Race Report: 2020 Hilton Head Island Marathon

On February 8th, I ran the Hilton Head Island Marathon.  Deb wanted to visit Savannah, GA.  Hilton Head Island is only about 30 miles away, but it’s in South Carolina, where I needed a race for my fourth circuit of 50 states.  You might say this was a two-for-one trip.

Friday, February 7

I often have trouble sleeping  when I’m on the road, but I usually sleep well at home.  Thursday night was the exception.  I was still awake at 2 AM.  I fell sleep for about half an hour and then woke up again.  My alarm was set for 4:00.  At 3:45, I turned it off and started getting ready to leave.  I was tired all day.

Savannah and Hilton Head Island are served by the same airport.  We had to change planes in Atlanta, so we took an early flight out of Minneapolis.  I’ve learned to book flights that give me long connection times, because you never know what’s going to happen.  Our flight out of Minneapolis was delayed because of weather, but we still had plenty of time to make our connection in Atlanta.  Our second flight got us to Savannah by mid-afternoon.

For the first two nights, we stayed at a Hilton Garden Inn that was just off of the island.  From the Savannah airport, it was about a 40 minute drive.  After checking in, we drove an additional 30 minutes to get to the Beach House resort, where packet pickup was held.  Instead of T-shirts, our race packets included fleece vests.  I have too many T-shirts already, so I like it when I get something different.

Deb was craving ice cream, so we stopped for dinner at Hilton Head Diner, where she was able to have a shake.  After dinner, we relaxed at the hotel and did our best to get to bed early.

For the second straight night, I struggled to sleep.  I slept for two or three hours at most.

Saturday, February 8

Saturday was race day.  The race started and finished at Jarvis Creek Park.  There wasn’t any parking at the start, but we were able to park at the high school, which was less than half a mile away.

Deb’s back was bothering her, so I drove to the race myself.  Deb had a leisurely breakfast and spent the rest of the morning doing exercises for her back.

The marathon was relatively small, but there was also a half marathon and an 8K race.  The start/finish area in the park was more crowded than I expected.  I got there more than 30 minutes before the race, so I would have plenty of time to make a bathroom stop.  At the time, the bathroom lines were short, but they got quite long later.

It was 40 degrees at the start, warming to about 50 during the race.  I was feeling kind of frail from the lack of sleep, so I dressed on the warm side.  I wore a tech T-shirt, tights, gloves, and a warm hat.  Because I had to walk to and from where my car was parked, I also wore a Tyvek jacket until the race started.

All three races started together, which made me nervous.  I never took the time to study the course map, so I had no idea where the turns were.  Ordinarily, I would just follow the runners in front of me.  That works great if everybody is running the same route.  When different routes diverge, you need to be careful to go the right way.  Not knowing what to expect made me nervous.

In my last race, I started too fast, ran positive splits by 11 minutes, and then missed a Boston qualifier by 28 seconds.  I didn’t want to repeat that experience, so this time my goals were less ambitious.  At most, I would pace myself for a Boston qualifier.  For my age group, that’s 3:35.  If the pace felt too fast, I wouldn’t fight for it.

Just before the race started, I took off my jacket and tied it around my waist.  I was originally planning to wear it until I warmed up, but then I would have to tie it around my waist while running.  Doing it before the race took less energy.

The race started with a two mile loop that brought us back to Jarvis Creek Park.  I reached the one mile mark in 8:05.  That was just a little faster than the pace I needed for 3:35.  That gave me room to slow down.  After getting back to the park, I checked my time at the two mile mark.  My second mile was much too fast, so I made a conscious effort to slow down in the third mile.

In the early miles, my arms were cold.  I regretted taking my jacket off before getting warmed up.  I just had to endure the cold until I warmed up.  I was a clear day, but the sun was still below the trees.  Once the sun got higher in the sky, it was bound to warm up.

The aid stations used rigid plastic cups.  With paper cups, you can squeeze them, making it easier to drink without spilling.  The first time I drank water from one of the plastic cups, I spilled some of the cold water on the front of my shirt.  After that, I slowed to a walk for a few seconds while drinking.

By the end of three miles, my average pace was just a little slower than eight minutes per mile.  For a time of 3:35, I needed to average 8:10.  I was telling myself to slow down a little, but I have a tendency to run at the pace of the runners around me.

I was already seeing runners coming back toward me.  From the color of their race bibs, I could see that they were doing the 8K race.  That also would have been obvious from how fast they were running.  Halfway through the next mile, I saw the 8K turnaround.  As I continued running straight, the runners still ahead of me were all doing either the marathon or half marathon.

At four miles, I saw that I was getting too fast again.  In the next mile, I went out of my way to let runners go by me, instead of subconsciously matching my pace to theirs.  By the end of my fifth mile, I had slowed down enough to bring my average pace up to 8:10.

I looked ahead and saw a big bridge.  This was the Coligny Beach Toll Bridge.  This bridge was the only hill on the course, but we would have to run over it four times.  I started to wish I had waited until this mile to start giving time back.  On the uphill side of the bridge, I did my best to maintain a consistent effort, even though it meant slowing down noticeably.  I didn’t want the bridge to take too much out of me.

While I was still on the uphill side of the bridge, I saw a wheelchair athlete already on his way back.  By the time I crested the hill, I saw the first runner coming back.

On the downhill side of the bridge, I sped up without really trying.  I didn’t know if I would gain as much time on the downhill side as I lost on the uphill side.  I just tried to keep my effort consistent.  I saw two more runners on their way back.  I could see from the color of their race bibs that they were doing the marathon.  I assumed that meant we wouldn’t go too much farther before turning around.

After the bridge, I turned to enter a park.  I was expecting to do a short loop and then return to the tollway.  Instead, our route through the park was serpentine.  Before long, I didn’t know which way I was going.

At six miles, I was pleasantly surprised to see that I had maintained my pace going over the bridge.  As I continued running through the park, I still expected to turn back onto the tollway at any time.  instead, I turned onto a bike path that seemed to be taking me in the other direction.

I saw a sign that read, “Mile 7.”  At the bottom of the sign, it read, “Half.”  Nowhere on the sign did it say, “Full” or “Marathon.”  That was ominous.  Did I miss a turn?  Was I on a section of the course that was only part of the half marathon route?

I caught up to the runner in front of me and asked her which race she was doing.  She was doing the half marathon.  I asked her if she knew where the marathon and half marathon routes diverged.  She didn’t.

Eventually, we made a left turn and got onto an out-and-back section.  As I watched runners coming back from the turnaround, I scrutinized their race bibs.  They were all doing the half marathon.  After making the turn myself, I checked out the race bibs of the runners who were still on their way out.  They were all doing the half marathon.  No runner within sight, either in front of me or behind, was doing the marathon.  That seemed like an unlikely coincidence.

The “Mile 8” sign also said “Half” at the bottom.  By now, I was no longer checking my time at the mile markers.  I was too preoccupied with the thought that I might be on the wrong course.

Eventually, I saw the “Mile 9” sign, which also said “Half.”  Shortly after passing that sign, I saw one in the distance that had a “7” on it.  As I got closer, I could see clearly that it read, “Mile 7 Full.”  My heart sank.  Clearly, I missed a turn where the marathon and half marathon routes diverged.  Since then, they had merged together again, but I had run more than two miles farther than I should have.  This is exactly what I was afraid of.

Mistakes like that rarely happen in road races.  They’re more common in trail races.  Trail runners call the extra distance “bonus miles,” since you get to run farther for no extra cost.

Time goals suddenly became irrelevant.  My concern now was pacing myself to finish a longer distance.  I’d finish the race, but I’d have to work harder to do it.

In the next mile, I crossed the big bridge again.  I was careful not to expend too much energy, knowing I was running a longer distance than I intended.

I paid close attention to the distance between the “Mile 10 Half” and “Mile 8 Full” signs.  They seemed to be about a tenth mile apart.  I was running an extra 2.1 miles.  To finish the marathon, I would actually need to run 28.3 miles.

Before the end of the next mile, the courses diverged again.  I clearly saw the signs indicating half marathon runners should turn right and cross the road, while marathon runners should go straight.  There was also a course marshal telling me to go straight.  Why wasn’t there a course marshal at the turn I missed?

As I continued, I could see more runners a short distance ahead of me.  Finally, I could follow runners who I knew were also doing the marathon.  I caught up to two of them and asked them if they remembered where the marathon and half marathon routes diverged.  They recalled a place in the park where the marathon turned to the right, but the half marathon turned to the left.  I couldn’t remember seeing anything like that.  I never saw signs, I never saw a course marshal, and I never saw a place where runners were turning in more than one direction.  Maybe I had the bad fortune of following the runners ahead of me at a time when there went any runners in sight who were doing the marathon.

To talk to these runners, I had to slow down.  The pace was uncomfortably slow, and I had to resume my own pace as soon as I could.  That makes sense.  We were coming up on the “Mile 9” sign.  They had finished nine miles in the same time it took me to run 11.1.  Clearly, there was a big difference in our pace.  After that, I was continually catching and passing other runners.  I wasn’t speeding up at all.  I had been going faster all along.

Ever since discovering I had made a wrong turn, I was aware that I had to pace myself for 28.3 miles instead of 26.2.  Ideally, I should’ve slowed down.  I wasn’t actually sure if I had or not.  I wasn’t going the same pace as anyone around me, and I stopped reading my watch a few miles earlier.  I was just running.

When I reached the “Mile 11” sign, it occurred to me that I had run 13.1 miles, which is half a marathon.  I couldn’t resist finally looking at my watch.  I got there in 1:47:24.  Had I not made a wrong turn, I would still be on pace for a Boston qualifying time.  That was no longer relevant, but it made me realize I never slowed down, even after I stopped paying attention to my pace.  Then it occurred to me that I could still break four hours if I didn’t slow down too much in the remaining 15 miles.

When I reached the “Mile 12” sign, I had actually run 14.1 miles.  I was close to the halfway point of the 28.3 miles that I was actually running.  I was well ahead of a four pace.  It seemed inevitable that I would have to slow down, but I didn’t want to slow down any more than necessary.  I started to work at maintaining my pace.  I really wanted to break four hours.  That gave me a renewed sense of purpose in a race that previously was just about finishing.

With each passing mile, I questioned whether I was running at a pace that would break me.  I was past the halfway point, but I still had a lot of miles to run.  I continued to pass every runner I saw.

When I reached the “Mile 16” sign, I still had more than 10 miles to go.  I felt more tired than I should with that many miles left.  I felt about like I should with only eight miles to go.  That made perfect sense, under the circumstances.

Somewhere around the “Mile 17” sign, I started to get warm.  The sun was at a higher angle in the sky, and it was warming up.  I finally took off the gloves that I had been wearing since the beginning of the race.

We were now going south on the tollway, so I knew we would reach the bridge again soon.  This was the same bridge, but now we were on the other side of the highway.  I had been working hard to maintain my pace for several miles, and the effort was wearing on me.  If I worked too hard on the bridge, it could break me.  At first, I tried to take the bridge slowly enough that it wouldn’t wear me down.  Even running at a slower pace was tiring on the long climb.  I needed to take a walking break, but I wanted to be disciplined about it.

Ahead of me, I saw a pair of orange traffic cones on either side of the shoulder where I was running.  It seemed like a good place to start walking.  I forced myself to run to the cones.  I was originally planning to walk from there to the top, but it seemed like I was walking for a long time.  As the slope began to level out, I resumed running.  From there, it didn’t take too much effort to get to the top.  Then I recovered nicely on the downhill side.

The next few miles were a long out-and-back section.  I was running through a neighborhood with more shade.  I also started to notice a cool breeze.  My hands got cold again.  After making a short loop and heading back toward the bridge, I noticed the wind more.  I was going to be cold for the next few miles.

At the “Mile 22” sign, I looked at my watch for the first time in 10 miles.  I wanted to know if I could still break four hours and what pace it would take.  At a glance, I saw 3:20 and change.  I had just under 40 minutes to run 4.2 miles.  I was pretty sure I was going faster than that.

I had to cross the bridge one more time.  I knew I needed to take a walking break on the bridge, but I wanted to be careful not to lose too much time.  The road was sloping uphill even before I reached the bridge.  I had to keep running.  I got onto the bridge itself.  It was still too soon to start walking.

Looking ahead, I saw the back of a road construction sign.  I force myself to run to the sign.  Farther ahead, I saw a traffic cone.  I walked from the sign to the cone.  Then I ran the rest of the way to the top.

Once again, the downhill side was easy.  I was just about off the bridge, when I saw the “Mile 23” sign.  I resisted the temptation to look at my watch.  I knew that mile was slow, and I didn’t want to risk getting discouraged.

In the next mile, I saw someone with a sign that read, “9:00.”  Most races have pace leaders that keep you on pace to reach a target finish time, such as four hours.  This race had pace leaders who targeted a specific pace.  In this case, nine minute miles.  I knew that pace was faster than what you need to break four hours.  I gradually caught up to the group, and asked him if he was on pace.  He said he was actually a little ahead of pace.  If I just kept up with him the rest of the way, I would be assured of breaking four hours.

As I reached the front of the group, I saw my friend Shannon.  I was going to run with her the rest of the way, but just then she had to stop to get a rock out of her shoe.  I went on ahead.

I checked my watch at the “24” sign.  I had more than 21 minutes to run 2.2 miles.  I had yet to slow to a nine minute pace, so I knew I would do it easily.  Nevertheless, I didn’t let up in my effort.

With about half a mile to go, I left the highway and entered Jarvis Creek Park.  I could see the finish line, but first I had to run around a pond.  I finished in 3:56:36.  Breaking four hours despite the wrong turn gave me something I could feel good about besides finishing.

I waited for Shannon, the “9:00” pacer, and the other runners with him.  I only ran with them briefly, but they invited me to join them for a post-race pic.

I needed some post-race food, so I had a banana and a slice of pizza.  The runners doing the shorter races finished hours earlier, so I wondered if the pizza would still be hot.  It was.

After I drove back to hotel and got cleaned up, Deb and I had a late lunch at Hilton Head Brewing Company.  They were offering a 15% discount on the beer if you showed them a race bib.  I had a beer flight and a half rack of ribs.  Deb had this giant pretzel.  Deb is sensitive to salt and found it to be too salty, even if she scraped off the salt crystals.  She ate half and gave the rest to my friend Janet, who was sitting at the next table.  Janet is a self-described saltaholic, but she also thought it was too salty.

Later, we had a full dinner at Salty Dog Café.  Deb had read about their hushpuppies (served with honey butter) and their key lime pie.  In addition to those, we ordered pizza, crab chowder, and key lime pie ice cream.  We shared everything.  I also had a bottle of the strongest ginger beer I’ve ever had.  It made my eyes water.

I slept well that night.  Better late than never.

Sunday, February 8

On Sunday, we had the luxury of sleeping in.  After eating breakfast at our hotel, we drove to Savannah.  Our first stop in Savannah was Forsyth Park.

The Gingerbread House is one of the many photogenic historic homes in Savannah.

Next, we stopped at the Cathedral of St. John the Baptist.  We couldn’t tour the inside, because a service was in progress.

Our last stop before going to our hotel was Chippewa Square.  This was the setting for the park bench scenes in “Forrest Gump.”

We stayed at the Hampton Inn – Savannah Historic District, which is two blocks away from the Savannah River.  When we got there our room wasn’t ready yet, so we checked our bags and went to lunch.

My friend Bob ran a 24-hour race in Beaufort the same day I ran my marathon.  Bob was flying home from Savannah in the evening and joined us for lunch and some afternoon sightseeing.

After lunch, the three of us took a carriage ride.  It took us by several historic buildings and around several of the town squares.  After our tour, we visited City Market and went to Leopold’s Ice Cream.  By then, our room was ready, so we checked into our room before continuing our window shopping along River Street.

Later, Deb and I had dinner at Treylor Park, which specializes in comfort food.  I had something called grilled apple pie.  It was like a grilled cheese sandwich with cinnamon apples and bacon.  It was an unusual flavor combination, which is why I had to try it.

Monday, February 9

Hampton Inn had a fitness center, so I was able to do a recovery run on the treadmill before breakfast.

After breakfast, we continued shopping along River Street.  One of our stops was Savannah Bee Company, where Deb tried several varieties of honey and I had a mead tasting.  Another was Nour-ish, where Deb was able to make her own lip scrub.

In lieu of lunch, we went back to Leopold’s Ice Cream.  Their honey almond cream is the best ice cream flavor I’ve ever tasted.

At one of the tourist information centers, we learned about a free shuttle service that has two routes.  One makes a loop through the downtown area.  The other goes around Forsyth Park and back into the downtown area.  We rode both of them.  Most of the time, we just stayed on the bus and got views of some of the old houses.  It was also an easy way to get to a few places that weren’t within walking distance of our hotel.

One of our stops was the Cathedral of St. John the Baptist, where we finally got a chance to see the inside.

Another stop was Temple Mickve Israel.  This synagogue was founded in 1773.

Besides the shuttles, the city also has a free ferry service across the Savannah River.  We caught the ferry behind city hall.

After crossing the river to Hutchinson Island, we took another ferry and disembarked near a monument depicting the Olympic cauldron.  When Atlanta hosted the 1996 Olympic games, the yachting events were held in Savannah.  A short distance from that monument, we saw the Waving Girl Statue.

We did a little more shopping before finally stopping for dinner at a nearby tavern.  Finally, when it got dark, we went up to Hampton Inn’s rooftop pool deck to see the riverfront at night.

Race Statistics
Official Distance:  26.2 miles
Actual Distance:  28.3 miles
Time:  3:56:36
Actual Pace:  8:22
Lifetime Marathons/Ultras:  401
Sub4 Marathons:  253

Race Report: 2020 Surf City Marathon

On February 2nd, I ran the Surf City Marathon in Huntington Beach, CA.  This is the sixth time I’ve done this race.  I had a wonderful experience in 2012, so I came back in 2013 and again in 2015, 2018 and 2019.  I always enjoy this race, so I keep coming back.

I usually plan my race schedule at least six months in advance.  Six months ago, it looked like I would run my 400th marathon sometime in late February.  When I impulsively added the Twin Cities Marathon to my schedule last October, I did so, in part, to make Surf City my 400th marathon.  Big milestones should be celebrated with as many friends as possible.  I always see dozens of friends at this race.

I flew into Los Angeles Saturday morning.  The John Wayne Airport in Orange County is closer, but I couldn’t get a flight that arrived early in the day.  I could get a direct flight to LAX that got me there before lunch.  Rental cars at LAX were expensive, but that was a trade-off I was willing to accept.

My flight arrived early, but getting my rental car was a fiasco.  The larger rental car agencies have shuttles that pick you up right outside the terminal.  Smaller ones have to send their shuttles to a remote parking area.  The get there, you need to take an airport bus.

I rented from EZ Car Rental.  One of the reasons I chose them is because their shuttle picks you up right outside the terminal.  I followed the instructions they gave me and went to the pick-up point for rental car shuttles.  I waited for more than half an hour.  I saw numerous shuttles for all the other rental car agencies, but none for EZ.

It wasn’t easy to find a phone number for EZ, but I tried to call them.  Where I was standing, it was noisy, and I couldn’t get a good connection.  I finally called Deb and asked her if she could call EZ for me.  It took her four tries before she finally found a way to talk to a real person instead of their voice mail menu.  She called me back and told me I was supposed to take the bus for economy parking, which I would catch where there was a pink sign.  Not knowing where this sign was or what it said, I asked a few airport employees and bus drivers.  At first, I got conflicting answers, but eventually one of the bus drivers told me I wanted a bus labeled “Lot E,” and I could catch it where there was a pink sign saying, “LAX shuttles.”

I spoke to the driver of that bus.  At first, he told me the EZ shuttle came to the rental car pickup area where I had had already waited for more than 30 minutes.  When I explained that EZ told me I needed to take this bus, he said, “I can take you there.”  By “there,” he meant the parking lot where you catch shuttles for the smaller rental agencies.  When we got there, I saw an EZ/Advantage shuttle already waiting.  Otherwise, I wouldn’t have much confidence that a shuttle would actually arrive here if I waited.

The EZ bus driver was able to explain what happened.  The airport is forcing more of the rental agencies to use the remote pick-up point.  EZ used to pick up outside the terminal, but switched to the remote location effective February 1.  Had I arrived one day earlier, the instructions they sent me would have been correct.

By the time I reached the rental car lot, it was more than an hour after I left the airport terminal.  It’s not EZ’s fault that the airport made them change their pick-up location.  It IS their fault that they gave me incorrect instructions.  It’s also their fault that it’s so hard to get ahold of anyone to find out what’s going on.  It’s unlikely that I’ll ever rent a car from them again.  I’ve rarely seen such poor customer service.  Fortunately, I wasn’t pressed for time.

From LAX, it’s about 40 miles to Huntington Beach.  The drive time can really vary, depending on traffic, so I usually drive to Huntington Beach first and wait until I’m off the freeway before finding a place to eat lunch.  This time, I opted to eat lunch first.  I noticed there was a Shakey’s Pizza Parlor about half a mile from the rental car lot.  I used to eat at Shakey’s all the time when I was in college, but I haven’t been there in decades.  The locations in my area all closed at least 30 years ago, but apparently, there are still several in California.  I don’t usually eat pizza at chain restaurants, but this was one was nostalgic.

The first five times I did the Surf City Marathon, I stayed at a Doubletree in Santa Ana.  They always roll out the red carpet for the runners, but it’s 11 miles away from the race venue.  There are two big resort hotels right next to the starting line.  One is the Hyatt Regency.  The other is the Waterfront Beach Resort.  I’ve always wanted to stay at one of those, but they’re expensive.  This year, I was able to get a room at the Waterfront Beach Resort.  It’s much more expensive than the Doubletree, but the location was amazingly convenient.

My room had a balcony with a partial beach view.  The big white tent next to the beach is where the expo was held.  After checking in at the Waterfront, I just had to walk across the street to get to the expo.

A few minutes after I picked up my race packet, I bumped into my friends Karen and Robert.  They were also staying at the Waterfront Beach Resort, and I spent most of the afternoon with them.

Robert organized a pre-race dinner at Buca di Beppo.  This has become a tradition.  Karen knew this was going to be my 400th marathon, so she got large balloons spelling out “400” and another one that said “congratulations.”  She also surprised me with a dessert sampler.

The race started at 6:30 Sunday morning.  For as long as I can remember, there’s been a pre-race group photo for Marathon Maniacs next to the pedestrian bridge that leads from the beach parking lot to the Hyatt Regency.  When I stayed at the Doubletree in Santa Ana, our bus to the start didn’t drop us off in time to make it to the group photo.  This year, I was staying just down the street, so I could easily walk over.  Group photos aren’t usually a big deal for me, but this was a chance to connect with friends who I didn’t see at the pre-race dinner.

The group photo was just 20 minutes before the start of the marathon.  I was worried about having enough time to make a bathroom stop before lining up for the race.  That turned out not to be a problem.

There was a whole parking lot full of port-o-potties.  I’ve heard that long lines form before the half marathon, but that race didn’t start until 7:45.  There aren’t as many runners in the marathon, so you can usually find a port-o-potty that’s not occupied.

There aren’t many races in the continental US where you can count on getting good weather during the winter months.  I’ve often been surprised how cold it can get in places as far south as Texas or Mississippi.  Southern California is the exception.  The weather may not be perfect, but it’ll be close.  This year, the overnight low was in the upper 40s and the temperature during the race was in the 50s.  You can’t get much better than that.  There wasn’t any rain, and the hourly forecast showed only light winds.

Setting a goal for this race wasn’t easy.  On one hand, this was a fairly flat course with weather that looked ideal.  I probably wouldn’t run another race this year that was as well-suited for running a fast time.  That made me want to challenge the time I ran last October in the Chicago Marathon.

On the other hand, I’ve had some soreness on the back of my left heel since late December, and it’s forced me to cut back on both my mileage and the intensity of my training.  None of my recent training runs have been as fast as the pace I would need to beat my Chicago time.

I saw pace groups for 3:15 and 3:30, but nothing in between.  I felt like I should be able to run faster than 3:30. I just didn’t know how much faster.  I lined up next to the 3:30 group with the intention of going ahead at my own pace.  In the first few blocks, I felt like I was bottled up behind them.  When I found room to get through, I went ahead and accelerated.

For the first few miles, we were running north along the Pacific Coast Highway.  On our left, we could see the beach.  On our right, we passed resorts, condos, and shops.  The pace felt tiring.  I often start at a pace that feels a little tiring, but back off until the pace feels sustainable.  This time, I didn’t do a good job of backing off.

I ran the first mile in 7:48.  That was discouraging.  My average pace in Chicago was 7:41.  I wasn’t going that fast, yet the pace already felt unsustainable.

In the second mile, I took a drink of water at an aid station.  Interrupting my breathing for just a few seconds to drink the water was enough to make me feel short of breath.  That wasn’t a good sign.  When you’re getting out of breath in the second mile, you should probably slow down.  I didn’t.

My second mile was five second faster than my first mile, but it still wasn’t as fast as my Chicago pace.  Since the pace felt tiring, and it wasn’t fast enough anyway, I really should have abandoned that goal.  I decided to keep up my effort for at least one more mile.

Shortly before the three mile mark, we left the Pacific Coast Highway and turned right onto Seapoint Steet.  The next several miles would take us inland and through a park.  At three miles, I noticed I had picked up my pace.  My average pace was now within a second or two of my Chicago pace.  I still didn’t think I could sustain that pace, but I couldn’t resist keeping up my current effort for another mile or two.

Although this course is mostly flat, it’s not completely flat.  The fifth mile has a long downhill section.  I didn’t try to speed up, but I did.  After that mile, I was on pace to beat my Chicago time.


During the next mile, we entered the park.  It was foggy.  There was obviously a lot of humidity in the air, but instead of making me feel warmer, it made me feel cold.  The air in the park felt cold and damp.

I reached a brief section that wasn’t paved and used that as an excuse to slow down a bit and let other runners go by.  I was finally beginning to pace myself more sensibly, but I waited too long.  The damage was already done.

As I crossed a street and continued into another part of the park, I heard music.  It was a high school band playing Gary Glitter’s “Rock and Roll, Part 2.”  Thirty years ago, you couldn’t go to a large sporting event without hearing that.  Now, you don’t hear it as much.

Most of the mile markers were in the shape of surfboards.  In a few places, however, they had mile markers that were the color of LA Lakers jerseys.  One was at 8 miles.  The other was at 24 miles.  Those were the two numbers that Kobe Bryant wore during his career with the Lakers.  During the race, I also saw a few runners wearing Kobe Bryant jerseys.

The eighth mile mark was also the beginning of a hill.  This was the same hill that we ran down during the fifth mile.  I struggled to get up the hill.  I don’t remember this hill bothering me so much any of the other times I ran this race.  Clearly, my fast start was already taking a toll on me.

Over the next few miles, I slowed to a pace of eight minutes per mile.  That’s roughly the pace for a 3:30 marathon.  I regretted not starting the race with the 3:30 pace group.  Had I run with them from the beginning, the pace might have felt manageable.  Now, since I was already tired, even that pace took an effort.  I was hoping I could sustain this pace for the rest of the race, but I had serious doubts.

Between nine and ten miles, we returned to the Pacific Coast Highway and continued running north.  This section of the course was out-and-back.  Before long, I started to see the faster runners coming back on the other side of the highway.  Shortly after the 10 mile mark, I passed a stage with a rock band.  Naturally, they were playing surf music.

Through 11 miles, I continued to run at a consistent pace of eight minutes per mile.  When I saw the 12 mile marker, it was obvious it was badly misplaced.

Along the Pacific Coast Highway, I noticed the humidity again.  Now, instead of making me feel colder, it was making me feel hot.  I didn’t realize it yet, but the wind was at my back on this section.

Between 12 and 13 miles, I reached the turnaround point.  As soon as I started running south, I felt a breeze.  I no longer felt hot.  I began to feel a little bit cold.  About a minute after the turn, I saw the 3:30 group going the other way.  I wondered if they would pass me before the end of the race.

I started to notice the wind was tiring.  It was a stronger wind than I was expecting from the weather forecast.  I would need to run into it for about four miles before turning again.

The 13 mile marker also appeared to be misplaced.  They had a chip mat at the half way mark.  That, I trusted, was placed more precisely.  I reached the halfway mark in 1:42:10.  I was on pace to break 3:25, but I knew I wouldn’t sustain that pace.  I ahead already slowed down since the early miles, and I expected to slow down more in the second half.  The headwind on this section was wearing me down.  At this point, I realized I would be very happy if I could hold on to break 3:30.

By 14 miles, I was no longer holding onto the pace.  I wasn’t slowing down much, but the wind was getting stronger, and it was taking a lot out of me.  After another mile, I reached Seapoint Street, where runners were still turning onto the Pacific Coast Highway.  The wind kept getting stronger.

At 15 miles, I noticed some soreness on the back of my left heel.  In training runs, I usually notice it after eight or nine miles.  I was encouraged that I made it 15 miles before feeling any discomfort.

I often have to mentally partition a race and focus on one segment at a time.  I had one more mile running into the wind.  All I could think about was getting through that mile, so I could turn and get out of the wind.

It was actually more than a mile.  I passed the 16 mile mark, but had to run for a few more minutes before finally reaching the point where we made a U-turn onto the bike path alongside the beach.  I was relieved to finally get out of the headwind.  I thought it would get easier, but it didn’t.

Now I was starting another out-and-back.  This one was almost five miles each way.  The bike bath isn’t nearly as wide as the highway, but there also weren’t as many runners.  The half marathon route didn’t include this out-and-back.

The bike path was paved, but the surface wasn’t as smooth as the highway.  My legs felt like Jell-O, and I could feel every bump in the pavement.  I wasn’t trying to pick up the pace, but I thought I would at least have an easier time maintaining the same pace as before.  I didn’t.

I checked my time at 17 miles and again at 18 miles.  My first full mile on the bike path was slower, even though the wind was now at my back.  I slowed to 8:30 per mile.  It was only a matter of time before I fell behind the pace for 3:30.  The question now was whether I could still break 3:35.  That would still be a Boston qualifying time.  I could do it if I held my current pace, but I couldn’t slow down any more.

I was eventually passed by one of the 3:30 pacers.  I was surprised to see him by himself.  When I last saw the 3:30 group, there were two pacers, and at least six other runners were with them.  As this pacer got farther ahead of me, I still didn’t see anyone else from the 3:30 group.  Apparently, none of them, including the other 3:30 pacer, could keep up.  Maybe I wasn’t the only one who was struggling with the wind.

At 19 miles, I noticed some discomfort in my heel again.  It occurred to me that I hadn’t noticed it for almost four miles.  It wasn’t constant.  That was encouraging.

There’s a parking lot where people set up an unofficial aid station called the “Beer and Bacon Station.”  I saw cups of beer on their table, but they didn’t have any bacon ready when I passed.  Even if they did, I wouldn’t have stopped.  My stomach was feeling bloated from all the water and sports drink I was drinking.  Neither beer nor bacon sounded appealing.

Next, I ran past a parking area for RVs.  Several of them had flags flying.  The flags were pointing away from the beach, suggesting I was running in a cross wind, rather than a tail wind.  That gave me hope that I wouldn’t be running into the wind in the final five miles.

The last turnaround was between 20 and 21 miles.  As soon as I made the turn, I felt a headwind.  At 21 miles, I saw that I could still break 3:35, but I would have to fight to hold my pace for the last five miles.  Physically, I was probably capable of doing it.  Psychologically, I wasn’t.  Knowing I would have to fight the wind for the rest of the race took away a lot of my motivation.

I started to noticed the discomfort in my heel again.  The discomfort was there for the rest of the race.  It wasn’t going to stop me from finishing the race, but it’s a long-term concern.

Each remaining mile seemed to take forever.  The one thing that helped was seeing friends who were going in the other direction.  I recognized several runners who I knew would be here.  Sometimes, I would hear a shout from someone I wasn’t expecting to see.

When I got back to the RV parking area, I looked at the flag again.  The wind was blowing at an angle.  It was partially off the coast, but it was also partially a headwind.

At 24 miles, I checked my watch, and for the first time, I wasn’t on pace to break 3:30.  That mile took nine minutes.  I needed to average 8:30.  That sapped all the strength from me.  I kept running, but my effort was now half-hearted.  Mile 25 also took nine minutes.  I only had 1.2 miles to go.  I was no longer motivated to try to break 3:35.  That ship had already sailed.  Now I just wanted to finish.

In the last mile, I finally left the bike path and got back onto the Pacific Coast Highway.  I was now surrounded by runners who were finishing the half marathon.  Thar made it hard for me to look for the finish line.  I wasn’t sure how much farther I had to run.  I passed the Huntington Beach Pier, but I still couldn’t see the finish line.  Then I saw the 26 mile mark.  Finally, I knew how much farther I had to run.

As I got closer to the finish line, the right lane was reserved for marathon finishers.  With a clear path to the finish, I finally sped up.  I finished in 3:35:28.  I missed qualifying for Boston by 28 seconds.  That was annoying.  I ran positive splits by 11 minutes.  Had I run just two minutes slower in the first six miles, I could have been several minutes faster in the second half.  I don’t know for sure if I would’ve broken 3:30, but I would’ve easily broken 3:35.

The important thing is that I finished.  I got another one of those cool surfboard medals.

In addition to that medal, I could also wear a second medal that I got from the 100 Marathon Club.  This one was for finishing 400 marathons.

There was an abundance of post-race food, but I only took a banana and a package of cheese crisps.  I didn’t take any beverages.  I couldn’t stomach the thought of having anything else to drink.  I moved through the finish area as quickly as I could, but it was congested.  I seemed to finish right in the middle of the pack of the half marathon.

I skipped the beer garden and went straight to the table with results.  My official chip time agreed with the time on my watch.  After confirming that I didn’t place in my age group, I walked to the hotel as quickly as I could.  After cleaning up and changing clothes, I joined Karen and Robert for lunch and drinks at a nearby food court that included a brewery.

Karen and Robert each had lunch.  I didn’t feel like eating much, but I shared Karen’s tater tots.  By now, I was able to have some beer samples, but I had to avoid the beers with higher alcohol contents.  While we were there, we were joined by three other friends.

The Surf City Marathon is always held on Super Bowl Sunday, so my post-race activities always include watching the game.  In the Pacific time zone, the Super Bowl starts at 3:30 PM.  I like the earlier start time.  I watched the game at a lounge at the Waterfront Beach Resort.  I thought I was finally ready to eat a full meal.  The food was good, but it felt twice as filling as it probably really was.  I couldn’t finish it.  Despite slowing down in the second half of the race, I still seemed to have pushed myself too hard.  Even five and a half hours after finishing, my digestive system wasn’t ready for a large meal.

On Monday, I had to drive back to Los Angeles to fly home.  You never know how long the drive will take.  I was driving during rush hour on a Monday morning.  To be on the safe side, I had to allow at least two hours.  In fact, the drive didn’t take much more than an hour.

Dropping off my rental car was easier than picking it up.  For departing flights, they can still drop you off right at the terminal.

Most of my friends congratulated me for having a good race, but I was disappointed with my time.  Had I been just 28 seconds faster, I could have felt good about running another Boston qualifier.  Only reckless pacing and a phenomenally bad late race collapse prevented me from doing that.  That was a lost opportunity.

Although I wasn’t happy with my result, I did enjoy the weekend.  This is still one of my favorite races, and I got to celebrate a milestone with friends.


Race Statistics
Distance:  26.2 miles
Time:  3:35:28
Average Pace: 8:13
Lifetime Marathons/Ultras:  400