30 in 30!!!

Massey, Canada is a sleepy little town east of Sault Ste. Marie. Probably not much happens here on a weekly basis, but once a year the Friendly Massey Marathon is held, and if you can stand 87% humidity, cool temps, and light breeze you are offered a fast course with that good old Canadian charm. I had completed 29 of 29 marathons and was 29 years old, turning 30 the day after the race. It seemed a fitting time to run one more.


Rod was supposed to be here, but the day before I stopped at his hotel room three times and searched the start line to no avail. It would have been nice for him to jump in the half and run with me for 13 miles, but I would go this one solo. I stuck with a 19-year-old who was running his first marathon and his dad, who wanted to run sub 1:30 for the half to qualify for New York. I knew from research that this kid had run a decent half, but no fulls. I wasn’t worried about him knowing the sting miles 13-18 can put on a first timer. We cruised the opening miles together but Ks of 4:16 and 4:18 (3hr pace is 4:16) got me nervous and since I was down on the leader by 1:48 by 6K, I figured enough was enough. The race was on.


For the next four miles I worked away from speedy and his dad trying to close the gap on the shirtless leader. He had gone out with the half marathon guys and tucked in, so I wasn’t worried because during the second loop he would be alone. But as I made the turn at 15K he had 2:41 on me! I was losing time after all that hard work, and the worst part was the boy and his dad weren’t even that far behind me. I was in for it with 16 miles to go.


I crossed the half in 1:26:xx. That was a shade fast for me (considering I run 25 miles a week and my occasional tempos aren’t even at that pace) and heard that he had gone through in 1:23, and if he were a 2:55 guy, I knew he could hold me off. I figured the only way I would catch him was that he would blow up while I maintained. I had to maintain, since I feared that when the kid behind me dropped his dad off at halfway, he would be fresher than me having conserved and then unload his speed and there wasn’t a thing I could do about it.


By the time we hit our next “out and back” I had cut the gap to about 1:51. I was pleased, but my legs were stinging from a faster than usual pace, and it was getting warm. For the next several miles I tried to bring him back in, and I did, catching him at 34K. We exchanged pleasantries, but I warned of the talent in 3rd place. With a turnaround at 36K, I wanted to push to that point and back from it so that I could have 3rd see me first before he could see 2nd. I figured that would mess with his head, knowing that there had been a change of order and he had that much further to get me. But when I turned, I saw that I had not dropped the former leader with authority. The silver lining was that the rookie was much farther back than anticipated, probably cracking during the attempt to catch us.


It would be nice to portray the tale of the final 6K with drive, speed, and glory, but it was anything but. Although I didn’t lose time, I struggled mentally on the hills and could not drop the pace. I had never before “raced” nearly a whole marathon. I often reserved my energy to pace well and step up to close or beat people. This was a new game. I ran as fast as I could hold for the duration. It meant that my predetermined “kick points” had gone right out the window and I struggled in, still on a great pace but with no ability to shake it up.


I crossed in 2:50:17 for the win. It was my 30th marathon before my 30th birthday. It was my 3rd win, my 4th time under 3hours, and my 9th top 10 finish (damn that 11th place in March!). I set a personal best by over 5 minutes on less mileage per week than I have ever seriously ran. Second came in about 6 min back (stopping twice in the final 3K with leg cramps), and 3rd (the rookie) just missed with 3:00:30 (he was hurting at the end having experienced the full in all its glory). The only bittersweet moment was that I have secretly always wanted to have a time in the 2:40s. I know I can, but I left it short today. I never checked my watch from the half mark on, but I am not sure there was much I could do to get time back if I had. All in all, if you can set a PR, win, and reach a milestone race, it is kind of hard not to call it a perfect day.

Leadville Marathon Rocks

Stickers saying “Leadville Rocks” pepper cars around town. The commercialized saying has a nasty double meaning. First, Leadville hosts one of the best ultra races in the world in its 100 mile race while its 100 mile bike ride draws the best cyclists in the world. So it pretty much kicks ass in that respect. However, what they don’t tell you is this normally sleepy mining town also hosts a trail marathon, that is in fact, loaded with rocks, and it makes for one nasty trip around the mountains.

By the time the pavement ended, I was feeling largely optimistic about my chances in this race. I had several things going for me. First, this race is difficult and won in slow times, which has favored me in every similar effort. Second, I was in 10th at the 1.5 mile mark and with my slow start and smart walking on the mountains, I knew I would move up. And move up I did, from the town of Leadville at 10,200ft up to a nice loop of Bald Mountain. I left the loop (at about 9 miles) in 6th place. As I started down a long dirt road I looked up and saw a twisting path to the top of a mountain in the distance. I thought that it must be Mosquito Pass, and it was. Why we had to lose elevation only to start up the side of a mountain to its summit was beyond me, but such was the way of the trail.

The top half-marathoners were coming back at me as I started up the climb. It was a steep climb and I battled with a brisk walk versus a slow jog for most of the lower slopes, finally resolving to walk to conserve energy. A runner went by me, completely in oxygen debt, running the whole way. I just shook my head, keeping him in sight, determined to make him pace for the stupid strategy in the second half of the race. Unfortunately for me, I popped like a Tour de France sprinter on an Alp near the summit and by the time I reached the summit at 13,100ft, I was toast.

With a 40mph wind blowing temperatures down about 25 degrees cooler than the lower slopes of the mountain, I felt for the volunteers at the top of the pass. But then again, Leadville does have the best and most dedicated volunteers of any race. Meanwhile, I had my own problems to deal with. In an effort to better prepare for the upcoming race in Canada, I had stepped up my running. In the week of the Leadville race (on a Saturday), I had done a 10 mile tempo on the Friday before, a tempo on Tuesday, then hiked the Manitou Incline on Wednesday (in a 3 hour round-trip effort with my father at such a pace that I used muscles that I never have and could barely walk the next day), and a Tempo on Friday. By the time I woke up at 430am on Saturday and drove the 2.5 hours to Leadville, I was toast. Had it been a flat road marathon, I would have been fine, perhaps even fast. But this was Leadville, and it was unrelenting.

The top 3 guys blew past me down the mountain, and I was facing a deficit of more than 10 min at half way. But I thought place 4-6 looked close and vulnerable. However, the path down was less than a foot wide, and with more than 100 half-marathoners and slower marathoners coming up the pass, I frequently shot off the path to avoid people. The rocks were loose, and I rolled ankles, kicked rocks, and lunged hands-first about 20 times on the descent, getting no closer to the group ahead. I felt fairly confident that my left food had a stress fracture and that I would spend the night getting x-rays in the hospital. I did know my right ankle was sprained. Those three miles were hell, and as I faced the 2 mile climb out of the valley I lulled into a pedestrian pace with a long way to 6th and 8th place on either side of me. The reverse loop of Bald Mountain did nothing to boost my motivation and I hit 22 miles with a wish to quit right there at the aid station. What should have been a welcomed descent was met with more trips and tumbles down the path on trashed legs. It wasn’t until I hit the pavement did I feel like I could be done. Too bad for me there was a long rolling downhill left to deal with before crossing the tape. Ryan Burch wasted me by over a half hour, and I finished far lower than I should have. My time was 4:22, and good for 7th even though it was the slowest marathon I have ever run, by far. My effort and body just weren’t there for what was, undoubtedly, the hardest marathon I have run. This one isn’t for the spring chickens. Stickers saying Pb for Lead also are on cars, and now have been permanently tattooed to my legs.