Race Report: Surf City Half Marathon

A few weeks ago, on the morning of Super Bowl Sunday, I had the opportunity to run the Surf City Half Marathon, located in nearby Huntington Beach (about 20-30 minutes away from us).

Branding, yo.

I didn't initially have Surf City on my race calendar, but it participates in what it calls the Beach Cities Challenge; essentially, if you run the Long Beach Marathon (or half), Surf City, and the OC event, all in consecutive order in a given year's time span, you get an extra special medal for your efforts.  As my constant readers know, I ran Long Beach in October 2016 and since I was already signed up for the OC full coming up this May, I figured adding the Surf City half to my calendar would be fun; I'd earn the extra fancy medal (if I finish, of course - I never take that for granted anymore), and I'd pre-burn some calories sure to be completely eclipsed by whatever I'd eat and drink while watching the Super Bowl that night.  

When I signed up for the race, I had visions of doing well in the event and setting a new PR; however, a head cold in early January and two weeks later, a food borne GI illness (requiring both antibiotics to fully extinguish and then probiotics to put the good bacteria back into my system) had me reconsider my plan.  When race weekend arrived, my stated goal was to beat 2:00 (generally doable for me, even on a crappier day) and just have fun.  The folks who put on Surf City hosted an Ugly Sweater Training Run back in December along the race's expected route, which Chris and I attended; after running straight along the coast on the PCH while watching surfers catch breakers and ride them into the gorgeous beach, I knew the scenery would be stunning, and I focused on just having an enjoyable 13.1 mile cruise.

A brief reminder of the 

Ugly Sweater Training Run apparel.

Delightful.

I don't think I realized this at first (probably due to the relatively minor league status of their website - dude, no information on bag drop anywhere?), but Surf City is a huge event.  It offers both a half and full marathon, and it's roughly the size of P.F. Chang's in Phoenix, which hosts around 20,000 runners each year.  Given the size, we hit up the race expo as early as possible on Saturday morning, before the crowds arrived in earnest.  The expo itself was well organized, and things flowed smoothly; the normal vendors were there, but to keep things in the SoCal spirit, the local VW van club also showed up to show off their lovely restorations:

So cute!

There were about 20 of these

beauties all scattered around the parking lot.

This dude gets his own van.

He needs it - holy crap, he was big!

We scooted back home after the expo, stopping only for the most important reasons (to find Chris a plaid tie for Burns dinner during ScotsFest - more info on that later!), to hang out on the couch for the rest of the day.

Race morning came early to our house.  Given the size of the race, the organizers recommended being in the designated parking lots no later than 6am; since the half marathon didn't begin until 7:45, we didn't follow this recommendation, but we made sure to be there at least an hour before the gun sounded.  We'd scoped out parking the day before on the way to the expo, so we had no trouble finding the beach lot indicated and hopping on the bus to the start line.  

Riding the bus

The bus ride was smooth, and after disembarking, I headed out for a quick warmup jog around the area.  I met back up with Chris, and we headed toward the actual start, trying in vain to find a bathroom.  This is the one area (beside the website) where I'd recommend a bit more work by the Surf City kiddos.  The area where the buses dropped folks was convenient, but it was at least a good 1/2 mile away from the closest bathroom, so I either had to make the call to jog away from the start for that distance, stand in line, and then haul back to the start - or - haul straight past the start to stand in line at one of the beach restrooms.  Ultimately, I made the second choice, heading past the start banner to wait in line with my fellow runners with small/overexcited bladders.  The gun sounded while I was in line, but since we were chip timed, I knew my clock wouldn't start until I crossed over the start line; also, given the size of the field, I knew no one would be paying attention to corral numbers, and I could jump in wherever I wanted with no real ill effects to my race.

I smooched Chris goodbye, hopped into the field, and headed off!

"Bye, honey!"

Gloves in front of face.

Nice.

During this race, I was trying out a few new pieces of gear, including the bright pink Nathan hydration vest and blue plaid  JWalking Designs running kilt you see in these pics.  More info on those in later blogs, particularly if I run out of other stuff to talk about in upcoming months (tantalizing, I know).  Short blog version: both are great, and you should buy them.  If you want.  It's your call really.

Anywhoodle, the race itself went well.  The course was fairly flat overall, although there were a few notable small crests and valleys; I think the highest point on the course was like 80 feet, so it's not AZ running, that's for sure.  All of this made for the potential to have a fast time, and I figured I'd try for one; after all, if I crashed and burned, I still got to eat wings later.  No losers here, people!  I set myself a goal of keeping on a 8:30/mile pace, which if I could do it, would get me a new PR by a minute or so.  Although it didn't make for the prettiest race, the cloud cover you see in the above shots never really dissipated, and it did keep the temps in the low to mid 50s during the event, which was perfect by my standards.

For the first three miles of the race, the whole pack headed straight north on the PCH, after which we detoured into a neighborhood near the Boca Chica Ecological Reserve.  We started climbing one of the small hills on the course, and I was moving along at a good clip, around 8:27 or so.  As I passed someone wearing a Pat Tillman shirt, I slowed down to ask if he was from AZ, figuring we had something in common.  As it turns out, he wasn't; instead, he served with Pat Tillman in the Army and was a close friend of his who flew to AZ to do the run every year!  I thanked him for his service and we traded a few remarks on how much good the Tillman Charity does; we wished each other a good race and each carried on.

As we rounded the back of this neighborhood, we headed into the reserve itself, which was gorgeous; it seems like the area is normally restricted from most vehicular traffic, so we could see tons of seabirds while ogling the gigantic houses raising up above us.  Also, I got to high-five a person in a giant donut costume, so obviously, this all added up to a win for me.

Like this.

After we exited the neighborhood, we continued north on the PCH for a few more miles, making a U turn around mile 7 or so.  While the marathoners had further to go, I knew that those of us running the half were more than halfway done, and it was all straight south, back down the PCH, with nothing but the beach and the surf on our right side.  Even on a cloudy day, it was glorious!  As I hit the 10K mark of the race, I saw that my pace had actually picked up, and I was moving at around 8:24's or so, which was really great for me.

At this point, I also started to notice some growing internal discomfort.  Although I can generally work through my GI issues in the days leading up to a race through diet modification, my recent issues with stomach illness had me wondering how this particular run would pan out, and it seemed I was about to find out.  I started keeping an eye out for the port o's along the course, figuring I might still have the chance to PR if I didn't take too long while visiting one.  I should point out there were tons of potty breaks along the route, but of course, there's never one right there when you need it most.  Adding to my mania along this stretch was that there were also several sets of beach bathrooms along the route, but they were separated from the PCH itself by 10 foot high fencing, mainly so cars couldn't just run off the freeway and through scores of hapless beach-goers.

Finally, around mile 10, I found a beach bathroom with a fence opening just .1 miles or so away.  I streaked to the restroom, visibly startling the poor gent cleaning the first one, and took care of my business.  I streaked back onto the course, getting a rousing round of applause from a very entertained set of onlookers (my comment back to them: "well, sometimes, you just have to."  They nodded assent).  By then, my overall pace had fallen to 8:35, and I dedicated the last 5K of the run to doing my best to get it back down to hopefully still earn a new PR.

I was able to ease things down to an 8:32 pace overall, but unfortunately, I couldn't get it back down any further, and my body was not shy about letting me know.  I kept pushing, and eventually, around mile 12, the finish line and associated crowds starting looming.  Around this point, I saw Left Shark (I always wondered where he went after the Katy Perry halftime show a few years back); although he might have been a hallucination, if he was, he was a pleasant one.

Yasssss, Queen!

As I drew even nearer to the finish, I kept pushing, at which point things started to get a little blurry and I felt nausea threatening.  At this juncture, I should point out that while I've felt barfy after a really hard race/run, it's normally just after I stop running; this time, however, it was during the very end of the actual race, so I guess that's a new PR, right?  Anyway, I firmly told myself that I would NOT be barfing here, as I was almost into the finish line chute, and if I did, it would be on Facebook within seconds.

Chris grabbed a few shots of me streaking across the finish line:

Coming in hot!  And barfy!

Waving at the hubs.

Done!

I think this sign has the marathon time on it.

I waved off the attempts of the finish line photographers to take pictures of me yarping on myself, picked up my medal and boxed water (yup!), and commenced walking the 87 miles out of the secure zone to meet Chris and pick up my gear check bag.  By this time, the nausea had worn off, thankfully, and I could fully process my finish.  My official time was 1:53:22 or something like that, around 30 seconds off my current PR.  Curses!  However, what I'm keeping in mind is that I ended up running 13.35 or so instead of the standard 13.1 miles of a true half marathon, and at least 2-3 minutes of that time was encompassed in a poo stop.  I'm still not claiming this race as a true PR, but maybe it's a PR with an asterisk next to it, like I'm Pete Rose or something.

As those of you who've read past race reports well know, generally, when I see an on-course camera, I smile at it; I figure if you're going to snap my picture, I want it to be cute (not gonna lie - I'm vain that way).  I also tend to be pretty good about seeing the race photogs, and I line up in manner to best set up the shot.  However, sometimes when you're running really hard and trying not to ralph all over yourself and your fellow runners, you miss seeing a race photographer, and you end up with a shot like this beauty:

Yes, MarathonFoto, I know

this is your copyrighted image.

I'm pretty sure no one is buying this one,

however, so it's probably cool to post it here, right?

Even better is the email I received a few days later from MarathonFoto, trying to get me to buy this stunning snapshot (anyone who has run an event with a company like this gets these emails every week until the day they die - ask them):

Oh, MarathonFoto,

you seem to have a sense of humor.

Photogenic my sweet a$$.

For proof, please see the above photo again...

Overall, Surf City was fun, and I'd run it again.  The event seemed to be well organized, the course was relatively flat, and the temps in February should generally be nice; all of this could be a good way to lead to a new PR, and if not, just a really enjoyable experience.  Support on the course was great, too; tons of folks came out to cheer us on, and random strangers were out playing the saxophone for us, whaling on drums, and even giving us the opportunity to bang a gong while eating bananas (yes, really); oh, and an adorable kid set up his own Gatorade stand in front of his house stocked with those tiny spit cups from his bathroom.  Also, we're only 20 minutes away from the course, and it's always nice to sleep in your own bed the day before a big race!

Later!

Amy