This is a secret blog post.
I’m hoping my wife doesn’t find this, at least not anytime soon. Last year I wrote about my experience running
the Ogden Marathon in the rain and with minimal training. As I crossed the finish line last year I
vowed that I would run it again with more training. Alas, personal weakness pulled me down this
year. I could mention increased stress
at work, a new church calling with increased responsibilities, and the
exhaustion of having six wonderful children…but they would just be excuses to
cover my weakness.
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| Jeff photobombing my selfie |
Really the reason for my failure to train this year for any
of my races comes down to a desire to sleep in and to watch television in the evenings. My wife has threatened me if I try to run the marathon again without training.
As the date for the Ogden Marathon approached, I again had
friends and family reminding me that the date was approaching. In the forefront of my mind was the desire
and idea simply to not show for the race.
The subject of not running was broached with my father, six months back
from his deployment. With his limited
training I hoped that maybe he would ratify my suggestion thus saving us
significant pain and discomfort. Three
weeks prior to the race, however, he called to inform me that he had reserved
our rooms at our secret lodging facility.
He said I was committed.
The bulk of my training this year consisted of some regular
running in early April prior to the Ragnar Zion Trail Relay and the actual
running of the relay. Unfortunately
during the trail relay I only finished two of the legs due to the weather. Not only was I denied 8.2 miles of training,
I managed to crash into the ground during my night run injuring my back.
With a recovering back and one more short run, I packed my
running gear and my two boys into the car.
We left Thursday before the race for Provo to stay at my parents. Friday afternoon, in the midst of an effort
to complete the sale of our house in Colorado Springs (for which my wife did most
of the work), my dad, Jeff, and I left Utah Valley for Ogden and Huntsville.
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| Port-a-Potty Village, aka The Starting Area |
The location for the Ogden Marathon Expo this year was
amazing. Runners, volunteers, and others
were well served by the Weber County Sports Complex on the campus of Weber
State University. Parking was a cinch
and packet pick up ran smoothly. For a
few minutes I managed to forget the pending doom hung over me by my lack of
training.
Driving up Ogden Canyon to our secret lodging facility, I
couldn’t help but think of all the emotion and pain I had felt in previous
years coming down that canyon. With a
herculean effort I regained control of my thoughts as they attempted to stray
into the realm of “what’s going to happen tomorrow.” At that point my ability to change anything
through training was gone. It was time
to accept simply what was going to be—to be prepared to make the best of it.
Sleep evaded me for several hours that night, partly due to
nerves and partly due to my extra efforts to hydrate during the day. Eventually sleep overcame me and I was pulled
out of a dream by my alarm. Within a few
minutes I was gathered with other runners in the dining area for an excellent
meal. The buses were almost 30 minutes
later than normal picking us up this year in Huntsville. It made for a shorter wait in the cold at the
start line but also prevented me from cycling through the outhouse lines to
relieve myself of pre-race jitters.
I ran with my dad for the first 10 miles with the hope that
we could push each other to cut-offs in time and ultimately to the finish
line. Still on antibiotics for strep
throat and suffering with congested lungs, he had a tough go of it. Shortly after mile 10 he realized he may not
make it to the halfway point in time to make it to the cutoff at the top of the
dam. With his encouragement, and a little
bit of guilt, I left him behind.
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| Dad (Reed) and Jeff |
As I came into Eden the day was starting to warm up (and by
then the winner of the marathon had crossed the finish line in Ogden
already). Without a pause this year I
pushed past the halfway point and up the hill.
Physically I still felt fine but I could feel my energy ebbing
away. From mile 15 on I had to force
myself to eat when I could and to drink water and PowerAde. I pushed some electrolyte pills and a few
acetaminophen pills along the way. Just
under two miles from the dam I was secretly hoping that I wouldn’t make the cut
off time. A deputy sheriff drove by
announcing that we had 40 minutes. From
there I knew that even walking I would make it to the finish line before they
shut the course down. Not an overly
inspiring thought, but it kept me going.
The heat became a threat to my ability to continue
forward. I forced myself to continue
hydrating.
Down the canyon I struggled to run at all. I had no timing device with me this year,
aside from my phone that was tucked away in a pouch. Due to my extra slow pace this year a couple
of the aid stations were out of oranges when I arrived. Oranges keep me going when nothing else
will. The canyon, as always was
beautiful, and it was a bit more solitary this year for me.
Once out of the canyon my ability to run for more than sixty
seconds at a time was gone. I pushed
when I could but it wasn’t too often.
With two miles to go I caught up with a girl who had passed me
earlier. Her name is Heather. She committed to keep up with my walking
pace. The conversation helped keep my
thoughts off of the pain in my feet and the cramps in my legs. Running would have felt better on my feet
than walking, but I couldn’t muster the energy to sustain anything worthwhile.
Again, the interminable stretch down Grant bludgeoned my
mental commitment. In a desire to get it
over I quickened my stride. Finally,
with a tenth of a mile to go, Heather and I ran. We crossed the finish line together
exchanging high fives. While my finish
time consists of numbers that are more than a bit embarrassing, finishing was
grand as always.
Across the finish line I struggled to think about what to do
next. Looking ahead I saw several of my
Air Force brothers and sisters in their uniforms holding the medals. I must have looked confused and dazed. A young, female staff sergeant caught my
eye. She held it as she raised a medal
in her arms for me. Understanding came a
bit slowly to me, but with my comprehension I pointed to her and limped the
twenty or so yards so she could put the medal on my neck.
Two major lessons for this year:
1.
I can finish a marathon with almost no training.
2.
I shouldn’t try to run a marathon with almost no
training
Other lessons:
1.
Sometimes lessons have to be taught multiple
times before they are learned.
2.
People can do so much more than they think they
can.
3.
Marathons are one of the most motivational
events.
My dad finished his race at the halfway point in Eden. Our friend Jeff finished in 4:40. Prior to the race I told my dad that I likely
would run only the half marathon next year due to my training schedule. Looking back on the race now, I want to
commit to running the full marathon for the sixth time. In order to allow myself to register in
October, I have set some strict goals that I must meet. Basically, it comes down to running regularly
(and it will mean running in Las Vegas during the summer).
Here’s to next year’s goal of qualifying myself to run the
full Ogden Marathon and to improving my time.
(Let’s keep this on the down low from my wife for as long as possible.)
