Goin' South - St George Marathon

So the Old Man and I are commandeering the troops down to St George. Actually Alice took over the wheel so I can blog. She’s doing her best to keep up with the Old Man (he doesn’t drive like he’s old). He drives like he runs - faster than most. We’re rolling past Nephi and He Who Shall Not be Named just drove up behind us. Oh, they’re stopping. Potty break.

It’s been a strange couple of weeks. Tapering down from your training program is always interesting. It’s like my body starts going through withdrawals. My muscles twitch and I get all these phantom pains. I feel something weird in my muscles and I start thinking, “Uh oh, what’s that. I must have pulled something. I better ice.” So this time I didn’t taper quite as much. Actually, my plan was to run more than I did but life got in the way. That’s probably a good thing ‘cuz you gotta be rested and ready for a marathon.

The strange part had nothing to do with the taper. See, the Twins are not going south with us to run the marathon. Crazy, huh. I mean these knuckleheads are so tough they’d finish a marathon on bloody stumps if they had to. In May at the Ogden marathon the Twin was having trouble with his calf during training. He rested extra before the race and ran anyway. By the end of the race he had torn his calf muscle and limped over the finish line - but he wasn’t about to stop. He went to the doctor a couple weeks later and he couldn’t believe he just ran a marathon. 

So Fatso did something to his hip. We went on our last 10 mile run about 13 days ago and he woke up the next morning in so much pain he could hardly walk. He’s been to the chiropractor several times to get straightened out and it just keeps popping out of place. It’s a fluke I tell ya. I’m convinced the man upstairs is involved. It just can’t be explained any other way. Fatso called me Wednesday ballin’ about how he can’t run and I told him, “. . . ya gotta quit worrying about it. Maybe Someone is trying to protect you or your family from something bad.” 

Have you been talkin’ to my wife? I know you talked to her.

No, I swear. I thought that two or three times. I think there’s a reason you can’t run. 

Shut up. I know you talked to her. She said the same thing last night.

I didn’t. Just take it for what it’s worth Fatso.

Then on Thursday Fatso’s wife called. She had the same impression and told Fatso about it the night before. She prayed that Fatso would find know there was a reason he couldn’t run the marathon. So when I said the same thing she was sure that was her answer. Crazy, huh. 

So we’re all bummed out that Fatso can’t run with us but we’re movin forward and makin plans for the race. Callin each other to make sure we got this or that; and making arrangements for dinner and stuff. Then we all get this text from the Twin - saying he can’t go.

This caught us all totally off guard cuz we were makin plans just a couple hours before. I couldn’t believe it. I was worried about what went so wrong so quickly. So I called up the Twin to see what was up and what I could do to help. 

Nothing. I couldn’t get anything out of him. Only that it was important enough that he couldn’t leave. I asked what I could do to help but that didn’t go anywhere either. I respect him enough to not pry and left it at that.

It’s going to be different running without the Twins. But you know - the marathon is just the measuring stick to see how productive your training was. The race is grueling and painful; anticlimactic at best. The training is the fun part. We laugh, make fun of each other (and practically everyone we see), push each other, tick each other off, and argue over the best program to improve our time. The marathon is just one day out of many. 

There is still a good sized Fatso crew and we’re gonna have a lot of fun. Tami’s running - cancer or no cancer. She has inspired us all and our Fatso Running Shirts are a tribute to her. We’ll wee how it goes.

I'm not addicted. I can quit anytime.

Oh my heck Fatso! All the heavy lifting is done for this marathon. There are only three more weeks until race day and it’s time to taper down. This part drives me crazy. Cuz’ you know, you’ve been working hard and feeling like you’re really doing something. Then it’s time to stop - or at least slow way down; and I get all antsy. Then you start to get nervous for the race, with no way to work out the anxiety. It’s a conundrum I tell ya.

We’ve had some fun and worked hard. We stuck with our routine for most of our training. Which took a little faith. We departed from what made sense in our little minds and decided to go with the experts. Between what we believed our bodies can handle and what the experts say; we determined that Intervals, tempo runs and endurance runs were a good recipe for getting faster. Then based on our best guess of the fan-dangled V-dot calculation we determined the paces at which to run each workout. Who knows how it will turn out. 

A week ago we headed to City Creek again. It was the Twins, the Old Man, myself, and He Who Shall Not Be Named. What with all the banter, He Who Shall Not Be Named really wanted to run City Creek. So we met him downtown and had a nice run. It was a real confidence builder for all of us. The weather was perfect and we had a great time - even managed to avoid any clashes with low-hanging branches (see Whip-sawwed in SLC).

Saturday was a good run but a tough one. Who would expect anything less for our final long run. I was worried because I was planning on going camping with the brothers and wasn’t sure how I would fit it in. The Old Man and the Twins decided to go on Friday night, but I couldn’t do that cuz’ I had to get my boys up to the hills to enjoy some quality time with the brothers. Lucky for me because as I was stewing over what to do, He Who Shall Not Be Named called me and said, “Hey, what do you think about running from Lyman Lake to the Cabin? It’s about 18 miles and I’m sure it would be beautiful.” The perfect solution to such a vexing problem.

I was at the office a little longer than I hoped but I got things taken care of and headed home. After packing the essentials (garmin, heart monitor, running shoes, and shorts), I made quick work of the luxury items (tent, sleeping bags, clothes, food, etc.) and we headed for the hills. Fatso Jr was excited to drive and flex those learning-permit muscles. After an hour or so of driving I called He Who Shall Not Be Named to see where he was. We figured we would leave my car at the cabin so we would have a way back to camp after our run.

There we were, sitting around the camp fire chewing the fat and listening to some ridiculously good music by a couple of the brothers, and we got talkin’ about how much Tami would like to run with us in the morning. We miss running with her; and of all the places you can go - this is the place she loves most. After going back and forth we decided we’d send her a text. We knew she couldn’t run it because of her health, but it wouldn’t surprise us if she drove all night to get there and rode the four-wheeler along side for the experience. So He Who Shall Not Be Named drove up to the top of the mountain and found just enough signal to send her a few lines of text. 

It was easy to get out of bed in the morning. You know the feeling. Your air-mattress is functioning at about 40%, you have to pee so bad your dreaming about it, and you’ve just been smacked for the umpteenth time by your child. It was a little chilly but that was a welcome relief. We geared up and didn’t waste too much time before hitting the trail. The course was a dirt road with about five miles of steep uphill climb taking us from about 9,170' to 10,273'. This was a challenge but our runs at City Creek had prepared us. We knew if we just made it up to Elizabeth’s Ridge it was all down hill from there. 

After reaching the summit we were rewarded with a nice downhill grade taking us down to 8,733' in just five miles. At about 11 miles we were both feeling good. Then we got a punch in the stomach. Neither of us realized we would be climbing again for the next two miles. We had driven this road a hundred times and had somehow forgotten about the basin. Going uphill at this point was really taking its toll. He Who Shall Not Be Named started having IT band issues. He’s been nursing his IT to prevent minor problems from turning into major ones; and now it was becoming major. I was struggling too. Mental preparation is a big thing and this section was not in the mental plan. We slogged along knowing the cabin was closer than camp.

We kept our eyes focused on the road about 10 feet in front of us - for a couple of reasons. First, we didn’t want to roll an ankle by stepping on a loose rock or in a hole; and second, seeing the long road ahead was less than motivating. This is the way the long runs go. You push and grind through fatigue and pain. We are separated now and it’s even harder when you’re running alone. I’ve given up anticipating landmarks because I’ve miscalculated too many times. It’s mechanical now. Just throwing one foot in front of the other.

As I near the cabin I start to make calculations in my head. I think I will be about 19 if I go this way, or 17 if I go that way. If I pick up my pace a little I will be at our pre-determined long-run pace. Rising to the mental challenge is not easy and it’s different every time. Sometimes the mental battle is with pace or distance, often it is in the finishing. But I submit, the mental battle is the victory we all crave. This is the victory that is the most demanding - exacting every ounce of spiritual and mental strength we can muster. Requiring that we push ourselves to our limit; not another’s limit or standard but to our own. The mental victory netting us a quiet confidence in ourselves we didn’t have before, a better understanding of the strength of our mettle, and a realization that we can do more than we thought we could.

This is why I run. I'm not addicted. I can quit anytime.