Run Maynard, Run!

A bit of rambling and them some stuff about UVM:

What a difference two years makes…  I ran this in its inaugural year, 2008, and finished 48^th overall and 2^nd in my division.  Never mind that there were only 102 total runners and #1 in my division finished almost 35 minutes ahead of me.  This year, running a smidge faster, I finished 559^th overall and 46^th in my division.  In two years, UVM went from 102 runners to almost 1400—and that doesn’t include the ½ marry and 5k runners.

I live in an old house—built in the late 1800’s—the very same house my mom grew up in.  When built, there wasn’t any indoor plumbing or forced-air heating system.  The outhouse was outback somewhere and a fireplace in the living room and the stove in the kitchen provided the heat.  To cool things off in the summer windows were opened.  Maybe.  Maybe the windows didn’t slide open and shut like they do nowadays.

At various points during this home’s existence, upgrades were made including plumbing; and finally in the 80’s (1980’s) a small wall-based forced air furnace was installed.  The vent for this furnace comes through the wall from the living room into my bedroom and then up through the ceiling.  When it rains, some of that rain drips down through the venting and into a bucket I’ve made a permanent piece of furniture.  As long as I empty the bucket after each rain storm and keep the fans blowing, my room doesn’t smell like a dank French prison.  The kitchen is another story all together.  There’s no hope for the kitchen.  And whoever said mold was hazardous needs to spend 5 or 6 years living with a moldy bathroom and kitchen—I think a body adapts and acclimates itself to the spores.  Or maybe I’m just lucky.  Or there’s something wrong with me that has yet to be discovered…

So anyways, I knew Friday night it was going to be a wet morning.  I know that stuff just from what goes on in my bedroom and kitchen—and I don’t even have to look out the window!  I can even tell you how hard the wind is blowing and in which direction sometimes.  I was looking forward to a cool and overcast run—in fact I hoped real hard that it would even sprinkle a bit.

I had no real goal specific to this marathon other than to finish.  My overall goal for all of my marathons lately seems to be a sub-4 hour finish, so that’s what I was shooting for—maybe if I got lucky I’d finish with a 3:50!

My splits are as follows: 7:53, 8:28, 8:31, 9:03 (potty stop), 8:38, 8:59(potty stop), 9:03, 12:01 (potty stop), 7:41, 8:28, 8:40, 8:15, 8:25, 12:29 (potty stop), 8:54, 8:43, 8:22, 8:55, 8:36, 9:19, 9:43, 9:23, 10:41, 9:04, 10:17, 9:30, and 4:03.

After exiting Provo Canyon and jumping on University Ave my legs just began to cycle through a series of various aches and pains: My left knee felt at times like there was sand in there.  My right forefoot felt as though I were running barefoot on it.  My right calf tightened up.  Both quads were bickering with each other to the point I threatened to pull off to the side of the road and let them walk—and I did a couple of times but that didn’t seem to work out long term.  And I got a side stitch.  I don’t remember when the last time I had a side stitch was.  And this one pestered me from mile 18 all the way through to Center Street.

I finished to the cheers of my newly married daughter, my youngest daughter, and my granddaughter.  After collecting my medal I walked over to them and the first thing my youngest said to me was, “Dad, there was this one guy that finished with a cigar!”  I said, “Oh really?  What a nut!”

I really like this course.  The uphill wasn’t all that bad—the worst for me being the climb just before Bridal Veil Falls.  My biggest issue is the concrete road from the Sundance turnoff all the way to the mouth of the canyon and then again from Lavell Edwards Stadium to the finish.  That stuff just seems to suck the energy right out of my legs.  I ran on the dirt shoulder as much as possible down the canyon but there wasn’t an option along University Ave.  Oh well.

Number 43 is officially in the books.  A week to recover for the Wasatch Back this weekend and then I’m taking all of July off.  Somebody needs to hold me to that!