JUN-A-4
THE WONDERFUL WEEKEND IN COLORADO AMONG GOOD FRIENDS.
WITH THE 20TH RUNNING OF THE STEAMBOAT SPRINGS MARATHON
MAY 31—JUNE 1-4, 2001
What a wonderful weekend! It was going to be special, since the events were already planned to be a very good occasion, but was most special about it, was that it brought together a few very good friends at critical times when we could enjoy each other during important periods of transition. It was centered around the Steamboat Marathon’s 20th running, and I had been anticipating this as the one race that would be going the distance before I did the much longer and harder Big Horn Ultra the following week. But, I did not feel very much like a marathoner coming in and was sure I could not go any Ultra distance during the first part of my stay. But, that may have changed as I was here with a total of three wonderful couples hosting me, each with sizable burdens of their own at the time, which did not seem to distract them from their generosity. It was a VERY good time from start to finish.
IN A BORROWED CAR, SOMEWHAT UP-MARKET
FOR A TRUCK DRIVER,
WE GATHER THE STUFF FOR THE WEEKEND RUN UP IN STEAMBOAT SPRINGS
I had heard last night that Reg and Sue would be moving to Vail in July for at least at year, and Sue would have to make a lease this next week as Reg was packing out this weekend and leaving for Denali with Steve Petersen on Sunday afternoon. Sue was planning on doing a lot of skiing this winter, if a hoped for pregnancy did not intervene, and if that were not happening, she was going to pick one of the Himalayan treks with her mother, a retired nurse. I had hoped it would be the Spiti trip in September, and I began incubating a plan as to how I might go from the lecture in Michigan to Boston for the Halsted Society Meeting, and directly from Boston to Delhi to go from there to the Spiti trek, then the extension into Nepal to return from Namche Bazar somehow to New Orleans for the ACS and then, get together again with the Harkens in the fall blitz of Marathons for my second to last one in San Antonio—when I might see the twins for the first time. Sue is going to be doing a long walk for the Avon Breast Cancer campaign to which I had made a contribution. Sue is getting primed by trying out the half marathon at Steamboat—which is three times further than she has run before. She will be the designated driver of the big Suburban as Gene tries to nap—as we had tried once, unsuccessfully to do—after the Brown Palace banquet and resident roast. This will be one in which Reg will get coverage for a few hours to attend (sober as anyone on call can be) and say goodbye to Sue—who will leave with Gene and possibly John Birch, after the party, arriving at about three in the morning to be on the starting line bus before 6:00 AM. Having had all this fun at least once before, when I had the added thrill of standing in six inches of freshly fallen slush at the start, and enjoying a 70* F “delta” in temperature change as well as another half mile of altitude on a no-sleep, no-breakfast marathon, I declined the honor of attendance this year. Instead, I will be going up directly on Friday, picking up all the running packets, and stocking up for breakfast and drinks before and after the run for whomever staggers in late pre-race. Besides, it is a good opportunity to breathe thin air for an extra day before the race, and also enjoy a bit of Steamboat Springs—which I am always planning to do, and which always becomes a last minute close connection hustle.
I made a Saturday morning attempt to reach Judy and Michael in the event that I could change my flights to come down to visit them after the run (after all, I am already packing all the photo albums!) and stop at DG to pick up the keys and talk with Gene Moore. It was then that I learned about the big turmoil at the Moores when Hunter’s best friend had been recently killed. It looks like it may be only Gene and Sue coming up, with Jeff Johnson and Chuck Race being up already, since John Birch had been up all night, and despite having trained well for this event (his second, since I was his cheering squad for his first last year) and it will be our smaller cozier group.
Now what about my transportation? Alden gave me his car—not at all like the Bronco. It is his dark blue Mercedes 530 SEL coupe, not an average off-road vehicle for exploring Steamboat Springs. So, off we go to Steamboat through the very pretty and very green Colorado countryside. It has been a good and moist spring after a heavy snow pack winter; some of the dirty snow piles at roadside are still here as we drive along in style.
STEAMBOAT SPRINGS
I knew that you would want to know! STEA is 40* 32.39 N and 106* 49.12 W for any later orientation! We drove along the Colorado River in spring flood and up the very green plains through Kremmling where we stopped for lunch under stuffed Western big game heads—that make me feel at home, now, since Derwood’s dining room does not look any different, except that the trophies are bigger and better!
On arrival in Steamboat, we picked up the bibs and running packets for each of the runners for three marathoners and two half marathons. We got groceries for the weekend on two or three stops, and also made it out to the “Stinky Spring” as Peter Moore had once introduced it to me. We paused under the big Bronze elk, and made the usual pose at the sign cautioning motorists that June 3 was Steamboat Marathon day and the runners would have the right of way down the Elk River Road.
We had to make some rapid changes in plans, calling the Harkens to see if we could not back up the dinner Laurie was planning for Monday night to Sunday night in view of different travel plans. I called Rich Reinert and left a message for him as he was on a weekend camping trip in Arizona and had made reservations in Basalt for him and me to go fly-fishing the Frying Pan River. It took a long time to try top get a simple conversion of my ticket from the cancelled Providence extension to go down to San Antonio, and even simpler return to Washington. I had already down all of this with the ticketing agent at Dulles, and when I heard what was going to be charged to me, it was outrageous enough that I postponed the talk with this agent and thought I would try again on the following day.
TRAVEL TRIBULATIONS
Sure enough, the following day it got worse. I called an agent who was new at the job and kept checking with her supervisor, so I was on the phone a long time. First of all, my $351 round trip ticket to Denver had been replaced by a 14 day advanced purchase $871 ticket that included the return through Providence RI. With that gig canceled, I had gone through the paces with the experienced ticket agent at Dulles before departure, and she had said I could revise it to travel to San Antonio for not much more than the higher price of a return to Dulles, plus the $100 change fee. Any change I make will accrue this fee (OK, fair enough.) What would be the new fare? If I leave from Denver to San Antonio, they would absorb the entire previous pre-paid fee, and charge me a one-way ticket to San Antonio and another one way to Dulles. Now you did stay over a Saturday night, but that does not matter any more since you are buying three one-way tickets and the total will be $2680. “No way!” quoth I, somewhat less genteelly than that. “I was told by the more experienced agent in Dulles Airport that I could make the change through San Antonio for $671 plus the $100 fee, which was only $200 more than the return to Washington.”
“Well my supervisor says that for reason of the fact that you are a Premier customer and for good will, we will issue you a new ticket, and give credit for what you have already prepaid and charge you only$1195.50 to get you to where you want to be.” After I sputtered about how this seemed to have escalated out of control by a factor of seven fold, I figured at least I would be seeing Michael and Judy. After another twenty-minute hold while she processed my credit card, she came back on to say that I would be landing in Dulles at 4:50 PM. I said, “You mean on Thursday after San Antonio.”
“Oh, no, nothing has been said about San Antonio, this just gets you back to where you had originated in Washington on Monday.”
What does this mean? The same flights and same seats on the same days that I had reserved a month ago for $351 has been restored to me now for just over $2000.00—due to the cancellation of the Providence Rhode Island engagement! I will STILL have to make out a separate return trip ticket to run the Big Horn Marathon next week and I will STILL have to make out a second round trip to San Antonio to visit Michael and Judy before the twins are born. You can believe it will be on a different carrier, Premier membership or no!
We went to the Yampa River to watch the kayakers attempting to barrel roll in the swollen Yampa as they could stand in the rapids heading upstream, but when caught in the current they would shoot a long way down river. We went to the Steamboat Brewery for dinner, which was a good end to the day, having, for the first time since my trip up here with young Peter Moore, actually had the time to look around in daylight.
RUNNING ERRANDS,
EXPLORING THE SPRINGS,
AND ACCLIMATIZING
It was a good and somewhat lazy day, which is what I have sought out for this arrival, earlier than the few hours clearance I have had the last few times I have done this race out of the six continuous years running “The Prettiest Run in the West.” I saw a mule deer cross through the tall weeds, and tried to get the lawn mower started that I had found under the “cabin.” When we had called Gene later to ask about a few items, I asked what is the secret to getting the lawn mower started? “I never have had any luck in getting that thing to work!” said Gene. So, instead of doing further chores, we set to an errand run, changing one of the marathon bibs for a half marathon (the full marathon closed only a month after opening!) and I went to the Elk River Feed to purchase a mineral salt block for the yard behind the cabin to see what creatures we might see. It worked, since first thing on marathon morning, the first one up after my alarm went off was a big elk which came down to investigate the slat block which had only been there a few hours before discovery.
On my first trip up, but not since then, I had discovered the Strawberry Park Hot Springs. We had taken a post-race soak in the Hot Springs, which was a delightful way to recover and reduce the dependence on Motrin (and, later, Vioxx). As we came down to the Hot Springs (admission prices double on weekends) a blonde from Wisconsin was eagerly looking at me in my long-sleeved blue turtleneck. She had pointed it out to her husband, saying she thought it was a Boston Marathon shirt. It happens that I am carrying the shirt from this year which I had not yet worn, and what she had seen from a distance was the Antarctic Marathon pullover—but it got us started talking about her first ever Boston Marathon and how excited she was about doing it. Her husband and his brother were booked to do this race, when he husband developed a stress fracture and she swapped his tag, so I would meet her and her brother-in-law later on the course. Just as I was feeling a bit headachy and hung over—without benefit of a hangover—someone close to me said, “Here I am with a fellow in far better shape than anyone in this pool and most are less than half his age—what makes me think that I could run with him?” That may have been all it took to put me down for the rest of the day, since I was feeling hardly like a marathoner and was not at all sure I could even walk without breathing hard and wearily, let alone go the distance—and another race was looming ahead, twice as far and half again as high!
I was dragging around wearily, roused only for a pasta dinner, before I went down for the night—which for me would not be as short as it would be for Gene and Sue, who arrived surprisingly early about 2:00 AM The big news that Sue told me with her first breath of the morning was that Reg was awarded the best teacher of the year by the residents! It was a good thing that he was able to be at the Brown Palace, alive, alert, sober and on time!
STEAMBOAT MARATHON DAY
We awakened to my alarm, and I got Sue and Gene off to a start toward suiting up. This was Sue’s first long run, so she could pick up a few pointers about water, Vaseline, and energy foods. We were still looking at the elk out back, when I reminded them that the buses left for the Marathon between 5:45 AM and 6:00 AM. We made it, with a few buckets of Gatorade to use as we rode up, with the women taking the later half marathon bus. As we drove up, I spotted nine antelope running in the dawn sunlight. We had time enough to wait through the Porta-Pottie lines and I met Roger, a friend and fellow Antarctic Marathon runner. The closer I got to the starting line of the race, the more I felt like a racer. This resurrection phenomenon is one I have grown accustomed to and count on too much as a substitute for serious training!
And we are off! I ran for the first three miles with Gene and Chuck who had been training together all year. We swapped a few photos, and then they pulled ahead. I then ran the next several miles talking with the blonde from Wisconsin who had done Boston and her brother-in-law whom we had met at the Hot Springs. I then picked up a fellow named Bill, who came up on me and gave me a Marine cheer, since I was wearing a US Marines singlet from Hawaii. This fellow would be called a “Clydesdale” in the Marine Corps Marathon, since he described he had done some running in Africa at 180 pounds, but now was up at 220 and was not sure he would not have to fall off the eight minute pace we were running. He had been a PCV in Lesotho, and during his finest moment he had run the Comrades. Really? I asked: “An uphill even-numbered year or a downhill odd-numbered year?”
It was 1996—what a coincidence! That was during my Fulbright when I was there and we had run the same race together! He is now city planner for Englewood Colorado. We came up to ten miles at 80 minutes and he dropped back. I ran on toward the half, reaching it at 1:56 with Jeff Johnson who ran the next five miles with me. It was ideal weather. It was warm but overcast, so I had carried but never worn the Ultralight shades. Since I do not wear glasses, they give me a bit of a headachy and fragile feeling, so I was glad to never have to pull them out. At two points it even sprinkled a little, and if we had not been steadily exerting it might have been actually cool.
I shot pictures of various scenic sights, which did not include the dead elk at the road side, but Hahn’s Peak was right behind us with a slight dusting of snow, and the very green valleys along which we ran were filled with gurgling streams leading to the Elk River. I needed the Power Gel by the time I came up to it at around eighteen miles. I sucked up as much Gatorade and water at each stop as I could, but made the proud determination NOT to walk—and I never did. I slowed down on the long hill which is my nemesis, at mile 22, but I kept plugging away passing the Elk River Feed store where I had got the salt block, and then even took an over-the-shoulder shot of the sign announcing the road would be given over to the marathoners on June 3, which we had seen at a more leisured pace the day before.
I was saving a bit of energy with the Big horn in mind, but knew when I came into town past the “Stinky Springs” and bronze elk, that I had reserves left to spare, and had targeted about a 4:15 finish. I was still waving the little Kodak camera when I approached the finish line at the Routt County Courthouse, and took a picture of my cheering section and the finish line—where I picked up the medal.
We ate a few of the snacks provided and drank even more of the liquids and packed over to the cabin to shower and pack up. Thank heaven for Vioxx! It was so useful that none of us felt stiff at all, and we were ready to get into the respective cars and even to get out of them when we had arrived back in Denver. We stopped at the Moores' house, and then drove over to the Harkens where we could appreciate the fire in the ceramic fireplace at poolside and swap stories. Of the two of them, between Sarah and Gene, it could definitely be spotted which of the two had run a marathon that day!
Larry Ketch is going through a divorce—the same woman whose passing of the law boards had occasioned such a grand celebration about ten years ago. He wanted to get away to do some good somewhere. I just happened to have the album of the plastic surgery cases we did and others that needed doing in the Philippines, and I believe he is hooked. He said the sooner the better—and those dates as you can see are the Feb 2—16, 2001, pre- or post-Malawi.
It was a wonderful small gathering of good friends each going through some critical changes, yet knowing of some constants there are that can be relied upon—we, for example. Laurie and Alden are the perfect host/hostess, and we may join them again in Denver, Boston, New Orleans, San Antonio, or wherever—and that is just this year, for starters! We made plans to see the new Denver Ocean World aquarium in the morning, before flying out to respective destinations in the afternoon.
A wonderful time, of course, considering the setting, the activity, and above all—the company! There will not be long before the next return trip—about a week away, with a stop enroute to see Michael and Judy before big events begin to pop over there!