Today was the fourth and final day of the Alaska Series. Today’s race was on the same course as yesterday’s race. For the third time in four days, I race-walked.
I have a long-term goal of
doing a quadzilla (4 marathons in 4 days) in as many states as I can. I signed up for this series last year, so I
could do a quadzilla in Alaska. The
series was cancelled last year because of COVID-19, so I deferred my entry to
this year. At the beginning of April, I
still wasn’t training, so I was worried about being in shape to do a quadzilla
in August. I started getting in shape by
race-walking, but I was still hoping to run the races. Eventually, I realized I would need to
race-walk them. I was even more worried
about being in shape to do that, since I had never done that before.
Yesterday was the first time I
race-walked a marathon after doing a marathon the day before. It may have helped that I mostly ran the day
before, since running emphasizes different muscle groups than
race-walking. Today was the first time I
race-walked a marathon for a second straight day. I didn’t hold back much either Tuesday or
yesterday, so I knew I would be fatigued.
Today’s race was the toughest
of the four, but it was also the most gratifying. Today was the day I would finally complete a
quadzilla in Alaska.
I had an assortment of sore
muscles, but my knee no longer felt stiff.
I think yesterday’s race worked wonders for it. Meanwhile, the blister that bothered me in the
last two races also bothered me during the night. It’s a blood blister underneath one of my toenails. This morning, I poked a pin under the toenail,
so I could drain it and relieve some of the pressure. That helped.
It didn’t bother me during today’s race.
When I went to bed last night
the forecast was for a 68% chance of rain from early morning through noon. When I got up this morning, the first thing I
did was to look out my window. The parking
lot was wet, but I didn’t see any rain coming down. I checked the hourly forecast again. Now it was showing a 56% chance of rain
throughout the morning hours, with a higher chance of rain in the afternoon. Maybe we would get lucky today.
It still wasn’t raining when I
left the hotel, but it started drizzling as I was driving to the race. It stopped about the time I got there. For the first time in three days, we had a
dry start.
Even though it wasn’t raining,
it felt a little bit chilly. There was a
cold breeze blowing through the valley.
I started the race wearing a Tyvek jacket.
Yesterday, I expected to be
sluggish at the start, so I put extra effort into getting into a quick walking
rhythm. Today, I was more confident, so I
didn’t work as hard in the first lap. Yesterday,
I averaged 24 minutes per lap for most of the race. Today, I settled into a pace that was about
30 seconds per lap slower.
Halfway through my first lap, I
started to feel warm, so I unzipped my jacket.
By the middle of my second lap, I was sufficiently warmed up that I felt
hot even with the jacket unzipped. After
that lap, I took the jacket off and put it in my drop bag.
I’m not sure when they started
doing this, but before one race of each Mainly Marathon series, Daniel hides a “loonicorn”
sticker somewhere along the course. The “loonicorn”
is a mythical loon. Whoever finds the
loonicorn gets a special T-shirt. Before
the race, Daniel announced that today was the day he had hidden the loonicorn.
For the first few laps of the
race, I was scanning the bushes and other landmarks along either side of the
course. I never slowed down or left the
trail, but I was looking around. I saw
several others doing the same thing. A
few runners, who were taking it more seriously, were sometimes stopping and going
a few feet off of the trail to look in the bushes. One of the runners doing this was Trena, who
everyone knew really wanted that T-shirt.
Trena was doing the 5K race today, but she was mostly looking for the
loonicorn. When I went by, she said she
was probably going to do the world’s slowest 5K
By the middle of my fourth lap,
I no longer saw people looking for the loonicorn. I assume word got out that someone had found
it. It was Trena.
In the other races of this
series, I always did a measured effort.
I was walking at a pace that was tiring, but I was always conscious of
how many laps I had left and whether I thought the pace was sustainable. Today I wasn’t doing that. I was walking at a brisk pace, but I wasn’t
putting quite as much effort into it. I
wasn’t thinking about how many laps I had left.
I was walking at a pace that I knew I could walk for several hours. I just kept doing laps.
My mindset changed in the sixth
lap. That’s when the rain started. At first, I started seeing a few small drops
hitting the puddles. It took a few more
minutes before I started to feel the drops.
At first, I wasn’t concerned. It
wasn’t enough to make me think I would need a jacket or rain poncho.
In the second half of that lap,
it felt different. I was no longer
feeling individual drops. Instead, I
felt like I was walking through mist. I
looked up at the mountains in front of me, and they were shrouded in mist. I felt like I was running through the same
mist at ground level. I was going into the
wind, so it felt cold as the front of my shirt started getting wet.
By the end of that lap, I was
again noticing individual drops. Now
there were more of them. It wasn’t
raining hard, but it was gradually turning into a steady light rain.
In my drop bag, I had both a
plastic rain poncho, and the Tyvek jacket I was wearing earlier. The rain poncho is waterproof, but I wondered
if it would be too hot. The Tyvek jacket
isn’t waterproof, but it takes a long time for water to soak through it. I knew I could put the jacket on quickly, so
as I started my next lap, I put on my jacket.
At first, I left it unzipped in front.
The front of my shirt was already wet, and I was worried the jacket
would trap too much heat if it was zipped up.
Early in the seventh lap, a
runner came alongside of me. He was
doing the half marathon and he was in his last lap. We were going at about the same pace. I sped up a bit to match his running pace, so
we could talk. As we talked, we both
slowed down, but we stayed together for the whole lap. That made that lap seem easier for both of
us.
When I finished that lap, I was
half done with the marathon. I was
noticing the rain more, so I zipped up my jacket.
In the second half of the race,
the trail started to seem lonely.
Several of the runners doing the half marathon were done now. Our route went past two lakes, and there was
a small hill between them. On one of my
laps, I went over this hill and didn’t see anyone else all the way to the
turnaround. There were still about two
dozen people on the course, but none of them happened to be at the same end of
the course where I was. I experience the
same thing on the next lap.
Now that my jacket was zipped
up, I felt like I had to measure my pace carefully. It wasn’t a question of walking at a
sustainable pace. Instead, I found that
if walked too fast, I would start to get hot.
I wanted to speed up and get done as quickly as I could, but I didn’t
want to work so hard that I would overheat.
It still wasn’t raining hard,
but with six laps to go, it had been raining long enough that my shoes were
soaked. Inside my shoes, they felt
squishy. Now I had another reason to be
careful about my pace. I worried if I
pushed too hard to speed up, it might cause one of my insoles to slip within my
shoe. I no longer had the same carefree
attitude I had earlier. Now I was much
more conscious of the number of laps I had left.
When I finished my ninth lap, I
only had five laps to go. That sounded
manageable until I realized five laps would take me about two hours. Five laps doesn’t sound like much. Two hours sounds like a long time.
That’s a problem with
race-walking. It takes a lot longer than
running. For most of my life, I could
run a marathon in three and a half hours.
At that pace, I would’ve been done by now. Instead, I still had two hours to go.
By now, I was pretty sure it
was going to be raining for the rest of the race. I hated the feeling of my soaking wet
shoes. I also was starting to feel the
rain gradually soaking through my jacket.
I probably should’ve opted for the rain poncho. As my jacket got wet, it eventually began to
feel like I was wearing a wet rag.
With four laps to go, I told
myself it would take me another hour and 36 minutes to finish. Clicking off one lap didn’t seem like a big
deal. Counting down 24 minutes seemed
more significant. I wasn’t worried about
having the energy to finish. I only
cared how much longer I had to endure the miserable conditions. Miles and laps had no meaning.
For the rest of the race, I was
counting down the remaining time. It was
a big deal when I reached the turnaround in my 12th lap. That’s when I had just one hour to go.
By this time, I was noticing a
funny feeling inside my left shoe. My
insole was sliding forward. Eventually,
it would move so far forward that I would feel it curling up inside the toe
box. All I could do was try to ignore
it.
Just like yesterday, the wind
was coming from the south. I really felt
it in the early laps. Then it died
down. Later in the race, it got strong
again.
In the second half of my 13th lap,
the wind felt really cold. My legs began
to feel cold and stiff. I knew it would
probably rain today, but I underestimated how cold it would feel. I regretted my decision to wear shorts instead
of tights.
Getting through the second half
of that lap was tough. When I started my
last lap, I had the wind at my back for the first half. When I reached the turnaround, I dreaded
going into the wind again.
I didn’t feel it at first. It wasn’t until I went over the small hill
between the lakes that I really felt it.
Now my legs were really cold.
If my legs get too cold for too
long, I can have circulation issues. Blood
vessels in my legs constrict, and I don’t get as much blood flow to my
muscles. With about half a mile to go, I
started to experience that. My legs felt
so stiff that it took everything I had to keep them moving. More than once, my legs seemed to quit on me,
and I almost came to a stop. Each time,
I forced myself to keep moving.
I was grateful to be in my last
lap. If wasn’t about being tired or
being relieved to be finished. I
honestly don’t think I could’ve done another lap. I barely managed to finish this one.
I finished the race in
5:40:23. Despite all the difficulties I
had in the second half, I managed negative splits by three minutes. In the first half of the race my pace was
relaxed. In the second half, I felt at
times like it was a battle for survival.
Interestingly enough, I had negative splits in all four races of this
series.
After I finished, I got the
last two pieces for my chain of medals.
The medal for today’s race was a caribou. Then there was an extra medal signifying that
I finished every race of the series.
I got back to the hotel as
quickly as I could, so I could get out of my wet clothes. By then, my fingers were already turning white. After a hot bath, I felt much better.
By finishing today’s race, I
also finished my Alaska quadzilla. Now I’ve
completed a quadzilla in eight different states.
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