The Other Half

I decided a little while ago that a great way to celebrate my completion of my first Olympic Triathlon would be to do another half marathon. I'd already be in pretty good shape; it would be a good way to avoid stalling after the event; and it could be a good occasion to perhaps travel a little bit and end the season on a course that I'd never done before.

My friend Braden, whose wife is a fellow tri-addict, had told me early in the summer that his Mrs. had signed up for the Moab Other Half on Oct. 16th. I took one look at the course online, and decided that I wanted in on the deal. I sent him a note to this effect: "I'll do it if you do it..." So we both signed up, and after a little while, two more friends, Darren and Greg, along with their families, decided to join us for a little friend reunion that weekend.

The weekend itself was glorious. We pooled some resources and rented a cabin off in the woods outside Moab and spent Saturday relaxing, eating, hiking, and letting our kids run around together. It was perfect and I dearly wish I had had one more day there. I love my SLC friends and I use any and every excuse to hang out with them.

But anyway - the race itself was an experience. Moab draws a unique crowd, to put it mildly. But that's what makes it fun, right? It was definitely a change from the meek gatherings at the St George area halfs that I've run, which are mostly populated with local soccer moms, weekend warriors like myself, and high school track teams. Among the throng in Moab, there was the guy wearing a collared shirt and tie and cut-off khakis, the guy who looked and smelled like he was probably 4 or 5 beers into his drinking day already, the lady in full Oktoberfest regalia, and others. I'm not knocking either crowd, let it be said, but it's interesting the kind of variety that each race brings. No shame in taking the chance to claim your individuality.

The local volunteers definitely get behind the race, as well: there was an official race day drum team that started pounding out a tribal rhythm from the back of a pickup at the starting line about half an hour before the gun was to go off. I have to say that, as silly as I thought it was at first, it did help to connect me to my inner aborigine. After the race start, they took up post at the top of a hill at mile 10, and as far as I know, they kept up the beat until the official course closure at noon that day.

Then there was the volunteer team at the aid station atop the hill at mile 8 that had banded together and dressed up as some kind of day-glo alien rodeo clowns. With every cup of water and Gatorade that they passed out, they whooped and hollered and cheered for everyone who crested the hill. "YOU MADE IT!!! KEEP GOING! YOU ROCK OUR SOCKS OFF!!" Lots of fun.

The course itself is beautiful, and deceitfully challenging. It's pretty well flat for the first 6 miles, following the Colorado River around Fisher Towers and Castle Rock, then rolls through a series of fairly serious hills for the remaining 7.1 miles. If you set too quick a pace at the beginning, you'll definitely feel it later on. But the finish is set up at the Sorrel River Ranch Resort, a small collection of rental cabins set on a surprisingly green patch of land in the middle of the red rocks. There was a local jam band playing at the finish, a "beer garden" (which I didn't really investigate to find out what that is, but it sounds interesting if you're a beer drinker), and a tent full of good recovery food and drink. Our group opted to drive back to Moab as quick as we could manage to get a good meal in us before we got back on the road, but I'm sure that the resort is a great hang out spot for the remainder of the afternoon for anyone who is so inclined.

My official finish time was 1:46:15; about 45 seconds off of my personal best, but certainly a much more challenging course. I'm definitely revved up to put in some good mileage over the winter so that I can smash my PB come January and the 2012 St George Painter's Half.

End Transmission.