San Diego Rock N Roll Marathon Report.

The Good: It was great visiting friends and having a vacation all to myself. I felt relaxed for the first time in a very long time. I hope it will last until my next solo vacation in five years! I also enjoyed the bands and the high-fives from the crowd. They were very supportive and encouraging. The course was beautiful.

The Bad: Finish time - 4:28:16 after training for a 3:56 finish.

The Ugly: Walking nearly 2 miles to the start of a marathon - 75 degree race temperatures - Full Sun - Sunburn - Long lines - over 25,000 participants funneled through areas meant for about half of that.

The Long Version

My friend Rebecca and I got up at 4:00 a.m. to get ready and get to the start of the race. We were staying downtown at the Hyatt, and the concierge had told us the night before that they would provide a shuttle to the starting line beginning at 4:30 a.m. Thinking that we would take advantage of this, we arrived downstairs to wait in line for the shuttles at about 5:00 a.m. The race started at 6:15. We were not surprised to find that about 200 people were doing the same thing. What was a surprise was the fact that the "shuttle" was three 15-passenger vans(!!) meant to get every one of those people to the starting line in about an hour. No way was that happening. Rebecca and I considered taking one of the bicycle cabs that was milling about the area hoping to pick up a fare. We didn't hesitate to change our minds when we discovered the fare was $60. By this time it was around 5:30. We knew we needed to make a new plan. Our only option seemed to be to walk to the race start. So, we headed off on foot.

After walking, we arrived at the race start around 6:00 a.m. A new issue quickly became apparent. There were lines approximately 30 people deep for every single porta-potty on the property. At this point, Rebecca and I decided to split up and meet again after the race. I needed to check my gear bag and use the bathroom. She took off towards one line, and I went to the gear check. At that point, I wasn't too worried because I knew that with chip timing my race would start when I crossed the starting mat, not when the gun went off. I felt that waiting for the porta-potty was more important at that point.

I never heard the gun go off. I only heard the cheers and a muffled voice on a loud speaker moving the corral groups up to the start line. I got out of the bathroom line around 6:35. The race had been going for 20 minutes already, and not all of the people had even crossed the starting line yet! I quickly made my way to the #9 corral that I had been assigned. When I got there, the participants from corral #24 were occupying the space. I crossed the starting mat with them, and began a race in which I was supposed to keep a 9:01/mile pace with walkers and 12-13 min./mile pacers.

The first 10K, I struggled to get around the slower pace of everyone in front of me. I could not go through the aid stations without walking and dodging walkers and runners. I immediately wished I was carrying my own water bottle. During that 10K, I saw a woman trip over another runner and fall down. Every corner we turned caused a bottle neck of people. By the end of that 6 miles, I was behind my pace goal by only about one minute. At mile 8, I felt my right quadricep muscle tighten up. It wasn't a cramp, but it was not working at the same rate as my other leg. I also started to breathe harder with what felt like a little wheezing. The sun was out, and it was warming up. These new events really shook me up. I was worried that I was starting to feel 18-mile fatigue and discomfort at mile 8.

I never hit pace after that. I maintained about a 9:30/mile through the half-way point. By that time, I knew my personal record was toast because negative splits in the second half were unlikely. I also began to realize that the race up to this point really hadn't been very enjoyable for me. I knew I needed to make a decision about how to tackle the rest of the race while considering the upcoming training cycle for my Fall events. My thigh was protesting, and I didn't think it was wise to try to gather myself together and go all out to try to get a better time. By mile 15 I was feeling quite sorry for myself and maintaining a half-hearted 10 minute per mile pace. By mile 17, and I'm not proud of myself for this, I was considering a DNF (did not finish) for the first time ever. I thought that if it was just going to be a training run, I might as well call it a day at 17 miles. I stopped to walk, and started to sniffle a little. I only walked about 100 feet when a man came up behind me, put his hand on my back and said, "You are doing such a good job. I've been using you as my pacer this whole time." I looked up at him and said, "Well, if you are using me as your pacer, I can't quit can I? Let's go!"

That was just what I needed to get over myself and get going again. My new running partner was named Bruce. He was from Canada, and he and his wife had come to San Diego to celebrate their 28th wedding anniversary. His wife was walking the 1/2-marathon, and was going to be waiting for him at the finish line. Bruce was in rough shape. His legs and feet were hurting badly, but he still had a great sense of humor. After about a mile, we hit an aid station and he walked. At this point, the running crowd was spread out enough that I could have at least jogged through the aid stations. I decided to walk with him. He politely urged me to go on because he didn't want to slow me down. However, I told him that I was happy to just finish the race with him since it was the most fun I'd had all day.

We began a cycle of running about 1/2 a mile, and then walking a bit. We walked through the aid stations. I started drinking liberal amounts of cytomax knowing that it wasn't going to affect my performance. I felt it was better to get extra fluids since I was spending a significantly longer amount of time on the course on a hot day. I gently urged Bruce to keep going when he didn't feel well, and we we made our way through the course. Around mile 20, we passed a guy splayed out on the side of the road with medics around him. At mile 21, Bruce's hamstring did something painful so we walked for about a quarter of a mile. He rebounded, and we kept going. At around mile 23, we saw a girl sitting on the the side of the road. She just didn't look right. I stopped to ask her if she was ok. She was disoriented, spacey, and really pale. Bruce and I helped her to her feet since she was trying to get up. I inquired about how much fluid she had taken in. I didn't know the temperature, but I knew it was really hot for a race day. She said she had been mostly drinking cytomax so I didn't offer her a salt tab. She was likely dehydrated vs. hyponatremia or she was suffering from heat exhaustion. We were walking on either side of her when a medic went by. They asked if she needed help, and she adamantly refused. I was giving them a look and gesturing that she really did need a medic, but they either ignored me or didn't understand me, and went on. After a few minutes, she seemed a bit steadier on her feet, and she was very close to an aid station, so with her urging, we left her and continued on towards the finish.

There was a band at mile 26, and the crowd was huge. Everyone was cheering. Bruce was hanging in there, and we jogged along. In the last mile, the disappointment really started hitting me hard. It felt odd not to be using the power of the crowd to get the energy to go all-out as I crossed the finish line. I started to cry a little. When I was about 100 feet from the finish line, I saw a guy drop down on one knee, and propose to his runner girlfriend. The crowd was screaming with excitement at this public display. I burst into tears. It was so sweet.

I crossed the finish line without looking at the clock, shook hands with Bruce, and we thanked each other for the companionship and encouragement. He left to find his wife. I tried to keep it together, but I just couldn't stop crying. Everyone around me was so happy, and I was so sad. I was feeling like a person who was "all talk and no walk" in regards to my training and goal. I knew I was going to have to pull it together very soon or I was going to be quite embarrassed about my behavior later. I got my gear bag from the bag check area and ducked behind a truck to have my "moment" in private. After that, I started to feel better. I was able to be around people without embarrassing myself.

I looked for Rebecca, but could not find her. I headed back to the hotel via the free shuttle service which took about an hour due to the volume of people. While waiting in line, I was able to chat with people about their experience which I enjoyed a lot.

By the time I reached the hotel, I was feeling like a normal person for the most part. Rebecca was already there. We chatted for awhile, then headed to the hot tub. The hot tub was a great way to end an event.

Since I didn't go all out for this race, I am feeling quite good, and feel comfortable doing light running by the end of this week. This race was a lesson in being flexible about my race plan and letting go. It's good to be humbled now and then because then it is easier to appreciate the times when everything comes together beautifully. I'm still hoping that sometime soon "my race" will happen. I know that it will. I just have to be patient.