After My Race and the Trip Home
As my running abruptly ceased I tried to comprehend that my race was over. I felt relief from the hard effort; felt the pride of accomplishment; felt the need to share my joy with a friend, with my kids: to tell them every one of those affirmations that I shared with Jim Lynch last night really came true. But no one was there for me, except the volunteer who knelt at my shoe to clip off my timing chip. So I wobbled down the chute alone to another volunteer who placed over my neck the light blue ribbon holding the finisher’s medal. And then I was surprised with the gift of a finisher’s technical T-shirt. Finally, the familiar face of Merril Loomis, who finished her half-marathon, greeted me and much needed hugs of mutual congratulations followed. I picked up orange wedges, bananas and a yogurt cup and started replacing carbs, while looking about for other finishers.
In the crowd, whom should I meet but barefoot Rick. Merril and I asked Rick if we could see the bottoms of his feet, expecting to see humungous calluses. All we saw was dirt. Rick said he had run Trail Ridge Road through Rocky Mtn. National Park this summer, barefoot of course.
As my running abruptly ceased I tried to comprehend that my race was over. I felt relief from the hard effort; felt the pride of accomplishment; felt the need to share my joy with a friend, with my kids: to tell them every one of those affirmations that I shared with Jim Lynch last night really came true. But no one was there for me, except the volunteer who knelt at my shoe to clip off my timing chip. So I wobbled down the chute alone to another volunteer who placed over my neck the light blue ribbon holding the finisher’s medal. And then I was surprised with the gift of a finisher’s technical T-shirt. Finally, the familiar face of Merril Loomis, who finished her half-marathon, greeted me and much needed hugs of mutual congratulations followed. I picked up orange wedges, bananas and a yogurt cup and started replacing carbs, while looking about for other finishers.
In the crowd, whom should I meet but barefoot Rick. Merril and I asked Rick if we could see the bottoms of his feet, expecting to see humungous calluses. All we saw was dirt. Rick said he had run Trail Ridge Road through Rocky Mtn. National Park this summer, barefoot of course.
Eventually I found Kent Kirchoff, Heidi Baldwin, Nason Newberg and Jim Turosak. Kent had slashed 10 minutes off last year’s running of KC to post a PR of 3:32. Nason had run an impressive but unofficial 3:23 because he had forgotten his timing chip. (Nason, how could you?) I would like to mention all the others who may have joined us but frankly, my memory does not serve me well after running 26.2 M! Was it here that I found Doug Tisdale in his blue superman shirt, feeling very proud of running the first leg of his relay in 54 minutes? And did I then find Todd Krapf and Kristen Johnson who told me they were just engaged last night and had run the full instead of the half? It seems that Frank and Jessica were there too. I did look about for Scoff Hild, my running mate for the first half, but failed to find him.
Then I worked my way over to the curb of Baltimore Street where I could cheer on other Runner’s Edge friends as they approached the finish line. Along the way I met Coach David who had finished his marathon, and was on his way back up Baltimore to the infamous left turn to run some of the first time marathoners back to the finish. He asked me how I did and three sets of high-fives followed. Merril and I joined dozens of other spectators and whooped and hollered our teammates into the finish chute, causing a narrowing of the street for the final block.
I witnessed one middle-aged male runner doing a full cartwheel to the astonishment of all. That stunt would have totally ruined me.
I hadn’t done any stretching yet and became concerned about stiffness setting in, so I walked back from the curb and started my routine. It was then that my knee pain resurfaced for the first time since I had forgotten about it in the latter miles of the race. From that moment on, my right leg got stiffer and harder to bend. Going up and down steps was particularly uncomfortable.
Back at the curb I cheered Karen Craig, Jamie Seemiller, and Randy Caley among others. (Everyone in our group who finished absolutely deserves mention in this narrative. For each person, this was an unforgettable event, especially for the first time marathoners. Congratulations to all!)
Not finding any posting of winners of age groups, and not being able to wait till the awards ceremony at 1 PM, I left with some of our group to make the hike back to the Crown Center. Jim Lynch had wrangled a check out time of 2 PM for our room and I wanted to make sure I enjoyed a hot shower and time to pack up. Of course this entailed hobbling up many steps to go over the train yards and down many steps again. But I was a happy warrior and was assured by Dr. Dave that my knee pains were only temporary and not unusual. (I’ve fully recovered.)
Back at the Hyatt I called my kids with news about the race and asked my son, Sajal, to check the marathon website now and then for the race results. After our showers, Jim and I checked our baggage with the concierge.
We then found the Runner’s Edge gang at the Peppercorn Duck on the Mezzanine level. Each time one of us arrived in the bar cheers erupted from all. The pink cowboy hat was being passed around and eventually landed on my head. I protested and cited other worthy candidates for it, but was voted down. Reluctantly I agreed to wear it at the first training run of the winter season, as the “tradition” dictated.
As I nursed my pricey microbrewed beer and my $10 mini-pizza, I finally found Scott, my long-lost running mate of the first half. He told me that at around 13M he started losing me and finally ceased trying to catch up with “my bony butt,” but ended up with a nice PR.
Everyone had their own stories of valor or frustration to tell. Laura recapped the news about her multiple vomiting incidents culminating with dry heaves. Fortunately, Jim Lynch was there for her along the way and through to the finish. Jim regretted running another full marathon just six days after his last one. Many had PR’s to report.
Our table mysteriously came up $65 short after everyone threw in their share. Al Hawker took the cash and paid the bill with plastic. Then we started throwing cash at Al to assuage the guilt. During our celebration, I left to see the friendly concierge about looking up the awards on his computer. After repeated tries, I eventually found out that I medalled third place in my age group 60-64. That was icing on the cake. Even without medalling, for me, I had run a near perfect race, giving it my best effort.
Later in the evening our group of sore and gimpy marathoners hobbled out of the Hyatt lobby and embarked on another hike in search of the Jack Stack Barbeque restaurant, on the other side of the train yards of course. The mammoth old Union Station lay in our path. Go around it or through it? Through it we went, through a retro diner and gift shops trying to avoid stairs whenever we could. Upon arriving at our promised land where our $25 gift certificates would be honored, we were seated on Jack Stack’s delightful patio in full view of KC’s second best known signature feature (second only to their fountains), namely the bustling freight yards.
In between noisy train arrivals, happening every two minutes, Colin, Dina, Rose, Jen, Nicole and I were able to squeeze in animated conversations. While waiting for our sumptuous fillet mignons and ribs to arrive we passed around cell phones showing pictures of our cute pets, including Nicole’s very obese black cat.
Observing our hampered ability to ambulate, Eladio offered to ferry the most afflicted of us back to the hotel in his SUV. Putting the back seat down, he packed us like a school of well fed sardines into his late model can and dropped us off at the Hyatt.
The last chapter of our KC adventure was our return bus ride to Denver, leaving KC at about 10 PM. JW first drove us to a Wal-Mart on the edge of town. I painfully eased myself down the bus steps and hobbled across the asphalt so I could purchase some Aleve. Inside the store I saw the hilarious sight of Scott, driving an electric cart, with a plastic wrapped pillow in the cart’s basket to the check out counter. He asked the lady if he could drive the cart out to the bus and leave it there.
I wish I had bought a pillow too. Trying to find a comfortable sleep position was a challenge. Merril traded seats with me so I could stretch out my bum right leg across her extra seat. David played Jim Lynch’s 50 marathon DVD again, this time running it to the end with a minimum of technical problems. Next he played the James Bond movie, Casino Royale. As it wrestled, crashed, grimaced and chased away on the two TV screens, I hid under my blankie, dreaming of quieter times.
After the Casino closed for the night, sleep was pursued by all. Jim Turosak bedded himself down in the aisle. (I almost stepped on his head.) During the night nearly everyone hiked back to the on-board rest room, stepping over the ice chest. (I had long ago returned to that chest the dripping bag of ice that I used on my right knee.)
As we finally neared Strasburg JW safely piloted our sleep-mobile through quite a blowing snowstorm. The landscape had turned white, and the wipers were slapping heavy white clots off the windshield. Our arrival back at the Sam’s Club parking lot near Quebec and 35th Ave. Sunday morning at around 7:30 AM was anticlimactic. There was no welcoming party complete with brass band and the mayor, who was to bestow accolades, was absent. Just heavy wet snow to hamper us as we loaded our luggage into our snow covered vehicles. Laura thankfully offered to drive me and my dripping pink cowboy hat home.
So ends my chronicle of the Runner’s Edge first road trip. I invite participants to add their personal stories or corrections to my account. I want to extend many thanks to our coach, David Manthey, for taking a leap of faith and successfully organizing such an adventure as this. Also thanks to Eladio Valdez for his role in designing the racecourse, sharing his running wisdom and making us feel most welcome. Finally thanks to every one of our group who ran the race on that beautiful autumn Saturday. These are some of the nicest and toughest people I know. What we shared those four days will never be forgotten. I wish I could have included absolutely everyone in some way into this narrative. Everyone has an important story to tell, and is welcome to add it here or on the Runner’s Edge discussion board, or success story site. Congratulations to all!
I witnessed one middle-aged male runner doing a full cartwheel to the astonishment of all. That stunt would have totally ruined me.
I hadn’t done any stretching yet and became concerned about stiffness setting in, so I walked back from the curb and started my routine. It was then that my knee pain resurfaced for the first time since I had forgotten about it in the latter miles of the race. From that moment on, my right leg got stiffer and harder to bend. Going up and down steps was particularly uncomfortable.
Back at the curb I cheered Karen Craig, Jamie Seemiller, and Randy Caley among others. (Everyone in our group who finished absolutely deserves mention in this narrative. For each person, this was an unforgettable event, especially for the first time marathoners. Congratulations to all!)
Not finding any posting of winners of age groups, and not being able to wait till the awards ceremony at 1 PM, I left with some of our group to make the hike back to the Crown Center. Jim Lynch had wrangled a check out time of 2 PM for our room and I wanted to make sure I enjoyed a hot shower and time to pack up. Of course this entailed hobbling up many steps to go over the train yards and down many steps again. But I was a happy warrior and was assured by Dr. Dave that my knee pains were only temporary and not unusual. (I’ve fully recovered.)
Back at the Hyatt I called my kids with news about the race and asked my son, Sajal, to check the marathon website now and then for the race results. After our showers, Jim and I checked our baggage with the concierge.
We then found the Runner’s Edge gang at the Peppercorn Duck on the Mezzanine level. Each time one of us arrived in the bar cheers erupted from all. The pink cowboy hat was being passed around and eventually landed on my head. I protested and cited other worthy candidates for it, but was voted down. Reluctantly I agreed to wear it at the first training run of the winter season, as the “tradition” dictated.
As I nursed my pricey microbrewed beer and my $10 mini-pizza, I finally found Scott, my long-lost running mate of the first half. He told me that at around 13M he started losing me and finally ceased trying to catch up with “my bony butt,” but ended up with a nice PR.
Everyone had their own stories of valor or frustration to tell. Laura recapped the news about her multiple vomiting incidents culminating with dry heaves. Fortunately, Jim Lynch was there for her along the way and through to the finish. Jim regretted running another full marathon just six days after his last one. Many had PR’s to report.
Our table mysteriously came up $65 short after everyone threw in their share. Al Hawker took the cash and paid the bill with plastic. Then we started throwing cash at Al to assuage the guilt. During our celebration, I left to see the friendly concierge about looking up the awards on his computer. After repeated tries, I eventually found out that I medalled third place in my age group 60-64. That was icing on the cake. Even without medalling, for me, I had run a near perfect race, giving it my best effort.
Later in the evening our group of sore and gimpy marathoners hobbled out of the Hyatt lobby and embarked on another hike in search of the Jack Stack Barbeque restaurant, on the other side of the train yards of course. The mammoth old Union Station lay in our path. Go around it or through it? Through it we went, through a retro diner and gift shops trying to avoid stairs whenever we could. Upon arriving at our promised land where our $25 gift certificates would be honored, we were seated on Jack Stack’s delightful patio in full view of KC’s second best known signature feature (second only to their fountains), namely the bustling freight yards.
In between noisy train arrivals, happening every two minutes, Colin, Dina, Rose, Jen, Nicole and I were able to squeeze in animated conversations. While waiting for our sumptuous fillet mignons and ribs to arrive we passed around cell phones showing pictures of our cute pets, including Nicole’s very obese black cat.
Observing our hampered ability to ambulate, Eladio offered to ferry the most afflicted of us back to the hotel in his SUV. Putting the back seat down, he packed us like a school of well fed sardines into his late model can and dropped us off at the Hyatt.
The last chapter of our KC adventure was our return bus ride to Denver, leaving KC at about 10 PM. JW first drove us to a Wal-Mart on the edge of town. I painfully eased myself down the bus steps and hobbled across the asphalt so I could purchase some Aleve. Inside the store I saw the hilarious sight of Scott, driving an electric cart, with a plastic wrapped pillow in the cart’s basket to the check out counter. He asked the lady if he could drive the cart out to the bus and leave it there.
I wish I had bought a pillow too. Trying to find a comfortable sleep position was a challenge. Merril traded seats with me so I could stretch out my bum right leg across her extra seat. David played Jim Lynch’s 50 marathon DVD again, this time running it to the end with a minimum of technical problems. Next he played the James Bond movie, Casino Royale. As it wrestled, crashed, grimaced and chased away on the two TV screens, I hid under my blankie, dreaming of quieter times.
After the Casino closed for the night, sleep was pursued by all. Jim Turosak bedded himself down in the aisle. (I almost stepped on his head.) During the night nearly everyone hiked back to the on-board rest room, stepping over the ice chest. (I had long ago returned to that chest the dripping bag of ice that I used on my right knee.)
As we finally neared Strasburg JW safely piloted our sleep-mobile through quite a blowing snowstorm. The landscape had turned white, and the wipers were slapping heavy white clots off the windshield. Our arrival back at the Sam’s Club parking lot near Quebec and 35th Ave. Sunday morning at around 7:30 AM was anticlimactic. There was no welcoming party complete with brass band and the mayor, who was to bestow accolades, was absent. Just heavy wet snow to hamper us as we loaded our luggage into our snow covered vehicles. Laura thankfully offered to drive me and my dripping pink cowboy hat home.
So ends my chronicle of the Runner’s Edge first road trip. I invite participants to add their personal stories or corrections to my account. I want to extend many thanks to our coach, David Manthey, for taking a leap of faith and successfully organizing such an adventure as this. Also thanks to Eladio Valdez for his role in designing the racecourse, sharing his running wisdom and making us feel most welcome. Finally thanks to every one of our group who ran the race on that beautiful autumn Saturday. These are some of the nicest and toughest people I know. What we shared those four days will never be forgotten. I wish I could have included absolutely everyone in some way into this narrative. Everyone has an important story to tell, and is welcome to add it here or on the Runner’s Edge discussion board, or success story site. Congratulations to all!
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