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Santa Rosa Marathon 2014 race recap: pacing the 3:35 marathon group

Santa Rosa Marathon 2014 race recap: pacing the 3:35 marathon group

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The passage of time has a funny, although probably a bit expected, way of changing our perspectives and perceptions about just about everything. That’s something of a ridiculous topic statement (I should know better) and a verifiably shitty way to begin a race recap of my twenty-fifth marathon, the 2014 Santa Rosa Marathon in Santa Rosa, CA, but as I’ve been thinking about my experience at SRM, that’s kinda what I keep coming back to–this notion of changing perspectives, a change that, for me, has only come with the passage of time, and one that I wouldn’t have necessarily expected to experience in the context of marathoning, at least this early in my marathoning “tenure.”

I’ve belabored this point by now, but as you know, when my family and I moved from Chicago to the Bay Area back in December (12/21, if anyone is counting), it was a big deal for a ton of reasons obvious and not-so-much, and in the two months that C and I were geographically separated, I spent many of my pre-move nights researching and subsequently registering for races and run clubs out in these parts (read: coping mechanism). I didn’t know when the move would eventually transpire, but dammit if I didn’t have a rip-roarin’ race calendar and run community at the ready.

Sometime late last year, probably in the November-December range, Austin, a friend whom I had met from RYBQ over the weekend of the failed ’12 NYCM (thanks, Superstorm Sandy) had told me about the Santa Rosa Marathon and all the things that made the race stand out–wine country, running by vineyard after vineyard, literally running through a barrel room, getting a bottle of wine as a race amenity, (are you sensing a theme here), a super fast and flat course–and once a hasty search revealed that SR would be just a couple hours north of our future home in the south bay, I told Austin I was in for yet another rundezvous, west coast style, with him (our fourth? fifth? I’m beginning to lose count). He pointed out to me how cool the weekend would be because aside from the typical goodness that comes with marathon weekend, SRM would also mark his tenth marathon and my twenty-fifth, nice round numbers that are good for celebratory/achievement milestones. Again: more good stuff, more good reasons to sign up for another marathon, even though this one would be just four weeks after The San Francisco Marathon in late July, and what would amount to being my fourth 26.2 of 2014 since late March.  No matter. Take my money, I was in.

I like maps.
I like maps. SR is at 11 o’clock; SJ is about at 6.

2014 has been an excellent and quite full year of training and racing, and I’ve done a decent enough (though not perfect) job of staying healthy and not burning out or getting bored. The shatter-the-fuck-outta-that-3:20 plan has been alive and kickin’, and post-Newport, where I managed to idiotically dehydrate myself and damn near fall over TWICE during the marathon from cramping, my plan had been to treat TSFM, a decidedly tough race (hello, 1k+ feet of climbing) as a strong training run and really try to go for the gold again at SRM in late August.

But then… life happened, and in the universe always makes sense department, yet again, the universe came a-knockin’, and I am damn happy that I was there and sufficiently attentive to answer. Linh, the fella responsible for coordinating the tons and tons of pacer groups for so many races in and throughout the Bay Area where RA [RunningAddicts] assists, put out a call to see if anyone was available/interested/willing/healthy to pace a 3:35 marathon group at SRM. Pacing a 3:35 group, a group that no doubt would be full of tons and tons of 18-34 year-old women who’d specifically be running SRM in the hopes of qualifying for Boston, instantly intrigued me, and regardless of what this would mean for my own racing this summer–suddenly, not that long after Newport in late May, I’d be convincing myself that I was trained and sufficiently strong to race the difficult TSFM in late July, even though the course obviously wasn’t favorable to PRs or fast performances–I told Linh I was in and ready and willing to pace SRM, in what would be my first full marathon pacing gig… and one that came mere months after my “debut” pacing gigs at two different halfs in April and May.

Enter the whoa.

Fortunately, Ko, another RA fella, and a super fast one at that (hello, sub-3), who had coincidentally been one of the 3:20 pacers I had run with for most of the Oakland Marathon, also said that he’d be in for the 3:35 party, and awesome. We were a team.

team 3:35, c/o http://www.thesantarosamarathon.com/#!full-pacers-info/cmtn
team 3:35, c/o http://www.thesantarosamarathon.com/#!full-pacers-info/cmtn

I’m already over 700 words into this recap and have said nothing of the race, but I’ve gotta take (another) detour here for a second to give you an idea of the enormity and excitement and OMG IS THIS FOR REAL going through my mind in the time between committing to pacing SRM and actually pacing SRM. Everything that I said earlier, about the passage of time and how it changes our perspectives and perceptions about stuff? This is where that comes into play.

Running performances can be and often are this sorta individual thing, and clearly, everything is relative–my fast can be your slow, that sort of thing–but I think it’s helpful to compare performances and training against ourselves, against where we were X number of days, weeks, months, years ago to where we are now to figure out what has changed and hopefully, how we’ve gotten stronger, faster, healthier, and that sort of thing over time. I’m not going to self-aggrandize here–because clearly, there are many, many runners hella faster and stronger than me–but hear me out for a second. If you would have told me in 2012, just two years ago, that I’d be pacing 3:35–pacing, implying that 3:35 would be nice and comfortable and a race time I could clock without issue–I would have called your bluff. From 2008 until 2012, my PR squarely sat at 3:37 from Austin ’08 (another hilly course), until I chipped it down to 3:34 (April ’12, nearly one year exactly postpartum), then down to :31 (Houston ’13), and a high and then low :20 (Eugene, Chicago ’13), with several other subsequent races in the low :20s on tough courses since Chicago. So–yea. Big changes in a relatively short amount of time in my abbreviated running career, with the most substantial changes in the past 18 months or so.

As you can imagine and hopefully glean from my ever-rambling ruminations about this race already, actually pacing a marathon for fun a) kinda blew my mind because I never imagined being a runner strong enough/healthy enough/crazy enough (eh, debatable) to say “sure! I’ll run 26.2 for fun and to help others!”, and b) and at a time/pace that would have been totally unattainable for me just two years ago … yeah. Suffice it to say that I had several moments in the weeks and days preceding SRM where, no kidding, I’d look at the pacer bio page and yup, my name and picture was still there, so I guess this really was happening. Whoa, nelly.

Time,  you are a funny, funny thing.

Saturday: expo, dinner, typical race eve stuff

After fetching Austin at SFO and continuing our trek northward, with a stop at a reasonably good Denny’s and a beautiful Safeway (love me some grocery stores), we got into Santa Rosa and went straight to the DeLoach Winery, the site of the outdoor expo, and site of the barrel room that we’d also be running through around mile 10 of the marathon. The expo was unlike any other that I’ve attended (outdoors! winery! wine tastings!), and we got our things quickly and easily (shout-out here to Beth, the pacer coordinator who had already fetched all the pacers’ stuff. She made the pacers’ lives fantastic over race weekend).

It was super sunny and pretty warm at mid-day, but Austin and I  wanted to do a little shake-out after sitting on our bums for so long in the car, so that’s what we did… by running back and forth, back and forth, down a side street off the main country-ish road where DeLoach was situated, for a good 2 .5-ish miles before heading back to the expo to volunteer, all stinky and sweaty, at the pacer tent with Ko and company for a few hours. Austin, who was going after big goals at SRM, was a champ and hung out with the pacer gang for a few hours and also found several other runners who shared similar goals for the day. Really, it was actually a rather enjoyable way to pass a few hours until dinner time, and it made me even more stoked to be pacing the next day. Race weekend just brings with it this damn near palpable energy, and I’d say the same is true, if not more so, when you’re sitting at a pacer booth and folks just want to talk all running, all the time. swoon

clearly, excited.
clearly, excited.
can you find Austin? this was our view around mile 10/10.5 of the race.
Austin picking up his wine. 🙂 this was our view around mile 10/10.5 of the race.
volunteering at the expo and chopping off unnecessary white space on our 3:35 sign. (source: Linh/RA)
volunteering at the expo with Beth, pacer coordinator extraordinaire [seated next to me], and Dennis, while chopping off unnecessary white space on our 3:35 sign. (source: Linh/RA)
yup, running sucks, but only sometimes. (source: Linh)
yup, running sucks, but only sometimes. (source: Linh)

Eventually, Austin and I met Ko over at the hotel we three would be sharing for the night (Sandman–good value, pool, one-night minimum… recommended) to check-in and then head over to a friend of Ko’s, Heather’s, friend’s parents’ (whew) timeshare for dinner. It was awesome and just lovely: probably close to 10 runners and their significant others, small kids running around, and so.much.food. A few hours later, we returned to the hotel and were off to bed in the hopes of getting at least a little shut-eye before the race’s 6 a.m. start on Sunday.

like a marathon-eve Thanksgiving
like a marathon-eve Thanksgiving

IMG_20140823_194041

Sunday: race day, and oh yea, the biggest earthquake the Bay Area has seen since 1989

A 6am race start meant a 3am wakeup, and shortly after I awoke, as I was standing in front of our bathroom sink, trying to not be as loud as a herd of elephants–apparently, my natural tendency, according to my husband–I noticed that even though I was staring squarely at the sink, it seemed like it was moving to the left… then the right… then the left again. This obviously puzzled me, and as I tried to make sense of it, I came to the following conclusions: a) I was really, really dizzy, which would be peculiar but… okay, whatever, it’s 3 a.m.; b) I was unfathomably tired and kinda hallucinating, which would, again, be peculiar, but… whatever; or c) I was drunk as a skunk, even though I hadn’t consumed any alcohol for the preceding weeks/months, and this really couldn’t be an option, but… what the hell??! Why was the sink moving??

Earthquake, silly. You’re not in the midwest anymore.

Suffice it to say that it was really, really weird and kinda unsettling to be in a building and to feel it swaying back and forth, over and over, when you know that buildings generally aren’t supposed to move. At any rate, the 6.0 magnitude earthquake was a helluva way to begin marathon morning and, fortunately, SR didn’t have the extent of damage that Napa had, so the marathon was still on.

Post-quake, and post-typical song and dance routine of marathon morning (aka how many times can you make yourself go to the bathroom??), Ko, Austin, and I drove over to the marathon’s staging area, and things moved quickly, as they often do on marathon morning. I briefly got to see Anil and Chris, both who’d go on to rock some solid marathon performances, before splitting from Austin and heading over to the corrals, where I got to answer a deluge of questions from VERY EXCITED and VERY NERVOUS runners. Protip: don’t ask someone else what your pacing strategy should be literally minutes, nay seconds (!), before the race begins.

ready for world domination
ready for world domination

the actual race

This is a good segue to direct you to my review of the race on BibRave, in the event that you’re interested in a more executive-level overview of it. However, unlike my other marathon RRs, I won’t go into the mile-by-mile recap of the race because it wasn’t a super strategic race for me, simply because I was pacing and needed to run as evenly as possible. To hit a 3:35:00, Ko and I needed to average 8:12s, so that’s what we were aiming for. As anyone who has run a road race can attest, oftentimes our GPS devices don’t align perfectly with the official, on-course markers, so we accounted for that and tried to average slightly under 8:12s (and planned for ~26.3/.4 miles, given that hardly anyone can run tangents as perfectly as they’re measured). The aforementioned was essentially the extent of any race strategy we had. Between the two of us, we were wearing at least three different watches, so we were prepared for a technological meltdown if one were to occur.

When I think about the course, I mentally categorize it into four parts:

-downtown (miles 1-3ish)

-the Santa Rosa Creek Trail, which is kinda like a bike trail and reminds me a bit of the GRT here in SJ or like the most eastern side of the LFT in Chicago [like the path between North Ave and Belmont] (miles 4-8.5ish)

-ruralish country roads (miles 9ish-20)

-the Santa Rosa Creek Trail again, the same path as before (miles 20-25.5) + a quick trip back to downtown (miles 25.5-26.2)

SRM 2014 course

The first three miles had what seemed like a thousand turns, so we were initially off pace just a little bit between all the turning and the usual crowding that’s pretty typical at the beginning of a 26.2. The race is capped around 1,000+ runners, and fortunately, folks doing 13.1 or the 5k didn’t start until significantly later than the full runners. All that aside, the first few miles through downtown, while super cute and quaint (local and quirky storefronts, cobblestone streets, white Christmas lights in the downtown area’s trees), things felt a bit tight and a bit messy. From the get-go, we had a small town’s worth of runners in our group–which totally rocked–but it made for some unexpected challenges as we were getting into a rhythm early on and trying to do whatever it took to ensure that nobody was running a step farther than the prescribed 26.2 miles. In the interest of trying to make myself useful, I called out the turns in advance, whenever I could see them from afar, so folks could make their way over to the appropriate side and run the tangent as tightly as possible. We obviously can’t run anyone else’s miles, but the least we can do is try to help others run no more than they need to, ya know?

Once we got onto the trail, it took us a few more miles until things seemed to begin to space out nicely. The trail itself is nice–basically like running on pavement but with the aesthetic benefit of seeing some beautiful trees, some nice houses, and some vineyards or farmland periodically–but spatially, it was a tad narrow (again, think of the width of the GRT or the LFT). Fortunately, at least initially, there were very few other runners or cyclists running against the horde of marathoner traffic. We soon got in our groove, our runners seemed happy and relaxed, and again, we had a small town’s worth of runners behind or near us. It was awesome.

Our group quickly discovered that we’d all have to be rather strategic when it came time to navigate the fluid stations simply because there weren’t a ton of volunteers working at them and because the actual stations were pretty short (maybe 1 or 2 tables). Several times throughout the race, I grabbed whatever I could (literally) get my hands on, water or gatorade, and after I drank, I offered the rest to anyone  in my group who wanted more or who didn’t get any in the first place, and other runners in our group started to do the same… germs be damned. It was really kinda cool, almost like a little unofficial team thing we had going, like we were all looking out for each other. The fluid stations’ difficulty would be a recurring thing for the rest of the race, and so I again tried to make myself useful to my group by warning them ahead of time when a station was approaching so folks could figure out what they were going to do–stay at their current pace, drop back, pick it up for a few strides to get ahead of the group, whatever.

There were just a handful of little hiccup undulations–ups and downs, mostly just going under bridges–on the trail, and we had comfortably locked down our pace early on with anywhere from 35-50 seconds to spare. It was relieving to get off the path and onto the country roads, where we were no longer canopied by any trees or restricted to a skinny stretch of pavement, and luckily, the weather was cooperating and stayed comfortable, if barely a bit humid. Northern California in August can be scorching, but it seemed like the weather gods were throwing us one that morning. Our group was still thick, but things were going well, and the miles just clicked along. Running through the barrel room at DeLoach around mile 10 or 10.5, the same place as the expo the day before, was fun, and aside from some more little hiccup hills between miles 11-13 (and a snake on the road–first time I’ve had that in a marathon), things were moving right along fairly uneventfully.

barrelling through DeLoach. (see what I did there...)
barrelling through DeLoach. (see what I did there…)

I finally got a chance to talk with Miriam, one of my Ragnar SoCal teammates from earlier this year (and also a fellow TSFM ’14 and ZOOMA Napa ’14 ambassador pal) who was running with us for an attempt to BQ and PR, and she, just like many others in our group, looked really fresh at the halfway mark. At that point, I was still feeling fine, and luckily, the random ITB tightness that had manifested just 9 days earlier wasn’t resurfacing.

However, around miles 12/13, I was beginning to feel a tad tired–no doubt related to taking off a few days more than I usually would, in an attempt to go into SRM as fresh as possible and with minimal ITB tightness–so I figured I’d have to be hypervigilant about nailing my nutrition for the second half of the race. Until that point in the course, my nutrition for the most part had been fine, but the cluster that was the fluid stations had made it more challenging than usual to ensure that I was taking in adequate amounts of electrolytes and water. After a few miles of thinking about things some more, I decided that having a mid-marathon shit stop would probably make me feel better and help me shake some fatigue–couldn’t tell ya the logic on that one, sorry–and strangely enough, it seemed to help. There ya go; when in doubt, poop. I guess.

The rest of the race was pretty quiet. Some fluid stops had oranges and bananas, so I took those whenever I could, and eventually, we got back onto the bike trail around mile 20. Our group had thinned out some and had predictably become pretty quiet, so we encouraged them and urged them to focus on the mile they’re in, to relax, that type of thing, stuff that I often tell myself when I am beginning to encounter fatigue/boredom late in a race. The narrow path became even more narrow the closer we got to the finish simply because we began to pick off large groups of half marathoners (in the 2:30+ range, I think), something I wasn’t anticipating. Fortunately, folks yielded to the faster-moving marathoners, and I didn’t get the impression that anyone in our group felt like they had gotten trapped behind a slower-moving half marathoner.

With less than 10k to go, our group was still on pace and about 30-50 seconds faster than we needed to be, and things were moving along quite nicely. We encountered the same little hiccup hills on the trail that we did going out–though of course, they seemed much more dramatic–and I quickly realized when I went to take my last gel somewhere around miles 22/24 that, fuck, I had dropped it somewhere much earlier in the course. I was beginning to feel tired and dropped a few paces back from Ko but still kept him well within eyesight (and therefore, maintaining the 3:35:00 pace). I cursed myself for not noticing earlier in the course that I had dropped it and hoped that it wouldn’t promise an imminent smacking into the wall.

chasing Ko
chasing Ko in the final stretch. that hat (in my hand) was making my noggin feel like it was a cajillion degrees. (source: Siming/RA)

Getting off the bikepath and circling back to downtown and the start/finish line was glorious. It was becoming more clear to me that I had botched my nutrition a bit on the course, between the kinda chaotic fluid stations and missing my last gel, because suddenly, my head was beginning to feel super heavy, like I was carrying the weight of the world in my ponytail, much like the feeling I had in the final stretch of Houston ’13. I yelled to Ko so he’d hear how close I was to him, and sure enough, before I knew it, we finished together, side by side, and under pace: 3:34:38.

aaaaaaand that's a wrap.
aaaaaaand that’s a wrap.

Immediately after we finished, I wanted to drink every ounce of water I could find and pretty much stood in front of a finish line fluid station for a good five minutes, asking for refill after refill, because I was so.effin.thirsty. Water has never tasted so delicious. Shortly after getting out of the finish chute, I found Austin and Anil, who both rocked some certifiably badass PRs, as well as Chris, who also rocked a really solid race. We bonded over our on-course experiences, and just like at TSFM, when I was so stinkin’ happy for so many of my lady friends, apparently SRM was all about the boys because my heart was just sing-songy for my bevy of boys and their fantastic race day performances.

Team 3:35 FTW! (don't ask about the Portland Marathon space blankets; no one really knows...)
Team 3:35 FTW! (don’t ask about the Portland Marathon space blankets; no one really knows…)
With Anil (top left); Chris (top right); and Austin (bottom). SO HAPPY!
With Anil (top left); Chris (top right); and Austin (bottom). SO HAPPY!

As if my heart wasn’t so full already for my friends’ performances, several runners approached me after the race, as I was clumsily trying to put on flip-flops and begin to make myself look (and smell) human again, to thank me for helping them achieve their race day goals. I can remember at least four or five individuals, men and women, young and Masters, tell me that they paced off Ko and me for all or much of the race and attributed their PR, BQ, or strong race performance to us and our pacing. One woman in particular was on the verge of tears when she told me that she had both PRed and BQed with us–which naturally, put me on the verge of tears–and seriously? heart explosion. Serious, serious, serious case of run love.

Eventually, Austin, Ko, and I headed back to the hotel before going home to the south bay, where Austin would stay with my family and me for the night before returning to Portland, and just like that, another marathon was over, another rundezvous with Austin had concluded, and somehow, together with Ko, I had paced a group of runners to a 3:35 marathon finish, a time that took me years and years to be able to realize and one that was about as fast as I ever thought I’d be able to run.

Like I said in my shitty intro, it’s kinda funny how time has a way of changing our perspective about things. I never thought I’d be a sufficiently strong runner to be able to run, let alone pace, a 3:35 marathon, and really, the thought never occurred to me much before moving here. I so very much enjoyed the experience of pacing SRM, a course that is something like the 5th or the 6th in the nation in terms of the number of BQs it produces, and seriously, it was an honor. That sounds kinda cheap, but I mean it sincerely. It’s a huge fuckin’ honor to help other runners achieve whatever unicorn they’re pursuing, be it a BQ, a PR, finishing vertically not horizontally… whatever. We all have our own unicorns; what bonds us is our relentless pursuit of them.

I think I’m coming to learn through my recent pacing experiences that not every race has to be about me and that sometimes, the best ones, the ones that are the most gratifying, satisfying, or the ones that are simply good for the soul and that remind me why I got into marathoning (or running) in the first place are the races where it’s not about my finish time but about someone else’s and about the steps we take, collectively, metaphorically, and literally, together with those other runners that are the most meaningful. So many people have helped me get to where I am currently, and where I am going, in my running, so to be able to pay it back, and to the backdrop of my 25th marathon… yeah. That penultimate Sunday  in August was a good morning.

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Thanks for all your support, and many congratulations to this year’s Santa Rosa Marathon finishers!

and one more thing…  I (obvs) really enjoy giving back through my running, and my next opportunity will be when I run the Nike Women’s San Francisco Half Marathon as a fundraising participant for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. It’s not too late to donate to my campaign (already 75% of the way there!), and I’d be honored to have your support.

bracing for impact. the San Francisco Marathon 2014 (#tsfm2014) race report

bracing for impact. the San Francisco Marathon 2014 (#tsfm2014) race report

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Comfy chair, a long commute, or a few drinks and some snacks for this one, amigos…

Typically, in the weeks leading into the Big Event that is Marathon weekend for me—especially if it’s a target race—I get super jazzed, with maybe just a little bit of healthy pre-race stress thrown in for good measure—because I want to see what my body will give me for a few uninterrupted hours of running. I’ll often have an idea of what’s attainable that day, barring catastrophe, and especially if the marathon is a race that I’ve been targeting in my training, I’ll enter into race weekend with many weeks’ and months’ worth of visualizations and hippy-dippy runner-shit that makes me even more ridiculous to be around than usual.

And yet, despite my rational “______ is probably the attainable, reasonable performance for the weekend” metric, I’m an avid, super-enthusiastic  proponent of burning our boats and setting goals, especially those of the crazy-ass variety, because fuck it, why not. You never know what’s goin to happen once you toe the line, and hell, as anyone who has ever run any sort of footrace can attest, a lot–a lot–can and does happen over the course of every single mile. It’s part of the thrill and the heartbreak of this sport.

For whatever reason, in the weeks before TSFM, my usual mix of pre-race nerves was completely absent and instead, the eustress-to-distress concoction was at a hearty bajillion:0 ratio. Truly. TSFM weekend was about a race, obviously, but much like many of my other marathons lately—Oakland and Newport this year, and Houston, Eugene, Chicago, and NYC last year—the race was really a backdrop, a function to the fashion of some quality time with some friends new and old in my (new) home state.

As I wrote about in my race week entry, coincidentally becoming a social media ambassador for TSFM mere months before my family and I relocated out here was an enormous fuckin’ deal for me because it has been through that avenue, through the social media interwebby world of TSFM and all its corollaries, that I’ve met people and made friends out here in the past seven months. Not quickly meeting and befriending people after moving out here was one of my biggest fears, and being able to, being able to actually meet and befriend people and sometimes, even getting to run with them! (heeeeeyoooo), no doubt has made the transition from Chicago-to-CA-life profoundly easier and much less (hyperbolically speaking) catastrophic, much less the head-on collision that I was convinced would happen before I ever set foot in SJ, CA, on 12/21/13 and actually gave life here a chance. 

This notion of “preparing to fail,” about bracing for impact—an impact that never happened—is somewhat thematic for the past seven months of life here and for TSFM footrace and one that I’ll momentarily revisit because, well, it matters.

Friday: Meredith, ThirstyBear

After a family dinner in SJ and a baby bullet train up to SF, the weekend fun began with seeing my lovely Bootlegger/Chicago gal, Meredith, who just happened to be in SF over the weekend for a family function. It’s so nice to see her when she’s here—which is pretty regularly—for all the obvious reasons but also because there’s just something comforting to see and experience a piece of “home” in your new “home,” if that makes any sense. Together, we met a gaggle of TSFM ambassadors, many of whom were on the SoCal Ragnar team from earlier this year, at ThirstyBear Brewing for a little get-together that Ethan Wes coordinated. Little did I know that everyone’s favorite Bart, Bart Yasso, would be joining us, which was super. It was a blast to catch up with Meredith, chat with everyone, meet some of the non-local ambassadors for the first time in real life, and just basically enjoy everyone’s company, as stupidly after-school special as that sounds, for a couple hours on Friday night.

TSFM ambassador + friends + Bart love at ThirstyBear. [cred: Alisyn]
TSFM ambassador + friends + Bart love at ThirstyBear. [cred: Alisyn]
with adorable Meredith and Bart.
with adorable Meredith and Bart.

Shortly thereafter, Meredith dropped me at Stone’s, with whom I would be spending my weekend and at where I’d be shacking up until Sunday, and after an hour or so of Stone and me catching up—somehow, we hadn’t seen each other since we ran B2B in May—it was snooze time.

Saturday: More Meredith, shake-out, Erin B, expo, dinner

TSFM sponsored a community 1-3 mile shake-out run with Bart Yasso that began at Fort Mason, site of the expo (and around mile 3 of the marathon course), so Meredith and I planned to meet-up over there for an easy pre-race yog together with TSFM ambassador community (Stone opted to sleep in and run close to home—smart gal). There was a huge turn-out for the run, maybe around 100, 150 runners, and naturally, getting to meet and see even more of TSFM ambassador community was a blast.

the shake-out... tons of runners
lotsa runnahs
ambassador-led shake-out/shitty parade :)
ambassador-led shitty parade :). L-R in orange, I think that’s Corinne, Taylor, and Karen
Bart + TSFM ambassadors + friends. [cred: Albert/RA]
Bart + TSFM ambassadors + friends. [cred: Albert/RA]
sweaty post-run. my ridic Cheshire indicates the sing-songy status of my heart.
sweaty post-run. my ridic Cheshire indicates the sing-songy status of my heart.

meeting fellow #bibravepro Jeremy [cred: Jeremy]
meeting fellow #bibravepro Jeremy. I like that “fuck yea, I’m happy, I just ran” facial expression of the Eugene runner behind me 🙂 [cred: Jeremy]
Following the morning yog on an unseasonably warm and humid day for SF, and after lots of sweaty hugs and kisses goodbye to Meredith, I quickly went through the expo to get my own stuff before meeting Erin B, a Chicago friend from Boston ’09 training who had flown into town to run 26.2, for tea. Erin loves SF and has always wanted to run TSFM, so I was obvs super stoked that she decided to do it this year because it’d mean I’d get to see her. We had last seen each other a few weeks before I moved, so you can imagine how quickly our tea time together (hello, alliteration) flew.

Between arriving on Friday night and mid-morning on Saturday, before the race even began, my heart was already full and sing-songy with love from getting to see and spend time with some really special people… cue the awwwwws for sure, but seriously, so. fuckin’. happy. 

Erin^2 :)
Erin^2 🙂

 

Post-tea, Erin and I went over to the expo, and before I began my shift, I also got to see Foxy and meet her sister Taryn, who had also flown in to run 26.2, her thirty-fifth marathon before her thirty-fifth birthday. Think about that for a second.

Thirty-five… before thirty-five.

Yeah, BAMF if I’ve ever heard one.

Like with Stone, I hadn’t seen Foxy since B2B in May, so it was nice to chat with her, her sister, and Erin B for a hot minute.  Fortunately, my expo shift fleeeeeeew by and, just like when I worked at B2B on behalf of ZOOMA, it was actually pretty invigorating. I worked some at the Info Table, where Trish totally rocked it all day and answered  questions like “do I have to wear clothes?” (valid question, it is SF), but I spent most of my time at the “beer garden bracelet” table, checking people’s IDs and adorning strangers’ wrists with “you-are-legally-able-to-drink-post-race” bracelets. Related: next time you think your DMV or passport picture is horrendous, I guarantee—guarantee—someone else’s is worse. (Oy). While I played the “I have to see your ID, even though you’re clearly over 50 years old” game for a few hours, another SF friend whom I also hadn’t seen since B2B, Robin, stopped by, as well as the newly-minted Ironman Saurabh, whom I also hadn’t seen since before he rocked IMCDA about a month ago. Seriously… all the love... before the race began. Ridiculously, stupidly, through-the-roof happy.

with the Ironman and Bart :)
with the Ironman (so proud of him!) and Bart; Bart was everywhere during marathon weekend!

I didn’t get outta dodge until nearly 5pm because I had been waiting to see Chris, who’d barely make it to the expo before things shut down, but the wait was worth it, since we, too, hadn’t seen each other in a while. While it was a bit of a long day for a day before a marathon, I was feelin pretty jazzed about everything and super invigorated, thanks in no small part to being able to see so many friends.

By about 5:30, I had finally gotten over to Foxy’s for dinner with her, Taryn, and Stone. The low-key and intimate environment of dinner with friends before race-day morning, wherein you’ll be surrounded by literally thousands of people and tons of nervous energy, was a perfect yin to the forthcoming race morning craziness yang, and somewhere in the meal, we four began talking about goals.  Naturally, as type-A personalities women runners are wont to do, and because, well… why not?, we all delineated our A, B, and C goals for race day.

Before this conversation, this super informal chat fewer than 12 hours to go! time, I hadn’t really thought in a lot of detail about what I wanted to accomplish, no doubt because, well, I really had no idea what was in the tank. Following the Newport Marathon in late May, wherein I made some stupid mistakes, I poorly raced the ZOOMA Napa HM (in late June) then raced much more strongly, for the most part, at the Jungle Run HM (two weeks prior to TSFM). However, with my long-term focus now on CIM in December, technically speaking, I’d only been back in marathon training mode (on a 70/24, twice as long as what I usually do) for about five weeks prior to TSFM. Most of my miles had been at comfortable/easy GA paces, and my mileage volume had been on the low, foundational side (~50 mpw). I didn’t think my endurance capacity had diminished all that much, but I had no idea where my marathon fitness and speed was sitting. 

Thus, when it was my turn to share my A, B, and C goals, I really didn’t know what to say. My generic plan was to give 100% of whatever was in the tank in the morning, so I safely went with A) a 3:19:59 (to break 3:20 and notch a ~7 second PR… hey, burning boats, right?); B) a BQ; and C) sub-4/something better than my 2010 pregnant-and-on-subpar-training time. I optimistically hoped that I could post at least a 3:25 at TSFM, but with the big ups and the ever-undulating course, even though that time would be my slowest since January ’13, I figured it’d be pretty challenging.

Post-perfect dinner, with my heart even more sing-songy and full, Stone and I went back to her place and did the usual song-and-dance routine that is Marathon Eve, and before too long, it was lights out for me around 9pm (after finishing a book–can’t say I’ve ever done that before a race) for a 2:55 wake-up, pretty similar to what I do for my weekday predawns. The sense of familiarity and comfort that comes with being around friends, as well as a pretty normal bedtime and wake-up time… no complaints.

Sunday, Race Day

Before heading over to the Embarcadero with Stone to meet-up with Foxy, Taryn, and the flurry of ambassadors and RunningAddicts pacers and our friends who’d join us at the pacer/TSFM ambassador tent, I did my typical pre-dawn jig of tea, food, and twitter, and I read a blog short from Seth Godin that really resonated with me. You can almost always tell what time I’m awake during the week, when I’m predawning, because I tend to be binge-reading on twitter, and Seth’s stuff is standard RT fare for me. Though he typically writes in a way that’s made to appeal more to entrepreneurs–read: not necessarily for stay-at-home moms or runners–his work on Sunday morning was spot-on.  Really, you should read it in its entirety here, but the gist:

“I would imagine that there are certain situations, perhaps involving the martial arts, where bracing for impact is a good idea.  The rest of the time, not so much.  […]

Worse than this, far worse, is that we brace for impact way more often than impact actually occurs. […]

All the clenching and imagining and playacting and anxiety—our culture has fooled us into thinking that this is a good thing, that it’s a form of preparation.

It’s not. It’s merely experiencing failure in advance, failure that rarely happens.

When you walk around braced for impact, you’re dramatically decreasing your chances. Your chances to avoid the outcome you fear, your chances to make a difference, and your chances to breathe and connect.”

I talk and write often about how important it is to set crazy-ass goals and work your ass off to realize them. No doubt it’s scary, and it’s scary in no small part because setting these goals, publicly proclaiming them (which is a big part of the puzzle), and working your ass off day in and day out to get after ’em necessitates that you get comfortable with the idea that you *might* fail… and in front of an audience, no less. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been there, and I know that it absolutely blows to work and work and work and come up short, but all I can say, all I can promise, is that it’s worth it.

When the ladies and I were chatting at dinner just a handful of hours earlier, rationally, I knew that the likelihood of me realizing that coveted sub-3:20 that I’ve been working toward was quite low at TSFM, not because I was “bracing for impact” but simply because my training isn’t there yet; this race wasn’t my destination as much as it was a turnpike stop on the journey (tenuous metaphor, but go with me). I knew it’d be far more comfortable to just run TSFM as a legit training run and throw all those aforementioned A, B, and C goals out the window–and no doubt, there’d definitely be huge amounts of safety in doing that as well, because if we aim really low, then we can’t be too disappointed with our outcomes, right?–but… but… but… I really wanted to see what I could do on the course, with the course.

Kinda similar to my approach at Boston #2 or NYC, I wanted to make that course work for me, and I knew that, just like at both of those tough races and hard courses, if I ran strategically, I could run and perform well (read: strongly, intelligently). And hey, honestly, if I left the gate going for that 3:19:59 and blew up in flames somewhere along the way, well dammit, that’s some valuable feedback. If I left the gate and holycrap actually realized it, or came within striking distance, again… valuable feedback.  No way would I or could I get any of this valuable feedback if I decided from the get-go to be comfortable and safe and not even try. Godin’s onto something. Why should I, why do we, brace for impact when said impact might not even materialize? It’s a colossal waste of time and energy.

I’m hoping that my incoherent rambling here at least gives you a small preview of the back-and-forth, emotional-rational-emotionally rational mental diatribe on those predawn hours before the run … and yet, despite this fast-and-furious mental back-and-forth that was my headspace in the hours at Stone’s before we left, I knew that ultimately, I wanted to race well, of course, but what was most important, what I wanted most out of the entire weekend, was to be able to revel in the experience and the time with my friends. When TSFM weekend was all said and done, I didn’t want to look back on everything pissed off that I didn’t post a specific time; instead, I wanted the weekend’s memories to be happy, and filled with rainbows and unicorns and magical sprinkles from all the good times and good experiences with my friends. I think it’s kinda funny because, as Stone and I were talking about on Friday night, I feel like when I say that I want my marathon weekend to be more about my time with my friends than about my actual race performance, I’m implicitly giving myself an out, a safety net, some permission to already think to myself well gee Erin, you’ve already lowered your stakes for yourself, what’s the point in trying if you’re really just after “a good time with friends” this weekend. Revisiting this now, though, I think I set myself up for a false dichotomy–implying that for some inexplicable reason, I think that it’s not possible to have a fun and amazing experience with my friends while also having a really solid race–but I’d eventually learn just how absurd that little pretend dichotomy was and how mutually nonexclusive (inclusive?) those parties in fact were.

Anyway… when Stone and I left her home, on the back 10k of the course, I was pumped–no nerves, just pumped, and ready to see what was going to unfold over the next handful of hours. Once we got to the Embarcadero and eventually got ourselves to the ambassador/pacer tent area, things moved quickly before the race’s 5:30 start time. We all noticed that things felt a bit humid–I’d later learn that during the race, it was something like 85% humidity (!), totally atypical for July in SF–but seeing so many more friends pre-race kept my nerves at their strange non-existent levels and again, that sing-songy heart thing I keep revisiting? Through the effin roof by this point.

Chris and his harem of women (w Stone and Foxy)
Chris and his harem  (w Stone and Foxy)
free race pics FTW. good thing I remembered to tie my hair back...
free race pics FTW. apparently I couldn’t be bothered to do my hair before we left Stone’s.
caaaaaaan you feel the looooooooove tonight...
caaaaaaan you feel the looooooooove tonight/this morning

with Ethan Wes and an apparently stinky Chris [cred: Alisyn]
with Ethan Wes and Chris [cred: Alisyn]
And like that, suddenly, I was standing in the corrals, with the lit-up Bay Bridge in the background, with the seemingly delayed realization that huh… guess we’re running a marathon in 3… 2… 1…

Bay Bridge pre-dawn is gorgeous
Bay Bridge pre-dawn is too gorgeous not to include here

TSFM course map

If you don’t want a nitty-gritty low-down about my race, no sweat; read my bibrave review here. And, in case you’re interested in running any of TSFM events in the future, watch this good course video:

Miles 1-5 – Ferry Building to the Presidio: 7:40, 42, 39, 20, 43

TSFM is unique from the other marathons I’ve previously run only because folks can choose to run the full 26.2, the first 13.1, the back 13.1, 52.4 (the marathon, twice, beginning at midnight) or a 5k. Therefore, when the marathon started at 5:30, so did the first 13.1 runners; the back 13.1 runners wouldn’t start until much later, around 8 or 8:30. Starting 26.2 with folks running 13.1 can be challenging in terms of people traffic but also, obviously, in terms of staying honest with your pace and not allowing yourself to start your 26.2 trek at your 13.1 pace. When I put together my mile-by-mile race strategy, that huge white bracelet you’ll see in my pics, I based it off of this website, which factors the relative ascents/descents of each mile  (much like what I did for my Boston and NYC strategies). I’m a huge believer in negative splits, and that’s how I run 99% of the time in training, so I was shooting for a 1:42 front half and a sizable-but-doable negative split for that 3:19:59.

Anyway, I began the race super comfortably, just cruising along, concentrating on not weaving, and just enjoyed the sights and sounds and smells (mmm, sourdough bread) of the Embarcadero and Crissy Field pre-dawn. For a few minutes, I ran in the vicinity of Ko, pacing the 3:30 group, and it made me super excited to be pacing the 3:35 group with him at the Santa Rosa Marathon here in just a few weeks’ time. He reminded me to “save my legs”–sage advice for any marathon–so I just kept on, enjoying the views and the comfort of pre-dawn (read: dark) running. Our first climb around mile 4 was pretty anticlimactic, and I felt totally absorbed in each mile that I was in… feeling good, feeling comfortable, feeling fresh.

Around mile 4 or 5, as we were in Crissy Field, I noticed two guys off to my left with Universal Sole shirts on–heyoooo, Chicago!–so naturally, a cat-call was in order. They reciprocated–always a nice pick-me-up–and before long, we began the first of our big climbs, a hill in the Presidio on our way up to the Golden Gate Bridge.

Miles 6-9 – Presidio up to (and over) the Golden Gate Bridge and back: 8:30 (big climb), 7:39, 7:19, 7:34

I remembered a few things about this course when I last ran TSFM in ’10, and the hill leading up to the GGB was one of those things. It’s long, it’s fairly steep, but it’s also over fairly quickly, relatively speaking. This mile, 6, should have been my slowest of the day (I aimed for a 9+ pace), and I focused on getting as many people to pass me as possible, while running suuuuuuuuper comfortably and just yoggin’ on up that thing. Once on the bridge, of course, the GGB was lovely as always, and while it was still pretty foggy and misty out, we could still make out the city in the background as we ran up and over the false flat that is the bridge–the flat that’s actually uphill both ways (just like that hill your dad had to climb, each way, in 12′ of snow on his way to school when he was a kid). Around this time, I lost Johnny, another RA pacer friend who was pacing the 3:25 group, but I felt totally comfortable in my decision to take the GGB miles at effort and literally to enjoy the view for the next few miles while we were there.

Probably because I didn’t know anyone here when I last ran this race, it didn’t occur to me that the GGB’s out-and-back nature would mean that I’d get to see all my runner buddies ahead of and behind me. That was awesome. Seeing Albert and Chris together, looking strong, and then Stone, Foxy, and Meg, and tons and tons of other RA pacer friends and TSFM buddies, collectively made my heart so stinkin’ sing-songy that I had to make a conscious effort to focus, grasshopper, because there was still a helluva long ways to go.

seeing these three muskateers (Meg [blue], Stone [orange-ish], Foxy [gray]) was a blast. cred: Stone's IG
seeing these three musketeers (Meg [blue], Stone [orange-ish], Foxy [gray]) was a blast. [cred: Stone’s IG]
Seeing Albert pacing Chris was fantastic, too! [cred: Linh/RA]
Seeing Albert pacing Chris was fantastic, too! [cred: Linh/RA]
Miles 10-12 – Presidio to Golden Gate Park: 7:47, 7:12 (big down), 7:47

Lots of folks bemoan how many runners stop to take selfies on the GGB, but fortunately, I didn’t run into any of that… or hell, if I did, I didn’t notice because I was too busy looking to my left (on the back portion of the bridge) to see how many runners I could cat-call. Immediately after the bridge, there’s a down, then another up, and then a sizable descent through the Presidio, one that my pace told me I should have clocked a 6:4x, but by that point in the race, I was already about 60-90 seconds ahead of where I wanted to be–too big a buffer, as experience has taught me–so I held back a bit and just let gravity do its thing (while focusing on not braking… downhill running is tricky).

what up, GGB
what up, GGB? this hill, that’s what’s upl!! (please, call my agent for bookings…)
then down down down
here we gooooooooooooo

Somewhere around the mile 12 mark, going up yet another hill in some neighborhood, I was comfortably running along when the two Uni Sole guys ran up to me (seemingly out of nowhere) and began chatting Chicago–who we ran with, what we’re doing out here, and the like. It was awesome to chat with those fellas (whose names I didn’t catch), and they looked like they were having a blast running the first 13.1.

We then entered Golden Gate Park around mile 12.5, and though I’ve had the pleasure of running a handful of races there, I seriously have no idea of its size nor any amount of spatial perception therein and surely would get lost there if left to my own devices (for perspective: it’s 20% larger than NYC’s Central Park). We’d be running in the park for miles 12.5 to 19ish and get to see the first halfers finish and the second halfers’ starting line, and the park, much like CP in NYC, is full of ups and downs. By the time I got to GGP, I wasn’t feeling as fresh as I had hoped I would–again, like my NYC strategy, I wanted to get to mile 16 feeling as though I hadn’t already run 16 miles–but I recalled that there’d be some topographical changes in the park that I could work to my advantage… basically, just continue to take the hills at effort and run the descents intelligently.

Miles 13-19 – Golden Gate Park – 7:33, 7:06, 7:39, 7:38, 7:47, 7:17, 7:28

Somewhere around mile 13 or 14, I caught up to Johnny and the 3:25 group, and much like with the Uni Sole guys, it was nice just to briefly chat with someone. Though I ran the entire course with folks in my near-immediate vicinity, very few people really talked. When I crossed 13.1, I was right around a 1:41 or high 1:40, faster than the 1:42 I was aiming for, so I knew I had even more incentive to be smart on the park’s ascents and descents because there was still a lot of course left to run. Though I was a little tired, I was hitting my nutrition like clockwork and constantly assessed how I was feeling and how I was hydrating, even wiping my temples at times to see if I was salting out at all (lesson from Newport in accidentally dehydrating myself, kids… shitty lesson to have learned the hard way but oh, so very valuable).

Shortly after seeing Johnny, I found myself running with a pack of guys, and though we were literally within striking distance of each other, no one was talking or even much acknowledging each other. In my stupid mid-marathon-induced craze, I thought I’d make some buddies and decide to break the ice, asking “where are all my ladies?!” –where are all the other women marathoners??– because there was maaaaaaybe just one or two ponytails far, far off in the distance but that was it; I was surrounded by dudes. My new BFFs and I had a good laugh about that for a minute, and it helped lighten the mood and minutea that is kinda the no-man’s land of miles 14-19 of a marathon. My BFFs and I hung for only a few minutes before I left them–again, making the course work for and with me–and shortly after the first half marathon’s finish, where I saw Albert again (another nice pick-me-up),  we began to wind around and around Stow Lake.

By the time we had reached the lake, I was ready to be out of GGP, and I felt like we were literally running in circles (which, truth be told, we kinda were). For the life of me, I couldn’t remember how much longer we had in the park, but luckily, the beauty of distraction came around again in the form of being able to see other runners ahead of or behind me at the mile 16.5/17.5-ish marker. Seeing Paulette‘s husband Kevin and then Stone and Meg running together (still!) was an unexpected treat, and I was SO HAPPY that those ladies were still together. I wondered what type of race they were having, based on the timing of when we saw each other, but hell if I can do mental math on the run… or ever. They (and Kevin) all looked good though, which, by the runner-based transitive property, in turn made me feel good.

hey look, Kevin!
hey look, I see Kevin! hiiiiiiii, Kevin!
get me outta this godforsaken park
get me outta this godforsaken park

Once we neared the 18 mile mark, just before the conservatory, I quickly thought about Chicago ’13 and Newport and my dumb moves at each race to start to kick with 15k to go. At mile 18, I knew that I’d still have a massive descent down Haight, once we got outta the park, as well as still some remaining ascents elsewhere, so I anticipated that any semblance of a kick that I could muster wasn’t going to happen until mile 20 at the very earliest. I was still feeling strong, still doing my nutrition like clockwork (and not salting out, as my periodic temple-rubbing indicated… that would have made for a funny picture), and right as we were getting ready to leave GGP, the sun peeked out for the first time, making me do everything in my mortal power to will that shit away.

And, much to my surprise, by the time we left GGP at mile 19, I was still under a 3:19:59 pace and feeling present, connected, in each mile, and just, generally speaking, enjoying the ride. I had been totally bracing for impact somewhere in the park, anticipating that sooner or later, something catastrophic would have happened to show me that my fitness isn’t where I think it is quite yet, but… it didn’t. At all.

marathons make me happy. circa mile 18.5, with the conservatory in the background
marathons and endocannibinoids bring me to my happy place. circa mile 18.5, with the conservatory in the background

Miles 20-26.2 – Haight St to Mission/Bryant, AT&T Park, Embarcadero/Finish: 7:41, 7:17, 7:18, 7:52, 8:03, 7:53, 8:04, 4:08 (8:16 pace) for .49

One of my favorite memories from TSFM ’10 was running down Haight St. I love the history behind the street/the ‘hood and its weirdo, electic factor, yet let me be the first to tell you that Haight St, between 7:30-8 on a Saturday morning, is pretty quiet. It was absolutely glorious to get outta the park, though, and after another false flat at the top of the street, we had a HUGE downhill–another vivid memory from ’10, because I thought the descent was so steep that I was gonna end up ass-over-teakettle down it–and much like the big descent after the GGB, here, too, I tried to take it at effort without braking too much. My pace calculations showed this should have been a 6:4x effort, but because I was still sizably ahead, I didn’t want to chance anything–still a lot of running left. Running straight down Haight (literally and geographically) for nearly 1.5 miles allowed me to see how many runners, all 26.2 folks, were ahead of me–not a ton, and virtually no women–and unlike ’10, by now in the race, things had really begun to spread out considerably. The only runners I could see were literally blocks ahead of me. An unexpected–and super fun–bonus to Haight this year was seeing a bubble machine that someone had set-up in a BOB stroller and placed on the street. Seriously, bubbles, bubbles, everywhere.

bc why wouldn't you run through bubbles at the intersection of Haight/Ashbury? [cred: http://hoodline.com/2014/07/scenes-from-the-marathon]
bc why wouldn’t you run through bubbles at the intersection of Haight/Ashbury? [cred: http://hoodline.com/2014/07/scenes-from-the-marathon]
Once we got off Haight, from about miles 21-24, through Mission and Potrero Hill, things got really quiet because, well, it’s that point of a marathon. The environment was mostly industrial (or seemingly industrial, anyway); the spectators were few; and aside from another hill around 22 and then a small little blip at 24, things were getting pretty flat again. My margin was beginning to dwindle some, but I still felt strong and fairly confident (though incredibly surprised) that the race had been going as well for as long as it had. Anytime I saw other runners begin to stop or death-march, I threw whatever words of encouragement I could muster their way, and when it came time to ascend those final couple hills, much like earlier in the race, I just took them at effort and didn’t really look on my watch at all.

It wasn’t until I had hit mile 24, as we were beginning to run alongside the water at the beginning of the homestretch, that I began to feel tired and finally began to feel the hills from earlier, and some cursory (and likely highly incorrect) mental math indicated that unless I got an amazing second wind, the sub-3:20 wasn’t in the cards. Maybe my central governor was trying to talk me out of a balls-out effort for 2.2+ miles, or maybe I got mentally weak, or maybe I decided to save the good stuff for CIM later this year, but I just went with it and listened to my body, willing my feet to just keep pickin’ themselves up. There was no sense of disappointment though–truly–because by then, with just 2.2ish to go, I knew it was simply a matter of finishing with 100% of whatever the stems would give me. I felt really relaxed and chill for the final couple miles and honestly, kinda felt like I was falling asleep some–not falling asleep, aka bonking fast and furious, a la Boston ’09–but I just kinda… I don’t know… kinda felt entranced by the cathartic nature of one step in front of the other, repeatedly, as fast as you can, over and over again. Maybe that’s a runner’s high, maybe it’s fatigue, or maybe I just got lazy; I’m not really sure.

I quickly played hypothetical games with myself, wondering how feasible it would have been for me to notch that 3:19 had I done things just a little differently earlier, but the thoughts were fleeting. Honestly, I was floored that I had had such a better, stronger, and more strategically-run race than I anticipated I’d have. For the entirety of the race, I had felt totally in control, totally connected to and with my run, totally “in” the single mile that I was running, and it was just… nice. It was really, really nice.

That whole thing that Godin was talking about, about how if we brace for impact and expect to fail, that we miss the opportunities to see, breathe, and connect with everything and everyone? Right on the money for me with this race. For nearly the entirety of the race, I tried hard to not approach every single mile with trepidation, with thoughts of yup, this will surely be the mile that’ll do me in, this will be the mile that’ll break me, but instead, I just tried to be present and focused, to experience the race and everything that comes with running 26.2. Admittedly, I kinda figured I’d tank much earlier, somewhere in GGP, but when I didn’t, I was ecstatic (and incredulous). I’m not always the most mentally-focused runner out there, so being present, staying focused, and really truly absolutely feeling and experiencing the race and everything that happens over 26.2 miles is a pretty big deal for me.

Finally, after approaching and then passing AT&T Ballpark at mile 25, and then a right-hand turn from the sidewalk to the street (wherein my calf started to momentarily cramp [fuck!] but quickly went away [hallelujah!]), we made our way alongside and under the Bay Bridge and voila. Just as quickly as we had started, we were done.  6195457_race_0.460364804533248.display 6264708_race_0.19306671168145828.display Pictures are worth a thousand words, and no doubt you can tell that I finished feeling totally fuckin’ floored and just had a blast out there.

Immediately after I finished, I began crowd-searching for my friends who were going after some big goals, and while I was waiting for them to finish, it was awesome to catch-up with other ambassadors and pacers who had finished their races earlier. The sun finally decided to make its presence known around mile 24, 25ish for me, so things were only going to get warmer (and seemingly, more humid) as the day wore on, making me a bit nervous for my friends who’d be coming in later.

everyone loves Ethan (first 13.1 finisher!)
everyone loves Ethan Wes (he rocked the first 13.1 and ran it with Alisyn, who took on 26.2!)

Very shortly after I had finished, Stone and Meg finished and made their way over to the tent, excitedly proclaiming that Meg had notched an enormous PR and her first BQ (!!!); that Stone had also notched a BQ, her second-fastest marathon ever, and a redemption run from Boston ’14; and finally, and probably most importantly, that they ran the entire race together.

I fuckin lost it.

Any runner will agree that you celebrate your friends’ performances as you do your own, and I was over the moon stoked for these ladies and their many accomplishments on marathon morning. And then, shortly after Stone and Meg, Foxy came through and said she had also notched a PR for the day, and not much later, her sister, who could finally say that she had run 35 marathons before her 35th birthday.

It was fucking fantastic, and my sing-songy heart was beside itself.

Stone's BQ; Meg's BQ & PR; my 4th AG & 21st female OA; Taryn's 35th before 35th; and Foxy's PR. Helluva Sunday morning. [cred: Stone]
Thousand words,minimal, in this pic. L-R: Stone’s BQ; Meg’s BQ & PR; my 4th AG & 20th female OA; Taryn’s 35th before 35th; and Foxy’s PR. Helluva Sunday morning. [cred: Stone]
Shortly after these ladies finished, Erin B came through and said how much she had enjoyed the course (and how she’s planning to come back for a redux, now that she knows how the hills are here…) 🙂

Erin ^3. :)
Erin ^3. 🙂 a thousand bajillion words, easily, in those post-26.2 smiles.

On an unseasonably warm and humid day on the last Sunday in July in the city by the bay, I ran a little footrace better–faster, more strategically, and more strongly–than any somewhat arbitrarily-based hope or expectation led me to believe.

Buuuuuuuuuuut… but… what’s more, and what matters most to me, though, is that when I think about TSFM ’14, and all of the events that have gotten me to that race–beginning in Chicago, when I haphazardly applied to be a social media ambassador; to NYC, a day before NYCM ’13, when I learned that I had been selected to do this social media ambassador thing; and by way of a cross-country move and basically restarting my adult life; and all the emotional ups and downs that commenced from September until race day, which included me re-making adult friends for the first time in forever–the actual footrace, itself, is such a teeny, tiny part of the puzzle that it’s really pretty inconsequential, kinda an aid station on the turnpike, some sort of transitory marker between Chicago and California.

That I raced well–well, of course, that makes me happy–but that I got to experience and run a top-notch and hard 26.2 with so many friends, who also all had incredible races and with whom I was able to share some great memories over the course of the very fast-paced weekend–that’s the good stuff, the sweet spot, the stuff that continues to make me Cheshire days and weeks post-race. Why I thought that having a good time with friends and racing my effin heart out were mutually exclusive is beyond me, but now, well… now I know better.

TSFM ’14 was a fantastic experience, a 26.2 that is absolutely worth every single ascent and descent, and one that I simply cannot recommend enough. Please. Do it.

stats:

by Garmin: 83% humidity; 1,474′ elevation

hills and hills

3:22:41; marathon #24; BQ #12; 20th/2309 females; 299th/6618 overall finishers; 4th/452 age group (F 30-34); fastest 26.2 in ’14; about a 20 second positive split; 31:01 minutes faster than my 2010 TSFM; badass good time.

Next time I run SF, it’ll be for the Nike Women’s 13.1, for which I am fundraising for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. Please consider supporting my efforts here. 🙂

Thank you for all your love and support. xo

(and obviously, I was a social media ambassador for TSFM, but the aforementioned views herein are mine because it’d be stupid to lie. Duh).