marathon news
Woot woot!
I have my wireless up and running, and boy, am I thrilled. I hadn't realized until now just how important it is for one to have a private space in which to write, but now I know. I've been thinking about this concept of A Room of One's Own for close to three years now--really, really thinking about it--and lately, it's come into real practice more than I'd like.
But you don't want to know about *that*. You want to know about The Marathon.
I've been training in sleet, snow, and wind now for at least my recent memory. It was both a treat and a shock to my system to realize most belatedly that the Death Valley Marathon would encompass none of these things. As I was packing my running shorts and light running top, I thought that I ought to have tried these things on. It had been, after all, one full season since I'd worn said shorts or top.
Anyway, the problem wasn't the shorts or the top. The problem was the Fuel Belt, which sat comfortably over my hips during training, aided in its staying power by a nice two layers of chunky winter Polartec. The morning of the marathon, as I strapped the thing on, it sagged loosely over my hip bones. Cause for worry, but not enough time to worry. Good enough.
Jim and I headed off for Death Valley from my parents' house in Claremont at about 10:30 in the morning. We were anticipating a leisurely drive and some sightseeing before the sun set, and we got both in spades. Coming into Death Valley from the long way 'round is something everyone must do. The landscape there is other-worldly. Death Valley's isolation from the rest of the world is ensured by 4000'-tall mountains on either side of it and its completely unforgiving weather system. It's an incredible feeling to both watch the sun rise and set on this place--two very diferent experiences, one awesome place.
In other races I've done, the parking lots are crammed with cars and people. Not so with this one. There were 149 marathoners who completed the race; I don't know how many started. I do know at least two dropped. There were 49 women overall. There was also a half-marathon and 10K option, but I'd glad I opted for the full marathon. I like to run quietly, in general--I'm usually not a talker, so when we stepped out of the car and felt the absolute silence of the place, I knew it'd be a very special experience, and one not to be missed.
Jim and I ate in the casual cafe of our resort (The Furnace Creek Ranch), which was called the 49er (named for the gold rush crew of 1849), and were amused over the Spaghetti-and-Meatball special that was on offer: perfect for would-be runners. I opted for the seared salmon, basmati rice, and wilted spinach meal, with a side of mashed potatos, and thoroughly enjoyed it. Jim had a buffalo burger, and enjoyed that.
We walked back to our room, a nice quarter-mile away, via a stop to gaze at the crescent moon, which was by then flanked by Jupiter and Venus on either side, and a swing by the mineral-fed pool (always 85 degrees! no chlorine!) to see what it was like.
We crashed into bed shortly after we got to our room, after I'd laid out all of my kit and set the alarm for 5;30.
Turns out, going to bed at 8 is plenty enough to wake up at 5:15 feeling refreshed and happy. I puttered about and actually took a shower and shaved my legs, of all things, and then I painted my toenails, which I always do before a race. (It has something to do with needing to feel like a girl when you're tired and covered in a fine crust of salty sweat.) I put on my civvies and Jim and I went down to breakfast at the 49er. Two thick slices of buttered and jammed wheat toast for me, with a side of bacon, and two cups of very good 49er coffee, and I was ready to go back to my room and make final preparations.
We were down at the start line in plenty of time to go to the potty one final time and listen to the pre-race instructions (turn-arounds for the 10K and 1/2 marathon clearly marked; aid stations every three miles; mile markers every mile; out-and-back course) and the national anthem, and then we counted down from ten and we were off! It was about 65 degrees at race start and would end up being in the high 70s.
Another great thing about this course: It's a Boston marathon qualifier, but there is no chip timing, and if you really want to stop and take pictures, just pause your watch and they'll deduct that time from your final time. Fricken awesome.
I passed a walker at the very beginning (oh, yay ME) and asked her if she was walking the whole thing. she was, she said, and then pointed out a passing coyote to me. i, in turn, pointed it out to the young lady running next to me, and she and i ran together for about seven miles, until her chest cold got the best of her and she had to do what I must believe is dropping out, as I didn't see her again on the course.
I did, however, see Jim, who drove the course and stopped every three miles to cheer me on and take photos. My splits at this point were floating somewhere between 10:40 and 11:30, and I was happy with that. It would mean about a five-hour marathon, which I would be happy enough with.
At about mile 7 and a half I collected a man who is likely the furriest man I have ever met. He was older, and running steadily next to me, talking. I wasn't too game for talking, but I felt good, and I'm never one to turn down the experience of getting to know someone great, and if the conversation wasn't sparkling (it kind of was), I now can at least say that I acquired a business card while running a marathon. Gary Levy's business card marks him as a Bus Driver first, Bon Vivant second, and Marathoner third, although it was clear from the ease with which he struck up conversation that he's a Bon Vivant through and through. I bet he's the friendliest bus driver on the Eugene, Oregon payroll.
Gary left me at about mile 12, and I realized with horror that my splits had dropped to between 12:30 and 13-minute miles. I was feeling pretty bedraggled by the time I saw Jim at the half-marathon mark, and barked at him to Stop Taking Photos and Just Get Back in the Car. :( I am terrible person. Who says that?
I made a concerted effort to pick up my pace, and then realized that I hadn't changed my stride since mile 9, so I lengthened out a bit, which helped a little bit, and I at least pulled my pace down to right around 12:30 all the way through mile 20. That's when things went really cock-eyed. The last six miles of the race are, apparently, uphill. And how. There is a big nasty hill at the end of the thing, too, and so I guess it's no real surprise that my last five miles were dismal, absolutely dismal. I clocked in between 13:53 and 15:12 for the last five, taking a whopping 18 minutes, 36 seconds to finish the last 1.2 miles. Jim ran with me, too, the last three and a half, which I thought would give me extra boost, but instead I found myself whimpering pretty sadly for the last mile he was with me, until he sprinted ahead to take photos. I forgot to mention, too, that within the last 200 yards I was passed by a woman moving at least at an 8-minute mile. She came up behind me and said, "If it sucks too much to be passed in the last 200 yards, I'll stay behind you." I told her she was insane and to just go for it, and she did, finishing beautifully.
Me, not so much. I crossed the line and wheezed at the race organizer, "Fricken California," and then, clutching at Jim, crawled over to the tangerine, T-shirt, and water table. I went and showered and then jumped into the deep end of the mineral pool, realizing as I sank that I might not actually be able to swim, but it turns out that my legs were relieved to be able to move in near weightlessness, and in something other than piston-like motion. I showered again and we hobbled over to the 49er again, this time for Chicken-Fried Steak and succotash, and then drove off to the much swishier Furnace Creek Inn, the sister resort of the Ranch, which boasts a world-class view of the valley, some awesome architecture, and a very nice glass of Pinot Grigio, at least, which you can enjoy from the outside deck. Then we drove off home.
So there you have it.
Here are my splits. I hope Jim will send me photos later on tonight, or tomorrow, so I can share them with you.
Mile number; time
1,2,3 (avg); 11:20
4; 10:52
5; 11:35
6; 10:40
7; 11:39
8, 12:20
9; 12:20
10; 12:25
11; 12:30
12; 12:22
13; 12:30
14; 12:42
15; 13:02
16; 12:28
17; 12:31
18; 12:24
19: 12:32
20; 12:34
21; 13:53
22; 13:16
23: 13:17
24; 15:12
25; 14:19
26.2; 18:26
-----------
Total: 5:30:33
I have my wireless up and running, and boy, am I thrilled. I hadn't realized until now just how important it is for one to have a private space in which to write, but now I know. I've been thinking about this concept of A Room of One's Own for close to three years now--really, really thinking about it--and lately, it's come into real practice more than I'd like.
But you don't want to know about *that*. You want to know about The Marathon.
I've been training in sleet, snow, and wind now for at least my recent memory. It was both a treat and a shock to my system to realize most belatedly that the Death Valley Marathon would encompass none of these things. As I was packing my running shorts and light running top, I thought that I ought to have tried these things on. It had been, after all, one full season since I'd worn said shorts or top.
Anyway, the problem wasn't the shorts or the top. The problem was the Fuel Belt, which sat comfortably over my hips during training, aided in its staying power by a nice two layers of chunky winter Polartec. The morning of the marathon, as I strapped the thing on, it sagged loosely over my hip bones. Cause for worry, but not enough time to worry. Good enough.
Jim and I headed off for Death Valley from my parents' house in Claremont at about 10:30 in the morning. We were anticipating a leisurely drive and some sightseeing before the sun set, and we got both in spades. Coming into Death Valley from the long way 'round is something everyone must do. The landscape there is other-worldly. Death Valley's isolation from the rest of the world is ensured by 4000'-tall mountains on either side of it and its completely unforgiving weather system. It's an incredible feeling to both watch the sun rise and set on this place--two very diferent experiences, one awesome place.
In other races I've done, the parking lots are crammed with cars and people. Not so with this one. There were 149 marathoners who completed the race; I don't know how many started. I do know at least two dropped. There were 49 women overall. There was also a half-marathon and 10K option, but I'd glad I opted for the full marathon. I like to run quietly, in general--I'm usually not a talker, so when we stepped out of the car and felt the absolute silence of the place, I knew it'd be a very special experience, and one not to be missed.
Jim and I ate in the casual cafe of our resort (The Furnace Creek Ranch), which was called the 49er (named for the gold rush crew of 1849), and were amused over the Spaghetti-and-Meatball special that was on offer: perfect for would-be runners. I opted for the seared salmon, basmati rice, and wilted spinach meal, with a side of mashed potatos, and thoroughly enjoyed it. Jim had a buffalo burger, and enjoyed that.
We walked back to our room, a nice quarter-mile away, via a stop to gaze at the crescent moon, which was by then flanked by Jupiter and Venus on either side, and a swing by the mineral-fed pool (always 85 degrees! no chlorine!) to see what it was like.
We crashed into bed shortly after we got to our room, after I'd laid out all of my kit and set the alarm for 5;30.
Turns out, going to bed at 8 is plenty enough to wake up at 5:15 feeling refreshed and happy. I puttered about and actually took a shower and shaved my legs, of all things, and then I painted my toenails, which I always do before a race. (It has something to do with needing to feel like a girl when you're tired and covered in a fine crust of salty sweat.) I put on my civvies and Jim and I went down to breakfast at the 49er. Two thick slices of buttered and jammed wheat toast for me, with a side of bacon, and two cups of very good 49er coffee, and I was ready to go back to my room and make final preparations.
We were down at the start line in plenty of time to go to the potty one final time and listen to the pre-race instructions (turn-arounds for the 10K and 1/2 marathon clearly marked; aid stations every three miles; mile markers every mile; out-and-back course) and the national anthem, and then we counted down from ten and we were off! It was about 65 degrees at race start and would end up being in the high 70s.
Another great thing about this course: It's a Boston marathon qualifier, but there is no chip timing, and if you really want to stop and take pictures, just pause your watch and they'll deduct that time from your final time. Fricken awesome.
I passed a walker at the very beginning (oh, yay ME) and asked her if she was walking the whole thing. she was, she said, and then pointed out a passing coyote to me. i, in turn, pointed it out to the young lady running next to me, and she and i ran together for about seven miles, until her chest cold got the best of her and she had to do what I must believe is dropping out, as I didn't see her again on the course.
I did, however, see Jim, who drove the course and stopped every three miles to cheer me on and take photos. My splits at this point were floating somewhere between 10:40 and 11:30, and I was happy with that. It would mean about a five-hour marathon, which I would be happy enough with.
At about mile 7 and a half I collected a man who is likely the furriest man I have ever met. He was older, and running steadily next to me, talking. I wasn't too game for talking, but I felt good, and I'm never one to turn down the experience of getting to know someone great, and if the conversation wasn't sparkling (it kind of was), I now can at least say that I acquired a business card while running a marathon. Gary Levy's business card marks him as a Bus Driver first, Bon Vivant second, and Marathoner third, although it was clear from the ease with which he struck up conversation that he's a Bon Vivant through and through. I bet he's the friendliest bus driver on the Eugene, Oregon payroll.
Gary left me at about mile 12, and I realized with horror that my splits had dropped to between 12:30 and 13-minute miles. I was feeling pretty bedraggled by the time I saw Jim at the half-marathon mark, and barked at him to Stop Taking Photos and Just Get Back in the Car. :( I am terrible person. Who says that?
I made a concerted effort to pick up my pace, and then realized that I hadn't changed my stride since mile 9, so I lengthened out a bit, which helped a little bit, and I at least pulled my pace down to right around 12:30 all the way through mile 20. That's when things went really cock-eyed. The last six miles of the race are, apparently, uphill. And how. There is a big nasty hill at the end of the thing, too, and so I guess it's no real surprise that my last five miles were dismal, absolutely dismal. I clocked in between 13:53 and 15:12 for the last five, taking a whopping 18 minutes, 36 seconds to finish the last 1.2 miles. Jim ran with me, too, the last three and a half, which I thought would give me extra boost, but instead I found myself whimpering pretty sadly for the last mile he was with me, until he sprinted ahead to take photos. I forgot to mention, too, that within the last 200 yards I was passed by a woman moving at least at an 8-minute mile. She came up behind me and said, "If it sucks too much to be passed in the last 200 yards, I'll stay behind you." I told her she was insane and to just go for it, and she did, finishing beautifully.
Me, not so much. I crossed the line and wheezed at the race organizer, "Fricken California," and then, clutching at Jim, crawled over to the tangerine, T-shirt, and water table. I went and showered and then jumped into the deep end of the mineral pool, realizing as I sank that I might not actually be able to swim, but it turns out that my legs were relieved to be able to move in near weightlessness, and in something other than piston-like motion. I showered again and we hobbled over to the 49er again, this time for Chicken-Fried Steak and succotash, and then drove off to the much swishier Furnace Creek Inn, the sister resort of the Ranch, which boasts a world-class view of the valley, some awesome architecture, and a very nice glass of Pinot Grigio, at least, which you can enjoy from the outside deck. Then we drove off home.
So there you have it.
Here are my splits. I hope Jim will send me photos later on tonight, or tomorrow, so I can share them with you.
Mile number; time
1,2,3 (avg); 11:20
4; 10:52
5; 11:35
6; 10:40
7; 11:39
8, 12:20
9; 12:20
10; 12:25
11; 12:30
12; 12:22
13; 12:30
14; 12:42
15; 13:02
16; 12:28
17; 12:31
18; 12:24
19: 12:32
20; 12:34
21; 13:53
22; 13:16
23: 13:17
24; 15:12
25; 14:19
26.2; 18:26
-----------
Total: 5:30:33
