NOTE: See the finishing picture near the end of the story.
The idea of running the half marathon at the Whiskey Row races in Prescott, AZ, filled me with a measure of trepidation. Last year, after running the 10K, we drove out and surveyed the entire marathon course. The bodacious hills, some tough enough to make a four-wheeler grind its gears, struck fear in my heart. In addition, the race begins at an elevation of about 5280 feet, and ascends to about 6500. (Nearly 7000 for the full marathon.) So the thinner air is also a factor, making the hills even tougher.
A month ago we were not planning on going up this year, but tentative plans I'd made for another low-key race in town did not materialize. So I decided late in the game to try the half marathon. I knew I was in shape for it, and I wanted, for the sake of training and experience, to do at least one race between my last, a half marathon in February, and my as yet unspecified marathon sometime this fall. Whiskey Row seemed like the best bet, and I knew that even if I bombed, the hill experience would do me some good.
The weather in Prescott on Saturday morning was spectacular -- about 60 and clear when I arrived at 6:25 AM for a 7:00 AM start. The marathoners had taken off at 6:00 AM.
I chose more-or-less spontaneously not to warm up before the race. Instead I talked for a while with an acquaintance I run into frequently at the gym, a runner who qualified for and ran Boston 100 last year. (And who would have run this year, except he got pneumonia the week before and had to cancel.) I swung my arms around a little and stretched my hip joints, but that was about it.
The race begins on a long upward incline, not something pleasureable to encounter without a warmup. I got over the starting line in about 3 seconds. I'd barely traveled two or three blocks and was already breathing heavily, while scores of people were passing me. But experience in training kept me calm. I knew that it often takes me as much as four miles to feel really comfortable in a run. I was confident that if I was still living after four miles, I would be all right.
The only previous race I ever walked any part of was the 10K at Whskey Row the previous year. The uphill from the beginning to the turnaround point at 3.1 miles is steep and completely merciless. I finally came gasping to a walk last year at about the 2.8-mile point.
This year I managed to run comfortably past the 10K turnaround, and quite a bit beyond. However, when I hit that point, I knew that the toughest part by far was yet to come.
Just before the race started, I got some reassuring advice from my Boston marathoning acquaintance: run the hills if I can, but if I just can't, then by all means walk, because on a really steep hill, taking long walking strides, and pushing hard, you make about as much progress as if you try to run it, and meanwhile, you can recover aerobically. I'd discovered this truth on my own over the last couple of months, while doing trail runs in the Phoenix Mountain Preserve. If you spend most of your effort just trying to get airborne, there is less left for forward progress.
So that's exactly what I did. In all I must have walked about a half-dozen short intervals, and also walked through all the water stations.
I've always wondered whether, on a loop course, the time that one loses on the uphills is entirely made up for by the time gained on the downhills. I've never read any scientific analysis on the question. Intuition tells me that the uphills take enough energy out of a person that they have less to draw on when they get to the downhills.
On the other hand, it certainly is a lot more fun to run down a steep hill than it is to run up it. This observation was reinforced by seeing the ecstatic look on the faces of runners who preceded me, as they came barreling down the hill.
And fun it was! The only problem was that in some places it was so steep I had to be a little cautious that I didn't lose control, and because over half the distance is on a dirt forest road, which means that at any moment I could have hit a loose patch and gone down. I'm fairly sure-footed, but I've banged myself up enough times running trails, and climbing Camelback mountain in Phoenix, to make me watch how and where I put my feet down.
The return trip gave me essentially no trouble. Once I got to the turnaround I knew the rest would be a piece of cake. I reminded myself that the distance of a half marathon is not a problem for me. I have been running between 10-17 miles almost every weekend on my long run for many months, averaging just about the distance of a half marathon. And in addition, I run altogether about 1.5 times that distance throughout the rest of each week. My only problem is with the hills, and the fact that I go pretty slow.
The final numbers produced one anomaly. (See below.) This was my third half marathon. My first I ran about 2:18 and change officially. In February I ran 2:14 something when I wasn't feeling too well. At the moment I'm in my best shape ever, so I knew that my time would be affected more by the course than by my condition. But I had no idea what to expect.
My finishing time was 2:18:45 officially. This was faster than I expected. Unfortunately, friends who came up from Phoenix to see me finish missed it by about five minutes.
The curiosity was in my division placement. I was 109/117 among men overall, but 9/9 in my age division, which was surprising. And I'll have to admit it's been haunting me. 9/9 = last place. :=( In an effort to rationalize that stat, I did a little analysis, and also came up with a theory.
As for my theory: Although Whiskey Row is a very old race (19 or 20 years, reportedly the oldest marathon in Arizona), and is also well-run and very beautiful, I believe that it is sparsely attended partly because the hills intimidate a lot of people, especially persons who are strictly recreational runners. I don't believe there are many first timers doing the half or full marathon. I know that last year when I saw the course after doing the 10K, which was my second race ever, I thought there was no way that I would ever try it. But I did. And who knows, maybe next year I'll even be game to go for the whole enchilada. So I theorize that if a lot more people had shown up I probably would have stacked up better in my division.
For me, the bottom line is the Whiskey Row half marathon was another successful and completely enjoyable race, and I look forward to doing it many more times.
This well-timed snapshot was taken by my daughter as I crossed the finish line. I actually felt better than I look.
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