32/50 - Mickelson Trail Marathon South Dakota (and a Colorado Update)

The Mickelson Trail - a few miles from the finish

This trip included the Mickelson Trail Marathon on June 5th then the Revel Rockies Marathon on June 12th, marking my 9th marathon in as many months. Having been humbled in Oregon last month by just missing my sub-3-hour goal after a long streak of sub-3-hour marathons, I was reminded again in South Dakota that I am not infallible. The key is to take these near misses in stride and remember just how cool it is to experience the country this way.

Once again, I failed to pay much attention to the course map when registering. Like the Bend Marathon, the course elevation would require some acclimation and the terrain is what we midwesterners love to gripe about... Hills. Though when looking for a race in South Dakota, there was no doubt that this was the one to do. Not only is it beloved by the marathon crowd, but this is the Black Hills - a natural beauty that leaves an impression that this land is unadulterated Old West. You can imagine the call of the gold rush, the gun fights, the lawless ways of its past.

The more kids I have, the more complicated my attempts to travel without them become. Before catching a flight to meet The Wife in Denver (only to drive 6 hours to Deadwood, SD the day before the race), I drove 3 kids to Cleveland by myself for about 8 hours. Peeing at rest stops with 3 kids aged 1, 2, and 3 years old attached to you should be listed as an accomplishment as great, if not greater, than running a sub-3-hour marathon.

Sometimes the drive is as exciting as the destination itself, though as noted above, sometimes it's three kids screaming while you try to make it to the next rest stop. Without kids, the drive from Denver to Deadwood is a peaceful experience through barely inhabited lands: Cattle. Horses. A bicycle graveyard. Carefree teenaged girls in an old red convertible. A middle-aged man alone blowing bubbles on the side of the road amidst a mountain backdrop. A Tejano band playing on a tractor trailer flatbed under a shade tree with a dozen people dancing. These are just a few of the surreal sights from this drive.

Pringles, WY - You'll find this and not much else

We made it to packet pick up with 30 minutes to spare. The start of the race (the next morning) is at 5,300ft. I like to think elevation doesn't affect me, but it does. Not in sickness, or dizziness, but in dehydration and in physical performance, if just slightly. Since I teeter on that 3-hour mark, this really heightened the suspense. That's the only thing I had to worry about now that I just booked the last room on Main St. in Deadwood at the Celebrity Hotel (awesome location and hotel, by the way). To the displeasure of my wife, I like to do everything last minute, and look, it worked out! This time.

The Mickelson Trail is a 109-mile rail trail that traverses the heart of the Black Hills through mountainous forests and open prairies, over bridges, through tunnels, and alongside creeks. The race starts at the last quarter of the Trail near an old roadside church right out of Little House on the Prairie and follows the Trail to its end in Deadwood. Holy crap was it cold before the sun rose! I usually don't check a bag so here I am blue-lipped and shivering on the side of a road for an hour and half before the start. The M&Ms were a nice touch though.

What's common about these small races (400 marathoners) is the ability to pick the leaders. This time, they found me - two guys that ran for and just graduated from University of Souix Falls. What we didn't realize was there was one more kid straight out of college that also ran track & cross country. We met him around mile 17 when he passed me and one of the guys then the other to win the race in 3:06:35. The elevation, the heat, the hill, and the trail whittled away at all of our hopes of a sub-3-hour finish. I finished in 3rd place with 3:10:24. Garmin details HERE.

Mickelson Trail Marathon pic - It may have gotten a bit warm

I was last in Deadwood in August 2012 for the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally. It's still two months away, but Deadwood is buzzing with bikers. The city attracted some of the most nefarious outlaws of the 19th century and it boasts about this history at the Adams Museum. Maybe this is the appeal for us bikers. Or maybe it's the meandering roads. Or both. If you've seen the HBO show Deadwood, you have a pretty good idea of what transpired here some 150 years ago: Wild Bill Hickok, Calamity Jane, brothels, gambling, opium, whiskey, murder, and the gold rush.

Me at the 2012 Sturgis Motorcycle Rally trying to look like a biker and not a CPA

Deadwood was illegally settled on land that was granted to the Lakota people in the 1868 Treaty of Laramie. Well, it was granted to them before we discovered gold in them hills. Our government stole back the Black Hills with the Congressional Act of 1877. After the atrocious Battle of Little Bighorn gave way to this Act, things never got better. Reading about the white man's betrayal of the native people of the Black Hills and America will make you sick. But I digress.

So here we are shortly after the race experiencing the Deadwood history via their Passport Program that encourages you to visit many of the town's historical sites including: the mountain side burial sites of many of its famed characters at Mt. Moriah Cemetery, an abandoned gold mine, and the Adams House - the home of one of the town's founding businessmen that had been left unoccupied for 50 years (every detail of the home is impeccably original). We capped the night off with whiskey, of course, at the Franklin Hotel balcony overlooking Main St.

Grave sites of Wild Bill Hickok and Calamity Jane

The next morning, we finished up the Passport after a stop at Pump House - a great coffeehouse deli at the site of an old gas station that also houses a glass blowing studio. We left Deadwood with a wealth of historical knowledge though sadly, all I physically received for my Passport efforts was this small piece of chocolate.

An Old West bamboozling

We spent the next few days exploring the Black Hills: A night in Hill City. A day hike at Custer State Park. Then onto Fort Collins, CO for beer: New Belgium Brewery, Odell's Brewery - both are great spots for a post-run beer or three at 11am on a Wednesday, uh, not that I would know from experience... Breckenridge had Hearthstone Restaurant, a historic-home-turned-luxe-eatery, to enjoy the phenomenal scenery. We rented a boat. I got some great mountain trail runs in. We hung out with a friend from The Wife's law school days.

Then, Denver. We met up with the Libertyville Running Club partaking in and/or seeking revenge on Revel Rockies marathon or half marathon. Our team, aptly named Revenge of the Donut Hoes (when the LRC came out here last year, our team name was The Donut Hoes), did it; we all walked away (or shall I say limped away?) with great races and a 1st place team finish. You know what else we did? Went back to Shoes & Brews and got our names back on the 800m challenge board. It's tradition. I forgot running shoes so I ran it in Chuck Taylors. I'm now reconsidering my goal of running a marathon in them.

Revenge of the Donut Hoes!

I made up for that 5 hour and 46 minute Pikes Peak Marathon I did in CO back in 2010. I now have a 2:54:56 in Colorado. Garmin details HERE. This was the first of a couple states I have to revisit to get that sub-3-hour marathon. Though I no longer have to attempt a CO marathon, it certainly won't be the last time I visit. I'd say the same for South Dakota because I could see myself living there, but first I have some unfinished work to do.

Doing the Stehling in Colorado with Michael Stehling

31/50 - Bend Marathon

Of all places to have to revisit to claim a sub-3-hour marathon in each state, there are worse places than Oregon. So what went wrong? Nothing. But we'll get to the race in a bit.

Last time I was in Oregon some 13 years ago it rained... The whole damn time. My memories include a beautiful coastline, not being allowed to pump my own gas, and hearing about this grade school in Portland that was converted into a hotel / bar / adult playground that I didn't get a chance to visit. It's time to remedy that. But first, beer.

Oregon is the beer capital of the U.S. and if you've been reading this blog you know that it's been about beer and food first and running second. Breakside Brewery in Portland was a good start before heading over to The Kennedy School to check into our "classroom." Imagine that your old grade school was converted into a destination hotel: each room is an old classroom with the original chalkboard still adorning the wall, most of the furniture and photos lining the hallways are from the mid-20th century, the cafeteria has become a brewpub, the boiler room a bar within a labyrinth of pipes, the detention room a whiskey and cigar bar, the honors classroom a smoke-free bar playing only classical music, the auditorium a movie theater, and the teachers' lounge now a beautiful outdoor heated pool.

I always liked grade school.

Tempting as it was to spend Friday afternoon and evening earning extra credit at The Honors Bar, there was much of Portland to explore. The Cascade Brewing Barrel House, the Pacific Northwest's pioneers of sour beer, was a nice patio spot with a good apricot sour beer. I hadn't been off the plane for 3 hours and I was drunk. We alternated beer stops with coffee stops because Oregon also happens to be known for its coffee scene. Oh and look, it's Powell's Books! Originally a Chicago bookstore, this location in Portland takes up an entire city block and claims to be the largest independent book store in the world. The books-I-have-to-read queue just got longer and I think I lost my wife somewhere in this building - if you find her, I'll pay for shipping to send her back home. The Chicago location was her old hang when she was attending University of Chicago, but the Portland store is on a whole new level.

I don't know why I bothered but I felt like I needed to stand in line for donuts at the original Voodoo Doughnut. I love donuts. I do. But these have always been over-the-top, even for me. I did start a running club using their maple bacon donut as our mascot so I figured I had to give it another try. Meh. Soon it was back to The Kennedy School to wash away my disappointment with more beer (and tater tots).

OK, the Raspberry Beret Prince tribute donut was pretty righteous.

The Alberta Arts District of Portland is rad. We grabbed breakfast at Pine State Biscuits before a scenic drive to Bend. Biscuits are the new donuts, mark my words. And unbeknownst to us until we returned to this area on our way out of town, my favorite brewery of this entire trip was hidden behind this storefront.

The drive to Bend can be scenic or really scenic. We chose the really scenic route that takes you along the Columbia River on the U.S.'s first scenic highway - US 30 - offering sweeping views of this majestic river and frequent stops for short hikes and waterfalls. In the town of Hood River you'll leave the river road and travel along the north and east sides of Mt. Hood for arguably one of the prettiest drives in all of Oregon. The road has several wineries, cider houses, and fruit stands making for a leisurely drive into Bend. We stopped at the first cider house we saw, Fox Tail Cider, and enjoyed a game of ladder golf with Mt. Hood looming over an apple orchard in the background.

Columbia River view from The Vista House at Crown Point.

Multnomah Falls. But don't bother hiking to the top. Trust me.

Mt. Hood from near Fox Tail Cider.

Downtown Bend is reminiscent of most ski towns: Main St., quaint shops, and outdoorsy folks. We stayed at the Lara House B&B overlooking Drake Park and Mirror Pond along the Deschutes River in downtown. Yes, this is home to Deschutes Brewery but since we already stopped in the Portland location and I knew they would be at the post-race party, we opted for a pre-race dinner at 10-Barrel Brewing. I can see why Anheuser-Busch bought them; the IPAs and food were incredible!

Race morning - it was unseasonably cool but that made for fine running weather. The field had about 300 marathoners and 1,100 half marathoners. There's always a ringer or two in these small marathons. Here we had Max King, a local who's made a name for himself in the ultra running world. Max has the Ice Age Trail 50-mile race course record, the only ultra I've done, besting my time by almost 2 hours... And I thought I did well there.

The course volunteers routed us the wrong way after 2 miles (luckily Max got us back on track). I began to realize the altitude and hills might make a sub-3-hour race difficult. Or maybe it's because I didn't have a coffee this morning. Or maybe it's because The Wife tagged along for this one. Or because she made me hike to the top of Multnomah Falls the day before. After reaching the highest point on the course at mile 15, I thought I could make up for it on the downhill but there just wasn't enough of it and I took a pretty nice fall on a trail section. Ouch! I managed 4th place in 3:02:52. I'll let you review the Garmin data here. In any case, the mixture of trail and road course made for a beautiful tour of Bend and I'm glad I did the race.

Crux Fermentation Project (or brewery in unscientific beer-nerd speak) made for a great way to reclaim those 3,000+ calories I left on the course. They had a few great beers, though not as many sours as we were expecting, and a really solid grilled cheese. Then more coffee, then more beer... A couple of locals (at a coffee shop) recommended Spork for dinner. This will go down as one of the better meals we've had in a long time (The Wife says Top 5 ever). These globally-inspired (Latin America, Africa, Asia) dishes once peddled from an Airstream trailer are worthy of your attention and deserving of the numerous accolades they've amassed. Plus, we got three entrees for $34. I couldn't eat or drink another thing. Ok, maybe some Marionberry ice cream. Goodnight.

We drove to Sisters, OR on Monday morning for coffee after our morning coffee on our way to another brewery (before getting coffee). You starting to see a pattern here? At Sisters Coffee Company, I was mistaken for Ben Ryan, the Fiji Rugby team's head coach. I get it; all of us redhead coaches look alike. We drove to Mt. Hood for another short hike; the hike to Mirror Lake was worth the 3-mile wet and snowy trek through the dense Douglas fir forest.

Me? Or Ben Ryan?

The Wife walks the plank at Mirror Lake.

With a red-eye flight we had time for more food and beer in Portland. We ventured back to the Alberta Arts District for great Indian food at Bollywood Theater then stumbled on that hidden brewery I mentioned earlier. Great Notion Brewery is a small brewpub but the 4 beers they had on tap were spectacular! Juice Box - a cloudy DIPA that looked like a mimosa - was the stand out; this tasted like a hoppy peach and mango juice box. Root Beard is their take on a root beer flavored beer that's actually done right (I usually dislike this style because they taste like cough syrup). Then we had one more stop we had to make: Salt & Straw for ice cream. Their strange combinations of flavors may not sound all that appealing, but I assure you that the Pear & Bleu Cheese flavor is divine.

I'll be back for you Oregon, you beer-loving, trucker-hat-wearing, coffee-drinking son-of-a-bitch!

Me? Or Ben Ryan?

30/50 - A2A Race for Mercy Marathon

Sometimes, I just Get Lucky.

Oklahoma. In grad school, I spent about 3 months road tripping the United States making it to every contiguous state EXCEPT Oklahoma (for no reason other than that there had to be one state I avoided). I succeeded in that mission but with this 50-state marathon goal, it was just a matter of time before I would have to set foot here.

I was really looking forward to this trip... Until I wasn't. After running the Mississippi River Marathon last month into a brutal headwind - and reading the reviews for this race noting how I should expect the same - I was dreading it. I had originally planned to run the Oklahoma City Marathon, where my friend Jaron (from the Libertyville Running Club) had recently moved. 

When I travel alone, I prefer to not book anything and just be spontaneous. This is where the Get Lucky part comes into play. My Friday flight to Dallas got cancelled so I took the meal, hotel, and $500 flight voucher (bonus!) to be on the Saturday morning flight WITH a business class upgrade. This meant I didn't have time to drive down to Austin for SXSW but since I still hadn't booked a Friday night hotel, I didn't lose anything. While in the airport Friday, I discovered that Howie and Anne (more friends from the LRC) were in Dallas. I met up with them and spent Saturday afternoon dumbfounded at how it's not just Chicago that spends all week wearing green, drinking Miller Lite on the streets, and acting like drunken juniors in college for St. Patrick's Day. 

Truckyard's St. Patrick's Day - not very Texas

Truck Yard - an outdoor adult playground with beer, food trucks, live music, an old Airstream trailer fashioned into a bar, nostalgic junk strewn about, and a tree house(!) - would probably have been a really cool spot had it not been for the obnoxious celebration taking place. From there, we found the coolest area of Dallas. Deep Ellum District is the Austin enclave. We enjoyed some patio beers on a beautifully sunny afternoon with decidedly less St. Patrick's Day revelers at Deep Ellum Brewing Co.

Hanging with LRC friends - Anne and Howie Kaske

The marathon is located 100 miles north of Dallas in Ardmore, OK. It's a small town in an area that is predominantly horse and cattle ranches. I arrived Saturday night and read my book until I fell asleep. The book - an account of one's battle with cancer - was written by my neighbor who recently died of Melanoma cancer at 33 years old (leaving behind a wife and 3 young children). It had me realizing again this weekend just how lucky I am. I now really missed my kids. 

The race is a point-to-point race that begins at the Turner Falls Overlook (a beautiful vantage point of the waterfalls down into a gorge) in the Arbuckles Mountains. I know, mountains in Oklahoma?! The bus arrived at the start with just a few minutes to hand off my drop bag and go. 

Turner Falls

The race is small with 120 marathoners, 350 half marathoners, and 500 20-milers and 5k participants together at various points along the course. That being said, the leaders of the marathon took off with me in 3rd place and alone by mile 2. I went into this race thinking I had a chance to win but this was discouraging. I was wearing my lucky pink shorts from the Hawaii marathon I won last year (coincidentally taking place later this morning) and the gloves I got from the Arkansas marathon I won this past December. Sounds like a ritual, right? Actually, I didn't realize I wore those gloves until I was 2 miles into the race and thought, "great, now I'm going to sully the good luck these two winning items have brought me!"

It sounds insignificant next to a battle with cancer, but after reading that book about how much my neighbor persevered, I just told myself not to give up on this race. The course was a medley of both the Boston and NYC marathons - some good downhill in the beginning, rolling hills in the middle, then a hilly last 6 miles like Central Park is to the NYC marathon. I just let the front runners go in hopes that they would fade later. 

Around mile 2 I heard a couple yell, "go Mike!" so I smiled and waved at the support. I then realized my name is not on my bib. Holy shit, that's Jaron and Agnus! Jaron is the old LRC transplant I mentioned earlier. They live in Oklahoma City, about 2 hours north of this race. They left their house at 5:30am to surprise me and cheer me on! I got chills thinking about how cool it was to have friends go out of their way to come see me and just what the LRC has done for me and others. I saw them throughout the course and each time I got a boost to keep chipping away at the leaders. 

That headwind I was so worried about was nonexistent this year. It was sunny and 40 degrees. There are two out-and-back jaunts off the point-to-point course where I could gauge just how far ahead the leaders were - 3 minutes, then 2 minutes at mile 9. This jaunt took us through a private ranch which offered a beautiful glimpse into ranching life in Oklahoma; certainly a highlight of the course. The last out-and-back is at mile 20. I was able to see the competition again and noted that the 2nd place guy just passed the 1st place guy. By mile 23, I was in 2nd place and after noticing that 1st place was starting to fade, I made a push to catch him at mile 24. He didn't put up a fight; the race was mine. Those pink shorts are 2 for 2! 

This felt like another Hawaii Marathon moment in which I had little hope of winning for most of the race until the very end. I can't put that feeling of elation into words; it's incredible! In addition to winning the race, I actually felt like I ran a good race. I finished in 2:49:12 (Garmin details here), my 3rd fastest marathon out of 44 total. I had to smile at, and indulge in, the table of cinnamon rolls at the finish. I hunted down cinnamon rolls after the Arkansas marathon win 3 months ago. I reunited with Jaron and Agnus over lunch after discovering how difficult it is to go out on a Sunday given that everything is closed. Also, you sure aren't getting alcohol. 

In another Get Lucky occurrence this weekend, my drive back to Dallas had 3 major accidents that shut down the interstate in the opposite direction. Just when I thought that was odd, I noticed flashing lights for a 4th ahead in my lanes just beyond where navigation told me to exit. Whew! I went back to Dallas' Deep Ellum district to celebrate with beers at Brain Dead Brewing with hopes of getting into the incredibly crowded Pecan Lodge (an acclaimed BBQ/beer joint across the street) only to find that it closes early on Sundays. Instead, I stumbled into a great resale shop called Lula B's that houses a fascinating inventory of everything vintage Texas. 

Lula B's - Oh the Texas kitsch in this place

With some time to spare before my evening flight, I made it to the 6th Floor Museum. If you're at all fascinated with presidential history, this is an absolute must! The museum is located in what was the Texas School Book Depository from which Lee Harvey Oswald assassinated John F. Kennedy. Standing in the very location the shots were fired and looking down on the street to where the motorcade would have been some 50 years ago was absolutely chilling. This also happens to be my favorite era in American history and the audio tour of that time period is very interesting. 

Note the open window, from which Oswald shot, circled in pink

All-in-all, this was a great weekend and a really well done small race that gives you that local feel I really search for on this 50-state marathon quest. I made it into their local paper. You can read that here. Next up, Bend, OR at the end of April! I'm really looking forward to this one, getting back to Portland, and meeting up with some more LRC folks that are out there. 

Winning gloves, winning shorts, winning mustache

29/50 - Mississippi River Marathon

Clarksdale, MS and my weekend disposition 

Here I am driving alone through the Mississippi Delta, home of the blues, and I can't help from feeling blue myself. Maybe it's the weather - sunny, but unseasonably cold this weekend. Maybe it's the bleak, dilapidated surroundings, for the Delta never returned to its cotton-rich prosperity after the 1950s. Maybe it's the book I was reading on the flight - Wally Lamb's I Know This Much Is True - a complicated story of human nature, relationships, and mental health. I had a stressful and depressing week and this was only magnifying those feelings. As we runners know, your mental fitness plays as much a part of your success in a marathon as your physical fitness. At the moment, that sub-3-hour finish in Mississippi wasn't looking good.

After flying into Memphis and driving 2.5 hours to Greenville, MS, I arrived Friday evening in time for the packet pickup. This area is a hotbed for hot tamales and as it turns out, has a fascinating history with tamales that dates back to the Civil War, or even 100-years earlier to the U.S.-Mexican War. These tamales are smaller, grittier, and boiled (rather than steamed) or sometimes deep fried, in contrast with their Latin counterparts. Naturally, I did as the locals would and grabbed a hot tamale pie from Hot Tamale Heaven for dinner as a pre-race meal and settled into the hotel for a few hours of the Investigation Discovery channel - the only thing I miss about not having cable. Oh, and I found a Shipley Donuts down the street, so...

Delicious

The race is on the small side: 250 marathoners and about 700 half marathoners. It's point-to-point so I was on a bus at 6am for an 8am start. This style of race is a stark reminder of just how far 26.2 miles is! The weekend's cold front was at its worst this morning (mid-20Fs with a high of 39F for the day) and the winds were looking to pose a problem. This course started in Arkansas, crossed the Mississippi River, and finished in Mississippi - an all eastward bearing into a 14-20 mph headwind. Great. At least there were bonfires at the start and the sunrise was stunning.

The first 3 miles consisted of 5 of us tightly packed together in front. We all knew we had to work together to shield ourselves from that wind. The eventual winner surged, one fell off and three of us agreed to work together until the bridge at mile 13. At this point, only Rob - a Greenville resident who has run this race every year since its inception 4 years ago - and myself were left. Without a verbal agreement, he and I alternated every 1/2 mile (almost exactly!) blocking that wind for each other. This teamwork continued through mile 20 where the course turns into a neighborhood and the winds were no longer as bad. I can't tell you how thankful I was for that agreement. It kept my mind on the task at hand rather than wandering into the previously mentioned dark space I was in.

At this point I knew I could slow the pace and coast into a sub-3-hour finish, there was no point keeping up with Rob. I thanked him and we parted ways. Though there were aid stations every mile, crowd support was sparse until now. This race is really well-managed and the townsfolk are supportive. Marathoners merged with half marathoners around this point and together we traversed an area of Greenville I can only imagine was once the home to wealthy cotton plantation owners for it was the only sign of prosperity I saw this entire weekend.

Mile 15 - down the bridge over the Mississippi River

2:56:07, 3rd place overall, and my 24th sub-3-hour finish state. Oh, and what was waiting for me at the finish line? Hot tamales and Shipley Donuts! My stay in Greenville had come full-circle. Though this was technically my 29th state, I mentioned in previous posts that I've amended my goal to complete each state in under 3 hours and I will need to redo 5 states to make that happen. It's shaping up to be a big year; this has been my 5th marathon in as many months and that monthly plan continues for much of 2016.

Without much to do in Greenville, I made the pilgrimage back to Memphis for the remainder of the weekend, but not without stopping in Clarksdale, MS where the famed Devil's Crossroads is located. It is said this is where bluesman Robert Johnson sold his soul to the devil for success and later died at the age of 27. The town is a shell of its former self but still is home to the first blues museum and the occasional juke joint.

Juke Joint in Clarksdale, MS

I was in Memphis a year ago for the marathon and hit the usual spots. This time, I went for what I missed during past visits: Gus' Fried Chicken, the Sun Studio tour, Central BBQ, Arcade Restaurant (the oldest diner in Memphis), and the Crystal Shrine Grotto. I've always had a fascination with religious art though as far I can remember, I've been an atheist. The Crystal Grotto is a crystal cave designed by an artist in the 1930s depicting religious artwork. That someone has such a devotion to a belief that they spend their entire lives, their talents, creating something so amazingly beautiful is pretty incredible.

A panoramic photo of inside the Crystal Shrine Grotto

Of course, I do love searching out the breweries on these trips. I spent Saturday evening drinking at High Cotton Brewing Co. - one of few breweries in Memphis and certainly worth the visit. As I'm making my way through their line up, a group of men and women in red dresses stumbles in causing a jovial commotion. The Hash House Harriers - a drinking club with a running problem. My kind of people.

High Cotton Brewing Co. gets right to the point

After I founded the Libertyville Running Club on the principles of having fun, drinking, eating, and occasionally running, I discovered this concept started in the 1930s with The Hash House Harriers. Now approximately 1,800 hashes (chapters) worldwide, this social running club thrives. I spent hours with these folks, getting versed on the history, the practices, and organizational-style. And the more I spoke with them, the more I realized how cultish the organization is: newbie hazings involving displays of nudity, pledging in with a ritual involving members standing around the pledge and asking questions of their sexual history to determine their Hash Name, etc... I was left with the realization that the LRC is exactly what I wanted it to be: fun, social, and not at all like a fraternity.

28/50 - Charleston Marathon

Here we are in the dead of a Chicago winter and though it's been more tolerable than previous years, last week brought us our first blast of zero-degree cold. The timing was just right for this weekend's trip to Charleston that our friends, the Grecos, proposed some months back. Three days of culinary delights, good company, Civil War-era history, a blind sub-3-hour marathon, and a beer experience that renewed my faith in an often pompous craft beer scene.

Arriving early Thursday morning, we hit the ground running to the nearest biscuit shop, Callie's Biscuits, for the hottest little biscuits in town. Donuts, you have a worthy adversary in this wonderful amalgamation of flour, butter, cream cheese, and buttermilk leavened with a variety of sweet and savory ingredients. These biscuits are righteous!

Callie's Biscuits in all their righteousness

Few places exemplify prestigious Southern architecture better than the old Charleston neighborhood south of Broad Street. After our biscuits, we set out for a stroll around the streets of Rainbow Row and down Murray Boulevard along Charleston's waterfront. Here you'll find a collection of 18th-century Georgian town homes in a splendor of pastel colors and towering waterfront mansions with grandiose front porches that face Fort Sumter - the site of the beginning of the Civil War.

A sample of homes along Rainbow Row

What old money along Murray Boulevard looks like

After checking into the Jasmine House Inn B&B, we ventured off the peninsula of Charleston and over to Sullivan's Island for dinner at The Obstinate Daughter. The rustic and salvaged decor of the restaurant was a warm and inviting introduction to what will probably stand out as our best meal of the trip - an eclectic selection of New American fare including a pork belly appetizer, beet salad, grilled octopus, trigger fish, red and green tomato pizza, sausage and tomato sauce pasta, and an apple cinnamon bread pudding dessert (neither of the Grecos wanted to even try the bread pudding, thankfully. More for us).

Bill and I got a 2.92-mile run in (because 2016 is the year of not rounding my runs up to whole numbers) Friday morning before the rain came. Then, from the massive second floor porch of the B&B, we sat and watched as the rain flooded the streets before embarking on a trip to the expo, where Bill took the leap and purchased a pair of pink women's shorts. If you read my post about the Hawaii marathon last year, you'll know that only good things happen from a move like that. Another food recommendation led us to Poogan's Porch - recognized as one of the most haunted places in the world - for a pre-race dinner of pan roasted duck breast. Because why not?

When is the last time you ran a race without a watch? I don't mean without GPS; I mean no watch at all. As a pace leader for Chicago, Green Bay, and Quad Cities marathons, I got a kick out of the frightened looks of the runners I was pacing when they realized I was only wearing a stopwatch. Until two years ago, that's all I used. But I don't think I've ever run a marathon without a watch at all... Until this weekend.

Race mornings become more and more relaxed as I progress through this 50-state-marathon goal. I rolled out of bed, had a couple coffees, grabbed some mixed fruit, and took a bite of plain white bread. It would be a beautiful day, sunny and in the 60s. I didn't realize until we arrived at the start line that I left my Garmin on the bathroom counter. Bill and Heidi generously offered their Garmins knowing that I have this sub-3-hour goal but it just didn't bother me. I treated this as a test of what my body, as opposed to my watch, deems comfortable. My only indicators of time were The Wife yelling it to me at two different points along the course and the occasional mile marker using an audible (but not visual) timing system, something I've never experienced before and which made me feel like I was stuck on the Lost island. And though I went out a bit fast, I ultimately met my goal with a total time of 2:55:46 and 14th/1,235 overall.

Bill, Heidi, and me - Heidi didn't get the pink shorts memo

After the post-race beer, shrimp and grits (a meal you cannot avoid in this town), and boiled peanuts, we reconvened at a rooftop bar with another fun couple who are friends with the Grecos, then transferred to 5Church - a new restaurant operating in a really cool old church with the entire Art of War treatise scrolled on its imposingly high ceiling. Great brunch, company, and drinks again before The Wife and I drove to Edmund's Oast with the intent to purchase a few growlers to bring to dinner (oops, they don't sell them). We had heard about their "unforgettable" Peanut Butter & Jelly beer, but we were extremely skeptical that it was a play for attention. Instead, it was everything everyone said it was. Nostalgia meets adult in this very drinkable brown ale. In the overambitious world of beer that's being barrel-aged in this, that, or the other, the PB&J brown ale is refreshingly simple and memorable. If only we had time to eat here; this is surely another great restaurant.

Take me to 5Church!

A PB&J like you've never seen or tasted

We spent our last night in Charleston visiting with The Wife's friends from law school and their four children who recently moved there from Anchorage, AK. Fun kids, good beer, pizza, and conversation; her husband and I reminisced about our former rockstar lives as Chicago musicians in what seems like a lifetime ago... A life before we had kids and before I had this 50-state-marathon goal. Another one in the books, and some memories to last a lifetime.

27/50 - 3 Bridges Marathon

As satisfied and as exhausted as I claimed to be in the previous Las Vegas post, I just had to add one more marathon this year. Seeing this 50 state sub-3-hour marathon goal taking more time than I have patience for and fearing what age will do to my ability to continue to run sub-3-hour marathons, I negotiated to start running some of these states without the company of The Wife. With three small children, these trips have become logistically more difficult to arrange.

So with two weeks before the 3 Bridges Marathon in Little Rock, AR, I registered. There were a few reasons I chose Arkansas, one of them having to do with the recent untimely death of our beloved dog, Dixie. Dixie, who loved to join me for runs, was born in and rescued from a farm in Arkansas. I was going to bring her back to her birthplace for one last run with me. The morning I left home, I collected Dixie's cremated remains - a small dusting of which I scattered under the sock liner of each shoe I was wearing for the race. I needed a good cathartic experience and ultimately I got that and more.

Dixie bringing my running shoes to her bed one last time.

Little Rock could not have been easier to navigate. It's a cool midsize city that is separated from North Little Rock, an up-and-coming area, by the Arkansas River. Lucky for me, craft beer has been making a splash in these cities and lucky for those cities, I like craft beer. After arriving the evening before the race, I went down the street from my hotel and bellied up to the bar at Lost Forty Brewery. Of all the breweries I ended up at this weekend, my two visits here were no accident: this place has great food and beer. My pre-race rituals are pretty minimal and I don't really have a specific must-eat food item. Here, I settled on a fantastic spicy shrimp gumbo and a few coffee stouts. I can almost hear your collective groans from the thought of what that outcome might yield. 

Pre-race dinner of champions... Or iron stomachs.

I hadn't gotten anything for breakfast the night before which provided a bit of a scare in the morning. On the drive over to the race, I couldn't find a gas station open to grab breakfast. With 30 minutes until race start, I stumbled upon one, grabbed a ham and cheese sandwich, and literally finished it 5 minutes before the start. If there was a race plan going into this, I certainly wasn't adhering to it.

I like these style of marathons. The field was about 400 runners, all full marathon distance. Little Rock has a great running community, evident by all the support along the course and the vast trail system we ran on along and around the Arkansas River. The race gets its name from the three bridges the course crosses over, two times each. On a mostly flat course, these 6 bridge crossings added just enough variation to keep things interesting. 

From the start, there were three of us in the lead: Me, a guy from Chicago, and the guy wearing bib #1, who turned out to be a local running hero as evidenced by all the cheers for him along the route. After 13 miles, our Chicago friend fell off while Mark (the local runner) and I continued along, chatting away as if this were a training run among friends. I came to find out that we both recently set PRs; his being 4 minutes faster than mine. My only strategy was to keep him talking, thinking that would wear him out early. He had speed but I had experience! I assumed this was going to be his race, but I was also there to do something special in memory of Dixie and if the opportunity presented itself, I wouldn't mind winning the race. 

At mile 17.5, just as we crested the Big Dam Bridge, I pulled away. As I ran past the start/finish line at mile 19.5, the announcer was a bit confused that Mark wasn't in the lead anymore. In fact, he referred to me at that point as Mark and I could hear him refer to Mark as Mike Brunette moments later. Soon, he fumbled through an amendment to his mistake which I could hear as I crossed the next pedestrian bridge. Looking back, Mark was no longer giving chase. These next 7 miles were going to be the catharsis I needed.

I imagined her running along side me one last time. Pulling me as she usually did when I needed it. Letting her off the leash to zig zag in front of me; chasing whatever animal caught her attention. I began to realize just how cool it was going to be that I was about to win this marathon with her when a wave of emotion swept over me and I began to cry. Then I took a wrong turn that cost me about 20 seconds. The course wasn't very clearly marked and there was no lead bike. 

As I came across the last bridge and into the finish line I was again robbed of breaking the winner's tape, since there was none. For my efforts, I was given what looks like a really big belt buckle commemorating my win with a time of 2:53:02 for what I'm referring to as marathon #forty-won. The guy from Chicago, the next finisher, was 5 minutes behind me. 

This award is the size of a dinner plate.

My celebration would continue throughout the weekend with a visit to every brewery I could find starting back at Lost Forty then onto Diamond Bear to Stone's Throw to Fly Way to Vino's. If you find yourself here on a Sunday, remember this is the heart of the Bible Belt - there are not a lot of stores open on Sunday; thankfully, the breweries do not follow suit. Bill Clinton's legacy permeates Arkansas; I spent some time exploring his presidential library. All the while, there was a familiar and beautiful feeling; she was with me. I held her close to me this weekend and I'm thankful for the opportunity. I enjoyed one last beer out on a quiet road sitting on top of a deserted railcar just outside of the airport.

I had a great year of running: 6 marathons under 3 hours (HI - 2:53, MO - 2:53, NE - 2:54, IL - 2:48, NV - 2:59, AR - 2:53) and finished my first 50-mile race in 9th place. I have less than 100 miles to run to reach 3,000 miles this year. I finished 2015 the way I started it back in Hawaii: winning! 

Award ceremony for that-guy-that's-not-the-guy-they-were-expecting.

26/50 - Rock n' Roll Las Vegas Marathon

 I should probably just leave this blog entry blank as tribute to the old saying, "what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas" but I've actually missed writing these entries. After my Nebraska marathon in May, I returned to Colorado to claim a sub-3-hour marathon (my previous CO marathon was Pikes Peak Marathon - a race offering no chance of completion in under 3 hours) at the Revel Rockies Marathon only to be thwarted by the lack of busses to deliver many runners to the start line at the top of the mountain. Then, I ran the Chicago Marathon again and although I narrowly missed my PR by less than a minute and had one of my most evenly paced races to date (my first half was only 2 seconds faster than my second half), I've already accomplished and written about a sub-3-hour marathon in IL.

I was looking forward to this trip for several reasons, none of which had anything to do with the Strip - now a close resemblance of the Mall of America. For one, this was another Libertyville Running Club trip - the 3rd and final trip of 2015. All of my marathons in this states quest are becoming LRC trips. I was also looking forward to getting out of Las Vegas as soon as I landed. The Wife and I rented a couple of Harleys Friday morning and rode a 160-mile loop to the Valley of Fire State Park and around the Lake Mead National Recreation Area. To this day, we have not had a better ride. The weather was beautiful, the surrounding scenery and hikes were surreal, the roads were ours alone, and the ride into the setting sun, a purple and yellow hue behind the mountain range as we rode back into town to grab dinner at In-N-Out Burger was stunning.

Road through Valley of Fire State Park

Sunset Overlook at Lake Mead National Recreation Area

This was my 40th overall marathon and 26th state. I called it my Over the Hill Marathon for that reason. The Rock n' Roll Las Vegas Marathon is unique in that it starts at sunset, 4:30pm, and runs the length of the Strip, venturing to the north side of the city, around an airport and back down the Strip, finishing outside of the Caesars Palace Hotel. Just as you question the need for a headlamp, you quickly realize that Las Vegas is visible from space as one of the most illuminated areas on planet Earth. Even at its northern point, the course is well-lit by this luminescence, area street lights, and portable stage lights and spotlights strategically placed by the race organizers along the course. I went into this race hearing about how much of an afterthought the marathon course was and just how desolate it gets. I was rather impressed with the extent to which the course had ample music (albeit mostly trance and club and not as much rock n' roll as you might expect by the group that hosts the race) and lighting in just the right areas. This, even though the ratio of marathoner to half marathoner was about 1:10.

Flat and cool desert race... What could go wrong? The wind. That howling wind storm that rolled in just about the time the race started proved to be a hindrance for the runners and the aid stations. With wind gusting up to 50 miles per hour and sustained winds of 20 mph, runners had to readjust expectations. I went into this planning to just skirt by under 3 hours. I hadn't put many miles in since Chicago due to all the planning and execution of the Run of the Dead Elimination Run, my first stab at race directing my own race. Also, I'm exhausted from a pretty good year of 5 sub-3-hour marathons (winning one of them), my first 50-mile ultra, and a lot of miles in between. I'm approaching 3,000 miles for the year; that's just stupid for me.

You can imagine my surprise at mile 21 when I entered that sustained headwind and slowly thereafter realized the time I had banked was being whittled away at by those winds. As I ran through an aid station, the wind picked up a table with water glasses stacked 3 high and flipped it. Cups were circling everywhere along the course. As I remerged with the half marathoners at mile 24, I was jealous that they could huddle among their masses while I was running solo down my chute with no one to block the wind for me. The final 10k of this marathon was a very different struggle than usual. I wasn't spent at this point. I felt fresh but just couldn't move with that wind holding me back. As the finish clock came into view, I had to smile at the 2:59 time; that was close.

Most of the LRC at brunch the day before the race at Mon Ami Gabi