Marshall University Half-Marathon Recap

 A Runner's Ramblings: Volume 19; 5th Edition
65.5 miles run in 2025 races
Race: Marshall University Half-Marathon
Place: Huntington, WV 
Miles from home: 860 miles
Weather: 44 degrees, 91% humidity, slight drizzle

The night before this race, I put a number in my running spreadsheet. This spreadsheet is legendary for containing every run I have done since January 1st, 2006. When I know what I am running in advance, I sometimes put in the distance just to save myself the three milliseconds of having to do it later. For poops and giggles, I decided that I would also throw in my time for this half-marathon. I put 1:39:50.

The time was what I was actually thinking was possible so this was not a pie in the sky goal. But I have also hoped to run it in two previous half-marathons where I did not do it, so it was far from a lock as well. Since my root meniscus tear, one surgery and recovery for ten months which did not work, and then the partial knee replacement I had in February, I have been through a bit of a ringer trying to get back to my pre-injury form. My new knee PR sat at 1:44:28 which I ran in Slovenia two weeks ago. But the combination of near perfect weather, a very flat course, and me not being sick, not dealing with a nasal button surgery which also failed, and a plethora of other things made me feel that sub 1:40 was possible.

Race Morning:

I had booked an AirBnb barely a half of a mile away from the start and because I need very little preparation in the morning, the 7 a.m. start time, which I abhorred, meant I only had to get up at 6 a.m.  Heck, I could have even got up at 6:15 a.m. and it would have been fine. I once had a friend who freaked out for me at my lack of a need to be at a race start two hours before the gun. 

In fact, I got to the race around 6:50 and still had time to make a last minute bathroom break. IT was close though as guys were taking their time in the few stalls open to us.  But I made it in time for the end of the national anthem (honestly, when we stop doing this at sorting events it will be a good day), a prayer (could have also done without that) and a few words about a runner the community had lost recently. Then it was all of the usual " ARRREEE YOOOOOOU REEAAAAADY!" stuff to get people fired up or whatever that I typically ignore. I need my energy for the race.

 I am old. Let's just go.

First Three Miles:

My goal when the cannon boomed was to not go out too fast in this first mile as I had in the previous two halfs. In order to break 1:40 I had to average 7:37 per mile. I hit the sweet spot with a 7:24 even if the effort to get it fell more in line with the 7:07 and 7:09 I had run in Slovenia and Bozeman. But the course here in Huntington really suited me. Lots of long straightaways where I can just forget about the race, forgot about the runners, forgot about running the tangents, and just run.

My second mile hit right at 7:35 which was exactly what I predicted it would be at the time. It felt like I had slowed about ten seconds and lo and behold that was the case. The third mile, which had what would be the longest downhill (and subsequently uphill, when we returned on it later) portion of the race didn’t really give me the boost I thought it would but it was still under my goal pace in 7:32. 

We then went through the Huntington Flood Wall and did a quick scamper along the Ohio river.  Usually little diversions like this get a tad too cutesy for me but this was pretty neat. About three miles into a race is usually where I find that a core group of people have sussed out what their pace is and you will be running near them for the majority of the race. You name them in your head. Orange shorts guy. Ponytail girl. For the most part they aren't your competition. They are our comrades. Your pace setters. The ones who keep you honest when you want to slow down.  Today was no different and I began to move in lockstep with more than a few runners. Sure some would fall behind or speed ahead but you could almost always see them or feel them behind you.

To the 10K: 

I knew, having driven the course the day before, that the next two miles were in one direction but curved just enough here and there that some tangent running would be necessary to not run more than what is measured. It still surprises me to this day how few runners seem to know about that and will pick a side and run it no matter how much extra distance they end up running. Probably the same ones who complain that the course is long afterward. (Not me. I just complain when it IS long! See the difference?)

We were getting intermittent sprinkles from the sky so even though I still often wear sunglasses when it is gloomy (sunglasses protect your eyes from random debris as well, many don’t seem to gather) the darkness of the skies and the drops on my glasses made me slide the sunnies to the top of my head on more than a few occasions. Given how much I sweat, rain rarely bothers me. I am going to be that wet in a bone dry race at three miles anyway, so there is no difference where the water is coming from. But I wanted to see in front of me and these were some of my darker glasses. I didn't realize the morning was going to give us rain all day long when we started. But it wasn't bad at all and didn't seem to damper the spirits of the few spectators that dotted the course.

As my fourth and fifth miles were perfectly spot-on for my pace (in fact they were a few seconds faster) in 7:33 and 7:35, I was curious what the sixth mile would hold. This mile contained the steepest hill of the course. Only about a block long, but enough to slow me down a touch, I figured to go over my desired pace and maybe closer to 6:50. When my watch beeped a perfect 7:37, I was elated. I never felt great in this race but I also never once felt bad. Those are usually the races which provide he best overall finishing time. I hoped that was the case today.

Onto mile 10:

This was far and way the nicest portion for your eyes on the course as we ran alongside a creek (named Fourpole for whatever reason) with a plethora of nice houses to our left. The unexpected boost of the sixth mile's time lifted my spirits and put more of a bounce in my step. Could I possibly even break 1:39? A group of people slid up behind me and even though they were running in lockstep, about six of them, they did not appear to know each other or be anything other than that wonderful group that forms on race days of like-minded/skilled people. These people often become your best friends for 90 minutes and then you never see them again. 

This group of men and women passed me, slowed down a touch (or I sped up) and I passed them back. I was really feeling the day and decided to pick up the pace a little more. My 7:32 mile showed that. I followed that up with a 7:35 even though I had to run around a few runners who were beginning to lag a little bit. 

However, right after the 8th mile we left the road we were running on and joined a dirt/rock path that winded next to the road, going under bridges for that quick down/up I despise of paths of this nature and the group passed me right back. I hadn’t been aware this was part of the course and it began to sap my energy. How long will we be on this?, I thought.

Over a mile ended up being the answer as we rounded through lovely Ritter Park, over a wooden footbridge and then headed back the way we had come, just one block north. I had lost touch with the group and they were beginning to fracture as well. My ninth mile was my first mile of the day that was over pace and it was by 12 seconds. Damn it. I really don't like loose gravel paths in a road race.

But after an annoying little out and back (the second of the day to get the required distance for the race), we were on the roads again. Even as we passed under a train track that ran through the northern part of the downtown (there were several streets that went under rather than over this track in the city) and I had an abrupt hill to slow me down, my 10th mile had me almost exactly on pace again with a 7:40. I did the math and realized I could run 7:50 the rest of the way and still get my goal.  If the course wasn’t long.

The final 5k: 

Seeing a 7:3x again for the 11th mile made me so happy even if it was just a 7:39. I was worried this was going to come down to a sprint finish which I did not feel I had in me right then. Buying myself 11 more seconds was huge. A couple of runners passed me who were running the marathon and it hurt the ego a bit. I know I will be back there again but right now when I am afraid I am about to board the struggle bus and them having 13 more miles to run than me, going faster, while talking, stung a little bit.

We were now once again on the curvy street section in the less than savory portion of town. I don’t particularly care what the scenery is as long as the course is fast so this didn’t bother me. I kept playing cat and mouse with a runner clad in a banana yellow outfit who would sprint ahead of me, allow me to pass him while he walked, and then sprint ahead of me again. I was unconcerned with racing him and only wanted to keep my pace. I hoped he would either walk or get out of the way. (He finally passed me for good with about half a mile to go and finished right in front of me.)

As we left the road and made a quick detour through the river retaining wall that keeps the city of Huntington safe from floods, I was admonished by a police officer leading a runner going the opposite direction to move to the right. The fact I was getting there anyway and simply hadn’t been told to get over by any volunteer irked me a bit. I wasn’t going to tackle the freaking guy, officer. I promise I would move. 

A few seconds later I ran through a wall of cheering Marshall University athletes of some nature and gave them the double bicep flex to elicit a a crowd response. It gave me a small boost when they hooted and hollared. Then up the long hill I ventured, again trading place with Chiquita fella and saw my first 7:50 of the day. Drats.

I now had 1.1 miles to go. I knew we ran straight down the street and into the stadium for a finish on the football field. But I wasn’t sure if we ran around the stadium first and backtracked or what. But I could see and measure with my eyes that the stadium wasn’t NEARLY as close as I hoped it would be to get me the cushion I needed. I picked up the pace the best I could, and hit the 13th mile in 7:39. It had felt MUCH faster.

Down a very steep embankment with some mats put out to help runners with their footing (which did the exact opposite in the slick drizzle) we went before bursting out onto the football field. One of the perks of running this race is that as you enter the stadium you are given a football to hold for your final sprint. I have known about this tradition for a long time but was always curious about the delivery system. Meaning, how do they get the football to you?

As my feet hit the field, a woman holding a football locked eyes with me with a “Do you want one?” look in her eye. I nodded yes and then she launched an underhand throw that was, what we call in football parlance, a “hospital throw”. I had to reach up and back to my right, when I was going to my left, to catch the ball. I snagged it with memories of how I used to be able to do the same back in the day as a wide receiver and corralled the errant pass. I barely had time to think about whether I would have stopped to grab the ball if I had dropped it when I realized that we had to run about 70 yards, make a right hand turn, make another right hand turn, and then run 70 yards back to the finish. I looked at my watch as I made the first turn and saw the distance of 13.1 and a time of 1:39:20. Damn it. This was going to be close.

I tucked the football into my right arm and envisioned breaking tackles as I realized that even though the clock was quickly approaching 1:40, I probably still had five seconds to spare from my chip time.
I crossed the line in 1:39:50 according to my watch, fulfilling the prophecy I had written in my spreadsheet the night before. I finally got that sub-1:40 which had eluded me recently.

I stopped for a few seconds to catch my breath, grabbed two small bottles of very cold water and immediately exited the stadium. I had to walk back to my AirBnb, shower, and drive two plus hours to Cincinnati to watch my beloved Bears play the Bengals before going home. A delayed flight meant I could stay longer than originally planned.

If you follow football at all you know I witnessed one of the most bonkers games in recent NFL history. And my Bears won.

Today was a good day.

Stats: 4th in my AG, 73rd OA (out of 1102) and my 116th slowest half-marathon ever.  Next up I have two half marathons three days apart in New Mexico and Arizona in less than a week.  That will leave me with just 7 states to go in running a half-marathon in all 50 state before I turn 50 in May.

I also have to get my final marathon state in there as well.

Ljubljana Half-Marathon Recap

A Runner's Ramblings: Volume 19; 4th Edition
52.4 miles run in 2025 races
Race: Ljubljana Half Marathon
Place: Ljubljana, Slovenia 
Miles from home: 4822 miles
Weather: 40 degrees, 90% humidity

My last half-marathon was in Ely where I carried a canoe for 13.1 miles. I assumed this race would be much faster. But it didn't come easy.

Two days after I ran the 13.1 in Ely I caught some sort of cold. And then it stayed with me for a month. In addition, back in June I had nose surgery to fix a perforation in my septum. I went for a less evasive procedure by getting a septal button put in. I was told some people can stand it forever and others want it out immediately. I was determined to not be the latter but as time went on it became clear that not only was it not really fixing the problem I had, it was to painful and too uncomfortable to stay in there. However, I asked too soon before I was gone for basically two weeks to both put on the brand new Break The Bank 50 Mile and run this race in Slovenia to get it removed. 

My doctor however, did get me in to snip some pieces before the Break the Bank raceto make it feel better. Unfortunately, that made everything worse and the exterior of my nose was affected by some sort of infection. It was excruciatingly painful to the touch. I put on a smiling face the entire race day when I was in a great deal of pain.  This must have came through my messages to my doctor as he slid me in super early in the morning before my flight out of the country to get it removed entirely. While I feel that actually made the infection worse and the exterior painful again at least I had the button out of my nose. I was dosed up on amoxicillin and hope as I essentially left the doctor's for the airport.

Fast forward to Ljubljana and let me tell you this is a fantastic city and country. So gorgeous. Seriously, stop what you are doing and book a trip here if for no reason than to see the Postojna Cave. I was gobsmacked by this cave and can count on one hand the number of times I have been so moved by something in nature.  I made another trek to Lake Bled to see what virtually everyone with a screen saver has seen. It even made my sickness and nose pain subside a little bit.

I decided to go for at least a small run before the race and eked out a 4 miler in an attempt to explore the city a little bit. Granted I had been all over the area I stayed by walking but it is crazy how much more of a city you can see by running. I felt so good on this run that I decided to do a short three-miler the day before the race. That went amazing. In fact, I got back and for the first time in a month, I felt my sickness had abated. Furthermore, all week the noise pain had been diminishing and today it was down to about 1/3 of what it had been. Tickled pink is the phrase they use.

Race morning:

My AirBnB (which was in a literal bridge across a road) was just 3/4 a mile from the start and merely a half mile away from the finish. Every morning in my stay in Ljubljana was the same: cloudy and humid and foggy until about 11 a.m. and then the sun burst through for a gorgeous day. Race morning eschewed all of that fog and just started us off with a cool morning. Still humid but at 40 degrees, not too bad. I was hoping to go sub 1:40 and set a new PR for my new knee but I knew that a month of sickness doesn't help one get into shape.

I got to the start just barely five minutes before guntime to stand in the corral before the begin of the race. I was one of the last people they let into my corral before the closed it wit ha ziptie. I am glad I didn't have to hurdle a fence this morning. Not quite there just yet.

This was far and away the largest race I have run in a decade. Over 7,439 finishers in the half marathon with an additional 2,871 running the marathon. It was January 2016 in Miami the last time I had this many in a half-marathon. It was the Twin Cities marathon in 2015 when I was surrounded by this many

marathoners. I mentioned this because the energy of a big marathon is so unbelievably different than a low key race. Definitely pros and cons to both but having more people than leaves cheering you on is something that can't be missed. 

A large arch with a digital display counted down from 10 and away we went.

First Three Miles: 7:07, 7:34, 7:36

I had to avoid more than a few people who decided to line up out of place (I will NEVER for the life of me understand why people do this) and just tried to find a spot where I could run unimpeded.  I was pulled along by the crowd as I couldn't begin to judge my pace as well as I used to be because of the sickness, time off, etc. I was shocked to see I almost broke seven minutes and immediately dialed it back. 

One of the things I liked most about this course was how many straightaway runs we had. I really enjoy not thinking about turns and just going. I was pleased I brought my pace back to what my goal was for the race (7:37) even if I felt it was a little harder of a run to garner that time. 

When we finally made a turn at 2.5 miles, a high school-esque band (I didn't see them so I just assumed) was deep into the throes of AC/DC's "Highway to Hell". As I made the turn, they hit the chorus and I felt alive. It didn't really propel me to a faster mile time but I was happy and smiling.

I was also sweating. Nothing new for me. But I noticed that when I pinned my bib to my shirt it was made of an odd material. Felt rather flimsy and thin. Sure enough, in the second mile, I had already sweat through the right corner and the safety pin had ripped the bib. I jammed it through the bib again and hoped this wouldn't be a repeat problem. Somehow it held on for the rest of the race, although barely.

To Mile Six: 7:45, 7:38, 7:54

Another mile and a half straight run awaited me as we ran through some lovely parts of Ljubljana. I was a

little disappointed to have my first mile over my goal pace but bounced back with a mile right on. This surprised me as there was an underpass we ran under and I hate uphills. Just hate them. Wish I was better at them but I am not. In addition, the next portion after that was a slow sloping uphill. Running well uphill was new for me and this is were is where I was beginning to think that a 1:39 was possible. I felt good. Weather was great. Let's go baby! 

This was the only part of the course that was less than lovely. Most races have them. You have to get the mileage somewhere and sometimes that is going to be in more industrial park areas. I didn't mind too much here. There was a girl in a blue shirt that I had locked onto who was running my pace. I would surge ahead and then she would. So in the crowd of thousands, she was the one I looked at. I was hoping we would finish together.

I ran through one aid station and grabbed a nearly full cup of water.  I took a big draught and felt satiated. I saw the runner to my left hadn't tried to dodge the minefield of discarded cups and runners darting in and out of the water table to grab their own drink.  I handed my cup to them and said, "Water?"

"O, thanks," she said in perfect English.

"Are you American?" I asked.

"Sure am!"

"Small world. Have a great race!"  Never saw her again. Hope she did well.

Onward to Mile 10: 7:59, 8:04, 8:06, 8:08

The small upward climb continued but even as I slowed a bit I was able to keep my mile under eight minutes. But just barely. As I approached the 8th mile the 1:40 pace group leader passed me. I was a little disappointed here as I didn't feel like I was slowing. Perhaps they were a little off pace. I just wanted to keep him in sight and push hard at the end when I almost always can.

I knew the biggest hill of the course ended at mile nine. I pushed hard and when the 8th and 9th miles were just barely over eight minutes, I felt vindication. With a nice downhill to the tenth mile I should be able to make up the time lost. I am bad at uphills but good at downhills. 

However, I had nothing. I tried hard to turn the legs over when the downhill presented itself but not only did I not speed up, I slowed down. Poop. That's new but I can handle it. The rest of the race is flat. Maybe I can still get me a 1:41 if I can just nab a few 7:45 minute miles. 

To the Finish: 8:19, 8:39, 8:20, 7:18 (for .1)

So much for that. Even with another slight downhill I was simply flagging. I was now reaching for waters when I wasn't even thirsty and chomping on orange slices when I knew they weren't going to miraculously give me the energy I needed. Feeling the best I had in a month propelled me through four miles. Not dealing with my nose helped for another three. Desire got me another two. But the lack of training was now rearing its ugly head.

I began to rely on number of tricks to get me through a race but none of them were working. I was dangerously close to walking just to find a second of recovery to get me to move fast again. The crowds which had been omnipresent were lifting all the runners with their chants and cowbells and whistles and the like. The city really does come out for this, the biggest race in Slovenia. Unfortunately they were doing little for me. Seeing an 8:39 for the 11th mile hurt my pride more than anything else. I wasn't going to finish like this.

I couldn't do the math to tell me if I was going to beat my previous new knee PR from Bozeman last month. But I knew it was going to be close. I dug deep and even though an 8:20 isn't great, at this point, with a small rise near the end, it was herculean. I turned the wheels up a little bit more in the final push for a 7:18 pace for the final .1. 

I did succeed in setting a new PR in 1:44:28.  I also finished 1,032nd. In the men alone. Holy crap. (Looks like about 148 women beat me as well.) That is the furthest I have finished back in any half marathon race. Ever. Only Boston, NYC and Disney in my first marathon of the 52 I ran in a row in 2006 had me in a lower place overall. The runners came out to run today in Slovenia! 

It is times like this when I know that speed is relative. But to know I once ran nearly two minutes faster per mile for a half marathon makes me appreciate the speed I once had. It wasn't too long ago, before the knee injury and surgery(-ies) I was knocking on that door again. I might not get back there but I fully expect that I will be under 1:40 soon. Then under 1:35. Then 90 minutes will be next.

The main thing is I never once thought about my knee during the race. Just eight months since the surgery, with four half marathons under my belt in the last 90 days, I know I have helped breathe some hope into a few fellow runners. Some specifically for knee injuries and others for their various other maladies. If nothing else, that's a pretty good thing.

But I want more. So in two weeks I will be back at it again at the Marshal University Half Marathon where right now the weather looks good, I am told the course is fast, and I will hopefully be two more weeks illness and nose pain free!

(very brief) Ely Half Marathon Recap

A Runner's Ramblings: Volume 19; 3rd Edition
39.3 miles run in 2025 races
Race: Ely Half Marathon
Place: Ely, MN
Miles from home: 247 miles
Weather: 57 degrees, 93% humidity

This will be a rather short recap as I have endeavored to employ a film crew to make a short documentary about this race. Suffice it to say, just 90 days after I started running again, which was after basically 16 months of non-running due to to two separate knee surgeries (root meniscus tear which didn't work and partial knee replacement which, so far, does seem to be working!) I portaged a canoe 13.1 miles over some rather hill terrain in Ely Marathon.

Looking forward to sharing more information about the documentary but huge thank you to the film crew, Wendy Lindsay at the Ely Marathon, all the volunteers and spectators in Ely, and to Heather my co-founder at Sherpa for making this all happen!

As it stands, I was fortunate enough to power through and nab a third place overall in the canoe portage division of the half-marathon after some major technical difficulties with the canoe made it a bit more challenging than expected. 

Bozeman Half Marathon Recap

A Runner's Ramblings: Volume 19; 2nd Edition
26.2 miles run in 2025 races
Race: Bozeman Half Marathon
Place: Bozeman, MT
Miles from home: 976 miles
Weather: 58 degrees, 55% humidity

I once said in either a race report on this website or in a comment to something on social media that just because I am rationally aware of what is likely possible in a race doesn't mean that I still won't be disappointed when I don't do better than that.

That more or less sums up my race experience at the Bozeman half marathon for those who want the too long didn't read version. The longer version is that 77 days since I ran my first mile after basically 16 months of knee surgeries and recoveries, I was hoping for a little bit faster of a time then what I was able to leave on the racecourse.

But the fact remains here at the jump is that the most important aspect is regardless of how slow I ran this race and how factors such as running at elevation, a far more humid than expected temperature, and simply being massively out of running shape, is that the only thing really sore or achy on my body are my muscles. My restructured knee is, for all intents and purposes at this juncture, working just fine. In fact, throughout the race yesterday it is hard for me to pinpoint a single time in which I thought about my knee or had it dictate my running. And that is a huge win.

When I was putting together my upcoming race schedule as I attempt to run a marathon and a half marathon in every state before my 50th birthday on May 31st of next year I started looking at my spreadsheets of all my running data. Doing so was when I noticed that if everything goes according to plan there will be 10 states where I have only run one marathon and 1/2 marathon within their boundaries. One of those was going to be in the state of Montana, dubbing little deeper I noticed that three states will have only one half marathon and a marathon in them and coincidentally enough both those races will be within the same city. As you can probably surmise, Bozeman MT is one of those three.

I was here in Bozeman for the now defunct Lewis and Clark marathon in 2010. It's easy for me to recall this because this was a stretch of marathons where in five straight I did not run a Boston qualifying time. Other than the first 35 marathons of the 52 I ran in a row in 2006, I have never had a longer streak of five marathons where I didn't qualify for Boston. The caveat I will add for the Lewis and Clark Marathon in Bozeman is that I ran a good 2miles off the course and easily would have qualified for Boston on that day. But it always has stuck with me those five tough marathons in a row.  (Another interesting fact is that once there were three Lewis and Clark Marathons in the US. The one in Bozeman, the Siouxland Lewis & Clark Marathon in Iowa that was last run in 2011, and the race of the same name which was bought and rebranded by the Rock N Roll Marathon series and then shrunk to only a half marathon in the 20teens at some point. I thought I would run them all someday but never got the chance.)

So I arrived in Bozeman, a little wary of the elevation change for me, quite out of shape right now, but looking forward to the low humidity and clean air of the mountains. Then wildfires happened and a little bit of rain making the AQI over 100 and the humidity in the 55% range at the start of the race. Bollocks.

Race Morning:

One thing I do not miss about living and racing in the mountain states is that point-to-point races. (Such a weird name that runners understand but the moment you think about it makes no sense.  All races are point to point.) Actually, it isn’t the P2P part I mind as much as the inevitable 5 am or earlier wake up call to board the buses to get to the starting line, usually high up in the mountains somewhere.

As I boarded the bus at 6:30 for an 8 a.m. I realized that we were likely going to be just standing out in the middle of nowhere for an hour or more. Fortunately the temperature wasn’t too chilly (like around 52 or so where we were) and it wasn’t raining yet. I bided my time by getting into the bathroom line, sitting on a dirt pile, getting into the bathroom line again, walking onto the course and away from most people to use the bathroom a third time and finally, start heading to the starting line. Then it started to drizzle.

Nothing too bad but just enough to make my shirt wet, something I need absolutely zero assistance with.  Doesn’t matter how dry it is, my sweat will do that just fine.  I was nervous. Anxious. I had trepidation.  Can’t say I was excited. I had no idea how this race was going to go, it truly is no fun for me to race when I am nowhere close to my peak, and at that time, regardless of how grateful I was to be able to run, I really just wanted it over.  I tried to shake that malaise and get my mind set. There was 13.1 mile of running to do.

First Three Miles:

I knew the first mile would be the fastest of the whole course not only because of the near impossibility of holding oneself in check at the start of the race but because it was the steepest downhill of the course.  Nevertheless, I tried my absolute best to not sprint off the block. What was insane to me was not even a quarter of a mile into the race and the leader was already so far ahead of me it was as if we were in different races. Then I saw I did my first mile 6:58, well below my low-wend goal of sub-8 miles for the day. I figured first place had to be running around an even five minutes per. (He finished at 5:02.  Good eye, Dane!)

The GPS on my watch did not beep until another good 12 seconds past the mile marker, which was nothing new for me. Routinely, my watch undercuts me in distance, so I paid it no heed.  Often, as I have said many times, as mile markers are not certified, even if it is way off on one mile, it will work itself out over the next few.  However, here, today, as I ran on, mile after mile remained the same. Even with a major slowdown over the next two miles, where a few uphills were introduced, I was on pace for a 1:40-1:41 day. My "A" goal for the day was to run a sub 1:40, which, under normal circumstances, would have been a colossal failure. Of the previous 124 half marathon I have run, only 9 had been over 1:40. But today that would have left me elated.

To Mile Six:

After dealing with the hill a little after the third mile, I knew we had another one around 7 miles, 9 miles, and at the 11^th mile. After a Yay!-inducing 7:35 mile at 4, I followed that up with a couple of 7:5xs for the next two.  Not great but not horrible. Another decent mile showed me at four miles in I was still on a 1:41 pace. 

The rain had long since stopped but it was definitely a humid day for Montana. I had settled into a spot where I wasn’t passing much of anyone, but most people in front of me were staying where they were as well. Occasionally, a runner would pass me and I would use their energy to pull me along for a minute or so but mostly I was trying to run all from within and not worry about place.

The were a smattering of spectators here and there but for all intents and purposes this was just a large group run. Lovely day with the o=mountains in the background and a quiet road. I felt good and thought maybe I could pick it up over the last few miles when I got there.

Onward to Mile 10:

The mile leading to seven was different form the rest of the race so far. I have never been good at uphill miles and this new knee hasn’t suddenly improved on that. About four or five runners slid by me on this long gradual uphill to mile seven, but I wasn’t too bothered. I didn’t like the 8:24 I ran but I wasn’t too worried. After the turn and the crest of the hill, we had an almost exactly two-mile-long straightaway.  This falls right into my wheelhouse. I don’t know why I like seeing what is in store far ahead as I know other runners differ. But knowing I can just left-right-repeat and not think always makes me happy. Two sub-8 minute miles reflected that as we approached the hill at mile nine right on schedule.

Even with the uphill, and because of the downhill on the other side, I still ran a 8:02 and was feeling pretty darn good. I laughed at well-meaning spectators who said “Just a 5k to go!” (she was too short) and “Four more miles!” (she was located AFTER the "just a 5k to go" woman.) I appreciated their enthusiasm, regardless. I implored the crowd to do the wave with me and he obliged.

Then there was another unexpected hill right before the tenth mile and something about its unknown presence really slowed me down. My energy began to ebb. I knew it was just 3 more miles and two of it was downhill but I was tired.

To the Finish:

We finished that hill and serpentined our way through a little suburb community. I, as always, ran the tangents and also as always, shook my head at the people who would hug the curbs and run so much further than they had to. But even doing that wasn’t helping my time as my mile crept up over 8:10.

Then the big hill right before 11 loomed. I couldn’t help it. About halfway up I just had to walk for about 20 seconds.  It stinks to lose that time but after the walk break, I was soon in the back pocket of all the people who had passed me. To me, it was worth the “rest” and even with a horrible 8:40 mile, I knew I still had plenty of time to still get into the 1:41-1:42 range.

With just two miles left I started doing some math. On Friday night I had done a shakeout run with the running store who sponsors the race. We ran the last 1.3 miles of the course that day, so I knew exactly where we were when we hit it.  And suddenly, my watch which had been WAY longer than the course, was suddenly spot on. Damn it. The course, which had been shorter than my watch, suddenly was getting longer. Like when the Council of Trent in 1582 decreed the pope switch calendars, and to make it work, 10 days just disappeared, I was suddenly just getting minutes added to my time. (It ended up being 13.17 which isn't super long but the last 1 mile was definitely 1.2. Oh well.)

I dug deep and ran an 8:04 and then a 7:48 but it was clear all my goals were going to be missed for the day. Turning on to the final straight stretch, I had to run the final four blocks in 1:20 to get under 1:44 and that was just not going to happen. I slowed my pace and just started to mail it in.

However, as I got closer, I saw that if I picked it up I could still get under 1:45 which would at least be a small victory. It is so funny to me when you see my pace drop down and then go through the roof in the last little bit here because you can almost see my thought process.  “Well, this isn’t worth it.  Wait.  There
still something I can shoot for!”

I got it in under the wire with a 1:44:57 which is a seven minute improvement on my half-marathon from 6 weeks ago. That was good enough for 133^rd overall. My 122^nd (out of 125) slowest half marathon is still a new knee half marathon personal best. The secret is to run really slow at first so you have lots of time to knock off!

So not the showing I was hoping for. However, I know the most important thing is that my knee worked fine.  It is a little sore today. I am creaky overall. But if I am simply out of shape and still running myself back into it, that is the best news possible.

Which leaves me with less than two weeks before I run the Ely Half Marathon where I will be attempting to break the World Record for a half marathon while portaging a canoe. I know I am going into this massively under trained but that is what is going to make this a challenge on the tough but beautiful course in northern Minnesota.

The comeback continues!

Skinny Raven Half Marathon Recap

A Runner's Ramblings: Volume 19; 1st Edition
13.1 miles run in 2025 races
Race: Skinny Raven Half Marathon
Place: Anchorage, AK
Miles from home: 3163 miles
Weather: 59 degrees, 82% humidity

Three years ago today I visited my mom in the hospital, learning that the surgery I thought she was having, was actually the surgery before that surgery, and she would only be able to have the surgery I thought she was having, if the surgery she DID have left her strong enough to have it.  It didn't. I didn't know it at the time but that was the beginning of the end of her life. I lost her in October of that year.

Two years ago today I spread some of her ashes in Oregon where she requested they be spread. I didn't realize it was one year to the day from the day above until I checked a calendar.  I also didn't realize that it was seven years to the day from the reason why I was spreading her ashes there. in the first place.  You see, in 2016 I took her to see the Pacific Ocean for the first time ever and we serendipitously saw a whale on the coast - a first for both of us.

So I should have realized earlier than this morning that this was the anniversary of those days and how fitting that my first race in 533 days, after two knee surgeries, and literally 28 days of training to go from 0 miles run to 13.1. But I didn't. Until about mile 10. But I am getting ahead of myself.

The Skinny Raven Half is a race I put on my calendar much earlier this year before I found out my first knee surgery didn't work and I had to have another one in the first week of February.  But I kept it on the calendar just in case I might be able to pull it off. When I was given the green light to start with a one mile run June 22nd, I did a crash course in trying to prep my body for this race.

With a 9-miler on the treadmill about a week ago, I knew I could finish this race.  It wouldn't be pretty but I could knock off Alaska from my states to run a half-marathon in, leaving me with just 11 to go before my 50th birthday in May.

Just a few days before the race, a helpful Facebook friend told me that he enjoyed this race as he ran it last year but it was hillier than he expected.  Wait. For some reason I hadn't even checked the course elevation.  Then I did.

Crap. 

That was not what I needed for my first race back but at this point it didn't matter.  I had to run it.

 

Race Morning:

I had booked an AirBnb so ridiculously close to the start of this race that it was laughable. In fact, I left the place at 8:46 a.m., walked a block, decided to go back to go to the bathroom one last time, did so, and walked to the start, and STILL had six minutes to spare. 

It was a cool morning but extremely humid. Strike Two for me.  But the cloud cover and cooler temps would at least make this palatable. 

People milled around the start as the announcer cajoled people with mere seconds to go to please get into the actual starting corral and towards the front. I knew I wouldn't be one of the people deserving to be there today so I was hanging back a little bit, wanting to hopefully pass more people than passed me.  But finally I had no choice but to push closer and as they counted down from three, I was in about the fifth row of runners. Under my breath I said "Well, let's see how this goes." and we were off.

First Three Miles (7:17, 7:51, 7:52)

The first half mile of this course was a quick downhill followed by a gradual downhill. I knew it would be faster than most but I had no internal metronome as of right now to tell me how I was going.  I felt calm and in control.  Then I saw a 7:17 and thought "Oh my."

I wanted to maintain contact with the runners I was around but I also knew I couldn't risk going out too fast. So even though he next two miles were mostly flat, I reeled back in my pace. I also realized we were running on a cycling/hiking trail and dear lord do I hate running on these.  They are always twisting and turning, with undulating hills, and few people know how to run tangents. Normally, as I will have settled into an area in a race where the truly fast people are way out in front of me, and the rest of the mortals are a little behind me, I can run unhindered.  But here I had to make sure to respect my fellow racers and now constantly be darting in and out of them to run the straight line.

Nevertheless, I began the climbs starting right at mile 3 with a full minute under my goal pace and felt good.

To Mile Six (8:37, 8:21, 8:28)

The two steepest hills on the way out were between three and five.  I luckily knew they were there and just powered through each one of them the best I could.  I was in 62nd place at mile 3 and only five spots changed from when we did the turn a little after the sixth mile, leaving me in 67th.

After a blistering downhill and then another long uphill, we left the bike trail and spit out onto the road around the airport right at mile 5.  Then it was a quick downhill, before a steep uphill, before a long sloping downhill I knew I was going to hate when we turned around to comeback.

But one thing I have always been able to rely upon in racing before is once I get to a turnaround in a race, I am like a different runner. Something about no longer running away from the goal but running back to it has allowed me to turn on the jets. Running exactly at 1:45 pace at the half I thought perhaps I would eke out a 1:43, well under my goal of 1:44 for the day.

To Mile 10: 8:20, 8:39, 8:51, 8:21

While my 7th mile showed some progress I could tell my energy was getting to ebb. The 8th mile, even with a nice downhill, afforded me no relief.  I know the 9th mile had the worst steepest hill of the course.  When I found myself on it, for the first time all day, I realized I had to walk.  Damn it.

But even with a small walk break and then tip toeing through the aid stations slowly to get electrolytes and water, I had kept the mile under nine minutes which give me a boost. I knew the 10th mile was almost all downhill and my last chance to take advantage of any of that for the day. I felt for sure I would get under eight minutes and still have about outside shot at 1:45. Seeing 8:21 right as I grabbed two more drinks was a bit of a blow. 

Onto the Finish:

Then it hit me.  July 20th. This was the day. 

"Well, if I cry, I am so sweaty, no one will be able to tell," I thought. But fortunately that didn't happen. I was too busy watching my energy seep out of my body and into the woods of the Tony Knowles Coastal trail. A pungent stench with 2.5 miles to go emanated, I am guessing from the low tide of the Knik Arm of the Gulf of Alaska around Anchorage.  We had smelled it on the way out but only for a few hundred meters so it wasn't too surprised.  As I passed to ladies, I said "I swear that isn't me" in an attempt to inject humor, something which almost always gives me a boost.  But even their laughter did nothing for me as I saw only a quick sprint kept me from running my first 9-minute mile of the day.  Two miles to go but I had about two feet of energy left.

I put my head down and began working on all my math tricks and running things I do to help me when my legs are no longer with me. It took everything I had to even run a 9:06 mile. One mile to go but it included the long uphill and the brutally short steep finish. 

I couldn't help it but I took another 10 step walk break as I was a mere half mile from the end. Powering up the final big hill, a blonde woman wearing a "Hills Angels" shirt began running with me. It was clear there were more a few ladies on hand to help runners go up this hill and this one was my escort. I had no energy for jokes and just wanted to be done.

Mercifully, crossing the finish in 1:51:17, my second slowest half-marathon ever, I was done.

I sat for a few minutes in a chair, gathering my breath and assessing. I realized that other than the few steep downhills, I hadn't thought of my knee all day. As I got up and began making the short walk to my AirBnb, I noticed my legs weren't sore. Or even tired. And my knee didn't hurt.  Oh praise whomever, my knee didn't hurt!  

I wore a new shoe for me for the first race back called Mount To Coast.  I was intrigued by them because they made a point of talking about how they were made for ultras but on the road and for speed. This is something I have preached for years about how trail running and ultras are not necessarily separate things and you can run ultras on the road and desire to run as fast as possible. The greatest thing I can say about any shoes is what I will say about these: I never once thought about them.  That's a good review.

Even nine hours later, as I write this, while I am a little more sore and stuff, my knee still feels fine. I cannot begin to express how happy I am about this. I still have many more plans and races to run and I don't know if the knee will ever be back to where it was but the only way I am going to know is by continuing to push it. Five months and 2 weeks after the partial knee replacement at the local TCO with my surgeon Dr. James Bircher (and that follows 11 months from the previous surgery which did not work) I am on the roads again.

This was a good start. Clearly I picked the right date.