I want to like this race. I can jog to the start line from my house and walk home from the finish line. The course passes within 3 blocks of previously mentioned home, so family can cheer without having to wake up too early or fight crowds. Two years ago, when I had a calf problem and had to drop out, I was able to walk home in 15 minutes. I know the course like the back of my hand. I do not like this race.
Yet, I sign up every year and I've already prepaid for 2016. Read on and try to understand if you can. I've given up.
First of all, it's a Rock n Roll event, so you get what you pay for, which means it's well run and you pay for almost everything. But, let's focus on the race itself.
It was a cloudy, cold and rainy morning. Pretty much miserable from the start. I worried a little about whether they would have enough volunteers, since a couple years prior the threat of poor weather resulted in too few aide station workers and people filling their own cups of water. Not a problem this year. Despite the weather, which never improved, there were plenty of folks to help.
Even the bands, which are the signature feature of the Rock n Roll series, came out, though I suspect a few of them bailed at the last minute. Amps and rain water don't mix.
I lined up in Corral #3, out of 30+ corrals. With 20,000+ runners and a lot more 1/2 marathon runners than marathoners in this race, they space folks out pretty well. I try to search out a couple fellow marathoners among the sea 13.1 milers. I'm stylin' in my $7 poncho from CVS, which is awesome and keeping me dry prior to the gun. My iphone is sealed in a baggie and my Bluetooth headphones claim to be water resistant. We shall see. The goal is to finish this race and not hate it. A good time is gravy--so much so that I leave my watch at home.
Miles 0-6. Rain. Just a steady drizzle that WILL NOT LET UP. It's maybe 47 degrees. The first mile is filler, a loop around the block, but then we head over the Memorial Bridge and almost to the gates of Arlington Cemetery. Driving over the Memorial bridge, you'd never think of it as anything but flat. Running, one notices a healthy up and down. But, it's early, so no sweat. By mile three, we're onto Rockcreek Parkway, a mostly flat, slight uphill, three mile stretch leading to this marathon's heartbreak hill--a quarter mile long exit ramp that just sucks the life out of you.
As I approached it this year, though, I saw a line of American flags being held by spectators in tribute to fallen soldiers. I figured if they could stand out in the rain for 5 hours holding flags, I could make it up a damn hill. Up and over.
Miles 6-11. My plan, as much as there was one, was to pick up the pace during this stretch and try notch a few 7:30 minute-miles. It's mostly downhill for the 16 blocks from 16th Street to North Capitol and the packs have thinned to the point where you can run unencumbered. I should note for posterity that it was still raining and I was cold and miserable. This may be why I just couldn't seem to settle into a slightly higher gear. Looking back later on my splits, I was running faster during this stretch, but it sure didn't feel like it. Coming down North Capitol Street should be one of the best/easiest parts of the race as it is a steady and straight downhill for over a mile. Mentally, I was letting the weather get to me and without the validation of a watch or GPS, I was convincing myself that I was running poorly.
Miles 11-13.1. This self doubt could not have come at a worse time. Miles 11-13 run right near my house and while on a good day that can be a major adrenaline rush with family and friends cheering, on a rainy day filled with doubt, the house becomes a black hole pulling at you to drop out and hit the couch. Instead I try and focus on H Street and the bands and the small crowds who have braved the weather knowing I'm about to run into a veritable cheering no man's land called the second half of the race.
13.1-18. I've run marathons when it was 30 degrees and I was warmer than during this race. It was the perfect combination of rain and cold enough temps that I never felt warm and, if I haven't made it clear by now, it was getting to me. And this stretch of the race includes an out and back down in SW DC that is devoid of spectators and interest (except for the notable exception of Nats park), so all there is to focus on is how quickly the 3:30 pace group is catching up to me. In fact, it's just prior to crossing the South Capitol Street Bridge that I resign myself to letting them pass and focus on just finishing.
18-22. Unlike many who race and review this track, I like this stretch. It's quiet certainly with few spectators, but it's run along the Anacostia River and every year it's a little cleaner and more scenic. A bike path is being developed and I imagine within 5-10 years this will be a great stretch of the city on both sides of the river. It's a flat stretch, so just staying in a rhythm is pretty easy. I was able to hold off the 3:30 group until mile 20.
22-26.2. This part of the race was different than previous years and a mile longer. Instead of a straight shot up Minnesota Avenue to East Capitol Street and the finish, organizers decided on a detour through Fort DuPont Park. The result was to add even more hills to the final miles. Not a fan. The quiet agony of those miles through the park are rewarded by a solid finish. It would be awesome if some day the finish could be in RFK stadium and we could all pretend to be Olympic marathoners entering the stadium for our victory lap. Still, the approach to the finish is still well done and even in the rain filled with spectators and cheering for the final push.
I shuffled across the line at just over 3:40 and was immediately shivering despite the Mylar blanket a kind soul handed me. Fortunately, marathon runners were given a jacket if they finished the race and that saved me from certain pneumonia. My time was over 15 minutes slower than the Carlsbad Marathon run only 2 months earlier. I still have not solved the mystery of the Rock n Roll DC race. I still want to like this race, but we're not there yet. Maybe next year.
Neutral
Friday, May 15, 2015
Friday, May 8, 2015
2015 North Face Endurance Challenge Washington DC 50K
My fourth year running this race and it's a personal favorite. Most of my runs are road races and I look forward every year to tossing the road shoes in the back of the closet, grabbing the trail shoes and running through creeks. Honestly, as I write this, I'm not sure why I don't run more trail races--an issue for personal reflection later.
With a couple exceptions (Marine Corps Marathon being one), I'm a big fan of smaller races. The packet pick up is easier, getting to and from the race is easier and I'm not someone that needs huge crowds for motivation. The North Face run is a great size event. Even though they run 6 or 7 races over the weekend from 50 miles to 10K, each one only has about 300-500 people. So, the race.
Up at 4:30am to ensure I'm at the shuttle parking lot (about an hour from home) around 6:00am. Again, unlike my pre-marathon routine, I save a lot of the prep for when I get to the start area, rather than try and do everything before leaving home. The shuttles from the parking lot to Algonkian Park are well run and the drivers some of the friendliest people I've ever met at any hour of the day, much less 6:00am. I'm thrown off a bit when the bus drives past the start area and drops us down some random side road. I learn later that the wet conditions resulted in needing to move the start area slightly from previous years. Not a big deal in the morning, but the walk back to bus after the race sure seemed long.
I mentioned wet conditions. This surprised me because there had not been much rain and, in fact, the forecast for race day had flipped completely over the previous three days from "rain all day" to "nothing but sun." I almost ditched the trail shoes and wore my Newton Elite road shoes. That would have been a bad call.
The start--again I had to get out of my marathon mind set when I'm, for no rational reason, insulted by being assigned corral #2, yet I know I'm going to finish in the top 50-100 (out of 400-500). Who cares? I know they do it to spread people out, which is great, and I know it's chip timed. Anyway, at 7:01am, we're off.
Miles 1-5. The first mile loops runners around a soccer field and here's where the decision to stick with the trail shoes immediately pays off, as does the experience of having run this race before. The field is a squishy, muddy, marshy, mess that you just have to embrace and run right through. The runners who try and pick their way around the wettest spots just end up slowing themselves down and wasting energy zigging back and forth. You are going to get wet and muddy over the next several hours--might as well just dive in at the start.
The course then parallels Mr. Trump's golf course and here is the only time where it's worth racing just a bit, because after the wide cart paths and gravel road end at about mile 2, the course goes to single track. You want to be surrounded by runners who are near your pace or you can be trapped for the next couple miles (not that a forced slower pace is necessarily the end of the world). I managed to put myself in a good steady paced group as we headed into the woods--and to this day still did not see the woman fall face first into a mud puddle in front of me, didn't happen. We all agreed.
I should mention something on pace. The three previous years I had improved my time each year from 6:30 hours to 6:00 hours to 5:33 hours. I wanted to be somewhere around 5:30, which meant something around 10:30/mile pace to 11:00/mile pace. If you've never run a trail run, this probably seems slow (my best marathon time is 3:23), but it's not slow--trust me.
I'm reminded why this pace is a good target at about mile 3.5 when we hit the first hill and start walking. There are several hills on the course, but for me the worst are at mile 20 and mile 23. We'll get there. After clearing that first hill, we made it to the aide station and I loaded up on peanut and butter and jelly sandwiches. I believe these are my secret weapon even if everyone has access to them. I was right on pace at 10:00/mile.
Miles 5-8. The next stretch has gotten easier in the past two years since they added another aide station at about mile 8.5. Runners used to have to go over 7 miles to get to the Great Falls aide station. I can tell you before they added that station that coming back the other way from mile 19 to mile 26, you could not find a runner who wasn't convinced that distance was closer to 10 miles. But, that's no longer an issue with the friendly aide station at mile 8.5, which they placed at the bottom of two hills, so runners would have to run uphill both ways. I guess the organizers didn't want to get a rep as being soft.
Miles 8-12. The run to Great Falls is deceptively difficult. Yes, there are some nice flat stretches, but there are also long gradual uphills and areas where the sun beats down on you (I should have mentioned that despite moving the race from June to April, it was hot, hitting 80 degrees by afternoon). The steep downhill leading back to the river and into Great Falls is so steep it's hard to move quickly. I felt like I was keeping a good pace though as I arrived at the park and having people around cheering was a nice adrenaline rush. When I looked later at my splits, I was under 10:00/mile pace. I refilled my water bottle with something that was supposedly an electrolyte drink and headed into Great Falls for a loop through the park.
Miles 12-19. Looking at other recaps, the Great Falls Loop seems to affect people very differently. I find it extremely challenging with lots of ups and downs starting with a mile long uphill on the wide central dirt road. By the time I reach the top of that climb, I'm winded and the steepest down and up section is still ahead as runners head down Difficult Run and back. The good news for me, I was trying to connect with a 50 mile runner who was on his 2nd or 3rd lap around the park, so I had something to distract me (never did find him though). After a quick stop at the 16 mile aide station (I should note how insanely helpful the staff and volunteers are especially in the later miles when they fill your bottle for you and pour water over your head), I enjoyed a nice downhill stretch through Swamp Trail and quickly was back at the main Great Falls aide station.
Miles 19-23. I took a little extra time at the aide station to make sure I drank lots of water, ate some food and put my headphones on. I knew from previous years that the run back suddenly gets very lonely as you leave the 50 milers behind and the 50K runners have become very spread out. Some music was needed and really I'd seen and heard all the nature on the way out. With some Bare Naked Ladies as my guide, I headed back along the river to that hill at mile 20 I mentioned several paragraphs ago. This hill sucks. It is steep. It is rocky. And, it kills all your momentum. It does end, however, and once I could breath again, I was able to settle into a nice steady pace that I knew was slower than earlier, but I was able to keep at it.
I actually forgot about the hill at mile 23 until I stood at it's base 30 minutes later. You are lulled into a false sense of easy trail running with a slight downhill and flat stretch along the river the previous miles. Then, damn, you remember flying down this thing and thinking, shit, I will have to go back up this sucker later. Well, later was now. Grabbing tree trunks, shuffling backwards I started for the first time thinking about just finishing rather than grasping for any time goal. I stumbled into the aide station with a look of longing at the medical tent. There was a gurney in there--maybe even a pillow. "Only 8 miles to go!" someone yelled. All I saw was the uphill climb leading out of the aide station. I grabbed a saltine, refilled my bottle and shuffled up the hill.
Miles 23-26. After the hill, the trail flattens out again and I found I could get into a decent rhythm as long as the hills kept to themselves. I was fully on board mentally with the idea of just getting to the finish line upright and being happy with a good run regardless of time. For the first time I can remember, the next aide station appeared sooner than I expected. I took a moment to appreciate that.
Miles 26-31. Now, I said I was happy to just finish, but then someone at the aide station asked what time it was and I could not help but overhearing that it was about 11:30am. Some quick math told me that I had a shot of beating my time from last year if I could just manage 12:00/mile for the last 5 miles. I knew this stretch well and I knew aside from the one hill at mile 28, it was relatively flat. It's on.
Seeing the golf course again is a real mental boost, even though there are still over two miles to go to the finish. I mean how hard can it be to run along a couple fairways. By mile 29 I'm back on gravel road and can really focus on a target in the distance without having to worry about tripping over a branch or rock. A quick stop at the last aide station with only 1.7 to go. On the way to the finish, there's no loop around the soccer field.
With about a quarter mile to go, two other runners come along side and we all decide to try and finish fast (relatively speaking). As I come around the last corner and can see the finish line, the clock shows 12:26pm. I finish in 5:27:12. 42nd place. I go lay in the grass.
Strongly recommend.
With a couple exceptions (Marine Corps Marathon being one), I'm a big fan of smaller races. The packet pick up is easier, getting to and from the race is easier and I'm not someone that needs huge crowds for motivation. The North Face run is a great size event. Even though they run 6 or 7 races over the weekend from 50 miles to 10K, each one only has about 300-500 people. So, the race.
Up at 4:30am to ensure I'm at the shuttle parking lot (about an hour from home) around 6:00am. Again, unlike my pre-marathon routine, I save a lot of the prep for when I get to the start area, rather than try and do everything before leaving home. The shuttles from the parking lot to Algonkian Park are well run and the drivers some of the friendliest people I've ever met at any hour of the day, much less 6:00am. I'm thrown off a bit when the bus drives past the start area and drops us down some random side road. I learn later that the wet conditions resulted in needing to move the start area slightly from previous years. Not a big deal in the morning, but the walk back to bus after the race sure seemed long.
I mentioned wet conditions. This surprised me because there had not been much rain and, in fact, the forecast for race day had flipped completely over the previous three days from "rain all day" to "nothing but sun." I almost ditched the trail shoes and wore my Newton Elite road shoes. That would have been a bad call.
The start--again I had to get out of my marathon mind set when I'm, for no rational reason, insulted by being assigned corral #2, yet I know I'm going to finish in the top 50-100 (out of 400-500). Who cares? I know they do it to spread people out, which is great, and I know it's chip timed. Anyway, at 7:01am, we're off.
Miles 1-5. The first mile loops runners around a soccer field and here's where the decision to stick with the trail shoes immediately pays off, as does the experience of having run this race before. The field is a squishy, muddy, marshy, mess that you just have to embrace and run right through. The runners who try and pick their way around the wettest spots just end up slowing themselves down and wasting energy zigging back and forth. You are going to get wet and muddy over the next several hours--might as well just dive in at the start.
The course then parallels Mr. Trump's golf course and here is the only time where it's worth racing just a bit, because after the wide cart paths and gravel road end at about mile 2, the course goes to single track. You want to be surrounded by runners who are near your pace or you can be trapped for the next couple miles (not that a forced slower pace is necessarily the end of the world). I managed to put myself in a good steady paced group as we headed into the woods--and to this day still did not see the woman fall face first into a mud puddle in front of me, didn't happen. We all agreed.
I should mention something on pace. The three previous years I had improved my time each year from 6:30 hours to 6:00 hours to 5:33 hours. I wanted to be somewhere around 5:30, which meant something around 10:30/mile pace to 11:00/mile pace. If you've never run a trail run, this probably seems slow (my best marathon time is 3:23), but it's not slow--trust me.
I'm reminded why this pace is a good target at about mile 3.5 when we hit the first hill and start walking. There are several hills on the course, but for me the worst are at mile 20 and mile 23. We'll get there. After clearing that first hill, we made it to the aide station and I loaded up on peanut and butter and jelly sandwiches. I believe these are my secret weapon even if everyone has access to them. I was right on pace at 10:00/mile.
Miles 5-8. The next stretch has gotten easier in the past two years since they added another aide station at about mile 8.5. Runners used to have to go over 7 miles to get to the Great Falls aide station. I can tell you before they added that station that coming back the other way from mile 19 to mile 26, you could not find a runner who wasn't convinced that distance was closer to 10 miles. But, that's no longer an issue with the friendly aide station at mile 8.5, which they placed at the bottom of two hills, so runners would have to run uphill both ways. I guess the organizers didn't want to get a rep as being soft.
Miles 8-12. The run to Great Falls is deceptively difficult. Yes, there are some nice flat stretches, but there are also long gradual uphills and areas where the sun beats down on you (I should have mentioned that despite moving the race from June to April, it was hot, hitting 80 degrees by afternoon). The steep downhill leading back to the river and into Great Falls is so steep it's hard to move quickly. I felt like I was keeping a good pace though as I arrived at the park and having people around cheering was a nice adrenaline rush. When I looked later at my splits, I was under 10:00/mile pace. I refilled my water bottle with something that was supposedly an electrolyte drink and headed into Great Falls for a loop through the park.
Miles 12-19. Looking at other recaps, the Great Falls Loop seems to affect people very differently. I find it extremely challenging with lots of ups and downs starting with a mile long uphill on the wide central dirt road. By the time I reach the top of that climb, I'm winded and the steepest down and up section is still ahead as runners head down Difficult Run and back. The good news for me, I was trying to connect with a 50 mile runner who was on his 2nd or 3rd lap around the park, so I had something to distract me (never did find him though). After a quick stop at the 16 mile aide station (I should note how insanely helpful the staff and volunteers are especially in the later miles when they fill your bottle for you and pour water over your head), I enjoyed a nice downhill stretch through Swamp Trail and quickly was back at the main Great Falls aide station.
Miles 19-23. I took a little extra time at the aide station to make sure I drank lots of water, ate some food and put my headphones on. I knew from previous years that the run back suddenly gets very lonely as you leave the 50 milers behind and the 50K runners have become very spread out. Some music was needed and really I'd seen and heard all the nature on the way out. With some Bare Naked Ladies as my guide, I headed back along the river to that hill at mile 20 I mentioned several paragraphs ago. This hill sucks. It is steep. It is rocky. And, it kills all your momentum. It does end, however, and once I could breath again, I was able to settle into a nice steady pace that I knew was slower than earlier, but I was able to keep at it.
I actually forgot about the hill at mile 23 until I stood at it's base 30 minutes later. You are lulled into a false sense of easy trail running with a slight downhill and flat stretch along the river the previous miles. Then, damn, you remember flying down this thing and thinking, shit, I will have to go back up this sucker later. Well, later was now. Grabbing tree trunks, shuffling backwards I started for the first time thinking about just finishing rather than grasping for any time goal. I stumbled into the aide station with a look of longing at the medical tent. There was a gurney in there--maybe even a pillow. "Only 8 miles to go!" someone yelled. All I saw was the uphill climb leading out of the aide station. I grabbed a saltine, refilled my bottle and shuffled up the hill.
Miles 23-26. After the hill, the trail flattens out again and I found I could get into a decent rhythm as long as the hills kept to themselves. I was fully on board mentally with the idea of just getting to the finish line upright and being happy with a good run regardless of time. For the first time I can remember, the next aide station appeared sooner than I expected. I took a moment to appreciate that.
Miles 26-31. Now, I said I was happy to just finish, but then someone at the aide station asked what time it was and I could not help but overhearing that it was about 11:30am. Some quick math told me that I had a shot of beating my time from last year if I could just manage 12:00/mile for the last 5 miles. I knew this stretch well and I knew aside from the one hill at mile 28, it was relatively flat. It's on.
Seeing the golf course again is a real mental boost, even though there are still over two miles to go to the finish. I mean how hard can it be to run along a couple fairways. By mile 29 I'm back on gravel road and can really focus on a target in the distance without having to worry about tripping over a branch or rock. A quick stop at the last aide station with only 1.7 to go. On the way to the finish, there's no loop around the soccer field.
With about a quarter mile to go, two other runners come along side and we all decide to try and finish fast (relatively speaking). As I come around the last corner and can see the finish line, the clock shows 12:26pm. I finish in 5:27:12. 42nd place. I go lay in the grass.
Strongly recommend.
Thursday, May 7, 2015
Carlsbad Marathon Race Recap January 2015
Now, I'm an East Coast runner, so running south with the ocean on the right just seems wrong, but Carlsbad is an awfully nice place to look for a sunrise that never appears over the water. I signed up because I have family in the area, none of whom have ever seen me race. I was excited because my sister, who is a steady 3-4 mile runner decided to use my visit an motivation to train for the 1/2 marathon.
Logistically, for a destination race, the organizers did a good job. Sign up was simple enough and packet pick-up, which also doubled as the finish line the next day, was relatively easy. The expo was nothing special. Yet, what is a special expo? The shuttle process from the host hotels could have been clearer with more signage, but hey, I got to the start line and home from the finish, so all good.
So, the race, which I ran alone because my sister got pneumonia, or some such excuse. Because it's California and, I guess hot and crowded, the marathon started really early, 6:15am. This was only tolerable due to the fact that I was still on East Coast time. It became slightly less tolerable when police couldn't clear the course on time and we stood around until 6:30am before starting the race. It's actually quite chilly at 6:15 in the morning.
Before the gun, let me back up for some perspective on my goals and race strategy as it colors the rest of the story. Being the ripe old age of 48, I had qualified for Boston with a 3:23 race the previous fall at the Marine Corps Marathon, so I wasn't really committed to a particular pace or time as much as just going out however I felt and seeing what happened. I knew I had family cheering me on at miles 14, 16 and 20, so as long as I was upright and smiling then the rest was gravy. I also knew there was a killer hill at mile 8 that I would have to contend with.
The gun finally went off and we headed off through some rolling hills in and around Carlsbad. I almost always wear headphones--some Bluetooth wireless ones--and listen to music since I almost never maintain a fixed pace and tend to end up running solo a lot of the time. Also, it was 6:30 in the morning, so, you know, tired. After 16 marathons, you would think I would know better than to go out "too fast", but honestly I have tried the "hold back early" or the "run the first mile slow" or the "negative splits are your friend" philosophies and have always found that the "run how you feel" method works for me. And I felt good during the early miles.
I latched on with the 3:10 pace group even though there was no way on God's green Earth that was going to last. Still, as we left the rolling hills of Carlsbad (miles 1-2) and headed onto the Pacific Coast Highway, I was running easy and fast listening to the pacer call out the mile splits in between the "Hits of the 70s" (Turn the Beat Around, Night Fever). Miles 2-5 along the highway are pretty flat, even a bit downhill, which, of course means a little uphill when they happen to be miles 20-23 on the way back. I was hoping my brother-in-law, who is a lawyer and doesn't sleep, would be out early to cheer me on at mile 5, as we headed inland towards the hill from Hell.
He came through and I let the 3:10ers go to pull over for a quick high five and some witty early morning banter (at least my recollection is that it was witty). There are three hills on this course to be aware of and prepare for. The one that starts at mile 8 is by far the longest and highest, but maybe not the most difficult. Having let the 3:10 group go, I kept them in my sights and just tried to keep a reasonable pace going up figuring I could make up some time going back down. This strategy turned out to be sound. The hill is about a mile long, steep and draining. Know it ahead of time. It is what it is.
On the plus side, going back down is fast... I believe my pace going up was about 8:00-8:15/mile and sub 7:00/mile coming back down. By the time I was back to the Coast Highway around miles 13-14, I was almost even with the 3:10 pace group again, but I let them go for good, as this was my chance to see the full family cheering squad and introduce a little sanity into the pacing. This race is great for spectators in that you can see your racer 5-6 times without have to move more than a few hundred feet.
I said farewell to the family and headed back out onto the PCH now joined by herds of 1/2 marathon runners who all looked refreshed as they jogged along at their miles 4-5. The second hill looks innocent enough from a distance, but at its top is mile 16 and the 1/2 marathon turnaround, so there's a psychological kick in the gut as two thirds of the runners hang a left and head for home, while you keep on running off into the distance. It's only two miles to the full marathon turnaround, but it feels longer and the last big hill is the one at mile 18 just when most runners, myself included, are starting to fade. I had to walk a few steps after cresting the hill just to catch my breath and swear at my lameness before heading back down and running for home.
I should note that the crowds are really terrific, especially miles 20-26, when the marathons and 1/2 marathon merge. Now, you'll recall my standard for success being upright and smiling for the family at miles 14,16 and 20. So, big success at 14 and 16--not so much at 20. Whether it was the hills or the early pace, I was cooked by mile 20 and could tell it was just going to be a slog to get to the finish, yet I wanted to look strong when I passed everyone at around 20.5. So, I jacked up the pace slightly, sucked it up, and ran head high with a quick wave as I went by. About 200 yards down the road I had to pull over sucking wind and near tears. If you've run marathons, you know that your emotions get very raw especially late in the race. Family being there, pushing the pace--it all caught up to me at once.
Fortunately, I didn't go fetal and got back onto the road quickly. A 3:25 Boston qualifying time was still a possibility. As I suspected, the run back into Carlsbad was a gradual uphill that felt steeper than it was because of the miles. I did recall that the last 1/2 mile to the finish was downhill, though. What I had blocked was the fact that in town there are a series of rolling hills. They got me and I had to let 3:25 go. When I turned the corner into the mall parking lot where the finish line was, I could see the clock already at 3:25. Finish time 3:25:56 (7:52/mile).
A good run, a beautiful location, hilly.
Recommend.
Logistically, for a destination race, the organizers did a good job. Sign up was simple enough and packet pick-up, which also doubled as the finish line the next day, was relatively easy. The expo was nothing special. Yet, what is a special expo? The shuttle process from the host hotels could have been clearer with more signage, but hey, I got to the start line and home from the finish, so all good.
So, the race, which I ran alone because my sister got pneumonia, or some such excuse. Because it's California and, I guess hot and crowded, the marathon started really early, 6:15am. This was only tolerable due to the fact that I was still on East Coast time. It became slightly less tolerable when police couldn't clear the course on time and we stood around until 6:30am before starting the race. It's actually quite chilly at 6:15 in the morning.
Before the gun, let me back up for some perspective on my goals and race strategy as it colors the rest of the story. Being the ripe old age of 48, I had qualified for Boston with a 3:23 race the previous fall at the Marine Corps Marathon, so I wasn't really committed to a particular pace or time as much as just going out however I felt and seeing what happened. I knew I had family cheering me on at miles 14, 16 and 20, so as long as I was upright and smiling then the rest was gravy. I also knew there was a killer hill at mile 8 that I would have to contend with.
The gun finally went off and we headed off through some rolling hills in and around Carlsbad. I almost always wear headphones--some Bluetooth wireless ones--and listen to music since I almost never maintain a fixed pace and tend to end up running solo a lot of the time. Also, it was 6:30 in the morning, so, you know, tired. After 16 marathons, you would think I would know better than to go out "too fast", but honestly I have tried the "hold back early" or the "run the first mile slow" or the "negative splits are your friend" philosophies and have always found that the "run how you feel" method works for me. And I felt good during the early miles.
I latched on with the 3:10 pace group even though there was no way on God's green Earth that was going to last. Still, as we left the rolling hills of Carlsbad (miles 1-2) and headed onto the Pacific Coast Highway, I was running easy and fast listening to the pacer call out the mile splits in between the "Hits of the 70s" (Turn the Beat Around, Night Fever). Miles 2-5 along the highway are pretty flat, even a bit downhill, which, of course means a little uphill when they happen to be miles 20-23 on the way back. I was hoping my brother-in-law, who is a lawyer and doesn't sleep, would be out early to cheer me on at mile 5, as we headed inland towards the hill from Hell.
He came through and I let the 3:10ers go to pull over for a quick high five and some witty early morning banter (at least my recollection is that it was witty). There are three hills on this course to be aware of and prepare for. The one that starts at mile 8 is by far the longest and highest, but maybe not the most difficult. Having let the 3:10 group go, I kept them in my sights and just tried to keep a reasonable pace going up figuring I could make up some time going back down. This strategy turned out to be sound. The hill is about a mile long, steep and draining. Know it ahead of time. It is what it is.
On the plus side, going back down is fast... I believe my pace going up was about 8:00-8:15/mile and sub 7:00/mile coming back down. By the time I was back to the Coast Highway around miles 13-14, I was almost even with the 3:10 pace group again, but I let them go for good, as this was my chance to see the full family cheering squad and introduce a little sanity into the pacing. This race is great for spectators in that you can see your racer 5-6 times without have to move more than a few hundred feet.
I said farewell to the family and headed back out onto the PCH now joined by herds of 1/2 marathon runners who all looked refreshed as they jogged along at their miles 4-5. The second hill looks innocent enough from a distance, but at its top is mile 16 and the 1/2 marathon turnaround, so there's a psychological kick in the gut as two thirds of the runners hang a left and head for home, while you keep on running off into the distance. It's only two miles to the full marathon turnaround, but it feels longer and the last big hill is the one at mile 18 just when most runners, myself included, are starting to fade. I had to walk a few steps after cresting the hill just to catch my breath and swear at my lameness before heading back down and running for home.
I should note that the crowds are really terrific, especially miles 20-26, when the marathons and 1/2 marathon merge. Now, you'll recall my standard for success being upright and smiling for the family at miles 14,16 and 20. So, big success at 14 and 16--not so much at 20. Whether it was the hills or the early pace, I was cooked by mile 20 and could tell it was just going to be a slog to get to the finish, yet I wanted to look strong when I passed everyone at around 20.5. So, I jacked up the pace slightly, sucked it up, and ran head high with a quick wave as I went by. About 200 yards down the road I had to pull over sucking wind and near tears. If you've run marathons, you know that your emotions get very raw especially late in the race. Family being there, pushing the pace--it all caught up to me at once.
Fortunately, I didn't go fetal and got back onto the road quickly. A 3:25 Boston qualifying time was still a possibility. As I suspected, the run back into Carlsbad was a gradual uphill that felt steeper than it was because of the miles. I did recall that the last 1/2 mile to the finish was downhill, though. What I had blocked was the fact that in town there are a series of rolling hills. They got me and I had to let 3:25 go. When I turned the corner into the mall parking lot where the finish line was, I could see the clock already at 3:25. Finish time 3:25:56 (7:52/mile).
A good run, a beautiful location, hilly.
Recommend.
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