Las Vegas Marathon Race Report

The Las Vegas marathon was my last “A” race of the year, and capped off a year of great personal development. If I look back to February, I never even dreamed about undertaking the challenges of training and competing in endurance events such as Iron Distance Triathlons or Marathons. Fast-forward to December 2nd at 9:37 AM, and my life had totally changed in 9.5 months. No longer am I a gym rat that moves between free weights and elliptical machines, afraid to even jog the shortest of distances on a treadmill.

We’ll address fear after the requisite race report.

Melissa and I arrived in Vegas on Saturday morning to clear skies, high winds (near 30 MPH), and open arms as we stayed at the family house out at Lake Las Vegas. It was nice to not stay on the strip, as I had some other things to focus on while in town, and having the support of Jack (my Dad) and Melissa was very calming. Saturday was spent picking up my race packet at Mandalay Bay (the process was exceptionally organized for a race with 18,000 entrants), watching the Civil War football game, and snagging a massage at the Ritz’s Spa. After a delectable risotto and salt-crusted fish dinner at their restaurant, I enjoyed a final glass of cabernet or four and hit the hay.

The alarm went off at 4 AM, and Melissa and Jack were less enthusiastic about being awake than was I. Being that my two days prior to race had included eating a bunch of pasta, white rice, and bread, I ate a small portion of Quaker Oates and had the “Don’t shit yourself during the race” talk with my stomach. After gathering all of my gear and nutrition, we headed down to the starting line in the back parking lot of Mandalay.

We arrived with not a lot of time to spare, so stretching, peeing, and long goodbyes were not possible. I jammed into the front corral of racers, and clipped my nutrition belt, and the 2-minute countdown began. After the gun went off, it only took me one minute to cross the starting line, and I was off and running at around 8:30 pace as I tried to dodge the crowd.

The thought crossed my mind that the last time I ran down The Strip, I was being chased…so this was a nice change. Having one whole half of The Strip to run on was great and finally allowed people plenty of room to set their own speed. After passing Caesar’s Palace, I began talking with Mike and Charlie. They were looking to run 3:30’s, as that was their time to qualify for Boston. I promised I would pace them until 20 miles, as that was my pace up to that point. They proved to make the race much more enjoyable and eventually they reached their goal…very cool.

The temperature at gun time was 37 degrees, and it was not much warmer than that when at 10k we started what would be a continual ascent for 12 miles. Talk about a test of will! I did not know the profile of the course prior to the race, so this was a surprise to me. During the preponderance of my training, I was preparing for the speedy Cal International Marathon, but a last minute change of plans forced me into Vegas. Look below and check out the difference in profiles (I think I would have run a tad faster in Sacramento).





The hill climb did not become an issue until mile 10, when I realized that my goal of hitting 7:45 pace or faster was not sustainable if I wanted to run a consistent race. Mike, Charlie, and I were bouncing along about mile 14 when the hill got the steepest and I began to hit the mental wall. Physically, I was golden, but mentally, I was not in a good place. I spent about 10 minutes upset that I was not going to run a sub-3:20 marathon as I would have at Cal International. Once my mental tantrum was over and I resumed relishing in what I could accomplish and not what I couldn’t, I resumed enjoying the clear desert views and thanking the nearly 250,000 course-side supporters.

Cresting mile 20 felt unreal. It was all downhill from here, but my legs were definitely not in 7:15 shape as I rolled down the hill. My body told me that I was going to go no faster than 7:40’s, and even that was a challenge. At this point I did the math and realized that I was going to run a 3:31 whether I like it or not.

All of my Ironhead teammates that I have spoken to said that true suffering in a marathon kicks in at or around mile 20. After reaching mile 21, my body began to feel pain that it never encountered before. A dull throbbing over my entire body stripped away all pretense as my race strategy changed from pace to survival.

I refuse to walk as I reached the bottom of the last downhill section to be met with a narrow road joining with the slower Half-Marathon competitors from earlier that day. While the change to an uphill grade was minimal and having to dodge the other runners less than fun, it nearly broke my legs and spirit, as I had to push harder at that moment than during any interval I have ever done…only to knock out a whopping 8:30 pace. This continued through mile 24, and I was now officially experiencing things within myself that I did not know existed. With 1.2 miles left, I sprinted with everything I had and crossed in 3:31, which was just at 8 minute pace.

Charlie met me at the finish line to hug me and tell me that Mike and he made Boston, and that they had me to thank. I was happier for them than I was sad for myself. 3:31 was not the best time for me, but given the 12 mile hill in the middle of the course, I’ll take it. This race was more about finishing and less about time.

More importantly, completing this marathon was about fear. See, I am not an outwardly emotional person. Some of even my closest friends would call me stoic or cold. Maybe I am just a good Scottish son, and suffer in silence in the bad times, but the marathon took me somewhere new. While moving through the finishers area and getting my space blanket, I literally had nothing left. With all of my normal strength gone, I burst into tear as I was walking in circles. Sobbing like a little boy was something I had only done twice in the last 10 years, so why now? Maybe I was no longer afraid…afraid of failure…afraid of pain…afraid of doing the unknown.

One thing I am know for sure I am not afraid of is my upcoming Ironman, and now it is on to build phase.