Bear Lake Half Marathon

Running around the beautiful waters of Bear Lake

 It was a bit cool standing somewhere on the east side of Bear Lake some 13 miles from Garden City, Utah. The east mountains were casting shadows out into the sky-blue waters; a slight breeze sending ripples onto the sandy shore.

All the participants of the Bear Lake half marathon were either standing around talking and anticipating the run, stretching, or waiting to use the bathroom. I looked across the lake and found Garden City, our destination for the finish line. It looked a long ways off and a bit intimidating by visual perspective. I calmed my mind by self-talk: It's only 13 miles away. You have trained for a few months. You can do it. Run your race. Run your pace. Finally, all 375 participants were called to the starting line. We had previously placed chips on top of our shoes that would activate a GPS tracking system as soon as we crossed the starting line and shut off as we went through the finish line.

I had looked forward to this run for over a year. Bear lake and the surrounding mountains are in my blood. My great, great, great grandfather was called by Brigham Young to settle in Bear Lake Valley back in the latter 1800s. My grandpa Williamson lived and worked in Paris and St. Charles, Idaho his whole life. My dad was born in Paris, Idaho and has a summer home in St. Charles. As a family we spent many weekends camping and fishing in this area.

Lean on me when you're not strong

Looking pretty good after just running 13.2 miles
Mark took 1st place in our age division

When I was single and in my early twenties my day off from work was Wednesday. In the summer as soon as the snow was gone, I would spend everyday off up St.Charles Canyon. I always had my gear packed and would leave after work on Tuesday night and drive straight for the canyon. I would find a spot to camp, catch my dinner of trout, watch night fall, and then sleep. The next day I would fish for hours. Sometimes, I would explore around, and sometimes I would take a nap but most of the day was spent in catching trout on hair-hackled wet flies. It was a carefree time. It was a time of solitude but not of loneliness.

I had followed a ten week training program to prepare for the run. I started it a couple weeks early so it was more like twelve weeks. During one of my early training runs, I felt a spasm in my left groin area. I ran through it but noticed the muscles in that area were tightening up. I ran through the dull ache. Each time I did a training run I would feel the spasms come to that same area after running about two miles, then the tightness, then the dull ache. Each time I would run through the slight discomfort. I tried stretching more before and after my training runs but nothing seemed to work. I didn't want to miss the half marathon--I'd looked forward to this for over a year. I took two weeks off and didn't run. I thought that was enough as my leg started to feel better. I did a couple of two mile "easy" runs to see how I felt. It was no good. The tightness would still come. It wasn't enough to stop me, I figured I could run through it.

Anticipation at the starting line was building. I took another look out across the lake. The turquoise water rippled with the breeze. It was a partly cloudy day. White clouds migrated across the sky casting dark shadows on the lake surface that looked like large whales just below the surface. The clouds were having their own race as they moved from northwest to southeast some in bunches and others as lone runners trying to find a finish line.

I had tapered off my running the last week of training, just like I was suppose to. I felt good. I knew I could cover the distance but in the back of my head was the nagging question of whether my injured leg would cooperate.

The race official placed some starting cones down, raised his hand and then dropped it to start the race. I started off slow so I could warm into the run. It usually takes me a mile or mile and a half to get my breathing and settle into my running rhythm and pace. So far, so good! As the runners started to disperse, I increased the volume on my Ipod. I was running to classic rock from the 70s and early 80s. It was the same music me and my friends called cruising music back in high school--Styx, Boston, Fleetwood Mac, Journey, and a few other bands would carry me to the finish line.

About three miles into the run, my left groin had a slight spasm. Four miles in and the muscle was tightening. I was now having to deal with a mental aspect that I feared. With nine miles to cover, this run, that I had looked forward to for a year, was going to go from fun to funny.

I had started out with a long sleeve shirt covered by a sleeveless running vest. I had run from the east shadowy side of the lake to the west sunny side. I was warm and needed to get rid of the long sleeves. I removed the vest while still running then tried to remove the shirt. It's not easy to run when you have a vest in one hand and a shirt pulled up over your face. I ended up dropping the vest and having to turn back to pick it up. I finally got the shirt off and put the vest back on. I could feel the coolness of the morning air on my arms. Much better.

I glanced at a sign that said eight miles to go. There was an aid station table set up every two miles. I decided to take a drink of Gatorade and walk as I drank a couple of sips. Two sips and I was back in stride. The left groin was very tight and the dull aching had turned to a pain. The pain was increasing and I wondered if I was doing damage. I played a mental game at this point. With a little over seven miles to go I ripped the headphones out of my ears and put them in my vest pocket. The music was actually frustrating me. I knew that it wasn't taking my mind off of the pain. I knew my focus mentally had to be the pain. I know that sounds contrary  but it is how I was going to deal with my situation.

I considered for just a split second quiting. I really didn't want to do damage to my groin or hip. I started to repeat in my head a quote from General Patton: "You have to make the mind run the body. Never let the body tell the mind what to do...the body is never tired if the mind is not tired." With every set  of strides I would repeat Patton's quote.

With six miles to go I walked a few steps as I drank some water. I thought to myself, This is not the run I wanted. Why did this have to happen? Why couldn't I have a healthy run? With these questions going through my brain, I decided I was going to finish this race. I remembered watching the Ironman races on television. There are always men and women who are spent, who are injured , who are mentally drained crossing the finish line--some staggering in complete exhaustion. I was not running that strenuous of a race. I could make it.

I placed my left hand down on my hip area and started to squeeze. For a moment it seemed to relieve a little of the pain. It was an awkward way to run and I soon tired of it. There was nothing I could do but just slow down, take smaller steps, and tough it out.

With four miles to go, I was being passed by a lot of runners. Some of them would give an encouraging remark as they passed, others passed in silence. I could hear some of them coming up behind me with loud breathing. I noticed that I was not struggling to breathe at all. I still had stamina and wind. The only thing that had slowed me down was the pain.

I looked ahead and saw the three mile sign. I was down to a 5K race. I had run a couple of 5K races over the last couple of years. I could do a 5K I told myself. With about a mile to go I noticed a lady sitting on a fence watching the race. As I approached she said, "Keep going, you're almost finished!" I replied back, "Oh, I've been finished!"

I turned the last corner and headed for the finish line. The cheers from the crowd helped kick in a little adrenaline. When I saw the finish line, tears started to well. Then they began to pour. I took my sunglasses and hat off and raised my arms skyward. I made it! After I crossed the line, I put my sunglasses back on to hide the tears. I took some deep breaths and composed myself. Soon my bro-in law (who also ran this race and took first place for our age division), my sister and my wife came to congratulate me.

This is not the run I wanted, but it is the run I was given. I've had a week to think about it. To be honest, it has caused a slight depression in me. I sometimes place a lot of importance on things that may seem trivial or unimportant to others. This run meant a lot to me--not that I wanted to necessarily win it, but  I wanted to enjoy it. I have been running on and off for the last seven years now. I've learned to enjoy it. The life lesson I come away with from this run is this: life is not always everything we plan it to be. There will be difficult times. The most important thing is that we still move forward on whatever terms we are given. There are many finish lines in life and I need to be proud of having a participants' medal hung around my neck. You only get the participants' medal for crossing the finish line. I'm not even sure that crossing the line is all that important "all" the time. Maybe more important is that you show up and give it your best. I know people who are struggling with life threatening illness, addictions of all kinds, depressions, inferiority complexes, and other serious conditions. To pull up a little lame in a run has to be put in its proper place and viewed with the proper perspective.

I'm not sure what is wrong with my hip and groin area. I plan to lay off the running for a month. I've studied up on exercises and stretches to rehabilitate. I will be working on healing and strengthening. If I get the clearance to run again, I will be on the starting line of the Bear Lake Half Marathon next year.