Sunday, July 17, 2011

Missoula Marathon 2011

Thurston recently ran the 2011 Missoula Marathon and since he doesn't have a blog of his own, he asked me to share my space on the interweb so that he could tell his story. Below is his account of the experience.  It's something that I thought was worth sharing with everyone I know (and not just because I'm mentioned on more than one occasion).

-Suzanne

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Sunday, July 17, 2011

A week ago today I got up early. Really early. In fact, I was up at 3:40 A.M. There are only a few things that will get me out of bed early; pre-five o’ clock consciousness just does not come easily for me.

However, I couldn’t have been more alert one week ago at 3:40 in the morning. I was ready to test my mettle against the big one, the marathon. A word and concept that for the last four months had permeated my life, evoking a lot of excitement and not a small amount of trepidation whenever I heard, spoke or thought about it (which seemed to be almost constantly, as many of you all reading this know.) After all, I pestered you for contributions for the Run for Kids team. I peppered you with information about training runs. I even professed admiration for things like minimalist running shoes, trails, cross-training benefits and athletes that most of you could probably have been just fine not hearing about.

As the morning quickly sped towards the Missoula Marathon’s 6 a.m. start time, I found myself doing all the same pre-performance routines and rituals I had for the much shorter races I had run. Multiple trips to the porta-potty, hydrating, (meaning more trips to the porta-potty,) reviewing my race strategy over and over and talking about strategy with the many friends I had made from the Run Wild Missoula Marathon Training class, (RWM is my community’s running club.) But mostly, I awaited the start of the race with something akin to thrilling fear.

After one final trip to the aforementioned, (and all important!) porta-potty, I slipped into the starting line, beside my pack of friends. We laughed and joked and anxiously waited out the seconds before the start. And then came the boom of the ROTC’s cannon signaling the official start. Almost instantaneously a beautiful display of aerial fireworks lit the pre-sunrise sky.

That cannon being fired was all I needed. All of a sudden, we were competing. Not so much against each other, for marathons, while competitive, are mostly run as a contest against one’s self. Only the most elite runners set out with the goal to win a marathon. No, my friends and I and the majority of the thousand other runners in the starting line last Sunday weren’t trying to out-do each other, we were trying to out-do ourselves. For me, I wasn't simply trying to complete my first marathon; I was trying to meet a personal goal of running the 26.2 miles of the Missoula Marathon in under four hours and fifteen minutes.

As with any race, I was pleased to feel that familiar start-of-the-race sense of competition; a feeling that for me instantly obliterates all self doubt. All of a sudden, I was in the middle of accomplishing something. No longer was I worried about hitting my time goal. I was not worried about ‘bonking’ or ‘hitting the wall’. I was in the moment, and a beautiful moment it was.

After the first two miles, I realized I was dead on with pacing. Running with several friends, we moved quickly through aid stations (there was one every two miles) and gulped down water, not stopping or walking, but running comfortably, smiling and chatting, mile after mile.

There is a funny thing that happens during races. When run well, time seems to compress. At around mile nine, after about an hour and twenty five minutes, I proclaimed to my friends, “it feel’s like we’ve only been running for five minutes!”

As we ran on, one friend picked up his pace, another had to make a pit-stop, leaving me running with one friend whom I had been running with more than any of the others on my bi-weekly, group training runs. Alayna and I had already decided to run most, if not all, of the race together. We chatted and waved to all the spectators and thanked them. We encouraged other runners and soon found ourselves passing more people than were passing us. We came to the halfway point, which is also the start of the one and only hill in the Missoula Marathon course. We powered up it, but my friend needed to make a pit stop. I slowed just a bit and waited for her to catch up (runners make quick work out of potty breaks, especially during a race.) However, when she quickly did catch up, she had a side-ache.

We ran on, me smiling and enjoying every second, Alayna running through the increasingly uncomfortable, abdominal pain. I did my best to encourage and motivate her.

On pace and still smiling and enjoying the beautiful morning more than ever, I started to pick up my speed at strategic mile sixteen. Thus began the process of shaving seconds off of my average pace. (My planning, pacing and training was working!)

At mile 19 we were cheered on by my wife and close friends, Kevin, Robyn and their three children, Fiona, Jasper and Tobie. (There is nothing better than seeing your friends and family in a race, especially when you are running an endurance event. It doesn’t matter how euphoric or horrible you are feeling, it lifts you up and provides incredible motivation!)

Then it happened. Mile 20, still on pace, my friend could no longer run through the side-ache. She slowed and told me she was going to walk a little. I made the decision to go on, keeping up my increasing pace. With a smile (although half-hearted) I told her I would see her at the finish.

A half mile later, I came upon another friend, she had hit the wall and was walking. I shouted some words of encouragement, she told me she was hurting. I kept going, feeling a bit more like I was abandoning my friends.

Mile 21, I passed another friend who had cramped up. I patted him on the back and gave some encouragement and ran on. And then, there they were again! My wife and friends for a second time at 22.5, a distance further than I had ever run at any time in my life! Feeling like I could conquer anything from this second round of encouragement, I dug in a little more and ran on, smiling broadly.

The last five miles of the Missoula Marathon course had been burned into my brain from the RWM Marathon training class I had been in since March. We ran from the finish line out and back at least a half dozen times. So it was with an increasing confidence that I continued, thanking spectators, police officers managing traffic, course marshals and aid station volunteers. I smiled and encouraged my fellow runners and walkers, beginning to visualize my strong finish.

I ran by the aid station at mile 23, refusing an energy gel and slopping down some water. My legs were getting a little heavy, but I still felt a light feeling in my heart. I picked it up a little again, passing yet another friend. We ran a bit together, before he had to slow and walk a bit. I ran on.

Somewhere around mile 25 just after refusing yet more energy gel (I had had more than enough by then!) I was thrilled to see Kevin, Fiona and Jasper! They were on their bikes and rode with me most of the way to the finish line, and all of a sudden there it was, the Higgins Street Bridge with the arch of balloons at the end signaling the finish line!

I picked up my pace to what felt like a sprint (the video reality shows it wasn’t, but to me, I will always remember running faster than ever.) I heard my name being shouted repeatedly by even more family and friends who had shown up to support me, as well as my fellow RWM members.

I crossed the finish line at 10:15:06 AM. My official time, thanks to microchip timing, was actually 4:14:22; 38 seconds ahead of my goal time with an average pace of 9:42 per mile!

In the aftermath of the finish, I posed for pictures with my physical therapists (I needed bi-weekly tune-ups of my Achilles tendons and IT bands to get me through to race day! Some of my physical therapists, angels that they are, happened to be volunteering at the finish line hydration/aid station.) I stumbled up to get a picture on the finishers podium with my medal and then moved into the tented area restricted for marathoners and half marathoners, where I chowed down on some snacks and chatted comfortably with my running friends, welcoming more and more of them as they finished.

A little while later, I reunited with Suzanne and the rest of my family and friends to watch the awards ceremony and enjoy my free beer (the first of many well earned beers that day.)

Saying good job to my fellow RWM training class friends and exchanging promises to go running together soon, I moved on with my posse of personal supporters to enjoy a leisurely lunch. The smile never fading from my face.

I wore my medal the rest of the day, which like the race, seemed to evaporate very quickly in my post-marathon euphoria.

A week out, I still get emotional recalling the events of the day, and even all the training. I think fondly about all the new friends I made during the RWM training class runs. I marvel at the support all of you provided in the run up to the race. And I especially treasure all the encouragement and support from my biggest fan, my wife, Suzanne.

Thanks for being a part of my first marathon!

Sincerely,
Thurston