Me in a nutshell. 

Officially 2:57:07  some 10 minutes off of PR

I don't think that I deserve the , but it wouldn't be the first thing I took that I didn't deserve.

The race report is rather lengthy.  This one was tough, but like my last one, it is not about just those 2 hours and 57 minutes.

WACO MARATHON

Earlier in the week the weatherman said snow on Thursday and Friday.  This concerned me a little since the airport is an hour drive and we had to fly out at 9:30 Friday morning.  It was to be my youngest son’s first flight.  That is one of the many reasons I wanted a direct flight.  Having a three hour layover in Oakland on July 3^rd  was not the highlight of my trip to Portland Oregon. Nor was the race, but that is another story all together.  By Wednesday the report had been adjusted to snow starting early Friday.  This time it was anywhere from 3-8 inches.  It was clear by Thursday night that the family (me, wife, 4 year old Andrew, and 8 month old Jude) would drive up early in the morning instead of late on Thursday night and staying with my wife’s mother in Nashville.

            Waking up on Friday I was reassured that I made the right decision.  Andrew woke up on time, Jude slept on the way, and it was a good trip so far.  Check in went smoothly, except for Andrew going behind a wall to put on his shoes.  Hell, we were at the gate by 8:30, just in time to see the first few HUGE flakes fall.  The snow fall increased and our view out the window decreased.  The runway started to disappear.

    We entered the plane, sit down, became comfortable with the MTSU Tennis team, and waited for the deicing to take place.  Within 30 minutes the runway was gone.  I knew we could get to Waco, but not sure about getting back home.

    My wife’s father greeted us in the Austin airport.  We would stay with him in San Marcos on Friday night.  Always wanting to experience the local food, my wife and I decided that a local Mexican place would be a good experience for lunch.  He took us to a place where we could watch the production of the tortillas we would eat with our meal.  The food was good, so was the company.  Greg, my father-in-law, moved to Texas about a decade ago.  He has since overseen several large construction projects in various cities in the state.  After moving to Texas he has embraced and adopted the state as his own.  The tour of Texas State and seeing the three full sized domestic pickup trucks and the Harley in the driveway reassured this.

    After a nap I took off on a windy, short, wandering run through San Marcos.  I experienced some of the hills that Texas had to offer.  Short, steep rollers made up the 5 mile loop that took me through part of Texas State University.  I was already told by House that the course would be brutal – not monkeyesque – but tough in a different way.

    I slept well on Friday night, and the two hour trip to Waco from San Marcos was rather enjoyable.  Until this trip I had only seen three trees which I could pick off the mistletoe while standing on the ground.  Through this part of Texas there were thousands.

    Waco looked flat from the interstate, from the hotel room, from the Campus of Baylor… (Greg shown us a dorm he built there a few years ago).  After packet pickup, I wanted to drive the course.  It was well marked by the white line produced from what I assumed to be one of many (football & baseball) field markers in the state of Texas.  The course climbed and from mile 6 weaving in and out of neighborhoods until mile 13.  The downhills start when you see the lake.  Mile 14 marker was on a hill steeper than 9 mile hill in Percy.  And although the downhills started at 13, obviously this uphill climb just add to more decent later.

    Mile 15 was next to the lake.  The only flat part of this mile was the sign that said mile 15.  It rolled up and down a four lane road as we passed markers for 16, 17, 18, 19, and 20.  I opted to exit the truck after 20 in order to do what I always try to do the day before a marathon, run the last 10k of the course.  This was also supposed to be the hilliest part.

    The first uphill was gradual until entering the community college campus.  It was walkable.  Mile 21 greeted me at the top of the hill.  It flattened off and turned left onto a newly paved road.  This road had speedbumps too, something to be careful of when at mile 21 of a race.  The bumps were not because it was a heavily populated area, but because the two hills were so steep.  My wife told me later that when they drove over the first hill, all they could see was the front of the truck.  The hill had no bottom.  I had never run down this steep of a hill in a race.

    After the two rollers the course wondered down through Cameron Park.  A zoo existed somewhere there but all I was exposed to was the bamboo and hills.  What I thought would be a gradual downhill from the course profile, quickly became a warp into Monkeyville.  Runnable hills until 23.5 and then a flat stretch along the river, over a bridge, along the river’s north side, under a bridge, through the grass, around the flooded part of the course, and boom: the pedestrian bridge which was the symbol of the course. –and the only flat section in the last 21 miles.

I finished the prerun, took a shower, met with the RD, and decided I needed to eat.  An hour wait at the “safe” Olive Garden seemed to be too long so we ordered togo.  Everyone was seated and many had left by the time we obtained our food 40 minutes later.  Knowing that in order to run well you need to be happy, I bite my tongue.  The food was good in the hotel room.  It was much better than the sleep.  My wife had warned me about her dad’s snoring, but DAMN.  I kept waking up and turning the AC colder just to enjoy the white noise.  The dozen or so 15 year olds next door didn’t help matters with their late night conversations.

    I woke up, ate the second choice bread (High Five Fiber from Great harvest), took a shower, started to get in the zone, and then…  The fiber took control.  I know when and how many times I need to seek the restroom prior to the race, but this was not typical.  I made it down 10 minutes before the start.  It all seemed okay.

    I crawled through the gate at the start line with no more than 10 seconds to go.  I was told it was between me and Cory Kool, a 1:09 half guy.  He was only 22 and entering his fifth marathon.  His times ranged from 2:30 to 2:40, but he had never run by himself in the front or on a hard course.  Being 30 degrees at the start was nice; the forecast had said 34 and warming to 40 during the race.  I can take it a little colder at first though.  The gun sounded and one relay guy and seven others shot out.  The half, full, and relay all started together so it was mildly confusing who Cory was.  I didn’t have a picture, but I figured that my six minute flat pace would help me figure it out.  I noticed that two lanky black men continued to push hard through the half.  Four others started falling back.  “They are going all out,” a voice said from my left.  I said, “yeah.”  “Are you Josh?”  I looked over and a shorter bearded guy ran right beside me.  He looked overdressed.  I said, “who are you?”  Answer: Cory.  SHIT.

    He found out Saturday night that Cheruiyot and Limo Chemirmir had come in.  They had 1:40 before the 3 mile mark.  We had a 6:07 pace during this time.  I told Cory to run his race, I had to change my plans.  $500 for first, 250 second, 100 third with a $100 CR bonus made me believe that I could walk with $600 until these guys scorched. I kept Cory in my sights and backed off . His lead stayed the same over me from 6 to 12.  Right at two minutes.  At 11 I could feel a guy behind me.  I hammered.  I was closing a bit.  The half passed in 1:23.  The old CR of 2:49 was going to fall with three people ahead of me.  Then another number popped in my head: 5.  The High fiber kind.  The fastest pit stop in history kept me from being passed.  I was only slowed because the toilet paper was wrapped.

    I hit the hills and 5^th was on my shoulder.  He eased off when his wife pulled up beside him at mile 14 (the 9 mile reminder) and handed him a Roctane Gu.  Hmm, people have been disqualified for that.  Ah, I don’t care.  Maybe she could give me a ride in the car.

    It hit again.  The pit stop was too fast.  I could see mile marker 15, but I prepared for the porta-john.  Unwrapped toilet paper and a longer stop put the guy 35 seconds up on me.  I followed.  I gained on the uphills and he hammered the downhills.  We rolled like separated train cars up and down until we hit the damn out and back at 18.  What?  I knew I had to run this sometime, but I didn’t see where it was Saturday.  I hit the waterstop before entering the leg.  The prepuberty girl shoved a water into my chest.  My jersey was soaked.  The wind on the damn punched me in the center of the chest and chilled me to the core.  I was only back 40 seconds.  A shirtless relay guy and a peppered haired man entered the damn as I left.  Some 2 minutes.

    I thought about the 8 ball GEB comment.  I had to either push to get 4^th or ease into 5^th.  3^rd was possible with the hills ahead that I had already ran.  For the second time in the same race I pulled in the reigns.  I slowed to a low 7 kind of pace.  I could do 7:30’s for the last 8 and go under 3.  Damned compromises with oneself during a race.  I cruised for two miles and regained some confidence.

    When I hit mile 21 I tried to crush whoever was behind me.  The rollers got me though.  The first time I felt knee pain in a race made me go faster up the rolling speed bump hills and slower down them.  I charged on trying to maintain a 7 minute pace.  Cameron park hurt.  The snow spitting at me didn’t help the pain.  It really hurt when I saw a shirtless relay person behind me at 23.  He pushed me down the hill, but I sped on the flats.  He passed me right after 24.  He told me great work and to not worry because he was only a relay guy.  I asked how far back the next person was.  He said that there is no one behind me.  Damn, could he had not said 10 seconds.  I would push then.  I latched on to him and let him pull me through the last two miles.  Passing halfers and over the grass I ran towards the walking bridge.  I hit the bridge hard and fast.  I was cold.  40 degrees…my ass.  I watched the clock tick past 2:57.  I was some 23 minutes late.  Damn.  I had quit.

    The girl who asked to have her picture taken with me confused me.  I asked her why and she replied because I had run the marathon.  I didn’t tell her how I really felt.  I congratulated her on her first half and smiled for the camera.  I grabbed a beer and chatted to the shirtless relay team while it began to snow again.  All students from Baylor, they had been cheering me on the entire way, but I didn’t realize it.  Stand up guys. We enjoyed a few more drinks in the hotel lobby and shared stories of our stupidity.

    There were about six inches of snow on the ground when we arrived home.  Andrew was out of school, and we were all able to play outside. 

I enjoyed your race report...thanks, iceman!

No comments from anyone on my dirt dog story? Disappointing.

Seriously?  Wow.  You tipped David Koresh over the edge?