets and pull out some magic.  I really have to say, “I did.”  That’s probably the most remarkable thing about a marathon.

It's always a disappointment by giving it your all within the first half only to find that you're not going to earn that goal time you sought.  Especially when it hurts…because it did.  My ankles and inner thighs were killing me by Marathon Mile 22.  I put most of the blame on the downhill. 

I remembered that feeling from Canyon City.  I still tried to push through this though, and to help motivate me, I kept reminding myself that we had to drive back to Denver to catch a plane, so I needed to finish in under five hours.  I did the best I could and pushing myself for that long is an accomplishment, whether or not it felt that way at the time!

I recently read a quote from a former world-class marathoner, Robert de Castella.  “If you feel bad at ten miles, you’re in trouble.  If you feel bad at twenty miles, you’re normal.  If you don’t feel bad after 26.2 miles, you’re abnormal.”  Bearing in mind I felt bad at ten, and felt worst at twenty…am I normal, or was I in trouble from the beginning?

So, to sum things up.  Overall, I really did like this marathon; however, was it enough to justify it being much pricier than most of the road marathon's I've done around the country?  The scenery for the first sixteen miles was spectacular, but the balance of the course – not so.  Regrettably, I have to say there was WAY less course support than I expected, but I can understand why spectators were so few, and finishing in downtown was probably the best part.  In addition to a hum-drum finisher’s medal, each runner received a finisher's art print attached to a water bottle, which was kind of a cool touch.  

The medal.  The "C" in the center swivels around.

Unfortunately, I was rather dissatisfied with the finish line festival at Washington Park.  They had nothing to offer but orange wedges, apple slices (which were delicious, by the way), plain bagels, bananas and Quaker chewy granola bars.  Where was the pizza we were promised?  Oh, for the pizza and after party, runners had to walk five blocks to Coopersmith’s Pub & Brewery.  Walking five blocks after a marathon was certainly not in my repertoire of must do’s.  Why not have a pizza spread at the park?

Considering the lack of theater at the finish line, we didn’t spend much time dawdling.  We had a plane to catch, and for those who haven’t been to Denver Airport, its huge and way out there.  With the amount of soreness and stiffness to last a lifetime, I agonizingly walked the several blocks back to the car and hopped in for a 1.5-hour ride to DEN.  Sitting idle in a car for ninety minutes post-marathon on scant sleep, sitting in a cramped aircraft for two hours and driving 3.5 hours from LAX to our humble place of abode, equates to SO MUCH fun, by the way!  It doesn’t get any better than that.

LIKES / WHAT WORKED:

• BEAUTIFUL course throughout the canyon and the peaceful sounds of the river.  Together with the downhill course profile, this really was the absolute best part about this marathon.
• Very well organized event from the expo to the starting line bus shuttles.
• Easy parking close to the bus pick-up.  Yes.  Close to finish line? Arguable.
• Nice shirts, personalized bibs, and finisher's keepsake art print.
• Luxury buses were great and worth the extra money.  Personally, riding a school bus to save $40 would not be worth sacrificing the comfort.
• Free Race Photos!!!  Always an added bonus if they become available.

DISLIKES / WHAT DIDN'T WORK:

• Running on the road shoulder.  The entire course was open to traffic, and State Troopers content with riding their motorcycles were kind of anal about making sure people were running on the shoulder to the left of the cones. Generally, road shoulders are supered, the edge of pavement is mostly broken with many abrupt edges, raising the probability of foot and ankle injuries.  I wish the county or state DOT would close at least one lane so that didn't have to happen.
• More porta-potties at the starting line, please.
• Hot and exposed for the second half.  Marathon Miles 16-25 were brutal-ful and tough.
• Limited food and entertainment at the finish line area.  Needed pizza at the finish, not five blocks away.
• Need medical professionals/EMTs at the finish line to support the needs of runners who may have pushed it a little too much or need assistance with walking or whatever ails them.
• Not a ton of course support.
• Yes, the entry fee was somewhat steep.

Final thoughts:

Well, I had really hoped to finish Colorado on an exciting, overly exuberant note with a sub-4:15 finish, or a highly improbable PR, but it was just not in the cards for me (once again).   Although I was disappointed in myself, there are so many more important things in life than running a marathon PR or expecting a certain time.  I know it makes a runner feel especially good, but it cannot happen all the time. 

I had some good marathon runs, put in some work, and I wanted to have something to show for it, but it was just not the day.  But I was at least delighted to expunge a “not so wonderful” time from Mt. Sneffels.

Running is supposed to be something that brings me joy.  Mostly, it does, but sometimes, it’s a love-hate relationship.  It is something that shouldn’t cause disappointment by running a 4:58 marathon instead of a 4:30 or faster time (which is still a perfectly acceptable time from an Average Joe’s viewpoint).

I hope to log a decent amount of miles in the upcoming months, but maybe not in an overly structured format.  Since my marathons are pretty much spaced out enough for the rest of the year, I will continue to use them as my long runs, focusing my attention to tempo runs and speed work, throwing in some hills and a semi-long run from time to time.  I believe pacing myself, either with a pacer or otherwise, is key to enhanced marathon times.

Now that the dust has settled and I may still feel a bit disappointed, it certainly doesn't feel quite as upsetting as did the disastrous performance at Mt. Sneffels.  I mean it really is JUST running.  My livelihood does not depend on running, or competing for a certain time.  I still receive the same medal as the first or last place person.  Even though I didn’t return home with the time I had hoped for, I can still look back and be proud of myself for a job well done.

Onward and upward!

 

 

 

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!