Big Sur Marathon Weekend - Part 2

When last I blogged, Chris and I drove from Long Beach to Monterey, and we were checked into our room at the Monterey Inn, waiting for race day.  I had my alarm set for 3am, but when I ended up waking up around 2:45, I headed into the hotel bathroom to start getting ready.  Since the buses I'd be taking to the start would leave between 4 and 4:15, and they were lined up in the street behind our hotel's back entrance, I figured I'd be out of the hotel room just before 4.  Thus, I had a little over an hour to prepare in the room, getting dressed and making caffeine using our room's silly little coffee machine, all while attempting not to wake Chris.  Overall, I succeeded pretty well, even having time to check in with my mentee's progress in his UoPX class before I needed to leave (he wasn't posting that early - that was for darn sure!).

Hi, world!  It's so very early!

Eventually, I needed to move out of the bathroom to grab my other gear, put on my shoes, etc, and this woke Chris.  I chatted with him for a bit, and then I headed out toward the bus lineup, wishing him a good morning to himself.  While Big Sur has a lot of amazing things going for it, spectators on the course is not one of those things.  Due to the nature of the route the race takes, there's no really good way for spectators to get onto the course, particularly for the first 20 miles.  Thus, Chris was pretty much off spectator duty for this one, and he spent his morning having a jog, finding coffee, and discovering a French bakery before he headed to Carmel to meet me at the finish line.

For my part, I struck up a conversation with a lady my age named Jen on the bus, and we chatted for the hour long crawl to the start line.  A few times, Jen would look out the window at the narrow, cliff-ledged road we were on and get a bit pale, and I was rather thankful I was on the aisle seat.  Our bus dropped us off about a quarter mile away from the start line village, which was set up with lots of lights and tons and tons of port-o-loo's (truly, the lines moved really quickly all morning, which was awesome).  

The views from my seat in the start line village - 

that's the announcer stand near the middle of the lower shot.
The big start line arch is to its right,
but you can't see it in the darkness.

After reading several other blogs about Big Sur, I knew that I'd be waiting at the start line for a while, and indeed, the bus dropped us off about 2 hours before the gun sounded.  Given this, I made sure to pack my headlamp and the most recent copy of Smithsonian Magazine, so I could read and pass the time.  I also brought my travel-sized foam roller, and I made good use of it to warm up my legs while I waited.  Before I'd left the hotel room, I put my chapstick in my kilt pocket, and when I fished it out at the start line, I found an extra surprise - apparently, I'd done this before and forgotten to take an old tube out, so I had a super extra clean chapstick as a bonus (I'm glad I don't make a practice of putting my running kilt through the dryer - that would have been messy).  Hooray!

Too many chapsticks.

Around an hour before the official start time, the announcers started calling the 4th (and final) wave of runners to head up the hill to line up, then the third wave, second wave, and so on.  While I know they needed to start this process super early, I was more focused on staying warm than getting into the exact right spot in my corral, so I chose to keep my warm clothes on until about 15 minutes before start time.  I packed all of my extra gear into my check bag, dropped it off with the volunteers at the truck designated for such (I'm glad I didn't have anything breakable in there - and that my headlamp was well cushioned inside my long pants - as those bags were getting heaved into the truck in a rather energetic manner), and headed up into the corral area.

Trying to head up the hill, past the starting arch,

and into my corral.

Eventually, I made it to what seemed like roughly the right spot, and I snapped a few shots prior to the gun going off:

Let's do this!

As I mentioned above, I'd been reading some blogs about past Big Sur marathons, and I'd also done my homework, studying the course and particularly focusing on the elevation profile.  The appeal of Big Sur is that the course is run right on Highway 1, "On the Ragged Edge of the Western World," as the organizers put it; it's breathtakingly beautiful, but dear God, is it hilly.  Since everyone tends to focus on the two-mile hike up to Hurricane Point (which isn't easy, to be sure), it can be easy to forget about the constant rolling hills that make up the second half of the course.  Here's the elevation graph from my Suunto data - you gain around 2500 feet of elevation total on this course and lose just as much:

Do you see the flat section?

Because I never found it.

I wanted to keep myself at a really conservative pace for the first bit of the race, particularly the first five miles, which is gradually downhill.  I'd read horror stories of people burning out by going too fast too early and having to walk most of the back end of the course, and I didn't want to end up like that.  Given my recent head cold in mid-March and that this was my first marathon after all of my PT last fall, I pretty much abandoned any particular time goal and aimed to just finish relatively strong; this meant slowing myself down in those early, excitable miles, and a good way to do this was to grab some shots en route:

Running from Pfeiffer State Park and the start line

along Highway 1, heading toward the coast.

Each mile marker was unique and entertaining.

I personally wouldn't be getting a ticket of this sort

on this day.

After around mile 5, we emerged from the woods and got our first look at the coast, near Andrew Molera State Park.  It wasn't nearly as dramatic as what we'd see later, but it still caused a ripple of excitement among most of us.

I see the ocean!

There was a lot of stopping for photos from the entire pack.

We all knew what kind of race this would be.

Overall, our weather for the day wasn't too shabby.  It stayed overcast for the race, and while it drizzled very lightly a few times, it never rained in earnest.  The temps at the start line were chilly - in the high 40's/low 50's - and while I was on the course, it never made it past 55 or so.  Big Sur is known for being notoriously windy, and in some years, gusts have been recorded up to 45mph!  Thankfully, it was never that bad for this year's race; there were some headwinds, and they made things cold (especially after you were damp from the rain), but they topped out around 10mph.  Pretty good day for a run, to be honest.

See?  A little wind, but not too bad.

More shots as we got into miles 6-9 and saw Point Sur Marine Reserve and State Historic Park in the distance:

At mile 7, you get taunted by Kenyans.

And with good reason.

At mile 10, we started the climb to the top of Hurricane Point, which would take us uphill for the next two miles and around 600 feet.  It was tough, to be sure, but I knew this bit was coming, and I took it in stride, stopping every now and then to grab some shots of the dynamic landscape around me:

One of my marathon hobbies is checking out the

other runners' race shirts.

I was very jealous that this lady got to run a race

with Publix as a sponsor.

I mean, hideous, am I right?

Funny times here.

Those are some lucky freaking cows.

More climbing!

In addition to the scenery, one of the highlights of the race is always the musicians who head out and perform on the course.  The classical pianist, Michael Martinez, is the most notable, but there are others as well, including a group of Taiko drummers who are traditionally stationed on the climb to Hurricane Point.  Apparently, they were moved a bit further up the hill this year than in the past, as several race participants became downright outraged when they thought they were MIA for our climb.  Never fear, angry runners, here they are:

And here's an extremely short video:

Behold here, two selfies - one at the false summit, which still has amazing views - and one at the real top of the climb.  Behold also the facial change from one to the other - I was obviously happy to be done with this part:

Full crazy eyes in play here.

At the top of the climb, we could start to see the iconic Bixby Creek Bridge, and it was time for more photos:

After crossing the bridge, we hit the official halfway point of the race, and we could hear the strains of Michael playing his piano, banging out - of course - the main theme from Chariots of Fire.  As I took these shots and passed him, he switched to a mashup version of "Wind Beneath My Wings" and "You Raise Me Up."  What - I'm not crying, you're crying.  F'ing Groban.

Michael and a bunch of runners

Looking back toward Hurricane Point

As you can see if you scroll back up to the elevation profile, it was downhill from here for a bit, which was a nice change from all the climbing, but it was just as tough on the legs.  I took a quick break from the pounding on the knees and got these shots:

As I neared the next large hill at mile 16, I paused to refill my hydration pack and grab a selfie with someone I've always wanted to meet:

Hooray for aid station volunteers

dressed like t-rex!

After this, things became more of a slog.  I started the second half of the race with the intention of keeping a steady 10:00 pace, figuring running the downhills would help me average out any strolling on the uphills.  Eventually, though, the constant rolling became too much, and while I could still jog certain stretches, pain flared up in my right knee (the "good" knee!), which made the downhills kind of lame as well.  

Yet another uphill:

I think this may have been around mile 22,

which is Yankee Point.

That was where I turned to the lady next to me,

and made a remark about how I'm sure

we've hit this summit at least three times already.

Another famous Big Sur race landmark is the strawberry aid station, which occurs around mile 23.  I knew at this point I wasn't setting any land speed records, so I had plenty of time for fresh snacks.  While they weren't the "best strawberries in the world," as noted on one blog I read, they were a welcome change from slurping down race gels.

Thank you, strawberry lady!

I bet you were sticky for days!

Speaking of sticky...

After the hill at Point Lobos, we passed Monastery Beach, which didn't seem particularly refreshing, since it was still pretty cold and windy.  It looked lovely, though:

 A delightful beach day in Northern California

I knew we had just one hill left, a short spike at mile 25.5 - yup, that's right - less than a mile from the finish.

Last.freaking.hill.

From there, it was downhill one last time and into the finish line in the city of Carmel.  Chris was keeping an eye on me from the finish area, and he grabbed some shots of me coming across the line:

Smiling because the finish line is in sight!

Look at that super slow finishing kick!

With my cup of minestrone soup - 

its warmth was much appreciated.

Chris sherpa'd me through the crowd and back to the truck, and then it was back to the Monterey Inn for a much needed shower.  While I got cleaned up, Chris hung up our day's running clothes in a great spot to dry:

Hooray for plentiful shutters!

We headed to a local British pub for beers and foods (my cottage pie was great, but Chris' fish and chips were just meh), and then to nearby Alvarado Street Brewery for further drinks and foods.  Alvarado Street was a great find, and as you'll see in subsequent blogs, we visited them a few more times during our stay in Monterey after the race.

With heavy food and a few pints in me, it was high time for a nap, and unfortunately, I woke up feeling not the best.  The course had really done a number on me, and in addition to muscle fatigue, I wasn't feeling great stomach-wise either (I'm sure it's not at all related to the delicious, fatty foods I'd enjoyed that afternoon).  Chris set me up with some ginger ale and crackers, and he took a quick stroll around the city while I rallied.

Kinda pathetic.

Eventually, I was ready to head back out, and we had a low key dinner at Turn 12, a racing-themed, quiet sports bar just a block away.  On the way, I had a chance to pose with the Big Sur banner outside the conference center, which had been thronged with lines of people the day before while the expo was underway.

Ta da!  I did that!

Overall, Big Sur was a great marathon.  It was simultaneously the hardest and most beautiful marathon I've ever done, and it well earns its perennial place in all of those "Bucket List Races" articles.  Everything was well organized; the buses were on time, the aid stations were well stoked, there were tons of port-o-loos, and the volunteers and staff were all friendly and helpful (the bus ticket lady at the expo gave me a better time option because I she said I was polite and had a lovely smile - winning!).  My fellow runners were funny and kind and everyone really had a "can you believe we get to run here!" mentality; there were moments on the course where you'd round a corner and witness yet another amazing vista, and you could audibly hear the entire pack sharply inhale at what we were seeing.  Although we didn't have many spectators, the ones we did - mostly locals who lived along the course - were encouraging and kind; one lady was taking out her trash in her jammies and saw a runner attempting to get a selfie - she walked over and offered to take a shot for her so she could have a nice picture.

With all of this said, I'm never doing this thing again.  I was destroyed by the end of it, and if Chris hadn't dragged me out of the room that evening and wandered me around for a bit, I wouldn't have been able to walk at all the next day.  Big Sur does offer a relay option where teams of 4 do the course, so if anyone wants to do that, I'm totally down - I'll even offer to do the hard part of the course - JUST KIDDING, IT'S ALL HARD - but I really would run it again in a team of 4.

Seriously, though, this race is amazing, and it earns every accolade in the books.  Even the medals are cool - look:

And!  They mail you a copy of the local Monterey newspaper, which has everyone's name and finish time inside!

Trust me when I say this NEVER happens.

I'm about halfway through the "Female 35-39" columns,

with a final time of 4:47:06.

Okay, race report over - in future blogs, we hang out in Monterey and you know, like vacation and stuff!

Later!

Amy