Run (UP to & then) With The Horses Marathon

For the last two years, I’ve been getting smoked by 22 and 23 year olds fresh off the college track team in the “Under 29” age group, so to say I have been excited about hitting 30 would be an understatement. The only way to run state number 30 over my 30th birthday weekend (because that is just too cool!) was to do a double- 26.2 miles on Saturday, then another full marathon on Sunday.


...and that's elevation at the START!



The distance itself was not a concern- my only distinct advantage in this sport isn’t speed, but the ability to recover quickly and be consistent. I’ve done back to back marathons once before for state #13 and state #14 in 2008. The challenge? Both races are high elevation, beginning above 6000', making altitude sickness a valid concern for someone who lives at sea level and has barely ever stepped foot above 7000’- much less try to run a marathon up there.



This was bound to happen sooner or later in my quest for all 50 states; unfortunately, I chose these races based on the calendar and didn’t even look at elevation charts until 2 weeks prior. My confidence was in the toilet going into Saturday’s event, Run With The Horses Marathon in Green River, WY.

After a briefing on snake safety by the RD, a very small field of less than 100 began the race at 6100'. As a preventative measure, I used my inhaler just before and wore a fuel belt for access to extra hydration. The design of the course was an “up and back”. Flatlanders are more familiar with “out and back”, meaning you run 13.1 out before turning around and coming home for the full 26.2. However, this is Wyoming and we were definitely climbing UP before heading back down to finish.

There were a handful of Marathon Maniacs at this race, including a friend from Running Club North in Fairbanks. I had a race strategy session/dinner with Erika, who I described as "late 30s, 40 at the most" prior to this trip, and her husband Peter the night before. Turns out she's 50. And fast. We were able to share the first 2 miles, my fastest of the day at 8:20 pace, before she blew past me and hustled her way to 2nd overall- just behind a very talented 20-something. It goes without saying, but I want to be Erika in 20 years- a gorgeous, talented athlete with a willingness to share earned knowledge with others.

At the 5K mark, we had already gained 1000’ and spent much of the next few miles on rolling hills at 5-6 % grades between 7300 and 7500’.  Going into this race, I was all sorts of concerned about my breathing...but that didn't turn out to be the challenge at all. The most painful part of dealing with the elevation? Ears popping, followed by a dull headache, and minor nosebleed around mile 10. The most interesting part? When my brand new, very full tube of lip gloss expanded and EXPLODED. Inside my sports bra.

A slower pace gave me the ability to enjoy the beauty of the course. We were running across the White Mountains, high enough to overlook some of the most breathtaking canyons I've ever seen (sorry, Arizona). There is never really any guarantee the area's wild horses, namesake of the race, will be out- this year they were everywhere. I saw the first herd around mile 5 and almost every mile or so thereafter until mile 18. It was awesome to see them grazing and even running across the plains and past the rock formations along the canyon. I'm still kicking myself for not taking a camera.

The RD suggested adding 45-60 minutes to typical marathon times and I could see why. If the high desert elevation didn't get you, going uphill for 13 miles in a fierce headwind would. The Suzy Sunshine in me thought, "at least we'll have a tailwind coming back down!", but you guessed it: the wind changed direction by that time. There was little shade, as this area is considered high plains desert, so I was grateful for the low humidity when the sun came out during the later miles.



I had this grand plan to save my quads on the final downhill miles for the following day’s marathon, but in the moment that sounded dumb so I used gravity to my advantage. I was screwed for the next day, anyway- my road shoes were filled with small pieces of gravel the entire race; I could already feel the blisters that had formed. This is a sore spot for me: 40+ reviews on marathonguide for this race with plenty of detail about shirts and medals, but nobody suggested trail shoes and/or gaiters. 



Horseshoe was a bit heavy for my model's neck

Crossing the line in 4:26:38 (just outside an hour from my PR; they were dead on re: estimating time), I earned 4th female overall and a 1st place finish in my new age group! As promised, the medal was super and the AG award was an actual bronzed horseshoe.


The calendar certainly worked in my favor- this was the perfect Wyoming. There was a time when I looked for flat, fast race options only. While there is something to be said for testing speed, with that strategy you miss total jewels like this.


State #29 was, hands down, the most beautiful setting I have ever run in and seeing the wild horses was definitely worth the challenging climb.



(you've gotta be sort of) Mad Marathon

1. July marathon on the east coast 2. in a state I haven’t done 3. during the family reunion. For me, the Mad Marathon in Waitsfield, VT was a running trifecta.

The one thing I love more than the challenge of the distance itself is sharing marathon miles with others. My Uncle, an experienced three time Ironman, joined me for his first standalone 26.2. We agreed to run as much as possible together but allowed the other person a pass if/when they needed to speed up.

At 7:30 am, we began under clear skies and temperatures in the low 60s. 1200 lined up, with just under 500 doing the full. I have a bad habit of getting swept up in the half marathon stampede and going out too fast, so it was great to have my Uncle there to keep my pace in check.

As "The World's Most Beautiful Marathon", this race earned it's tagline as we began on Route 100 and headed north, passing through a neat covered bridge that crossed over the Mad River. Almost immediately after the mile 1 mark, we began winding up a hill. A really steep one. It just kept on going...and going. This was not going to be easy.

After a very sharp drop from that hill, the course leveled off onto a gravel road for the next few miles and through another covered bridge. We ran a surprisingly even 9 min/mile during the first 10K, resisting the temptation to burn out our quads on the downhill descents. I would never have been able to do that on my own; Uncle Tre must have realized we’d be going back up those same descents in a few more miles!

The next stretch of the course broke off into a wishbone pattern, turning around at an orange cone twice before reversing back again, allowing me to absorb and share the positive energy from many Marathon Maniacs. With almost 4000 total, I am sort of an OG (“Original Gangsta”- you’re welcome) at #891 and it was funny to see reactions as I introduced myself to others.

Uncle Tre and I talked the entire first half about everything under the sun. It was really enjoyable and served as dissociation from the early hills. At one point, he mentioned a nagging injury and I quickly implemented a rule system requiring 2 positive statements per negative remark. I use this with myself during training runs and it works- if anything, to get out of the habit of letting negative thoughts surface. Either that or you look like an idiot talking to yourself.

Shortly after halfway at 2:12 and still chatting up a storm, we approached what is affectionately called “The Dip”. It looked like a roller coaster drop. There was no puke at the bottom, but I caught myself thinking, "Has the chute from Equinox 50K in Fairbanks followed me all the way to Vermont?!"

Now, I don't mind hills. Some runners loathe them, but I honestly appreciate the grind up and the feeling of accomplishment once I've made it to the top. Sure, I’m not gonna run 7:30 splits or PR; but I always do better within my gender and age group on a really hilly course. However, a few "Holy shit!"s and an "Are you kidding me?" later, I questioned the likelihood of a sub 4 hour marathon.

Around mile 15, I took Uncle Tre up on that pass. Having been conservative in the early miles, I was able to pick up the pace to 8:30/mile, taking advantage of gradual descent. I was focused only on my “second 10 miler”, having split the race mentally into 10, 10, and 6 miles. Breaking down into manageable parts is how I handle difficult situations, be it running or otherwise.

A sign that read "your feet hurt because you are kicking so much ass!" lifted my spirits , as did the many spectators along the course with treats, sprinkler systems, and words of encouragement. Just after mile 22, I saw my own support crew: my Mom, Mima, Aunt Theresa, Cousin Caroline, Mother-in-Law BJ, and Father-in-Law Scott. They were so enthusiastic the runners around me joked that they wanted to “share my family” and asked which races that specific crew would be at in the Fall!

Once I hit mile 23 at just under 3:40, I was averaging low 8 minute miles and knew that I was hovering the line for my overall time of either 4:01+ or 3:59:ish, which is (as the name implies) required for the 50<4 marathon club. I pushed to a 7:20, 7:16, and 7:13 in the final miles to secure a 3:59:26 finishing time, making me 17th female overall and 3rd in my age group.

The final 10K of this race is a testament to what Crossfit can do specifically for marathon running. This is something that a lot of runners like to debate (read: trash). When I PRed in Eugene, several folks assured me that I would be undertrained on more challenging terrain. Nyet. I’ll continue to use an adaptation of Crossfit Endurance (add long runs every other week) for fall races, including JFK50. It's a fantastic advantage. Selfishly (!), I sort of hope no women in my age group adopt it and continue to mileage themselves to death.

Sharing state #28 with my Uncle, who crushed his previous marathon PR from a dead flat IM marathon course, was the highlight of this event. Proud of the sub 4 on a challenging course, too. George Costanza style, I’m leaving the “Under 29” age group on a high note!

27 lessons from my 27th state

1. Leave your ego at home. I chose the 50K option of the Run for Kids 12 Hour, 50K, & 5K- although I usually go for the longest option available (i.e. full over half, ultra instead of marathon), I was still banking off of training from Eugene and not physically or mentally prepared for the 12 hour.

2. If you must drive 7 hours each way, do it through the Smoky Mountains.

3. Averaging 5 hours of sleep/night the entire week before a race is a bad idea.

4. Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Sweet Home Alabama” sounds better in Alabama.

5. Running skirts are super cute.

6. Small inaugural events are not to be avoided. I constantly hear horror stories about first time events; in my experience, organization for a smaller group is fine. In fact, at both Rehoboth Beach Marathon and in this event, the RDs have gone out of their way to make sure I had an extra special experience.

7. It is possible to get a size small shirt at race day packet pick up.

8. Shared miles are the best miles. One of my co-workers, Monica decided on a whim to join me in the 50K and we spent the first third of the race catching up. Nonstop chatter- who needs an iPod?!

9. The same 3 mile loop 10 times is no guarantee for the directionally challenged.

10. The same 3 mile loop 10 times guarantees 9 visits to the aid station.

11. Best fuel: PB&J

12. Running in extreme heat with little shade is awful for everyone, no matter what conditions you are accustomed to.

13. However, you don’t want your first taste of 90 degree weather and accompanying Southern humidity in almost 2 years to be during a 31 mile race.

14. Use salt tabs.

15. Wear Marathon Maniac gear. There were 3 other Maniacs at this event; as usual, I enjoyed the camaraderie.

16. Speaking of Maniacs, I finally got to meet Larry Macon, who made my day by exclaiming, “You’re unstoppable!” during my final loop.

17. Establish ground rules. Monica and I agreed early on that we would separate if needed. Around mile 25, I was extremely dehydrated and experiencing painful muscle spasms that reduced me to a run-walk. Monica maintained a steady pace and ended up the 2nd female overall in her first 50K!

18. Drop bag: security blanket

19. Run with someone better than you. Monica is an experienced Ironwoman and straight up beast of an athlete- if she lived closer, I’d stalk her gym sessions and training runs because it’d only make me better.

20. I first learned that concept at Crossfit Fairbanks and now use it at Crossfit Vitality- purposely going to classes with folks who straight up smoke me. The way I see it? If I’m finishing first, something is wrong.

21. The sun does not care if you call it an asshole.

22. Crossing the finish line: good. Getting a call from Trey a few minutes later: better.

23. A garden hose can double as “shower facilities”.

24. You cannot achieve a PR in every race. I finished in 5:49:07- 50 minutes slower than my last 50K, which featured 2400’ collective ascent and much more challenging terrain.

25. Put things in perspective. My time was 9 minutes faster than the 3rd male overall.

26.No excuse is a good excuse.

27. Do what needs to be done: state #27, Alabama, is in the books!

Eugene Marathon

When I stepped up to the starting line in Eugene, I was about as far from focused as could be. Having bid Trey goodbye a week prior for a year long deployment, emotions were still very raw. Only two days ago, Mom helped me pack up the entire house in a single day so I could spend the year in NC. On little sleep and lots of allergy and cold medication, I was about to make a run (pun intended) at breaking 3:30, which has long been a goal of mine after coming painfully close in Arizona , Akron and Hartford.

 

A 9 year old with a Christina Aguleria style voice belted out the National Anthem before the gun signaled the beginning of the race. Her singing was beautiful and, in a very un-Suz way, I got emotional. Loud, sloppy sobbing (give me a break people, I miss my husband!). Many others reacted as well and there were very few dry eyes in our corral.

The first few miles were conservative. I'm typically a very social runner, but it was hard to breathe (due to that existing cold and stuffy nose), much less talk. I listened to music in an effort to dissociate, which is something I haven't done in a long time. It is fun to run with music- what a nice reminder! By 49:19 at the 10K mark, I felt much better than any medicine had made me feel in the last week and was maintaining a pace of slightly over 8 minute miles.

By mile 10, I was really enjoying the race. There were several 50 Staters and Marathon Maniacs to swap stories with. Many were curious what I had done for training runs during the months of February and March, when temperatures in Fairbanks averaged -40.  I shared that most of my running was done indoors on a treadmill until it got warm enough to snowshoe. This was also the first time I adopted a training schedule with much lower mileage combined with heavy strength training and WODs at Crossfit Fairbanks 4 times a week. When asked how it worked for me, I smiled and said, "We're about to find out today, huh?!"

Despite sharing the first 12 miles with the half marathoners, it never got crowded enough to bottleneck. Temperatures had risen from 40 degrees to low 60s with a cool breeze- perfect running weather. After an out and back in the University area, we followed a bicycle path alongside the water through the city; it was gorgeous! I would have actually loved some hills for variety, but happily took the 7:58 pace instead. At half marathon, the clock read 1:43:50 and I could see the 3:30 pace group in the distance. 

Spectators were out in full force and very spirited. Among the many signs alongside the course, my favorites read: "I'm proud of you, complete stranger", "There is tequila at the Finish", and "Chuck Norris Never Ran a Marathon".  However, the best support came at mile 18 when I saw Mom and my dog, Pavel! 
Experienced runners will tell you (rightfully so!) that a marathon begins at mile 20. At 2:39:03, I ended my long run and began my 10K race.  At this point, the difference between my training for this race versus previous traditional high volume plans was clear- I felt physically stronger than I ever have so late in a marathon.  Any skepticism I had about trading miles for cross training was gone. As I passed the 3:30 pacer around mile 24, I was all smiles as I thought about chalking my hands up for heavy deadlifts and the hundred day burpee challenge, among other things Crossfit.

Having just finished reading Kenny Moore's Bowerman and the Men of Oregon, it was a special honor to finish the race on the track at historic Hayward Field. As an added bonus, I saw Mom cheering at the final 100 meter stretch and finished well under my goal time in 3:28:36. Personal record! I was 437 of 2239 total runners, 94 of 1079 women, and 26 of 198 in my division. I wish the story happily ended here, really I do...

You'd think someone with twenty plus marathon events would have a post race plan, right? A specific place to meet family afterward? Maybe $20 in cash for emergencies? Not your girl. After a half hour wandering through crowds, I began walking in the direction I thought our hotel was...which was, of course, the wrong way.  After about 3 additional miles, I finally went in a random store to use the phone, through some red tape, and connected with Mom. I wasn't mad, though...at least I had crossed the finish line prior to doing those additional miles, unlike Kenai!

Kenai River (ultra)Marathon

Warning: this does not end well.

Having felt very confident about my performance a week prior at Equinox 50K, I decided to squeeze one more race into the condensed Alaska running season. In its 3rd year, the Kenai River Marathon is a popular among runners in the southeast area of the state since it is the last option before winter. Winter, of course, being October.

It was odd to be scrambling for a local hotel and registering at packet pick up since I usually plan months in advance, but the upside was that I didn’t have time to get nervous. Because this was a small event of only about 200, including 70 full marathoners, I met many fellow participants at the spaghetti feed and Race Director’s welcome the night prior. I don’t mind missing these types of events for big city races, but for small events they are a must- you really get a feel for the local community and the area you’ll experience on race day.

The race began at 9 am, allowing me to get a much needed night of rest after an 8 hour drive down. Lining up with familiar faces, we braced ourselves for 20 mph gusts of wind that accompanied the already chilly morning. Cold is fine, but running in heavy wind is just miserable. Thoughts of similar conditions at Las Vegas Marathon and Ocean Drive Marathon were stirring in my head when the gun went off…



The first few miles took us around the small town of Kenai in before transitioning to a paved bike path leading to Soldonta. We got a separate start from the half marathoners, so the pack thinned out very quickly. I ran the first 5 miles a bit too fast at about 7:30 minutes each. I took a deliberate walk break at the first relay exchange and settled into a steady 8:20 pace, which was comfortable over mostly flat terrain.

At the half marathon point, I was pleased to see Amanda announce a 1:42. I hadn’t really been keeping an eye on the clock and just assumed the wind had slowed me down more. At this pace, I was on target to beat my PR of 3:31, which I’m not sure I can even claim anymore as it was achieved 2 years ago. Despite having run the Equinox 50K last week, my body felt great and the time boosted my confidence. I wanted a new PR.



That's me behind hat man and his very loyal pacer

 

The course is described as “scenic” but with the exception of Chugach Mountain range views, left a little to be desired when compared with others in Alaska.  More important, fellow runners were full of “Great work!” and “Atta Girl!”s ; volunteers were equally enthusiastic. I appreciated the fresh legs of relay runners, who helped me stay on pace. At 2:38, I had reached mile 20 in the fastest time in my running life.



Okay, so the bike got annoying after awhile...



Coming back into town at mile 25, there was a busy road crossing where the Kenai police had been redirecting or stopping traffic for race participants. I crossed the road and thanked the Officer, who pointed me to turn left. Given the aforementioned small event and windy conditions, there had been relatively few course marshals and/or markers all day. I saw one runner in the distance and assumed the left turn put me in the right direction to finish.

When Amanda notified me of my mile split (in this case, totaling the 26th mile) and there was no sign of a finish line in sight, I began to worry I had gone the wrong way. Dude in front of me kept turning around, probably beginning to have similar fears but reinforced by the fact that someone was on the same path. In another half mile, a volunteer from an earlier aid station pulled over and told both of us what I had suspected but didn’t want to accept: we were off the course. Apparently after the busy road left turn, there was an immediate right that would go straight to the finish.

I had been holding an adrenaline filled sub 8 minute miles during this confusion, but lost all motivation when it sunk in that I’d have to retrace my steps for over a mile plus run the correct final 1.2 miles of the course. I slowed to a 9 minute pace and my body was not hearing any other requests. The other guy flew by me as if he had intended to run 29 miles in the first place. I felt angry, embarrassed, frustrated and desperate.


"Direction is more important than speed" - unknown 

Though it would have been a nice outlet, there was really nobody to blame. It was the police officer’s job to get me across the road safely and he did exactly that. The runner in front of me was not an official race pacer. I had seen a map and briefing of the course at the spaghetti feed the night prior. Even now, my most rational explanation is that this was my 27th marathon and it was bound to happen sooner or later.


Crossing the finish line in 3:54, I earned 5th female overall, 3rd in my age group, 8000 additional steps on my pedometer for our challenge at work, and a medal that looks cute on my dog.

I’m still angry.

Equinox 50K- Fairbanks, Alaska

Billed as the second toughest marathon course in North America, the Equinox is not a race intended for PRs. In fact, the suggestion is to add 30-45 minutes to your flat land marathon time in an effort to estimate a finish. Having already secured my Alaska marathon (BQ!) at Mayor's in Anchorage, I chose the 50K option and got excited about the challenge.  

Elevation Profile

 At 31.25 miles, a 50K qualifies as an ultra marathon. I’d need both hands to count the number of times I heard, “That’s not much more- only a few miles more than the 26.2 of a marathon. It can’t be THAT much harder”. Having completed the Dances with Dirt 50K, my response is: 1. look at terrain before comparing sheer number of miles 2. Try that statement without whimpering at mile 28!


Ready to Run!


The Equinox is relatively small by lower 48 standards, with 700ish total participants in relay, marathon, and ultra events; however, those numbers are big for Alaska. Fairbanks is a weather gamble in mid September; I’m told one year they had to cancel the race due to snow and ice! This year, we were blessed with comfortable temperatures beginning in the mid 50s and steadily climbing to low 60s. Leaves on the trees were beautiful shades of gold and orange- a perfect Fall day.

After pre-race instructions from the Race Director, we lined up to begin the race and attack the first of many hills- a humbling 200 foot climb on single track path that quickly led us to the woods. The University’s ski trails are known for roots and ruts but I felt confident having already done this portion of the course during group training runs offered by Running Club North. I was able to settle into a steady pace much more quickly than usual.

Great mile 8

I got a mental boost from seeing Trey at mile 9, which marked the beginning of the 1800 foot climb up to Ester Dome. As expected, everyone slowed substantially at this point but lucky for us it was a less challenging surface- combination of paved and dirt road. Because it stretches out over a 4 mile climb, this wasn’t exactly a hill one could pick up the pace and charge up. Often in ultras, runners will conserve energy by walking up hills (preserving for the distance- an opportunity cost thing); however, walking 4 miles isn’t exactly the brightest strategy either.

As a dissociation technique, I used my mp3 player to climb Ester Dome. Vehicles were not allowed at all on this area of the course; while logistically challenging for the relay runners, was great not having to dodge cars while heading up the hill “plugged in”. I was actually surprised to check in with Amanda (my Garmin) to see I was maintaining sub 10 minute miles during the climb- a much faster pace than originally expected. I don’t want to give the RD any ideas, but a similar ascent over roots and rocks would have been pure hell. This was at least manageable hell!

The accomplishment of reaching the 2300 foot summit of Ester Dome was short-lived. At mile 13, I lost the headphones in order to focus on the next 5 miles of rolling hills and two-way traffic over a rugged single track path. It was demoralizing to finally be headed downhill, carefully choosing footing among the rocks only to have to come to a stop, turn around and start climbing back up again. A redeeming factor was seeing the other runners during this “out and back” portion- many smiles, thumbs up, and words of encouragement were traded. I gave special props to the other green bib 50K participants.

Mean mile 16

I got another much needed boost from Trey just before mile 17, where I thought I had met certain death for a third of a mile. The infamous “chute” of the Equinox course basically spits you down a 1000 foot descent along a fire break over rocks and ruts- it was scary. Another runner warned me about the number this does on one’s stomach before I approached the fully stocked aid station about a mile earlier…unfortunately, not everyone got that memo. There were sizeable pools of vomit at the bottom of the chute.

Quads burning, I headed back into the woods to take advantage of the gradual downhill section through a beautiful Birch forest. Continuing over a 1200 foot descent, mile 20 left the trail and greeted the pavement. With the help of fresh-legged relay participants, I was able to pick up the pace to 7 minute miles and make up for some of the earlier lost time. I was aware of being sore, but the physical pain in my body seemed to be separate from my mind. <--I know how Mr. Miyagi that sounds, but it’s true!

At just over mile 25, the 50K participants split from the marathoners and followed campus ski trails for the remaining 6 miles. Despite the more technical terrain, I was still maintaining sub 8 minute miles until mile 27, when I tripped over a root and fell. This definitely shook my confidence and it took a few minutes to settle back into it. I was the gal on the course talking out loud to herself: “You’re okay. Pick ‘em up and put ‘em down. You’re okay”. Insane in the membrane.

Just as I was lulled into a sense of complacency with the gentle trails along the final miles, the Equinox threw in one final test: a short, yet steep hill to climb and descend before the finish line. Somehow, it seemed fitting for this challenge. 

Tough run, Comrade.



I survived the Equinox!

 

I crossed the line a full hour earlier than expected in 4:59, earned 4th female overall in the 50K, and finally have an answer for those who ask which has been my FAVORITE race. 

Mayor's Marathon- Anchorage, Alaska

I have wanted to do the Mayor’s Midnight Sun marathon since 2007, when my roommate at the time came back from Anchorage raving about the scenic course. In the same breath we announced our move to Fairbanks earlier this year, I also signed up for this race! I was seriously overdue to run a marathon, having done my last 7 months ago in Arkansas.

Training began in mid March, also known on Alaska thermometers as “high of 5 degrees”. Lots of treadmill running. After the final snowfall in late April, it began warming up and I had excellent weather and 20+ hours of daylight during the months following for high mileage and doubles. Feeling pretty good about my progress, I was thinking about the possibility of a Boston qualifying (BQ) time. Then I read some reviews of the race.

I doubt that too many people set PRs on this course…the top finisher took 2:36, so that’s not a course for a Boston qualifier…..don't try and do any sort of PR; maybe even quit looking at the watch…it is not a BQ sort of race…Brutal course!

Say WHHAAAAAAAT? As it turns out, this race is a hilly combination of narrow bike paths, single track trail, and 8 miles of gravel (or as the reviews put it: “loose, golf ball size gravel”, “big, ankle-biting rocks”, “FML terrain"). Okay, cool…I found a gravel road and trained on it.  It takes a considerable amount of time and money to travel from Fairbanks; my BQ needed to be in state- no excuses!  

After a beautiful drive through Denali and down to Anchorage, I enjoyed the low key expo and stayed at the host hotel. This is a huge Leukemia Society Team In Training (TNT) event so many in the hotel were with them. Each of these folks had committed to a very challenging fundraising goal; I enjoyed conversations with a lot of their first time marathoners, each with an interesting story about why they were there.

The race morning shuttle to the start of this point to point course was, to put it lightly, CHAOS. I chalked it up to everyone else being as nervous as I was about the forecasted rain, but the combination of the busses being slightly late and the aforementioned group feeling like they had to do everything 20 deep didn’t help. The only calm people? Locals and/or Marathon Maniacs. An unofficial prerequisite for living in Alaska is to be chill (seriously, this state has sucked the Type A right out of me!) and Maniacs have enough experience to be cool with whatever amount of time given beforehand. By the time we made it to Bartlett High School for the start, there was a lot of loud, accented yelling…I can tell you exactly where the Northeast TNT chapter was at all times.

With 5 minutes to spare, we lined up for the start with runners representing 48 states and 7 Canadian provinces. With only 1000 or so marathoners, started separately and an hour earlier from the half, the narrow bike path was not an issue. As my roommate had reported 3 years earlier, it was a remarkably beautiful course. Even with the light showers that began around mile 5, Mount Sustina was visible and wildflowers decorated the grass in bright purple and yellow. Weather was perfect- about 60 degrees. The first 7 miles went by swiftly in just under an hour, an average of 8 minutes per mile.

Miles 7-15 were run on the gravel “Tank Trail”, just outside Fort Richardson Army Post. The gravel was exactly as others had described but I felt at an advantage having trained on similar terrain. I knew I would slow and had paced myself to lose about 30 seconds per mile; unfortunately, paired with some pretty relentless uphill sections, 2 stream crossings, and a heavy downpour of rain I slowed to 8:45-9 minute miles. The Ultima sports drink provided on course did not help. Peee-youke.  

I wasn’t physically hurting but admittedly frustrated, thus hurting mentally earlier in the race than usual. The TNT support along the course was especially helpful at these times and they recognized the Maniac jerseys as much as their own purple. I was right on point for a BQ at the half marathon point with a time just under 1 hour 50 minutes. This was also the location for the first sensor mat, which makes sense for keeping track of runners but negates the purpose of having a chip. No sensor mat at the start = no chip time = wish I had started more toward the front!

Even though I was finally in a marathon that allowed headphones, my mp3 broke the week prior and my old backup was giving me issues the night before. This left me with an audio book on player that I purposely treated myself to in the second half: “Diary of a Wimpy Kid: The Last Straw”. Yes, this is the third in a series and I had already been through the other two. Reading levels be darned, it helped charge me up and down the hills and I was holding onto a 8:20ish pace through mile 20, entering the Tony Knowles coastal trail at 2 hours 47 minutes. By this time, it had stopped raining and the hurt had “flipped”: physically, my quads were spent from the hills but mentally I felt great as a result of getting faster in the late miles. I continued to speed up, coming back to an average of 8 minute miles for the final 4.

The largest hill at Mayor’s comes at mile 25.5, connecting with the half marathon where there are a significant number of pack runners. In all my painful glory I charged up this hill, using the Jen Cox mantra “I didn’t train to WALK”. Apparently the halfers had the opposite strategy- as I sped up, they slowed. It looked like they barged in on a race by mistake during their Saturday walk. Instead of empowering me, I sort of felt like an ass. Sort of, but not enough to follow suit.

A lap around the track at West Anchorage High led me to the finish line, where I crossed at a Boston Qualifying time of 3:37:53- gun times only here in Alaska! I was 2nd in my 25-29 age group, beaten by a girl from…wait for it…North Carolina! I was also the 15th female of 384 and part of the small percentage that BQed; however, both stats are somewhat skewed given the higher than normal field of first time TNT runners. Nonetheless, my proudest finish and my 25th state in an effort to do all 50 plus DC.  Would definitely recommend Mayor's to other 50 staters looking for their AK. Pavel approved the medal, too.

Bourbon Chase Overnight Relay

For me, running has always been an individual sport. Sure, I enjoy the camaraderie of sharing the race experience with others, but my success in an event has always been up to one person: ME. The Bourbon Chase, a 200 mile overnight relay from Bardstown to Lexington KY, allowed me to share the challenge and accomplishment with others. My company put together a corporate team consisting of 15 people- 12 runners and 3 van drivers.

With a course that ran through 6 famous bourbon distilleries- Jim Beam, Heaven Hill, Makers Mark, Wild Turkey, Four Roses, and Woodford Reserve- it was bound to be a unique experience. Add to that the fact that none of us really knew each other and we were about to spend 24 hours traveling and sleeping in a van while rotating running segments totaling just under 20 miles each...

John, leg 7: I was actually thankful for the rain. Once I hit that first hill it didn’t matter! I was hurting from there to the check point.

JC, leg 8: Cooperage hill kicked my butt (a little bit). Small detour in town. A bird crapped on my head on the last segment; they said it was good luck- I’m not so sure.

Logan, leg 9: Great time. Love it. Felt wonderful finishing knowing everyone was there waiting.

Suzy, leg 10: Okay, so I didn’t feel “great” the whole time (blame the hills!), but my teammates did make me feel like a rock star at the handoff. It was peaceful to run in the dark.

Tim, leg 11: First leg in full darkness! Was so dazed n’ confused after running that I forgot to pass on the bracelet.

Jen, leg 12: First 2 miles were uphill…a little challenging in the dark. Almost stepped on a dead possum in the road- yuck! Felt good to finally run.

Sundar, master of transportation: It’s a lot of fun being a driver and watching other people running with confidence and pride. It has also helped me to get to know our teammates better.

John, leg 19: I think I should do all my legs on just a couple hours of sleep! Felt good the whole time. Runners bunched together more on this leg, so it gave incentive to try and catch peeps.

JC, leg 20: 5 miles of headwind, but no rain and good road. A green eyed Weimaraner 3 feet from the road. Needed the pants- the time sucked.

Logan, leg 21: Good run, fast for me. 8 miles instead of 5- went the wrong way!

Suzy, leg 22: Went to Wild Turkey instead of Four Roses for the handoff and waited and extra 45ish minutes before realizing the mistake! Spent the next 8 miles wondering how we’d explain this to van #1…we wanted an “adventure”, right?!

Tim, leg 23: Best view of the day for me, but very hilly. The bridge was so high- I would like to see it again.

Jen, leg 24: Beautiful! Got to see horse country and Woodford Reserve. The course was very hilly, but Logan cme with me and we finished strong together.

Logan, leg 31: Last one! My legs and mind were tired. Feels great to be finished…also sad that it isn’t going on until next year.

JC, leg 32: Saw 3 horses being worked out in the Kentucky Bluegrass. Felt great to get a beer and a Blantons! Make reservations for 2010!

John, leg 33: Waffle House was the death of me!!! While I met the goal time, I paid for it on every hill! Still loved it!

Suzy, leg 34: It was nice to see neighborhood spectators along the course. Thought I’d throw up at the end, but I didn’t want to embarrass Logan as he joined me for the final stretch!

Tim, leg 35: Very long rolling hills. It might be awhile before Sir Timothy runs for 36 hours and sleeps in a van…!

Jen, leg 36: The last leg was extended from 6.2 miles to 7.6 miles. I paced myself and finished strong. My knees hurt, but the adrenaline rush was awesome! It felt great to cross the finish line with the whole team!



Although it doesn't count as my Kentucky race (already have that one from Kentucky Derby Marathon 2007), I wanted to share the experience and recommend that everyone put at least one overnight relay on their "running to do list".

Midsouth Marathon



No, seriously- this was the shirt.



The Mid South Marathon in Wynne, Arkansas was a small race with the opportunity to take a shot of my own at pacing a group. Having utilized pacing groups in the past with very positive results (including my first BQ), I was eager to add a new type of experience to my 24th marathon.

I drove the 7 hours to Wynne by myself- Trey and I established long ago that he does not need to be at every race. The marathon isn’t exactly a spectator sport and Wynne isn’t exactly a tourist hotspot. I signed up to pace the 5:15 group- when I ran my first marathon in 2003, I finished in just over 5:15 and this experience was about paying it forward.

It was nice to have the added security of my Garmin, “Amanda” (named for the only training partner I’ve ever had who can keep me consistently on pace), as my running has improved and this was now quite a bit slower than my normal pace. I drove the out and back course to get a feel for turns, terrain, etc. That evening, I not only got a good night of sleep, but it was the first time that I didn't obsess over race strategy!

The entire field consisted of around 300 marathoners and 300 half marathoners gathered at Wynne High School for the start. The race itself was pretty old school with a spray painted line on the road serving as the start and pieces of felt with times printed in iron on letters. About 15 minutes before the start, we did introductions and instructions about running with the group. Our crew had a handful of full marathoners and a good deal of half marathoners, most planning to use the “Galloway method” (run/walk).

Upon the start- not a gun, a megaphoned “GO!”- I lost at least half of the full marathoners. Ironically enough, these were also the runners who (predictably) we would pass in the later miles of the race. It doesn’t matter if you are shooting for 8 minute or 12 minute miles, the same holds true: go out too fast and you'll hit the wall, go out too slow and you won't be able to make up the time later.

Around the 6 mile mark, the temperature was already in the high 70s and (I am guessing) the humidity was over 80%. The weather conditions brought out every ambulance in Cross County…all three of them. The course ran through rural farm country and offered little shade for us, but water stops at every other mile helped us stay cool.

Along with tracking the walk breaks and affirming that it was okay to be human in a marathon on an 80-degree day, our group stayed motivated with good conversation and also discussed advice for recovery and training for the future. We shared stories of training runs, previous races, and told knock knock jokes. One member was running the race in memory of his spouse, who he spent miles describing in both happy and trying times- I was grateful that he shared the memories so willingly.

At the 12 mile marker, we wished our half marathon bunch farewell- they were on target to finish within their desired time range. With only a handful of remaining, we were able to enjoy the intimate camaraderie of running with a small group. The other runners were extremely positive. Since I opted not to bring music on the course (typical dissociation in the late miles), it was refreshing to have conversation and the optimism of the group to pull through.

Around 23, my stomach reacted to all of the Gatorade I had been drinking to stay cool...Gatorade is not usually my drink of choice but I drank it anyway. Rookie mistake- some pacer I am, huh? We were all in various forms of pain by that point and had made a pact that if a negative thought entered your head, you had to say something positive. “I have the yummiest strawberry lip gloss on!”, “We get a medal!”, “My ear lobe feels great!” I’m not sure I’ll ever deal with a negative thought the same way again.

State number 24 was crossed off my list with a pacer time of 5:13:46 for the 5:15 group- not bad for a rookie! On the flip side, I realized how much I savor racing alone- soaking in my surroundings, drifting in and out of conversations with other runners, and strategizing as the race goes on based on how I feel and controlling my own moves versus consulting a group. In 2010, I need to beat my PR in Akron...perhaps I'll use a 3:30 pacer to do it!