Las Vegas is known for many things. Casinos, colorfully bright lights, clubs, entertainment, etc. When people think of what Vegas is known for, I would say that snow and mountains are pretty far down the list. But, to my delight, that is exactly what we got as my friends Kelly and Ellen and I drove up the twisting mountain road in my car, scoping out the course that Kelly and I would be running the next morning. Allow me to rewind back to mid-October, about a month earlier. During a post group run hangout, Kelly mentioned she was going to be running a live marathon in Vegas on November 13th, which drew curious reactions from the group. People wondered how the organization was going to be able to hold an in person race safely, given the current state of the COVID-19 pandemic. The opportunity to run a live marathon during these times sounded intriguing, but sadly the race was sold out, so I quickly kicked the idea to the curb. That is until a week later when I received a text from Kelly that went a little something like this; "Hey! My friend who was going to run the Revel Mt. Charleston Marathon with me is injured. Do you want to buy her bib and run in her place?". After careful evaluation, I decided that I simply couldn't miss out on this opportunity and I accepted the offer. After all, I hadn't run an in person race of any kind since March, eight months prior.
The day before the race, I drove eight hours from Silicon Valley to Las Vegas, checked into my hotel, and promptly met up with Kelly and Ellen, who had arrived about thirty minutes earlier. As we previewed the course in my car, we arrived at what would be the starting area of the marathon the next morning, a cabin resort part way up Mt. Charleston, resting peacefully at 7,600 feet. The race was going to be a point to point course, which involved runners being shuttled up the road to the starting area, then running a full marathon's distance down the desolate mountain road into the north end of Las Vegas, finishing at a local school. Kelly always preferred to preview race courses in advance, and it was a good thing we had done so. We were not expecting snow and ice to be present at the start, and the temperature for the following morning was forecasted to be seventeen degrees Fahrenheit, much colder than we had anticipated. Despite her concerns, Kelly seemed more excited and confident, now that she was more familiar with the course. I knew it was nothing she couldn't handle. She had already qualified for Boston twice and ran it once (twice if you count the 2020 virtual edition). During the weeks leading up to this race, she was logging sixty mile weeks, teaching virtual boot camp , and working with clients in her job as a personal trainer. There was no doubt that she would crush this race. The sun began setting as we made our way down the road and back to the hotel. Ellen had discovered that there was an Italian restaurant within close proximity to our hotel, so the plan was for us to order takeout, have our own little pre-race dinner at the hotel, then try to get to sleep as early as possible. Reception was spotty as Ellen dialed the restaurant to place our order. When the takeout dude picked up, it sounded like a bad transistor radio with static in the connection. "Hello? Can you hear me?!" Ellen said into her phone rather loudly. "Yes ma'am, I can hear you" the guy replied in a casual tone. "Okay! Can I please have a...a cheese calzone?! and...a...a chicken Caesar salad! With dressing on the side!" Ellen sounded more like she had fallen off a cruise ship and was trying to get rescued, than placing an order for takeout food, but the static continued and she wanted to ensure the order was heard properly. Kelly and I sat in the front seat trying to contain our laughter. "Three cannolis!! Okay, can you repeat that back to me please?!". We simply couldn't contain ourselves anymore and let out a burst of laughs as she finished up the order. The poor guy is probably just now getting his hearing back. Our food, however, was delicious, and I was comfortably full, as we lounged around in Ellen and Kelly's hotel room. We video chatted with my girlfriend, Samantha (or Sammy as I call her) after we finished eating. She unfortunately couldn't be with us during this adventure, but it felt as if she was there in spirit. She wished Kelly and I luck, and I soon retreated to my room on the next floor to take a shower and get some sleep.
I awoke at 4:15 the next morning, compliments of the rooster alarm on my phone, and began the meticulous process of preparing for the journey ahead. Kelly had woken up an hour before me, and had just boarded her shuttle at the school a few miles away for her 6:20 AM race start time. In order to allow runners to social distance, this race was a "special edition" in which only 262 runners were allowed, and the start of the race was staggered in waves, with forty or so runners per wave. My start time was at 7:20 AM, and in anticipation of potential logistical issues, the race staff required that I board the bus by 5:40 AM. Before heading out, I stopped by Ellen and Kelly's room, where Ellen wished me good luck. She would not be running this marathon with us, but she came along on the trip for moral support, which speaks volumes of her character. I often simply refer to her as "Coach" due to her profession as a running coach, which is well known in our running community. During the pandemic she has done a great job of holding our circle together and I was grateful for her support. I had just enough time to stop at the convenience store across the street for a fresh, hot cup of coffee and a donut before arriving at the school and boarding the shuttle. The race staff members were careful to follow safety measures by only filling the bus to fifty-percent capacity and allowing everyone to have their own seat, requiring that we wear face coverings during the ride to the start line. Upon arrival, I was relieved to hear that the temperature was twenty-eight degrees, not as frigid as I had expected. The race director spoke to us at the front of the bus. "2020 has been an extremely difficult year for all of us, and we're so grateful to you for coming out and running and giving us a reason to be here". His words were a powerful tonic, and I started to get a really good feeling. It had been such a long time since I had run a race in person and it felt great to be there. When he finished talking, I raised my fist in the air, and have a thumbs up "Did you have a question?" he asked. I chuckled and said "Nope! I'm just really happy to be here". "Cool! I'll be back in about fifteen minutes, right before race start". I then said out loud to the people around me "I'm not going to be the one jackass that asks a question", which drew some laughs.
Fifteen minutes later, us runners stood outside in the small start area, trying to keep warm, waiting our turn to cross the start line. The rules stated that face coverings were required in the start area, but could be removed once we began running. We stood in a small line apart from each other as runners took off from the start line one at a time, about every ten seconds. Eventually it was my turn, and off I went. As I ran out of the parking area and down the road, snowy mountains surrounded me in every direction. Several cabins and houses rested in the conifer and pine trees upon the mountain slope in front of me in the distance. Although there were a few hills along the course, the elevation would be a net loss of around 5,000 feet, and the road descended along a gentle downhill grade as it weaved through the mountains. I closed my eyes and inhaled the cold, refreshing mountain air, as I ran past campgrounds and roadside cabins. Although the sun had now made it's way into the sky and shined brightly above, plenty of snow still lined the sides of the road and covered the ground. We were still technically in the Las Vegas city limits, and it was hard to imagine I would ever encounter snow, pine trees, and granite mountains here, but a small storm had come through earlier in the week and delivered some early snow accumulation at higher elevation. The snow dissipated around mile eight, as the course continued to lose elevation. The snowy mountain peaks now lied behind me in the distance, as desert terrain and joshua trees now dominated the landscape. Things had been going relatively well so far. As the day began to warm up, I discarded my gloves and rolled my arm sleeves down to my wrists. Vegas weather can be unpredictable at this time of year, but the temperature was forecasted to be in the low sixties at the finish line, which was perfect for race day weather. Despite the restrictions, the race staff still managed to place portable toilets along the course every five miles or so. At the halfway point, shortly after using the restroom, I pulled a Honey Stinger gel from my pocket and sucked it down. I'm not a big fan of energy gels, but this one came with the race package. I had heard good things about Honey Stinger, so I decided to give it a try. "Why not?" I thought. Surprisingly, it tasted pretty good.
Even though there were always runners within eyesight, I ran alone almost the entire race. There were a few instances where I either passed runners or they passed me, but other than that, it was just me and the open road. The road remained open to automobile traffic, so runners were instructed to stay to the right of the cones that lined the shoulder for safety. Luckily, since it was a Friday morning, only modest traffic motored along on this remote mountain road. I looked straight ahead at the massive mountains that rested in the distance in front of me as I approached the twenty-mile mark. To accommodate the safety measures, the aid stations were spread out further along the course and were only monitored by one volunteer each. The rules stated that face coverings must be worn if stopping at aid stations, however thanks to my handheld water bottle, I didn't need to make any water stops along the way, and I simply ran through and thanked the volunteers as I passed. "Wow, who else would be smiling like you at mile twenty?!" the volunteer called out enthusiastically as I passed through. I was so excited to be running an in person race that I of course had a big stupid smile on my face as I ran by the aid station and greeted him. The final few miles of the course lead us through the quiet neighborhoods of north Las Vegas, and the landscape had since shifted from desert and joshua trees to a more suburban neighborhood with palm trees lining the street. As I rounded a corner past the twenty-three mile mark, the street began a steady incline. "Aww man, we have a hill this far into the race?" I shouted semi-jokingly to the volunteer at the aid station. "Yep! but it's just a little one". Well, in reality, yes, it was a very gradual incline, but it went on for the next mile and a half. Despite gravity working against me, I tried to focus on maintaining a consistent, steady pace. The course eventually leveled out, and the finish line and school parking lot soon came into view. My excitement levels soared when I saw Ellen cheering on the side lines and I threw my arms in the air in celebration as I ran through the finish line. Kelly emerged from a food tent and congratulated me on my finish, as I grabbed a small carton of chocolate milk and a finisher's medal. I felt great, and it had been an awesome race. My pace remained consistent throughout, and during the final few miles I was able to kick things into high gear, thanks to the Honey Stinger gel. Kelly had an excellent race, setting a personal record for herself, and qualifying for Boston once again. She did an awesome job, but when it came time for the three of us to leave the finish area, Ellen had to help her up off the pavement.
Kelly and Ellen were planning on leaving the next morning, but after we checked out of our hotel and finished a celebratory lunch at a nearby restaurant, I was back on the road to the Bay Area by 4 PM. I only made it about an hour before I had to pull over and take a nap, but after that, I was good to go. I drank some soda, and Sammy chatted with me on the phone for a little while to keep me company. The race director on the bus that morning had been right. 2020 has been a challenging year for all of us. Many people have lost their jobs, suffered from depression, and have lost loved ones to this horrible illness. Running an in person marathon gave me a sense of hope. It made me realize that there is a light at the end of the tunnel. We will make it through this if we can be patient. Even though things have taken an unpleasant turn in the last couple of weeks for most of the country, I feel confident that we are rounding the corner on the vaccine, which I'm sure will gradually bring some normalcy back to our world. As I filled up my gas tank in a rural area just outside of Bakersfield, I realized that even though I wouldn't make it home until 2:00 in the morning, it was well worth it for that little bit of hope.
