Running from an Angel Marathon, 1/3/09, Race Report
Short Form: There isn’t one. A marathon is a long distance. This race report is long, too.
Long Form: I was born in a sleepy little town by the sea 46 years ago…
On Friday we dropped the kids at my mother-in-laws with Charlie clinging to my leg and looking at me with a touch of worry in his eyes begging me not to go. I was not sure what that was about, but I assured him that he would have fun and I would see him in a few days. We drove to Boulder City but had to take a few detours to avoid traffic. Hoover Dam was an amazing sight (still). To think about how much work it must have taken. They have already been working on the bypass bridge for longer than it took to build the entire dam and it doesn’t look as though they are any further along than they were last time we were at Hoover Dam, the day after my first marathon in St George, Utah in 2006.
When we got there, we checked into the smokey, seedy hotel with plentiful slots and gambling opportunities. I wanted to drop a coin into a slot machine, but they only took dollar bills. Driving into town, we found the street where my mother-in-law lived while her father worked as a timekeeper on the dam project during the depression. We found some over-priced antique shops and a quaint historic hotel.
At packet pick up I met Bart Yasso and bought his book. I stayed up late reading it and laughing out loud about some of his running exploits. It was very windy and Bruce kept looking out the window to check how far the trees were bending over.
Saturday morning was not quite as windy… Or so we thought. We got to the start in plenty of time to chat with the other Marathon Maniacs who were there. One had a number in the low 100s, all the others seemed to be in the 600s. Bruce was amazed to see me reach out my hand and say “Hi. I’m 466.” He really wants to be a Maniac.
The first .2 was uphill. Really uphill. But after that, I thought we would enjoy some gently rolling hills for the remainder of the race. I couldn’t have been more wrong. I know it isn’t possible that the out and back course was uphill into a head wind both ways, but it sure felt like it at times. I enjoyed the downhill and tried not to put the brakes on.
I allowed Bruce to go out faster than I did. I had already planned to run my own race. For awhile I ran with Jill and Julie who are from Illinois and convinced me to try to get to Champaign-Urbana for the Illinois Marathon in April. But they weren’t going as fast as I wanted to, so I started running with John from New Mexico. When I asked him what he did, I could have sworn he said “Professor of Forest Psychology” which sounded really weird, but it turns out it was “Professor of Forest Ecology.” He complimented my ability to attack the hills. I didn’t realize I had an ability to attack the hills, so I just said “Thank you. We really don’t have much opportunity for hill training in Phoenix.”
After about 9 miles, he backed off and I kept going. Mile 10 was a delicious downhill, but I was not relishing the idea of running up it later. Going downhill, I could see the uphill on the other side and thought that the turn around was half way up the other side. I was wrong. We had to go over the next hill to get to the turn around. Going up the next hill, the guy in bike shorts in front of me stopped to pee. Right there on the course. In the wind. I was behind him by about 10 yards and had to slow down lest I get sprayed. I was mad. I thought I should catch up to him and give him a piece of my mind.
I saw Bruce near the turn around and said “Looking good!” He was maintaining a steady lead on me and it looked like he had found some buddies to run with – the guy in white and the guy in dark blue. I hoped he wouldn’t blow up. John had asked me if I was trying to catch him and I said “No. I really hope I don’t.” But if you want to know the truth, I was thinking that I might in the later miles.
Back up the mile 10 hill, which was now the mile 16 hill, Pee Man decided it was time to go again. Why couldn’t this guy just step to the side? There was plenty of desert if he chose not to use the porta potties stationed at every other aid station and only a quarter mile down the course from where he was now peeing. Again I had to slow down. I was really mad now. I rehearsed the vile things I would say to him at the finish. I caught him before mile 17, but I was so mad, I didn’t say anything at all. We ran over a mile side by side in silence.
Then I caught Bruce at an aid station. He was struggling. I had been on pace for a BQ, but it was going to be close. My miles were averaging just under 9:05. We chatted briefly and he encouraged me to keep running. I thought about it for a minute and said “No. It will be more fun to stay with you.” He was doing a combination of walking and jogging which was tiring me out. It was fun to talk to him, but this was going to take forever. John caught us and offered Bruce gummy bears, antacids, and other things I forget. He was very nice. I love the comraderie of runners!
After three miles, a woman came up behind us. I said “Honey, I gotta go. I am the fourth woman right now and I don’t want to be fifth.” He encouraged me to go. After 20 miles, I always have the toughest time in a marathon and this was no different. A few times I thought I must be dizzy because I was having trouble with my footing, but then I realized it was the wind knocking me off my feet. The cross wind was the worst. Bruce hated the head wind, but I felt most unstable in the cross wind.
At mile 23, I started to worry that Bruce was really having trouble and he hadn’t been honest with me. What if he were having heart trouble and needed someone to perform chest compressions? On this course with no spectators, it was likely he could be down for a while. I remembered hearing him say he was taking his last Gu. Was this the last one he wanted or the last one he had? I stopped at the aid station. “Please do me a favor.” I asked the volunteer. “My husband is 3 to 4 minutes behind me and he is tall in a long sleeve maroon shirt. Please give him this Gu. He is struggling and he needs it.” She agreed. As I left the aid station, I shouted “His name is Bruce!”
At mile 24 or so, there was a photographer. I stopped to chat with him. “I am worried about my husband. I don’t know if I should stay and wait for him or if I should go on.” We chatted for a few minutes and he said “I will cheer for him!” So I left, seeing the woman and a bunch of other runners, whose genders I could not determine, cresting the hill behind me.
The last two miles took forever, but not really. I was tired, but was still feeling pretty good. I was envisioning finishing, then running back out to get Bruce. I finished in 4:08. Grabbed a water bottle and a wet wash cloth and headed back up the hill to get Bruce. He was just rounding the corner. He didn’t want water or the wash cloth. He said “After I finish.” and we ran in together. He finished in 4:14.
The finish area was well stocked with delicious food of all types, including hot soup. There was even a toaster for bagels and english muffins! The finish set up showed how well Calico Racing and Race Director Joyce can put on a race. Everything was handled with apparent ease and professionalism. We wandered over to the awards table to look at the awards. They were beautiful slate plaques in the shape of Nevada. Hand painted. But they only went one deep in each 10 year age category. I was disappointed because I thought the women ahead of me looked like they were in their 40s. At least two of them did.
Turns out, I was wrong. In this wind, with these hills, my 4:08 was good enough for first place in my age group! And Nevada can be checked off the list. Only 40 states left to go.
Bruce has reconsidered his marathon goals and instead of going for a specific time goal, he has decided that he wants to try to run a marathon and have fun. I like that idea. I think that is always a good goal.
