Cindy Knull

Rock N Roll Las Vegas Marathon and Half Marathon: Flat “fast” course down the strip at night. I wore my Brooks Green Silence.

Not all of us have running stories that include Olympic trials and world championship races. Most of us fight our running battles in community 10k runs, in marathons, or just in our daily workouts. But the lessons are the same. The Olympian does not necessarily possess greater determination than the weekend road warrior who fights back from injury, burnout, or other setbacks. It is not the level of achievement or the numbers attached to a PR that are important. It is the size of our hearts. It is what we do in those moments when all hope seems lost and we are confronted with a choice to give up or keep trying. It is what we learn about ourselves through those dire circumstances that gives us the courage and strength to conquer the other challenges and hills in our lives. ~Running The Edge, Adam Goucher and Tim Catalano. (pp 114-115)

I’m sitting here at my desk looking out my office window, on a cold, rainy and dreary morning in Ohio. And once again, I find myself trying to find the words to begin. Six weeks ago I came off an incredible experience at the Cincinnati Half Marathon. I gained a PR there with a finish time of 2:09:18. Mentally this set a tone for what I had hoped Vegas to be. I did the Las Vegas Rock n Roll last year, and it was also an incredible experience. I thought it to be a very well organized race. I won’t go into it, you can read about that experience here. This year? An utter nightmare that has me re-thinking ever doing this race again.

After completing last years race, my friends and I decided to do it again for 2011, makeing it a tradition by way of getting together and re-connecting with something that is challenging but yet fun. So ALL year, I’ve been looking forward to this race. When it was announced that Competitor would be doing the race at night, down the strip, we were excited by the prospect to say the least. How cool to run under the lights of the Las Vegas strip..lights lights lights!! And I do have to say, that was pretty cool!!

But…

There are many things that are beyond our personal control when it comes to running. I had personally been fighting illness of some sort for three weeks prior to this race. First a head cold, then the flu, then immediately following a personal best and obtaining a personal record 5k race Thanksgiving morning I promptly came down with bronchitis. I ended up going to urgent care that Saturday morning and was put on an antibiotic. I made the very difficult decision to stop training and put myself on bed rest. I just had to be better for this race. I had planned and worked so hard for it all year long…I was in a panic, only 10 days out.

By the time I got to Vegas I felt much better, but still had a nagging cough. Mentally, I felt very strong about this race in spite of the pricking thought that I had not ran in 10 days. I really had no idea how my lungs would fare for the effort I was about to put them through. As can be imagined, I continued to pray for healing.

Upon first arriving in Las Vegas the climate change is the most obvious. Extraordinarily dry. I knew I would need to up my water intake significantly in order to be hydrated properly for the race. By the end of the first day, even my lips were starting to feel chapped. This aggravated the bronchitis a bit but it managed to level out after 24 hours.

The day of the race, I took it easy. I ate a huge breakfast and took a nice nap. I stayed at the MGM Grand which was a mile from the start line at Mandalay Bay. It had been cold in Vegas and a gnarly biting wind had been blowing through the city all weekend. I chose to wear my cold weather running tights and a cold weather long sleeved running shirt. I assumed I would be warm enough with that based on the past two races that started at a brisk 38 degree temperature. I had worn shorts for those races and was fine. But those races were in the morning and heated up as the sun came up. This was a completely different animal in that we were starting at dusk..and the sun was going to go down leaving us all in the dark.

Cheap Trick was headlining the pre-race show at 3:45 so at around 3:30 I headed down to Mandalay Bay. I checked the temperature which told me it was 50 degrees, I stupidly decided to leave my extra layer in the hotel room, as I thought I would be warm enough with what I had on, especially after I got running I knew my body would heat up and I didn’t want to be over heated and no where to put my extra layer. This was dumb. Spectators were already filling up the tiny space of sidewalks as the full marathoners were set to start at 4 pm. This made my 15 minute one mile walk turn into a 30 minute fight to get to the stage area. This was the beginning of the fight that didn’t end until I sat my frozen ass in a tub of HOT water around 9pm that night.

I joined my friends, Kyle, Rich, and Nancy at the stage where Cheap Trick was already playing..and I have to say this was the absolute best part of the whole experience. The band sounded fantastic and looked equally amazing. Mike McCready of Pearl Jam, who was going to be running in the race, joined the band onstage and played through with them on The Dream Police. It was very exciting and super fun! Robin Zander’s wife was also running in the race. I don’t know, it just made us all feel good. Like we were all in this together. They continued to play more jam music while we left for our corrals about 4:45. Our race time was starting at 5:30. The sun was setting and it was getting cold. Really cold. With a slight wind. And I was regretting that I didn’t bring that extra layer. We all huddled in close together trying to keep warm with body heat. Waiting…

Finally about 25 minutes after the first corral started, my corral hit the start line. We were finally off which was exhilarating. I checked to see how my body felt after having not ran for 10 days and I felt strong. This was a good sign. I knew that by mile 3 we would all be in our pace as the initial racers would be moving out…half a mile into the race I came upon walkers. A line of them, like a wall, with thousands of people surrounding me all running at different speeds I was amazed that there were walkers this close to the start. This was a very very frustrating thing to be faced with as it forced many of us to walk searching for a hole to escape through. This was the race for the next 13 miles. It never ended. The zig zagging around walkers was not only annoying, but dangerous. I know for certain that I personally ran close to 14 miles with all the extra steps to avoid tripping or bumping into those who were walking. There is no good way to describe this issue. I know others whose Garmin prove this to be true in the mileage. I am not against someone who walks in a race, Yes people run/jog races. I’m not talking about that. But this is a running event. And NOBODY should be walking a half a mile from the start..if you are, then you are not qualified to be taking part in a Marathon race or you are injured. GET OFF THE COURSE AND OUT OF THE WAY. If people wanted to walk the distance, Competitor should have had them sign up under a different race. Sorry if that offends some people but it’s how I feel.

At about mile one or two the full marathoners merged with us. This was not a big deal, except that race organizers had placed small orange cones along one of the lanes in the street to give them their own area of the road. So let’s think about this. It’s night. It’s dark. There are 44,000 of us. And there are little orange cones on the street. What do you think happens? You are exactly right. Not to mention the random orange cone in the middle of the road where all you can see is the person in front of you and the person to the left or right of you that you’ve been rubbing shoulders with for miles and suddenly, you see the person in front of you hop or move suddenly to the left or right at the last minute..to avoid tripping over the mysterious orange cone. I almost bit it, a few times. Very very very dangerous. I’m sure there were many who were not so fortunate.

I knew by mile 3 that there would be no gaps. No clearing out for pace or form, there would be no PR (personal record) or PB (personal best). This was going to be a grind. It was highly stressful and so I acquired a sharp pinch behind my left shoulder blade due to lack of good form, this became so agonizingly painful it was all I thought about..outside of not tripping over anybody, or those damn orange cones. Regularly I would come upon a group standing in the middle of the road, with a sea of racers trying to manage a way to get around them, while they stood for a cell phone picture…VIVA LAS VEGAS! Right? Another absolutely dangerous thing to do. If I could describe to you what this was like it would be like you were driving in a fog where you had limited visibility when suddenly there before you is a huge Buck standing in the middle of the road, you want to swerve to miss it but there are cars all around you. THIS WAS THE ENTIRE RACE.

At about mile 3, a female marathoner, this would be mile 16 for her, absolutely bit it and went down on to the concrete full body. I think she was trying to jump up on the curb to get around the walkers that were in front of her, and misstepped. At mile 16, you are flipping tired…I can’t imagine. I stopped and got out of the street to help her along with a couple of other people…nobody else stopped to help her. She was clearly hurt and her hands were bloodied. We asked if she was okay, she was stunned. She checked herself over very briefly, wrung her hands a couple of times AND THEN STARTED RUNNING. I got back on the course and was amazed at her strength. I started getting emotional about it and wanted so desperately to thank her for that. I wanted to thank her for letting me witness her courage. Damn inspiring. I thought about her for the next three miles.

At mile 6 we were in Old Las Vegas. A very seedy area. I usually run on the side of the street, but for some reason, I thought this made me vulnerable in case anyone decided to start shooting a weapon into the crowd…didn’t see many cops down there, so I squeezed into the middle of the herd and continued on. I passed two water stations that were deserted. Had they run out of water? There was no water for at least three miles. DANGER DANGER. Hello, we are running in the desert. Water and plenty of it, might be a good idea. I was thankful I had drank at the previous station..felt sorry for those who passed it thinking they would get it at the next one to find..it wasn’t there. Finally, we made the loop back onto Las Vegas Blvd. I started chasing the 2:15 pacer. I was amazed that I was even at that pace considering all the zig zagging and stopping to help that girl, so I started getting a little excited. By mile 9 though, something changed for me. I didn’t feel good. The muscle spasm or pinched nerve, whatever it was, was wreaking havoc on my ability to run so I stepped off the course onto the sidewalk and began to stretch my shoulder out. This is when the coughing started. I thought I was done. I stood having a coughing fit and watched the sea of runners pushing onward. I heard the words in my head, “It’s over for you.” The bronchitis was going to have its way. I started crying thinking about how hard I had worked and how disappointed I was in the whole thing. I was in a fight. I was thirsty and needed a drink. And all I could think about was having to come home with a DNF label (Did Not Finish). I texted Brad, my husband, and told him the bronchitis had me. That I was standing on the side of the road in the dark, by myself with thousands of runners passing me and I couldn’t breathe. He had signed up to receive my splits by a tracking system the race had and he texted me back, “Oh no! what mile you on?” I didn’t know. I was completely disoriented. Then he texted me back, “You are on mile 10, only three miles left, come on baby YOU CAN DO THIS.” And on that note, I pulled my ass out of self pity and started running. Somehow I caught back up with the 2:15 pacer who was clearly NOT running a 2:15 pace..I had to walk a couple of more times ON THE SIDEWALK OUT OF THE WAY and finally finished behind the 2:15 pacer… She was 2:24. My official time was 2:24:13.

The finish line was absolute hell. Run run run, then complete stop. The horde of people flooding into the gate area– indescribable. The pain in my body to suddenly stop after all that effort is a hell I don’t want to experience again. I had to push my way through the mob to grab the mylar race blanket offered in order to keep warm from the knife stabbing cold wind that was now blowing across our sweaty bodies, I heard the temperature was in the 30′s. There was what seemed to be no organization. No signs to lead you out or to food or ANYWHERE. It was teeny teeny steps shoulder to shoulder moving for what felt like an hour, the whole time trying not to pass out from exhaustion and lack of nourishment. It truly was a nightmare. I was finally able to grab a protein bar and a banana. Thank God. The spectators had filled the pathway blocking our ability to move out of the “secure” zone so maneuvering through that mess was stressful and difficult. It was a total mob scene. I had friends who were still running but I was feeling sick, and chilled to the bone. So I started heading back to the MGM a mile away. It was the most brutal mile I’ve ever walked with the cold wind blowing straight through me and my lungs burning. All I could think about was the hottest bath ever, food, and how I EARNED THAT EFFING GLOW IN THE DARK MEDAL I was now wearing around my neck. It was over.

I’ve heard from other racers that they never received their medal because the volunteers were stealing them. Or that they had been left on a table abandoned and then were being grabbed up by the handfuls. This is unacceptable to me. Some of these moments of suffering is on me. All me. But the organization..the cones in the street, the deserted water stations, the lack of direction at the finish, violation of health and safety codes, the lack of ability to SOMEWHAT accommodate 44,000 racers and an untold number of spectators with adequate medical stations..is unacceptable to me. And I’ve heard how racers who where told there would be shuttle service back to their hotels, found there weren’t any–forcing them to walk upwards of 2-3 miles back to their hotel. Or catch a cab..if they were lucky.

I learned a lot about myself in the middle of that craziness. I’m still getting perspective on it. I’m still settling in with the personal fight I fought at mile 10. We runners are not special or need to be coddled, we expect to suffer in our mad attempt to overcome whatever we are trying to overcome..but we do want to feel safe. And I didn’t necessarily feel safe in this race. But this is my story. I’m only one of a huge mass of people who attempted something challenging. And that, in the end, is what it’s all about. Moving on.

If you really want to hear the horror of it..go here. And here Jill Will Run.