This race. Wow. I may be biased by a sizable PR and my first ever BQ, but Missoula Marathon offers the prettiest course of the 13 marathons I have run. The blue sky, tree-lined route, river crossings, mountain views… it is just breathtaking from start to finish.
The point-to-point course meant an early morning bus ride to Frenchtown, Montana. There was an hour-long window from 4:15-5:15 a.m. to catch a yellow school bus. It was still dark when Louie and I left our hotel. A running trail near the hotel led right to the pick up spot, and organizers had signs marking the way and multi-colored glow sticks lining the path. The full and half marathons have different start lines, so the bus areas were separated. The process looked a little hairier for the halfers, since there were so many more of them. Lines for the full marathon buses were short and breezy, and we didn’t wait long before we were on our way.
We arrived to the start line with plenty of time for a short shake out jog, a few photos, and a last minute bathroom break. The sun was rising in the sky and there was still a chill in the air. A DJ kept things lively. I was ready to go.
Races don’t give me the same adrenaline rush I recall from my earlier marathons. As I lined up behind the 3:30 pace group, I felt completely calm and serene. I became hyper aware of how much everyone else was jumping around and fidgeting. While I miss that rush, I’ll take the experience I’ve amassed. It helped me begin and stay focused on what I came to do: enjoy the race AND qualify for Boston.
The first part of the course travels passed ranches and farms. Early on, I saw a hawk soaring and circling, then land on its nest and call out. Passing a horse farm, a chestnut colored fellow galloped next to me for the length of his enclosure. I think he would have kept running along side me if he hadn’t run out of real estate. This was perhaps the most magical marathon moment I have experienced.
As the sun continued its rise, it lit up the pastures with a golden glow. Later, the landscape changed from gold to green, thousands of perfect pines lining the way. We crossed back and forth and back again over the Clark Fork River, the sound of rushing water urging me forth. Run with me, it seemed to say.
I didn’t feel bothered by the elevation. My husband who also ran the race said it got to him a bit, that he was sucking air more than he expected. I was totally relaxed through the first half.
Then, things took a bit of a dive. The one significant hill just past the mid point of the course was a real bear. I’d looked at the maps, and I knew it was coming, but it was less gradual, much steeper than I was expecting. For Indy folk, it was a lot like the hill to James Whitcomb Riley’s grave at Crown Hill. As I watched my pace group pulling further away, I felt defeated by the climb.
I had to use the bathroom also, and I knew a pit stop would mean I’d lose the pace group anyway. I decided to just go in that mile and use it as a chance to recover from the hill. While that mile was my slowest by far, it helped to catch my breath and reset.
Losing the pace group actually became a bit of a relief. I felt less crowded. I could run my own race the rest of the way. I rallied for another 8 minute mile, but I was feeling the effort. Tiring legs. My foot pains I had throughout training showed up, tolerable but annoying. I knew if I could keep under a 9 minute pace, I had enough banked time to still hit my BQ, and it certainly was a fight to keep at 8:30 – 9:00 pace toward the end.
In the later miles, the course enters Missoula proper. The downtown stretch has much more spectator action, a much needed energy jolt. If a crowd is important to you, this isn’t the race for you. Spectator-wise, it’s relatively quiet for much of the course. But those who were out there were so kind and encouraging, and the volunteers were top notch too.
There were a few music highlights. A fellow with a violin, singing his heart out. Another with a banjo. One guy donned a tux and rolled out his baby grand piano into his yard. He was playing Rainbow Connection when I ran by—so that was a real first! Later on the news I saw an interview with the piano man and learned he’s been playing for runners during Missoula Marathon for years, a surprising and singular tradition.
With a couple of miles left, I felt confident I’d come in under the 3:40 I needed to qualify for Boston. That helped me stayed relaxed and enjoy the final stretch.
As I approached the finish I was about to get emotional and teary-eyed, and then the announcer said: “And we have Sara McGregor… urgh, McGuyer, from Indianapolis!” And I started cracking up instead. My name is butchered all the time, though usually not to that degree.
Then I saw my husband, beaming with pride and saying, “You did it!” It still felt a bit surreal. Here was a thing I once said I’d never do: I’ll never qualify. Later, I changed it to: Maybe when I’m 50 plus…
So, for 2020, I’m Boston bound! At least, I hope. My official time was 3:37:20.41, a nice jump from my previous PR of 3:48:27. This time gives me a bit of buffer on the needed qualifying time of 3:40, but not much. I’m hoping the new tightened standards combined with my bit of buffer will do the trick.
There was so much to love about this race. Aside from being totally awe stuck by the scenery, there were many thoughtful little touches by the race organizers. Welcome signs at the airport. The bib cut in the shape of the state of Montana. Free race photos. Healthy food options at the finish line included lemon pasta, quinoa black bean salad, mozzarella cheese sticks, watermelon, oranges, bananas, fig bars, and fruit popsicles. The pacers were awesome too.
Overall, I am over the moon about this race experience. It was tough, but so rewarding. I’m especially grateful for the reminder to believe in my potential and ability to progress. To never say never. Maybe and One day are more like it.
The details:
Missoula Marathon in Missoula, Montana
June 30, 2019
Marathon #13
Weather: Sunny and 48º at the start, warming to 70º
Finish time: 3:37:20