State Number 47 - Savin Rock Marathon

State Number 47 – Savin Rock Marathon

West Haven, CT

23 March 2019

“Got nothing against a big town…And I can breathe in a small town.”   For those who remember John Mellencamp’s 1985 hit song Small Town, I’ve come to a realization, I do not like big cities.

In my playbook, the lyrics from that classic song ring true.  I was born and raised in a small town and I now live in a moderately-sized city with the look and feel of a small town.  Some may say, “there’s little opportunity,” but I love my ten-minute commute to work (in my own car) and the freedom to drive without any traffic congestion, constant construction, broken infrastructure and constant pedestrian movements.

To be frank, I was a little apprehensive about driving the crowded freeways, bridges, tunnels and city streets of New York City; but, sometimes it’s a condition precedent to visit the places that interest me.

In the early days of my journey to the Fifty States Club, I understood I’d have to tackle all those “tiny” states in New England.  At the time, I was unsure about the logistics – would I need to fly into each state and struggle to find a cheap stay?  Would I have to double-up on states to spread out travel costs?  And, is there even enough room in Rhode Island for a full marathon?

With non-stop air service from the West Coast to New England’s large airports such as Boston and New York, ground transportation to the various marathons throughout New England is relatively cheap and easy.  But, the thing I loathe the most about the Northeast are the toll highways.

Basically, Connecticut hosts six yearly road marathons and one trail marathon.  My wife and I elected to choose Savin Rock Marathon as our race of choice for Connecticut back in October 2018, as it fell conveniently into our plans to complete our fifty states in June 2019.  With only a 70-mile drive from New York City or a 145-mile drive from Boston, the drive from the New York area appeared to be the sound option (tolls and all).

My wife and I caught a United 787 Dreamliner red-eye flight from LAX into Newark, New Jersey (EWR).  For those who desire to dish out enough dough, the Dreamliner offers distinctive and unprecedented comfort.  But, for us economy passengers, sleeping in a cramped seat or watching movies on a small screen embedded in the seat in front of us was our only option for comfort. 

We arrived in Newark around 0530 EDT as a cold blustery rainy morning dampened my spirits.  We were undoubtedly tired and exhausted from the long red-eye flight.  I was unsure how the weekend would pan out, but early indications cultivated early optimism that this was my kind of running weather.

After hopping aboard EWR’s Air-train to the rental car facility, we took possession of our rental car.  Following a quick catnap in an empty restaurant parking lot not far from the airport, we got out of Dodge and proceeded to negotiate the surface streets of Staten Island, Brooklyn and Queens to the National Tennis Center, home to the U.S. Open tennis tournament.  I can safely surmise that the frantic drive to the NTC was nothing more than frenzied and chaotic.  Of course, it didn’t help that our experience occurred during morning peak-hour traffic conditions and that we were tired. 

Over the years, I’ve watched the U.S. Open on television cheering on such greats as Pete Sampras, Jimmy Connors, Martina Navratilova, Chris Evert, among others, grace center court.  With an opportunity at my disposal, I had the occasion to grace center court as well, but with a different set of circumstances in mind.

It was a Friday in our favor.  Facility tours are not conducted every day, but rather as demand and interested individuals dictate.  The ninety-minute guided tour through the light rain and puddle laden walkways and courts brought us into the facility’s:

• Media interview room
• Media workroom
• Player locker rooms and Open winners’ designated lockers
• Player lounge
• Arthur Ashe Stadium center court
• Featured courts
• Champions walk of fame

I was shocked to learn that center court rents to the public for $3500 per hour.  Yikes!

Following the facility tour, we satiated our appetite with some slices of New York style crispy coal-oven pizza at Sac’s Place in the heart of Brooklyn.  Sure, it was good pizza, but definitely not worth the traffic hassle or driving through the congested pot-hole laden city streets to eat there.

It didn’t take much to elevate our stress levels and to realize we had enough of New York to last us a lifetime.  We delightedly retreated to the renowned I-95 corridor to our hotel in a much smaller town, Milford, CT, a few miles short of West Haven.

The Expo/Packet Pick-up

The Savin Rock Conference Center hosted packet pick-up.  The conference center sits adjacent to Savin Rock overlooking Long Island Sound with views of Long Island on the horizon. With my wife being tired from a long day traveling, I drove ten miles into West Haven to the conference center to gather our race bibs and event shirts.

I expected to see an expo, but to my amazement, there was no expo or anything resembling one, but only a large room of volunteers milling about behind a few portable tables with boxes of race bibs and shirts stacked on top of them.  I was in and out in less than five minutes.  What can one expect from a small caliber, small town race?  I walked around the building listening to the calm waters of the sound, along the “boardwalk” and scoped out the parking areas before heading back to Milford. 

The Savin Rock Marathon and Half is organized and sponsored by a local multi-sport athletic club, the Shoreline Sharks.  Held annually in West Haven, the course starts and concludes at Savin Rock Park, the site of a former seaside resort and amusement park, adjacent to Point Bradley.  For beach enthusiasts, it seems to be a great place!  Granted, it's not quite the time of year to hang out at the beach unless you’re donning winter weather jackets, hats and gloves, but being there is the next best thing – even if bundled up with multiple layers. 

The course itself consists of roughly four miles of flat, five miles of tortuous hills, and the final four miles of flat once again.  The course was originally laid out as a half marathon course, but in 2011, organizers decided to add the marathon – with marathon runners completing two laps of the course.

I’m not a huge fan of repeating 13.1-mile loops, let alone smaller multiple loops, but over the years, I’ve become more accustomed to loops or out-and-back segments by altering my approach and attitude.  I plan to treat the first lap as a preview of the course to get a feel for the terrain and what to expect, while hopefully treating the second loop as a more competitive run.  At least that’s what I planned.

Before embarking on my Connecticut journey, I visited www.findmymarathon.com to print a personalized pace band corresponding to a 4:30 finish.  This isn’t an ordinary pace band with a consistent pace throughout, but a pace band accounting for Savin Rock’s topography and landscape.  Some miles are slow (uphill) while others are faster (downhill).

I plan to complete the first loop in 2:13 while running the second in a slightly slower 2:17. Resisting the temptation to go out fast to bank time is easier said than done.

Like multiple out-and-backs, multiple loops can break the race into manageable sections; but, familiarity with a loop can help psychologically, strategically and tactically (even though I don’t employ tactical situations with my races).  However, knowing you have to do the loop again can lead to mentally and physically draining effects (yes, that’s definitely happened).  With looped courses, the net elevation gain/loss is zero.  What goes up must come down.

Shoreline Sharks dancing away

Let’s Do This

The race begins at 0800, leaving us some time to sleep in and have some breakfast items at the hotel.  On our way out the door, I seized a banana, bagel and some cranberry scones from the hotel’s pantry.  I hoped that the pizza I had the previous night combined with my paltry breakfast would be enough to sustain my energy levels.

We arrived at the parking lot nearly a half hour before the start, giving us time to enjoy the shelter of our warm car as long as possible before heading off to the conference center and out into the frigid Connecticut air.  Runners of all abilities quickly assembled along the unassuming “boardwalk” that overlooked the sound behind the conference center, eager to get the show on the road.  The tide was low; the wind was blowing; flags flapped in the stiff wind; runners shivered around me; and the seagulls found difficulty keeping steady flight – all gesturing it was go-time.

The race director, Clint, made some quick announcements as he stood at the foot of Savin Rock.  He stated that runners were to remain on the right side of all roads and expected traffic to be minimal.  Clint also revealed those who were signed up for the marathon but didn't feel like completing the second loop could finish with a half marathon, but had to inform the timekeepers of downgrading to the half.  I do admit, I kept that in the back of my mind, but I was there to cross-off the state of Connecticut and I was not to about to relegate my fifty-statehood because of a trace of cold weather.  Clint also warned runners that there were only two locations for port-a-johns along the route – at the conference center and at the 6.55-mile split point.

As I waited for the race director to signal the start of the race, I forced warm air into my gloved hands, jumped up and down and slapped my hamstrings to keep them from shaking.  A sky shrouded in clouds surrounded the rising sun with the lingering effects of Nor’easter winds keeping the temperature just above freezing.  I actually wore a jacket to keep warm while I waited for the start.  There weren’t enough bodies around to warm the air in the start line.  For me, it was perfect running weather.  I positioned myself a few rows back from the serious runners up in front of the line, excited to knock off another state.

After a short verbal countdown, the blast of an airhorn sounded the start of the race and 500 runners (350 half and 150 full) bolted across the starting line timing mat.

The first half: ((9:14, 9:30, 9:46, 9:21, 10:53, 11:19, 10:25, 11:13, 12:13, 10:03, 10:19, 10:23, 10:34)

Being pulled nearly right along with the runners at the front, I took off paralleling the shoreline, past some waterfront condominiums onto the aptly named Beach Street with the desire to push it.  I held back.  I stayed comfortable for the first mile and tried to imagine how I’d feel at this pace for most of the race.  I passed the Marathon Mile 14 sign, but I didn’t let that affect my focus.  I felt a slight push, but overall relaxed.  Good!  Marathon Mile 1 complete in 9:14.  Too fast.

There I am on left side, white hat

Then, it was around Morse Park onto 2nd Street as runners went from a delightful tail wind to wind in their faces.  All of a sudden, it felt a lot cooler and a little more difficult to run.  With the headwind and a very slight but perceptible uphill gradient, I felt my pace slack off a bit.

As 2nd Street intersected with Main Street, runners had to “fend” for themselves as they crossed the street, dodging vehicles and frustrating motorists.  Where were the police officers?  Who was responsible to direct traffic?  Being an engineer who has experience with special event permits, I couldn’t believe it.

I fought through the cold headwind as I made my way through West Haven's downtown area, following Main Street and past the historic West Haven Green at Savin Avenue and the nearly 150-year old First Congregational Church of West Haven, that defines the town's skyline. 

Runners turned left onto Savin Avenue and reached the five-kilometer point.  The lone police officer controlling traffic failed to properly control traffic and runners and another free-for-all ensued confusing runners as they crisscrossed all over the place.  Again, I was dismayed.

Suddenly, I had a short burst of energy and managed to run unperturbed, though slightly labored, for about fifteen minutes as we continued down Savin Avenue doubling back onto Captain Thomas Boulevard as volunteers directed runners onto the sidewalk.  The conference center from whence we began our race, was to the left. 

Shortly before Marathon Mile 4, runners turned right onto Kelsey Boulevard, facing the first big challenge of the morning and the first big hill of many to come in the race.  That's when my physical fortitude failed me, I began walking.   

Oh, those damn hills.

At the crest of the hill, the course proceeded into Painter Park for a short out-and-back.  I grabbed my first chocolate GU pack of the day and choked it down with a few swigs of water.  On a side note, cold temperatures and GU packs do not mix well.  With the very viscous substance, swallowing the glucose laden material is only accomplished by washing it down with water, sometimes triggering the gag reflex.  As I exited the park, I fist pumped a person dressed in a shark costume.

After a short and steep downhill, I picked up my pace to around an eight-minute mile, making up for my walk stint.  We turned left into a residential street deviating back to Marathon Mile 5, to a busy Main Street, backed up with cars waiting for breaks in the continuous flow of runners (the police officer did his job, thank you).  Runners proceeded west along the rolling hills of Main Street while dodging puddles alongside the street from the melting snow and the previous day’s rain events.

The rolling hills posed a problem for me.  I just didn’t possess the stamina to run them.  My legs felt heavy and the thought of expending my energy levels during the first loop did not appeal to me.  Thoughts of the Atlantic City Marathon and pushing through the “five stages of grief” suddenly flashed before my eyes.

Stanley Cup. Photo courtesy of Google Earth

Runners made their way to Island Lane and into an industrial part of West Haven passing a large replica of the Stanley Cup next to a heating oil warehouse building.  I pressed on knowing my 4:30 finish time quickly vanishing into thin air.  My mile splits grew slower and slower and I resigned to the fact that a five-hour finish time seemed to rule the day.  I crossed the 6.55-mile split timing mat in a time of 1:07:24 (10:17 pace).  A volunteer exclaimed, “For you halfers, you’re half done.  For you marathoners, you’re only a quarter way done.”  Nice to know.

Google Earth birds eye view

Lighthouse house

The roads leveled out to begin a nice downhill trend into Marathon Mile 7 and onto Benham Hill Road and the start of another excruciating hill.  But, the best part of the course was the coolest house of the day – the lighthouse house.

I didn’t have my phone with me to snap a photo; however, I did manage to snap a picture as I left packet pick-up the day before.

The house has a lighthouse spire topped with a lantern room on the backside of the house and even half a boat built as a deck with a swimming pool.  If anyone was watching me, they saw me walk that entire hill with my head pointed straight at that house, thinking ‘That house is so cool!”  What a way to keep me distracted while chugging up a nagging hill, ha-ha.

The hill’s backside consisted of a steep downhill into Marathon Mile 8.  I gave what I had as I cruised almost out of control and turning wide onto a broken pavement potholed street.  It was time to watch my footing as I did not want to injure an ankle or knee.

As I made a right turn onto Jones Hill Road, the next test for runners came into plain view – another dreaded hill leading into Marathon Mile 9.  While on another walking stint, I consumed another GU pack and some Honey Stinger chews – hard and chewy from the cold temperatures.  I’m surprised my dental work stayed in place.

Upon cresting the hill, I picked up the pace on the steady downhill and into a roundabout on Ocean Avenue shortly after Marathon Mile 11.  Again, the police allowed traffic to obstruct runners from crossing the road.  For me, a large 18-wheel tractor-trailer slowly negotiated the roundabout monopolizing the inside overtracking area.  I glanced back at the officer with a displeased look as other runners shared my sentiments.

The next two miles consisted of flat sections of Ocean Avenue with magnificent views of Long Island Sound.  With a welcomed wind at my back, I cruised back to Bradley Point Park and into the finish line area.  The only caveat, I had to do the loop once again.

I crossed under the red inflatable finish line banner stopping the clock at 2:17:09 (10:28 pace) as an exuberant announcer excited the cheering spectators, “Let’s hear it for another marathoner as he begins his second loop.”

All I could think about was the fact I was four minutes slower than what I had planned, but with those hills posing a serious test of my fitness level, I did the best I could.

The second half: (11:32, 11:20, 12:53, 11:15, 14:30, 12:05, 12:13, 12:49, 12:59, 13:48, 12:14, 12:38, 13:58, 11:47 projected pace [final 0.44 mi])

Same profile as the first half.

With the texture and feel of the first 13.1-mile loop now behind me, I knew what to expect the second time around.  I set a goal to finish in under five hours – or a 2:42 lap (12:22 pace).  Easy, right?  I was happy to have one lap done.  I felt okay, but not great – and that concerned me.

Shortly after crossing the timing mat, I pulled over for a shot of GU I had stashed inside my glove as a way to keep the gelatinous substance warm and easier to swallow, chased down with two swigs of water.  With the wind at my back for the next mile or two, it was time to employ my personal race psychology to get through the final loop.

As I circled around Morse Park, I suddenly felt my legs growing heavier.  I kept telling myself, “it’s the headwind and a slight uphill grade.”  As I approached the intersection of 2nd Avenue and Main Street, I immediately noticed police controlling the intersection.  Perhaps someone complained.

As predictable, the number of runners drastically diminished for the final loop and I appeared to be running alone.  I quickly gave up hope striking up conversations with other runners.  My main concern was to avoid getting off course.  I’ve never been to West Haven in my life, so I made it a point to remember certain landmarks the first time through.

I slowly crept up the hill leading into Painter Park tired, with the feeling as if things were beginning to crumble in front of my eyes.  It was at the aid station in Painter Park when I administered two acetaminophen/caffeine tablets to briefly energize my legs.  I realized the brief charge would last but a couple of miles, but I needed it. 

I pulled off the course at the edge of the park, behind a large mature northern red oak tree (Quercus rubra) to relieve some bladder compression I endured over the past twelve miles.  With new sense of euphoria, I focused my attention on my charge down the relatively steep descent leading to Marathon Mile 18, passing two runners on the way.

By not being mindful of my surroundings or the presence of their simple pavement markings, I sensed I took a wrong turn.  I looked back and ahead, but no runners.  I thought, “am I off course?”  I didn’t remember the intersection from the first time, but I saw a police car with a traffic cone nearby.  As I approached the car to ask for assistance, a cop exited his unit and stopped traffic for me.  I told him as I passed, “Thank you.  Looks as if I took a wrong turn.”  He chuckled, but I didn’t find it amusing.  Later, as I analyzed the course map, I did fail to run the correct line.  Again, I was dissatisfied with the lack of course markings or that no one was around to direct runners.

Anyway, I got back on track leading to longer and longer walking stints.  The hills were too much to keep running.  I passed by the Stanley Cup replica once again and crossed the 19.65-mile intermediate split with a time of 3:40:57 (11:14 pace).

I looked forward and set my sights to once again seeing the cool lighthouse house.  The walk up the hill was agonizingly slow, but allowed me to take in the view of the house, wondering if the lantern room houses a Fresnel lens.  I doubt it, but one can wonder.

I focused my attention on the next mental landmark – the downhill gradient leading into the roundabout on Ocean Avenue just shy of Marathon Mile 24.  I kept glancing at my Garmin, mentally calculating a finish ETA.  Five hours seemed like a realistic possibility, but in a marathon, anything can happen.

With a little more than two miles remaining, I was once again on a flat section of the course with a tailwind to push me along.  I attempted to increase my pace for the final homestretch, but my calf began to cramp, forcing me to reduce my pace and alter my gait.  Without question, I was disappointed.  As I crossed the Marathon Mile 24, I needed to finish the last 2.2 miles in twenty minutes.  That was not going to happen given my fatigue levels and cramping, so I revaluated my performance and settled on a time goal of 5:05.

As I turned off Ocean Avenue onto the pathway leading into Point Bradley Park, I could see and smell the finish line.  The end was near.  A shot of adrenaline surged through my body seemingly numbing any pain and discomfort I experienced.  I stepped up my pace up the final incline and sailed in across the finish line with a time of 5:04:35.

RACE STATS:

Distance: Marathon (26.2 mi) – my Garmin clocked it at 26.44 mi

Date: 23 March 2019

Bib No.: 10

Weather at start: 37°F, cloudy and windy (25ºF wind chill).  Winds 15 mph with strong gusts.

Gun time: 5:04:43

Chip time: 5:04:35

Average cadence: 152 steps per minute

Average pace: 11:31 per mile

Overall rank: 123 of 156

Gender rank: 88 of 115

Age group rank: 12 of 14

Elevation: 1247 ft gain / 1247 ft loss (start and finish at same point)

Half split: 2:17:09 (10:28 pace)

Average finish time: 4:26:40

Standard deviation: 0:48:59

Age graded score: 47.48%

Age graded time: 4:23:04

Garmin splits: (9:14, 9:30, 9:46, 9:21, 10:53, 11:19, 10:25, 11:13, 12:13, 10:03, 10:19, 10:23, 10:34, 11:32, 11:20, 12:53, 11:15, 14:30, 12:05, 12:13, 12:49, 12:59, 13:48, 12:14, 12:38, 13:58, 11:47 projected pace [final 0.44 mi])

Course map

LIKES / WHAT WORKED:

• Small and challenging two-loop scenic course. 
• Flat – hilly – flat – hilly – and flat course.
• Very well-organized event from quick packet pick-up to the multiple aid stations along the course serving GU gels, Gatorade and water.
• Super friendly volunteer support.
• Hats off to the great spectators displaying their support despite the cold windy weather!
• Easy parking race morning – but I wish there were more parking attendants directing vehicles.
• FINISHING!!

DISLIKES / WHAT DIDN’T WORK:

• The cold and non-stop Nor’easter winds, but there’s nothing one can do about that.
• No national anthem at the start. ☹
• The food variety at the finish line needs improvement.  Only non-alcoholic beer, water, plain bagels and bananas available at the finish.
• Traffic control at intersections!  Some locations saw a free-for-all with runners competing with traffic and irritated motorists.
• During the second loop, with runners few and far between, make sure you recognize certain landmarks.  Most intersections lacked volunteers to direct runners.

Given my sporadic and inconsistent training since Big Beach, AL and Napa Valley, I was satisfied.  Overall, I did all I could do.  I enjoyed the scenery, the neighborhoods and the shoreline views.

After I received my finisher’s medal, I proceeded into the conference center for some locally brewed NA beer (non-alcoholic), and a banana.  I was really disappointed with the food selection, though.  Besides plain bagels and bananas, I hoped for pizza slices or some other food selections.  Needless to say, it wasn’t worth hanging around so my wife and I stopped for a burger at the West End Bistro on our way back to the hotel.

Earlier, I mentioned that I had enough of New York to last a lifetime.  However, Sunday was a day to relive the New York experience, but this time Manhattan – on foot.

Parking at the TRYP hotel in Newark

Hotel lobby - very ultraviolet-like

Newark basilica

We left Milford shortly after 0800 en route to our hotel in Newark, located a couple blocks from Newark Penn Station.  We parked our car in the hotel lot and hopped aboard the NJ Transit train for a twenty-minute ride to Penn Station New York for the primary reason to enjoy the Broadway musical, Waitress.

We walked around Manhattan visiting such places as Times Square, Bryant Park, Fox News studio, the Rock and the Brooks-Atkinson Theater to pick up our show tickets at the box office will-call window. 

I found Waitress to be about a journey of the main character (Jenna) as she vows to escape her small town and her abusive husband.  An unexpected pregnancy weighs on her conscience to leave town and to participate in a baking contest in a distant city and begin a new life. 

As a waitress in a roadside diner, Jenna is a baker of pies reflecting her emotional states.  In the end, she finds the missing ingredient in her recipe for happiness – courage. Patrons can actually buy pies in small mason jars for $12 – ouch.  Perhaps courage is an ingredient.

The musical is filled with all sorts of moments: some hilarious, some powerful, some touching as well as many feel-good moments.  I thought that the characters were very relatable to real-life scenarios with their performances quite convincing.

Personally, I was amazed!  I went into the musical not knowing anything about the characters, plot or storyline nor I didn’t read anything about the show.  I wanted to be surprised. 

The story turned out to be much deeper than I had anticipated.  It’s not your typical love story in the sense of boy meets girl, they fall in love and live happily ever after.  Rather, I found it to be about self-reflection and soul-searching.

Spending the day in Manhattan turned out much better that our excursion through Brooklyn and Queens.  The weather was great, all the pizza slices were good and the Broadway play was fantastic.  At the end of a long afternoon, we walked back to Penn Station and caught the 1852 train back to Newark.

Times Square

The "Connie" being moved to JFK for a cocktail bar

Fox News studio

Bryant Park

Final thoughts:

Overall, the Savin Rock Marathon was a great experience!  The course is awesome.  I love having a few miles to settle into a groove, then attacking the hills as they test everyone by weeding out the weaker runners from the strong.  The final miles are back to flat to let you rip it out, if you can.  But, for marathoners, a second loop is required, so conserving energy in the first loop is a key component for successful completion.

I would say that the Shoreline Sharks put on a great race from most aspects, but not all.  Yes, the atmosphere was fun and low key, and they say runner safety was of the utmost importance!  But, I couldn’t say there were police at every major intersection or volunteers controlling the minor intersections.  Is that safety?  Traffic cone delineators lined most of the course, but runners had to be cognizant of traffic at all times and course markings need some improvement. 

The aid stations were well stocked with GU, water and Gatorade.  As always, the volunteers and spectators who came out are awesome!  If the opportunity presented itself, would I run this course again in the future?  I could envision myself running this race again – for the challenge and the scenery.  But, I would not fly into the New York area.

I have faced time and time again the difficult truth that strength and confidence in long distance running, much like the course’s elevation chart, exist in a wave form.  There are weeks and even months where nagging pains and tiny setbacks make marathon training feel like a chore.  But there are also spans of time when everything feels easy, effortless and that the body’s limits can easily bend to your will.  At the end, despite my overall performance, I felt strong, powerful, and incredibly optimistic about the rest of the year’s challenges.  The last few months have had their aches and pains, but as I finished my 26.4-mile weekend averaging an 11:37 pace with zero feet of elevation change, I felt incredible.  Waitress put the cherry on top.

With every mile, I kept crossing off times that I could achieve (4:00, 4:20, 4:30) were out of the running, which normally would be a disheartening thing.  However, since creating the goal to finish the distance in all fifty states, I’ve realigned my expectations and mantra – finish the race, finish the state.  I used to challenge myself to run my races to a BQ or a PR, but I’ve come to realize, almost forcibly, that not all race experiences are equal.  Sometimes everything lines up and you absolutely slay the course.  Other times, like Savin Rock or Hatfield-McCoy, you’re not as lucky.

Now I just have to make sure, as my mom advises, to not overdo it during the months of April, May and June as I close out my fifty-state journey.  Because running five marathons in three months is certainly not that.

Thanks for stopping by and reading my post.
So long my friends. 😊

Onward and upward

Napa Valley Half Marathon

Napa Valley Half Marathon

Napa, CA

3 March 2019

Decades ago, when the concept of running a half or full marathon was nothing more than some obscene idea in my head, I had only opted to plod my way through some locally produced 5Ks or an occasional 10K.  I never dreamed of anything more.

Back in the late 1990s, the seed of possibly running a half marathon was planted, as I opted to sign up for my first half marathon, the “original” Bakersfield Half Marathon.   Then, soon after completing my first full marathon in October 2000, long distance running became my chosen addiction and drug of choice.

Fast forward nearly twenty years.  Established in 2019, and new to NVM organization, is the investiture of the Napa Valley Half Marathon.  Since 1979, Napa Valley hosted only a full marathon on a point-to-point course along the Silverado Trail (not actually a trail, but rather a paved highway) commencing in Calistoga and closing out in Napa.

I was humbled and excited to participate in the inaugural NVM half marathon and to bear witness to both men and women runners setting new course records.  But even more so, I was inspired to see ordinary people accomplishing their goals – normal people like you and me.

Whether runners look to knock off a bucket list item, run for a cause, or run in memory of a loved one, they are an amazing testament who lead by example, that nothing is impossible and I never forget that anyone can run a half, or even, a full marathon.  Anyone.

Running NVM was not my original aim, nor was it on my radar as a “must do” race, but being invited to run as a pace leader for this popular and esteemed, and often sold-out event, captured my mojo to sign up for the experience.

With that said, NVM is not an all-out PR attempt or anything resembling one.  I saw it as a chance to complete thirteen miles at a comfortable 9:55 pace (2:10 overall), giving me an opportunity to experience:

• What this course has to offer and whether it lives up to its reputation;
• What kind of shape I’m in after rehabilitating an injured hamstring; and finally
• Running for someone else while giving back to the running community.

It’s always a very rewarding experience being a pacer.  Runners always remember their best race and that beaming smile as one crosses the finish line and just how good it makes one feel.  For me, being able to see a similar smile on another runner’s face as they cross the finish line with me, and knowing that I played an integral part with their journey, is a reward only pacers can understand.

In the midst of a very rainy and ugly day back in March 1999, my wife ran the NVM and is no stranger to the course.  Now, a more experienced and seasoned marathoner, she volunteered to pace the full marathon, while I happily agreed to pace the half marathon largely because…it’s easier, it’s in my comfort zone, and my success rate is much higher compared to a full.

Being a pacer is a tough job and with it, bears a huge responsibility and fulfilling that obligation is very gratifying.  I take that responsibility seriously; but, there’s always that unexpected chance of failure.

I’ve often read that hamstring injuries are incredibly common for runners, so common in fact that occasionally us less serious “middle-of-the-pack” athletes aren’t exempt! 

Picture the scene, 11 February 2019.  Long day driving to Sacramento completed, legs feeling slightly heavy, but I need a workout.  With heavy rains and a less-than-desirable weather forecast over the next two days, my guilty conscience won’t let me skip an evening interval run on the roads through Discovery Park and parts of South Natomas.  A placid warm up is usually standard practice before embarking on a run, but with my eagerness to begin my five-mile workout, it seemed a good idea at the time to just get my interval run over and done.  BAD MOVE.  

Even with a moderate pace, with just over a mile left of my late afternoon run, I felt a sharp pain in the lateral aspect of my hamstring muscle and I suddenly found myself performing a funny looking hop/skip dance, with my right hand clutching the back-side of my right leg despite still remaining in a vertical position.  “Damn!” was the first word uttered as thoughts of bowing out of the NVM surged through my mind as if my life flashed before my eyes as I painfully walked back to my hotel room in the dark cold breezy air.

After a few minutes of self-condemnation, I realized that this acute hamstring injury was to put me out of commission for a couple of weeks with an opportunity to put some rehabilitation principles into practice.

It was impossible to grade the injury exactly as by the standard book definitions.  I definitely felt a tear with well-defined, localized pain but there was no obvious palpable defect in the muscle, or any indication of a hematoma.  Stretching definitely reproduced the pain but I hadn’t lost function and therefore I can only assume it was a minor Grade 1 tear.

The maximal point of tenderness indicates the whereabouts of the tear – the closer this point is to either the back side of the knee or the ischial

tuberosity (aka, the sit bone) the less blood-flow to the area, thus the longer it takes to mend.  GOOD NEWS.  Mine was in the medial portion of the mid-hamstring, meaning a swifter recovery.

Following my injury stint, my lack of running had me a little concerned.  All I could hope for was the time spent in the gym with spinning classes, walking on the treadmill and working on my core and upper body strength would maintain at least some of my pre-injury endurance levels.  From what I know, lower mileage correlates to higher finishing times. 

Going in to NVM, I trusted that my training would serve me well, at the same time, I couldn't shake off that one, small lingering doubt lurking in the back of my mind.

The Napa Valley is an easy meagre four-hour drive from our home.  With no airport hassles, car rentals or long road trips to deal with, it was a breath of fresh air knowing Napa was, for all intents and purposes, in our backyard.

In the days leading up to the marathon, I kept my eye on the weekend weather forecasts.  During the week, an atmospheric river dumped copious amounts of rain causing rivers to swell, flooding low-lying areas throughout Northern and Central California.  I wasn’t too particularly concerned about flooding from the Napa River since peak flows crested days before the marathon and that river flows were on the recession limb of the river’s hydrograph.

The Expo/Packet Pick-up

The Napa Valley Marriott hosted the marathon expo.  For NVM’s reputation, and all the national recognition it receives, I found the expo to be rather plain, small and uneventful, but packet and shirt pick-up was well organized, quick and easy, and this year’s race swag was not disappointing.  Each race participant received a high quality over-the-shoulder bag/satchel which runners could utilize as a clothing drop bag.

Marathon legends Magdalena Boulet and Jorge Maravilla were the featured speakers and spoke about their journeys to the United States, adventures in running and where it has taken them.  Unfortunately, due to our travel time to Napa, we were unable to make ourselves present; however, we attended a post lunch Q&A session consisting of four veteran NVM marathoners discussing how to run NVM and the strategies involved.  What was learned?  Not much, but I wish panelist and Olympic qualifier Mary Coordt, and four-time winner of NVM, was able to speak more about her personal running experiences.

My wife and I retired early for the night so we could get up somewhat easily at 0400.  With everything laid out the night before, we planned being out the door by 0430 for our thirty-minute drive from our Fairfield hotel to Napa.

I had hopes of a decent night’s rest, but it turned into a terrible and perhaps the worst night’s sleep in a long time.  At the most inopportune time, I came down with a nasty cold, sore throat and never-ending coughing fits keeping me up all night.  I accepted the fact that my nighttime ordeal would likely impact and affect my running ambitions.  Admittedly I was worried, but I had a job to do and could only do it in the best way possible.

Somewhere on Highway 29 as we approached the outskirts of Napa, I noticed I wasn’t sporting my Garmin watch – I left it in our room.  I had my dependable all-weather homemade pace band wrapped around my wrist, but no watch to accessorize it.  Being too far to drive back, my only option was to employ my iPhone stopwatch and to rely on my co-pacer setting the proper pace.  I felt like crap with my head in a fog and it appeared as if my race day adventure was spiraling in the wrong direction and that this would end up being a bad day for me.  I turned to the bright side, at least it wasn’t raining, but the way things were going, that could change.

Transportation to the starting line began at Justin Siena High School (for the half marathon) and Vintage High School (for the full) at 0515 and 0530, respectively.  My wife dropped me off at JSHS before she parked the car a short distance away at VHS, also the site of the finish line.

The bus loading area was well organized and prompt with a multitude of school buses lined up prepared to transport 2000 runners.  Because I needed to be at the starting line staging area earlier than I had wanted to be, I secured a seat on the second bus.  I hate riding school buses – they’re not designed for adults.

Shall I Do This?

It is the discretion of each individual race whether to ban or allow headphones.  Because this is Napa, iPod headphones, or whatever your chosen device, are banned and race officials made this abundantly clear to all runners – I presume for the interest of runner safety.  Yet, I observed a number of runners with wireless earbuds protruding from their ears.  So much for enforcement.

I respect the bans and prefer to run without music in the first place.  I appreciate the solitude of race courses and when runners are instead tuned into their surroundings, people can actually strike up conversations, hear what’s going on, and exchange banter with other runners without the annoying, “What?” as they begrudgingly pull out their ear buds.  

The half marathon begins on the Silverado Trail in front of the Conn Creek Winery.  The bus pulled in to the staging area near the start at 0545 with some sort of confusion where the driver was to park.  A light drizzle began falling as I disembarked the bus.  Because I was so early, I was able to use the freshly sanitized porta-johns without waiting in line.  If one desires to pay additional fees, VIP registrants were able to use the lounges and facilities inside the winery building.  To me, not worth the added cost.

As additional buses arrived, it wasn’t long before there were plenty of folks milling about, lining up for the porta-johns, warming up, stretching, eating, drinking, taking pictures or just sitting down on the wet pavement.  Portable lights illuminated staging areas as the sky was still in civil twilight, and without ample daylight, beholding the acres of vineyards accentuating the rain-soaked rural landscape against the ashen sky was not possible. 

An assortment of plastic storage bins labeled to correspond to Half Marathon Miles 3.1, 5.4, and 9.3 sat alongside an information table.  Runners who desire special drink concoctions, besides the typical water and Nuun electrolyte liquids at aid stations, can use them to deposit their own special drink containers in the appropriate bin, which will be set up on a separate aid station table.  However, with the number of bottles set out, it may break the stride and focus of some runners as they attempt to pick out their own bottle as they approach the table.  Either way, it beats carrying your own bottle as you run.

Typically, a single pacer leads a specific pace group, but with NVM, organizers instead arranged for two pacers to lead each group.  Following a photo-op with all the pacers, my co-pacer and I discussed our strategy – go out easy similar to a shake-out run and gradually build up to race pace.  That sounds easy, but it seems to never materialize.  Since I was far from feeling one hundred percent, I was glad another pacer was there to take the reins, if necessary.

The air seemed cooler in the rural locale compared to Napa’s heat island effect, and the light to moderate drizzle made for ideal running.  As long as the rain remained at bay, I hoped for a successful pacing adventure; but, I couldn’t help beginning the day with some sort of trepidation and worry if my hamstring muscle pull would resurface as the race unfolded.

The quality of my voice deteriorated rapidly as the morning evolved developing into an extremely hoarse tone.  I was unable to clearly annunciate my words as I talked with other runners.  As I spoke, I began coughing and I felt my energy levels beginning to wane, and the thought of running thirteen miles seemed like a colossal task.  I was thankful I was not prepping myself for a full marathon!

Waiting to begin my journey

Generally, I get nervous as I wait for the start.  The butterflies typically start fluttering in my stomach as I wait in the standing queue of runners.  But, unlike a typical day, I seemed eerily calm and relaxed.  I didn’t feel overconfident and that actually worried me.  Maybe I wasn’t thinking about my goal time nor what I wanted to accomplish.  I’ve paced 2:10 many times before.  I can do it in my sleep.  I figured I was just “in” the moment.

Following a ten-year-old girl’s rendition of the national anthem, the half marathon began its march down the Silverado Trail promptly at 0700, a half hour earlier than the full marathon and a full 13.1-mile advantage.  With the earlier start time and distance gap, I am only surrounded by half marathon runners and need not be concerned with obstructing or hindering the progress of the faster marathon runners as they eventually catch up to the halfers. 

As the early morning drizzle faded into oblivion, our group charged through the red inflatable starting gate with a relaxed pace.  The jovial, breezy and hopeful runners in my group eagerly looked forward to the run.  As we passed the first mile marker, my co-pacer declared, “we’re twenty seconds fast.”  I hinted to my co-pacer, “so much for the shake-out pace.” 

We slowed our pace to some extent after the second mile as we tackled one of the slight uphill grades.  That’s when my lingering doubt became reality – my hamstring injury resurfaced.  I adjusted my gait to relieve some pain as I tried to maintain pace.  Being mindful of the possibility of some other peripheral injury due to favoring one leg, I unenthusiastically willed the official pace sign to my co-pacer, told her what happened and I slowly dropped out of the group, leaving me to run my own race.

Being disappointed is an understatement.  It was categorically a letdown – for the team and for me.  I hate failing and I felt really bad, knowing all I could do was salvage a dreadful run in the best way possible.  With eleven plus miles remaining, I quickly realized that this race was rapidly nose-diving from an enjoyable road race to a half marathon from hell.  No watch, no sleep, being sick, hoarse voice, coughing, heavy wheezy breathing, not being able to meet my time goal, and a bad leg all underwriting a disappointing day.  I seriously considered abandoning the race and calling for the “swag wag” to carry me to the finish line.  But, I wasn’t about to let that happen.  As long as I could at least walk, I was resolute in seeing myself to the finish.



Map

The course is net downhill as the rudimentary plan-profile map illustrates.  Seemingly endless wineries dominate the landscape.  The grape vines lined up ever so neatly were still in dormancy mode and did not afford runners much visual stimulation.  

Even with my handicap, I felt that the ups and downs littered on the course were more of a way to keep you honest than to pose any kind of challenge. 

After Half Marathon Mile 3, I decided to wash down a couple of my reliable acetaminophen caplets to smooth the rough edges off the pain.  From experience, after the active ingredient kinks in to high gear, I anticipated a faster pace for the next two miles.  I was right, the next two miles felt great as I cautiously stepped up my pace, but not too much.  I was able to keep the 2:10 group within sight, but just couldn’t muster up enough energy to catch them.

In the hours leading up to the race, participants couldn’t escape the talk of “the hill” that runners confront at Marathon Mile 19 or Half Marathon Mile 6.  Some equate it to NVM’s version of Boston’s Heartbreak Hill, while others say it’s no big deal. 

Stuck in my head for whatever reason, I couldn’t set aside that huge hill that awaited me.  I thought that when I get over that hill, everything would be smooth sailing.  It was a pleasant surprise that this hill I dreaded (really a smooth gentle incline) essentially came unnoticed.  If I hadn’t known about it, I wouldn’t have even perceived it as a dreaded landmark.  I was already at Half Marathon Mile 7 when I realized that I must have gone over that significant hill.  I wish every marathon would be that way, you pass a particular landmark without even realizing it.

Over the next three miles, it was level running, and I kept watching for the next landmark, the right turn off Silverado Trail.  Once the final turns began, I knew the race was just about over.  

Shortly before Half Marathon Mile 10, runners made the first turn onto Oak Knoll Avenue up and over an old narrow moss-covered spalling concrete bridge spanning the rain-swollen turbid waters of the Napa River.  The pain held steady and endurable but wasn’t getting any worse.  At this point, I knew I was going to finish and estimated a 2:15 ETA.

Just after crossing the bridge, a young runner approached me asking if I was pacing.  I told her that “I was originally 2:10, but now, I’m the unofficial 2:15 pacer.”  I held a momentary belief I was going to have company, but she charged off without even looking back.

The next three miles consisted of a series of turns through farm lands and into Napa city streets.  I could hear the finish line music and the fervent enthusiastic announcer in the distance as I neared the high school.  Spectators began to line the course, raising my spirits and energy levels as strangers cheered and clapped, leaving me to wonder if they thought either “that pacer went out too fast” or “sloughed off and couldn’t hack it.”

Eeking out a fellow runner

As I entered the chute at Vintage High School and made the final right turn, the two large inflatable columns marking the finish line ahead of me was indeed a sight for sore eyes.  The announcer called out my name and said, “we have a race!” as I gave all the oomph I had, passing several runners.  As my left calf began to cramp, I stumbled toward the finishing mat, clocking in with a time of 2:13:31.  A kind gentleman immediately greeted me, who uncapped a water bottle for me, grabbed my elbow and escorted me to a student volunteer who placed a finisher medal around my neck.  That kind man must have sensed I was in some sort of discomfort and made sure I was able to function on my own.  Such helpful volunteers always make me feel like a superstar.

All of the students and volunteers along the course and in the finish line area were so helpful and are appreciated.  Truly, they are the gems of the organization and I can’t thank them enough.  

RACE STATS:

Distance: Half marathon (13.1 mi).  What my Garmin would measure?  Who knows.

Date: 3 March 2019

Bib No.: 3447

Weather at start: 45°F, Cloudy with a light-moderate drizzle

Gun time: 2:14:38

Chip time: 2:13:31

Average pace: 10:11 per mile

Overall rank: 916 of 2102

Gender rank: 410 of 758

Division rank: 37 of 85

Age graded score: 50.56%

Age graded time: 1:55:29

iPhone splits (approximate): 9:38, 10:00, 10:32, 9:57, 9:26, 10:17, 9:56, 10:13, 10:19, 10:54, 10:30, 10:14, 10:21, 1:14 (remaining 0.1±)

LIKES / WHAT WORKED:

• Net downhill course. 
• Very well-organized event from packet pick-up, the multiple aid stations along the course to bag drop and pick up.
• Super friendly volunteer support.
• Spectacular scenery.
• Great theater at the finish.
• No significant climbs.
• Easy parking race morning.
• FINISHING!!

DISLIKES / WHAT DIDN’T WORK:

• Very little spectator support.
• Being injured, sick and weak.
• Riding on school buses.
• The PA system at the start was barely audible and sounded like a Charlie Brown special as adults mutter, “Wa-wa wa-wa-wa.”

My time was better than I had predicted, yet still a failure in my book.  Given the circumstances, what else could one do?  After consuming a banana, a fig bar and guzzling a couple bottles of water, I ambled over to the gymnasium to retrieve my drop bag, change shirts and put on some layers to avoid chilling too much.  Sure, I was a little stiff, my quads ached, but my hamstring wasn’t hurting as I expected. 

With two hours to kill, I found the sanctuary of the cafeteria where I relaxed, had some bowls of delicious hot chicken noodle soup, a fruit cup and some iced tea.  It was a refuge from the outside elements where I could sit, lounge, talk with other runners and wait for my wife to finish the marathon.  At the end of the day, she hit her pace time right on the nose.  At least one of us was happy during our drive home.  Will I run NVM again?  Probably not.

Final thoughts:

Up until now, I’ve focused my blog reviews towards my fifty-state quest.  I haven’t included any reviews of half marathons, primarily such events typically transpire within two hours of my home base.  But, after running in the Napa Valley, I decided to take on the challenge of writing a review.

There were a couple of things I learned about the Napa Valley Marathon.  First, the scenery along the course as every bit as stunning as you would imagine on a country road winding through some of the state’s iconic wine country, even with the gray skies, damp moist air and saturated land and with the endless acres of grape vines void of leaves.  Secondly, the race was impeccably organized, with every last conceivable detail executed by some of the most enthusiastic volunteers you'll ever meet.  Moreover, you have to love a marathon that features beer and wine tasting at the marathon expo.

Finishing a full or half marathon is an accomplishment in itself, but in different ways.  Running a full marathon is tantamount to climbing Mount Everest, while the half may be synonymous to reaching base camp.  Reaching base camp is tough enough, but it’s that final difficult push to the summit that differentiates the two.  The human body was not meant to climb Mount Everest nor breathe its thin air.  It serves no indispensable purpose to the rest of civilization, but only to those who literally live on the edge or with an internal burning desire to do it.  The climb up the mountain is chock-full of real dangers, yet people do it anyway and we celebrate those that do. 

You learn a lot about yourself and look at the world in new ways pursuing dramatic, yet obsessively absurd quests, which is why I'm glad I took on this challenge of running marathons and traveling the fifty states in the first place.  Battling injuries, pains, fatigue, and soreness are barriers runners must overcome.  Twenty-five years ago, the mere idea of running a marathon was totally inconceivable, but I've broken down significant barriers to prove it’s possible.  That's what runners do, break down barriers.  Breaking down barriers in running has given me the skills and resolve to take on challenges of life, which have far greater consequences than a finishing time and a medal draped over your neck.

But you'll notice in all my blog reviews the emphasis on the word “I” because running a marathon is considered a self-centered act, even if family, friends or friendly strangers are cheering you on as you make your way along the course.  Trying to achieve the family-work-running balance becomes exponentially harder when the running part of that triad involves early morning runs, running in the heat or weekend long runs necessary to prepare for a marathon.

Even after my 50-state quest concludes, something tells me I'll be on the marathon starting line again, but there's a lot more to running than marathons.  Perhaps I’ll be doing non-marathon running stuff in the meantime – but something leads me to believe that won’t be truthful.

Onward and upward.