2007 St. George Marathon

Last week my wife and daughter both had Strep. Once they started antibiotics they felt better within a day or so. On Friday afternoon I start in with the same symptoms, headache, body aches, sore throat. I call my doctor and get an antibiotic prescription called in to the pharmacy. I take a double dose to start, another before going to bed and put one in a baggie, along with some ibuprofen, to take Saturday morning just before the marathon starts. I go to bed around 10 but am awake virtually all night with the aches. At 2 am I take more Ibuprofen and I am still awake when the alarm goes off at 4:15.

There’s no way I’m not going after all the preparation. I figure I’ll just run as far as I can and see what happens.

In keeping with my “potato” experiment I eat 2 boiled red potatoes along with some grapes and 1/2 orange for breakfast. Larry Ballantyne, 77 and still running marathons, picks Bruce up then comes for me at 4:45 to drive to Vernon Worthen Park to catch the bus for the 45 minute ride to the starting line in Central, UT, 26.2 miles up Hwy 18.

The start, at Central, is an amazing experience. More than 5000 runners milling around bonfires that extend for 2 blocks with porta johns stretched out just as far. Music and commentary are blaring from a motor home up near the starting line announcing that there are participants from every state in the Union, except Vermont, and nine countries. We meet Debbie, Brenda, Keli, Jana, Becky, her daughter, Annie, Rochelle and others up near the front, near the aid station.

It’s cold, 35 degrees, so we delay stripping off our warm clothing until the last minute. Finally, about 6:40 they announce the clothing truck is about to leave so we strip off, put our extra clothes in a bag and throw them in the back of the truck, to be retreived at the finish line.

I pull out the baggie with the ibuprofen and antibiotic. The ibuprofen is there but the antibiotic is gone. I have no idea where it went. I swallow the pills with a glass of Gatorade and we start moving toward the road, with the swell of bodies, to line up to cross the starting line that will trigger the timing chip on our shoes. We shoulder in near the front of the line so there is only a three minute difference between the clock time and my chip time. It takes over 15 minutes for all 5154 runners to cross the start line.

The road is packed. As you dodge slower runners in front of you, faster runners from behind are trying to dodge you in the shoulder to shoulder traffic. The tight packed weaving dance continues for several miles until the crowd starts to thin. But, even then, you have to watch what you are doing if you want to pass someone, looking for a space to open up, sometimes on one side, sometimes on the other.

As usual, Debbie and Brenda surge ahead. Kelli and Rochelle, a first time runner, stay with them. Jana, Becky, Annie and I stick prety close together for the first 7 or 8 miles. Bruce, who has been nursing injuries for the past 2 years plans to take it slow. Larry drops back to near the back of the pack so he can pursue his own pace.

Jana wants to stay between the 3:50 and 4:00 pace groups so we’re just behind the 3:50 group. You hardly notice the first hill at mile 1. Your body soon warms up and, even before the first aid station at mile 3 we shed gloves, hats and extra shirts. I figure I’ll give mine to my son in law who should be working the second aid station at mile 5 – he’s not there so I tie the shirt around my waist and tuck the gloves into my shorts.

Mile seven brings Veyo Hill, nearly a mile long and steep. This one you notice. As we crest the hill Jana says she is going to catch her breath but that I should keep going. After Veyo hill there is a steady, gradual climb through mile 11 at Dammeron Valley, then a gradual decline through mile 14 at Diamond Valley where the decline increases and holds pretty steady through the rest of the course, with a few minor hills thrown in. The 3:50 pace group is starting to pull away. Becky and Annie are somewhere ahead.

At the mile 7 aid station I pick up a packet of Cliff Shot and nurse it along over the next couple of miles. You can’t eat it fast or it makes you sick so I put a little in my mouth and let it disolve, then take a little more. I do it again at mile 11 and 18.

At mile 13 the clock set up at the aid station says 2:01. I’m just a little behind to break 4 hours. The hardest part of the course is behind but the second half is always harder to maintain the pace.

Somewhere along here Becky drops back to stay with Annie who has slowed down a little. Around mile 15 the cliffs of Snow Canyon come into view. At mile 17 we pass the entrance to Snow Canyon and the road is packed with spectators cheering us on. I’m still feeling pretty good and maintaining a good pace. The 3:50 pace group, which has been out of site for several miles is now back in view.

At mile 20 another clock is set up that reads 3:00. Only 6.2 miles to go and an hour to do it. That’s 10 minute miles. I’m still feeling good. I think I can do this!

The crowds start to pick up around mile 22 and they cheer you on through to the finish line. At mile 25 the last aid station is set up in front of the mortuary. The signs on the approach say “Look Alive, Mortuary Ahead”. Just past the aid station someone is passing out ice cold wash cloths. Even with the nearly perfect day, 65 degrees, slight breeze, mostly at your back, it feels good to run one over your head, face and neck.

The final turn from Main onto 300 South takes you into the “chute” with fences on both sides of the road and crowds cheering you on. The last block has bleachers set up on the right and my family is waiting about 1/2 way down. As I pass they hand me Tyler, my 3 year old grandson and he runs the last 1/2 block with me. As I am preoccupied with Tyler I don’t even look at the clock as I cross the finish line. I look a few minutes later and see it’s 3:55. When I have my chip read it’s 3:53:06 clock time and 3:49:58 chip time. I only miss qualifying for Boston by four minutes! I’d like to go to Boston at least once but I figured my chance would be when I turn 60 and only have to break 4 hours. I’m surprised by the time because I thought the 3:50 pace group was way ahead of me. I didn’t even see them for the last 3 miles so I thought I had dropped back. Maybe I can qualify for Boston next year with a 3:45…

It’s an amazing thing to run 26 miles and feel good at the end of it. It’s only happened twice in 8 marathons but, when it does, as Debbie, who has run about 180 marathons, tells me, it’s a gift. I’m grateful for the gift. I feel energized and can’t wait for next year.