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2007

Clydesdale Open 226lbs.+ Winner
Jeff
Durso-Finley
Lawrenceville, New Jersey

-Start-

-Close to
Finish-
Jeff's Post Race Report
For some inexplicable reason, I decided that running a fall marathon might
be a good idea, so when Santa Clarita suddenly advertised itself as the
USACFRF National Championships, I decided to go for it, even though I had
been training for the first week of December. (The National Championships
were supposed to be in Tuscon, but that either fell through, or was a
misprint. I’m not sure exactly what the deal was, but Santa Clarita suddenly
was on the schedule, so I decided to go for it, even though it fell in the
middle of a pretty busy time in the office.)
Getting up at 4:00 am for the
flight was something of a drag as you might imagine, and all I could think
of when I landed was the classic Warren Zevon line about LA, “They say this
place is evil, [but] that’s not why I stay…” Even so, the flight out here
was relatively smooth, the check-in and weigh-in went off with no problem,
and I had a chance to drive around the city / town, which was pretty nice
all in all. Well laid out city center with plenty of things to do, mountains
all around. Definitely a nice place..
The race course included lots of
trails and wasn’t particularly hilly acc’d to the elevation chart, though
that would prove to be a little misleading. There was a 5k and ½ marathon
that went off at the same time, though thankfully the 5K was in a completely
different direction.
7:00 am start, but I was on East
Coast time, with the time change for daylight savings, so it was a little
surreal. I felt rested even so and the race went off exactly on time. First
5-6 miles went off exactly like clockwork and I kept to the pace I had
decided to run. The first sign of trouble cropped up during miles 6-7-8. It
seemed like I was struggling a little to keep pace, which made no sense
considering the temperature, the course, and how my training had gone. As I
came around on mile 9, the course doubled back on the other side of the
canyon, and I figured out why it was more difficult than I thought – the
whole trail on that side of the canyon was slightly uphill, but the
topography was so deceptive that I didn’t notice it when I was running.
Great – I just blew out plenty of energy by accident.
I throttled down dramatically and
by the 11th mile I was back to feeling good and running strong. Enter Issue
#2. I started down an incline to go under an overpass and felt a pop on my
thigh. I shuffled along for a bit hoping it would go away, but no luck. I
had pulled my groin. Not horribly, but there was no mistaking it. I didn’t
have to stop right there, thankfully, but the damage was done as I hit the
next incline. No push whatsoever. I had no chance going up the hills – it
was almost a dead stop.
The course ended up being much
more hilly than I thought, but it popped up in weird ways. There were lots
of little steep overpasses and on ramps off and on to the trails. The roads
weren’t long, but sharply up. I just couldn’t do them. Plus, there were
these things called “paseos,” which were pedestrian overpasses basically,
but again, they went sharply up and were everywhere. Every time I felt like
I could get a little rhythm, one would show up and I would struggle uphill.
So, I soldiered on using
basically one leg to push; Not much I could do otherwise. By the time I hit
16, I was dead from trying to run on one leg, and by the time I hit 18, I
was done for good it seemed. I simply stopped hitting the mile splits on my
watch, because every time I looked down I had that crushing feeling like the
one that you get when you get targeted by a State Trooper’s radar and then
you look at your speedometer – “it’s going to be a big number” flashes
through your mind. By the time I got to 20, I had a flash they might take me
off the course, because I was just walking and limping. Quite honestly, I
was thinking about the race report and getting ready to put in how I had let
down the USACFRF in the race.
For those of you who have bonked
in a marathon, you know what was going through my mind: misery, despair,
self-doubt, self-loathing. All that good stuff where you question everything
that happened in your training, doubts and frustrations going right back all
the way to your parentage.
Then, something interesting
happened. The course doubled back on itself right before 21 and I saw I guy
that I was sure was in my weight category. He had blown past me at 18 when I
was doing the ugly shuffle, causing the cascade of ill will I just
described. He was struggling a bit and I could see that I was only maybe 500
meters behind him or so. What the hell. I couldn’t feel any worse, so maybe
I’ll go after him and see what happens.
Over the course of the next two
miles or so, I blew out whatever was left to catch up to him, and was
surprised when I hit 23 and was right behind him. The only problem was that
it wasn’t the guy I was thinking of when I first saw him. This one was
likely in my weight class, if not close, but not the one I was after. *That*
one was another 400 meters ahead – I could see him running and shuffling
with his running buddy.
Christ. Here we go again.
Over the course of the next mile
and one half, I went after him, too, and once again, I was surprised when we
came to a turnaround and I was pretty close to him. They had stopped to walk
for a bit up a small uphill, so I stayed back 15-20 yards or so and walked
as well. As we approached the turnaround and they started talking to the
course monitor who was making sure that the chips went off, and I took the
turn and took off.
The rest of the race was pretty
miserable all in all, as I figured that every step I ran that he didn’t put
more distance between us, but I was totally cooked from trying to catch
those two guys back to back. There was lots of trying to stay ahead of the
turns, using the downhills well, hoping to stay far enough ahead and out of
sight that he wasn’t interested in chasing me. Plus, it was entirely
possible, if not probable, that he didn’t care a whit about where I was and
wasn’t even thinking about our relative positions. It was sort of hard to
take that for granted after running for 4 hours though….
We took a turn where we were
heading down past the 25 mile marker and I looked back to see he had closed
the gap to around 250-300 meters and was drawing closer. I ended up using
the “power 100’s” trick (high turnover for 100 paces with the idea that once
you hit 100, you can walk for a bit. Of course, they work best when you get
to 100 and say, “One more, and then I can walk…” and see how many you can do
in a row.) I could hear the finish line coming, took a turn and, dammit,
another paseo. I powerwalked up as best I could, then hit the top and did as
many “power 100’s” as I could to get to the other side of the road and down
the last straightaway, not knowing where the guy was behind me.
I pulled in to the finish line in
the slowest time I think I’ve ever had in a marathon, but actually relieved
that something good had happened out of such misery. I went virtually
straight to the medical tent and asked for an ice pack, and I think the
doctor was quite happy when I said I would just put it on my groin myself
under my compression shorts and no, he didn’t have to wrap and pack it for
me.
In the end, I won my weight
class, had a good conversation with a guy from Michigan who flew out for the
Clydesdale National Championships as well, and even made it back to the
hotel in time to get cleaned up.
Gianna asked me if this was the
last marathon, and I’m actually not sure. I think I would like to do one
more where it is actually *easy,* and I can just run and enjoy it, as
opposed to this one, and the last one, the Vermont City Marathon, which
ended up being one long uphill. We’ll see. In the end, if there’s another
USACFRF National Championship Marathon, I’d think seriously about it. That
being said, I’m thinking the Mayor’s Midnight Sun Marathon in Alaska in
celebration of turning 40 next summer. 50th state visited, 40th year lives,
12th marathon run. Why not?
JDF |
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