My Marathon Journeys: The Drake Relays 1992

Running took a back seat after the 1990 St. George Marathon.  First, I cleaned up on my act.  I decided it was time to be an adult.  Parts of my life that I didn't like I had excised.  People trying to help me felt working on myself and not focusing on running as an escape needed to be part of the plan.

I was in a good place by the spring of 1991.  I was enjoying my job and some six months after St. George I was doing some light training.  Then an opportunity came along that made me do some soul searching.

A personal goal of mine was to be the director of a television news operation by the time I was 35 years old.  That opportunity came along unexpectedly in June and much to my surprise, my boss who had lured me back to Kansas City just two years before, was supportive of my quest.

I took a job in Topeka, Kansas... just an hour down the road and started to shape up a small staff of 20 or so people working for a boss who threw nickels around like manhole covers.  I loved what I was doing because everyday brought with it a different challenge, whether it was people, equipment or shaping the kind of journalism we would practice.

My running began to take slowly take shape.  My very first boss in television news talked me into running the Lake Atwood 10 mile in late July and I skipped along at a leisurely 6:40 pace.  It didn't hurt that it was 45 degrees in August, unheard of summer weather in Western Kansas.  The race told me the wheels were still there.

Training came along slowly in the fall and starting in 1992 I tackled the difficult January classic, Topeka to Auburn Half Marathon in just a shade under 1:31.  Now the time was not great, but the race is nothing but non-stop hills after four miles, a real grind.   It planted a seed that running a spring marathon might be possible.  I was averaging 50 to 60 miles a week on a steady basis.

I followed that up with a 38:10 10K in Manhattan on St. Patrick's Day and by early April I ran a difficult 20K in 1:20.  A final 10K the third week in 36:58 let me know I was in shape to run a sub-three hour marathon.

The target race was Drake Relays Marathon on Saturday April 23rd.  I had no idea what the topography of the course offered.  If I had I probably would have waited to run Grandma's in June.  The course was a real bear.

Saturday morning was a cold one with temperatures just below freezing as snowflakes greeted us in Drake Stadium.  As we headed off the track and out on the roads I felt easy at a couple of ticks over 6:30 pace through five miles.  Then two major hills hit and it dawned on me that this section would be two loops and not a lot of fun.

I hit the half feeling strong in 1:26:10 and clipped those tough hills and settled back into 6:30 pace.  After 18 miles in 6:19 I began to tire.  Mile 20 was in 7:03 and I knew I just had to hang on.  Fortunately the last four miles were gradual downhill and I stopped the bleeding averaging 6:45 pace over the last five miles.

I was in no man's land over the last five miles.  I could see a lone figure catching me two miles from the finish.  I was in a dilemma.  Do I dare push the pace and risk a complete blow up or just hope he'll run out of gas as I ran steady.  Slowly but surely he slid by me with a mile to go.  I just lacked the heart to fight him over the last mile.

I hit the finish in 2:53:59. I had finished 13th overall.  But the man that I let by with a mile to go took third place in my age group taking the last of the awards.  I was incredibly angry with myself.

I was 36 years old and I suffered a mental meltdown after the work that I had put in for this race.  This marked a turning point.  I was done with the marathon, or so I thought.  I was working 50 hours a week and training my ass off.

I  had poured myself into work and the night before the race a work crisis popped that I had to handle over the phone that proved to be a major mental distraction.    Trying to run a television newsroom and trying to be a semi-serious runner is a tough balance.

A large part of me wishes I had kept the self-discipline that running brought as a focal point in my life.  But I had to learn some more hard lessons over the next two years before I finally reached the place where moderation in all things became true words to live by.  And in turn, I wasn't done running marathons, just done worrying about chasing times.