Peg both enjoy the travel benefits available to us through our flight crew jobs, so getting there was no problem. Getting a third person to join us was. So we agreed to enter the half-marathon relay as a two-person team.
Freshly motivated by the race entry and a really fun (and muddy) night trail run with my friends Russ and Renee, I resolved to run more. Toward this end, I added a weekly 5- or 6-miler to my staple 3- or 4-mile run, and appreciated the fact that although my back injury bubbles under the surface, it remains largely at bay.
As the big day neared, we started making travel plans. Since I'm usually off Friday, Saturday and Sunday, I thought I might fly down Friday afternoon and make a weekend of it. Alas, my employer scheduled my annual Simulator Torture Session that Friday, on the heels of a long and hard work week. I got home late Friday night, utterly exhausted and unable to fathom getting up the next morning to catch a flight. So I breezed into town Saturday evening just in time to catch a quick dinner with Peg and get to bed early.
Ten marathons and too many smaller races to count taught me how to assemble my clothes the night before a race: neatly laid out, socks tucked into shoes, number pinned on shirt, water bottle, snack and accessories stowed in a plastic bag that our "support crew" (Peg's husband Tom and his cousins) would have handy at the relay exchange.
I felt a bit like a fraud at the start line, surrounded by runners who had trained hard for the race. Peg spent the previous week with a nasty cold and battles sciatica and we were taking the "fun" approach--no time goals, no pressure, just enjoy a day of supported running in the sun. On the way to the start line, we met a couple from a few hours north entered in the Sweetheart Division (it was the day before Valentine's Day) and he and I were running the first 5.5-mile leg. We started together and wished each other well before becoming separated in the eager crowd.
One of the things I used to enjoy most about marathons was making friends in the long middle miles. We might run together for a few, or just chat in passing, but always shared the comraderie of the event and being fellow runners. As I looked around for friendly faces, I noticed that nearly everyone had earphones in both ears. So I cranked up my iPod and turned to my good friends Guns'n Roses, Rush and Pearl Jam for support.
I struggled to find a comfortable pace, somewhat easy to warm up in the first mile but not slacking too much. I checked my watch at the mile marker: just over 9 minutes. Perfect. I picked it up a bit. A hill loomed at 2.5 and it came sooner than expected. Somehow I missed the 2-mile mark. Feeling strong, I tucked my head down and shortened my stride to push up the half-mile-long slope. I was breathing hard at the top, but a short down-hill corrected the problem.
I continued to push through a slight uphill. The time at mile 3 gave me an 8:30 average for miles 2 and 3. The course looped around to return down the same hill. I clocked the downhill mile in under 8 minutes and kept pushing to the relay zone at 5.5 or so. Not blazing fast, but solid given my fitness level and lack of real training.
Peg took over for a 3.5-mile loop. I gasped for air, stretched, drank a bottle of Recoverite, and hung out with Tom and the cousins in the sunshine. When Peg cruised back through the relay zone, I joined her for the final four miles of the race. We weren't running fast, but enjoyed catching up, checking out the scenery and soaking up the sun. In fact, I was a bit disappointed when we passed the 12 mile marker and suggested we slow down so I could savor the warm sun a little longer.
What a great way for Peg to turn 60!
Photo by Tom Hanson
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