The Results

Between Mile 16 and 17

Race Day

Predawn, my brother dropped me off outside a hotel in Downtown Denver a few blocks from the starting line. He wished me luck and I hopped out to meet my team in the lobby. Our group of purple-clad runners and walkers filled most of the space while clumps of other runners moved restlessly through the atrium with anxiety and excitement before the start of the race. One of our Team Heroes, Kelli, who had been diagnosed last year with lymphoma and would be running the marathon today, stood and thanked everyone for their commitment to the cause. We walked through the cool morning the few blocks to the starting area. Twenty minutes from the race start, I shed my warm-up clothes and put them in my gear check bag so I could recover them after the run. Thankfully, the weather was comfortable (about 50 degrees) instead of the 17-degree temperatures and blowing snow that Denver experienced just one week ago.

I joined about 10,000 others in the chute before the starting line. As the sun came up and a news helicopter buzzed in circles above the crowd, The Star Spangled Banner played over the loudspeakers. An announcer counted down to the start and the mass of humanity surged down Broadway. A few blocks that led to a sweeping right turn started the course and thinned out the beginning crowd. The early route had many twists and turns, passing by Union Station, Coors field, and the shops and restaurants of the revitalized warehouse district of Lower Downtown. My goal early in the race was to avoid going out too quickly and using up all my energy before the end of the race. I’d need to average 7:15 minutes each mile to meet my goal and my plan was to run the first half of the race at 7:30 pace. I found this steady pace and felt strong and comfortable. I waved to a few family and friends that had come to cheer me on. The first big hill of the course came underfoot and I climbed it confidently along with a half-marathoner named Adam that I’d met on the course. He said he himself was a cancer survivor and was happy to learn about our group. At 5.5 miles I passed one of the Team In Training Cheer Stations and the spectators there went crazy. I laughed out loud thinking that some of them might be working harder than me! A couple coaches ran along with me for a bit to check in.

The race entered City Park and I still felt good. I passed the first relay station; one of the racing options today was to run as a team of four, each team member running one leg of the race. I grabbed a cup of Gatorade at one of the hydration tables set up every couple miles along the route. My belly started feeling full so I determined to drink  less at later stations. The course entered Cheesman Park and followed an uphill before exiting the park and connecting to 17th Street. The half-marathoners cut off of the full-marathon course here to run their final mile to the finish. Don’t think I didn’t consider following them. I passed the Half Marathon mark at 1 hour, 39 minutes and 30 seconds, which was just as I planned.

Coach Greg Giving Support

Here, the course followed a long out- and-back on 17th Street with a gentle incline for a couple miles. I could see some of the top runners heading back while I was heading out. Making the turn at the end of 17th brought me back on a steady downgrade. Coach Rick joined me for a moment and suggested that I use this segment to recover some energy. The last significant uphill brought me to mile 17 and Washington Park. Keeping an eye on my watch, I knew I needed to drop my times to around 7 minutes per mile to stay on target to qualify for the Boston Marathon. Family and friends had relocated here and cheered me along again. Somewhere between mile 17 and 18 my legs started to ache. At the faster pace, I’d pushed myself to a place where the waste products of my exertion could not be removed as quickly as they were being produced and they began to build up in my muscles. My lungs felt great. My legs felt anything but. Coach Greg appeared again at mile 20 and I told him about what I was feeling. He said that this kind of thing happens, but that runners sometimes push through it to recover. I hoped that would be the case for me. My times were slipping though. I figured if I came through Mile 20 at 2 hours and 25 minutes, I had a shot at Boston. I came through at 2 hours and 31 minutes. If things kept up this way, my time goal would not be met. At mile 21 I left the park for what I considered the last segment of the course. My legs kept aching and I kept trying to get them to go faster, but they just couldn’t give me more. Other runners started to pass me at astounding speeds, or what felt like astounding speeds. Coach (and cancer survivor) Andy rode along with me on a bike for a mile or so and kept me positive about how I was doing. I ran the last couple miles alone. About one mile from the finish a runner in front of me pulled up short, clutching his hamstring and limped to the side of the road. I briefly wondered if the same would be ahead for me. When I passed through the Santa Fe Arts District and turned onto 13th street though I suddenly felt stronger knowing that I would be at the finish line soon. I passed cheering family one more time and then went into the final hairpin turn to the finish. This last turn revealed the finish line- suddenly very close. I dug for a little more strength and kicked for the final 100 yards to the end. 3 hours 23 minutes and 53 seconds. The announcer called my name over the public address system and asked  for a big cheer from the crowd for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.

Someone handed me a bottle of water. Another hung a medal around my neck. Coach Tony met me at the back of the chute and we talked about my race. I was disappointed to not meet my qualifying time but in the context of why I decided to run the race, my finishing time was secondary. I continued through the post-race chutes, where Ronald McDonald of all people handed me some sliced apples, and other food and energy drinks were dropped into a bag for me. I plodded over on wobbly legs to the Team In Training booth to make sure the staff knew I’d survived my race and to see how my teammates fared during theirs. As the next few hours passed, other Team In Training athletes returned to the booth on bruised and blistered feet, with weary muscles and aching joints. Some dipped their feet in the ice  pool. Others laid around in the shade. All of us felt great about what we’d accomplished and why we’d accomplished it.

Thanks for following my journey over these last few months. I wish I could have told you that I’d completed my goal of qualifying for The Boston Marathon. Nonetheless, the season was a great success. As of this writing, I have $6,240 in my fundraising account! This is far beyond what I thought I’d raise and represents meaningful progress in the fight against blood cancer. You are still welcome to contribute if you’d like to by following this link. At many times throughout the race I thought about my Dad. I thought about the others I’ve met that have lost someone to a blood cancer or have family that are living with a blood cancer. I also thought about the many of you that have supported me by visiting my blog, donating to my fundraising efforts, or both. Especially in those final miles when my legs ached and no one was there to cheer for me, the thoughts of everyone who has offered support and appreciation for my commitment kept me strong. It has been an honor to be a part of a special group doing important work, and to share a glimpse of that with you. The season is over, but the effort to end blood cancer continues. I hope that you will keep supporting this cause. Perhaps you’ve been inspired to join your local Team In Training group (http://www.teamintraining.org/) and prepare for your own athletic event, be it a bike ride, triathlon, hike, or marathon. Perhaps you’ll look for other Society events that further the mission (http://lls.org/hm_lls). Perhaps I’ll undertake another challenge someday and you’ll support me again. After all, I still need to qualify for Boston…

Thank you again!

David

The Countdown

And Add Up

I’ve just learned that donors have contributed $6,000 dollars in memory of my dad, Paul, to further the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society’s mission to end blood cancer. This amount is extraordinarily generous and a real tribute to the cause. This total is the highest raised by any Denver Marathon team member this season and triple the minimum required to run with the team! I’m indebted to those who found ways to contribute despite the personal and financial challenges that many are dealing with, and can only offer my sincerest thanks for your benevolence. All told, the Denver Marathon runners and walkers have amassed $168,000! This will be pooled with thousands of other athletes around the country that have made the commitment to the team. If there is anyone that would still like to contribute, please feel welcome to do so by clicking here.

My training has essentially concluded; these last few weeks I’ve been tapering: running fewer miles and minutes to restore muscles and promote generally good health in the few days before the race. I think I’ve prepared soundly and with great intention and expect to accomplish my personal goal of qualifying for the Boston Marathon by completing the race in under 3 hours 10 minutes and 59 seconds. But the marathon is a long race and anything can happen. Despite all of the preparation- the hundreds of miles, and the thousands of minutes,  race day stands apart. I’ll need to average 7 minutes and 15 seconds over the 26.2 miles to meet my goal and this will be difficult. My mom, aunt, and brother, Thomas, will be along the course to cheer for me, 60 other teammates will don purple shirts to try to meet their goals on the course, and a handful of coaches and staff from Team In Training will be along the route to help with anything that might come up. I know when this race becomes especially hard for me, I’ll also think  of the many of you that have visited my blog, shared words of support, and contributed to my personal campaign. It will be hard for me to think I can’t do it.

The starting gun will fire at 7 AM this Sunday morning in the golden shadow of the Colorado State Capitol dome and at least 12,000 runners from around the world will wind through the wide streets of Lower Downtown Denver and the imposing architecture of the Central Business District. They’ll pass historic Union Station and the now-quiet diamond at Coors Field. They’ll link City Park, Cheesman Park and Washington Park with steady footsteps and determined will. 26.2 miles later they’ll finish right back where they started. They’ll all be out there for their own reasons, great and humble, and I’ll be out there for mine. And in that way, you’ll be there too. I look forward to telling you all about it.

For some additional inspiration, here I have a link to a couple news stories highlighting some of my teammates. Once at the local news website, type “leukemia” and “mararthon” in the search bar.

Cold Morning

Winter Snow On The Highline

Wintery run

Our last Saturday Group run. The morning broke with blowing snow and below freezing temperatures: 17 degrees! (The date is October 10th) The roads across town were treacherous and an overpass on the interstate was blocked by a jackknifed tractor trailer. I would later hear on the news that the county was receiving over thirty calls for accidents each hour throughout the morning. Ten teammates (including two coaches) braved the discouraging conditions and met for the last weekend run along the Highline Canal trail. I started off with Coach Greg and we discussed some tips for the race, now only a week and a day in the future. After a short time, I caught up with Dr. Tom, another teammate and father of my team hero, Alison. You can read more about his reasons for running on my blog post from a few weeks back here. We ran together, but Tom had left the start before me so he turned around, leaving me with some time on the trail alone. It is rare to be alone on the Highline Canal Trail on a weekend morning, but the weather of the day kept most Denverites at home, under an extra down blanket with a steaming cup of coffee instead of out on the trail with an extra pair of wool socks and earmuffs. Winter is one of my favorite seasons to be outside and with my pace keeping me plenty warm, it was actually an enjoyable run. The snow began to accumulate on the trail underfoot and stuck to the autumn leaves remaining on the limbs of the cottonwoods. The palette of color simplified; gray sky and brown earth prevailing, but highlighted by severe white slashes where snowy  trails or roads crisscrossed the undulating meadows and fields along the trail. I turned around and retraced my shoe prints at a steady but unhurried pace. Coaches and teammates had finished in the few minutes before and talk of a group breakfast circulated. We made our way to a nearby natural grocery store where big bowls of deluxe oatmeal and cups of coffee drove the chill from our bones and restored us for the day ahead.