The Estes Park Marathon is billed as the highest paved marathon (and hence, I'd assume, half marathon) in the world. Estes Park sits at the gateway to Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado--you know, where they're lucky to have the enormous snow drifts on Trail Ridge Road plowed by Memorial Day, and where you're likely to see all kinds of wildlife not only in the Park, but in town (as I did).
It goes without saying that this isn't one of those huge big-city races, where tens of thousands of runners turn out and there are bands every mile along the course. No, this is a smaller race where your spectators are just as likely to be elk, deer, and hawks, as well as the supportive race volunteers and some of the people of the town of Estes Park...and perhaps some curious tourists, too. (Sidenote: Estes Park is a wonderful day-getaway for those of us here on the Front Range, and is also popular with tourists from around the world who want to visit Rocky Mountain National Park.) Make no mistake about it, however, this is one challenging race course!
Preview
I decided to run the Estes Half Marathon because I'd not run a half other than the Georgetown to Idaho Springs Half Marathon (three times) and also because the timing seemed good, following Boston in April, but before Georgetown in August. I knew, especially on the heels of the BolderBoulder, that I'd be taking a chance that I wasn't fully ready to actually 'race', but thought I'd give it a go and just see how I felt. To quote Coldplay, "But if you never try you'll never know", right? And so, last weekend, I decided to go up to Estes for my long run, deliberately scoping out as much of the course as I could (I'm not a runner who likes to be surprised that way), and ran a 9 mile loop, 8 of which was on what I think is the toughest part of the course. The views are majestic and unparalleled for any other race I've run.Race Day
I arrived at Estes Park High School, where the race was to start, in time to do a slow mile warm-up, with some strides thrown in. Since I can't really eat before I run (except for a Honey Stinger Waffle), proper nutrition pre-race is always a challenge. I lined up with the other half marathoners, and we listened to race co-director Terry Chiplin give us directions (in his fabulous Aussie accent) about what to do if we encountered wildlife--especially elk--on the course, part of which included the following admonition: "If you encounter an elk on the course--and it's been known to happen--DON'T try to run from it! Elk are much faster than you!"
After he counted us down to "Go!", we crossed the first set of mats and were on our way. One of the best pieces of advice I ever received for my very first race (the Race for the Cure 5k) was to "not go out too fast...don't get sucked into the wave of people who take off quickly", and I made it a point to stick to that race strategy today. We turned the corner onto Highway 36, then up and around to Highway 34 (and the first of many hills), and I found my rhythm, but not my pace yet. I don't listen to music during races--and usually don't on most all training runs--because I've found that it's better for me to settle into a rhythm with my breathing and footfalls. If I speed up or slow down, either in pace or in my turnover, then my breathing changes along with it. Maybe that's part of the musician in me, and the conductor, but I can keep a steady beat, so I use this to keep my running rhythm consistent.
We crested the first hill on Highway 34 and turned left onto Elk Trail Court into a residential area and kept ascending. There were a few people out, but if you need heavy duty crowd support, then this is not the race for you. Following the residential area, we were granted a short reprieve downhill. Next, though, was the grueling uphill of Dry Gulch Road toward McGraw Ranch Road and then on to Devil's Gulch Road. I'd run this loop the week before, so knew what was coming, and wondered what would happen to my pace? (It wasn't a question of if it would fall slower, but how much.) Starting this part of the course, I kept reminding myself to stay (run) within myself. For me, that meant focusing on my turnover and where my feet fell beneath me, as well as my breathing and keeping the perceived exertion level 'easy', comparatively speaking. There was a lot more of this race to go, and if I didn't want to blow it, I knew I had to stay within myself. I noticed three other guys in my general vicinity--there were no other women who I could see around me--and couldn't help but feel good when I kept at it like a tortoise and eventually passed them. (This, by the way, is what we call "chicking", and my apologies to all my male runner friends, but it is gender-specific and--for me, at least--only applies if I don't know you.) It wouldn't have mattered whether they were guys or gals, as any runner knows, it just feels good if you pass someone on a hard stretch.
We ran. Uphill. We kept running. Uphill. This first stretch of this portion of the race is, I believe, approximately 3 miles of long, gradual, unrelenting uphill. Once you reach the junction for McGraw Ranch Road (ok, yep, I'm feeling my hammies here!), there's a slight dip but then another gradual incline before you crest a hill that will then allow your hamstrings some relief but tax your quads for some downhill running. I was encouraged by an aid station volunteer at the bottom of the hill just before McGraw Ranch Road, who said to me "3rd woman overall"! Now, whether that was true or not, I didn't know, but it gave me more motivation to keep at it! At this point, I was running along with the small pack of guys, some of them taking turns leap-frogging each other at various times. After a short downhill just before mile 8, the climb to the crest of the next hill was the shortest, but the steepest, on this part of the course. Now, after making it this far on this hilly course, would I have the control in my legs to allow gravity to help me out and take advantage of the downhills?
And, the answer is....yes. At times, I felt as if I was flying downhill, but still in control. The pack of guys was still in my general vicinity, but I was trailing one in particular who seemed to be regulating his pace a bit better than the others, and I decided that was to my advantage. As long as my pace felt good and I was in control of my running, I kept him in my sights, trailing about 10 feet behind. Finally, some descents! "What goes up, must come down" is the saying that came to mind. The caveat here, however, is that from what I knew of the course (and I didn't get to preview the last several miles of it), there were still some hills!
We made our way back up and over to Wonderview Avenue/McGregor Avenue, turning left and heading--again, uphill--to the Stanley Hotel grounds. After a short jaunt through the adjoining neighborhood, we finally reached Highway 34 again (aka Big Thompson Avenue), and were in the home stretch. Now, however, I was facing the unknown: the last couple of miles of this half marathon were on the bike path that ran south of Lake Estes and then up to the high school track. I was completely unfamiliar with this part of the course, because although I've biked in and around Estes Park, I've never biked this side of the lake. Fortunately, it was only being used by us crazy runners, so I just had to keep my wits about me and be prepared for anything. If you're a runner, you know this, but if not, I'll clue you in: there's a point in any race, especially marathons and half marathons, where any incline--whether it's a 'big' hill or not--can cause you to want to throw in the towel, at worst, or to slow off pace to the point where you can't regain your rhythm. You also might be fighting lactic buildup (which literally keeps you from moving any faster), fatigue, heat, or dehydration (though hopefully not that last one!) For me, it's the unknown in these last two miles that had the potential to throw me mentally.
While running on the bike path, I again passed some official-looking fellas and heard one of them say (to the other, not to me, but talking about me), "There goes our first..." and then I lost him. What did he say, I wondered? How could he know I was the first whatever? I can't be the first woman, so what...???
When I looked up and could see the track at the high school, I knew it was almost over. Just before making the last turn up to the track, one of the race volunteers called in my bib number (746) so that the announcer would be able to call out my name as I crossed the finish line. As I ran into the stadium and onto the track, another volunteer repeated my number. I looked across the field to find the finish line--less than one full loop around the track--and spotted another gal in front of me about 40 or 50 feet. As I hit the curve of the track, I kicked it into a slightly higher gear, but didn't have as much as usual, so couldn't catch the gal in front of me. Nevertheless, I crossed the finish line as I heard the announcer say my name across the loudspeakers, a strong ending to my first Estes Park Half Marathon. I was glad to be done! After walking for a while, to keep the blood circulating and avoid it pooling in my legs, I made my way over to the water/Gatorade/Mix1/snacks area. No, I didn't want to eat, but I knew that I needed to get something in the way of carbs and protein in me asap. As I was standing there, I met a fellow runner by the name of Lisa Marshall, who paid me what I consider to be one of the biggest complements I've received. Lisa is a resident of Estes Park, a Boston Marathon finisher, has run the Estes Half race before, and placed in 2010, so when she told me that I "killed those hills!", I was honored! We talked more about the race and the hills, training, and so on, and by the time I'd left Estes for the day, I'd made a new friend in Lisa. By the way, Lisa snagged 2nd in our age division! Congratulations, Lisa!
After the awards ceremony, taking pictures, and watching the female winner of the full marathon finish (in 3:29-something!), I said my goodbyes and headed back home to Denver, where my pup and the first ice soak of the season awaited me.
If you're considering the Estes Park Half Marathon, and are up for a challenging, hilly course, I'd definitely recommend it as one to put on your list. While you don't get a 'free' t-shirt (do we really need another cotton t-shirt?), you do get a medal, and some tasty goodies post-race. The scenery is incredibly beautiful, and the organization is top-notch, from the starting line, through the plentiful aid stations, to all of the very clear course markings. The fact that there's an awards ceremony and some nice swag is also a plus, as is the fact that it's a smaller race, so you could actually meet your competition. Kudos and thank you to Terry Chiplin and Belle Morris, race Co-Directors, as well as the Estes Park Marathon Committee and all of the volunteers for a very nice event today!
So what's my takeaway from today's race?
1. Hill training is worth it, and it can work. (Sidenote here: I have my close friend Marguerite to thank for the fact that I've embraced hills over the past year. After one run at Dino Ridge with her, seeing how she loved hills and ate them up, I've been motivated to embrace hillwork, rather than just 'do' it. Thank you, my friend!)
2. 'Staying within myself' became much more well-defined for me on a personal level.
3. Accurately assessing when to take advantage of a situation versus when I'm pushing too much will help in the future.
4. I may have a patch during a race where I consider DNF-ing. DON'T!!! Keep going!!!
5. Runners are amazing, resilient, determined, encouraging, and friendly people from whom I constantly learn, and I'm proud to be one of them in their community!
Relentless Forward Motion, Ya'll...
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