First off, awesome job to everyone who ran the race. And it was great getting to meet so many people before and after the race. I stayed with Clyde and Mik'l both Thursday and Friday night. It helped getting there a day early, so that I could get the stress of driving out of the way and have all of Friday to relax, go to the expo, scope out the course, and finalize race-day strategy. Clyde and I drove the course on Friday, which allowed me to lay down the foundations of what I would do on Saturday. It was helpful to see the Vejo hill, and even more helpful to see the quarter-mile downhill after it, and the three-mile uphill after that. I determined I would try to relax up Vejo as much as I could, and then regain any lost energy on the short downhill before the real test: Dammeron. For Dammeron, I would be content to not push the pace either. In fact, I planned to do as much sitting and as little leading as possible for the first 12 miles, before turning it loose at the half. Hopefully the competition would cooperate! Race-day arrived, and the weather cooperated. And fact, it was utterly perfect. High 30s at the start, with an ever-so-slight breeze that would act as a tailwind for most of the course. At the staging area, I did very little warmup (only about 0.25 miles plus strides), and focused mostly on getting quality porta-pot experiences (4 total, matching Clyde), and keeping my core and my extremities warm by hanging out at the fire pits. So mostly, I hung out and shot the breeze with friends. I do not get nervous for marathons, by the way. 1500's on the track make me very nervous. 5K's make me a little nervous. But the marathon is too long and too dependent on long-term training to make me nervous. The work has been done over the last several months, and now it was simply a matter to execute the training. It's kind of like typing a long document (the training), and then hitting "print" (the race). Or it's like painting a house. All the washing, chipping, scraping, caulking, and other preparation is the hard part. Painting the house is fun. At 6:45AM, it was time to paint the house. It was still very dark when the gun went off. It remained dark for the first 5 or 6 miles, resulting in me missing most of my splits (I was running Garmin-less). This was all fine though, because I could just focus on the pace, the pack, and how I felt. I was hoping that lots of people who were not me would want to take the lead at least through Vejo, preferably through Dammeron. Maybe it's selfish, but I wanted to run as efficiently as possible, and therefore just tuck in and let other people do the work through the hard part of the course. The weather was already cooperating, and so was the competition; several dark shadows of runners stepped up (none who I knew), allowing me to draft guilt-free. The first 5 miles went by very fast. I only got two splits: a 10:48 2-mile, and 16:06 for the next three miles. This is a conservative start for the "A" group, but fast enough for me and exactly what I was hoping for. Due to this conservative start, part of the "B" group caught up, including Mike, Sasha, and Steve. This was great. More bodies, bigger pack. Better banter too. Chit-chatting with others makes the first half of marathons go faster. So far my body was feeling good. I was running in just shorts, singlet, and gloves, but felt okay with the cold temperature. My hands were a little cold, and my knees were freezing and achy for some reason, but other than that, things were good and the pace felt efficient. The sun started to come up, and Vejo was upon us before I knew it. Believe it or not, I was actually looking forward to Vejo, because my cold, achy knees (and lower quads) were already a little sick of the downhill (somewhat alarming), and I predetermined yesterday that I was going to relax up Vejo and expend as little energy as possible, a plan that I further committed to when Sasha informed me we were ahead of the 5:20-guy right before the hill. Indeed, Vejo was enjoyable, definitely a good change of pace. However, our pack completely fragmented here. Dave Danley pushed up the hill and separated himself. Sasha, Steve, and Mike dropped back. At the top of the hill it was just me, Sean Sundwall, and Nick Schuetze. Nick, Sean, and I formed a temporary alliance, and began what was probably the most enjoyable part of the race for me. I drafted off of Nick for about halfway up Dammeron, and just tried to stay relaxed and easy; time did not matter yet. We made comments on the beautiful sunrise and redrock. It was a gorgeous day, and life was good. By the start of Mile 12, Nick started pushing a bit, and chasing Dave Danley. I stuck to my plan of relaxation, let him go, and worked in with Sean. We discussed trading off leads, but with no headwind, and with the hill nearly over, I was content to run side-by-side. I missed a some splits, but was averaging 5:30-5:40 on the Dammeron hill. Sean and I crested the hill at Mile 12. I gave him a high-five, and said "It's time to go." And we did. With the mission accomplished of running a relaxed first 12 miles and mooching off others, it was time to start really working, and time to get under qualifying pace. I knew based on the splits of previous winners (James Lander, Joe Wilson, Mike Kirk), the second half is where the race is won. Mile 13 was a 5:08, and we were rolling again. Nick had gapped Sean and I by a bit, but Danley was starting to come back; I knew that we could reel him in. 1:11:24 at the half. Seeing Snow Canyon was a beautiful site; not just its aesthetic appeal, but also the downhill it represented. I have been mentally (and physically) preparing to hit this section at sub-5 pace for several months, and now it was time to do it. Sean really helped hammer the pace from 15-17. My quads protested a little bit, but remained intact. We passed Danley around 15 miles. At Mile 17, I checked my splits and realized that we had just put together a 15:20 5K, and three consecutive sub-5's. We were definitely back under pace, now I just needed my body to hold up, kind of like a shuttle holding up during re-entry of the earth's atmosphere. Sean and I kept working together and encouraging each other. Fist-bumps, high fives, whatever it took. We knew we were on the verge of doing it. I missed another split, but got 10:18 for a 2-mile during 18-19. Satisfactory. Then a 5:27 for 20 (up the overpass hill?). One of us remarked "10K left". No wall for me get, although my muscles were certainly all protesting from the battery, particularly my left calf. My knees were feeling better though, once it had warmed up. Sean had a pace band and informed me we were on track for 2:19. I needed nothing better than that, and tried to relax a little and just keep my body intact. But kind of like the Alta race, but body was already in auto-pilot, not heeding my mind, and working even harder. The four-mile stretch of 21-24 was 20:04. I gapped Sean a little bit with 4 miles left, but didn't feel confident enough to make the big move, and he caught back up. I felt like I still needed someone to push (or pull) me if things turned sour. I started a mantra in my head, "There will be no Wall." With 5K to go, I gapped Sean again, this time for good. "Okay, just a 5K," I thought to myself, and started doing some mental math to figure out how slow I could run a 5K and still hit the "A" standard. My mental math wasn't doing so hot, and by the time I figured it out, another 5:00-mile had passed, and now I had only two miles. "There will be no Wall."
Now I knew the "A" standard was a virtual certainty. I was hurting, my muscles were screaming at me, but I was not near the Wall. "There will be no Wall." I ran Mile 25 in 5:13 just to prove the point to my doubting mind. Now it was just a mile race. Just a 1600m track interval. "There will be no Wall". And there was no Wall. Last Mile in 5:13. Last 0.2 in 1:07. Last Half in 1:06:45.
Ryan Hall is one of running role models, not just because of how he runs, but how he uses his running as worship, as a way to praise and glorify God. How does it feel to qualify for the Trials? Elation. Absolutely amazing. And I give God the glory and praise for the chance He's given me, the gifts He's given me, the beauty of His creation, and just the feeling of running in itself, fast or slow. I was happy to see both Sean and Dave Danley hit the "A" standard too. And I was absolutely elated to see Logan cross the line in 2:21:45. That was definitely a moment I'll remember for a long time. Lots of other fabulous performances by other bloggers and friends. I'd like to make a list of blogger PR's, but don't have time right now. :-) Today in St. George was certainly a special day. St. George is a special course, fast by its very topographic nature. But in order to have a truly special race, you need three other things beside a fast course: 1) cool/cold weather with no wind or tailwind; 2) thick competition; 3) great training and preparation. Sometimes you get only 2 or 3 of these four things to come together. This will lead to a good race, but not a special race. It is rare when all 4 factors come together on the same day, but today was one of those days. It showed not just in my race (an 8:15 PR), but in the times and PR's of countless others. It was truly a special day in St. George: a cold start, a tailwind, superb competition (and pace groups!), and lots of well-trained individuals.
| Mile | Split
| | 1-2 | 10:48
| 3-5
| 16:06
| 6
| 4:58
| 7-8
| 11:02
| 9
| 5:43
| 10
| 5:31
| 11-12
| 11:23
| 13
| 5:08
| 14
| 5:12
| 15-16
| 9:49
| 17
| 4:58
| 18-19
| 10:18
| 20
| 5:27
| 21
| 4:53
| 22
| 5:05
| 23
| 5:03
| 24
| 5:03
| 25
| 5:13
| 26
| 5:13
| 0.2
| 1:07
| First Half
| 1:11:24
| Second Half
| 1:06:45
| Total Time
| 2:18:09
|
|
