Better Late Than Never!!

First of all, the California International Marathon race course is much prettier than I thought it would be. The only reference I has was a course review on Youtube which led me to believe that I would be running through suburban drudgery. Far from it. The little towns we ran through, from Folsom, into Carmichael, and into downtown Sacramento itself have unique characters. While there certainly were strip malls and bland, suburban tract housing, elements of the frontier west and the Gold Rush made it easy to forget all that.

And the layout of the course itself, with long, straight lines for miles (seemingly) without end and very few turns enabled me to get lost in my run, relax and enjoy the scenery.

And now, for the race!

The starting gun went off while I was still in the Port-a-Potty, so I crossed the start line about five minutes later than I thought I would. I caught one of the 4:00 pace teams, however, and I figured that I would run with them for a few miles to warm up, then slowly run ahead at 8:45 pace to match my goal time.

Within moments, I knew it wasn’t going to be the plan.

The California International Marathon is a net downhill race, but the downhill is almost not noticeable: a 350 foot drop over 26.2 miles. In round numbers, about a three tenths of one percent drop. What there were, however, were lots and lots of hills, starting with the first mile. Small hills, to be sure, and in the back of my mind I knew they would be there. But they still took me by surprise, so much so that I dialed my pace down again, allowing the 4:10 pace team to catch up with me and then running with them for the majority of the race.

But as it always does, the training I came to the race with eventually kicked in, and I settled in to just under a 9:30 per mile pace, my first priority to simply get through the race standing up. I helped myself feel better by engaging in conversations with people around me, including a young man running his first marathon (who I gave several helpful bits of training advice), and amusingly, a high school girl who, responding to my “thanks for coming out!” to her group of friends, yelled “I’ve gotta give that guy a high five!” High five’s exchanged, I marveled at how light our burdens can be made to feel if we allow others to share them with us.

We ran in perfect weather. Not as cold as I was told to expect. The skies threatened rain, but all I felt was a refreshingly cool and moist breeze that left me dripping but energized despite the fact that I was struggling more than I expected to.

For example: at about mile 15, my Morton’s Neuroma kicked in. and at that point it was going to be a race of attrition. Who’s going to win this battle, the race course, or me? Here’s how my internal dialogue went:

“One mile at a time, kid, one mile at a time.”

“But it’s mile 16!” I shot back to myself. “There’s ten miles to go, my ‘A’ goal is in the rear view mirror, gasping for breath and looking for an ambulance, and everything just friggin’ hurts!”

“Well, of course!” I replied to myself. “This is how mile 16 is supposed to feel like.”

“It’s only mile seventeen, now!” I countered a few minutes later.

“Sure is. And you made it, too, didn’t you? Does it hurt any worse?”

“Can’t tell for sure,” I replied.

“There you go. And look, we just passed the 30k checkpoint! You’re killing it!”

“Well, I guess I feel ok,” I admitted through gritted teeth, “but things are slowly getting worse, by tiny degrees, and I’m slowing down just a bit, too.”

“Then pick it up a bit! The shock to the system will do you good. And look, there’s that “wall” display with the Rocky theme music playing at mile 20! Run through it and go ‘Woooo!’”

“I’m not yelling “Woooo!”

“Suit yourself.”

Long story short, I could feel myself slowing down as the race went on into the latter stages. My 9:25 had turned into a 9:40, even though by mile 21 there weren’t any hills left, and the lack of them gave the illusion that the rest of the way ahead was a screaming downhill (an optical illusion; the course is pretty much pancake flat from that point). But I had pushed through mile 20. Miles 21 and 22 were history, and though my foot was in screaming pain, I was persevering. No 3:50, no sub 4, but the dance party at the H Street Bridge was pretty damn inspiring, and I was killing it before it was killing me with less than 5k to go.

Then the Katzenjammer Twins, known as full body fatigue and, shall we politely say, gastric rumblings, strolled onto the scene and I lurched clumsily into a very undignified stagger.

Recalling an earlier lecture in race walking, I alternated between pumping my arms while striding like a madman and running, all while looking for the closest latrine available. Luckily there were none, because if I had found one and stopped, I doubt I would have been able to start again. So I put my head down and gutted it out, the fight now down to my pain vs. How much longer did I really want to be out here.

At mile 25 the finish line festival was a dull roar, which got louder as we drew closer to the Capitol building. The last half mile was spent dodging pedestrians and staggering finishers making their way back to the hotels. Then that grand U turn onto the Capitol grounds and the finish line, perfectly framing the imposing structure just a hundred yards ahead. If I wasn’t suffering so badly, I would have appreciated it more. But I was suffering. Badly.

I finished in 4:19 and change. Nowhere near my goal, but grateful to have survived. Drank some of that awesome hot chicken soup at the finish line festival, located the drop bag zone and tried to sip the chocolate milk waiting inside my drop bag while staggering around looking for an exit out onto the street and back to the hotel.

Found one, made my way to the hotel, showered, got dressed, Netflixed and chilled, grateful for a friend and fellow CIM-er who used his hotel points to get me an extended checkout (thanks again, Russ!). Oh, and didn’t cry.

A few hours later, my brother Bob, who is commuting weekly from Gilbert, AZ to Sacramento for work, joined me for a post marathon meal at Squeeze Burger a few blocks from the motel, an unexpected, and grateful, surprise.

So: what went right, and what went wrong:

RIGHT:

My mileage increase. My number one weakness isn’t a lack of speed or even strength: it’s time on feet. I increased my mileage to 40+ miles per week for three weeks in a row, including a 45 mile week just a few weeks before the race.

Hill training. I greatly increased my hill training for this cycle, which helped me run as well as I did. Without it, I’d probably still be out there. Included was an 18 miler consisting of three hilly loops with about 400 feet of elevation gain per loop (what the locals here in LA call the Amalfi Loop).

WRONG:

Despite all the hill training and increase in overall distance, I was not prepared for a relatively flat course with rolling hills. As race day recedes into memory, I’m starting to realize that most of my troubles were mental. I had never run the course before, and despite my preparations and overall marathon experience, I was not prepared for all the rolling hills that particular course.

The other part is that it simply takes time for increases in training volume to make their way to the cellular level. I have no doubt that as I keep up the efforts I started back in the fall, and gradually increase my overall volume to fifty, and hopefully by my next PR attempt, 60 miles in a week, something inside will kick in, and I will see monstrous improvements.

And besides that, my ability to run through the pain and discomfort I encountered out there really surprised me. Something about those extra miles, hill training and tempo work manifested itself that day and helped me finish strong on a day when I wasn’t sure I’d even finish.

Next up: Pacing runners in the LA Marathon to a 4:22 finish as a Pace Leader for the LA Roadrunners in March, a brief recovery, then an all out assault at the Mountains 2 Beach Marathon on Memorial Day weekend.

And has the California International Marathon seen the last of me? Hell no. I want revenge, and I’m going to get it!