Scenes From a Marathon

(Author's note: This is an expanded version of the article I wrote Sunday night for Monday's Monterey Herald)


The 2006 Big Sur Marathon is in the books. You’ve read the articles telling you the primary results: who won the race, how many people finished, etc. But there’s always so much more to the story. Here, then are some details that didn’t make headlines, but were memorable nonetheless, from the 2006 Big Sur Marathon.

Cool new pre-race ritual: With his sisters at Grandma’s house and his Mom out to dinner, my son chose to relax at home and watch Star Wars with me the night before his 5K race. Which was very cool for two reasons:

1. When I was seven years old, my absolute favorite movie in the world was Star Wars. And every time I think this kid and I don’t have much in common, he never fails to do something exactly the way I would have at the same age. And…
2. No matter how many times you see it, watching Luke Skywalker blow up the Death Star is simply a fantastic motivational boost. I totally had the Star Wars theme in my head the next morning.

Best way to start a race: I can’t claim to be Scottish, but there’s no more inspirational song to hear at the beginning of a marathon than “Scotland the Brave” played on the bagpipes, which has become a BSIM standard over the years. It never fails to put a jump in your step and courage in your heart.

In fact, I’ve made a mental note to travel to Scotland some day, just to see what all this bravery fuss is about.

Karnazes spots the field 10 minutes: A lot of us were on the lookout for ultrarunner Dean Karnazes making his way south on Highway 1 for the first half of his out-and-back double marathon. Unfortunately, Karnazes was a bit behind schedule, leading to the unusual scene of thousands of marathoners yelling “Hi Dean!” to him during the first mile while he passed in the opposite direction, finishing his run to the start line before turning around and running an “official” time of 3:33.

This wasn’t in the race brochure: On an open stretch of road during mile 7 lay a skunk that had probably met its untimely demise under the wheels of the countless buses traversing the road in the early morning darkness. The result was the aroma of freshly-killed skunk drifting almost a full mile down the course, growing increasingly strong until runners finally passed the scene of the crime.

Biggest missed opportunity: When we crested Hurricane Point, thick fog was all around us – we couldn’t even see the ocean directly below. I felt bad for the runner from Indiana next to me and commented in true Yogi Berra fashion, “It’s a really nice view here, when you can see it.”

Then again, maybe missed opportunities are OK sometimes: Of course, when the sun did finally come out, temperatures warmed up very quickly. It went from “cool and foggy” to “hot and stifling” faster than any year that Mike and I can recall.

Most unexpected race garb: My 2-year-old daughter’s favorite shirt is solid blue with a giant Cookie Monster face depicted on it. Imagine my surprise to see a runner on race morning with the exact same shirt. I didn’t even know they made an adult version. I wonder if you can special order it in coolmax.

Sharing the love: I ran most of the race very close behind or ahead of the 1st place woman. Appropriately, the spectators and walkers go crazy when the first place girl runs by. I heard a full three hours worth of “Go girl!” or “Hey – first woman!” and all sorts of whooping and hollering. For some reason, the crowds don’t make as big a fuss over the 28th place male. But running near the lead woman is a nice way to hear a lot of cheers – and if you close your eyes, you can just pretend they are for you.

Completely random and improbable accomplishment: This was my fourth straight year of being the 28th overall finisher. I'm not flashy, good-looking, or blazing fast, but you can call me Mr. Consistency.

The sons also run: My 7-year-old son ran the 5K, then hung around the course to cheer me across the final bridge at mile 26. He then ran the rest of the way with me to the finishing chute, thereby crossing the marathon finish line ahead of Mike’s 31-year-old son, who ran his first Big Sur Marathon in 3:30. Both dads were very proud.

After pain comes pleasure: there’s really no way to describe how good it feels to be massaged by six hands at once shortly after finishing a marathon. But that’s just what happens in the massage tent following the race. If we could figure out some way to go back several times, one of these years we might just skip the race, and duck in and out of the massage tent throughout race morning. That alone could be worth the price of a race entry.

The streak is over: Mike’s Lance Armstrong-like streak of consecutive age group victories came to an end this year, as he finished second in the 55-59 age group in his slowest Big Sur Marathon time of 3:12. When it was announced at the awards ceremony, the crowd let out a collective gasp like when Mandisa was voted off American Idol. Count on Mike to have the eye of the tiger next year when he turns 60 – all you 60-year-olds should be very afraid.

Best reason to make friends with fast relay runners: Individual age group winners traditionally receive a bottle of Blackstone (Monterey County) wine. The winning 5-person relay teams don’t get separate bottles, but instead are awarded a large magnum bottle. You know they have to open that bottle sometime – so why not stop by with a corkscrew some night to congratulate them?

Warmest reception for age group winners: Hugo Ferlito, chairman of the BSIM board, stands on the podium while awards are handed out after the race. He shakes the hand of each winner as they exit the stage, and when local runners pass by, he embraces them in a warm hug. It’s a great feeling to get a bearhug from the chairman - and just another example of the hometown charm at this world class race.

Hopefully some of these stories and other articles about the marathon will inspire you to join Mike and me for the 22nd running of the Big Sur Marathon next April. You now have a full year to train for it, so go ahead and get started! We’ll be here to help you along the way.

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Big Sur 2006 Report

So much to say...where to begin? I guess it makes sense to start with my race. This could get long-winded, so it might be a good idea to fix yourself a nice tall drink, and pull up a comfortable chair. Go ahead. I'll wait a minute.

(Waiting.....) OK? Here we go...

Looking at the numbers, especially after everything I’ve written over the past week, you might conclude that I’m disappointed with the way things turned out. You would be right, but only a little bit. I've certainly made my intentions clear about chasing after a sub-three hour marathon.

In my last few marathons I had been fairly conservative in the first half, kept a consistent pace through the late miles, and come in just a few minutes above three hours. So my mindset going into Sunday’s race was to be a little more aggressive in the early going, which would hopefully do one of two things: 1) establish a slightly faster-then-normal pace that I could maintain consistently to finish a few minutes under three hours, or 2) give me just enough of a cushion that I could slow down a bit and still duck in under the wire.

I ran the first four miles ahead of pace but very comfortably; these are the gently downhill miles that are the easiest of the course. Beginning with mile 5, the course leaves the shelter of the tall redwoods and traverses vast coastal pastures - these next 4 miles are a long, gradual uphill stretch that lies exposed to the wind. It was during this section that I hit my first decision point.

My heart rate monitor was beeping above my target level while I was clinging to a pair of runners to draft as much as I could. If I slowed the pace and dropped from these runners, chances are that my heart rate would have been just as high even while running slower, since I would be facing the headwind on my own.

(And as far as the weather goes, let me say this: it was pretty typical Big Sur weather. The winds were mild at times, stronger at others, and generally unpredictable. When the sun came out, the course seemed to warm up in a hurry over the last 10 miles. So conditions were far from ideal, but not worth complaining about. We’ve had much worse. You just take whatever you can get at this race, and Sunday was a perfect example. )

The other thing that bears mentioning with this race is that if you find yourself in the first quarter to third of the pack, you will run long stretches of the race on your own. There just aren’t a lot of fast runners who sign on for this race, because it’s about the exact opposite of what you look for in a PR course. So any time you have a chance to draft with a pack of runners, you need to take advantage.

I made the decision to stay with this pair of runners, working harder than I would have liked but keeping with my strategy to be more aggressive. We broke apart on the descent to the base of Hurricane Point, but by then I had caught up to the lead female runner, and ran with her most of the way up the 2-mile climb. After another downhill mile I crossed the Bixby Bridge, the halfway point of the race at 1:29:25 – more or less right where I wanted to be.

From this point I just wanted to keep working hard, taking the race one mile at a time, knowing if I kept an average of 6:50 per mile I would finish in 3 hours. The road kept rolling up and down, and I was gaining a handful of seconds per mile, but beginning to feel the strain.

I hit mile 20 in 2:15 – leaving me 45 minutes to do a final, very hilly 10K. I had a good chance to do it, but I was definitely feeling the pain.

I clicked off mile 21 in just over 7 minutes – meaning I was slowing down. And up next were the two toughest miles of the course – miles 22 and 23 through Carmel Highlands.

I’ve suffered through the steep hills of the Highlands many times during my marathon career. It’s a backbreaking stretch of road that can completely demoralize the best of runners. It’s the place where my inner demons emerge, and my body cries out against the pain I inflict upon myself to continue onward.

This year I felt more desparate than others – probably because of the extra effort I had spent earlier in the race. There were several times when I felt like I was barely keeping my legs moving. More than once, I gave myself a visible target to reach before I could stop and take a walking break: just make it to the next cone, the next telephone pole, the base of the next hill. The marathon became a nearly continuous series of 50-yard efforts, and it was all I could do to move from one to another.

Somehow I willed my body onward, and surprisingly never gave in to the temptation to walk. And while it felt like I was jogging in place, my mile splits were 7:26, 7:46, 7:18 - not a complete collapse, but just slow enough to put me behind my target pace. I hit mile 24 at 2 hrs, 45 minutes. It was still possible to break three hours, but with the way I was feeling I knew the odds were heavily against me.

I maintained my “dead man running” mode through the final two miles, and while I remained optimistic, in the back of my mind I knew I would just miss the goal time. The strategy I had employed was effective in putting me in position to succeed, but I couldn’t make the final move when the need arose. My only goal became to maintain forward momentum all the way to the finish.

Then came the silver lining. The 26-mile marker sits on the Carmel River Bridge. When runners cross the bridge, they see the finish line for the first time. And waiting for me just across the bridge were my son and wife, yelling and cheering me on.

They had done the 5K earlier in the day, and hung around the finish to see me home. And in the space of about two seconds, I did the following:
1. Glance at the finish line clock, which had just turned to 3:00:00
2. Turn and look over my shoulder to make sure no one was gaining on me, and
3. Gesture and call to my son to run with me down to the finish line.
And from there I shut the motor down, and jogged the final 200 meters to the finish line with my son right beside me. I probably could have broken 3:01, but at that point it didn't matter. We crossed the finish line together and started telling each other about our races while I staggered through the finisher’s chute.

Now, the three events above happened in precisely the specified order. I’d like to say that if the clock had read 2:59, or if someone had been hot on my heels, I would have done the same thing. But in all likelihood, I wouldn’t have. Thankfully, I didn’t have to make such a call, and the happiness of the last 200 meters more than made up for the disappointment of missing my goal time.

I believe that everything happens for a reason. I think that when God closes a door, he usually opens a window. I feel that if it wasn't meant to be for me to break 3 hours on Sunday, maybe the outcome was scripted to happen exactly as it did: with my son and I crossing the finish line together, sharing a moment of joy and relief, reveling in our mutual accomplishments.

Even without the memorable finish, I would have been satisfied with my effort on Sunday. I made a calculated gamble that didn’t quite pay off, but gave me my second best result here ever. To get there, I navigated through some very dark psychological waters, and pushed my body nearly to its limit to persevere.

I have even more to say about this race that I’ll discuss in the days to come. My son had a very enjoyable day, which I'll report on soon, and he has already mentioned doing another race someday. I’ve touched on a couple of other issues in this report that I’ll explore further in future posts. My next post will probably be our Herald article with some memorable snapshots of marathon day.

One thing is certain: there will be NO running this week, so there’s bound to be a lot of rambling. Most of it will be about Sunday, but then I’ll move on and talk about the new direction my training is taking over the next several months. And this blog just wouldn’t be complete without mentioning yet another music video hottie I’ve had on my mind lately. So I’ll definitely keep the information flowing during this down week.

Finally, I wanted to say thanks again to everybody who sent kind words before and after the race. It means a lot to know there are people out there interested in your results (you know, besides those who have the obligation of being related to you). As I’ve said before, running is an extremely difficult sport – so I’m glad to take every little bit of encouragement and support I’m fortunate enough to get.

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3:01:20

That's the short version. My son finished the 5K in about 43 minutes.

I'll post a full race report later. Tonight I need to knock out a Monterey Herald article, and then I'll be back here with all the details - hopefully by sometime tomorrow. Despite the time above, it was a really good day.

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Go Time

My last order of business before any big race is a very simple, very symbolic one. After my final training run, I clear the memory of my stopwatch.

I typically let workouts accumulate on my watch for several weeks. It doesn’t serve any practical purpose, but it’s somewhat comforting to carry around a reminder of all the training I’ve been doing in case I ever want to reassure myself that I’ve been preparing well.

But today it was time to put that behind me. I did an easy 3-miler, then pressed the lower right button of my watch:

“Hold to clear last wrkout – hold to clear chrono mem”.

Just like that, it was done. And just as quickly, I mentally shifted into race mode.

The past is now prologue. The real story begins Sunday morning.

This will be my last post until after the marathon. Thanks for everyone's encouragement this week.

See you on the other side.

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Take Our Advice - Please!

Like many runners, Mike and I tend to be somewhat competitive on race day, especially on what we consider our home course.

But that doesn't mean we aren't good sportsmen. So in today's Monterey Herald article, we've compiled some recommendations for any out-of-town runners who will be trying to beat us this Sunday. You can read the article here.

No need to thank us. Really. We're glad to help. Honestly.

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Goody Bag Breakdown

One cool aspect of the Big Sur 5K is that students who register with their elementary school receive their goody bags and race numbers early during race week. My wife and son picked up their race packets yesterday, and I figured that my son’s first-ever goody bag was worthy of a closer look.

Here then, are some of the contents of the kid’s 5K goody bag, and subsequent observations:

• Race t-shirt: very cool design (above). Unfortunately, no youth sizes were available – which is somewhat puzzling, seeing as how several hundred grade school kids are involved. Anyway, it’s an adult size small – and should fit just perfectly in a couple of years.
• Race bib: his first race number! If you think that’s not going on the wall somewhere when he’s finished…then obviously you’re a first-time visitor to this blog. Welcome to Running and Rambling. Open 24 hours. Comments always appreciated.
• Gift certificate for a free pair of socks: I’m holding out hope on this one. If the running store doesn’t carry kids’ sizes, this could be gravy for Dad.
• Newsletter, recipes, and coupons from Earthbound Farms: the largest organic producer in America happens to be right in the heart of Carmel Valley. It’s at the turnaround point of many of my long runs. So if you’ve ever bought their products, thanks for supporting our local economy!
• Free checking account offer from Washington Mutual: um…ask me again when he’s in college.
• Runners’ World subscription coupon: don’t worry about this one, kid. Dad’s got it covered.
• Marathon Foto advertisement: really? Are they doing this for the 5K? This may be a potential investment – we’ll wait and see.
• Team in Training brochure: good cause. Wrong guy.
• 7g Aquaphor sample tube: leading to the following conversation...
Me: I’ll take that.
Son: No, I want to use it.
Me: OK, but first tell me…what is it used for?
Son: (blank stare)
Me: I’ll take that.
• OC Marathon brochure: When I was in college, I ran this marathon, but it was named the Orange County Marathon. Now it’s called the OC, implying that it’s a much hipper race than it used to be. Or maybe I was way cooler than I realized in college - you know, before anyone actually called it the OC.
• Bay to Breakers brochure: great race, but here’s the thing: a lot of people run naked there. A lot more run while drunk. Do we really want kids to participate in this? I need to think this one over.
• Light blue “run to remember” plastic wristband: wait - are we still doing this? I thought the whole wristband thing was over with (Except yellow. Wear yellow as long as you want. I’ll always be down with Lance). I couldn’t even tell what we were supposed to be “remembering” until I dug through the bottom of the bag and found the 2-inch high paper that explained it. Apparently it’s for hospice care. Which is certainly a worthy cause, and associated with running because...um, because...well, maybe I’m just not thinking of it. But it is a worthy cause.
• “Marathon” bar by Snickers: leading to the following conversation…
Me: I’ll take...
Son (interrupting): No way.
• Sample size Promax bar: don’t worry, Promax. The kid was hooked on these many years ago. But thanks for the sample.

As goody bags go, this one was pretty decent. I tried to explain to him that most bags don’t have quite so much stuff in them. However, that somehow evolved into a discussion of what kind of free food would be available at the finisher’s tent after the race.

So if the kid wasn’t hooked on running before, maybe all the little perks will help push him one step further down that road. Now all that’s left is for him to actually do the race.

And I have a feeling he’ll do just fine.

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The Sub-Three Thing

(Author’s note: I get entirely too analytical and introspective when I’m tapering for a race. It’s like the physical energy I normally use for running is transformed into nervous energy during race week. This is a somewhat rambling post, so proceed at your own risk of boredom...)

Previously in this blog I’ve mentioned one of my primary marathon goals: covering the distance in under three hours. It will be my target for Big Sur this weekend, as it has been for just about every marathon I’ve done over the past several years. So I thought I should explain what I’m up against.

First off, running a sub-three hour marathon is pretty darn tough for any runner on any course. Doing so at Big Sur, with its relentless hills and typically unfriendly winds, is a very impressive feat.

And for someone like me to accomplish it at Big Sur is almost unbelievable.

I hinted yesterday that I have an idea of my “outer limit” of athletic performance. I think that if I maximized all of my genetic variables, at my peak racing age, I could probably have been something like a 2:40 marathoner. Admittedly, this is pure speculation, but I’ve done enough races at various distances to make an educated guess as to my capability.

But I’m not at peak racing age anymore. So if I were to rearrange my life tomorrow and completely commit myself to being a competitive runner, I could probably run something between 2:45 and 2:50.

As for the person I am right now, with the balance I’ve currently struck, my best performances land me right in the neighborhood of three hours.

Maybe a few minutes under, maybe a few minutes over. It’s always very close.

There isn’t much margin for error. If I miss a week of solid training or blow off a couple long runs or carry a minor injury to the start line, my chances are pretty slim. If weather conditions are bad or if I don’t follow the proper strategy on race day, it’s almost a foregone conclusion that I’ll be a few minutes over my goal time (see also: 2006 Napa Marathon).

I don’t often run sub-three. In fact, I’ve fallen short many more times than I’ve succeeded. It used to be extremely frustrating. But over the years, I’ve come to think I like it that way. If I could run sub-three every time I lace up my shoes, I would lose my appreciation for the accomplishment.

When I was a novice runner, I trained for years to break 3:10 and qualify for Boston. It was a monumental deal when I finally did it. Now that running 3:10 is more routine, there’s really no excitement in reaching that particular benchmark. But I do find the same thrill in chasing three hours now.

The number itself really doesn’t matter, except for some reason the “zero” numbers (3:20, 3:10, 3:00) are more psychologically compelling. I felt just as happy running 3:10 to qualify for Boston the first time as I was with my first sub-three marathon. The primary satisfaction was in having a goal that initially seemed out of reach, but eventually became attainable with prolonged, determined training and a courageous, focused effort on race day.

The notion of running a sub-three-hour marathon is like a beacon that pulls me through endless mornings of training. It’s the idea that makes me run in the rain, helps me wake up at 4:30 to do long runs, and compels me to do track workouts by myself when the rest of the group doesn’t show up.

In many ways, I really don’t have any business running a three-hour marathon. I’m far too big. I eat WAY too much. I don’t get nearly enough sleep. I never train as much as I plan to. I don’t take care of injuries or illnesses properly. I’m not genetically predisposed to be an efficient runner (and if you don’t believe me, I’ll post pictures of my parents and sister someday – nobody will ever mistake my family for a 4x400m relay team).

Yet this is the person I am. This is the balance in life that I’m comfortable with. And marathoning is the event I love.

So here’s what it typically boils down to: if I train like a madman for a few months, get just enough sleep to keep my car on the road on the way to and from work each day, and have sufficient discipline to keep my appetite under control for a while, I can approach the three-hour barrier with a legitimate hope of dipping below it. If I fail in any of those measures, the deal is off.

I’m actually thankful to have this challenge that intimidates and inspires me all at once. When I get philosophical about it (you know, as in this entire post), I feel like this specific goal in this particular event is what I was made to chase after. It’s like God created this exact situation for me, where I’ll only find success by bringing out the best in myself in training, then taking a leap of faith on race day.

Will it happen this weekend? I honestly have no idea. I think I’ve done a decent job with the “bringing out my best” part. All I can do now is wait to take the leap of faith on Sunday morning.

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