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This seems like as good a place to put my race report as any, so here it goes:
I ran the Ogden Marathon on Saturday. My first.
I was excited when I signed up and training went very well at first. I was following the Hal Higdon novice plan and felt great. I did the 15 mile run on some serious hills and in the afternoon after coming home from a scout camp with my boys (and little sleep), which was a mistake. I was pretty beat after that. Yet overall I felt great.
The next weekend is a 16 mile run. At about 15.5 I get what feels like a cramp in my calf. I walk home, stretch it, ice it, etc. By the next day it is feeling better, by Monday I don’t feel anything at all and on Tuesday I go out for 4 miles, pulling up at 3.5 with the same issue. I decide to give it some time and stay off it for a week.
The next Tuesday – same thing, about mile 3. I stay off of it for two weeks and then take a run two Wednesdays later – and hit the same thing about mile 3.
Now I’m starting to get desperate and frustrated. I determine, as best as I can, that it is the soleus muscle. I do some massage, ice and heat, specific stretches, etc. I pick up a neoprene compression brace, thinking I’ll do anything to make it work. I decide if I can’t run I’ll at least swim some to maintain some cardio.
Then three weeks ago I get a pretty good cough. I figure it is a typical spring cold, but a week goes by and it doesn’t leave. In to the doctor – it’s bronchitis. I do a round of antibiotics, nothing. I’m now just finishing my second 10 day series, and luckily it’s gone. With the cough, swimming is out.
As a result, I haven’t really run in 8 weeks and haven’t done any cardio to speak of in 3. My wife is seriously worried that I’m going to kill myself if I try to run this thing, so I reassure her that there will be a meat wagon to pick me up off the side of the road – they aren’t going to leave me up the canyon for her to come looking for. I'm pretty sure I can finish, just not sure how fast. And worst case I'll just have to get a ride.
The week of the race I run a mile on Wednesday and 2 miles on Thursday. Everything feels really good. No leg pain and I don’t feel any junk in my lungs. I do discover that I'm breathing a little harder than normal for such short runs. I’ve already paid for this thing, I’ve anticipated it for so long – I decide I’m going to do it without any expectations beyond just getting to the end.
I get on the bus about 4:45am and get to the starting area around 5:30am. You can tell who has been here before – they are the people with blankets to lay on (some even have fold up camp chairs). Silly me thinking everything I bring is supposed to fit into that little runners bag they gave me at the check-in yesterday. I’ve got a good fleece sweatshirt, gloves, and a fleece hat. That and the fire barrels keep me warm. It isn’t as cold as I thought it could be, so everything is fine.
I make my way to the bathrooms with what I’m hoping is enough time to get in and out before the race starts – yet hoping I’ve waited long enough that my body is awake and will do its business. Everything works out and at 15 minutes to start time I’m ready to go. The porta-john lines are long even as the race is about to start and a bunch of men form a line along the fence rather than wait.
As I walk to the start the announcer asks us to line up at the flag that we believe to be our race pace. I’m headed to the 9 minute flag, thinking that sounds like a good guess. As I head that direction I know there are people at the 7 and 8 minute flags that I’ll be passing in the first few miles if not minutes. Mostly I was right.
The gun sounds. We stand there. Finally we walk forward and eventually start to jog as we cross the starting line. I’ve been having problems downloading the times from my Garmin, so I can’t go mile by mile – but you’ll get the gist of it here:
Mile one: I think I’ve heard this song before. Yes. Yes, I’m sure of it now. I realize that the song is repeating, I don’t know why. I pull out the ipod and while it shows more songs on the “race day” play list, it won’t let me go past the first. I give up and change to another playlist that I exercise to.
Mile two: I think I’ve heard this song before. Yes. Yes, I’m sure of it now. I’m now hearing the first song of this second playlist repeated over and over again. It’s a good song. But not 26.2 miles good. When I pull my ipod out to look at it I lose the 3-4 pieces of gum that were in the same pocket. Dang! I’m not going back to pick them up. Apparently one of my children has put the settings to “repeat 1 song”. Once I get this fixed, things are much better and I'm back to the "race day" playlist.
Miles 3-6: A lot of this is a blur. I remember thinking to look around – I’ve been told what a beautiful course this is. Honestly? It’s pretty ugly here at the beginning. Not much more than scrub oak and sage brush.
The road is mostly closed, but there are about a dozen trucks that ease past us getting to one farm or another. I smile and wave at each of them – not one acknowledges me. Strange.
A guy passes me with sweat running down the back of his neck. I notice that I’m not sweating at all, really. Except between my fingers. I remember not to clench my fists and try to relax my hands. This gets repeated many times throughout the morning. My fingers are hot and sweaty. Don't clench fists; relax your hands...
There is a gal in front of me with a ponytail that swings back and forth as she runs. It reminds me of being horseback on a trail ride as a kid and watching the swishing of the tail of the horse in front. Mesmerizing. I follow the ponytail. As the day progresses I pass some folks and others pass me. But there is always a swishing ponytail in front to concentrate on and follow. Sometimes I catch it and switch to another. Sometimes it leaves me behind and I switch.
I do a body inventory every few minutes. Does anything hurt? No. The calf is great. One hip is sore for a few minutes, but it passes. My right hamstring has been tight for the last 3 days, but it feels the same as it has. Everything is going great.
Miles 7-13: I get passed by Forrest Gump. Long hair, long beard, hydration pack, but he’s wearing those vibram toe shoes rather than whatever Gump wore. Still feeling pretty good.
We hit the bottom of the canyon and make a turn north. I can see the mountains in the distance where we have to go to head down the canyon. They seem awfully far away… and we’re running away from them.
We’ve passed several porta-john stops along the way – with a line at all of them. There are more people here now to see friends and family. I reach the half-way mark, which is also the start of the ½ marathon race. There are a large number of johns and no lines. I make a mental note that if I run this race in the future, I want to hold it until the halfway mark.
I suck down a chocolate gu – which actually tastes pretty good – and chase it with water from the stop. Towards the end of the water stop someone is handing out orange slices. A gal I work with has talked about how welcome they are when she has run, so I grab a couple. She is right – they are awesome.
This whole time I’ve been keeping my pace between 8:30 and 9 minute miles. There has been some jumping up and around – and at times I’ve almost had to keep the breaks on. But I’m feeling great, half way done, and I feel very confident that I’m going to finish. Not only that – but I finished the first half in about 1:45-1:50 – so I still may make it in under 4 hours, right?
Mile 14: The hill. It is a decent climb and about a half mile. I chuckle to myself at all of the people walking up it (that’s what we call foreshadowing). And while I slow to about a 10-11 minute pace, I power up the hill.
Mile 15-16: I’m starting to slow down some. My average speed is around 9-9:30 now. Once in a while I almost hit a 10 minute pace. My calves are sore, particularly the one without the brace, but overall things are good.
Mile 17-19: Bonk! And I mean HUGE BONK! I’m still running, but I’ve slowed way down. I’m not yet to the mouth of Ogden canyon, but I can see it and wish I was. I’m still sticking to my plan of only walking through the water/powerade stops, but I’m starting to wish they would come more often. I’m trucking along, my pace seems to fluctuate wildly between 10-12 minute miles. More often than not on the short end, but no consistency.
Mile 19-23: I finally decide I can’t make it to the next water stop. So I make a deal with myself that for every mile I run, I can walk for a minute. The one minute walk slowly stretches to 90 seconds and then two minutes. When I do run, my pace is around 10 minutes.
I’m not laughing at anyone else who is walking anymore.
There are some kids on long boards taking advantage of the fact that the canyon road is closed and seem to be having a good time.
The scenery is much more pretty now, steep cliffs and pines, the river, but mostly I just see the yellow line on the road as my feet hit it or the swish of the ponytail when I look up. The ponytails have kept me going. I don’t even see who they belong to. I start to wonder why some seem to just sit there in the middle of the woman’s back while others swing back and forth. Ponytails of different shapes, colors, and sizes; I’ve been following them since around mile 5-6.
Miles 23-26: I am honestly and truly done. At the bottom of the canyon we go from road to trail. The road had gradual slopes up and down. I could run those. The trail is so sharp up and down that I just can’t do it. It is 5-6 steps up, then 8-9 down, then 6-7 up again, repeat. The ups and downs hurt me. I walk probably 2 of the last 3 miles.
At mile 24 I’m pretty sure I’m going to puke, but I don’t.
There is another guy I’ve been going about the same pace as. We round a bend and there is a photographer. He runs past the photographer and then stops and walks again. I just don’t care. I keep walking. By this point I’m too done in to feel the humiliation when the 50-60 year-old women pass me. All I care about now is finishing. I just know I’m going to finish.
Once I get onto Washington Blvd. I’m able to start “running” again. I can see the finish line. It seems a long way off; I’m not moving very fast. With a block and a half to go I see my wife waving and get a little pick up. Two of my kids jump the fence and run over to me – they run with me through the finish line. Somehow I find enough energy to “sprint” through. I don't pass many people with my sprint, but I'm sure the people I do pass think I'm a dork since they passed me walking along the trail.
My official finish time is 4:28. I’m happy to have finished, particularly with no real training for the last 8 weeks leading up to the race. At the same time I know I’ve got to run another one now. Just to see the difference, how it feels to go in feeling completely prepared. I’m curious if I will bonk as hard or at the same place, what will my legs be like - what will the race be like.
But not this year. Next year.
I ran the Ogden Marathon on Saturday. My first.
I was excited when I signed up and training went very well at first. I was following the Hal Higdon novice plan and felt great. I did the 15 mile run on some serious hills and in the afternoon after coming home from a scout camp with my boys (and little sleep), which was a mistake. I was pretty beat after that. Yet overall I felt great.
The next weekend is a 16 mile run. At about 15.5 I get what feels like a cramp in my calf. I walk home, stretch it, ice it, etc. By the next day it is feeling better, by Monday I don’t feel anything at all and on Tuesday I go out for 4 miles, pulling up at 3.5 with the same issue. I decide to give it some time and stay off it for a week.
The next Tuesday – same thing, about mile 3. I stay off of it for two weeks and then take a run two Wednesdays later – and hit the same thing about mile 3.
Now I’m starting to get desperate and frustrated. I determine, as best as I can, that it is the soleus muscle. I do some massage, ice and heat, specific stretches, etc. I pick up a neoprene compression brace, thinking I’ll do anything to make it work. I decide if I can’t run I’ll at least swim some to maintain some cardio.
Then three weeks ago I get a pretty good cough. I figure it is a typical spring cold, but a week goes by and it doesn’t leave. In to the doctor – it’s bronchitis. I do a round of antibiotics, nothing. I’m now just finishing my second 10 day series, and luckily it’s gone. With the cough, swimming is out.
As a result, I haven’t really run in 8 weeks and haven’t done any cardio to speak of in 3. My wife is seriously worried that I’m going to kill myself if I try to run this thing, so I reassure her that there will be a meat wagon to pick me up off the side of the road – they aren’t going to leave me up the canyon for her to come looking for. I'm pretty sure I can finish, just not sure how fast. And worst case I'll just have to get a ride.
The week of the race I run a mile on Wednesday and 2 miles on Thursday. Everything feels really good. No leg pain and I don’t feel any junk in my lungs. I do discover that I'm breathing a little harder than normal for such short runs. I’ve already paid for this thing, I’ve anticipated it for so long – I decide I’m going to do it without any expectations beyond just getting to the end.
I get on the bus about 4:45am and get to the starting area around 5:30am. You can tell who has been here before – they are the people with blankets to lay on (some even have fold up camp chairs). Silly me thinking everything I bring is supposed to fit into that little runners bag they gave me at the check-in yesterday. I’ve got a good fleece sweatshirt, gloves, and a fleece hat. That and the fire barrels keep me warm. It isn’t as cold as I thought it could be, so everything is fine.
I make my way to the bathrooms with what I’m hoping is enough time to get in and out before the race starts – yet hoping I’ve waited long enough that my body is awake and will do its business. Everything works out and at 15 minutes to start time I’m ready to go. The porta-john lines are long even as the race is about to start and a bunch of men form a line along the fence rather than wait.
As I walk to the start the announcer asks us to line up at the flag that we believe to be our race pace. I’m headed to the 9 minute flag, thinking that sounds like a good guess. As I head that direction I know there are people at the 7 and 8 minute flags that I’ll be passing in the first few miles if not minutes. Mostly I was right.
The gun sounds. We stand there. Finally we walk forward and eventually start to jog as we cross the starting line. I’ve been having problems downloading the times from my Garmin, so I can’t go mile by mile – but you’ll get the gist of it here:
Mile one: I think I’ve heard this song before. Yes. Yes, I’m sure of it now. I realize that the song is repeating, I don’t know why. I pull out the ipod and while it shows more songs on the “race day” play list, it won’t let me go past the first. I give up and change to another playlist that I exercise to.
Mile two: I think I’ve heard this song before. Yes. Yes, I’m sure of it now. I’m now hearing the first song of this second playlist repeated over and over again. It’s a good song. But not 26.2 miles good. When I pull my ipod out to look at it I lose the 3-4 pieces of gum that were in the same pocket. Dang! I’m not going back to pick them up. Apparently one of my children has put the settings to “repeat 1 song”. Once I get this fixed, things are much better and I'm back to the "race day" playlist.
Miles 3-6: A lot of this is a blur. I remember thinking to look around – I’ve been told what a beautiful course this is. Honestly? It’s pretty ugly here at the beginning. Not much more than scrub oak and sage brush.
The road is mostly closed, but there are about a dozen trucks that ease past us getting to one farm or another. I smile and wave at each of them – not one acknowledges me. Strange.
A guy passes me with sweat running down the back of his neck. I notice that I’m not sweating at all, really. Except between my fingers. I remember not to clench my fists and try to relax my hands. This gets repeated many times throughout the morning. My fingers are hot and sweaty. Don't clench fists; relax your hands...
There is a gal in front of me with a ponytail that swings back and forth as she runs. It reminds me of being horseback on a trail ride as a kid and watching the swishing of the tail of the horse in front. Mesmerizing. I follow the ponytail. As the day progresses I pass some folks and others pass me. But there is always a swishing ponytail in front to concentrate on and follow. Sometimes I catch it and switch to another. Sometimes it leaves me behind and I switch.
I do a body inventory every few minutes. Does anything hurt? No. The calf is great. One hip is sore for a few minutes, but it passes. My right hamstring has been tight for the last 3 days, but it feels the same as it has. Everything is going great.
Miles 7-13: I get passed by Forrest Gump. Long hair, long beard, hydration pack, but he’s wearing those vibram toe shoes rather than whatever Gump wore. Still feeling pretty good.
We hit the bottom of the canyon and make a turn north. I can see the mountains in the distance where we have to go to head down the canyon. They seem awfully far away… and we’re running away from them.
We’ve passed several porta-john stops along the way – with a line at all of them. There are more people here now to see friends and family. I reach the half-way mark, which is also the start of the ½ marathon race. There are a large number of johns and no lines. I make a mental note that if I run this race in the future, I want to hold it until the halfway mark.
I suck down a chocolate gu – which actually tastes pretty good – and chase it with water from the stop. Towards the end of the water stop someone is handing out orange slices. A gal I work with has talked about how welcome they are when she has run, so I grab a couple. She is right – they are awesome.
This whole time I’ve been keeping my pace between 8:30 and 9 minute miles. There has been some jumping up and around – and at times I’ve almost had to keep the breaks on. But I’m feeling great, half way done, and I feel very confident that I’m going to finish. Not only that – but I finished the first half in about 1:45-1:50 – so I still may make it in under 4 hours, right?
Mile 14: The hill. It is a decent climb and about a half mile. I chuckle to myself at all of the people walking up it (that’s what we call foreshadowing). And while I slow to about a 10-11 minute pace, I power up the hill.
Mile 15-16: I’m starting to slow down some. My average speed is around 9-9:30 now. Once in a while I almost hit a 10 minute pace. My calves are sore, particularly the one without the brace, but overall things are good.
Mile 17-19: Bonk! And I mean HUGE BONK! I’m still running, but I’ve slowed way down. I’m not yet to the mouth of Ogden canyon, but I can see it and wish I was. I’m still sticking to my plan of only walking through the water/powerade stops, but I’m starting to wish they would come more often. I’m trucking along, my pace seems to fluctuate wildly between 10-12 minute miles. More often than not on the short end, but no consistency.
Mile 19-23: I finally decide I can’t make it to the next water stop. So I make a deal with myself that for every mile I run, I can walk for a minute. The one minute walk slowly stretches to 90 seconds and then two minutes. When I do run, my pace is around 10 minutes.
I’m not laughing at anyone else who is walking anymore.
There are some kids on long boards taking advantage of the fact that the canyon road is closed and seem to be having a good time.
The scenery is much more pretty now, steep cliffs and pines, the river, but mostly I just see the yellow line on the road as my feet hit it or the swish of the ponytail when I look up. The ponytails have kept me going. I don’t even see who they belong to. I start to wonder why some seem to just sit there in the middle of the woman’s back while others swing back and forth. Ponytails of different shapes, colors, and sizes; I’ve been following them since around mile 5-6.
Miles 23-26: I am honestly and truly done. At the bottom of the canyon we go from road to trail. The road had gradual slopes up and down. I could run those. The trail is so sharp up and down that I just can’t do it. It is 5-6 steps up, then 8-9 down, then 6-7 up again, repeat. The ups and downs hurt me. I walk probably 2 of the last 3 miles.
At mile 24 I’m pretty sure I’m going to puke, but I don’t.
There is another guy I’ve been going about the same pace as. We round a bend and there is a photographer. He runs past the photographer and then stops and walks again. I just don’t care. I keep walking. By this point I’m too done in to feel the humiliation when the 50-60 year-old women pass me. All I care about now is finishing. I just know I’m going to finish.
Once I get onto Washington Blvd. I’m able to start “running” again. I can see the finish line. It seems a long way off; I’m not moving very fast. With a block and a half to go I see my wife waving and get a little pick up. Two of my kids jump the fence and run over to me – they run with me through the finish line. Somehow I find enough energy to “sprint” through. I don't pass many people with my sprint, but I'm sure the people I do pass think I'm a dork since they passed me walking along the trail.
My official finish time is 4:28. I’m happy to have finished, particularly with no real training for the last 8 weeks leading up to the race. At the same time I know I’ve got to run another one now. Just to see the difference, how it feels to go in feeling completely prepared. I’m curious if I will bonk as hard or at the same place, what will my legs be like - what will the race be like.
But not this year. Next year.
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