City to the Sea Half Marathon

 

City to the Sea Half Marathon

San Luis Obispo, CA

21 November 2021

 

During the purported public health pandemic, many thought that training for a marathon was not an ideal time to venture outside.  I wanted to keep training, but with the multitude of canceled road races, I found it difficult to motivate myself to go outside, train and keep up my fitness level.  Without globetrotting the country running marathon to marathon, I suddenly faced the reality I didn’t have any races to look forward to.  But I managed to squeeze in a couple of miles here and there just to keep some façade of being race ready. 

The summer of 2021 proved to be relentless and unforgiving.  It the temperatures weren’t too extreme; it was an excuse to get outside and enjoy some time away from the house.  However, on most days, I told myself it’s better for my mental health to take another rest day, i.e., a form of self-care and to stay grounded.  With the comeback of road races, I finally have something to set my sights.  But first, I need to ramp up my training to call myself race ready once again.

Perhaps I should begin with a 5K or 10K race to re-accustom myself to the energy a road race affords.  But I went big, and with two weeks to train, I signed up for a half marathon.  OMG, what am I getting myself into?  I’ve run 71 marathons and 36 half marathons, so why should I be frightened?

This post ends a dreadful 2021, in terms of running, by immortalizing my final (and only) distance race of 2021 before the calendar flips to 2022.  Because as it turns out, if you’re looking to end the racing year on a high note, it’s tough to one up California’s central coast.

I had two weeks to prepare my legs to endure a thirteen-mile point-to-point run from uptown San Luis Obispo (SLO) to the cliffs of Pismo Beach’s Dinosaur Cave Park high above the pounding surf of the Pacific Ocean.

Originally, the City to the Sea course ran from SLO to the Avila Beach Golf Resort.  In 2007, organizers re-engineered the course to finish in the more picturesque setting of Pismo Beach – although Avila is a pretty nice place.  According to the race website, the record for the original course was 1:06:06 (M) and 1:16:16 (F).  For the current course, records stand at 1:08:50 (M) and 1:16:55 (F).  Runners providing evidence of completing a half marathon in under 1:15 (M) and 1:25 (F) are given race entries gratis.

The Expo/Packet Pick-up

There was no expo.  The Running Warehouse in south SLO hosted the bib and shirt pick-up. 

Under the refuge of several EZ Up canopies on the back side of the parking lot, race volunteers from Cuesta College athletic teams checked-in runners, handled last minute registrants, and dispensed race shirts.  The race tee shirts are 100% cotton instead of the typical polyester blend shirts seen at most events.  Seldom seen at running events, old-fashioned reusable timing tags.  Participants attach the tags to their shoe laces secured with small cable ties and surrender them once across the finish line.  WTF?  I guess we get spoiled with those timing chips embedded on the back side of bibs.  I heard rumblings about this being a low-budget affair. 

In the for-what-it’s-worth department, a portion of the entry fees engendered by the City to the Sea races (half marathon, 5K and kids run) serve as the foremost fundraising for the Cuesta College track and field and cross country teams.  Funds raised during the early years built the cross-country course used by both the college and other schools within the community.

Let’s do this

Moments before the start

City to the Sea serves as my first road race since the End of the Trail Half Marathon on 1 March 2020 and certainly there are some big differences between the two.  First, unlike EOT, I wouldn’t categorize City to the Sea as a small-scale affair predominantly embraced by local runners and secondly, the City to the Sea course design is much more scenic and challenging.

With Thanksgiving just four days away, the morning was understandably on the chilly side, but otherwise perfect with clear, cerulean skies and just a hint of a northerly breeze circulating among the buildings.  This is autumn at its finest and the type of morning that looks stunning in pictures.  Luckily, I’d be taking a few today.

I almost felt like a rookie runner again.  After all, running 13.1 miles can be an intimidating prospect in the best of circumstances, and not since I’d first covered the distance in Silicon Valley (San Jose) in October 2000 had I gone so long between at least the half marathon distance.  As mentioned, my most recent effort was the End of the Trail Half Marathon just days before races across the nation began to cancel en masse, as the plague single-handedly knocked the world off its axis.

Jordan Hasay (left)

The race begins at the intersection of Higuera and Court Streets (35°16’31” N, 120°39’41” W) in uptown SLO amid low-rise office buildings and businesses.  Court Street is not an actual street, per se, but rather a pedestrian mall.  Perhaps it was once a deeded vehicular street back in the day. 

I arrived at the starting line shortly before the 0700 start time positioning myself near the back end of several hundred runners knowing full well that I will not be among runners trotting along at my pre-pandemic pace.

The race began early enough to avoid the Mediterranean-like temperatures the central coast is known for; however, I know myself well enough to know I don’t sleep well ahead of race day.  Besides, it wasn’t like I was out there trying to qualify for New York.  So, after trying for a good night’s rest, I fully intended to keep a cool head and enjoy the morning. 

I won’t lie.  I was a bit apprehensive, chiefly due to my fitness level, but if I can finish in front of three hours (13:44 per mile pace), I will consider this race a success.  I accepted the fact that I am running this race just to have fun, to go the distance, to challenge myself and to reignite my running fire for the March 2022 Modesto Marathon.

The overall gradient of the course is downhill with some uphill escalations thrown in to test those who are incline-challenged.  The event’s website boasts that the race finishes on a slight downhill.  I’ve run through the neighborhood surrounding Dinosaur Park in the past, so I have my doubts.  But we’ll see.

Sans the national anthem, elite and local marathoner Jordan Hasay served as the honorary starter.  On her signal, the one thousand plus runners began their 13.1-mile journey.

Immediately, runners charged under the event’s red inflatable arch in a southwesterly direction down Higuera Street for the first half mile rounding two short circular curves concave to the southeast connected with a long tangent paralleling US Highway 101. 

Leading up to race day I had the motivation of a 2:30 finish time, an ambitious but attainable goal under favorable conditions – the operative word being favorable.  With afternoon temperatures forecast to be in the mid-70s, I may call an audible and dial back my expectations.  While certainly there are days when I’d rather push the pace early on and risk flaming out in spectacular fashion, this wasn’t one of those days.

I began the race on the back side of the 2:30 pacer and ahead of the 2:45 pacer.  I began with an easy 10:30, more or less, pace for the first two miles until I intercepted the first aid station.  I swallowed a couple cups of water, gathered my thoughts, and began employing the Galloway method with a one-minute run followed by a thirty-second walk.

The course follows the curvilinear configuration of Higuera Street, seemingly always keeping US 101 in sight.  Flanked by residential and commercial buildings on each side of Higuera for the first 3.5 miles, the scenery abruptly morphed into rolling hills masked with vineyards, citrus trees, and fallowed fields.  I skirted off the concrete-surfaced highway to a less hardened asphalt surfaced shoulder to Mile 5 as runners approached US 101.

I proceeded under the US 101 overcrossing and up the first short incline of the course leading to the Johnson Ranch Trailhead with distant foot and biking trails of the Johnson Ranch Open Space traversing the treeless hillsides and rocky outcroppings.  At this juncture, runners merged onto Ontario Road and into Castro Canyon.

It’s not the Grand Canyon: Running southerly on Ontario Road through Castro Canyon, I felt the air temperature cool slightly as the canyon walls augmented wind velocities.  The resulting headwinds quickly became my archenemy.  Was it because Mother Nature was trying to spoil the party?

Working myself up the Mile 7 hill

The ZOOM of high-speed vehicular traffic on US 101 offered a 1.5-mile transient distraction.  The clamor of passenger cars (some honking and yelling out windows the typical, “you’ve got this” or “looking good”), motorcycles and 18-wheel trucks motoring at 70 mph effortlessly drowned out the rhythm of runners’ footsteps and conversations.

Often at races, I’ll find myself inadvertently eavesdropping on other runners’ conversations.  Such was the case on this course, and it occurred to me that while some of these conversations can be encouraging, some of them instead follow a different progression – one person explaining to their running mate a conversation that makes the speaker sound cool, calm and collected while depicting the other side as clueless, unreasonable and/or just plain unhinged.  Perhaps it just sounded that way since they tended to speak louder to be heard over the highway noise.  At any rate, it’s a small wonder Americans have so much trouble communicating these days when the other person is always in the wrong.

The momentary distraction soon ended as the course veered onto San Luis Bay Drive abruptly turning “ugly” – the hill at Mile 7 no one likes to talk about.  The breezy air suddenly became tranquil, and I began to feel the effects of overheating.  At this point, I longed for a slight headwind.

I See the Bob Jones Trail: San Luis Bay Drive heads westward directly into See Canyon towards Avila Beach and the site of the original City to the Sea finish line, but that’s not the finish line I worked towards.

I attempted the run up the hill, but I found my energy level declining into the depths of despair, resigning to the fact that I had to walk.  I stuck to my plan of the Galloway method for the previous five miles, but I needed a nice extended walk break until I crested the summit.  The acetaminophen/caffeine pills I took moments earlier had yet to kick-in.

During my descent into See Canyon, a spectator sign stole my attention:

“DON’T LET THE MIND QUIT – THE BODY WON’T UNTIL IT DIES.”

“Oh, my,” I thought, “Is this really what passes for inspiration?”

While I got the gist of the message, this sounded more like the kind of college football coach-speak, the type of “motivation” often followed by an out-of-shape player during the off-season conditioning drills.  In that moment, I’d have settled for more traditional encouragement like This is an awful lot of work for a green banana or You’re running better than the government or even There’s beer at the finish line.

At around Mile 8, runners deviated off San Luis Bay Drive at the entrance to Avila Village and onto the popular Bob Jones Trail, aka City to the Sea Bike Trail.  The 2.5-mile trail follows the historic alignment of the Pacific Coast Railroad right-of-way alongside See Canyon Creek from US 101 to the beach at Avila.  Being an old railroad right-of-way, it’s flat.

The trail offered a change of pace – shaded, quiet, and serene – positioning the creek to my right side and interesting lithology on my left provided for a pleasurable and educational flat mile to the next dreaded hill.

While on the Bob Jones Trail, I felt my pills taking effect; however, it wasn’t quite enough to give the added boost I needed to confront the final hill of the course leading into Pismo Beach.

Ontario Ridge and hot on the trail:  I fought back both physical and mental fatigue while endeavoring to crest the unyielding Ontario Ridge summit.  Being unable to muster enough oomph to run up the hill, I again slipped on my walking shoes.

As I reached Mile 10, I needed all my focus just to keep pushing forward while glancing up to notice the sparkling views of the Pacific Ocean below Shell Beach.  With limited shade along this final stretch of the course, the morning sun approached its zenith.  The headwind I begrudged earlier in Castro Canyon now became a key ally in my fight to stay cool.  I kept telling myself, “Only a 5K run remains.”  I do it all the time, as I visualized my three-mile training run course.

Obispo formation lithology

Somehow – whether by sheer willpower – I was able to maintain forward momentum cruising down the hill despite the intensifying sun and a couple of short, but wicked, uphill jags.  The heat of the day began to affect my running performance.  No longer did I have the “Kenyan” pace I once had early in the race.  I was delighted to discover that, leaden quads notwithstanding, here in my first race of 2021 and my first half marathon in nineteen months, everything actually felt pretty damn good.  And that, in itself, was a victory.

I continued down Shell Beach Road navigating the trivial ups and downs for the next 1.8 miles appreciating the unparalleled views of the oceanfront.  US 101 was again in my sights, but the freeway noise wasn’t such a distraction.

Where are the dinosaurs?: I made a right turn onto Vista Del Mar Avenue to a welcomed significant downhill gradient.  In the distance was the planet’s largest body of water and a fitting backdrop of nature’s ever-changing theater.  Vista Del Mar looked as if it would dump runners over the cliff into the ocean.

Vista Del Mar turned into Ocean Blvd, an undulating stretch of road flanked by expensive homes and estates overlooking the ocean on one side and a cliff-side park and pedestrian walkway on the other.  Once on Ocean Blvd., I began to experience cramping in my janky left calf that usually comes late in a marathon, but not a half.  I am all too familiar with this uncomfortable state of electrolyte imbalance, so when the discomfort would wane, I would kick up my pace until another stabbing pain would radiate through my lower leg.

For the next one-half mile, I enjoyed the cool ocean breezes together with the scenic views of the adjacent precipices.  Pelicans, sea gulls and other aquatic birds stood contentedly on the guano-covered isolated rocky outcroppings and ledges.  My Garmin chimed at the twelfth mile and suddenly my legs felt heavy as though forgetting I still had just over a mile to go.  Lifting my eyes from the stunning surroundings, I approached the left turn onto Placentia Avenue for another hill to challenge my already fatigued legs.  I ran for short distances until my calf began to cramp.  If this was symbolic of things to come, I again changed into my walking shoes for a short-lived walk up to Price Street.

Birds on the rocks

I rounded the corner at Price Street weaving my way around some sidewalk diners at Zorro’s Café and Cantina before making another zigzag turn onto Windward Avenue and back down the hill to Ocean Blvd. to the Mile 13 marker.  I picked up the pace just enough hoping to keep the cramping at bay.  However, I realized that maintaining a slow pace while I was feeling good might actually prove more stressful than simply going with the flow and letting gravity do what it does best.

I forged ahead without any cramping while feeling the gravitational pull of the finish line, which I resisted just long enough to snap one last picture of the finish line area.  I cannot recall ever stopping for a photo this late in a race, since I’m laser-focused on finishing and too exhausted to care about anything else.  

I diverged off Cliff Avenue’s paved surface and onto the park’s gravelly parking area into the finishing chute passing under the orange finish line gantry, stopping the clock in a time of 2:44:43.

Though not the 2:30:00 I’d been hoping to chase, given the unseasonable temperatures and certainly my lack of serious training, I was satisfied with a semi-respectable sub three-hour showing.

On a side note, the top men’s finisher posted a time of 1:06:30 – a mere twenty-five seconds from setting an overall record, but he did smash the record for the current course.  The top five men finished under the 1:15:00 elite class cutoff.  On the women’s front, that runner did not set a new course record, but posted a respectable time of 1:22:02.

 

The finish line

RACE STATS:

Distance: Half marathon (13.1 mi).  My Garmin measured 13.12 miles.

Date: 21 November 2021

Bib No.: 650

Weather at start: 48°F, cool, clear with a light breeze

Gun time: Unavailable

Chip time: 2:44:43

Average pace: 12:34 per mile

Average cadence: 143 steps per minute

Overall rank: 958 of 1097 

Gender rank: 446 of 486

Division rank: 28 of 32

Elevation change (Garmin Connect): 364 ft gain / 476 ft loss

Age graded score: 45.44%

Age graded time: 2:16:59

Garmin splits: 10:30, 10:24, 12:10, 10:52, 12:08, 11:44, 13:42, 12:26, 11:25, 15:27, 13:34, 14:11, 14:21, 12:13 (remaining 0.12)

 

LIKES / WHAT WORKED:

• Very well-organized event from bib pick-up, immediate online results, the well-stocked aid stations along the course.
• Cuesta College athletes along various parts of the course cheering and providing runner support.
• Free beer samples at the beer garden – for those who enjoy craft beer.
• Super friendly and enthusiastic volunteer support at aid stations.
• Great spectator support – when there was some.
• Great traffic control and course monitors.
• Easy FREE parking race morning.
• Fully stocked aid stations with water and FLUID Performance drink.
• Shuttle service back to SLO.

DISLIKES / WHAT DIDN’T WORK:

• The weather can be hot.  Make sure to wear a hat, sunscreen and stay hydrated.  
• More post-race food and drink offered to runners.
• Water stations spaced too far apart.  Could squeeze in a couple more.  Maybe I need more water than most runners. 
• No distinction between water and FLUID drink cups unless you ask.
• High ABV beer on empty stomachs.
• Could have more swag and provide drop bags.
• Course not completely closed and open to traffic.  Runners will encounter some crazy drivers ignoring the restrictions.
• Where are the on-course photos?

Final thoughts:

If you’ve never experienced it for yourself, trust me when I say – the runner’s high?  Yes, it’s real. 

A runner’s high is the temporary euphoria induced by the release of endogenous morphine, or in other words, endorphins, in the brain after intense exercise such as a marathon or half marathon (though usually not a Netflix marathon).

In the days following a race, as the runner’s high fades and its attendant feelings of accomplishment subside, many runners respond by immediately setting their sights on their next challenge, in the hopes of recapturing that elusive euphoria.  Next up, a familiar favorite – Modesto.

Sometimes a marathon or half marathon weekend just feels good from start to finish – Fargo (ND), Carmel (IN) and New Hampshire quickly come to mind, but I really couldn’t put City to the Sea on that list – just yet.  Perhaps in a future year I will do so. 

Normally, I would have been ecstatic about this race – cool morning temperatures, great weather, perfect setting, net downhill – but failing to maintain my typical pre-pandemic pace due to a lack of training certainly took its toll.  As 2021 advanced, I slid far from my fighting condition.  So, I figured, screw it, let’s do a fitness test instead.  And that’s just what I accomplished.

During my run-walk-run miles, as well as those closing miles, I kept leapfrogging the same people.  At times, I overheard some say the City to the Sea was their first half marathon.  I couldn’t help but think like how incredible you feel after your first race.  Since I was “summing up the rear” so to speak, I spoke with some runners.  This was it, and I couldn’t help but think what a fantastic experience this will be for them.  Trust me, I know from experience.

I also found myself contemplating the thoughts that keeps runners’ minds occupied for a half or full marathon.  Some tune into their music or podcasts, but for others I wonder what they think about when running for so long.  You’re tired and sore, and you forget why it is you’re doing this.  Fascinating.

Post-race, I worked myself to the beer line for my complimentary beer.  An assortment of microbreweries served various craft beers – not exactly my chosen beverage.  Just as I thought, the pale ale had a bitter flavor profile and failed to satisfy my palate.  Needless to say, I had to dump out half my cup.  I appreciate those who give out “regular” beer – Michelob, Grain Belt, Bud Light, Coors, PBR, etc.

Relaxing on Grover Beach post race

Mainly, I relaxed, took a load off my achy dogs, and enjoyed the pleasant weather, while reveling in the running community atmosphere that I’ve come to miss and love so much.  Some first-timers, others seasoned athletes, but all with a common interest and passion.  Most of all, I just love the support factor that is so ubiquitous in this community, and it really inspires me to keep going, whether that be in training or in a race.

SLO and the central coast embraces its idiosyncratic vibe, primarily from the college town atmosphere, and is an easy place to unwind and spend a memorable autumn weekend.

As for the downhill finish, perhaps an imperceptible downhill at best, but it seemed flat to me.  If only I had a survey level and a Philly rod, I could validate that.

As always, it’s onward and upward.

 

2020 Year in Review

 

2020 Year in Review

 

Hello?

Come on, blog, wake up!  It’s been awhile.

Huh?

Hi!  You’ve been in a state of torpor.

You again?

Yeah, it is I!

OMG…what year is it?

It’s now January in the year of our Lord 2021, but a lot has happened in 2020.  And, just where should I begin?  Oh, yeah.

The Wuhan Virus, or “the plague” as I refer to it, has altered lives in both enormous and small ways: how we live, how we work, how we interact with one another and if we will ever enjoy the marathon experience the way we once did.  I feel as if we are treating, judging or ducking others as if they are ill or disease-ridden.  Sad.

Anyway, are you going to start blogging again?

Maybe, but it depends what’s on my race schedule.  I feel compelled to keep my race journal going, even if it means summing up a year of basically no running.  Many of us could not wait for this annus horribilis to end.  And for good reason: to put it bluntly, 2020 sucked.  We’ve all learned to prioritize the safety and well-being of our families and communities, but also, we need to look ahead as we carve out new paths to our lives.

I can see that.

I’m preaching to the choir here, but a lot has changed during this so-called pandemic, but there are certain things that have not: our core values, innovation, adaptation and reworking ways to keep running.  Putting those values into action during this time has been more important than ever and they continue to guide each decision we make.  Over the past several months, I’ve come to realize that phrases like “these are unprecedented times,” “we’re in this together,” “stay safe,” “social distancing” or “mask up” should be expelled from the English lexicon.

Agreed.  Are you asking me to be your psychotherapist?

Not exactly.  But while race cancellations may be warranted for the sake of public health, I’m sure many runners experienced some sort of Kübler-Ross moment coping with the concomitant disappointment, particularly those who put in hours of training and discipline to qualify for Boston, suddenly finding themselves postponing taking that victory lap.

So, how do you feel about race cancellations?

Runners are not immune to feelings of disappointment.  From personal experience, a subpar race can bring plenty of personal letdowns.  When I fall short of a time goal, I feel some sort of discontent, but I also feel gratitude – gratitude for my good health as a result of training.

I abhor today’s cancel culture.  When a race is canceled, it’s reasonable to assume that disappointment can be accompanied by anxiety from the loss of control, which is not something most runners are good about accepting.  We all want to be flexible when life throws us curveballs, but it’s hard to do after going through the regiments of training and focus.

So, we have no other alternative except to re-evaluate and innovate.  With our marathoning calendars thrown out the window, it’s time to shift the focus to maintaining fitness, preserving our excitement about running, and, for some, possibly signing up for some virtual half or full marathons.

Virtual races?

Yes.  Personally, virtual races don’t appeal to me, but for others, running the distance you trained for was still possible, but in a different way.  Sure, virtual races may not officially count towards one’s 50-state journey or club statistics, but you still receive a finisher’s medal, bib or even an event shirt.  But most importantly, it gives you some sense of accomplishment.  Choosing your own course in your hometown just isn’t the same as traveling to a chosen venue and experiencing the official course, cheering spectators and the incredible volunteers. 

True.  Without the volunteers, a race isn’t possible.  Let’s cut to the chase.  Did you run something in 2020?

When I completed my 50-state quest in June 2019, I was anxious to take a much-deserved rest break and shift my focus towards training with the hopes of running some quality marathons for 2020.  I had my attention directed to quality running and pacing half marathons to accompany the Chicago and Honolulu Marathons during the latter part of the year.

With a sense of renewed sanguinity, I started 2020 with my second running of Huntington Beach’s Surf City Half Marathon on 2 February. 

On 1 March, I managed to sneak in Visalia’s End of the Trail Half Marathon shortly before the global contagion triggered a cascading effect of race cancellations. 

Unless some soothsayer possessed a genuine crystal ball who could prophesize what 2020 had in store for racing, the unleashing of the plague didn’t come as a complete surprise.  But it certainly set in motion a year of calamity, thus marking the end of everyone’s race calendars.

Hold on, you only finished two running events?  Tell me about them.

Yes.  Here’s my docket.

Surf City Half Marathon, Huntington Beach, CA, 2:18:17

Reviews say this course is flat and fast.  Fast, that’s debatable, but flat?  I would say it’s flat for the most part, but there is a moderate hill around Mile 3.5.  In a nutshell, the racecourse for both the marathon and half marathon are basically an out-and-back on the PCH with another out-and-back up to Seapoint View for the course’s only real incline; thence, its north on the PCH with a turnaround at Bolsa Chica.  From there, the half continues in a straight line of roughly five miles to the finish.

As I prepared to kick off the year’s inaugural road race, I was excited.  It was a cool and balmy morning as thousands of runners competed in the full and half marathons.  During the first three miles, I quickly found I was not in the running shape I had hoped.  I kind of burned out during the final few miles as I scrambled across the finish line with a second-rate time.  Maybe I was out of shape.  Maybe it’s the boredom of the course.  Maybe it was the warm balmy temperatures.  In any event, I still made the most of running this popular race with thousands of others, nevertheless.

End of the Trail Half Marathon, Visalia, CA, 2:12:51

One month after Surf City, I set my sights on a renewed focus to my running by keeping up on my workouts with some cross-training and yoga.  Those activities I did.  With an upcoming 2:15 pacing job in Modesto, so instead of going all-out in a bid to run a decent time, I directed my attention to my pacing form.  I finished a little fast, perhaps it was the over exuberance at the start.

Being that this flat and fast course is one of the valley’s runner of the year series events, the race begins in downtown Visalia taking runners through residential streets and neighborhoods and onto the Santa Fe Trail continuing to the historic End of the Trail bronze statue in Mooney Grove Park before heading back to the finish line party.

Modesto Half Marathon, Modesto, CA, CANCELED

This flat and fast course begins in uptown Modesto on M Street, between 10th and 11th Streets.  The course winds through historic tree-lined neighborhoods, skirting around the “house in the middle of the road” and loops into the countryside of orchards and farmlands before returning to the point of beginning.  I was all set to pace this race, but it will just have to wait for another day.

 

 

Chicago Marathon, Chicago, IL, CANCELED

The year I managed to secure a bib number through the lottery system, this world major will have to wait for another day – perhaps never.  Instead of a 2021 race deferral, I opted for a full refund of my entry fees, testing my luck with another lottery in the future.  Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.

 

 

 

 

Two Cities Half Marathon, Fresno/Clovis, CA, CANCELED

From the event’s conception, Two Cities formed a great relationship with Woodward Park; however, 2020 was supposed to be the beginning of a new affiliation with Clovis Community College challenging runners with a new certified course linking the two cities.  I looked forward to pacing this great race on a new course, but it will have to wait until November 2021.

 

 

Bakersfield Half Marathon, Bakersfield, CA, CANCELED

Being a legacy runner of Bakersfield, I look forward to this annual November event walking the Streets of Bakersfield.  Perhaps, November 2021 will preserve my legacy status, but with an asterisk.

 

Honolulu Marathon, Honolulu, HI, CANCELED

I first ran this marathon, completing my thirteenth state, in December 2014, finishing in 4:57:33.  It was tropical (typical for Hawaii), windy and rained most of the time, but I wanted to improve upon my 2014 finish time. The sultry tropical December weather can make running the marathon distance a taxing challenge, but I was up for the test.  After being notified of the cancellation, race organizers gave runners the option to defer their entries to December 2021 or take a refund.  Unlike Chicago, I opted for the deferral, so I’ll just have to take a wait-and-see approach.

Remember some of these races from previous blogs?

Of course, I do.  What about your finishing times this year?

I’m not going to delve into that.  I may say I don’t care about my finishing times these days, but deep down, I really do.  I know that someone in their fifties isn’t as fast as they once were in their thirties.  But I know I can do better – it just takes work and discipline.

I don’t care about finish times, and neither does anyone else.

Noted.  I was happy to pace myself enough to work on my pace form for when it really does count.  I feel that discouraging voice inside me telling me that my best times are behind me and that my future marathon pursuits will be either for fun, or to flirt with aspirations, but never quite reach or surpass them. 

My yearly race stats aren’t that notable.  But, for the record…

Race Stats:

Half Marathons Run: 2

Surf City Half Marathon, Huntington Beach, CA – 2:18:17

End of the Trail Half Marathon, Visalia, CA – 2:12:51

Marathons Run: 0

Number of fellow runners: 10,180
Largest race: 9,458 (Surf City Half Marathon)
Smallest race: 722 (End of the Trail Half Marathon)

All-time marathon average to date (through 71 races):  4:51:32

Standard deviation: 0:28:58

Median finish time: 4:54:09

Mileage Stats:

Total miles run in 2020: 529.9
Race miles run in 2020: 26.2
Average half marathon pace: 10:20

You’re right – not that striking.  Typically, you include photos of your top three finisher medals in your blog reviews.

Well, I have only two half marathon medals to show for this year.

         End of the Trail                                       Surf City

 

Any final thoughts before we conclude?

Yes.  The plague has made us wonder what is worse – the actual virus or the devastation it has done to one’s state’s economic backbone or the mental health of millions of people.  It kills me to see restaurants and small businesses close their doors because of the useless lockdowns, mandates and protocols.

Sitting in isolation is challenging for many, especially for those who live alone or work from home.  But the outdoors is open, and runners can still get outside and breathe the fresh air and clear our minds – without that mask.

And so, I happily bid farewell to 2020 and I look to a better 2021 hopefully bringing an end to the plague virus and to have some sense of normal human behavior and interactions.  Though my plans aren’t completely monumented in stone, I hope that I can once again blaze another trail and set my sights on the starting line of another marathon and earn a fast time, for once.

Or not, and that would be OK.

I won’t hold my breath.

Happy 2021?

Yes.

As always, onward and upward.