Cursed and Cursed At: The San Francisco Marathon
Driving home after the 2008 edition of the San Francisco Marathon, beaten down and frustrated, I was already chomping at the bits to make amends in 2009. Now that 2009 has come and gone, I found I've dug myself a deeper hole instead of acquitting myself. I wonder whether someone's laid a curse on me. It just never works out for me in San Francisco.
This year, I was aiming for a 3:15. I finished a world away, in 3:23, my second worst time ever -- only better than my 2006 marathon time. 2007: 3:17. 2008: 3:18.
Fortunately, I never got to track just how badly I was doing because around mile 3, my Garmin fell apart. Literally. I heard the sound of plastic hitting asphalt, only to find that the face of my (expensive!) time piece had separated from the rest of the machinery. I retrieved the damn thing and lugged it in my hand for the next 23 miles. The only times I saw a clock in that race was at mile 13, and the finish. Not that I needed any help to tell that things weren't going well.
Thing was, just like in 2007 and 2008, I would have the dreaded "stomach trouble". With my guts starting to cramp up even as I got to Crissy Field, I reflected on the fact that there is no feeling worse in the world than needing to "go" while running a race. It's not just a physical problem, it's utterly draining mentally. A special brand of pain that consumes you completely. And it happens to me guaranteed in San Francisco. Some might say it's the wind or the dampness, but I know better: it's The Curse.
So, let's see. Six miles in. Stomach issues? Check. Watch broken? Check. Traffic on the Golden Gate Bridge? ... check. Thanks to a late registration, I was started in "Wave 3" along with people whose target time was 3:30 - 3:45. Which, anyway, is not something that makes sense to me. Why should your early or late registration affect your starting time? Shouldn't it be based solely on your expected pace? You know, to help the flow of the race?
I got stuck a little on the bridge as usual, which was OK though, since I was fighting my bowels more than anything else. On reaching Marin county, I raced to the port-a-potties only to find them ALL occupied... with one person already waiting. You have got to be kidding me! Nothing for it but to keep moving.
My stomach settled down a little on the return leg, but after the descent down the Presidio my guts were screaming for relief, and finally at mile 11 I took my standard three-minute break. All in all, it was extremely unsatisfying. Not to go into too many details, but I've got two words: Dim Sum. Had that on Friday, and the problem was it bound up inside of me, wreaking havoc on anything else I had eaten after that. OK... TMI.
All told, Golden Gate Park wasn't too bad. Last year, I completely and utterly disintegrated around mile 14. This year, I slowed down, but mainly kept up a steady pace. I now appreciate the peculiar torture this part of the course has in store for the marathoners, though. The route took us by the first-half finish not once, not twice, but three times. Finally, I thought I was going to scream if I heard the MC say one more time "you're almost there". We weren't!
Mile 19, exit park, enter Haight Street and the hilly streets of San Francisco. Here I found my downhill training (I'm scheduled to do Pikes Peak in three weeks) really helped me. I ran hard on some sections that back on my first try I had to side-step down on!
Around mile 22, we're all climbing one of those persistent hills to the sound of spectators cheering us on. "Come on, almost at the top!" "Keep it up!" And all of a sudden this new voice yells "Die! Die! I hope you have a heart attack! Fuckers!" Flabbergasted, I turned to find this bum pushing a shopping cart uphill, too, apparently not a running fan. I totally cracked up, it was too funny. I wish I could convey the heart-felt fury in his voice!
Ticking off the miles, I found myself feeling fairly good, despite the unsettled bowels. I've gotten so slow, but my endurance is fine. On the other hand, if I'm running slow... well of course it won't hurt as much. I found myself pondering the decline in my abilities. Is it age? The fact that I haven't run on a track since February? Mental laziness? Whatever it is, I find I run slower, but don't feel as beat up at the finish anymore. Which of course makes me think I should run harder, but I can't seem to.
Unexpected bonus: I missed the 23 mile marker, so coming up on #24 was a pleasant surprise! So close! I picked up my pace once I hit the ball park and picked off a number of runners, finally seeing the clock and confirming my poor time. But, as I always say, there's no such thing as a bad marathon finish.
2009 was cursed. And despite it all, San Francisco is still my favorite marathon course. I'll be back in 2010 for more pain and suffering.