After repeated attempts to train for the full marathon, each ending in IT BAND issues, I finally accepted reality and registered for the Half-Marathon. I guess it speaks well of my fitness and training to be able to just default to a 13.1 mile race without much concern. There was a time not so long ago when completing that 5k presented a significant challenge.
I arrived in Salt Lake on Thursday evening and was picked up by my sister Coleen. Even though I moved away when I was 14, Salt Lake will always feel a bit like home to me. After dinner at my sister Diana’s house we went up to my grandparent’s old house that Coleen now lives in. Perhaps no structure in Salt Lake holds more memories for me other than my childhood home. Despite the small rooms, even smaller closets, head trauma waiting to happen staircases, and general design for no one taller than 5’6", I love spending time in that house.
On Friday we had a relaxing day around the house. Then I went for a short run. That is when the panic set in. About a quarter mile into a 2.5 mile run my knee burned like it had at the peak of my troubles. I was so angry and upset and pushed through the pain (which I knew I shouldn’t do). I finished my run in severe pain but never let on to Coleen. I debated withdrawing from the race for fear of risking more damage. I don’t know what was different on that run, but it was perhaps the most humbling 2.5 miles I have ever run. Ultimately I decided that I had come to far to back out now so I stretched really well and hoped that I was just stiff from the flight and time change… (Yeah, that’s it, knee pain is attributable to jet lag! A desperate man will believe anything.)
Next Coleen took me to drive the route I would be running. This was the first time I have done this and it was really quite helpful the next day to know what was yet to come. From the endpoint we went to the Salt Palace to pick up my bib and race packet. The neatest part of that experience came in the form of an announcement over the PA system. They announced that a David Warden would be giving a presentation about Triathlon Training on one side of the conference center. I turned to Coleen and asked if they were referring to "our David Warden". She said that they might be as she thought he was a tri-athlete. We wandered over to the presentation area and there sat my 1st Cousin once removed, David Warden. We had played quite a bit as children before we moved away from Salt Lake but I’m not sure if I had seen him since! It was so cool to catch up with him.
After finishing up at the Salt Palace we went to Trolley Square. We had made a reservation at the Spaghetti Factory where all my Salt Lake family would help me carb load for my race. It was so nice to sit down to dinner with all 4 of my Salt Lake siblings and various members of their families. The trip to Salt Lake would have been worth it just for that. My mistake that night however played into the next day’s story. Looking over the menu, they didn’t have just plain spaghetti with marinara sauce at all. The closest I could find was the "Mt Vesuvius," which was close, but included Tobasco in the sauce… mistake! If anyone ever considers any menu item with the word Tobasco in the description the night before running any distance beyond the 20 feet from the TV to the toilet, STOP THEM! Other than that, the food and company were fantastic.
Due to the afore mentioned menu item, I visited the restroom 4 times between that night and the next morning. I was convinced that there was nothing left in my system to worry about, as there couldn’t possibly be anything left in my colon following the cleansing it had! (more on this assumption to come at a later time…)
Race morning I got up and went through my typical routine. I was dressed, showered, and ready to go well before race time. I ate some toast with peanut butter and proceeded to consume most of my sister’s grapefruit juice as I had drank most of her orange juice the day before. Only then did I wake her up and ask her to drive me the few short miles from her house to the start line. As we approached the start line we came to an intersection where the cops were stopping cars from getting any closer. I reacted quickly, handed my bag to my sister while asking her to bring it to the finish line, and then I bailed out of the car so she wouldn’t have to deal with the hassle of finding some place to park. Only after she drove off did it hit me that I had forgotten to call my wife as planned. My phone was in my finish line bag, pulling away. It was the first "hitch" to the day.
The temperature was perfect, cool but not cold. I had on some gloves and a hat along with my standard running gear and that was more than enough to keep me warm. At the start area I realized that Vesuvius was not done erupting and found my way through the port-a-potty line again. I jogged a bit to warm up but didn’t want to press my luck with my knee too much before the actual race. I lined up a bit further back in the pack than I should of, partly due to lack of faith in my knee, partly due to lack of faith in my ability to run at altitude, and partly due to my general lack of faith in my preparation and training. The other thing that I found a bit amusing was the start line entertainment. It was a Baptist Choir singing gospel music. Not exactly the "pump you up" race music you would expect, and oddly out of place in this bastion of the Mormondom.
When the race finally started it took me almost 2 minutes to cross the start-line and initiate the timing chip strapped to my foot. The first mile was quite frustrating weaving through very slow runners and groups of 8-10 people that present very imposing obstacles when they move en mass. Although I was moving at what I though was a quick pace my watched beeped at the 9 minute mark and I had not yet seen the 1st mile marker. I hit the lap button, convinced that I had just missed the marker.
The field continued to thin and it became much easier to find my way through the crowd but I was still passing a lot of people through that second mile. When I reached the second mile mark and my watch was still on 6:53, my suspicions were confirmed about the first mile. So including the crowd weaving I was on an 8 minute pace early on.
The third mile is where I developed a side stitch. This is not common for me at all and I think this was the first sign of running at altitude. I consciously increased the rate of my breathing to try and compensate for the lower levels of oxygen (I have no idea if this is the suggested approach to such a situation). That seemed to work as the stitch relented and didn’t come back the rest of the way. Mile 3 took me 7:32.
Mile 4, in 7:42, is where it hit me that I hadn’t even thought about my knee, let alone felt any pain from it whatsoever. It is almost just as frustrating to not have issues because it highlights the unexplained times when it blows up on me.
I had settled into a good rhythm and those middle miles went by in a blur, or should I say without incident.
Mile 5, 8:08
Mile 6, 8:14
Mile 7, 7:52
Somewhere in mile 8 the red pepper sauce from coastal Louisiana decided that it wasn’t done and I felt the growing need to find a port-a-potty once again. I went quite a ways trying to convince myself that I could hold it or perhaps that it was just gas and I could let it out and be done but eventually rightly concluded that the next available outhouse would need to be occupied. Mile 8, 8:18.
As I was passing the 9 mile mark, 8:27, in Liberty Park I was in near panic, looking for the park lavatories, debating asking a local home owner, anything short of ruining a good pair of running shorts. Then I saw the row of plastic green sheds up ahead that had never appeared as such a godsend to me before. I jumped in and stopped my watch (I didn’t want to count non-running time!). The pit stop took me almost exactly 2 minutes and was far more enjoyable than any "No 2" should be. As I took off running again my knee twinged for the first time all day and I nearly panicked but within a few hundred feet the pain went away, never to return the rest of the run.
Mile 10, which included a little of the in and out of the potty was run in 8:55. Miles 10 and 11 went by with a new lightness afoot but still were slower due to the stage in the race I was at. Mile 11 took 8:46. Although I was slowing, I was still quite happy with my overall time considering all of the obstacles I was facing coming into the race. I had set what I thought was a realistic goal of 2 hours, roughly 9-minute miles, given those obstacles, so my splits up to this point had all been gravy. Then I hit the biggest obstacle the course had to offer, State Street climbing up to South Temple. Most of the course is downhill, something like 400 feet net from start to finish, but mile 12 is a straight shot that gets steeper and steeper as you go. The capital building and the stupid arching bird monument over State Street at South Temple are deceptively far away and taunt you the entire climb. Mile 12 was my only split slower than 9 minutes (other than my miss timed 1st mile) and that beast of a hill nearly broke me, 9:32. It was the one of the few places where I noted several people passing me and perhaps the most apparent example of my lack of altitude training.
The run down South Temple to the old train station was relaxing in comparison. I ran Mile 13 in 8:34. The turn into the shopping center that was the finish line was really cool. The last .1 miles (39 seconds) was through a relatively narrow outdoor mall that crowded the family and friends right on top of you. I saw Coleen with her two boys and heard her screaming my name. Only later did I see how poor of a videographer she was. ;) Diana and Adam were down the chute a bit further, near the finish line. It was so cool to have them take time out of their day to cheer me on.
So, the final results:
Gun Time (from when the gun starts the race until I finished): 1:52:48
Chip Time (subtracts the time to cross the start line - what the organizers use to assign placements outside of the "winners"): 1:50:53
Watch Time (did not include the potty break): 1:48:49
Placement:
802nd out of 4139 Half Marathoners
545th out of 1588 males
79th out of 248 35-39 year old males
Overall, I was ecstatic with the finish. It could always be better, but halfway between my fastest (1:40:35) and my slowest (1:59:05) Half Marathon times was a perfect compromise given the challenges of injury, elevation, and digestion that I faced.
That evening we went swimming at Cottonwood Spa where I really learned how to swim as a kid. I went by my childhood house that has changed SO MUCH since my childhood. On Sunday we went to Church in my Grandparents old ward house. That may be the first time I have been in that building for anything other than a funeral. Then Coleen hosted a big dinner with the whole family coming over. It was a great get together that could have only been improved with the addition of my wife, parents, and other missing siblings. It is times like that that make me miss not living closer to the bulk of my family.
I flew home Monday morning, having failed to make time to visit a college friend that I had hoped to stop by and see but for the most part I had accomplished what I had set out to do that weekend. In the end the trip was less about the run and more about my sister and my family for many reasons but I was glad that the run had given me a reason to be in Salt Lake at that particular window of time. Hopefully, at some future date, I can return to the valley and conquer the full 26.2 miles I had intended to run.
