A half marathon in South Dakota? How much more random can we get? Make that a half marathon with 1800 ft of elevation, literally running up and down a small mountain, and apparently I'm in! At least, that's how I found myself in Keystone, South Dakota, on a girls trip with my Outlander Track Club besties focused around running the Mount Rushmore Half, part of the Vacation Races series.
We flew into Rapid City, SD (a TINY airport) early on Thursday and spent the rest of the day leisurely sightseeing, including doing some small waterfall hikes and checking out the Reptile Gardens, which included a Galapagos tortoise petting area. Fun! Joy had booked us an airbnb just a couple of miles from "downtown" Keystone, where the race finished. Throughout the day, included on the plane and at dinner, we kept getting into conversations with people who were also doing the race, and the consistent thread was "OMG, have you SEEN the course?!". Now, yes, we all were in fact aware that the course was 7.5 miles straight up and 5.5 miles down - in fact, it was that fact that had initially made me balk at the prospect of doing it before inevitably being convinced (I think I was drinking whiskey at the time, as it usually goes with those things). But regardless, the elevation profile had been very clear to us from the start, and we all found it kind of amusing that no one else seemed to have thought about this prior to registering for the race.
Friday morning we did a shakeout run on the very hilly road near our cabin; it quickly became apparent that while I had gaslighted myself into believing that the high 4000s/low 5000 ft of altitude would have no impact on me, it quickly became apparent that the elevation, combined with the very dry air, were definitely negatively impacting my ability to breathe, especially going uphill. Oh well! Like so many things this year, this race was happening purely for fun and the experience, so I decided to stop worrying about it and continued on with my day. We headed into town to grab coffee and breakfast before going out for some scenic driving which was where the CRAZIEST occurrence of the weekend happened - I was standing in line, sort of zoning out and staring at the shoes of the man in line next to me, before scanning upward and realizing I was looking into the eyes of one of my former clients?! He recognized me immediately and we chatted for a bit - he was a runner before his injury and has become and even more prolific one since, so I guess in that sense it wasn't a surprise to see him at a race, but to bump into my client from Massachusetts at a race in South Dakota? It really is a small world!
We spent the rest of the day doing some more scenic driving and sightseeing - we ended up driving the course on Iron Mountain road in reverse, which was really helpful for seeing the way the road looked as well as to actually enjoy some of the outlooks outside of the race. We also drove the Needles highway, walked around Sylvan Lake (where National Treasure 2 was filmed!), and went to Mount Rushmore (because you gotta). The timing of the day worked out perfectly and we made it back to town with the perfect amount of time to head to bib pickup. Bibs and shirts acquired, we went back to the cabin before heading into town one final time for pizza and a beer at Ranger Danger. Naturally, we also watched National Treasure 2 as the perfect prerace movie before heading to bed for the early wakeup that awaited.
The race started at 7 and we needed to be shuttled to the start; the shuttles were running between 5 and 6 and we decided to aim right for the middle. I was up at 5, going through the usual prerace ritual (I really do have it down to a science at this point) and soon we were parked and waiting in line for the shuttles. And waiting...and waiting...and waiting...we got in line at 5:30 on the dot and the buses didn't show back up until 6! We were at the front of the line so knew we'd get on the first one going back out, but it's still always a little nerve wracking when the shuttles that are taking you to the start aren't where they're supposed to be. The silver lining was that there was a porta potty right next to the line, with *no* line (probably because most normal people don't have the need for as many rounds of nervous peeing as me, lol) so I availed myself of that before boarding the school bus for the ride to the start.
As we rumbled down the dirt/gravel road to the start of the race, I remarked to Joy that I didn't think I was going to like this dirt road when we were running back up it - this would turn out to be so accurate! We got off the bus, and for the 3rd time that morning, I walked right into a porta potty with no line. Miraculous or what?! There was a bit of a wait for the start and it was actually a bit chilly waiting outside, which felt crazy because it had legitimately been hot the day prior. I watched a kitten and a greyhound have a staredown (what either of these animals were doing at the start of the half marathon, I have no idea) and eventually went out on a very short "warmup", during which a pacer lightheartedly made fun of me for "running extra", I saw a lovely horse in a pasture, my heart rate spiked to 160 as soon as I started running uphill (altitude strikes again), AND I was able to walk right into a porta potty at the campsite for a final nervous pee. Quite a lot to cram into a 6 minute warm up, in the end!
Soon enough we were lining up for the start, with an absolutely HYPED announcer that felt a little intense for the situation. I'm never totally sure where to stand in these races so I went with my usual plan of not actually *at* the front, but near the front - I feel like I've gotten decent at identifying women who are going to run at a similar pace to me. They counted us down and at 7 am on the dot, the race was on!
I think the first little bit out of the campsite was downhill because I felt like I was FLYING as I started running, to the point where I forced myself to check in with my watch a little bit just to make sure I wasn't running 6 minute pace or something. The pack pretty quickly separated out; there were a few women who blew out ahead of me right away and I found myself with a small group that was also distancing itself from the remainder of the field. As I had predicted, the dirt road SUCKED. The first mile didn't seem so bad, but the second mile was VERY uphill and between that, the uneven gravel, and probably my body just not being adjusted yet to what I was doing, I felt AWFUL. I got passed by a woman in this area and I just had absolutely nothing to even attempt to stay with her. It reminded me of Pack Monadnock and those stupid climbing dirt roads that simply never seem to end! The only distraction was some animals (a nice group of highland cows and a donkey, some horses that were running along with us as we went by which was really cool). I knew we'd get off the dirt eventually but I also knew that more climbing awaited, so I hoped that if I waited it out I would start to feel better at some point.
Finally, around mile 3 we made a turn off the dirt road and I IMMEDIATELY felt better - we were still going uphill, but the difference in actually having pavement underfoot felt miraculous. This gave me a boost and I feel like got me locked in for the remainder of the climb - OK, 4 miles to the top, and some of it is downhill, I told myself. I caught back up to the woman who had passed me somewhere on this section and we chatted back and forth a bit, although I had to laugh at myself because I suddenly had a moment mid conversation where I was like OMG why am I TALKING? I need to get away from this woman, I'm racing! And so when we turned onto Iron Mountain Road I started putting in a little more effort and ended up leaving her behind.
There was a BEAUTIFUL vista coming up the first hill on this road - the sun was hitting the distant mountains in an absolutely beautiful way, the Forgotten Battleground music from Expedition 33 was playing which felt totally appropriate in the moment, and it was just magical. I felt so immersed in the sunrise and the nature surrounding me, and I had finally found a sustainable level of effort where I was giving just enough without going over the red line. It *also* helped that the next mile was mostly downhill, which was a lovely break after the start of the race. But once we hit the next uphill, I knew that this was the real one, and the climbing wasn't going to stop until we hit the top.
I was surprised at how hard it was for me to shift from road racing mode to mountain running mode - as much as Joy and I had discussed that this was really just a mountain race, my brain was still yelling that I needed to be going road race effort, which backfires quickly when you're running up a steep grade for 3 miles on end. There was no point that I was actually looking at my pace or my watch, because I truly didn't care, but I just couldn't shake the idea that I should be pushing harder somehow. The shift from the downhill break to having to start climbing was also tough, and my body was definitely like WTF is even going on for the first half mile of the climb. But slowly and steadily, I eased into my rhythm and found a workable pace and effort for the task ahead of me. By this point I was almost alone on the road - there was a guy in a blue shirt nearby and another guy wearing the race shirt further ahead, but otherwise no one that I could see. For about a mile and a half I just locked in - I took a few 10-15 step walk breaks when I could feel my heart rate getting too high, but nothing more than that. My legs actually felt strong, although I could tell the altitude and climbing were getting to me from a cardio perspective. At some point blue shirt guy made a comment to the effect of "we must be near the top", and I looked at my watch and then back at him and said uhhh we still have another mile and a half to the top. Which shocked him! Yet another person with seemingly no idea what this course entailed.
The guy in the race shirt stopped at an aid station and blue shirt guy and I blew past him; for the next mile or so we pretty much ran in tandem. I would take walk breaks occasionally and he would pull ahead, but as soon as I started running again I would end up catching up. The climb was just a steady grind - no real surprises, just keep on pushing forward and try not to give in to the walk breaks too often, around and around the bends. At some point we reached the tunnel where you were looking directly at Mount Rushmore, and as I had promised prior to the race I chaotically yelled "GEORGE, LEND ME YOUR STRENGTH!" I'm sure anyone nearby thought I was a nut, but what can you do.
The final mile up to the summit was as difficult as I'd anticipated; it was just neverending switchbacks that seemed to get steeper with each one, the kind of switchbacks where you look over and realize you can see the runner ahead of you and they're 50 ft ABOVE you. I had finally dropped blue shirt guy when we hit the steep section which was kind of a surprise but not one I was mad about. I was totally alone now, just staying within myself and grinding my way to the top, waiting to see the plaque and the sign that I knew from yesterday marked the top of the climb and the beginning of the part of the race I KNEW I would enjoy: the downhill. This took longer than expected because I had convinced myself that the uphill ended at 7.5 miles and in fact it was actually 8, so watching that last half mile tick off and still going uphill was rather disappointing, but I knew it would end eventually, and that the downhill awaited.
And the downhill delivered. As soon as the road started sloping downward I let myself fly like a bat out of hell. I was definitely tired after 8 miles of climbing and honestly wasn't sure exactly what I'd have left for the descent, so my strategy was more to just let gravity do as much work as possible and only push when I had to, and let me tell you gravity was doing plenty. It sounds so stupid to say, because like, who *doesn't* love running downhill, but I LOVE running downhill. It's almost the same as swimming with a current - the fact that it's easier makes me want to give even more effort, and even though when I look at my splits I wasn't actually running *that* fast in the grand scheme (high 6:50s isn't really that impressive when you're throwing yourself downhill), I didn't care. The splits weren't the point, the point was that I was flying through the ponderosa forests and careening around the turns into the pigtail bridges and some perfect song was playing on my playlist (because when you make a perfect playlist there's always a perfect song playing) and it. Was. Heaven. At one point "Sympathy Magic" came on, and you may recall that the last time I was ecstatically listening to that song in a race I ended up eating shit, so it was really nice to be on a smooth paved road where the odds of that were minimal. The lyrics head high, arms wide, aching aching aching...and alive just hit SO hard in that moment, to the point where I genuinely put my arms out and airplaned my way down a steep pitch. It was pure joy.
It took awhile, but I reeled in two more men in this section, red shirt guy who I dispatched pretty quickly and another youth (literally, he was in the 15-18 age group) in a race shirt who turned out to be a pretty good match to my pace. We ran side by side and leapfrogged for awhile, ducking through more pigtail bridges and tunnels (the pigtail bridges were sooooo fun), until I finally pulled ahead around mile 11. Given my limited mileage lately, mile 11 seems to always be the time where I'm kind of over running in these longer races, and unfortunately I knew that the last climb was coming at 11.5. When it arrived, it was every BIT as bad as expected - after flying downhill for 3.5 miles, going back uphill would feel terrible regardless, but going up a legitimate half mile long CLIMB? Miserable. By this point there was no one around and I'll admit that I let myself be a little lazy; I had no time goals and I figured at this point my placement probably was whatever it was, so I definitely took some longer than strictly needed walk breaks during the second half of the uphill, because it just kept GOING and quite honestly I was over it.
Finally the hill came to an end and it was just one more mile downhill to send it to the finish line. Most of this mile was back in the "town" of Keystone, such that it is, so there was the occasional spectator cheering as well as random people in cars who probably had no idea what was happening giving a honk or a shout of encouragement. I had a passing thought that I might be able to go under 1:50, a thought that apparently motivated me to turn on the afterburners because the last mile was my fastest mile of the race even though it was the least downhill of the downhill miles, and involved various transitions onto/off of curbs and sidewalks. I made the turn behind the chainsaw art place, kicking it in, and heard the announcer say something to the effect of "the women's podium is filling up!" At which point I realized that I must be *on* the women's podium, aka in the top 5! Well how the heck did that happen?! I crossed the finish line feeling wrung out, exhausted, and pretty sure I had given it every thing I had, but also so happy. I think if this year has taught me anything, it's that I really love these races that are the opposite of what I used to want - they aren't flat, they aren't fast, they're a little ridiculous, but they are races where all you can do is be in the moment and put out the effort into whatever course is in front of you, time be damned. This is definitely the feeling that is going to lead me to my inevitable transition to trail running - I just love that there are no time comparisons and all you can do is go out and take whatever the day gives you, and hopefully find some joy in it.
I went back out to cheer for awhile (obviously) much to the confusion of some random people on ATVs (I had to remind myself I would never see them again lol) but to the joy of the runners coming in. Joy and Brittany both finished and we all shared war stories of the HORRID climb at mile 11.5 and the highs and lows of the race. Sharing these experiences with my best friends makes them even better, and I feel so lucky to have somehow hit the jackpot with my best friends from college and post college life ALSO becoming friends, leading into the best 3 person track club in all the land. They motivate me to do these races that aren't actually in my comfort zone and to embrace the beauty that can be found in racing, not just the speed, and for that I am forever grateful!
All in all, I loved the entire race experience and can see why Vacation Races are successful - aside from the minor shuttle snafu, the race was super well run, the course was incredible, the swag was nice (the medal I got for placing is actually the shiniest medal I've ever received) and the vibes were so enjoyable...sure, people were out there trying to challenge themselves and run well, but the overall energy was more like a trail vibe where the goal was for everyone to soak in the scenery and enjoy the experience. And the more time I spend in this sport, the more I realize that that's what I want to get out of it! But I don't mind feeling like I pushed myself as hard as I could and having it pay off with a solid placement either. :)
Mount Rushmore Half Marathon (13.1 miles, 1800+ ft elevation) - 1:50:25
11/502 OA, 4/341 F, 1/40 F35-39
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