Fargo Marathon :: 2:30:34 - 1st :: Part 1 of 2

Ah, the race report. Here we go. So, I was up at 4am, as you saw from an earlier post, and got down my last tiny meal, just enough to get rid of the hunger pains. I spent the rest of the morning in the room, trying to stay calm and off my feet. Around 7:15, we headed out to the course, where I met up with my Beyond Running mates. I did my well-practiced six minute pre-race routine, and finished with about fifteen minutes to race time.

The wind was almost non-existent, and the temp was about 50F, but it was sunny, so there was no chill at all. Very nice conditions to start. Mystery Coach and I had talked about avoiding adrenaline rushes and really conserving mental energy leading up to, and during the race, so I had to laugh when 'Beautiful Day' by U2 came up on the sound system, and I got a huge chill up my spine! It didn't get any better, as they played clips of a couple of great Coldplay songs before the start, as well.

Looking around, I could see two of the taller Kenyans, but I didn't get a look at their race numbers to see if they were in the half or the full. I didn't see John Rotich until the race got underway. Nobody really knew who was running as far as the Kenyans, because they had changed their entries multiple times. As it turned out, only one had entered the full, and two were scratched (one of whom would end up running the Green Bay CellCom Marathon the next day). Chad Wallin, the defending back-to-back champion, was there, as were all of the contenders. I didn't see Matt Thull at the line, but he was right there when the gun went off.

The goal for the first few miles was to be as conservative as I could without giving away a gap that I would have to surge to cover early. The plan on paper was 5:50, 5:46, 5:42. Mile one went by perfectly in 5:51, with Rotich, Wallin, and Thull just a few strides ahead. By mile two, the gap was growing a little bit more than I liked, so I partially abandoned the conservative start and went right to race pace, turning in a 5:40, and a 5:42. Everything felt good at that point, and there was a nice pack formed.

I took my first fuel of the race around four miles. Coach and I had talked about taking a small amount of my drink at the start line, like last year, or waiting until around 35-40 minutes in to allow the fat burning mechanisms to establish before the insulin surge from the sugary sport drink kicked in. I decided on the fly to split the difference.

Our big pack wouldn't last long, as Rotich and Thull asserted themselves around mile six, and began to open a gap that would span over one minute by the halfway point. That left five of us in a group behind the leaders. Chad Wallin, Brian Anderson, Eric Loeffler, John McEvoy, and I followed, making some small talk about the leaders, and generally just trying to stay relaxed.

Coach had told me to dole out my mental energy in thirds over the race course: the first third by mile 15, the second third by mile 22.5, and the last third for the push to the finish. I wasn't doing so well with that directive. My first and second mental shocks of the race came at miles seven and nine. At mile seven, to put it clinically, I had an overwhelming urge to urinate. I couldn't get myself to go, and it hurt. There were people everywhere, and just couldn't make the magic happen. Mile nine is out on a bike path that is pretty well devoid of people, so I thought I would be able to go there, but I was wrong.

This had happened to me one other time, at the Beardsley Half last year, and it was awful. It was even worse there as it was raining. I had no idea what to do, other than suffer through it and hope it went away as I dehydrated. I briefly entertained thoughts of dropping out, which is not a great way to be thinking at any point in a long race, let alone a third of the way in.

The second mental shock: Chad Wallin pulls off the course at nine miles. This was devastating. He and I were in the back of the group just past mile nine, and suddenly he said, "I have to use the bathroom", and pulled off the course. He had been ill, and unfortunately it hung around for race day. He would return to the course, but having lost over two minutes to the stop, and still not feeling well, he decided to drop around the halfway point.

One of my top few goals for this year was to give Chad a race, and of course I wanted to win, but more importantly, he is the defending champion the last two years, and he has become a Fargo favorite, I suppose a bit like Grete Waitz was at the New York City Marathon, or Bill Rodgers at Boston. It was really an unfortunate turn of events to have him out of the race--for both the spectators and the competitors.

As our pack moved on through ten miles, I started to realize I was not feeling as well as I had in training. I was breathing a bit harder than I expected to be before the half, and working a bit harder than I wanted to keep pace with the group. At this point in the race, the wind was in our faces, and had kicked up to a steady 9mph. Also, unknown to me, it was warm--61F, and getting warmer. Physically and mentally, it was an off day, and I was getting concerned.

I had planned to hit halfway in 74:15 to 74:30. It was another mental hit to see 74:57 on the clock. It was windy, warm, I had to pee, and the pace felt too fast. Things were not going well. I was able to convince myself that I just needed to tuck in and focus, and let the next ten miles just take care of itself. "Wait to feel better" became my new mantra.

More drama would unfold in the next hour, as the temp rose to 68F and the wind started to howl, blowing 20mph steady, with gusts up to 27mph. Fargo's famous north winds were back, and this time we were being baked as well as buffeted. It took all my concentration to stick with Brian as he separated himself from our pack, and pulled me through some really tough miles. Over mile fourteen and fifteen, we were nearly alone on the course, and there were no signs and so few people, we were very worried we had gone off course. Mile sixteen in particular was memorable for a couple of reasons. We had crossed over to share the half marathon course, and unfortunately had to battle for our share of the road. At one point on this stretch a pair of little kids, maybe 6 or 7 years old, ran out in the road and got a little too close for comfort. This was the last straw for Brian. As the anger got the better of him, the pace escalated, and he tore off a 5:33 mile, gapping me by a few seconds.

I caught back up with him as we headed through the Concordia College campus, and practically begged him to relax and slow down--for his own sake as much as for mine! There was a lot of racing left, and I knew if he had that in him, and I had it in me, it was no use squandering it together over some minor frustrations with almost ten miles to go.

Tomorrow--missed bottles at mile 21 (AGAIN!), and the gloves come off...