| With this being my first time to visit Sin City, it seemed appropriate that I experience a few "Firsts" at the Las Vegas Rock n' Roll Marathon on December 6. Travel While I have driven a few hours here or there to attend previous marathons, this was the first time I actually had to pack up for significant travel to be in a marathon. I arrived Saturday afternoon, unloaded my luggage in my room at the Paris, and began a walking trek down the Las Vegas Strip to Mandalay Bay to get checked in at the health expo (which was by far the biggest event of its kind I have attended). Realizing the folly of my mode of travel on the way out, I took a cab back to the Paris. Surprisingly, I was able to sleep Saturday night, and I woke up Sunday morning feeling ready for the race (this feeling due in part no doubt to the extra 2 hrs. Pacific Time afforded me). Sunday morning, I took the monorail to the MGM Grand, which put me much closer to the Mandalay. Monorail: another marathon travel first. I found my starting "corral" easily, and luckily, there was an opening in the gate right next to it. The crowd began to pack in, and before too long, the fireworks announcing the start of the race went off to the east... ...Thirty minutes later, I crossed the Start Line. Indeed, there were so many people racing that it took over 28 minutes for my race to begin. While we in Corral 15 waited, we were able to watch the previous 14 corrals cross the Start line on the huge screen in the Mandalay Bay sign. The route took us just south of town where we u-turned to see that famous diamond-shaped Las Vegas welcome sign. Our path took us from one end of the Strip to the other. This was a perfect opportunity to see some of the amazing hotels (and to get oriented for the upcoming work week--I would be attending a trade show hosted by my company through Thursday). At the north end, we wove through some neighborhood roads, and eventually turned back to the south, back to the Strip. The Fall At the beginning of the race, I noticed that the road we were running on had groups of white reflective bumps that served as lane-dividers. I made a mental note to myself to stay off of these. At mile 9, I began to get hungry, so I pulled out my baggie of Sam's Brand chocolate-covered peanut butter and chocolate shortbread cookies. I was having trouble opening the ziplock bag with my gloves on, and just as the endeavor consumed my last bit of attention, my right foot hit one of the white reflective bumps; one of the very ones I had made a mental note avoid maybe 8 miles previous. The next 10 seconds were in slow motion. I vividly remember mentally berating myself: "I told myself to watch out for these!" The thoughts that followed: "I think I'm going to be able to hold it...no, I'm not going to make it..." BOOM! I landed on my hands and knees and my cookies slid far away from me. I got right back up and continued running with only a sore right knee and sore knuckles. The bloody results were very minimal (  see picture, right). But it was the first time (and hopefully the last time) I have fallen during a race. The worst part of the fall: I lost my bag of cookies without ever eating a single one. I did still have my Gu, and there were a couple of Gu stops along the track, which I utilized. (I felt the city of Las Vegas owed me the Gu as a result of foolishly placing the groups of white reflective bumps that served as lane-dividers all along my running path.)One positive result of the fall was that I received a quick burst of endorphins. I also regained my focus, which kept me off of the groups of white reflective bumps that served as lane-dividers for the remainder of the race. At this point, I simply collected the pieces of my shattered pride and continued on. We veered off the Strip about halfway back. At this point, we were about 2-3 miles into a gradual 12-mile incline that would take us to mile 20. These miles were without incident. At around mile 14, I received another rush of endorphins as I experienced the much-coveted "runner's high" while trying to hammer away at a particularly nasty incline on the city streets. Paramore's "Hallelujah" was playing (one of the most motivating songs in the 1000+ on my MP3 player), and I looked over to see one runner placing her arm behind another runner to help support her as she struggled with the hill. It perfectly captured the spirit of the running community, and it was a moment I'm glad I did not overlook. Shoes Untied--Twice I love my New Balance 758s. Probably the best pair of shoes I've had since my Mizzunos from last year. One feature I particualrly like is the cool lumpy shoelaces that allegedly stay tight and tied. The latter, I discovered, is not necessarily so. I don't remember which mile I was on the first time I heard that familiar swap-click-swap-click-swap-click, but I know I was far enough into the race to have felt sore when I steered off the path to bend over and tie them. (Based on my pace map below, looks like it was around mile 16 or 17.) I tied them, pulling the laces tight, thinking I must have just been careless in my initial tie. I remember very well where I was the second time they came untied: I was actually looking at the Mile 25 marker. I remember saying aloud to myself, "You've got to be kidding!" Apparently, the trouble was not caused by a careless tie; that is, unless you consider failing to tie in a double-knot careless. From now on, I will consider it so. No Walking In the three marathons I had run in previous to Las Vegas, I had walked varying distances of each race, from the handful of water stops in the last 6 miles of the Route 66 in November, to what surely amounted to several miles in OKC this past April. I recently read an article about the ways people hammered out the last 6 miles of a marathon. One idea I thought was a particularly good idea was that of dedicating each of the last 6 miles to someone significant. I was not sure I wanted to go this route, for fear that I would hit an insurmountable wall during these last miles, and then I'd feel badly for failing on someone's mile. Nevertheless, at mile 20, I texted my wife to tell her that that mile was for her. At mile 21, I texted her again to tell her I was dedicating the mile to my daughter, which was good, since I had misspelled during my wife's mile, and she needed the additional text to clarify. (Hey, it's hard to text while running and wearing gloves!) Mile 22 was for my son. I continued dedicating each of the next few miles to people close to me, wrapping up with the final 1.2 miles dedicated to my father, whose death about a decade ago still stings sorely. The dedications truly did motivate me, and when I finally hit the finish line, I walked--for the first time in 26.2 miles. My official time was 4:03:20, a 46-second improvement over the Route 66 and a new PR for me. Activity
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