Denver Marathon
Rock and Roll, Baby.
A slight, cold breeze had licked up the long streets and I was chilled. I was ruing throwing away my gloves when the sun came out earlier. Eric, Stephanie and I padded into the 20 mile aid station and got spread out. I took a cup of sports drink that was mixed strong enough to make your teeth ache and knocked it back. My head went light and the real world blinked like momentarily losing the reception on a radio station.
Not dizzy like a loss of balance, but light, like a loss of consciousness, like I’d stood up too fast. Still running my pace I did a systems check and grabbed a cup of water at the next table. Since I wasn’t racing I hadn’t thought to eat any Endurolytes as the race progressed.
I guessed this must be some combination of altitude and electrolyte loss. I fished in my pocket for the baggy and took a couple of my favorite anti-misery salt pills. Placebo or not, my mental center returned and I caught up to Eric up a little rise.
We were loosely running together the three of us, but were starting to become spate dramas as the higher miles applied their weight. Eric said he was going to drop off and walk run the rest of the race but then caught up to me and said “I guess I’ll just stay with you.”
I was mostly silent by this point. Not because I was hurting, but because the race had begun. The real race, that last 10k. My Heart rate started creeping up out of Zone 2 and there was nothing I could do about it. We were picking off the walking dead now, victims of their own hubris but I was slowing too.
Soon enough I had lost Eric for good and Stephanie was back behind me somewhere now as I tried to focus on holding form and turning my feet over enough times to finish this race, my 7th marathon of the year in so many months. There was a long hill through a neighborhood and I was slowing but consistently passing those for whom this small hill represented some awful, insurmountable challenge.
I walked a water stop and Stephanie blew by still running that same easy pace we had held for 20 miles.
The miles kept coming and the tall buildings of Denver pulled into view.
…
When the planned weekend came around and I began to actually check on the details of the race I discovered I’d need to reschedule to an earlier flight an early flight in order to make the expo and pick up my packet. I’m like that. Especially now in this current whirl of racing. I make the plans and set the date a couple months ahead, but I don’t look at the details until the event is upon me.
Denver messes me up. As soon as the airplane wheels kick up dust on the grounds of the much maligned Denver International airport I feel the altitude in my head like a cross between a hangover and a head cold. It is the high desert. No matter how much water I drink I am always dehydrated, muddy-headed and dry. From the start my stays in the mile-high city end with chapped lips and nose bleeds.
I was attending a show at the Denver Convention Center that week for the Marketing tem. PerusingMarathonGuide.com I found that the Denver Rock and Roll Marathon was on the calendar for the same week. In my pattern matching mind I saw the obvious fit. I’d come in a day early and run the race. I’d seamlessly meld a race into a business trip. No sense spending my own money when I can cobble a marathon trip together with a business trip.
I had a full month to recover from the Erie marathon and the tweaked hamstring. My legs were still tired and tight from too much racing, but I had no problem working in the Denver marathon.
When I set up the race months before I figured I’d have my qualifying time at the latest in Pocatello in August. Even though I was still empty-handed I wasn’t going to race Denver. I know my limits and altitude is one of them.
Grabbing a cab downtown I checked into my Marriot and was pleased to see a sign that they were opening the Hotel Starbucks at 5:00 AM on Sunday morning to accommodate the runners. I walked the 3 or 4 blocks down 17th street to the convention center where packet pickup and the expo were, the same Convention Center where my conference would be during the week. It was one big convenient karma ball of synchronicity.
I checked in and wandered dispassionately through the expo. It was a decent expo with all your typical novelty runner crap. Not much in the swag bag considering the boastful nature of a rock and roll enterprise. Nothing worth carrying home except another short sleeve tech shirt for the pile.
I was surprised to see that the Rock and Roll events still use the old D-tag timing system when most races have upgraded to the Bib-based tags, or “B-tags”.
A consideration for me going into this race of convenience was to see what a Rock and Roll event was like. I certainly wouldn’t have gone out of my way to run one of them. They have a mixed reputation with serious runners. The rap is that there is lots of focus on entertainment and the experience, to the detriment of running and racing.
To be totally honest I saw very little difference from any other city marathon. It was a tad extortionary in approach but I have nothing against voluntary capitalism. I took nothing away from my experience. Everyone had talked about the bands every mile. I can only actually remember a handful of them. Partly because they weren’t memorable and partly because I wasn’t paying attention during the 2 minutes it took to pass thru the ¼ mile of their audio influence.
I did have my old $5 Sansa Clip with that awesome mix of ska and punk in my pocket with the headphone wires run up through my singlet. Sometimes I listened. Sometimes I let the headphones dangle while I talked with new friends. The old Clip is light and I can tuck it into the shorts pocket without having to carry it.
I had to do some optimization in my packing for this trip. All told it would be 5 days of travel. I don’t over pack. I’m a travel veteran and a road warrior. This was a unique trip in that it was longish but also a combination of work (suit and tie) with running (Shoes and gear). I only travel with a small duffle bag plus my laptop case. It was tight, but duffle was fine.
I decided to bring my Hokas because the course had a lot of cement on it and I wasn’t planning on racing. I figured the Hokas would cushion my legs and keep me from doing any damage.
When a race is within driving distance you can take all your gear and multiple pairs of race shoes. Then when you get there you can decide how to dress and which configuration is optimal. When you’re flying to a race you have to take a guess on your race day outfit and live with it.
Checking the weather ahead of time I saw it would be in the 40’s for the race. Good racing temps. I like it cool. I went with my normal kit.
…
Coach and I walked down to the bar area by the Colorado Rockies stadium and found a place to have a beer. Denver and Colorado in general has great beer. They are a bunch of earthy-crunchy beer snobs. We found a sports bar and got some dinner and some lovely craft IPA’s. I had Fish and chips with sweet potato fries. I have a forgiving stomach and as long as I don’t do anything too crazy I can eat almost anything before, during and after a marathon.
I got back to the hotel and watched the Red Sox beat the Tigers and racked out around 11:00 O’clock local time which would have been about 1:00 AM Boston time. I laid out my kit on the floor and set my alarm for 5:00 AM.
The race would start a couple blocks from my hotel at 7:00 AM. As usually happens I woke up 15 minutes before the alarm. I rolled out and id my normal stretching and rubbing. I went down and got my coffee and oatmeal at the early open Starbucks. I was in a good mood. I love an adventure.
The temps were in the high 30’s to low 40’s as the day opened to me like a dry prairie flower. My race kit was: my Hokas, my Zensa calf sleeves – That would act as mini tights to help me stay warm, my Brooks baggy shorts, my Squannacook River Runners racing singlet, a pair of cotton running gloves and my Boston 2013 hat. I also brought my sunglasses and wore my Garmin 305 with the chest strap. I covered this with a capacious, throw away long sleeve tech shirt to stay warm in the corral and to start the first few miles of the race in if needed.
My strategy for this race was to run by effort level. Since I was running at altitude I didn’t want to go out at race pace. I decided to run in heart rate zone 2 as long as I could and then maybe throw in a surge at the end it I felt like it. I set my Garmin to only show distance, time and heart rate zone. I kept pace off the display.
When I opened my race packet the night before the race to get my stuff ready I realized that they had not given me any pins for my bib. No big deal, I’d just find some in the morning. When I got up I went to the guy at the front desk at the Marriott and asked for 4 safety pins. He proceeded to disassemble 4 of those complimentary sewing kits to give me the safety pin out of each one. That’s some service! I also bummed a rubber band off him to hold my credit card, ID and a $20 together so I would have to take my wallet.
The Starbucks was full of nervous folks who were running their first marathon. It was fun to watch them worry about the race. I sent some snarky tweets about it out to the world.
It was still dark out as I left the hotel and began to walk the 2-3 blocks to the start. Crisp and cool I didn’t really know where I was going so I just followed the crowd. The good thing about a big race is that you can always find someone much more organized to follow.
I ingratiated myself into the first scouting party I could find, hoping someone would ask me if I ran many marathons. I talked to an older gentleman who was running the half who had just had a heart attack, had the surgery and now was back out running. Runners are nuts and more than willing to tell you about it. Most of the people I chatted up were running the half or the relays.
I got to the start corrals and it was a bit of a zoo. There were porta-johns with long lines and lots of nervous people milling around not knowing what to do. Since it was a Rock and Roll marathon there were ‘premium’ porta-potty lines too and those, ironically were pretty long too. I did not have an urgent need and figured, since I wasn’t racing, I’d just pull off the course at some point in the race and use one of those porta-Johns.
I went searching for the bag check. I asked everyone I met “Where’s bag check?” and was eventually directed to the other side of the park. I met up with a British woman who was rather flustered and was looking for the bag check as well and I took her under my wing.
The race bags were like cheap backpack-courier bag thingies that didn’t actually close – they were open at the top. I had planned ahead and brought some athletic tape – the same tape I use for my toes to keep from losing toenails – and I gave some to the British lady to seal up her drop bag and I sealed up mine and we dropped them off.
I still had some time so I went for a wander around the start area to see if I couldn’t find a secluded tree that needed watering but there wasn’t much. I did find a beautiful Sports Authority winter hat that they were giving the volunteers – score! I have no problem sticking such a prize into the waist of my shorts for 4 hours. That’s how I used to collect Ronzoni hats at Boston in the 90’s.
The corrals were weird. Not bad weird, just different. They loaded all the runners together by predicted pace. The result was that in my starting corral – the 3 corral – there were marathoners, ½ marathoners and relay runners all jumbled together. They sent everyone off in waves by corral. No one was checking whether you were in the right corral or not, but there wasn’t any conflict or jostling. I just settled into the back of coral 3 and soaked it all in.
I took my hat off for the anthem, but did not cry. Maybe I’m getting over my Boston PTSD. The sun was coming up now and it didn’t feel cold so I tossed my extra shirt off to the side of the corral ropes. Someone in Denver now has a Derry Road race shirt. We were off. No tears, no epiphanies, just another Sunday morning, just another race. I slid my dark racing glasses down off my hat and got ready to rumble.
I was trying to run by my heart rate. My target was to keep in zone 2. But my HR in the first couple miles was all over the place as my body warmed up and the chest strap tried to makes connection through my dense fur and the cold, dry morning. It took 3 miles before my HR settled down into zone 2.
Coincidentally I found myself running behind the 1:50 ½ marathon pace group. This was a nice placeholder for me. I was having trouble keeping my pace down and kept creeping ahead. This guy with the sign was an anchor. I knew if I just kept him in front of me then the pace would be about right.
I pulled over around 5 miles to use the porta-john but there was a line so I kept going. I tried again at the next opportunity and got the deed done. In the process I lost maybe 1 and ½ to 2 minutes. The ½ marathon pace group was out of sight when I came out so I picked it up a little to reel them back in. It felt good to be passing people. The race data shows I was dipping into mid 7-minute miles for a mile or so.
After a bit I was able to catch back up to them when the race entered the park around the 9 mile mark. Up to that point the course had been urban with a bunch of 90 degree turns. There was a minor hill early and then mostly gradual, almost imperceptible long gains and losses of 1% or less.
They lay out these Rock and Roll courses to be efficient for the volunteers and organizers. (It’s a business after all.) They try to keep the course footprint as tight as possible. The result is a bunch of 90 degree turns and 180 degree turns where you go out a street, around a cone in the road and back.
Denver has fairly wide roads in the city and it wasn’t that hard to navigate all the turning. In the first 10k or so the field was a bit dense, especially on the corners. I can honestly say that I never got blocked and was never inconvenienced on any of the turns but I soon learned that there was an advantage to running the tangents. The difference between taking all those corners wide or running the tangent was probably worth 100 feet or so over the length of this course. It must have been hard to certify.
I jogged along for the rest of the half marathon chatting up the 1:50 pace group guy. I told him I’d give him $20 bucks to stay on the course and pace me through the end – jokingly. He pointed out another marathoner who was pacing him and I hitched up with the other marathoner in the pack, Eric.
It was good thing that I had some company because when the ½ marathoners split off at their finish the pack really thinned out. Eric and I trotted ahead through another, or maybe the same park. He was looking to finish without hurting himself. I told him my Zone 2 strategy and he was on board. We picked up a young woman, Stephanie and we had our little pack set for the middle miles.
I suppose it would be strange social grouping in another other setting. I was the chatty grey-beard with the heart monitor and stories. Eric was a 30 year-old triathlete with plenty of fitness, but no specific training for the marathon distance, trying to not out-run his legs. Stephanie was a 20-something marathoner already qualified for Boston and running the race for training.
Here we formed a caring band and chatted away as I tethered two strangers from different generations to my old heart’s beating chant. We got into that happy place where the miles disappear and before you know it someone is saying “Wow, 18 miles already?” I would occasionally look at my Garmin and say “Slow it down a little.” I would repeat my mantras of pace and form and cadence for anyone who would listen. Mostly we just ran enjoying the day as clouds rolled in and obscured the sun. At one point an aggressive head wind kicked up and I instructed my small pack on the fine art of drafting.
It had significantly thinned out after the ½ but there still plenty of runners on the course. At one point some dopey marathon maniac decided it would be a good idea to start walking right in front of me without any warning and I came within centimeters of rolling my Hokas of the edge of the park road.
The city roads were a bit beat up and lumpy. I was happy to have my Hokas with their plentiful cushioning to even up the playing field for me and smooth out the ride.
In a departure from custom, since I wasn’t racing I didn’t carry a bottle and only put one Hammer Gel in my pocket, and that stayed in my pocket for the race. That is one very well traveled Hammer Gel. I took Gatorade and water on the course as I thought was needed. At my relatively relaxed Zone 2 effort level and with the cool weather I didn’t think I was losing too much through sweat.
At one point in the race they were handing out Gu’s and I took one. It was that nasty Orange flavor. Isn’t that one of their flavors? “Nasty Orange”? As I get older I’m starting to more and more dislike gels in general.
I was going to try to close the race hard but with 3 miles left and some pesky hills I was spent. My pace slowed up towards a 9 minute mile and it became a bit of a slog, nothing awful, just a slog. There was one final short, steep, hill in the city right before the finish that caused me to walk a little but it paid back with a steep-ish downhill cascade into the finish.
I kicked it through the finish line and began my hunt for a space blanket, because I was freezing! The temperature had dropped steadily and the wind had picked up with a front moving in. It was just now 11:00 in the morning and I had another medal for the rack.
They were passing out water bottles, full-size Gatorade G2 bottles, chocolate milk and Jamba-Juice treats, like a sherbet consistency. Even though my teeth were chattering those Jamba-Juice things were so good I had two.
I shivered over and got my bag. Unfortunately I didn’t have anything warm to put on, just the short sleeved tech shirt from the race and my found fuzzy hat. People weren’t hanging around, but I went into the Bud-Light party area to watch the band, and the Patriots game on the outdoor bar TV. I shivered through a cold beer waiting around to see if Joe Bears might show up.
Eventually I gave up and shivered my way the 3-4 blocks back to my hotel in my space blanket like a big, cold, baked potato.
Back at the hotel I took a very long, very hot shower and watched the rest of the game. I got cleaned up and went back down to the convention center to set up the booth. When I came out it was pouring rain and caught by surprise I had to slug through it back to the hotel, where I dried off, put on my work clothes and spent the evening smiling and swapping cards with the rest of my world.
I glad I made the time to run this race. It was a low-stress affair for me that I enjoyed after the months of hard racing. I managed to run a well managed, adult, even-split 3:41, which is right on and even better that I have run at recent races that I attacked, flamed out and burned at. I didn’t even start to work hard until after 20 miles. I think this bodes well for future races.
Next up in Ft. Myers Marathon where I will throw myself at it again and see what I can do.
Rock on, my friends.