Today, I ran the Crazy Horse Marathon in the Black
Hills of South Dakota. I finished in 4:33:35. Here's how it happened.
Since we arrived here on Thursday from
Minneapolis, I hadn't really felt winded except when I took a little jog on
Friday (by "little", I mean about 800 meters). I think the time spent
in Utah this summer made for an easier transition to the higher altitude of
Rapid City. Rapid City is only 3200 feet above sea level, though (between the
last sentence and this one I looked up the elevation on Wikipedia).
The race begins at Crazy Horse Memorial, a
gargantuan sculpture in progress that has so far yielded only the face of Crazy
Horse himself. The next step for the sculptors, according to what I read in the
visitors center prior to the race, is to carve out the head of the horse, 219
feet in length or something (so Crazy Horse's horse walks into a bar...) The
starting line was at 5800 feet.
The reviews I read of the race, along with my
estimate of colder temperatures at elevation, convinced me that I should wear a
long sleeved running shirt instead of a short sleeved one. This turned out to
be a mistake.
I think I can probably talk about the race if I
list the split times and then talk about how I felt and what happened.
Splits
Mile 1: 8:39 I had had a decent walk up to the
starting point from where the shuttle dropped us off. I think I would have been
a good deal slower otherwise.
Mile 2:
9:19 The route loops through the memorial area, including up a few
hills. This mile was slower because of those hills, and because we passed by
some cows that seemed intent on running across the running path. This intention
became action when seven or eight cows suddenly bolted across the dirt road we
were running on. Cows are big, and runners are generally not. I was a good
fifty feet from the cows that went across the first time, and then maybe 30
feet the second time. No more cow trouble after this.
Mile 3: 8:06. No aid station yet
Mile 4:
8:14. Finally at 3.1 or so, there was the first of way-too-few aid
stations. The race featured water and "Ultima," which I think tastes
like lightly-sweetened Pedialite. It's gross. I don't love Clif Shot, GU, etc.,
but their tastes are at least reminiscent of something people eat. It was
fortunate that I brought two Clif Shots with me and a package of cola-flavored Clif
Shot Bloks, which taste like cola bottles candy. I leaned heavily on these
items for electrolytes and sugar because I didn’t want the repeated gagging
sensation accompanying each cup of Ultima. Now that I look at Ultima’s website,
I realize that the drink has no sugar. No wonder! And at a lousy ten calories
per 8 oz., good luck getting any energy out of that. Yeah, I want calories,
okay?
Mile 5:
8:07. At some point in the early part of the race a tall man in an
orange shirt ran by and I started to keep pace with him. I think he ran the
half marathon. By this point in the race, we were heading down the George S.
Mickelson Trail. The trail had mile markers in the 50s, so I think this might
be a significant trail. It was beautiful and the sun wasn’t out yet.
Mile 6: 8:02. Still with the man in the orange.
Still no aid station. I’m sweating and starting to be thirsty.
Mile 7: 8:15*. No aid station, no mile marker.
Mile 8: 8:15*. Somewhere between miles 7 and 8
there was an aid station, making it two measly stations for the first 7.5 miles
or so. Bad news.
Mile 9: 8:26. I’m still feeling good, but maybe
feeling a little parched and a little strained to be moving at this pace.
Mile 10: 8:42. At this point, the man in orange went
ahead by a bit. At 10 miles we met in with the Mt. Rushmore Marathon folks, who
had major hills in their first 10 miles, even though their path was also a net
downhill.
Mile 11: 9:05. 9:05 feels about right, but I
recall not feeling like I had anymore 8:15 miles in me. My legs were starting
to hurt a bit, too.
Mile 12: 8:54. At some point we ran by an older
couple who had parked their van and were cheering people on. Maybe they were
looking for someone in particular. Out of the van was blasting, “We Didn’t
Start the Fire,” and the elderly lady was clapping in rhythm as she cheered us
on.
Mile 13: 9:52*. I missed the split, not confident
that the mat I was running over was for 13 miles.
Mile 14: 9:51*. Really, this was a much slower
mile than mile 13. I don’t know how much slower, though, so I’m not going to
try and guess. The halfway point was into Hill City, which is also the finish
line for all the races. Mentally it’s a bit tough to run away from the finish
line after having passed by. Just outside of Hill City we ran into a steep hill
that I gave up on running, opting instead to walk. I was really tired by now,
definitely dehydrated and my legs felt weak. I had passed the halfway point at
about 1:53, set to make 3:46 for the marathon if I kept my pace through the
rest of the run. Somewhere in here I pulled off my long-sleeved shirt and tied
it around my waist. I’m not an Adonis like some people, and I prefer to keep my
clothes on when in public. This time, however, I was certain that the sun’s
presence would maybe prevent me from finishing if I kept the shirt on.
Strangely, nobody catcalled me.
Mile 15: 12:26. The road continued to go up, while
my energy level continued to go down.
Mile 16: 10:50. I don’t know what I did here to achieve
this (by second-half standards) decent time.
Mile 17: 11:23. This was the first mile of the
forest service road, an offroad track with ruts, rocks, and so on. It wouldn’t
have been bad at all except that it came at mile 16 and didn’t really end until
mile 20.
Mile 18: 13:36. Now I’m really feeling it, forcing
myself (=allowing myself) to walk after each mile. The aid stations have been
more plentiful this second half but the sun has heated me up. Every time I ran
up a major hill my heart rate went crazy and I felt bad. I had to take it very
slow.
Mile 19: 12:09. I was still working from the
walk-run mentality.
Mile 20: 13:20. By now my legs were in a lot of
pain and my knee(s) were weak. I wanted to quit. I was still dehydrated, though
I had moments when I felt good again.
Mile 21: 10:55. I made it this far and felt happy
that there were only five miles yet.
Mile 22: 13:35. I walked a fair amount at the mile
marker.
Mile 23: 11:17. I don’t know how I did this mile
in this time. It’s not that fast but it was well in excess of the pace I was
used to.
Mile 24: 13:21. I walked for a good 3 minutes at
the start of this mile. My legs were stiffening up. When I had to pull off my
shoe to dump out stray rocks, I could feel how stiff my feet were. The many
miles of trail, including the recently-completed forest road, had taken their
toll with me inadvertently stepping on multiple rocks while running.
Mile 25: 12:31. Miles 21 through 26 were directly
in the sun. I was definitely at the end of my line.
Mile 26: 13:37. This mile featured a fair amount
of walking. In the past couple marathons I’ve taken some ibuprofen during the
race, and this year I went without. The pain seemed more acute this time.
Last .2 miles: 2:22. There was a nice little crowd
out to cheer us on. I ran down the main street in Hill City and then to the
finish line. I saw J. and the kids and we sat down on the shaded concrete. I
made my way to a sports medicine truck and had them check me out. They had me
drink some Gatorade, eat a few Triscuits, and the doctor stretched my legs
while I rested on their padded table. The Gatorade tasted particularly good.
Other Thoughts In terms of race management, it wasn’t my finest
outing. I didn’t hydrate well in the early part of the race. Despite the dearth
of aid stations in the first half of the marathon, and the poor job I think
this represents by the marathon organizers (tip for next year’s organizers: if
a runner hasn’t had much to drink for the first 13 miles, those aid stations
for the latter 13 can only do so much), it’s my job to keep myself hydrated. I exacerbated
this problem by running too hard for the first half and by wearing a
long-sleeved running shirt in which I roasted when the sun came out. In other
words, I take responsibility for bonking for the last ten miles of the
marathon.
Nevertheless, I am faster than I was when I ran
Park City in late August, and pulling a decent first half of the marathon was a
satisfying act in itself. I was also running at 5000+ feet for the duration, so
a little hit in time isn’t unreasonable. I’m hopeful that a winter spent
building my base level of fitness will allow me to jump back into marathoning
next year.
I learned some more about how I handle pain. I
wonder how the best marathoners feel when they run. Do they have great pain
toward the end, or does everything feel fine? I know I have a hard time
pounding out those last miles when my legs hurt. Is the key to run at a pace
that won’t hurt, or to hurt them in training so the feeling is not unfamiliar?
During the painful times, I kept thinking, “You
just have to face who you are at this moment.” That for me meant that I couldn’t
pretend that I had any more 8:15 miles in me this race, and that the reasonable
goal was now to run for a consistent amount of time before stopping to walk
again. The little mantra may not make sense to you, but it made sense to me
when I thought it. The thought also tempered any ego-driven desire to break
4:30. I came in at just 4:33, so it would have been easy to do if I had not
walked so much. But the walking felt appropriate.
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