Posts Tagged ‘I-35 Challenge’

You have to motivate yourself with challenges. That’s how you know you’re still alive.
– Jerry Seinfeld

Mike Sohaskey and Katie Ho at Des Moines Marathon finish

If the tights fit, you must commit, I thought wryly.

I emerged from the fitting room to find the only other customer in the store waiting for me. “I’ll take ‘em,” I told Katie. Relieved to have found my size (on clearance — he shoots, he scores!), I paid quickly and we hustled out of the REI and into the frosty West Des Moines night, the helpful green-vested team member locking the doors behind us.

The last thing I’d expected, 11 hours before I’d be running my second marathon of the weekend, was an impromptu visit to REI on the outskirts of town minutes before closing time. Then again, the second-to-last thing I’d expected was that the race day forecast in Des Moines would suddenly dip below the 30°F mark, after we’d already boarded the plane from Los Angeles. Meaning my cold weather running layers were nestled all snug in their closet at home.

I’m no fan of running in tights; I live in Los Angeles, after all. But with roughly the same amount of body fat as Wile E. Coyote and an immune system already compromised by the Kansas City Marathon earlier in the day, I didn’t want to do anything stupid(er). I hadn’t raced in temperatures this cold since I’d last run in tights, and that had been in Antarctica 5½ years earlier.

As added incentive thanks to Katie’s sister Kristina, I needed to stay healthy for Game One of the World Series in Boston on Tuesday, less than 72 hours away. And if that had required running 26.2 miles in an aseptic sumo suit, I would happily have done that too.

So yeah, like I said — bring on the tights.

Iowa State Capitol at sunset

Iowa State Capitol at sunset

Hawkeye State of mind (start to Drake University, mile 13)
So far, so good, find a rhythm, I thought as we retraced our steps back across the Des Moines River. The modern brick facades of downtown Des Moines rose up to greet us on our return. Where’ve you been? they seemed to say. We haven’t seen you in minutes!

Though my new tights felt good in the crisp, clear morning air, here in the early going my legs clearly didn’t have their usual springiness, and I was laboring to stay with the 3:55 pace group. Certainly the cold weather had something to do with my struggles, but more to blame was the previous day’s effort in Missouri. Time would tell whether — and to what extent — I could shake Kansas City out of my legs.

And therein lies the “challenge” of the I-35 Challenge — two marathons in two states in two days, 200 miles apart. Missouri on Saturday, Iowa on Sunday. Two of the best marathons in the Midwest in a single weekend.

Downtown skyline seen in Mile 1 of Des Moines Marathon

Downtown skyline seen across the Des Moines River, mile 1

Rewind to Saturday, and after a quick post-race lunch in Kansas City followed by a smooth drive north on I-35, we’d rolled up to Hy-Vee Hall in Des Moines (site of the Scheels Sports & Fitness Expo) as the last rays of sunlight danced warmly on the Iowa State Capitol building, its golden dome shining like King Midas’ crown. Unfortunately most of the expo vendors had called it a day by the time we arrived, but we were able to stop by and say hello to our buddy Blake Boldon, the tireless Director of the Drake University Relays and Drake Road Races and the former Executive Director of the Indy Monumental Marathon. On our way out we also purchased several raffle tickets in support of one of our favorite organizations, Special Olympics Iowa. And the full-zip Leslie Jordan jacket (rather than tech shirt) I received with my registration is one of the sweetest pieces of swag in my wardrobe. Nicely done, Des Moines!

Des Moines Marathon start line

You better be fast if you’re running in sub-freezing temps in a singlet and shorts

Knowing better than to push the pace this early I dropped back, content to run on autopilot behind the 4-hour pace group. I needed to play it safe so I’d still have gas in the tank at the end. My most important consideration today had nothing to do with the clock — rather, I wanted to soak up the scenery and enjoy my 26.2-mile tour of Des Moines. Because there’s no better way to see a new city than on foot.

Runners around me chatted away. Lively conversation is common in the early, feel-good stages of a marathon and one that typically diminishes as fatigue sets in, before ceasing altogether in the final stages as the body shifts into survival mode. And speaking of shifting, the constant shifting of gears on Des Moines’ rolling, residential course — up, down, up, down — exposed and exacerbated the heaviness in my legs, the endurance equivalent of pouring salt on an open wound. C’mon legs, show me what you got!

The real surprise so far, as someone visiting Kansas City and Des Moines for the first time, had been the decidedly non-flat terrain — who knew these two cities were so hilly? Unlike Kansas City, though, most of the hills in Des Moines’ clustered in the first eight miles.

Luckily the surrounding scenery — more suburban and rustic than KC, with no shortage of tree-lined residential neighborhoods — helped to distract from the struggle in my legs. I imagined the tag on my new tights: 90% polyester/9% spandex/1% concrete. So THAT’S why they were on the clearance rack…

Polk County Courthouse

Polk County Courthouse

I’d definitely appreciated the tights on Sunday morning during the frigid 10-minute walk from our hotel to the start line, erected in the shadow of stately Polk County Courthouse. Our start time would be a leisurely 8:00am, presumably in support of all the I-35 Challenge runners for whom that extra hour of sleep would be bigly yuge. And despite a restless night’s sleep thanks to the usual post-marathon one-two punch of elevated core temperature and immunosuppression, I felt remarkably good as I bid Katie farewell and diffused into the start corral. Certainly I felt better than the poor woman who then stepped up to the mic and proceeded to forget the words to the national anthem.

Not being the superstitious type, I hadn’t taken that as a bad omen. I just wanted to start running so I could stop shivering. Being skinny has both its benefits and its drawbacks.

Now entering mile 5 and like déjà vu all over again, the rousing theme from Rocky blasted from a set of loudspeakers on a front lawn, just as it had in Kansas City. Its sheer volume drove us onward while driving the overmatched speakers to the brink of distortion.

That same mile also featured one of my more whimsical race-day sightings — an enormous inflatable Stay Puft Marshmallow Man of Ghostbusters fame, standing guard over another front yard with his unnervingly cheery smile and with arms open wide, as if inviting each and every runner into his sugary embrace.

Mike Sohaskey with Stay Puft Marshmallow Man

“You’re almost there!” shouted a spectator in the early miles, to which one agitated runner shot back, “Not even close!” Quickly the spectator corrected himself, “I mean the top of the hill!” Which I appreciated, since no runner likes that guy who’s never run a marathon but who thinks it’s funny to stand at mile 2 and yell “Almost there!”

Running near the 3:55 and 4:00 pace groups for a time, I marveled at the proficiency of the pace leaders — with a steady stream of insights and encouragement, they constantly let their charges know what to expect from the course and from themselves. Pacing is a tough job, and while it’s one thing to sacrifice your own race day to help others attain their goals, it’s even more impressive to do it with such poise, confidence and consideration. Having a good pacer to steer the ship can make all the difference between seizing the moment and throwing in the towel when the going gets tough.

Though my legs likely would have stomached a sub-4 pace, my stomach — typically my canary in the coal mine on race day — had other ideas. As soon as I’d start to feel good and speed up, my stomach would roil restlessly like a ball bouncing on a seal’s nose, as if to remind me that it, too, was still recovering from Kansas City and that we were in no hurry.

Des Moines Marathon course elevation profile

Des Moines Marathon course elevation profile

Luckily the course featured porta-potties aplenty. My first pit stop in mile 10 lasted roughly two minutes, during which I felt like a performer in Cirque du Soleil: Marathon, awkwardly navigating three layers — tights, shorts and elastic SpiBelt around my waist to hold my iPhone — with not just unwieldy gloves but with frigid fingers that simply didn’t work well in the cold, much less in such a cramped, confined space.

But the two minutes was time well spent, and exiting the plastic, phone booth-sized box onto a residential suburban street I took a deep breath, gauged my stomach’s temperament and focused on running comfortably. Which, for now at least, was easy enough on this Norman Rockwell-type course and with the worst of the hills behind us. Not only that, but the best was still to come. Next up: Drake University.

For me, the Drake blue track in mile 12 was the course highlight. The disembodied voice of our pal Blake Boldon on the PA system welcomed runners as we entered the track and called the action from the booth as we made a single ¼-mile lap on the bouncy, vulcanized rubber surface. A few spectators (Katie included) cheered from the bleachers, and I glanced around the stadium like a kid visiting Disneyland for the first time, trying to slow down time while I soaked it all in. Drake Stadium is a beautiful facility, and I can imagine what a thrill it would be as a college athlete to run in the prestigious Drake Relays on that track.

Drake Stadium was the turnaround point of the day’s longest out-and-back (six miles), and by the time we exited I was feeling in a comfortable rhythm and looking forward to the second half of the race. A stiff crosswind — and occasional cold headwind — continued to blow as we retraced our steps through campus, the occasional gust causing fallen leaves to dance across the road like tiny drunken pedestrians.

Drake Stadium in mile 12 of the Des Moines Marathon

Drake Stadium, mile 12

The thing about wind is, it’s public enemy #1 when it blows against you, slowing your progress and draining your energy. On the other hand, when it blows with you so that you suddenly feel a step faster, it often goes unappreciated since you typically can’t feel the wind at your back. In a tailwind, the runner takes the credit; in a headwind, Mother Nature gets the blame. Heads I win, tails you lose.

Running is an outdoor sport, though, and a well-timed tailwind can significantly affect the outcome of a race. Such was the case at the 2011 Boston Marathon. Taking advantage of cool temperatures and a brisk tailwind, Geoffrey Mutai of Kenya ran the fastest marathon ever run at that time, finishing in 2:03:02, four seconds ahead of fellow countryman Moses Mosop. (Due to its elevation profile and start/finish separation, Boston isn’t eligible for world records.) Mutai also shattered the course record by nearly three minutes; no winner since then has come within 5½ minutes of his mark. Likewise, American Ryan Hall finished fourth that day in 2:04:58, an American record that stands to this day.

“It was at our back,” Mutai said afterwards of the wind. “But it wasn’t such a big wind.” Of course it wasn’t, at least not in Mutai’s eyes, because to admit as much might have diminished his record performance — a performance that by any standard was one for the ages.

Aside from the wind, the day was otherwise stunning — crisp and clear, the cloudless sky a particularly striking shade of sapphire. Tentatively I downed my first GU at mile 12.5; my stomach took it well, so that was promising.

Fall foliage on Drake campus in mile 13 of Des Moines Marathon

The Drake campus flaunts its flamboyant fall foliage, mile 13

Des Moines, des merrier (mile 14 to finish)
Seeing the back of my shirt, fellow 50 Stater David from Chattanooga asked, “What is RaceRaves?” He pronounced each half of the name distinctly, like a spelling bee contestant enunciating the word he’s been challenged to spell. And so, as we cruised back along residential Kingman Blvd, I happily shared my elevator pitch for our awesome website/race resource before I found myself pulling away from him.

Finally, I’d hit my stride and was feeling good. That peaceful, easy feeling would last about a mile, until GU number two caused my stomach to churn in protest. {sigh}

Huge props to the energetic spectator at the corner of Polk and Kingman, near the end of our Drake out-and-back. She was rocking a set of sleigh bells when I first passed her in mile 10, and again still as I approached her from the opposite direction in mile 15. And she shook them with feeling, as though the fate of Christmas (or maybe her own body warmth?) depended on it. She was a one-woman cheer zone, and I waved in appreciation as I passed.

Overall, despite similar finisher numbers and less than half the urban population, Des Moines struck me as having more spectators than Kansas City. And the signage I saw along the course won the weekend as well. Sure, I’ve seen it before — after 35 marathons and 40 half marathons, new spectator signs are tough to come by — but “You’re running better than the government” has taken on new meaning since 2016. And “Toenails are for sissies” is a tried-and-true sentiment that earns an unexpected smile when it’s sponsored by the Des Moines University Foot & Ankle Clinic.

Finally! a spectator sign that nails the marathon mindset

Aside from the Drake track, miles 18-24 are what I’ll remember most about the DMM course. These seven miles comprised a series of interconnected public parks, one transitioning seamlessly into the next as we followed a paved, well-maintained bike path through peaceful wooded stretches, across wide-open green spaces, along the Raccoon River and finally around popular Gray’s Lake. At times the route felt downright bucolic and far removed from city folk — as in, how most Americans envision Iowa.

Not to be assuaged by our tranquil surroundings, my mercurial stomach awoke with renewed agitation in mile 20, forcing me to make a second pit stop. Luckily this one was a bit more graceful, and I resumed the race with high hopes for reaching the finish line without further gastrointestinal distress. A boy’s gotta dream, you know?

Crossing the Raccoon River in mile 18 of the Des Moines Marathon

Crossing the Raccoon River, mile 18

The path in places was strewn with fallen leaves, many of them still green rather than fall’s preferred palette of yellow, orange and red. I glanced up to see large numbers of leaves — maybe primed to fall already? — being blown from their trees by the gusting wind. The displaced leaves fluttered in the air like startled green butterflies, a scene that struck me as strangely curious. Or maybe my second marathon in two days was messing with more than just my stomach.

One uniquely cool aspect of Des Moines was the good-natured course monitors who patrolled the route on bikes offering aid, nutrition or simply an encouraging word. For the novice marathoner or half marathoner, it’s gotta be reassuring to know that if the wheels (yours, not theirs) do fall off during the race, help will quickly be by your side.

Mile 20 banner at the Des Moines Marathon

Running along the Raccoon River in mile 20, a member of the bike patrol rode by blasting “All I Want Is You” by The Cars, and I had to wonder whether their choice of song was purely coincidental or drolly intentional: You might think I’m delirious, the way I run you down…

Leaving Water Works Park, we immediately entered Gray’s Lake Park for a two-mile loop of — surprise! — Gray’s Lake. The deep blue serenity of Gray’s Lake came at a perfect time. As the “Are we there yet?” miles of the marathon, miles 22-24 are among the most challenging, since you’re battling mental and physical exhaustion despite having 15-30+ minutes of running still ahead of you. So any distraction from my mounting fatigue was much appreciated.

A nifty foot bridge cut across one end of the lake, offering a skyline view of our final destination in downtown Des Moines. The scene evoked a déjà vu flashback to Omaha, where the neighboring Council Bluffs (Iowa) skyline had beckoned from across the Missouri River near the halfway mark.

View of Des Moines skyline across Gray's Lake

View across Gray’s Lake, mile 23

Two Katie sightings in quick succession — in Water Works Park and then Gray’s Lake Park  — likewise were well-timed picker-uppers. Though her seeming ubiquity got me thinking that maybe she’d nicked one of the course monitor’s bikes when their head was turned.

Fortunately, and despite my stomach’s perverse rejection of nutrients, I somehow avoided the proverbial marathon wall, maintaining a reasonable pace and passing quite a few runners in the last six miles. I even dared my stomach to protest one final half-packet of GU in mile 22. Luckily it chose not to call my bluff, instead remaining quiet for the final miles.

Back out on the main road, I was passed by a ruddy-cheeked, fast-moving runner with seemingly no shortage of energy. Only one thing could explain the oddity of such seemingly fresh legs this late in a marathon: the marathon relay, an event in which each member of a team runs one or more individual “legs” of the marathon, with each leg covering a variable distance for a total of 26.2 miles.

I have nothing against the relay as a race-day option — on the contrary, I’m all for anything that gets people off the couch and running. That said, the final miles of a marathon are very much a masochistic proving ground — a brotherhood of suffering, if you will — and so there’s an undeniable aggravation in seeing a fellow runner, one who’s clearly in a different place both physically and psychologically, coast by you effortlessly as though they’re running an entirely different race. Because the truth is, they are — and their mile 4 may be your mile 24. (Disclaimer: this is a foible of both human nature and the marathon that’s intrinsic to the distance itself and not reflective of the usual arrogance of marathoners. In other words, to quote every professional athlete, it is what it is.)

Final crossing of the Des Moines River on MLK Jr Pkwy in mile 25 of the Des Moines Marathon

Final crossing of the Des Moines River on MLK Jr Pkwy, mile 25

Mile 26 featured a return to the industrial straightaway of Martin Luther King Jr Pkwy, where I focused on picking off one slow-moving runner at a time while soaking up the warmth of the noon sun directly overhead. As I ran, I recalled fellow 50 Stater Dan’s own DMM experience on a much warmer day in 2012, when this same stretch of reflective glass and concrete traversed under the heat of the midday sun had proven a brutal final act. Given that he’d clocked a 3:25 on that day, though, I found myself short on sympathy.

A ginormous American flag hung across the road ahead of us, and with one last burst of energy I passed several folks who looked to be running on fumes, before leaning into the final left turn. There in the home stretch, I basked triumphantly in the final 200 yards of a whirlwind weekend. Hearing my name announced over the PA, I looked up to see the august dome of the Polk County Courthouse welcoming me back as I crossed my second marathon finish line in roughly 25 hours in a respectable 4:06:18.

With that, Des Moines earned the dubious distinction of becoming the first road marathon in 32 tries that I’d clocked in over four hours. It’s a streak I’m modestly proud of, but one which was bound to end at some point given the sheer number of marathons (and ultramarathons) I run. On the other hand, I’d finished within 15 minutes of my Kansas City time, and under the circumstances I could live with that.

Yes we can! (and yes we did)

Challenge completed
At no point during the race had I felt overdressed in tights, and in fact I’d been thankful for their warmth and compression, which together acted as a security blanket for my weary legs.

Gratefully accepting my DMM medal (woo-hoo!) and I-35 Challenge medal (woo-HOO!), I exited the finish chute and threw my arms around a Stay Puft-soft Katie in her poofy winter jacket. Then I allowed myself to simply wander in a daze for a few minutes, my shiny new hardware clanging together like wearable wind chimes. Challenge completed.

It wasn’t long before the bracing combination of cold temperatures, swirling winds and dappled shade rudely snapped me out of my stupor. Briefly I thanked Race Director Chris Burch who was overseeing finish line operations, as well as Blake who had made his way to the finish and who, seeing me start to shiver as my body temperature dropped, smartly urged me to throw on some warmer clothes.

Mike Sohaskey with Sam Adams recovery drink at Des Moines Marathon

Sam Adams: the founding father of post-race recovery

I grabbed some food and an excellent Samuel Adams DSM 26.2 Brew to wash it down, the latter the sign of a finish line festival designed with its runners in mind. On that note, a word to all races that feature low-calorie Michelob ULTRA at your post-race party: don’t. After running 26.2 miles, the last thing I want is a low-carb post-race beer that pledges not to compromise my “active lifestyle.” That’s what water is for. Au contraire, carb me up.

Unfortunately I lingered too long to hit the massage tent before it closed, but no matter — I was feeling remarkably limber after a two-marathon weekend. And for the next two days I’d feel no different than if I’d run a single hard marathon, with the usual post-race lethargy and immune depression. Nothing that rest, nutrition and Game One of the World Series in Boston couldn’t cure!

Scenes from the Pappajohn Sculpture Park in Des Moines Iowa

Scenes from the Pappajohn Sculpture Park (clockwise, from top left): Nomade; Spider; White Ghost; Three Dancing Figures (version C); Moonrise, east. august, Moonrise, east. january

That evening, we followed up a visit to the eclectic Pappajohn Sculpture Park (not to be to confused with the Papa John of racist pizza fame) with dinner and drinks at El Bait Shop, a local hot spot recommended by Blake which boasts the “World’s largest selection of American craft beers,” including a marathon-perfect 262 beers on tap. It was a restful ending to a wild weekend… and the calm before the storm of a wildly rewarding week.

On Monday we said our fond farewells to Des Moines and hit the road — I-35, I wish I knew how to quit you — for the return trip to Kansas City. There we hopped a flight to Chicago for an overnight stay with friends Pete and Faby and one-year-old goddaughter Eva, before boarding an early-morning flight to Boston for a Tuesday evening date with Fenway Park and the best World Series matchup of my lifetime, as my childhood Boston Red Sox hosted our hometown Los Angeles Dodgers.

By the time the dust settled and the Red Sox captured their 4th World Series title in 15 years, we’d ended up visiting five states in five days. During that time I’d renewed great friendships, visited two vibrant Midwestern towns, notched marathons 35 and 36 in states 22 and 23, and crafted a 3,800-word blog post on Iowa without a single Field of Dreams reference.

Good thing too, because I’d hate to be accused of being corny.

Mike Sohaskey and Katie Ho Des Moines Marathon finish line selfie

BOTTOM LINE: As midsize marathons go, Des Moines is one of des best in the des Midwest, if not des entire country. The meandering, Hyde-and-Jekyll course is best considered in terms of pre-Drake (rolling first half) and post-Drake (much flatter second half), with the highlight being a lap around the blue Drake University oval in mile 12. Despite a similar field size, the course felt more suburban and more intimate than had Kansas City’s one day earlier, with much of the route passing through quiet neighborhoods and local parks, including a two-mile loop of serene Gray’s Lake late in the race. That said, the spirited support from the Des Moines community was impressive, including one woman who stood at miles 9.5 and 14.5 shaking her sleigh bells as if the upcoming holiday season depended on it.

As a spectator Katie drove many of the streets and neighborhoods bordering the course, and in so doing witnessed the more blue-collar commercial and industrial sectors of the city, none of which were immediately apparent to us marathoners. My own impression of Des Moines from race weekend was of a scenic, comfortably sized town with few defining features but with an abundance of green spaces, a vibrant university campus and an artsy, entrepreneurial streak. And finishing 26.2 miles in the shadow of stately Polk County Courthouse was a nice touch.

(Note: I ran DMM as the second half of a back-to-back weekend with the Kansas City Marathon as part of the excellent I-35 Challenge.)

Attending Game One of World Series at Fenway Park

With my two favorite Iowa natives at Game One of the World Series, Fenway Park

PRODUCTION: Des Moines was staged with clear attention to detail, from the scenic course that showcased the best of the city to the plentiful aid stations (and porta-potties) to the helpful volunteers who patrol the course on bikes, acting as mobile aid stations. And though the finish line festival (or in this case, the Samuel Adams Block Party) was a good bit colder and windier than the previous day in Kansas City, I stuck around to thank Race Director Chris Burch in person, and to take advantage of the free post-race nachos and Sam Adams DSM Brew, never a bad combination. Unfortunately I missed the complimentary massage tent, but that too was available to sore-legged finishers.

A handy pocket-sized Spectator Guide was available at packet pickup. The guide featured a map of the course showing the locations of cheer zones and parking lots, as well as helpful hints including the Sunday schedule, how to get connected with your runner and when/where to watch on race day. Super-spectator Katie found the guide to be particularly helpful in association with Google Maps.

One suggestion I might make would be for pacers (who always amaze me with their ability to lead, inform and entertain, all while maintaining a consistent pace for 26.2 miles) to carry signs that more clearly identify their pace times — the pace signs this year were difficult to read from a distance, which frustrated me on several occasions as I tried to gauge my progress based on a pace group running ahead of me.

I-35 Challenge medals

SWAG: Des Moines overdelivered in the swag department. While the shiny round finisher medal emblazoned with the race logo is an eye-catching addition to my collection, it’s overshadowed by the high-quality full-zip jacket with the IMT DMM logo printed on the left lapel. Not only is the jacket a thoughtful and significant upgrade from the usual race tee, but it’s the type of outerwear I’ll find a reason to wear even in SoCal, as it’s both comfy and stylish.

In addition to race-specific swag, marathoners and half marathoners who also completed Kansas City the day before earned 1) a colorful stained-glass I-35 Challenge medal with the names of both races on the medal and ribbon, and 2) a long-sleeve gray tech tee with “Challenge Completed” printed on the front. Hats off to the organizers in Des Moines and Kansas City for going the extra mile to make the I-35 Challenge one of the most memorable weekends in running!

Updated 50 States Map:

Mike Sohaskey's 50 States map on RaceRaves

RaceRaves rating:

FINAL STATS:
Oct 21, 2018 (start time 8:00 am)
26.26 miles in Des Moines, IA (state 23 of 50)
Finish time & pace: 4:06:18 (first time running the Des Moines Marathon), 9:25/mile
Finish place: 492 overall, 43/92 in M 45-49 age group
Number of finishers: 1,275 (766 men, 509 women)
Race weather: bitter cold (27°F) & clear at the start; cold, breezy & sunny at the finish
Elevation change (Garmin Connect): 712 ft gain, 719 ft loss
Elevation min, max: 761 ft, 981 ft

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It’s supposed to be hard. If it wasn’t hard, everyone would do it. The hard is what makes it great.
– Jimmy Dugan (Tom Hanks), A League of Their Own

Mike Sohaskey & Katie Ho by That's How We Do KC sign

As the ongoing saga of this blog attests, I’m a sucker for a good challenge — and especially of the running kind. So when I learned about the I-35 Challenge, I was as powerless to resist as a cow in a tractor beam.

The I-35 Challenge first popped up on my radar several years ago. It’s a shrewd partnership between the Kansas City Marathon and Des Moines Marathon in which runners tackle the two races on consecutive days — Kansas City on Saturday, Des Moines on Sunday — to earn bragging rights plus exclusive finisher swag. More importantly for a 50 Stater like me, it’s a golden opportunity to notch two states (Missouri and Iowa) in two days, at two of the best marathons in the Midwest.

That, and the idea of running back-to-back marathons — my first since Alabamissippi in early 2014 — added a hint of competition I couldn’t refuse.

I’d had my eye on the I-35 Challenge for some time, the main problem being that the two races annually fall on the same October weekend as Katie’s birthday — a bit of irony, given that she was actually born in Iowa (tell me she doesn’t look Iowan!). So I’d been unable to run in 2016, when we’d made other plans for her birthday. Then in 2017, I was disappointed to learn the organizers had inexplicably scheduled the two races on consecutive weekends, rather than consecutive days — a non-starter for those of us coming from the West Coast.

Mike Sohaskey with I-35 Challenge banner

2018, though, turned out to be our Goldilocks year — the timing on everyone’s part was juuuuust right, and so with Katie’s blessing I pulled the trigger, and the I-35 Challenge fell into place in what quickly became a busy fall racing schedule.

I’d only visited Missouri (whether you pronounce that with the stress on the first or second syllable is up to you) once before, on a 2010 visit to Washington University that had left me with decidedly mixed impressions of St. Louis. So I was excited instead to check out the state’s largest city in Kansas City, which from all accounts sounded more promising… though given recent changes to the marathon course and with little knowledge of the city itself, I resolved to keep my mind open and my expectations in check.

Spoiler alert: I wouldn’t be disappointed.

Our double-duty weekend got off to a spirited start Thursday evening, as we dinnered (of course it’s a verb, look it up) with good friends and fellow Antarctica 2013 alumni Louann, Fran and Tom. Louann now lives in Kansas City, whereas Fran and Tom like us were in town for the marathon.

Poor Louann, who only recently had moved to Missouri and who typically by default introduces out-of-town guests to one of the city’s beloved BBQ joints (it is KC, after all), instead had to maneuver to find a recommended dining option for four vegetarians. And that’s how we ended up having an excellent meal with even better company at Café Gratitude, an inspired vegan café that also has locations in SoCal and the Bay Area. The memorable-but-too-short evening reiterated what we’ve all discovered time and time again over the past 5+ years: that Antarctica is the gift that keeps on giving. Thanks for being our hostess with the mostest, Louann!

National World War I Museum and Memorial by day

The National World War I Museum and Memorial by day…

… and at sunset

With race day on Saturday, that left us all day Friday for a self-guided tour of the City of Fountains, starting with the race expo at historic Union Station. Located on the northwest corner of a busy intersection that also features the Missouri Korean War Veterans Memorial, the Henry Wollman Bloch Fountain and the official race hotel (the Westin Crown Center), Union Station was a cool choice for the expo venue. Originally opened in 1914, closed in 1985 and restored in 1999, the station today serves as a busy Amtrak depot as well as home to theaters, museum exhibits, an interactive science center — and even its own escape room. Yes Union Station, you’ve finally made it.

The KCM expo was one of the more lively and enjoyable I’ve attended, with plenty of interesting vendors (including several local races) in a nicely laid-out, easy-to-navigate footprint. We quickly secured my packet, spent about an hour shopping and chatting, and then hit the road for a whirlwind tour of the city that featured two professional sports stadiums, at least half a dozen fountains and a brief sojourn across the state border into Kansas, our first-ever visit to the Sunflower State. Hopefully we’ll return to run on that side of the state line soon.

After that night’s mandatory carbo-calorie cram, the highlight of which was Katie’s sister Kristina calling to let us know she’d secured tickets for Game One of the World Series (!) on Tuesday in Boston, I prepped for the day ahead before settling in for a longer-than-usual pre-race nap. With 52.4 miles to run in the next 36 hours, sleep would be my not-so-secret weapon if I hoped to reach the finish line in Des Moines with a smile on my face.

Kansas City Marathon start corrals

No matter your intended pace, the start corral was like Walmart on Black Friday

Off to a hill of a start
Perfect morning for a marathon, I reflected as we made the easy 5-minute stroll from our hotel to the start line. There in the pre-dawn darkness under the watchful eye of the iconic neon red Western Auto sign, our Saturday began with the national anthem performed on trumpet by a local musician. The final lingering note hung briefly in the still air before the eager buzz of the crowd rose up to swallow it. Meanwhile, I squeezed my skinny frame into the middle of the tightly packed start corral like one more clown in an overstuffed phone booth.

I chatted briefly with a fellow 50 Stater from Maryland who would be pacing her friend’s first marathon today. Then I wished them both luck as fireworks lit the twilight sky around us and the corral surged forward, propelling us across the start line.

The gradual yet immediate climb up Grant Blvd was a shot across the bow to any runner who’d arrived in Kansas City expecting a flat course. I’d mentally — and thanks to June’s Comrades Marathon, physically — prepared for a rolling, hilly 26.2 miles, even if that didn’t jibe with my preconceived notions of the Midwest.

Stretching our legs and rousing our lungs, we followed Grand Blvd through downtown, over I-670 and past the multi-purpose Sprint Center, its rounded glass façade imposing and unmistakable in the low morning light. A quick turnaround at City Hall sent us back the way we’d come, downhill this time as we sneaked up on the Sprint Center from behind before arriving at the headquarters of The Kansas City Star, the city’s 138-year-old newspaper.

Western Auto sign

I glanced down instinctively as my Garmin beeped to signal the mile marker — 8:18, a great pace for mile 25 on Sunday but too fast for mile 2 on Saturday. And especially since the plan called for a relaxed sub-4 hour (9:09/mile) finish. I needed to slow down and be smarter. Granted, half of mile 2 had been downhill and the uphills would obviously be slower, but clearly pacing here would be a challenge. With that in mind, I resolved to avoid spiking my heart rate on the uphills, since I knew doing so would compromise my recovery and come back to haunt me in Des Moines.

Come ON, Des Moines is over 24 hours away, plenty of time to recover — 3:45 or bust! sneered the competitive voice in my head. But with a frenetic ten months of working, racing and traveling behind me and a busy two months still ahead, a spectacular flame-out this weekend was the last thing I needed.

The Rocky theme song (“Gonna Fly Now”) may be second only to Ozzy Osbourne’s “Crazy Train” for most popular race-day musical selection, and hearing its familiar orchestral élan wafting ghost-like across a seemingly empty baseball field made me want to one-two punch the air in appreciation. But having done this long enough to know that energy saved is energy earned over 26.2 miles, I opted instead for silent approval. Keep it simple, stupid.

Unless you were specifically looking for it, you could be forgiven for missing the understated American Jazz Museum and Negro Leagues Baseball Museum late in mile 4 — and especially since most runners here were focused instead on the road, which was a pitted and unfinished mess. A lady to my left assessed the situation bluntly: “Well, this sucks.”

The Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art with its iconic Shuttlecocks display

Luckily it was a short stretch that passed quickly, though not quickly enough for poor Fran, who apparently fell on the rough surface and suffered a nasty skinned knee. And while the road may have exacted its ounce of flesh, the fall did little more than slow her down as Fran picked herself up and soldiered onward to yet another marathon finish in this, her fourth tour of the 50 states.

Turning south away from downtown, the urban route morphed into a more residential, tree-lined boulevard that offered a welcome contrast to the closely spaced buildings in our rearview mirror. “On a scale of 1 to 10, you’re a 26.2” proclaimed one spectator sign along this otherwise subdued stretch.

With all due respect and appreciation to Garmin for its sponsorship of the marathon, my “Questionable promotion of the day” award goes to the company’s “fastest quarter mile” challenge. Basically, a faux finish line arch stood at the mile 8 marker in Rockhill, and the person who ran the final ¼ mile of mile 8 in the fastest time would win a Garmin. Which might have been an interesting contest in mile 26 (or mile 13 for the half marathoners), but honestly I can’t imagine a better way to torpedo your marathon or even half marathon performance than by throwing down 400m of speed work in mile 8. Hey, to each his own — I’d imagine the free Garmin would be worth the effort for the winner. For the runner-up, though…

Here at mile 8 the marathon and half marathon courses diverged, and after crossing over Brush Creek we followed the creek along Volker Blvd on a two-mile out-and-back. Cruising comfortably along Volker, I was overtaken by a runner wearing a dye sublimation American flag t-shirt and camouflage fatigues carrying two large flags, one an American flag and the other a blue flag with white lettering and a red outline that read “PRESIDENT TRUMP: MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN.”

Squinting back at me from the fellow’s shirt was what appeared to be a blonde pumpkin wearing a red tie. Holding my comfortable pace, I fell into step several yards behind my brainwashed buddy so I could appreciate the reception from runners coming in the opposite direction on the out-and-back. Not surprisingly (and especially in Missouri) both cheers and jeers greeted him, with one fellow muttering to his running partner as they passed, “I hope his arm falls off.”

“Asshole!” yelled another more candid runner, at which MAGA man turned and shouted dumbly back at him, “Where’s YOUR flag?” Ah, the unifying power of patriotism! Nothing says “I’m looking for a thoughtful conversation about the direction of our country” like running 26.2 miles swaddled in the worst U.S. President of the post-war (that’s post-Civil War) era.

Turning off Volker at mile 10, I sucked down half a GU, my first of the day. Normally I’ll minimize (or skip) in-race nutrition, but today I knew I’d need the carbs — if not for the next 16 miles, then certainly to give my body a head-start in its post-race recovery. With that in mind, I’d repeat this routine five more times every 2½ to 3 miles, which helped to stabilize my energy levels so I wouldn’t dig myself too deep a caloric hole.

When in Rome… Standing Figures (Thirty Figures) at the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art

A KC Masterpiece
Skirting the University of Missouri-Kansas City, the course rolled uphill yet again as we entered some of the city’s more upscale neighborhoods, where sturdy contemporary homes sported freshly manicured lawns, wide driveways, wooden picket fences and decorative gables. Past another immaculate park and another gushing fountain, one tree-lined street blended into another until finally we reached Ward Parkway for a 7+ mile out-and-back along the Missouri/Kansas border.

Turning onto Ward Pkwy, a small group of Marathon Maniacs and Half Fanatics passed me in mile 14, and I happened to notice one of them wearing an awfully familiar blue-and-orange cap with #RavingLunatic on the back — our RaceRaves cap! No cooler moment than seeing a RaceRaves member wearing our gear in the wild. I pulled alongside, complimented her on her choice of headwear and quickly introduced myself to Katie S. from Manhattan, Kansas. Then I texted ahead to let my own Katie know to keep an eye out for her.

Spectators — including Katie H. in miles 15 and 20 — lined the out-and-back along Ward Pkwy, enabling them to cheer on their runners twice without having to budge. Ward Pkwy turned out to be a very pleasant (and relatively flat) stretch of the course and a perfect opportunity to appreciate the seasonal changing of the guard in the red-, orange- and yellow-accented trees on either side of us.

Mike Sohaskey at mile 20 of Kansas City Marathon

Feeling strong on the Ward Parkway out-and-back, mile 20

Rather than a straight shot out and back, a 4-mile loop at the end of Ward Pkwy added a measure of commercial and residential variety to this stretch. I took advantage of these “cruise control” miles to relax and reflect on my impressions of Kansas City as a charming and vibrant city, from its prolific fountains and nicely manicured parks to its diverse architecture and even the nation’s only official World War I Memorial. The newly reimagined (as of 2017) marathon course is smartly designed to showcase a city which really does feel like the heartland of America.

Two more miles of spacious front lawns and wrought iron fences brought us back to Volker Blvd, where we retraced our steps across Brush Creek and soon arrived at Country Club Plaza with its trendy, high-end shops and Spanish-inspired architecture. Here we rejoined the half marathoners, and I saw an updated version of the same spectator sentiment I’d noted earlier: “On a scale of 1 to 10, you’re a 13.1.” Hey, what’s with the downgrade? Sure I’m no Kipchoge, but I’ve gotta do this again tomorrow!

American flags lined the road to my right as we approached Mill Creek Park in mile 23. There I enjoyed my final Katie Ho sighting in mile 23 before passing the most impressive fountain of the day, the J.C. Nichols Memorial Fountain with its water colored royal blue, presumably in celebration of marathon weekend.

Approaching Mill Creek Park, mile 23

All these fountains and not one fountain of youth, I pondered. I can get pretty profound in the later miles of a marathon. Ironically, though, this was a day where youth would have been wasted on the old, because I was feeling great. The combination of smart pacing, regular GU-age (ewww) and engaging scenery had me running as comfortably as I’d ever run 26.2 miles.

Turns out the same couldn’t be said of my flag-toting MAGA friend. Apparently both gravity and fatigue(s) — as in, his choice of running pants — had caught up to him, and I glanced up to see him struggling ahead of me, his once-confident stride reduced to more of a shuffle. November 6 is coming, I thought as I cruised by without a word. Have a nice day.

Moments later I found myself overtaking Katie S. on a short uphill. “Looking great, keep it up!” I encouraged as I passed. She looked strong and well on her way to a sub-4 finish.

A wildly enthusiastic fellow offered Dixie cups of beer in Westport — you know, just in case we weren’t sufficiently dehydrated after running 24 miles. Which reminded me of one of my favorite spectator signs, a classic that still makes me smile whenever I see it: “Run faster, the Kenyans are drinking all the beer!”

Mike Sohaskey and Katie Ho at J.C. Nichols Memorial Fountain

Singin’ the (Royal) blues at the J.C. Nichols Memorial Fountain

Surrendering myself to the seductive “so close yet so far” embrace of mile 25, I pulled alongside two women, one of whom was loud and rambunctious and clearly pacing her friend. It took me a moment to realize it was the same 50 Stater from Maryland whom I’d met in the start corral 3½ hours earlier. She’d grab her friend’s hand and prompt cheers from the crowd with a shout of “It’s her first marathon!” I chimed in with my support, letting her friend know that the finish line was almost in sight. To her credit, she was holding together well and didn’t resemble an extra in “The Walking Dead” like so many other first-time marathoners at that stage.

It’s often the case in urban marathons that the first two and last two miles are the least scenic, and Kansas City was no exception. We re-entered the downtown commercial sector comprising block after block of fast-food joints, loan shops and other strip mall standbys silently hailing our triumphant return. Were those Golden Arches just a bit more golden this morning? Had Burger King quickly tipped his crown as we’d passed? Did that Wendy’s sign just wink at me? I was sure of it.

The National WWI Museum and Memorial (left) and city skyline beckon, mile 26

On the flip side, what most other urban marathons don’t offer is a straight (free of turns) one-mile shot to the finish, nor half a mile of downhill running culminating in the finish line itself. Depending on your fitness level, Kansas City’s last ½ mile (which loses nearly 200 ft of elevation) serves as either a green light to empty the gas tank and finish strong or a painful reminder of the physical toll the first 25.7 miles have exacted on your quads. Or in some cases, both.

Having successfully done nothing stupid to this point, I saw no need to press my luck on the final downhill — a few seconds won or lost this late in the game meant nothing. Instead, I paused to snap one last photo of the downtown skyline framed against a pristine blue sky, before coasting downhill in the shadow of the National World War I Museum and Memorial and across the finish line in a reasonable if unspectacular time of 3:51:28.

One down, one to go.

Kansas City Marathon finish line

Coasting across the finish (left) while Katie S. (right) shows off her best finish-line face (photos: SportPhotos.com)

I turned in the finish chute to see Ms. Maryland and her exhausted friend follow me across the line, our 26.2-mile journeys starting and ending almost in sync. The two of them were followed moments later by Katie S, who yelped as she crossed the line and limped by me without braking, her face contorted in a painful grimace. As she veered toward the medical tent, the sound of her “OW OW OW OW” receded like a police siren in her wake. Fortunately, seeing her moments later from afar, she looked to be walking well and without a limp.

Gratefully I accepted my finisher medal from a smiling volunteer and thanked Race Director Dave Borchardt, who stood monitoring the finish line of his excellent marathon. He looked relaxed, despite operating on what no doubt amounted to little more than a pre-race catnap. Then I reunited with Katie and joined the finish line festival across the street in Washington Square Park. There I immediately found an open spot on the grass where I could lay on my back and elevate my legs, feet propped up on a tree trunk while sipping from my bottle of Tailwind Rebuild (brought from home) to refuel and replenish the 3,000+ calories I’d burned on my tour of the city. The weather was Octoberrific, as though that too had come with us from SoCal. Post-race recovery was underway.

KC Royals mascot and local celebrity Slugger

Ten minutes later I rejoined the vertical world to take advantage of the post-race massage tent and several cool photo opportunities, including one with Kansas City Royals mascot Slugger who wandered the festival slapping high-fives. Famished runners chowed down on hot BBQ and cold beer, and with a fleeting jealousy I glanced around at all the happy finishers who were done running marathons for the weekend.

But that’s why they call it a challenge. As the saying goes, if it were easy everyone would do it. State #22 was in the books, and the Show-Me State had done exactly that. And for those of you scoring at home that’s Mi•zoor’•ee, accent on the second syllable.

I could have closed my eyes under a tree there in Washington Square Park and happily taken a nap, visions of laurel wreaths and shoe sponsorships dancing in my head. But we had somewhere to be — I-35 was waiting. And Iowa was calling.

Iowa welcome sign

Running back-to-back marathons? Some post-race recovery tips for marathon #1:

1) Recline: Soon after crossing the finish line, elevate your legs above your heart to minimize the short-term immune response that produces soreness and inflammation. And if the post-race party includes a massage tent, all the better!

2) Refuel: I’m no nutritionist, but I know my body is depleted after running a marathon and burning roughly 3,000 calories. Unfortunately, it usually takes several hours for my appetite to return. Refueling with simple carbohydrates and protein soon after the race helps your body start replenishing its glycogen stores and repairing muscle microdamage. My current go-to recovery drink after a hard workout is Tailwind Rebuild.

3) Rehydrate: Don’t limit yourself to that tiny bottle of water in the finish chute — hydrate consistently throughout the day. And remember this rule of thumb when it comes to urine: If the color’s straw, hip hip hurrah! (Ok, so maybe I made that up… but it’s true!)

4) Rejuvenate: If you have time after the race, soak your legs in an ice bath (or as cold as you can tolerate) for 10-15 minutes to help ward off inflammation. As uncomfortable as this may sound (and yes, it’ll feel that way at first), you and your legs will be glad you did.

5) Revive: Many runners swear by compression socks, which claim to accelerate post-race recovery by improving the circulation of blood in the legs to reduce swelling, muscle soreness and muscle fatigue. I’ll often wear them myself both during and after a race. The passive recovery period spent driving or flying between races is the ideal time for compression socks.

View from the post-race recovery cam, Washington Square Park

BOTTOM LINE: Having entered the weekend as a Kansas City newbie not knowing what to expect, I can now enthusiastically gush about the City of Fountains. Both the marathon and the city itself exceeded my expectations for a state that outsiders cheekily pronounce MISS’-ou-ri. Kansas City (as least the Missouri side; we spent very little time on the Kansas side) strikes me as a vibrant, scenic town that’s comfortable in its own skin, with a hint of cosmopolitan panache and plenty to see and do.

With significant upgrades to the marathon course in recent years, the rolling route now leads its runners past some of the city’s most notable neighborhoods, parks and landmarks including the J.C. Nichols Memorial Fountain (with its water dyed blue, presumably for race weekend) and the National World War I Museum and Memorial. Even the lengthy out-and-back along Ward Pkwy in miles 14-21 passed quickly with its upscale neighborhoods and flashy fall colors, which always appeal to someone coming from SoCal where seasons are more of a fanciful concept than a climatic reality.

Sometimes, in the course of running all 50 states, you find a race that just feels right, in an unassuming city that’s eager to showcase itself to anyone receptive to its charms. Kansas City was just such a race, and it’s probably no coincidence that it was also one of my most consistent marathon performances, from its uphill start to its downhill finish. For anyone looking for a Midwestern marathon/half marathon or any 50 Stater looking to add Missouri to their map, I’d highly recommend you #RunKCM. Oh, and do train for hills.

(Note: I ran KCM as the first half of a back-to-back with the Des Moines Marathon as part of the excellent I-35 Challenge.)

PRODUCTION: For the most part, race weekend in the City of Fountains flowed smoothly from start to finish. The energetic pre-race expo, held in historic Union Station, was one of the more enjoyable mid-size expos I’ve attended, with plenty of diverse vendors big and small as well as a number of cool races I’d love to run if I lived in the Midwest. Popular Olympian and running coach Jeff Galloway was available to offer guidance, sign books or simply chat. Kansas City was also the site of the quarterly 50 States Marathon Club reunion, which further added to the energy of the weekend for club members.

Despite a densely packed start corral that was tough to access, the marathon course did a nice job of showing off the city and its highlights, with plenty of aid stations and terrific volunteers. And though some may disagree, I appreciated the fast downhill finish since I still had control of my legs. Spectator support was sparse, which I count as a positive since big, loud, raucous crowds typically aren’t my cup of tea. That said, a diverse collection of bands filled the air along the route with musical motivation. Hats off, too, to KCM and SportPhotos.com for providing free race photos — always a bonus, and especially if you don’t have your own star spectator like Katie to expertly (wo)man the camera for you.

Taking advantage of perfect late October weather, the finish line festival in Washington Square Park was jumping. Operation BBQ Relief dished out Kansas City BBQ while Central States Beverage served up local beers. As a vegetarian planning to run another marathon in another state the next day, I bypassed both the BBQ and beer, though not the complimentary massage tent where I got a (literal) leg up on my post-race recovery. A number of photo ops awaited happy finishers, including a gong waiting to be rung by anyone who’d qualified for Boston, set a personal record or simply run Kansas City for the first time (one out of three ain’t bad!). Even KC Royals mascot Slugger was on hand trading high-fives and posing for pictures. Given that we had our sights set on Iowa for the next day’s Des Moines Marathon as part of the I-35 Challenge, we couldn’t stay long, but I soaked up the post-race ambience for as long as possible before hustling back across the street for our noon checkout at the host hotel.

Speaking of the host hotel, this was our only legit source of race weekend disappointment. Although a convenient and comfortable facility, the Westin Kansas City at Crown Center seemed to have no clue that the city’s largest running event was happening just outside its doors and that many of its patrons would therefore be runners. For example, information on road closures in the vicinity of the hotel would have been helpful for friends and family members who would be driving the course to support their runners. Much more annoying, our request for a late checkout was denied, and by the time we reached our room minutes after noon, our room key had been deactivated. Sadly we weren’t alone, as I chatted with several other disgruntled runners in our hallway while Katie went downstairs to reactivate our key. We ended up disregarding the checkout time, grabbing a quick shower and hitting the road sometime after 12:30pm. So if you expect you’ll need more than 4½ hours to finish your marathon, you may want to think twice before booking the Westin.

2018 Kansas City Marathon medal by Union Station

SWAG: KCM earns two thumbs up (and five shoes on RaceRaves) for this year’s standout swag, which included an attractive and comfy lightweight blue hoodie, the first of its kind I’ve received in 35 marathons and one I’ve already worn on several occasions. And the hefty square finisher medal is uniquely Kansas City in the best way, as it depicts four of the city’s fountains while distinguishing the race distance visually based on ribbon color. Well done, KC!

Updated 50 States Map:

RaceRaves rating:

FINAL STATS
Oct 20, 2018 (start time 7:00 am)
26.42 miles in Kansas City, MO (state 22 of 50)
Finish time & pace: 3:51:28 (first time running the Kansas City Marathon), 8:46/mile
Finish place: 301 overall, 23/80 in M 45-49 age group
Number of finishers: 1,264 (787 men, 477 women)
Race weather: cool (45°F) & clear at the start, warm & sunny at the finish
Elevation change (Garmin Connect): 880 ft gain, 854 ft loss
Elevation min, max: 787 ft, 1,011 ft