From the Tucson Marathon Website:
Enjoy beautiful Tucson winter weather with temperatures at the start averaging in the high 30s and reaching 65-70 degrees Fahrenheit by 11 a.m. This is primarily a downhill marathon. with some hills around mile 2 and mile 10. Come run your FIRST MARATHON or your FASTEST MARATHON. You'll drop almost 2,200 feet in elevation as you run on the mostly downhill, point-to-point course along the beautiful Santa Catalina mountain range. (There are some rolling hills and inclines between miles 2-9 and at mile 25).
The Old West historical town of Oracle marks the starting line. The course winds through the desert on paved roads and finishes at the Coronado Middle School, just off of E. Wilds Road. Our runners continue to tell us it's one of the prettiest courses in the country and one of the easiest to run a personal best. Be sure to train your quadriceps as you'll be running downhill!
It’s the Monday after and my legs are totally trashed, my quads screaming every time I get up out of my chair, or sit down anywhere. I’m hobbling up and down stairs, groaning at each step, and my outlook on life in general is bleak. I’ve managed to snap at several people today, gone into at least one tirade at Cayelin and as of now, I’m on my third beer and still not feeling my normal level of optimism.
What happened you may ask?. Well, the answer is another harsh Desert mistress that I have an ongoing love/hate relationship with – the Tucson Marathon.
Sunday marked the fourth time I’ve launched the battle (and climbed the hill) to slay the 26.2 mile dragon called Tucson Marathon and the 48th time I’ve toed the line to traverse the same distance. If you read my blog back in 2007 about this race, you can get a flavor for what had happened then, a lot of which had to do with my poor habits, planning and lack of training leading up to the event, plus the “course” which was not, as advertised, a place for your FASTEST MARATHON. (see above)
This time, I can’t fully blame my personal habits for what turned out to be an exceptionally grueling event, that, I’m sorry – is not any where near what is advertised and also does not track some of the hallucinogenic postings and ravings of the fans of this event. I’m not sure what race these people have run, in my experience, in spite of some excellent logistical touches, the Tucson Marathon is one tough hombre of a race,.
From the Tucson Marathon Website:
If you are looking for a fast, gradually-downhill marathon with no big crowd hemming you in, the Tucson Marathon is your race. I have run many races that are said to be fast and downhill; however, none compare to the Tucson Holoalua Marathon. The race starts in the town of Oracle and ends in the Tucson area.
Kamran T. Professor, University of Arizona
Well, Professor, some of that is true. Let me tell my side of the story
When I ran the Tucson Marathon in 2002 and 2003, it was indeed a rolling, fairly straightforward point to point downhill course. It started in Oracle and ended at the Hilton on Oracle Road, and the only memorable uphill was the last .15 (point one five) mile into the finish at the Hilton.
Apparently in subsequent years, the Hilton wouldn’t host the finish anymore (I don’t really know) so they changed the course and the logistics to make it so it ended at the Coronado Middle School. And by doing so had to “tack on” some intermediate miles as an out and back, or “Keyhole” portion. Thus do the challenges ensue! While some things have remained almost 100% consistent about the race (the expo, the T-shirt, the Bus Ride to the Start, the Finishers Medal) other aspects of the actual race are fluid and as such don’t allow it to live up to the “Fast and Downhill” billing
Anyway, as always, I went to the expo at the Hilton El Conquistador on the north end of Tucson, and, as in years past, nothing much has changed, It’s small, low-key, it’s the exact same cotton T-shirt that I’ve gotten on almost every other occasion that I’ve run the race, and the obligatory shoe booth, sports gear and sunglass vendors are present. I was in and out in less than 15 minutes and only because I purposely dawdled to talk to the El Paso Marathon coordinators who were setting up their booth about their race.
(Not much has changed between 2002 and 2009 - except for a "Holualoa", it's almost the same shirt!)
It was an early day Race Day Sunday morning, the alarm went off at 3:30 am and I was up and out by 4:15 heading across town over the dark Tucson streets to the Ventana Medical Center to catch the Bus up the mountain to the Start in Oracle. Got a primo parking space close to the bus line, and, as usual tied the Toyota key on my shoelace and headed to the line of buses that were on the road outside the parking lot.
This year, I did a completely decadent thing- at the front of the line were two school buses, however interspersed among the lined up behemoths were some plush-looking cruise buses, with high backed seats, and luxurious appointments, so I joined a line of three other runners who were tapping on the door of the third bus in line - a large white “BeeLine” coach. The door hissed open and the runner in front said “We like your bus better!” and was allowed to climb in by the elderly driver. I followed the other two runners closely smirking as I passed the driver, and went back and soon found a comfortable seat on this really nice cruise bus. No slippery vinyl school bus seat for me this time!
Soon we departed, and on the very dark ride up the mountain, I chatted with two first timers sitting in front of me, and next to me, Art, a local long-time Tucsonian and Tovah, a beautiful young Yoga Instructor who had just moved to Tucson from Boston for, as she put it, “The weather”. We had, as is usual with people who are about to partake of the 26.2 mile distance, great conversations ranging in many directions. And, it seems like everytime I do Tucson, I’m surrounded by First Timers who, are attracted by the propaganda of this being a “Great First Time Race” Hah, if they only knew…. I wonder how many of these “First Timers” become “Last Timers” after this.
Arriving in the dark in Oracle, I stayed on the bus for a while (always a nice touch for this race – you can stay on the bus and stay warm until the start) until it was time to make the obligatory portopottie stop. I excited the big white beast and hiked up the hill past a long line of other idling buses, filled with nervous runners, inhaling diesel fumes that were hanging in the air, until I arrived at the row of portopotties lined up like soldiers along the roadway. It was still dark, it was cold but not windy and there was a crescent moon hanging over the Catalina Mountains as well as the glow of pre-dawn in the east. A typical Tucson morning and I had high hopes for some good weather for the race.
I talked with a gentleman who turned out to be the Vail School Superintendent while we awaited our turn to relieve ourselves (we discussed the upcoming budget shortfalls for the educational system and the ramifications for the State of Arizona) and then I headed back to my luxury bus for awhile. Soon getting bored with the warmth and sitting around, I hiked up the road again, shucked my sweats, passed my plastic gear bag through a gear check bus window to the eager high school volunteers within, and, after a communal final pee in the desert with several of my compadres, I was lining up for the start of the Marathon.
I had met an exuberant young man named Tim at the Veterans Marathon in Columbia City, Indiana the month before – he was from East Peoria, Illinois, and had told me he was also doing Tucson. As I was sporting the same Marathon Maniacs singlet, dew rag and pony tail, he easily picked me out of the crowd and together with a fellow Marathon Maniac from Texas named Art, we rattled away about running, racing, our expected finish times, and running, running and more about running and the last few minutes to the start passed quickly. The sun rose, the gun went off and so did we, downhill through the traditional Balloon arch starting our trek down the mountain, 26.2 miles to go.
“Down” of course, being the hope of us all.
The first mile, after traversing an initial short rolling hill was straight down. “Zoom” I thought to myself as runners hurtled past me in a constant stream. The ground was soon littered with discarded shirts, sweats and gloves. I had retained an old sweatshirt, however I shucked it quickly as I was soon overheated as the temperature wasn’t bad and I was moving pretty well. At least at first.
I blasted off at a good pace, clocking the first downhill mile at 8:15 with high hopes of a good finish time. Then, we emptied out onto Mount Lemmon highway, and the fun began.
The next three miles were a grinding, rolling, uphill stretch. “Where is the downhill?” several runners around me, no doubt first timers, were wondering. “Elevation charts lie ya know” I mercilessly chortled to anyone who would listen. I’m doing several do-si-dos with runners who, daunted by the hills would surge, then falter. I kept a steady pace.
Up and down - but mostly up, we traversed the first four miles, passing through the first water stop and then heading into the town of Oracle. After climbing yet another “rolling hill” (with (as the website put it) some hills around mile 2 and mile 10) I’m soon pretty warm. Close to mile 5, we are directed left and down a steep hill to another water stop. After the water, we roll up and down another hill, and begin to ascend a steeply hairpin-curved uphill stretch. This was the new “out and back’ that had replaced the biosphere loop of previous years.
“Downhill my ass” I’m thinking.
From the Tucson Marathon Website
the Marathon route will no longer utilize the out and back on Biosphere Road. Instead, there will be an out and back section earlier in the race in the Town of Oracle. The elevation loss for each race will remain almost exactly the same.
“Almost exactly the same” Hah!!
This turned out to be a brutal monster of an out and back detour, far worse than the Biosphere loop. After ascending steeply for about a half mile, the course swooped downward for what seemed to be about two miles, in an ever-descending sweeping curve. I stretched out into the downhill, feeling my quads start to get hammered, and, as the downhill went on....and on.....and on I thought “This can’t be a good thing” And indeed it wasn’t. Soon, I started seeing the lead pack of runners coming the other way, and grimly acknowledged that of course that all of the downhill would have to be returned going the other way, undoubtedly with interest. To add insult to injury, we’re still way up the Catalina’s at an altitude of about 4,400 feet and I’m wheezing slightly with an extremely elevated heart rate from the lighter oxygen – even going downhill.
The stream of runners going the other way did have a few amusing and notable participants. The two that stuck out were “Superman” and “Nerd Runner”. There was literally one guy running in a full Superman costume, complete with cape and red shorts. He was followed by “Nerd Runner” a gangly dude with whiffle cut hair, a white shirt, black short pants (not running shorts), suspenders, narrow black tie and Buddy Holly nerd glasses. I was pretty positive I wasn’t hallucinating, still this was interesting. I wondered idly why Superman wasn’t flying, however, he was, in fact, in front of me, and so also was The Nerd….
So, I made it down the hill, made a hairpin turn (of course passing over the obligatory chip mat to make sure no one jumped the median) and started the slog back up the damn hill on the opposite side of the road. It was slow going, trudging back upwards, and more than once, I broke into a walk as my legs were screaming and my heart rate was maxing out from the incline and altitude. As we are still between mile 7 and 9 of the race, I’m also conscious that all of this early effort may cost me substantially later.
Finally I crested the hill, swooped down the initial incline and back around the corner, and now I’m out again on Mt. Lemmon Highway, I think, where we first made our detour. I pass mile 9, and now, blessedly, we’re heading downhill, heading off the mountain and the fun can begin.
And, the fun, certainly did. As we started leaving the communities that dotted the highway, there is a crosswind I’m starting to notice, then, at mile 10, we come to the junction on State Highway 77 with the infamous sign “Tucson Left”, Globe Right” and head left, down the hill towards Tucson
And, right into the teeth of a VERY Big Headwind that started out stiff and picked up as the miles go by and the morning progressed. I’m estimating that it was 15-25 MPH easily and we are headed right into the face of it for The. Whole. Way. To. Tucson. Almost 16 miles of running into the wind.
Oh, but don’t forget, we’re running downhill so…..it’s not hard, its REALLY hard.
I find that while running into the wind I have to really focus hard not to clench my entire body as I’m moving forward. It’s a subtle thing however as my mind wanders I can suddenly tune into the fact that my fists are clenched, my arms are tight to my chest, I’m bent over with my face scrunched up and my shoulders and neck are aching from the full upper body tension. Trying, obviously to present as little surface area to the gale as possible. Add to that, this Sunday I’m running downhill on some already pretty trashed quads, and you’ve got a recipe for a “Forecast of Pain” as I termed my last tilt at the Tucson Marathon (thank you Robert Cray!)
Anyway, the miles did roll by, albeit painfully. I had a few good ones, and also some desultory and brief conversations with a few runners that ambled by. One memorable one was a guy that materialized at my elbow and said “Hey Maniac! How many does this make for you, about two hundred and fifty?”” We chatted for a mile or so, I didn’t get his name but he was a gym teacher from New Mexico doing his 108th marathon, and thus had me beat by 60 or so. He was bundled up in tights, jacket, hat and full gear and I wondered how he didn’t sweat himself to death.
The wind kept blowing, and it did keep the temperature cool as well as dry the sweat and keep things interesting. One of the instructions on the runner handout in the goody bag was “Please crush your cups at the water stops before discarding them so they don’t blow all over the highway” and indeed this was good advice. Things were blowing about everywhere.
The water stops were meager in the first 10 miles and then fairly plentiful in the latter parts of the races. There was only one gel stop at mile 13.1 and I was glad I was packing my own. However, the “sports drink” choice had changed yet again, from “Comp One” to ”Xood” (pronounced “Exude”) which was a viscous, pink colored, puke-tasting concoction that I honestly can say didn’t have any sort of energetic lift properties to it. Still, I imbibed at each stop in the hopes of keeping the carbs and electrolytes up and staving off an ultimate crash in the latter stages of the race. I also violated my new rule (set in my last Marathon in Columbia City, Indiana) of No Pain Relief on the course. As my legs were wailing by mile 10, I started popping some fresh Ibuprofen in hopes of again, staving off a complete lock up before the end of the race.
So, let me tell you. There isn’t really much sexy about the Tucson Marathon course. At least 2/3rds of the course is run along State Road 77 which then empties into Oracle Road and basically, they cone off the shoulder of a divided four lane highway, which later becomes a joined four lane and traffic is screaming by your elbow almost the whole way. Diesel and car exhaust, plus second hand cigarette smoke from drivers with their windows open is constantly assailing your nostrils. There are nice vistas of mountains in the distance and desert scrubland, however, it’s really just a barren desert highway – (and in this case today a f*&king windy desert highway!!) and I’ve really run more scenic and pastoral courses. Spectators are minimal for the first 18 miles or so, with the exception of cars barreling by and leaning on their horns – which is more startling than encouraging, actually - and as you get towards civilization there are policeman directing traffic and allowing cars that have been waiting to dart in front of you at intersections, or out of the strip malls and gas stations. It’s not wonderful.
Among other experiences, I remember as always at some point the tide turned and I started passing stalled out runners. One memorable one was “Nerd Runner” whom I blew past at mile 16, he was completely stalled out and literally appeared to be walking his way to the finish with a long way to go. Guess he was indeed a Nerd and didn’t use his brain – obviously went out too quickly.
So, I slogged down the hills and into the wind until Mile 20 and then some more of the fun began. In spite of the gale, I’m on schedule, (consistency thy name in the marathon is Peter) and I’ve passed the halfway point at a Gregg Herman-like time of 1:54, hit the 20 mile point at about 2:56, and I’m figuring that unless I fall completely apart in the last 10K I’m good for another sub four hour finish – typical!
Then, the same thing happens to me that happened the last time in Tucson and also in Columbia City. I have a close and continuing encounter with “Galloway Method” runners – those runners who annoyingly sprint past you…..and then slam on the brakes and walk, allowing you to trudge by………then sprint past you again………..and then walk, allowing you to trudge by. It’s the last 10K do si do, and both in Columbia City, and here in Tucson I’m with a crew of two or three runners employing this infamous, but incredibly annoying methodology to get to the finish line. Today, I’m forced on several occasions to traverse around these two guys running side by side in concert as they slam to a halt in front of me on the narrow shoulder, and then, a short time later, hear the annoying dry Tyvek flapping of one of the guy’s race bib - which was only held down by two safety pins - in the wind as he comes cruising past again.
And, it’s very subtle, however from mile 20 on, I swear it’s a very very gradual uphill stretch from there until we leave Oracle Road. Neither the elevation map or my GPS support me on this, however comparing notes later at the finish line with other runners confirmed it – we all know uphill when we feel it!
So, on goes me, the Galloway Runners and the time. According to my GPS, my pace per mile has eroded now, I’m creeping very gradually into the 8:50’s now, my legs are hurting, the ibuprofen doesn’t seem to be touching anything, I’m feeling more and more pessimistic and making the very familiar mental deals with myself about “how bad would it be to bail?” and yet I keep chugging on. However, this race isn’t done throwing some fun at me yet. Not by a long stretch.
Two years ago when I ran Tucson there were some mild but nonetheless unwelcome “rises” from mile 24.5 to the finish. This year, it was different.
At a little past mile 24 we hang a left off Oracle Road, and for a few moments are blessedly out of the wind. “Yeah!” I shout to myself, and start to pick up the pace, wanting to be done. We traverse past a strip mall, through a water stop and then, ahead of us, the course continues……Straight uphill. A sheer uphill stretch, heading around a curve.
Once again, the air would have been filled with profanities, birds sitting on telephone wires miles away would have burst squawking into flight (thank you Scott Jerard) had I been able to give voice to the invective that raced through my brain when confronted by this late-in-the-course hill.
“Damn!” one of the Galloway Method runners opined, jogging up next to me, bib still flapping in the crosswind. “Screw it, I’m walking that hill, we’re still in under four hours” he added, breaking into yet another walk.
“Go for it”, I suggested to him, and leaned into the hill, deciding to go for broke. I didn’t see him again after that.
I managed to run up that hill, passing other stalled out runners, and, as the road curved to the right, was confronted with, yes…another hill. And guess what? Now, we’re heading back into the wind as well.
The last one point two miles was a nightmare of pain, hard surfaces and rolling hills. I managed to keep it together, knowing the end was near. The course undulated up and down through a posh neighborhood, over some rutted, then smoothly paved streets, and then over a drainage grate that someone had thoughtfully placed a sheet of plywood over. We then hung a right onto East Wilds Road, and I’m finally and thankfully passing the 26 mile marker.
However, like a nasty yapping little purse dog, who attacks you immediately upon entry, savages your ankle, sinks it’s teeth into your calf, then pees on your rug as it’s cooing owner hauls it away, the Tucson Marathon had one last trick to throw our way.
I blow past the 26 mile marker, increase the pace (later my GPS will show that I managed to clock a 7:56 pace for the last .point 3 miles anyway) and then I hang a right towards the finish line at the Coronado Middle School….and am forced to traverse about 80 yards of SAND!. The finish line appeared to be at the head of a beach-like expanse of sand pit, stretching for what seemed like a long way.
However with the end in sight, I’m enraged (who in HELL would make people run 26.18 miles and then run across SAND???), but undaunted. I slog through the final sandy insult of the Tucson Marathon, my feet sliding out from underneath me, taking care not to fall face first into the dune and manage to literally hop across the finish line, finally. The overhead clock says 3:54:33, my GPS clocks it as 3:53:48, however my chip later brings this to 3:53:45, or a minute faster than Columbia City last month. This is also, for me a PR for the course, though I’m not too proud of it. It wasn’t pretty, that’s for sure.
The finish line volunteers were holding medals out at arms length for us take as we passed through, clearly not interested in draping them over the heads of sweaty runners. I take mine, it’s a typical Tucson Marathon in the shape of a Saguaro Cactus, just like three other ones I have, so again, nothing has changed here. After I collect my medal and a bottle of water, I’m immediately seized by a shorter, dark skinned fellow Marathon Maniac who pumps my hand enthusiastically, then embraces me in a huge bear hug. He produces a digital camera from somewhere, insists on a picture and we find a volunteer, drape our arms around each other and grin beatifically for the camera. He then grabs a young lady who came in right behind me, who apparently was also a fellow Maniac, though out of uniform. We have another group hug while she squeals joyfully, and then enlist another volunteer for two more group pictures and then we disperse, after high fiveing and mouthing congratulations at each other as we exit the finish area.
I have no idea who these people were, no introductions were made or names given, however we were all Maniacs and somewhere there is a great finish line picture of me with my brethren!!
This year, I did a completely decadent thing- at the front of the line were two school buses, however interspersed among the lined up behemoths were some plush-looking cruise buses, with high backed seats, and luxurious appointments, so I joined a line of three other runners who were tapping on the door of the third bus in line - a large white “BeeLine” coach. The door hissed open and the runner in front said “We like your bus better!” and was allowed to climb in by the elderly driver. I followed the other two runners closely smirking as I passed the driver, and went back and soon found a comfortable seat on this really nice cruise bus. No slippery vinyl school bus seat for me this time!
Soon we departed, and on the very dark ride up the mountain, I chatted with two first timers sitting in front of me, and next to me, Art, a local long-time Tucsonian and Tovah, a beautiful young Yoga Instructor who had just moved to Tucson from Boston for, as she put it, “The weather”. We had, as is usual with people who are about to partake of the 26.2 mile distance, great conversations ranging in many directions. And, it seems like everytime I do Tucson, I’m surrounded by First Timers who, are attracted by the propaganda of this being a “Great First Time Race” Hah, if they only knew…. I wonder how many of these “First Timers” become “Last Timers” after this.
Arriving in the dark in Oracle, I stayed on the bus for a while (always a nice touch for this race – you can stay on the bus and stay warm until the start) until it was time to make the obligatory portopottie stop. I excited the big white beast and hiked up the hill past a long line of other idling buses, filled with nervous runners, inhaling diesel fumes that were hanging in the air, until I arrived at the row of portopotties lined up like soldiers along the roadway. It was still dark, it was cold but not windy and there was a crescent moon hanging over the Catalina Mountains as well as the glow of pre-dawn in the east. A typical Tucson morning and I had high hopes for some good weather for the race.
I talked with a gentleman who turned out to be the Vail School Superintendent while we awaited our turn to relieve ourselves (we discussed the upcoming budget shortfalls for the educational system and the ramifications for the State of Arizona) and then I headed back to my luxury bus for awhile. Soon getting bored with the warmth and sitting around, I hiked up the road again, shucked my sweats, passed my plastic gear bag through a gear check bus window to the eager high school volunteers within, and, after a communal final pee in the desert with several of my compadres, I was lining up for the start of the Marathon.
I had met an exuberant young man named Tim at the Veterans Marathon in Columbia City, Indiana the month before – he was from East Peoria, Illinois, and had told me he was also doing Tucson. As I was sporting the same Marathon Maniacs singlet, dew rag and pony tail, he easily picked me out of the crowd and together with a fellow Marathon Maniac from Texas named Art, we rattled away about running, racing, our expected finish times, and running, running and more about running and the last few minutes to the start passed quickly. The sun rose, the gun went off and so did we, downhill through the traditional Balloon arch starting our trek down the mountain, 26.2 miles to go.
“Down” of course, being the hope of us all.
The first mile, after traversing an initial short rolling hill was straight down. “Zoom” I thought to myself as runners hurtled past me in a constant stream. The ground was soon littered with discarded shirts, sweats and gloves. I had retained an old sweatshirt, however I shucked it quickly as I was soon overheated as the temperature wasn’t bad and I was moving pretty well. At least at first.
I blasted off at a good pace, clocking the first downhill mile at 8:15 with high hopes of a good finish time. Then, we emptied out onto Mount Lemmon highway, and the fun began.
The next three miles were a grinding, rolling, uphill stretch. “Where is the downhill?” several runners around me, no doubt first timers, were wondering. “Elevation charts lie ya know” I mercilessly chortled to anyone who would listen. I’m doing several do-si-dos with runners who, daunted by the hills would surge, then falter. I kept a steady pace.
Up and down - but mostly up, we traversed the first four miles, passing through the first water stop and then heading into the town of Oracle. After climbing yet another “rolling hill” (with (as the website put it) some hills around mile 2 and mile 10) I’m soon pretty warm. Close to mile 5, we are directed left and down a steep hill to another water stop. After the water, we roll up and down another hill, and begin to ascend a steeply hairpin-curved uphill stretch. This was the new “out and back’ that had replaced the biosphere loop of previous years.
“Downhill my ass” I’m thinking.
From the Tucson Marathon Website
the Marathon route will no longer utilize the out and back on Biosphere Road. Instead, there will be an out and back section earlier in the race in the Town of Oracle. The elevation loss for each race will remain almost exactly the same.
“Almost exactly the same” Hah!!
This turned out to be a brutal monster of an out and back detour, far worse than the Biosphere loop. After ascending steeply for about a half mile, the course swooped downward for what seemed to be about two miles, in an ever-descending sweeping curve. I stretched out into the downhill, feeling my quads start to get hammered, and, as the downhill went on....and on.....and on I thought “This can’t be a good thing” And indeed it wasn’t. Soon, I started seeing the lead pack of runners coming the other way, and grimly acknowledged that of course that all of the downhill would have to be returned going the other way, undoubtedly with interest. To add insult to injury, we’re still way up the Catalina’s at an altitude of about 4,400 feet and I’m wheezing slightly with an extremely elevated heart rate from the lighter oxygen – even going downhill.
The stream of runners going the other way did have a few amusing and notable participants. The two that stuck out were “Superman” and “Nerd Runner”. There was literally one guy running in a full Superman costume, complete with cape and red shorts. He was followed by “Nerd Runner” a gangly dude with whiffle cut hair, a white shirt, black short pants (not running shorts), suspenders, narrow black tie and Buddy Holly nerd glasses. I was pretty positive I wasn’t hallucinating, still this was interesting. I wondered idly why Superman wasn’t flying, however, he was, in fact, in front of me, and so also was The Nerd….
So, I made it down the hill, made a hairpin turn (of course passing over the obligatory chip mat to make sure no one jumped the median) and started the slog back up the damn hill on the opposite side of the road. It was slow going, trudging back upwards, and more than once, I broke into a walk as my legs were screaming and my heart rate was maxing out from the incline and altitude. As we are still between mile 7 and 9 of the race, I’m also conscious that all of this early effort may cost me substantially later.
Finally I crested the hill, swooped down the initial incline and back around the corner, and now I’m out again on Mt. Lemmon Highway, I think, where we first made our detour. I pass mile 9, and now, blessedly, we’re heading downhill, heading off the mountain and the fun can begin.
And, the fun, certainly did. As we started leaving the communities that dotted the highway, there is a crosswind I’m starting to notice, then, at mile 10, we come to the junction on State Highway 77 with the infamous sign “Tucson Left”, Globe Right” and head left, down the hill towards Tucson
And, right into the teeth of a VERY Big Headwind that started out stiff and picked up as the miles go by and the morning progressed. I’m estimating that it was 15-25 MPH easily and we are headed right into the face of it for The. Whole. Way. To. Tucson. Almost 16 miles of running into the wind.
Oh, but don’t forget, we’re running downhill so…..it’s not hard, its REALLY hard.
I find that while running into the wind I have to really focus hard not to clench my entire body as I’m moving forward. It’s a subtle thing however as my mind wanders I can suddenly tune into the fact that my fists are clenched, my arms are tight to my chest, I’m bent over with my face scrunched up and my shoulders and neck are aching from the full upper body tension. Trying, obviously to present as little surface area to the gale as possible. Add to that, this Sunday I’m running downhill on some already pretty trashed quads, and you’ve got a recipe for a “Forecast of Pain” as I termed my last tilt at the Tucson Marathon (thank you Robert Cray!)
Anyway, the miles did roll by, albeit painfully. I had a few good ones, and also some desultory and brief conversations with a few runners that ambled by. One memorable one was a guy that materialized at my elbow and said “Hey Maniac! How many does this make for you, about two hundred and fifty?”” We chatted for a mile or so, I didn’t get his name but he was a gym teacher from New Mexico doing his 108th marathon, and thus had me beat by 60 or so. He was bundled up in tights, jacket, hat and full gear and I wondered how he didn’t sweat himself to death.
The wind kept blowing, and it did keep the temperature cool as well as dry the sweat and keep things interesting. One of the instructions on the runner handout in the goody bag was “Please crush your cups at the water stops before discarding them so they don’t blow all over the highway” and indeed this was good advice. Things were blowing about everywhere.
The water stops were meager in the first 10 miles and then fairly plentiful in the latter parts of the races. There was only one gel stop at mile 13.1 and I was glad I was packing my own. However, the “sports drink” choice had changed yet again, from “Comp One” to ”Xood” (pronounced “Exude”) which was a viscous, pink colored, puke-tasting concoction that I honestly can say didn’t have any sort of energetic lift properties to it. Still, I imbibed at each stop in the hopes of keeping the carbs and electrolytes up and staving off an ultimate crash in the latter stages of the race. I also violated my new rule (set in my last Marathon in Columbia City, Indiana) of No Pain Relief on the course. As my legs were wailing by mile 10, I started popping some fresh Ibuprofen in hopes of again, staving off a complete lock up before the end of the race.
So, let me tell you. There isn’t really much sexy about the Tucson Marathon course. At least 2/3rds of the course is run along State Road 77 which then empties into Oracle Road and basically, they cone off the shoulder of a divided four lane highway, which later becomes a joined four lane and traffic is screaming by your elbow almost the whole way. Diesel and car exhaust, plus second hand cigarette smoke from drivers with their windows open is constantly assailing your nostrils. There are nice vistas of mountains in the distance and desert scrubland, however, it’s really just a barren desert highway – (and in this case today a f*&king windy desert highway!!) and I’ve really run more scenic and pastoral courses. Spectators are minimal for the first 18 miles or so, with the exception of cars barreling by and leaning on their horns – which is more startling than encouraging, actually - and as you get towards civilization there are policeman directing traffic and allowing cars that have been waiting to dart in front of you at intersections, or out of the strip malls and gas stations. It’s not wonderful.
Among other experiences, I remember as always at some point the tide turned and I started passing stalled out runners. One memorable one was “Nerd Runner” whom I blew past at mile 16, he was completely stalled out and literally appeared to be walking his way to the finish with a long way to go. Guess he was indeed a Nerd and didn’t use his brain – obviously went out too quickly.
So, I slogged down the hills and into the wind until Mile 20 and then some more of the fun began. In spite of the gale, I’m on schedule, (consistency thy name in the marathon is Peter) and I’ve passed the halfway point at a Gregg Herman-like time of 1:54, hit the 20 mile point at about 2:56, and I’m figuring that unless I fall completely apart in the last 10K I’m good for another sub four hour finish – typical!
Then, the same thing happens to me that happened the last time in Tucson and also in Columbia City. I have a close and continuing encounter with “Galloway Method” runners – those runners who annoyingly sprint past you…..and then slam on the brakes and walk, allowing you to trudge by………then sprint past you again………..and then walk, allowing you to trudge by. It’s the last 10K do si do, and both in Columbia City, and here in Tucson I’m with a crew of two or three runners employing this infamous, but incredibly annoying methodology to get to the finish line. Today, I’m forced on several occasions to traverse around these two guys running side by side in concert as they slam to a halt in front of me on the narrow shoulder, and then, a short time later, hear the annoying dry Tyvek flapping of one of the guy’s race bib - which was only held down by two safety pins - in the wind as he comes cruising past again.
And, it’s very subtle, however from mile 20 on, I swear it’s a very very gradual uphill stretch from there until we leave Oracle Road. Neither the elevation map or my GPS support me on this, however comparing notes later at the finish line with other runners confirmed it – we all know uphill when we feel it!
So, on goes me, the Galloway Runners and the time. According to my GPS, my pace per mile has eroded now, I’m creeping very gradually into the 8:50’s now, my legs are hurting, the ibuprofen doesn’t seem to be touching anything, I’m feeling more and more pessimistic and making the very familiar mental deals with myself about “how bad would it be to bail?” and yet I keep chugging on. However, this race isn’t done throwing some fun at me yet. Not by a long stretch.
Two years ago when I ran Tucson there were some mild but nonetheless unwelcome “rises” from mile 24.5 to the finish. This year, it was different.
At a little past mile 24 we hang a left off Oracle Road, and for a few moments are blessedly out of the wind. “Yeah!” I shout to myself, and start to pick up the pace, wanting to be done. We traverse past a strip mall, through a water stop and then, ahead of us, the course continues……Straight uphill. A sheer uphill stretch, heading around a curve.
Once again, the air would have been filled with profanities, birds sitting on telephone wires miles away would have burst squawking into flight (thank you Scott Jerard) had I been able to give voice to the invective that raced through my brain when confronted by this late-in-the-course hill.
“Damn!” one of the Galloway Method runners opined, jogging up next to me, bib still flapping in the crosswind. “Screw it, I’m walking that hill, we’re still in under four hours” he added, breaking into yet another walk.
“Go for it”, I suggested to him, and leaned into the hill, deciding to go for broke. I didn’t see him again after that.
I managed to run up that hill, passing other stalled out runners, and, as the road curved to the right, was confronted with, yes…another hill. And guess what? Now, we’re heading back into the wind as well.
The last one point two miles was a nightmare of pain, hard surfaces and rolling hills. I managed to keep it together, knowing the end was near. The course undulated up and down through a posh neighborhood, over some rutted, then smoothly paved streets, and then over a drainage grate that someone had thoughtfully placed a sheet of plywood over. We then hung a right onto East Wilds Road, and I’m finally and thankfully passing the 26 mile marker.
However, like a nasty yapping little purse dog, who attacks you immediately upon entry, savages your ankle, sinks it’s teeth into your calf, then pees on your rug as it’s cooing owner hauls it away, the Tucson Marathon had one last trick to throw our way.
I blow past the 26 mile marker, increase the pace (later my GPS will show that I managed to clock a 7:56 pace for the last .point 3 miles anyway) and then I hang a right towards the finish line at the Coronado Middle School….and am forced to traverse about 80 yards of SAND!. The finish line appeared to be at the head of a beach-like expanse of sand pit, stretching for what seemed like a long way.
However with the end in sight, I’m enraged (who in HELL would make people run 26.18 miles and then run across SAND???), but undaunted. I slog through the final sandy insult of the Tucson Marathon, my feet sliding out from underneath me, taking care not to fall face first into the dune and manage to literally hop across the finish line, finally. The overhead clock says 3:54:33, my GPS clocks it as 3:53:48, however my chip later brings this to 3:53:45, or a minute faster than Columbia City last month. This is also, for me a PR for the course, though I’m not too proud of it. It wasn’t pretty, that’s for sure.
The finish line volunteers were holding medals out at arms length for us take as we passed through, clearly not interested in draping them over the heads of sweaty runners. I take mine, it’s a typical Tucson Marathon in the shape of a Saguaro Cactus, just like three other ones I have, so again, nothing has changed here. After I collect my medal and a bottle of water, I’m immediately seized by a shorter, dark skinned fellow Marathon Maniac who pumps my hand enthusiastically, then embraces me in a huge bear hug. He produces a digital camera from somewhere, insists on a picture and we find a volunteer, drape our arms around each other and grin beatifically for the camera. He then grabs a young lady who came in right behind me, who apparently was also a fellow Maniac, though out of uniform. We have another group hug while she squeals joyfully, and then enlist another volunteer for two more group pictures and then we disperse, after high fiveing and mouthing congratulations at each other as we exit the finish area.
I have no idea who these people were, no introductions were made or names given, however we were all Maniacs and somewhere there is a great finish line picture of me with my brethren!!
The Saguaro Cactus Medal, now I have Four!I continued on to the post finish area, retrieved my drop bag almost instantly, and hobbled over to check out the finish line libations. A typical Tucson experience once again - while there was plentiful food, it was uninspiring – dry orange slices, sliced green bananas, stale Fig Newtons, cookies and pretzels and the ever-so-Tucson specialty of rolled up whole wheat tortillas, slathered with your choice of Peanut butter or “Nutello”. People seemed to be milling around, regarding the food balefully however it seemed like no one was really noshing. Neither did I.
I nibbled a few orange slices, however knowing that there was a Nico’s Chorizo and Egg Burrito in my very near future, I wasn’t too chagrined. I’ve had much better post-race fare, Pizza, Sandwiches, however, Tucson has not been known for inspiring post race treats.
I cruised past the merchandise table, same stuff, same prices, so I hobbled my way down the hill to the front of the school found a waiting bus and painfully clambered aboard. There I met Joel, who blurted “A real Marathon Maniac in the Flesh!” and also had similar opinions as me, and we complained companionably to each other about the downhills, the uphills (which we both agreed were overdone) the wind, and the overall Tucson experience.
We had to wait a little while for the bus to fill, and I saw “Superman”, still wearing his cape and costume, and looking extremely grim, mount the steps, blankly regard the seated runners, and trudge to the back of the bus. I snicker to myself, thinking “Well, at least I beat the Man of Steel to the bus!”
Soon, the bus ground up the hill and disgorged us back at the parking lot at Ventana Medical Center, I hobble the short distance to the Toyota, after bumping knuckles with Joel and am soon heading back down to Tucson proper. After going through the drive through at Nico’s I’m set with a monster burrito for reloading, and the rest of the pain-filled day is before me.
My legs are trashed, my quads continue to kill me, yet I’m happy that Marathon 48 is in the bag. Two more to go to reach 50!
So, I go onto the Tucson Marathon website later in the day to check results and I see this –
SPECIAL DISCOUNT OFFER FOR THE 2010 TUCSON MARATHON!
The first 150 individuals who register on-line via Active.com for the 2010 Holualoa Tucson Marathon using the coupon code (TMFIRST150) will receive $30 off the early registration fee. That makes the entry fee $55! Please click here to register now for 2010. (Offer good for marathon participants only.)
DATE: SUNDAY, DECEMEBER 12, 2010
I nibbled a few orange slices, however knowing that there was a Nico’s Chorizo and Egg Burrito in my very near future, I wasn’t too chagrined. I’ve had much better post-race fare, Pizza, Sandwiches, however, Tucson has not been known for inspiring post race treats.
I cruised past the merchandise table, same stuff, same prices, so I hobbled my way down the hill to the front of the school found a waiting bus and painfully clambered aboard. There I met Joel, who blurted “A real Marathon Maniac in the Flesh!” and also had similar opinions as me, and we complained companionably to each other about the downhills, the uphills (which we both agreed were overdone) the wind, and the overall Tucson experience.
We had to wait a little while for the bus to fill, and I saw “Superman”, still wearing his cape and costume, and looking extremely grim, mount the steps, blankly regard the seated runners, and trudge to the back of the bus. I snicker to myself, thinking “Well, at least I beat the Man of Steel to the bus!”
Soon, the bus ground up the hill and disgorged us back at the parking lot at Ventana Medical Center, I hobble the short distance to the Toyota, after bumping knuckles with Joel and am soon heading back down to Tucson proper. After going through the drive through at Nico’s I’m set with a monster burrito for reloading, and the rest of the pain-filled day is before me.
My legs are trashed, my quads continue to kill me, yet I’m happy that Marathon 48 is in the bag. Two more to go to reach 50!
So, I go onto the Tucson Marathon website later in the day to check results and I see this –
SPECIAL DISCOUNT OFFER FOR THE 2010 TUCSON MARATHON!
The first 150 individuals who register on-line via Active.com for the 2010 Holualoa Tucson Marathon using the coupon code (TMFIRST150) will receive $30 off the early registration fee. That makes the entry fee $55! Please click here to register now for 2010. (Offer good for marathon participants only.)
DATE: SUNDAY, DECEMEBER 12, 2010
And I’m thinking………yes, I’ll probably be back next year………………
Next stop is either Sedona Marathon on February 7th, and failing that, The Lost Dutchman the weekend after, and then, for number 50, provided the knees and all hold up, I’m set up, registered and have my plane trop to New Orleans for the Rock & Roll Mardi Gras Marathon on February 28th where I’ll be joined by step daughter Jenna, brother Mark Gershman from Phoenix, my older sister Ellen and Friend Tammi who’s daughter Sheila is doing her first 26.2. Quite the party for number 50!!!
Hope to see you all at a race soon!
Overall:
441 out of 1246
Men:
319 out of 726
M 45-49:
66 out of 144
Age/Grade:
59.13% Place: 484
Finish:
3:53:45 Pace: 8:55
Tag Time:
3:53:45
Gun Time:
3:54:33
Split Times
6.6 M:
57:07 Pace: 8:40
10.8:
1:34:12 Pace: 8:44
19.2:
2:50:50 Pace: 8:54
Next stop is either Sedona Marathon on February 7th, and failing that, The Lost Dutchman the weekend after, and then, for number 50, provided the knees and all hold up, I’m set up, registered and have my plane trop to New Orleans for the Rock & Roll Mardi Gras Marathon on February 28th where I’ll be joined by step daughter Jenna, brother Mark Gershman from Phoenix, my older sister Ellen and Friend Tammi who’s daughter Sheila is doing her first 26.2. Quite the party for number 50!!!
Hope to see you all at a race soon!
Overall:
441 out of 1246
Men:
319 out of 726
M 45-49:
66 out of 144
Age/Grade:
59.13% Place: 484
Finish:
3:53:45 Pace: 8:55
Tag Time:
3:53:45
Gun Time:
3:54:33
Split Times
6.6 M:
57:07 Pace: 8:40
10.8:
1:34:12 Pace: 8:44
19.2:
2:50:50 Pace: 8:54
Veterans Run Finish Line - Photo thanks to John Kuhn
The Around the World Gang - Photo thanks to Scott Weiland
The Desert is a Harsh Mistress
"Gotta get up to get down….!” George Michael “Fast Love – (Thunderpuss Mix)
The Catalina State Park 10.75 mile Trail Run
So, the entire reason the Rock and Roll was my January destination marathon was due to a Midwestern brainstorm that took place sometime back in September of 2008. My adopted little sister in Wisconsin, Rhonda (also known as “The Duchess”) decreed, shortly after the Lake Country Half Marathon at the beginning of September that our next endeavor would be to gather a herd of our fellow Wisconsinites and hie them off to the Warmth of Phoenix in January to run the Rock and Roll Half Marathon. Furthermore, she exhorted us, she had already signed up and booked her flight!
Since my dear little sister Rhonda is she-who-WILL-be-obeyed, I dutifully signed up – my rebelliousness extending only to signing up for the FULL instead of the Half, and marked the calendar accordingly. Thus It Shall Be Written!
