St. George Marathon

I know this is long, but so is 26.2 miles...

Our time in St. George started with packet pick-up for the race. They had it organized so that you picked up your packet based on your number. Mine was 426. They had tables setup for each 500 numbers so I went to the first table and handed them my number. The lady looked at it and said "Oh, you are an elite runner, you check in over there." To this I replied, "No I'm not." She told me again that I was and to go over to the table marked elite runners. After assuring her a couple more times that I was not an elite runner I headed over to the elite check-in. When I got to the table I said "I guess I am an elite runner." They just looked at me and laughed and handed me my stuff. That was cool and scary. I found out that they seed you based on your expected finishing time. I was worried.

The morning of the race was good. It was a crazy scene at the start; bonfires and space blankets everywhere. 5,600 people lined up for the race so imagine the mass of humanity at a random spot on a small highway in southern Utah. I took a picture with my phone just to capture the oddity of the whole situation.

When I got there I noticed a gate with a big sign above it marked "elite runners." Guess where I went. The guys manning the gates looked at my number and let me in. Again, I was worried that I was in over my head. There were special port-a-potties and fires for us which was nice. They also had an area marked off right behind the starting line just for elite runners to warm up. This whole time I was loving being in there because it took a lot of the stress away but I also felt stupid based on my previous attempts at my expected time of 3:10. I kind of felt like I shouldn't be there.

The final touch of awesomeness of the elite runner's area was that the warm up area was in between the starting line and the rest of the runners. That meant that we lined up at the starting line and then, just before the start of the race, they let the rest of the racers into the area to line up behind us. So I was lined up near the front with a lot of fast people (yikes) but I did not have to wade through a billion people before I could get into a rhythm. I just came across the line and started running my pace. That was awesome.

I came out feeling pretty good. I hit the halfway at 1:32 and change so I was happy. The course is hilly at the first and then nosedives into St. George which meant that I had put some time into the bank against my Boston time on the hilly section and I was still feeling pretty fresh. As the terrain turned downhill my pace still felt strong. I kept feeling good until the hill at about mile 18 at the Ledges. I hate anyone and everyone that has ever thought about being associated with that place. It was a small hill but a killer and it took everything that I had kept in the tank on the previous hills.

The weather really started to heat up at that point too and I started getting concerned at mile 23 when I realized that I still had never seen the 3:10 pace guy. I knew he was behind me so that was good but I didn't know how far behind me he was so that was bad. I also knew that I was running slower than my target so he was gaining on me. That was nerve-wracking. Every footstep I heard behind me was the 3:10 pace group in my head. As we hit Diagonal street (mile 24-25) I was hurting but I was still ahead.

Then I saw the race clock at mile 25.2. It said 3:01:30. So, after all of the day and all of the pain I knew it was all on the line for me to run a 8:30 mile. I forgot that you can qualify for Boston at 3:10:59; I had 3:10 in my head. So I ran the hardest, most painful 8:19 mile I have ever even thought about and ran under the clock at 3:09:49. (My chip time was 3:09:36.) I was so happy that I gathered all the energy I had and raised my hands to point at the clock for a couple seconds. That was all I had.

As I crossed the finish line I started to lose equilibrium slightly (by slightly I mean that I started falling to the right side and had lost all peripheral vision). A National Guardsman came up and grabbed my hand and offered to help me. I did not argue, partly because he was big and in camo, but mainly because if he wouldn't have helped me I would have fallen over. He helped me for a bit and then I shuffled over to the fences, saw Natalie and the kids and realized that I did it.

There is no better thing in this world than saying that. "I did it." During those last couple of miles my mind kept thinking of all of the reasons why I missed the time by a minute or two. I thought about everything I would say. About how I was so close but didn't quite make it. About how hard it was to get passed by the 3:10 pace guy in the last three miles but that it was OK because I had tried. In the end I didn't have to worry about it. All I had to do was say "I did it" and soak it in. It was a good day.