Revel Rockies Marathon: 

I went up to 11,000 feet and it was all downhill from there!

In September of 2013 I ran the Erie Marathon, which is flat, in 4:04:14 at the age of 68.  After that performance I started wondering whether I could run a time better than the existing Delaware state record for a 70 year-old man, which is 3:57:06, in a little more than a year when I turned 70.  Well, I didn’t really work on it in terms of training and my first attempt at the Mo’ Cowbell Marathon in October 2014 was miserable as half of it was on a rough gravel trail.

The next two marathons I did in the fall of 2014 were better – 4:14 and 4:15, easily Boston Qualifiers for man of 70, but nowhere near the necessary sub four hour time.  Over the winter I gained weight – maybe ten pounds.  In 2015 my times were slower between 4:31 and 4:45.

 But by spring I had found a marathon in Colorado – the Revel Rockies.  It was advertised as a totally downhill event, dropping 5,400 feet from a starting altitude of 11,200 feet.  The website talked about PRs and how the altitude would not be that much of a problem since the run was downhill (much easier aerobically than a level or uphill course).  So I resolved to do it as my Colorado marathon.  Carolyn would come with me, we’d take a week and see some sights.

The beginning of June after my slowest marathon of the year in 4:45 in Minneapolis, I resolved to again shed the excess fat.  I restricted my caloric intake to the essentials for several weeks and did a lot of walking in addition to my normal running.  As the date approached in mid-July, sure enough I had lost close to ten pounds.

The one thing the race website told me to do was to become inured to downhill running.  In April and May, I did some half-mile downhill repeats on New Linden Hill road.  But going back up the hill was taking to long.  I was saving my energy for the downhill running, so I was walking back up the hill.  It was taking me close to ten minutes on the uphill.  That wasn’t going to work.

By June I had decided on running down a portion of Duncan Road at Delcastle.  The section was a bit over a quarter mile. I was running them at a pace of 8:30 or better, and would do the last one each time under a 7:00 minute pace.  I started with ten repeats and did each subsequent workout three days later, each time adding two more repeats.  I did my last workout of 20 repeats two and a half weeks before the marathon in order to recover.  I figured that was the best I could do with a compressed training schedule.

We flew out to the Denver area just the Friday before the Sunday race.  No, there would be no acclimating to the altitude as I wanted to recover before going home, rather than get on a plane with sore legs.  In fact I realize now that acclimating to such attitude takes at least a couple weeks. Even getting used to being a mile high would not make me ready to deal with even less oxygen in the entire marathon, which is all higher than a mile.

On Saturday we drove to Golden, Colorado, site of the hugely massive Coors Brewery, which draws its water from the creek running through the middle of town.  The expo was at a pavilion at the Colorado School of Mines.  We were not there long.  One nice feature was that each registrant had the choice of taking a long-sleeve shirt, a short-sleeve shirt or a singlet.  I chose the singlet, because I already have dozens of both long and short sleeve shirts.

We got to bed early that night – by 8 pm – because we had to get up by 2:30 A.M.  I wanted to catch the bus from the finish area out up the mountains to the start early.  Eight pm still felt like close to our normal bedtime having just come from the East Coast where it would have been ten pm.  We had bought some good coffee before retiring and stuck it in our motel room refrigerator.  Getting up, we heated the coffee and I also ate a granola bar and a banana.  That helped me use the bathroom before leaving the room. 

Then I drove out to Banadmire Speedway, outside Morrison, where we were to park and I was to catch the bus.  Carolyn stayed in the car, for several hours, until it got lighter.  Eventually she went into Morrison, where the race would finish, and found a place to eat.  Later she watched the finishers while waiting for me.

Meanwhile I walked deeper into the Speedway parking lot where a number of runners were gathering for the first buses.  It was not a good sign when the buses showed a few minutes later that they had to circle around us once in order to pull up to where we were.  Once the buses pulled away, it was also not a good sign that many of the windows on the bus would not close all the way, letting in air that was cooling down to 45 degrees as we ascended the mountains. 

When we reached our destination, I headed for the porta-potties first. At that point there were plenty of them and not that many runners yet.  Then I grabbed a couple of mylar blankets and tried to keep warm, sitting on the gravel. I feel the race organization would do better by the marathoners to have an area with some tarps on the gravel so that people could wait with a bit more warmth and comfort.

At some point there were announcements that the race would start ten minutes late because the last bus was late in leaving the staging area (more on buses later).  I wandered off down a closed off gravel road to find a tree after pounding down a quart of Gatorade and not wanting to deal with the now long porta-potty lines.

Finally we were told to line up and everyone walked about a hundred yards down the road to the start.  Being either ambitious or delusional, I lined up near the 3:45 pacer, figuring I could back off to the 3:55 pace if necessary..  Remember that in training, I was running downhill faster than this and not breathing hard at all.  Well, about 30 seconds after the start, I knew that my calculations and the assurances of the race website were wrong.  Running at what I considered a reasonable downhill marathon pace had me breathing is if I were in an all-out 5K effort.  I was sucking air.  For a few minutes my arms felt weak.  I thought maybe my breathing would catch up in a mile, well two miles, maybe four miles.  It didn’t.

  

Meanwhile, we passed the one-mile mark.  Already I had let the 3:45 group slip away, but not by much yet.  That would be an average pace of around 8:30, yet my watch read 9:48 at one mile.  After I finished, another pacer confirmed the first mile was long.  For the first eight miles I averaged a 9:10 pace, including the extra distance in the first mile.  But my quads were accumulating a couple thousand feet of downhill pounding.

Just after eight miles came the first uphill, something which the race website and course map did not prepare me.  As soon as I started uphill, I could not run.  I could not get enough oxygen to my muscles.  I simply started to walk and immediately scrapped any illusion about running a fast marathon.  That was a good thing as there were eventually four hills. 

I passed the half marathon point in 2:08 something, under a ten minute pace.  But then the course became problematic for me. For the entire second half we ran along a creek on the right side of the road.  For some reason that makes no sense to me, the course was in the right lane with the left lane open to traffic.  The right lane naturally cantered fairly severely towards the creek to run off any water (whereas the left lane appeared much closer to level).  That played right into my leg length discrepancy (right leg is shorter) and the fact that I was already dealing with soreness from going downhill.  So I basically walked the entire second half, doing it in 3:15.  Truth be told, back where I was, most people were walking from 15 miles on. There was very little distance in the second half that was even close to level where I could have attempted a bit of jogging.

Near the end as we approached the town of Morrison the road got closer to level and I covered mile 26 in 13 minutes, as opposed to the 16 and 17 minutes miles I had been walking.  But again, as with the first miles, what should have been the last two tenths of a mile was long.  It took me over five minutes to cover it.  I heard someone yell that the course was more like 26.6 miles.

 

 Once I finished, Carolyn was there waiting.  She had figured I was walking and was not worried, even though I was around an hour slower than I might have reasonably figured I was have run.  Last year’s results (the first time for the event) had no male runner over 70, but this year I couldn’t luck into an age group with a 5:23.  I ended up fifth.  Two of the other men were from Colorado and two from California.  I wondered how much more used to altitude were the two from CA.

Carolyn caught me up on the bus mess.  Recall that the last bus for the marathon was late.  It turns out that a few dozen were not able to catch a bus to the start.  When the women’s winner of the half marathon came in, she was angry and fuming.  Apparently she had actually signed up to do the marathon and dropped down to the half when she couldn’t get on a bus for the marathon.  But that was just the beginning of the mess.  While 800 plus people were registered for the marathon and only a few dozen missed out, there were over 1,600 registered for the half-marathon.  But less than 400 caught a bus and finished the race.  NOT ENOUGH BUSES showed up.  Carolyn had seen hundreds of runners, who were ready to run the half, take off and go for a group run in a park near to the parking lot.

In the next couple of days the information came out that the bus company had been under a cease and desist order from the state of Colorado as it owed thousands of dollars in fines.  Apparently the race organization took a low bidding bus contractor. A day later it sent out an apologetic email offering all those affected (not me), either the entry fee back or free entry in another event.

Recommendation:  The scenery is beautiful.  If you are taking a summer vacation in Colorado, this could fit into your plans.  But do not be under any illusions of having a fast time at attitude that starts at 11,200 feet and is still over a mile at the finish.  The race organization needs to figure out some issues – measuring the correct distance to start since it wants the race to finish at the town park in Morrison; putting the race in the second half in the left lane, instead of the right; hiring a legitimate bus company.  It did own up to its mistake, but created a lot of ill will in that area among runners.

Running Sayings:

I found a website that has cartoons of runners saying different things.  I pulled out the ones that either remind me of myself in some situation or that contain a nugget of running wisdom.  I've sorted them below:

SOUNDS LIKE ME:

Yelling "You're almost there!" is strictly forbidden until mile 25.

When making weekend plans, your first thought is always, "When can I get my long run in?"

Runner:  One who has six pairs of "retired" running shoes in the closet, in addition to the ones in use.

How can you tell if someone ran a marathon?  Don't worry.  They'll tell you.

Yelling "Run, Forest, Run" at me?  I'm blown away by your creativity.

You know you're a runner when... you try guessing the pace of a runner as they pass you.

Running keeps me busy until it's acceptable to have a beer or two.

If you don't go for a run, how are you supposed to know when to take a shower?

Of course it's a coincidence that there is a race in the same place where I planned our vacation!

You know you're a runner when... you see another person running and get jealous.

You know you're a runner when... you google your name and all you find are race results.

You know you're a runner when... people in your neighborhood say "I see you running a lot."

You know you're a runner when... you can run six miles and still feel out of shape.

Things only a runner understands:  Sizing up every street, path or alley for the potential as a running route.

When your legs get tired, run with your heart.  If that doesn't work, just keep moving towards the free beer.

You know you're a runner when... you are stuck in traffic and you think "i could have run there by now."

The tree in 20 feet or the port-a-potty in over a mile?

That moment after you realize it's a rest day... and you just don't know what to do.


RUNNING WISDOM:

26.2 - because 26.3 would be crazy!

Joggers bounce up and down at red lights.  Runners stand there looking pissed.

In order to "kick ass" you must first lift up your foot.

NEVER AGAIN - until the next one.  That's what marathons do to you.

Marathon thoughts:  I'm going to die.  But if I don't, I totally want to do it again!

Running is about finding friends who are your kind of crazy.

Our AGE is no big secret among RUNNERS.

Endorphins:  More effective than any drug!

Running has taught me I can keep going long after I think I can't.

There is no magic pill.  No great shake.  No secret diet.  Just get off your ass!

Running:  It's not as boring as it looks.

You know who NEVER says "running is really hard on your knees"?  People who actually run!

I'd rather be the slowest runner in a race anytime, than a spectator for a lifetime!

Ask your doctor if getting off your ass is right for you!

The Martian Marathon

As I get into 2015, I am going to be seriously working on my goal of running a marathon in every state.  For April I signed up to do the Martian Marathon in Dearborn, MI, which is close to Detroit.  This would be my 31^st state. By the way there is no obvious reason for the Martian theme for these races (which also have a half, 10K and 5K) other than it is cool.

In researching how to get to this event I discovered that flying was expensive directly from Philadelphia and that it would actually be cheaper to fly from BWI and transfer to the same plane in Philadelphia.  The latter scenario already involved driving 70 miles and paying tolls, so I decided to simply drive to and from the event. This will be my last drive to one of the fifty states as the closest left to be done is Tennessee and the flight there is fairly cheap.

So on Friday, April 17, I was up before 4 A.M.  I simply got dressed, grabbed my suitcase, got in my car and started driving.  Going up Rte. 41, there is a Sunoco station fairly close in Pennsylvania.  I got some coffee, which kept me awake.  By quarter to six I was at a rest stop on the Pennsylvania turnpike.  I called Carolyn, ate, visited the restroom and took more coffee to go. 

Around ten A.M., I entered Ohio.  Driving there was easy, except that there were numerous construction zones where the speed limit officially dropped from 70 to 50. Having received a speeding ticket the last time I drove this highway in 2010, I tried to keep my speed under 60 when I got into the construction zones.  But everyone was passing me.  I finally gave up when a car continued to pass me in the lane that was disappearing as the cones edged out and I was forced to brake in order to either prevent the woman from hitting my car or plowing into the cones.  I laid on the horn, but she sped on.  After that, I just went with whatever the traffic was doing.

By 2 p.m. I was off the Interstate and driving to my motel.  After checking in, I drove to the expo only a few miles away.  On that drive, I started to realize that as Wilmington used to be synonymous with DuPont, so Dearborn was such with Ford.  I drove past one huge plant on my drive.

Upon getting in the building, I realized that I, along with a couple hundred other runners, was 15 minutes early before the 3 p.m. opening.  I stood in line and struck up a conversation with a guy in his 40s who was behind me.  He was running the half-marathon as a training run for the U.S. National 25K Championship, which occurs annually somewhere in Michigan, and may be the only one in the country.  (Later I found that he was second overall in the half-marathon.)  Getting my number, I browsed the expo briefly.  I checked the shoes, which were not being sold as any bargain prices.  One of the guys working there noticed my shoes and commented that he didn’t see Sportivas much.  Turns out that he used to work in Kentucky selling rock-climbing apparel, such does my son at his Delaware Rock Gym.  I had gotten the shoes through an employee discount, but after realizing they were impossible to tie tightly for racing, I pulled out the laces and use them as slip-on comfort shoes.

After leaving the expo, I checked possible places to eat.  Then I drove from the motel to where the race would be held.  This time, driving down Oakwood Rd., I passed another Ford facility that seemed to go on for a mile with R&D buildings for Ford on the other side of the road.  I scouted out the parking lot that only marathon runners (who would start long before any other runners) would be allowed to use.  I also talked to a couple of the people setting up and noticed the two brand new cars at the finish.  The company was apparently the major race sponsor.  You can guess the brand.

Then I drove back toward the motel, but turned where I had located two places to eat and have a beer.  The first one seemed to have a full parking lot, so I pulled in the second one, called Brews Brothers.  But as soon as I walked in the door I smelled cigarette smoke.  So I did a u-turn and left.  I went back to the first bar and found a parking spot..  I had a nice burger with sides and a couple brews.  I told the waitress about the other place.  She said some of the smaller bars allow their customers to smoke in order to keep them even though it is supposedly illegal.

Back at the motel, I was turned in by 8:15.  I was tossing and turning by 3:15, so I was up before four a.m.  There were no cups for the coffeemaker in the room, so I used a water bottle to catch the dripping coffee.  I probably melted and consumed some plastic in the process.  I had a banana and a granola bar, got ready and left around five.  There was a Tim Horton’s coffee shop less than a mile away, so I got another and drove to the park where the race would start.  I pulled right up where I could watch the vendors setting up and nursed my coffee until six.  Then I started to pound a quart of Gatorade.  One of the nice aspects of starting in the marathon (which had less the 300 entrants) was that we got to use the roughly 50 portajohns by ourselves without having to deal with the almost 4,000 other runners in the other races.  I used them twice and there were no lines.

By seven I was finishing stripping down to my running stuff.  It was in the mid-forties with no wind.  So I wore shorts, my short sleeve 50 states shirt and decided not to wear gloves as I would be warming up and not needing them. After a few introductions and a trumpet playing of the National Anthem, we were off at 7:15.

I could tell I did not feel especially energetic and settled in about a 9:45 minutes/mile pace.  In the first eight miles we did some loops and in and outs of various neighborhoods.  Most of this section was composed on concrete roads, which I find to be a surface that is too hard on your body.  At some point a guy struck up a conversation.  He was from the suburbs on the other side of Detroit.  He was going a bit faster than me, so I focused on following him as he said he would eventually walk, because he always did.  At one point he stopped and walked at a water stop and then went by me.  I said, “Yeah, you’re supposed to be my rabbit.  Get up there!”  After we got on the road on which we would run out and back for almost 15 miles, I asked him on the way out, “Is it my imagination, or are we going slightly uphill all the time?”  He said the road runs along a stream and we were going upstream on the way out.  I eventually left him for good at about 14 miles.

By the time we turned about at 16 and a-half miles, the sun was beginning to take its toll.  While the temperature probably didn’t go over 70, there was no shade and there were no clouds.  I kept making sure I was hydrated.  I also began to slow, a bit slower every mile.  I had passed the half-marathon point under 2:08, but my miles were creeping towards an eleven-minute pace. Still I had figured that if I kept plugging away, I could finish under 4:30. 

Then the little purple man appeared!  No, I wasn’t hallucinating.  It was an actually runner in full Martian costume – a purple suit and a rubber Martian facemask.  I could only think it had to be hot in that mask.  He passed me, but a short time later, peeled off to run into a restroom. 

I kept shuffling along as I went toward the 23^rd mile at just over an eleven minute pace, but my legs were tired and I wasn’t picking them up as much.  It was then that my shuffling foot caught a toe on a ridge of asphalt, probably created from a previous hot summer. That leg did not go forward, but my body did.  I threw my arms out and I remember the road rushing towards my face.  Apparently the force of the landing was fairly evenly distributed as I hit my hands and my knees on the asphalt.  My right arm was a bit inward and my elbow went into my ribcage.  Fortunately, my face hit my arm and not the road. My upper lip was caught between my arm and one of my crooked teeth, which produced a gash (and eventually a bruise on my lip).

The worst aspect of the fall was the elbow in the ribs took my breath away.  I heard myself uncontrollably moaning for about thirty seconds.  I hated the sound, but I could not stop until I started to get my breath back.  Three or four runners, including the young man in the Martian get-up, gathered around me, asking if I was all right, if I needed medical attention.  We had just passed a water stop.  A guy came running up with a water bottle and poured water over my hands, washing off blood and road grit.  I was walking by then and as soon as he was done, I started jogging again. 

Twenty yards later, there was the 23-mile marker.  The time that mile took was 12:45, meaning the fall cost me a minute and a half.  I figured it had cost me finishing under 4:30 and it did as I did finish in 4:31:22.  As I shuffled towards the finish, I realized I had also bent my glasses when my face hit my arm.  I could only keep one or the other of the temple pieces on an ear as the right one was bent out.

After I finished I went to medical and got my scrapes bandaged.  I also asked medical, the cops and the race direction for a pair of pliers to straighten out my glasses. But none had a pair.  Eventually I collected my first place award to go along with the finisher medal.  As I was about to leave, I spoke to a woman who had the 50 states finisher shirt on.  She invited me to have a beer, which she had stored in her car, but I had to decline because I was going to have to drive.

I went back to the motel, showered, and hit the road.  I did manage to partially straighten my glasses with a towel, pressing the bent part on a counter (and got the rest done at the optician on Monday).  I drove to Pittsburgh, about halfway.  It was a mistake.  I should have stuck to the Pennsylvania turnpike and gotten a room at a local exit.  I got lost in Pittsburgh and had to take a detour the next morning to get back to the Turnpike.

As a 50 stater, the Martian Marathon is one of the closest ones to Delaware.  The same group puts on another marathon in the summer and, of course, there is also the Detroit Marathon for other relatively close options.  Someday I might go to the Detroit Marathon, but I recommend this one for one that is easy to get to in Michigan with a fair price.

The Seabrook Marathon

Back in the latter part of 2014, when I was planning what marathons to run in the early part of this year, I originally thought I would run the Houston Marathon in January and do one in Mississippi in March.  But when I looked at the website of the Houston Marathon, I realized I was very late in applying.  In fact it has a lottery, which was closed out months ago.  So I switched months, deciding to do the Mississippi Blue Marathon in Jackson in January. 

On the Running the USA website I found the Lucky Trail Marathon in Seabrook, Texas in March. It turns out Seabrook is a suburb of Houston and is only a couple miles from the Johnson Space Center.  In checking flights I found that Southwest went to the Hobby Airport, which is on the side of town closer to Seabrook.  When I say “side of town”, realize that Houston is a massive city of about 600 square miles.  The airport is still 20 miles from the destination.  Nevertheless the idea of running a lower keyed event on trail sounded more appealing than a big city marathon in the middle of Houston.

I flew out Saturday morning and arrived by mid-day.  I quickly found the motel where I had reserved a two-night stay.  I also quickly found that the wi-fi was problematic in my room.  Management had to reboot it a couple times and even then, at times, I would have to walk out into the hall in order to log on to the server. 

But once I had that squared away, I first drove to a drugstore to get a couple bottles of Gatorade and then headed to the park where the marathon would start the next day.  The race organization puts on a running festival over the weekend and earlier Saturday it had had a 5K and a half marathon.  The next day it would have the marathon, another half marathon and a marathon-relay.  I spoke to some of the people relaxing after having cooked all morning.  They were all involved in the shelters for abused women that the races support and said the races had raised over $100,000 for the shelters over the years.  Many of the hydration station volunteers were women from the shelters.  I felt good that I had inadvertently chosen to support such a worthy cause.  I was reminded of it the next day when I saw the various signs out on the course about the numbers of people caught up in domestic violence.

Heading back from the park, I wasn’t sure where was a place to eat.  But I lucked into finding a small place that was still serving brunch (it was nearly two p.m. and I had not had a solid meal all day, only snacks).  The two cranberry rolls with maple butter that were brought for appetizers were excellent and the meal was good also.  I talked to the owner who was transplanted by New Jersey through his work in the oil business.  He took his parrot out of its cage as we were in a patio area that had wire fencing all around and above. 

After going back to the motel, I decided to walk up and down NASA Blvd. to see what was close.  I walked over to a couple of restaurant/bars on the nearby bay.  The first looked like a dive.  Plus I noticed the smoke (apparently in this corner of Texas, smoking in restaurants has not yet been banned).  I walked over to the second place, which was also on the water and was up a flight of stairs.  It had an outdoor deck and, while people were smoking inside, all the doors to the deck were wide open, so the air moving kept the smoke from building up.  This place had possibilities.  Then I walked in the other direction and found some strip malls.  There was one Chinese restaurant, but I wasn’t about to tempt fate before a marathon.

Back at the motel, I eventually decided to try to go to a little town called Kemah a few miles away.  I had gotten a voucher from the motel for a free appetizer at one of the several restaurants there and it looked like an interesting touristy place to walk around.  So I got in my rental car, got out on NASA Blvd., drove a half-mile and then was stuck in traffic.  Up to a corner I went, turned and headed to the bridge that went over to Kemah.  Two lanes were moving as slow as molasses.  I was in the right one and it took 25 minutes from the motel to go 2 and ½ miles.  But suddenly the right lane was moving well down the other side of the bridge, while the left was still at a standstill.  Then I realized I had to take a left to go to Kemah.  Ahead I saw a shopping mall on the right and decided to scrub the Kemah visit and maybe find a restaurant in the mall.  Sure enough there was a Chili’s, which was fine by me.  The bartender ended up telling me that the reason so many cars were going to Kemah was because it was the start of spring break and that’s where all the kids went.  I’m glad I missed it.

Back at the motel, I got my stuff ready for the next morning and I was in bed by 8:15 (hour later than here).  I woke up by 3:30 and ate a granola bar and banana and had a cup of coffee.  By 5:30 I was in the car and on my way to the park.  The parking was close by in an athletic facility less than two blocks from the park.  It was in the upper 50s, warm enough to simply wear shorts.  I had a shirt and jacket over my singlet and kept those on until 20 minutes before the start.  I went to the pavilion, got my number, chip and bag and sat to put on the number and chip. 

I recognized the Boone couple – Steve and Paula.  They were the people who helped spur the Races2Run organization to start the Delaware Marathon by promising that a number of 50 state marathoners would attend the race.  In this event, Paula was among the earlier starters.  A bunch of them headed out at 6:15 a.m., one hour before the official start.  Many were wearing head-lamps as it was still dark.

A couple minutes before seven, having spent the last hour sipping a quart of Gatorade, I made my way to the portajohns.  Because the half marathon was going to start fifteen minutes after the marathon, there was a very short line.  Then I went to the road where the marathon would be run for the first mile.  By then I was chilling down and my teeth were chattering as I awaited the start.  But that was fine for I knew I would warm up soon enough and I was more worried about it being too warm later.  As it turned out, the morning was mostly cloudy with a breeze and it never got above the mid-60s. 

It had barely gotten light before the marathon field took off.  After a mile of road, which helped to spread everyone out, we went onto a dirt path with a slight amount of gravel.  I found it to be firm footing with no slippage, which occurs when there is a lot of gravel.  However, I think running on dirt, while easier on one’s legs, is more work because the surface is soft.  It’s doesn’t return any energy to the legs. 

The course ran by a small creek, then over a swampy area with a boardwalk, exiting to a small park where we eventually ran over some grass near the bay before returning.  On the way back we crossed a bridge on the creek and took a side trail for about 3/8s of a mile, before returning and running down the other side of the creek.  Eventually we worked our way into the park, looping around the nearby fire station, running next to the road before turning and running across the timing mat. 

Oh, I forgot to mention:  That was one lap of 6.55 miles.  Then we repeated the lap three more times.  All of the way there were people going in both directions, which made for some tight passes.  There were also a few places where there was standing water.  Actually the organization had sent an email warning us not to wear new shoes because of all the rain that had occurred in the days leading up to the race.  I’m glad I didn’t, but the puddles weren’t much.  I had expected to get my feet wet, but it didn’t happen and my orthotics stayed dry to the end. 

As I said, the dirt course was hard work for me.  Each successive completion of the loop was slower.  I ran a 2:07:26 first half, but achingly finished the second half in 2:25:41 for a total of 4:33:07.  I got my bag and went to the park restroom to change, but the area was very small and I would have to have been changing almost on top of guys trying to use the toilet.  So I took off my fuel belt and changed from my singlet and went out to get some fuel and some green colored Miller Lite beer.  I heard someone say the chicken sandwich was good, and I did not feel a hot dog or a burger would have been very good, so I grabbed one.  But it must have been flavored with jalapeno juice.  I took one bite and put the sandwich down and made do with chips and beer.

The only quibble I have about the race organization came with the awards.  When I got done, the board of results was only up to 50 years old.  Forty minutes later it still had not been updated and when the awards were done, they stopped at the first sixty year-old, saying other people were still out on the course.  So I had a second beer and talked to the sixty year-old winner, a Brit who is a 50-stater.  Eventually, I told the guy giving out the awards that I had been finished for over an hour and now everyone was gone, so how about my award so I can go get a shower?  After checking with a couple people, he eventually came back with a new results print-out.  One of the women, who had been helping with the awards, was dressed in an Irish sort of costume (Lucky Trail – St. Patrick’s Day theme), also came over.  The guy said I was indeed the winner of the 70-74 age-group.  The woman, thinking that with my name I must be Irish, bent down and gave me a peck on the cheek.  Only afterward did I mention that in fact McCorquodale is a Scottish name.  Then they presented me with the award – a 24-ounce beer stein.  Good thing I was first.  Those who finished second and third only got a pint mug.  I will be putting that award to good use.

Later I did go to that second story bar on the bay.  It was then that I had a burger – surely a much higher quality than the patties that were cooked at the park.  Getting back from that around five, I realized I had not yet checked in for my flight, which I then did.  Thus I ended up sitting pretty far in the back as a result of my forgetting that detail in the recovery from the marathon.  Nevertheless, the rest of Sunday and early Monday, getting to the airport and the flight home were uneventful.

Recommendation:  I highly recommend this race for a marathon to do in Texas.  It’s not a PR course, but it’s enjoyable.  If you have an extra day, then a trip to the Johnson Space Center would be really easy.  By the way, I found the air to be delightful, which would make sense being so close to Galveston Bay, as long as the temperature is relatively mild.  I noticed it got into the low 80s two days later, so you never know.  Avoid going to Kemah.