Palm Springs Half Marathon

I ran the Palm Springs Half Marathon this weekend. It's a great race that I've wanted to run for several years but haven't been able to do so. Last year, I was suffering from a hip-flexor injury and missed the race. This year, I was using this event as a good tune-up race in my training for the Boston Marathon in April.

I didn't have the highest expectations for this race because I kinda overdid it this week in training and didn't taper much at all (82.5 miles; 8x1mile in 6:10 each on Tuesday; 21 miles on Thurs, last 5 @ 6:52 each).

We had perfect weather (50s, overcast which is rare in Palm Springs, no wind) slightly hilly course (see note about course map below). No need for sunscreen or sunglasses. Just a nice cool day for racing.

Race started at 7:00am. When my watch read, 7min 5sec into the race, I realized I was either running pathetically slower than I expected or I had missed the first mile marker.
Fortunately, it was the latter, not the former. (The opening mile marker to me is the most important one to catch to make sure my pace is not too fast or slow.) A person running near me told me their splits at that point.

Here's my splits for the entire race. You can tell where the hills were because I ran a relatively even paced effort and pushed it at the end which has a little bit of uphill also.

Mile 1 - 6:20 (6:20)
Mile 2 - 12:49 (6:29)
Mile 3 - 19:09 (6:20)
Mile 4 - 25:36 (6:26)
Mile 5 - 32:10 (6:34) - starting uphill
Mile 6 - 39:02 (6:52) - climbing
Mile 7 - 45:16 (6:13)
Mile 8 - 51:29 (6:13)
Mile 9 - 57:29 (5:59)
Mile 10 - 1:03:45 (6:16)
Mile 11 - 1:09:55 (6:09)
Mile 12 - 1:16:34 (6:38) - slight climb
Mile 13 - 1:22:57 (6:22)
Finish - 1:23:32 (:35) [6:22 average pace overall]

I must have run a negative split. If I split mile 7 in half (3:07) and add 19sec (.05 @ 6:22 pace), I'm guessing my first/second half splits were 42:28 and 41:04 (in other words, 6 miles + ½ mile + .05). But the climbs were mostly in the first half.


This is a huge PR (personal record) for me. My pace (6:22 per mile) would also be PR's for 10K and 15K since my paces in my PR runs for those distances were 6:33 ten years ago and 6:42 last summer, respectively. I'll be running a 15K and a 10K in a few weeks so hopefully I can reset those PR benchmarks as well.


It's also nice that this race completely resolves my PR dilemma for the half marathon distance. Until 4 weeks ago, I considered my PR Half to be 1:29:31 (San Dieguito Half 2005). I didn't count my 1:26:46 at Fontana Days Half in 2004 since that is an extremely downhill course that I ran only 4 weeks training. On January 20, 2007, I ran 1:25:15 at Diamond Valley Lake Half, but I suspected the course was short and I thought I ran something more like the equivalent of 1:27:40. Today's race supercedes all of those times so it's nice to have that PR situation rectified. BTW, I now suspect that the course at Diamond Valley Lake Half probably was a complete 13.1 miles and that the mile markers were off. Palm Springs is a tougher course than Diamond Valley Lake and I ran 1:45 faster today.

I also couldn't help but think on the way home that I missed qualifying for NYCM by only :32 (or by 8 months... whichever way you want to look at it since I turn 40 in October).

I can honestly say I'm stunned that I ran that fast today. I was hoping to run 1:25 so I'd know I had reasonable chance to attempt running under 3:00 in Boston. I didn't think I was capable of getting to 1:24, yet alone to 1:23. I'm pleased to say the least. It just felt good, all the way to the finish.

I ended up finishing 12th overall (out of 652), but only 4th in my age group (M 35-39).

Happy Chinese New Year everyone (which was Sunday)!

Note: The course map/elevation chart linked above is not completely accurate. There were so many turns on this course that I never could plot it correctly. I'm sure the course was accurate (and not 12.64 miles like my feable attempt at plotting the course is).

Life in Death Valley

Death Valley Trail Marathon
Saturday, February 3, 2007

I like a tough marathon in a scenic locale, especially a national park. Death Valley Trail Marathon is just such a marathon. My last marathon at Crater Lake this past August was also such a race. Gorgeous places to run.

Hottest, driest, and lowest are superlatives often used to describe Death Valley, not exactly the kind of conditions most marathoners desire (except for that “lowest” part). But Death Valley in the winter (which is more akin to summer anywhere else) is a great place to run. The first weekend in February for Death Valley normally averages 70s for the high and 40s for the low, but it has been known to be as high as the 80s or as low as the 20s. This is the desert after all.

Technically, DVTM is a two-state marathon. The point-to-point marathon course is simply all of Titus Canyon Road from start to finish, from east to west. This is a 26-mile, one-way, four-wheel-drive, dirt road from Hwy 374 in Nevada to its termination at Scotty’s Castle Road in California. Roughly, the first 8 miles are in Nevada and the rest in California.

The DVTM route starts at 3,460’ elevation. The highpoint is at Red Pass (mile 12 at 5,250’). From there the road drops nearly a vertical mile over the last 14 miles to a finishing elevation of 200’ (yes, that’s an average grade of nearly -7%). Because the course traverses the narrows of a desert canyon, this event often has to be relocated to another place in the park. This was the first time in four years that the marathon was run through Titus Canyon since the last three years it was moved due to snow, rain, and rock slides from winter storms.

The event sells out rather quickly since space is limited to a few hundred runners by the NPS. Most stay at the Furnace Creek Ranch, which served as HQ for this event. But why stay in a hotel room when you’re in a national park? So I camped in my tent at Furnace Creek campground. I wanted nothing less than the full Death Valley experience. The skies above treated me with a gorgeous full moon and a sweeping array of stars. Of course, I was also giddy from oxygen intoxication since the campground has an elevation of -196’. I can honestly say, I’ve never had a more solid night’s sleep before a race than I did on Friday night in that campground. It only got down to the 40s that night.

Early on Saturday morning, we all assembled for our mandatory check-in and pre-race instructions at Furnace Creek Ranch. This was a most fascinating conglomeration of runners for a race. Trust me when I say, no one was a local runner for this race! Most of the runners were from the Bay area, many of whom wanted to use this event towards points in the EnviroSports series of races which are mostly in NorCal. Others were from Canada, France, Scotland, England, and Italy. I did manage to talk to a few people from SoCal, including the race director of the half marathon I won a couple of weeks ago. Pete was a super nice guy and a strong runner. He and I ran quite a few miles together on Saturday talking about this, that, and the other thing. We finished within a few minutes of each other.

Since this was a trail marathon, there were quite a few ultra-runners in this race. I find it funny that they use a race like this for “speed work” (no kidding, that’s what a lady who often does 100-milers told me on the bus). I learned a lot about this mysterious and enigmatic thing called ultra-running by talking to these people. I find ultra-running to be like some kind of underground cult. They keep a low-key profile out in public for fear of scorn and ostracism, but they infiltrate races like this and single you out on the bus ride to convert you to their subversive movement. They have a subtle way of making us mainstream marathoners feel like we’re less of a runner and missing out on something if we’re not out there doing 50- or 100-milers. I resisted these brainwashing techniques but still left with an inner draw to discover what they had experienced.

RD Dave gave us all our race instructions. He’s a great guy with a great sense of humor. Some of his humorous but helpful comments…

• “You can’t get lost… just stay on the road.” (This was true. There are no side roads for the entire route.)
• “If you want to stop and take pictures, do so. Just let me know afterwards and I’ll deduct it from your time.” (said with laughter because we were wearing chips on our ankles)
• “There’s a false summit on the way to Red Pass. When you get to White Pass (4,900') around mile 8, you’ll think you’re at the top. But then you’ll run downhill a long ways and look way up high and see a #%&@ hill. That’s Red Pass.” (This was true. Those censored words were the thoughts I heard runners express as they first saw Red Pass at 5,250' high above them.)
• “When you exit Titus Canyon, you’ll look out 3 miles ahead and see the buses way in the distance. You’ll run for a while and look up and you’ll swear we moved the buses, but I promise you, we don’t. You’ll run some more and look up and swear again that the buses are even further away now, but I promise you, we don’t move the buses.” (This was true. For the first mile after we left Titus Canyon at mile 23, it seemed like I was making no progress towards those shiny dots in the distance. But eventually we got there.)
• “If you have any complaints, just don’t come back next year!” (said with laughter and a funny story about some runner in the past who expected personal shuttle service at the end of the race. Since this race sells out early, he’s actually halfway serious. But this was a very well run event.)
• "San Diego's Rock-n-Roll Marathon in June may have lots of rock bands, but we got lots of bands of rock!" (This was true. As you can see in some of my photos, the strata in the rock walls was gorgeous.)
• “Since we’re in a national park, let’s start with America the Beautiful instead of the National Anthem.” And we did.

We all then boarded the buses for the ride to the starting line in the Nevada desert. It took nearly an hour to get there.

The buses dropped us marathon runners off in Nevada about 8:30am. All of us were wondering what to wear since it was cold (low 40s with a slight breeze). We also knew we’d be going higher and through a narrow canyon with little sunlight. I’m a minimalist so I only wore a short-sleeved tech shirt, shorts, socks, shoes, and sunglasses. No hat (but I did have on sunscreen), no gloves, no Gu, no food, and no liquids (there would be aid stations at miles 5, 10, 15, 20, and 23). That was a good choice. Nowhere on the course did I ever wish I had something with me.

After the buses dropped us off, RD Dave assembled us marathoners. He called off 3 or 4 names, and then said, “It’s their birthday. Happy Birthday!” Nice touch. He then drew a line in the dirt road with his foot and announced, “Folks, this is your starting line.” And he was serious. “I’m going to drive ahead of you up the road. When you see my brake lights shut off, that’s the start.” And it was. There was no race clock here, but time was kept at the end of the course. There were no mile markers along the way, but that really didn’t matter because our splits on a course like this would be chaotic anyway. It was a rather unceremonious way to start a marathon, but hey, this is the middle of the desert. Dave drove up the road, and we were off.

For the first 7 or 8 miles (who knows how far?), we were running up the straight dirt road with a slight uphill grade (1%??). Everyone is relaxed and taking it easy because of the steep climbs further ahead. I didn’t even look at my watch for 30 minutes because it really didn’t matter what it said since there was nothing by which to gauge our time or distance. Even the mountains ahead didn’t seem to be getting any closer. One lady remarked, “Forget the buses, I think they’re moving the mountains away from us!”

After 7 or 8 miles, the road started getting steeper as it winds its way up to White Pass. We had hit the “5-mile” aid station in 42:45 and the “10-mile” aid station in 1:23:46 (41:01 split). I use those aid station names loosely because we really didn’t know if the aid stations could serve precisely as a correct mileage check.

After the second stop, the road turned steeply downhill as we dropped hundreds of feet that we had just worked so hard to gain. It was quite steep and I couldn’t help but think, I sure hope the downhill on the back half of this course is not this steep. That’ll be painful.

As we were running down hill precipitously, we could look up and see the road to Red Pass high above us. It looked incredibly steep and high. It reminded me of the long, never-ending climb to Cloud Cap Gap at mile 14 (7,900’) at Crater Lake Marathon this past summer. Similar grade, similar view, and similar point in the race.

But as the road turned uphill, I kept an even-paced effort and felt fine. It honestly didn’t feel that steep at all. Without laboring, I ended up separating myself ahead from some of the runners I had been with. I hit Red Pass and threw my hands in the air and yelled, “Yes!” as I could see the downhill road ahead. The climbs were over.

The steepness of the descent was not that bad. I chose to run in the middle of the road. I wanted to use the soft dirt in the crown of the road between the tire marks as extra cushioning for my body. It would be a long but beautiful 14-mile descent.

The upper part of the canyon had beautiful red rock features. Around mile 15, we passed the ghost town of Leadfield. It had been deserted in the 1920s. After a while, we came across some petroglyphs carved onto rocks centuries ago by Native Americans. No time to stop and explore these sights though.

Somewhere after that (who knows how many miles into the race), the canyon closes in and becomes a narrow passage through tall cavernous walls of rock. This goes on for miles and miles. The walls of Titus Canyon are hundreds of feet high, and much of the road is wide enough for only a single car. The walls somewhat reminded me of the Virgin River gorge on I-15 in northern Arizona. Titus Canyon was carved by water which was evident at bends in the road where flash floods had cut caves into the rock walls.

As we were running, I couldn’t help but think. What an incredibly awesome place to run. How few people who come to Death Valley get to experience Titus Canyon. What a perfect day. Sunny skies, cool air, slight breeze, no cares or worries in the world. Just run baby run! And oh was it fun!

After running 20+ miles, I kept wondering, When are we going to exit the canyon and see those buses? I came upon bend after bend after bend in the road, but no exit. I had been running by myself for miles and miles now. I occasionally passed some stragglers from the 30K race, but basically I had the whole canyon to myself.

Finally, I saw sunlight and the canyon opened up into full view of Death Valley. I grabbed my last gulps of water and Gatorade for the closing 3 miles of the race. And down the road we went. The road had not been too steep. My pace had been nice and consistent throughout the descent. My breathing remained light and easy and my HR relatively low. I was relieved to have made it through this race with no cramps, aches or pains.

I descended into the finish line with a time of 3:35:41 (19th overall out of 241). That’s a bit faster than I had planned to run, but I could also tell that I had not overdone it. I still had plenty of gas in the tank to go harder or farther if I had wanted. A volunteer at the end put a finisher’s medal around my neck and commented, “Wow, you’re not even sweaty.”

I had done what I wanted… enjoy this beautiful race and use it as a good training run for Boston (without setting back my training or hurting myself in the process). Mission accomplished. And BTW, yes, like most folks on Saturday, I had run a negative split (my splits for 12 miles and the last 14.2 were 1:50:12 and 1:45:28).

Overall, it was a tough course, certainly not an easy one. But it wasn’t terribly intimidating to me because Crater Lake was tougher (much higher in altitude) and I wasn’t trying to push the pace today. It just felt sooooo good.

I’m really hooked on these tough, off-road, scenic marathons. To go out and experience the beauty of a place like Titus Canyon by running free-spirited and carefree down the road is one of the great pleasures of life. Just take off your watch, open your eyes, and run a marathon like this for the scenery and beauty. It’s an experience for the memory books.

Here’s my photos of Titus Canyon and my visit to Death Valley National Park. (Note: the first 14 photos of the canyon are not mine, and I have cited the source in the description. The last 12 pictures are mine.)

Here's my race photos from Brightroom. You can tell I was having a little too much fun!

Diamond Valley Lake Half Marathon

Diamond Valley Lake near Hemet (near the base of the San Jacinto mtns) is the largest water reservoir in SoCal. The two earthen dams (each nearly 2 miles long) were built from 1996-99. It took until 2002 for water to fill the reservoir. For comparison, DV Lake is a little larger than Lake Havasu on the Colorado River.

On September 4, 2001, I signed up to run the inaugural marathon around the lake scheduled for November of that year. This looked to be a fun event because it was the closest marathon to my house (only about 25 miles away). Little did I know but one week later the world as we then knew it changed irreparably. The race was cancelled due to security concerns for drinking water.

This is the first chance I've had to run any of the races at Diamond Valley Lake. I ran the Half Marathon on Saturday morning (January 20, 2007). It's a great course, mostly flat, dirt road around part of the lake (only a few slight hills). It's out-and-back for the half (circle the lake for the full marathon). Small crowd (120+?) for the half. I wasn’t sure what to expect since this was my first time to run any of the races there (they also have a marathon and 5K). Weather was perfect (40s, sunny, slight breeze). Since this race is so close to our house, I really wanted to run this race even though I knew there would be only a small crowd. I didn’t even have to leave the house until 7am which is normally when I’m finishing my daily run!

At the starting line, I was looking around to see with whom I might be running. I could tell there weren’t a lot of faster people in the race because there was plenty of room near the starting line (most of the crowd was about 10’ back from it as if to indicate they had no plans to lead the race). No Kenyans either.

I asked one guy on the starting line what he hoped to run. He said under 1:40. He asked me. I said just under 1:30 (my actual goal was 1:28:25 or 6:45 pace, but based on my recent 6-mile tempo runs I honestly wasn’t sure if I could hold that pace for that long).

The race started and two guys shot off ahead of me and 1:40 guy. After about a half mile, we caught up to them. I was hoping they were shooting for the same time so we could pace together. I asked them what time they hoped to run. They said, “Two hours” (which is about 9:00 per mile pace). I thought, What the heck are you doing out here in front running 6-minute miles? But I didn’t saying anything. Me and 1:40 guy dropped them by the first mile.

Mile 1 – 6:22. Oops, too fast. 1:40 guy is still with me. It’s just me and him, and I can’t help but wonder, can he hold this pace or was he just sand-bagging when he said 1:40.

Mile 2 – 6:43. That’s better. 1:40 guy is still with me. It's just the two of us. The course is beautiful. A winding dirt road surrounding the lake. What a beautiful day.

Mile 3 – 6:42. Nice pace. Feeling good.

Mile 4 – 6:45. This is going great so far. I think to myself, “My 15K PR last summer was at 6:42 pace. I sure hope I don’t crash around 9 miles… but so far, so good.”

Mile 5 – 6:46. 1:40 guy starts to drop back a bit.

Mile 6 – 6:24. A little fast but it had a slight drop down to the west dam of the lake and then flat pavement for nearly a mile across it. 1:40 guy starts dropping further back.

Turn-around – I didn’t hit the split on my watch because of a Gatorade station at that point. Made a mental note: 41:52. The turn-around seems to be too early for being 6.5 miles. (Note: there was an extra .1 mile spur beyond the start line at the end of the course so the turn around should have been exactly at 6.5 miles.)

Mile 7 – 4:19. Yep, that mile marker is way off. Even Ryan Hall didn’t run a 4:19 mile when he ran a new American record for the half marathon last weekend in Houston!

Mile 8 – 6:28. Back on track. Good mile. I can’t help but see that split and think, wow, that’s 40-minute 10K pace… this from a guy who’s never run a sub-40 10K in his life. So far so good.

Mile 9 - ? Split is messed up. Something like 7:28. There is no way that I ran that slow for that mile because my pace and effort hasn’t changed much at all. I didn’t even hit the split timer on my watch because I knew it was off.

Miles 10.0 to 13.1 – I don’t even bother hitting the splits on my watch. I should have just so I could gauge my pace better. I ran 34:46 from MM8 to the finish (6:49 pace per mile). That seems accurate for those 5.1 miles.

Meanwhile, back to the race itself. After the turn-around, I meet 1:40 guy about 30sec behind me. I then pass a teenager another minute or so behind him. He’s looking strong. He’s tall and has long legs. I know if I fade, teenager guy will probably catch me and win the race.

I’m far enough ahead that I can spot the runners behind me only when I come around some of the bends of the lake. I estimate that I’ve still got 1:30 to 2:00 on teenager guy. 1:40 guy has faded to third, a couple of minutes behind teenager guy.

It’s fun being out in front. I’m just not used to it though. All the runners coming the opposite way cheer me on. There’s no one with me. No race vehicle, no race director on a bike. Just me and the breeze… my own personal time-trial.

I come around the final bend, turn the corner, and go down through the chute. 1:25:15. Overall winner. Nice. Teenager-guy (actually a XC runner from Hemet High) finishes in 1:26:56. 1:40 guy finishes in 1:30:05. Great runs for both of them. They both are nice guys and I got to talk to them some after the race.

1:25:15 would be a new PR (personal record) for me for a half marathon. But I’m 99% sure the course was short at the turn-around. Based on my splits, I think I ran the equivalent of a 1:27:40 on an accurate course (if I add about 2:25 to that 7th mile; 4:19 + 2:25 = 6:44 which was about the pace I was running). I’ll know for sure when I run the Palm Springs Half in a few weeks. I have a feeling that it will be painfully clear that I didn’t run 1:25:15 on an accurate course. But hopefully, this is still a good indication of my fitness level for the Boston Marathon in April. [Correction: after talking with the RD, I now realize the course was a full 13.1 miles as it was supposed to be, but some of the opening mile markers were too long which resulted in mile 7 at the turn-around appearing way too short.]

Sorry for such a long story. I'm just not used to winning races, even small ones in obscure corners of our world. BTW, for winning, I got a plaque with a wooly mammoth statue on it (not exactly sure the significance of that… maybe an indication I need to shave?) and a gift certificate for a pizza. Mmmm. I look forward to that.

Nameless's charge up Baldy

I got up at 5am this morning to drive over to Mt Baldy for the 41st annual Labor Day Run-to-the-Top of Mt Baldy. It's an 8-mile race up 4000' to the peak of Baldy (10,064', the highest point in the San Gabriel mtns overlooking Los Angeles). Before I left, I read the tragic news that Australian crocodile-hunter Steve Irwin had died tragically from a sting-ray barb. I was sorry to hear that because he seemed like a good-natured, fun-loving guy and he seemed to do a great job emphasizing environmental issues.

On to Baldy. This is one brutal race... a death march into the sky... an average 10% grade all the way to the top. It's a tough race but it's a blast.

The race starts at the parking lot for the Baldy Ski Lift. You run downhill on pavement at a 15% grade (no exaggeration, that's what the street sign warns) for about a quarter mile, then it's all uphill. The first 4 miles are on fire roads to the top of the ski lift. The last 4 miles are up the "Devil's backbone" trail to the top.

I last ran this race in 2003 (2 weeks after running Pikes Peak Marathon). Then I ran 1:33:37. Two goals for me today: set a new PCR (personal course record) and go sub-1:30.

The race went well. The downhill pavement part was painful. I ran nearly every step of the 4 miles up the fire road (unlike in 2003 when I had to power hike some of that). There are three aid stations along the way, at miles 2, 4, 6 (although I'm not sure these are precise... but who really cares anyway on a brutal course like this). I hit aid stations in 18:57; 38:14 (19:16 for those 2 miles); 58:17 (20:02 for those 2 miles). At that point I thought I pretty much had sub-1:30 in the bag. All I needed was to run 31:42 on the last 2 miles. The problem is that the last mile is the steepest and in the thinnest air.

I held my own with the runners near me. There was a group of about 10 of us that were hanging somewhat close together. We all probably finished within a minute or two of each other. Unfortunately, that last section was just too brutal. I pushed the pace the best I could as I power-hiked up (no one was running at this point... at least as far as I could see). I was passing rocks and trees like they were standing still. My HR was absolutely racing. I finished in 1:32:31... just 20 or so seconds behind the female winner.

It took quite a while for my HR to somewhat normalize on top. I sat on top and cooled off, ate some orange slices, and drank some water. I met one of my running friends on top. She did awesome... probably top 5 finish for the women. Then she and I ran the 4 miles back down to the ski lift. We were supposed to take the ski lift back down to the parking lot... but why do that when you can run? So I ran the last 4 miles back down for a 16-mile workout (including 2 wrong turns on the way down... argh!).

Overall, another good run up Baldy. We had good weather. Not too much wind, but it was a bit sunny. I was disappointed that I didn't get under 1:30, but at least I set a new PCR for me. I haven't seen the results yet since I ran back down instead of waiting for them to be posted. I'll have to check them out online. Evidently, I finished 49th overall (#48 for the guys... they accidentally omitted #21). At least, I was in the top 10% of the 532 runners, but I still missed getting under 90 minutes. Oh well.

Oh, BTW, the reason I'm now nameless is because that mountain was kicking tail and taking names. It kicked mine and took my name.

Oregon: "I'm pretty tired. I think I'll go home now."

Crater Lake Marathon

Crater Lake is one amazing place. Just to visit the park is worth the trip. As a runner, it’s even better to have Rim Drive all to yourself and experience it on foot.

I normally don’t fly out of town to run a marathon. My decision to run the Crater Lake Marathon was mostly due to my left hip flexor, my cheapskate mentality, and my love of tough, scenic marathons. My injured hip flexor kept me out of the Boston Marathon this year, and I’m just too frugal to let that unused airline ticket go to waste. So Crater Lake here I come.

The Park and the Event

This was my first trip to Oregon… and I loved every minute of it. I found Oregon to be a very friendly state... they wouldn't even let me get out of the car to pump my own gas!

Some quick facts…

• Crater Lake (surface elevation 6,178’) is in the caldera of Mount Mazama which collapsed in on itself roughly 7000-8000 years ago from an original height of ca. 11,000’.
• The rim varies in altitude between 7,000’ to 8,929’ (Mount Scott)
• Crater Lake is the deepest lake in the U.S. (ca. 1,950’ at its deepest), and the seventh deepest in the world.
• The park is the fifth oldest national park in the U.S.
• This is one of the few marathons run entirely in a national park.
• The altitude of the course ranges from 5,980’ to 7,850’.
• The marathon was mostly on paved roads (not trails) circling the lake (or about 2/3rds of 33-mile Rim Drive). A small part of it was on a dirt road, including a lovely 2-mile long, 500’-high hill around mile 22.
• All 3 races start at the same time and place ("The Watchman"). Most of the great views of the lake itself are on the first half of the course when you’re relaxed and can soak it all (before the last half which requires more focus and grit).

Here’s the elevation profile (although this plot is off at the end):
Miles 0.0-14.5
Miles 14.5-26.2

My Goals and Strategy

I didn’t say a lot about my goal for this marathon in advance. I knew most marathoners ran about 20-40 minutes slower here at Crater Lake than at their PR’s. I hoped to run 3:30, but I knew that would be a stretch since I don’t live at altitude. Anything under 4:00 would be a good effort and a tough run. Even as I talked to Brian (aka Gearshift/Ridgeliner from the RW/RT online marathon forums) as we ran the first 3 miles together (he was doing the 13-mile race), I pretty much conceded 3:30 was not doable for me and I should expect something more like 3:40-3:55.

In advance, I knew there were three significant uphill sections (among many other shorter ones) that I’d have to watch out for:

• The small one = miles 2.0 to 3.0 (going up about 200’ non-stop)
• The long one = miles 9.6 to 14.5 (going up 1100’ from 6718’ to 7850’)
• The brutal one = miles 22.3 to 24.5 (going up 470’)

When I drove the course and saw these climbs for myself on Friday, they really scared me. The long one was relentless. After going up about 2 miles, you can look up and see the road going to Cloud Cap still high above you and know that’s where you’ve still got to go. But after 14.5 miles, there’s a long stretch of downhill until you reach Lost Creek Camp around mile 22.

I decided the best strategy would be to hold back and make it to the top of Cloud Cap (7850’, the highest point on the course) at mile 14.5 without overdoing it. Then if I felt good, I could start pushing the pace more on the way to Lost Creek. I figured maybe I could run around 8:30-9:00 on the uphills and 7:30s on the downhills. Maybe.

Race Day

Cold (low 40s?) and breezy at the start, but it could have been much worse (and it was much windier when I went to the rim at sunrise on Sunday, the day after the race). All of us huddled wherever we could get out of the wind.

BTW, I think a few of the mile markers were misplaced. Mile 13 and 26 seemed too short which makes me think mile markers at 12 and 25 were too long.

• Mile 1 – 7:45 (7:45) – good first mile; mix of uphill and downhill.
• Mile 2 – 7:03 (14:48) – mostly downhill
• Mile 3 – 8:01 (22:50) – mostly uphill
• Mile 4 – 6:58 (29:48) – downhill. I can see Cloud Cap across the lake. Holy freakin’ cow, I’ve got to run over there? …and that’s only halfway?
• Mile 5 – 6:55 (36:44) – downhill
• Mile 6 – 7:10 (43:54) – downhill
• Mile 7 – 8:16 (52:11) – some brief uphill mixed in
• Mile 8 – 7:25 (59:36) – mostly downhill
• Mile 9 – 7:46 (1:07:22)
• Mile 10 – 8:53 (1:16:16) – starting the big climb to Cloud Cap. I have over 4:38 in the bank towards a sub-3:30. Get ready to give quite a bit of that back.
• Mile 11 – 9:24 (1:25:41) – steep uphill at the start of this long 4-mile climb
• Mile 12 – 9:35 (1:35:17) – still climbing. Going slow but gradually passing people.
• Mile 13 – 6:49 (1:42:06) – MM must be misplaced because I didn’t run that fast on this uphill mile. End of the 13-mile race. No one but us marathoners on the road now.
• Mile 14 – 8:35 (1:50:42) –This is an out-and-back spur and I realize I’m in 7th place overall.
• Mile 15 – 7:50 (1:58:32) – going up to the highest point of the course and starting back down
• Mile 16 – 6:54 (2:05:27) – Hello downhill!!!!
• Mile 17 – 7:20 (2:12:47) – This is fun! Wow what views of southern Oregon!
• Mile 18 – 7:04 (2:19:51) – Weeeeeee! Pass runner #6. I’m now in 6th.
• Mile 19 – 7:14 (2:27:05) – Good bye, lake. Turn down towards Lost Creek.
• Mile 20 – 6:31 (2:33:36) – Weeeeeee! Long long straightaways. I’m catching up on the 5th place runner (1st female). I’m on her heels. Uh oh, hello sidecramp. Oops, overdoing it a bit.
• Mile 21 – 7:58 (2:41:35) – Ok, walk out the cramp, pick it back up, I haven’t ruined my race. I’ve got nearly 7 minutes in the bank towards 3:30.
• Mile 22 – 7:23 (2:48:58) – Ok, get ready for the long steep climbs. I’ve got 7 minutes in the bank. If I can just manage 11:30 miles on the steep 2-mile hill, I can get 3:30.
• Mile 23 – 7:19 (2:56:18) – get ready for the climbs
• Mile 24 – 12:46 (3:08:05) – This is brutal. Walk, run, walk, run, walk, run, walk, run. Hopefully, no one else is catching up on me. I can’t imagine others are doing much better on this hill.
• Mile 25 – 12:15 (3:20:21) – When will this end? So much for 3:30. Starting downhill. Ouch, calf is cramping and locking up. Ignore the pain. Run baby run!
• Mile 26 – 5:35 (3:25:56) – What the heck? MM 24 must have been out of place. I didn’t think I ran 12 minutes for mile 25 which partially downhill and I certainly didn’t run sub-6 for mile 26, even with the downhill.
• Finish in 3:27:02 – Turn the corner, wow, there’s the line. Yes! Mission accomplished! Wow, 6th overall out of 116 marathoners. I wasn’t expecting that high of a placing. 2nd in AG (1st was the overall winner).

Reflections

What a great event. This is definitely my kind of marathon. It’s a tough course, but very doable if you don’t obsess about your finish time.

It felt like a pretty even effort for me despite the course (splits in 1:42:51; 1:44:11). I don’t think I could have done anything much differently to finish any faster. I felt like I ran a PR on a non-PR course. I’m finally learning to be patient in the opening half of a marathon… and it felt so good to finish strong. Believe it or not, that last climb was a strong effort.

That last 2-mile hill was brutal and ugly. I had heard horror stories about it in advance. Even past champions admittted they slogged it out by having to walk some and give back some time. Most everyone of the top finishers I met admitted they had to walk some or at least jog with tiny steps. What a tough way to finish a marathon. But no complaints here. If I wanted to do something easy, I wouldn’t be running marathons.

Weather was perfect. Cold at the start but only 60s and sunny at the finish. Breezy at times, but not too much wind at all for being so high up.

Aftermath

Sitting in the mountain creek afterward felt soooooo good on my legs. We all relaxed and chatted at the finish line for quite a long time waiting to ride a bus back to our cars.

Why not eat lunch on Mount Scott (8,928’), the highest point in the park? I changed clothes, drove over to the TH, packed up my camelbak and headed up the trail. It’s only 2.5 miles to the top (and only 1300’ elevation gain). I didn’t push the pace and was on top in 40 minutes. Wow, what great views from on top. I can easily spot most of the marathon course and volcanic peaks in all directions. I can even spot Mt Shasta over 100 miles away in California. I’ve gotta come back and hike a bunch of these peaks, especially nearby Mt Thielsen (the "lightning rod of the Cascades"). What a great day!

Here's a couple of newspaper articles about this year's marathon: Klamath Falls Herald and News and Southern Oregon's Mail Tribune. Here's the official race results. At first, they incorrectly listed my time at 3:37:02 instead of 3:27:02 which is obvious by the times listed by those who finished behind me, but after several weeks the race officials corrected it. [Note: it took another 6 months to get marathonguide.com which had picked up the initial typo to correct their results so that I'm now correctly listed as 3:27:02.]

Here's my race photo which caught me mid-stride with quite a goofy-looking smile.

In 3 days time, I got to see over 700 miles of Oregon and what a beautiful state it is. I drove most of these miles on Sunday since I had a late flight and I was too sore to do anything else. (Just getting in/out of the car was painful!)

Friday, I drove down from Eugene on Hwy 58 and 97 to the north entrance of Crater Lake National Park. After driving most of the marathon course, drove 60 miles south to Klamath Falls to spend the night there (the park campgrounds were already full). K-Falls (as the locals call it) is a great little city on a Klamath Lake. Beautiful wide open farm land stretches for miles and miles with picturesque mountains as the boundaries to these lowlands.

Saturday, after the marathon and hike up Mt Scott, I camped in my new tent in the park at Mazama Campground. I was asleep by 9:30.

Sunday, I woke early (before my alarm... and sunrise). I went ahead and packed up and pulled out at 5:00am. I drove up to the rim and photographed Crater Lake with warm purples, oranges, and pinks of the pre-dawn light. I then drove Hwy 138 to Roseburg and Hwy 42 to Coos Bay on the coast (famous at the hometown of Steve Prefontaine). From there, I drove roughly 100 miles up US101 along the Oregon Coast. Absolutely beautiful scenery... morning fog, sea lions, rocky beaches, lighthouses, picturesque bridges, quaint towns, etc. After lunch in Newport, I drove through Corvallis and on up to Salem to see the capitol.

On the flight home, I had a window seat and easily spotted Three Sisters, Mt Thielsen, and Crater Lake. The pilot even treated us to a nice close up of Crater Lake by waiting to make his left bend turn until we directly over the lake so we were looking right down on it. It was really incredible to see an aerial view of the whole marathon course.

I saw quite a few interesting sights on my trip:

• The pinnacles at Crater Lake which are tall (100'?) narrow spires formed by lava vents that fossilized.
• The volcanic peaks of the Cascades are spectacular. Mt Thielsen (the "lightning rod of the Cascades") is very noteworthy since it sticks up like a rocky horn in a sea of trees. Mt Mcloughlin is a beautiful snow-covered cone peak south of Crater Lake. Three sisters are very impressive.
• The canoes, kayaks, rafts, and fly-fishermen in the innumerable rivers, streams, and creeks of Oregon.
• All the great bike paths in Oregon. There's an extended designated bike path that goes along US101 up the coast. Quite a few cyclists on extended rides since they were carrying saddlebags and extra gear. Oregon is a very cycling-friendly state.
• The juggling unicyclist in Corvallis. No kidding. On a paved bike path off the road, some guy was juggling 3 basketballs (sometimes by tossing, other times by bouncing them) while going down the path on his unicycle. It was such a sight, I almost wrecked the rental car watching him.
• The bull that was standing in the middle of Hwy 42 early on Sunday morning. Evidently, he had escaped his fence and a big RV was patiently waiting for the bull to move so he could drive on. They were having a motionless stare-down when I came up on them. Pretty funny to see.

This is a beautiful state. I regret that it took me 38 years before I ever visited it. I've definitely got to come back with my wife and kids so we can experience this state on a more extended trip.

On Sunday night as the pilot leveled the plane and we departed from over Crater Lake, I remembered the words of another adventurous long-distance runner, "I'm pretty tired. I think I'll go home now."

A Great Time at "the Y"

This is the fourth time in seven years (2000, 2002, 2004, 2006) that we have camped with family friends for a week in Yosemite at Housekeeping Camp in the valley along the Merced River. Housekeeping is a group of canvas cabins with only a few amenities such as electricity and beds. It's a step up from tent-camping without the unnecessary expenses of staying in a park hotel. IMHO, the rustic lifestyle of Housekeeping Camp (complete with campfires, easy access to the river, and close proximity to camping friends) is the best way for a family to fully experience Yosemite.

This year was our largest group yet: 9 families comprised of 16 adults, 6 teenagers, and 18 younger children. There’s never a dull moment with this group of campers. The workload is much easier also because we divide up the evening meals so that each family is responsible to cook for the entire group for only one night. That frees up our time so we don’t spend all our time cooking and cleaning every afternoon and evening.

As our kids have gotten older through the years, we’ve been able to do more and more activities. When they were 3, 2, and 1 in ages, we basically drove around, took small short walks, and hiked/biked them in kiddie carriers. They could do some easy things like throw stones in the river, cook/burn marshmallows, and swim in Mirror Lake. Now that they’re 9, 8, and 7, they’re big enough to do some more serious activities.

Here’s some highlights of this year’s trip.

Sunday
We drove 350 miles from Riverside to Yosemite via Pasadena, Bakersfield, and Fresno and then set up camp.

Monday
All five of us hiked 1½ miles up the “Mist Trail” to the top of Vernal Falls. This is a great hike because it has great views of the falls and you have an extended section through the mist in which you emerge soaking wet. At the top, you are looking down over 300’ to where the water crashes below.

At this point, the girls wanted to head back to camp so Mary Ann took them on back. But Andrew (7yo) was eager to go 2 miles further up the trail to the top of Nevada Falls. I was more than happy to go with him since I’ve been waiting for the day when he was big enough to ask me to go hiking with him. Andrew and I were joined with Dan and Nathanael (age 6) on the hike to the top.

Nevada Falls was gushing with full power from the melting mountain snow. Nevada Falls is the next falls upstream on the Merced River and nearly twice the height (594’) of Vernal Falls. We made it to the top and played safely in the water at the edge of quiet pool. Someone upstream rather unfortunately knocked a backpack into the river and it quickly went over the falls. We found out later it was carrying everything this poor hiker had, including money, credit cards, camera, and car keys. But the pack was in dangerous waters and it would have been foolish to try to get it.

On the way home, the four of us decided to take the scenic route down the John Muir Trail, making it a 7-mile loop that we completed. The John Muir Trail below Nevada Falls has wonderful sweeping views of the upper Merced River valley.

Tuesday
Thirteen of us met at 6:00am to attempt to summit Half Dome. Half Dome is one of the great classic hikes of all the National Parks. Even though the elevation is not terribly high (8,843’) compared to other peaks in this and other parks, the 4000’ drop-off from the top (including a 2000’ vertical face) is breathtaking. This 16-mile roundtrip hike is a strenuous hike and requires carrying a good bit of water and food.

As we headed up the trail to Vernal Falls, we soon divided up into three groups of 5, 3, and 5 based on our pace. Our group of five was ahead as we proceeded on up to Nevada Falls, on through Little Yosemite Valley, and up to the “staircase” which leads to the infamous cables.

The cables on Half Dome are a nerve-racking experience, but unless you’re a technical climber, every person who has ever summitted Half Dome has gone up them. Essentially, the cables are a set of 1” steel cables about a yard apart that are secured with metal poles into the side of Half Dome for the final 500’ of the ascent. Basically, the cables turn a class-5 climb into a class-3 scramble up the side of the dome.

The cables are my least favorite part of this hike because there is nothing to secure you into place other than your hands on the cables and your feet on the boards between the poles as you ascend this 45-50° slope. The rock beneath your feet is worn slick from the thousands of hikers who have climbed this route over the years. The cables are also tricky because on busy days there are lines of people ascending and descending on the same cables and at different speeds. It’s a serious workout for both the upper and lower body and a big relief to finally get up on top.

The five of us made it up to the top together. We peeked over the edge to look at the valley 4000’ below. It’s amazing how large the top of Half Dome is. Five or six football fields could easily fit on top of it. I had brought a kite along hoping to fly it on top for my kids to see from the valley below. Unfortunately, the chaotic and sporadic winds thwarted all my attempts to get it in the air.

We all relaxed, took pictures, and ate our lunches basking in the warm sunshine in the cool mountain air. The quote of the day was from Ryan, one of the teenagers in our group: “All this work, for only half a peak. Next time I want to climb a whole peak!”

As we started to descend the cables, we were thrilled to pass two more from our camp who were near the top of the cables. Unfortunately, since we were all on the cables together, we didn’t get a chance for much conversation, other than Ryan announcing loudly to his dad, “You owe me a hundred bucks” (since he had bet him he wouldn’t make it to the top). Everyone on the cables got a good laugh from that.

After we exited the cables, we descended the trail rather rapidly. Halfway down the Mist Trail, we met up with four others from our group who had made it to within 2.5 miles of the top before they turned back realizing they wouldn’t have enough daylight to complete the hike. All in all, 7 out of our initial 13 made it to the top and another 4 made it over two-thirds the way.

It was another great hike to the top, despite my dread of the cables. This was the peak that got me hooked on hiking four years ago (2002). I must admit I had forgotten how much I hate those cables until I got there. I was never more glad to get that part of the hike behind me.

When we got back to camp, I found that Mary Ann and the kids had spent much of the day at the base of Yosemite Falls. They along with a large group from camp had a blast playing for hours on the boulders and in the water.

Wednesday
This was the day for our group picture at Glacier Point (7,200’) overlooking the valley 3000’ below. Everyone drove to the top… except for me. Why drive when you can hike? I was eager to see if I could better my time on Four-Mile Trail to the top from two years ago. “Four-mile” Trail is actually a misnomer because the distance is variously posted as 4.0, 4.3, 4.6, and 4.8 miles on different maps and signs. All I know is that it’s one steep hike up 3,000+’ and 59 switchbacks (I counted them).

I biked over to the trailhead and started my charge up the trail at 10:10am. I knew I would have to push it to beat the others who were driving to the top. I had no backpack to slow me down since I was carrying only a single water bottle on the way up. I was pushing the pace on the lower parts as I would alternate running a switchback and then power-hiking the next one.

I could easily gauge my progress by looking across the valley at Yosemite Falls and see how high up I was in relation to it. I was trying hard to see if I could conquer this trail in under an hour. I pushed the pace and passed quite a few people on the way up. I hit the pavement at the top in 1:06:09. I wasn’t able to get under an hour, but I was very satisfied with a big PWR (personal world record) for me on this trail.

I ended up having to wait 40 minutes for the first of the cars from camp to arrive. It was kind of nice though because it gave me a chance to cool off in the shade and then warm back up in the sun. The others soon arrived and we had our collective group picture there, the fourth time we’ve done that through the years. It was pretty funny trying to get 40 of us together for a picture, especially since everyone wanted a shot with their own camera (which is really unnecessary since they were all digital).

After eating lunch, Mary Ann headed 8 miles down the Panorama View Trail with four other friends to the valley below. Now that’s a trail I’ve yet to hike. She got some great views of Illilouette Falls, which I’ve only seen from far in the distance. I was happy to drive the kids back to camp so she could stretch her legs on one of these great Yosemite trails.

Thursday
Since I had done a considerable amount of hiking over the past three days, I was happy to take it easy for a day. All five of us went rafting on the Merced River. That was a relaxing float. We beached on one of the sandy bends in the river so we could get out, play in the water, and skip some rocks.

Later that afternoon, we all five went for a bike ride up to the Happy Isles Visitor Center. The girls wanted to head back to camp so I went with them. Mary Ann and Andrew then continued on biking for quite a few more miles.

Friday
This past Spring, there was a large rock slide on Hwy 140 about 5 miles below the town of El Portal just outside the western gate to the park. The rock slide was so massive that the road has been closed indefinitely. The reports I have heard said that the mound of rubble is 300’ high and 600’ long. Basically, the pile is so huge that you would expect there to be a tunnel if you came upon it unknowingly. The only solution for opening access again is to build a bridge across the Merced River and allow traffic to use a service road on the other side. Eventually, a second bridge will be built so that Hwy 140 will cross the river twice in a short distance to bypass the unstable pile of rock.

On Wednesday, I talked with a cyclist who had biked down to see the rock slide the day before. He said it was a great ride because there was virtually no traffic on the road in that direction (surprise, surprise). I was very interested in biking down there to see this rock pile for myself. Mary Ann was taking the kids over to the base of Bridal Veil Falls that day with a large group from our camp.

I started about 9:40am. I figured it would take me about 2½ hours to do this 45-mile bike ride. As I was leaving the valley and descending towards El Portal, I quickly realized it might take longer to get back to camp. The road was a steep descent (three sections were posted with signs warning of 8% grades) and I went flying down the smooth pavement hitting speeds between 35-38mph with little effort at all. It was a fun descent because I had the road all to myself.

After biking 20 miles, I came to a sign that closed the road to vehicles. I went a couple of miles further to Indian Flats where I encountered another sign at the Merced River bridge that closed the road to all pedestrians and cyclists. I was disappointed to find this sign because I knew the rock slide was probably just a ¼ mile around the next bend. No one was around and I thought about going just a tad further to see the huge slide for myself, after all I had biked quite a long ways to see it. But I decided to turn around and head back. It is an active rock slide and I’m sure the road crews would not appreciate someone disobeying their clear instructions.

Disappointedly, I turned around and headed back up Hwy 140. Funny how I wasn’t flying across the pavement as effortlessly as I was a few minutes ago! I biked back into El Portal and topped off my water bottles for the long ascent back to Yosemite Valley. My bike computer indicated it would be a 2500’ ascent, not a 1400’ ascent as I had anticipated. My legs responded better than I expected on the long climbs up the road. Few cars passed me on the way back up, but that was due to the lack of traffic, not my scorching speed. The only thing scorching about my ride at that point was my tires rolling over the hot pavement in the 90º heat!

It felt great when I had made it back to the valley. Soon I was zipping along hitting speeds of 25-27mph on the gentle roads on the valley floor. I was very pleased to have completed the round trip in only 2:43 (16.7 mph) since it ended up being a much steeper ascent than I anticipated.

When I got back to camp, I found that Mary Ann and the kids were still playing over at the base of Bridal Veil Falls. I wish I had known that because I had just biked past there a few minutes earlier. I didn't stop at that time because I assumed they were already back at camp and probably waiting on me. They arrived shortly after me so we might not have hooked up over there anyway.

That afternoon we all played in the Merced River again, swimming in the cold water and skipping rocks. The water felt great on my tired legs.

Saturday
For Saturday, Mary Ann had made reservations for her and the girls to go horseback riding. Andrew wasn’t really interested and I’m too allergic to horses to even get near the stables. Andrew was eager to do one more hike so he and I along with 5 others from our camp met at 7:30am to tackle the Yosemite Falls trail. This is another one of the quintessential Yosemite hikes. This 3.4-mile trail ascends 2600’ to the top of the tallest waterfall in North America (2,425’; 5th tallest in the world).

Before coming to Yosemite on this trip, I wouldn’t have thought Andrew would be up for this hike, but after seeing him hike past Vernal Falls and on to Nevada Falls on Monday, I had little doubt that he would finish this one.

We missed the trailhead at the beginning of the hike and started up the wrong trail. This actually turned out well for us because we got to see a big black bear about 20-30 yards up the mountain ahead of us. It was no threat to us, but it was fascinating to watch as it crashed through the woods.

We then started up the correct trail which was easy to locate. This is a steep, relentless climb up an innumerable set of short switchbacks. The bottom half of the hike is shaded with tree cover. About halfway up, the trail emerges through a steep sandy section to a great scenic lookout at Columbia Rock. Then the trail descends a couple hundred feet in elevation for about a half mile under the face of a steep rock wall. At that point we emerged in full view of our first look at Upper Yosemite Falls. The size and sound of this falls is enormous. It was great to see the falls at full force because the only other time I hiked this trail (Aug 2004), the falls were bone dry. Up ahead, we could easily spot the route the trail would take us up the rocky staircase through a notch in the rock wall.

By this point, Andrew had become our pace-maker. When we stopped to rest a bit, he would be the first to hop up and start back up the trail. It was kind of funny because he was wearing a yellow shirt so we joked about him being in the “yellow jersey” (since the Tour de France was going on at this time). He was so eager to get to the top that some of the teenagers wanted to grab him and slow him down. He thought it was pretty funny.

Five of us made it to the top of the falls in 3 hours, a very good pace for a 7-year-old boy... of course, unlike the rest of us, he only has a 45-pound carcass to haul up the trail! The five of us took plenty of pictures, ate some lunch, and played for 1½ hours in Yosemite Creek at the top of the falls.

Quite a ways up from the falls itself, we actually dove into a large pool of water and walked back to the other side across a fallen tree that served as a make-shift bridge. There was no danger of being too near the falls themselves since we were so far upstream. Needless to say, the water was ice cold... cold enough to take your breath away.

As we were packing up to head back down the trail, we were thrilled to see Dan and his son Nathanael make it to the top. Nathanael is only 6 years old and he was very proud to be on top… and so was his dad.

Sunday
Instead of driving home the way we came, we decided to take the scenic route across the park to the eastern entrance at Tioga Pass. We had not been across that route in 12 years. It was a gorgeous day for the drive. We made our way past Crane Flat, Porcupine Flat, Tenaya Lake, Tuolumne Meadows, and Tioga Pass (9,948’). It was an incredible sight to see the dark blue mountain lakes, snow in July on the side of the road, and lush green high-altitude meadows.

We then made the steep descent down Hwy 120 to Lee Vining to get gas and eat lunch. We had a blast eating lunch at a local hamburger stand with the Falsettis who were traveling with us.

From Lee Vining, we made our way down the eastern side of the Sierra on Hwy 395. That has to be one of the most scenic highways in the country. You drive for 120 miles within the vicinity of all but one of California’s fifteen 14ers (only Mt Shasta in northern CA is not in this region). When we got to Lone Pine, I could easily spot Mt Whitney and its neighboring needles towering high over us. Whitney is set so far back that it doesn’t look like the highest peak at first glance, even though at 14,497’ it’s the highest peak in the 48-contiguous states. Seeing it made me want to hike it again like I did in 2003 and 2004. Come to think of it, this is the only time I’ve ever seen it when I didn’t get to hike it.

All in all, this was by far our best Yosemite trip yet. We stayed a full 7 nights. The weather was perfect (60s at night; low 80s in the day). We had a large and fun group of campers. I hadn’t anticipated hiking 35 miles and biking another 45, but it sure was fun doing it. By far, the best 14 miles were the ones with Andrew at my side. At the end of the week, he was very proud of the fact that he had reached the top of three great waterfalls and that he had hiked twice as many miles as he is old. I was very proud of him too.

My Personal “San Bernardino Mtns Trail Marathon”

Back in 2003 when I was training for the Pikes Peak Marathon, I heard about a rarely attempted hike across the San Bernadino mountains called the "San Bernardino Mountains Traverse" or "the Nine Peaks." The Boy Scouts even have a patch to recognize those that have backpacked across this route (even they don’t attempt to do this in one day).

Basically, this 26-mile hike goes up 8 miles, across 10 miles, and then down 8 miles. You start at the Vivian Creek TH (6,080’) just above Forest Falls. From there, you ascend 5,400’ up an 8-mile trail to the peak of Mount San Gorgonio (aka, "Old Grayback" due to its large barren top). San Gorgonio is the highest peak in Southern California (11,500’). From the peak of SanG, you take a 10-mile trail west across the ridgeline that leads you to the following eight other peaks:

• Jepson (11,205’)
• Little Charlton (10,676’)
• Charlton (10,806’)
• Alto Diablo (10,563’)
• Shields Peak (10,701’)
• Anderson Peak (10,864’)
• San Bernardino East Peak (10,691’)
• San Bernardino Peak (10,649’)

The 10-mile trail across the ridge dips only as low as 10,000’ at Dollar Lake Saddle between Charlton and Alto Diablo. From San Bernardino Peak, you then descend 5,700’ down an 8-mile trail to the Angelus Oaks TH (5,960’). This makes it a 26-mile trek and what a trek it is since half of it is at 10,000’ or higher.

But the day isn’t over yet for me. Since I’ve done this hike solo, I leave my bike at the Angelus Oaks TH so I can get back to my vehicle at the Vivian Creek TH. It’s a 10-mile bike ride, but a tough one. The first 6 miles are all downhill (no pedalling required), but the last 4 miles go up 1400’. The quads just don’t want to cooperate at that point of the day. So the entire circuit is roughly 36 miles (26 hiking and 10 more biking).

One of the toughest things about this hike is carrying enough liquids. In 2003 when I did this hike, I took 5 quarts and that was barely enough. Knowing it was supposed to be a very hot day today, I took 8 quarts this time (and used all of it by the time I finished biking). That’s 16 pounds of liquids alone as I start up the steepest part of the hike (the first mile above Vivian Creek). That’s a lot of weight to lug up and across all these mountains, but there’s little water on the trail and you definitely don’t want to be under-hydrated.

In 2003 when I did this hike, I actually "bagged" all Nine Peaks and signed the log books for all of them (except Alto Diablo which I never found). Today, I was only interested in hiking 26 miles (preparing for the Crater Lake Marathon in August) so I technically only bagged 3 of the peaks and signed those log books (San Gorgonio, San Bernardino East, and San Bernardino). I was within just a couple of hundred feet of the other peaks, but I didn’t take the extra time to bag those. I just stayed on the main traverse trail.

In 2003, the entire power-hike/trail-run across all nine peaks took me 9 hours, 40 minutes total. Today, I finished the hike almost a full hour faster (8 hours, 48 minutes). Most of this is due to the fact that I didn’t take the extra time to bag six of the peaks, and also I intentionally was trail-running more this time than last.

Today, I was actually 30 minutes slower getting to the first peak (San Gorgonio) than in 2003. Part of this was due to the fact that I lost the trail for about 10 minutes after crossing Mill Creek. But shortly thereafter a very unexpected event happened that caused me to lose more time.

After I had crossed Mill Creek and had just started up the trail (even before the first major switchback), I looked up to find a huge black bear walking up the trail ahead of me about 20-30 yards. I was only about a half mile into the hike and thought, Oh great, what do I do now? Well, I watched him slowly lumber his way up the trail (he was definitely a full-grown adult) and I looked to see if there were any cubs (you certainly don’t want to mess with momma and the cubs!), but I didn’t spot any. (A picture of the bear’s big rear-end will be posted shortly.)

The bear went around the bend, never knowing I was there. I waited a few minutes and slowly went up the trail and carefully went around the same bend… not wanting to meet the bear face to face! I saw him exiting the trail at the first switchback. I let him go on his merry way. When I got to that switchback, I looked down below and saw the bear looking up at me about 30 yards away. He didn’t move. He just watched and I went hiking up the trail… with a very high heartrate.

Since it was a Saturday, I saw quite a few people on the trails today… actually on all parts of the trails. I asked those that had come up from Vivian Creek if they saw the bear, but none of them had. I did talk to a guy on San Berardino peak who saw a bear near there last week when he hiked SanG. Probably the same bear (hanging out near the campgrounds for scraps).

After that unexpected encounter less than a mile into my hike, the day went along very smoothly. I had great weather (a few fluffy clouds to block some sunshine, but no threat of thunderstorms). There was little wind… just enough to keep me cool, but not enough to blow my hat off. My body responded well to the hike, but I did end up with a couple of blisters (nothing too unusual). It was a long day to say the least, and it’s good to be home.

I couldn’t help but think as I hiked today that a bunch of runners in Leadville, Colorado were also going 26 miles today, but all of their course was above 10,000' (and as high as 13,180’). Yes, the Leadville Trail Marathon was being held today. That was on my mind because that’s high on my to-do list for next summer (no pun intended). I guess I’ll have to do my own personal San Bernadino Mtns Trail Marathon again next summer to prep for that… but hopefully without the company of a bear.

Idyllwild 10K - "No way. Impossible."

Idyllwild 10K. This is a small local race in the artsy mountain community of Idyllwild in the San Jacinto mountains. It's a fun little town to visit with plenty of restaurants and village shops. Idyllwild is well known in SoCal for its arts and music interests. It's a friendly little town with lots of free spirits.

I didn't have personal high expectations for this race because I didn't back off on my training coming into it. I've run hard every other day for 2 weeks now with no breaks. This week alone I ran an 8.6-mile tempo run on Sunday, 20.2 miles on Tuesday, and 5x800m & 5x400m on TM on Thursday and 6-mile easy runs in between. This 10K today (Saturday) gave me 60.0 miles total for the week, my highest weekly mileage in 3 months.

I chose to do this race to test my fitness level on tough hills in thin air (5100'-5600') for my run at the Crater Lake Marathon in August. The only other time I ran this race was 3 years ago when I was prepping for the Pikes Peak Marathon that August. I ran 44:49 then. My only goal today was to finish under that time. I wasn't even sure if I could do that since I didn't taper any coming into this race. My legs felt like jelly when I ran an easy 4-mile recovery run yesterday.

This course is tough. It descends from 5300' to 5100' in the opening 2 miles. Then it climbs non-stop from 5100' to 5600' from the 2 MM to the 5 MM. Then it drops from 5600' to 5300' in the last 1.2 miles. Here's the elevation profile. (Note: the course is 6.21 miles, I didn't trace the route quite correctly.)

I thought about running the 5K race before the 10K in order to make it a longer run in the thin-air and the hills, but I finally decided to run hard just for the 10K.

We had cool (65°) but sunny weather in the mountains. There were plenty of trees to provide shade. The race started promptly on time (7:45am; 30min after the 5K start). As we were running downhill from town, I quickly found myself in 6th place overall.

Mile 1 in 6:11. Ok, that's 13 seconds faster than the opening mile in my 2003 race here, but I don't feel like I'm overdoing it.

Mile 2 in 6:27. Ok, that's more like it. Only 3 seconds faster for that mile than my 2003 race. Still going downhill. I'm now in 3rd place overall. I hope I'm not over doing it, but my HR and breathing are still fine. Turn the corner. Wow, there's the race vehicle and the lead runner up there about 200m. Here comes three miles of non-stop uphill climbs.

Mile 3 in 7:08. That's 29 seconds faster than my 2003 race. Wow, I'm feeling fine. I'm not overexerting myself. I've got 2 more miles of this climb to go. I'm now running side by side with the guy in second place. This is surreal.

Mile 4 in 7:32. That's 29 seconds faster than my 2003 race. These climbs are relentless, but I'm still feeling fine. I'm fully in 2nd place. I'm gapping the third place guy. This is unbelievable. I can see the race leader ahead. I'm gaining on him. He's only 100m ahead. Now he's only 50m ahead. Wow, I'm side by side with him. I say, "Man, these hills are tough. We've still got another half mile of this to go." I gradually pull ahead of him. I'm not sure how close to me he is. I can't hear his breathing or his footsteps. These hills are the steepest of the course, super steep. My quads are starting to ache. Keep pushing. Just a little more to the top. Turn the corner. Start downhill. There's the 5 MM.

Mile 5 in 7:44. Normally, that would be a super-slow split, but that's a good time on the steepest mile of the race. That's 52 seconds faster than that same mile in 2003. Hello downhill!!

As I turned the corner, I realized I've gapped the second place guy by about 50m. Holy freakin' cow, I could possibly win this race! I've never won my age-group in a race, yet alone the whole shootin' match! Surely, this guy is going to overtake me on these downhills. He was faster than me on the opening two miles of downhills. He might have been running conservatively on the uphills to surge at the end. I'd better run like I stole something. I'm on the verge of cramping up. Just keep running. It's not far now.

Mile 6 in 5:43. Holy freaking cow! I just ran a sub-6 mile. I turn the corner which doubles back onto the 10K course. I glance back to see if I spot the guy behind me. A runner in the opposite direction yells, "Just keep running. He's not in sight." Holy freaking cow! I'm going to win! I'm going to win! Are you kidding me? Some runners in the opposite direction cheer me on. I yell back to them, "What do I do? I've never won a race before in my life!" They yell back, "Just follow that truck and keep on running!"

Finish in 42:00. First place overall! I come racing across the line full sprint with a huge smile and my arm in the air whooping and hollering. This is surreal. Surely, I didn't win, did I! (You did, and please stop calling me, "Shirley.")

I cannot believe what I've just done. I wasn't being modest when I set a goal of 44:49. But I felt fine and I was able to push it hard at the end. Wow, this is unreal. Where's a phone? I gotta call my wife!

I call my wife (who was home and under the weather today). I'm talking rapid-fire in the phone, and even though she doesn't feel well, she's so happy for me and just as surprised as I am. She puts our son (7yo) on the phone. I tell him that I won! I explain to him that I won overall, that I came in first place. He's speechless and I hear my wife laughing in the background. Finally, he says, "No way. Impossible." My wife gets on the phone and tells me that his expression was just priceless as he stood there just shocked.

You have to realize that this is the same boy that 3 years ago saw me finish a 5-mile race in Winter Park, Colorado. I ran my heart out and cramped up in the thin air (9000'). I struggled across the line in something like 20th place (I was thrilled) and my son looked very solemn and simply remarked, "I'm sorry, Dad. You lost." I laughed and laughed and laughed because it was one of those priceless moments. He honestly expected me to win which was funny to me because I've never come close to winning a race in my life. I guess I taught him too well that I didn't win races because today he didn't believe me.

I stick around for the awards ceremony and got a nice ceramic medal for first place which has an arts and craft type of look, very characteristic of Idyllwild. I also got a gift certificate to a nice Idyllwild restaurant. My wife and I will enjoy that. And I got a nice glass coffee mug.

What a day. In my wildest dreams, I didn't expect to place in the top 5 or even the top 10. But some days everything just falls into place. Everything.

As you probably realize, with a winning time of 42:00, there weren't many people in this race. I doubt you'll believe me if I told you that there were thousands and I smoked all the Kenyans. I doubt you'll believe me if I said there were hundreds. For the record, there were 58 participants in the 10K. I certainly didn't expect to win because the course record is 36:54. I guess I need to thank all the fast runners in SoCal for sleeping in today or choosing other races so I could have my 15 minutes of fame.

I also should mention that the second place runner actually ran the 5K prior to the 10K. It easily would have been a different race if I had done that or he had not.

The best part of the day was when I got home. My three kids had all made signs and decorated the living room. "Go Daddy" "First Place!" and my favorite "1st Place Wining [sic] Daddy!" (Am I really a whiner? Don't answer that.) My son made a gold medal out of paper to hang around my neck. I took a victory lap around the house with the kids whooping and hollering. What a day.

Of course, now I've gotta go back and run this race next year again. I can't pass up the opportunity to wear Bib #1!

The story of Boston #5270

Today is Patriot's Day in Massachusetts, the third Monday of April. It's a state holiday commemorating the Battle of Lexington and Concord. But for me today was supposed to be the culmination of a ten-year dream… running the Boston Marathon. This is the running story of #5270 for the 2006 Boston Marathon.

A year or so before I ever ran my first marathon, a college friend who was a fast marathoner told me that if I ever attempted to do a marathon, I would learn a lot about life in the process. I’ve found Bruce’s words to be amazingly prophetic for over a decade now. I’ve found marathoning to be quite an experience… the rigors of daily training, the mental tenacity it takes to do the regular long runs, the struggles to overcome obstacles such as weather or tiredness, the euphoria of a race well run, and the frustrations from little things that can derail the best marathon plans.

I never was an athlete in junior high, high school, or college. I just never felt like an athlete so I didn’t want to risk embarrassing myself by trying out for sports. It’s kind of funny to look back now, but my grandfather, who had played hockey at the University of Wisconsin, actually encouraged me to run cross country in high school, but I was too shy and scared to consider it seriously.

When I was in my 20s, I started jogging daily just to stay in shape. I entered a local 2-mile race and got hooked on the experience. My next goal was to run the Crescent City Classic, the big 10K in New Orleans where I was living. That would be an accomplishment because I had never run farther than 4 miles at any one time in my life. But in April 1993, I did it and it was a great experience. I was too driven and competitive to be content with only running a 10k. I wanted the big kahoona, to finish a marathon. I began increasing my weekly long run and planned to run the Mardis Gras Marathon in January 1995.

Training went great for the Mardis Gras Marathon. My long runs increased from 7 to 8 to 10 and to 12 miles. But then I got in a rut and couldn’t seem to go any farther than 12 miles. I tried for quite a few weeks, but my legs just were shot after 12 miles. But one Saturday, I determined to slow down to what seemed like a crawl just to make sure I could go farther than 12 miles. I ran 18 miles that day and suddenly realized maybe I actually could complete a marathon. My running continued to go well and I did a 25k (15.5 miles) and a 30k (18.6 miles) race as part of my training. I ran each of those at better than 8 minute pace (7:38 and 7:49 pace, respectively). But then I got a bad case of bronchitis and ran hardly any miles in the 3 weeks prior to the marathon. I thought about just not even doing it, but I didn’t want to quit after so much training. I figured I’d suck it up and just gut it out even though it wouldn’t be pretty. And it wasn’t. I finished in 4:02, but it was an epic struggle just to stay focused to get to the finish line. I was very disappointed with my time, but I made it to the finish and proudly wore my first finisher’s medal and marathon t-shirt.

I ran my next marathon in Jackson, Tennessee that fall. Training went well for it. Unlike the Mardis Gras Marathon ten months earlier, I ran every step of the Andrew Jackson Marathon and finished in 3:31. I did the Jackson Marathon just a few months before the 100th running of the Boston Marathon in April 1996. Those of you who were into running at that time probably well remember all the hype and fanfare surrounding the 100th running of the Boston Marathon. It didn’t take me long to know for sure that I wanted to run the Boston Marathon. The only problem was that I needed to carve 21 minutes off of my time to BQ (Boston qualify). So I ran and ran and ran. I ran through good weather and bad weather. I remember doing an 18-mile run in January with a wind-chill around –15. I got home and found my sweatshirt was solid ice from my breath freezing to it as I ran. I ran and ran and ran. My long runs were getting stronger and faster and my weekly mileage was in the 60s or 70s. (I know that doesn’t seem huge now, but for someone who was still relatively new to running, it seemed extreme, especially since I never did 2-a-days.)

I registered for the Mardis Gras Marathon in January 1997 and felt very prepared to qualify for Boston. A few weeks earlier I ran a 30k race in 2:12 (7:08 pace per mile) and my fastest mile was my last one. I only needed to run 7:14 a mile to get a BQ with a 3:10.

Unfortunately, on race day of the Mardis Gras Marathon, I started out too fast. My opening miles were well ahead of what I should have been running. I made adjustments and backed off some, but the damage had been done. Around mile 12, I started battling a cramp and was reduced to a walk. The cramp subsided and I was able to begin running again but at a much slower pace. I battled it off and on. I considered dropping out at mile 13 when the "figure 8" marathon course came back through City Park where my car was. But I couldn’t drop out because I knew my wife and my 5-month old daughter would be waiting to cheer me on at mile 18. I struggled on to meet them and figured I’d call it a day when I got to them. But when I saw them, there was no way I could quit in front of them. I determined to finish what I had started, despite the pain. I ended up running 3:20 which was a PR, but still a disappointing 10 minutes off of my goal.

Little did I know at the time that that would be the closest I would get to a BQ for years. I ran the San Diego Rock-n-Roll marathon in 1998 and struggled to a 3:29 finish on an unexpectedly warm June day in San Diego. My hectic schedule got the best of me for the next several years. I didn’t attempt another marathon for almost five years. In 2003, I ran 3:48 at the Los Angeles Marathon in my return to marathoning. That summer, I had done a lot of hiking and peak bagging and realized I’d probably never be better acclimated to attempt the Pikes Peak Marathon so I signed up. It went much better than I expected and I finished in 5:25, but considering the halfway point is at 14,100’, I was very, very pleased with my time (which was fast enough to put me in the top 10% of the participants). I used the Pikes Peak Marathon as my launching pad for another attempt to qualify for Boston at the flat and fast Long Beach Marathon in October 2003.

I came into Long Beach in good form, but the marathon is an unpredictable event. The opening miles felt light and easy, but by mile 6 or 7, I could tell that my body wasn’t feeling right. By mile 10, I could tell I was losing energy fast and my body was revolting against me. Around mile 11, the course splits between the full and half marathons. I could tell I was not doing well and had little chance of hanging on so I went with the half marathon course. Soon thereafter, my body cramped up and it was all I could do to make it to the finish line for the half marathon in 1:42. I was very, very sick, literally and figuratively. I couldn’t keep any food in my body the rest of the day. It must have been some kind of intestinal bug that had sidelined me. It was very frustrating to know that a tiny microscopic bacterium or virus ruined months of training.

In 2005, I decided to make another attempt at qualifying for Boston. I entered the lottery for the St. George Marathon and in May I found out that I had won a spot. Race day was October 1, 2005. Now that it was May and I knew for sure I was entered in the St. George Marathon, I began building up for a serious attempt at a BQ. Now that I was 37, I only needed a 3:15:59 marathon time to qualify for Boston. I had a solid base of running in the winter and spring of 2005. In February, I ran my PR for a half marathon on a tough hilly course at San Dieguito (1:29:31; 6:50 pace). In March, I did the California Half Ironman triathlon in Oceanside. In May, I ran a strong half marathon (1:33) on a hilly course in Redlands. Two weeks later, I did the XTerra West Championships off-road triathlon in Temecula.

With such a solid base of running, in May 2005 I drew up my training plans for a fast marathon at St. George. I would make two specific runs every week to be my top priority: the long run and the "Yasso 800s." The Yasso 800s are a tough workout and you are supposed to build up to be able to do 9 or 10 repeats. I wanted to over-prepare for St. George to make sure I was in my best shape possible to get a BQ at long last. I decided to do my 800m repeats on the TM and to do them in 3:00 each (10 mph) with a 3:00 recovery jog at 6.7 mph in between. The first time I attempted the workout, I could only do 4 repeats. But week by week I improved and gradually could do more and more of the repeats. I progressed throughout the summer to the point that in August and September (the two months before the marathon), six different times I ran 9 or 10 of these repeats for a ten-mile workout (including a 1-mile warm-up and 1-mile cool-down). The Yasso 800s were a gut-wrenching, tough workout but I could see my speed increasing.

Besides the Yasso 800s, my other key weekly workout was the long run. I wanted to be strong to the marathon finish so I decided to run all my long runs as negative splits. Basically I would start at an easy pace and then pick it up at the end. As I increased the length of my long runs from 16 to 18 to 20 to 22 to 24 miles, my endurance grew stronger as well. All of these long runs I was able to run as negative splits and I pushed the pace hard in the last 2 or 3 miles when my body was the most tired. My last long run before the marathon (3 weeks prior) was a 24-mile run and I was sprinting amazingly fast and easy in the last 4 miles. It was a huge confidence boost as I began to taper my weekly mileage back to have fresh legs on marathon day.

The day before the marathon I drove to St. George and scouted out the marathon course to see what was ahead on the next day. The St. George Marathon is touted as one of the fastest marathon courses in the country because it has a net elevation loss of 2600’. It’s a point-to-point course that starts 26 miles north of town at 5,200’ and descends to 2,600’ at the finish. On paper, it sounds like an easy course, but as I charted the course, I realized it would still be a tough run. The first 14 miles could be best described as rolling hills since there are several significant uphill sections and at mile 14 you are still around 4400’. But then the course descends quickly for the next 11 miles. Running downhill makes for some tough running, especially that far into a marathon. The quads take a beating.

Race day dawned (only metaphorically because the sun wasn’t beginning to rise yet when I awoke at 4:30am MST, 3:30am for my body which was still on PST). I got my things together and drove to town to catch a bus to the starting line. The race organizers had a whole fleet of busses lined up to take us 5000 marathoners to the starting line 26 miles away for the 6:45am start. I was on one of the first busses and found myself at the starting line in the cold morning air (40 deg??) an hour before the start. I sat on the ground next to a fence and relaxed as I anticipated what was ahead. A few minutes later the race organizers started lighting dozens of campfires to keep the runners warm. We all huddled around the fires and exchanged stories about our marathon experiences.

At 6:30am, we all lined up for the start. I was happy to be in the front corral with an expected finishing time of 3:15. The race started and I’ve never had a more peaceful, serene experience in my twelve years of long-distance running. Since the course proceeds down a highway that is closed to traffic in both directions and there are few if any houses anywhere around, there was no one on the road except us runners. At 6:45am, the skies were dark and the stars were out as we ran through the open country of southern Utah. The sounds were most amazing. Since there was no traffic or crowds to cheer from the side of the road, all you could hear was the gentle patter of thousands of feet plodding down the pavement. The air was crisp, the surroundings were pastoral, and no one was saying a word. The gentle patter of footsteps was as calming as ocean waves gently lapping on a sandy beach. It was utterly peaceful... a sound I’ll never forget.

The opening miles of a marathon should be light and easy… and these were for me. My biggest challenge was simply to make sure I didn’t run too fast in the opening miles which would ruin my chances for a strong finish. I realized it would be better to run the opening mile too slow than too fast. If I was 30 seconds too slow, I could easily make up that time over the next 25 miles, but if I was too fast, I would be tapping into my reserves way too early in the race.

Around mile 3 the sun began rising. It slowly allowed us to see the wide open country through which we had been running. The beauty of the scenery is hard to put into words. Even pictures don’t do justice to the redrock landscape of southern Utah. St. George is not only known as one of the fastest marathon courses, it’s also rightfully touted as one of the most scenic.

Mile after mile, my pace was right on track where it needed to be. Gradually, I was accumulating some time in the bank without overdoing the pace. I had a pace chart on my wrist which I consulted at every mile marker. Gradually, I was 60 seconds ahead of schedule, then 90, then 2 minutes, then 2 and a half, then 3. By mile 17, I was 5 minutes ahead of schedule and realized that unless the wheels fell off, I was at long last going to qualify for the Boston Marathon. Others in the race were trying to qualify for Boston as well. There were signs on the side of the road stating such things as, "Only 9 more miles to Hopkinton." (Hopkinton is where the Boston Marathon begins.)

Around mile 17 while we were running downhill, I encountered my first significant problem. I could feel that I was starting to get a side cramp. I rarely get side cramps, but about the only time I get them is when I’m running hard downhill which I had been doing for some time at this point in the marathon. Knowing that I had almost 5 minutes in the bank, I used the restroom at the next aid station hoping that would alleviate the cramp. It didn’t help much. Basically for the next 7 miles, I backed off some on the pace and had to walk for about 20 seconds at each mile marker with my arm stretched over my head to ease the pain in my side. By mile 24, I was still 4 minutes ahead of schedule but I could tell my body was getting very tired. I decided not to walk out the cramp anymore for fear that if I slowed to a walk I might not ever start running again.

This strategy was tough because my body was wanting desperately to slow down, but I wasn’t going to allow myself to lose a qualifying time for Boston at this point in the race. I had trained too long and run too hard to back off now. When I passed the 25-mile marker, I knew I was only about 9 minutes from the finish. I kept up the pace, but now my heartrate was racing as it would at the end of a hard 10k race. The last mile at St. George is a flat straitaway into town. I kept up my form and concentrated on the finish line which I could see way in the distance. It seemed like an eternity as I pushed with every ounce of energy left in me. Finally, I crossed the line with the clock reading 3:12:03. My official chip time was 3:11:50. I had qualified for Boston with 4:09 to spare.

I collapsed in the grass of the park, too tired to get water or food. I just basked in the euphoria of accomplishing a goal that had eluded me for ten years. Finally after about ten minutes, I got up and got food and water and never was more proud to walk around with a finisher’s medal hanging around my neck. I made my way to the car and back to the hotel. I called my wife on the phone and all I could say was, "I did it! I did it! I did it! I did it! I did it! I did it! I did it!" She knew exactly what I had done.

After I showered and relaxed in the pool, I was feeling great. I had nothing to do that afternoon, so I decided to drive to Zion National Park which is only about 30 miles away. I wouldn’t have time to do a long hike so I decided to hike up towards Angel’s Landing. Angel’s Landing is one of the most breathtaking hikes in the park. Despite having run the marathon that morning, I went floating up the trail knowing I had achieved a long-time dream. I made my way up roughly 2000’ of elevation over the 2-mile trail to what is known as Scout’s Landing. Scout's Landing is the resting spot with great views of the valley 2000' below just before the last 500’ ascent across a narrow ridge to Angel’s Landing itself. I decided not to do that final part of the hike up to Angel's Landing because it was a class 3 scramble and I wasn’t sure my legs would cooperate for the descent. I sat for a while and enjoyed the views of the redrock walls of Zion valley. Zion has to be one of the best kept secrets of the National Park Service. It is one gorgeous place. I had someone take my picture on Scout’s Landing as I proudly wore a huge smile and my marathon medal. Then sun was starting to descend so I decided to call it a day… and what a day it had been.

After such a great experience at St. George, I had high hopes for the Boston Marathon 8 months away. I took it easy on the running in October and November as my body recovered from such a hard run at St. George. Actually, this wasn’t so much by choice as by injury since I pulled a back muscle in mid-November and missed the Mission Inn 10K (our only local race in Riverside) and the Philadelphia Marathon (when I was at a conference there). In December, I was getting back on track and my training was progressing. I registered for the Boston Marathon (bib #5270) , got my plane ticket, and a place to stay. My training was coming along. Even though I didn’t feel the pressure to push myself at Boston like I had for St. George, I was running long runs and Yasso 800s like I had before St. George.

But suddenly in February, I started getting soreness in my left hip. I ignored it for a few days because it wasn’t too painful. But it kept getting worse and worse and worse. I took some days off and then tried to run but the pain was still there. Then I took 2 weeks off and tried to run, but the pain was still there. After talking to a physical therapist and a trainer, I realized that I had a hip flexor injury. The only remedy was to stop running and let it heal. I saw my dream of running the Boston Marathon quickly going down the drain. At first, I thought this injury would just mess up some of my training and I would still be able to run Boston, just not as fast as I had anticipated. But soon I realized I wasn’t going to be able to run Boston at all this year.

Not getting to run Boston today after trying for so long to get there is very, very disappointing. But I have to keep all things in perspective. I can’t be too disappointed because we all eventually face bigger setbacks in life than merely a nagging injury that prevents us from running a race, even if it is the Boston Marathon. I also can’t be too disappointed because my marathon time at St. George actually qualified me for Boston next year as well. My wife would not have been able to be there with me today, but we’ll be able to go together next year. It’ll be a nice getaway trip for us since we honeymooned in Boston and Maine way back in 1990 and we haven’t been back there together since. So next year on April 16, 2007, I know exactly where I’ll be. Even if I have to crawl on my hands and knees over shards of glass, I’ll be a part of the 111th running of the Boston Marathon (kind of has a Tolkien ring, the "eleventy-first" running, doesn’t it?)

Nevertheless, it’s disappointing to spend another Patriot’s Day at home watching the Boston Marathon on TV as I’m doing today. As always, it looks to be an exciting race. It could be the first time in over twenty years that an American wins at Boston. Meb Keflezighi and Alan Culpepper are world-class marathoners and either one of them have a serious shot at winning it all.

The highlight of my day today is not the marathon this morning (9am my time), but my attempt just now at a return to running. It’s been five weeks since I last donned my running shoes. I’ve waited patiently hoping that my hip flexor has had plenty of time to heal. I did a little 4-mile route just a short bit ago. It’s a scenic loop with plenty of views of all the area mountains (the Santa Anas, the San Gabriels, the San Bernardinos, San Gorgonio, and San Jacinto). There was quite a bit of cloudcover this morning though so I couldn’t see the mountains. But just as I crested the last big hill near my house, the sun came peaking through the clouds and I was showered in the beauty of a brilliantly orange sunrise. I couldn’t help but think as I ran the last bit home, maybe this is the dawn of a new day for me.

I can tell my body isn’t used to running right now, but it felt outstanding to be back out there running in the crisp morning air at sunrise. My hip flexor doesn’t seem to be sore but it may take a few days to make sure there isn’t any residual pain. My time was far slower than what I’m used to running, but it felt great just to be back out there running again.

I had better shower now and clean up since the race starts in a few minutes. But for me, the race starts in 364 days.