The Santa Clarita Marathon 2012

The Santa Clarita Marathon 2012 is our hometown running ritual. I feel so lucky that I am able to wake up on Marathon Sunday from my own bed and to warm up, ride my bike to the start. This is only my third Santa Clarita Marathon since 2010, but my third marathon this year. I felt that my training so far has been doing okay and I planned on achieving that coveted Boston qualifying time of sub 3:15. Marathons are funny. Not in the "ha ha ha" type, but in the strange way each one at each particular time have a unique quality of their own. I was told that the LA Marathon is one race not one to try and PR. But, I did and felt strong. I was also told that our hometown race is also one that is not a PR course. Fine, this seemed like a helluva challenge and I worked very hard through the training to BQ or at least beat last years time. The response to the question, "So, what time are you shooting for?" was "Somewhere between my LA time and 3:20." That's not too lofty of a goal, right? I do remember back in March that one famous dentist in our club told me, "respect the minutes, young man." Boy, was he right! We have so much talent of all ages in our club, but when seasoned runners speak, you tend to pay extra attention.    

With that said, The Surf City and LA marathons were completed in almost perfect fashion. Training went super smooth. Those finish times were decent and I remained injury free. Why did it? Maybe because I was laid off work from August 2011 to April of this year and I had sufficient time to train hard, eat right and best of all REST! I was super happy to back to work doing what I love and not really thinking about racing 26.2 miles for awhile. Of course, when summer wrapped up all I could think about was November 4th. Approaching this hometown race, I did manage to get 9 stitches on my left leg on a 18 mile training run with The Club. Note to self, don't try and hop a freeway guard rail like a 23 year old when in fact I am not! Thanks Dr. Mike for hanging with me while the wife picked me up! Two weeks of light and not so light training took its toll and cost me a severe infection. Luckily, there was a full eight weeks to fully recover before race day.

Marathon tapering seemed to come quick. This is a good thing. Get it over with, right? Anyway, the weatherman was right on the money when it came to the increasing temperatures holding steady through the race weekend. I believe the Santa Clarita 1/2 marathon training race two weeks prior was an indication of what we might be in for. "We" would be Jawn, Chad, Dennis and I. It was supposed to be a test on what our midway split will be for the marathon and we could plan our attack for the second half. Of course, someone up there seems to always laugh at plans... The morning of the race was so very familiar. Meet the team of guys you have trained with for several weeks and just chill. Yes, team. Not only is running with a group like our Club is beneficial to achieving your goals, but when one can train with a few people of basically the same physical abilities, I like to call this a Team!  The infamous tall Englishman taught me a thing or two about the importance of sticking together during a race. Thanks, mate! Of course, he is into Ultras now and I may never see him on a puny regular marathon again!

Well, the sun started to beat down right when the gun went off. Dennis took off like a rabbit as usual and I knew it was going to be a mountain to climb. Dennis knows us three will catch him, just when? This was the plan. The first half is always fun, as everyone knows. The second...not so much. If anyone has done the full knows what I am saying. Lonely, mentally challenging and this year, too hot to run 26.2 fast. Chad and Jawn kept it steady, like I knew they would. We passed Dennis around mile 14ish. By the way, he grabbed an age group award with a time of 3:33. Great job, pal! But, the sound of the footfalls were beginning to wane behind me. What the hell was happening? I was dying for orange slices! Chad, Jawn and I stuck together with me until about mile 20-21, where the "real race" begins. God, I hate when people say this. But, it is so true. The second half was really warm and I started suffering around mile 18. It was my first race to run with the SCR singlet but I had to take it off at mile 18 because I was chaffing on my chest. Oh well, go for the beach finish, right? I always seem to labor around mile 18-20, so why would today be any different? Approaching Runner's Lane I noticed a table of GU energy gels, but nobody was there. I could sure use a good rock band right about now. Through the bowling alley was the worst. Desolate, hot and miserable. Get me the hell out of here, I thought. I do have to say it sure was nice to see Mr. Flowers cheering us along. Thanks, bud! I still held out okay through mile 21 with a pace of about 7:23. Then, bam! I see a wall ahead of me. The pace then dropped by almost 1 minute for each of the next few miles. Worst yet, no Chad and Jawn to push me along. There was the invincible Caesar Rojas trying to make up time after his potty break when I noticed him around mile 23. But, this was a training run for Honolulu so why should he kill himself? Oh well, it was just me out there. Just as I didn't want to happen. Be a tough guy and suck it up. My mind was there. The legs were not. The last 5K taught me a thing or two. The left calf muscle that was bothering me midway reared its ugly head. Just a cramp I thought, drink more fluids. Too late. Way too late. Speed up and make time. No way. Just as I was about to gun it, the right hamstring tightened up. It was a friendly reminder that if I try to go faster, this large muscle will pull and I will be out and limp to the finish! This will not happen. Forget about Boston. Just finish strong. Ahhh, those last two bridges. I see them. So does the blonde twenty-something who jetted right pass me. Pride is a mother! Elaine Woodward did the same in LA and it was really tough to let her go. But I did and glad for that move. So, the thought catching this one crossed my mind for only about a minute when we hit the bottom of the bridge and I could see her determination on "eating my soul" to give her more strength. So what! I ate more souls than mine being eaten today. I was very pleased to see the family out there again for support and looking up at that clock registering under 3:20. Yes, hands in the air for a well fought run. Then the Westfield Mall security gal told me to put my shirt back on. Just can't win...

I believe that I should try just running bandit style next year. Nah, too easy!