From XL to XTERRA

Two weeks ago I had mixed emotions as I completed my longest triathlon to date. I was happy that I was able to manage the 1,200-meter swim in the waters along Pau Pau beach, the 30-kilometer bike course that hit many points on the northern side of Saipan, and the 8-kilometer run course that went from the beach to the Kan Pacific pool and back, twice.

The only thing that bugged me is that I thought that I could have done better—not in the future, but on the same course on the same day. I guess that I was just intimidated by the distance, and after the experience I am now a better judge of how much gas I have left in the tank.

That information came in handy the following week, as I woke up in the wee hours of Saturday, Jan. 21, and made my way down to the American Memorial Park to participate in the 26th Annual Saipan Half Marathon. Unfortunately for our “From XL to XTERRA” team, John was unable to take on the challenge of the run because of an injury which he sustained following a jungle run—so I had to go this one alone.

There was still time for me to take the easy way out and do the 24th Annual Saipan10-K Fun Run, but I ran my mouth to a few too many people about the “Half”, so I was stuck with running the 13.2-ish miles from the park to the Pacific Islands Club and back.

It was definitely the right choice. Instead of seeing a few of the hardcore local running enthusiasts, I saw a mob of people waiting to do the race, and long lines for registration.

I talked with people living on Saipan and abroad about the run, and when organizers finally signaled for the start of the race, I was certain that it would be a great thing.

As the pack reached the turn around for the 10-K race, I remember feeling great, and that I would be cheating myself if I circled back. The good news is that I know that distance is a piece of cake now.

There was a breeze at my back that helped push me along the way to the southernmost point of the run, and I drank the water at the aid stations, as well as eating the orange wedges that they provided.

Even though I didn’t particularly want the fruit, I knew that the added energy would help me toward the end.

Somewhere around the six-mile point I thought about how good it was going to feel when I crossed that finished line. I knew how proud I was going to be, and that nobody would ever be able to take it away. I still had a long way to go, but it felt so real.

When I made it to the PIC, I downed a couple of cups of H2O and headed north. Oh, and that wind that I was lovin’ for the previous hour or so was now killin’ me. It really wasn’t that bad, but I would have loved running against it to start the race.

It didn’t seem to faze the guy who was way ahead of me in the white shirt. Every time I jogged a little faster, it seemed as if I didn’t gain a step on him. After a while, I decided to just run my race and save my energy.

I had an ace up my sleeve from running the Cross Island Relay a few weeks prior to the race. It really helped me out during the “half” because it gave me a basic point of reference for the mile markers along the way. It was nice to know that “It’s only a mile to the triangle in front the Saipan Grand Hotel, and just after that is another water stop.”

The further and further that I made it, the weirder and weirder things got. I began to get cramps at the base of my ankles that I have never before experienced. I wasn’t in any pain, but there was a battle brewing between my legs and my mind.

My legs were telling me that it would feel much better if I stopped, and my tired mind was inclined to agree. I didn’t listen to either of the arguments, so I started to think of songs between water points—and that guy in the white shirt was still way ahead of me.

The final water station was kind of like a home court advantage for me because it was in front of the Saipan Tribune. From there I knew that it was less than a mile to Winchell’s in Garapan, and that if I could make it there without stopping, the rest would be a piece of cake.

I kept picking ‘em up and putting ‘em down all the way to Winchell’s, and when I looked up, I decided that I was going to make a run at the guy in the white shirt.

When I hit Tony Roma’s, I looked at the ground and focused on picking up the pace. With every step I reassured myself that it would be worth the effort, and that I would be able to catch him by the finish if I didn’t quit.

My plan worked, but it was sooner than expected. I passed the white shirt guy before I turned the final corner at the fire station for the home stretch. When I got there I could hear friends cheering me on, and that really got me going. I was looking for a point off in the distance to make my final sprint to the finish, but I was so tired that I couldn’t pick one out. Instead, I started running a little faster with each step until it snowballed into a full out sprint—not the tired kind, but rather the all out “Chariots of Fire” kind. By the time I crossed the finish line, I was exhausted, energized, overwhelmed, and unstoppable—it was just about the best feeling in the world.

Now there’s just a couple of months remaining before John and I take on the off road monster known as the 2005 Saipan XTERRA Championship, but things are definitely beginning to shape up. Heck, I just finished a half-marathon—woo hoo!