A late winter escape to the desert turned out to be just what the Dr. ordered.  It has been a long and difficult season.  Not in terms of weather, which has been fairly mild, but mostly because of the injury I’ve been training through.  I hurt my achilles in early December to the point where I could barely even walk, let alone think about running.  It improved somewhat after a week off, and I got back into building up my mileage.  Although I did have a few setbacks, for the most part running didn’t make it much worse so I continued to train.

I ended up putting in 278 miles in January, which included 5 runs in the 20-30 mile range.  I had trained well, but it took a toll.  The week before this race I was completely broken down.  Spending several days kneeling on concrete while cutting and installing baseboard, plus an overly enthusiastic road ride had left everything from my knees down feeling completely shredded.  To top it off, I tweaked my back and as of Wednesday morning couldn’t stand up straight!  Definitely not the optimal lead up to a fast approaching race.  I came within a millimeter of scrapping the whole trip, but I’m so glad I didn’t.

Thanks to some diligent soaking, stretching, and massage, I started feeling a little better.  I went for an easy run on Thursday, choosing to do a 6 mile course that I had repeated a few times last year.  When I do this run I target a heart rate of 140 – just to see how fast I can go while keeping the effort very light.  I beat my best time from last year by a minute, which was a great indicator that my cardio system was in great shape – if only my legs would hold up.

On the drive out to Moab, I stopped outside of Fruita and did a short run on some singletrack there.  It was great to run on desert trails again, and my optimism started to climb.  I rolled into town, picked up my race packet, and enjoyed a nice dinner and conversation with Kirk and Aspen.  We had a nice time telling stories, and then parted ways – calling it a night fairly early.

I slept well and looked forward to the day ahead.  The race would take place on Valentine’s Day – a day with special meaning to me.  Aside from the obvious reasons, it would be the 5 year mark of when I started my journey of losing weight and getting fit.  I don’t know why I chose Valentines Day in 2004 to begin, most likely because I was taking a mulligan on a failed New Year’s resolution.  There had been a few failures, but this time it stuck.

Moab. Spring 2004. 220 pounds.

Now here I was 5 years later, with bags of trail running gear scattered around the room, getting ready to race 33 miles through the desert and over the slickrock.  Things had come full circle.

Race day dawned ominously with heavy grey clouds that were occasionally spitting snow showers.  Once I finally got out of the car and started mingling around at the start, it wasn’t so bad.  The clouds were starting to break, my legs felt good, and my stoke-meter was pegged at 11.

I gazed up at the top of the cliff looming 1,000 feet directly over our heads, and knew within a short matter of time I would be up in that same spot looking back down on the parked cars at the starting line.  My goal was to go out conservatively, get a sense for how my legs and back were holding up, and take it from there.  I wanted to hit the high point on the rim above within 2 hours.

It was great to meet up with Kirk again, and see Scott, Tim, and Karl before the start.  Everyone looked happy and ready to get the 2009 trail running season underway.  My iPod was locked and loaded, and soon we were off.  I had never before listened to music at the start of the race, and it did a great job of keeping me relaxed and holding me back.  The first song that came on was “Take it Easy” by the Eagles.  Perfect.  I hit repeat on that one for the entire first climb and stayed very mellow.

My heart rate averaged 156 to the first aid station.  I couldn’t believe how relaxed I was.  In most races my HR is above 170 for the first couple of hours.  I was finally sticking to my plan for once…  I had tried slow starts in races before, and had pulled them off, but never while hitting my pace goals.  It’s easy to take it easy – it’s an entirely different story to be able to take it easy and still go ‘fast’.  When I hit the high point on the cliff that I was looking up at before the start, I checked my watch for the first time.  1:35.  Suspicion confirmed.  I was having a good day, and still hadn’t really broken a sweat.

After the second aid station I turned up the effort just ever so slightly.  Oingo Boingo’s “Dead Man’s Party” got the nod and kept me rolling at a nice steady rate until well past the midpoint of the race.  The other runners thinned out dramatically, and I started the day’s major climb up to Gold Bar Rim in complete solitude.  Feeling a little cocky, I decided to run the whole climb.  Ha.  Good one.  I soon realized it would require an effort I might not be able to recover from.  Maybe someday.  Resorting to a fast hike and taking huge strides while my spiderman shoes (aka Fireblades) gripped the rock like nobody’s business, I finally caught sight of several runners way ahead of me.

It took a while, but I reeled them in and tagged on the back of a 6 man group just as we topped out.  The pace immediately quickened and while I was fumbling with my pack a gap opened up.  I ran hard to close it, knowing that the train was leaving the station and I wanted to be on it.  We ran well together, and I was very impressed with how strong everyone looked.  I was watching for weaknesses, but couldn’t spot any.  I decided to bide my time and wait.

Somewhere after the 25 or 26 mile point it happened.  Guys started dropping off.  One by one, including a couple we had caught up with.  Now it was just me and two others.  They were strong.  We took turns leading and keeping the pace up.  While I never felt like I was in difficulty, I wondered if we would/could all keep going like this to the end.  Then I spotted my chance.  I saw a slight hesitation as we were coming out of a sand pit onto a steep wall of slickrock and bolted.  I pushed hard (not just ‘to’ the top, but all the way ‘over’ the top – one of the techniques Karl used to drill into my head) and opened up a decent gap – though from there to the finish, I never looked back.  With 6 miles to go, it was time to start working and see what I had left.

Moab. Spring 2009. 165 pounds.

Feeling strong, but getting tired, I charged up the endless slickrock mounds in eager anticipation of the final drop to the finish line.  There was still plenty of running before I would get to that point.  Leaving the last aid station, and giving my customary and sincere thanks to the volunteers there, I overheard one (who sounded like he hadn’t worked at a race before) saying to the other – “these runners are some of the nicest people!”  That made me smile.

The frequent stretches of sand in this part of the course bogged me down big-time.  Thankfully there weren’t too many.  I was soon on final approach and anticipating the finish.  On a rare stretch of straight dirt road, a large bird flew along my path just ahead of me – and for some reason it triggered thoughts of my youngest daughter.  She’s had some difficult times recently, and her well-being has been on my mind a lot.

Up and away.

I enjoyed hearing Scott’s daughter yell my name at the final turn, and fearing a faceplant if I turned and looked, gave a wave in the air as I ran by.  I hit the finish in 5:19 (20th place out of 180), well under my expected time and with a very moderate 157 average heart rate.  I’ve never had a race where everything came together so nicely.  I beat my goals and didn’t have to kill myself to do it.  Finally, after two years of running, it felt as though my racing matched my training.

Done.

Google Earth view of the course.

B&W photos courtesy of Greg Norrander.

This race is a perfect way to begin the New Year. Yeah, you’re tired – but the 10:00 start time helps a little.  This year the weather was great, and the runners were plentiful.  The course is a hilly one, making it easy to really spike the heart rate.  I worked hard, but felt pretty flat.  I could keep up the effort for a very long time, but I just couldn’t make my legs turn over any faster.  I ended up just treating it as a solid tempo run.  44:04 and 20th place out of 332.

For the second year in a row I got up at 5:15 on a Saturday morning and drove 2 hours to race in the Rock Canyon Half Marathon in Pueblo.  I’m so glad I did.  The Southern Colorado Runners put on such an excellent race.  This year the fee went up to $25, but you get a great sweatshirt, abundant food/drink before and after the race, plentiful water/gatorade stations during the race, and an excellent well marked (and measured) course.  Results are nearly instantaneous, and are posted on the website the same day.  Race photos are posted very quickly as well.  They also start the race at 9:00 to allow those of us driving on race morning a little extra time to get there.  A+!

My race went really well.  I learned my lesson from last year (report) and didn’t dress so warmly this time, just shorts and a long sleeve shirt.  30 degrees at the start, and upper 40s at the finish.  The weather could not have been more perfect.

Last year, I ran 1:41 and finished 52nd OA and 9th in my age group.  This year I knew I could easily get down under 1:40.  The question was how far.  I have been training hard for the past few weeks and didn’t let up prior to the race, so I knew my legs wouldn’t be optimal.  Two weeks ago I did a 20 miler running from home to do a 10 mile trail race (1:12) and then running back, last week I ran a demanding 17 miler on trails (2:31) near my house, then two days later (Monday of this week) did another 18 miles (2:09) in California while there on a business trip.  Lots of medium distance runs were sprinkled in between, but no real speedwork.

My legs felt flat, no spring at all.  Everything else felt great, so I told myself tired legs were no reason to run slow and tried to give it a good push.  It took me about 4 miles to get into a groove, we hit the start of the dirt road/double-track section and I dropped my pace to around 7:00 min/mi and held it there the rest of the way.  Despite being tired, I didn’t ever feel like I was running ragged or about to crack.  I quit looking at the pace on my watch and my heart rate and just ran by feel.  It felt good to run like that.

The course seemed tiny!  I kept recognizing landmarks and thinking – I’m here already?!?  It seemed HUGE last year.  I can’t believe how much having raced before on the same course helped me.  I always knew exactly where I was and what was coming up, which can be tricky on this course because of the dirt, rock, asphalt, and concrete surfaces, loops on both ends, tight and twisty sections, and long straightaways.

I passed a couple of young guys (prob from the academy or Fort Carson) around mile 11 and got a booming “GOOD JOB, SIR!” in unison as I went by.  It made me smile as I thought they had probably been encouraged to say that whenever they got passed; good-natured punishment for being overtaken by an old guy, perhaps?  I told them to hang on and we’d get ‘er done.  They stuck with me for about a mile before dropping off a little.

Almost there!

I had been running hard, but still somewhat comfortably up to this point.  Now I gave it everything and basically turned myself inside-out.  I came across the line and thought I was going to projectile vomit all over everyone!  Good thing that feeling passed quickly.  1:34:10 was the result.  Seven minutes off my time from last year!!  I was so happy to see that.  Especially on junky legs.  I figured I must have been sandbagging last time, but my 178 average heart rate from that race said otherwise.  It had been a good effort.  Today’s average was 175.  Good and steady.

Done!

The crazy thing is, taking 7 minutes off my time in a smallish (500 finishers this year vs. 350 last year) half marathon only moved me up 3 spots.  From 52nd to 49th.  And the exact same result in my age group – 9th.  Only in Colorado!  This area is stacked so deep with fit/fast people it’s ridiculous – in a good way!  I think the nice December weather brought out the speedsters this time around.  The winner’s time was 1:17 for both years.

7 minutes! - or I'm flashing a gang sign to an alien telling him he's a loser...