City to the Sea Half Marathon

My half marathon PR had been eating at me almost since the day I ran it in 2012. That day, a combination of terrible conditions (gale-force winds) and inadequate training teamed up to hold me to a 1:22 clocking. Four years (and zero half marathons) later, that PR remained, reminding me of its existence every chance it got. (I even noted it in my very first blog post, when I created the "Optimal Race Curve" to show just how relatively poorly I've done at longer race distances.) Finally, a few months ago, I decided it was time to do something about it. There are a plethora of half marathon options out here, with one scheduled seemingly every weekend. From those myriad options, I chose one that sounded scenic if not fast -- City to the Sea -- starting in San Luis Obispo and terminating at nearby Pismo beach. My training went quite well, and I began to dare to think not only of PRs, but also of breaking 1:15.

Well, just about the only certainty in my running world is that injuries will crop up at the most inopportune times. Sure enough, a month or so out from the race, I was visited by ghosts of injuries past. One was the achilles pain that knocked me out late last year and has been showing up from time to time since then. I felt confident I could deal with that one. The other was a knee pain that I self-diagnosed six years ago as fat pad impingement. It prevented me from running for almost an entire year back then, and so I was pretty worried when it unexpectedly made an appearance and wouldn't go away. I stopped all workouts and took a couple extra days off for the last few weeks to try to keep it under control. At that point, I decided my primary goal would simply be to make it to the starting line. I'd worry about the other goals once I accomplished that.

To complicate matters, I got word in September that I'd be traveling to Europe for a whirlwind tour of the company's three European locations (in Ireland, the Netherlands, and Germany) during the week leading up to the race. There was nothing I could do about this little inconvenience, so I embraced the experience and did my best to adjust to the time changes and ignore the lack of sleep. (I also twisted my bad ankle on a cobblestone while running in the Netherlands, but that was a mere footnote on my growing list of excuses). Returning back to the US on Friday, I slept like a log Friday night, then hopped in the car with the family on Saturday, and before I knew it I was jogging down to the starting line early Sunday morning. A little foggy-headed and creaky-legged, but no worse for the wear.

The race photographer didn't get any pics of me running, but she did nab this nice one. I probably wasn't the focal point.

Race start; I'm in the bright green singlet

The Race

Miles 1-3: I'd had in mind that I'd run 5:45 pace for as long as I could. I figured there would be a few others who would be running this pace or faster, so I wasn't shocked when three guys took off ahead of me at a substantially faster pace. Two of them looked legit, while one I knew would be faltering before too long (and he did just that after two miles). Sometimes you can just tell. By the mile mark, I was already 20 seconds behind the leaders and running all alone. The first three miles were straight and slightly downhill, and I was feeling very good all around. Mile splits: 5:43, 5:41, 5:46.

Miles 4-6: I heard a group coming up behind me and guessed it was about four people based on their foot steps. My guess was right, and I was soon swallowed up by the pack. I found their pace to be comfortable, so I latched on, and soon it was just me and two of the original foursome, as the other two had been dropped. I selfishly decided to let these guys do the work for a while, and I'd enjoy the ride for as long as I could. We stayed together long enough to pick off one of the early leaders, who then did as I had done and latched right on to the group. Imperceptibly, the two pack leaders cranked up the pace, and I knew I'd be in trouble later if I tried to hang on. I reluctantly let them go just as we started up a long incline, hoping I'd see one or more of them later. Mile splits: 5:45, 5:39, 5:48

Miles 7-9: The seventh mile has the first of two big hills in the race. This one rises about 100 feet, which is quite a shock to the system after running flat or downhill for the first six miles. I started gaining again on the early leader who'd tried to run with the mini-pack I was once part of. I figured I'd catch him by the top of the hill, but it actually happened much sooner, as he stopped to tie his shoe right smack in the middle of the hill. I tried to keep pushing over the top of the hill and back down the other side. Coming down the hill, I could see far into the distance, but not far enough to see the race leader. The two guys ahead of me were probably already 15-20 seconds up the road and didn't seem to be slowing. Still, there was a lot of race to go. Mile splits: 6:09 (uphill), 5:08 (downhill, plus likely GPS error), 5:49

Miles 10-13: The tenth mile contains the second big hill - another 100-foot rise pointing directly into the sun. This one was soul crushing. I really struggled heading up and then had nothing left in the tank to attack the ensuing downhill into Pismo Beach. I was trying to avoid tying up, but that was inevitable. To get the mileage needed for the race, the course takes a turn straight down to the water, then back up a small but poorly timed hill, then back down to the beach again, and finally to the finish line. I'd realized about halfway through the race that my watch was knocking maybe 25 yards off each mile. That added up, and so it wasn't surprising (but was still disappointing) to have so much left in the race when my watch reached 13.1 miles. Another minute of running, and I was finally to the line, crossing in a new PR, but somewhat underwhelming, 1:16:47.

Splits: 6:16, 5:43, 5:49, 5:50, 5:31 (pace for last 0.3)

Final time: 1:16:47 (5:51 pace) (full results here)

Some shots of the race from Katie's Instagram feed. 

Post-Race: I got some nourishment after the race in the form of a breakfast burrito, which tasted oh so good. We hung around for a bit, thinking we'd spend some time at the beach before heading home, only to discover that the "beach" was several hundred feet below a cliff. So much for those plans. I decided to run the two miles back to the car while the rest of the family took the shuttle. Turns out, my legs were in really rough shape after the race, especially my right knee and hip. Interestingly, the knee pain was identical to an injury I got my senior year of college after falling during an XC race. I hadn't felt that in a long time. Ah, the memories...

I love this one -- a candid of me and the kiddos after the race.

In the days following the race, my legs (especially my quads) were SO sore. As you've heard me say before, the amount of soreness you feel after a race tells you how well prepared you were for it. So now I know -- not prepared enough! My right knee was also very painful for a few days, but the pain had mostly disappeared by the weekend. I decided to take a run six days after the race and fared quite well for 5 or so miles until I started to descend on a road back to the start of the run. My knee flared up, and I also noticed that the hip pain was back.

Another week off followed, which seemed to relieve the knee pain, but the hip was even worse, especially on ups and downs, which is pretty much all there is where I live. In the weeks since then, I've been trying to manage the pain while still getting in a run every two or three days. I have no other races on the horizon, so it's just a matter of patience at this point. I have a feeling my next entry in this blog will be the end-of-year summary, so stay tuned for that. More racing in 2017, I hope!