Rogue River Half Marathon 2017 Race Report

In a yurt, the sound of falling rain always sounds worse than it is. I hear a steady drumming on the canvas roof as I emerge from my cozy sleeping bag. It's still raining steadily as I head outside. At least it's not windy, I tell myself as I pull the raincoat hood over my head. It could be worse.

There are exactly two half marathons a year for which I specifically train. Both are in southern Oregon. I've given up targeting local races because my allergies are too unpredictable to spend all that time training for a bad allergen day. I've spent the last six weeks specifically targeting this race and I have big goals. My training has gone well and I know that on a good day, I'm capable of a PR, something under 1:38:28. A rainy day like today is actually a good thing when it comes to my breathing so I'm hopeful.

Matt and I have a leisurely breakfast inside the yurt as we prepare ourselves for the run. We discuss our goals, encouraging and coaching one another in equal measure. We're a good team like that. The race doesn't start until 10am, so we have plenty of time to mosey down the highway and get to the race start, just three miles away. By the time we've completed our warmup, it stops raining. Talk about perfect timing!

Terry Croft photo credit.

Then we're off. The pack of runners quickly splits apart. By the time I reach the first mile marker spray painted on the edge of Highway 99, I'm left with just one or two other people around me. While small races are nice logistically, sometimes the loneliness can make the pace seem much harder.

(On our course preview drive the day before, we didn't see markers on half the course so I decided to keep auto-lap turned on for this race. As a result, the mile splits didn't line up with the markers, especially later in the course.)

Mile 1: 7:22
Mile 2: 7:28
Mile 3: 7:25

Eventually, I pull up next to a guy toting a Go Pro camera. (If you're interested in seeing the video, you can find it here. It's beautifully edited and showcases the course and spirit of Southern Oregon Runners nicely. I enjoyed it, and not just because of my cameo.)

By the time I reach the third mile marker, I can tell that my day isn't going quite as planned. My legs just don't seem to have the powerful oomph I felt in training. I know it's a little early for positive self talk, so I try to zone out, focusing on the back of the person ahead of me. She's not exactly pulling away, so that's good.

Mile 4: 7:32 (water)
Mile 5: 7:28
Mile 6: 7:34 (water)

The course meanders alongside the south banks of the Rogue River. Last year's course was an out-and-back; this year, it's a loop. The area feels vaguely familiar, but at the same time, entirely new. I'm trying to enjoy the scenery as we pass through fields of cattle, goats, and the occasional vineyard.

I hit a short out-and-back and notice that I'm gaining on a few runners. I may not be hitting the pace I wanted to run today, 7:25/mi, but it seems that I've comfortably settled into something just a tiny bit slower. I climb a short bridge over Interstate 5 for one last push through this gradually climbing first half with a little extra oomph in my step. From here, it's mostly downhill. Thank goodness.

Mile 8, taken Friday evening.

Mile seven rejoins the old course and it's such a relief to know what's waiting up ahead. It's about this point that I finally catch up to two ladies I've spent the whole race trailing about fifty feet behind. One is Angie, a runner from my local area. Until today, I haven't met her, but we've been trying to organize a few runs for those of us going to Boston so we know one another through emails.

Mile 7: 7:28 (gu and water)
Mile 8: 7:32

Her qualifying time was similar to mine and honestly, girl has had a target on her back all day because of it. I know we're pretty evenly matched, but I really want to beat her. We spend much of miles seven, eight, and nine together pacing and drafting off one another through a particularly windy spot. It's not until mile 9 that I realize she's slowing down too much for us to stay together. I get my second wind and begin to put distance between us. I won't see her again until the finish line.

Mile 9: 7:39

Shortly after we part ways, the course returns to the bike path. For the first time today, the course is free of traffic. Even though we ran into traffic on the shoulder of the road, not all vehicles slowed down or moved over for runners. Here it's peaceful and quiet and I'm able to focus completely on my running.

Mile 10, taken Friday night.

Mile 10: 7:30 (water)
Mile 11: 7:33

By now, I'm all alone. I look over my shoulder and spot nobody. Up ahead, there's one runner, a teenage boy. I busy my mind by trying to read the back of his t-shirt. It has a lot of writing on it in a small font. I push to catch him and once I do, I deduce that he's fallen off the back of a pack of high school cross country runners.

Mile 12: 7:32

Once I pass him, there's a faint blue speck up ahead. I can't quite make out whether the figure is racing or simply enjoying a stroll next to the campground. Other than that, there's nobody anywhere. I sometimes get caught in these little holes in the pack and it's exhausting to keep pushing. Am I slowing down? Am I speeding up? With nobody to gauge or focus on, I'm struggling with motivation.

Thankfully, I know this part of the course well enough to focus on that instead. My eyes are trained on the river. I keep looking for the bridge. That's where the finish line is. Where's the bridge? Why is it not coming sooner?! I glance down at my watch as I pass the twelfth marker. I've got ten more minutes to make it under one hundred minutes. That's an eight minute mile. I know that if I don't blow up, I'll run an event PR. Even though I'm not able to run a lifetime best today, this is a pretty solid consolation prize.

Mile 13: 7:32

There's one final hill as the trail rises and circles around to meet the bridge. I always dread this part, but whenever I get there, it's never as bad as I think it will be. Just as I reach the crest of the bridge, I glance down at my watch. It has just ticked over to the ninety-eighth minute. Can I make it in under 1:39?

I give it a try, turning myself inside out and running probably one of the ugliest finishes I've ever had (you see it if you watch the video: gray long sleeves, red hat). All I can think of is last year's finish. I had the same final battle then, running my course PR of 1:39:52. I had to go for it!

Mile 13-finish (Garmin: .20mi): 7:25/mi pace

On the verge of losing control, I take the final downhill turn at top speed. The clock is still set to the 5K time, so for a moment, I'm unsure if I made it.
 

Terry Croft photo credit.

1:39:05
7:33/mi.
Female 30-34: 1st place
8th woman

Oh well, close enough. Situated halfway between my half marathon PR and my Rogue River PR, I'm happy with my time. I know that if I had someone with me the last two miles (blue speck girl finished in 1:37:00), I could have pushed under 1:39, but being all alone for so long was one of the toughest mental tests I've ever had so I can't complain. :)

Terry Croft photo credit.

Matthew, the consistent racer he is, finished just fifteen seconds slower than last year in 1:22:30. Last year, his time netted him third place. This year, he won! His time was two minutes slower than he wanted, but the small wad of $20s was a nice consolation.

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A few days later, a friend tagged me in a series of photos taken by Southern Oregon Runners. More often than not, these photographs are finish shots and nothing particularly exciting. I clicked through to the following photo and much to my horror, it's about the most unflattering shot of myself to ever grace the internet.

Terry Croft, SOR photo credit.

As I looked at it more I realized something:

In a world of glamour shots and perfectly staged moments that make running look effortless, I find ones like this to capture the true spirit of running as a competitive sport. Even if I’m only competing against myself and the clock, it can get ugly. It *should* be ugly. Right? All that aside, there’s a bit of beauty, of love, and support. I couldn’t ask for a better training and life partner than the guy on the other end of that high five. I told you I gave it all I had. LOL. :)