2009 Fallsburg Marathon

The covered bridges reminded me of my favorite

cross country course in high school - Rim Rock Farm

at KU - but this course was about 23.1 miles longer

10. Fallsburg Marathon – Lowell, Mich. – Aug. 15, 2009

Hills. Heat. Humidity. A section of sand. What could be better in the middle of August?

This race really intrigued me from the start. I read about covered bridges breaking up what was described as a highly difficult course. Yet, everybody seemed to love it. And I was looking for a  long training run that weekend. I didn’t sign up until the Monday before, when I found out I could get a flight with frequent flier miles, as well as a Tigers/Royals ticket in Detroit the night of the race (thanks to my friend and former coworker Jacqueline Repp).

So I flew into Detroit on Friday morning and jumped in a rental car for the drive across Michigan. This was my first race done entirely solo, giving me quite a bit of freedom. I checked into a hotel in Grand Rapids and relaxed for a few hours before going to an Italian restaurant. Ever since the Las Vegas Marathon, I had started drinking two beers the night before a race. My friend Jim Lynch, who has run all 50 states plus about 30 others, suggested it. Knowing Jim, there was no rationale behind it, but it didn’t seem to hurt anything. After dinner, I stopped at a grocery store and picked up a couple of bottles, and went back to my hotel room to watch the Royals on television.

The course is pretty much all hills

(this photo and the one above borrowed

from a good blog about the 2007 race
that helped convince me to run it).

The Fallsburg Marathon starts in Fallasburg Park near Lowell, which is about 15 minutes from Grand Rapids. I don’t really understand why the race is spelled differently from the park, but I also figured it didn’t matter. There were only about 100 registered runners, so there was no need for an expo. I parked within 200 feet for the start/finish area, and everyone’s goody bag was lined up on picnic tables. Registration was only about $45, and there is no way they made any money. Every runner got a T-shirt and hoodie just for signing up, and a medal and finisher’s towel at the end. I especially liked the sweatshirt, which had a T-rex and “Old Farts Running Club Fallsburg Marathon” printed on it.

The race also included a half marathon and 5K, and everyone ran together at the start, although those races were also intimate. The first half of the race was all on roads. Since we were in the middle of nowhere, the roads were all open, but there were very few cars out there, aside from the occasional friend/family member of a runner out there to cheer. In fact, we were so far out in the sticks that my GPS watch didn’t connect to the satellites until the 21^st mile.

The runners were very friendly in this one, which is something that seems even more common in smaller races. I ran with one guy who told me to look for his wife along the stretch from miles 20-23, because she was running the half but was planning to support the full marathon runners, including her husband. The course was well designed for a small race, as we passed the same aid station every 3-5 miles.

Most of the second half of the race is on trails

At the halfway point, the course turned from roads to trails, and that’s when it got interesting. It started on a single-track, lined with poison ivy. The good news is that it was through the woods, so it was very well shaded as the heat was rising. There were some decent hills in the first half, but they really kicked in during the second half. In probably the strangest stretch of any race I’ve run, we went 2-3 miles on a trail of sand directly below power lines. I’m talking serious sand. It was like running on the beach. And at the end of the stretch was the steepest hill on the course. It was sand, too. I tried to run up it and realized that every step made me lose as much ground as I was gaining, so I walked it (at the end of the race, I overheard the winner ask if anyone actually ran that hill). That was also the longest stretch in the race without an aid station. The organizers suggested carrying water, but of course I’m not smart enough to follow directions. Fortunately, a fellow runner was kind enough to offer me some, which really helped me. We continued through the woods and ran through a couple of gigantic mud puddles. I slowed down to see if there was a way around it but decided I might as well go through it, nearly losing my right shoe in the process.

At the 20^th mile, we turned back onto the country roads and groaned when I realized the shade was pretty much out of sight and the hills ahead of me looked like a roller coaster. Just as I was starting to get frustrated, a van pulled up and asked if I needed anything. I realized it was the wife of the guy I was running with earlier. I asked what she had, and she popped open the back of her van. She had everything any runner could possibly want – water, Gatorade, popsicles, pretzels, candy, fruit and a bunch of other options. I took some Gatorade and fruit with deep, deep appreciation and kept chugging.

After the final aid station at Mile 23, we turned onto the final trail section. I struggled through more hills, but my fellow runners kept me motivated. I passed a guy that I recognized from Runner’s World. It was Larry Macon, and I asked him how many marathons that one made. He said something like 607, which was nice because it gave my slowly deteriorating brain some math to do. It was roughly a marathon per week for 11.5 years. Unbelievable.

We ran along a river with about a mile to go, and as I was gazing at the peaceful water, I hit a tree root and rolled my ankle. My race was over – had been since the hills and heat started to eat me up – but I was going to finish. I limped the final mile and up one final hill to the finish line (there was no way this challenging race was going to end any other way). By the time we crossed the line, the grills were already fired up with burgers and hot dogs, and we all kicked back for a while.

Overall, it was the hardest race I’ve run. It was the slowest I’d run at that point, by far: 4:38. But I loved it. All of us knew what we were getting into. It was a challenge, but the entire race was very well organized, and everyone knew they had accomplished something special at the end.

I've tried to convince every runner I know to try this race, and nobody has taken me up on it. There's only one sentence I have for it. I absolutely loved this race.

2009 Vermont City Marathon

8. Vermont City Marathon – Burlington, Vt. – May 24, 2009

Runners are a funny breed. I was warming up for a hill workout with my friend Nason Newberg and asked what race he was training for. He said he wasn’t sure, and in a mostly joking way I said he should run the one in Burlington, Vt. To my surprise, he said ok. Trying to run a marathon in every state requires some finesse with finances. I try hard to balance more expensive races with cheaper ones. I certainly don’t want to reach the point where all the states I have left are the farthest away. Between splitting the costs and giving me a fun guy to hang out with for the weekend, Nason’s willingness to go was especially welcoming.

The first half of the race was pretty soggy

Burlington is a spitting image of Boulder, Colo. It makes sense, since the man who designed Church Street in Burlington is the same guy that did Pearl Street in Boulder. It’s a nice college town. We ate at a local pasta joint the night before.

The weather on race day was not ideal. It was pouring down rain for the entire first half before heating up in the second half, causing some extra friction (read: chaffing) and feeling like every part of your body was pruning. I was questioning the course design in the days leading into the race. The course was kind of a star pattern, sending the runners through downtown five times. As it turned out, I loved that aspect because it felt like the number of fans on the course was multiplied by five. Sure, they were the same people all five times, but those same people were full of energy. And give them even more credit because of the rain.

Even in the rain, the crowd was enthusiastic

The route started with a five-mile out-and-back. If I’m going to have to run back and forth, I prefer it to be early in the race. There are few things in racing that are more discouraging than watching thousands of people running the opposite direction and having no idea how much longer you have to run before you can turn around, too. For some reason, it seems easier if it’s closer to the starting line. The rest of the course was a series of loops through Burlington with a lot of beautiful views of Lake Champlain.

Several stretches were along the lake front

The race director made a unique decision to bypass a half marathon and instead offer a two-man relay. A lot of races have a ton of half marathon runners for the first half, and the second half feels nearly empty. The relay in this one ensured that there would be runners throughout the race. As an added bonus for the second half runners, the rain stopped shortly before most of them started running.

With about 10 miles to go, there is a steep uphill in the middle of downtown Burlington. Hawaiian drummers play a beat to help the runners up, and then the course heads north of town. As we ran through a neighborhood, a few kind people stood at the curb with mini aid stations with oranges and water. At mile 23, we circled around a horseshoe turn down a steep hill, which was somewhat brutal at that point in the race but fortunately it wasn’t too long. The final few miles were on a bike trail along the lakefront. With a mile left, a few students from the University of Vermont asked if I wanted a beer from their makeshift aid station. I looked and quickly replied, “That’s not beer. That’s Icehouse. You’ll learn the difference by graduation.” Just trying to help the younger generations.

Drummers help the runners up the toughest hill on the course

I finished in 3:36 and was pleased with my time, but as I was walking through the chute I heard the announcer say there was a 12-year-old boy finishing the full marathon. I’m usually not surprised by older finishers, but that one blew me away. I questioned the intelligence in allowing someone that young to run that far, but the kid was flying in with what looked like a smooth stride.

Nason was waiting near the finish line and was quick to tell me that Ben & Jerry’s was offering free ice cream. I’m pretty sure he wanted me to provide cover because he wanted a second serving. When he went back for thirds, the woman in the ice cream truck looked at him and said, “You know you’re not actually fooling us, right? Here’s another one for you.” I always love chocolate milk after a long run or race, but ice cream may actually be better. We weren’t flying out until the next morning, so we had a good dinner and some liquid refreshment on Church Street.

2008 Las Vegas Marathon

8. Las Vegas Marathon – Las Vegas, Nev. – Dec. 7, 2008

The race started with

fireworks and Robin Leach

I didn’t know it at the time, but this race was doomed beginning the Tuesday before. That was the day I ate lunch that was prepared by someone with E. coli. The symptoms didn’t show up until Thursday, when I was in Missoula, Mont., with the DU basketball team. But when the symptoms presented themselves, they did so with a vengeance. I couldn’t keep any food in my body for the next three days, which obviously are the most important days for food and hydration leading into a marathon. I ate about five bites of lasagna during a carboload with friends the night before the race. Nothing else.

This was the year before this race became part of the Rock-n-Roll series, and everything about the race seemed like it was phoned in. The shirts were cheap cotton with all the tailoring you might expect from a blemished bin, without so much as the date or year printed on them. The one thing that was extremely well planned out, however, was the most important details for me on that particular day. There were port-a-potties lined up every quarter mile or so. And I believe I may have visited every one of them.

Adrian Pasdar beat me

There were some highlights for this race. It started at MGM Grand before sunrise, complete with fireworks and Robin Leach serving as emcee. We also spotted a few celebrities, including the guy that played Nathan on the television show “Heroes,” who was running the race. The first 6-7 miles went straight down the Strip, which is a unique way to see it. It’s Vegas, so none of us were surprised to see more drunk people lining the course, trying to figure out what was going on as they stumbled back to their hotels, than fans. There was a “run-through” wedding chapel, and a few couples were lined up waiting to get hitched mid-race. After running between the older hotels on Fremont Street, the course took a turn for the worse.

Unknowingly, I ran near Mike Myers most

of the race, but he beat me, too.

The highlight during the final 16 miles was passing a homeless shelter, where many of them lined the course and cheered for us. That was pretty much the extent of the fans. Most people think of Vegas as only the Strip. There’s more to it, and based on what I saw during this race, it’s mostly ugly. The streets we ran were all lined with cinderblock style walls. The best part of the course was what we couldn’t see. Since Vegas is in the desert, we were concerned that we would be able to see the finish line from just about every part of the course, but we really couldn’t most of the time. That’s a good thing because seeing the end and still knowing you have a long way to run can be especially disheartening.

As expected, I was pretty well spent from the start of the race. Without proper nutrition leading into the race, I fought through an utter lack of energy throughout. I probably should have bagged it, but I have a difficult time quitting. Despite all of the pit stops that never allowed me to get a rhythm, I ran a 4:15. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt more like I could overcome anything than I did on that day. It was a constant battle, but I just kept pushing to the end. It was an awful race in a lot of ways, but I remain happy I did it.

2008 Omaha Marathon

7. Omaha Marathon – Omaha, Neb. – Sept. 28, 2008

This was the second annual road trip for Runner’s Edge of the Rockies. As an added bonus, the Denver Pioneers were playing a men’s soccer game at Creighton the night before the race, giving me two reasons to run this race.

About 40 of us made the trip (although I once again bypassed the bus and opted for a flight) from Denver to Omaha. Doing trips like this with a group is a great way to get to know a few more people before the race, and seeing a friendly face while running can always give you a needed lift. A dozen of us went to an Italian restaurant to carboload the night before the race, just before I sneaked away to work the soccer game.

The race course was a little different than most. The organizers basically created a route in which all the racers could be together through as much as possible. It was a 5K loop around downtown before shooting south to a loop that led us through the zoo – no animals anywhere in sight, which seemed odd – and then past the legendary Rosenblatt Stadium, which hosted the College World Series from 1948-2010. Just after that, I caught up to my friend Dan Roberts, who at 6-foot-8 seems to cover each mile in about four steps. I came into the race without much of a time goal. I wanted to kick back and see what happened, hopefully gaining a little confidence back after Steamboat. After a couple of miles, I asked what his goal was. “I want to break four hours, but David (Manthey, the Runner’s Edge coach) thinks I can get 3:45-3:50.” Dan had run quite a few marathons at that point and was a very good runner, so I was shocked to learn he had never gone sub-four. I was hell bent on making sure he did this time, so I decided I was going to stick with him, whether he wanted me there or not.

The crew that rode the bus to Omaha. Dan Roberts
is the one that's nearly as tall as the trees.

We settled in as we headed back past the start/finish area for a loop around North Omaha. It wasn’t as scenic as the first half, which seems to be common as more races cater toward the half marathon since it generally has more people. In fact, we learned after the race that there was a murder that had police investigating within about a block of the course. We were blissfully ignorant as we ran. As I helped Dan, he helped me, whether he knew it or not. That's something I've found in a lot of races: helping other people reach their goals somehow makes the races easier and more enjoyable for me, especially times like this when I knew I would be happy to finish in that general time frame. We flew down a pretty steep hill and circled a park stride-for-stride. Dan and I both crossed the finish somewhere south of 3:50. Running with a friend really made the miles go much easier, and this experience convinced me to try some official pacing later on.

While running through the Omaha Zoo,
I heard a few animals, possibly even this one,
but I certainly did not see any of them.

2008 Steamboat Springs Marathon

6. Steamboat Marathon – Steamboat Springs, Colo. – June 1, 2008

“Be careful in the first few miles. You’re going to want to start too fast.” A few people gave me that warning leading up to the race. But, of course, I didn’t listen.

The Steamboat Marathon starts with a major downhill section. I felt like I was in great shape and ready to dominate the marathon. I didn’t just go out fast. I went out flying. I ran the first two miles at sub-seven minute pace. I felt strong through the first 10 miles, winding through the beauty of North Central Colorado. But around that point, I started realizing that perhaps I should pull back just a little bit.

When I hit the halfway point, I looked at my watch and realized that I had just hit a half marathon for the PR. That’s not advisable. Just trust me on that. At the 14-mile mark, the leading women’s runner past me. I knew I was hosed. There is absolutely no way I should ever be ahead of the best woman at any point in any race. I'm not ashamed to admit that. There are some really, really, really fast women out there, especially in Colorado.

My race was pretty much over with 10 miles to go. I had already used up most of my energy, and I knew I might not make the finish line if I didn’t mix some walking in with the running. When I tried to start running again, my body refused to cooperate. This is something I was learning for the first time, but certainly not the last. I walked at least nine of the last 10 miles. A member of the Marathon Maniacs walked with me for half of those. He tried to keep me going, and I appreciated his company. But I was already beaten down with cramps and utter fatigue. It wasn't pretty.

It was my first marathon over four hours at 4:19. I wasn’t pleased, but I wasn’t too down about it either. I went into the race wondering what I could do, and I’d gone for it. Clearly I wasn’t where I thought I was, but learning lessons like that ultimately make any race a success. Every race teaches us about strategy, preparation and, most importantly, ourselves. You’ve got to respect the marathon. The distance is too much to fake anything. It’s a balancing act, figuring out how much energy to conserve for the end of the race. The goal is to leave it all on the course, expending everything you’ve got right as you cross the finish line. Unfortunately, I left it all on the Steamboat course when I still had 10 miles to go.

2008 Georgia Marathon

5. ING Georgia Marathon – Atlanta, Ga. – March 30, 2008

I didn’t really want to run this race. I’ve never been terribly impressed in previous trips to Atlanta. I also wasn’t ready for the race, and I generally make a rule against traveling during March unless it’s going to the NCAA Tournament. Honestly, I love the Tournament, and I pretty much watch as much of it as humanly possible.

However, David Manthey and Jim Lynch finally convinced me after several months of trying. I knew a marathon weekend with those guys would be fun. Expectations were low. The rest was up to the city and the race. I was blown away by both. (This was despite the Days Inn, where we were greeted by a pool filled with green slime and slightly less than one-star accommodations.)

The CNN Center after the tornado

A tornado had blown through downtown less than a week before, and the damage was evident all around us. Windows were boarded up in several buildings, including the CNN Center, and the race directors announced a slight change in the course due to safety concerns. The expo was in the Georgia Dome, and the highlight came when someone from the Galloway people approached Lynch and told him that if he trained smart, he could run a full marathon by the fall. Now, saying that to someone with a race bag seemed odd. But saying to someone who was running his 70^th-something marathon was hilarious. He thanked her but said he’d be running a full marathon that weekend.

Kansas was playing that Friday night, and with the race not until Sunday, we went to find a sports bar to watch the Sweet 16 game. Strangely, even though Atlanta had professional baseball, football, basketball and hockey teams at the time, it seems there wasn’t a sports bar anywhere downtown. We settled on eating at the Hard Rock before going to Hooters to watch the games – not exactly what we would have planned, but it worked.

It’s rare to find 26.2 scenic miles through any city. Atlanta figured out a way. The entire course was great with excellent support, including several unofficial aid stations with fruit and water, set up by friendly fans along the course.

Lynch, Manthey and I ran together for the first several miles. None of us planned to run exceptionally hard, and Manthey decided to back down to the half due to an injury. Lynch kept us laughing for the first miles, as he made fun of Manthey’s fitness “tips,” which apparently included ways to stretch that help avoid “tearing a ball.” He may have said that line too loud, but the people around seemed to appreciate it.

Just after the halfway point, Lynch looked at me and suggested that I looked like I could probably pick it up a little. I told him I would meet him at the finish and increased my pace about 15-30 seconds per mile. The course went through parks and college campuses, and along tree-covered residential streets. It was challenging with quite a few hills, but it was fun. Perhaps only people who run marathons on a regular basis could possibly understand how a 26.2-mile run could be described as fun, but that’s exactly what this one was. As I was passing the Georgia Tech football stadium with about 2-3 miles to go, I was starting to struggle, but a guy running by patted me on the back and said we should help each other for a while. We didn’t stay together long, but it was just the encouragement I needed, pushing me to the finish line in 3:43. It was a perfect race, because I came out with legs that felt like I’d done a long run but not all together beat up.

After showering, we headed to the airport. It was the first time I’ve ever hoped for a delay. Kansas was playing Davidson for a trip to the Final Four. In a packed bar, I was the only one cheering for Goliath. The Wildcats put up a shot at the buzzer, but it went wide, and I rushed to a boarding plane, happy in every way. Eight days later, I would be even happier, watching from the upper deck of the Alamodome as the Jayhawks beat Memphis for the national title.

Rich Clarkson's iconic shot of Mario Chalmers' iconic shot a week after the Georgia Marathon

2007 Tucson Marathon

4. Tucson Marathon – Tucson, Ariz. – Dec. 2, 2007

Because the basketball team was playing, I had to stay home for Thanksgiving, but the next weekend was a bye, so I decided to head to Tucson to visit my parents, eat another Thanksgiving dinner made by my Mom, and run the Tucson Marathon. Not necessarily in that order (Note: I do not advise carbo loading with turkey, mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie).

The race is almost entirely downhill and my training had gone exceptionally well, so I was looking for a great race. An early morning bus dropped us off in Oracle in the dark, but I ran into some familiar faces from Runner’s Edge. Steve Renda and the DiCroces (Sarah, Chris and Vince), among others, also made the trip. Temperatures were a little chilly while waiting at the start, but I dropped my throwaway shirt and gloves early, as the first few miles winded down fairly steep descents.

With mostly cloud cover and mid-50s to go along with the downhill course, the day was perfect for running. The entire route was along Oracle Road, except an out-and-back to the Biosphere, which also represented the only real uphill on the course, approaching the halfway mark. I passed Vince DiCroce, who was heading into a port-a-potty, the first and probably only time I’ll ever pass him in a race.

Oracle Road has a lot of traffic during the race,

but at least it's almost all downhill.

The course is not terribly scenic. As mentioned before, it’s almost entirely along Oracle Road. In fact, most of it is on the shoulder of the road, while the rest of the street is open to traffic. That meant runners had to deal with a slant to the left and car exhaust most of the day. Fortunately, those negatives are negated by the nearly 2,000 feet of elevation drop (see chart below). Oh, and my parents basically live right at the 20-mile mark. Mom and Dad and a few of their friends were out there to greet me with orange slices and Gatorade. It was just what I needed to overcome the wall, which I was finally able to fight through.

Not me in the finish chute. Actually, it's Gideon Talam,

who won the 2007 Tucson Marathon. 

I knew I was on pace for my best time, and I wasn’t about to quit. The course took a left-hand turn and winded through some neighborhoods until it ended at a local middle school. The final stretch was a little strange. The course turned right and continued for the final 100 feet or so in desert sand.

I killed my PR, finishing in 3:28 – more than 11 minutes faster than my previous PR. It took a little walking to find my parents, something my body disagreed with, but we got home safely. I threw a bag of ice in the hot tub, which had not been hot for several months and jumped in for my ice bath.

The night before, Mom made a dessert with banana pudding and Nilla Wafers, but obviously I couldn’t eat it the night before a race. Throughout the final several miles, I thought about how good that was going to taste. It was not to be. While I was covering the miles, Dad reached into the fridge and lost control as he grabbed it. The entire dish splattered all over the kitchen.

Somehow the PR helped me get over the disappointment.

2007 Kansas City Marathon

3. Kansas City Marathon – Kansas City, Mo. – Oct. 20, 2007

Who says you can never go home? Runner’s Edge of the Rockies chartered a bus from Denver to the town I grew up in. I couldn’t resist joining them. However, with DU soccer season in full swing and the basketball season coming up fast, I decided to fly. OK, so maybe I just didn’t want to ride in any more buses than I had to (it’s pretty common when traveling with a basketball team).

There were probably 40-50 of us from the group that made the trip. We all stayed down near Crown Center, and I did my best to meet up with as many old friends as I could.

The race started with a loop around downtown, climbed up to the Liberty Memorial, shot through midtown – including a trip past the first of three delicious smelling Gate’s BBQ restaurants along the course – and then headed through the Plaza. I felt great as we headed up the most severe hill on the course toward Waldo. Greg Johnson, one of my college roommates, and his family cheered me on through Brookside at the halfway point, where I crossed the timing mat and realized I’d hit a PR for the half – not necessarily the best idea when running a full marathon, a lesson I should have learned during this race but didn't (see future marathons). Right around that time, I took some sort of gel and, if the wheels were going to come off, the lug nuts were loosened. My stomach went from asking for nutrients to screaming. I pushed it about as far as I could, but at the 17-mile mark I needed a port-a-potty.

I still felt pretty good when I made the turn onto the only out-and-back on the course. My friend Dave Longcope, who was there cheering on his then-girlfriend/now wife, jumped on the course and ran a few hundred feet with me, encouraging me and telling me how good I looked.

Unfortunately, a few miles later, I once again met the wall. I ran into Jim Turosak, a friend from Runner’s Edge, and both of us needed a walk break, even though neither of us wanted it. We pushed each other through the next few miles, and as we crested a hill around the 23-mile mark, downtown was in sight and I could sense the finish.

With a little more than a mile to go, the course passes through the 18^th and Vine neighborhood, a Mecca for jazz. It’s also the location of the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum, a great museum that is well worth a visit (although not in the middle of running a race). When I was about 11 years old, my friend Bobby (now Bob) Haskin and his family would take me to Kansas City Royals games. We’d insist on getting there early so we could try to get autographs. At Royals Stadium (now Kauffman Stadium), there was a single seat right behind the plate. We always thought it was funny that someone would come to a game and sit in a seat with nobody else with him. One day we saw an older gentleman sitting in that seat, and I asked him about it. It turns out, he was a scout for the Royals, which is why he sat alone – no distractions.

Buck O'Neil always had that

giant smile on his face

He told us his name was Buck O’Neil. And over the next few years, we would look for Buck before every game we went to. His stories about playing for the Kansas City Monarchs with Satchel Paige, managing Jackie Robinson, and scouting Ernie Banks and Lou Brock were always fun to hear. Buck loved people, and I always loved talking to him. His smile was infectious, and I know I wouldn’t have developed a lifelong love of baseball if it weren’t for Buck. Later, Buck would achieve his dream of building the aforementioned Negro Leagues Museum, and he established some renown during Ken Burns’ series on baseball. Buck was an outstanding player, manager and scout, but above all else he did more for the game than just about anyone else in history. There have been movements to get him in the Hall of Fame. Inexplicably, all have failed. Over the past couple of decades, steroids have damaged the reputation of Major League Baseball. To me, the failure of putting one of the most important people in baseball history in the Hall of Fame is an even bigger travesty. Failing to put Buck O’Neil in the Hall of Fame prior to his death in 2006 is nearly unforgivable. (I highly recommend Joe Posnanski's book The Soul of Baseball: A Road Trip Through Buck O'Neil's America to everyone, whether you're a baseball fan or not. Trust me, you'll love Buck within the first few chapters.)

Back to the marathon, the course does a U-turn near Arthur Bryant’s BBQ (more tempting and taunting smells wafting in the air) and turns onto 17^th Avenue, which was labeled Buck O’Neil Drive. Buck passed away a year before the race, but seeing a street named after him was enough inspiration to push me the final mile to the finish. I crossed the finish line near Union Station at 3:43 and spent the next hour cheering on friends who were coming to the finish.

In addition to a pair of shirts (one for participating, one for finishing), the race organizers put a gift card for Jack’s Stack BBQ into each goody bag. Needless to say, we knew where we were going for dinner that night. Each of us had $25 to spend, and we did our best to eat and drink all of it, which almost made up for making run through so many barbeque smells along the route. We met up with my brother Dave and several friends for drinks that night before calling it a successful marathon weekend. The Runner’s Edge folks drove back that night. I stuck around to spend a little more time in KC.

2007 Big Sur Marathon

2. Big Sur Marathon – Carmel, Calif. – April 29, 2007

I signed up for this race after spending about five minutes on the website in late 2006. The photo tour gave a hint that this was something special. So what that I had not even run my first marathon yet. And surely I could run another marathon a little more than two months after the first.

It was worth it. I had to be on the bus in Monterey at about 4 a.m. Almost an hour later, we had driven the entire course and then some in reverse. I’m not a fan of seeing the course beforehand because I find it intimidating. Doing so in the dark and feeling all the ups and downs was about as bad as it gets.

We were dropped off at the Big Sur campground, where bonfires and port-a-potties awaited. Like most races, everyone was friendly and I started up conversations with a few people as we waited for the race in the dark. They called everyone to the line, and I realized when I got there that my bladder was full. I looked around and decided to duck into the woods to relieve myself, since the port-a-potties would take too long. As I stepped in, I realized I wasn’t the only one. Hundreds of people – both men and women – were surrounding the trees and taking care of business. I had to be careful not to pee on anyone.

The gun went off, and we headed west through the redwoods and past cow pastures for the first few miles. About five miles in, the course hit Pacific Coast Highway, and for the rest of the race we could hear waves crashing into the rocks to our left. My neck would end up sore because I spent so much time looking at the ocean. It was absolutely gorgeous. The course is challenging. As we rounded a bend at mile 10, I heard the thumping of Hawaiian drums, and I knew what was coming. Hurricane Point is a 600-foot climb over the next two miles. It’s daunting, especially because you know you still have more than half the race left. But the drumbeats get the heart pumping and everyone’s pace seems to move in step with those drums.

The weather that day was perfect. Temperatures were in the mid-50s, and it was cloudy with a slight tailwind. About 2/3 of the way up, I felt like I was running into the clouds. My sunglasses started to get drops of precipitation, but it wasn’t raining. It felt great and helped me dial in during my charge to the top. As soon as you get to the top, you start the descent, which is almost as tough as the climb, and I had to consciously pull off the throttle and coast down.

At the bottom of the Hurricane Point, the course traverses Bixby Bridge, one of the most beautiful bridges in the world. Words really can’t describe it, but it’s surreal. And that unreality is multiplied by the man playing a grand piano while wearing a tuxedo with tails. The classical music in that situation is strange, but it somehow felt just right.

The organization of Big Sur is among the best in any race. Every mile marker has two people yelling your pace and expected finish time. I was a little surprised at how much energy I had built up after I crossed Bixby Bridge. There was a French guy, and we passed each other at least 10 times. At one point I tried to start a conversation, but he either didn’t hear me or didn’t care to talk. I decided I was going to beat him, and I increased my speed slightly. There aren’t many fans, but the ones that were there were friendly, including quite a few that smelled like they had been smoking something medicinal. It is California, after all.

Around mile 22 after fairly continuous hills, the course turns mostly downhill, and off in the distance you can see a few holes of the famed Pebble Beach Golf Course. With just a few miles to go, a woman had set up a table with strawberries. Perhaps I was slightly mental due to the fatigue, but these things looked like they were the size of apples and smelled amazing. I knew one bite would make me hurl at that point, so looked at her and pleaded, “Please tell me there are more at the finish.” She smiled and assured me there were. As I finished in 3:39, I was overjoyed. Not only had I beaten my previous time by more than 20 minutes, but also there were indeed strawberries in the finish area. I grabbed some, threw down the blanked they had put around me and collapsed on it, happy to not move other than taking bites of strawberries.

I’m not sure I’ll ever run a race that I love more. At any distance. Big Sur is damn near perfect.

2007 Pacific Shoreline Marathon

I ran 21 marathons and wrote about them before I started this blog. I’m going to post my recap of each race (in order) every few days. Please keep in mind, this is what I experienced during on that given day. Sometimes, we run great and races seem that much better because of it. Other times, we bonk and a perfectly fine race is engraved in our mind as miserable torture.

Let me say up front that every race was probably great for some runners, and that same race on that same day absolutely sucked for others. My guess is that I’m way too harsh on a few, and in all likelihood it was because I wasn’t trained properly or I was coming off injury or I flat out just had a bad race. All of those things happen.

And, as I often tell newcomers to our sport, the bad races make the good ones that much sweeter.

1. Pacific Shoreline Marathon – Huntington Beach, Calif. – Feb. 4, 2007

Like a first kiss or a first day of school, your first marathon will always hold a special place in your memory. On Super Bowl Sunday in 2007, I left my room at the Huntington Beach Hilton and walked right outside to the starting line of the Pacific Shores Marathon. For the first 31 years of my life, I always said that it would take a special kind of idiot to run a marathon. To be honest, that opinion has never changed, but here I was raising my hand when the emcee asked who was running their first marathon.

I felt as bad as I looked

I had run a few half marathons, and I thought my training had gone great. At the starting line, with the breeze blowing in from the Pacific Ocean a few hundred feet to our left, I’m not sure I could have felt better. Screw it. I’m going for Boston, I thought. So I started the race fast, figuring I’d keep it consistent for the first half and hopefully speed up in the second half. We ran along Pacific Coast Highway, as well as the bike path on the beach for the first half of the race. I felt great for the first 10 miles and slowed down only slightly as I hit the halfway mark before heading inland.

Not long after, I met the wall for the first time. Running around some parks, I started to understand why everyone advised me not to go out too fast. I walked some, ran some and cursed every minor incline that appeared to be a mountain, when it was probably nothing more than a speed bump.

With just a couple miles to go, I had finally reached PCH again, where the slower half marathoners were making their way to the finish. There were mixed emotions at that point. I was happy to think that I was running a full faster than some people going half the distance. The other half of me was pissed to think that they only had to do half. Now, I’m not faulting or judging anyone who has the guts to get out and run any distance, but this is the type of motivation I need to finish a race when all I want to do is quit. I struggled through the final few miles. With more than a half mile to go, you can see the finish line, and I needed something to get me through it. That’s when the 4:00 pace leader strolled by. I told him, “No offense, but there’s not f-ing way you’re beating me.” He laughed and shouted encouragement, as I finished in 3:59:48. It was nearly 50 minutes shy of Boston, but I was overjoyed to be done. And I was more than happy to take a sub-four hour marathon for my first one.