State Number 13 - Honolulu Marathon

State Number 13 – Honolulu Marathon, Honolulu, HI

 

14 December 2014

 

I’ve been fortunate in my life to have visited some remarkable places in this country and engaged in what many would call once in a lifetime experiences.  While I’ve enjoyed just about every place I’ve visited in one way or another, I found that most haven’t really captured or stuck with me in the same sense as Hawaii has.

I don’t believe anyone visiting Hawaii expects to have a bad time.  After all, it’s paradise complete with its natural beauty, magical atmosphere, perfect weather, beaches, ocean, and the numerous microclimates.  The endless spirit of aloha exhibited by the kamaʻaina is something that can’t be matched anywhere.

Overall, I’ve visited three of the seven islands that make up our 50th state, and there is always the infectious desire to return.  Granted Hawaii is tucked far and away from most places, but there is always some unknown force that attracts me and I’m always looking for some way to return and to learn as much about the islands and its early Polynesian history and culture as I can.

For me, instead of lying on a crowded beach; I’d much rather be zip lining; snorkeling in the crystal clear waters of the Pacific among the coral reefs and tropical fish; studying, watching and exploring the Kilauea volcano; traveling the back roads; hiking the rain forest or climbing some peak and enjoying the fabulous view with the refreshing trade winds blowing in my face. 

Let’s not forget that every snorkeling experience isn’t complete until one spots the state fish of Hawaii, the Humuhumunukunukuapuaʻa.  This remarkable, yet funny looking fish with a mouth resembling a pig’s snout is something to feast your eyes on when snorkeling in the waters off any of the islands.  If you listen close enough, you may even hear the fish make grunting sounds similar to that of a pig.

My very first trip to Hawaii was spent on the island of Oahu and doing all the touristy things (Pearl Harbor, Waikiki, circumnavigating the island, and the Polynesian Cultural Center, to name a few).  The magical force of the Honolulu Marathon once again brought us to Oahu.  This excursion was not considered a vacation, but only a quick weekend marathon trip instead.

The skies over southern California turned to a pounding and relentless rain during the very early morning hours of Friday 12 December as we left for our flight to Honolulu (HNL) out of LAX.  The persistent rain, darkness and vehicle spray, particularly from big rigs, made driving U.S. 101 southbound treacherous and difficult.  Some southland highways were closed due to mud and rock slides affected by the recent SoCal wildfires.

The car radio was tuned to AM 640 KFI and our focus was directed to the continuous weather reports and updates about current highway conditions.  The approaching storm was considered a big event and acquired the media’s attention.  As long as the traffic reporter did not indicate any delays or closures on U.S. 101 or I-405, we were in the clear.

The heaviest rain had ended and turned to a steady, but light rain as we made our way down the Ventura Freeway through Calabasas and it became apparent that the weather front hadn’t yet pushed its way into the Los Angeles basin.  I felt somewhat relieved that we were going to make it to LAX in time to catch our flight.

As far as I know, most flights to the Hawaiian Islands include the “half-way to Hawaii” game which passengers are given the destination distance, air speed, wind velocity, time of wheels up, and wind vector.  The person with the closest time to exact half-way point wins a prize – usually a bottle of champagne or an island gift basket.

In the time leading up to our 5.5-hour flight, I calculated the exact half-way distance between LAX and HNL using spherical trigonometry.  All that was needed was the speed information.   Unfortunately, my time was close, but wasn’t the closest.  Computing the precise time without a computer accounting for the variable wind vectors and wind speeds is difficult at best.  The winning time was from some other passenger who offered nothing but a guess.  Too bad for me, but lucky for him/her.

The long Allegiant Air flight culminated at HNL.  The weather in Hawaii was a far cry from the ugly weather we happily left behind in California.  It was a beautiful day with warm tropical sunshine in Honolulu with the typical cloud cover shrouding the Koʻolau Mountains to the north.

We hailed a taxi outside the airport for the ten-mile ride to the Outrigger Waikiki Beach Resort adjacent to the Pink Palace of the Pacific officially known as the Royal Hawaiian Hotel.  I seriously believe that the driver calculatedly took the long way to Kalakaua Avenue for the additional fare.  The driver did, however, offer us her card specifying a flat rate of $35 for our return trip to the airport.

While in the taxi minivan, I kept hearing faint beeps which I ultimately found were emanating from my backpack.  All my gadgets and things, must have bumped the power button causing my Garmin to power up.  One serious question remained, would there be enough battery life to last me through the marathon?  I did not pack my charger.

The oceanfront resort is home to the famous Duke’s Waikiki known for its tiki vibe, good food and umbrella drinks.  The open air establishment overlooking the beachfront allows the small city dwelling zebra doves (Geopelia striata) to wander around the restaurant floor rummaging for food morsels while creating nuisances for both patrons and restaurant staff.  They were pretty much unfazed with all the human activity, but if they felt threatened, patrons ducked as they flew over their heads and tables to a safer place.

The Outrigger is in the heart of Waikiki less than one mile from the marathon finish area in Kapiolani Park near the Honolulu Zoo at the foot of Diamond Head crater and nearly a two-mile walk to the starting corrals near the Ala Moana Beach Park.

The Hawaii Convention Center adjacent to the Ala Wai Promenade hosts the annual marathon expo.  The convention center consists of a beautiful glass design with roof-top gardens.  The interior incorporates historical Hawaiian quilt designs and nature based motifs throughout.

Although the expo was just a short one-mile walk from the hotel, we decided to catch the free expo shuttle at Waikiki’s Duke Kahanamoku statue in an effort to rest our legs and to escape the tropical heat and humidity (yes, I did wave to the statue’s web cam).  With all the stops the shuttle bus made combined with the traffic congestion, it would have been quicker to walk.  Oh well, it was an enjoyable little sight-seeing tour of Waikiki – and we found that out that the driver hailed from a city not far from our hometown.

Duke is always holding leis

The title sponsor of the marathon is Japan Airlines (JAL).  The expo was small given the stature of the marathon and the spaciousness of the center’s Kamehameha Hall and I didn’t think it was up to par for such a large race.  Most of the vendors seemed to cater to the very large contingent of Japanese runners who use this marathon as a destination event.  All-in-all, I thought I was in Tokyo.  Instead of hitching a ride on the shuttle bus, we decided to brave the elements and walk back to the hotel.

Our hotel room had a partial views of the ocean, the Pink Palace, the International Marketplace and all the commotion of Kalakaua Avenue, but only from the balcony.

The weather forecast for the weekend called for increasing cloudiness Saturday afternoon with a weather front moving across the island chain on Marathon Sunday.  A high probability of rain and strong winds on the windward side of the island was forecast beginning early Sunday morning.  Hearing that, I wasn’t too disappointed.  I would much rather run in the rain and wind than in the tropical sun and high humidity.  Yes, the discomfort of the nasty weather is well worth the effort.

The $64,000 question was, “What was for dinner?”  By not having any kind of personal motorized transportation, our options were limited to where we could venture out.  Just up Kalakaua Avenue was the Royal Hawaiian Center in front of the Royal Hawaiian Hotel.  The upscale four-tiered open-air shopping mall alive with a tranquil setting of water fountains, beautiful native plant gardens, fine dining, surf shops, boutiques, jewelry and everything else conceivable to the mind.

Afterwards, it was across the street to the International Marketplace to browse through the maze of open-air souvenir stands and kiosks and Polynesian pop-era opulence.  As one walks in, the history and culture of the Hawaiian people is evident and are woven throughout the architecture with its flowing water features, lush landscaping under the canopy of the iconic and renowned banyan tree (Ficus benghalensis) more than a century old.  With some good negotiating skills, great deals on merchandise may be had.

Saturday was considered beach day.  The pool and spa area were basically on the beach only separated by a railing.  Duke’s was contiguous to the pool area with many beach goers ordering tropical drinks.  Since I’m not a beach going person, I was content with people watching right from the chaise lounge chair near the pool.

As lunch time approached, it was off to the King’s Village, just a short walk from the hotel.  This unique village depicts how Honolulu may have looked at the turn of the century.  Right in front of the village’s entrance stands the Rock Island Café, once featured on the Food Network, where an Elvis Presley statue greets guests as the enter the café, thank you very much.  The 50s themed décor is dominated with Elvis and Marilyn Monroe memorabilia.  Other collectibles include Betty Boop dolls and caricatures, Coca Cola products and old porcelain advertising signs, among other items.  The first thing that caught my eye on the menu board was a Porky Pig’s Kailua pulled pork sandwich.

After a stroll around the village and a visit to one of the hundreds of ABC Stores so I could peruse the Aloha shirts, clouds were developing over Oahu in advance of the anticipated Sunday’s weather front.

We hit the sack early Saturday evening as the marathon start time was 0500 hours.  We left the room around 0400 for the nearly two-mile walk to the start.  We could have boarded a shuttle bus between the hours of 0200 and 0400 from the zoo, but from where we stayed, that would have been a futile effort and taken too much time.

It began to rain lightly as we were walking.  It was undeniably warm and humid in the pre-dawn hours, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me from having a good time.

Nearly 22,000 runners congregated on Ala Moana Boulevard in front of the Ala Moana Center.  The energy was building as start time loomed.  The foremost feature of the Honolulu Marathon is that the course is open as long as there is a runner on the course – no matter how long he/she may take to finish.

I turned on my Garmin Forerunner 205 and lucky for me I had enough battery life to last for the duration of the marathon.  Unfortunately, the watch was having trouble gathering satellite information, so I just had to wait. 

This marathon was by far the biggest I have ever participated in and I was excited to get this event underway.  It was something else being lumped in with the thousands of runners.

At last, the marathon began under an amazing display of fireworks exploding in the dark sky.  My Garmin was still unable to locate adequate satellite coverage at first, but managed to begin working about one-half mile into the race.

With all the congestion within the first mile or so, I had to be especially cognizant of the other runners and not clip someone’s heel or trip someone.  My pace was rather slow until the hoard of runners thinned out.



It all begins here!

Runners headed off through the Chinatown district before circling back toward downtown Honolulu near Marathon Mile 2 at Iolani Palace, the King Kamehameha Statue, and City Hall, while being cheered-on by a non-traditionally attired Santa Claus displaying the traditional Hawaiian shaka sign to all who passed by telling everyone to hang loose. 

Continuing through downtown, we later looped back around and returned to the place whence we came, our hotel, this time heading in the opposite direction along Kalakaua Avenue, Waikiki’s version of the Las Vegas Strip, but with far less wattage, neon and candle power.

Runners began to thin out around Marathon Mile 6, at the entrance to Kapiolani Park.  Not long after, the ascent up Diamond Head Road began and it started to rain once again.  I opened up a dialog with a runner from Texas while climbing the gradient at a sustained pace of around 9:30 per mile while high-fiving spectators cheering and encouraging the runners making their way up the hill.  The conversation made the climb a little easier.  We discussed our careers, marathons and life in general for the next seven miles before he had to relax his pace because of the nasty weather.

The course narrowed down to one lane on Diamond Head Road, making it apparently difficult for runners who prefer to charge up hills rather than hang back to conserve energy.  The congestion cleared a bit upon reaching the summit as the roads opened up, and as daylight began to break, we rounded Diamond Head and entered the affluent community of Kāhala where we faced our second ascent at Marathon Mile 9.

This was at a point when runners were faced a stiff sustained head wind, and, when combined with the driving rain, running became somewhat of an uncomfortable task.  I wasn’t complaining though as it was a way to keep my body temperature in check.

The course wrapped around through the neighborhoods of Kāhala and by the Kāhala Mall before merging onto the Kalanianaole Highway at Marathon Mile 11.  We bucked the strong headwinds and driving rain for the next four miles and turning onto Hawaii Kai Drive in the community of Hawaii Kai circling the Hawaii Kai Marina while munching on assorted fresh fruits given out by kind residents who live on the street.

The flat sections of Hawaii Kai Drive afforded runners views of Koko Crater as we approached Keahole Street and back around to Maunalua Bay Beach Park and returned to the Kalanianaole Highway heading back toward Waikiki, which I considered a turning point in the marathon.  Now that runners were heading west back to Waikiki, the fierce headwinds we experienced were now a welcomed tailwind.  I felt for the runners behind me who were bucking the same winds I was just a half-hour before.

I felt my pace pick up considerably with the much applauded tailwind and was substantial enough to propel me faster than I would normally would.  The only downside of the return trip on the Kalanianaole Highway were the myriad of puddles on the pavement left by the relentless rain.  At times, I was running on the sidewalk just to avoid all the annoying puddles.

The rain continued all the way until around Marathon Mile 22 near the Waialae Country Club as runners veered off the Kalanianaole Highway onto Kealaolu Avenue in Kāhala.  The wind and clouds began to break and the temperatures began to slowly rise as the sun peered through the cloud breaks.  The wind-aided run for the last few miles was enough to get me through the dreaded 20-mile mark without much incident.  With that in mind, I only had around five to six kilometers of pain instead of ten kilometers.

After two miles of flat terrain in the pricy neighborhood of Kāhala, we began the final ascent of the course just before we began to retrace our steps onto Diamond Head Road, giving us one last spectacular view of the Pacific and the Diamond Head Lighthouse.  I began to slow down and walked a great deal of the ascent.  Endurance wise, I was feeling quite good, but the increased temperatures and humidity began to ravage my energy level.  

Near Black Point Road on Kūpikipiki ̒o Point, I saw a woman standing on her lanai proudly waving a Finnish flag.  I yelled out to her, “Rakastan Suomea – Sisu!”  She actually acknowledged and smiled at me.  I couldn’t quite hear what she said, but at least she understood my Finnish.

The peak of the course came just before Marathon Mile 25 then it was all downhill as we returned back into Kapiolani Park and the finish line, which I had a clear view of coming off the hill.  The sun was shining and the skies were turning blue once again as I neared the finish line.

The eternal final half mile was difficult for me.  I saw the finish line banner, but it was so far away coming down the homestretch on Kalakaua Avenue.  I followed a young girl running her first marathon who was extremely fatigued and wanted to stop, but her dad kept encouraging her to keep at it.  I knew what she was going through and I found enough energy to overtake her.  I finished 5785 out of 21,815 runners with a time of 4:57:33 for an 11:21 per mile pace.

Age graded score: 46.69%

Age graded time: 4:31:40

 

Shell leis awaited each runner after finishing one of the largest U.S. marathons.  A rather daunting walk from the finish line to the festivities at the park awaited runners as they crossed.  I guess it is a way to cool down from the long and strenuous run, but I really didn’t need a long walk.  I just wanted to sit down, relax with a cold beer and a slice of pizza.

Naturally, the finish line area was chock full of runners.  Instead of receiving your finisher’s medal at the finish line, one has to first find the finisher’s tent and wait in line before receiving your medal and finisher’s shirt.

I was disappointed in the shirt design.  Usually made of a polyester or a blend of fabrics, event shirts can be used for running that also wicks away moisture.  I’m not sure about this event’s standard shirt, but this year’s design was a cotton shirt that I can only use for running around in.

I was also disappointed in the small-sized medal considering this is a popular, large and expensive marathon.  A little more bling would have been nice, and it looked as if the medals and ribbons were recycled from years past. 

Malasadas, Hawaiian doughnuts, were being cooked and served at one of the kitchen tents.  They were going as faster than staff was able to cook them.  As I waited my turn, many of the Japanese runners were cutting into line causing some terse words from other runners.  They didn’t pay attention to the displeasure of others in line, so I moved ahead and cut in front of them.  I wasn’t going to be polite and wait my turn – it would have never come otherwise.  It was utter chaos and, in essence, a free-for-all.  I thought the Japanese were taught etiquette and manners.  None of that turmoil would be found if I was in charge of the kitchen.  I don’t know if the disorder was worth it, but those hot doughnuts were delicious.

The walk back to the hotel wasn’t as tough as I had imagined.  Sure, I was a little stiff, but felt pretty good.  The numerous runners proliferating up and down Kalakaua Avenue along Waikiki’s strand seemed to cause traffic problems as they slowly crossed the road.  Some were in noticeable pain as demonstrated by the marathon shuffle’s slow gait while others enjoyed themselves as if they had never run 26.2 miles.

We arrived back to the room to remove the wet stinky running gear, take a hot shower and have some lunch.  One problem with Hawaii – wet clothes do not dry very well in the state’s humid climate.

Teddy’s Burgers on Kapahulu Avenue inside the Waikiki Grand Hotel was our lunch destination, across the street from the zoo.  The burger joint is a cool 50s-style décor diner popular with tourists and locals alike.  Although I wanted to sample some of the contemporary soul cuisine of Hawaii, the loco moco (i.e., rice covered with fried Spam, fried eggs and gravy), I spared my wife of the dish and ordered a Kailua pig burger instead.  On a side note, I once ordered a loco moco from an eatery while traveling through Hilo on the Big Island, so I know how delicious they are.

As we finished with our meals, runners were still finishing the marathon.  I had imagined that the marathon would last into the night.  I was right, the last place finisher jogged in just over 14 hours after the start.

We closed out our final day with dinner at Duke’s while dodging those annoying doves inside the restaurant and finishing with some spa time to relax our muscles from a hard day’s work.  It began to rain lightly while we were in the spa, but I didn’t mind, and neither did the beachgoers and surfers.  I just had to get out and move our shoes and towels out of the rain.

We were early risers Monday morning for our flight back to LAX.  My wife called the taxi driver who drove us from the airport to arrange for a pick up time.  She was punctual and honored the $35 flat fare to HNL.  This time she took the quickest and more direct route.  Makes me wonder.

The Honolulu Marathon is popular for its exotic location in Hawaii and is a huge attraction for first timers from all over the world, especially Japan.  The average completion time for the 2014 marathon was 6:04:40 with a standard deviation of 1:33:53 and a median time of 5:52:01.  I know of no other marathon finisher who could celebrate 21,815^th place with a finishing time of 14:21:16.  I can only imagine if that person celebrated with as much joy and enthusiasm as the 2:15:35 winner from Kenya.

I was pleased to run this marathon.  Just about everyone who runs Honolulu can see the aloha spirit demonstrated by the organizers, volunteers and spectators no matter if they are from the United States, Japan or any other country.  Nearly everyone was hanging loose and enjoying the kindred aloha spirit, even if it was raining and windy for a part of the day.  Aloha!

Mahalo nui loa, Honolulu.  Mele Kalikimaka me ka Hauʻoli Makahiki Hou.  I ke kapuaʻi o ke kūkini.

State Number 9 - First Light Marathon

State Number 9 – First Light Marathon, Mobile, AL

12 January 2014

 

Most, if not all, marathons are memorable in some fashion.  Maybe it was your best run ever, the most scenic, the most challenging, painful or most boring.  I’ve had some memorable marathons along my journey – and not-so-memorable ones, too.  The First Light Marathon was memorable in its own way and definitely takes the cake.

Boston is memorable in a myriad of ways with the thousands of spectators and fans lining the course; New York, for its spectacular tour of the boroughs and the unforgettable finish in Central Park; or Honolulu, one of the world’s largest, with the tens of thousands of runners parading down Kalakaua Avenue in the wee hours of the morning, finishing at the foot of Diamond Head at Waikiki’s Kapiolani Park.  So, why was the First Light Marathon such a memorable experience?   

Running back-to-back marathons was a new concept for me.  I had come to the realization that in order to complete the fifty states in an efficient manner, back-to-back marathons in back-to-back states will be the standard.  I had many unanswered questions such as glycogen depletion, both delayed and non-delayed onset muscle soreness, and the lack of sleep that ordinarily comes after a marathon.  How difficult could the Mississippi/Alabama double be?

I found numerous runners planned to run both Mississippi and Alabama – some 50-staters, some not.  During Mississippi, I asked several runners about the tribulations of running back-to-back marathons.  Most held firm that as long as you don’t overdo yourself with the first one, the second usually isn’t all that bad.  Usually may be considered the operative word in this case.

Based on their advice and from my gut instinct, I did not punish myself too much in Jackson.  I finished in a respectable time and had high hopes to see similar results in Mobile.

Let's rock!

Although Mobile may not be on every runner’s radar, First Light is a major local fundraising event for the great local charity L’Arche Mobile.  L'Arche is a community that affords people with intellectual and developmental disabilities, and those who help them can live, work, and share their lives together.  An activity center also provides work opportunities for the residents and team members.

The expo was held in the atrium of downtown’s Mobile Government Plaza where southern belles dressed in period costume were at the doors to greet everyone as they entered.  We received two tech shirts – an event shirt and a Back2Back shirt for those who also ran Mississippi Blues.   A unique 6” x 8” hand-painted canvas personally made by a member of L’Arche Mobile was given to each back-to-back participant as a commemorative token of the great weekend.  On the reverse side of the canvas was a portrait of the artist along with a short bio.

L'Arche canvas art

All marathon and half marathon participants were treated to a complimentary pre-race pasta dinner in the atrium area.  The wonderful residents of L’Arche Mobile (along with other volunteers) worked hard assisting with the expo and serving an abundance of food for the participant’s enjoyment. 

My wife and I helped ourselves to a salad and a plate of spaghetti with meat sauce and a slice of raspberry pie for dessert.  Everyone had a choice of meat or vegetarian sauce with their entrée.

After our dinner, we perused the small expo for anything interesting.  I unfortunately misplaced my running socks back in Jackson, so I had to purchase a new pair.  Upon leaving the building for our hotel, we couldn’t resist striking a pose with the southern belles as they articulated their southern hospitality and charm.

The Super Bowl may be considered one of the most popular sporting events in the United States and could be thought of as one of the largest food consumption days of the year.  With many opportunities to come into contact with some nasty food-borne bacteria, food illnesses can ruin and spoil the game day tradition.  Whoever though that a pre-marathon meal could spoil a marathon event?  That was the farthest thing from my mind.

During the early morning hours, I’d say around 0230 or so, my wife and I both awakened to stomach pains and abdominal cramps, spending some time in the bathroom with gastroenteritis complications.  Putting it straightforwardly, diarrhea.  I figured it would last a couple of hours, pass through, and be over by start time; but no, it continued on through the night.

I wasn’t feeling 100 percent as I woke up before the race start and felt as if the worst was over.  As we entered the hotel’s elevator on our way to the start line, other runners expressed their dismay with the same stomach issues.  Others said some weren’t well enough to run, while others were going to tough it out and run anyway.  We came all the way to Alabama to run and check-off another state – and we were going to run come hell or high water.

I wasn’t feeling too bad while waiting in the start line near Spanish Plaza and thought to myself the problem may have resolved itself.  At 0730, the gun sounded and the detachment of around 1200 runners (full and half combined) marched down Government Street starting the annual running of this marathon.

My perceived muscle soreness from Mississippi was minimal, but it completely waned within the first mile.  It also seemed like my abdominal issues were also going to be a thing of the past – at least I thought.

The first five miles was pretty much uneventful.  I was keeping an easy pace trying not to overdo it all the while worrying about that monkey on my back, abdominal cramping, because I knew it could happen at any moment.

My wife and I both felt some stomach cramping about 5.5 miles into the race and the inevitable happened – time for a potty break.  A Starbucks appeared just shy of Marathon Mile 6 where we both dashed into the coffee establishment only to wait in a short line along with others likely having the same issue.  I could only imagine what was going through the minds of early morning patrons seeing numerous runners dancing around with a pissed off look as they waited in line.  From what I saw, at least no one had an accident.

After that bought, I thought to myself, “I hope I can last another twenty miles.  This day is going to be hell.”  When we began running again, I couldn’t help seeing many other runners scurrying off in different directions looking for places like Winn-Dixie, McDonalds or other restaurants to relieve themselves.  If I wasn’t feeling so bad, I would have thought it was comical.

It wasn’t but a couple of miles before I needed to stop at a clustering of porta-potties to again relieve the severe cramping.  Predicting the possibility of toilet paper not being available at forthcoming porta-potties, I gathered up a large wad and stuffed it into my pocket.  As the Boy Scout motto says, “Be prepared.”

Dehydration is usually associated with diarrhea, so I made sure to hydrate myself with water at aid stations, but wasn’t sure if Gatorade would upset my stomach.  However, each time I swallowed a cup of water, within minutes, my stomach would start cramping. 

Around Marathon Mile 10, we met up with a runner who was struggling and complaining about his stomach.  I asked if he was experiencing the same thing – and he was.  He said his wife had the vegetarian sauce and didn’t exhibit any food poisoning symptoms.  He had the meat sauce and was in terrible shape.  She was providing encouragement as he wanted to quit running.  Apparently, those who had the vegetarian sauce were in the clear, but those who didn’t, suffered.  The guy said he heard that possibly 200 runners were afflicted with food poisoning, but that’s only hearsay.

University of South Alabama

After a lengthy pit stop near the Country Club of Mobile just past Marathon Mile 12, the route turned slightly downhill into the University of South Alabama (USA) campus.  The course wound through the central roads of the beautiful USA campus and around the lily pad choked swamps and bogs of Three Mile Creek originating out of the pine lands of Spring Hill.  Signs posted along Aubrey Green Drive warned people of alligators and to keep out.  From what I saw, I think it was a euphemism warning people to stay away from the litter and mosquito infested stagnant pools.

As we exited USA, we briefly ran down N. University Blvd. only to be scolded by police that we were in the wrong lane and had to move over to the right.  OMG, sorry, but it wasn’t clearly marked.  Uh oh, we needed to use the port potties…again!  Luckily for us, one was available as the course turned onto Gaillard Drive near the Azalea City Golf Course entrance. 

No surprise, the facility was completely void of toilet paper, but I had earlier gathered a large wad for predicaments such as this.  My wife said I was a godsend for having a large supply of TP.  I told her the trees were available and there were plenty of leaves around.  That didn’t go over too well.  Other runners were squatting behind the trees lining the golf course, giving the golfers a nice side show.

The first part of Gaillard Drive was a substantial uphill climb.  We were in no mood to run, so we walked up and down into Municipal Park, around the Museum of Art and around the botanical gardens, all the while enjoying the pleasant weather and tranquility of the area.

When we left the park complex around Marathon Mile 18, a woman at an aid station was handing out bland crackers, cookies, pretzels, and electrolytes to those suffering from the consequences of eating tainted food.  I debated whether I should indulge myself with some crackers and water to settle my stomach.

First, I asked if the woman if she had any bismuth subsalicylate (C₇ H₅ Bi O₄), aka, Pepto-Bismol, but she did not.  So I took my chances and went ahead with a handful of crackers and pretzels hoping I was over the abdominal discomfort.  Minutes later, much to my chagrin, I was able to keep everything down, or in.  With some much needed nutrition, electrolytes and liquids, I mustered up enough strength to start running again since walking seemed harder than running.

At the entrance to Spring Hill College’s Avenue of Oaks, we approached a wonderful couple from Quebec, Canada.  To make the time pass, we talked about our stomach misfortunes, our marathoning experiences and that running the fifty states was our goal.  He apparently had the same abdominal discomfort we had, but said it was somewhat mild. 

They were also 50-staters and have already completed all ten provinces and the three Canadian territories.  I was surprised that Nunavut and Northwest Territories actually had an official marathon.  He said they are quite small and that several marshals on quad-runners patrol the race with high-powered rifles to protect runners from polar bears – how unsettling is that?  They were committed to finish the fifty states with the Marion Marathon in Marion, Iowa.

We later found out that they were preparing to run Avenue of the Giants Marathon in Humboldt County, CA.  I told them that I was originally from the area and, in essence, considered that marathon to be in my “back yard” and that we were scheduling to run that event as well.   From that point on, I was affectionately known as “Eureka” to them.

Around Marathon Mile 23, we were feeling much better which allowed us to pick up the pace a little.  I was tired and sapped of energy and wanted to finish ASAP.  We bade the couple from our northern neighbor au revoir and wished them success in their marathoning journeys.

Homestretch to finish line

Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to keep a steady pace and had to walk at times.  I played leap frog with the Canadians for a few times until the last mile or so.  As I passed them running down Dauphin Street, I heard them say, “Go Eureka!” while spectators and sidewalk diners cheered me on (just if they knew how much I suffered).  That cheering gave me the strength I needed to finish strong, despite how weak I was feeling.

I delightedly crossed the finish line with a personal worst time of 6:17:33 for a 14:25 per mile pace.  But, at least I finished!  My wife, on the other hand, finished a few minutes ahead of me. 

Age graded score 36.51%       Age graded time 5:47:23

The course remained open for seven hours and runners had to keep a 16:00 per mile pace or else they ran the risk of being picked up by the swag vehicle.  I was not too far off from failing to complete this marathon.  Given the state of affairs, I was happy with my time.

The great residents of L’Arche Mobile presented each finisher with a hand-made “medal” that complements the canvas art given to the Back2Back participants.  Coincidentally, the artist who painted my canvas presented me with my finisher’s medal. 

Even though we were near the back-of-the-pack, there was still ample food at the finish line festival in Bienville Square.  Needless to say, I was quite hungry so I parked myself on a bench near the fountain and wolfed down a BBQ pulled pork sandwich and chips.  I was happy the food poisoning wasn’t an issue anymore, but it was certainly on my mind.  I just hoped the sudden intake of food wouldn’t upset my stomach.

Because of my late finishing time, the music and celebration festivities were winding down and clean-up was commencing.  I wished I would have finished earlier so I could sit back and enjoy the great zydeco music permeating throughout Bienville Square. 

It wasn’t long before hunger once again set in.  We overheard other runners say that Heroes Sports Bar & Grille was a happening place with great food.  Since it was only four short blocks up Dauphin Street across from Cathedral Square, we gave it a try.

It wasn’t a surprise seeing runners flock to Heroes.  It was noisy inside and everyone was laughing, having a good time while watching basketball games playing on the abundant mounted flatscreen televisions.  All the high top tables were occupied, so we seated ourselves at the bar and we each ordered the Hero Burger straight off the “Big Ass Burgers” menu.  The hero was a half-pound Angus beef charbroiled burger on a Kaiser roll with all the accoutrements, a basket of fries and an ice-cold draft beer.  I must say, the messy burger really hit the spot after a long day plodding along a 26.2 mile course with major gastroenteritis complications.

Monday was the final day of our two-state trip.  It was an ugly, damp and rainy morning.  Before heading back to New Orleans, we made provisions for an excursion to one of Alabama’s barrier islands, Dauphin Island along the gulf coast.

With my experience in floodplain management and FEMA’s National Flood Insurance Program, I had to make a visit to a barrier island to see first-hand a Coastal Barrier Resources System and Otherwise Protected Area regions delineated on FEMA’s flood hazard maps.  Being from the left coast without any coastal barrier islands, I could not pass up the opportunity to visit one and to further educate myself with FEMA’s coastal special flood hazard zones.

The unique land forms of coastal barriers provide protection of aquatic habitats and serve as the mainland’s first line of defense against damage from coastal storms and erosion.    Otherwise Protected Areas are generally used for activities such as fish and wildlife research and refuges.

Although California does have special flood hazard area zones in the coastal regions of the state, the barrier islands offer a different perspective in that California doesn’t experience storm surges from extreme storm events typical of the gulf coast.

Just off I-10 on our way to the island, we stopped at Hart’s Fried Chicken for an early lunch.  The hole-in-the-wall place just off the Dauphin Island Parkway is known for their Cajun style and southern fried chicken.  The Cajun chicken coupled with the dipping sauce was fantastic.  I thought it could have been a bit spicier, but I’m glad it wasn’t since I have a tendency to break out in a sweat when I eat spicy foods.

Intracoastal Waterway

The road to Dauphin Island took us directly over the three-mile long multi-spanned Dauphin Island Bridge over the Gulf Intracoastal Waterway straight into the island’s community.  The eastern, wider portion of the island is shaded by thick stands of pine trees, but the narrower more exposed western part of the island features scrub growth and few trees.

Our first stop on the island included the historic Fort Gaines on the east end of Dauphin Island overlooking Mobile Bay.  The fort is best known for its role in the Battle of Mobile Bay.  Exhibits include the anchor from the USS Hartford in which Admiral Farragut gave the famous command, “Damn the torpedoes – full speed ahead.”

Apparently, the constant threat of beach erosion, tropical storms and hurricanes pose great hazards to the fort’s structures and constant maintenance is required to save one of the nation’s best-preserved, and most endangered, Civil War era masonry forts.

Our decision not to tour the open air facility was a wise one due to the moderate cold wind-driven rain.  Instead, we traveled west on Bienville Boulevard towards the west end of the island for a different perspective of island living.

In August 2005, Hurricane Katrina brought extensive damage to parts of Dauphin Island.  Some of the homes on the west end were destroyed.  A section of the island known as Katrina Cut was formed as a channel splitting off the western part.  However, most areas of the island experienced little flooding from the storm surge bought about by Katrina. 

Unlike mainland shores, the low-lying island causes storm surges to flow over the land mass thereby preventing mounding up of water.  From what I saw, the cut seems to have been walled with boulders and crushed rock in hopes of trapping sand to re-build the barrier island through the principles of beach nourishment.

A majority of homes (mainly on the west side) built on the island are elevated with piers, typical of coastal velocity and flood hazard zones.

Being that it was the off-season, activity on the island was virtually non-existent.  Most homes were boarded up for the winter, but a handful of permanent residents still remained, mostly on the eastern forested side of the island.  All, but a handful, of these homes were not elevated on piers, however.

Pier construction schematic. Free of obstruction requirement.

The force majeure manufacturing the unpleasant weather forced us to cut short our visit, but my main purpose was to see the island and to witness for myself barrier island living and coastal construction and retrofit practices I’ve read about throughout my floodplain management education.  So, it was back to New Orleans for our flight back to LAX.

Mississippi Blues and First Light was my first experience with back-to-back marathons and I found the challenge to be not as difficult as I imagined.  For future back-to-backs, I know not to overdo myself but to go easy and enjoy a well-earned long run.

It would behoove me to say that First Light was a memorable marathon and will leave a lasting impression on me for a long time.  The adversity of running a marathon with food poisoning is something I don’t want to practice anytime soon and I was truly fortunate the food poisoning wasn’t serious enough to land me in the hospital.  I have yet to decide if I will eat another pre-race pasta dinner.  Simply put, I’m more satisfied with a pizza or a calzone in front of me.

All too often, I see spectators holding signs that read, “Never trust a fart.”  That saying certainly couldn’t be farther from the truth for most of the First Light Marathon.

A six plus hour marathon certainly lies heavily with me.  I would someday like to complete another marathon in the state of Alabama as a way to redeem myself and to erase such a horrible time so inconsistent with my customary marathon times.  First Light; in a way, could without doubt, be thought of as my most memorable marathon.  Just not in a pleasurable way.

State Number 27 - Maine Marathon

State Number 27 – Maine Marathon, Portland, ME

 

2 October 2016

 

Ok…I know that report cards are done a little differently today; but, do you remember bringing home your report card in hand to mom and dad?  Do you recall the feeling of anxiety if your grades and performance were less than what your parents knew you were capable of?  Do you remember the pride you felt when you received As and Bs? 

Like those school years, every now and then I look at my marathon performances and provide self-evaluations of what I could have or shouldn’t have done and how I could perform better for next time.  Sometimes it is the lack of training, too many marathons, weather conditions, course profile, injuries or just not feeling it – but as long as I gave it my best, I consider myself a winner, and for that, I’m happy.

In the words of legendary football coach, Vince Lombardi, “Winning isn’t everything, it’s the only thing.”  Sometimes I have a good run, sometimes not.  Occasionally, I finish a marathon super-pleased even when I fail to achieve a PR (which is not so common now that I’ve aged so gracefully).  But win?  I’ve never won a race and most certainly, I never will.

I have a great appreciation for those serious runners aiming to win the race, but there can only be two.  Of the 728 Maine Marathon finishers, technically, 726 of them were losers.  But let’s not get this wrong.  I don’t race expecting to win.  I consider myself a middle-of-the-pack runner – I train hard, run hard and do my best given the circumstances surrounding a marathon, but I don’t think of myself as a loser.

I’ve often heard that 99.9 percent of the world’s population will never complete the challenge of running the marathon distance.  We have to spend countless hours running in the hot, cold, sun or rain.  For some first timers, standing in the starting line can be intimidating seeing hardened and tested runners sporting their shirts of previous marathons they’ve run, especially the crème de la crème, Boston.

A true runner bares the heart and soul for the sport.  It does not have to be proven to anyone else but oneself.  Whether you are an elite world-class runner or a first-timer plodding along just to finish, we all cross the same finish line, receive the same finisher’s medal and eat the same post-race food – sometimes of what’s left of it.  For that, I consider us all winners.

Some runners like to boast about winning something (overall, age group, new PR), but almost no one likes a boaster.  Sure, almost everyone likes to boast, at least a little.  Some boasting happens by accident and some in deliberate cases to manipulate others.  In either case, it’s wrong.

In Galatians 6:14 (ESV), “But far be it from me to boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world.”

When I watch television, if at all possible, I skip through commercials so I can continue with the program I was watching.  At times when I cannot skip commercial breaks, it is common to see pharmaceutical advertisements boasting about some new drug that can remedy the effects of some disease.  Half way into the commercial, the narrator begins to list all the problems and negative consequences of using the medication.

The drug boasts about all its great stuff, but I wonder who in their right mind would risk the awful side effects by taking this new drug – tuberculosis, lymphoma, suicidal thoughts and tendencies, depression, anxiety, etc.

All too often, athletes seem to believe they are #1 by raising their index finger into the air.  But the athlete who used the #1 adage to his advantage was Muhammad Ali.  He boasted he was the greatest of all time and could “float like a butterfly and sting like a bee.”  He was good and he offered no apologies when he would tell the world he was #1.  Was he wrong?  I wouldn’t have told him that.

Each October, the Maine Marathon has a lot to boast about, but some may refer to it as marketing; the signature course layout and profile, the peak fall foliage, the beautiful New England setting, the lobster rolls, the many activities in the area, and like Muhammad Ali, they offer no apologies. 

The state of Maine is most commonly known as “Vacationland.”  With an abundance of its state tree, white pine (Pinus strobus), vacationers flock to the state for its unique natural settings during the summer months.

The Maine Marathon has a lot going for it.  In reality, the marathon’s axiom is “Maine – The way a marathon should be.”  I suppose it is a derivative of the state’s slogan, “The way life should be.”  Limited to a field of 3500 runners, the average race day temperatures are typically in the low to mid 50s making for ideal running weather.

Besides the beautiful scenery, the course can be a challenge for some.  The hills may not be too difficult, but they are relentless for the first half and for those who started out too fast with the false sense of the course being flat for the first few miles or have just run the New Hampshire Marathon the previous day, the course was quite taxing on the body.

The Maine Marathon was the second of two during the first weekend of October.  The drive from Bristol, NH was nearly three hours and seemed to go by quite quickly through the New England countryside.

We arrived in Portland in plenty of time before the expo closed at 1900 hours.  Sullivan Gymnasium on the University of Southern Maine (USM) campus was the location of the expo and packet pick-up.

The goodie bags were chock full of great items such as cold and allergy medication, cetirizine (actually generic Zyrtec), granola bars, magazines and a can of locally produced B&M baked beans.  The Maine themed long-sleeve tech shirt with the marathon slogan printed down the left sleeve was an awesome addition afforded the marathon participants.  I have to admit that the color is much more appealing than the fluorescent pink from New Hampshire.

Yummy cheesesteak sandwich for dinner

After we acquired all our marathon treats, it was time to check in to our hotel located in the City of Westbrook and to relax in the hot tub in hopes of relieving our tired achy muscles. 

The time spent in the indoor hot tub and pool was relaxing respite from the day’s activities.  It began to rain as the afternoon progressed into the evening hours, but the forecast predicted the rain to end before sunrise. 

The weather forecasters were correct, the rain had mostly stopped as we left for the marathon start just before sunrise, but a light drizzle was still present – probably from the low cloud deck. 

My wife offered to commit her exceptional pacing skills for this marathon and had the responsibility of pacing a five-hour group.  My plan was simple, maintain the pace needed to stay with the group and not go out too fast.

Upon our arrival at the USM campus, plenty of volunteers directed us to the parking structure, a miniscule quarter-mile walk to the start line.  With no sign of precipitation and with the perfect weather conditions conducive to comfortable running (cool temps, low clouds and fog), I was eager to get started.

The race start area was well set up and coordinated with motivating music being broadcast throughout the starting area and enough “facilities” available to accommodate the race participants.  A mobile shower vehicle was also set up for anyone wishing to clean up before departing to their respective places of abode.

Since I wasn’t pacing, I grew kind of envious of leading a pace group.  On the other hand, I did enjoy having a stress-free run without the responsibility of sustaining a consistent pace and managing my time.  My untrustworthy Garmin somehow booted up in the proper manner and I was pleased Maine wasn’t going to be a replication of New Hampshire.

As the ever-growing field of runners descended into the start line area, I could feel the fervor and enthusiasm in the atmosphere from all the runners ready to complete 13.1 or 26.2 or more miles (if the course isn’t long).   Personally, I thought the 0730 start time could have been moved to 0700 to take full advantage of the cooler morning temperatures.

Following the singing of our national anthem, a contingent of bagpipe players outfitted in traditional Scottish kilts marched down through the crowd of runners.  It was rather inspirational.  In Gov. Mike Pence’s words, “That’s what freedom sounds like.”

It all began promptly at 0730, with a horde or runners cruising along on Baxter Blvd. adjacent to the tranquil glass-like surface of the picturesque Back Cove with the downtown Portland “high rises” sticking out like sore thumbs in the background. 

The first two miles along Back Cove were flat until Bates Street where the first hill began.  It wasn’t much, but once conquered, the course was flat again until Marathon Mile 5 as runners deviated from Route 1 onto Route 88 towards Yarmouth when the hills began.

Slowing down enough to sustain the 11:27 mile pace was a tough task which forced me to run slightly ahead of the 5-hour pace group.  Before I knew it, a runner from the pace group broke away and decided to run with me in an effort to break five hours.  I was happy to have someone in our small break-away to converse with to make the time and miles go by faster.

I was running with a relaxed 11:18 mile pace with an expectation of finishing in the neighborhood of 4:55.  My running partner was content with the pace and was self-confident of a new PR.

A majority of the runners stayed together until the half marathon turnaround at approximately the Marathon Mile 6.5 turnaround cone.  Past that point, the number of runners drastically thinned making for some lonely running.

Route 88 was closed to traffic so fans and spectators were generally friends, family members or nearby area residents out to cheer on the runners.  The people lining the course were so friendly and shouting out words of encouragement, especially to those struggling up a hill or for first-timers who wore special bibs indicating such.  I always appreciate the spectators and the support they provide.

The course up Route 88 provided to be a steady gradient (with a few exceptions) for seven miles to Gilman Road just after Marathon Mile 12 where the landscape changed from a somewhat residential area to open fields and forested areas with a smattering of farm homes, with intermittent views of the Atlantic Ocean.  My running partner was still with me and we crossed the half-way split time, on pace, at 2:27.

The course wrapped around the rural setting for a couple of miles before merging back onto Route 88 for the return trip back to Portland.  Knowing that the second half of the course was mostly downhill, a sub-five hour time was in the realm of possibilities.

We walked most uphill portions of Route 88 and increased our pace on the downhill to make up for some lost time, but were still ahead of my wife’s group by a minute or so.  I would look back from time to time to make sure we were still ahead of pace.  I would hazard a guess I was the laughing stock in the pace group being that I was constantly looking over my shoulder fearing the group would catch up to me.  To let the record show, I was evaluating my lead so I would finish at my goal time – not because I was panicking or the fear of being overtaken.  That fear doesn’t cross my mind anymore by the way.

At approximately Marathon Mile 20, my partner was unfortunately unable to maintain our pace and fell back to my wife’s group.  I could tell fatigue was setting in, and I guess my constant encouragement wasn’t enough.  I was hopeful and so looking forward to unofficially pace someone in for a PR, but this wasn’t the time.

I was running as a lone wolf for the next 10 km focusing on my goal time of 4:55.  The course leveled out as I merged back onto Route 1, over the 2000 ft long bridge spanning the Presumpscot River, giving a high five to the inspiring person greeting runners while donning a panda bear costume, and into Portland proper at Marathon Mile 23.

With 5 km to go, my pace picked up as a second wind somehow came upon me.  However, the wind at my sails was short-lived as the rolling hills in the city were substantial enough where I had to walk, but I was still on pace. 

The water I consumed over the last couple of miles caught up with me and communicated in an implicit manner that I needed a pit stop in one of those tall blue fiberglass portable units before proceeding to the finish.  So, at Marathon Mile 25, I had to utilize the course’s final facility, only consuming precious time.

As with any marathon, the final homestretch can be a little tough.  The final mile seemed like an eternity around the wide sweeping curve around Back Cove, but the views took the edge off the agony.  My pace was slowing drastically and I wanted to be done.  From my Garmin, the course ran quite long and the Marathon Mile 26 banner was nowhere to be seen.  Judging just how far I had left and if I needed to adjust my pace proved to be a chore.  But when I saw the half marathon marker at Mile 13, I knew what I had to do.  Emotionally, that was a long 0.1 mile, even though it’s only 528 feet or a mere 8 chains.

With the challenge of the final half-mile, wasting time in the portable facility and the course running long, I finished in a time of 4:56:52 with an 11:20 per mile pace (over 26.2 miles).  My Garmin enumerated a distance of 26.55 miles, and when calculated with that distance, I ran an 11:10 pace.

Age graded score:  47.56%

Age graded time:   4:26:41

A couple of minutes later, my wife’s group crossed the finish line just shy of her goal pace time.  She too had the same issues with judging her time over the last half-mile.

My running partner finished just seconds over five hours, unfortunately not fulfilling the goal of a sub-five hour marathon.  I guess there’s always another marathon to give it the old college try.  I was delighted and happy of the strong finish and fortitude displayed while crossing the finish line, nonetheless.

The finisher’s medal was a sturdy solid piece of bling attached to a colorful area appropriate ribbon with a bright distinctive flashing LED bulb signifying the beacon of light that emanates from Cape Elizabeth’s Head Light lantern room.

Plenty of food and drink were provided to runners within the finishing area such as pizza (which didn’t last long), fruit, granola bars and the ever delicious chocolate milk.  Following some nutrition and a brief respite, it was time to head back to the hotel to clean up and see some sights in the Portland vicinity before our trip back home.

Prior to the race start, we asked some local girls what they recommend to see while in Portland.  They suggested driving to Fort Williams Park and visiting the Portland Head Light and to make it a point to have a lobster roll from the food truck found in the park grounds.




“I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” – John 8:12 (ESV)

Throughout my life, I have always revered lighthouses.  Built as testaments to engineering and design, the lighthouse symbolizes guidance and stands for strength and safety made possible by the difficult and lonely job of the lighthouse keeper. 

From the Battery Point and St. George Lighthouses near Crescent City, CA to the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse (NC) to the Absecon Lighthouse in Atlantic City, NJ, lighthouses can be found in some of the most beautiful settings, often on rugged coastlines or on small rock outcroppings in the sea.  Sometimes the keeper can enjoy a beautiful day in complete solitude while viewing a spectacular sunset from atop the walkway encircling the lantern room or enduring the ravages of a severe storm with high winds causing waves to crash into the exposed structure and coastline.

Lighthouses also appeal to my nostalgic sense as they are some of the most historic structures found in the United States, and the architectural detail found in them is amazing.  Witnessing a first-order Fresnel lens with its multitudes of prisms that takes the light of a small bulb shaping it into powerful beams of light extending for miles from the lantern room rotating like the spokes of a giant wheel, is an awe-inspiring experience.

It was a rather long drive from Westbrook to Cape Elizabeth.  In the meantime, we enjoyed the sights of downtown Portland and the large estates in the rural countryside of East Portland.

It was an overcast, chilly and windy day on the cape with many folks enjoying Fort Williams Park and visiting the lighthouse.  Prior to embarking on the walk to the Head Light, we accepted the recommendation the two girls at the marathon gave us and had a lobster roll from the food truck, aptly named, Bite into Maine.

My meal order consisted of a chipotle seasoned lobster roll that delivered a nice flavor kick.  The only complaint I had about the six-inch long roll was the $17 price tag.  The menu board said that prices are subject to market values of lobster meat.  Oh well, why not splurge?

The soreness and tight muscles of completing 52 miles in two days was setting in as I got up from the picnic table.  The trek to the lighthouse was somewhat of a long walk – or it just seemed like one.  We slogged along and when we arrived, it was all worth the toil.  Unfortunately, we arrived a few minutes after the museum closed, so a visit inside was out of the question.  However, seeing and touching the conical structure constructed in 1790, also an ASCE Civil Engineering Landmark, under orders of George Washington was truly a remarkable experience.

On our way back to Portland, we stumbled upon our next stop by happenstance, the Cape Elizabeth Light or Two Lights Lighthouse as it is usually called.  Although we did not actually visit the facility up close and personal, we were able to view it from the parking lot of The Lobster Shack at Two Lights restaurant where we partook in a quick late afternoon snack.  I couldn’t resist a slice of homespun rhubarb pie topped with whipped cream (oh yeah) and my wife ordered a cup of clam chowder and some fried clam strips with a delicious tartar sauce on the side.

The inadequate and inefficient dining room space gave the illusion of the restaurant being overcrowded with diners.  Walking around was very difficult due in part by the separation distances of tables and chairs.  Even though a number of picnic tables were neatly placed in the outdoor dining area, not a soul aspired to feasting al fresco. 

A large group of patrons, donned in their plastic bibs, sat around the largest table cracking, picking apart and slurping lobster meat.  It appeared they had a good time enjoying their messy hard-earned lobster meals.  It was illustrative of King Arthur’s roundtable where the fattest knight, Sir Cumference, acquired his hefty size by eating too much pi.  Some food for thought.

Once outside, I enjoyed viewing the ocean waves crashing over the unusual rugged rock formations in and around the promontory.  At first glance, the formations appeared to be petrified wood.  Immediately, I wondered how that area could be laden with petrified wood, but when I looked at the formation more closely, the geologic creation was actually composed of multiple layers of a dark gray phyllite and quartzite.  Very interesting – at least I thought.

Monday greeted us with clearing skies and welcomed sunshine.  Before departing on our two-hour drive back to BOS, we couldn’t resist another visit to the Back Cove area for some snapshots of the cove and cityscape while enjoying the beautiful weather Mother Nature had bestowed upon us.  It was so nice to have pleasant weather for some excursions to various places of interest on our way back to Boston.

Thirty miles south of Portland, Kennebunkport is the locale of the New England home of former presidents George H.W. and George W. Bush (Nos. 41 and 43, respectively) and their families.  The compound on Walker’s Point was made famous during the Bush 41 administration and I just couldn’t drive by Kennebunkport passing up an opportunity to see the sprawling compound in person.

The compound lies a mere fifteen miles from the turnpike through a scenic rural fragment of southern Maine containing forests and thickets of pines, maples and redbuds. 

The presence of the secret service were still evident in and around the compound.  Based on the appearance of limited security in the area, it didn’t appear that either president was at the compound during our visit.

From Walker’s Point, the short drive into the city of Kennebunkport was very slow, but gave us the occasion to view Maine’s rugged and rocky coastline.  The hordes of vehicles and RVs seemed to exceed the capacity of the main highway into town.  The quaint community reminiscent of European and Old English architecture and charm, gave me the impression it is a haven for the wealthy upper class, especially during the summer months.

For such a small town, the congregation of tourists, pedestrians, vehicles and lack of parking was reason enough for me to get out of Dodge and away from the big-city-like traffic.  Anyway, it was time for lunch so up the highway to Kennebunk we went.  What to eat was a quandary.  Oh, yes, the Kennebunk House of Pizza, a small hole-in-the wall pizzeria that proved pretty tasty, at least for my palate in any case.

Getting back onto the turnpike proved to be an unfortunate challenge.  I misconstrued the guide signs and instead of taking the southbound lane, I inadvertently took the northbound lane.  Since it was too late to turnaround, it was north back to Portland until the next exit a few miles away.  So, we had to pay another toll for the privilege of using the turnpike.  I wasn’t too happy needless to say.

After paying the final toll on the Maine Turnpike about seven miles north of New Hampshire state line, we exited to US Highway 1 towards York (passing by Dunne’s Ice Cream on the way) to visit the Nubble Lighthouse located on Cape Neddick.  The lighthouse sits atop a small treeless grass covered rocky outcropping accessible by boat or if the tide is low enough, by foot.

The cape area is a very picturesque place where kids and adults played on the rocks.  I thought it was a little dangerous myself and one could lose their footing very easily, especially when it’s wet and slippery.  Because I was still a little stiff and sore, bouncing from one rock to another showing off my agility skills was out of the question.

We had to cut short our lighthouse visit and skedaddle down to Boston, in the meantime, stopping at Dunne’s for an ice cream cone.  I faced a major impasse – what to order from the seemingly endless list of delicious flavors.  I finally settled on a large scoop of homemade chocolate brownie ice cream on a sugar cone and my wife ordered a large raspberry.  The flavor list was much shorter for her.

Unbeknownst to us, their large scoops turned out to be much larger than we had imagined and were almost meals in themselves.  Other customers were astounded at the sizes and the less daring likely ordered small scoops.  In the for-what-it’s-worth department, the scoop sizes reminded me of my days eating ice cream at the Bon Boniere Ice Cream parlor in Eureka.

With the available time on hand, we didn’t have much of it to sit outside and enjoy our frozen confections.  I unfortunately had to drive while holding the huge scoop of ice cream simultaneously dealing with the ice cream melting down the sides of the cone and all over my hand and dripping onto my lap and, oh, cannot leave out the brownie crumbs scattering all over.  Messy, but delicious.

Getting to Logan Airport proved to be easier than I had anticipated.  My Google Maps app directed us south on US Highway 1 through Revere to Highway A1A, and traveling through a number of confusing and irregular rotaries, as the preferred route to Logan.  I was expecting traveling through the busy downtown Boston area to the Callahan Tunnel directly to Logan instead.  We arrived in plenty of time to catch our Virgin America Airlines flight back to LAX.

Instead of breezing through airport security screening, we first had to satisfy the TSA agents the 4-ounce cans of baked beans we had in our carry-ons were not dangerous.  They seemed amused and didn’t know what quite to do, but they were nice enough and let us take home our beans without incident.  They had to check them for explosive residue before relinquishing them, however.  Good grief.  Better safe than sorry, I guess.

To a certain degree, the Maine Marathon can be a difficult and challenging course, but the scenic features of the course along with the course support can outweigh the drudgery a runner can experience when faced with a challenge.  I gave this marathon my best shot and the relentless hills definitely challenged my fitness and endurance.  I’m pleased to have run this marathon and can understand why the organizers and past runners boast about this annual October event.  With pride, I would grade this marathon an A minus.