The Oregon Double Marathon

Most said I was crazy. Others said it sound like a good idea. And a few had even accomplished the feat in previous years. For the third time in my life I decided to run 2 marathons in 2 days. But this double marathon would be unlike any other I had completed in the past. It consisted of the Crater Lake Marathon at Crater Lake National Park in southern Oregon and the Haulin’ Aspen Marathon in Bend, Oregon.


There were several reasons I decided to run these particular marathons back-to-back. First, I wanted it to be part of my “12 Marathon, 12 Months, 1 Cause” campaign to benefit the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. These marathons would be #7 and #8 for the year. Second, I had never run any marathons in Oregon and the pictures I had seen of these two races made me confident I would come away with a memorable experience. And finally, I chose to do these races because of their unique difficulty.

The first difficult challenge would be overcoming the altitude. The Crater Lake Marathon varied in elevation from 5900 ft to 7900 ft. The Haulin’ Aspen Marathon started at 3500 ft and climbed 5500 ft. I had no idea how I would perform since I run year round in the relative low-land of Dallas, TX. The second challenge would be the constantly changing elevation. For the majority of both runs I would be running either uphill or downhill. This would turn out to be my biggest challenge. It would not be easy to train for these types of hills around the Dallas area. To prepare, I ran as many hills as I could, but the hills where I live pale in comparison to the relative mountains I would encounter during my “Oregon Double” weekend.

Day 1 – A stop at running mecca

I flew into Portland late on Thursday night. It was after midnight before I claimed my luggage, rented my car, and headed out of the airport. I made a quick overnight stop at a nearby motel to get one good night’s sleep before the long drive the next day to Crater Lake.

Friday morning I started the trek to Southern Oregon. There was a noticeable different between Oregon and Texas – the temperature. I left 104 degree weather in Texas, but here in Oregon it was “outdoor air conditioning” with a pleasant 68 degrees.

As I drove I realized I would be going through Eugene, home of the University of Oregon. Considering the theme of my running weekend, I knew I had to make a stop at the mecca of collegiate distance running…Hayward Field.

When I arrived in Eugene I quickly found the facility, parked my car, and grabbed my camera. I walked to the legendary track and snapped a couple of shots of the old grandstands and the perfectly manicured grassy infield. I put my camera in my pocket, snapped the buckle on my sandals and did a quick 400 meter jog around the hallowed oval. To me, this was the equivalent of running the bases at Yankee Stadium or Fenway Park. It was here that the great track coach Bill Bowerman spurred on his “Men of Oregon”. It was here that Steve Prefontaine ran races in his brash, lead the pack from the start, style of running. As I circled the track I could hear in my mind the echoes of the crowd chanting “Pre…Pre…Pre” as portrayed in the movies “Pre” and “Without Limits”. I only jogged one loop of the track. That was all I needed to experience. My weekend was off to a perfect start.

The drive to Crater Lake was incredibly scenic. Twice I had to pull over and take pictures of the vistas of lakes, tall trees, and mountains. I entered Crater Lake National Park from the north entry gate and then took a short drive through the high desert region just north of the lake. As you enter Rim Road alongside of this volcanic lake your breath is taken away by the enormity of this vast crater, the steep cliffs, and a lake so blue it defies description. Although I knew I needed to hurry to the south side of the lake to the Mazama campground to stake out my tent site, I simply had to stop the car, get out, and gaze at this incredible site.

I made it to the campground just in time. I claimed the last available site. Many would-be campers were turned away shortly thereafter. The popularity of the Crater Lake Rim Run Weekend caused the campground to fill up.

I set up my tent and walked to the campground restaurant that was serving an Italian buffet. I washed down the pasta with a local Oregon brew…Rogue Brewery’s Dead Guy Ale. I hoped my selection of a beer was not a foreshadowing of the challenging weekend ahead. After my carbo-loading dinner there was still plenty of daylight so I drove back to the lake to take some pictures and drive the marathon course to get a preview. I found myself pulling over at almost every scenic turnout around the lake to snap a photo and to visually absorb the scene.

While driving the course I turned on my Garmin GPS and placed it on the dashboard. I set it to show the changing elevation of the course to see what I was up against the next day. The starting line was at Watchman’s Tower at 7600 ft. The course went up and down several hundred feet at a time, bottoming out at 5900 ft and rising to just short of 8000 ft at Cloudcap Overlook. Having never run at this altitude I had no idea how it was going to affect me. I became concerned as a walked up a short flight of stairs at Rim Villiage and I noticed my breathing became quite labored. I immediately decided that the next morning I would completely ignore the time on my watch and run on “feel”.

Day 2 – The Crater Lake Marathon

After a very sleepless night in the tent I awoke to early morning temperatures in the low 30’s. I quickly disassembled my tent, put it in the trunk of the car and drove the short distance to the Mazama Village parking lot where the shuttle buses would take the runners to the starting line. At the starting line I was able to meet many of the Marathon Maniacs. Some were old faces and some were new to me. We swapped stories of marathons past and compared marathon schedules. Those that had run this course previously described it to us “rookies” and never was the word “easy” used in any of the descriptions.

After an hour of shivering in the cold air it was a relief to finally get the race started and get the blood moving. Up and down we went. On the first downhill there was a lot of jovial conversation amongst the runners. On the first big uphill all the conversation ceased and was replaced by heavy panting as we tried to adjust to the thinner air. Along the side of the road in the first few miles were remnants of last winter’s snowfall. I thought about all my friends back in Dallas doing their Saturday morning long run in the 90 degree heat and here I was running next to snow…in August!

The first 7 miles were a series of undulations that rose and fell a few hundred feet at a time. It was actually quite pleasant because just as we ran out of breath and started to feel the burning in my legs on the uphill, I would crest the top and begin descending again. At every turn was another spectacular view of the blue lake as the rising sun cast unique colors on the high cliffs of the vast crater.

Mile 8 is when things really started to get interesting. I began climbing a hill that seemed to never end. There would be the occasional relief provided by a flat section of road but that would last only a few hundred yards. I kept my eye on the elevation number on my GPS watch, 7100…7200…7300…7400.

There was a feeling of victory as I made the turnaround at Cloudcap Overlook at mile 14.5 and I knew that gravity would start to become my friend and not my enemy. My pace quickened as I allowed the downhill to pull me along. Since the half marathoners had left the course, the crowd thinned and I ran by myself for much of the next 8 miles. At many times I could not see a runner in front of me or behind me.

At mile 19 we turned off of Rim Road and began the gentle descent to the low point of the course at Lost Creek Campground just 3 miles away. I had no idea how many runners were in front of me or behind me so I asked one of the volunteers at the water stop how many had passed. I was very surprised at her exact and encouraging response. “12!”, she said, “and two of them were women.” That meant I was the 11th overall male. I did not think I would be in the top-20 of this race, much less have a chance at a top-10 placement. And in spite of the terrain I had already covered I felt surprisingly energetic. Miles 19 through 22 were my fastest 3 miles of the race.

The ease of the fast 3 miles was very short lived once I entered the Lost Creek Campground at mile 22. You see, this course is laid out like a cruel joke. The runners actually pass by the finish line at mile 22 in the campground, but there are still 4 miles to go, and the next 2 are the most difficult on the course in my opinion.

The finish line volunteers loudly cheered as I passed by and entered the dirt trail the started my climb up Greyback Mountain. My fast pace turned into a slow jog. The slow jog turned to a shuffle. And the shuffle would often turn to a walk. At each turn of the steep climb I hoped that the turnaround point at the pinnacle would be just around the corner. And at each turn I would be disappointed to find yet more climbing had to be done. Then finally, just past mile 24, was an orange cone in the middle of the trail and a table covered with cups of water and Gatorade as friendly volunteers greeted me with “Congratulations! You made it! All downhill from here!”

I had hoped the steep descent back to the finish line would mean a comfortable yet fast pace. However, by this point in the race my quadriceps were so tired that the downhill was more uncomfortable than pleasant. The finish line finally came in sight. I crossed in 3 hours, 52 minutes, and 16 seconds and as the 12th male overall.

The awards soon followed. I was a little disappointed that the race director chose to give the male and female overall winners not only an award for winning the race, but the age group award as well. That is a fairly unusual practice at races, and in my opinion, unpopular with runners since that means 2 people go home with double awards and 2 people go home without an age group award that would otherwise have received one. And in this case, I was the odd man out. The age group awards for this race went 5 deep and I officially finished 6th in the 30-30 division. But the lack of an age group ribbon did not diminish my satisfaction of having broken 4 hours on this difficult course.

I rode the bus back to the campground, took a quick 75 cent pay shower, downed a celebratory giant hot dog and Dead Guy Ale, and began the trek northward to Bend where I would be faced with the second challenge of the weekend.

After arriving in Bend I set up my tent at Tumalo State Park just north of town. That evening I drove to the town of Sisters where fellow Marathon Maniac Sean Meissner lives. Sean posted a notice on the Marathon Maniac website inviting any Maniacs in town for tomorrow’s race to his house for some home made pasta. I was happy to finally meet Sean. I had read several accounts of his past marathon and ultra-marathon wins. I consider him to be the Lance Armstrong of the multi-day stage races since he had won the Tahoe Triple Marathon for 4 straight years. The Tahoe Triple is a loop around Lake Tahoe consisting of a marathon on Thursday, another marathon on Friday, and yet another on Saturday. The best cumulative time wins.

I was joined at Sean’s house by fellow Maniacs Karen Wiggins and Van “Pigtails” Phan. We ate pasta covered in “Sean’s Mother’s Secret Recipe Sauce” while we talked about all things marathoning. It was a perfect carbo-loading dinner!!

That night I had a very restful sleep in spite of the fact my tent site was next to the campground showers. All night I could hear footsteps that seemed right next to my head as other campers walked by.

Day 3 – The Haulin’ Aspen Marathon

I packed up my tent at 5AM and drove to Summit High School where shuttle buses drove us to Shevlin Park and the start/ finish line of the race. Again, the temperatures caused me to shiver in the cold. And again, I met more Maniacs both familiar and new.

At 7AM the race began. My legs were still sore from the previous day’s run and my stiff-legged running style during the first mile resembled that of Frankenstein’s monster. A gentleman behind me joked, “Well…we can tell who ran Crater Lake yesterday!” We all laughed.

The first mile and half of this marathon was on flat pavement. It would be the last pavement we would see the entirety of the race. This was a true trail marathon. By the time we had turned onto the dirt trail my legs had loosened up and I felt somewhat normal again. My pace quickened and I was able to pass a few runners, many of which would see me again later in the race as I became the “passee” rather than the “passer”.

In my first real trail marathon I learned very quickly that there are two main guidelines to running on rocky trails. First, watch where you step. Several times I would feel a sharp rock squarely in the middle of my foot. Ouch. Second, lift your feet up. Several times my toes would be stubbed on a rock or root and I would have to quickly catch myself from falling. In six year of running I have never fallen. I was sure that today would be the day I finally bit the dust. Fortunately, I can still say my fall-free streak remains in tact. Rule #2 however became increasingly difficult throughout the day as my aching quads caused my feet to remain lower to the ground as I ran. I would kick a-many-a-rock today. I had wished I had invested in some good trail shoes before starting this race.

After 3 miles of gently undulating trails the course began to follow a small gravel road for the next 9 miles. The fist sized rocks proved difficult to run on at times. At mile 12 I checked my GPS for the elevation reading. We had only climbed about 500 feet from the starting line of 3500 ft in elevation. I knew going into the race that the course would peak at 5500 ft around mile 14 before returning on dirt trails back to Shevlin Park. The reading on my watch could only mean one thing…a steep climb was just around the corner. And as I turned the next corner I discovered I was right.

I ran up the first steep hill to the water stop at the top. I grabbed a drink and turned around to see the other side of this switchback road. I laughed as I saw yet another, longer, and much steeper hill. Running soon turned to walking. I certainly did not feel out of place walking up this incline as almost every runner within eyesight was doing the same.

When I reached the summit of that hill, I was greeted by yet another similarly steep hill, and when I reached the top of that hill, there was yet another. The repetition of the hills would have been darkly humorous had they not felt so cruel. But when I finally reached the summit I was amply rewarded for my effort with a stunning payoff. I had a spectacular view of Mt. Bachelor.

There was one flat mile of gravel road and then the terrain quickly changed as we made a sharp right hand turn, literally diving off the road and onto a single track dirt trail entering the woods. Other runners who ran the race the previous year had told me earlier that the soft, cushiony, and dusty trail with its many downhills would feel quite pleasant. I would have agreed with them had my legs been fresher. But the previous day's race had worn down my calves and quadriceps and every step on a steep decline, no matter how soft the landing, was a bit painful. At times I ran out of control as my weak legs could not adequately brake for me. I either had to let gravity pull me along, in spite of the discomfort, or I could fall flat on my face to stop myself. I winced as I decided it would be more prudent to remain vertical rather than become a bleeding casualty. Fortunately, the steep declines lasted only a mile or two, and then the trail flattened out.

At several points on this section of the course I was greeted by some natural obstacle. I climbed over a couple of boulders and I lept over a few fallen trees. (Ok, there was no actual leaping. It was more of a gingerly step) While dodging tree branches and climbing rocks I thought of the incredible diversity between running a trail marathon and running a large city marathon like New York, Chicago, or Boston. My, my! What a unique and diverse sport we have.

The soreness in my legs became more and more pronounced so I was passed by quite a few runners. Since it was a single track narrow trail I would follow the rules of the road and politely step to the side as I heard others approaching. I became discouraged when I reached the 17-mile water station. My GPS actually read 18.6 miles. I was a full mile and a half behind where I thought I was! (Later, other runners confirmed to me that they thought this water stop seemed to mismarked to them as well.) I knew the tree cover would cause an offset in the distance reading on my GPS, but not that much.

At the 20-mile water stop the half marathon course joined with the marathon course. Since the half marathoners started 90 minutes after the marathon I found plenty of new fresh-legged companions to run with. I quickly learned that these new found friends were not only great to chat with was we ran single file, but by simply following close behind them and concentrating on repeating their footsteps, I felt as though I could be “pulled along” at a quicker pace than my previous pedestrian-like speed.

When we came to the next water stop I was met with a nice surprise. At the time, I was certain I had a full 3 miles to go to the finish line, taking into account the offset I thought I had on my GPS. But I discovered my GPS had mis-measured in the other direction as I heard the friendly volunteer cheer, “Only 1.7 miles to go!” I was thrilled at that news. The last bit was on a soft and flat trail and I moved along nicely in spite of my fatigue. The sooner I got to the finish, the sooner I could stop.

At last, the finish line appeared. The announcer called my name and I heard a fellow Maniac yell, “Hey Philip! Way to do the Double!”, as he snapped my picture. I finished in a little over 5 hours. (I discovered later in the week that I had finished 3rd in my age group. I found that ironic considering I finished 79th overall and given the lack of an age group award the previous day, though I had a much faster time. Age group awards are not that important to me, but this weekend showed me that more than ever, these awards can be more about who is or isn’t in your age group than how fast or slow you run.)

I crossed the finish line elated that not only had I run 2 marathons in 2 days, but these two marathons were bar none, the two toughest marathons I had ever run. I could put marathons #45 and #46 in the books.

The finisher’s medal of the Haulin’ Aspen Marathon is one of the most unique in the country. It is a blue cowbell with the Haulin’ Aspen logo painted on the front. The entire finish line area sounded like a cattle drive or a dairy barn as these highly audible medals clanked while draped around the necks of all the runners.

I sat down on the grass with a bottle of electrolyte drink and some food. Now that I was on the ground I discovered I had one very large problem…getting back up.

For the next several hours I walked around VERY slowly. I drove to downtown Bend for some much deserved Mexican food. As I walked down the sidewalk I could sense other people staring or giggling at my old-man like shuffle. A few even said, “You must have run the race this morning”. I so badly wanted to answer with “Yes I did. And yesterday’s race as well!”

My tent site that night was the most picturesque in the three nights of camping. I slept only a few feet from the Deshutes River. All night long I could hear only the relaxing sounds of the rushing water.

Conclusion

The following day I was able to loosen my legs by walking around some of the sights Bend had to offer. I took the chair lift near the top of Mt. Bachelor and hiked the short distance to the summit. I realized this would make the third time in my life I had been to the top of a mountain the day after completing a marathon. Pikes Peak in Colorado Springs, CO and Camelback Mtn. in Scottsdale, AZ were the other two. I guess there is something slightly poetic about standing on top of a mountain after conquering the marathon distance.

For lunch, I walked into a local bagel shop. The owner had been reading the newspaper and as he made my lunch I asked him if I could take a glance at the sports section hoping to find some coverage of yesterday's race. When I opened it up, right there on the front page in full color, was a picture of me running up the trail around mile 3. What a cool surprise.

I drove the short distance to Tumalo Falls, snapped some more pictures, and headed back to Portland to catch a red-eye flight home. The drive up scenic Hwy 20 and Hwy 22 was very memorable. Just north of Sister, OR I drove under a large smoky cloud created by large forest fires. The sun shining through the haze cast an eerie orange glow on the landscape.

So now that my “Oregon Double” weekend is complete the question I must ask myself is “Was it worth it?” I have to answer with a resounding “YES!” The memories and sense of accomplishment will last a lot longer than the sore muscles I brought back home with me.

I was asked several times by others back in Dallas why I would try something like this. I could never quite formulate an accurate response on the spot. Several have accomplished the same double marathon and several ran them faster than I did. Others have accomplished even more difficult feats. But still others would never dream of trying something like this. So the answer to the question becomes very personal -> It is to push my own limits beyond what I thought was once possible. To some, those limits may involve running 52 marathons in a year, like Van “Pigtails” Phan is doing this year. To others, it may mean running 50 marathons in 50 states like Sam Thompson has just accomplished and Dean Karnazes will attempt later this year. To others, their physical barrier may be running their first marathon, or their first 5k, or even running around the block. But the important fact is that we all have a choice. We all can choose to push our limits to see what is possible, or we can cower away from these challenges.

And to me, personally, when I first heard of this difficult double marathon I knew it was something I had to try. I also knew I could do it, even though it wouldn’t be easy.

The payoff for the weekend was not just the spectacular vistas I viewed, the finisher’s medals around my neck, or even the bragging rights to completing both races. It is the deep personal satisfaction of having pushed myself through a difficult task. And now I know I can be prepared to take on the next difficult challenge I choose to conquer.