A Runner's Ramblings: Volume 1; 27th Edition
707.4 miles run
655 miles to go
Race: SEAFAIR Marathon
Place: Bellevue, WA
Miles from home: 2770.8
Course Difficulty: 5 out of 10
Course Enjoyability: 3 out of 10

Weather: Warm temps (high 60-low 70ss); no wind; bright sunshine.

Left Calf pain: 5 out of 10

 

Let’s just say, Leadville took more out of me than I cared to admit, even to myself.  But I am getting ahead of myself.

 

I packed quite a lot into my brief stay in the greater Seattle area.  First, I got to meet a good friend for the first time in real life (sure, a person can be a good friend even if you have not met them in person, believe me), then I also met another acquaintance (both runners) and finally got to see another friend in an inexplicably good documentary dealing with her high school basketball team in Seattle (spectacular movie, Devon!).  Throw in a little site seeing (apparently it can be also called “sight seeing” but that makes no sense whatsoever) and a visit to a Seattle landmark for eating cheeseburgers (Dick’s), a visit to Jimi Hendrix’s museum and before I knew it, time had come to hit the sack and get ready for the downside of the Fiddy2 marathoning hill.

 

First Half: 1:38:45

 

I decided before the race to make a conscious effort to go out conservatively.  My left calf was still quite tender after the dual Colorado marathons (and maybe from the other 24 this year as well!) and I was hoping if I went out a little slower than usual I would have energy at the end to take advantage of the supposed 5 mile downhill leading to the finishing line.

 

Almost to my exact liking, I was able to saunter up to the start line about 2 minutes before the race started.  No milling around, no people to bump into, no jostling, no wasted energy.  My good friend whom I was staying with (Todd) was running the first leg of the relay marathon (just one week before the 200 mile bike ride from Seattle to Portland) so we kissed goodbye (no, not really) and headed to the start.  The gun goes off and I try desperately to keep myself in check.  It was already a slightly warm and muggy day and the sun was shining bright ahead (not your typical stereotypical Seattle day that is for sure). Chris Warren, the co-founder of Marathon Maniacs (who himself had just run a marathon on the 4th of July) passed me within the first few miles.  I held my ground, let him pass me and did my best to continue on a nice slow pace.  As the miles ticked away, I found I was indeed holding to my pre-race ideal of going slow, but far more so than I expected I would.  For whatever reason, even though I tried to pick up the pace a little after I found I had slowed too much from my designated pace, I simply could not make up time. Miles ticked away and my splits stayed the same

 

Right before the half way point I met and ran with a woman (Gayle Zorrilla) that I had met briefly in Pacific Crest two weeks ago (where she was the third overall woman).  We both recognized each other and couldn’t place each other at first.  As a Marathon Maniac, she was on her 6th marathon in just 6 weeks time (give or take) and one heck of a runner (especially for just taking up marathons last year).  As we hit a series of hills, I could tell at that point I had a little more energy than her so I told her I am sure I would see her later in the race and away I went.

 

 

Second Half: 1:45:34 (I disagree)

 

For about 5 or 6 miles I felt good.  We were running a net downhill and I was taking it nice and easy.  My calf and quad on my left side were touch and go so I was really just trying to keep it all in check and go nice and easy.  I figured the downhills would shake it loose like they had in previous races but within a brief mile I just lost a great deal of energy for no reason.  Even the downhills weren’t helping.  Then, inexplicably, we hit a few uphills that just were not listed (or hidden well at least) on the course elevation.  These did me in.  They were nothing horrible but strategically placed to wear a runner out (especially one having now run over twice the marathons this year that I had previously in my entire life combined).

 

On one stretch of downhill I closed my eyes about 95%, kept the orange cones in sight and I actually think I fell asleep.  I was not able to kick it into high gear on the downhills for fear of hurting my leg more so I sort of put it in cruise control and the next thing I know I was at the bottom.  Not that there was much for me to recall (the course was a majority of streets and highways that ere far from remarkable) but I am pretty sure I took a catnap while running.  I have heard that ultra marathoner Dean Karnazes has done the same thing on some of his super-long runs and thought it was crazy until I just experienced it.

 

Chris Warren appeared in my sights and I saw that I was steadily catching him.  I was hoping to finish with him and maybe do a little chat about being a potential sponsor.  Having just finished a race on the 4th of July I figured he had to be quite tired himself.  And here is where the mystery begins.  Wearing a BRIGHT yellow Singlet I had been tracking him for miles.  Then he disappeared.  At that point I am unsure if I fell asleep again, he pulled really far ahead or if he dropped out.  It is easy to confuse a mind at mile 23 of a marathon.  Only upon looking at the results at the end did I noticed he did indeed finish and just a few minutes behind me.  When I passed him and how is beyond me.

 

True to my prediction, without about a mile or so to go, Gayle came along beside me looking surprisingly strong (she too had raced on the 4th).  I told her I was slowly fading and still was feeling Leadville.  She gave me a look which can be summed up in two words:  “No, duh.”  She streaked ahead and finished 6th overall for the women (Go Gayle!)

 

Another uphill to the final finish sprint had a few more people pass me but at this time I did not care.  I was spent.  I streaked down the chutes towards the clock where Todd stood with my camera, filming away.  According the clock on the videotape (and my watch) I finished in 3:23:55.  Somehow the time listed on the webpage has me at a 3:24:17.  Guess I will have to figure this one out.

 

Final stats: 45th overall (out of 540 or so); 10th in my age

 

I quickly scoot back to Todd’s place and grab a shower and some Taco Bell before running to the airport.  I will now rant.

 

Two things I despise:

  1. Pretty women who say they are “dorks”.  (No, you are not.  Just stop it.  You want to see a “dork”, go to my junior high school yearbook.  That, pretty lady, is a dork.)
  2. Air Travel.  (I just added the pretty girls things so this is not a complete rant about Airlines)  Three simple words: I. Hate. It.  With every fiber in my soul.  There is no one single aspect of air travel I can stand.  No, you cannot thank me for my patience, steward of the air, as I neither possess it at this juncture nor would give it to you if I could. 

 

First of all, on my 5 hour flight back home, the flight is delayed (Natch.  God forbid an airline actually delivers to you what you paid for.  No where else is this acceptable.  And when actually perform the minimal of service that you have purchased, they expect congratulations. That is like selling someone a rug and saying: “And I did not pee on it RIGHT before I sold it to you!  High Five!”)

 

Second, the plane we were supposed to fly on disappeared, wasn’t ready or whatever crap excuse they gave so we are now put on a smaller plane with less seats which means some people are double booked.(Again, only airlines can sell something they do not possess.  How is this legal?  How can you sell something you DO NOT HAVE?  “See that Ferrari over there?  I am happy to sell it to you.  Mine?  No not at all.  What?  I am confused.  I used to work for the airline.  You mean I can’t do that?  I am shocked!”)

 

Third, because of the smaller plane, I now have less room for my baggage which means my feet are now either going to be in the aisle (and stepped on over 40 times, no exaggeration, as I was the last seat before the revolving restroom. They must have feed these people in the front a continuous supply of intravenous water as they NEVER STOOPED PEEING) or cram them on top of the bag and eat my knees.  But that latter part is really not an option because The Tallest Man in the WORLD is sitting in front of me and has decided he needs to recline.  The whole entire trip.  And usually this can be slightly offset by reclining my own chair.  But oh no no, not today.  Being the last row on this new plane has me back against the bathroom wall with no recline possible.

 

Fourth, and my personal favorite, not until we are airborne (long after they knew about it) they tell us because of some faulty brakes (YAY!) we cannot land at National airport (where we are expected to land; 4 miles from my house) because its runway is rather short (Hello Potomac!) and will instead land at Dulles airport (30 miles from my house).  My ride is waiting at Reagan.   I have no way to contact that ride.  I now have 5 hours to fume. And fume I did.

 

For the many people who read theses recaps and think running a marathon every single week is not all that difficult, I have to admit that I may agree with you.  I have never thought much of what I can do personally is all that impressive. I have always figure, if I can do it, so can everybody else.  It is just my school of thought.  But that line of thinking involves running a marathon close to where you live, with all the creature comforts of home, with no travel, with food you can prepare and a bed that is your own.  It doesn’t take into account horrendous traveling within hours of running a marathon.  Where you would rather be (and should be) in an ice bath after a marathon, I am in seat 23D, fighting off the noxious fumes of the airplane bathroom (I have to say that is my new least favorite smell in the whole world) trying to eat my 16 pretzels like a T-Rex because Johnny McTallGuy has crammed his seat so far back that I could perform dental work on him.

 

So I hope you enjoy reading these, get lots of information about the race and NEVER EVER do this sort of thing yourself.  Unless you fly first-class. Rumor has it that angels lick you to sleep up there.

 

Bangor, Maine is where I head next (after a week of work of course) and the rejuvenated Paul Bunyan Marathon.