Why YES! I was in Brentwood, California whose residents have spent the last 16 years rolling in wealth and trying to live down their notorious former neighbor. (It has been 16 years how scary is that?)
For those too young to remember, or anyone who was too busy playing professional beer pong during that time period click HERE and read the lengthy “legal history” to mend that gap in your cultural literacy.
Anyway, OJ was chased by the cops whereas I got to run past them.
So the good news was I got to run the city streets for 3.1 miles. The bad news is that it was my first race where I actually RAN since the beginning of March. And that kind of break is never pretty.
Let me just stop complaining and give it to you in pictures right?
Okay I have to share this one because it freaks me out. This is the ground at the VA where I parked. What the heck are those holes? Are they snake holes? Are they gofer holes? Am I about to score a free game of whac-a-mole? Yes, these are the things I think about 20 minutes before a race. I’m not really much for profound thoughts at 6:30 on a Sunday morning.
Anyway, I finally tore myself away from these freaky mysterious holes and took off for the starting line.
And this is the first thing I saw when I got to the race:
Now any true runner will tell you this is a fabulous and welcome sight. Note there is NO LINE. That means you if you have a nervous bladder you don’t have to worry about getting in lines three times.
Anyway, I like to call this area the Olympic Village. I like telling running buddies “hey I’m heading to the Olympic village, I’ll catch you at the start.” It sounds so much classier then “I gotta pee. Again.” The truth is I only suffer from nervous bladder when I see exponentially long lines at the pre-race porta potties. Seeing no line made me realize I was guaranteed not to have to pee and that makes me feel like a winner right there.
So instead of lingering I went straight to the check in and picked up my treats.
With the exception of the shirt and the $10 off Dick’s Sporting Goods (Best swag ever!), all the other items were from the race expo. It was an excellent expo for a 5K.
I ran my treats back to the car and headed for the starting line.
It was quite a nice patriotic touch for Memorial Day weekend.
**thumbsup**
Then came the race
See all those runners? They’re trying not to make eye contact with the guy in the cop car on the right.
Kidding.
Anyway, these are all the people that smoked past me. Including the short kids in the middle. But that’s okay because I have:
And therefore I’m happy.
Not all 5Ks give out medals. Actually most 5Ks don’t give out medals which is a stinking shame because a little bling at the end of a sweaty distance never hurt anyone.
All in all it was actually a lovely race experience and I plan to do it again next year (provided they have a medal of course).
Today I spent an hour and some change watching the Lakers play the Celtics at the gym. I’d gone there with the intention of doing four miles (maybe six) and walked in during the 3rd quarter of the game. Now, the fact that I didn’t know the Lakers were playing tonight should probably tell you something. The fact that I was the only person in the gym who (silently) cheered when the Celtics won should tell you something too. But it was a nice distraction considering my fabulous running watch had a dead battery and I forgot my ipod.
An hour and five minutes later I got off the treadmill knowing tomorrow morning Kobe Bryant will be crying in his Wheaties. Heh.
Understand I know nothing, heck I know LESS then nothing about soccer. But I love it. LOVE THE SPORT!
You know what I mean?
No?
NOW do you know what I mean?
Meet Cristiano Ronaldo, he is a baby, and a manwhore, and he’s Portuguese which frustrates me because that is a language I can’t even pretend to understand.
But he looks really nice shirtless.
Really REALLY nice.
As do so many of the futballers.
So I’ll be watching World Cup on the treadmill, and preparing for the America’s Finest City Half Marathon. AFC is San Diego, CA. On August 15th. I’m going to burn like a poptart and melt like a ball of wax but I’m hoping to outsmart the Endless Summer and cross the finish line before the heat gets to me.
Here is a picture of their bling from 2007
I borrowed that picture from THIS Flickr site. That dude runs his races exponentially faster then I do so he’ll probably be on his sixth beer by the time I get my medal.
So I’m in training for this and the Marine Corps Marathon.
But if any of those World Cup guys decide to pull a Brandi Chastain and yank off their shirts before, during or after their games I would be okay with that.
First let me apologize for disappearing. I have completed two races since I last posted here. I ran a phenomenal race at Carlsbad (San Diego, CA) and almost broke the 3 hour barrier. I also completed the Columbia Half Marathon this weekend. Please bear with me I will come back and post updates on all the things I’ve been up to but I really need to post this first.
A lot of people visit this blog for advice, curiosity and support. Have you ever wondered if there is a worst case scenario? I just completed a worst-case scenario race. Please, please learn from my mistakes and take note of this race series. These are very poorly run races and are NOT a good idea for inexperienced competitors.
I will also post a number of blogs in the coming month about specific gear and race strategies you can use for your own benefit.
The good news is that I just finished my 5th half marathon. The bad news you can read for yourself:
I’ve been racking my brains trying to figure out how to articulate the disaster that was my Columbia Half Marathon. I’ve tried big words, little words, and a fair number of cuss words. I dumped them all and decided to start over and just tell it like it was.
This race was an unexpected addition to my race schedule. Instead of doing 6 Southern California half marathons as modified long runs preparing for the LA Marathon in mid March I found myself on a five-month contract in Charlotte, NC. The race calendar in the Charlotte area is quite sparse compared to SoCal so I found myself branching out. It turned out Columbia about 2 hours south had an inaugural race which part of what appears to be a newly-formed series. The Columbia is the first race of the USRA Half Marathon Series (USRARaceSeries.com) a 18-city nationwide Half Marathon Series in mid-to-small size markets. It sounded like a good deal to me so I signed up.
I’ll admit I was a little annoyed when the website stated “no race-day packet pickup” but I drove 2 hours to visit the expo hoping to at least see some new gear or something. The expo had 4 tables. One table sold vitamins, another sold a cube display for medals, a third was for the April Palmetto (again Columbia, SC) half marathon I was planning to run and a fourth which was bland enough to not even register on my radar. I was given my bib, shirt and goody bag with flyers for future USRA series races, a discount flyer for a local massage place, a tourist brochure for Columbia and a couple safety pins.
It also, fortuitously, had a course map.
I had driven down with a friend for company and we returned to Charlotte just in time to realize I didn’t have a timing chip. They’d never mentioned a timing chip to me, I hadn’t seen them being passed out, it wasn’t attached to my bib and none of the info I had from the race mentioned where to find it. I’ve run a half dozen races and I’ve never had that problem so I panicked and called the number on the map. That turned out to be the guy who certified the course for the USATF. Oops. Then I emailed the race from the address on the website. No response. Then I called the Hilton hotel (where the expo was being held)
and asked the desk clerk to please take a message to the race director. No response.
I should have taken that as a sign.
My race day began with a car thermometer that told me it was 27 degrees outside. I was more then a little worried about that because I haven’t run outside in Charlotte yet. Still, I began my chilly drive at 5am with plenty of time for an 8am race start. A Google map search led me right to the race start which was fabulous because it wasn’t the same place as the expo (pretty rare for small races). I found parking easily and couldn’t help but notice the huge banner that screamed “TIMING CHIPS.”
Oh! Eureka!
I picked up my chip, laced it up and was ready to go. Except I didn’t know where to go. There was a large orange cone behind the timing chip table and I was joking with a friend on instant messenger that it was the “unmarked starting cone.” A bullhorn announcement told us the starting line was at the top of the small hill behind us so we all treked over there. No starting banner. No timing pad or carpet or anything that I saw. No clearly deliniated starting point of any kind that I could see. I saw the usual array of unique characters dressed in a wide array of clothing based on 27 degree temperatures and
walked around a bit to keep warm. When the time came to start the race there was no gun. No, there was a guy who shouted “GO!” really loudly. I would have thought it was a joke but all the runners started moving forward so we were off.
I hit the start button on my Garmin when I realized there really was no timing pad. I must have hit it in the right place because the mileage seemed pretty accurate when compared to mile markers.
I started the race, as always, at a run. I ran a good portion of the first mile. I remember looking down at my Garmin and thinking “wow at this pace I’ll smoke my Carlsbad PR!” I knew I couldn’t maintain that because I hadn’t trained (at all) but I was thrilled that my body felt good and I couldn’t feel shin splints. Initially there were cops EVERYWHERE which was great. Officers were directing traffic at intersections, keeping an eye on runners, etc. Imagine my surprise 1.5 miles in when a cop drove about 10 feet behind me on the street for about 2 tenths of a mile in his patrol vehicle. Was I really the last person in the race? It wouldn’t be the first time but I was shocked that a sub 13 minute mile left me in dead last position.
It hadn’t. After awhile, during which time I was very nervous and kept glancing over my shoulder because the police car was 10 feet behind me emitting exhaust in my direction if nothing else. I saw a handful of women stragglers up ahead so I picked up the pace a bit hoping to at least get near them so the cop car guy could see there were several of us together and not follow so closely. Didn’t matter. The officer finally used his bullhorn to order “If you’re going to walk then you have to use the sidewalk!” The posted course time limit was 4 hours, I was exactly 22 minutes and just over 1.5 miles into the race
and they’re telling me to use sidewalks? This was for a course advertised as walker friendly? WTF!
As we all know if a race advertises a course time limit then the roads are closed for the duration of that time limit unless runners are slower then that time limit. In this case a 4 four hour time limit meant the road should have been open to us unless we were slower then an 18:30 minute mile and I was WAY under that at a sub 13 minute. So here I am moving at a pace fast enough to beat the bridge for the Marine Corps Marathon and I am being redirected to the sidewalk for the walker friendly Columbia Half Marathon. The sidewalks were nothing to write home about either. Basically it was a disaster.
Fortunately or unfortuantely I’d already decided to take the race easy because I was scheduled for a second local half marathon in Charlotte next weekend so I moved to the sidewalk confused, but undeterred. The rest of the racers had sped up and I was about to follow then but I happened to notice one woman walking by herself near me. She looked really worried. A quick conversation later I knew her name was Dee, it was her first half marathon, she’d told her husband she wanted to get more active before they retired and her longest workout to date was 6 miles.
The cop following us in the car had freaked her out (heck it freaked me out and I’m a 5 time half marathon finisher). I told her not to worry she was doing fine and she gave me the a tense smile. At that point my first race played back in my head. If I hadn’t had course buddies there was no way I would have finished that thing. I glanced at her one more time, mentally getissoned my faster pace and and told her I’d be her walking buddy. I actually remember saying “don’t worry, I’ll do the race with you.” I have no idea why I made that promise because I’d spoken with her for about 3 minutes and I had hoped to jog at least some of the course but the whole thing at that point was just so surreal I couldn’t bear to leave her behind. I explained my how my Garmin worked, told her we were making phenomenal time. She relaxed. At that point we were walking a 15:30 mile.
Not too far after that we reached a major intersection in the road. The race course crossed a major boulevard. Imagine our surprise when we found no police at all and had to wait for the little white walking man to light up so we could cross like ordinary pedestrians. One street later there was a little two lane suburban road and there was a policeperson directing traffic at that intersection but the previous boulevard had been unmanned. We hadn’t reached the 3 mile marker yet. Ironically we also hadn’t reached a water stop yet although the website specifically stipulated that there would be a water stop every 2 miles. I was already worried about hydrating every two miles. It turned out the race officials had changed water stops to every three miles without making a note of that anywhere. Thank goodness for my 16oz Camelbak bottle.
We reached the first water stop and I actually stopped moving to refill my water and grab extra and extra cup of water and powerade. Dee took one cup of water but I figured she must have a bottle in the little mini backpack she was carrying. Big mistake. The course continued and went on to mile 4. By mile 5 I couldn’t see mile markers anymore I was relying strictly on my Garmin. Mile 6′s water stop was right next to Mile 13 (the second part of the course looped back on the first). There was no water just a bunch of discarded cups on the street. Dee and I also picked up another friend, also a first time half marathoner.
At that point I remember thinking maybe they moved the water stop forward a bit so the traffic from 13 wouldn’t interfere with 6. I’d never heard of that happening before but it was a race of firsts so who knew? I realized we were sunk before mile 7. At one point the road turned and I saw a lone man dressed in jeans wearing an orange vest with a walkie talkie in his hand about a tenth of a mile away from me. I sprinted up to him and after confirming he was course support I told him we hadn’t
had any water at mile 6, I had one buddy who hadn’t had water in almost 4 miles and asked what was going on.
He told me the police had reported there were no more competitors so they shut down. I told him now he knew this was clearly not true. He told me there would be water at the next water stop. I told him “Look if that’s mile 9 this woman can’t wait for over 2 miles to have a drink. I have a bottle she doesn’t. You need to get water out here. At least bottles or something.” He apologized, said it would be taken care of and we continued. Dee thanked me for speaking up and I apologized on behalf of runners, races and competent race directors everywhere. We also picked up two more walkers a woman and her daughter-in-law. The woman was doing her first half marathon and her DIL was her buddy.
It was a convenient time really because we were about to walk down Klapman, a street that I referred to on Facebook as a “Freeway” because the speed limit was 50 mph and cars were clearly exceeding that. There was one coned lane (we assumed for us but there were no markings suggesting that). That was all that was between us and the cars. We walked the equivalent of two exits and then climbed the exit ramp literally taking our lives into our hands because there were no cones and there was no shoulder on the pavement. We reached 9th street and it was worse then the freeway.
Now we were walking against traffic in a coned lane but cars were driving in the coned lane and honking at us. We would walk on grass, gravel, shoulders, or sidewalks. Whatever was available at the moment. I think the only thing that kept us going at that point was there were five of us together. They all appeared relieved to have someone who had done it before and they were delighted with my Garmin because they knew for sure they were moving at a speed fast enough to make it under 4 hours. They could also ask how many miles we’d gone and get an exact response. Viva Garmin.
I remember asking Dee, my initial walking buddy at one point around mile 8 if she wanted to cut part of the course. This was a woman whose longest walk had been 6 miles pre race day. She’d reached mile 8 with only one cup of water in 2 hours and 30 minutes. The sun was shining, she didn’t have a cap or sunglasses. I’ve never cut a course in my life but I was willing to cut here and there if she needed it. She looked at me and said, “I’ve come this far I’m not cutting now.” I think that’s the best example I could give for why I decided to stay with the newbies. They were truly fabulous people.
So we stuck it out.
At mile 9 there was our second (and last) water stop. That water stop consisted of two guys with SUVs, two tables, two orange gatorade coolers and a half dozen filled cups on the table. They were stunned to see us. Apaprently the cops had told them the race was over and they should pack it up and leave. They stayed, not because the course support guy I spoke with at mile 7 called them, but because they felt like they should. They asked if we knew we were the last runners and we said we didn’t know but we thanked them profusely for sticking it out. If it hadn’t been for them…I don’t want to think about it.
At that point the cones had run out before mile nine and we were relying exclusively on the not to scale course map I’d folded into oragami and jammed into my spibelt. The water renewed our resolve and our enthusiasm. I was able to take my first Gu of the race not because I particularly needed the energy but because I felt like I should. I told anecdotes from friends, my own silly running experiences and random advice. My friend Deb Facebooked me a funny cannibal joke and I shared with the group. We got a good laugh. Other friends sent me inspirational running quotes and high fives. I passed them along.
When the map confused us (the map was cheerfully labeled “not to scale”) we asked local residents directions. In one case I flagged down a car and asked how far away our next turn was. We walked narrow roads with no shoulder and a deep ditch filled with water on the bottom on one side. We crossed busy intersections without any support but a standard traffic light. I cannot conceive of what lunacy inspired the USATF guy to certify this disaster as an official course. I realize he anticipated police presence but wow.
By mile 10 we’d lost our most recent walking buddy and her DIL. They’d stopped for a potty break and were about half a mile behind. The two women with me were in no shape to stop so they could catch up, and Dee was looking particularly grim. The DIL in an inspired moment ran to catch up with me so she could ask if they were still on track for time. I remember saying “You have an hour and ten minutes to finish less then 3 miles. At her current pace she could walk it really slowly and still finish.”
Mile 12 was a major boulevard mostly uphill. About halfway up Dee said “I feel nauseous.” I expected it of course, three dixie cups is nowhere near enough to fuel a four hour walk but it was still scary to hear. At that point I still had 10 or so ounces in my Camelbak so I unscrewed the top and gave her the water bottle. I will never forget the look of shock on her face. She kept saying “are you sure you don’t need it?” She was still gripping the water bottle when we reached mile 13 around 15 minutes later.
At 13 I could see the finish area. The post race area was nothing but empty tables. There were two large vans being packed up. I was so unspeakably angry I shouted “Hey which side is the finish for the half marathon” I had to shout it 3 times before they realized I wasn’t kidding. They had to unroll the timing mat for us. I crossed the mat, received my medal and demanded to speak to the race director. One kid asked me for my timing chip which I had laced into my shoe. While unlacing it I was told (again) that the cops had told them ages ago there were no more runners on the course and they had to close it down. You don’t want to know what I think of the Columbia Police Department of Columbia, South Carolina.
I handed over the timing chip and approached the race director. He had two guys wearing tshirts from the sponsoring running store standing next to him. Suffice it to say I tore him a new one to his shock and amazement. He kept repeating he was sorry over and over and telling us he paid for four hours worth of police time. He couldn’t seem to believe we didn’t have police assistance or escorts or ANYTHING.
Just then Dee and our other walking buddy approached me mid-conversation with the RD and interrupted to say “Jesus brought you to us today. He took care of us by sending you. You were our miracle.”
Now understand I have a big mouth there are very few things that will render me speechless but that did it. The RD, his two buddies from Strictly Running (the running store) and I stood there gaping for a minute at this woman who was so moved by my map reading and Garmin updates and water bottle sharing all of which she should have had free and easy as part of her race entry.
And then the race director asked us where we are from.
Answer #1- Columbia, SC
Answer #2- Columbia, SC
Answer #3- California.
He kept apologizing and telling us this was part of a race series and it’s not supposed to be like this because he paid for four hours. He tells us this absolutely will not happen next year and we were all too tired to give a crap so we said nothing and turned to leave. As I’m walking away he asks where I’m from in CA and I say SoCal. He tells me they’re having a race in Stockton in November if I’m willing to give them another chance.
He took our names (since he would have our info on our registrations) but said nothing about refunds, a free race fee, or anything else.
I then had to walk up a steep hill back to my car since the end looked close to the start on the map but remember, map not to scale.
To top it off at around 5pm after the race yesterday I received an email from Strictly Running threatening me with a $30 fine if I don’t return my timing chip in the next 23 hours. The email listed my address publicly along with the email addy of every other person who didn’t have a timing chip returned. I have no doubt my finishing buddies are on that list. Apparently they’re not technologically advanced enough to understand the wisdom of using blind copies on email. I responded to the email
but received a second reminder this morning. I really want them to charge me so I can sue them in small claims court. It would be my absolute pleasure to take this one to court. They’re lucky we’re not suing the police and the race organizers for reckless endangerment.
I’m not sure why I didn’t call 911. I think in any other situation I would have but the police person in the car following me before mile 3 was so aggressive and threatening I just didn’t really want to feel like that again.
As for the race director. I urge everyone and anyone to become familiar with the USRA race list just so you will know what NOT to run. Maybe the police made an error but you know what? I suspect they were give very poor instructions. Perhaps the RD couldn’t control the cops but there is a BIG difference between water stops every two miles (which is listed on their website) and water stops every three. The four hour limit was a joke. The timing chip issue was a disaster and the course was not marked at all after mile 5. There was exactly ONE first aid station also before mile 5. Nobody communicated with anyone else (walkie talkie guy did nothing to get us water and apparently nobody communicated with the guys at the mile 9 water stop).
I’m just grateful I didn’t need my RoadID although I do find it ironic that Road ID sponsored the bibs.
Today was the Kaiser Permanente Southern California Half Marathon. I know this.
How do I know this?
I picked up my race packet, pinned on my bib (how come I can never get them straight?) and showed up at the starting line.
And while I was suffering through clear skies, perfect temperatures and a gorgeous day to race…
My wimpy friends in Florida were partying their way through rain, sleet, and snow (literally) to rock their Walt Disney World Half Marathons and score Donald Bling.
My start was pretty good actually. I was excited enough to take a picture of a guy wearing pink shoes.
(I mean I wear men’s running shoes so it’s only fair really)
And then snapped a picture of the military guys singing cadences as they smoked the 5K
Then the gun went off, we moved forward and about 3/4 of a mile into my race I knew it was over. My knee was throbbing and I couldn’t imagine walking back to my car much less jogging a half marathon.
Sh**
So ended my half marathon aspirations. The question then became:
Should I continue the half marathon risking further knee bruising and just quit the course when I couldn’t take it anymore?
Or should I just go left instead of straight and continue the 5K course basically bailing out on the half marathon.
I walked back and forth for about 10 minutes trying to decide.
But my crazy ambitious 2010 race schedule loomed in my mind and I decided I wasn’t going to risk an LA Marathon by acting like a fool for a half marathon medal.
I posted a shirt here a couple weeks ago:
This is my motto.
I would rather show up and try then not show up at all. And if I have to choose between finishing a shorter race or futher endangering my health in a longer one that’s a no brainer. I mean, I’m a little bitter because there are no 5K medals for this race, but it’s still a no brainer.
So I finished the 5K.
And I’ll have a chance to avenge my half marathon DNF in 2 weeks when I do the Carlsbad 1/2 marathon.
A week of knee braces and cross training. I can deal with that.
A HUGE HUGE HUGE congrats to everyone who is cheering or racing during Walt Disney World Marathon weekend. You are all exceptional compeitors for fighting the craziest Florida weather conditions ever!
I’m not really in shape. I’m totally unprepared. But hell, I have 3 months how hard can it be right? (/sarcasm) This time last year I’d signed up for the Surf City Half Marathon and was terrified of 13.1 miles. That was a LOOONG way from my couch.
This year I’m feeling the same thing only the distance just doubled and I’m staring down the cold ugly face of truth. I managed to bullshit my way through my first ever half marathon but people die attempting marathons. I’d really rather not be one of them.
Why am I pushing this when a smart person would just register for a June marathon and train properly?
Historically the LA marathon goes through some of the crappiest most boring parts of LA. The dreary roads of downtown and parts of the inner city (no not the super scary parts). But THIS year? The race starts at Dodger’s Stadium. You do a little loop and then haul ass for the beach. 26.2 miles through some of the coolest real estate on the planet.
I have read neither of these but I’m going to have to look for them because Hal won me over with the Hal Higdon training programs. There is advice on how to train for any distance (from 5K to the super hard core ultra marathoners).
And they’re FREE! (because we all know I love free)
My schedule? I’m doing a tweak of THIS one. I’ll post it when it’s finalized.
So I basically have 80 days to figure this out.
My biggest challenge?
The LA Marathon does not have a time limit however streets re-open to traffic at an approximately 13-minute per mile pace. At that time, participants still on the course will be required to move into the curb lane or on to the sidewalk and obey all traffic signals. I’d rather not fight traffic so I have to figure out how to get my slow-ass half marathon time down to 13 minute miles.
Oh and I also want to shake the hand of Bill Higgins from Fullerton, CA. Bill is in a class all by himself and that is just incredible.
And the race course? The one they originally described as
Changed considerably without notice. My previous blog map was the updated trail but reality looked like:
One disclaimer.
The race course was something like 13.3 according to my GPS watch. I forgot to mark my location at the finish line so 14.67 includes all post-race walking until I got to my car. That didn’t include the extra 2 miles I walked in the morning going from my car to the race, then back to my car and back to the race which would make it 16.67 miles overall.
All in all not a bad day. My feet are fine. My muscles are pleasantly sore but it’s not excruciating and I think I’m finally getting the hang of this race thing! Next step? Solve the shin splint problem!
For the first time ever I crossed the starting line as soon as the gun went off. This was important because it meant when I reached the finish line the clock time displayed would actually be pretty close to my actual time. That was definitely a nice side benefit for competing in a small race!
The problem with being so near the front was that I had to start at a run. Faster runners are towards the front, the very fastest are in the very front. I was frontish so it was important that I crossed at a good clip and kept going. For the most part that was okay, I’ve been doing a lot of running on treadmills and local park trails but it’s a bit different when you can feel a wave of people behind you trying to get past. At one point I really started feeling the pace and looked down at my watch. I was running a 9:30 mile. Advanced runners run 9:30s and there was no way I was keeping that up for very long. I moved as close to the side of the route as I could and started walking for a bit.
At that point I was feeling pretty good. I’d made a big dent in my first mile and was just about to start a second running interval when my foot slipped on a lane line. Yes, the lines they paint on asphalt to direct cars are incredibly slick in the rain. I recovered without injury but I frightened myself and my muscles tensed. The next time I tried running my shin splints flared up and bam, there went my fantasy of jogging a substantial portion the half marathon. Which was especially annoying because I was wearing compression sleeves for shin splints.
Right around the time I started feeling sorry for myself for having a setback so early in the race granny passed me with her walking sticks. The shock actually rendered me mute (miracle!) for a moment and I’m sorry to say she was ahead of me by the time I got it together and cheered her on. How cool that she was out doing a half marathon on Sunday morning! (And leaving me in the dust!)
If you look at the map everything in the white space after the first mile marker basically until you hit the blue resevoir area was a private airport. I’m assuming Pomona airfield but don’t quote me on that. The route went right past the flight tower and about 10 of us in a pack all simultanously waved at the air traffic control guy. A woman behind me said “This is probably the most variety that guy has had in his day all year.” We all laughed because she was probably right.
By the time I hit the second mile I realized one weird thing about the course. It had no spectators. I mean NONE. You could argue that rain would have discouraged even the most hard core race enthusiast but when you looked at the land you couldn’t tell it had just rained. There was none of the flooding I’d seen in my car. The earth just soaked it all up (which tells you how desperately we needed the water).
Every half mile or so for the first part of the race there was a cop parked in his cop car watching us from across the street. Didn’t honk. Didn’t clap. Didn’t wave. Just sat there and watched us. Every other race I’ve done the local support has at least cheered or smiled or something. Notsomuch in Pomona. Kind of a bummer.
What I didn’t know during that second mile was that I should be soaking up every second of the flat route. As a finisher of two coastline events it never even occured to me to ask what the elevation was for LA County. Oops. Hills galore! short ones, long ones, steep ones requiring signage, the whole enchilada.
Here is the route in pictures:
On the resevoir trail
That’s Raging Waters Water Park and this is the closest I’ve ever been to it.
As for the resevoir trail itself
Looks kind of flat right?
That was before
See the sign? I listened to it and was half way down that dirt trail (my first ever trail run) when a college guy from behind me shouted “Hey red shirt girl! That’s the wrong way!” He and his girlfriend became my race buddies. Had he not saved me from my horrible mistake I would have ended up at this boathouse about 2 miles round trip out of my way with no hope of returning to the race in time.
Thanks again B!
Plus I had company for what turned out to be a hilly course.
But I did learn one thing. Sometimes you’re okay with hills and slopes if you think they’re going to take you somewhere good.
By mile 7 I was all ready for that!
But the fat lady wasn’t done singing and the fat chick wasn’t even halfway done racing.
According to my GPS watch the total elevation change in feet for the race was +1,381 / -1,367.
Did I mention I live at sea level? I’m not used to this stuff!
Now this made me think two things:
1) Damn if only I’d known I would have been mentally prepared for it at least!
2) If only this race was in June because I really need a warm up for the San Francisco 1st half marathon!
Yes, most of my thoughts pertaining to racing are punctuated by exclamation points.
Other pictures include:
Notice how the road is empty of all other competitors. This would never happen in a race with 18,000 people. There are fields on the right and an airport on the left. This is somewhere around the 9 mile marker and it was a little creepy. I was grateful to have two race buddies with me.
I also had a glorious realization: NO BLISTERS SO FAR!
Huge. Yes that is HUGE!
And let me tell you that perked me right up! The rest of the course from 9 on felt like it went a bit faster.
From the middle of mile 10 on you were pretty much on Fairgrounds property again. Parts of the course were very well marked. Other parts not so much. I’d printed the map you see above before my race which is what allowed us to figure out where we supposed to go in several instances if you can believe it.
See the water drop before 12? We passed the water station and then it was like a ghost town. There were barricades in several different places and the path could have been in either of two directions. The map saved us.
Do you also see that loop above 12 that runs parallel to North White Ave? That segment of the race was through what basically amounted to the Fairgrounds backlot. There were a lot of food carts being stored. Full sized Union Pacific train engines (not sure why). There was also the:
And the final water stop?
I kept waiting to see Clifford the Big Red Dog racing for the fire hydrants.
If only I’d known that was a precursor for heading to the back 40. The last 2 miles of the race route took us through mini vegetable gardens and tiny apple orchards. We moved past an equestrian center (and smelled it) and then went right through the Pig Patio
I’m serious the sign on the back wall says Pig Patio!
It was an interesting glimpse at the county fairgrounds.
Believe it or not I didn’t get a picture of the finish line but I did manage to run to it. I’ve never done that in a race before because by then the blisters are so bad I won’t even consider it. This time I was just fine!
Oh and for those of you who read this far (I’m sorry).
But here your treat.
Dirty D turned out to be a speedy young woman running with her arm in a sling. She raced past me not long after granny. (I missed the pic of granny but I still had my phone out and managed to snap a pic of D)
Next year’s goal is to catch up with Dirty D and maybe beat granny!
I got passed by a woman using walking sticks and wearing an adult diaper.
Yes, really.
No matter what else I type about this race, I just want you to know that in my mind the 2009 Inaugural Los Angeles County Half Marathon will stand out in my mind as the race where I got my a** handed to me by a walking granny.
I also have to pat myself on the back here. Once you’re smoked in a race by the diaper crowd whether they’re AARP members or little kids sprinting past you in a 5K (yes that happened to me too because the half marathon and the 5K started at the same time) it takes a lot of determination not to fake a ruptured spleen and leave a race course. I should probably thank Greg and Steph because I was definitely thinking about their Medal-covered Christmas tree when I decided to keep going!
That being said I also cheered for granny. She was in WAY better shape then I was!
So here is how the whole thing went down.
As I said in my last post the night before the race was miserable. I could hear torrential rain outside my window and was envisioning
Yes, they were closing the race course to cars (or at least one side of it) but pre-race paranoia has no bounds.
That night I slept fine and woke up when my alarm clock went off at 5am. It was still pouring rain. It was definitely one of those moments where you have to decide whether you take this as a sign from the universe or if you get all your stuff together and drive an hour in the dark to find out what the situation is at the race. Weather.com said that the rain in Pomona should let up around 7am and then resume at 10am. The race had a surprisingly late start, 8am. I knew there was no way in hell I was going to be off that course by 10am.
But I also knew one other thing:
I’d rather be out there and give it my best damn effort then know I was home sleeping when the rain went away and the course dried out.
Positive sign #1: It stopped raining where I was by the time I hit 7-11 for a morning banana so at least I wasn’t going to have to drive in pouring rain.
It did make me think though. My GPS watch told me it was 3/4 of a mile from general parking to the race start. Did I want to stick with general parking or pay the extra $3 for preferred parking near the race expo? Walking to the race would be fine. Walking back to my car with potential blisters, etc. would be excruciating.
No brainer.
I got to the race course and the woman generously let me pay $3 extra to upgrade my parking rather then force me to spend $12 for new parking. I thought this was a sign from the race gods until I found out the difference between preferred parking and general parking is exactly two rows. I didn’t get to park near the expo those were vendor spots. So $3 got me 2 rows closer then 3/4 of a mile. Doh! Fortunately it wasn’t raining at the race so I was too optimistic to worry about post-race challenges.
I parked and headed for the trunk of my car where I had put all my stuff. I had 2-3 changes of clothes in case it started raining. Several shirt options in case I decided I didn’t really want to wear what I put on that morning. Two pairs of shoes and a pair of slippers. TONS of: icy hot, body glide, vaseline, gatorade, energy gels, towels, trashbags and
I had a typical pre-race breakfast dry toast with a banana. Some people do bagels with peanut butter but that’s a bit much for me on a nervous stomach. I ate about 2 hours pre-race which is key for me. So far everything is a go.
Then I got to the race start and WOOT! Daylight!
Oh wait!
DAYLIGHT! and what looked like imminent SUNLIGHT!
New problem. I had a hat on but I didn’t have sunblock or my sunglasses. I have fair skin and major sunburn issues so hours in the sun without sunblock is impossible for me.
Now my 3/4 trek from the car to the starting line is going to turn into another round trip pre-race. I was worried enough about time to jog it.
I grabbed what I needed, dumped cold weather gear I no longer needed (skull cap, gloves, jacket) and jogged back to the starting line.
I don’t know about you all but I like to people watch at races.
This lady drew my attention
That’s an interesting way to carry gels and much lighter then a fanny pack or even a SpiBelt. Unfortunately I’m not sure how it works with the CarbKiller klutz factor. I can see myself accidentally puncturing those little pouches with my watch or something and having to deal with exploded Gu everywhere. Ick.
And then there was this guy.
Notice how everyone else at the starting line was wearing considerably more clothing.
Next thing I knew it was time for the starter gun and other people faded into the background. On your marks, get set, GO!
Running a race is a lot like a final exam. You can’t just show up and expect to pass unless you’ve put in some kind of effort.
Some people prepare for months and sleep deeply at night secure in their efforts.
Others realize 24 hours beforehand that 80% of their overall grade is riding on this sucker and panic commences. This can include all night cram sessions. Cheat sheets. Sleep for these people is rare if not impossible the night before their big event.
While I fit in neither of these categories, I do take some time the night before every race to set out my gear, pack some snacks and generally prepare myself.
It’s a little hard to do that when all you can hear is
Particularly when your drive home from your race expo involved a lot of
It’s discouraging.
As much as I’d like to pretend I could stick out an entire half marathon in those kinds of weather conditions there is just no way. Maybe if I was a full scale runner. Maybe if I wasn’t a total wimp. Maybe if hell froze over.
So why didn’t I just throw in the towel last night?
Because my friend Joan posted her 2009 medals not too long ago and I was a little jealous.
And then yesterday my friends Stephanie and Greg posted a picture of their Christmas tree.
How awesome is that tree!
And now you see why I was unwilling to give up on today’s race.
Darkness wasn’t going to stop me.
Rain wasn’t going to stop me.
Not even Frodo himself was going to stop me from my quest for shiny objects.
So driving past Angel’s stadium in the dark didn’t faze me.
And arriving to wet pavement didn’t faze me.
Neither did stormy skies.
But then there was a miracle! By the time I reached the starting line the skies has cleared up and I was greeted with:
and (more importantly) 
