Now That That’s Done…

(This is part 2 of my report covering this past weekend at the San Diego Rock ‘n Roll Marathon. Click here for part 1.)

So there I was. Standing outside the trolley stop. Dripping wet from the humidity. I’m sure I must have smelled a hard seven mile effort too. It was time for me to head off to wherever I could to cheer on my relay teammates and others that I knew were doing this marathon, unlike me, in an unwimpy way. In a minute or two, the trolley came rolling up and I was off.

In the light rail car, I realized why San Diego must welcome the Rock ‘n Roll with open arms. It was 8:00 AM on a Sunday morning. Standing room only. I can only imagine the coffers of the hotels and restaurants around town.

I hopped off the trolley and recognized that I was near the half way point of the marathon. Penny had mentioned that she was going to set up near the half point on Friar’s Road, so my next adventure was walking down a few hundred feet to where Penny and Yas had set up. Penny had her signs out, Yas and the Bean were enjoying the (now) sunny and pleasant weather, and even Velcro was getting into the swing of things: 

Penny had picked the perfect spot for spectating. I saw soooo many of my fellow blog/twitter friends as the waves of humanity crested the rolling hills that make up this part of the course.

First, Bob had finished his relay leg and came walking up to say hi. Way to get into the spirit of Rock ‘n Roll Bob!

I got to yell at I Love Steaks (Emil) as he went running past. Next up was my niece, still looking strong at mile 14:

We saw Kimberly looking strong:

I ran (yes – Slomohusky - ran) about a quarter mile with Slomohusky, who was all smiles despite having trouble on the big hill on the freeway a few miles back. Then came someone who I hadn’t been able to find in the start – RunningLaur! She was all smiles when Penny told her that she had some Nuun in her bag of tricks!

I bid Penny, Yas, The Bean and Velcro adieu so I could make my way to the finish. I was hoping to catch the MsV as she ran the final leg of our team into the finish. I walked back to the trolley stop and boarded a shuttle to the finish line.  I had planned on running some circles over by the finish to help out any of my fellow runners who might be lagging in the late stages of the race, but believe me – at this point *maybe* half a mile. I set up just beyond the 26 mile marker.

First person I saw was Tea Time. She was hauling ass! I pulled in next to her and ran (no jogging for that girl!) with her. She just kept on repeating “I’m dying! I’m dying!” All while clipping along at an 8:30 pace. I tried to lift her spirits and ran her right up to the 26 mile marker, uttered something about how she had less than a lap around a track left and sent her on her way (her final finish time – 4:00 – outstanding!)

Next up was Wadiasoft. Like Tea Time he kept repeating the mantra. “Man – I’m dying! It’s so hot!” When I mentioned a picture though, he managed to crack a smile. I wish I could look this good at mile 26! Obviously all his training and weight loss was paying off!

Then MsV came running down the trail doing Team Twitterati justice! Way to represent the final leg Linda! In her normal fashion, she had picked up a straggler along the way (read her story here) and was running him into the finish. I ambled up next to her and we ran into the finish chute.

There must have been something on the course that had infected the runners, because next up was my niece repeating over and over “I’m dying! I’m dying!” I ran her into the finish chute and sent her on her way for her inaugural 4:41 marathon! Woo hoo!

Finally, Ms V and I found Alicia and ran her into the finish chute to cap her first marathon in less than  five and a half hours. And despite what she kept repeating the last half mile – she never did stop and walk. Congrats Ali!

And then, just like that, another marathon weekend was done. Except for the lines on the shuttles and trolleys. But I’ve already talked about that.

Postscript – I wanted to thank all of my fellow runners who allowed me to bug and photo them during the race. These blogs posts would be meaningless without all of you. Also, I wanted to say hi to everyone I knew who was at the expo and race that I wasn’t able to cross paths with, especially Irene (see you at Shelter Island?), and Adam (sorry I couldn’t make it up another 3 or 4 corrals!)

Next up for me – a couple weeks of training (again) and then the Billy Goat Half Marathon Hill Climb on June 19th. Six and a half miles and 2400 feet up, then six and a half miles and 2400 feet down. As the Race Director says - “It ain’t but one hill!”

A Marathon the Easy Way

So after yesterday’s cathartic session, I am ready to give you all an upbeat step by step on how to enjoy a Marathon – the easy way. Leave it to me to figure that out!

The journey actually starts on Saturday. My original plan was to ride the train from OC to San Diego on Saturday for the expo, and then drive early Sunday morning for the race. But, if there is one thing L.A. is *not* known for – it’s our public transportation network. Sure enough – when I went to buy a ticket Friday night, there was a “Service Alert”! No trains on the weekend due to track maintenance. So I punted late Friday night and ended up booking a room in San Diego for Saturday night. I was lucky enough to find one with a shuttle to/from the race. I was set!

My day began on Sunday with my 4AM wake up call. I packed up my room and made it out to the 4:45 AM shuttle. Fifteen minutes later we were at the start line.

The first thing that struck me was the humanity stuffed into the northwest corner of Balboa Park. This was going to make my most important task of the day very daunting – finding my blogging and twitter pals. Yikes!

 

But, it wasn’t long before I heard the sounds that akaAlice had told me to listen for – the coach on the bullhorn. I wandered in that direction and score! Heffers!

It was shortly after that the highlight of my day occurred. San Diego’s history is steeped in the military. There is a large Navy/Marine presence in the city, and we were honored with the USMC marching band to kick things off:

I was hoping to make it to the 3:30 pace group to meet Adam, but the crowds were just not moving forward, and time was getting tight. Sorry Adam!

By this time, there were about 30 minutes to the start of our little run. Time to make it down the corral line and find some people I had been dying to meet! First stop – corral 9 for Tea Time and her sister!

Then corral 20. All the way from Kansas. Hannah! I hope Southern California treated you well!

Next was corral 34 to meet up with Slomohusky. Great seeing you again Slomo! By this point it was time to get back to my starting corral. As a relay participant, I was free to choose whichever corral I wanted, but I decided to move into corral 19 to give my niece and her friend a few last minute pointers before their first marathon.

Then, it was time for the National Anthem, followed by the “buzz”:

And then we were off. Another start. Another marathon! Well. Not really. It took us around 15 minutes to make it over the start line. But soon enough we were running.

I was lucky enough to have pulled the straw to run the first leg of the relay. It was overcast and in the mid 60’s but INCREDIBLY humid as we headed around the neighborhood and into Balboa Park. I dove into the first water station at mile 2 and grabbed some liquids. Soon enough we were in Balboa Park and on some of the new, realigned course. I need to say this – this part of the course was AWESOME!!!

From Casa del Prado’s distinctive Moorish architecture, to the statue of El Cid:

And past the Spreckles’ Organ (too bad Phantom of the Opera wasn’t playing when we ran past!):

On a side note, the more I run, the more I realize what a small community this is. I ran into a gentleman who I saw at Laguna Hills the weekend before. He is making an attempt to run 50 half marathons by the age of 50. San Diego was #29. He was looking real strong at mile 4!

Soon, we were leaving Balboa Park and back into downtown San Diego:

Next stop was Petco Park in the Gaslamp Quarter, the home of the San Diego Padres at Mile 5:

 

Then, we made our way through the streets of the Gaslamp and down to Seaport Village and the U.S. Naval Reservation past mile 6. At this point I was starting to hurt. I thought that my leg was around 7 miles in length so I had sped up at mile 5. We were on  a short out and back along the harbor when I realized the transition point was *not* at mile 7. In fact, it was nowhere to be seen. Thank goodness about that time Allison came bounding up! She was all smiles and provided a huge lift for me. She had come out from Atlanta to enjoy San Diego with Team in Training. We first met at Surf City, and will be meeting again for the San Francisco Half. Thanks Allison!

I pulled it together and rounded a corner to head back into downtown. My Garmin was saying 7.5 miles. Then – there it was. Runners standing around with nothing to do. That could only mean one thing – TRANSITION ZONE!!!!

And just like that, my race was over! Woo hoo! Speedy Sasquatch released!

Final stats: 7.6 miles in 1:10. Splits:

• Mile 1: 9:09
• Mile 2: 9:33
• Mile 3: 9:31 (Miles 2 and 3 - I kept having to slow down as I ran into the back of waves that had started before me).
• Mile 4: 9:25
• Mile 5: 8:41
• Mile 6: 9:43 (Photo stop at Petco! Have I told you I’m a baseball fan?)
• Mile 7: 9:27
• Mile 7.6: 6:06 (9:28 pace)

I gathered my wits and went off to wander the streets of San Diego. Before I left though, I plastered a high five to my niece as she passed the relay transition! Woo hoo! Go Patricia!

Up tomorrow – time to turn into a spectator and cheerleader.

Dear Mr. Race Director:

Today’s blog post is going to be a bit of a brain dump as I write a complaint letter to a particular race director. As a business owner, I get the whole making money angle. In fact, I’ll be the first to beat down any runner who thinks that an organization putting on a major race shouldn’t be allowed to make money. But if you want to charge top dollar (in this case $100+) for what is advertised as a quality product (entertainment and experience), then you should deliver a top notch experience. Otherwise you’re kind of like General Motors right? Of course I’m talking about the San Diego Rock ‘n Roll Marathon and Half.

Maybe first I’ll talk about what went right. EXPO!!!!! Something about being able to attract larger numbers of runners and their families with deep pocketbooks that makes for large expos with lot of exhibitors. I arrived with my relay team a little after Noon on Saturday, and everything was still pretty organized. People people people everywhere. Samples samples samples everywhere. Something for everybody. Nice!

The next day though is where things fell really flat in my opinion.  I knew the start area was gong to be a zoo, so I planned things to arrive early. I ended up spending the night in San Diego (in typical L.A. fashion the trains weren’t running) and boarded the hotel shuttle at 4:45 AM

We got to the start area a little after 5:00 AM. Hordes of people were migrating like lemmings to the start line at the edge of Balboa Park. No problem – if everything is planned appropriately.

San Diego Rock ‘n Roll is a different beast. Adding the Half Marathon this year swelled the ranks of runners. This is no “huge” race like Surf City and it’s 20,000 runners. This is a MEGA event. There were a reported 40,000 participants this year. This is a business. Planning and best practices are required. Management and supervision of volunteers are required. This is not a nice little neighborhood event.

Here’s where my list of complaints begins. It’s an hour before the race starts.  I amble to the gear drop and drop my bag. I ask for and get a bottle of water. I move toward the center of the park. The lines for the porta potties were *tremendous*. At least 30 minutes long.

Luckily I’m a guy and notice some trees on the perimeter of the park. I wander over.  Please Mr. Race Director, how about a few stakes and ropes for defined lines – one per porta potty. Keep the lines organized and moving. Then you won’t need to deal with the little piles of tissue on the east side of the park today.

It’s warm (mid 60’s at 5:30 AM) and HUMID! I head back to the center of the park to get another bottle of water and a bagel and banana to start the day. No. More. Food. Or. Water. WTF?  Mr. Race Director – you need to take care of your runners! If it’s a cost thing, fine. Get rid of the food. But no water? Let’s get serious here!

About 30 minutes before the scheduled start, things start ramping up. Up first was the USMC marching band. I get goose bumps still up when I watch this:

As the band moved up toward the front of the starting chute, they are drowned out by the PA system and canned music! Mr. Race Director – how about a stage for these awesome defenders of our freedom! We don’t need no stinking recorded music. How about letting us start to something that is ingrained in the fabric of San Diego? Music by our Armed Forces!

Next up – time to get into my start corral. In the past there was strict corral control. There was a colored dot on your bib and a volunteer at the entrance of the corral to make sure you were entering the proper corral. Yesterday? Not so much. IN fact not at all. I freely moved through about 6 corrals – up as far as 9. During the race I kept running up against the back of the prior waves – and I started in the appropriate corral. Mr. Race Director – bring back the corral police!

Now, keep in mind – I only ran the first 8 miles of the course. The course itself was nice and support along the course adequate. I *did* have an issue though as I finished the relay leg. I came pulling into the transition zone and passed the baton (actually a drumstick) to my waiting teammate (Go Sasquatch!). And just like that I’m done. Or so I thought. I hit the porta potty and went looking for the aid station to grab some water. Then I noticed a little table set up to the side with a few goodies. And a medal. Hmm. If I hadn’t seen it, I would never had known it was there. And then when I was done stuffing my face, I noticed another table a few feet away. I ambled over and noticed that they were helping others figure out how to get around. I understand the not having shuttles to get us around. But Mr. Race Director – it would be *real* nice if (1) you had a couple volunteers at the relay transition to guide us to the food and refreshment, and (2) you had a little care package for each of us including a medal, a map, and instructions on how to get to the other transition points and finish line. Yeah. That would have been real nice.

Wait a minute Mr. Race Director. I’m not done yet! First – the finish line. For us relay runners – maybe we’d like to meet as a team at the finish? I finished my leg at 7:40 AM. I rode trolleys, walked paths, and took shuttle busses to get to the finish. I waited patiently in the sun for our final leg runner to pass. Then we wanted to meet in the finish area and get a team picture taken. WTF? Unless you pass the finish line you can’t get into the secure area? Come again? So I’ve been on my feet for 4 hours and I can’t enjoy a cold drink of water, a banana, some salty snacks, and make your photographer some money? Mr. Race Director – please include an entry ticket in the little care package I mentioned above., It’s just not right that we paid $75 each for the privilege of running YOUR relay and then NOT be allowed in the finish area. I guess the only team pictures we have are coming from my camera.

 

Lastly Mr.Race Director, the whole getting back to the trolley and parking thing. Yeah – I get it. you probably have 100,000 people to move out of the start area. And to give you credit, the busses were magnificent. The line to the shuttles were long (45 minutes), but they kept moving. Better than Pirates of the Caribbean for sure. But all you did was move people from one location to another. Did you see the lines waiting for the trolley back to Qualcom stadium? Mr. Race Director – is there a reason that we can’t finish the race at Qualcom? It’s not football season and the Padres no longer play there. Or is there not a reason that there can’t be multiple parking locations spread across the city so everyone isn’t cramming into the same trolley? I know if I needed to go back to the Q, I would have taken the southbound trolley to Old Town and then switched to the Northbound to Qualcom. Probably would have saved at least 30 minutes in line. Luckily for me, I had a hotel shuttle waiting. Whew!

Folks – thanks for bearing with me. If you didn’t make it this far I won’t hold it against you. I don’t like reading whiny reports either. If you have made it this far – thanks! You’ve allowed me to vent just enough so that I can put something constructive together for Mr. Race Director’s inbox!

Tomorrow – on a positive note. My San Diego Rock ‘n Roll Race Report.

One Week Later

It's one week since Rock n Roll. I'm sitting here thinking about where I was last Sunday at 8:53 AM. I sitting here eager to get back to running, but can't until the blisters heal. There is soo much to talk about - I'm afraid this is going to be a long blog.

I wanted to memorialize some of my post marathon thoughts and feelings in this entry. As I mentioned in one of my earlier posts, I thought that when I finished I would be overwhelmed by emotion. Instead, my thoughts almost immediately turned to getting my cell phone and calling my family. I was sure my wife would be very concerned as I was an hour and a half late. I was right. Being a first time experience for all of us, my family had spent the last half hour of my race at the medical tent trying to see if I had been injured and sent to the hospital. I think they were relieved (as was I) when I called. At that point I think everyone breathed a little easier.

That's when it kind of occurred to me what had just transpired. By this time I was in sandals and a dry shirt. I had prepared some Biotest Surge as a recovery drink, but I found it interesting that my body was not interested in eating or drinking any more at that point. I had heard and read how a lot of people become ravenous once they finished. I tried to drink a bottle of water, but could only get about a third of it down. The organizers had done a great job in the finish area with food and drink. But, none of it looked very appetizing at that point in time. I shuffled out of the finish area and found my family waiting at the gate. Reunion!

I'm not sure how long it took to get back to the hotel. We had decided earlier the best thing to do was to leave the car parked at the hotel and take the trolley. That meant that we had to take a bus to the parking area and then walk another 1/4 mile to the trolley stop. Lines for the buses were loong - longer than the lines for the porta potties in the morning. I found that the most comfortable position while waiting was in a semi squat position. So whenever we stopped, I would "assume the position". By this time I had become quite excited and talkative about my experience!

The rest of the ride home was pretty uneventful. We stopped in San Clemente at the Rip Curl Outlet and at Pedro's Tacos. Now - if you are after some good soft tacos - you need to check out http://www.pedrostacos.com/index.html. By this time I was really feeling physical pain. I could barely walk. My quads were painful. My knees were painful. My quads were painful. The soles of my feet were on fire. But, I was also getting ravenously hungry. I chalked it all up to the experience.

I remember the relief at getting home. On the ride back home, I noticed how sticky my legs were - no doubt caused by the accelerade that I ran through at several points on the course. For the first time I realized what a salt encrusted mess I was. It felt good to shower. I quaffed a couple of Motrin for my knees and hips (by now, my hips were starting to feel sore as well). Then I sat down, had a yogurt, two eggs, some pita bread, some turkey bacon... you get the idea.

The next few days were all about physical pain. I had to travel on Monday. I was barely mobile. My calves were causing me absolute agony. My quads were spent. My lower back was tired and slightly sore. All of the joints in my body from my hips on down were sore. But, of most concern were the blisters on the soles of my feet. During the run, blisters had formed right next to the balls of my feet. At this point, the blister on my right foot had started bleeding. I couldn't put weight on either foot. Then, while roaming the airport in Phoenix, I felt something that alarmed me. The blister on my right foot had popped. Agony. I made it to my final destination and got some band aids and antibiotic cream to deal with the situation.

I was able to shuffle around for the next couple of days. Slowly the muscles started feeling better. By Wednesday, all of my muscles were much, much better. Then, agony again as the blister on my left foot let loose. Not only that, the skin covering the blister then tore. Just as my right foot was getting better, now my left foot would put me in agony for a couple of days.

By Friday, I was finally able to put some socks on and walk around with an adjusted gait wearing cross trainers. This meant that my recovery training that I was banking on was off the table. No way am I going to risk a knee or hip injury at this point.

So, here I sit a week later still nursing the reminder of last weekend on the sole of my left foot. Each day it gets a little better - I am hoping that I can get back to running some time this week.

View from the Back of the Pack, Part 2

Continued from Part 1....

What happened next can only be described as a complete and total meltdown. I was still feeling good - heart rate about 150, breathing well, still sweating. I still had plenty of calories (2 gel packs plus 200 more calories in Ultrafuel). But, I had this nagging feeling in my legs. That of exhaustion. My quads were starting to rebel. At the pace that I was at, they didn't want to work. All of a sudden, my heart rate started soaring and my legs just said no more. I slowed to a walk and tried to regroup. I struggled through miles 14 and 15 trying to figure out what to do to get my legs moving again.

At mile 16, I experienced something that I had never had happen to me before. I came up over the Claremont St. bridge and got my first view of Mission Bay. Shit! What was that little tower way over there? Sea World? What?!?! Those bridges? You mean I have to still go that far?!?! And even when I get to Sea World I'll still have 4 miles to go!?!?! I moved ahead slower and slower. Mile 17 passed. Hey - that's the 5 hour pace group that just ran past me!!!!!! My brain was now telling me that my body had had enough. I had never had emotions like I was going through at this point. Physically I still had enough in me to move forward, albeit at a numbingly slow rate, but now my brain was doubting my ability to do this. I tried to mentally regroup. I was ready to sit down and cry. Instead, I opted for the next best option. To hell with the bands, sights and experience. I popped the iPod into my ears, closed my eyes, took a deep breath and put one foot in front of the other.

The next 6 miles were the toughest thing I've ever mentally and physically had to do. At times I would try to jog, but it seemed that whenever I tried, the street gnomes would pop out of the pavement with their hammers and start pounding my calves. I was now suffering some pretty wicked muscle cramps. My quads were exhausted. My brain was saying quit. I don't remember a whole lot of this portion of the race. I do remember some more rolling hills through Pacific Beach. I remember a lot of the residents out cheering us on. I remember a point where a water station had run out of water - the residents were filling cups with their own garden hoses! What heroes! I remember a water station manned by a bunch of USC alums (Go Trojans!) It was somewhere in here too that I fell back on my Biology degree and remembered that the issue with the cramps could be resolved by getting some water into those muscles. To do that I needed to change the salt concentration between my muscle cells and blood stream to start effective diffusion across the cell membranes. Now - don't ask me why I was thinking this. It didn't seem strange at the time. But looking back on it now, I have no idea why I would even remotely think about this. But, I started taking a salt packet or two and downing as much water as I could comfortably drink. I realized that I had not had to make a pit stop since back about mile 8 - dehydration had set in.

By mile 23 I was starting to feel a little better. Since mile 20 I had been reduced to a walk. The moment I would start jogging, the street gnomes were waiting for me with their hammers. I hit the out and back at mile 22 and 23. This was the next point I was going to meet my family. I was running an hour behind. I was hoping to see them, but I also knew that it might be unlikely that they would stick around. I was hoping that they would not start jumping to conclusions about my demise. Especially since at this point there were 4 paramedic teams with people on stretchers. One was puking and writhing in pain. One was a tall African American that had passed and been passed several times along the way. Whenever he passed me he would be sprinting. He was now on a stretcher with oxygen and a heart monitor. I anxiously looked for my family as I made the U-turn and headed through the Boy Scouts water stop. Being an Eagle Scout, I was proud to see the demonstration of many of the skills that I had learned so long ago.

Mile 24 was the slowest of my ordeal. Until this point, as much as I wanted to stop and rest, I had tried to avoid the temptation. Frankly, I was worried that I wasn't going to be able to stand. But, I finally had to give in. I went through a water station at mile 24, found a shady spot, and actually sat on the curb. For the first time I noticed a couple of other things. First, the soles of my feet were burning. That could only mean blisters. It felt as if there was something in my shoe. I took one off, found that there was nothing in the shoe, rearranged my sock and laced the shoe back up. This meant that my feet were not going to be pretty later on. Speaking about not being pretty - I noticed a steak of blood on my shirt. Hmm... Started at the nipple. Hmm... I checked for the nip guards that I had placed on each seven hours earlier when leaving the hotel. They were both gone! (I found one later stuck on the inside of my HRM strap). By poor planning I had pinned my number right at nipple level on my shirt. For god knows how long, the safety pin had been carving a little groove in my right nipple. The blood along with the sweat had mixed to create a modern art masterpiece on my shirt! After what seemed like a few minutes (actually closer to 30 seconds), I got up (now that was something exciting) and moved forward again.

At this point I realized I was in the home stretch. I turned right on Barnett. I had studied the map earlier and knew I was within a mile of finishing. I hunkered down and tried to jog again. Guess what? I was able to finally jog again without immediate cramps. I alternated between jogging and walking, and made the final steps on my death march to the finish line. Next thing I knew, we made a left turn and these guys in military clothes with sidearms were welcoming us! Woo hoo! I walked a little further and realized that I was coming into the final "tunnel". I wanted to make sure that I at least crossed the finish line running, so I dig down deep one last time, got my feet moving (more like shuffling), and crossed the finish line to cheers from the crowds. 5:44.20. Not the 4:30 I had hoped for, but I did it - I finished! Wow!

Now to be honest, I was expecting overwhelming waves of emotion. Tears. Hugs. Instead, all I was interested in was getting my gear bag, calling my family to relieve any anxiety they may be under (by now I was hoping in the reunion area), and getting out of my shoes. I hurried my way through the finish area. Iced towel (what a lifesaver by the way - worth the entry fee itself!). Bottle of water (I tried to choke some down. My body was not really interested). Medal (Wow, pretty heavy! Cool design!). Photo (eehh). I found UPS truck 10 and got my gear bag. I looked for somewhere to collapse. Ah! This piece of asphalt right here out in the hot sun looks good! I dropped to the ground. What happened next can only be described as heaven on earth. I took my shoes off and put my sandals on. I got out of my wet and bloodied shirt and got a nice dry shirt on. Got my phone out and found my family waiting in the finish area. Finally - I was done!

I shuffled out of the finish area to the hugs and congratulations of my family. Whew!