What does six years, twenty pounds around the middle, and many, many marathons do to the body?
Empirical evidence (2012 versus 2018):
If I were a member of the A-Team, I’d be “B.A.” Baracus because I have such a bad attitude… and had it from the 3:15 am alarm this morning and then throughout the miles along the gravelly road.
Somewhere amidst the hills, the dive-bombing horse fly squadrons, the head winds, the unending sense of failure, I found myself wondering if I should just cancel the rest of my marathons I’m signed up for. I’m clearly not doing it right. My clock times are slipping, my experience times are sliding.
I feel… defeated? Disappointed? Despondent? I have been using marathoning as a stress relief and a means to a healthier me, but I wonder if I’ve reached the point of diminishing returns?
On the plus side, here in Ennis, MT, I met a guy I see running in my neighborhood at home. He and his wife flew up and it was kind of amazing to meet up in person and actually have a conversation at the finish; normally we pass each other on the roads at home, nod, wave, and wish each other a good day. But here’s me and Bob, two flatlanders post highest road race on the planet.
Indeed, here’s some photos from the day.
After an hour drive prompted by a last minute AirBNB cancellation leaving me limited options, I boarded the bus to the start line at 5 AM.
Two hours later, we arrived at the finish line. We picked up the rest of the folks who drove themselves to ride another half hour to the start line.
Wild Flowers.
Lots of ’em.
On the 30 minute ride to the start line.
The start of the race — bang the gong, let’s get it on.
The opening uphill section took a toll…
This is about 4 minutes into the race. Four minutes.
You could always see the road ahead… and usually it was at an incline.
Black Butte Mountain, a race highlight
Look – it’s me with Black Butte Mountain!
Up, and up, and up…
Looking back on Black Butte Mountain
The road ahead
Trying to stay positive…
But there’s a long way to go…
This is the highest elevation of the race… but there’d be plenty of rolling ups and downs that followed. They may not have hit this peak level again, but they weren’t too far off.
I waved down a passing truck to ask them to take a photo of me. They thought I was in distress… and I kinda was. I needed a photo.
More long and winding road ahead.
This was a bit of a downhill. I prefer downhills. The uphills made me suck air… which does not bode well for the first half of Pike’s Peak.
Roaming roads.
The wind was picking up.
Heading into the halfway point… these guys were finishing their 13.1 mile race and I had a ways to go.
Just under 2 hours for the first half. Spoiler alert: it was not a negative split, nor an even split for the second half which took much, much longer.
Looking back at the finish because I couldn’t quite believe what lay just past it.
This is what I encountered after passing the 13.1 mile marker.
I struggled. A lot.
More and more roads
Still struggling. You may see some horse flies and bees and mosquitoes and all sorts of bugs in this one… if not, you’ll see them in the coming pics for sure.
A cattle guard — we never saw a cow on the course, nor a ewe, nor a sheep dog.
Me trying to brush aside the bugs…
Trying for a two-fer — hoping to cool off some AND to drown a few bugs along the way.
It didn’t seem to help much.
That’s a lot of road…
…and that’s another hill
Not looking too good there, Kevin…
That’s a long, steep incline.
The wind was giving a bit of a tailwind this direction… which meant as I approached the turnaround, I’d be looking at a serious headwind going back.
That’s a good and fitting name for this place.
The turnaround
And heading back up a massive hill. It was fun coming down… but we paid for it on the way back.
I’ve looked better.
Roads.
Spooky tree.
More roads to go.
I’m looking much worse for wear….
….Perhaps because there was yet another hill to climb.
And anotheer…
I stopped to smell the wildflowers.
The wind kicked up the dust worse than the passing vehicles.
Heading into the home stretch, buffeted by the winds.
A fitting finisher photo, Part One.
A fitting finisher photo, Part Two.
Besides watermelon and canteloupe, they had chilled beer (which I’m done with) and a few cans of this Country Time Lemonade. “Oh!” I thought. “I like lemonade.”
Please note this contains NO JUICE. God only knows what I drank — it’s genetically modified sugar and corn syrup as far as I can tell.
In elementary school, you used to take this and rub them on a cheek to prove if somebody liked you or not.
I’ve written the majority of this whilst eating an over-priced and middling burger and fries at the local watering hole. I asked Sam the race director for the best burger in town as a special post-run treat and he recommended the Gravel Bar.
It was fine, truly. It just wasn’t the greatest burger of all time. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just in a sour mode… might be that genetically modified lemonade… or maybe it’s just the way I’m acting/feeling at the moment. I gotta get out of this funk.
There’s probably more to say, more to tell… but at this stage I gotta pull a Kenny Rogers reference – I’ve got to know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em, know when to walk away and know when to run.
I guess I know I’m supposed to run tomorrow … but will I? I know if I don’t call it now, if I keep on this track, I’m seemingly less and less likely to run.
