State Number 37
– Hilton Head Island Marathon
Hilton Head, SC
10 February
2018
It doesn’t take much to persuade anyone that running a
marathon can be one of the most challenging and rewarding accomplishments a runner
may achieve in his or her life. It can take
incredible discipline, mental and physical fortitude to run 26 miles 385 yards.
The determination it takes to run one marathon may be
daunting enough for some, but when faced with two marathons in two days, the
strength needed from within rises exponentially to complete both races in a
respectable time.
Our first double date of the year with the 26.2-mile
beast began with the Hilton Head Island Marathon in South Carolina and
concluded in Florida with the National Marathon to Finish Breast Cancer, or the
26.2 with Donna Marathon at TPC Sawgrass near Jacksonville. This double marathon weekend comes with a mix
of emotions, however.
I can say that I’ve been blessed with a healthy immune
system and rarely ever get sick. Shortly
after running Louisiana (State No. 36), I managed to catch my annual common cold
virus. Although the worst of the
symptoms peaked about three days after presenting themselves, it was the
lingering sinus stuffiness and a nagging cough that left me wondering if I was ready
to tackle a marathon, or even a double marathon.
After Louisiana, stiffness, soreness and my head cold
deterred me from running. Getting out
the door was the hard part, but I managed to squeak in some four or five miles
runs here and there. I just wasn’t up to
running much further. While in motion I
felt great, but soon after I stopped, my lungs would launch my cough reflexes
into an unpleasant spasm. However, I was
determined not to let my inner voice or any sickness inhibit me from appreciating
my upcoming 52-mile trek along the Eastern Seaboard.
It’s our inner voice that really determines how we
approach something. What we are telling
ourselves at any given moment will determine how we feel about race day. If your inner voice begins to tell you that
you are no good at running or you aren’t going to make it, it will just
highlight your fears and anxieties. Your
language dictates that internal soundtrack you play in your head: “I hope I
don’t hit the wall” or “I hope I don’t go out too fast (or too slow)” or “How
am I ever going to run over 52 miles this weekend without a suitable base?”
I believe it’s very important to direct our language
towards how we want to be. Talk to yourself about wanting to be
confident, relaxed; talk about enjoying the day; and use it as a way to clear
your mind and use your voice in a positive way.
We, as humans, are very good at talking to ourselves in a negative
light, less so the positives!
Sometimes I count, solve a math problem, or focus on a
project I’m working on, or anything just to take me away from my internal
dialogue. The time will come when I
begin to suffer and my internal dialogue starts to go against me rather than
with me. So, a song in my head, a
cerebral redundancy as some may say, something nice and upbeat, which reflects
your running rhythm, can be an extremely powerful psychological tool.
When my internal voice tells me I’m tired and fatigued
and I have, say, six miles remaining, I visualize a six-mile training run
around my hometown, picturing certain landmarks along the way, telling myself,
“I only have that far to go.” Sometimes
I tell myself I’m running two half marathons so I need to only count to
thirteen miles instead of twenty-six.
I’ve closed out last years’ chapter and now as I sit
down to write a new one – hopefully a chapter of better, brighter and
satisfying marathons. If Rehoboth Beach
and the Louisiana Marathons (States 35 and 36, respectively) are any indications,
I look forward to writing about my successes in South Carolina and Florida.
The winter doldrums are on their way out, Punxsutawney
Phil has spoken, the essence of spring is in the air, and with the number of daylight
hours increasing, it’s time to lace up my shoes for a double marathon, check-off
two more states and go home a little sorer, but a happy camper, nonetheless.
From LAX, it was wheels up shortly after midnight for
a nearly five-hour non-stop JetBlue flight to Orlando (MCO). Just how anyone can sit in a cramped aircraft
seat dead to the world is something I cannot comprehend well. Besides a few catnaps, for me any kind of
restorative shut-eye in an upright position is nearly impossible. Thankfully, the onboard satellite TV and XM
radio kept me entertained during my waking hours.
We acquired our rental car from MCO and advanced up
I-4 towards Daytona merging with I-95 pointing us directly into Jacksonville. With toll highways and turnpikes common in
the east, I found forking out $1.25 at each of the multiple toll plazas on the
toll-way around Orlando a little irritating.
I guess I’m just accustomed to the toll-free highways of the left coast.
The Interstate 95 corridor spans the Eastern Seaboard connecting
the southern reaches of Florida with the northern extents of Maine. The neighboring communities along Florida’s I-95
will soon be equipping themselves for the hordes of spring breakers from around
the country. I once experienced a taste
of spring break in Daytona during the mid-80s and now that my college days have
since passed, I was content visiting the area during a tranquil, yet peaceful time
of the year.
Early February usually brings pleasant and nice weather
without the hot and humid tropical conditions characteristic of spring and
summer; however, upon our arrival, the angry weather gods turned the skies
cloudy with periods of rain showers forecasted for the next couple of days. “Nice,” I thought. Will this turn out to be a rainy, damp and
ugly marathon trip?
The Prime F. Osborn III Convention Center in downtown
Jacksonville served as the race expo venue for the 26.2 with Donna
Marathon. In an effort to facilitate
maximum use of our time, and since it’s on the way to South Carolina, we
stopped at the expo to obtain our swag and race paraphernalia, thus eliminating
the need to attend the expo after our marathon at Hilton Head.
We arrived at the convention center a little too
early. There was a buzz of activity in
and around the center with all the worker bees hauling in and setting up tables
and equipment.
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| V Pizza |
The intervening time between our arrival and the
opening allowed us to find someplace to satisfy our lunchtime deprivation. With the modern gizmos and gadgets of today,
finding a restaurant in the vicinity is not a very challenging task. V Pizza, a little over a mile away, won hands
down.
Based on my first impression, I thought that the
restaurant has an unusual layout. The
building seemed to be some sort of small warehouse in bygone days. The restaurant’s large dining room contained just
a small smattering of patrons as we arrived but suddenly swelled as the lunch
crowd arrived. A commercial-sized roll
of paper towels adorning each of the tables seemed to be their tabletop
centerpiece.
I ordered a house calzone with a couple sides of
marinara sauce. I don’t know if it had
been sitting outside the nearby pizza ovens, but it was not very hot – the same
with my wife’s pizza. The spicy flavor
was good, but I wished it was hotter.
I was impressed with the expo held in the large
exhibition halls of the convention center.
With a huge variety of exhibitors and vendors, many free samples,
do-dads, accessories, food, and drinks were there for the offing – including complimentary
stylish running hats. I can always use a
good running hat.
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| Entering the gates to South Carolina |
Shortly after gaining possession of our race swag, we
hit the interstate making our way through eastern Georgia and into South
Carolina. Rain began to fall as we drove
through the Low Country onto the island paying another toll for the privilege
of using the Cross Island Parkway.
Luckily for me I had $1.25 on hand.
After three hours, we finally arrived at the site of the Hilton Head
Marathon expo at the host hotel, the Sonesta Resort, also our home for the
evening.
The Sonesta Resort is a beautiful resort complex
nestled in the Shipyard Plantation along the Atlantic Ocean shoreline surrounded
by a blend of the region’s indigenous trees, flora and fauna.
Shipyard Plantation is home to a large variety of
single family residences, condominiums and tennis clubs surrounding finely
manicured common areas and golf clubs.
Getting into the plantation requires a residential permit pass, so before
we could proceed, we had to stop at the guard shack to obtain a temporary pass
to access the resort property.
Hilton Head may be a golfer’s haven, and the island is a
paradise for any type of sports or beach enthusiast or those simply looking for
a beautiful place to live, retire or for vacationers to just relax and enjoy
the southern hospitality.
For anyone entering the Low Country, it’s hard to
overlook the huge sprawling, stately and majestic live oak trees (Quercus virginiana) draped with the
regions distinctive Spanish moss that dominate South Carolina’s Low Country and
its abundant island plantations.
Interspersed amongst the oaks are mostly loblolly pines (Pinus taeda), with palmetto trees and
some eastern juniper (Juniperus
virginiana) growing throughout the understory.
Poison ivy snaking their way up the trunks of the oaks
and pines give rise to the hidden dangers of venturing off the beaten
path. Oleanders, alligators, sand spurs
and the painful punctures of the Yucca plant also warn people and animals of
the hazards that lurk on the island.
All of the dense beautiful vegetation likely deliver
ample shade for runner’s comfort (especially me) and sought after protection
from the sun.
The rain began to fall heavily from the sky as we
checked into the Sonesta dampening our spirits from venturing out and exploring
what the island has to offer. Furthermore,
after a long day of travel, I wasn’t in the mood for more driving; and besides,
I will have copious amounts time to explore the island during the marathon.
It was a quick in and out expo held in a small
ballroom off the main lobby and there wasn’t much to see but a couple of
vendors. I suppose its main purpose was
to hand out bibs, long sleeve tech shirts and a handsome marathon coffee mug to
all marathon participants. In addition,
they even set up a chip check scanner to verify ones entry upon leaving the
room. All in all, I thought that was the
quickest trip to an expo ever.
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| The road not taken to the beach |
We wandered outside to check out the pool/spa area
(which will go unused) and the beautifully landscaped resort grounds. The rain intensified as we made our way through
the gardens to the beach pathway. It was
wet, ugly, uncomfortable and not worth the effort to walk the strand. Following several minutes under a large
gazebo area waiting if the rain would ever subside, we sprinted back into the
hotel, unknowingly through an employee entrance. A hotel staff person who saw us running
through the rain was kind enough to open a door for us. I guess she showed some sort of empathy for
us running through the rain – or what crazy fools could be out roaming the
grounds in a rainstorm.
To cap off the day, instead of making an effort to
find something within the plantation, we decided to enjoy the pre-race pasta
dinner while engaging in conversations with fellow veteran marathoners seated
at our table. I find it fascinating to
hear other’s stories about their marathoning experiences, travels and their recommendations
for worthwhile marathons.
Going into this marathon, I was optimistic about matching
my performances of Rehoboth Beach or Louisiana.
The touted flat and fast course of Hilton Head (see course map here) is
a perfect test of whether my training can match my previous marathons. But for me, the weather conditions on race
day will certainly play a huge role.
It’s race day! The marathon begins (and ends) at Jarvis
Creek Park, a 50-plus acre regional park boasting playgrounds, picnic
pavilions, fields, pedestrian/bike trails and a lake complete with a dock that
can be utilized for fishing (catch and release). On a side note, I found the engineering
behind the lake and the island’s stormwater management to be rather fascinating,
but I’ll spare the details. Also, the
lake is home to alligators – so swimming usually isn’t advisable.
Leaving the comfort of the hotel, I noticed rather
forcefully that the perfect forecast we were given was anything but. Cloudy skies prevailed with a temperature in
the lower sixties. A warm humid breeze
whispered through rain-soaked trees, but the rain of Friday was only a distant
memory. But, as I said to others around
me, it is the not-so-pleasant weather that make for the good marathon stories. No one cares about your perfect course,
perfect weather, or perfect legs marathons.
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| Race ready |
We arrived at the starting line about 45 minutes prior to
the race start. We parked in the
designated lots at Hilton Head High School making for a half mile walk to the
park. I looked at it as a way to loosen
up the leg muscles, but fretted about the walk back with stiff, sore and achy
legs.
The weather was warm and muggy with wet streets and
puddles from the previous day’s rainfall.
I was happy the rain had ended, but concerned about the heat and
potential sunny skies near the end of the marathon.
The number of runners certainly outnumbered the number of
porta-potties made available. The huge
lines of those waiting to use the facilities seem to move slowly. We decided to hold off and hope any urge to
go fades away once we begin running.
As we walked back towards the starting line, I noticed
many people taking it upon themselves to fertilize the area’s shrubbery, and bushes
or relieving themselves behind the park’s outbuildings. Maybe the organizers need to re-evaluate the
need for additional potty facilities.
As all the full, half and 8K runners (possibly numbering 1200)
amassed behind the starting line gantry, we all waited with anticipation who
would sing the National Anthem. When the
race announcer asked for any volunteers to sing the anthem, crickets – no
takers. When enticed with free beers at
the finish, a runner stepped forward, but since he was underage, he was awarded
a $25 gift card from Dick’s Sporting Goods instead. The young fellow did a good job, but changed
“…through the perilous fight” to “…through the perilous light.” I noticed, but I’m sure not many did. But kudos to the young lad, at least he
stepped up to the plate as no one else did.
After a few parting words to the runners, the announcer
also warned if a runner is caught without wearing a bib, he/she will be kicked
off the course and may be arrested for “trespassing.” Yikes!
Shortly after 0800, the horn sounded and everyone bolted
out of the starting gate – I was no exception.
With a pocket full of energy gels (they were not available on the course),
I was ready to give it my best shot given the warm and humid weather
conditions.
Looking
back to my junior high school days, my physical education
teacher required his students to run laps around the school’s parking lot and
basketball courts first thing before class. It would always amaze me at how fast some of
my fellow classmates would run. It
wasn’t like I didn’t try, but somehow there were just these kids who would be
blazing fast with seemingly no effort.
As one would expect, I didn’t like those kids much.
The same may be true on race day, I was nowhere near
blazing fast, but I tried to maintain a nine-minute pace with the hopes of
completing the half in around two hours.
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| Are you kidding? |
I settled into a comfortable pace and ran the first five
miles down the Cross Island Parkway like a metronome, just ticking them off one
by one. Despite missing my usual
pre-race nutrition, I was feeling pretty good and settled in with a group of
similarly paced runners. With my supply
of energy gel packets, I was ready for restocking my fuel levels at any time.
It’s a law of
physics. What goes up must
come down – the mighty bridge! The Cross Island Parkway’s Charles E.
Fraser Bridge is the course’s signature feature and comes just after Marathon
Mile 5 and course designers require the full marathon runners to traverse that
dreaded bridge four times.
As I approached the bridge, I could sense fear and
nerves in runners around me – I included.
I tried not to look at the bridge fearing it would mess up my somewhat
mental game I was playing.
I scurried up the approach maintaining a consistent pace
trying not to overdo it. I reached the
apex and said, “Whew, it wasn’t that bad.
One hill down – three to go.” But
first, I must conquer some difficult miles in between.
The downhill section couldn’t have come at a better time
and I relished the effect gravity had on my body.
At Marathon Mile 6, runners exited the parkway and onto
one of the island’s many miles of paved bike and pedestrian trails into the Rowley
Ballfield Complex, a large area encompassing baseball/softball fields,
pavilions and several batting cages.
After the tour of the complex, runners were treated to
a dirt and gravel path through a wooded area.
Combined with the recent rain and the foot traffic preceding my arrival,
the cross-country like trail became a muddy mess.
The trail only lasted for around 200 yards until it
intersected Arrow Road. This is the
point where the half marathon course split from the full. Unaware of the split, I was following a group
of runners and course monitors quickly informed me to “make a right turn…or
else.” I couldn’t figure out the meaning
of “or else.” Would I be arrested? Or, maybe I would end up more miles than
anticipated.
It was back onto the parkway, joining in with the faster
half marathon runners making their way back to the finish line.
Shortly after Marathon Mile 7, I found myself charging
back up the bridge’s incline once again, only to find myself walking. Knowing I had to negotiate the inclines two
more times, I conserved my energy. In
addition, the heat began to noticeably take a toll on my energy levels – time
for a GU pack and a couple cups of water.
My Garmin didn’t hesitate to inform me that my pace suddenly slowed to
over ten minute miles.
To put
it bluntly, it was a drag running the parkway – an isolated
spectatorless area. With cars whizzing
past at high speeds, some honking while others yelling out words of
encouragement, I had to find some way to keep up my morale. I struggled for the next two miles, through
the toll plaza and into the affluent Spanish Wells area when the number of
runners suddenly became very sparse as the half marathon runners maintained
their present course to the finish at Jarvis Park.
It was a joy to leave the parkway. My optimism and determination suddenly
improved. The shaded area of pine trees
and oaks with their draping Spanish moss dangling from the branches couldn’t have
come at a better time.
The roads through the private community wound around a
members-only golf course, club house and tennis courts. I found it funny, all the golfers I noticed,
and residents of the area as well, seemed to pay little attention to the
runners. I surmise they didn’t
appreciate runners infiltrating their private and secluded way of life.
As I exited the pearly gates of Spanish Wells, my next
focus was the half marathon split. The
temperatures were on the rise and my pace held steady at around 10:30 per mile
giving me more time to enjoy the scenery and shade.
Oh, that second
half. I crossed the
half marathon timing mat located on Oak View Road in a disappointing 2:13:20,
thirteen minutes slower than my pre-race attack plan. To finish with a sub-five hour marathon, I
still had 2:47 (12:45 pace) to complete the second half which wasn’t too much
of an impracticality. I just had to keep
myself cool, fueled, hydrated and focused.
It was back on to a pedestrian/bike path paralleling
Spanish Wells Road for the next two miles.
Spanish Wells Road connected back to the parkway just past Marathon Mile
15. I thought, “Here we go again, that
boring freeway.” Not until after a course
deviation through a grassy field consisting of uneven footing, it was back on
to the pavement and the parkway section once again for the next four miles.
I am not going to lie here, the next several miles were a
complete struggle. The heat and humidity began to take its toll causing
me to resort to a quarter-mile run followed with a quarter-mile walk routine as
a way to manage my pace and energy levels.
I struck up a conversation with a fellow runner who also seemed to be
struggling and despised the parkway sections of the course as I did. The conversation seemed to make the miles to
go a little faster, but definitely not like the metronome fashion I experienced
at the beginning.
At Marathon Mile 17.5, the bridge came into view once
again and my attitude dips. “Just get
over it!” I told myself. Oh, here comes
my wife as I approached the bridge for a third time, meaning she was over four
miles ahead of me. I was jealous. She completed her fourth trip over that monstrosity
passing the Marathon Mile 23 marker like someone destined for a PR. Lucky her, but I had to keep plugging away.
I walked up the hill to the apex, but to continue my
run-walk-run routine meant I had to run for the next half mile. I enjoyed the downhill off the bridge giving
me some added energy. I tried to glide, and pick up the pace, even for
just a moment, but didn’t seem to work. I ran for the next 0.75-mile to
the Marathon Mile 20 marker in a time of 3:45:10.
We turned out toward Point Comfort on the south end of
the island. Pretty houses elevated on pier foundations, dense thickets of
trees and marsh views dominated the scenery. With the bulk of the race now
behind me, ten kilometers stood between me and Jarvis Park. Let’s finish.
Let’s find that energy to get it done.
I stopped at the traffic circle at the far end of Point
Comfort for some water, cookies and pretzels.
A volunteer medic pointed out the various items at her spread and asked
if I needed any ibuprofen for pain management, which I gladly accepted. My feet were aching and I was ready for this
race to end, but I still had five miles and one more hill to climb.
I circled around the traffic circle at the terminus of
Point Comfort Road passing by the Point Comfort Plantation Club, a private
members only park and boat launching facility, looping back to Point Comfort
Road for my long awaited for trip back to Jarvis Park, in the meantime, analyzing
all the homes built to FEMA flood hazard standards to divert my mind away from my internal dialogue.
The sun began to peak through the clouds making the area
extremely scenic in the bright sunshine.
Together with the Spanish moss hanging from the oaks and the tall pine
trees ample shaded dominated the scene, but again, resident spectators seemed
to be nonexistent.
Before I knew it, the Marathon Mile 22 marker appeared as
I once again joined the parkway for the last and final time. I dreaded those last four miles – exposed to
the sun, heat and misery.
I forced myself to continue with my run-walk-run routine
keeping my pace quite consistent at around 12:45 per mile – some faster, some
slower. I had no choice but to walk up the
bridge, again compelling me to run a little extra to maintain my schedule.
The final three miles out in the intense sun were a
complete struggle. At times, I would intentionally
veer off the paved shoulder and run alongside the masonry block sound wall located
on the right-of-way line for some shade.
At Marathon Mile 25, there stood a man, politely informing me that “it
is 76 degrees and high humidity, you can do it!” Like I really needed to know that fact. I knew it was hot, and I had 6435 feet to go.
Finally, as I approached Marathon Mile 26, a large group
of cheering kids gathered as I stepped off the parkway and onto the final bike
path around the park’s lake to the finish line.
Their cheering certainly lifted my spirits.
I timed my running segment to coincide with the final
0.2-mile. I could see the finish line on
the opposite side of the lake. I kept my
pace slow enough as not to induce cramping in my calf muscles – like what
usually happens.
Once I approached the lake, a runner sitting on a bench expressed
to me, “Isn’t a bitch you can see the finish but must still go around the
lake?” Oh, yes it was, but I caught a
second wind propelling myself along the wooden path rounding the final corner. Awaiting behind the barriers was a large
group of people yelling, screaming and cheering me on, even calling out my name
telling me how much an animal I was.
Wow, I had a cheer group I didn’t know about. How did they know my name? All that cheering as I passed by left me speechless. That made my day.
I finished with a hard fought time of 5:12:47 with my
Garmin registering a distance of 26.24 miles.
Age graded
score: 45.04%
Age graded
time: 4:33:00
Average time:
4:38:30
Standard
deviation: 0:48:16
Post-race
thoughts. Mentally, I
wasn’t into this marathon like I needed to be. My thoughts and focus
wandered all over the place at times, and not entirely dedicated to my race.
Oddly, I was ok with it. I was happy I finished and I cherish my
finisher’s medal. I wasn’t disappointed
in being unfocused until after the race.
I know I could have done better, only if the weather was cooler.
There wasn’t much left of the finish line festivities
upon my arrival. Besides a few
stragglers enjoying themselves resting on the grassy lawn or those simply gathered
around listening to the race director announcing top finisher awards, most
runners have since left the scene as I crossed the finish line. My feet were aching, I was hot and wanted
some food. I enjoyed the slices of pizza
(although cold), some cookies, bananas and ice cold water from the many Igloo
dispensers, but it was time to leave this delightful place and head back to
Florida.
I dreaded the long “green-mile” marathon shuffle back to
the car given my physical state.
However, my wife graciously made the trek and picked me up in a shaded locale
near the park entrance. I happily seated
myself into the bucket seat, relaxed and prepared for the nearly three-hour
drive to our next destination, Jacksonville Beach, FL to crank out another tough
marathon. OMG, will I survive this
experience? I have to, it’s my first and
likely only marathon visit to Florida.
So, let’s do it.
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| Welcome |
Running a marathon should make a lasting impression on
anyone. I take the time to train and to
travel sometimes spending five hours or more in a plane in addition to driving
time. The web sites and advertisements I
see about a marathon seem to put the best light on the event and the course
itself, luring runners to partake and join the festivities. For some marathons, what the publicizing
professes and markets is true; but, for some, not entirely so. There’s got to be something hidden from view.
The marathon course is, by and large, beautiful, leading
runners through the communities of Spanish Wells, Point Comfort and Honey Horn
Plantation. I completely agree the
course is flat and fast (although some may argue that point), but I believe hidden
from view are the four uncomfortable Cross Island Parkway bridge inclines as
well as the busy Cross Island Parkway encompassing nearly half the entire
course. Traversing the bridge for the
final time at Marathon Mile 22 is not a lovely thought and, well, super not
fun! But, we all had to do it.
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| The humps represent the bridge. Other than that, pretty flat. |
Running over a long bridge four times and alongside a mind-numbing
busy freeway somehow does not fit in with my repertoire of fun. It was boring, and well, just not enjoyable. Spectators were few and far between and deserted
for many areas of the course, especially along the many miles of freeway. I don’t believe SCDOT would be amenable to
having spectators line their busy freeway.
However uncomfortable runners may feel during various
parts of the marathon route, I believe the beauty of the island outweighs the unpleasant
facets of the course. With that in mind,
I left South Carolina with a lasting impression and a good story to tell.
I believe there’s no better way to see and explore the
fifty states of our great nation than on your own two feet. I run for as long as I can until I hate
myself and seemingly everything around me.
Then, I stop to finish, acquire my esteemed finisher medal…and soon,
I’ll do it all over again. Somehow, the
magic a finisher’s medal bestows upon a runner makes it all worthwhile.
