This article is quite
long, not because of writing about the marathon, but to add the Las Vegas
anecdotes.
The Hoover Dam Marathon
After running the Route 66 Marathon in Tulsa, I wanted to
get in one more marathon before the end of the year and to check another state
off of my list of those in which I have done one. I thought I was going to register for the
Rocket City Marathon in Huntsville, AL., which would allow a fairly cheap
flight into Nashville and a drive to get to it.
But it was already full. Ricky
Singh was already registered for the Hoover Dam Marathon and wanted me to go
with him. So that is what I choose. Although I initially did not want to fly that
far, I’m glad I did. Flights to Las
Vegas, motel stays, and food are all relatively cheap because the idea is to
get people there to gamble.
On Friday morning Ricky and his dad picked me up and we were
dropped off at the Philadelphia Airport.
The flight was uneventful, but I did enjoy the latter part when the
snow-covered Rockies came into view.
Eventually the view changed to peaks clear of snow in a desert setting.
Upon disembarking the plane, one is immediately hit with the
Las Vegas “ambience” - slot machines in the concourse and huge video screens in
the lobbies, touting various shows and attractions. We made our way to the shuttle for car
rentals. Arriving there, Ricky had to endure the typical lecturing from a stern
female car rental employee about the usual issues, designed to get him to spend
more money on insurance or a larger vehicle.
In the latter case, her claim was that I was too tall to fit into a
Toyota Yaris. It was fine.
We checked into a Howard Johnson motel about a half-mile
from the strip. After settling in a bit,
we headed out for an early meal. It was
4 p.m., but our stomachs were on East Coast time. I began to get my education in “Vegas
culture” as we walked to an Indian restaurant.
I wasn’t used to seeing people walking down the street with beer cans in
their hands. I learned that stands on
the street don’t sell newspapers, but instead are selling cheesecake brochures
for escort services.
As we walked, I saw a big van with a picture of Gene Simmons
from Kiss on it. I was thinking that
Kiss must be playing in Vegas and this was a tour vehicle. But as we rounded
the vehicle, I saw that it went with the building where it was parked: The Gene Simmons Wedding Chapel! That certainly fits Vegas!
After our meal, we sauntered up to the strip. On the way, we were passed by several young
black people in a good mood and laughing as they approached. Then one guy said, “Hey, there’s OG!” as he
looked at me. “How’s it going OG?” he
said in passing. Looking at Ricky, I
asked what he meant. He said, “Old
Geezer”, which is pretty funny. But the
Urban Dictionary says the basic meaning is Original Gangster, referring to
older people in a gang, or, more generally, a term of respect for an
elder. I’ll accept that!
We hit the strip, which was mobbed with people. I haven’t mentioned that the cowboy
convention was in town and numerous people were walking around wearing
ten-gallon hats. We only walked a couple
blocks, heading back toward the motel.
But on every block, several people, usually Hispanic women, would try to
get the men to take a card out of their hand for various strip clubs. They get paid by the cards that are turned
in. So they keep at it, slapping the cards against a hand and then thrusting
them out. We watched a spray can artist,
making pictures of moons and stars. I
eventually bought couple of large beers to be consumed the next day after the
marathon.
Back at the motel, I made my preparations for the race,
which included the emptying of 13 gels into a bottle, mixing it with warm water
and shaking it until the gel was thoroughly mixed into the water. Taking planes forces me to do that instead of
mixing brown rice syrup in advance because I can’t take a bottle of fluids
through airport security. After checking
email, I settled in bed before 8 p.m. Having
been up since 5:30 on the East Coast, my body knew it was almost 11 p.m.
The Race
I woke at 4 a.m.
Ricky wanted to sleep longer. So
I walked to Coco’s restaurant next door for breakfast. I watched three guys come in dressed in the
hip-hop style of having their pants hang below their bottoms. I pondered how the pants stayed up and
figured only an unusually wide stance would keep them from completely dropping “trou”. It’s like hobbling oneself in the same way
that much fashionable female clothing does.
After I returned to the room, Ricky rose and soon went off
for his breakfast, allowing me to finish my preparations. Upon his return, we were soon off for the
roughly forty-minute ride out to Lake Mead. After we entered Boulder City, we
took a left and after cresting a hill, we saw Lake Mead. At that point we were about 1,000 feet above
it and drove for four miles with it seeming we would never get to the lake
before we made the turn for the park entrance.
We paid the park fee, followed directions for parking and walked to the
number pick-up area. We had gotten there
over an hour early, so we beat the busloads of runners coming out from Vegas.
Before returning to the car to keep warm (it was only about
40 degrees, but sunny, just after dawn), I saw an older guy (76) with a 50
States Marathons shirt and a sign on it saying that this race would be his 200th
marathon. His name was Charles Sayles
and he was formerly the vice-president of the 50 States Club. He had a camera and a sign-up sheet and he
took each of our pictures and asked us to fill out our latest information for
the club.
Approaching 8:00 A.M. we all lined up. First the 10K runners started. They had to do a little loop in the parking
lot in order to get in 10K by the time they got to their finish near the Hoover
Dam. The marathoners and half-marathoners then started at 8:02. Marathoners
would do two of the same loop. Right from
the start, as we ran up the steep entrance to the picnic area where we had
gathered, I knew it was going to be a tough day.
Each loop of the course went like this: Almost three miles of asphalt trail, all mildly
uphill, made it difficult to get into a comfortable breathing rhythm. The trail
turned to rough gravel and climbed another couple miles. Sometimes rocks stuck out that one could trip
over. The gravel trail leveled out near
the top, but we had to go through a series of six tunnels through the
hills. In some of them the surface
eventually was too dark to see, making me iffy about every step I took. Lots of runners also stirred up dust in the
tunnels. Then we had a screaming descent in the last mile before the
turn-around. Eventually we went down a switchback
ramp to the roof to the Hoover Dam parking garage, ran over to the other side
(where one could see the Hoover Dam if one was paying attention, but I wasn’t),
and looped back to the ramp. The ascent
of the ramp was just the start to this killer mile of uphill. We retraced our course, but had to run past
the turn to the finish to add the 13th mile.
In terms of elevation, the course gained about 400 feet in
the first 3.5 miles, 50 feet in the next 1.6, and then dropped 200 feet over a
mile. Then it all reversed. The 13th mile was rolling. Over half the course was gravel, which slowed
me down. It was also windy on the hills and through the tunnels.
On the other hand the view was beautiful. Every view out there was crystal clear. At times we were over 500 feel above Lake
Meade, looking down on a boat marina.
The first time up the hills I had already picked up bits of
gravel in my shoes. But I wasn’t going
to stop as long as the gravel shifted away from a sensitive spot, which seemed
to happen. I was close to Ricky for
about seven miles, but after that first time up the really steep hill, I lost
my will to try to hang with him. About
then another guy, a 50 stater, came along and started a conversation, but he
did 80% of the talking. This slowed me
up a bit, which was fine by me. I knew I
had to run the loop twice and going too hard on the downhills near the end of
the first loop would have beaten me up.
The guy, Eddie Hahn, said he was there mainly to support Charles
Sayles. He said Charles had problems getting
under seven hours in an earlier, easier marathon and he didn’t know if Charles
could beat that cut-off time on this course.
A little before the ten-mile point, we were approaching a
port-a-john beside the trail. Since
everything around it was rocks and gravel, the door opened into the asphalt
trail. A guy came out just as a short
woman was running toward it and she plowed right into the door. I could tell she was in pain, as she was
holding her ribs and took a while to get her running rhythm back. I resolved to tell someone in the race
organization about the incident later.
When I did, the guy thanked me and said that in the future they would
put cones out to keep runners from going right past the door.
Eddie took off at about 12.5 miles and I was on my own
again. Down I went to the start/finish
area for the beginning of my second loop.
More hills, more gravel in my shoes, more dust, and more beauty. Finally, as we began the descent at 18 miles
to the parking garage, I abandoned the race-walk strategy I had been using on the
steeper downhills and let my stride lengthen.
I was passing people who were hurting because they had already beaten up
their quads.
Right at the far side of the parking garage roof was the 19-mile
mark. The next mile, the steepest on the
course, took me 13:33 to complete. Although I had race-walked much of this mile
the first time through, the second time I didn’t have as much strength and had
to resort to good old-fashioned trudging up the steepest sections.
Going down the gravel trail and through the tunnels for the
last time was miserable. For some reason
the gravel in my shoes had shifted a few pieces right under my arches, making
the steps painful. Finally, with 3.5
miles to go, I left the gravel path and the gravel in my shoes shifted away
from irritating me. Then I could finally
let it go. Usually when I’m racing from
the beginning, I’m hurting at the end and my last miles are my slowest. But because I was conservative in the first
half of the race and the nature of the course didn’t let me run fast, except on
mile nineteen, I was still relatively fresh.
Mainly my quads didn’t hurt.
Miles 24 and 25 were both done in 9:25 each, my fastest of the day. Mile 26 was a bit more difficult.
I finished in 4:43:01.
I felt like I did the best I could on the day. I was only about five minutes slower in the
second half than the first. Later I found a comparison with another runner,
Robert Toonkal, who had also run Delaware last May. I ran Delaware in @4:08, 35 minutes faster
than Hoover Dam. Toonkal ran Delaware in
3:58 and Hoover Dam in 4:33, which is also 35 minutes more. Ricky finished in 4:36, which he considered a
success since he had done little running in the past three weeks.
After we finished, we grabbed some food. I eventually made my way to the car to grab
one of the beers. Eventually, Eddie Hahn
was seated with us and I shared the beer with him. He’s an interesting guy, who has done his
years in the army and is raising three kids on his own after his wife left
him. We decided to friend each other on
Facebook. I told him my politics might
not agree with his. He said he didn’t
care about politics; he just likes runners.
The Sideshow
So we made our way back to Vegas and got showered and
cleaned up. Again we walked out to go to
dinner. We decided to eat at the Hard
Rock Café, which we had passed the evening before. We went almost a mile out of our way finding
it. The food hit the spot, but I must
say that musical selections being played were not all “Hard Rock” with pop and
country and western mixed in. I guess
they know their clientele.
After eating we made our way back to the Strip. We entered the “Miracle Mile”, which is a
long, indoor shopping center and walked through it. At the other end was a casino and Ricky said
we should go in and check it out.
Personally I have no interest in gambling when the business and the
state are going to get their cut off the top.
But Ricky decided to play roulette and bought some chips. Before the first spin, he put four
five-dollar chips on random numbers. One
of them hit – NUMBER 26. What it a coincidence
that he had just run 26.2 miles? He was
up $155. I told him he should quit while
he was ahead and he did. Then he wanted
to try poker, which he said he didn’t understand. I knew five-card poker, but this was the best
four out of five cards. We watched some
practice hands from the dealer. Ricky
made the minimum wager of $10. He got a
pair and won another $10. This time he
quit because he still didn’t understand the game. I told him he had just about covered an
airline ticket.
Then we made our way outside, wandered back toward our motel
and turned in.
The next morning we went to breakfast together. This time as we were being seated, I noticed
there were two guys in back of us in the next booth. There were a number of dishes on the table,
all untouched, as they both had their heads down on their hands. They were out and remained that way as we
ate. The manager showed up at 6 a.m. and
tried to rouse them, staying it was no place to sleep. One guy went to the restroom, but the other
lay down on his side of the booth.
After gathering our things at the motel room, we were on our
way to return the rental car. We stopped
to fill up. I pumped and then declined a
receipt. I realized we had been told to
bring one as proof of the fill-up, so I went inside to get one printed out. That’s
when I experienced one of the more bizarre interactions with another person
that I’ve had in my life.
A fairly young burly black man was trying to interact with a
young black woman who had on a party dress.
She never said a word and quickly left after getting her receipt. The man asked for a pack of cigarettes and
then turned to me and said, “Hey, let me ask you a question! Did you ever kill anybody? You look like you are in your 40s or 50s. Weren’t you in World War II or Vietnam? Didn’t you ever kill anybody?”
I think my stunned silence ended the conversation. After getting my receipt, I went out and saw
the guy again hitting on the woman, who was trying to finish up pumping her
gas. I was thinking “good luck” to her.
The rest of the trip was fairly uneventful. I enjoyed looking out the plane window as we
began our flight back East. I don’t
believe I saw any of the Grand Canyon, but I learned that Arizona and Colorado
are just full of other similar, if less spectacular, canyons and they look
totally uninhabited and isolated from people.
When we landed in Philadelphia, we had a slight delay as
Ricky’s car battery died while his dad was waiting in the cell phone lot for
Ricky’s call to say we had arrived. He
got a jump from someone else and picked us up and we were quickly down the
road, back to Delaware.
Recommendation: The
Hoover Dam Marathon is not a PR course.
Run it strictly for the scenery.
December is definitely the month to run one in Nevada.
