Notes
Yakima River Canyon Marathon.
Training:
I registered for the Yakima River Canyon Marathon in late February. The idea wasn’t to perform well, but to relax and enjoy the pretty course, and then maybe run a serious marathon in June. But, then excitement turned training into overtraining as my weekly mileage jumped past its previous limits. I didn’t mean to spit in the face of the 10% rule, but I did, so the 10% rule monster seized my calf. It was a moody pseudo-injury that filled many workouts with drama and apprehension about whether it was time to give up Yakima. This made Yakima more important, and illogically caused me to train harder. By the time I started the taper, my vision had changed from ‘time doesn’t matter’ to ‘ Rhea, you can at least PR, even with a mischievous calf.’ The taper went smoothly until the week of the marathon. Suddenly I felt exhausted, running was horrible and my previous fitness level seemed gone. Oh well. Better luck next time with proper training.
The race:
I leaped forward with the starting whistle eager to carve out a running pocket and find a rhythm. It happened quickly, and within a minute I floated effortlessly behind a cluster of 5-6 guys. There I resisted an urge to clip up ahead of them. Not a 5k, Rhea. Sunshine surrounded me, blinded me, awesome. The failed forecast of rain just made my day and I already felt victorious. We passed local barking dogs, some slightly perturbed horses, cheering fans and lots of open space. A lady with pompoms belted out “L-E-F-T LEFT! LEFT!” and left we went! It all seemed so glorious.
Then we hit the mile 1 marker in 6:43. Oops. I laughed at myself and got off the bus that I now realized was probably gunning for sub-3 hours. The next couple of miles were near a 7 minute pace and I settled, pacing off only how I felt. I no longer pranced on clouds of race start adrenaline and I started to think I was crazy to try to maintain the intensity for hours. I cringed as I heard my feet slapping down hard on the pavement and spent some time concentrating only on the lightness of my steps. But, it didn’t feel anything remotely like Boston so I gambled on me being stronger now and didn’t back off more.
We entered the canyon in the fifth mile; a nice little hill welcomed us to the next 21 miles of stunning beauty. By “us” at this point I mean me and the 2-3 guys staggered within 1/2 mile. Once in awhile a guy would pedal past me—some of these I would see later probably regretting their early charge, some I never saw again, and one in a red shirt remained in a distant view for miles. The runners were of course friendly and nobody I encountered was too focused to exchange words of encouragement, giving the run a nice ultra-like feel. No women breezed by, and although I realized I was at the moment in first place, I didn’t expect that to last. I wasn’t sandbagging, really, I just knew a few pairs of fast experienced female legs existed behind me somewhere. Though, background voices of course were motivated to keep this position as long as possible.
Memories of last summer’s relay in Spokane kept me from freaking out when my mouth and throat felt parched periodically. It wasn’t as extreme summertime Eastern Washington, but it was good to know it didn’t indicate severe dehydration. I made sure to gulp powerade at every aid station, and even took salt/electrolyte pills later in the race. I sometimes wished for more frequent fluid, but in hindsight I got enough. More may have given me the dreaded sloshing belly syndrome
As I had hoped it would, the canyon inspired me, kept me in a mostly positive state-of-mind that allowed my run to continue to go well. Running downstream, chasing the rapid waters made me feel like I was going somewhere fast. The violent curves in the road made life extremely interesting – I kept looking forward to discovering what was around the next sharp corner. Alternating between direct sunlight and icy shade prevented me from entering a boring plodding mode, as did trying to pick out the shortest tangent lines.
Miles clicked by with pleasant exertion, some at 7:00, some at 7:10, and I kept less and less accurate note as time went by. I gave myself leniency with the aid-station slowdowns; the unnecessary pauses I took to get my cup in the trash can and the liquid down my throat rather than all over my face didn’t matter. I was less concerned with hitting splits and more focused on continuing to feel good for as long as possible. I imitated Devon Crosby Helms’ gel strategy (1 every ~45 minutes) and it seemed to give me a boost right when I needed it.
I hit the halfway mark in 1:32 and some change, still feeling good, but knowing this is where the challenge begins. I passed a guy, hit an exuberant aid station and began charging up the mile 14 hill. It wasn’t so bad, I pushed into a different gear and actually enjoyed it. Music played at the top and a steep descent greeted me on the other side. I started to let my legs fly on the downhill until WAM! A slight turn in the road smashed me straight into some gnarly wind. Even though I had gravity on my side, I thought I might blow like a leaf back up the hill! Luckily the course turned again at the bottom. The return of personal control over forward momentum brought much relief and joy. This pattern characterized the next several miles, though the ‘into the wind’ segments were no longer downhill. I started to tire, but the early starters I passed helped me push on. Hearing “WOW! You’re the first woman! Great job! Keep it up!” boosted me better than any gel could. I would laugh and respond “thanks- we’ll see how long that lasts!” I still believed women were going to charge past me like I was standing still at some point, but these peoples’ encouragement made me want to stall that as long as possible!
Near mile 18 real physical issues started presenting themselves. My ‘good’ calf felt like it might blow out with a misstep, my hips and SI joint twinged and whined about the constantly slanty banked roads, and waves of exhaustion hit frequently. But, it was nothing like the treachery of Boston, no stuck in cement feeling attacked my legs and nausea never happened. I knew how good I had it. The struggles came in waves rather than being a constant battle, and seemed almost like background noise, slowing me only a little rather than reducing me to a shuffle.
I passed a bonking guy, and then another, and soon my primary goal became getting to the base of the mile 21-23-ish hill. Once I got there, then I’d think about getting up it, and once up it, well I was practically home free. I achieved the first goal without too much drama. As I started up, I was initially surprised by how much slower I needed to go to stay in control. A 1.3 mile hill at mile 21 is not something to sprint up. I heard two men (not the ones I had recently passed) chatting as they caught up to me on this hill. I hitched a ride as marathon maniac Pedro Infante passed, which helped me make the transition into a better gear. Suddenly his pace seemed to be dropping and I charged past him. I talked with another early starter who told me I looked strong, that I had this. Whether it was true or not, I believed him and plugged up the hill feeling happy, powerful and flattered. I STILL thought that for sure at least one of the women was closing in and that she would sprint by me soon.
A beautiful descent welcomed me on the other side. The legs complained, but I pretty much ignored them, and was thrilled I still had the ability to ignore them. Though, I felt a bit apprehensive about the hill at mile 25 I read about causing people problems so decided to not surge here. I went back to a near 7 minute pace, and couldn’t wait to get the last hill over with so I could really fly. Pedro (and the other guy, his pacer) caught me because of this, but I didn’t really care, good for him. He might have negative or even splitted this course! I kept looking back, scanning for ponytails, expecting ponytails, not really trusting my eyes when I didn’t see ponytails. I barely registered the mile 25 ‘hill’ and felt silly for being so cautious. I finally thought ‘wow I’m really going to win this!’ If a lady could catch up to me at this point, she’d have to be insanely fast! I started speeding up, stressing the cardio and the legs. I was joined by two motorcycle cops, who escorted me to the finish, how cool is that?! But then wind blasted me backwards again in final battle style. It was the big boss in the final level of a stupid video game. Even though I had less than a mile left I felt zapped. I couldn’t see where the finish was and struggled to keep moving forward. I yelled loudly at the wind, causing me to get weird looks from the cops. Finally I saw the mile 26 marker, then the finishing shoot! I picked up the pace again and ripped my way towards the purple ribbon. I saw the clock ticking, Toffer in the audience clapping and I surged to make it in sub 3:09. 3:08:52, big PR, 1st woman! YES!! What an amazing feeling!
I know I wouldn’t have ‘won’ if Annie Thiessen was there this year, or any of the other women like her showed up, or if Gail and Regina were in competition mode, or if Mary Hanna didn’t have a cold, etc. etc. but the win was only icing on the cake of the delicious PR and a very positive marathon experience! The aid stations, the cheerful volunteers, the encouraging early starters, the course, the sunshine, even the wind, all provided some sort of good. Thanks for reading! Thank you so much Toffer for helping this be a fabulous day.