Terrapin Mountain

Considering everything, the race I ran Saturday, may be the best race I will ever run.

Though it seems a long time since the reversal surgery, it's actually been eleven weeks today. Surgery to remove the port was little more than two weeks ago.

Heading to the race I knew distance would not be an issue, I had a few training runs runs of thirteen miles or more under my belt but training and racing are two different animals. Even so, I thought I could better my time from last year because of course knowledge and a lighter frame. My plan was simple enough, move up the mountain with much less walking and “Gut Out” the rest.

Summit,  That A Way

At the start, I was determined to try to arrive on the trail somewhere towards the front third of the pack avoiding the inevitable “Congo Line” of walkers trying to spare their legs. Since the 50K and Half Marathon runners all start together there is more walking exhibited then if we were all running the half. I arrived on the trail almost exactly where I thought I should be, yet even then, I had to wind my way through more runners then I would have liked.

The first aid station, four miles in, came easily. Not needing any water I quickly grabbed some potato chips and flew out of there with pieces of chips dropping from my mouth. Leaving the aid station the next three quarters of a mile or so are so steep all you can do is laugh and walk as fast as you can. Climbing higher, the light rain which had been present turned into mist as we headed into the clouds. In training I had practiced moving up steep sections using a side step technique to save your calf's. It worked and I was able to move just as fast without tiring myself out. Soon the summit was reached and I saw my friend Dennis just ahead of me. This could only mean one of two things, either Dennis was having a bad day or I was having a great one. I voted for the later.

Downhills are not my friends, in fact I am getting to the point that I detest any downhill with more then a slight grade. Needless to say, after you crest the summit there are some serious downhills to contend with. So down I go, trying to let gravity pull me along, fighting the urge to brake, yet I'm loosing that battle. Only one runner has passed me going up hill and now two pass me in the first fifteen minutes of downhill running as my knees start to ache.

Who knows why things happen but it was just at a moment when I might have moved into a bad attitude I started thinking about my mother. Visions of pound cake, where I'd eat the cake first leaving chocolate icing to be savored last. Cookies that I'd plunder from glass jars found in the “Secret Hiding Spot”, re-stacking them to conceal the theft. Thoughts from vacations, places we lived and happy days came flowing when I wasn't one hundred percent consumed with not falling down. The pain in my knee, it went away.

Eight or nine miles into the race I thought I would start to feel drained, instead I still felt strong. Close to the second, and last aid station I saw the guys who had passed on the downhill, they were only three or four minutes ahead of me. “I can catch them, there are enough uphills”, I thought to myself.

Once again I spent little time at the aid station, leaving this time with chips and pretzel pieces dropping ungraciously from my mouth.

Ten minutes later I see “First” guy. For about a mile and a half we play  “Cat and Mouse”, I would catch him on an uphill, only to run out of hill to watch him put distance between us on the down. Finally, a hill long enough to catch and pass, where I could place enough distance between him and I so not be be caught on the downhill. “We got him Mom”, I said out loud. Runner number two isn't much further ahead so once again the “Cat and Mouse Game” plays out and I pass.

“One Mile To Go”, the sign says. I'm on the road heading to the finish, glancing around to see if anyone is behind me. Not seeing anyone I'm pretty sure I'm in the clear but little more then a quarter mile later I hear footsteps and turn to see someone just fly by me. It's “Second Guy”; a look at my Garmin shows a seven fifteen pace, this guy has to be running a six thirty and he's young. A voice in my head tells me, “ If I go after him all I might do is push him to run faster and I'll throw up at the finish”. (Not Today)

Dennis, Craig, Larry and I

As I was running I had no idea what my elapsed time was from my Garmin, as I set it for pace and distance. I was shocked therefore to see two hours twenty eight minutes on the finish line clock. I had run this race twenty two minutes faster than last year, under trained, recovering from surgery and chemotherapy.

I had a good laugh a week ago when the race director, Clark Zealand sent an email seeding me in fourteenth place. At the time I wondered what sort of dope was he smoking! I finished exactly in fourteenth place, there is no way this should have happened but it did; thanks Mom. You were with me as you have always been and I shall be there for you.

Love,

Michael