I just finished driving over 1,000 miles round trip for the Sedona marathon. I learned about this race over a year ago and was struck by its beautiful setting; I had to run it. With a course that is partially on pavement and partially dirt trail, at an altitude of over 4000 feet, and with clean air and great scenery it seemed like the best marathon in the country, and I still think it may be. I went to a lot of trouble and spent a good deal of time and money registering and getting out there, but ultimately I did not run it. What did I learn? If you aren't going out there to have fun, then you shouldn't be out at all.
See, I've been suffering from overtraining over the past several weeks. I cringe to say that because I don't want to believe it, but the fact is I've developed a chronic injury in my right leg and I am unable (unwilling) to remain sedantary long enough to allow it to fully recover. It is frustrating because I should be running for at least 4 hours on average each week, and I have really only been doing 3 at most, which is almost entirely condensed in half marathons that I have been running each weekend, but perhaps I got here too fast, with imperfect form, and combined with too much cycling and cross fit in my first 6 weeks of ironman training, and I have been on edge to the point that I have gotten sick and injured.
I was not thinking clearly when I committed to running the Sedona marathon, knowing full well that I was not recovered, and had not done the proper training. I was even more woefully unprepared than I was aware, as I planned to arrive in Sedona fewer than 15 hours ahead of the marathon start. This, going from sea level to 5,000 feet, which is where I camped. It was a quest of a trip. As planned, I rose 5:30 am Friday morning on February 3 to get a 6:00 am start on the road to Sedona, taking the highways via Palm Springs and through Phoenix. It was a grueling 7 hour drive when I arrived at a visitor center next to the marathon packet pickup location in Sedona. I was already mentally exhausted and dehydrated and suffering from the altitude adjustment since Sedona is at about 4500 feet. It was about 3:00 pm local time since Arizona does not practice daylight savings time. I had lost an hour I hadn't accounted for. I stopped in at the tourist info center to ask where I could find a campground and was directed to the only one the guy was aware of, but this hyper enthusiastic guy didn't let me leave without also hooking me to attend a time share infosession the day of the marathon, with a promise of a free helicopter ride over Sedona.
I picked up my race packet and located the campgrounds some 6 miles out of town along canyon road. After driving into what were very narrow campground roads lined with boulders, I managed to scratch up my car a bit and park in an empty site and quickly decided I really didn't like the place. For one, I had gone to lots of trouble to haul my 150+ pound telescope gear out with me to try to conduct some astronomical observing and perhaps photography during two nights of camping. These campgrounds were in a canyon and covered with trees; not at all conducive to star gazing. I struggled for 2-3 hours driving all around Sedona to find a better campsite before deciding to cut my time losses and return to car-scratch-ville to try to make a fire, eat dinner and get some sleep.
I remember I was already getting cold feet about the marathon. I had a headache from the altitude change and I was tired and on edge from the drive and trying to find a good camp site. I had never made a camp fire before so I struggled with that too, dertermined to use the food I had brought and not wuss out and use a restaurant. Eventually I did make a fire and felt like Tom Hanks in Castaway. The thrill of getting my camp fire burning and cooking eggs, beans, and potatoes over the coals, squatting there next to the fire and devouring the food with my hands. It reinvigorated me and made me feel like I could run the marathon again.
The temperature descended into the low 30s and I pitched a tent and was lying down by 10 pm. I didn't feel sleepy so I lay awake and new campers drove into camp, making noise. A group came in next to me and talked and listened to music through the night, finally dozing off at around 4:00 am, which is when I finally started to sleep.
I struggled throughout the night with the thought of abandoning the marathon altogether, running half of it, or just the 10k. I tested my right leg at rest stops on the drive up and my right heel was still feeling tight, and had been for weeks. This mental battle is perhaps the toughest part of training for an ironman. The question of whether you are doing too little or too much. Should I push on through the whole marathon and expect to be made stronger from it? Or will that destroy me for the next several days or even weeks and prevent training and ultimately sell me short of the level of endurance I may have attained.
Knowing that I have the LA marathon in March, the Wildflower half ironman in April, and full in June, and wanting to not debilitate myself, I decided after waking up at 5:30 that I was going to run the half marathon instead of the full. I could sleep 'til 7:00, then quickly pack up my tent and drive into town, get on the shuttle and be at the half marathon start at 8:15, instead of the marathon which started at 8:00. So that's what I did. Oddly enough I felt great and started to regret abandoning the marathon. When I got to the half turnaround, I briefly looked on and considered going the full course, as I watched two ladies beside me do, but I knew that could be the path to debilitating injury. Instead, I peeled off my running sandals and finished the half marathon barefoot. Something fun to give me consolation for not running the whole thing. I really enjoyed running those miles barefoot. Tons of other runners called out in shock seeing me run barefoot. A man running the race with his dogs joked with me that the dogs and I were the only barefoot runners out that day.
I ended up finishing the race feeling great with a barefoot sprint and a 2:03 finishing time, which is good consdereing the elevation and climbing involved in the course. My right leg never bothered me during the run, but paradoxiacally, my left did. As I wrtie this 4 days later, my left is fine, but my right is problematic again.
On the shuttle ride back from the race to the parking lot, I sat next to John from Texas and we talked about running, among other things. He said the last time he ran a marathon this guy passed him who was carrying a guitar and playing a song. There were live music bands along this marathon and up ahead was Elvis on stage, so this guy ran up on stage with Elvis and got his picture taken next to Elvis, then ran off. John never caught up to guitar playing runner again. John said to me, this guy must be doing something right. If you aren't out there to have fun then what the heck are you doing?
Driving back across that endless expanse of gorgeous desert and snow covered hills, I also remembered the big picture. I was so caught up in my narrow view of daily life I forgot how big it is out there. I think we all get caught up in so many trivialities day to day, we all could use a fresh perspective from time to time.
