CIM for
the past few years has been my pacing gig. My racing season is done for the
year, but I still love running the race, being out on course, and hopefully
being of use to someone I care about. The past two years, I have paced my
friend Lorena. In the spring of 2016, I committed to pacing my husband Jim. I
repaid his immense help during my bike training for Ironman Coeur d’Alene by
training him through the fall months in preparation for his 2nd
marathon. It would be his second “one and done” marathon, the last having been
San Francisco in 2010, which had been a success with the 4:56 finish (sub 5 was
the goal). To this day, SF 2010 serves as one of my favorite races of all time.
It was an experience I treasured- how often can you be part of helping someone
to finish their first marathon? It’s an emotional experience and one that bonds
you. I think Jim and I are fairly welded together, but all the hours of
training solidify us even more and serve to strengthen our relationship.
I had a
goal in mind for the race, thinking Jim could run around a 4:15. Jim had no
stated goal, save for wanting to not have a death march in the final miles. I
was not confident in that goal; running volume had had to be sacrificed in the
course of training due to what his body could handle. We still had to rely on
his skills as a cyclist to supplement his cardio, along with a few dashes of
stubbornness (which I think we must cultivate in our garden at home). In the
months before CIM, Jim had made me exceedingly proud, dropping PRs at every
distance he raced: half marathon, 20 miler, 10K. During some of those races, I
had to get my butt in gear so he didn’t beat me (I knew I’d never hear the end
of it if he did!). We were both calm going into the race; I am confident in my
pacing skills, and I think Jim figured he’d either be able to execute it or he
wouldn’t. Worrying wouldn’t change that.
Race
morning, we picked up Lorena and drove to the shuttle pick-up downtown.
Lorena’s BQ attempt was shelved weeks ago, though she also has a decent coach J , after struggling
with a hip injury/IT band issues that were impairing both speed training and
distance/volume. While waiting at the Sheraton, we saw many friends: Azi and
Karen (who nabbed a WS spot the day before!)
from my ACME running group, Ted from my Boston group (supporting his
nieces and wife), and Carla (who Lorena and I run with at ungodly hours of the
morning). We boarded the bus to the start quickly, avoiding the sheeple lines
by getting on at 13th, and I sit down next to Gary (last seat on the
bus). Gary and I met on a bus to Big Sur in 2013 (both doing Boston to Big Sur
and both from Elk Grove); it was good to catch up. We arrive at the start
around 5:30 am. It is cold out. We use the facilities in porta potty heaven,
then join Lorena and Carla with their running group friends (which have an
interior space). While there, I meet Yateesh – a Strava friend from the Bay
Area who is running CIM as his first marathon; this was not planned! Pre race, we
also meet up with some running group friends: Nattu, Jenni, India, then chat
with Jen and Laurie (my Boston girls).
Jim and
I line up by the 4:08 pacer. The options were 4:08 or 4:23. My plan is an
opening half of 9:30-9:45 miles, with a planned fade on the back half to still
allow for a potential 4:15 finish without too much pain. Jim is cold, I am sure
I will be overheated quickly – it’s 37 degrees (warm, right?). Announcements
are made and we are off just after 7 am, waving and smiling to the camera right
after we cross the start line. Jim has kept his music a touch lower volume than
usual, which facilitates more conversation than I had anticipated. The first
mile is downhill at CIM, but we are controlled with at a 9:36 pace. The goal is that the miles should
feel easy, or at least manageable for some time. The course is crowded, but we
just stay to the right, in line with where the first turn will be on to Oak
Ave.
Just before the turn, Jim spots our
friend Pahla, her cute curly blond ponytails and running skirt being easy to
see. We turn up the hill. I speed up for a second to greet Pahla and wish her
well with her race, then resume my pacing gig. The course remains thick and
crowded, with rollers being the name of the game. Jim is faster on the uphills,
but moderates the down hills; this is the opposite of my usual running effort.
On one hill, I spot my friend Stephanie to the right. I slide over to her to
wish her well; I am fairly sure it is her first marathon. And on we roll, holding back a bit to not
overdo the pace.
We reconnect with Pahla in the 4th
mile and run together for a bit. She is unsure of her race strategy for the
day, so is starting out patiently. The
chatter over the next mile serves as a distractor. She starts eventually
picking up the pace a bit, we hold back to maintain the plan and wish her well.
Pahla will go on to drop a PR, her first BQ, and a jumbo negative split- so
happy for her! (And her husband and son also have stellar races!) At mile 5, I have Jim take nutrition and this
will continue every 5 miles, with water at aid stations along the way and the
rare Nuun (because, I mean, have you tasted that crap?). Stay on top of fueling
and pacing. Patience, patience.
Miles 1-6: 9:36, 9:30, 9:26, 9:36, 9:27, 9:35.
We turn the corner on to Fair Oaks
and the usual relay trade off spot is nowhere to be seen, which actually helps
to declutter the course. We cross the 10K mat in 59:09 (9:32); right on target!
It all feels comfortable and Jim has no complaints. As we near the town of Fair
Oaks, I am keeping my eyes open for a friend. I end up seeing another friend
Deanna spectating at mile 8.5 with her daughter. I give her a big hug and
congratulate her on the WS100 entry she received the day before! I reconnect
with Jim and we are off to the hills of Fair Oaks Village. Time to fuel again.
Out of the village on the downhill, crossing Sunrise, then up again. We talk
about the rollers and how people fail to note this is a modestly hilly course-
it's not fast because it's flat! Around here, I spot my friend Jon who is
spectating for his wife (she will finish just behind us and grab a monster PR).
The 12th mile seems more
challenging, maybe the climbing is a bit steeper or longer or it is because it
comes after a quick descent? We maintain the pace, but are working slightly
harder. As we near the half way point, I spot an archway ahead. The placement
doesn't seem right to me as we are a half a mile out from the halfway point and
the arch seems closer. My instinct is correct; it's placed closer to mile 12.8,
proclaiming the "Middle Miles"! WTF?!? We do then cross the timing
mat a bit up the road for the 13.1 mile point: 2:05:35 (9:36 pace). This is
where I want us to be; I estimated between 2:05-2:07 for the half. Jim is
satisfied with the time. I spot a friend of Lorena's spectating and we greet
each other (I will see him and a handle of her other friends at their group aid
stations throughout the day). Running group friends Rich and Susan are just
past them; I give them quick hugs before Jim and I turn left to continue on
Fair Oaks.
Miles 7-13: 9:37, 9:38, 9:38, 9:33, 9:28, 9:41, 9:30.
We agreed he could pick up the pace
if he wanted to anytime after the halfway mark. Jim is feeling fair and we
dropped a speedier mile 14. Then he requests to maintain the pace range at our
9:30-9:45 until at least mile 20. I resume metronome mode. Jim has no discreet
complaints and he continues to move along. There is another unwarranted and
poorly placed inflatable arch somewhere in the 15th mile. We pass a high school
band. We pass aid stations that are really close together. Jim is familiar with
the area- reporting he's waited here a lot in the past. Ha! I'm only used to
running through! There will be no spectating for Jim today and no stopping, so
on we go!
We are in the no-man's land, those
dreaded miles of the marathon: 15-20. There's is not yet enough to look forward
to, you are not yet far enough along, it is too early to count down. You're
just working with no end in sight. And your body fights you. Doubt creeps in.
Frustration builds. You notice aches and pains. Your ankle is acting up. Well,
these are not my thoughts in the moment, but I've been there enough times in my
23 prior marathons . So I imagine the thoughts starting to cascade through
Jim's mind. I can see he is starting to struggle. He periodically expresses
some doubts, just a few words here and there. I remain encouraging. And for
whatever he may be thinking and feeling, for whatever spike in effort he may be
expending, the pace stays steady. He'll slow for part of the mile, but then
regroups and it levels off, and we have reached the goal by the end of the
mile. Another running friend Mitch comes by in this wasteland, running the 3rd
leg of the relay. I wish him well. Then I spot Jon again.
The marathon is unwinding slowly. I
remind Jim he is doing great, we remain on target. I have built in a buffer and
the time goal is my theoretical one, not his. I know he wants to avoid that
final slog, but it is a near inevitability. We work to postpone it, though I
know it is getting harder for his body to cooperate. I try to get him to eat,
but it is getting harder. The aches are building up, his heart rate is creeping
up. He is struggling by mile 19. The time fade is slight with a 10:01 mile. The
push to mile 20 is getting harder. We cross the timing mat in 3:13:23 (9:41
pace). We are still on pace, but I know this is unraveling. Now my work begins.
Miles 14-20: 9:22, 9:41, 9:36, 9:39, 9:44, 10:01, 10:24.
I spot my friends Wendy and Angie
just past the fake "wall" at mile 20.5 (yes, that’s where I would choose
to put it!), grab hugs from them both, before resuming work. We will see and
greet them again a mile later as they ride their bikes down the course. Jim
wants to take more walk breaks. His ankle is hurting, he is dizzy, he is tired.
He feels his heart rate going too fast. He will eventually start wheezing (I am
the only one in the family with asthma). We traverse the bridge on J St, eking
out the final climb on the course. We just need to keep moving! “You’re doing
great! You’ve got this! I’m proud of you!” I just want him to keep going. He is
fighting me more. He is becoming more pessimistic. We are passing through the
start of the Run to Feed the Hungry course that I ran last week. There is a
slight descent; I might be the only one who notices. I start to see the
numbered streets, but we are in the upper 50s. It is too early to start
counting down to anything (the final turn will be on 8th).
There is so very little left- 5
miles, then 4 miles, then 3 miles. Any other day, it would be nothing. But
today, it is daunting. It seems insurmountable. I am just trying to count down
the streets, count down the miles, get Jim to our next promised spectators at
36th . There is music playing – it’s a song about Dancing that
desperately needs to be added to my next running playlist. So I oblige! I start
singing and dancing. Somewhere earlier on course in the middle miles, I had a
little dance interlude, dancing to someone blasting “Shout” – “You make me want
to shout!” I had fun, there were no objections. But, my 2nd dancing
moment is so not appreciated. I am told to stop it, accused of taunting. I was
solely trying to provide some entertainment and distraction (and it served
those purposes in my prior pacing gigs). I try not to take the barking
personally. Jim is having his mile 62 Kettle moment. You don’t want to be where
you’re at, the idea of going on seems too much, you’ve come so far, but the
finish seems an unbearable distance away still. It is the final miles that test
us.
Jim is just struggling. I stop
dancing and continue running, run, walking. I drop the cheerleader mode as it’s
not wanted. Thankfully we are approaching 36th St. I spot our
spectators! I go run to get a hug from Julie and from Marta. Jim follows to
take the only hugs he will on course. He needs something other than me to
bolster him. It is enough to keep moving forward. We head to the 24th
mile, take a couple of turns, and go by Sutter Hospital, under the freeway. He
is walking again, his heart rate is spiking, he is wheezing. I tell Jim there
are just 1.75 miles left. He tells me I’m lying, that he has a watch. Apparently,
he heard 1.25 miles. And here I thought I was being clever – because 1.75 miles
sounds so much better than 22 blocks before the final turns. I try to get Jim
to take some fluid at the next aid station, but he is done. He worries he won’t
be able to keep anything down. He will walk, then run for a bit. I stay next to
him, follow his pace.
There are 1.5 miles left, then 2 K
left, then 1.2 miles. We are progressing, but progress is slow. Jim goes from
angry and barking to apologetic, as though this would disappoint me. I say we
can still manage a 4:22 as he laments the passing of the 4:15 goal. I am back
to encouraging. Less than a mile out and I see my friend Katy pacing the 4:23
group; she is doing a spot on pacing gig and I wish her well to the finish. Jim
tries to stay with them, runs for a bit, then falters. We are back to the
alternating run, walk. I know he feels as though this is the death march, but
it remains respectable, even as he feels it becoming slower than the actual
numbers indicate.
The streets continue to descend. We
are at 15th, the edge of Capitol Park. This is the home stretch. We
move for a bit, then he has to catch his breath and slow his heart rate. Up
ahead I can see an inflatable arch- I know damn well that’s not the finish
line, but it’s typical for the placement of these monsters that eat at hope for
those who don’t know the course better. I spot my running friends Vickie, Dave,
and Rich – quickly hug Vickie and Dave (as Rich already got his hug at 13.1),
and go through the arch at mile 25.9. Jim is picking up the pace. The road has
narrowed as spectators close us in. Ted shouts out to us before we finally turn
on to 8th. We have passed the 26 mile marker. Jim is sailing down 8th. I am
working to keep up with him and stay next to him as the spectators continue to
narrow the path. Erica calls out and cheers us in! The CIM finish has two chutes: females the
first left, males the second left. A volunteer tries to direct me to the female
chute. My reply is simple, ”I’ve run 26 miles with my husband, I’m finishing
with him!” We take the final (male) left turn together and the Finish Line is in
sight. Jim is moving and running towards it and we cross together!
Miles 21-26.29: 10:53, 11:17, 11:06, 11:03, 11:41, 11:37,
9:34.
Final official time: 4:23:07 (10:03) for 26.2 miles (Garmin
26.29 miles 10:01 pace. +669 ft, -984 ft).
We are
awarded our medals by an older gentleman with a Boston 2016 jacket; yes,
sometimes we choose our volunteers. We continue through the finishing chute.
Jim is struggling; he is dizzy and light headed. I get him some water, but he
doesn’t want food. He does want our picture taken together and manages big
smiles for that. He just wants to sit. We struggle through the crowds and I
manage to find him a bench, get our gear bags, and return to him. Jim is
wondering if he should have headed to medical, as he is that dizzy. After a bit
of sitting, he is doing slightly better, so we move out of the area and walk
slowly back to the car. He is eventually rescued by an Horchata. After
regrouping, we connect with Lorena (who pops out of a restaurant); she had a tough
race with pain the back half and hip issues. We then join the speedy girls Jen,
Laurie, and Sabrina for lunch and drinks, taking a little bit of time to catch
up and celebrate before they had to fly out of town.
The
race is over and Jim is happy to have finished it, despite the tough patches,
despite the unusual physical symptoms in those final miles. And I am immensely
proud of what he did; I certainly would have never run that time on his
training volume. He dropped an impressive 33 minute PR. We talked after the
race about how we are each built for different things, for different strengths,
for different capabilities. Some may thrive on speed and short distance, while
others are endurance queens (like the speedy girls). And maybe, we should seek
to excel at what our bodies excel at best rather than at certain distances,
like the glorified marathon. And at the end of the day, Jim is satisfied. By
the next day, he’s not feeling too bad. Physically, he is recovering without
sequelae. Mentally, he is in good spirits. There is something decidedly wonderful
about finishing a marathon and besting your prior time (by a lot!). And Jim
thinks about what he might have been able to do differently in the months
pre-race. It is not a thought of regret, but one of possibility. And when I
register myself for CIM 2017, he holds back, but the wheels are turning.
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