Colfax Half Marathon

Yay! I finished! And I got a cool medal for my effort!

I woke up before 3am, and was feeling pretty good. I remembered to apply sunscreen and BodyGlide, and even remembered to find my bib-number belt and wristbands for my GPS and beer bracelet. I threw my camera into the fanny pack along with some gels and stingers, and headed off to pick up my buddy Kim. I was only a couple of minutes late arriving at his house. He hopped in the car, and we both figured we'd get there early enough to get a parking space at the Museum of Nature and Science.

That prediction turned out to be in error, but after driving around the local neighborhoods for a bit, we found a parking place just a couple of blocks from the south edge of City Park.

Kim also packed all of the essentials, including a camera. It was a cloudy and cool morning, and looked to be a great day for a long run.





The extra security prompted by the Boston scumbags was not a problem, and we were able to check our bags without difficulty. I probably shouldn't have my photo taken at these things, though, because these pictures often make me look like a dork. Must be some sort of atmospheric disturbance, right?



Or maybe it's the lighting. I took this next picture just a few minutes later, and my friends Callie and Erin look great. Hmm.

(By the way, if you're looking for cute running skirts, be sure to visit Callie's Running Pretty website.)

By the time we were herded into the starting pens, it was warm enough to ditch the sweatclothes. But it did seem like forever before our corral was called to the front. (Jake Schroeder sang the National Anthem multiple times.) I was in group H, which was supposed to be the 2:15 pace group...but I could see the guy with the 2:15 pace banner take off with an earlier group. I wasn't really planning to try to run with him, anyway, but I was still kinda bummed to know that he was already gone.

I actually remembered to start my GPS as I crossed the mat. "That's a good omen," I thought. I had mixed emotions about running through the zoo, which was one of the changes they had made to the course this year. It was intended to help the runners enjoy the race by focusing on the animals and their habitats rather than thinking too much about pace and fatigue...but there were too many curves and corners for me. The lateral stress of each turn causes pain in my ankle, so I have to watch my footing carefully to avoid falling off the path or bouncing off a berm--which would have me screaming in pain. I did not see a single lemur or howler monkey.

I did appreciate the support and clever signs provided by the zoo staff. So despite the discomfort from the twists, I had a pretty big smile on my face as we headed out onto 17th Street.

Next up was a long, straight, and reasonably flat segment. It was during this stretch when I noticed that my bib number kept migrating to the left. I'm sure this is because of my stride anomalies, but I figured the problem could be solved by cinching up the bib belt to be a bit tighter.

Doing that while you're running is harder than it sounds. And I also discovered that pulling off the road and trying to do it while walking wasn't an easy task either. I should've just removed the thing and tightened it in my hands before putting it back on, but no -- I was determined to keep moving while I struggled with it. The result of this idiotic strategy was that I ripped the bib number. Since I was depending on the belt, I had no safety pins, nor any other sort of backup system. I folded the bib number and stuffed it into the pocket of my shorts.

No, that didn't make me look even dorkier. Why would you even ask such a thing?

Anyway, one of my pacing goals was to finish the first 10K under an hour, and I hit that target with a few minutes to spare. And right around that point, I was surprised to see that I had caught and passed the guy carrying the 2:15 stick. Perhaps I could beat my time from last year. I was feeling pretty smooth and strong as I approached the Aurora Fire Station.



At the firehouse, I tossed my camera to a bystander and requested a photo, but this photographer had the same problem as the others. You know -- bad lighting that makes me look goofy. Geez.



Over the next mile or so, I began to lose my form. I had reached the extent of what my meager training could support. I continued to look at my splits, and though I was slowing down, I realized that I still had a shot at beating last year's time, and perhaps even breaking my 2:10 goal.

It's good to have a target. I could've easily talked myself into coasting the rest of the way. After all, there were distractions such as the Chippendale Firemen taking photos with runners, and all sorts of clever signage from spectators and race supporters. I remembered the way my legs failed me last year, though, and just plain didn't want to finish with that familiar "call the paramedics" running form. So even though my strides were getting shorter, I really tried to keep the cadence and rhythm going.

I knew from last year that there's still a long way to go even after you get back inside City Park. It's hideously deceptive, though, and I made the mistake of thinking the starting arch was the finish line. I started my "last 200 yards" sprint about 600 yards from the finish line. I couldn't keep it up, and was completely out of gas before I crossed the finish mat.

But I'm glad I kept pushing. I ended up squeaking into the top 50% of my age group by ONE place (103/208). I beat number 104 by a single second. Here are my other stats:

Overall place 2037/5164
Sex place 986/1751
Halfway split: 59:46
Total time: 2:06:29
Per-mile pace: 9:39

Obviously, I faded badly on the back half, and the overall pace is a far cry from what I could do when I was young and had a mustache. But considering everything, I'm pretty darn pleased with this race. It gives me hope.

The jury is still out on whether it's enough hope to prod me into doing more running events, or into ever trying to tackle anything longer. I guess we'll just wait and see.

In the meantime, thanks to all the friends, family, teammates, and sundry bystanders who provided support and encouragement throughout the race, and during my training. I really appreciate the inspiration and mentorship I receive from each and every one of you. I'm glad this race is over, but I'm looking forward to whatever comes next.

Thanks again, and have a great day!