State Number 37 - Hilton Head Island Marathon

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. 

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.



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.

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.

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. 

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.



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.

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.