Tucson Marathon race report

The short version: I ran 26.2 miles in 4 hours, 20 minutes and 28 seconds, for an average of 9:57 per mile, including walking through the water stops and one port-a-potty stop. My goal for the Tucson Marathon had been 4:29:19, so I was quite pleased. Here’s a link to my column that appeared in the sports section of Wednesday’s paper. If you still want to read more and see a few photos, read on.

Long version: The marathon was preceded by a night of less-than-stellar sleep. We turned out the hotel light at 10 p.m. and I fell asleep soon after. I awoke to a dream that police were taking down the traffic barricades behind me, meaning I was the last runner. I looked at the clock and, to my complete dismay, it was 10:45 p.m. Fortunately I went back to sleep but then awoke at 2 a.m. and slept very fitfully until the 4 a.m. wake-up time. My roommate had dreamed that an angry horse was chasing her, so we decided something was in the air.

After getting dressed, eating a banana, having a few bites of not-so-great oatmeal, and brushing teeth, I was in the hotel lobby at 5 a.m. with the other 13 Lodi Running Club people. I also had a bottle of Gatorade and a bagel with peanut butter, since there was plenty of time for it to settle in my stomach. We hopped aboard a bus and set off on the trip to the race start.

The bus driver thought he was lost. That was reassuring. But we finally got to our destination — and had an hour and a half to wait! Whoever planned that needed to make some changes. But since we were at 4,800 feet elevation in the dark with predicted 38-degree temperatures, I wasn’t complaining about staying on a warm bus. Plus, there were entertaining people, like the guy who pulled out a box of cereal and a carton of milk for breakfast, then washed it down with a Red Bull energy drink. He wanted to run a 3:10 to qualify for Boston, and I’d love to know how that breakfast affected his goal.

Around 7:10 we got off the bus, made one last trip to the portable toilets and then most of our little crew gathered in a cluster. We wished each other luck, gave hugs and soon a horn had sounded and we were off.

The first mile was a steep descent, which I knew about and tried not to go too fast. The race started at 4,800 feet above sea level and went down to 2,800 feet. What I didn’t know was that the next few miles consisted of both uphills and downhills. By the end of the race the total elevation drop was 2,800 feet, meaning we climbed 800 feet along the way. I went through the hills without too much trouble, though. (Click the picture to see the full elevation profile, as recorded by my watch.)

I was wearing an old long-sleeved cotton shirt, which I ditched after the third mile. My shorts, neon green Lodi Running Club tank top and 75 cent gloves were a perfect combination, and I wore the gloves until around mile 16.

The first 10 miles were pretty rural with only a few spectators, until we got to Oracle Road (Route 77), a four-lane road with traffic coned off to one lane in each direction. The weather was perfect, with clouds the whole way so I didn’t have to worry about sunburn or getting too hot. At mile 10 we turned onto Biosphere Road for two miles to a turn-around point. That part had some more hills. Out-and-backs can be tough mentally because you wind up back where you started the detour, but it was fun to see people coming toward me from the other direction. I cheered for the other Lodi people, as well as perfect strangers who either caught my eye or seemed to need some encouragement.

I walked through all the aid stations to make sure that I’d get enough liquid, and I drank sports drinks and water at each. I took GU gels at miles 6, 11.5, 17.5, and 22 (just before water stops so I could wash them down). I never had any cramping or felt like I needed more sodium, so the Xood brand of sports drink was OK in my book. My stomach is pretty solid, so that was never an issue.

When I hit 22.2 miles, I was in new territory, since my longest training run had been a bit more than 22 miles. That was a mental boost that carried me to the 23rd mile. I never hit the proverbial “wall” that so many people talk about — where they feel they really can’t go on or that the run will never end. But I do know that the 23rd mile seemed to last a long time, and that my quads were on fire. Around the 24th mile marker, some kids were running an aid station and they encouraged me by name (they had printed our names on our bib numbers, which was very cool).

That use of my first name really helped, because it cemented the fact that I was really running this marathon. I never thought I wouldn’t be able to finish, mainly because I was on a mission. As I wrote in my column, I was out to prove the doctors wrong. In my childhood, they had said I wouldn’t do well in running-related things, and I never thought otherwise until a few years ago. Throughout the marathon training and the actual race, I was determined to prove that I could do it. I wasn’t competing against anyone other than myself.

I was wearing a pace bracelet for a 4:30 finish time and throughout the race I had gradually been banking time. With a few miles left, I knew it really might be possible to finish in 4:20. When I hit the 25th mile marker, I had 10 minutes left to run 1.2 miles, something that’s no problem normally but not after running 25 miles on roads that are not like the flat ones in Lodi. I pulled out every last bit of energy and picked up the pace as much as I could. As I reached the last couple of turns, I could hear cheers. I would later look at my stats and learn that I ran the 26th mile at a 9:28 pace and the last 0.2 miles at an 8:55 pace. That was kind of like my last gasp, and I don’t think I could have picked up the pace any earlier.

I turned into the finish chute and saw the best sight: Lodi people were waving and cheering for me, just before the finishing arch. I crossed the finishing line with one coherent thought: “I did it. They were wrong.” I rarely cry and I didn’t then, but I did feel a slight bit of tears behind my eyes (that’s a lot for me).

A volunteer gave me my cactus-shaped finisher’s medal, someone else gave me a bottle of water and it was all I could do to make myself keep walking. I wasn’t sure where I was going, but I knew I wanted to get around the barricades to the Lodi people. My dead legs made it, and I was greeted with hugs and exclamations. Once my brain started working again, I cheered for some more runners coming in, and then I forced myself eat something.

Later, we posed in front of our awesome hotel for a group photo. We also posed inside with Santa.

The marathon was definitely a life-altering experience. Until a few years ago I didn’t know much about distance running, and I certainly didn’t think I would take on such an endeavor. Along the way I’ve learned a lot about physical and mental challenges.

I’ve made great friends and learned how supportive fellow runners are, even complete strangers. As I stood with my group after finishing the marathon, a woman approached, congratulated me and asked how I did. She’d been on the bus near me before the race started, and she was hoping to qualify for Boston — seven months after going into remission from cancer. We passed each other a few times during the marathon, though it was never any kind of competition. At some point I lost her and wouldn’t have seen her again if she hadn’t gone out of her way to say hello after the race. She didn’t qualify, but I think anyone who made it through eight rounds of chemo and then ran a marathon has qualified for life itself. Her battle was so much more epic than my marathon.