State Number 9
v2.0 – Big Beach Marathon
Gulf Shores, AL
27 January 2019
As my wife and I embarked upon our journey to Gulf
Shores, Alabama after arriving in the Crescent City, I noticed a sign along the I-10
corridor warning motorists of a $1000 fine for littering.
For some unknown reason, my brain started me thinking
about how the general public values property corner monuments, boundaries and
land surveying in general compared to litter.
Only in my mind. Go figure!
In most of the United States, land is sectioned off under
the Public Land Survey System using “brass caps” and “iron pipes” as
monumentation. Pictured here is a 1935
General Land Office section corner monument.
Note the warning, “Penalty $250 for removal.”
A $250 fine in 1935 must have been outrageous. Using the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics
inflation calculator, I determined that $250 fine is worth $4,556 in 2019
dollars – more than 4.5 times the litter fine.
That got me thinking a little deeper.
Fines that cost us more tend to get our attention. I may hardly balk at a $15 parking ticket for
convenience when I’m in a hurry, especially if a nearby parking lot charges the
same amount. However; a $400 moving
violation for exceeding 10 mph on a highway gets my attention when I consider
the cost added to my auto insurance premiums, not to mention the traffic school
fees. I will be much less careless and
complacent regarding the latter. It’s
human nature. As a runner, from my perspective,
it’s human nature to make every effort to improve upon marathon times after a
miserable run.
Back in January 2014, I was fortunate (emphasis added) enough to check off my ninth state with
the annual running of the First Light Marathon in Mobile, AL, thirty-seven
miles to the northwest as the crow flies from Gulf Shores and the second of the
Back2Back Mississippi Blues and First Light Alabama challenge that year. Fast forwarding a few years, Big Beach now
partners with Mississippi Blues for the annual Back2Back Challenge.
First Light was a notable marathon experience, forever engraved
in my cerebral cortex and definitely one for the books. I don’t need to remind anyone of that
ill-fated experience and the associated food poisoning afflicting nearly two
hundred runners that day. Because of that
nasty and unpleasant skirmish with gastroenteritis, I grudgingly crossed the
finish line in a paltry 6:17:33 – worn out, dehydrated and depleted of any kind
of dynamism, vitality and drive. So, it
goes without saying, its redemption time in Sweet Home Alabama, for the fourth
running of the Big Beach Marathon.
My wife and I caught an early morning Delta Airlines flight
out of LAX straight into New Orleans, LA (MSY), hopped into our rental car and arrived
in Gulf Shores, AL after a raucous 3.5-hour drive.
Adjacent to the FloraBama shore, Gulf Shores is a popular
vacation destination located off the beaten path along Alabama’s gulf coast
with miles of sugar-white sand and turquoise-colored water of the Gulf of
Mexico. However, since the winter
weather has not given way to the year’s pleasant seasons of spring and summer,
beachcombers and other visitors were a few and far between.
Prior to the Big Beach Marathon, I set my sights on an
aggressive run. If all the pieces came
together on race day, I felt like I might be in the right shape to make it
happen. There were a few reasons to be
confident, namely:
- I had semi-solid mileage base.
- Improvement to my five-mile runs.
- The course in Gulf Shores is purportedly flat and fast.
- The irregular ten-day forecasts had pegged the weather comfortably in the “awesome” category.
- My legs were feeling great and I had logged some fast tempo and interval runs.
- I’ve spent some time in the gym cross-training and working on my core strength.
- I actually spent some time hill training.
But there were also several reasons to be
slightly wary, if not cautious:
- I had a longer than expected rest break after the 2018 season.
- During Thanksgiving and Christmas, I had eaten too much junk along with the complacency of rest and recovery from a hectic year.
- Ten-day weather forecasts typically don’t know anything about anything – ever.
So, really, there was no way of knowing what would
happen. Plus, I’ve learned throughout the years that the marathon
experience is completely unpredictable. Fortunately, the Big Beach
Marathon webpage contained some useful information that I could try and
mitigate some factors before the race even started.
Pre-race, I decided to join a pace group with the good
folks at Beast Pacing in hopes of facilitating a respectful time. But I’d
have to first confront my troublesome history running with a pace group.
Just a few examples:
- 2016 Albany Snickers Marathon. Abandoned the group after fourteen miles. Went out on my own and bonked hard at Marathon Mile 19.
- 2016 Des Moines Marathon. Abandoned the group after eighteen miles. I couldn’t stand the trashy and degrading music being played by another runner.
- 2018 Carmel Marathon. Abandoned the group after nineteen miles due to calf cramping.
- 2018 26.2 with Donna Marathon. Abandoned the group after thirteen miles who used the Galloway method (ugh). The second of a marathon double combined with Florida’s heat forced me to bonk early.
I’ve successfully paced half and full marathons before
(and, yes, I’ve failed a time or two), but it seems like I cannot manage to
really stick with a pace group for longer than thirteen to sixteen miles.
I don’t know why exactly, but I have some theories. It could be I’m
running for myself and not for someone else.
Perhaps I prefer to run my own race and don’t like my speed being
dictated by other people. Maybe since I train by myself I prefer solitude
out of habit. Or maybe pacers tend to be too larger-than-life or
boisterous to be with for four to five hours. But this time I had it in
me to stick with the 4:40 pace group. If I just stick with them until the
end, a decent finishing time should happen. I need to just hang in there
and make it happen. Besides, it should
be easy enough to better my previous Alabama time.
The Expo/Packet
Pick-up
The Lodge at Gulf State Park hosts the expo and packet
pick-up. Darkness set upon Gulf Shores
as my wife and I finally arrived in Gulf Shores. Because of our long drive, we arrived at the
expo towards its closing minutes in time to obtain our race swag.
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| Actual speed limit on a city street near the expo |
Vendors began dismantling their displays while workers
moved about like ants packing up and moving to a new home.
Held in a small conference room at the hotel resort
(which was a little hard to find), the expo featured the usual purveyors of
apparel, energy concoctions, drinks and various accessory displays, but the
highlight was the quick and dirty packet pick-up.
Finding a good place to eat ill prepared and on such
short notice in an unfamiliar place can be a little discouraging and
daunting. I was in the mood for a
pre-race culinary apocalypse – a delicious burger.
Before turning in for the night, we stumbled upon
Sunliner Diner, a 50s-style diner, complete with piped-in 50s music and decor. As I perused the atypical menu resembling a
1958 period newspaper, I found just what I needed, the Barnyard Burger, a mouthwatering
six-inch high stack of smashed beef patties, bacon, onion rings, cheese, creole
hollandaise and a fried egg. The fork
and knife creation definitely satiated my appetite, but was it really worth the
toxicity?
Let’s Do This
With a 0800 start time, it felt great to “sleep in” a
little, if one could call it that. I was
still on Pacific Standard Time, so my eyes were a little dreary and tired, but I
was ready to confront the 26.2-mile beast.
Our hotel was little over a mile from the start line at a venue called The
Hangout, a seafood joint on the sand known for their oysters, party vibe and
open air entertainment.
My wife and I squeezed in among the large group of runners
eagerly waiting behind the inflatable start/finish line banner practically on
the white sand for the race to begin. Sea
gulls, plovers, and the sound of waves washing up on shore provided pleasant
background sounds.
While a sand castle artist enthusiastically worked on her
creation, I glanced at the 4:40 ringleader decked out in Beast Pacing’s
signature yellow shirt as he held the pace sign above the crowd of runners. Immediately, second thoughts about running with
a pace group raced through my head. My
legs felt great and I deliberated if “hanging” with the group was in my best interest.
Focused and standing at attention, sharply dressed junior
ROTC students from a local high school presented the colors. Following the Pledge of Allegiance, National
Anthem and some parting words, the marathon officially began.
The first half: (9:37, 9:33, 9:29, 9:44, 10:07, 9:28, 9:15,
9:30, 9:17, 10:12, 10:18, 9:45, 9:48)
Under the canopy of cloudy skies, the race began through
a parking lot onto E First Street to E Second Avenue and by the Sunliner Diner
to the Gulf Shores Parkway. After the
next mile northward up the Parkway, runners departed city streets in favor of
the Ft. Morgan Road Trail, a paved pedestrian/bike path through the wooded
thickets consisting of pine, magnolia, live oak, palms and understory brush
with scattered swamp lands. Little did I
know, the Backcountry pedestrian/bike trails ruled the day.
I pushed ahead of the 4:40 pace group as we began running
and remained just behind the 4:10 group.
My goal was to remain ahead of 4:40 while envisioning the pacer as the
“grim reaper” coming after me. But, this
was only the beginning, and the thought of bonking during the final ten
kilometers crossed my mind many times.
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| One of many |
It’s an odd thing about the marathon. The legendary
Haile Gebrselassie once said, “All athletes need three things: commitment,
discipline and hard work. Without that,
it’s hard to keep running.”
In the marathon, since the distance is so great, there
are many opportunities for things to go wrong.
Because of this, it’s easy to doubt yourself, give up and just finish.
I recalled a
cynical spectator at an aid station just before Marathon Mile 4 who held up a
homemade sign that read, “Feeling good? It won’t last.” I remember
seeing that and thinking, “what a jackass.”
But he’s right. Feeling good at Marathon Mile 4 or 18 won’t
guarantee feeling good just two miles down the road. But for the time
being, I was cruising. I had kept up with my pace and I decided to just
enjoy it while it lasted, given my proclivity to slow down to a crawl during
the final few kilometers.
From the aid station, runners left a park service road
and onto a bridge leading to the Gulf Oak Ridge Trail. I thoroughly enjoyed the solitude of the
trails through the forest lands of the Gulf State Park. Besides the pounding of runners’ shoes, song birds
made their presence known by singing or woodpeckers poking their bills into tree
trunks, or alligators rustling in the grassy swamps.
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| These signs posted all around |
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| I didn't |
I was still plodding along the bike path meandering
between trees and small bodies of water. To me, it felt like aid stations
were popping up every two minutes instead of every two miles. My feet
were holding out remarkably well in shoes that had only run one marathon, my
stomach was far from cramping and my lungs had yet to close up. So I kept
my foot firmly on the gas, my upper body ticking ever so slightly left and
right like a metronome, waiting for that inevitable moment when the proverbial stack
of bricks falls from the sky right onto my shoulders.
But the weather proved to be on my side. Despite a
forecasted high temperature of 57°F, I never felt any kind of balminess. There was a
constant, cool gulf breeze keeping my sweat evaporating and my skin cool.
The Gulf Oak Ridge Trail intersected Powerline Road into
a wide expanse of swamp lands and high-voltage powerline poles alongside the broken
asphalt laden road, cruising through the ten kilometer split in a time of 59:25.
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| Typical trail scene |
I caught up to my wife shortly after Marathon Mile 7 as
she conversed with a medical student. I
joined in the conversation every so often, but found myself jumping out
ahead. Realizing this, I forced myself
to slow a little to rejoin their dialogue.
Around Marathon Mile 7.5, more or less, the half marathon
runners split from the marathon course making their way along the Rosemary
Dunes Trail towards the finish line. The
number of runners around me significantly dwindled to just a small trickle of
marathoners.
I was still feeling remarkably good. I charged out ahead of my wife and the med
student on one of the course’s short out-and-back segments along the Cotton
Bayou Trail. Shortly after I made the U-turn
at Marathon Mile 8.5, I saw the 4:40 pacer and his large group of runners
heading in the opposite direction toward the turnaround, then the 5:00 pacer,
practically alone, not far behind. I
figured I was around five or six minutes ahead.
I ran the ninth mile in 9:17, while keeping up a solid
pace through Marathon Mile 10 running side-by-side with my wife along Catman
Road, a 1.5-mile long straight-as-an-arrow roadway bisecting tall mature stands
of pine and oak trees littered with acorns and pine cones, looking back every
now and then to gauge how far away I was from the 4:40 group.
Catman Road
briefly interconnected with AL-161 before joining the Rattlesnake Ridge Trail near
Orange Beach’s fire station where a fireman cheered on my wife and me, giving us
a little extra boost of energy.
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| Three of us representing California and Wisconsin |
After conversing with her for a mile or so, and being unable
to match her pace, she charged ahead. I
crossed the half marathon split in a time of 2:05, much better than what I had
anticipated. I thought, “If I finish the
second half in 2:30, I’ll be happy and consider this marathon a huge success.”
The
second half: (9:59,
10:23, 10:05, 10:16, 10:39, 10:35, 10:48, 11:15, 11:02, 11:49, 11:08, 12:03, 12:05,
10:16 projected pace [final 0.31 mi])
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| Endless viaducts |
After the split, my wife managed to increase her pace a
bit, and, curiously enough, I pushed the pace a little. I could not see or sense the 4:40 pace group
behind me, but if I increased the separation distance, they should not catch me
in the end. I felt better to always have
that frame of reference. But, then my
internal voice screamed at me, “Why are you doing this? You’re only thirteen miles in and you have no
idea what is going to happen during the next thirteen miles. This is foolhardy and you know it!”
True, I thought. But it had turned out to be a
surprisingly cool day ideal for running and I thought I could move a little faster.
Plus, I was still ahead of a 4:30 pace as I had done from the beginning.
For the next 3.5 miles, runners retraced their steps on
the Oak Ridge Trail, this time in the opposite direction. My wife was ten or so yards ahead,
maintaining her comfort pace hoping her knee would not let her down.
Shortly after Marathon Mile 16, runners veered back
through the aid station where I first saw the “jackass” and his homemade sign
about feeling good was not a long-lasting effect of running. He wasn’t there, and I didn’t expect him to
be. Perhaps he was somewhere else
annoying runners with his not-so-encouraging spirits.
Runners embarked on a previous state park roadway
transformed to a pedestrian trail. The
old roadway section was sawcut to pedestrian widths; however, original pavement
delineation still remained causing trickeries to the eye.
My wife was gradually increasing the distance between
us. I persevered with my steady pace,
but fear of what can happen at the end kept my mind rational.
Over the next couple of miles, runners took a quick stint
through the Gulf State Park Campground/RV Park and onto trails dominated by
endless elevated wood viaducts and flyovers traversing the adjoining
swamplands. The viaducts were not
extremely high, but they had enough twists and turns to make one feel
completely alone in the swamp with only alligators and snakes (deadly ones,
such as cottonmouths, rattlesnakes and moccasins) to keep you company.
I could probably speak on behalf of most runners, but
running on the viaducts surely got old rather quickly. Yes, the flexibility of the wood deck was
easy on the legs, but runners had to be mindful of yielding and maneuvering
around non-race participants, those walking their dogs, cyclists or simply
wildlife enthusiasts out for a stroll.
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| Unwelcomed overcrossing |
Once off the first set of viaducts, runners enjoyed two
miles of solitary and unsociable running along the Rosemary Dunes Trail. My wife was several minutes ahead of me as my
pace noticeably slowed into the eleven-minute range. Fatigue unfortunately began to set in as I
kept myself hydrated with water, pickle juice and refilled my glucose reserves
with chocolate Honey Stinger gels. Except
through aid stations, I kept my mind focused on running and tossed out thoughts
of “let’s take a little walk break.”
The time came at Marathon Mile 22.5 for another endless
jaunt on a long viaduct (I actually witnessed an alligator scampering through
the sawgrass). I began to see the tall
condominium buildings of Gulf Shores in the distance. I stepped up my pace at the sight of
approaching civilization as a rush of excitement coursed through my body. I realized we were on the outskirts of the parklands
and were beginning to reenter flat, urban grays. I kept up a steady stride, but could no
longer keep the speed of the last few miles.
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| Crossing Shelby Lake |
After a long and dreadful journey on the viaduct and
crossing over a portion of Shelby Lake, a large monstrous pedestrian
overcrossing spanning AL-182 (Alabama’s Coastal Connection Highway) appeared
before my eyes just before Marathon Mile 25.
Keeping enough energy in my legs to finish strong, I walked up the
lengthy incline and continued my run over the highway and down the other side
nearly out of control spitting me out on the driveway at the Lodge at Gulf Park
(the expo location). I glanced behind me
just to make sure I hadn’t let the 4:40 pace group creep up on me. Great, nowhere in sight.
I sensed I still had some magic left in me and forward I
continued along the highway shoulder as the heart of Gulf Shores drawing ever
closer. I kept plodding along throwing
out any insatiable desires to walk.
At last, the final mile was upon me and how long I made that
mile was strictly up to my inner self. Besides
those walking on the sidewalk minding their own business, it surprised me there
were no spectators. Because of the protective
sand dunes along the strand, I was disappointed there were no views of the gulf
or the beach in general. To be honest, I
wasn’t in it for the scenery of the beach – I was in it for scenery at the
finish line.
The landmark
buildings I took note of in the beginning stood at the end of a long boring
stretch of highway with cones dotting the eastbound No. 2 lane. I passed the Marathon Mile 26 marker telling
myself, “Alright, once around the track.”
When my Garmin measured 26.2, I still had extra real estate between me
and the final turn. Funny, each mile was
nearly spot on with my Garmin. It demoralized
me knowing there was extra mileage, but I ignored the pain and focused on my increased
pace.
It wasn’t until runners turned left onto E. First Street
near The Hangout from whence we began the marathon that I beheld the finish
line at the back end of the parking lot.
Almost as if waiting for me to see it, a huge crowd materialized out of
nowhere.
So, for the first time in a long time, I found an extra
gear and started kicking towards the inflatable banner and finished with a time
of 4:31:24 as the announcer unreservedly declared my presence.
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| Relishing the finish |
My wife finished a few minutes ahead of me and what a
sight for sore eyes. I received my
esteemed medal, took a load off my achy tired dogs and posed for a photo op
with the sand sculpture being molded and fashioned at the start.
We both climbed an unpleasant set of stairs into the
spacious and high energy after party in The Hangout. We chose a box containing a turkey wrap,
chips and pieces of white and chocolate cake.
Aside from the food box, candy, PB&J sandwiches and other snacks
were available, as well as an assortment of foods to satisfy a variety of dietary
restrictions.
RACE STATS:
Distance:
Marathon (26.2 mi) – my Garmin measured 26.31 mi
Date: 27
January 2019
Bib No.: 3006
Weather at
start: 45°F, Cloudy with breezes from NE at 3 mph
Gun time: 4:31:48
Chip time: 4:31:24
Average cadence:
162 steps per minute
Average pace: 10:22
per mile
Overall rank: 130
of 289
Gender rank: 83
of 138
Division rank: 10
of 18
Elevation: 282
ft gain / 276 ft loss
Half split: 2:05
(9:33 pace)
Average finish
time: 4:45:40
Standard
deviation: 0:55:42
Age graded
score: 52.37%
Age graded
time: 3:54:46
Garmin splits:
(9:37,
9:33, 9:29, 9:44, 10:07, 9:28, 9:15,
9:30, 9:17, 10:12, 10:18, 9:45, 9:48,
9:59, 10:23, 10:05, 10:16, 10:39, 10:35, 10:48, 11:15, 11:02, 11:49, 11:08, 12:03, 12:05, 10:16 projected pace [final 0.31 mi])
LIKES / WHAT
WORKED:
- Small field of runners.
- Flat course. The rolling hills were not significant enough to criticize.
- Very well organized event from packet pick-up to the multiple aid stations along the course.
- Super friendly volunteer support.
- Saw an alligator.
- Great entertainment at the finish.
- Hanging around The Hangout and the comfort of indoor heat.
- Easy parking race morning.
- FINISHING!!
DISLIKES / WHAT DIDN’T WORK:
- Very little spectator support.
- No porta potties on the course. Runners either used trees or one of three park restrooms.
- Running the endless wood viaducts traversing the swamp and overflow lands.
- The thought of alligators and venomous snakes.
- No beach scenery until the final few meters at the finish line.
- After running twenty-four miles, climbing up the incline to the pedestrian overcrossing.
- Finding the expo. Signs need to be placed directing participants.
After the marathon, I felt remarkably great and glad I
chose not to run with the 4:40 pace group.
No stitches, cramps or noteworthy
pains to report. Sure, I was stiff, my
quads ached and I wanted to relax, but it wasn’t like some marathons where I’m
a complete mess and sometimes want to just roll over and die. My wife and
I were both content with our finish time and seemed pretty much ready to go for
another 26.2.
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| Chowing down in The Hangout |
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| Giant ceiling fan in The Hangout |
Final thoughts:
If you had blindfolded me before the race, I would’ve
never known I was anywhere near the beach. Besides the city streets at
the beginning and end, the course was entirely through wooded and swampy trails
with absolutely zero views of the Gulf of Mexico. While the course was
nice, shady, in tune with nature and void of vehicular traffic, I assumed there
would be some killer views. I’ve been known to be wrong, and this was one
of those rare times.
With my accomplishment etched into the records of race
lore and blood finally coursing through my facial muscles, my appetite for
delicious grub called my name. After a quick shower, we were ready to
face a post-race culinary apocalypse – Mexican food. Heck, I burned in excess of 3900 kcal – I deserved
it.
Whether it was pizza, burgers or Mexican food, my palate made
up its mind. The place we had originally
chosen (Habanero’s Mexican Restaurant) seemed to be closed on Sundays (or maybe
because of the off-season), so we went instead to Cactus Cantina, a casual Mexican
dining establishment. Our server was a
pleasant and nice northern California native who desired to relocate to the
beautiful Alabama gulf coast.
The chips were light and thin complemented with a
delicious salsa, serving to whet my appetite for a Texas burrito. The Texas-sized tortilla wrapped generous
portions of veggies, legumes, carne asada, pollo and camarón covered with their
award winning queso and red sauce (actually, I prefer verde sauce). Since I was in the south, I couldn’t pass up a
side of grits to supplement my burrito.
By any standard, it was a great weekend. Not only
did I come back home with the satisfaction of bettering my previous Alabama experience,
but I got to eat delicious food, unfortunately, not adding a new state to my
list. But, it also got me thinking...
Just when you think you’re at a plateau, something like
this happens and you realize you’re capable of so much more. I expected
to melt down toward the end of the race given my sporadic and insufficient
training during my down time, but I toughed it out and finished with
self-satisfaction.
Surely, I wasn’t thinking or even trying to run a sub
four-hour marathon. So what stops me from going for that ambitious,
damn-it-all time goal? There’s a physical element to be sure, but there’s
also fear, especially in long distances.
At first, it’s good to have that trepidation – you never
know how your body will react the first, second, even third time you venture
into the distance. Once you find those limits, you assume they’re only
barely static, that you can push them only little bits at a time. And
there’s nothing wrong with that. In fact, it’s a sensible, smart and
disciplined approach to self-improvement.
But every now and then, maybe it’s a good idea to just abandon all
restraint and see where excessive recklessness can take you.
And that’s the story of how I redeemed myself from my
truly awful 2014 marathoning experience, and then ate like an idiot. If
you’re thinking that eating a heavy meals like that instead of recommended pre-race
and recovery nutrition, you’d be correct. But I made up for all that injuriousness
by seriously enjoying my time in the south.
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| Contemplating |
And on that note, if you’ve made it this far, thanks for
reading. It was a great trip full of good memories, running, good food
and a race I won’t forget any time soon. I’m happy I managed to log this “fast
time” and some of the next races I have on the docket are conducive to
PRs. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves just yet. For now, it’s
time to relax, decompress, celebrate my redemption on my 50-states quest and
make sure I stay strong and structurally sound for State No. 47 at Savin Rock,
CT. I’m looking forward giving that marathon an ambitious approach I
haven’t seen in years.
One final thought, a day on Mercury lasts 1,408 hours –
just like every Monday feels like on Earth!
Onward and upward.
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| I-10 marker |
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