A Journey to Juneau

Frank Maier Recap  8.05.06

 

 

Ahhhhh, the dog days of summer.  It was 95 in Ohio on the 1st, 2nd, 3rd and 4th of August.  So I left town to find cooler air.   The plan was to traverse ˝ the continent and land as close to Juneau as I could get.  With no way to drive to this mountain locked island of civilization and not having the best sea legs I opted for the plane ticket.

 

When, at the age of 35, you are the youngest passenger by 30 years on a plane it makes you feel that you are doing something few people your age are able to do.  Or possibly you died early and they are packing your coffin in the cargo hold.   I pinched myself and realized that I wasn’t dreaming and not dead.  This being my second trip this year to the Artic North I was looking forward to a more relaxing, and less punishment to my feet, course than the tank trails of Mayors Land of the Midnight Sun Run.  And I was hoping to redeem my efforts and run under 2:40 in all too favorable conditions.  I had been pushing through a slight calf issue with my left leg but after a long stationary plane trip my leg felt well rested.  I was fortunate to have the 14 hour day broken up with six flights and well timed layovers.

            Leaving on Thursday I had the usual gorging of fresh fruit and oatmeal and left the house in a flurry as I had slept in a little too much.   I arrived at the Continental desk with just under 20 minutes to departure and was asked kindly to take my bag to the Northwest gate. Although my e-Ticket said Continental I would be with Northwest and Alaska Airlines the whole day.  I thought of the alternative of arriving in Juneau without clothes and as much as I can appreciate the human body…the last thing the natives would want to see is a skinny little white boy like me running around in nothing but running shoes.  Although with the heat that most of us Ohioans have had to deal with the past week I did ponder just a moment at the thought of cool air all over.   I took my bag to the appropriate counter and had it checked.  No naked Chuck this trip…maybe next year in Italy.

             The flight from Columbus to St.Paul/Minn was uneventful except that I found myself sleeping quite comfortably with my new FOM neck pillow.  The next leg of the journey to Juneau would not leave for just over one hour.  That left me with enough space for some pasta at Sbarro and quick stop at Quizno’s for a take along sub.  I don’t go much over 3 hours without food.  I get cranky when the blood sugar gets low.  The final leg was filled with seniors taking one of their many retirement trips.  The only time I have heard more WWII war stories was when my grandpa and grandma came to Mississippi and visited. We sat and chattered on like three old hens at a tea party.   Of course most of those stories were about how they had fallen in love and eloped.  Funny how both sets of my grandparents have a long history of relationships in Mississippi.  It just seemed so hot down there and being close to anyone was not conducive to staying cool.

            The next leg would be a longer flight up to Anchorage.   I watched Rocky I, II and part of III on a neighboring computer.  Of course I couldn’t hear any of the words but I knew from my ancient days of high school movie outings what Apollo Creed and good ole Mick were saying.  I listened to my relic of an MP3 player and found myself asleep until the wheels of the 747 slammed the ground in Anchorage.  My MP3 and laptop batteries had died about an hour before touchdown and not a single stewardess woke me to stow them. 

            The next span in time would be a flight from Anchorage to Juneau.  This should take about 2 hours...try more like 5 ˝ hours.  We left Anchorage and stopped in Cordova less than an hour away to drop off 5 people, pick up 2 and then load about 10,000 lbs of what looked liked frozen boxed fish.  This same scenario was repeated in Yakutat. We landed dropped off 7 or 8 people and picked up 3 and loaded even more fish. Finally the last leg to Juneau after 50 minute to 1 hour delays while they loaded fish.

 Of course with only 12 people on each flight on the 737 I figure they had to make money carrying something because no one was on the flight.  I learned in Juneau that the locals call this the “milk run flight”

         I arrived in Juneau to the silence and peace of dark green hills, a quiet airport and placid waters.

  I followed Glacier Hwy to Egan St and found myself diving deeper and deeper into the cavernous valley.  The only thing that appeared remotely flat was the channel to my right and the road I on which I was driving.  The pine tree soaked mountains rose all around as I plummeted further into the heart of Juneau.

            I had consulted some locals on what to do with my spare time.  First item on the list was to schedule a tour on the Tracy Arm.  This all day tour on a large double hulled catamaran style yacht allowed such spectacular views of glaciers, whales, seal, big horn sheep, and mountainous views that I almost forgot my real reason for traveling to Juneau.

 

Captain Rusty maneuvered us to within a stones throw of this deep blue ever moving block of frozen ice.  The roar of large blocks of ice calving from the face was deafening.  One of the chunks was estimated to have weighed 10-20 tons and created a 20 foot swell the rocked our 60 foot dingy.   The blubbery seals floating on the pack ice were not phased by this thunderous noise or near typhoon size wave.  Upon seeing this impending surge headed our direction I placed one trembling hand on my flotation device and looked for the nearest large piece of ice on to which I could clamber should it be necessary.  I am typing this so I guess I lived.

 

 

            The trip back to Juneau provided a preview to the next days events.  The wind began to pick up and within minutes we inundated with rain and dense fog for the 4 hour journey back to the port. 

            Arriving back to port at 4:45 pm, I walked across the street to the Goldbelt Hotel.  It is here that Veneitia, Lola and I met for the first time.  They had signed up for the half marathon.   I was treated to a phenomenal pasta dinner at Venetia and Eder house.  After a proper stuffing of pasta I found solace in the Driftwood Lodge that offered me a view of some stunning waterfalls and was quick walk to a living salmon run stream.

            The next morning was yogurt, granola and a short stack of blueberry pancakes at the Sanpiper Cafe’.   The newly renovated building adjacent to my hotel was the perfect pre-race walk prior to my rain soaked 26.2 mile jog.

            I arrived on Douglas Island about 30 minutes prior to race start.  The rain was steady and the temperature seemed constant at 48 degrees.  The marathon started promptly at 8 am and the first 13 miles of rolling hills passed by seemingly effortlessly.  The race course had some of the most scenic vistas on any course I have seen.  And the only reason I knew this was because I had seen the views on the much less rainy and foggy day prior on my cruise.  I was fortunate to enjoy at least 12 hours of Juneau’s 1 month of average sunny days.  When I made the turn I realized why the first 13 were easy.  I had clocked in at just over 1 hour and 16 minutes with a cooling rain and very light tail wind.  The return trip would be back breaking.  The wind picked up at points to reach 20 miles an hour and the rain was incessant and downright bullet-like.  The majestic views of waterfalls, mountains and peaks of the bay made the trip somewhat tolerable.  I must mention that at mile 11 ˝ there was a spectacular view of the bay on one side and a flowing waterfall on the other.  This seemed more the norm along the course than the exception.  This course could have been more scenic than the famed Whidbey Island course, but I will rank it #2 on my all time list of scenery, due to the fog and intense rain.  There is hope for next year. 

            I began to struggle near mile 19 with cold arms and tight legs.  My splits slowed dramatically.  I knew from the out and back course that I had well over 16 minutes at the turn on 2nd place and he would have to run something near world record pace for the last half and I would have to slow to well over 7 minutes to cough up the win.  My twentieth mile was 7:23 and I doubted even more if I had the security of the finish line in my legs.  It was just then, that I was flashed.   Apparently one of the female runners in the half marathon was on her way out and felt it appropriate to “flash” me.  I laughed and nearly fell off the road.  I can only tell you that other runners reported similar incidents from this lady in a pink skirt.  The last 6 miles, while much more of a struggle than the first 6, were much less painful after having witnessed this indecent exposure.   I finished the race in 2:47 and change and held on for the victory.  I found Veneitia and Lola at the finish line and we celebrated their finish.  This was Veneitia’s first half marathon and there are rumors of running the full marathon distance soon.  Go get ‘em girls.

            After a quick shower I returned to the finish line for the food.  I had heard rumors of the great food and I was not disappointed.  The grilled salmon was so fresh and I used the charcoal fire to warm my bone-chilled body further. 

            The award ceremony presented Shawn Miller with his half marathon trophy for an overall first place performance in 1:12.  Keep your eye on this name as he will be achieving some great things in the marathon.  His first marathon was in 2:31 and anybody who runs 1 hour and 12 minutes on this course and in these conditions can easily run near 1:08 or faster. 

            After the awards I returned to downtown Juneau for a special lunch with a fan who offered to treat me to one of the finest fresh Alaskan King Crab leg dinners and nice Fish Eye Zin.  And the clam chowder was good enough to get frozen and bring home. 

            Around the corner from the restaurant was the TRAM.  This was a quick 10 minute tram ride to the top of Mt. Roberts.  Upon arrival I was able to watch a brief 17 minute film on the Tklingit people.  Despite the film’s brevity it gave a poignant portrayal of the people who are a part of this land and I learned a great deal about their history and culture that still exist today. 

 

            After the quick film, I was a bit reluctant to take the 1 mile Alpine loop trail to the top of Mt. Roberts.  The weather seemed to deter even the hardiest of hikers down from the slopes, but I wanted to see all that I could before my 8 pm redeye back to Columbus.  Along the trail I saw a bald eagle sitting still in the top of a pine tree.  I pressed on in the stinging rain toward the summit of the Alpine Trail.

 

At the peak, the rain subsided just enough that I could pause and reflect at the base of a replica of Father Brown’s cross.

 

 I found myself alone in the quiet fog surrounding this mountain top cross.  It gave me a peace much like that of running.  I began to fully appreciate the gift of running by feeling so alone and yet so connected.   As I made the trip back down the mountain I began to ponder my renewed strength for my running and a remembrance of my earliest days of pure running.  This was my grain of sand in the hourglass when time didn’t seem to matter, a trophy was not nearly as important as finishing the race, and winning was as simple as making it around the block before the sunset.   This was trip number 32 around the block for me this year.  I will do the rest knowing that I had a brief moment of living and running once again at 35.   Here’s to more living and running around our block.  Godspeed.

 

See you at Hurley WI, next weekend.

 

MJ.