Race Report: St. George Marathon

First of all, apologies to the few faithful followers of my blog for my lack of posting.  School and other pursuits have largely commandeered my time, leaving little for blogging.  But, I think I should be able to fit in some time here and there, now that things have settled down to a semi-predictable schedule. 

Distance:  26.2 miles
Time:  2:43:40
Place:  29 (2nd in age division)

This story begins yesterday afternoon.  I left Logan at a little after 1 PM, knowing that there would be significant traffic issues in Provo due to the construction combined with the USU/BYU football game, therefore I planned to take an alternate route leaving the freeway in Riverton, and taking Redwood Road around the west side of Utah Lake to avoid the delays.  This plan would have worked nicely, except everyone else apparently had the same idea.  As a result, I was delayed over an hour from what I was planning, and got quite behind.  I barely made it to St. George in time to pick up my packet, and was in a very stormy mood from the frustration of the trip.  After running a couple of necessary errands I was finally able to get home to my parents' house in Hurricane.  I was not able to get to bed until 11:00 PM, and didn't sleep too well. 

I woke up at 4:00 AM, got my stuff together and soon headed out for the bus loading zone at the finish line in St. George.  I got there in plenty of time and after a short wait was able to board a bus and got to the starting line with about 45 minutes to spare before the start.  Perfect.  I earned a quick star before the lines got long, and sat and chatted with the other SGRC/FRB guys.  It was good to see guys like Dave Holt, LoganFielding, Steve Hooper (owner of SGRC), Wildbull, and everyone else.  About 20 minutes before the start I made another pit stop to release the river and then got ready to start.  The wheelchairs went first, and then we were on hour way within just a few minutes.  In the first mile I found Dave, Clyde, Benjamin (?), Jeff Shadley (another FRBer I had just met in person for the first time), and a few others I didn't know so well.  We formed a close pack and settled down at a great pace for sub-2:30.  I had not run in a pack like this since high school track, and I must say it was really nice to have those guys to chat with and to help push me.  It was nice to catch up with Dave, as he had been a big part of my high school career.  The first few miles were uneventful, and we took a relaxed, but fast pace.  I had been worried coming into the race about my ability to run at that pace, but I was feeling great.  Veyo hill was much tougher than I remember, probably because I was running a minute per mile faster average in this race as in 2008, but we got through it in great shape.  At the top we discovered that there was a bit of a headwind, but we were able to conserve energy by taking turns drafting.  Again, I loved running with a solid pack, and we were all keeping together really well.  We came through the half at a very solid 1:15:30 (or maybe it was 1:16:30), on track to break 2:30 with ease.  At mile 14, the course drops into the abyss and our pace accordingly increased significantly.  At this point I was beginning to feel some fatigue, especially with my breathing, which I was not expecting.  I figured it was just the fast pace and didn't think much of it. 

But, as we began to climb the last significant rise coming out of Winchester Hills, it came back to bite me.  I began having trouble getting oxygen and was struggling to avoid hyperventilating.  My heart seemed to be skipping beats and I lost speed going up the hill and lost contact with the group.  One of Dave's former XC runners (he coaches at Pine View HS) was helping to pace us by this point, and he dropped back to try and rescue me, which I appreciated, but I was only able to surge for a few meters at a time and could not stay with him.  Very quickly I developed some bad stomach cramps and slowed to a near walk.  It was not pretty at all.  My legs began to tighten up, and I was reeling like a drunken sailor.  By the time I finally reached the top of the hill, the pack had quite a gap on me, and to make matters worse I could not get anything going.  At this point I knew there was little hope of recovery.  My legs were frozen, I felt sick every time I dipped under 7 minute pace, and I could barely get air into my lungs.  All I wanted to do was get to the next aid station (Mile 19) and bail out.  Somehow, when the aid station came up, I ran past it.  I only took water, as Gatorade sounded nauseating, and I took a second cup to dump on my head.  The next 6 miles followed the same pattern.  Just trying to put one foot in front of the other and at least finish this stupid thing.  2:30 was out the window long ago, and 2:40 was fading fast.  I still could not get anything going.  I felt embarrassed when people would cheer me on.  I was not looking strong, great, or feeling anything of the kind, though that's what people were telling me.  Steve, Logan, Jeff (who had dropped back long ago), Walter, and a couple of others passed me like a parked car.  Finally, I reached the 25 mile mark.  Walter was just ahead of me walking, and I determined to catch him and if nothing else at least try and help him along.  I picked up the pace and for the first time in the past 7-8 miles I didn't feel sick.  Walter followed me for a bit, but soon dropped back again, and I kept going just so I could get this nightmare over with.  I finally made it to the finish chute and have never been more glad to see the finish line ahead.  I crossed the line in 2:43:40, which was much better than what I was thinking I would get--a PR for the course actually (mostly because my first time was also my marathon debut and was not particularly impressive). 

To say I was disappointed in the result would be an understatement.  I was on pace for a huge PR under 2:30 at mile 18, but then everything fell apart so fast it made my head spin.  Whether it was the stress from the previous day, some problem with fueling (too much electrolytes?), lack of marathon specific training, or a combination thereof, the result was the same.  I just need to learn from it and move on, and appreciate what I was able to get out of it.  Instead of feeling sorry for myself I should feel grateful that I even have the ability to finish a marathon, let alone complain about a 2:43 finish time.  There will be other race days, and hopefully I will be able to correct any problems, train better, and have a better race next time.