Lost Dutchman Marathon Report
There ain't a place a man can hide, Shannon, will keep him from the sun.
There ain't a place a man can hide, Shannon, will keep him from the sun.
Ain't a bed can give us rest now, you keep us on the run
Keep on movin’, just a mile to go…..Keep on movin, my old buddy you’re moving much to slow….
Half a mile from Tucson, by the morning light. One man down and another to go, my old buddy you’re moving much too slow….
Jack Straw, Robert Hunter/Bob Weir – The Grateful Dead
It occurred to me over the last months or so that all of my race report blogs follow a very specific template.
I was reminded of this while reading two “trash” novels during my travels this month.
I’m a big fan of Clive Cussler books; he of the nautical thrillers, starring Dirk Pitt and the quasi-real resources of NUMA. Having read all 30 or so of Clive’s offerings, I noticed that he too, follows a specific template in all of his books.
The books begin with a flashback to a prior time – anytime from BCE, up to World War II.
There is some sort of Maritime Disaster. Or other disaster. A bad guy gets away. A treasure, or piece of information is lost, or hidden somewhere.
Enter current day. Somewhere, some intelligent, but beautiful woman is performing some research/exploration/excavation – who knows? Some disaster occurs. Dirk Pitt, who happened to be in the area, equipped with some amazing piece of technology, manages to save the babe, as well as her colleagues, in the nick of time against insurmountable odds. Dirk, of course, as he rescues the damsel, secures a dinner date with her.
Romance ensues. Intrigue follows. A bad guy, of some foreign extraction appears with desires of world domination or destruction. The lost treasure is pursued. At some point there is a trip to NUMA Headquarters to consult with some futuristic computer equipment with the resident Computer Genius Hiram Jaeger. There is always a big violent car chase, with Dirk Pitt driving one his many classic cars. The cars are always riddled with bullets or fly through the air, but Dirk always manages to get away while thwarting, or taking out some bad guys. Dirk and his ever-present buddy sidekick Al Giordano get captured, by the evil Villain who, confident that Dirk is helpless and doomed, monologues the whole world-domination/destruction scheme while placing Dirk and buddy Al, and sometimes the beautiful babe, in a slow lingering death situation.
They always manage to escape and, using the monologue information save the world in the nick of time, as bomb timers count down to next to zero, or some sort of thing. And, they retrieve some long lost treasure, like the Titanic, or the corpse of Genghis Khan.. The end of the book has them driving away in the now restored classic car while the public flocks to the new museum showcasing the lost but now found treasure.
And, as a Hitchcockian touch, Cussler started inserting himself into the novels a few years back. He usually shows up in the middle of nowhere, when hope appears lost to help Dirk and Al out of some jam. He always tells them his name, and they feign confusion to each other “He seems familiar, doesn’t he?”
They are all pretty good reading, those Clive Cussler books. Familiarity and consistency is sometimes nice to count on, when you want to be entertained or just zone with a novel.
Maybe not so much with my blogs, though.
So, my template seems to go something like this:
I make some pithy comments, or Rock and Roll Reference to the narrative I am about to write.
I travel to the race
I go to the expo and comment thereon
I get up the next day and head out
I get to the start line and comment about that
I make some observations about the weather
I run the race.
Narrate things that happened, like meeting someone fun, or not so fun.
Complain about the Elevation Map versus reality
Comment about Marathon Maniacs
The support is either good, okay, or something else.
The miles roll by
The last 10K is usually tough. Sometimes I come up with some Zen-like comments or insightful observations during that time
I cross the finish line, and, lately, I am miraculously under four hours despite my best efforts
I make observations about the finish line festivities, food, people, etc.
It either hurts, or doesn’t
I either like it or I don’t
And, I always comment on Medal and T-shirt
That’s my template, seemingly!
And you, my good friends and faithful readers tune in and share these things with me which I totally appreciate.
Now, I am not suggesting that I am on par, or even in the same writing Universe as Clive Cussler. As I am a Marathon runner, who, in my races at least am not “plugged in” to an I-pod to take me away from my mental processes (specific blog on this to follow), this whole template thing was something that percolated out of the grey matter during my Carlsbad experience.
Keep on movin’, just a mile to go…..Keep on movin, my old buddy you’re moving much to slow….
Half a mile from Tucson, by the morning light. One man down and another to go, my old buddy you’re moving much too slow….
Jack Straw, Robert Hunter/Bob Weir – The Grateful Dead
It occurred to me over the last months or so that all of my race report blogs follow a very specific template.
I was reminded of this while reading two “trash” novels during my travels this month.
I’m a big fan of Clive Cussler books; he of the nautical thrillers, starring Dirk Pitt and the quasi-real resources of NUMA. Having read all 30 or so of Clive’s offerings, I noticed that he too, follows a specific template in all of his books.
The books begin with a flashback to a prior time – anytime from BCE, up to World War II.
There is some sort of Maritime Disaster. Or other disaster. A bad guy gets away. A treasure, or piece of information is lost, or hidden somewhere.
Enter current day. Somewhere, some intelligent, but beautiful woman is performing some research/exploration/excavation – who knows? Some disaster occurs. Dirk Pitt, who happened to be in the area, equipped with some amazing piece of technology, manages to save the babe, as well as her colleagues, in the nick of time against insurmountable odds. Dirk, of course, as he rescues the damsel, secures a dinner date with her.
Romance ensues. Intrigue follows. A bad guy, of some foreign extraction appears with desires of world domination or destruction. The lost treasure is pursued. At some point there is a trip to NUMA Headquarters to consult with some futuristic computer equipment with the resident Computer Genius Hiram Jaeger. There is always a big violent car chase, with Dirk Pitt driving one his many classic cars. The cars are always riddled with bullets or fly through the air, but Dirk always manages to get away while thwarting, or taking out some bad guys. Dirk and his ever-present buddy sidekick Al Giordano get captured, by the evil Villain who, confident that Dirk is helpless and doomed, monologues the whole world-domination/destruction scheme while placing Dirk and buddy Al, and sometimes the beautiful babe, in a slow lingering death situation.
They always manage to escape and, using the monologue information save the world in the nick of time, as bomb timers count down to next to zero, or some sort of thing. And, they retrieve some long lost treasure, like the Titanic, or the corpse of Genghis Khan.. The end of the book has them driving away in the now restored classic car while the public flocks to the new museum showcasing the lost but now found treasure.
And, as a Hitchcockian touch, Cussler started inserting himself into the novels a few years back. He usually shows up in the middle of nowhere, when hope appears lost to help Dirk and Al out of some jam. He always tells them his name, and they feign confusion to each other “He seems familiar, doesn’t he?”
They are all pretty good reading, those Clive Cussler books. Familiarity and consistency is sometimes nice to count on, when you want to be entertained or just zone with a novel.
Maybe not so much with my blogs, though.
So, my template seems to go something like this:
I make some pithy comments, or Rock and Roll Reference to the narrative I am about to write.
I travel to the race
I go to the expo and comment thereon
I get up the next day and head out
I get to the start line and comment about that
I make some observations about the weather
I run the race.
Narrate things that happened, like meeting someone fun, or not so fun.
Complain about the Elevation Map versus reality
Comment about Marathon Maniacs
The support is either good, okay, or something else.
The miles roll by
The last 10K is usually tough. Sometimes I come up with some Zen-like comments or insightful observations during that time
I cross the finish line, and, lately, I am miraculously under four hours despite my best efforts
I make observations about the finish line festivities, food, people, etc.
It either hurts, or doesn’t
I either like it or I don’t
And, I always comment on Medal and T-shirt
That’s my template, seemingly!
And you, my good friends and faithful readers tune in and share these things with me which I totally appreciate.
Now, I am not suggesting that I am on par, or even in the same writing Universe as Clive Cussler. As I am a Marathon runner, who, in my races at least am not “plugged in” to an I-pod to take me away from my mental processes (specific blog on this to follow), this whole template thing was something that percolated out of the grey matter during my Carlsbad experience.
Especially after I wrote that blog about Carlsbad.
That being said….and said for a few pages….
……I had an Awesome time at the Lost Dutchman Marathon on Sunday. My 41st marathon.
Now, I have done “the Dutchman” twice before. Once in January of 2004, shortly after my exodus from the Midwest and my previous life. The second time was last February (2007), kicking off my return to Marathoning after a 15 month Hiatus. I did not do a blog at the time, because……well, I don’t know why! I just started later that year, so there!
Anyway, I had a great familiarity with all of the aspects of this race, and indeed I felt very willing to come and experience the fun again. Even though this is by no means a “Flat and Fast Boston Qualifier” (it is, in fact a Boston Qualifier anyway) there are many great aspects to the whole “Dutchman Experience” that keeps me coming back.
The Lost Dutchman Marathon is held in Apache Junction, Arizona, which is a short drive east of Phoenix. The town is under the shadow of the Superstition Mountain Range, known as “The Superstitions” (oo-oo, LOVE that name – Superstitions! It brings chills to the spine and also starts Stevie Wonder singing in my head “Very Superstitious! Writing on the wall……..”)
Apache Junction is a small town, but has a great hometown atmosphere. The population seems to be largely retired people and they turn out in droves to volunteer for all aspects of this annual event. And, they bring a joy, enthusiasm and tremendous energy to making this a really great event for all concerned.
Arrived late afternoon on Saturday for Packet Pickup, which was held in the Apache Junction Community Center. Now, the Lost Dutchman Marathon is not the only race that day. In addition to the Marathon, there is a Half Marathon, a 10K, and 8K AND a 2 mile walk. Something for everyone! Packet pickup for all the races was at the same place, but again, the cadre of volunteers made it a seamless event. I knew that they were capping off the Marathon at 600 runners, and I don’t think it filled, anyway.
The Expo was really really small, befitting the understated nature of the races. I had not expected much, and wasn’t disappointed, Honestly though for me, the expo is not what it is all about. As I am a Race Veteran, it’s not about buying souvenirs, apparel and running gear – I do all that online, anyway. And, since I generally give away the shirt, it’s not about that either. And, the Lost Dutchman shirt was okay, a long sleeve cotton shirt with a Logo and lots of advertisers on the back. The real premium money for the event came later – more on that at the finish line.
Spent the night at Cayelin’s friend Pam’s house, east of Phoenix, watching great videos and eating about a quart and a half of Chicken Fried Rice and half a dozen pot stickers. Thanks again Pam! Hit the highway at 0400 to get to the bus stop for the start line as early as possible.
The Bus to the start departs from the Apache Junction Rodeo grounds, starting around 5:00 am for a 7:00 am start. Again, as I had run this race twice before, I knew it was a good idea to get there early, get some good parking and make sure you got on an early bus to get a good “campfire position” More on that in a minute.
Got there about 4:50 am, parked the Toyota in the dark, along with several other cars already there, and after some last minute gear shuffling, I dropped my remote in the trunk, tied the ignition key to my shoe and headed towards a line of bright Klieg lights marking the bus stop
I remembered this year, to take careful note of the position of my car, where I had parked. In years past, I had neglected this, parking in the dark and heading to the busses right away. This resulted in some extensive searching for my vehicle upon returning – in full daylight by then - at the exact time you don’t want (post race, with Frankenstein-legs) to be wandering around looking for your car in a large rodeo parking lot.
Got on the bus and grabbed a seat near the front. Noticed a guy sitting there wearing a Chicago Marathon Hat and Pullover.
“When did you run Chicago?” I inquired, settling into my seat.
“Nine Times” he replied.
Thus I met a new running colleague – Mark, from Phoenix. Having a mutual “Chicago Marathon” addiction (I’ve done it 13 times as faithful readers will remember) we had much to talk about. We passed the time on the drive to the starting line hollering over the roar of the bus engine at each other across the aisle, comparing Marathon stories and sharing other observations. As it turned out, we also ran almost the whole race together – and again, more on that later.
The starting line is a long bus ride on a dark desert highway, to the Peralta trailhead out in “The Superstitions” The bus took off from the rodeo grounds, and after a significant distance on Highway 60, took a left and started heading up hill. We soon left the pavement and were truly heading out into the sticks on an unpaved, muddy and rolling road.
Now, I had checked the Lost Dutchman Website home page prior to leaving on Saturday. A chill swept though me as I read the following:
Attention Full Marathoners: Due to the heavy rains we have had this winter, four of our normally dry ravines are still running across the first two miles of the marathon route. Right now the forecast is for rain today and clear sunny weather Saturday and Sunday. Currently the ravines are passable, however you will get your feet wet unless you are a really good long jumper. It is not a serious hazard, just a trickle of water, but up to 6 inches deep. Please use caution. IF we get a lot more rain today, we may have to change the course in which case the mileage will be correct, and your result, if you qualify for Boston, will be accepted by the BAA. Changing the start is very unlikely, but I want you to know in advance that it is a slight possibility. You will still be starting the alternate marathon course on Peralta Trail, but at a different point. We will do our very best to get you from start to finish safely. Thanks for your understanding. Based on the changing forecast, or the weather, I will update this message. –
Grady McEachern, Race Director.
Nice to know, I was thinking as I read this. The first six miles of the course are all on the rolling, dirt roads leading out of the Superstition trail areas and in years past, it had been mostly dry and dusty – and actually optimal running conditions, considering. The concern I had was getting wet feet in the first two miles, and then squishing and squelching my way for the next 24.2. I considered various scenarios, like wrapping my feet in plastic bags, carrying dry socks…. Not optimal, but hey, I’ve run in worse conditions. Finally though, I decided to just commit myself to Allah, and hope for the best.
Back to the bus ride. (Jeez, I’m on page 5 in this story, and I am still on the bus!) Anyway, the bus fell silent as we headed off road. All of the runners were peering intently ahead as we rolled up and down the hills headed to the encampment for the starting line. We were waiting to see the shine of deep puddles and water hazards as we descended into each wash.
Our bus driver, a very friendly lady, told us that there were a few wet places early on and they weren’t too bad. And indeed, as we got closer we did splash through some puddles at the bottom of some washes, none of which looked too terribly deep or bad. I resolved to traverse laterally, or do whatever I needed to do to stay dry.
We saw the starting line off in the distance – a ring of about 30 small blazing campfires Arriving at the trail head, our bus stopped and an exuberant lady entered. “Welcome to the Lost Dutchman Marathon! Your bus is going to turn around and you can get off, and join us around the campfires. There is snacks, water, coffee and Gatorade, the gear check bus is there (pointing) the Porto potties are there, and we will also have a warming bus if you get too cold. The race will start in about an hour at 7:00 am!” We all clapped, and she exited. After the bus went further up the trail and turned around, we all got off and headed to the campfires.
A really nice touch is that the race staff puts carpeting squares circling all of the campfires, which, by the way, were Dura flame logs, set alight and other sticks put on top. Mark and I picked a fire, claimed a carpet square apiece, and sat down to warm up, inhale some camp fire smoke and continue our conversation. The campfires with the dark Superstition mountains at our back lent a tribal air to the whole proceedings, making the actual upcoming race seem a bit surreal. Felt like Summer Camp.
Busses kept arriving, and soon the place was full, with about 350 runners wandering around, doing their pre-race routines. I was noshing on my new, and highly recommended pre-race bar – Bumblebar – an organic, honey and sesame seed-based energy system. Good stuff – and I am thinking about asking them to sponsor me - see more at http://www.bumblebar.com/
The sun began lightening the mountains to our back, and soon it was time to check gear, and head for the starting line. It was COLD, about 41 degrees (okay you Midwest people, I know that ain't nothing for what the winter has been like for you!) damp and humid, which was different for central Arizona in February, and I kept a long-sleeve t-shirt and throwaway gloves to keep me warm as we headed down to the start line.
At the starting line, I once again booted up my GPS, waited a seemingly long time for it to sync with the satellites, and when the display turned digital, I was ready to run. Still chatting away, I never heard the pre-race announcements, (maybe there weren’t any?) but suddenly a gun went off and we were off, down the dirt road.
The first mile was straight downhill, a fast clip. I blasted off and headed down the hill with the rest of the thundering herd. I knew that the latter miles of the course were grueling, so I thought that the best strategy today would be to put as much “in the bank” as I could in the early part of the race for my eventual collapse in the latter half.
The course rolled up and down, mostly down. We splashed through the first shallow wash, tiptoeing over boulders and shallow water. So far so good. Through the next few miles, there were two wash crossings – neither of which did more than muddy the bottom and sides of my feet.
The uncertain part of the course over, it was time to settle in.
That being said….and said for a few pages….
……I had an Awesome time at the Lost Dutchman Marathon on Sunday. My 41st marathon.
Now, I have done “the Dutchman” twice before. Once in January of 2004, shortly after my exodus from the Midwest and my previous life. The second time was last February (2007), kicking off my return to Marathoning after a 15 month Hiatus. I did not do a blog at the time, because……well, I don’t know why! I just started later that year, so there!
Anyway, I had a great familiarity with all of the aspects of this race, and indeed I felt very willing to come and experience the fun again. Even though this is by no means a “Flat and Fast Boston Qualifier” (it is, in fact a Boston Qualifier anyway) there are many great aspects to the whole “Dutchman Experience” that keeps me coming back.
The Lost Dutchman Marathon is held in Apache Junction, Arizona, which is a short drive east of Phoenix. The town is under the shadow of the Superstition Mountain Range, known as “The Superstitions” (oo-oo, LOVE that name – Superstitions! It brings chills to the spine and also starts Stevie Wonder singing in my head “Very Superstitious! Writing on the wall……..”)
Apache Junction is a small town, but has a great hometown atmosphere. The population seems to be largely retired people and they turn out in droves to volunteer for all aspects of this annual event. And, they bring a joy, enthusiasm and tremendous energy to making this a really great event for all concerned.
Arrived late afternoon on Saturday for Packet Pickup, which was held in the Apache Junction Community Center. Now, the Lost Dutchman Marathon is not the only race that day. In addition to the Marathon, there is a Half Marathon, a 10K, and 8K AND a 2 mile walk. Something for everyone! Packet pickup for all the races was at the same place, but again, the cadre of volunteers made it a seamless event. I knew that they were capping off the Marathon at 600 runners, and I don’t think it filled, anyway.
The Expo was really really small, befitting the understated nature of the races. I had not expected much, and wasn’t disappointed, Honestly though for me, the expo is not what it is all about. As I am a Race Veteran, it’s not about buying souvenirs, apparel and running gear – I do all that online, anyway. And, since I generally give away the shirt, it’s not about that either. And, the Lost Dutchman shirt was okay, a long sleeve cotton shirt with a Logo and lots of advertisers on the back. The real premium money for the event came later – more on that at the finish line.
Spent the night at Cayelin’s friend Pam’s house, east of Phoenix, watching great videos and eating about a quart and a half of Chicken Fried Rice and half a dozen pot stickers. Thanks again Pam! Hit the highway at 0400 to get to the bus stop for the start line as early as possible.
The Bus to the start departs from the Apache Junction Rodeo grounds, starting around 5:00 am for a 7:00 am start. Again, as I had run this race twice before, I knew it was a good idea to get there early, get some good parking and make sure you got on an early bus to get a good “campfire position” More on that in a minute.
Got there about 4:50 am, parked the Toyota in the dark, along with several other cars already there, and after some last minute gear shuffling, I dropped my remote in the trunk, tied the ignition key to my shoe and headed towards a line of bright Klieg lights marking the bus stop
I remembered this year, to take careful note of the position of my car, where I had parked. In years past, I had neglected this, parking in the dark and heading to the busses right away. This resulted in some extensive searching for my vehicle upon returning – in full daylight by then - at the exact time you don’t want (post race, with Frankenstein-legs) to be wandering around looking for your car in a large rodeo parking lot.
Got on the bus and grabbed a seat near the front. Noticed a guy sitting there wearing a Chicago Marathon Hat and Pullover.
“When did you run Chicago?” I inquired, settling into my seat.
“Nine Times” he replied.
Thus I met a new running colleague – Mark, from Phoenix. Having a mutual “Chicago Marathon” addiction (I’ve done it 13 times as faithful readers will remember) we had much to talk about. We passed the time on the drive to the starting line hollering over the roar of the bus engine at each other across the aisle, comparing Marathon stories and sharing other observations. As it turned out, we also ran almost the whole race together – and again, more on that later.
The starting line is a long bus ride on a dark desert highway, to the Peralta trailhead out in “The Superstitions” The bus took off from the rodeo grounds, and after a significant distance on Highway 60, took a left and started heading up hill. We soon left the pavement and were truly heading out into the sticks on an unpaved, muddy and rolling road.
Now, I had checked the Lost Dutchman Website home page prior to leaving on Saturday. A chill swept though me as I read the following:
Attention Full Marathoners: Due to the heavy rains we have had this winter, four of our normally dry ravines are still running across the first two miles of the marathon route. Right now the forecast is for rain today and clear sunny weather Saturday and Sunday. Currently the ravines are passable, however you will get your feet wet unless you are a really good long jumper. It is not a serious hazard, just a trickle of water, but up to 6 inches deep. Please use caution. IF we get a lot more rain today, we may have to change the course in which case the mileage will be correct, and your result, if you qualify for Boston, will be accepted by the BAA. Changing the start is very unlikely, but I want you to know in advance that it is a slight possibility. You will still be starting the alternate marathon course on Peralta Trail, but at a different point. We will do our very best to get you from start to finish safely. Thanks for your understanding. Based on the changing forecast, or the weather, I will update this message. –
Grady McEachern, Race Director.
Nice to know, I was thinking as I read this. The first six miles of the course are all on the rolling, dirt roads leading out of the Superstition trail areas and in years past, it had been mostly dry and dusty – and actually optimal running conditions, considering. The concern I had was getting wet feet in the first two miles, and then squishing and squelching my way for the next 24.2. I considered various scenarios, like wrapping my feet in plastic bags, carrying dry socks…. Not optimal, but hey, I’ve run in worse conditions. Finally though, I decided to just commit myself to Allah, and hope for the best.
Back to the bus ride. (Jeez, I’m on page 5 in this story, and I am still on the bus!) Anyway, the bus fell silent as we headed off road. All of the runners were peering intently ahead as we rolled up and down the hills headed to the encampment for the starting line. We were waiting to see the shine of deep puddles and water hazards as we descended into each wash.
Our bus driver, a very friendly lady, told us that there were a few wet places early on and they weren’t too bad. And indeed, as we got closer we did splash through some puddles at the bottom of some washes, none of which looked too terribly deep or bad. I resolved to traverse laterally, or do whatever I needed to do to stay dry.
We saw the starting line off in the distance – a ring of about 30 small blazing campfires Arriving at the trail head, our bus stopped and an exuberant lady entered. “Welcome to the Lost Dutchman Marathon! Your bus is going to turn around and you can get off, and join us around the campfires. There is snacks, water, coffee and Gatorade, the gear check bus is there (pointing) the Porto potties are there, and we will also have a warming bus if you get too cold. The race will start in about an hour at 7:00 am!” We all clapped, and she exited. After the bus went further up the trail and turned around, we all got off and headed to the campfires.
A really nice touch is that the race staff puts carpeting squares circling all of the campfires, which, by the way, were Dura flame logs, set alight and other sticks put on top. Mark and I picked a fire, claimed a carpet square apiece, and sat down to warm up, inhale some camp fire smoke and continue our conversation. The campfires with the dark Superstition mountains at our back lent a tribal air to the whole proceedings, making the actual upcoming race seem a bit surreal. Felt like Summer Camp.
Busses kept arriving, and soon the place was full, with about 350 runners wandering around, doing their pre-race routines. I was noshing on my new, and highly recommended pre-race bar – Bumblebar – an organic, honey and sesame seed-based energy system. Good stuff – and I am thinking about asking them to sponsor me - see more at http://www.bumblebar.com/
The sun began lightening the mountains to our back, and soon it was time to check gear, and head for the starting line. It was COLD, about 41 degrees (okay you Midwest people, I know that ain't nothing for what the winter has been like for you!) damp and humid, which was different for central Arizona in February, and I kept a long-sleeve t-shirt and throwaway gloves to keep me warm as we headed down to the start line.
At the starting line, I once again booted up my GPS, waited a seemingly long time for it to sync with the satellites, and when the display turned digital, I was ready to run. Still chatting away, I never heard the pre-race announcements, (maybe there weren’t any?) but suddenly a gun went off and we were off, down the dirt road.
The first mile was straight downhill, a fast clip. I blasted off and headed down the hill with the rest of the thundering herd. I knew that the latter miles of the course were grueling, so I thought that the best strategy today would be to put as much “in the bank” as I could in the early part of the race for my eventual collapse in the latter half.
The course rolled up and down, mostly down. We splashed through the first shallow wash, tiptoeing over boulders and shallow water. So far so good. Through the next few miles, there were two wash crossings – neither of which did more than muddy the bottom and sides of my feet.
The uncertain part of the course over, it was time to settle in.
Elevation map - as usual, it doesn't really do justice.....The sun was rising now, to our backs and all of the runners cast long shadows ahead on the desert terrain. There was a lot of chattering going on, splits, pace, hydration, gels – typical running stuff.
At the six mile aid station, having warmed up enough to get sweaty, I decided to chuck my long sleeve shirt and gloves. I offered it to a volunteer. “Put it anywhere, we’ll bring it back for you!” she said. Cool! I thought, It would be good to have a chance to throw this shirt away again.
I caught up with Mark again, and we resumed our conversation, running our way up and down the undulating hills, heading back to the pavement and civilization.
We exited the dirt road into a subdivision. The pavement seemed much harder in comparison to the dirt road’s we had been on for the first hour or so.
By the way – since the Lost Dutchman is a really small race, they have yet to do Chip Timing. Everything is “by the bib” and you go by clock time, or gun time at the start. The Mile markers are understated, but easy to see (especially if you have a GPS and know they are coming) There are, however, no clocks on the course so it is good to bring your own watch so you know where you are at time-wise
In case that matters to you, that is….
We headed out on to Route 60 for a mile or so, still heading west with the sun at our backs. The temperature was moderate, 50’s warming to 60’s and for the whole race was absolutely perfect. To our right, the Superstitions were a great view the entire way, shrouded in shadows from the rising sun – and also hazy with the humidity in the air. Any time you looked up in this race, there were great views of the desert mountains.
We clocked mile seven at a little over an hour, pacing about an 8:40 pace.
The course left route 60 and turned inland towards the mountains again. An enthusiastic cadre of Senior Citizens manned an aid station in the parking lot of a Walgreens at around Mile nine. I took a gel, and some banana and Gatorade and continued on.
The course described a big loop for about seven miles, passing through some cool subdivisions as well as past the Gold Coast Resort. We also passed through Apache Land, and Quail Creek on our loop, apparently, though I couldn’t tell the difference – some of it was all roads and elevation to me. Aid stations were every two miles and each group of volunteers went out of their way to cheer all of us on.
I was actually feeling pretty good and paced ahead of Mark at some point as the mid-course hills started to rise up and up and up.
Passed through the Half Marathon point at a 1:58 on the watch hung a left and eased down some long hills.
Well, as usual since my last Marathon, training has not been on the front burner. I got really busy at the end of January, returning to Wisconsin for 11 days to do some consulting work, and do my penance for having a great winter escape strategy. Not being used to the FREAKING COLD AND SNOWY Midwest weather, I didn’t do a whole lot of running while I was there. And, since my YMCA membership is on Snowbird status, I only managed to cadge two guest passes from my fellow members, so spin and indoor running wasn’t much of an option while I was there either. After my trip to Wisconsin, I immediately embarked – the next day – from Tucson to Los Angeles to help my friend Jack Allis in his booth at the Conscious Life Expo. We worked 12 hour days, on our feet for much of the time, and while I did squeeze a short run in while there, most of my energy went towards the expo work.
Returning to Tucson, just six days before Apache Junction, I tried to do some cramming, like you would for an exam – ran four miles Monday, seven miles Tuesday, ran four miles and WALKED four miles Wednesday, and hiked on Thursday. All it did was give me achy legs for Friday and Saturday. Thus, I thought for sure my goose was cooked what with the brutal nature of the latter hills in this race. And, I had concluded that I would probably break my sub-four hour streak on this one. Remember – I had been there before!
Issues did arise, but not because of training. Long about mile 16, I had to, for the first time in many races, make an emergency Porto let stop (sorry all!) which cost me two minutes, and 11 seconds according to my GPS. Exiting the pit stop, I had lost a lot of my pacing, and struggled to regain my stride for the next several miles. Obviously, the Pot Stickers Revenge!
Mark had caught up and passed me, and I could see him off in the distance. I spent the next three miles or so trying to catch up. He was doing some Jeff Galloway work, running and taking short walking breaks. Countless times I would be ready to catch him, and he would end his walking break and be off again, drawing inexorably away.
The course had looped back onto route 60 for a few miles and then back inland. Between Miles 18 and 20 came one of the most memorable parts of the courses. By now, we had caught up with the half marathon course and I started seeing Mile markers for miles 5, 6, 7…and we headed up a long, seemingly never ending subdivision hill. Across the street on the other side, other runners were descending – this was a “keyhole loop” like the Biosphere loop in the Tucson race, complete with a never-ending hill.
There seemed to be several aid stations along the way, but it was really only one, covering both sides of the road. It was a young cadre of volunteers and they all chorused “Turnaround’s just ahead!”
Well no, it really wasn’t
The turnaround for the HALF Marathon came pretty quickly. The full marathoners had to run another half mile partially down hill to our turnaround. Did so and headed back uphill to the crest and aid station again. I caught up to and smacked Mark on the arm, startling him out of an I-pod reverie (I think) “I thought you were miles in front of me!” he exclaimed. “I was, but had to make a pit stop” I explained as we huffed our way back up the hill.
Cresting the hill, we began a long fast downhill stride sweeping past the 20 mile marker. By now I’m hurting and would like to be done, but I knew there was still some fun to be had. GPS clocked me at about a 2:58:59, so I needed some serious pacing to bring it home under 4:00.
Swept down the hill, hung a right – and started heading uphill. Off in the distance, the course rolled, inexorably upwards into the distance.
“Undulating” I said to Mark. “The word is Undulating”
“Undulating” he agreed.
There was nothing to do but slog it out. So we did, running, walking pushing, and watching the mile markers come. Soon, I saw matching mile markers as we caught up to the 10K course as well. Once again, we went off road, onto a dirt covered road and down a huge hill. I used the downhill’s to hammer as fast as I could and eased the uphill’s, walking when I started taching out heart-rate wise.
“There’s something for everyone in this race,” said Mark. “It’s like Trains, Planes and Automobiles – Trails, pavement, trails again”
And indeed, this was true.
Do you remember those old Popeye cartoons? Popeye would be getting his ass kicked by Brutus, and then he would somehow magically ingest his can of spinach, and not only recover fully, but turn into a great big ball of whup-ass on Brutus, knocking him into next year.
That kind of happened for me here. I had saved a few Ninxia Red Juice packs for the final push, and at mile 22, I downed one, and it gave me a good surge. And I needed it. Right before mile 23, there is a world-class aid station, staffed by the “Purple Ladies” an exuberant bunch of Senior citizens who are like a group of geriatric cheer leaders, complete with several cute Burma-shave-like signs. They exhort you down the hill and around the corner to……the Dutchman’s Revenge, a Sheer Uphill stretch of about a tenth of a mile.
I walked up it, of course. At the top there is a huge Arch, a sign that says “It’s all Downhill from here” and “You can see the Finish Line from here” and....a Photographer. Once I caught my breath I sprinted through the Arch holding my hands high. He snapped my picture. “Couldn’t tell I was walking two seconds ago, could ya?” I shouted as I streaked by.
The course rolled off into the distance for the last three miles. More undulating hills, but the net effect looked very uphill. I remember that last year I had probably walked more than ran, my hip flexors screaming at me the entire way as I lurched my way finally to the finish line. The temperature last year by this time was in the high ‘70’s or low ‘80’s so I remember feeling pretty overheated at the same time.
This year, however was different. It really looked like a sub-four was yet again possible if I could keep it together. And as usual, with this goal in sight, it suddenly became important to make it so. I pushed back the pain and pushed on towards the horizon.
I had left Mark after the “Dutchman’s Revenge” Feeling the surge from my Ninxia Red I managed to keep a steady pace over the next miles. I treated myself to yet another Juice pack at mile 24 and, feeling the surge, was ready to get this race done.
The course undulates (yes, that is the word of the day) for the last three miles up Lost Dutchman Boulevard to a peak at the intersection of Idaho Road. You then go right, swoop down a steep hill for about a quarter mile, round a hairpin curve to the right and the finish line is less than 2/10ths of a mile in front of you in the middle of Prospector Park. I pass stalled runners and half marathon walkers as I slog my way up the hill, turn the corner and stretch out into the downhill. The hairpin turn is challenging on the legs, but I head into the finish line as quickly as I can, even putting on a final burst in the last tenth of a mile. This race, by the way, was the first time I claimed my Arizona residence as I signed up, so I was “Peter Klein from Tucson!” as I crossed the finish line. Clock time 3:57:43, which almost exactly synced with my GPS. Hallelujah, the streak is intact!
At the finish line, they handed me a bottle of water and then the finishers medal. The Marathon Finishers medal is outstanding a third-inch thick hunk of metal, in the shape of the state of Arizona. An enameled front with at least eight colors – Blue, green, gold, black, yellow…”7th Annual Lost Dutchman Marathon run for the gold….
Check it out:
That’s where the real money went for the race. And, interestingly, as I was reading feedback on the website yesterday, one of the runners wrote in and admitted that she signed up for the race SOLELY because she was enamored with the picture of the finishers medal – and that she wasn’t disappointed!
Continued through the chutes into Prospectors Park. I waited for Mark, who was about three minutes behind me and as I did that fell into a conversation with this guy who had finished just in front of me. It turned out he was from West Bend Wisconsin, had came out here solely for the race and we had finished at almost the same time. Two Wisconsinites, within seconds of each other in a field, which turned out to be 320 finishers. What are the odds?
That is another thing about the Dutchman While there are many local Arizonans, there was a national flavor to the race as many of the 50-stater people make this a destination run to add Arizona to their roster. During and after the race I met people from California, Colorado, Chicago, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Michigan and Texas. Very cool to have such a cross section of the country on such a small race
Mark and I proceeded into the park where the finish festivities were already underway. Awards were being given for the 8K and 10K and later the half marathon. The finish line festivities are great. There was a food line (strictly for Runners only!), where again, a cadre of amazing and friendly volunteers dished up pretzels, fruit, yogurt, (with and without Granola) bagels (with and without cream cheese) and the famous Dutchman Breakfast Burritos with some spicy salsa. I wasn’t hungry, but I did partake of the famous burritos – and it was worth it!
Hung around and visited with other runners. Met Sue from Chicago, who was on State 37 I her 50 state journey. She said she didn’t run Chicago because she considered the Chicago Marathon to be a “National Holiday”, and she always hung out at mile 21 with Champagne, tambourine and a boom box to cheer the runners on. I Love the Windy City!
OH Yeah, forgetting my template – I did meet many of my Marathon Maniac brethren before, during and after the race, including Troy from LA, and Art from Minneapolis to mention a few. Troy had done something like 9 marathons SO FAR THIS YEAR and I shamefacedly told him that for me “This was only my second”. As always, it’s great to be a Maniac.
It wasn’t yet Noon, which again, is so weird – I had already put in an eight hour day between travel, race and finishing – and it wasn’t lunchtime yet. Mark and I hung out for a while longer and then picked up our gear. I asked one of the volunteers if anyone had brought in some stuff from the water stops and she told me to stand right there, while she hastened over to a pickup truck and gathered an armful of clothing that was in the back. My old white shirt wasn’t there, but it really didn’t matter. Still, was worth a shot!
Traded contact info with Mark who I am sure I’ll run again with (this was his 47th marathon in something like 9 years – he’s going for “50 by the time he’s 50” a goal which I totally understand.
Got on the bus back to the rodeo grounds, found the Toyota where I’d left it and did a quick change into civilian clothes. I was driving right back to Tucson (yes, without a shower, it was gross!) but I took the time to stretch out on the back of the car, trying in vain to shake some of the stiffness out of my legs.
While I was doing that, I noticed a middle-aged couple, each wearing finishers medals wandering around, peering around the parking lot, obviously looking for a lost vehicle. As this looked familiar, I called out to them “It was DARK when we got here!” They laughed, and we struck up a conversation. Ernie and Tammy from Texas; they were “Retired RV’ers” camping in the Superstitions with their travel trailer. They apparently used their retirement to drive around to do half marathons and other races wherever they could – Tammy had placed first in her age group and was sporting a huge plaque.
We had a great talk – and somehow the topic got to four letter words versus three letter words – We agreed that words like “Work” and “Snow” were definitely four letter words, on the order of obscene, while Three Letter words like “Run” “Sex” and “Eat” were far superior.
You can have some pretty funky post-race discussions as the endorphins jangle your nervous system……..still, I think we made a good point. It’s three letter words for me!
Stopped at the Circle K for a Coke (my post-race treat) and made the two hour and nine minute drive back to Tucson with my cramping legs. The weather, as usual has been stunning and I am grateful for my Winter Desert home
The next day I wrote a complimentary email to the Race Director and lo and behold the day after it was posted on the website! You can read more comments (mine is about a page down) at the following link:
http://www.lostdutchmanmarathon.org/2008feedback.htm
And, as I said in my note to the Race Director, I can’t say enough nice things about the Lost Dutchman Marathon (and, I’ve said about 12 pages worth here) It’s a great destination race, there is a race distance for everyone, and I will probably be doing this race every year I am here in the winter.
I also checked results the next day, confirming my finish time. Another cool addition is that next to my finish time were the words "Course PR!" indicating that this had been my best finish time to date. Nice touch.
And another part where life is stranger than fiction. My finish time differed from my Carlsbad finish time by exactly two minutes 11 seconds - the exact time, per my GPS of my unscheduled pit stop. AND, it was exactly 4 seconds different from my finish time in Tucson. Apparently I'm consistent, if otherwise "irregular"
And again - my GPS clocked the course EXACTLY the same distance as Carlsbad - 26.44 miles. The only consistent aspect between these races is....me! So if you do the math, I get credit for an additional 10 miles over 41 marathons, if the GPS is to be believed.
I’ve already recovered – walking three miles on my return Sunday with Cayelin and hiking three miles in Saguaro East on Monday. I ran three miles yesterday, and four today and while I still have a bit of stiffness, I’m ready to go again – Clean living catches up!
And, on a side note, I accomplished my goal – and then some – of 30 marathons before the 10-year anniversary of my Back Surgery on February 19. I actually ran 31, proving wrong my Neurosurgeon who gravely told me 10 years ago that I had “run my last Marathon” Another example of the Law of Attraction and Mind over Matter.
I don’t know what the next race is – there are some “lesser” races, including a local 5k, an 11 mile Trail Run in the Catalina’s and also the Valley of Gold Half Marathon, but I am really putting together my strategy to somehow gain Iridium Level in Marathon Maniacs this year – which would necessitate either a Four In Four streak (four marathons, four weeks) or Nine Marathons in Nine States for the year. Two down….and counting. Stay tuned
Thanks for reading everyone! And, special thanks to Mark from Phoenix for the excellent conversation, company and pacing. And to all my friends in the Midwest…..Stay Warm! The Snowbirds will be back in April or so!
