More like, running in hell, or running uphill in hell, or .. you get the idea.  After multiple rounds of the 13.1 mile run (Dallas, Cowtown, LSRC Spring Half), on our way to the Gorges Half, we met Jack the bartender in Scranton, PA.  After describing our aspirations to run up big hills in Ithaca, Jack suggested we should consider the Steamtown Marathon, an evidently well-known event that lets people qualify for the Boston Marathon by providing a 26.2 mile downhill event with over 1000 feet of elevation drop on the course.  For those of you who don’t run, 26.2 miles is a looooong way, and going downhill the entire distance makes a lot of difference in how fast you can get through that.  Probably a combination of exhaustion, drinks, and lack of common sense had us agreeing that we would be back for Steamtown in 2016.

Fast forward a few months.

The intent was to get to Pennsylvania and enjoy some cool weather, a challenging but not impossible downhill marathon, and maybe revisit Jack’s for a post-exertion beverage.  As we approached October, schedules went sideways and the ability to travel north for our marathon went by the wayside.  What to do?  We’d been running for a year now prepping for this and needed somewhere within driving distance of Dallas, and a new venue to tackle for our first marathon.  Enter Mellew Productions and the worst supported marathon we could possibly pick – the Tyler Rose Marathon.

Tyler in and of itself is a pretty, quiet, East Texas city full of really poor people, moderately well-off retirees, and a lot of trees and hills.  The Mellew Productions marathon was 26.2 miles of running with watered-down Gatorade and … water.  For anyone who’s run a marathon, it’s pretty obvious that a) you can’t run for 4+ hours without food and b) if you are expecting people to do so, you should *boldly advertise that this is a self-supported marathon*.  Doing otherwise results in the miserable experience we had in Tyler.

Sunday 2016 10 09

Timing for the marathon was good – having abdicated the Steamtown, we ended up with an October 9 start date.  This time of year in East Texas is generally cool, if not as pleasant as say, northern New Mexico.  We found a great guest house on AirBNB, about 20 minutes from the race start.  After our typical late-night drive, we got some sleep and awoke in time to head to the starting line.

After packet pick-up, we huddled in our car absorbing warmth before the run started.  Take-off was delayed by some inordinately long chatter by the race officials, but we finally got started about 15 minutes behind schedule.

The first 10 miles or so were a frosty but a pleasant  blend of hills and relatively rural jogging around the airport west of Tyler.

13 miles found us at the top of a decent sized hill overlooking downtown.  We had realized by this point that we were pretty well screwed on the support side – water and pseudo-Gatorade were the only things in sight, and porta potties did not make up for the lack of caloric support.  Fortunately, some volunteers at mile 14 had granola bars available – we were looking for gas stations and grocery stores at this point.

Past the granola bars, things start getting blurry – for those who remember their first marathon, you’ll know that as you move into hours three and four, you start losing track of the individual miles.  It becomes a matter of 5 steps at a time and watching the mile markers roll over.  Minimal support made this tougher than it needed to be – orange slices or bananas or even crackers would have been welcome as we rolled on past miles 19, 20, 22, 34 ..

One of our party was having some serious issues with lower back pain and a hamstring pull, but we found that running was still better than walking.  Mellew in their infinite wisdom managed to make the very last 3/4 mile an uphill grind.  Getting past that, you did have the pleasantry of running across 100 feet of manicured arboretum grass through the finisher’s arch before collapsing on the ground to stare at your shoes and the compensatory micro-rosebush.

Having survived the 4:45 run time, we rolled back to our rented sanctuary for a well-deserved shower and nap. Post-race meal was at a lakeside hipster club called Juls Events with a weird blend of dancefloor, covered patio, sushi, and East Texas cuisine.  At this point we’d have eaten raw raccoon on a stick, so our culinary discretion was probably at an all-time low.

All in all, while we conquered the 26.2 distance, we’re going to have to do another marathon to erase the overall misery that this one required.  Steamtown in 2018 is looking like an option …