Date: June 1, 2003
Event: 22nd Annual Steamboat Marathon
Distance: Marathon (26.2 miles)
Location: Steamboat Springs, Colorado
Team: Matt Esser (Toid), Colleen Rickard (Co)
Results: 5:10:54 (0:11:52 min/mile)
Twenty-six point two. This is the exact distance in miles of a marathon. 18 weeks. This is the exact number of weeks Colleen and I have trained in order to finish those 26.2 miles.
During those 18 weeks, we have endured snowstorms that have snowed 5 inches of snow not before, not after, but *during* our run. Sleet that hit our faces with such force that it caused us to run with our eyes closed. Chilling rain that soaked us to the bone that only increased the probability of a muscle cramp to near certainty. Dehydration that caused us to bonk before we even know what happened. Runs that lasted long after the sun dissapeared behind the mountains and runs that began earlier than I felt like getting up was possible. And finally we planned mountaineering snow climbs to the summit of 14,000ft peaks in waist deep snow all to help us achieve one goal: cross the finish line in Steamboat....standing.
Many of you that have done a marathon before probably feel that I'm being overly dramatic. Well, I want you to take your sub 3-hour butt and go elsewhere. This race report isn't about you. This is *my* story. The moment you try and belittle what I've done to get myself to this point is the exact moment you crush who I am. I have no respect for you. My allegance goes out to those people who run 4+ hour marathons. Race Directors may only give out awards to the first few finishers, but anybody who finishes a marathon in over 4 hours knows that the most rewarding finishers, finish, not first in a race, but at the end. Their stories, (and they all have stories), aren't about running, pace charts, time splits, or heart monitors...it's about how their lives changed.
The story is not the race, but the training. For the race, if separated out from everything else, tells very little about what I've done and who I've become. This is my story:
Marathon Training
This is who I've become:
The Race:
We packed up our bags Saturday morning, and began our drive west into the mountains. Not even 1 hour into our trip did Co notice something that threw the first hurdle our way. My sunglasses were broke. Not just the lense, not just a scratch, but the frame itself was cracked and the lense hard a hard time staying inserted in place. I *had* to have my sunglasses. I wasn't heartbroken that my sunglasses were busted, because they were less than $20 and had lasted me over a year. I would just go buy another cheap pair of sunglasses when we got to Steamboat. I could stop worrying now.
After arriving in Steamboat we checked in at Christy's Sports and got our race packets along with our free pair of SmartWool socks! We loaded up on free goodies, and then began our adventure trying to find a pair of sunglasses for me. My only requirement is that they were less than $20, lightweight and polarized. Polarization is important for me, because when I go climbing in the mountains, the sun reflecting off the snow is really bright and I can't stand glare. After stopping at about four places, we finally found a fishing store that had fishing glasses that were lightweight, and polarized and $17. Perfect. Bring on the pasta dinner.
The pasta dinner was awesome, as they had a buffet line of all the pasta you could possibly ever want, and the softest cookies this side of just-out-of-the-oven. We sat down in front, and listened to the race director give us last minute instructions for the race. After he finished Amby Burfoot of Runner's World gave a speech about how he ran a marathon with Will Ferrell and Oprah. After he was done, he introduced who the #1 bib wearer was (in other words, the guy predicted to win it), and it turns out that the guy sitting right next to us had won the Steamboat Marathon four years in a row. He was going for his fifth straight victory! (To forshadow a bit, Co and I would beat him the next day)
With a full stomach we went back to the hotel and noticed it was flooded. We had to park at a nearby Village Inn because the parking lot at Holiday Inn was overflowing with standing water. They said the mountains were getting quite a bit of rain this weekend and that it would continue for four more days until the crest of the runoff had made it's way through town. For some reason, I thought nothing of this. I figured the weather was perfect in town, and no reason to worry about rain in the mountains. But oh, the minor detail is that 26.2 miles is a long ways, and our 26.2 miles that we would have to run started in the very mountains that was getting all the rain. However I didn't make this connection and we went inside and tried to lay down. It was impossible for me to sleep. I was too anxious. For those of you that don't know, I work the night shift, so my schedule is a little different than most people, so I had to figure out a way to change my hours that I'm functionable to coincide with the race start at 7:30am. Well, I guess if it worked in college, I'd do it again now: I pulled an all-nighter the night before the marathon.
The alarm went off at 4am, and Colleen didn't want to wake up, however, when she rolled over, she saw me standing there with my race clothes on, complete with bib number pinned to my shirt. She wanted to sleep more, so I laid down next to her for a while. Eventually she got up and took a shower. We were dressed and ready to go by 5am in order to catch the bus at 5:45am to get to the race start on time. So we grabbed our breakfast and drove to the transit center where the bus would pick all of us runners up. We lathered up with sunscreen, vaseline and ate as much as we could and we felt good and were ready. We were on the bus at 5:45 in the morning, and on our way to the starting line.
It was torture. Pure torture. Driving the course that you would have to run later that day is like seeing your death march to concentration camp. To make things worse it started to rain. First it was a light sprinkle that made us all kind of laugh. Then we saw lightning in "the distance" but thought it was pretty. However, as the bus ride wore on, the rain continued to crescendo and the lightning that was in the distance was now above us. This was not a good thing and by the time we arrived at the starting line, nobody wanted to get out. It was a 40-degree downpour of rain. And, as any runner knows, you've been hydrating for the past couple hours, and need to pee really bad, so therefore, you must get out to make it to the port-a-potty. I did, and I was soaked.
We begged the bus driver to let us back on the bus, which she let us do. Thankfully this kept us from catching hypothermia waiting 45 minutes until the start of the race. I was shivering uncontrollably waiting on Co to get out of the bathroom. Whispers were heard that mentioned that people who didn't want to run in the conditions, would not run the marathon and instead take the bus to the half-marathon start and just run from there. Wimps. Didn't they know the heavy stuff isn't supposed to come down for quite a while? It's a cinderella story outta nowhere. Here we are at Steamboat. Can't open our eyes to see where we are running. 26.2 miles to go. I look over and see the guy wearing the #1 Bib. Big runner, the Lama. Trashbags over our heads to keep the rain out. No time to stretch. You either trained in the rain or you didn't. Taco Bell eating Toid is about to become a marathoner.
And just like that we're off. The sound of everybody running reminded Colleen of raking leaves in the fall. *whoosh whoosh whoosh* Our first mile was in 9-minutes flat. Doh. Too fast, but we were getting run over by the trash sack people if we went any slower. I needed to stretch. I needed food. My shoelace was untied. Four miles passed and I still couldn't see where I'm going. I know I'm headed up some giant hill that's not ending, but I can't even make out the top of it. I told Cobes to just tell me when we reach mile 8 so I can check our split time again. Then we began a long downhill that would leave us with no quads at the end of the race. At mile 8 I look at my watch and it says, 1:16:17. That's around 0:09:30 pace. Maybe a little fast, but who cares, we are in the marathon and if I don't keep running I'm going to get cold. We hit the halfway point a little after 2-hours. Could we run a sub-four marathon? If we kept up our pace we sure could! However, I had to pee and it was time to start taking off some layers of trashbags. At this point I took off one of my trashbags and was left with one still on. I noticed everybody else discarded theirs and all along the road people were getting rid of jackets and pants and whatnot that they had on at the start. Co and I were dressed perfect. The vaseline I rubbed onto my legs before we started also helped insulate my bare legs.
Around mile 15 is where I started complaining. There was no food at the aid stations. The people who ran before us took all the food leaving us with no energy gels at the aid stations, and here I was running a marathon without any food to eat during the run! I ripped off my remaining trashbag in disgust. I slowed to a near crawl as my body screamed for some food. Finally, around mile 17 I noticed a girl standing on the side of the road waiting for her runner to pass so that she could cheer her on. She was eating Chips Ahoy cookies while she stood there waiting. I ran right over to her and asked her if there was *any* way I could have some of her cookies. She gave me two and I thought I just got a gift from God. I could feel those warm, dry, yummy, chewy cookies dissolve in my mouth and slide down my throat into my empty stomach. I then told Co that I could make it a little longer. At 18.5 miles there was an aid station that was once again out of food. I looked around and saw somebody standing there with a box of donuts. Normally, I couldn't even imagine the thought of eating donuts while running. However, this was a marathon, and I was seriously craving food and Gatorade was useless to me. I asked if I could have some donuts since nobody had eaten one yet. He said I could have as many as I wanted. I took 7. That's right. Seven. And I shoved them in my mouth at a pace that would make Homer Simpson proud. I caught up to Colleen and she just looked at me shaking her head but we both knew at that moment that we would make it. I now had my energy supply for the final 8 miles.
Mile Twenty is the start of the uphill. This uphill continues for three miles. That's right. Three miles of running uphill. Which, I guess isn't so bad on it's own, however this is after you've run 20 miles in the pouring rain. My shoes were soaked, which meant I was running on a soaked gel shoe insert. This can best be described as gathering the crew of Fear Factor and collecting a bunch of slugs, then taking off your shoes so that you are barefoot, and finally proceeding to walk on top of the slimy slugs. You would feel them come up between your toes and shoot out from underneath your foot. Thus as it was in the race. And there's nothing you can do about it. Just keep running.
That hill took it out of me. I was stripped of all extra power, and reduced to one gear. Granny gear. I had no kick. I had no form. I was now shuffling up the hill. The name of the game was running as long as you could and then walk some, however it hurt Co to walk so we kept running, however slow our pace. Finally, just before mile 24, we crested the hill and were now looking down on the city of Steamboat. Most times, this would be a good thing, however, by now, the jarring of running 24 miles had my knee sending signals to my brain that it wasn't going to cooperate if I intended on moving any faster down this hill. So we kept up our pedestrian pace and descended into the city. Mile 25 took forever to arrive, but finally it did, and we were greeted by Elise who was there with a camera to take pictures. By this point the weather had cleared up and it looks like the run was in perfect weather but I assure you it wasn't. Hundreds dropped out. The guy wearing #1 even called it quits on mile 17. The weather caused cramps they said.
Seeing the "One Mile to Go" sign made me smile which was good because it was hard to smile about anything due to the fact that with every step you're just trying to minimize the pain. The spectators were all along the road, and race officials were directing us which side of the orange cones to run on. We could see the finish line in the distance, and Co wanted to go all out. Little did she realize I was already going all out. I bet a 3-year old toddler just learning to walk could have passed me at this point, but it didn't matter, I was still jogging. By now the pain didn't even matter as my legs finally realized that I was going to run to that finish line no matter how much it hurt. Colleen and I held hands and heard our names being announced as we neared the last 100 yards towards the finish. We crossed the line together. We had just run a marathon. Together, stride for stride. We did it.
In the finishers chute, this lady reached for my stomach, and I didn't know what she was doing until she ripped off part of my bib and told me to hand it to the person at the end to get my medal. In the delerium that I was in, I didn't have a clue what she was doing or said until after I waddled a few more steps and the person with the medals asked for the piece of paper. Co and I put on our medals and rejoiced. Elise took our picture and then we made our way to the feed tent. I think I had enough salt on my face to make a deal with McDonalds to put on their fries. Hmm, maybe that's why everybody was suggesting we go get some food and that the medical tent was real close. Oh well, I got my turkey sandwich and then made the big mistake of sitting down in the grass. I could hardly get up to walk across the lawn to the massage tent. The massage was glorious. Eventually we caught a bus back to our hotel and then layed down with our medals on to take a quick nap before dinner. Finally, after pulling an all-nighter I could sleep.
That is, until, Colleen suggested the idea of going to the Rio Grande and getting some margaritas to numb the pain. I was ready to waddle to my car immediately. We went and they were good. They limit you to only three because they are so potent. No matter, one is all it took for us to feel lightheaded and THEN we could go home and sleep. Ahhhh, sleep.
The following day we drove the scenic way home through Rocky Mountain National Park and saw all the cool sites. Of course we were wearing our medals the entire time and having a blast. There were all sorts of animals that we encountered on the drive. (Oh yeah, I forgot to mention on the drive out to Steamboat we saw somebody hit a bear and so there was a downed bear in the road).
All in all it was a great trip. We did what we set out to do. Yeah, our finish time is not that great, but I still finished 10th in my age group and Co finished 16th. We can definitely improve that time now that we know what it's like to run a marathon. My advice to anybody who wants to run one is to just get a partner, formulate a training schedule (or use the one we used) and do it. If you put the time it, it will happen. You *will* cross the finish line....standing.
Pictures: (Click on picture for caption)
Time Splits: (all times in h:mm:ss)
| Mile 4 |
Mile 8 |
Mile 12 |
Mile 16 |
Mile 20 |
Mile 24 |
Finish |
| 0:39:12 |
0:37:04 |
0:42:19 |
0:50:19 |
0:52:59 |
0:59:19 |
5:10:54 |
