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2018 Inaugural Silicon Valley Half Marathon Race Recap – San Jose, CA

2018 Inaugural Silicon Valley Half Marathon Race Recap – San Jose, CA

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Finally, on Sunday morning, the headlining event of the weekend rolled around: the inaugural Silicon Valley half marathon (and 10k). After being excited over this new event for the past almost-year, and then getting really jazzed about it in the preceding week by participating in a community run out of Lululemon Santana Row on the previous Saturday, a community meet-and-greet run with Meb on Wednesday, the Food Truck 5k and the kids’ race on Saturday, finally — at long last — it was time for the event we were all so excited about.

community run to fan the stoke for SV race week (PC: @representrunning IG)

 

race weekend! race map! San Jose!

My singular goal going into the SV Half was simple: to finish. I had no pace expectations or guidelines, and Lisa specifically instructed me to treat it as a “glorified long run,” to go enjoy the course and the crowd and just have fun with it; if, and only if, I were feeling good should I try to pick it up the last 3-4 miles (and even if I felt good but simply didn’t want to pick it up, that would be fine, too). The race, 10 weeks post-stroke, would signify my longest continuous run and would be a milestone in the 5 ½ weeks I had been running since getting cleared at 4 ½ weeks post-stroke.

My very soft (mushy) time goal for the race, if I had to have one, was to stay within 8-8:30 range for most of the race and then see what happened from there, based solely on how I felt from racing at the Sactown 10 the week before. Again, though, I didn’t really care much about my pace and said that I wanted to “party-pace” it, to just go out, be comfortable, and build up my endurance again.

Fortunately, Janet was also running the SV Half as part of her MTB training plan, so we carpooled over to the race and ran a couple warm-up miles together. I woke up feeling pretty bad and spent a lot of QT with my bathroom because my stomach was in shambles, so I was worried that the race experience would be rather unpleasant. The weather was just lovely and really great for running, and once we ran over to the starting area, two miles later, we connected with many other RR ambassadors and Wolfpack runners who’d be toeing the line. I finally got to meet Margot in the starting corral (yay social media!), too, which was sweet. I knew there’d be just a handful of Wolfpack harriers racing that day, but there’d be a lot on the Alameda, serving as course volunteers. It was going to be a good morning and promised to be fun as hell (potential stomach issues be damned), heavy on the “woohoo let’s go have a good time and fun run this experience” and light on stress and self-inflicted pressure.

hi, Margot! bonus of fun-running a race is carrying my phone with me and taking pictures

 

more fun with friends, this time teammates Janet and Sam (HM and 10k, respectively). I’m wearing my Wolfpack trucker, except that it doesn’t fit my head really well, so I looked *real* cool with aviators and a backwards trucker for the entirety of the race (except for the pic right below this one)

 

most – but not all – of the Wolfpack harriers running that morning. I was wearing my RR ambassador tank since I had worn my Wolfpack orange the day before (PC: Melissa)

 

ambassador friends (plus Janet!), otherwise known as Brian and his harem (thanks, Amazon, for the free pics all weekend)

Before too long, we were off, and I comfortably settled into a pace that I thought felt manageable for 13.1. I didn’t clock-watch and instead relied on how I felt to dictate my effort. I recalled reading on the race site that the course would be different from RNRSJ and that it didn’t run on the GRT bikepath at all, and when I looked at the map beforehand, it looked like it’d be an interesting mix of a bunch of different areas of the city, some familiar to me and some not. We first began by looping around SJSU before eventually making out way over to Coleman and the Rose Garden area of the GRT. I felt comfortable and in control, and I was making a conscious effort to try to bring my pace down from 7:40s closer to 8s or even 8:30s. I didn’t feel tired or anything like that, but I also knew that I hadn’t run 13.1 continuous miles in months and that I was carrying significant volume on my legs from the week’s training. More than anything, I wanted to be careful. I felt well, I felt like I was actually running almost uncomfortably slowly, but c’mon: in longer endurance events like HMs, most people feel that way in the front half. I didn’t want to push early on only to absolutely tank later. My training and endurance just aren’t there yet.

I don’t remember where this was, but I think it might have been early, somewhere in the front half. that guy behind me is wearing the participant LS shirt (it’s really nice!).

Usually we read online posts urging you to never try anything new on race day, and most of the time, I’d absolutely heed that advice because otherwise, I’m sure I’d be the runner completely beset with crazy blisters or diarrhea down my backside due to poor-fitting shoes or not-so-GI-friendly gels. When I was at the Meb run earlier in the week, I tried Generation UCan for the first time (post-run), decided it tasted pretty good, and that I’d take it on course when the volunteers gave it out. Similarly, when I was preparing for the race, I couldn’t find my trusty AccelGels, only some Science in Sport (SiS) samples, and instead of freaking out about it, I figured what the hell. (It’s so unlike me to be so cavalier about race-day nutrition, but I think I figured eh, what have I got to lose). The AS were about every two miles for the first 8-9 miles and then just about every mile thereafter, and fortunately — and somewhat miraculously — neither the SiS nor the Gen UCan destroyed my GI system, and even better, they both went down smoothly. My stomach was still pretty uncomfortable and hurt through the first 5 miles — like 5/10 uncomfortable — but praise the universe that the discomfort passed, and the new fuel choices didn’t seem to exacerbate anything. Again: super lucky.

After we exited the Rose Garden area of the GRT, we began to return to downtown and looped around Cesar Chavez Plaza, right outside the Fairmount Hotel and the Tech Museum, before returning in the direction of the Alameda. This out-and-back, around mile 5 or so, was one of the first sections where we incoming runners could see those outgoing, which is always fun. By about halfway, I was still feeling well, running along comfortably, and just enjoying the experience of the inaugural race. Plus, my stomach felt better. I had no complaints in the world.

hi, Janet! She was coming off CC plaza, already past the Tech, while I was heading towards it

Once we hit up the Alameda — a familiar place if you’ve run other SJ races, like the 408k or RNR SJ, to name a few — I began to anticipate seeing my teammates on the sidelines. Sure enough, before too long, I began to see many of my teammates on each block lining the Alameda, a nice pick-me-up for sure. I recalled reading from When that we all tend to begin to slog a little in the middle of our endeavors — everyone does it, regardless of whatever activity or pursuit you’re undertaking, because the middle just doesn’t have the same type of momentum or urgency that, say, the beginning or the end has — so having my teammates present, even if only for a minute, helped keep the middle mile blues at bay.

passing by the SAP, where the 10k runners were finishing, and looking longingly at the line. it appears as though gravity is slowly knocking me over.

I knew after the Alameda we wouldn’t have too much longer before we’d begin our “back” portion of the race, once we looped around Lincoln HS, but for the life of me, I couldn’t remember how far we’d have left on the Alameda after running around LHS. As we looped around LHS, we had another opportunity to see the outbound leaders (and eventually, other inbound runners), and it was a lot of fun to cheer for so many friends and teammates running mid-race around their mile 10/11. It seemed like we were running through part of the super-pretty Rose Garden neighborhood of SJ, just as we do in the 408k, and before long, we had looped around the HS and began to inch our way towards the Alameda. It was somewhere in this stretch that I passed a guy running in a full-on suit (which I couldn’t help but think had to be terribly uncomfortable), and I fistbumped a bit for my friends running Boston the next morning when we turned onto Boston Ave. I was still feeling pretty well, tired for sure and beginning to warm up slightly, but by mile 10 of a half, I really couldn’t complain.

hello, friends Melissa and Jenn, starting their final 5kish stretch

Around mile 10, I recalled Lisa’s suggestion that if I felt well, and if I wanted to, I could try to pick things up that deep into the race, so I tried to begin picking people off as much as I could. I didn’t feel like I had a ton left in my reserves at that point, but I figured what the hell… if I run faster, I’ll finish faster. No doubt was I buoyed by the onslaught of cheers from the inbound runners (which I enthusiastically reciprocated), and I hoped that between those cheers, the pretty comfortable pace I had run earlier in the race, and seeing my teammates again along the Alameda for the final 2/2 and change that I could finish the race strong.

Historically, HMs have been a bit of an Achilles’ heel for me. I tend to not run them very well — usually either blowing up mid-race because I’ve paced it poorly or because I’m in the thick of marathon training and am exhausted AF and/or because my GI becomes a royal shit show and just implodes (explodes) for some reason. At the SV half, fortunately neither disaster transpired. Sure, I was getting tired toward the end because I hadn’t run 13.1 continuous miles since sometime in January (and thus, fresh off CIM fitness), but I wasn’t tanking so heartily as I often do in other HMs, nor was my GI system giving me the finger.

I usually do not look this happy in HMs

For being 10 weeks post-stroke and relying on 5 ½ weeks’ worth of training, I couldn’t be happier when I strolled into the finish chute at 1:43 and change for 13.2x (my watch had measured the course long almost from the get-go; it’s USATF certified, though, so I’m guessing it was just me). I was happy to be finished, but more than that, I was happy to be well enough and in a sufficient amount of fitness to be able to both start and finish the damn thing. That it and of itself was enough for me.

one left turn away from the finish line in front of SAP

 

and that’s a wrap. my shorts look forever long here for some reason.

Shortly after finishing, I collected an inordinate amount of hardware from the race — the huge finish medal, a 2.0 challenge medal for having run the 5k the day before and the HM that day, and another for running the 408 and the SV races. I’m not particularly into medals — truth be told, I donate most all of them — but I was genuinely impressed by the size and weight of these things, in addition to the little silicon chip-like detail (heyoo, Silicon Valley).

an example of one medal from the day’s festivities. huge and pretty impressive, right? (PC: @representrunning)

Soon after finishing, I found Janet, who had run a great race in her MTB marathon prep, and after we chatted with Dennis (whom I had seen the day before at the 5k as well) and performed some obligatory silly jump-shot pics, Janet and I went back re-ran the final mile of the course in reverse to cheer for more runners (allowing us to see Sonia and Christina in the process), talk to our teammates, and run a couple cool-down miles. By the end of the day, together we each had posted 17 miles between the race and WU/CD miles, which in turn put me at over 50 miles for the week: both new volume milestones for me post-stroke.

…and I felt great.

obligatory

Neither Janet nor I were interested in the free adult beverages that our bibs entitled us to, so we gifted our vouchers to someone who looked particularly thirsty, and we left. (In doing so, I missed all the post-race celebratory stuff from the ambassadors, but alas. It was nice to see them all before the previous day’s 5k race).

We lucked out with beautiful, running-friendly weather on race day, and with that, a fun (and very flat and very PR friendly) course, and great race day-organization and attention to detail, I think it’s safe to say that the inaugural SV Half went over without a hitch. Of course, by virtue of being a SMA for Represent Running races, the company comps my entries to these events, but hopefully by now you’d trust that I’m transparent in my evaluation and criticism of races that I run. I’ve raced a lot in the past decade-plus that I’ve been doing this stuff, and honestly, I would have had no idea that this was the inaugural year for this race. That, itself, is telling of how smoothly and successfully RR executed the race, IMHO. Being able to tell a race is new is, in general, not a good thing.

I hope that the SV Half becomes a mainstay in the SJ running scene, and if it does, I have no doubt that it’ll just continue to grow and improve. Having an early spring half on the calendar is advantageous because it’s a distance that’s accessible to a lot of people, and it’s one that can compel people to train through what is typically sometimes challenging “winter” conditions in SJ (though we bypassed a lot of that this year). Plus, realistically, even if you don’t want to commit to the HM distance, you could run the 10k or 5k; there really is something for everyone. Finally, as I mentioned before, the hardware was impressive (a big draw for a lot of people); the 5k participant shirt is a tech tee that I would actually keep and wear on training runs; and HM participants received a weekender-style duffle bag, which was a nice departure from the standard swag, as well as a genuinely good-looking quarter-zip tech long-sleeve tee that’s free of sponsor logos anywhere, one that I wore for days after the race. Plus: free race pictures! All good things, all good things.

You don’t have to run fast and PR or even train particularly arduously in order to have a positive race experience; this isn’t news, but sometimes I think it’s worth reminding myself. I went into the SV Half with zero expectations and nothing much in the way of goals, save for finishing the thing, and I couldn’t have been happier or enjoyed my morning (and really, the entire race weekend) more. I’m excited to see this race grow in the coming years and to cementing my “legacy” status.

If you find yourself in Silicon Valley next spring, I hope you’ll join me at the SV Half weekend. You’ll have a good time.

2017 USATF PA Clarksburg Country Run half marathon race report – Clarksburg, CA

2017 USATF PA Clarksburg Country Run half marathon race report – Clarksburg, CA

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One of the remaining road races on the 2017 PA USATF circuit was the Clarksburg Country Run Half Marathon, a good two+ hour drive from San Jose, and not coincidentally, its timing aligned pretty perfectly with CIM training (three weeks out). My plan was to run the half and use it as some sort of assessment tool in advance of CIM, but life — as it often does — had other plans.

I’ll save the details for another time, but coming into Clarksburg, I felt like I had a lot on my plate and was carrying a lot of bodily stress, for lack of a better term. I’m not injured, nor am I dying, but I had some less-than-desirable results come back from my annual physical that subsequently have created an onslaught of additional follow-up tests. It’s probably nothing, but I’m letting the medical professionals make that diagnosis, not me. It’s scary and a little unnerving, but I’m trying to not get too far ahead of myself.

More than anything, I’ve felt pretty knackered during this marathon training cycle, so my goals and expectations for Clarksburg were minimal. My Clarksburg goal was to get in a solid, supported long run and just to do the best I could on the day. Oh, and historically speaking, half marathons in the thick of marathon training are torturous for me. More often than not, my GI goes to shit (literally); I’m sufficiently whipped from training that I can’t do much better than GMP, if I’m lucky; or some other stupid variable pops up that throws things awry. Since moving to California nearly four years ago, I can think of two half marathons that I’ve run where more things went well than wrong. Half marathons are like a wicked Achilles for me.

Come race morning, I carpooled up north with Lisa (who wasn’t running, as she had just totally rocked NYC the week before) and three of my other teammates, Oscar, Jeff, and Greg. I’d be the only female Wolfpack harrier racing that day, and those guys, plus Tony, Ray, and Mark, would comprise a full male team for us. I overslept my alarm but had luckily woken up with just enough time to get ready — I had just hosted a sleepover for 10 of my first-grade Daisies the night before, so it’s no surprise I slept so deeply Saturday night — and once we got to Clarksburg, it was like we were in a different era: think super small town USA. In one block, I think we passed the town’s elementary school, post office, library, middle school, and high school. 

The race featured other distances as well — a 20 miler (which many people training for CIM, who weren’t racing the half, often do), a kids’ run, and a 5k and 10k. It was a “California crisp” morning — maybe about 40 degrees when we got there to warm-up — and the temps were what you dream of during the hot summer months: a little cool just to be milling around outside but just perfect for running and racing. My teammates and I easily got our bibs, and before too long, Lisa and I set out for a 2 mile warm-up, where we talked strategy, goals, the course, and the like. Running into Jess and Chris — both doing 20 — was a nice bonus.

shamelessly stolen from Chris’ IG. friend, you’ve got something on your face!

As the “Country Run” part of its name suggests, Clarksburg really is a run through the flat countrysides; that’s an accurate race title if there ever were one. There’s not much on either side of the roads you run, save for a winery, a farm, or an open field. The half’s topography was fairly pancake flat, and the course itself was pretty straightforward with just a couple OABs. Each distance started at different times, too, which was a smart way to alleviate potential congestion. As I was finishing my cool-down, I ran into Robin, who was there with a slew of her Impala teammates, all doing the half that morning in prep for CIM. It was wonderful to see her (always is) and to talk about what we wanted to do that day, how we were feeling about our CIM training, and to otherwise talk shop for a bit. Before too long, we were off.

My initial plan was to conservatively begin around 7:15s/7:20s for the first 4 or so miles and then begin to cut down and get closer to HM pace, somewhere in the low 7s or 6:50s. I felt pretty well the first three or four miles and was hitting the prescribed paces fairly well — and chatting with the other Impalas and other runners around me — but as early as mile five, I could tell that things were going to head south; I just knew. Feeling pretty poorly that early in a half marathon kinda (really) sucks, so instead of wallowing, I switched my watchface to show the time of day and decided to run purely on feel for the remainder of the race. Truth be told, when I’m training — and often even during races — I rarely look at my watch (and infrequently see my splits), but I had convinced myself that symbolically (and literally) switching my focus would help me stay out of my head for the next eight miles. I could choose to be pissy and wallow in I can’t hold 7:teens, much less drop down to 7-flats or 6:50s for the next 8 miles, or I could flip my perspective and focus on running as evenly and smoothly as possible, despite feeling pretty sub-par. The rest of the race became less a pity party and more of a game.

LOL at thinking I had managed to sidestep my way out of the team pic mid-run. This was around 3 or 4, IIRC. (PC: Impala Racing IG)

 

somewhere in the first 5 miles, I think. (PC: Lisa)

 

Clarksburg treated us to a beautiful, autumn morning, and the few times I saw my teammates on the OABs, I felt totally inspired by their energy and effort. Somewhere on course, as we changed directions, it felt like we began running into wind tunnel — no doubt exacerbated by my already not feeling great — and I tried to hang near other (taller) runners, again more for the mental game than anything else. By about mile 8 or so, Robin caught up to me, and we had a good time bemoaning the state of our races going less than desirably and running’s general mercurial nature. Together we cheered for our teammates as we approached them on the OABs, and I tried to hang with her as long as possible. By about mile 9, though, my good ol’ stomach was sending me an SOS, so I began to hang back in search of a safe place to drop trou. Like I said, HMs seem to wreak havoc on my GI — and no doubt, being at a sleepover the night/day before and eating stuff outside my usual food repertoire, and being off my colitis medicine for a week-plus because of the aforementioned health issues all didn’t help my case much — but luckily, I was able to quickly get in and out of a porta-potty around mile 10 or 11 and only lose about 70 seconds in the process. I am nothing if not efficient.

somewhere before mile 8; that’s Robin right behind me. (PC: Lisa)

 

smiling and trying to enjoy the ride. even when it doesn’t feel great, we can always smile because we get — not have — to do this stuff. (PC: Lisa)

It’s pretty disappointing to be so close to the finish line (relatively speaking) and have to stop, but when it comes down to either shitting myself or losing time (in a race where nothing is on the line but my pride), I, uh, yeah. I’m gonna spare myself that indignity if I can help it. The good news is that while I still felt pretty knackered, I felt a lot better (understandably!), so I tried to finish the last two miles as strongly as I could and tried to pick people off until the very end. I hadn’t been clock-watching at all the whole race, but I figured that I’d be pretty close to a 1:40 and wanted to try to sneak in under that. Mission accomplished: 1:39:11.

It’s hard not to be disappointed when shit happens (literally, figuratively, whatevs) in races, but it’s part of the game. Every day isn’t going to yield a PR, life-changing performance, and expecting otherwise will set you up to be enormously saddened (or angered) more often than not. I ran a slow-for-me half marathon, but FFS, I still just ran a half marathon for the fun of it, not because anyone was forcing me to, or because it was going to pay my mortgage, or anything like that. I did it because I could, because I wanted to help my team, and because it’s fun, even when it’s not. I’m grateful to be able to do this stuff at all, and I don’t lose sight of that. Sometimes running/racing is great. Other times, it sucks. It’s part of the process. 

with Lisa, captain awesome. fitting that I’m standing near my friends, the outdoor toilets.

By the time everything was said and done, it was a 17-mile day (2 warm-up, 2 cool-down) and a fun morning with my teammates. It was awesome to have Lisa out biking and cheering for us and to celebrate my teammates’ performances, including Greg, who had run his first half ever. The race gave a big post-race spread (none of which appealed to me, unfortunately; it takes me a while to warm-up to food after racing or hard efforts), and soon enough, we were on the road again back to the Bay Area.

the harriers at Clarksburg. L-R that’s Greg, Oscar, Lisa, Tony, and Ray (PC: Wolfpack Running Club IG)

If you’re in the market for a flat and fast half, Clarksburg is an excellent option. The aid stations are about every two miles and are well-supported, and if you’re in the throes of CIM training, the timing of the race really couldn’t be better. Alternatively, if you want longer (20) or shorter distances (5k, 10k, kids’ race), the race can help you out there, too. It doesn’t offer much in the way of crowds or scenery — you’re running through a pretty rural area — but if you enjoy quiet, distraction-free running, it’d be an excellent match. My race wasn’t what I wanted it to be, but I still had a good experience and would recommend it.

And with that, we inch ever-closer to CIM.