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2018 Wharf to Wharf Race Recap – Santa Cruz-Capitola, CA

2018 Wharf to Wharf Race Recap – Santa Cruz-Capitola, CA

It seems like no matter where you live, there’s That One Race that everyone raves about, the one that everyone says is their favorite, that you’ve absolutely gotta do, gotta put it on your calendar and register the moment it opens so you’re sure to be part of the fun. Since moving to the Bay Area almost five years ago now, I think That One Race has been both CIM, on the long side of things, and Wharf to Wharf, on the shorter side.

Of course, I already raced and wrote about CIM back in December, but until last weekend, I haven’t been able to race at Wharf to Wharf simply due to timing. More specifically: it’s always been on the same race weekend — hell, on the same day — as TSFM. This year, however, due to WTW always being on the fourth Sunday in July and TSFM going to the (random and rare) fifth Sunday of the month, I was finally able to register to run both.

I have heard about or read about Wharf to Wharf since shortly after moving here from probably 284107 people. It’s a 6 mile, not 6.2 mile, point-to-point course that begins in Santa Cruz and ends in Capitola, all of which is a simple, 45ish minute, just an “over the hill” drive. I’ve run in SC several times now because of SIB, but I had never run in, let alone visited, Capitola. From what I gleaned from the collective masses who have done WTW, the course would take runners periodically in and out of neighborhoods very near the coast, and when you weren’t in the road in front of someone’s house, you’d be running adjacent to the coastline, likely offering you pretty views of the water and quite pleasant running weather.

…but really, it’s about the party and the people, as these things often are. The so-called “best little road race in California” caps registration around 16k runners (and sells out in literal minutes), and I’ve seen and heard it referred to as “Christmas in July,” homecoming, a reunion, the best race of the year, a 6 mile block party, the one race worth doing each year, and so on. Though it’s not a PA race, no doubt due to its proximity, its storied history (forty+ years and counting), the thrill of shooting for a top 100 placement, and the simple fact that most every human alive loves the SC/Capitola area, my Wolfpack team historically has always fielded a co-ed team there and this year easily numbered 40+ strong (probably our largest collective attendance at any event all year).

Talk about a fantastic first race back after running in the midwest for a month, right?

As Janet and I drove over the hill Sunday morning, we chatted about how we were feeling, our goals for the day, and for me, how I was feeling a week out from the San Francisco Marathon. By virtue of never doing a 6 mile race, WTW would be one of those cheeky, automatic PRs, which is both silly and fun. As I told Janet, though, I didn’t quite know how to approach the race. It’d likely be my last hard running before TSFM, and with the added benefit of being on the beginning-of-taper legs, but … was it prudent to try to “do something” with this race and distance? Would doing so potentially hinder my SF race in a week’s time? Or should this just be another workout-within-a-race, as was the case with the races I ran in Ohio just a few weeks ago? I really didn’t know what the best approach would be and figured (read: hoped) that I’d get that realization sometime in the next couple hours before go time.

My teammates and I warmed up for a couple miles over to the starting area, along the way bumping into and finally getting to meet the lovely Page (at last!), and there were people eeeeeeeeeverywhere. Where did all these people come from?!  It was impressive. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Santa Cruz so busy.

just a few of us who parked in the same general area. (PC: WRC)

 

the always-obligatory silly shot (PC: WRC)

 

warming up (PC: WRC)

 

warming up before heading over to the corrals (PC: WRC)

Marathonfoto was out taking pictures, Steph Bruce and a few other Hoka pros were warming up, I ran into tons more friends and teammates in the starting corral (a hug for you! And a hug for you! And a hug for you!), and before long, we were sardined into the starting area very near the Santa Cruz Boardwalk, and we were off.

one more group shot pre-race (PC: WRC)

 

run up to warm up (PC: WRC)

 

it’s always a party with these people (PC: WRC)

Most of my other teammates and I were smooshed into the Elite wave, which for me promised almost definitely coming off the line hot so as to avoid getting Lion King-style trampled by the sea of humanity surrounding me. My dear friends Meg and Janet, both WTW veterans of a million years between them, as far as I was concerned, described the race’s changing topography to me before the race, and both warned that everyone would come off the line hot, try as you might not to. Yeah… guilty. Unabashedly so.

My Garmin had about 250’ elevation over the six mile race, which in the grand scheme of things is relatively inconsequential, but of course, when you’re trying to run hard and fast and also carve out a little racing space for yourself, the smallest blips feel catastrophic. I don’t remember there being too many big hills — the largest/longest being later in the race, right around when Meg caught up to me and cheerfully said “this is the last one of the race, and it’s the longest!” before zoom-zooming off — but I definitely concur with others who have said that while WTW hills pale compared to those of TSFM, for example, this ain’t a pancake flat course.

I think part of the magic of WTW is its fanfare. In addition to the 16k runners and walkers actually doing the race, much of the course is lined with spectators — folks whose homes we’re running past, tons of bands, children handing out leis, people at a farmer’s market — and I didn’t detect much in the way of animosity. Naturally, closing down city streets can be a huge PITA to residents, and I’ve helped at or run enough races to know that some people get rather salty on the subject. Not so at WTW. Surely no doubt because the race has been around for more than four decades, presumably at the same time of the month each July, people along the route appeared to have grown to know, expect, and shoot, dare I say embrace the chaos. I saw a local newspaper’s report that said that WTW weekend brings in something like millions of dollars to the local economy, too, which dear god–for a 6 mile race?! That apparently every runner in these parts of California loves?! That’s pretty good in my book.

Because I’m so unfamiliar with where we actually ran, I can’t offer much in terms of a scenic play-by-play. It was super fun to be surrounded by so many runners I knew, though, both on my team and from others, making it feel like I was running alongside, in front of, or behind someone I knew for the entire journey. I’d pass someone I knew, and then soon enough, someone different would come up and pass me; it was like a reunion-on-the-go of sorts. Honestly, it was a blast.

For this race, the top 100 male and top 100 female finishers each earn a ¼-zip jacket made by California-based Rabbit, making “earning a jacket” something of a pursuit for the race’s fastest runners. New for this year, too, was a complimentary membership to PWR Lab for the top 100 finishers. Each year, the 100 finisher time threshold changes — which makes sense, right, because it’s dependent on who shows up that day and how fast they all run — and importantly, it’s based on gun time, not chip time. This helped to explain the sardine formation in the Elite wave at the start; no one wanted to lose precious seconds! As I was running, I tried to get a feel for how many women were in front of me at any given time, but I had no freaking clue. After all, I could only see so far ahead due to the course’s turns and bends.

Based on conversations with my teammates and a cursory look at previous years’ finisher times, I thought I may have a chance to break into the top 100, but if this race was anything like the PA races, it would be iffy at best and leaning toward “unlikely” than otherwise. More than anything, I wanted to stay present in the current moment of racing — going so far to actually write HERE on my left hand as a physical reminder of the sentiment — and to run a strong effort from start to finish without mentally checking out when shit got uncomfortable which, assuming the earth was going to continue to spin on its axis that morning, would surely happen at some point or another.

Of course, there were uncomfortable moments, particularly on some of the late-stage long ascents, but I feel pretty happy with how I managed my expectations and how I kept attempting to rally on the descents — use gravity here! It doesn’t matter if you’re tired; you’re freaking going downhill! Don’t be a baby!! — to make up for time. It’s so easy to dissociate, but I’m not convinced that that’s the best way to race. Sometimes discomfort can be illuminating.

And before too long, we were at mile 5, the beginning of a basic all-downhill final mile into the finish line. I had been passing women, others had been passing me, and one of my teammates, Mitch, was within view and practically close enough to me that we could have finished the race together holding hands. I willed myself to stay near him and to finish strong, on super tired legs, and to keep the turnover high for the downhill mile. Seeing and hearing Sara (with her newborn!) around mile 5.5 screaming at me that I looked strong, along with my constant reminder to stay mentally engaged, helped Mitch and me finish practically alongside each other as we hurled ourselves down Cliff Drive.

teamwork makes the dream work (PC: Bill Campbell, right before the finish)

 

It was pretty funny to compare notes after the race. We both thought the other felt far better than she/he did. Dark specs have a way of hiding total discomfort! (PC: Bill Campbell)

Like that, I finished and flew through the women’s chute — something like 40:57, a 6:49 pace — and a very pleasant gentleman handed me a hot pink rectangular ticket with #94 on it and instructed me to go get my jacket. 94?! holyshit I eked out a top 100!! What a surprise!! Moments later, it was more hugs for you! And a hug for you! And a hug for you! as I continued to run into more friends and teammates, all of us absolutely sopping with sweat and the humidity that we had apparently absorbed from the morning’s overcast skies. I spent a good while catching up with Michael, who had asked about my stroke and how everything had been going for the past ~6 months with running and training, and between talking with him and his GF, chatting with pro Steph Bruce (who had placed 4th and was first American woman overall), seeing TSFM ambassador buddy Elysha, and then meeting up with more teammates and friends for more pictures, my little heart was just on overdrive.       

so very awesome to momentarily congratulate Steph in person for everything she has accomplished since we were last together for the Hoka Women Who Fly experience in October ’17 (PC: Lisa)

 

all smiles with Janet, Kim, and Meg at the finish (PC: Meg)

Don’t get me wrong, earning a jacket was cool and such an honor in such a fast field. (Fun fact: finisher #100 for the women’s side was my 6 month pregnant friend Connie! And the top 100 men cut-off at like 5:45 pace [holyshit!]). Running a good-for-me time a week ahead of my target marathon was a nice confidence booster, too. Being able to race in a pretty location is always enjoyable as well.

What made this race — really, the whole morning, from start to finish — was being able to do it and share it alongside so many friends and teammates. People so often say that running (and/or racing) is this singular, solitary pursuit, and this race experience flies squarely in the face of that accusation. This race is all about the community — the people who organize it, the residents of both towns that runners veritably take over for several hours on a Sunday morning in July, the many non-profits that directly benefit from the race’s funds, the businesses who see increased sales each year over race weekend, the running teams from high school through post-collegiate who use the race as a backdrop for a reunion, whatever — this race screams  community from start to finish. The beautiful scenery, the fun vibes, finishing next to the beach, the rainbow arches that demarcate each mile marker — all of that stuff is fun and special, too.

But the community.

the gang’s all here (PC: WRC)

 

top 100 M/F (PC: WRC)

The community!

Perhaps fittingly, then, a handful of lady Wolves and I ran back to the start, another 6.66 miles, just furthering my claim here that the race is all about your people and your company. (Plus, it seemed a better use of time than waiting to be shuttled back). I have so few opportunities to race and train alongside many of my teammates, so being able to do that for a long while, several times, over the course of the morning … again, my heart. So full. So happy.

 

figuring out how to get back that doesn’t involve salmoning with Claire, Mona, Janet, Sandy, and CT(PC: Janet)

 

figured it out! (PC: Janet)

 

finishing a CD holding hands (PC: WRC)

At this point, I’ll keep my concluding ruminations short. In a nutshell:

Do this race.

Put the registration time and date on your calendar, and F5 for all you’re worth.

Get some buddies to do it with you as well.

Make a day or a weekend out of it.

Revel in the race’s simple logistics — bibs get mailed to you (at no additional cost), you get your shirt once you finish, along with a little goody bag — and enjoy the bigger picture of the morning.

Race it hard, or jog or walk it.

Six miles is a good distance because it necessitates training, but it’s also not a distance whose training will necessarily dwarf your other responsibilities in life for a few months.

However you do Wharf to Wharf, do it. Enjoy it. It’ll be hard not to.

4 sleeps til the SF Marathon! 

2018 Lake Health HILL YEAH! Half Marathon Race Recap – Kirtland, OH

2018 Lake Health HILL YEAH! Half Marathon Race Recap – Kirtland, OH

Yet again the girls and I travelled to the midwest to see my family for a few weeks this summer, and yet again, I am training to run TSFM at the end of July, thus taking marathon training on the road with me. Fortunately, running is nothing, if not flexible.

Ohio-bound. That book, btw, is bizarre but so interesting.

Fortunately, there isn’t a dearth of racing options near my family, and some QT on ye olde Google before I left California pointed me to the 2018 Lake Health HILL YEAH! Half Marathon in Kirtland, Ohio, just a few days after we arrived. A half marathon five weeks out from race day and with apparently so many hills that it comprised the race namesake? Sold. That’s exactly what I want, and when I want it, in the throes of marathon training.

If you’ve been reading this space for a while now, you may remember that I am consistently a poor HM runner. Shit always seems to hit the fan for me in these races, and the typical reasons include a) being in the thick of marathon training and thus, fatigued AF (since I don’t taper for them); b) GI distress, which happens probably 9.5 times out of 10 at this distance for me for some reason; c) shitty weather (eh, nothing over which I have control); and d) course topography (I have a penchant for seeking out and doing the “hard” races). Some of that I can control, sorta, but a lot of that I can’t. It’s fine. I feel like I race one good HM every few years, so we’ve been in a drought since late 2016, IIRC. I’m a mentally tough competitor, but for whatever reason, HMs of late have just been tough nuts to crack.  

So it was without really any semblance of expectation that I signed up for this race and thought even if it’s a horrible day where everything goes wrong, at least I’ll get some good road climbing in and some good simulation for TSFM. Perhaps that’s a rather defeatist way of approaching this HM challenge, but it is what it is. In the days preceding the race, Coach Lisa asked me how I wanted to approach it, and we both agreed that making it into a strong workout would be worthwhile and valuable at this point in my training. I had zero interest in going for a PR attempt here (see all the aforementioned reasons a paragraph earlier; my eyes are on a different prize right now), but if I was going to be driving nearly an hour each way, I wanted to at least make good use of my time.

Come race day, I arrived to the little farmpark area that hosted the half marathon and half marathon relay’s start and finish line, picked up my bib and shirt, and felt pretty chill: no race day nerves, a healthy bit of excitement to be doing a workout in the company of a lot of other people, but more than anything, just good ol’ gratitude to be there and to have the opportunity at all. That stuff is never lost on me. I ran a couple mile warm-up and quickly determined that it was going to be a humid race (add that challenge to the hills that we’d be encountering, why not?), making me pretty happy to be doing a workout and not actually racing-racing.

I like the sentiment here, but isn’t this inaccurate? shouldn’t the pic be of a sheep?? (or say imaginatooooootion)???

The race plan was to run the first five miles at goal marathon pace + 10 seconds; run the next five miles at HMRP for 3 minutes on, 2 minutes off; then run the final 5k at “GO!” I liked this approach because it’d give me a lot of opportunity to get a feel for changing gears many times mid-race which, conveniently, is my usual strategy at TSFM to help account for the changing elevation. 

I recalled reading in the course description that the entire course was rolling and that the two significant climbs were around miles four and eight. Most of the run was on backcountry roads (that were still open to traffic but were heavily patrolled by local police, thankfully), but there were a couple jaunts into some local preserves — first the Chapin Forest Reservation and later, the Penitentiary Glen Reservation —  with the former making me think of the Santa Cruz XC course, what with the super tall trees and just beautiful canopy. It was 85% a road race but still had a good mix of hilly trail stuff thrown in there for good measure with those two reservations and the starting/finishing area at Lake Metroparks. The mix was really awesome and not something that I’ve really experienced before in a race of this distance.

Running a really specific workout like this in the throes of a race atmosphere is an excellent test of patience. It was initially tough to not chase down the 10 or so women who flew off the line, but I reminded myself of what I was there to do that day. I felt good during my MP mileage (and came in a little hotter than necessary for some), and during the climbing around mile four through the preserve, I felt really strong and passed many runners. Once I finally finished the first 5 mile bit of my workout, I quickly transitioned into the HM portion and came in HOT, thanks to the surge of adrenaline, the opportunity to pass a lot of other women who had been in front of me for a while, and with the boost of a slight downhill right off the bat. It was fun to keep changing gears — going from running at HMRP for a few minutes and then slowing it down to recover — and the fun was sometimes compounded by whatever the topography was at the moment. Running fast is obviously a lot harder on steep uphills than it is on downhills, and similarly, it’s hard to recover when you’ve got a looming descent calling your name. Again: patience. Heed the plan. Trust. Trust. Trust.

I think this was exiting one of the reservations, but I can’t recall which one.

Somewhere in the second five mile portion of my workout, the skies completely opened up out of seemingly nowhere and just rained buckets on us. It was so humid earlier that the downpour felt pretty nice, but man, that came out of nowhere! WTH, Midwest?! I was so impressed with all the AS volunteers just taking in the rain — most of whom didn’t have any raincoats or ponchos — because while it felt great while running in it, I think it would have been kinda cold to stand around in. I thanked every volunteer and police I saw because it can be boring to stand around waiting for runners to come through, and in shitty weather, it can be positively miserable. They did us all such a huge solid.

While that first big hill at mile four, through the forest preserve, was definitely a challenge, I thought the second big one was actually a lot more manageable, perhaps because it was on roads and not on trails. The good and bad thing about running somewhere unfamiliar is that you have no idea where you’re going — particularly if your internal GPS is a bit unreliable, ahem — and even with the supposed “big hills” behind us, and the bulk of my workout done, that last 5k of any half can be positively brutal. By mile 10, I had taken two or three SiS gels — one at zero, right before the start; then one again around mile 5-6; then one more around 8-9, I think — and I think it was after mile ten that the meteorological gods again showed up to party and dumped more buckets on us. Cool.

I hadn’t seen a woman in front of me for a while, and I hadn’t heard any immediately behind me, either, but I was clinging to hope that I may be able to finish high in the women’s field, provided I didn’t totally tank on the final 5k. Of course, we had more rollers right up until the very end, and around mile 11, we landed in front of our starting area at Lake Metroparks and passed through the starting area to run in the park behind where we began. In doing so, our last couple miles were on the farm property and through some just beautiful tree canopy again and close enough to the finish line that we could hear it before we could see it.

the view from the last 1.5 or so, in the farmpark area (the race’s staging ground). I took this and the next during my CD, when I went back out and ran the last couple miles of the race in reverse.

 

The view over the last mile or so at the farmpark

I was feeling pretty tired toward the end, and by mile 12, I felt like I was tanking fast. Naturally, out of nowhere, a young girl, probably high school-aged, showed up and passed me, running scared and looking behind herself periodically to see how far back I was. I tried to stay with her and catch her but didn’t succeed, cursing myself for not taking that last SiS I had in my pocket earlier. I had no idea if she were a relay runner or a HM, but I tried to close the gap as much as I could over what felt like an endless mile through a field before one last tiny incline and then a downhill finish.

It wasn’t until somewhere late in the race that I flipped my watch screen over to see my time and saw that I’d probably come in right around 1:40, +/- a few minutes, which is typically my HM split during a marathon. Once I realized this, I tried to finish as close to 1:40 as possible and juuuuuuuust missed it — 1:40:10 — but was satisfied. I had a solid workout and accomplished that which I wanted to, for the most part, even if I felt like I had begun to tank with a mile to go, attributable to stupid fueling choices on my part.

completely and utterly drenched after 3 downpours and a very humid morning. notice the cowbell medal that’s an actual bell!

I checked the results and learned that I was in the top 25 finishers for the half, and after I ran a few more easy cool-down miles — after getting poured on again (third time, if you’re keeping count) — I came back and learned that I had won the woman’s side! I accepted my award from the RD, a white envelope in which I assumed was a gift certificate to one of the local stores, and it wasn’t until I was beginning to drive away that I checked and realized I earned some cash money for my efforts. How completely unexpected and generous!

Dry clothes (well, up top, anyway) FTW. I was really surprised to learn later that I had earned cash because the website specifically said that this year’s race wasn’t offering cash prizes as they had in previous years.

Overall, it was a great morning. Not only did I get to race workout against the elements of humidity (which was tough) and pouring-buckets-rain twice mid-run (which was a welcome cut to the aforesaid), but I also did so against the backdrop of a tough course (about 800′ gain) five weeks out from my goal marathon and on untapered legs. You can see how the workout shook out at my Garmin notes, if you want some numbers. 

the rain and humidity made my braid nearly double in size, resulting in an impressive squirrel nest. nothing that some copious amounts of conditioner can’t fix!

If you’re ever in the area, I’d definitely recommend this race. It’s affordable, well-organized, logistically very easy, has a challenging but totally doable elevation profile, and offers some nice little amenities like a tech shirt (that my seven year-old loves and wears almost nightly to bed), free race pics, and (this year, anyway) an actual cowbell medal. The weather’s a gamble — late June in Ohio, of course it’s going to be — so just consider that as one more notch you can earn on your mental toughness belt (or whatever). Doing hard things is fun. This race is a great opportunity for that. 

Five weeks from TSFM!