Two Cities Half Marathon
Fresno, CA
6 November 2022
“I also realize that winning doesn’t
always mean getting first place; it means getting the best out of
yourself.
One of my greatest joys is
inspiring other people to perform at their best.” – Meb Keflezighi
Following the conclusion of my 50-state quest, many of my colleagues approached me to ask if I'll continue pursuing my running hobby. A hobby? I've never really considered running a hobby, but rather as a way to keep fit.
The Merriam-Webster Dictionary
defines hobby as “the pursuit outside one’s regular occupation engaged in
especially for relaxation.” Though I may not see running as a relaxing activity, I see it as a way to clear my mind from my daily work irritations and superfluities, but most importantly, a way to decompress.
During the period of canceled road races
throughout 2020, I found it difficult to motivate myself to properly maintain
my fitness level required for the marathon distance. I’d felt as though I were simply going through
the motions, doing the least amount, as if I was fooling my brain thinking I
was marathon ready.
In November 2021, after a prolonged
hiatus, I signed up for the City to the Sea Half Marathon in San Luis Obispo,
CA and quickly realized the lack of training and enthusiasm I once enjoyed. I felt pretty good for the first two miles,
but fatigue quickly consumed my impetus to endure any sort of steady running, as
if I was reliving a chapter from my school days.
Looking back, I was that kid who wanted
to hide behind some random building to skip running laps around my junior high
school campus parking lot or navigate a cross country style trail run through
the redwood trees on the eastern peripheries of the campus. With half-hearted
attempts, I did them anyway.
In the seventh grade, I joined my
school track team. Not to run, but to
compete in the shotput and a brief stint with the long jump. A thin wiry kid tossing an eight-pound steel
ball or jumping as far as I could into a pit of sand? Go figure.
I never came close to a podium finish, but I tried, and that’s what
counted. That was the one and only
letter I received.
As a youngster, I played some little
league baseball and youth football. I
wanted to try my hand at soccer, but where I lived, apart from PE class, youth
soccer clubs such as AYSO did not exist.
Soccer wasn’t a popular sport, and it didn’t take much for me to realize
I wasn’t much of an athlete.
During my short-lived nondescript athletic
career, I gave up running and any type of organized sports. However, I wasn’t entirely an indoor
cat. I enjoyed hunting, fishing, snow skiing,
camping, and water sports. I’ve even ventured
out for some whitewater rafting and backpacking trips. But not-being-athletic was the story I told
myself about who I was, what I liked, and what my body wanted to do.
In my early 30s, I found slightly
more pleasure, or at least mental space, from running when my wife undertook a
training regimen for her first marathon in Santa Clarita, CA. I would follow her on my bicycle measuring
miles (there were no Garmin watches) during long runs on the country roads
through the orchards and fields near our home, carrying an extra pair of shoes,
water, food, Band-aids, and other various provisions. It was grassroots training, but it worked. But for me, running was still rote.
That mindset began to slowly change
in my mid-30s after completing my first sanctioned 10K. As my wife had trained for the marathon, and
because, to be honest, I didn’t like her doing things that I didn’t also do, I
thought I would train for one as well.
And in 2000, I ran my first marathon in San Jose, surprisingly in under
four hours setting a PR at the time and a benchmark for future marathons. It was supposed to be a “one and done”
marathon, but it wasn’t.
Early on, I was mired in the
understanding that the only way to run was to try and run all the time by racking
up the miles and throwing in some speed work.
The suggestion that strength and cross-training might actually make me a
better runner? Blasphemy. All I understood was running and cardio.
I’ve run seventy-one marathons and
nearly forty half marathons during my running tenure, including running a
marathon in all fifty states before California and most of the nation shuttered
their doors. As businesses resurrected
themselves, I hit the gym practicing yoga, strength, and other cross-training
exercises, to improve my running form. Since then, I’ve restored most of my
motivation and training, and now I’m ready to delve back into road racing by rocking
this new half marathon course design.
Since Two Cities’ existence, I’ve
run the full course three times, the Fresno Half once and the Clovis Half five
times (I preferred this course over the other one). However, in 2021, race organizers redesigned
a new course offering runners “a scenic and truly flat course,” even though the
original courses were truly flat and involve matching scenery. Instead of starting and ending at Fresno’s
Woodward Park, the race now starts and finishes three miles to the east at
Clovis Community College.
Over the past several years, I’ve
had the pleasure of serving as a 2:10 pace leader. It was a comfortable pace – something I’ve succeeded
at many times over. However, this year I
opted out of being a pace leader. It was
a tough decision, but I wanted to run the race for me. I felt I had to test all the facets of my
training over the pressures of leading anyone to a specific time. Perhaps I’ll get back into pacing as I run
more races to regain my confidence, but for now, my body says I need some fine-tuning.
The Expo/Packet Pick-up
The Clark Intermediate School
gymnasium near downtown Clovis served as this years’ expo venue, replacing the larger
New Covenant Community
Church location in previous years. Outside the gym’s portico, race planners
displayed the official Acura lead-out pace car as well as an identical, but pink
Acura welcoming anyone wishing to scribe their names or messages anywhere on the
car with permanent marking pens. Inside, confined to the basketball court, the small
serpentine-shaped layout offered runners the opportunity to peruse the merchandise
as various running and fitness vendors pitched their products to grab your
attention.
At the swag
table, volunteers stuffed plastic gear bags with advertising flyers, an event
short-sleeve tech shirt, and the coveted sweatshirt hoodie, unlike in previous
years, were only given at the finish line.
A runner had to earn it back in the day.
Let’s do this
Now that the Two
Cities races start and finish at Clovis Community College, some dregs of the
Fresno and Clovis Half courses remain. The
half marathon course is basically a blend of the old Clovis and Fresno courses
with some added new landscapes. The full
marathon course is nearly identical to the original course with some supplementary
deviations through Woodward Park and Ft. Washington.
Given the
improved parking availability over last year, my wife and I arrived an hour before
race time to better secure a relatively close space at one of the college campus’
parking lots. The cool, cloudy weather seemed ideal for a mid-autumn race before the sun rose over the cloud-obscured Sierra-Nevada
mountains on a somewhat humid November morning.
With an impending rain event, threats of race day precipitation thankfully
failed to transpire, but the higher dew point was certainly evident.
Diesel-powered portable light towers
illuminated the starting line area in the pre-dawn hours. During all the years I’ve run Two Cities, race
organizers make certain they never skimp on porta-potty facilities at the race
start. This new venue was no exception. With short lines, runners were in and out in
just a few minutes. Behind the
porta-potty community, lines formed for race-day packet pick-up as other
runners crowded around the bag drop tent waiting to drop off their clear plastic
bags crammed with jackets, sweatshirts and other personal effects.
 |
Waiting to start
|
Following the
singing of the national anthem, the race began promptly at 0630 with the entire
1500-runner field of marathon and half marathon runners beginning with the same
starting pistol. The start of the 10K
and 5K races were staggered between five-minute intervals.
I started the
race towards the back third of the queue to avoid charging out of the chute and burning
out too quickly. My intuition was right because I have the propensity to get caught up in the moment only to
fizzle-out within the first couple of miles.
 |
Runners get set
|
At times, a half marathon feels good
from start to finish. I hoped, but I wasn’t
banking on that thought. As runners paraded down the college
entrance road (basically a prolongation of Fine Avenue) making a right turn
onto tree lined Beyhmer Avenue. I didn’t
focus on my pace, but rather directing my attention to the horde of runners
around me doing all I can to avoid tripping someone from behind. I’ve been tripped before and it’s not fun hitting
the pavement.
Hearing the familiar chime and vibration of my Garmin, signaling the end of Mile 1, I glanced down to see a split time
of 10:17. Not a bad start knowing that I
approached this run with a simple strategy – go out with a slow steady pace while
maintaining a safe distance ahead of the 2:30 pace group.
Some runners
flew by me weaving around slower runners or those who continue to walk two or
three abreast in the middle of the main group as they comfortably chatted,
impeding the flow of runners around them like a large rock in the middle of a creek.
All the while, my inner voice kindly informed me, “the first few miles are easy – enjoy them while they last.”
Traditionally,
Two Cities falls on the first Sunday of November. Coincidentally, two days before election
day. One cannot avoid the abundance of annoying
political advertising signs blighting each commercial center, vacant lot or intersection informing
the electorate to “vote NO on Measure X” or “Elect Y for congress.” Besides that, I didn’t notice any unique spectator signs I’d rather see – only the typical non-inspirational messages
one sees at every race like you run better than the government, punch this for power, you got this or longest
parade ever.
Once the number
of runners eventually thinned out, I continued my relaxed steady pace, only
stopping to walk through each aid station for a brief rest as I consumed some water
and electrolytes. Aside from the aid
stations and along the streets, there weren’t many spectator gathering places. It wasn’t long before I realized the lack of boisterous cheers, clanging of cowbells or exuberant crowds runners typically see at races.
As the course
made a hard right turn onto Sheppard Avenue, sporadic potholes, pavement buckling, root intrusions from
the ornamental broadleaf trees flanking the road or sections of alligator cracking became apparent, keeping each runner attentive as not to roll an ankle. Fortunately, all of the localized street hazards were easily avoided.
Shortly after
the fourth mile, runners veered right onto northbound Friant Road. I preserved my steady conservative pace, in
the meantime, keeping my ears pinned on other’s conversations. I heard two guys discussing their weight struggles,
notching new holes in their belts only to regain the lost weight. One guy claimed he runs 56 miles a week,
including ten miles on a treadmill every morning. If that’s true, hats off to him for overcoming
the extreme tedium a treadmill brings with it.
At around Mile
5.5, I caught sight of the lead half marathon runner rocketing past the
eight-mile flag as he maintained an impressive and substantial lead over the second-place
runner. I kept my pace for the next half
mile flying across the 10K timing mat in a time of 1:06:02 (10:39 pace). Using some quick mental math, I predicted my
finish time to be in the neighborhood of 2:20, more or less. However, as my legs grew fatigued, I accepted
a 2:20 finish may not be in the cards.
Hearing music
along a race course is not unusual and is commonplace. Musicians, bands, portable stereos or
spectators blasting their own car boomboxes provide ample entertainment. However, this course was different. It wasn’t until near the half turnaround close
to Copper Avenue I witnessed the first band, or any hint of music – a jazz band
playing tunes I’ve never heard of. Simply refreshing since the
theme songs from “Chariots of Fire” or “Rocky” (among others) have been forever etched into my mind.
At Mile 7.2, half marathon runners
doubled back around a raised median with a 180° turn. Because of the number of runners around me, I jogged around the corner a
little farther than I had to, asking a course marshal if I got extra
points. I was met with only a smile. As the marathon runners forged forward up Friant
Road, I wasn’t jealous, but rather finding comfort knowing I was less than half way to the finish.
For the next
couple of miles, the scarcity of spectators along Friant Road directed my attention
to views of the Eaton Trail traversing portions of the inaquosus lands
of Ft. Washington, Woodward Park, and the bluffs adjacent to the San Joaquin
River. Prior to rounding the left turn
back onto Sheppard Avenue, I crossed the 8.9-mile timing mat with a time of
1:36:32 (10:50 pace).
I held a steady,
and seemingly waning, pace up to Mile 10 as I cruised along Sheppard Avenue.
Possibly due to electrolyte imbalances, the
unthinkable happened, my right calf muscle began to seize, compelling me to
discontinue running for the next quarter mile.
The brief solace permitted me to enjoy the featured course highlight,
the sounds of the Fresno State Bulldog Marching Band.
The energetic group of musicians performed a fan
favorite,
The Senior Fight Song.
With an uplifting change of pace, I needed a little energy enhancing
of my own.
At the Mile 11
aid station, my Garmin indicated I was several minutes ahead of the 2:30 pace group. I grabbed three cups of water and swallowed two
of my go-to acetaminophen/caffeine caplets I use to knock down niggling muscle
aches and pains.
I eased my pace
to a certain degree waiting for the pain reliever to fully take effect. The course turned north onto Willow Avenue about
0.1 mile before the final aid station near Mile 12. I continued running through the throng of
volunteers handing out water and electrolyte drinks declining any drinks
offered, instead I focused on passing the runners who passed me during my downtime. Up ahead, I fixated on the 12.1-mile timing
mat, crossing with a split time of 2:14:11 (11:05 pace).
I continued passing
runners with less than one mile remaining setting operation “let no one pass” into
action, but there was one runner I was unable to catch – the lead marathon
runner. Surrounded by several pace
bicycles, he flew past me with a seemingly effortless cadence. For a moment (albeit briefly), I wanted to
keep pace with him to the finish, but I quickly realized, there was no way I
could muster a 5:20 pace so late in the game.
 |
Leaving runners in the dust
|
I eagerly rounded
the corner onto Beyhmer Avenue, as the finish line came into view off into the
distance. The clapping spectators
enthusiastically informed runners, “you’re almost there!” Drawing near to the campus entrance from
whence we began, I eyed the finish line gantry structure, a beacon that signaled the end of my running adventure.
Following
the curvilinear alignment of orange traffic cones and the directions of a
helpful volunteer, vigilant of the abrupt pavement edge around some road construction,
I made my final kick, continuing to pass those who passed me just a few minutes
prior as the finish line beckoned just a short distance ahead, stopping the clock with an official time
of 2:25:02. Goal accomplished.
Feeling a bit wobbly as I came to a stop, I gratefully
accepted my unique finisher’s medal under the attentive eyes of the wonderful volunteer
medical teams, who carefully observed finishers for any signs of serious medical conditions as they gave it all they had as they crossed the finish line.
A volunteer handed me a bottle of water as I exited the finish corral appearing
as if I’d just stepped out of a sweltering sauna. With a sweat-soaked shirt dripping in sweat, I sauntered my way to the post-race gathering
area, encircled with portable metal safety barrier fencing, scattered with
tables and chairs as a live band belted out tunes from the 1980s – songs
I relate to. Near the stage,
runners lined up at the beer tent waiting for their complimentary beer courtesy
of Michelob Ultra.
 |
Breakfast is served
|
 |
| Borden
är nu dukat! |
A post-race staple of Two Cities is their traditional breakfast meal
consisting of pancakes, scrambled eggs, sausage links, croissant rolls, bananas
and halos. And one must not forget the return
of the ice cream sundaes. I even saw one
runner, with an aura of excitement, proudly exhibiting his breakfast concoction
– ice cream piled atop his pancakes, cloaked with whipped cream, peanut
sprinkles and caramel syrup drizzled over the top.
 |
Preparing the sundaes
|
Following any long-distance run, I usually don’t have much of an appetite for food and that feeling may last for hours, but this
time I was a bit hungry, but not for the pancake supreme I saw. As my wife and I sat eating our breakfast, it again dawned on me – what a senseless hobby we partake, yet we do it again and again. The stressful experience and exhausting efforts of long-distance running takes me days to fully recover.
No matter how well prepared,
race-day weather influences everything. This was fairly good running weather, not ideal, but for that I was grateful since early November
weather in Fresno can be warm.
In the days following the race, as the DOMS in my quads and hamstrings
lingered, I know I have some work to
do to resuscitate any semblance of my past half marathon times. Now, with the weather being much cooler, and with
the sun less intense this time of year, it’s time to place additional emphasis on
my training. No excuses.
Distance: Half marathon (13.1 mi). My Garmin measured 13.20 miles.
Date: 6 November 2022
Bib No.: 2294
Weather at start: 55°F, overcast
sky, slight easterly breeze
Gun time: 2:25:41
Chip time: 2:25:02
Average pace: 11:00 per mile
Average cadence: 158 steps per minute
Overall rank: 656 of 1152
Gender rank: 401 of 576
Division rank: 62 of 85
Elevation: 92 ft gain / 92 ft loss
Age graded score: 48.28%
Age graded time: 2:00:56
Course timing splits: 10K: 1:06:02 8.9 mi: 1:36:32 12.1 mi: 2:14:11
Garmin splits: 10:17, 10:11, 10:36, 10:15, 10:52, 10:53, 11:06, 10:44, 11:53, 10:53, 12:15, 11:53, 11:32, 8:57 (remaining
0.20)
LIKES / WHAT
WORKED:
·
Very well-organized event from packet pick-up, immediate
online results, the well-stocked aid stations along the course.
·
November’s mild weather.
·
Marathon and half started at 0630.
·
Not surprisingly, race swag
comprised the basics: bib number, tech running shirt, hoodie sweatshirt and
medal. I believe the bull charging through a brick wall represents the
school mascot, the Clovis Crush.
·
Personalized bibs, hot post-race breakfast, ice cream sundaes,
free beer, live post-race entertainment.
·
Super friendly volunteer support.
·
Great spectator support.
·
Top-notch traffic control and course monitors.
·
Predominantly flat course with some minor rolling inclines.
DISLIKES / WHAT DIDN’T WORK:
·
Parking can be an issue.
Get there EARLY.
·
Venue location. Participants
must navigate miles of city streets to reach the college campus. Woodward Park was easily accessible from the
freeway.
·
The expo location at Clark
Intermediate School.
Final thoughts:
 |
2022 medal
|
Now that Two Cities is back to an
annual race, substantial time, effort, money and planning is required to produce a safe and successful event. However, race day doesn’t
always coincide with our preparation. I've toed enough start lines to know there are going to
be some days you want to just simply do not want to run.
Mentally, I was
prepared, but the physical aspect was not 100 percent. I’ve come to realize that one cannot run each
and every race with the same desire or exhilaration as large-scale well-known races.
As I look back, a serious bout of food poisoning nearly got the better of me in Alabama. I’ve
suffered with hypothermia during a nor’easter in Pennsylvania, heat illness in West Virginia and
got waterlogged during heavy rains in North Carolina. I ran
a post-midnight marathon near Nevada’s Area 51, and last years’
City to the Sea left me feeling like a wet blanket. I survived, it was tough, but
I learned, “I can do hard things.”
But if hard things lead yourself to toe every start line with trepidation over a chance to run the
streets with the enthusiasm of hundreds of other runners, it may be time for an adjustment. I’m not at that
point yet and I’m going to continue running as long as my body allows me to. This was my first race in over a year, and I did
not allow any fears to dictate my attitude.
Legendary basketball coach John Wooden once said, “As long as you try
your best, you are never a failure. That
is, unless you blame others.”
“As long as you try your best.”
That phrase is supposed to console you in the event of failure. Reminding you that, if you put your best foot forward, then it doesn’t matter if you finished in the top third, the middle of
the pack or came in last.
If a runner misses the mark at a race because they lack the skill of
running, other runners do offer words of encouragement. After all, running takes a lot
of practice, drive and determination.
Losing my usual fervor and the get-up-and-go
over the past couple of years took its toll on my physical and mental well-being. My limited miles
were primarily intended for the purpose of stress relief, while just getting by to stay (dare I say) “10K ready.” I neglected all sorts of speed and tempo work,
and in all other façades of my training.
Considering my half marathon performance, I feel I’m again ready for race
day. Ready to hit the road again. Ready for some sense of normalcy. And ready to get back to doing what I love, 13.1
miles at a time (let’s not overdo it now), no matter my finish time. I’m prepared to take my lumps with this irrational
hobby of mine.
As always, it’s onward and upward.
