Big Sur Race Report

Time is really flying. Really really flying. But I owe you an update, so here we go!

The race last weekend was really great. Sara and I both had a wonderful time, and she did an amazing job. I can't imagine running that course for my first marathon! It was SO HARD! I was really glad I only did the 21-miler, because I was hurting by the end and ready to be done, so it was great when I could just stop! I've been telling people I'm doing "21 miles of the Big Sur Marathon", and they invariably say, "Why not do the whole thing? What's 5 more miles?" And I was tempted to convince myself of that too, and just sign up for the whole thing. But really, let me tell you: the last 5 miles matter. Right around 20-21 miles is when it starts to hurt, and it was so great to just stop at that point instead of having to slog through 5 more! So here's the play-by-play, in case you're interested:

We drove down Saturday morning, and it was so fantastic to get out of the Bay Area for a while. Don't get me wrong, I really like it here, but I'm just a country girl at heart. I need those wide open spaces and tracts of farm land - it just calms me right down to my soul. The countryside is so beautiful in this part of the country, too; rolling, green hills with views of the ocean and gently winding roads all the way down to Monterey, which is this cute little seaside town about 2 hours south of here, smushed right up against the rocky edge of the Pacific Ocean.

We got to our hotel around noon on Saturday, checked in, walked around for a while, got some lunch at a cute little seafood restaurant. Went back to the hotel and hung out in the hot tub for just a little while - we didn't want to get our legs too inflamed before the race (and we couldn't indulge in more hot tub time after the race for the same reason; you're supposed to take ice baths after marathons, not go hot tubbing!). Then we went to dinner with Sara's family, who were able to make it down for the race after all. They were very, very sweet, and I got to meet her daughter Charlie, who was just plum adorable. Luckily the ocean breeze and the walking had tired us out, so we went to bed at 8:00 and crashed!

Good thing, because we had to get up at 3:00 on Sunday morning. (Yes, I do realize that it takes a special kind of crazy to put myself through a weekend like this for fun.) We walked about a mile to downtown Monterey and boarded our buses to the start line. The race itself starts about 30 miles south of Monterey, at Big Sur, in a somewhat remote state park, and it takes about an hour to get there on all the winding roads in the dark.

At the 21-miler start, there weren't enough porta potties, so I waited until the race started to use one. I didn't actually get into one until after the race had started and everyone left, but that was okay because it was chip-timed, meaning my time didn't actually start until I crossed the start line. So I went potty and dropped of my sweat clothes at the truck, which was supposed to meet us at the finish line with our warm clothes (more on that in a minute). I didn't realize ahead of time that the 21-miler is traditionally a walking event, meaning that most of the people "running" it were actually walking the whole damn thing. Do not ask me why someone would want to walk 21 miles starting at 6:30 in the morning. That takes hours and hours and hours in the cold. Yes, I realize that running 21 miles at 6:30 in the morning sounds just as crazy to some, but at least it's over soon! And you get to push your body to the limit and see what it can do! It's painful and exhilarating and a challenge and it's all about mind over matter and psychological drama and going fast. Walking 21 miles is just... silly.

Anyway, because of the porta potty thing and the fact that these walking weirdos all got started before me, I had a heck of a time passing people for the first two miles. There just wasn't enough room on the road, and they didn't really want to get out of my way. After I cleared all of the walkers, though, I settled into my pace and the race started to get harder. Big Sur is all about the hills. The first half of the race is punctuated by one massive climb. It's not even really a hill, because it's so long. It's just like this never ending incline up to Hurricane Point. So from mile 5 to mile 7 (mile 10 to 12 for the marathoners) you're just slogging up this ridiculous hill (600 feet of elevation gain), although at the base of it there's this big Taiko drumming squad pounding out this really primitive-tribal-samurai rhythm and it just makes you like YEAH, hill, BRING it. For at least the first half mile, anyway.

Then you get to Hurricane Point and realize why it's called that. There are like 40 mph gusts of wind (not exaggerating), and it was about 40 degrees at this point, and I literally almost got knocked off my feet. You're standing overlooking the Pacific Ocean, having just dragged yourself up this ridiculous hill, and the gusts of wind just cut right through you. It was pure insanity, to tell you the truth. Thankfully, the wind was somewhat blocked for the 2 mile descent, so there was some recovery time in there, but going downhill is harder on your body than going up, in some ways, because all of your joints are getting pounded on from the impact.

After the big climb and descent, it was somewhat flat for a while, but I was trying to conserve energy because I've heard the rolling hills at the end will do you in. And they do. Starting around mile 15 or so, there are these little .25 to .5 mile inclines that are nothing compared to Hurricane Point, but there's a lot of them, and they start to wear on you. They also decided it would be a really good idea to make the last .5 mile of the course a big incline, which is downright cruel. That one definitely hurt the most, so I was glad I had run conservatively.

The whole thing for me was that I wasn't trying to run it fast, I just wanted to see what all the hubbub about Big Sur was and use it as a good hard training run for San Francisco in July. So I finally finished (in 3:27) and was pretty tired at first, but not at all spent. I felt like I put out a good effort without killing myself; I was still fine walking around and was even able to run up and down stairs the next day.

Ok, angry section: the main thing was that they lost our sweats. Or rather, didn't lose them, but didn't get them to the finishing area until about two hours after I had finished. So as soon as I stopped running, of course I was freezing, because I was wearing short sleeves and shorts, it was 45 degrees out and I was all sweaty, and I had just, um, exerted myself just a tad. So I hobble over to get my sweats (which were positioned pretty far from the finish line, if you ask me) and they're not there!! "Oh," says the lady. "The truck got caught in traffic. They should be here by 2:00, for sure." This was at 10:00 a.m.! I'm shivering and clearly going to get hypothermia if I don't get warm dry clothes pretty soon. So she tells me to wait in the medical tent. This would've been okay, and most of the people in the medical tent were great, but this one really mean nurse kept trying to kick me out!! I was outraged. There was practically no one in there, I wasn't bothering anyone by standing huddled in the corner with a blanket, and if I had allowed her to kick me out, I really would've gotten hypothermic, and then she would've had a real medical emergency to deal with. Stupid, stupid woman!

Harrumph. So anyway, I eventually got my sweats and met up with Sara, who was hurting pretty bad but did a fantastic job and finished in around 4:15. That is really good for a first marathon, especially given the really rough conditions on such a difficult course! We eventually headed back to the hotel and got cleaned up, then walked very slowly back to Cannery Row (where all the shops are) and pigged out. Then we laid around in bed in the hotel and watched movies the rest of the day, and came home on Monday.

And that was my race! Like I said, I was glad I didn't go all out and glad I didn't do the full marathon, because I was totally recovered by Tuesday. I took Wednesday off of running too, just to make sure I got all those muscles repaired, but Thursday morning I did a good 7 miler with the dogs and right now I can't believe the race was only a week ago today. It feels so long ago! I guess because the whole thing was so surreal and my recovery was so fast.

So the verdict on Big Sur? Meh. It was beautiful, for sure. But it was also just 21 miles of the same beautifulness. The whole thing is literally right along the ocean, so while it's gorgeous, the scenery never really changes. It looked like what I think Ireland must look like; very green, rocky, and somewhat bleak and unforgiving. And I'm glad I did it. But maybe there's just too much hype surrounding it or the experience with my lost sweats soured it or something, but I don't feel the need to ever do it again. I'm glad I did it once, but once was enough.

I've been typing forever! I'll try to update with more non-race info this week. It's my last week of classes, and then I have to get all of my papers turned in, so it might be a bit crazy, but I'll try to talk to y'all soon.