I feel like John McEnroe in the National Car Rental ads. "I can use any restroom I want!? YOU CANNOT BE SERIOUS!" Yes, I can use the restrooms. Indoor plumbing for a race with 13,000 runners. Clean bathrooms in multiple locations. This is pre-race Shangri-La, typical of the friendliness and outstanding organization that keep me flying back to St. Louis for this race.
Outside it's warming up but still comfortably cool. My sister-in-law Kathy Doan can't believe that there is no wait for the porta potties, nor for the sweat check. We have ample time to look for my brother Andy, who has already lined up, but we can't find him in his pace section. Kathy, my mother and I exchange fist bumps, and I head to the front.
This is my third straight year running the half marathon, and Andy's first attempt at running more than 10 miles. Kathy is a 50-stater, and this will mark the 11th state in which she has run a marathon. Next month she'll run the Fargo marathon in North Dakota.
I am barely visible in this photo on the front page of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. Fourth from the right is a guy in a white singlet with a wavy line. Almost directly behind him to the left is a blond woman whose face is one-quarter obscured by his head. I am behind her, slightly to the right. One of the lenses of my sunglasses peeks out from her head.
This year's race gives me a little more trouble than last year, even though the weather is far better than in 2009. St. Louis weather is hit or miss in April. Two years ago it was clear and cool, and last year we ran through a rain storm.
This course features more hills than the Oakland half from two weeks ago. I tried to acclimate myself by running hill repeats on Thursday, and going on a comfortable four-miler in my mother's neighborhood yesterday. Mom's home lies on land that was owned by Ulysses S. Grant after the Civil War. The large estate of our 18th president is a landscape of rolling hills. I'm not sure how such terrain supported a farm for so long, although the 30 slaves of the owner before Grant, "Colonel" Frederick Dent, who was Grant's father-in-law, kept the estate profitable. Grant was a staunch abolitionist from Ohio, a free state. Grant's in-laws from slave holding Missouri had a different opinion. Grant's victory in the Civil War won the argument. Touche.
My objective in running around Mom's neighborhood was to practice shifting from one elevation to another, which I hoped would help me today. Around the third mile I question the effectiveness of the training. I get a side stitch here, about six miles earlier than normal. I don't know if it is an abundance of hills, or a lack of training or hydration that is causing my discomfort.
A mile later I catch up with Megan Earney (F30), a former women's marathon winner here. I only know her name because the race has provided ex-champions with bibs on the back that give the runner's name and previous victory. She tells me "Nice job," as I pass her, and I reply, "You too, Megan." She is the only runner I will speak to during the race, and will finish sixth among women.
The side stitch fades and we cross back into downtown. The course has changed from previous years, going north of Market Street before heading east on Olive. In the past we ran east and west on Market. The change is an improvement because now we run right past St. Louis University, my parents' alma mater. A few days ago Mom gave me a tour of the campus. The alternative route is better than two trips on Market Street, and SLU students are an enthusiastic crowd. A lot of students call my name on my bib, and I give as many as possible a thumbs-up.Side stitches return and by mile 12 I have them on both sides. The symmetric pain forces me to slow down, which is too bad since I don't feel that tired. The resulting time of 1:22:30 is 54 seconds slower than last year's slog through the rain. I place 4th in my age group (M45-49) out of 227 and 35th overall. This is a good result considering that the field is 10,700, up from 8,500 in 2009.
I decide to try a massage even though my experience in Oakland was both pleasant and painful. A woman named Christina (I guess all massage therapists introduce themselves) provides excellent therapy that would keep my legs nice and relaxed for the rest of the day.
I bounce around the grounds and find Mom at our predetermined spot. Retrieving my camera at City Hall, I head out to the sidelines near the finish. Andy is hoping to run the half in 2:10. The clock runs beyond that time and I get a photo of him about 15 minutes later a quarter mile from the end. At the finish Andy says that he struggled after mile 10, which is understandable since he's never gone beyond that distance. He's determined to train more in preparation for next year's race. I'm proud of Andy. He will never run fast, but he is exercising regularly in pre-dawn boot camps and can run a mile in seven minutes. For a guy his size, that's very impressive.
The post-race festivities provide a fitting end to a great morning. St. Louis being a brewery town, beer is distributed with little waiting despite hordes around the stand. Even though the beer is Michelob Ultra, I enjoy myself while listening to the band Vote for Pedro. It's like listening to KSHE 95 half a life ago. Their set includes, "Say It Isn't So," by the Outfield, "I Want You to Want Me," the iconic "Don't Stop Believin'," and the ironic "Fat-Bottomed Girls." This being a road race, there aren't any of them here.
Kathy has a longer day than either of us, finishing her marathon in about five hours. She gets a bigger medal and deserves it. Thanks mainly to her effort, she, Andy and I set a record for the longest distance run by the Witte family on a single day, 52.4 miles.
