City of Oaks Marathon.

        505 Michael O'Neill 65 Nederland CO
        10K---1:12:32   pace 11:42
        13.1---2:37:55   pace 12:04
        26.2---5:31:11   pace 12:39
        Gun time 5:32:04

My goal had been 5:15:00 at a 12:00/mi pace, so I was off by about 15 minutes. The 12:39 average pace masks a more interesting story.

The short version:
My energy management went very well but my muscle conditioning was a bit short. And I probably made an error in strategy.

Starting in 32deg crisp air, I felt completely ready for the challenge. I knew the course terrain would be hilly, wondered how my conditioning at 5500 and 8500 feet would serve me--and was eager to test it. The course begins with an uphill pull of about a half mile, a perfect opportunity. So I dove in, barely able to restrain myself, and took it at a 11:20 pace. It felt terrific. I knew full well that I was already violating my pace goal, so slowed down for the remainder of the mile. I'd learned what I needed to know.

Up and down hills, the first half of the course is all asphalt, through city neighborhoods, around the state capital building downtown, then out to the NW residential area. The half-marathon crowds were intense and very social. I set my pattern and ran my race, HR steady in the teens and low twenties. Support stations every two miles, I walked through each then picked up the pace for a while to maintain a bit faster than 12:00. At mile six I began taking in HEED.

The night before my body had begun a fluid purge, releasing prodigious amounts of urine every couple of hours. That continued in the race, so much so that at one point I released some into my running shorts while I waited in line for the toilet facilities. No matter--just kept running then and it soon dried. But every time I took HEED, I was aware that I'd soon be paying the price.

Claudia and Timalyn cheered me on at Mile 10, and could see my energy was strong and I was having the time of my life. Temps by then were in the mid 40s and with that local humidity I was nowhere near ready to shed my gloves and outer, long-sleeve layer.

The course turned pastoral, though still on paved road as only the marathoners continued. Most times I could see only three or four other runners by then, though got a glimpse of the leaders as they sprinted by on their return trip, hours ahead of me. Strong and graceful, a bit of grimacing but clearly well within their comfort zones.

At Mile 13.1 the timing station got me at 2:38, exactly on pace, and I felt strong, completely at ease, fresh. The hilly terrain was slowing other runners down, giving me an early sense of the payoffs for pacing myself as I began overtaking one after another, sometimes pacing along with them to chat for a bit. HR still slow, conversation was easier for me than for most of them.

It began to occur to me that as strong as I was feeling I could probably pick up the pace a bit on the second half for a negative split, and that would put me within range of a 5:00-hr finish. By now I was on the dirt road of Umstead State Park cruising under the canopy of bronze-orange autumn oaks, and I must've been a bit intoxicated by the beauty. As the terrain went into a climb, my energy surged. Maybe it was the Hammer Gel. Or just the joy. Who knows.

About that time three deer leaped out of the forest to my left, the third one making quick eye-contact with me before sprinting along. Immediately ahead was a good steep grade, and I decided to take it with vigor. It felt spectacular. My HR barely increased. Around that bend the grade continued for another 1.5 miles, a couple of places getting even steeper. I maintained my pace, even picked it up a bit. HR steady, I was passing other runners left and right as they struggled and moaned. Heady ego for me.

I remembered from studying the elevation profile map ahead of time that the last five miles of the course are downhill. Reading my energy in the middle of Mile 18 I really thought I could go ahead and keep up the 11:00 pace I was at.

Then it happened.

As I rounded a bend near the end of the uphill grade, the first twinge of my left knee, like a little hot spot. Hmmm, wonder what that is. Think I'll slow down and let it quiet down.

To make a long story short, alternating walking/running eventually gave out to walking, which I did for the last six miles. At first, discouraged and bummed out, I moped along dragging my sorry butt. Eventually I decided I'd better keep moving and picked up the pace for a good power walk the last couple of miles.

Stopping along the way at a medic table, I got the knee taped just on principle. It didn't make any difference. "Great job," the cheers would come my way as I walked along. "Bullshit," I said to myself. This is not a great job. This sucks.

Every now and then I'd break into a run to test it out. Still hot in that nickel-sized spot. I'd last about 100 yards, then walk some more. Then I'd obsess a bit more about how long it might take for the knee to mend, all the conditioning I'd lose, what I could do to minimize the lost time.  At the same time, walking was effortless, energy remained strong, I really wanted to be running.

So I hobbled into the finished line at the best run I could muster, to cheers from the few folks still standing there, the most important two being my fans. I did my best to smile for them but my enthusiasm wasn't there, sad to say.

It was Timalyn reminded me that I was only 15 minutes off my original goal time, and truth be told, that isn't bad. But it sure would have been rewarding to have been running that last downhill six miles, with the energy I had.

Post race, the knee has been no problem. As Morggan put it into context for me, there's a difference between being hurt and being injured, and it was the wisest decision for me to make to follow Coach's advice and walk rather than risk damage. Now I can hardly wait to do whatever rehabbing the knee needs and get back out there building miles, strengthening the legs, getting ready for next time.

I've introduced my body to the 26-mile experience, and next time it'll know better what to do. I'm sure on my next marathon I'll wait a bit longer before making my break, though that may or may not have made the difference here.

All part of the adventure.

My greatest fan.