2007 California International Marathon
Third time's a charm.
Mile 1-13:
"Go!" shouted the MC, and like an old friend, the CIM course welcomed me back for another installment in the ongoing saga "How Fast Can I Run 26.2 Miles?" My pacing plan was exceedingly simple: stick to the 3:00 hour pace group like glue. I squeezed my way into the pack and tried to settle in for the first couple of miles. But it was crowded as hell, and when the first aid station popped up, I almost got run down by people trying to get to the volunteers. It was sheer pandemonium. I didn't even try to go for a drink.
So I made a decision, and a scant two miles into the race, I abandoned my pacing plan and accelerated away from the group.
Even so, the course was full, but I at least had enough room to run comfortably, and I even managed to get some liquids at the rest of the aid stations. I felt pretty relaxed, barely breaking a sweat in the first couple of miles. My focus was on getting through the first half with as little effort -- both mental and physical -- as possible. Thanks to the early downhill miles, and the cool temperatures, things were working out that way.
The clown from last year was back, as were other spectators. I got a good laugh when one runner found his girlfriend in the crowd, stopped, and gave her a big, exaggerated movie kiss, much to the delight of everyone around.
I started feeling a little tired around mile 10, but soon enough the halfway point appeared and I crossed the mat at 1:28:twenty-something. This left me a little over 90 minutes to complete the second half. I felt my pacing was spot on. Advanced Marathoning recommends nearly even splits, maybe 2% faster in the first half.
Miles 13-20:
So now, it's time to buckle down. It was actually noticeably windy, so I made sure to tuck in behind other runners. For some time, these were two men from some Sheriff's department. Later, I found my way behind a tall guy, running with what I assumed was his dad. Finally, I got caught by a large pack of runners, some of which appeared to be part of a running club called the Impalas.
As I think about it now, it was this pack that might have been the key to my whole race. As my legs got heavier, I was tempted to let myself fall back to the 3:00 hour pace group. After all, that was my original plan. But in all my past experiences, once a pace group catches you, it's very difficult to ratchet the speed back up to stick to them. So who knows what might have happened had I dropped back. Plus, with the wind, it would have been quite bad to be all alone on the course.
I worked very hard to stay with the pack. The promise to myself was, I would stick it out until mile 20, then run as best I still could. Like Gete Wami hanging on to Paula Radcliffe in NYC, I imagined I was attached with an elastic band. At times, it would stretch, but then I'd put in a hard quarter mile or so and catch back up.
Around mile 19, I got to talking to someone about San Ramon, which is where I work and he lives. I don't mind chatting in races, but he turned into quite the conversationalist. At first it didn't bother me, thinking I could use the (mental) break, but once I looked up a little past the 19 mile flag, I had lost the pack! Additionally, I was hitting the wall, and my hamstrings (which had started tightening around mile 17) really started hurting. Not much later, Mr. San Ramon left me in the dust, too. Was this the beginning of the end?
Mile 20-26.2:
I didn't let myself freak out. "Break through the wall," I told myself. In my thoughts, I gave myself two miles to get it back together. My Garmin GPS watch had quit on me once again, so I had no idea what my pace was. But I kept working through it, passing the CIM wall, then crossing the H street bridge.
I found then I had made it over the hump. My pack was up ahead, now also strewn to hell and back. Unfortunately, I knew I wasn't moving as fast as before, and wondered if it was only a matter of time until the 3:00 pace group would catch me. I gave myself a 50/50 chance at that 3:00 mark. But nothing for it but to keep picking them up and putting them down.
Not until I hit mile 23 did I know I had made it. I checked my expensive Garmin watch, which had turned back into a simple chronometer, and found I had about 24:20 to travel 3.2 miles. The math was simple, and I knew I had three 8:00 minute miles in me. I focused on moving efficiently, not necessarily as fast as I could, to make sure I didn't blow out a muscle.
Mile 24 arrived... and I had 16 minutes left! Around here, I caught up to Mr. San Ramon and gleefully announced "I'm back!" He was still chatty, but this time I left him behind and powered my way down J street.
As the crowds grew, I could taste the finish. Up ahead, a pale blue spec in the distance. Could it be? Yes! The 26 mile marker. I rounded the corner onto 8th, then left again into the Capitol Mall, and coasted down the finishing lane. I raised my arms (whether in victory or to say "No more! I give up!" I can't say) and crossed the finish line with 2:58:40 on the clock.