An Odd Group at the 2010 Colfax Marathon
For the last few months, I have struggled significantly with stomach problems, injury, and exhaustion. The motivation to run was very low. Day after day of low miles, slogging through runs at an incredibly slow pace, I was done. But then there was rejuvenation. I realized that I will have 29 open marathons by the time I am 30. That just did not settle well with me. So I signed up for a race the day before my 30th birthday. And the motivation was back! I did a tempo run and dropped a 5:38 mile, so I knew the legs still had it, as well as 3 faster runs last week. Now I just had to run marathon number 28.
The Colfax Marathon is an odd event. Picture the street in your city with the worst reputation – liquor stores, bums, drugs, strip clubs – and then decide to run a marathon entirely on that street. Granted, when I ran this race in 2006, about 25 miles of the course was Colfax, and the 12.5 miles or so on it now are certainly in a better part of the city.
Having no race plan, I went out on the gun. Brooks said he would go 6:45s. I thought that was too fast for my fitness level, but sure enough I hit them for the first 10K or so, with Brooks nowhere in sight. I cruised along for the first 13 miles with two bathroom breaks en route. My splits say that I eased up a bit from 7 to 13 but I was running under what I expected the whole time. After seeing the leaders go past (and giving Brooks a few smartass comments about the intended pace as he shot by), I lit a fire and decided to run. After all, I needed to push myself mentally and physically in order to survive the 100miler and the marathons this summer. I crossed in 1:31:35 (7min/mile).
After dropping a 6:28 13th mile, I passed the lead woman and then kept it up for the rest of the run, cruising by people. But I have to say, it was like the Twilight Zone of running. At mile 3, I split a 6:45 – quite fast I felt. Yet for some reason this split was too slow for the guy next to me (did I mention he had fat legs, an IPod, and a cotton long-sleeved shirt on?), and he took off. I am not sure where he finished but it was nowhere near 6:45s! Later I caught a hairy-backed man with a hip belt full of 4 bottles and a Camelbak (even though there was water every mile or so). He ran sideways – when his foot hit the ground it was 90 degrees to his direction of travel. That means that for the brief second when both feet are on the ground at the same time in his stride, he was completely sideways – walk like an Egyptian style. It pains me it took me 10 miles to pass him. Third place at the turnaround was a little Africa wearing a full spandex suit (temp at the finish had to be in the mid 60s). Yet I blew by him at 18 miles like he was standing still. The weirdest part was that this guy who would move up to 3rd by 13.1 passed me at a mile. I don’t know where he started or if he was sleeping in the car when the gun went off, but he faded significantly. It was just an odd day of running out there.
At mile 19 I thought I had gone too early. The hills of the city were coming and I started to struggle. Yet with patience and experience, the pace continued to stay fast and I passed more people. At 10 miles left, I thought that I would run about a 3:03. At 10K to go, I figured a 3:02. With 2 miles to go, I knew that breaking 3 hours that day would mean a blistering finish. I saw the guy ahead of me who said it was his “Bucket List” item to break 3 hours and I went after him. After yelling for him to stop looking at the watch and go and to do it or “die trying” as he said to me earlier, I pushed on, crossing mile 25 in 6:26. I stepped it up to the finish, yet with a half mile to go, the trail merged with all of the half marathoners. Suddenly I was in a sea of 11 min milers as the course weaved through the park. I couldn’t cut tangents and had to dodge slower runners, walkers, and spectators with baby strollers. I still crossed mile 26 in 6:05 and kicked to this finish the best I could in the crowd. 2:59:53. Could I have been faster? Oh yeah, if I hadn’t stopped twice to use the toilet or not laid off in the beginning. But who cares? I was 10th and I had run 35 miles a week, and only 2 runs in the last 2 months under 8min/mile pace – both in the last week. So I was stoked with my day.
Aftermath – I drove home and the legs were great. It was a few hours later after 7 games of beach volleyball that I entered a new world of hurt. I reached a level of exhaustion encountered only by running 100K-100miles. I crashed and woke the next day to calf muscles that hated me. I would have to say that physical repercussions from the marathon were nil. No pain. But jumping, sprinting, and diving in sand for 2 hours on marathon legs left me crying. Nothing some ice, Motrin, a bike and easy run couldn’t cure though.
For the last few months, I have struggled significantly with stomach problems, injury, and exhaustion. The motivation to run was very low. Day after day of low miles, slogging through runs at an incredibly slow pace, I was done. But then there was rejuvenation. I realized that I will have 29 open marathons by the time I am 30. That just did not settle well with me. So I signed up for a race the day before my 30th birthday. And the motivation was back! I did a tempo run and dropped a 5:38 mile, so I knew the legs still had it, as well as 3 faster runs last week. Now I just had to run marathon number 28.
The Colfax Marathon is an odd event. Picture the street in your city with the worst reputation – liquor stores, bums, drugs, strip clubs – and then decide to run a marathon entirely on that street. Granted, when I ran this race in 2006, about 25 miles of the course was Colfax, and the 12.5 miles or so on it now are certainly in a better part of the city.
Having no race plan, I went out on the gun. Brooks said he would go 6:45s. I thought that was too fast for my fitness level, but sure enough I hit them for the first 10K or so, with Brooks nowhere in sight. I cruised along for the first 13 miles with two bathroom breaks en route. My splits say that I eased up a bit from 7 to 13 but I was running under what I expected the whole time. After seeing the leaders go past (and giving Brooks a few smartass comments about the intended pace as he shot by), I lit a fire and decided to run. After all, I needed to push myself mentally and physically in order to survive the 100miler and the marathons this summer. I crossed in 1:31:35 (7min/mile).
After dropping a 6:28 13th mile, I passed the lead woman and then kept it up for the rest of the run, cruising by people. But I have to say, it was like the Twilight Zone of running. At mile 3, I split a 6:45 – quite fast I felt. Yet for some reason this split was too slow for the guy next to me (did I mention he had fat legs, an IPod, and a cotton long-sleeved shirt on?), and he took off. I am not sure where he finished but it was nowhere near 6:45s! Later I caught a hairy-backed man with a hip belt full of 4 bottles and a Camelbak (even though there was water every mile or so). He ran sideways – when his foot hit the ground it was 90 degrees to his direction of travel. That means that for the brief second when both feet are on the ground at the same time in his stride, he was completely sideways – walk like an Egyptian style. It pains me it took me 10 miles to pass him. Third place at the turnaround was a little Africa wearing a full spandex suit (temp at the finish had to be in the mid 60s). Yet I blew by him at 18 miles like he was standing still. The weirdest part was that this guy who would move up to 3rd by 13.1 passed me at a mile. I don’t know where he started or if he was sleeping in the car when the gun went off, but he faded significantly. It was just an odd day of running out there.
At mile 19 I thought I had gone too early. The hills of the city were coming and I started to struggle. Yet with patience and experience, the pace continued to stay fast and I passed more people. At 10 miles left, I thought that I would run about a 3:03. At 10K to go, I figured a 3:02. With 2 miles to go, I knew that breaking 3 hours that day would mean a blistering finish. I saw the guy ahead of me who said it was his “Bucket List” item to break 3 hours and I went after him. After yelling for him to stop looking at the watch and go and to do it or “die trying” as he said to me earlier, I pushed on, crossing mile 25 in 6:26. I stepped it up to the finish, yet with a half mile to go, the trail merged with all of the half marathoners. Suddenly I was in a sea of 11 min milers as the course weaved through the park. I couldn’t cut tangents and had to dodge slower runners, walkers, and spectators with baby strollers. I still crossed mile 26 in 6:05 and kicked to this finish the best I could in the crowd. 2:59:53. Could I have been faster? Oh yeah, if I hadn’t stopped twice to use the toilet or not laid off in the beginning. But who cares? I was 10th and I had run 35 miles a week, and only 2 runs in the last 2 months under 8min/mile pace – both in the last week. So I was stoked with my day.
Aftermath – I drove home and the legs were great. It was a few hours later after 7 games of beach volleyball that I entered a new world of hurt. I reached a level of exhaustion encountered only by running 100K-100miles. I crashed and woke the next day to calf muscles that hated me. I would have to say that physical repercussions from the marathon were nil. No pain. But jumping, sprinting, and diving in sand for 2 hours on marathon legs left me crying. Nothing some ice, Motrin, a bike and easy run couldn’t cure though.
