Marathon #40: Ogden Utah, May 2015

"...The race would end. I would finish. I knew all that. But what should have been self-evident truths felt like prayers..." Scott Jurek, "Eat & Run".

My co-worker, a retired ultramarathoner and vegetarian, let me borrow this book awhile back, primarily because of the vegan recipes in it. He knows of my struggles with trying to go vegetarian and thought I'd find it useful. Well I did, but not in the way he imagined. It's a strange book. Scott Jurek goes into brutal detail of crashing and burning in the Badwater ultra, then finishes off the chapter with a miso rice ball recipe. Is it a cook-book or an auto-biography? Well, a little of both. At any rate, the irony is that some of the passages of the book got me through this marathon, as it turned out to be one of my hardest yet.

The terrain of the Ogden marathon isn't overly challenging, in fact it's a net downhill course, with a big portion of downhill late in the race, where it's needed the most. I wasn't afraid of the terrain. I was afraid of the altitude, starting at 5400 feet, dropping to 4300 feet, not horrendous, but I've had issues running at altitude in the past, so I tried to mentally prepare for that scenario. I'd have to walk some, especially on portions that turned uphill, like I did in the Colorado marathon, ok. My goals these days are to enjoy the experience and not care so much about how long it takes me, so I was good. We'd start out in the first canyon for about 5 miles, all downhill, then hit a valley and run flat to rolling, and encounter 2 large uphills around miles 14-15. I knew I'd have some walking to do there. From there we would enter THE canyon, the most beautiful stretch of the course, and all downhill to mile 23 ish, and then it would be a rolling to flat finish into downtown Ogden.

We flew into Salt Lake City the morning before the race and drove straight to the race expo in Ogden. They had a really nice expo and some good marathon apparel too. We didn't do a whole lot that day. Our hotel was a block away from the finish, so we went over there and checked it out, then drove over to where the course started making its way into downtown along the Ogden pathway.

From whence we would come--that road went on FOREVER...

We only saw this once. The next day it had blown into the river.

Race day morning came early. No need for an alarm, as the buses were lining up in front of the hotel by 4:15, along with loud race music and announcements blaring. We felt a lot of pain for those staying in the hotel that weren't there for the race! Toby had to take another bus for the half, so we said good-bye to him and made our way to our bus.

Jamie and I had a pleasant morning at the start. Even though it was a little cold, and it even snowed a bit on us, the sun popped out, which lead us to (mistakenly) believe we weren't going to encounter much, if any, of the predicted rain. If only I had texted Toby at his start, where the weather looked a bit more ominous...We decided to take our sunglasses, and I ditched my hat. Here are some pics from the full start and you can see why we were stupid about the weather. We were TRICKED!

Jamie and her precious gloves that she lost along the way

Hatless idiot

You got that right

Proof of snow

Contrast this view with Toby's start, 13 miles down the road from us:

At any rate, off we went into the canyon. Jamie went ahead right away, and I quickly fell into a good rhythm with the downhill, and started enjoying the views. But after only a couple of miles into it the rain began. And it was cold cold cold in that canyon! After cursing at myself for being an idiot I again fell into the rhythm and went with it. As we entered the valley the wind picked up, making it even colder. Shortly after my first gel I suddenly found myself feeling very nauseous and dizzy. I stopped to walk and burp it out, not good. I was somewhere around mile 9. Apparently I was fighting with the altitude at this point, and not in a happy place AT ALL. In fact, I was downright miserable, soaking wet, cold, and sick. I found myself pulling over to walk several times, but couldn't walk for long because I was too cold! I wanted nothing more than to drop out! I started thinking about how far I had left to go and was really doubting everything when I thought about Scott Jurek's book. During a rough patch, and mind you his rough patches are a hundred times worse than mine, he had to tell himself DO NOT THINK. Just do. I wasn't going to drop out, so my only option was to keep moving forward. So I did. And not think. Do. Those were some mindless miles! 

Once we entered the second canyon I came back to life. My nausea was gone and again I fell back into a rhythm, but still had to stop to dig out  and open gels because my hands were numb. My legs were numb. My feet were numb. We were long past trying to skirt the water puddles at this point. Still, it was hard not to look around and marvel at the scenery in this canyon, especially this water fall, around mile 22 or so:

As we left the canyon and got onto the Ogden pathway I saw Toby briefly and told him I was ok, just coming in a bit later than normal. The last few miles were what I would call "normal" late marathon miles, where you make friends by taking turns passing each other over and over in silence. The turn to the finish line was a never-ending road, although flanked with spectators, finally, cheers were a welcome thing at this point. I crossed the line with a chip time of 4:15, which, looking back surprises me, because I had stopped doing the math and assumed it was going to take me much longer. Toby was there to quickly guide me back to the room, as there didn't appear to be any mylar sheets. I promptly changed into dry clothes and jumped into bed, but didn't stop shivering until an hour or so later. Jamie joined me and we shared our war stories. Toby had a great race, placing first in his age group with a 1:29 half!

Jamie in that heavy cotton T

sheer bliss...

Finishing marathon #40!

Official Finish line Photo

In summary, although difficult, this marathon was truly beautiful and I highly recommend it. Someone from the area said the rain wasn't typical for this time of year, but they had rain 2 years ago, so I'd say be prepared. And by prepared I mean wear a lot more clothes than we did!

This will go down as one of my favorite road trips with Toby and the sister wife Jamie. We had a blast hiking the waterfall the next day, and driving up to see the snow in Big Cottonwood Canyon. Love you guys!

Marathon #10: The Oklahoma City Memorial Marathon 2002

From early 2000 to mid 2001 I ran very little, if at all. Initially, while ignoring my pelvic pain, I ran a few more races after the Mardi Gras marathon, including a leg of the Hood to Coast Relay in Oregon. Finally, once the fracture was confirmed, I stopped running entirely, and immersed myself into cycling and more importantly, swimming. I was such a triathlete "wanna-be", but not only did I not know how to swim, I was also afraid of water. Initially I took individual swim lessons, then moved on to Dallas Aquatic Masters (DAM). I kept myself  busy with weekday rides with the Carrollton cyclists and swimming with DAM. On the week-ends I did bike rallies or long bike rides, and sometimes swam at the SMU pool. I also spent a lot of time at the gym, lifting weights and doing the elliptical. So this was my new normal. The day before my 40th birthday I swam in a triathlon as part of a relay team. Life was good, but I'd see a runner and get a sick feeling in my gut. There were many days when I would wonder if I'd ever run again. The pain in my pelvis was with me for so long I thought there would never be a day when it would be gone.

Finally, July 2001 I had another MRI to confirm my fracture had healed, so I started PT to break up the scar tissue and get my hips back in alignment. For the first few months I had to shift my hips back into alignment every single day. The pain started subsiding and I actually started back to running! The irony of that first week of running was that it was the week of the 9/11 terrorist attack. I went out to run in the dark and the sky was eerily silent, as there were no planes in the sky for the greater part of that week. I wanted to be ecstatic about running, but it was such a horrible week. All I allowed myself was gratitude.

I was truly so grateful to be running again! After every run I would say "Thank you God", no matter how slow or how ugly. (A lot of times I still do). Running a marathon wasn't even on my mind until I heard about the Oklahoma City Memorial marathon. The survivors and families affected by the Murrah Federal building bombing had put together the race to remember those they lost.The second annual race was coming up. I ramped up my mileage to see how it would go, and all was going well, but I would waver at times, and say I didn't think I could do another marathon. Marathon training meant I had to back off on my swimming and cycling, which was hard, as these activities had become a big part of my life! I had become a cyclist. I had become a swimmer. I did one triathlon, a sprint, but that was it. The marathon taunted me. The marathon won.

Less than two weeks before the marathon I went out on a morning run in the dark; tripped over something, fell, and broke my finger. That Wednesday I had surgery on it, which left me with a pin sticking out of my finger! So other than stressing about how I was going to grab water, etc with this pin in my finger I was pretty calm because I was just SO HAPPY to be able to run a marathon again!

I wish I could find the pictures I took of that week-end, but they are lost somewhere with all the others in those years prior to digital! I traveled with Deanna and Tina, my Hood to Coast Texas Roadkill team-mates. They ran a 2 person relay. I ran into Shelly McClintick at the start line. I had just recently met her when I resumed my training runs with Kathy. So funny to think back on that now, because eventually she became a member of our relay team, hence "family".

The start of the marathon was an emotional one. Arriving at the memorial before sunrise was really somber, as all the chairs were illuminated. (Each chair represents someone who died in the bombing). Then the moment of silence, which lasts 168 seconds; one second for each person lost. So much emotion welled up inside of me as we toed the start line!

Details of the course have faded a bit, but I do remember the banners along the course. They had the names of all the victims on them, reminding us why we were there. We battled a head wind for the first half of the race as we headed north, but this was ok, as we would have mostly tailwind once we turned. I was right on pace to qualify for Boston, but I told myself to let it go if I had to, so that I would enjoy the day for what it was. Once I got into the 20's I told myself to check my watch at each water stop, and if I had fallen off pace I could afford myself a walk break through the stop. But I'd get to the next stop--right on pace! Keep going! Next stop--right on pace! I started thinking, this is crazy! I am RIGHT ON IT! Finally, as we turned to run the long downhill stretch to the finish I looked at my watch and realized I was CLOSE, VERY CLOSE. In reality, my qualifying time was 3:50:59. I knew it had taken me 12 seconds to get across the start line, hence my chip time, and the clock already said 3:50! So I had to do one of those crazy mad hatter sprints that makes the spectators start cheering louder. It was nuts! My chip time: 3:50:56. I qualified for Boston by 4 SECONDS! I remember immediately calling Kathy, who was running a marathon in Nashville that same week-end and telling her she had to go to Boston for the third time.

Jamie and I just went up to run Oklahoma City this past week-end. She ran the full, and I ran the half. I can't believe it has taken me this long to return! I was very happy to see that the banners are still put out along the course, and that the message is still strong. This race is very much a "run to remember". Another thing I was happy to see was the Survivor Tree. It seemed so much bigger and prettier! This time I took pictures that will never be lost. If I come across the lost pictures of 2002 I will come back and add them here.

The marathon medal from 2002

Alive and Well 2015!

Marathon #9: The Mardi Gras Marathon in New Orleans, 2000

The Mardi Gras Marathon was yet another marathon that has since been taken over by the Competitor group as part of its Rock and Roll series. I have to admit, I like the layout of the current course much better than the one we ran back in 2000, but we enjoyed the course well enough. One clear advantage to the older marathon was the smaller, more intimate feel, and too, the Mardi Gras theme. Our marathon started outside the Superdome and finished inside the Superdome. (This was all pre-Katrina, so there was no creep factor). The new course finishes in the City Park.

Our group was pretty small for this one. It was just us and "The Murgi", Kathy and Mike Murgas. Kathy and I ran the full and the guys ran the half. We expected it to be warm and humid, as New Orleans usually is, but it was unseasonably cold and dry that morning! My game plan was to try to stay with Kathy as long as possible. She (still) tends to start out slower and gradually speed up, which is the exact opposite (still) of what I do. My secondary goal was to HAVE FUN. No more shitty marathons, remember? Anyhow, I'm happy to say it was a fun day.

Since a big part of the marathon consisted of two long out and backs we got to see a lot of fellow runners high fiving and shouting out to one another. It was apparent that New Orleans had (and hopefully still has) a very large and active running community. My least favorite part of the marathon was having to run past the Superdome at mile 13 to head out for the second half. Any marathoner will agree with me when I say it should be against the law to lay out a course that makes the runners run past the finish line! My favorite part of the marathon was hitting the water stop manned by the New Orleans Hash House Harriers, because they (mostly men) were wearing red dresses. Hilarious! And no, I did not partake in their beer!

I managed to stay with Kathy until we got to Audubon Park, around mile 18 I think, but long enough to get our photo together at least.

 I remember on the last mile a guy passed me wearing a diaper. I think that's when it really sunk in that yes, it's a tough endeavor to run a marathon, but it doesn't have to be taken so seriously. Or I don't have to take myself so seriously. But then again I could never run in a diaper. Ever.

I really loved our finisher's medal:

My finishing time ended up being 3:50:14, and I was fine with that. At last! Ironically, I found out later that I had actually qualified for the Boston marathon with that time, due to advancing to the next age group, where the qualifying time was 5 minutes slower! A bittersweet discovery though, because I knew something was really really wrong with my pelvis. I felt it throughout the marathon, and shortly afterwards an MRI confirmed I had a stress fracture and I wouldn't run again for over a year.

Marathon #8 The San Antonio Marathon 1998

Smiling, crying, hard to say...

This marathon pretty much wraps up my "marathons I don't want to write about" because even though I didn't know it at the time, this would end up being my last shitty marathon. Ever. Sorry, but there is no better word to describe what running marathons had become, due to my obsession with running a 3:45 marathon time. (In order to qualify for the Boston marathon). Perhaps it's fitting that I can't find but a few pictures taken that week-end. Maybe I will come across them some day and add them here. It wasn't all bad, because in the end I ran my hardest and fastest marathon yet, a 3:47:17, but I had missed my ultimate goal and wasn't happy.

In 1998 the San Antonio marathon wasn't yet a part of the Competitor's group of Rock and Roll marathons, so it was a much smaller event, which I preferred, especially since I had just ran their first ever Rock and Roll event in San Diego earlier that year--madness! I liked the course too, pretty scenic tour of San Antonio with a finish at the Alamodome. My family came down to watch, and Toby actually brought along a mountain bike to follow me along the course with.

On race morning when I stepped out and felt the 90% humidity and warm air I actually started crying. I knew what was in store for me. If only I could have done then what I do now, (slow the hell down and enjoy the ride), but hey some people need to get hit over the head with the hammer. And so the story goes, I was doing a pretty decent job of hitting my pace at the mile markers, and every time I'd see Toby on the bike I'd talk about dropping out. I was so miserable, and there was my family at mile 16, happily cheering for me as I came by. I'd like to think I put on my game face for them, but I bet I said something that would make a sailor blush. Later in the race I started slowing and cramping and was having trouble finding the mile markers, so I wasn't sure of my pace at times, and how close I was. (And some mile markers seemed to be "off" too). If only I had a GARMIN back then! I knew I was close, but really had no idea how close until I got to mile 26, looked down at my watch and saw the time: 3:45...My heart sank. Running as fast as I could for the remaining .2, which included the uphill to the Alamodome would take too long to make it in time. I had missed it yet again. But something happened then that I will never forget. A little old Hispanic woman was on the side of the road, pointed me out, and with her fist pumping into the sky she shouted out in broken English, "You are an animal! An ANIMAL!" It made me laugh and it made me cry at the same time. To this day I use her expression to get through rough patches. "I am an ANIMAL!!!" It works!

After San Antonio I made a necessary mind shift. If I was going to run a 3:45 it would have to come to me. I wasn't going to try to force it upon myself without regards to the weather or whatever else stood in the way, as it was now apparent that I was pretty close to running whatever my true potential was. I had ran the best I could and I needed to be happy with the end result. Period.

Not that all of the marathons that I have ran since been rosy. I've had a few that took me to the "ugly place", and really challenged me in ways only the marathon distance can, but I have always been OK with what the clock says at the finish line on every single one of them. Finishing a marathon should always be something to be proud of!

50 State Club Update

I've been playing with the map tool again. Not that I have committed to running a marathon in every state--as you can see there happens to be a large region I tend to avoid traveling to. My number of states completed is at 24 states (in blue), with two more planned states this year (in pink). It is fun to see progress on the map, but let's get real. I just turned 54 and just completed marathon #39. No telling when this crazy train will end! My guess is before I can turn this entire map into the color blue...

Marathon #39: Little Rock Arkansas, March 2015

So close and yet...

Training for the Little Rock marathon was pretty uneventful in terms of weather. We never had to reschedule a run or run in anything other than sometimes frigid cold temperatures. For awhile it looked like we were going to escape an annual ice event this time around. And that's when Mother Nature went postal, dropping ice, sleet, and a little snow over Dallas. Thankfully we were already in taper mode by then and didn't need to run, but as the week-end drew near the idea of driving to Little Rock grew worrisome. The only smart one in the bunch would be Jean, who flew out ahead of the next storm to Phoenix, for her Saturday marathon.

Our plan to leave by 6:00 AM Saturday morning was derailed by iced over roads throughout the DFW area. In fact, the Ft. Worth Cowtown marathon (held the same week-end) was already canceling their events. We had to get to the expo by 5:00 PM and it was a 5 hour drive on a good day, so panic started settling in. That's when Toby said he'd drive us out of town, past the ice, then head back to Dallas with Tim, who'd be following us. Yet again, Toby to the rescue! I'd like to say the drive was uneventful, but a car in front of us lost control and spun out. He didn't manage to hit anything though!

We got to the expo with 2 hours to spare, but were disappointed to see they were completely out of marathon apparel. We also missed the chance to hear Bart Yasso talk, but I knew I'd get to see him at the finish line. Bart is a friend of mine, but he's also somewhat of a celebrity in the running world. If you ever have to a chance to hear him talk you will know why. He is the embodiment of what running means to a lot of us, such as, in his words, "Running is about acceptance--of yourself and others. It doesn't matter if the guy or gal next to you works at a fast food joint or is CEO of Kellogg's. It doesn't matter what color they are, or how old they are, or what religion they practice, if any at all. Running celebrates our commonality". (From his book "My Life on the Run")

That night, as we prepared for our run the next morning we couldn't help but wonder why we hadn't heard from Jean. She was going to text us when she finished, but she never did, so we pulled up the results. Something went terribly wrong. She did finish, but well off her goal pace with a long walk in. Combined with the Cowtown cancellations, Laura battling a bad cold, Ginna with her calf injury, and cold rain in our forecast, a fitful night's sleep was all I could muster.

Race day morning was somewhat exciting, in spite of the weather, because it was finally here. The weather would be tolerable, mid 30's with occasional light rain. Deciding what to wear was a bit of a challenge, as this would be one of my coldest marathons ever. We would have to bundle up to walk a few blocks to the start, then check our bags right before the race. We agreed to do this even though our hotel was 2 blocks from the finish so we could all change into dry clothes and enjoy the finish line festivities. On our walk to the start we saw the Black Girls RUN! group gathering to take a  picture. They had at least 30 runners lining up, or at least trying to.  They were somewhat out of control with high energy excitement. I had tears well up in my eyes. This was it, this was what it's all about.

At the starting line Jamie said she'd be out on the course to see us and take our pictures once she finished the half. Since we all started together it was a fast and furious start and we lost touch with each other right away. The first 11 miles would be the liveliest since we would be with the half marathoners up until then, as the course zig zagged throughout downtown Little Rock streets, alive with spectators all along the way. It was incredible, even with the bad weather, the local support for this race. Some of the many sights we saw on this portion of the course included the mayor's house, complete with the mayor out front, waving to us, the State Capitol building, the historic Little Rock Central high school, and several churches, some ringing their church bells, some splashing holy water on the runners, and some dancing and playing music. As fun as it was I couldn't help but notice how hilly the course had been already, which made me feel really negative about Ginna and her injured calf. Laura came along and we briefly talked about it, and said we'd hope for the best, but when we finally split away from the half marathoners and headed out of town I couldn't help but wonder if she would be heading out with us.

As is usually the case, once the half marathoners were gone there was silence. After 11 miles of noise it was welcome, however, this was where the work would begin. Miles 13-16 were the long and winding hills that we had trained for. I pulled out my headphones, but decided it was too much trouble to try to untangle them with my frozen fingers, so I tucked them away for the remainder of the race. Even though it would rain off and on I was plenty warm except for my hands. I made the (poor) decision to leave my high dollar thick gloves behind in lieu of a cheap pair of cotton gloves under a cheap pair of cotton mittens. I don't baby-sit gloves. If they come off they are gone forever, so I didn't want to risk tossing my good gloves. The price I paid was continually removing and putting back on 2 pairs of wet cotton gloves every time I had to dig out a gel or electrolyte pills. It was maddening, but they were offering enough heat to hang onto.

This stretch had a couple of extreme downhills that were so steep it was hard not to brake. I tried to keep my feet under me and save my quads, but felt like I would stumble forward at times, especially with the wet roads. I knew I'd pay for this later. Just past mile 16 we entered the out and back, which would be mercifully flat. It would turn back around mile 19.5 and end just past mile 22. I kept looking out over the field to see if I could see Laura heading back. This kept me somewhat entertained, as I thought again about digging out my headphones, but could not for the life of me muster the energy to do so. Another thing that kept me entertained were the early starters, i.e the walkers. We were coming across a lot of them at this point. Again, this warmed my heart to see. What it must take to go out and walk for 6-8 hours, amazing! Some were having a great time, but some were really challenged, really giving it their all. I caught sound bites of their conversations as the miles clicked on. And then there was Laura across the field! We yelled out to one another. We were getting it done. She was crossing mile 20 at the point I was crossing 19. When I turned around I was scared to look for Ginna. I was afraid it would be too upsetting to look for her and not see her. I kind of went into the fog a little, just focusing on the little world around me, as we all shuffled forward. Then I heard a yell across the field! It was Ginna!! She yelled out, "I think I'm going to make it!" That was the boost I needed to rally it in, knowing she didn't have to drop out and was going to finish!

The last 3 miles were incredibly hard. My quads were on fire! Not only that, but we were back to the hills. This was not a scenic stretch either, just a long stretch on 3rd street back in. Finally, on the cussing hill I had to walk a bit. I call it the cussing hill, because afterwards the three of us each said we cussed aloud when we saw it looming ahead of us. I wanted so badly not to walk any of the marathon, but alas, I took the opportunity to deal with the gloves and dig out and eat my stinger chews and put the damn gloves back on. As we neared the finish I couldn't help but wonder why I never saw Jamie. We rounded a corner at the Clinton Library and then it was a straight shot to the finish. I high-fived Bart in the chute!

I grabbed a mylar sheet and our "mock" medal (the real one, the 3 pounder, will come later in the mail, thanks to the port strike on the west coast) and wandered about the food. Nothing looked good to me at all! They handed me a cup of chicken soup, which was just a big blob of mucky rice that didn't appeal to me, so I threw it out and left the food tent. Jamie came running up to me with handfuls of clothes. As we walked over to the bag check it was becoming clear to me what she was trying to say, and that was there was a serious meltdown at the bag check. The line wound down the road as far we could see. She had ran back to get us warm clothes, knowing we wouldn't be able to stand in that line for very long. Sure enough, we found Laura in the line, shivering uncontrollably! We decided to abandon the line and get back to the room, while Jamie stayed to wait for Ginna. A little later Ginna and Jamie joined us back at the hotel and all was well! We rocked Little Rock!

I absolutely loved this marathon. I felt a lot of brotherly love on the course, I felt like the race organizers always went out of their way to solve issues as they popped up--the issues of this year WILL be resolved for next year's race! Any complaints I have would be considered petty, so they are not even worth mentioning. Jamie was a great ambassador of Little Rock, and a great source of knowledge in terms of what to expect on the marathon course. A huge THANK-YOU to Jamie for saving us at the finish line! I only wish we had more time. I did get to visit with my cousin Jennifer and her husband Brock, which was really special, but too short! I'd really like to come back one year, run the half, and spend more time in Little Rock. (So if you are reading this and want to go--road trip!!)

Training for and running a Spring marathon can be tricky in terms of weather, something to consider when choosing a marathon. Just a few days after we got home Dallas was once again blanketed in ice, followed by four feet of snow! Mother Nature was really on a tear this winter!

Race Stats: Jamie: 1:48 half. Laura: 3:55, good enough for 3rd in our age group! Me: 4:10, I should consider being a 4:10 pace bunny with my consistency. Ginna: 4:33, which is amazing, given her calf, and Jeff Junkin deserves a shout out. We saw him at the expo and before he even said hi he said, "I'm running slow, having fun, don't care about my time". A 3:29 PR. And Jean! Phoenix ended up being a steep downhill course that blew out her quads, so she walked it in! No injury and already planning the next one!

Just me and my mittens!

Bart is on the yellow line behind me

Marathon #7: San Diego Rock and Roll Marathon, 1998

Inaugural Course

The Competitor group began with its first ever Rock and Roll Marathon in San Diego on June 21, 1998. It had a record-breaking inaugural headcount of roughly 18,000 participants, with the promise of live band performances at every mile. We had a huge contingent from our local running group running the full, and one 5 person relay team, which included my husband of 3 weeks, Toby Linder! For me, this was a good way to show off my "hometown" to my new husband and to get the opportunity to run a marathon in familiar territory.  We knew the Competitor group was biting off more than they could chew with their ridiculous headcount, so right away we knew to dial down our expectations of an organized race, and in my mind I knew I wanted to "enjoy the day", so no PR or Boston qualifying goals.

There were four of us who planned on running together, Me, Amy Jacoby, Kathy, and Nancy Scholberg (from our relay team Texas Roadkill).  We all wore the same outfit, Texas flag shorts and matching jog bras. Before the race start, which was delayed by over 40 minutes, I got separated from them and wandered about the corrals until I heard my name being chanted over and over in the distance. When I finally found them, the surrounding people started clapping and cheering. I'll never forget that ridiculous moment! It was already about 65 degrees, and the June gloom marine layer was already long gone. I assumed (correctly) that the water stops would be utter chaos, so I actually carried my own bottle for most of the race. Some water stops were either under-staffed or were quickly running out of supplies. The four of us only remained together until about mile 7 or so. Amy and I fell back as it continued to heat up. At this point the course was just hideous, as it ran along Sea World Drive out in the middle of nowhere. It also became obvious that there would be very little in the way of musical entertainment on the course as promised, but this did not surprise me. Still, as we approached the Mission Bay area the scenery improved. Somewhere around mile 14 or so Amy dropped off, but then I ran into Kathy and Nancy again. I can't recall how long we stayed together, if at all, but I do know Toby handed me a full water bottle somewhere along this stretch. From the beginning he was my hero!

The husband, 3 weeks in...

At around miles 18-19 we entered the on-ramp to the Pacific Highway (no I am not kidding), and exited near the Naval Training Center and actually ran inside the center for a bit. From there were ended up on North Harbor Drive, which was just stunning to run along. We actually ran along Harbor Drive all the way back into downtown San Diego, where the finish line was. The only glitch was at some point we had to run up (and then down) a make-shift plywood bridge, which isn't normally a big deal, but it proved difficult at miles 22-23. The finish was absolute chaos, but we were all able to find one another eventually.  (Times: Kathy 3:51, me: 3:58, Nancy: 4:03, and Amy: 4:12. Not bad for such a hot mess).

The first of many finish line photos with Kathy

Later that evening we ventured over to the cove (That's La Jolla Cove to you non San Diegans) with snacks and champagne to watch the sun set. A spectacular ending to a crazy day!

For what it matters, the course we ran in 1998 was never again replicated, and I believe it took them several years to dial in a course they felt satisfied with.  I like the map they have for 2015, and with a May race date, even better. Still, I'm glad we ran it and can tell people we were there when the Rock and Roll series began.