Race Length: Half Marathon (13.1 miles)
Location: Stinson Beach/ Mt. Tamalpais State Park
Finish Time: 2 hours, 7 minutes
Place: 9th overall/131 participants
After sleeping on my friend Arthur’s couch last night in SF, I am trying to make it to Stinson Beach for my 8 am start time. I missed my alarm by about 20 minutes, on account of having earplugs in to block out the city noise. It’s a quick stop at Starbucks for a morning coffee and a protein bowl, which is 2 hard boiled eggs, a nut butter, and some apple slices. I eat the pre-race meal and drink my coffee in my car as I navigate the windy roads of Highway 1.
Even though I’m in a rush, it’s hard not to appreciate my surroundings. I pass by a sign that reads Welcome to Mt. Tamalpais State Park and shortly after am navigating the roads and shops that run up against Stinson Beach. Stinson Beach is in Marin County and a few miles east of Bolinas. I’ve been out here once, last Spring, to do some trail running around Mt. Tam State Park and Muir Woods. I remember it was steep.
I make it to the start line with a few minutes to spare and try to find a spot that’s not too muddy. There has been a downpour over this past week and I’m sure it’ll make the trail conditions interesting. As I look around, there are way more people at this event compared to the last race I did in Sonoma, two months ago. There are easily over 100 runners for my event, the half marathon (usually 13.1 mi). In something of an auspicious start, the race director announces that the half-marathon on this course is more like “14-14.5 miles” and a “little over 3,000 ft in elevation gain”. The second part of that statement is definetly the scarier of the two to me.
At last the count down from 10 seconds begins and then we are off! We cross a few streets to get out of the paved roads from Stinson Beach and soon enough are running up a trail called “Steep Ravine”. This early in the race, I’m trying to keep my pace and breath easy enough that I could hold a conversation. Not that anyone out here is talking to teach other. This feat is challenging as “Steep Ravine” lives up to it’s name and has stairs on the trail to help with the ascend. I power walk the stairs and run everything else, which puts me towards the front of the pack but behind a handful of the top runners.
Miles tick by until I find myself running in steady rhythm with a pack of two other runners. One is right ahead of me and he looks to be my age and has bright pink shorts. Right behind me is a man in a red shirt who is probably in his late 40s/early 50s. We run for something like 2 miles in this formation and I wonder how long we will go until someone breaks this little group of 3. At one point, the man behind me calls out “What perfect conditions. You couldn’t have asked for a better day to run.” He is completely right- the recent rains have made the trail packed down and firm. There are huge Costal Redwood trees that cover the trail with shade and provide excellent scenery. Creeks are full and it’s rare to run more than a mile without crossing a little bridge or moving past running water.
The three of us pull into the third aid station, which means we have checked off 9 miles, and have a little over 4 left. I’m forgoing food for the duration of the race and just take some electrolytes and water. I have decided to run this race without a running vest, which is usually used to hold water, food, etc. It’s nice to be light and the aid stations have been well stocked and plentiful so far.
The course goes downhill for the next half a mile or so and I get a burst of energy. I pass by three, four, five runners and imagine myself closing in on a top 3 finish. I’m running near maximum effort, going at about 90%. I feel good now, but it’s a gamble. I still have 3 miles left and I’m sure some more climbing.
Sure enough, a little past a marker that reads mile 11, my body loses the adrenaline that gave me that surge. I’m still passing large groups of day hikers and runners, as the course the race is on is a popular one and it’s Saturday morning, but it feels like my great race is slipping away. My quads, glutes, and hamstrings feel absolutely destroyed, almost like they could tear at any point. I know that’s irrational but my body does seem to be sending out dangerous warning signs. Long gone is that light and powerful stride, and in its place takes the heavy thud of my foot making impact with the ground beneath me.
The runners who I passed back at mile 10-11, come to pass me. It’s the two guys I was sandwiched in between for much of the race, and then a girl with a backwards cap. Right before I cross the street to make it back to the start/finish line (thank God), I hear another runner coming up behind me. I feel so depleted that I have almost lost the will to care about being passed again, with the finish line only 100 hundred yard aways. But I go to a reserve I didn’t know I had and eeek out the finish ahead of him.
I hang out a bit after the race cheering other finishers and sampling the different vendors that are offering products. I find the guy in pink shorts and I congratulate him on his nice end of the race push and we talk a little bit about the race. It’s his second time running it and he tells me with a laugh that the course does not get easier the second time around. Even with that, I’m already looking forward to coming back next year.
