The Sedona Marathon

I awoke at 5am, Mountain time, showered and donned most of my race gear; bike shorts, tri-tank top, yellow bike shell, road ID and triumph bracelet, Nike running hat, Asics gels and camel back waist-belt. Wayde got up by 5:30 and we headed out for breakfast in the dark by 6am. I barely swallowed more than six bites of the oatmeal I ordered but enjoyed the coffee while pumping Wayde up for his inaugural 5K. We got to the race site, the Sedona Cultural Park, by 6:40am and got one of the last on-site parking spots. Dark, chilly, breezy but lots of energy in the air as we walked over to register Wayde and get any last minute info on the race start. The weather was predicted to be cool and possibly rainy or overcast. Cool it was, but beautiful large nimbus clouds dotting a brilliant blue sky once the sun came up just after 7am. They had separate starts for the marathon (first), half marathons (second) and 5K races so Wayde and I said our goodbyes minutes before 8am.

I decided against bringing the camera since I never picked up a decent armband holder for it but I ran into a new friend Danny, from Chicago, at the start and he grabbed a couple of photos just before gun time. It didn’t look like more than 200 runners for the full marathon.

The initial loop in the park goes steeply downhill, around the corner, then back up past the eerie abandoned outdoor amphitheater. Just past the first mile (at a 10:30 pace) we were on Dry Creek Road, away from the main traffic and headed down into the red rock canyons. I decided I did need the inhaler by mile 2, which was downhill but still bringing on a slight wheeze. It was hilly, but gently so until mile 4 which had a 10-15% downhill grade. My out loud comment to runners nearby that this was mile 22 in reverse elicited a few groans. But I wanted to envision the return and manifest my acceptance of this intimidating hill long before meeting it again. The aid-stations were many and well stocked, the temperature, starting out at 38F, climbed into the mid 40’s with a strong happy sun reflecting off the red rock giants to either side of us. It was 1hour 12min for the first ¼ of the run down. People’s spirits were good and the crowd around me became familiar. Curious, I tried to keep a tall brunette in view as the miles wore on. She looked a fit mid-twenty something but was alternately walking and running at 2min intervals, apparently both at a good clip since she pulled away by mile 8. What was up with that? We hit the transition to the trail section with just over 5 miles to the halfway point and turn around.

It was a relief to get off pavement after 8 miles of it and the trail felt remote and lush with pristine beauty. We were running out of the red rock formations but into the desert prairie with looming dark mountains 30 miles in the distance. So much sky out there, you feel as if there’s more air to breath, more sun to soak up. Up through mile 11 was energizing and uplifting. That's about when the fleetest of foot passed by us on their return. The first guy at ~1 hour 27min, the first woman at ~1 hour 42min, me at ten-plus miles, they at 16-plus and mostly looking good for it . Lots of smiles, encouragement and high-five in those passings. As the miles piled up, the footing took some care and the last bit to the turn-around got steadily more hilly. Cresting what looked like the last hill, seeing the aid station at the bottom and the sigh of relief just escaping my lungs, I looked further up to see the actual turn around at the TOP of the next not so small hill another 0.2miles on and dug in for the “Oh yeah, marathons have to be earned” phase. Almost exactly 2hours 30min to the half.

Although the temperature didn’t get far above 50, it felt hot and dry the first few miles of the return. And slowly, the optimism and high of the first half gave way to the focused determination needed to get through the second half. Miles were slower, creeping past a 12 min/mile pace, and I was looking forward to getting off the dirt road and back on to pavement by mile 15, three more to go before that would happen. Miles 15 to 18 were a constant effort to conserve energy, focus on form, exit stray thoughts. There were about 6-10 of us keeping the same distance, more or less, passing each other repeatedly depending on which aid stations one stopped at. A woman from Vancouver whose husband had run the half, a woman from Denver who had a support crew of six driving, riding mountain bikes and running beside her in turns. An Indian guy from Boston that decided to walk from mile 18 on. An older guy from Nevada that steadily pulled away by mile 20. Three women that seem to run/walk many marathons, talking the whole way about their entertaining personal dramas.

Once back on pavement with eight miles to go, I was happy but calculated I still had close to two hours at my current pace. All thoughts were on getting out of my physical body any sensation beyond what was needed to keep going. I clung to the idea that the vortex energy I had tried to absorb the day before on our hikes around Sedona would get me through. All hills were walked at this point, race-walking, as much as I could manage. The steep mile 22 wasn’t as bad as it looked going down, especially just walking it. My spirits were good, back among the beautiful red giants. Their timelessness pulling me out of my own telescoped experience again and again.

The steadily increasing headwind from mile 15 on didn’t bother me much, because there seemed to be more down-hills coming back than I remember up-hills on the way out. That's where the ability to hold tenaciously onto positive thoughts becomes priceless in a marathon. I actually ran almost the full account of mile 24 because of its extended down-hill and did get a 12min pace for the distance. That helped put something back in the tank for the last two-point-two miles, happy to join the traffic on Rt89 with less than a mile to go, happy to see the little hills before the last turn, the finish less than two hundred feet ahead, 5hours 33min. Danny got my picture coming in and Wayde met me a few minutes later, patiently waited while I got a much needed massage before heading back for champagne, and ice bath, an in-room Jacuzzi and a chest full of happiness.

A marathon is a journey, both inward and outward, both physical and mental. And at some point you have to relinquish control to see yourself through. You have to enter a state of acceptance for how you feel physically, which is challenged, if not downright awful, and then transcend the physical to keep moving forward, to cross the finish line. Not once, this process, but a dozen or a hundred or a thousand times, quite possibly, as many steps as there are between you and the finish. The closer that line gets though, the easier it is to do, to accept, relinquish and transcend, accept, relinquish, transcend...

And then you’re there, across the finish line and whatever that means for you, personally and uniquely, for whatever reason you first got the idea to run this marathon in your head – you have now made it part of your personal history. And your chest, no matter how ragged, deserves to be overflowing with inner happiness.

Physically, emotionally and especially biochemically, I feel very stripped down and raw the hours and days after the marathon. But this is useful too. This is what I am without my comfort zone wrapped around me. I am open, sensitive and vulnerable. The mightiness of the finish, which was 9/10ths adrenaline anyway, long since faded. But the memory of the run can come gently now and be examined without ego or regret since those take too much energy.

And still, there’s this undeniable satisfaction. This is the feeling I’ll still be able to pull out years from now with the memories of this journey – the deep satisfaction of accepting, relinquishing and transcending until it became as natural as breathing, as putting one foot in front of the other. All in the presence of those sacred red giants that embody this trinity longer than we humans have been walking the earth.