October 2, 2009, Friday Palo Alto Moonlight Run 5K/10K 25th Anniversary Bib # 273 Time: ?? Distance: 5K Okay, so even though I have never believed the bromide, “You create your own reality” I did do just that on Friday night. I am always stunned at how disorganized, even if well intentioned, the Palo Alto Moonlight run really is. And this year it was even dangerous. So as I was trying to let “all of that irritation go” I paid no attention to the logistics at the finish of the 5K and the tag I handed over at the end of the chute has just disappeared. On top of that snafu I forgot to stop my GPS watch so I really don’t know what my finish time was. Bitch, bitch, bitch, but I am not listed in the final results, even though I swear to you that I actually did run the race and I am not listed in the specific list for my age division. So I must take responsibility for of it. I created it, somehow, although I must admit I don’t know how I did that. Fortunately for me, since it added a positive note to my decidedly gloomy bitching, my brother Dick had a great time, and even placed second in his/our age group in spite of all of the mashing around. Dick and I both like to run at night so we usually feel stronger and run more easily at night. Friday night was clearly one of those nights for Dick. And he didn’t get caught up in the mash at the beginning of the race where a crowd of 20 runners across tried to smash into a path that held 3 runners across. It was quite a feat, and with so many children running I am happily surprised that no child was trampled. But I am also aghast that no one on the organizational team thought about that issue or realized what potential there might be for someone getting hurt. This lack of attention to the myriad details of keeping everyone safe at a race makes me want to take this race off my annual list, except it is one of the best tee shirts of the year. Although that is hardly a fair trade for the potential for harm. But it was a beautiful night, full moon glowing and even more runners enjoying the sport that I do love very much. In spite of everything that could tarnish the experience. *****************************************
Wharf 2 Wharf 09
Sunday, July 26, 2009
WHARF TO WHARF SIX MILE
Bib # 3760
Time 59:54 via GPS / Gun Time 60:54
(It took one minute to get to the starting line after the starting gun popped)
Slide show from the Santa Cruz Sentinel: http://www.santacruzlive.com/blogs/photo/?p=324
I looked up and I was running next to an older man who was keeping a steady pace, a bit over 10 min per mile. On his left, running right next to him, was a much younger man carrying a large, long, thin triangular flag on a pole. I remember that it was light blue and it had one word painted on it vertically. I have no idea what the word was. On the back of the older runner’s shirt was a text about “challenging the course since 1973.” Impressive, but I had no blood in my brain so I couldn’t really compute how many times he might have run the race. But I do remember thinking that it made my 11th year seem paltry in comparison. I wanted to talk to him, but he had his head down and his younger companion kept yelling out at others around us, which inhibited me somewhat and I was in my “introverted, don’t bother anyone mood,” so I just nodded and kept on moving. Now I regret that I didn’t overcome my shyness and talk to this stalwart runner, because I have since found out that 1973 was the very first running of the Wharf to Wharf. So he was one of the original runners and was probably one of the organizers. But I missed my chance to meet him, although just watching him grind away gave me a little mental boost, so I upped my pace a bit. That turned out to be important as you will soon see.
The Wharf to Wharf, which starts near the Santa Cruz Municipal Wharf and snakes along the coast to Capitola Wharf, is dubbed the "Best Little Road Race in California." Thousands of spectators line the route--which is unusual for a road race and it is one of the aspects of this race that makes it more fun and more unique—along with bands--amateur groups who are wound up and doing their probably-late-night gig at 8:30 am--just to cheer us on. The race draws runners from all over the world and this year's event sold out in about eight weeks, according to race officials. While 15,000 runners had bib numbers, at least a few thousand more ran or walked the race unofficially as "bandits or outlaws," according to race officials.
I don’t usually dedicate my essays to any particular person, but this year I have to semi-dedicate the race to Professor David Kaun, who was my gracious host during this event. I had mentioned to another friend, Carmel, who lives in Santa Cruz that I had looked for a hotel/motel in which to stay on Saturday night before the race and had finally found one about 35 miles away, because everything in town was booked (and outrageously priced I might add, because now all hoteliers know that this is a must stay weekend for thousands of runners). So Carmel sent out an email about my plight and unbeknownst to me another friend, David (whom I had met earlier through Carmel, the director of Rising International[i]) had an empty room for the summer and graciously offered it to me. David and I proceeded to have a great visit over the two days of the weekend, including a wonderful tour of the campus at UCSC where he is a professor of economics. David had run the W2W a few times some years ago so he was all primed to help, and offered to take me down to the starting line on Sunday morning and pick me up after I was bussed back to Santa Cruz from Capitola where the race ends. It made the whole event easy and much more relaxing. I really can’t thank David enough for his kindness and graciousness.
So here is a picture of David by an amazing piece of driftwood in the middle of campus in the afternoon after the race. UCSC is a beautiful campus with quite a remarkable and unusual history in the UC system. And David has lived through it all since he was hired in 1966, the second year after the school’s founding in 1965. And he has stories to tell which should be integrated into a memoir someday.
But I am ahead of myself. Since this was my 11th running of the W2W, and my total number of races entered and run since 1999 now numbers over 80, I now have my pre-race routines set in stone. On Saturday night I picked out my running clothes, laying them out for easy access, gathered my “paraphernalia” (GPS watch, cell phone, etc.) and pinned my bib on my shirt, I got to bed early, read a novel to relax, and then slept for 8 ½ hours. I got up about 15 minutes before I needed to leave for the event so that I would arrive at 8:00 am for the 8:30 am start. Once David dropped me off close to the start of the race I spent some time warming up by jogging up and down one block because there are fences everywhere to corral the runners and keep the crowds manageable. Then I wormed my way through the bustling throng up toward the start line so my GPS time would be closer to the official gun time.
It didn’t seem as crowded this year but it probably was, after 11 years I am probably just more aware of how to navigate around the throngs. I did find myself watching the whole scene more, since I was alone, although I didn’t say a single word to anyone except David on the ride down to the Boardwalk. I can’t remember every doing this race all by myself, so I retreated into my “introverted race mode” and just enjoyed the atmosphere and energy that is created by this unusual crowd. It was like most race crowds, of course, but it also unusual in some ways because it is so festive and as runners we all know that we aren’t there to compete. We can’t compete with the elite runners and there are no awards for age groups, so we really are doing it just for the fun of it, which includes running the along the beautiful coast line, listening to a cacophony of many amateur bands, and participating in the sheer joy of it all.
Usually the first music we hear is a lone bagpiper standing on a hill after we cross a small bridge. But this year there was a whole regiment, and it was thrilling to ride those waves of sound for several yards. I never know what songs they are playing, not being a bagpipe aficionado, but it does brighten your blood to hear that “call to battle” or at least that is what it sounds like to me.
What kept surprising me was that I couldn’t remember the details of the course and every hill was a new challenge with no time to prepare mentally. Once I got to each hill I had this vague memory of having run up it before in previous races but you would think after 11 times I would have this course etched into my brain. But I don’t and it didn’t matter, I had made up my mind not to walk any of the hills or even to walk at all, as I had done in the race two weeks prior, The Run to the Lake. (Even with walking hills in that race I did win third in my age group and received a wonderful medal/ribbon for the effort). And I was also determined to keep my pace going during this race, even though the up and down made the keeping of a steady pace more challenging. I had told David when he dropped me off that I would call him halfway through the race and let him know how I was doing. That also gave me another little impetus not to get lazy.
There were the normal pre-race comments and thank yous, then a lovely rendition of the National Anthem, and a loud pop and we were off. After a few minutes I estimated that my GPS would be at 10:30 min/mile when I crossed under a colorful arch of balloons marking the first mile. We could all hear the timekeeper pound out 11:31, 11:32, 11:33, and then 11:34 as I passed under the marker. So then I knew it had taken me about a minute to get to the starting line. I wanted to run this race in under 60 minutes so I also knew I had at least 30 seconds to make up. At the second mile I had not made any progress on that goal and I knew it was pitiful, of course, to care about each of those seconds but I felt good and thought I could start to make up the time mile by mile. And compared to my last race I felt exhilarated to know that by the third mile I was gaining on my goal.
I tried to use the rhythm/beat of the bands to push my pace but that didn’t always work, especially one time when I was straining to hear a small chorus of seniors singing barbershop quartet songs a cappella. But I scooted over to their side of the road so I could hear a few seconds of harmony. This was a first appearance for this group, at least from what I could remember of previous races, even if my memory was sputtering along that morning. This group needed a sound system, but compared to amateur garage bands it was a nice change.
So I got into a groove, loping along and shortening my stride up a hill, and stretching out down the other side. Now I can confess that I became a bit obsessive about breaking this 60 minute goal. Why? I have no idea, maybe just to reassure myself that I wasn’t really getting too old to do this pace? Maybe because I have attached some magical symbolism to running under 10 min/mile in a longer distance race. Maybe just because it makes me feel better. I don’t know, but I hedged my bets by making a quick call to David at home at about the 3.3 mile mark and said I thought I could at least break 63 minutes. He encouraged me on, which also kept my spirits up. I could tell that my endurance was slipping a bit. I had only been running 3-5 miles per day during the weeks leading up to the race and I had not pushed myself hard in my training. So I knew I was running out of steam. Now it became a mental game to keep it all going.
I distracted myself by listening even more closely to what was going on around me. It was a noisy race, partly because I was going slowly enough that people had the breath to chat, partly because there were a lot of people lining the route who were whooping and hollering to support all of us, and partly because there was music from a new group each ½ mile or so. I enjoyed the noise even though I usually bitch about it, because it can seem annoying. But that morning it just felt like an extension of the party.
When I glanced at my GPS right after the 5 mile balloon marker I noticed that I had a little less than 10 minutes to get to the finish so I had not made up as much time as I had hoped. Now a decision had to be made. I either had to push my pace and hurt, or let it go and enjoy a leisurely last mile. I couldn’t let it go, so I submitted my body to challenge and increased my pace. I was also hoping I could make up a lot at the end when I would sprint downhill that last 1/3 of a mile to the finish. Otherwise I knew I was not going “break the clock” this year. As I got closer to the finish I began to doubt I could pull this off. But then I thought more about it and cursed my laziness and started pushing harder. I can always feel the burning of my energy reserves and the pull on my lungs when I run faster than my training would support. As I came around the last bend and saw the downhill I knew I had to go full out or I would not make it in less than 60 minutes. Runners were now passing me as they too wanted to have a strong sprint at the finish. I took one last look at my GPS and moved into my sprint until-I-want-to-die mode. That last incline is steep enough that it even feels a bit dangerous to sprint so I made sure I was also watching the crowd around me. As I pushed the stop button on the GPS as I was flying under the finish sign my brain registered that it said 59:54! I had made it by 6 seconds. Even one quick walk or one long slow down would have doomed me to mediocrity! I joke, but it was fun to beat the clock.
The picture here does not really reveal my struggle to sprint nor the pain I was feeling but at least it proves I was there doing that.
The official clock said 60:54 so I was one minute off the official time but because this event doesn’t register official individual times, you must rely on your own watch or GPS. I must confess that I still can’t believe I broke 60 minutes. But for reasons I will probably never understand, this was a sweet victory for me. And now, now!, I am looking forward to the Palo Alto Moonlight 5K/10K on October 2 and the Bridge to Bridge 7K/12K on October 4. And even more so because my brother, Dick is coming down from Vancouver to join me for that insane running of two races within 36 hours of each other. So grab your shoes or your bike or whatever and get out there on the trails and byways and enjoy the sweetness of these attempts to fly beyond your limits.
And thanks again to Carmel Jud and David Kaun; it wouldn’t have happened without both of you helping.
PS: I usually buy the poster that is commissioned for the race and then the artist generously hangs around after the race to sign copies. But I passed on this one. That picture of pelicans at the beginning of the essay was this year’s poster. It just didn’t ring my bell, and David says pelicans are amazing creatures, but I think I will take his word for it and still not hang a picture of them on my wall.
[i] Rising International is a remarkable organization and you should check it out at www.risinginternational.org