End of the Trail Half Marathon

End of the Trail Half Marathon

Visalia, CA

1 March 2020

“Some days it just flows and I feel like I’m born to do this, other days it feels like I’m trudging through hell. Every day I make the choice to show up and see what I’ve got, and to try and be better.  My advice: keep showing up.” – Desiree Linden

Huntington Beach’s Surf City Half Marathon taught me to set my sights on a renewed focus to my running.  I’ve kept up my workouts to some degree, throwing in some cardio cross-training and yoga sessions for added bonus points, so I have no excuse if I bonk at this half marathon.  If I do, I’ll retire to my hermitage, ending my days of spiritual rejuvenation.

Being a local runner-of-the-year event, the End of the Trail Half Marathon (EOTT) has been a staple of Visalia and the San Joaquin Valley for the past several years.  Since its inauguration, the course has undergone some changes and certifications, but one thing wasn’t altered, the course is still flat – there are no hills in Visalia.  Now, EOTT enjoys certification as an NYC Marathon qualifier.

A portion of the proceeds generated by EOTT go to benefit local high school running programs, athlete scholarships, community running events and to the restoration and upkeep of the notable End of the Trail statue in Mooney Grove Park, a park dedicated to preserving a remnant of the San Joaquin Valley’s ancient valley oak (Quercus lobata) forest.

The course is pretty simple.  Runners begin in the SE/4 of the SW/4 of Section 29, Township 18 South, Range 25 East, MDBM (for all you PLSSers out there) on Main Street in front of the Garden Street Plaza in uptown Visalia.  Runners then whisk through business and residence areas before connecting with the Santa Fe pedestrian trail leading runners to Mooney Grove Park to the End of the Trail statue in the SW/4 of the NW/4 of Section 18, Township 19 South, Range 25 East.  From there, it’s a trek back up the pedestrian trail to the point of beginning.

Two times of basically a looped out-and-back gives runners insight into knowing what is in store for them the second time around and for those with knowledge of the area, an opportunity to cheer in multiple locales.  

The Expo/Packet Pick-up

In years past, EOTT did not sponsor an expo.  Instead, runners convened at a sponsoring local running store to pick up their bibs and receive minimal swag, if one could call it that.  New for 2020, the Visalia Convention Center hosts the Healthy Living Expo emphasizing fitness and healthy living.  

A handful of merchants and concessionaires occupied their niche on the floor of the convention center’s exhibit hall as my wife and I volunteered working the packet packet-up table, ensuring participants secured their bibs, long-sleeve tech shirts, fleece throws, beanie caps and various goodies.  Fitness demonstrations from gymnastic performances to powerlifting techniques drew the attention of visitors throughout the day.

Let’s do this

It was unusually warm for late February in the preceding days leading up to EOTT.  Daytime temperatures hovered around ten to fifteen degrees above the thirty-year average.  With a forecasted cool weekend and the prospects of precipitation dominating meteorological dialogue, there was growing concern about a wet showery event.  With forecasting models becoming more precise as the weekend approached, the statistical prospects for any kind of rainfall quickly diminished, but there was still that possibility.

Although it might appear like I’m prepping the reader for another disastrous race beset by heat, rain or some other external force, I was lucky to avoid that.  In fact, the day was near perfect for a long, meditative run crisscrossing paths and roads that are intimately familiar to me. 

Mostly (of course I’ve run into some exceptions), I feel as if I am able to control the weather.  If I want to ensure a dry morning for a platoon of runners, all I need to do is sign up for a race on some date.  Weather forecasts seem to be impotent against my talents.  Even hours before sunrise, charlatan clairvoyants augur the coming of tempests, and I dash them with a simple wave of my hand.  I am the Diviner of Dryness, the Denier of Drizzle, and Prohibitor of Precipitation. 

With a cold weather front fresh out of the Gulf of Alaska shepherding through the San Joaquin Valley during Saturday’s evening hours, a nearly ideal running environment ensued.  Cool air temperatures under a canopy of clouds safeguarded my uncertainties of overheating in the bright sunshine.  Coincidence?    

My wife and I arrived at the Garden Street Plaza around 0630.  A chilly breeze swirled in and around the nearby buildings, the plaza’s signature water feature sat dry, waiting for Visalia children to romp in the cool refreshing jets and sprays throughout the hot summer months and sponsoring vendors and beer garden personnel worked to set up their respective tables as spectators and runners alike waited anxiously in the plaza’s bastion for the race to begin.  

A number of runners eagerly lined up early in the curvilinear corral while others found themselves making one last visit to the porta-potty to empty out any accumulated bilge water.  

The diffuse morning sunlight softly permeated the mostly overcast sky faintly exposing the jagged peaks of the Sierra-Nevada Mountains.  The prevailing northwesterly breeze extricated the blossoms of the flowering deciduous trees flanking the city streets to rain down like snowflakes freely falling from the sky, clearly indicating spring has sprung to the forefront.  

Following the national anthem, both the 10K and half marathon races began sharply at 0730 in a characteristically quiet fashion.  

As with any race that’s an out-and-back or repeats certain sections, I’ve learned to break down each iteration with a completely different mindset.  

The first third of the course is meant as a warm-up, developing an impression of the course; the second third challenges me to stay strong; and the final few miles are meant to drag me home – pain or no pain. 

In a nutshell, runners charge down Main Street, turning right onto Ben Maddox Way, crossing Freeway 198 where they intersect the first mile marker along “Visalia’s Motor Mile.”

Thence, it’s east on Tulare Avenue, south on Pinkham Road, west on K Road, to Santa Fe Road (Road 128) where runners leave the urban surroundings, paralleling the AT&SF Railroad and begin their journey to the rural part of the course taking in the sights of stone fruit and nut tree orchards, alfalfa fields and even a dairy before entering Mooney Grove Park.  Thence, it’s back to whence everyone started.

The 10K runners follow the half runners until a U-turn on Santa Fe near Mile 4 forces runners to follow a northward bearing along the Santa Fe Trail to the finish line; whereas halfers honed their compasses southward along Road 128 for another 1.5 miles to Avenue 272.

Santa Fe Trail

I ran the first 4.5 miles comfortably, albeit a little fast for my planned pace as I merged on to the Santa Fe trail at Caldwell Avenue (Avenue 280).  Here, I made a conscious effort to ease off my current pace and to sustain a contented 10:15 mile pace, more or less.

Mr. Mooney greeting visitors

Over the course of the next five miles, I maintained my chosen pace leading into the gates and confines of Mooney Grove Park as gaggles of Canadian geese hailed runners with all their cackling and racket.  In the air above, skeins of geese on reconnaissance looked for safe places to land.

Concrete footpaths laden with goose poop, lead runners around the Museum of Farm Labor and Agriculture, through the park’s eucalyptus and oak forest, and along the Cameron Creek waterway to the county’s iconic feature, the End of the Trail statue.

The last time it snowed in Visalia - January 1999

Running past the statue

Shortly after whizzing past the equine effigy and back onto a paved service road, the 2:10 pace group caught up and swallowed me as I had expected them to do so.  

I joined the group for a few minutes before realizing I was running too fast.  I’m a regular at leading a 2:10 pace group and I found it hard to abandon a pace I’m so comfortable running.  But I was practicing and I made a conscious effort to ease up and stick to my intended pace.

Once out of Mooney Grove, a gentle refreshing headwind cooled my overheated body.  The refreshing air was a welcome addition to an already beautiful journey.  It turned an otherwise rural path into a whimsical peregrination through mystic lands.  I pretended just for a moment to allow the breeze to join me for a run in an act of peaceful communion.

An old barn along the route

Heading in an easterly direction on Avenue 272, the majestic snow-capped high Sierras came into view with Homer’s Nose and Sawtooth Peak being the prominent eye-catching features.  In the foreground, flowering fruit trees painted the landscape with colorful hues reminiscent of Fresno County’s popular Blossom Trail, symbolizing the turning of the seasons.

I was in a zone, ready to crank out the final few miles, until a large dump truck towing a backhoe pulled out of a driveway causing me, and other runners, to come to a grinding halt as we waited for the truck and trailer to clear the driveway.  My impetus spiraled out of control – I was no longer in my zone. 

As I ran alongside that truck, I gazed up at the driver with a “why did you do that” look, but he didn’t give me any sort of acknowledgment.  He must’ve been mindful of all the runners in his path.  For a brief moment, I had my own temporary personal pace vehicle until it turned off onto Road 124.  

With nearly four north-facing miles separating me from the finish, clouds momentarily broke allowing the sun to warm the air until another cloud eclipsed its rays.  Whether it was heat-related effects or not, I felt faint hints of leg fatigue beginning to accrue, which I hoped wouldn’t result in slower splits.  

I sometimes fear that it’s becoming a psychological thing, as if just the thought of reaching Mile 10 signals my brain to send out an instant infusion of fatigue into my muscles.  I’ve never been able to run a fast second half or a negative split.  If I’m not pacing, I usually start off the race too fast and burn out during the final few miles.  But, I kept pushing, trying to maintain my pace, as it slowly got harder to maintain with every step.

I advanced northward along the Santa Fe trail, whose many landmarks and recreational vistas have become almost sacred territory.  I suddenly realized these are the roads that made me a runner, that pulled me farther from my comfort zone and built the foundation for what I hope will be lifelong endurance.  It was almost transcendental when I learned that there, on the path that gave me my runner’s legs, the trail that has allowed me to blaze a path in every state, I was back where I started.

As I made a right turn onto Acequia Avenue, I could hear the cheers of spectators at the finish line just one block to the north.  I was still on pace to finish under my goal time.  The pain began to show on my face as I pushed further to Burke Street making the final left turn onto Main Street knowing that the final half-mile was the only impediment standing in the way before the finish line and calling it a day.  

Running the final half-mile seemed to drag on in perpetuity.  It was like running on a treadmill focusing on a distant object, but never getting there.  I reached down into my bag of tricks to find some superfluous dynamism needed to fuel my push.  I elected not employ my Operation let-no-one-pass strategy, but rather directing my attention to finish strong.  Besides, I didn’t want to suffer one of those painful calf cramps I usually experience as I go all out to the finish line.    

At the end of the day, I stopped the race clock at 2:12:23, and glad to be one of the hundreds of runners who, once again, “slayed the trail.” 

RACE STATS:

Distance: Half marathon (13.1 mi).  My Garmin measured 13.18 miles.

Date: 1 March 2020

Bib No.: 107

Weather at start: 50°F, cool, mostly overcast, light breeze out of the northwest

Gun time: 2:12:51

Chip time: 2:12:23

Average pace: 10:09 per mile

Average cadence: 162 steps per minute

Overall rank: 331 of 722

Gender rank: 202 of 321

Division rank: 10 of 18

Elevation: 30 ft gain / 30 ft loss

Age graded score: 51.45%

Age graded time: 1:53:28

Garmin splits: 9:30, 9:31, 9:57, 10:05, 9:44, 10:05, 10:15, 10:14, 9:57, 10:18, 10:34, 10:21, 10:13, 8:46 (remaining 0.18)

LIKES / WHAT WORKED:

·         Very well-organized event from packet pick-up, immediate online results, the well-stocked aid stations along the course to bag drop and pick up.

·         Great expo.

·         Flat and fast course.

·         Free race photos.

·         Unique “Slay the Trail” finisher’s medal with spinning End of the Trail statue silhouette.

·         Free beer samples at the beer garden, live post-race entertainment, long-sleeve event tech shirts.

·         Super friendly and enthusiastic volunteer support at aid stations.

·         Great spectator support.

·         Beanie caps and fleece throws to participants.

·         Great traffic control and course monitors.

·         Breakfast burritos and cold chocolate milk (the best part) at the finish line.

·         Super easy FREE parking race morning.

·         Fully stocked aid stations with water and electrolytes.

DISLIKES / WHAT DIDN’T WORK:

·         Some nice parts; however, the rural portion can become pretty monotonous. 

·         The weather can be hot.  Make sure to wear a hat, sunscreen and stay hydrated.  

·         Perhaps allowing an early start for the half marathon walkers.

·         Clean up all the goose poop on the park’s walking paths.

·         Need to add a 5K race.  A slight course deviation is all it would take.

Final thoughts:

Allow me to digress for a moment as I offer a brief history of the End of the Trail statue at Mooney Grove Park.  I paraphrase from a 28 September 2019 article in the Visalia Times-Delta newspaper:

A weary Indian appears to be hanging on to his horse with an almost lifeless grip.  The horse has reached the edge of the Earth.

Facing the Pacific Ocean, figuratively, the statement piece was James Earle Fraser’s prize-winning sculpture unveiled in 1915 at the San Francisco Panama-Pacific Exposition.  It won a gold medal for sculptures. 

Four years later, the plaster End of the Trail statue found a new home.  The “larger than life” piece made its way to Mooney Grove Park in September 1919 and stood at the edge of the park for 52 years. 

By 1968, Mother Nature had taken her toll.  The massive bronze statue needed restoration and the National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum stepped up.  In turn, the museum assured the city they would replace the Visalia statue with an Italian-made bronze replica. 

In 1971, the city of Visalia erected the sculpture seen by thousands of people each year and has come to be an iconic symbol of Tulare County.  Encircling the statue, a moat represents the grand ocean.  With a portion of the EOTT proceeds going to preserve the statue, it is hoped that the statue will forever stand at the edge of the park.

A few weeks going into EOTT, I planned to go all out to see what I had in the tank.  Because of my uninspiring training, I decided to run as an unofficial pacer (2:15) instead, honing my skills for an upcoming pacing job.  Without any added pressure, I sought to develop the muscle memory needed to run a consistent pace.  Without question, I wanted to race against my former half marathon times, but as I recollect my latest Surf City experience, I knew it wasn’t in the cards this particular day.  I hate bonking, and I felt I was not in any kind of marathon shape to give it my all on this particular day.

By pacing in an unofficial capacity, I felt the obligation to consistent running to be lifted from my shoulders.  Even though I finished ahead of my 2:15 goal time, I wasn’t disappointed.  However, the desire to go all out to see for myself what I could’ve done was in the back of my mind.  At least EOTT wasn’t the kind of race that could get me to reconsider running altogether, and I wasn’t in any kind of particular mood to read about silver linings or to exhume the bright side of anything.  It all boils down to a simple fact, I need to once again get back into marathon shape. 

I didn’t view EOTT as a sucker punch to the ego or my self-worth, but rather a practice race for future pacing.  It’s one thing to push yourself to your limits and earn a deserved finish, but this was not that kind of race.  There wasn’t a sudden implosion or an inexplicable and precipitous failure of all systems.  I resigned to the fact that pacing practice is more central to my half marathon runs than to run hard enough to earn that merited finish we all enjoy.

If we run hard enough, it’s a fact that there will come a time in any race of any distance, where runners will be in pain.  Our bodies scream at us to stop but determination keeps us going, pushing through the anguish, as we edge closer to the finish.  Sometimes walking feels like a slow march to the grave as every ounce of energy has escaped our pores only to be absorbed by our immediate environment.  For many of us, suffering is a crucial component of the sport.  It’s the measurement of effort, improvement, and in less tangible ways, an indication that we’re living life on the fringes of our abilities.  

When our bodies begin to fail us, many of us runners can’t just stop.  It’s an addiction.  It’s not an option we’ve agreed to.  So, we continue bludgeoning our feet and knees, squeezing the air out of our lungs, until we reach the finish line’s sweet, merciful release.

What makes “racing” so much different than “running” is the fact that there is an official clock tied to the event.  I have long advocated that anyone of any talent level can get out and run.  I have also advocated the same for racing.  But the difference between the two is the effort given and the desire to go for it.  

I admit, on occasions, I’ve pinned on a bib number and toed the line ready to give it the best I had on race day.  Granted, most days won’t be anywhere close to what you would like, but finishing is what it’s all about.  A runner usually knows if a day will turn out horrible.  If it does, so be it.  Just have fun!

I’ve run across those who say running a race just “to have fun” is a code for “to take pictures, give less than your best, and mess around” and goes against what a “race” is about.  That couldn’t be farther from the truth. 

I’m out on the roads to race against myself trying to improve upon my finish times.  Some days I have it, others, I don’t.  Some days the weather cooperates, and other days, it can be hell.  Your views may differ, especially those elitist folks that have to give it their all, or drop out because they can’t.  Who says that the back-of-the-packers cannot have fun and still race?  I’ve seen those back-of-the-pack runners finish their “race” with a huge smile, celebrating, and are grateful they completed the distance.  It gives them an added incentive to do better the next time. 

I consider myself a middle-of-the-pack runner.  I’ve conceded that no matter how much effort I give on a specific day, I will never win.  That doesn’t bother me; but, as long as I do my best on that particular day, I’m happy.  That’s all I can ask of myself.

Because there are so many variables that can make a run good or bad, hoping that a good run falls on a race day, is what makes each race such a wild card.  It’s what makes it extremely special to race well on the day of the event and not just during training.  To show up, ready and prepared and then also have the fates play into your hands and give you what you need Not simply collecting medals and accolades but doing the whole left, right, left thing as best as possible.

Now I just need to sit back and ready myself for my next half marathon pacing experience and adventure, wherever or whenever that may be.  Yes, you know what I mean – COVID-19 and the mass hysteria, knee-jerk reactions, anxiety and needless panic, triggering the cancelation of numerous marathon events.  For one thing, I’m thankful I completed my 50-state marathon journey when I did, but feel bad for those who are closing in on their finish.

And that kids, is how I fared at EOTT, thus concluding my review.  Remember, there’s no such thing as spare change, a free lunch or too much horsepower.  As always, it’s forever onward and upward, even during the frenzy and the madness of some stupid virus.

"Be strong when you are weak.  Be brave when you are scared.  Be humble when you are victorious." ― Michelle Moschetti, author