It all started 3 weeks ago when I visited my local running store for new shoes. I had been running in the same model for the past 2 years, then they were discountinued. I managed to stock pile enough pairs to get me through the Capital City Marathon, but now I was down to one last pair with 200 miles on them. The morning I visited my running store, I was greeted by a new face. He seemed knowledgable enough, so I trusted my delicate feet to his recommendations. After I bought my new shoes, I had an uneasy feeling about the whole deal so I ran on a treadmill the first few work outs and they felt fine. Two weeks ago I took a 16 miler in them, and at mile 10 my hip started acting up. A trip back to the running store, with the knowedgable manager confirmed that I was in THE WRONG SHOE and that caused my hip problem. I dutifully iced and rested, no running for 4 days.
Last weekend I was feeling fine and ran a 10 miler (including a 5k race in the middle) in different new shoes. Everything seemed fine and I was moving fluid and fast.
Fast forward to race day....
I was up at 5:00 for a light breakfast and pre-race prep. I arrived at the start line half an hour early dressed in a yellow Marathon Maniac singlet, black skirt and my trusty Nike AST8's that now had a little over 200 miles on them. I was worried about my feet because I managed to get a heel blister the day before while hiking in the canyons around Bend Oregon and trying to acclimate to the high altitude. Lots of body glide and well-fitting shoes seemed to solve the blister problem.
The race was due to start at 7:30, but we were staged at 7:15 in the athlete village for a "Parade of Athletes". Pacific Crest is a huge endurance weekend in which the marathon is only one of a dozen or so events (triathalons, Duathalons, various foot races, etc...). Because of this, the event had a festival like feeling and runners were treated like stars, including a parade to the start. It was already warm by the time the start gun went off and I was wishing we had started an hour earlier. The first few miles were hard, but they are always hard for me. I found a few other maniacs and passed the warm-up miles in pleasant chatter. Slowly they started to lag behind and I would catch another one up ahead. A little chatter later, I would lose them, too, and set my sights on some one else to get acquainted with. By mile 7 I was feeling great. No problems, everything was functioning better than normal. The sun was starting to heat up and I made a mental note to start dumping water over myself when we passed this point during the second of our two-loop course.
Mile 13 took us back through the athletes village and the only clock on the course. I couldn't believe my split: 1:56. Hey! I'm on track to BQ! I'm not supposed to do that until January, this is just a training run. I even have time to spare!
I started the second loop full of energy. But then the heat really hit AND the altitude. I'm OK, just a little winded, just a little hot but I'm gonna BQ!
Mile 14 found us out in the sun again, winding our way through high desert meadows. There was no hope of shade anywhere. Temps started climbing towards the high 80's when, at mile 17, I completely fell apart. First my stomach gave way and I had to hit every porta-potty for the next 4 miles. Then my back tightened up. Legs got heavy at mile 19. at mile 20 my hip gave out. The porta-potty trips were dreadfully as my legs cramped up every time I stopped. Some how I managed to keep moving forward. Some how I kept passing people and some how I found myself approaching the finish line, still upright and running. My boyfriend was waiting several hundred yards before the finish and yelled out: "your number 12!". I had no idea what he was talking about, I was only think about my hip, and my feet, and the salt dripping in my eyes. I crossed the line in 4:05. A PR by 8 minutes but no BQ.
When I emerged from the recovery area, my boyfriend greeted me with his usual "you did great, sweetie." I shook my head... no I didn't do great, I fell apart. This one did me in and I hurt, especially my hip. "No" he said, "you did great, you were the 12th woman in!"
I didn't really believe him and during further questioning discovered he hadn't been at the finish line when the first racers were arriving. Then while standing around and chatting with fellow Maniacs, the awards ceremony started. To my surprise the announcer called my name as the winner of the women's 40-44 age group! And number 12 overall woman. Yeah! Some how I hurt a little less with that gold medal hanging around my neck!
Now I'm home. My hip no longer hurts but I'm icing it anyway and planning to take a week or so off to mend. I'll miss the Seafair Marathon, then be back at it in September for the Skagit Flats if everything goes well.
