Chapter One: the First Half

I registered for Freescale 2006 almost immediately after finishing Freescale 2005 - before I knew about the Hill Country Trail Runners and before finding out that people actually run races on rocky trails. My idea of an exciting race has shifted since then, and I'd been so focused on Bandera 50k (since done) and Zane Grey (soon to come) that I almost forgot about that road marathon I'd signed up for long ago. As Freescale approached I realized that I was almost dreading having to run 26.2 miles on hard, knee-butchering asphalt under the inevitable pressure of a PR. I've gotten so used to being enormously excited about trail races, and wanted to figure out a way to make myself excited about this race as well.

The primary key to my Zane Grey training will be getting used to being on my feet for much longer than I ever have been before, and getting used to the things that happen to an exhausted mind. Hence, the Freescale Double. While the two terrains couldn't possibly be more different, I figured I could use a 52.4 mile road race to learn what it feels like to push through mental and physical lows. The "official" Freescale course was almost entirely downhill this year, so the natural choice for a double was to run it from the finish line to the starting line as the first half, and have things a little easier for the second half. One of my first thoughts after deciding to do the double was 'what sucker can I talk into doing this with me?'. The next time I saw Pete I tossed out the idea and his response was a characteristic 'sure, whatever'. Freescale, which he'd also signed up for long ago, was two weeks after Rocky Raccoon 100 miler, which Pete was racing. He knew he wouldn't be recovered enough to shoot for a PR at Freescale, and was struggling like me to muster up some pre-race excitement. Problem solved! Meredith, needing to fit some good night runs into her training for Western States 100, jumped at the opportunity to have a little company on such a run. Our original support crew for the first half up and moved to Colorado Springs on us (we miss you, JT!) and my good friend Mike graciously offered to take over the roll.

Pete, Meredith, and I braved the cold and threats of freezing rain, crossing the official finish line at 2 am Sunday morning. We stuck to the official course, which Meredith and I had divided up and memorized (anyone who has ever let Pete lead on a trail run will know why we let him off the hook), with one exception - the first few miles were along Caesar Chavez, which turns into drunk-driving central around 2 am on Sunday mornings. With some black ice thrown into the mix, we decided to run next to Caesar Chavez on the hike and bike trail instead. Around 2:30, when the last of the drunks are tossed from the downtown bars, we were cruising up Congress. Insert your own imagined drunken comment here, I'm sure it's one of the many we got!

Our first and only near disaster hit just after turning off of Duval onto 53rd street - we crossed a sneakily inconspicuous bridge, really just a place where a drain ran under the street, but enough of a bridge to develop a slick layer of ice over the top. Trucks dumping sand had been dispatched for the official marathon, but at 3 in the morning the sand truck drivers were still snugly tucked in bed. Hitting the ice I did some Olympic medal worthy ice skating but managed to stay upright, Meredith wasn't as lucky and went down. Luckily (and probably partly due to the fact that she falls like a feather and "down" isn't very far) she escaped injury and we continued on, much more carefully this time.

Mike met us for the first time at the half-marathon finish at 4:00. Diet coke for Meredith, chocolate covered almonds and Gatorade for me, whatever for Pete. We tried to make our meeting short, but in those few minutes our heart rates slowed and the cold became very apparent. We met Mike again a little after 5:00 near mile 20. Refueled and we were off again. A mile or so later Meredith's husband Paul drove past on his way to the official starting line. He'd be pacing the female Olympic hopefuls later that morning. He rolled down the window and drove along side us for a bit, boosting our spirits. By the time we turned onto Anderson Mill the pre-race traffic disaster was clear. Cars were backed up for miles. We cruised along to the Freescale plant, moving significantly faster than any of the cars. We found the official starting line and touched it 4 hours and 25 minutes after we'd started our race. With 3 bathroom breaks and 3 eating breaks, this was just about what we'd been aiming for.

I was pleasantly surprised at how good I was feeling. Meredith had stayed on my case about eating more than I thought I needed for the first half so I was caught up on my nutrition, and by walking around continuously we were able to keep our legs from tightening. My knees, which I was worried about, felt fine. I dumped out the contents of my handheld water bottle and stuffed it full of food, and snarfed down a bagel sandwich as I made my way back to the 4:30 pace group to meet with my friend Jeannette. Her boyfriend, Erich, was planning to run a 3:30 marathon and then propose to Jeannette as she crossed the finish line. Jeannette, of course, had no idea this was going to happen, and I'd been given the job of making SURE Jeannette's recently injured knee didn't prevent her from finishing. I had my inspirational speech all ready to go, which I was going to use to convince Jeannette to walk the last x miles with me if need be.

Chapter Two: the Second Half

Well, I felt great up to mile 10 (aka mile 36.2). When the first low hit I told Jeannette to go on and that I'd try to catch up. Although miserable, it was also fascinating to see for the first time what happens when I push myself to this limit. Despite the still-freezing temperature, I suddenly became extremely overheated. I made the mistake of tossing my disposable gloves, and slowed to a walk. I broke into my food stash and downed some nuts and half a bagel. I got a few strange looks from fellow runners, I guess you don't often see people eating meals at mile 10 of a marathon! My body felt immediately better and I started running again, but my head was still out of sorts. I was hit with two overwhelming emotions - the need to cry, and extreme grumpiness. I couldn't think of a good reason to be crying, and thought a lot about a friend (who will go unnamed . . .) who is fondly known for her tendency to cry in the later miles of long run. "So THIS is how Shan feels!" I though. Oops, just named her! The grumpiness made me feel worse than the crying. The wonderful cheering crowds were amazingly supportive of everyone, and the onlookers went out of their way to give extra encouragement to struggling runners. I know what a big deal it is for anyone (myself included) to run a marathon, and didn't want to take anything away from anyone by telling them that I was running twice as far. But somehow, in the murky darkness of my tired brain, I realized that I was actually feeling irritated by the shouts of "Keep it up! You're almost halfway done!". I felt so guilty for having this reaction to such kind strangers, and this made me want to cry even more. It was at this first miserable low that I saw the most wonderful sight - Gabe and Janice cheering up ahead! My lip-quivering turned into a full-on sob as I ran over to them. I assured them that I was physically fine, just mentally pooped, and their bear hugs turned out to be just what I needed. I ran on, feeling exponentially better. I was riding high until soon after the half marathon finish, when I looked down at my GPS and saw it click over the 40 mile mark. I'm not sure if it was the realization that I'd run this far or simply another bout of mental exhaustion, but suddenly I was back in verge-of-tears land. Again, HCTR came through for me just when I needed it most - I heard a voice on the side shout out "Melissa! Is that you?". A figure pulled down his face mask (I can't imagine how cold all of the non-runners must have been!) and I realized it was Robert M! I ran back and got yet another fabulous hug and wonderful words of encouragement. In addition to the emotional boost Robert gave me, he and his friends also gave me a much needed handful of pretzels. On down the road, pushing through, pushing through, I hit my last low close to mile 17 (aka mile 43). Again I felt suddenly overheated and this time the grumpiness and need to cry was accompanied by a sort of delirium. I saw someone I recognized cheering from the side and yelled out something nonsensical to them, calling them by a name in no way related to their actual name. I kept running forward and suddenly saw Robert H and Diana up ahead. Seeing friends from HCTR was wonderful for two reasons - it was great to see friends period, but it was additional great to see people who knew that I was doing the double and could understand my current state. I guess all I really wanted was a little empathy at that moment! I waved and ran over to Diana and the first words out of her mouth were "you're really tired". So true! I guess the fact that my legs were still doing something that could pass as running wasn't fooling anyone. They both gave me giant hugs and smiles and I started crying again as I ran off. I got my emotions back under control and managed to hold it together for the rest of the race. It was less than ten miles from that point on, and just knowing that was enough to keep my spirits up. Robert M had hopped onto a bike and was riding along the course, passing and cheering me on around mile 18 (aka mile 44). TJ, whose wife was running the marathon, was there cheering near mile 19. I stopped and asked him at what point he had reached full mental exhaustion when he did the 50 miler at Sunmart, and he said 45. I looked at my GPS - 45.5. I ran through downtown, grabbing handfuls of whatever people were passing out (lots of gummy bears and animal crackers), and saw the 4:45 pace group as I hit the out-and-back at mile 23. I managed to pick up the pace and pass them, and saw Ava running, Robert M biking, and a few other HCTR friends along this portion of the course. I saw Jeannette on the other side of the out and back, less than a mile ahead of me and was thrilled to see that her knee was holding up. I started putting distance between myself and the 4:45 pacers and made it to the HHH beer check at mile 25. JT had told his friends to be on the lookout for me, and they were wonderfully encouraging when I ran up. I drank a full cup of beer, which tasted WONDERFUL after hours and hours of nothing but sweets, and started sprinting as I came up to the Congress Bridge. That last half mile felt wonderful, I could no longer feel my legs but knew that I was running fast, and I crossed the finish as the clock read 4:49. Jeannette finished less than 2 minutes before me, but in my zonked state I somehow managed to wander right past the proposal without noticing.

A few phone calls later I found out that Pete had run the "official" half of our race in an unbelievable 3:44. I was one of the many that failed to register a chip time, but Jeannette's watch said she finished in 4:35 so I'll round up and call it an even 4:40.

It was an amazing experience, but I PROMISE this is the last race I'll ever run on the roads! And as great as it was to see that my legs can hold out for 9+ hours of running, the best part was getting to share the experience with such wonderful friends. Thank you so much Mike, Meredith, Jeannette, Janice, Gabe, Roberts M and H, Diana, Pete, and everyone else. I love this club!