Marathon #40: Ogden Utah, May 2015

"...The race would end. I would finish. I knew all that. But what should have been self-evident truths felt like prayers..." Scott Jurek, "Eat & Run".

My co-worker, a retired ultramarathoner and vegetarian, let me borrow this book awhile back, primarily because of the vegan recipes in it. He knows of my struggles with trying to go vegetarian and thought I'd find it useful. Well I did, but not in the way he imagined. It's a strange book. Scott Jurek goes into brutal detail of crashing and burning in the Badwater ultra, then finishes off the chapter with a miso rice ball recipe. Is it a cook-book or an auto-biography? Well, a little of both. At any rate, the irony is that some of the passages of the book got me through this marathon, as it turned out to be one of my hardest yet.

The terrain of the Ogden marathon isn't overly challenging, in fact it's a net downhill course, with a big portion of downhill late in the race, where it's needed the most. I wasn't afraid of the terrain. I was afraid of the altitude, starting at 5400 feet, dropping to 4300 feet, not horrendous, but I've had issues running at altitude in the past, so I tried to mentally prepare for that scenario. I'd have to walk some, especially on portions that turned uphill, like I did in the Colorado marathon, ok. My goals these days are to enjoy the experience and not care so much about how long it takes me, so I was good. We'd start out in the first canyon for about 5 miles, all downhill, then hit a valley and run flat to rolling, and encounter 2 large uphills around miles 14-15. I knew I'd have some walking to do there. From there we would enter THE canyon, the most beautiful stretch of the course, and all downhill to mile 23 ish, and then it would be a rolling to flat finish into downtown Ogden.

We flew into Salt Lake City the morning before the race and drove straight to the race expo in Ogden. They had a really nice expo and some good marathon apparel too. We didn't do a whole lot that day. Our hotel was a block away from the finish, so we went over there and checked it out, then drove over to where the course started making its way into downtown along the Ogden pathway.

From whence we would come--that road went on FOREVER...

We only saw this once. The next day it had blown into the river.

Race day morning came early. No need for an alarm, as the buses were lining up in front of the hotel by 4:15, along with loud race music and announcements blaring. We felt a lot of pain for those staying in the hotel that weren't there for the race! Toby had to take another bus for the half, so we said good-bye to him and made our way to our bus.

Jamie and I had a pleasant morning at the start. Even though it was a little cold, and it even snowed a bit on us, the sun popped out, which lead us to (mistakenly) believe we weren't going to encounter much, if any, of the predicted rain. If only I had texted Toby at his start, where the weather looked a bit more ominous...We decided to take our sunglasses, and I ditched my hat. Here are some pics from the full start and you can see why we were stupid about the weather. We were TRICKED!

Jamie and her precious gloves that she lost along the way

Hatless idiot

You got that right

Proof of snow

Contrast this view with Toby's start, 13 miles down the road from us:

At any rate, off we went into the canyon. Jamie went ahead right away, and I quickly fell into a good rhythm with the downhill, and started enjoying the views. But after only a couple of miles into it the rain began. And it was cold cold cold in that canyon! After cursing at myself for being an idiot I again fell into the rhythm and went with it. As we entered the valley the wind picked up, making it even colder. Shortly after my first gel I suddenly found myself feeling very nauseous and dizzy. I stopped to walk and burp it out, not good. I was somewhere around mile 9. Apparently I was fighting with the altitude at this point, and not in a happy place AT ALL. In fact, I was downright miserable, soaking wet, cold, and sick. I found myself pulling over to walk several times, but couldn't walk for long because I was too cold! I wanted nothing more than to drop out! I started thinking about how far I had left to go and was really doubting everything when I thought about Scott Jurek's book. During a rough patch, and mind you his rough patches are a hundred times worse than mine, he had to tell himself DO NOT THINK. Just do. I wasn't going to drop out, so my only option was to keep moving forward. So I did. And not think. Do. Those were some mindless miles! 

Once we entered the second canyon I came back to life. My nausea was gone and again I fell back into a rhythm, but still had to stop to dig out  and open gels because my hands were numb. My legs were numb. My feet were numb. We were long past trying to skirt the water puddles at this point. Still, it was hard not to look around and marvel at the scenery in this canyon, especially this water fall, around mile 22 or so:

As we left the canyon and got onto the Ogden pathway I saw Toby briefly and told him I was ok, just coming in a bit later than normal. The last few miles were what I would call "normal" late marathon miles, where you make friends by taking turns passing each other over and over in silence. The turn to the finish line was a never-ending road, although flanked with spectators, finally, cheers were a welcome thing at this point. I crossed the line with a chip time of 4:15, which, looking back surprises me, because I had stopped doing the math and assumed it was going to take me much longer. Toby was there to quickly guide me back to the room, as there didn't appear to be any mylar sheets. I promptly changed into dry clothes and jumped into bed, but didn't stop shivering until an hour or so later. Jamie joined me and we shared our war stories. Toby had a great race, placing first in his age group with a 1:29 half!

Jamie in that heavy cotton T

sheer bliss...

Finishing marathon #40!

Official Finish line Photo

In summary, although difficult, this marathon was truly beautiful and I highly recommend it. Someone from the area said the rain wasn't typical for this time of year, but they had rain 2 years ago, so I'd say be prepared. And by prepared I mean wear a lot more clothes than we did!

This will go down as one of my favorite road trips with Toby and the sister wife Jamie. We had a blast hiking the waterfall the next day, and driving up to see the snow in Big Cottonwood Canyon. Love you guys!

Marathon #10: The Oklahoma City Memorial Marathon 2002

From early 2000 to mid 2001 I ran very little, if at all. Initially, while ignoring my pelvic pain, I ran a few more races after the Mardi Gras marathon, including a leg of the Hood to Coast Relay in Oregon. Finally, once the fracture was confirmed, I stopped running entirely, and immersed myself into cycling and more importantly, swimming. I was such a triathlete "wanna-be", but not only did I not know how to swim, I was also afraid of water. Initially I took individual swim lessons, then moved on to Dallas Aquatic Masters (DAM). I kept myself  busy with weekday rides with the Carrollton cyclists and swimming with DAM. On the week-ends I did bike rallies or long bike rides, and sometimes swam at the SMU pool. I also spent a lot of time at the gym, lifting weights and doing the elliptical. So this was my new normal. The day before my 40th birthday I swam in a triathlon as part of a relay team. Life was good, but I'd see a runner and get a sick feeling in my gut. There were many days when I would wonder if I'd ever run again. The pain in my pelvis was with me for so long I thought there would never be a day when it would be gone.

Finally, July 2001 I had another MRI to confirm my fracture had healed, so I started PT to break up the scar tissue and get my hips back in alignment. For the first few months I had to shift my hips back into alignment every single day. The pain started subsiding and I actually started back to running! The irony of that first week of running was that it was the week of the 9/11 terrorist attack. I went out to run in the dark and the sky was eerily silent, as there were no planes in the sky for the greater part of that week. I wanted to be ecstatic about running, but it was such a horrible week. All I allowed myself was gratitude.

I was truly so grateful to be running again! After every run I would say "Thank you God", no matter how slow or how ugly. (A lot of times I still do). Running a marathon wasn't even on my mind until I heard about the Oklahoma City Memorial marathon. The survivors and families affected by the Murrah Federal building bombing had put together the race to remember those they lost.The second annual race was coming up. I ramped up my mileage to see how it would go, and all was going well, but I would waver at times, and say I didn't think I could do another marathon. Marathon training meant I had to back off on my swimming and cycling, which was hard, as these activities had become a big part of my life! I had become a cyclist. I had become a swimmer. I did one triathlon, a sprint, but that was it. The marathon taunted me. The marathon won.

Less than two weeks before the marathon I went out on a morning run in the dark; tripped over something, fell, and broke my finger. That Wednesday I had surgery on it, which left me with a pin sticking out of my finger! So other than stressing about how I was going to grab water, etc with this pin in my finger I was pretty calm because I was just SO HAPPY to be able to run a marathon again!

I wish I could find the pictures I took of that week-end, but they are lost somewhere with all the others in those years prior to digital! I traveled with Deanna and Tina, my Hood to Coast Texas Roadkill team-mates. They ran a 2 person relay. I ran into Shelly McClintick at the start line. I had just recently met her when I resumed my training runs with Kathy. So funny to think back on that now, because eventually she became a member of our relay team, hence "family".

The start of the marathon was an emotional one. Arriving at the memorial before sunrise was really somber, as all the chairs were illuminated. (Each chair represents someone who died in the bombing). Then the moment of silence, which lasts 168 seconds; one second for each person lost. So much emotion welled up inside of me as we toed the start line!

Details of the course have faded a bit, but I do remember the banners along the course. They had the names of all the victims on them, reminding us why we were there. We battled a head wind for the first half of the race as we headed north, but this was ok, as we would have mostly tailwind once we turned. I was right on pace to qualify for Boston, but I told myself to let it go if I had to, so that I would enjoy the day for what it was. Once I got into the 20's I told myself to check my watch at each water stop, and if I had fallen off pace I could afford myself a walk break through the stop. But I'd get to the next stop--right on pace! Keep going! Next stop--right on pace! I started thinking, this is crazy! I am RIGHT ON IT! Finally, as we turned to run the long downhill stretch to the finish I looked at my watch and realized I was CLOSE, VERY CLOSE. In reality, my qualifying time was 3:50:59. I knew it had taken me 12 seconds to get across the start line, hence my chip time, and the clock already said 3:50! So I had to do one of those crazy mad hatter sprints that makes the spectators start cheering louder. It was nuts! My chip time: 3:50:56. I qualified for Boston by 4 SECONDS! I remember immediately calling Kathy, who was running a marathon in Nashville that same week-end and telling her she had to go to Boston for the third time.

Jamie and I just went up to run Oklahoma City this past week-end. She ran the full, and I ran the half. I can't believe it has taken me this long to return! I was very happy to see that the banners are still put out along the course, and that the message is still strong. This race is very much a "run to remember". Another thing I was happy to see was the Survivor Tree. It seemed so much bigger and prettier! This time I took pictures that will never be lost. If I come across the lost pictures of 2002 I will come back and add them here.

The marathon medal from 2002

Alive and Well 2015!