I had several goals for the race, in increasing order of difficulty. I wanted to finish, stay within the course cutoffs, PR for a marathon (5:24:09), and go under 5:00. Based on the run focused marathon plan I had followed for three months, even the sub-5 hour goal was reasonable.

The first six miles of the course were on an unpaved road and mostly downhill. I started off feeling good, and I was knocking down miles at less than my goal pace of 11:30 miles. This was probably expected on a downhill section of the course. Despite rain the previous day, the gravel road was in good shape and there weren't many muddy sections to contend with. I finally got onto the pavement and was in good shape.

In the second section of the course (miles 7-13), things started well, but I started to hurt at around mile 9. I was staying on schedule with drinking my Infinit mix (one bottle every hour) and my pace was right on target until miles 12 and 13. Even though I knew I was on an uphill section, I was starting to get concerned as my pace started to fall for a couple of miles and my leg pain and fatigue increased.

Miles 14-20 started off a little downhill, and I was able to start bringing my pace back into line with my goals. I was hurting, though, and as the road turned uphill again, my pace started into a downward spiral that I couldn't reverse. I had been able to stick to my plan of running for 11 minutes and a short one minute walk break, but the eleven minute segments started to be too long to sustain - I needed to adapt, and started a 3 minute run and 3 minute walk. In that section, my hopes of going under 5:00 and getting a PR slipped away. I though this would be my opportunity to run a marathon the way I was capable of doing it, but here I was again, marching along with the injured and the undertrained.

I finally got to mile 20, but my pace had fallen off substantially. Every step was painful, whether running or walking. I was discouraged, angry with myself and my body, and to add insult to injury, the winds picked up and it started raining. A day that had started so strong and full of hope had deteriorated into a survival death march in a rainstorm. I slogged through the miles with my 3 minute run/walk segments. I called Jenna to tell her that I was running way behind my expected pace but I was still on my way. I have to give a lot of credit to the volunteers, who hung in there to keep the stations stocked and encouraging those of us that were still out there.

After 5 and a half hours of battling myself and the elements, the finish line finally came into view. As I approached the finish line, I forced a smile through my disappointment. I collected my medal and gave Jenna a hug. It had been a long morning.

On the day itself, I don't think there is anything else I could have done. I got to the start line healthy and prepared. A calf strain that I had dealt with in training hadn't been an issue on race day. I dressed as appropriately as possible to be comfortable in the conditions. I had stayed right on target with hydration and nutrition. I had placed Body Glide well and had not had any chafing problems. The effort, undoubtedly, was there - the performance just wasn't up to expectations.

Thank God Jenna was there for me after the race. I had maxed myself out physically and was having a lot of trouble getting around. She helped me with getting my morning clothes bag, getting me to the car, and helping me change into dry, warm clothes. It felt so good to be dry and warm, and to have her there to drive me home. My legs were actually trembling during the ride.


I really wish that I had legitimate excuses for my slower than expected time, like my calf injury or the weather. However, that isn't the case. Neither really impacted the run on Sunday. After two days of trying to figure out what the hell went wrong, I have a couple of theories.

First, I went out a little too fast and didn't have much left in the later stages of the race. I know from training that I would tend to get fatigued between miles 14 and 16 and would struggle after that. I may have naively thought that on race day, after a proper taper and allowing the training load to absorb that the onset of the fatigue would happen later. However, this theory doesn't account for starting to hurt at mile 8 or 9 - that was way too early.

Second, I didn't have enough training on hills. The hills on this course weren't particularly steep, but it was a rolling course and my training runs (with the exception of a couple of training runs on the White Tanks course) were mostly flat. The hills on race day caught up to me and caused me to hurt more and earlier than I had experienced in training. Although there likely is some merit to theory one, this is more likely.

The bottom line is that, as much as I hoped I had a sub-5 in me on Sunday, on February 22, 2011, on the Lost Dutchman course, I was a 5:36:56 marathoner. That's the reality, as much as it hurts to accept.


The organizers and volunteers did a fantastic job. The camp at the starting line was great, the buses ran efficiently, and the aid stations were well manned and stocked, even for those at the back of the pack.