On February 8, I ran the Mesa
Marathon. Deb and I built a vacation
around this race, so we could go to the Grand Canyon afterwards.
Friday, February 7
We flew to Phoenix on
Friday, arriving around noon. Before
going to our hotel, we stopped for lunch at a diner near the airport. Then we went to our hotel, which was in
Tempe. Our hotel was about six miles
from where the race finishes. There were
closer hotels, but they were already booked.
After dropping Deb off at
the hotel, I went to the expo, which was at the Mesa Convention Center. It was a larger expo than I thought, with
vendors both inside and outside the building.
While I was there, I bumped into two friends.
Deb and I were both tired
from waking up too early, and I needed to be up early again on Saturday. Instead of going out for dinner, we had an
early dinner at the hotel and got to sleep as early as we could.
Saturday, February 8
Saturday was race
day. The course was point-to-point, so I
needed to park near the finish area and take a bus to the start. We could catch a bus any time from 4:00 to
5:15 AM. I got there at 3:45, because I
didn’t know how quickly the parking lots would fill up.
When I arrived, the
parking lot was almost empty, so I got one of the closest spots. Fifteen minutes later, the lot was full.
I waited in my car until
4:00. Then I made a bathroom stop before
getting in line to board a bus.
It took about 45 minutes
to get to the start area, which was up in the hills to the northeast of the
city. When we arrived, we still had an
hour and a half before the race. I was
pleasantly surprised to find out that the buses would stay there, so we didn’t
have to wait outside.
As it turns out, waiting
outside wouldn’t be too bad. It wasn’t
as cold as I was expecting, and there were rows of space heaters set up in the
start area, near the port-o-potties.
Several members of the
50sub4 Marathon Club were at this race, and we were planning on having a group
photo near the bag check at 5:45. I went
there and waited for about 10 minutes, but I didn’t see any other members of
the club. I think the others were on
later buses and didn’t arrive in time for the photo. I eventually checked my gear bag and then got
into a port-o-potty line. By now, the
lines were getting long.
I was expecting it to be
colder in the start area, so I started the race wearing tights. I was willing to risk getting too hot in the
late miles of the race. As it turns out,
I probably would’ve been OK in shorts.
My last race gave me a
lot of confidence that I’m ready to pick up where I left off last fall, when I
was consistently running times in the 3:40s.
In Marrakech, I had multiple reasons to have low expectations, but I ran
3:48:24 on a flat course. This course descends
almost 1,000 feet, so I expected to be faster.
They had pace
groups. At first, I lined up in front of
the 3:50 group. Then I noticed a 3:45
group, so I moved forward to line up next to them. That seemed like a reasonable goal for me,
but I wasn’t actually planning to run with the group. The early miles are downhill, and when I’m
running downhill, I need to go at whatever pace feels natural.
When the race started, I
followed the 3:45 group for about a minute.
That was enough time to get a sense of the pace. Then I went ahead on my own.
The sun was still below
the horizon, but there was enough light to see the road. Looking ahead, I could see the lights of the
city in the distance.
The first mile was
noticeably downhill. It was the easiest
mile on the course, and I ran that mile in 8:02. My target pace was 8:35, but I wasn’t
surprised that I started fast. I was OK
with that as long as it didn’t feel like I was putting too much effort into it.
The first time we turned
onto a different road, I immediately noticed reflectors where there were lines
separating the lanes. After that, I was
careful to stay away from the lane lines.
Last year, I tripped on a reflector and had a hard fall.
The next three miles were
also downhill, with the exception of one very brief uphill tick at the end of
the second mile. Those three miles
weren’t as fast as the first mile, but they were still much faster than my target
pace.
Right at the four-mile
mark, the road turned uphill. The first
half of the course is mostly downhill, but it’s slightly uphill from four to
six miles.
On the uphill section, I
paid careful attention to how hard I weas working. I allowed myself to slow down enough that my
effort still felt sustainable. Even at a
slower pace, I started to warm up. I had
been wearing gloves, but I took them off during this section.
Most of the other runners
were passing me now. I didn’t worry
about that. My only concern on this
section was to get through it without wearing myself out.
The next time I reached an aid station, I had trouble getting through all the other runners to get over to the table to get a cup of Gatorade. As I was delayed at the aid station, I saw a pace group go by. It was the 3:45 group. I had started much faster than their target pace, so I was surprised to see that they had been right behind me all along.
If I had been on a flat or downhill section, I probably would’ve picked up my pace to stay with the group. After all, their target time was also my goal. I didn’t want to expend too much energy running uphill, so I let them go. By the time we reached the end of this uphill section, I could barely see them in the distance.
Mile five was my slowest
mile of the race, but it was also the only mile that was entirely uphill. By the end of mile six, the road had already
turned downhill again. That mile was
slower than the pace I wanted to average, but it wasn’t as slow as the previous
mile.
After that, I picked up
my pace again. Mile seven was all
downhill, and it was almost as fast as mile one.
Around eight miles, we
made a sharp right turn, and the road leveled off for a while. After that, the trend was still downhill, but
some miles were more level than others.
Through these miles, my pace varied, but it never got slower than my
target pace of 8:35.
The course was
well-marked. I especially liked that
they had signs letting us know when we were approaching a turn. About a quarter mile before the turn, there
would be a sign saying “Turn Right” or “Turn Left.” Knowing when a turn was coming up made it
easy to pick the most direct line.
My neck was feeling
stiff. I’m not sure if running downhill
affected my posture, but I couldn’t seem to move my head and neck in any way to
alleviate the stiffness. I had to live
with that discomfort for the rest of the race.
At about nine miles, we
reached the suburbs of Phoenix. Then we
started to see spectators and motivational signs.
By now, I was feeling the
sun for first time. We didn’t have any
direct sunlight until the sun was high enough in the sky to be shining over the
mountains. After that, there wasn’t much
shade.
I occasionally asked
myself how I felt, in comparison to my last race, which was two weeks ago. After 10 miles, I no longer felt fresh. I was starting to feel like I was working. I didn’t feel like I was working as hard as I
was two weeks ago. That was reassuring.
I reached the halfway
mark in 1:51:29. I knew the second half
would be slower. The first half was the
easy half, as it was mostly downhill.
The second half was much more level.
There was still a slight downhill trend, but the second half of the
course looked and felt flat.
Again, I asked myself how
I felt, in comparison to my last race.
In that race, it seemed like it took more and more effort to run the
same pace from about 14 miles on. This
time, I still felt like I was doing OK.
I started to pick out the
runners who looked the strongest. I
challenged myself to keep up with two runners who were starting to pass
everyone else. It took a little extra
effort, but I could do it. In miles 14
and 15, I sped up to a pace in the low 8:20s.
At this point, I would’ve been happy just to keep my pace in the 8:30s
for the rest of the race.
In the next mile, I
spotted the 3:45 group ahead of me. I
picked up my effort to see if I could catch up with them. Once I caught up, I could just run with them
for the rest of the race. I ran with
them for a minute or two, but then I got ahead of them. That was probably a mistake.
As I went ahead on my
own, I reached the 16-mile mark. I ran
that mile in 8:11. I knew I would
probably regret that later.
In the next mile, I eased
up a bit. I was no longer trying to keep
up with the fastest runners near me.
Now, I was just keeping up with a majority of the runners around me. I slowed to 8:28, but my effort now seemed
like it would be sustainable for the rest of the race.
Earlier, when I was
catching up to the 3:45 group, I moved ahead of the two runners I had been
trying to keep up with. By the end of
the 17th mile, one of them had moved ahead of me again. Against my better judgement, I picked up my
effort enough to keep pace. That mile
was only a few seconds faster than the previous one, but my effort no longer
felt like it was sustainable. I had to
back off again.
In mile 19, I slowed to
8:37. That was slower than my target
pace, but it was close enough. If I
could keep up that pace for the rest of the race, I would have a fast time.
In the next mile, we
turned, and I suddenly noticed a nice cool breeze. The temperature had warmed into the 60s, and
it was sunny. I had dressed for cold
temperatures at the start, so I was now overdressed. Until now, I didn’t even realize that I was
getting hot. The breeze would keep me
cool until the next turn.
My pace in mile 20 was
similar to mile 19. Then the 3:45 group
passed me again. I tried to pick up my
pace to keep up with them, but I could only do it for a few minutes. Then I had to let them go.
At first, that was
discouraging. I couldn’t help but wonder
if I would’ve been able to stay with the group if I hadn’t gone ahead of them
four miles earlier. Then I did the math
and realized they must be at least two minutes ahead of their target pace. On the previous 20 miles, I had been faster
than their target pace in 16 miles and slower in only four. Of those, two were only a few seconds
slower. I knew my average pace was much
faster than their target pace. They had
to be going too fast. If I could keep up
my current pace, I would still break 3:45.
I didn’t have to keep up with the group.
I kept up the same pace
for one more mile, but it seemed to take more effort. I asked myself how I felt in comparison to my
last race. In that race, I was
struggling badly by this point. Although
I was getting tired, I didn’t feel like I was coming completely unglued. Also, my average pace was much faster in this
race. I liked the comparison.
In mile 22, I slowed to
8:45. I no longer felt like I could keep
up the same effort. Even if I could, the
same effort no longer translated to the same pace.
Even at this pace, I
would still break 3:45, but I expected to keep slowing down. Sure enough, in mile 23, I slowed to 9:01.
Now, I was no longer sure
that I was still going fast enough to break 3:45. It seemed like I was giving up too much
time. That last mile was 26 seconds slower
than my target pace, and I still had 3.2 miles to go.
Again, I thought back to
how I felt at the same point in the race two weeks ago. In that race, I felt much worse, yet I
managed to keep my pace under nine minutes per mile in those last three miles.
I tried to pick up my
pace, but the next mile was five seconds slower. I had trouble motivating myself to dig deep
and fight for it. I didn’t realize it
yet, but I was suffering from the rising temperature. I was overdressed, and I was paying for that.
There was a half marathon
that followed the second half of the marathon route. With two miles to go, I started to pass
people who were near the back of the pack of the half marathon. I heard a familiar voice ask. “Is that David
Holmen?” I yelled, “Yes!” It was my friend Natalie, who was doing the
half marathon.
My pace stabilized in
mile 25, but I had no idea how I would finish.
I had been paying attention to my splits, but I never remembered to look
at my total time.
In addition to the mile
markers for the marathon, I was also seeing mile markers for the half
marathon. When I got to their “12” sign,
I checked my time. It was 3:35:01. If I could run the last 1.1 miles in 9:58, I would
still beat 3:45. At the pace of my most
recent two miles, I would do it, but it would be close.
That gave me the
motivation I needed. I finally summoned
up the strength to pick up my pace. I
ran harder the rest of the way.
In the last mile, I saw
that the road was going to turn downhill, but only briefly. That last little downhill started as we
crossed a street called “Longmore.” I
didn’t like that name. I didn’t want the
rest of the race to be long, and I didn’t want more.
As I got closer to the
finish, I saw that I was catching up to the 3:45 group again. At this point, it was just the 3:45 pace
leader. The rest of his group had gone
ahead. My previous assessment was
correct. He was going too fast for most
of the race. Then he slowed down in the
last mile.
In mile 26, I did indeed
speed up. I ran it in 8:46. There was still one more turn, but looking to
my right, I could see the finish line arch.
On the final approach to
the line, I was chasing the 3:45 pacer.
I didn’t catch him, but I did break 3:45. I finished in 3:44:40.
Moments after crossing
the line, I suddenly realized how hot I was.
I was sweating profusely. I felt
sweaty in spite of the dry desert air.
Volunteers were handing
out large cans of water in the finish area.
I don’t normally drink more water right after finishing, but this time I
really needed it.
The finisher medal was in
the shape of Arizona. There’s a small
spinner in the center. The other side of
the spinner depicts a cactus.
I stopped for a while to talk
to friends just a short distance from the finish line. Eventually, I continued moving through the
finish area.
At the results tent, I
found out that anyone who qualified for Boston in this race got a luggage
tag. It’s always nice to get extras like
that.
I went over to the gear retrieval area with my friend, Eliot. The volunteers found my bag easily, but they couldn’t find Eliot’s bag. It wasn’t where it was supposed to be. Eliot spent more than an hour looking for his bag, without getting much help from the volunteers. He eventually got his bag, but he wasn’t too happy with the volunteers.
That was the only blemish
on what was otherwise a well-organized race.
In all the other areas, the volunteers were great.
Finish line food included
an ice cream bar, a banana, a protein bar, and beer. I ate most of the food and had my free
post-race beer. I saved the protein bar
for later.
While I was in the finish
area, I saw at least 10 friends. Some
had finished before me. Others finished
while I was still in the beer garden. When Eliot joined us,
we took a 50sub4 post-race pic with the club members who were in the beer
garden.
I ended up staying in the finish area for almost two hours before finally driving back to the hotel. Deb had a nice breakfast
at the hotel, but she was hungry for lunch by the time I got back. I took a quick shower, and then we went to
lunch.
My race packet included a
coupon for a free doughnut at Voodoo Doughnuts.
We stopped there on our way back from lunch. I saved my doughnut for later. We also stopped at Wal-Mart to get some nasal
spray to help cope with the dry air.
Neither of us had the
energy to go back out again. We spent
the rest of the afternoon relaxing at the hotel. Our dinner was a combination of happy hour
snacks and other foods that we already had.
Sunday, February 9
We checked out of our hotel in
Tempe and drove up to the south rim of the Grand Canyon. It’s a four-hour drive, so we didn’t get
there until the afternoon.
After a brief stop at the
visitor center, we walked out to Mather Point for our first view of the canyon.
We stayed at a lodge in Grand
Canyon Village. When we checked in, Deb
mentioned that this was her first visit to the Grand Canyon, and they gave us a
free upgrade to a room with a canyon view.
After we unpacked, Deb checked
out one of the shops while I went for a short run.
The elevation at south rim is
7,000 feet, so I expected my run to be more tiring than usual. I was still surprised to be intensely out of
breath in the first mile. I forced myself
to keep running for two miles before turning around to head back to the
lodge. As soon as I turned around, it
got easier. It turns out that the first
half of my run was uphill.
We had dinner at a restaurant
in the adjacent building. After dinner,
we went outside to see the evening view of the canyon from behind the lodge.
Monday, February 10
We did most of our sightseeing
on Monday. After breakfast, we drove to
several viewpoints to the west of the village. Deb has a fear of heights, so at most of the viewpoints, Deb stayed near the car, while I hiked out to
the farthest viewing point. In the
morning, the sun was shining from the east, so I could only get good pictures
looking west through the canyon.
Here’s the view from Trail View
Overlook:
This is the view from Powell
Point:
Hopi Point:
Mohave Point:
Pima Point:
Out last stop going west was
Hermit’s Rest.
There’s a curio shop at Hermit’s
Rest, and we got there just before it opened, so we looked around the shop
before heading back.
After driving back to the
village, we headed east. Again, we
stopped at all the scenic overlooks that are accessible by car. By now, the sun was higher in the sky.
Here’s the view from Pipe Creek
Vista:
This is Duck on a Rock.
Grandview Point:
Moran Point:
Lipan Point:
Navajo Point:
Our last stop was Desert View,
where there’s a market, a gift shop, the eastern visitor center, and a lookout
tower.
The ground floor of the tower has floor to ceiling windows, so you can be indoors, yet get great views of the canyon. This was a good viewing point for Deb. She felt perfectly comfortable viewing the canyon through the windows.
There are stairs leading up to
four higher levels. Inside the next few
levels there are examples of Native American artwork:
On the top level, there are
more large windows. Here are two of the
views:
When we got back to Grand
Canyon Village, Deb visited some of the shops, while I went for another
run. I ran the same out-and-back route,
so I knew what to expect. In the uphill
direction, I was gasping for air. Coming
back, it felt more manageable.
When Deb was done at the shops, and I was cleaned up from my run, we walked over to the Lookout Studio behind the Bright Angel Lodge. While Deb was looking around in the studio, I went out on the viewing platform.
Next, we drove to the Yavapai
Geology Museum. Here, you can see a
relief map of the canyon and learn about the geology of the canyon. It’s also another building with
floor-to-ceiling windows where you can get good canyon views from indoors.
Our last stop of the afternoon
was the park store, which is near the visitor center. After that, we went back to the lodge to
relax until dinner.
Tuesday, February 11
We weren’t flying home until
Wednesday, but it was a morning flight, so we drove back to Phoenix on
Tuesday. We took a different route, so
we got to see some different views as we drove through the mountains.
Neither of us slept well Monday
night, so we were looking forward to getting a good night’s sleep Tuesday
night. When we checked into our hotel,
our room was uncomfortably warm and the AC didn’t seem to be working. When we called about it, we found out that
the AC for the whole building had gone out that day. We were assured it would be working in a few
hours.
In the meantime, I found some
trails near our hotel where I could go for a run. Running in Phoenix was much easier than
running in Grand Canyon Village.
Despite the promises of the
hotel manager, the AC still wasn’t working after we ate dinner. By then it was cool enough outside that we
could start cooling the room down by opening the door to our balcony. The room cooled down a few degrees, but it
was still warmer than ideal when we went to bed.
We shut the balcony door before
going to bed, so lights from outside wouldn’t keep us awake. We assumed the AC would come on when it was
fixed, but it never got fixed. I slept
for a few hours, but then I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep again. The room had warmed up again.
Wednesday, February 12
After spending most of the
night lying awake in bed, I was a train wreck.
What had been a nice vacation ended on a sour note.
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