No, this is not the standard marathon distance for Xterra races. But by the end of the day, this is what most GPS watches would read. The day started well enough – perfect temps for a marathon. In fact, there might not be a better place to run. Colorado in fall is marked with changing colors of leaves on trees, crisp air, and snow-capped mountain peaks. Clear skies and cool temps are a given. It was going to be a good day.
Shockingly, Brooks Williams was with me for the first couple of miles of the race. Each time I have run with him he prefers to be more out in front. But this time he was back with me, chatting about his most recent race (a 50 miler where he took 6th). It made sense why he wasn’t up front. Brooks has an amazing story and you can read about him here. He would finish 4th today and cap an amazing ultra season. Congrats, Brooks!
We got separated on some hills and I ran alone. My goal was to be ultra-conservative for the first 18 miles. The course was quite hilly and I figured that I need to be cautious. After my last disaster of a marathon, I took a week off and had only been running three days per week for the last month due to the repeated stomach issues. I wasn’t ready to hammer and a challenging course only made it worse. But what a beautiful run it was. Never was there a flat spot. Even the sustained downhills had rollers in them every 30-40 meters. Any uphill came with an array of switchbacks. Boulder fields complicated even the flattest of sections. It was a killer through and through.
Despite the challenges of the course and my fitness level, I cruised through the half marathon point in 3rd place, and crept up on 2nd just after the line. I was very pleased with my positioning because, let’s face it, the split of 1:59 was nothing to write home about. With the good pacing thus far and the fact that my stomach was still good, I was excited about the prospect of negative splitting and attacking 1st place, who just rolled past in the other direction. The hunt was on.
I moved past 2nd and up a hill. After cruising down a nice rolling hill, I came to an intersection and was directed to the left by a volunteer. That didn’t seem right. “Left?” I shouted. He nodded. “Even for marathoners?” I verified and again was told to go left. Well up the hill I went and around the corner but instinctively I knew I was going the wrong way. We didn’t go up this hill this early the first time (it was a two ‘loop’ course, essentially). And there went the 8 and 21 mile mark. I was at neither at this point in the race so I stopped and waited for the guy I had passed to come by. A 5K women was next up the trail. I asked if this was right and she looked at me like I was speaking Russian. I then asked where the other guy was. She had no idea. So I turned again up the hill looking for an intersection before cursing, turning, and rocketing down the hill back the way I came. “It’s the wrong way, God Damnit!!” I yelled, whipping back around the corner onto the correct trail.
Interestingly enough, my wife stood at the intersection in a heated argument with the volunteer. She had been waiting for me at an intersection and when people that I was ahead of earlier went by, she became worried. She started asking the guy how to get me back after he directed me the wrong way. He had no idea what she was talking about. Then I came around the corner complaining and off in the other direction. She was relieved until the next racer approached. Again the guy tried to direct him up the hill. Sarah yelled at him to turn and he was obviously more afraid of her because he obliged despite what the official volunteer had instructed.
What frustrated me beyond belief is this: First, the 1st place runner had just come through. Why the guy thought I should go a different way baffles me. Next, the 3rd place runner argued with the volunteer and followed the path of 1st. So did 4th. I came back cursing and complaining about being sent the wrong way and followed the competitors. So why he thought the 5th place runner needed to go up the hill makes me want to recommend this guy for testing. Granted, it was a difficult intersection that was crossed 4 times (in two different directions) by marathoners, 2 times by half marathoners, and once by 5k runners, but still, be aware. At 2 hours, I am not at the 8 mile mark nor the 21st. So it would be a fair assumption to send me off in the other direction. Apparently, all of the runner volunteers were working aid stations. They would be much better suited on the course making judgments.
I estimated that I lost 3 minutes by making this turn. Now I was doing exactly what I had planned not to do – run hard in the early part of the 2nd loop. I was flying, hammering, and trying to get back in contact with the runners I had already passed. The only problem was that the course was all uphill. I made little gains and expended maximum effort. Three miles later, I finally caught and passed 3rd place, a runner I had passed before the half marathon mark. I continued to press the pace but saw no one ahead. Ironically, as I approached the 8 and 21 mile mark (the same intersection that I was misdirected at), I caught 2nd place again. It took me 8 miles to make up the 3 minutes I had lost and I was bushed. The next 5 (or so I thought) miles were going to be brutal. I was soon stumbling over boulders and twisting around switchbacks. My pace on the long uphill portions had started to resemble a shuffle. A huge mistake had been to convince myself that most of the last three miles was downhill. In fact, from mile 22-25 was nearly all uphill. My stomach had done wonderfully, but now I was crashing from lack of calories (largely avoided Gatorade as to not piss off my gut). I popped a Gu at 24 miles for calories, something I normally never would have done, but it seemed to help.
After finally cresting the summit of the climb, it was literally all downhill from there. The last aid station with about a mile to go allowed me to see that 3rd place was only about 200m behind me. Judging from the pace I passed him, I had just given back a ton of time to him. I knew first was out of reach but I kept on under the chance that he might have just been walking on the trail ahead of me, even more exhausted that I was. I clipped down the final descent at about 6:30/mile pace and crossed the line in much better shape that I had felt four miles previously. A conversation with the race director ensued and she offered me free entry next year. I was upset about being misdirected but I understand these things happen so I didn’t make a big deal of it. Ultimately, I don’t know what would have happened. I could have paced better over the harder parts of the course if I hadn’t lost that time. I may have been able to catch first, maybe not. He may have dusted me if I did. You never know. But I would have liked to have made a race out of it.
Regardless, I have to be pleased. It was a long course anyway, and I ran even longer than the rest. Stomach problems, 3x/week running, and getting lost equaled 2nd place. I know I could be in better shape and own this race. It was a crazy day and totally forgettable but for that it will probably be remembered more than most. But my mind is already on next year’s ultra races. This is my sport, and my chance to do it well.
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