Stepping Stone: Redding Marathon 1/15/2017

                I was a bit lost. There was no goal in sight. No goal race on the horizon. The 2017 schedule just loomed before me, taunting me with the emptiness of the calendar. There is always the lag that is created by the Western States wait each year and then the domino effect of race planning when that lottery rejection comes through the first Saturday of December. But having Boston awaiting me each April at least made that wait more tolerable. It wasn’t there to greet me as it sat in limbo too (I had the BQ, but missed the cutoff, and was seeking a charity spot). It’s hard to actually train without the carrot. I had had my recovery time post Chicago and wanted to go, but had nothing to move on to. You either wait or you take matters into your own hands. I was done waiting by November 17, 2016 and registered for Redding Marathon. I had been eyeing the race for a couple of years: small town race, pretty looking course, might be fast. I pulled out my marathon training plan and felt back in the game.

                Sometimes when you register for a race, circumstances intervene between the start and the finish line of training. The major shift was Boston greeting me again, as I secured a charity bib to run for Project Purple and raise funds to fight pancreatic cancer in honor of my father. (To read more about that journey.)  Redding could be whatever I now wanted it to be as Boston was again the goal race. I maintained consistent mileage, generally in the mid 40s each week. I dropped in hints of speedwork when I could. But, I spent a lot of time running on the trails – basically having fun mud and rain runs, even one with snow!  I managed a strong 20 miler on Christmas Eve, feeling like my road racing skills might be coming back. However, I was sick for over 3 weeks at the end and start of the year, my asthma wrecking havoc on the speedwork and eventually limiting some of my longer planned road runs. Redding would be a fun race in the end. It was hard for me to gage my true fitness. I figured I could finish anywhere between 3:45-4:00.

                We drove to Redding the day before the race, three hours north. After excess rain and storms, we were graced with clear skies. I picked up my bib, checked out the finish line at the Sundial Bridge (which is stunning), had a burger and beer lunch, and then took a tour of Shasta Dam at the start line (which is even more stunning). For dinner, we went to a restaurant recommended by a friend (Moonstone Bistro) that would delight any cosmopolitan diner and that was a decided gem in small town Redding. We were seated at the bar (last minute decision, booked) and able to watch the show that was the kitchen. It lent itself to a conversation on my right side with Niloy, who would also be running Redding the next day and was also an ultramarathoner – as well as on our left, with a couple who were local runners and who would be volunteering at the race.

 

 

                Race morning came after a fitful night of sleep. I wasn’t particularly nervous; the hotel was just too loud. I got ready and my husband Jim drove me to the finish line. I boarded the bus to the start line at 6:30 am. My seatmate Christine, mainly a long distance triathlete, would be running her 5^th marathon, aiming for a sub 4 (prior PR 4:03), but going without her Garmin or data, per her coach’s instructions. Prior to the start, we were able to shelter in the Shasta Dam Visitor’s Center, which was comfortable compared with the outside world where the temps were in the mid 30s. There I spent some time with Niloy again, discussing our preferred (trail) runs. My Chicago tank top later started a conversation with John, who had just relocated from Chicago to South Lake Tahoe and would be running his first marathon. I popped outside to take some photos of the faint sunrise coming over Shasta Dam, with Mt. Shasta decked in white on the pink horizon. It was even more striking than the views garnered by the clear blue skies the day before.

 

 

                The race starting line is underwhelming: a tiny archway at the edge of the parking lot. I garnered a few stares in my shorts and tank top.  I did have throwaway gloves, but I suppose most people prefer added layers when it’s in the 30s outside. There was no service to confirm the temps, which had been projected to be upper 30s on my weather app. My Garmin file would claim 30 degrees at the start; I don’t think it was quite that cold! I would be warm within a couple of miles, in either case. I lined up a few people back from the start line; this was a gun start and I wasn’t willing to leave seconds behind that line. At 8 am sharp, we had a few second countdown and were off! This would be my smallest marathon (181 finishers and another 64 teams running a 3 person relay), so it felt much closer to what I experience in trail races in terms of atmosphere and company.

                The race starts running across Shasta Dam – the views of the sunrise and Mt Shasta to your right, the crash of the water flowing out of the dam to the river below on your left. It’s easily the most scenic start to a marathon I have ever had. I was focused on enjoying the views, keeping the pace easy, and warming up. 0.8 miles into the race, the descent to the river starts. The drop in the subsequent 2 miles is roughly 450 feet with long wide curving switchbacks on the paved park road. My goal was simple: moderate the pace and don’t blow up your quads. So, I take my time. I take my time and people fly past me like they are running a timed mile. I think in some instances this might be nerve-wracking and might propel me to keep up and push the pace. But this is lifetime marathon #25, it is mile 2; I have nothing but patience, and nothing but respect for the descent. Mile 2 will clock in at 8:16 (with 305 ft of descent). My 2017 goal of restraint is holding steady. People continue to fly down to the river. I maintain my plan and am still at an 8:20 pace when the course finally flattens out. It may take me another 20 miles to catch those that flew past me on the descent; most are caught much sooner.

 

My shins have been burning; the descent was downright painful for me. Once the course flattens out just before mile 3 and we join the paved path that will follow the Sacramento River downstream, my feet are feeling very awkward. They aren’t picking up correctly. I nearly have myself diagnosed with a neurological condition as my foot drop is incredibly disconcerting. I start to worry I can’t run. My pace doesn’t shift much as I settle in to GMP, but my motions feel unnatural. My feet take a few miles to feel themselves again. A pebble is also stuck on my left shoe, picked up on the descent. The sound of this clicking overcomes my music and is like the telltale heart. It would seem logical to stop to knock it out, but that would disrupt the 8:30 pace. Instead, I occasionally stomp to try to dislodge it to no avail.

As I’ve been running and trying to get my body back in gear to cooperate, the scenery provides distraction. We are feet from the river on the left, with forestation on our right. The river is a wide expanse, blue, flowing, with mountains opposite. This is trail beauty and this might just be the reason to take on this experience. I pass Christine after a brief period of running on the trail. The first aid station is past the 5K point; I grab water. I am carrying a handheld bottle with Gatorade; there are only 10-11 aid stations on course, I need more fluids. My bottle has a fantastic duct tape handle fashioned on it, as I intended to only keep it for the first sections of the course. I am not quite overheated yet, so maintain my gloves, which I will throw away at the second aid station, past the 10K point.

 

Miles 1-6: 8:22, 8:16, 8:41, 8:36, 8:25, 8:33.

                The trail becomes more slick seven miles in. It might be colder or there might just be more shading through this section. In either case, the trail is frosty and I am starting to lose my footing. I, along with several others, opt to run on the side of the trail in the gravel/vegetation section as a slide out is not on my menu for the day. This requires a bit more focus and concentration. But somewhere in these two miles, I finally get my groove back. The rock dislodges from my shoe. The trailside is harder, but my pace doesn’t falter. This is actually something like home and matches the views better than the asphalt. And apparently, my muscles take 7-8 miles to warm up and be race ready! I am passing people and I feel good and solid again.  The 3^rd aid station just before mile 10 is also the first relay exchange, so some runners drop off, while others join in.

 

 

                Heading into the 11^th mile, the course veers to a trail on the left. There is a steep, way too uncomfortable again descent, but it is brief. Then the climbing starts. We are climbing and following the switchbacks up the mountain towards Keswick Dam. To my left, I can see where I was running at mile 9 and catch the glimpse of brightly colored race gear across the water below me. I am still running, as the climb remains runnable, though the effort expended is increasing as my pace is decreasing. Because of the switchback nature of the trail, there is no summit in sight. The views though become more and more striking with each effort of my breath – the expanse of water far below the tree line makes the climb worthwhile. The final push requires a few feet of walking; I have climbed roughly 325 ft in the past 2.5 miles. I grab water at the aid station up top. The half marathon point occurs as I catch my breath: 1:54:40. Then the steep descent starts. Again, half the race is left, quads will be needed, so I exercise patience. I allow for some speed and will clock my fastest mile of the race (8:04), but remain in control.

                I run down to Keswick Dam, which has a spot of spectators in the growing sunlight, cross the road and continue the path along the Sacramento River. Just past the Ribbon bridge (which I will return to around mile 22), I notice my watch jumps at the end of mile 14 and the start of mile 15. I am not suddenly running a 5:30 pace. My watch had been about 0.1 miles off the mile markers from mile 3 on, adding another 0.1 miles at this juncture. I don’t think running the tangents has been an issue – I did on every conceivable bend in the road (and the trail is not very wide).  At this point, a runner is coming towards me – likely the race leader or one of the lead relay teams, crossing towards the finish side of the river. The course from mile 14-22 will consist of two out and backs (15-17, then 18-22), so greetings are in order. I cheer on the studs and the mid packers; it provides some distraction and I’m happy to have enough energy for the greetings.  This makes it feel more like a trail race, which aligns better with the views on the course.

Miles 7-14: 8:34, 8:34, 8:37, 8:47, 9:14, 9:26, 9:08, 8:04.

                I grab more water at the aid station near 15. I have been eating every few miles and drinking my Gatorade, but I know I should be consuming a bit more. It’s hard with aid stations every 2-3 miles. I am a bit parched.  These miles are an out and back with an ascent on the way out. This is more gradual and less steep than the middle miles climb, with the gain just over 100 feet. It requires just a wee bit more effort, but I am feeling the miles as my pace slows slightly. I am passing some others though, so my fade isn’t too bad. I see John on the out and we greet each other and wish each other well. I am also able to see the runners ahead of me, separating out the relay runners and marathoners (bibs in the 2 or 3 digit range vs 4 digit range). I don’t know where my overall placement is, but there are enough women ahead of me that I need not worry about pushing. Ages are hard to tell too, so I don’t worry about it much. I’m giving it an honest effort and that’s about all I can do. At the turn around cone, a volunteer marks our bib numbers on his clipboard. Yes, this is a small town race. Hmm, it’s still kind of like a trail race. After turning, I welcome the descent back to the aid station. I see Christine in a bit; she is looking steady and I encourage her as she is maintaining her required pace for the sub 4.

 

                Back through the aid station and out , going south down the river again, I pass the mile 18 marker. I see one that says mile 21 on my left facing the other way, so know I will have some time before my return. Greetings continue and I see a woman I spoke with briefly at the start – she is looking good and will be the eventual female winner.  It gets a wee bit cold; perhaps it is the added shade. The feeling doesn’t last long. The views remain spectacular along the river and I am feeling steady. My pace will pick up for a bit then fade briefly, but there is nothing drastic. At mile 19 and change, I pass through the next relay station, continuing on to a historic bridge, making it to the finish side of the race. But, this is just the turn around, so I rewind, go back over the bridge and head north again. I have had another greeting with John and then with Christine and wish them both well. On my return, I see many runners from the last out and back and give my cheers and smiles. I will periodically pass a marathoner. In the 21^st mile, I pass John and wish him a successful finish to his first marathon.

Miles 15-21: 9:01, 9:17, 8:36, 8:59, 8:57, 8:31, 8:52.

                In the 22^nd mile, I cross over the Ribbon Bridge. It is a long narrow pedestrian bridge over the Sacramento River. I am focused on smiling for the photographer at the other end when I start to feel out of sorts and a bit dizzy. I later conclude the bridge must have been swaying.  There are just 4 miles left. My Garmin dropped off again right before the bridge and is another 0.1 mile off, so I account for this extra 0.3 in my subsequent calculations. The 20 mile mark was around 2:54 on my watch (well it was my 20, but course 19.7?), so I have an hour for the final 10K to make the BQ (3:55). I had no set goal for the day, but a BQ would be sweet. I know the Chicago one (BQ-4:55) will stand up and be the ticket for 2018, but I wouldn’t sniff at another BQ. I kind of rather like this getting older thing; 45 is the new 20 when it gives you an extra 10 minutes!

                The final stretch of river path is less shaded and warming up quickly. It is well after 11 am and must be in the 60s by now, 30 degrees warmer than where I started. I will develop a nice coating of salt on my face and neck over the ensuing miles. The terrain feels manageable still. Manageable, that is, until mile 23. There are sharp short rollers, but steep. This is all rather unnecessary at this stage of the game. I am tired, I am overheated, I am dehydrated. I don’t need hills! I’ll grant you they are nothing spectacular, not a single one of them. Each might be a few hundredths of a mile, but why are they so steep? Did no one get the memo that this is the final stretch of the marathon and I have no interest in walking? But they force my hand as the effort of my breathing while running cannot deal with the micro hills. The elevation gain will be about 100 feet over mile 23-24. It forces short walks stints around corners that give way to more micro hills. Eventually there is a down and I use it as best possible to get back on track. The pace doesn’t dip too much given the walking breaks.

                I pass a gal through this stretch, along with a couple of relay runners, then another guy. I have slowed slightly, but am in no way doing a major fade away. I am doing the math. Accounting for my Garmin errors/difference, when I am 3.5 miles out, I have 35 minutes for the BQ. Just over 2.5 miles out I have 25 minutes left for the BQ. I know it’s in hand. I want to slow down because I’m tired, but I really want the BQ more than I want to walk. And, ultimately, it’s that simple. You push through because the end and the goal is in sight. The distance is eroding ever so slowly though. In the distance I see an aid station near mile 24 (suddenly we are on the street before reconnecting with the path); I chug the last of my Gatorade (yes, I still have it!), tossing it as I grab water. My throwaway bottle will decidedly not make an appearance in my final race photos!  I pass the bridge by the prior turnaround at 20 ish. I still have 1.5 miles or so to go. The time is slowing down. No- my pacing isn’t really, but it’s just that perception of time. Every time I check the watch, I have only traveling another tenth of a mile. I’m at mile 25. Getting there. Where is the arboretum? How did it seem so much closer yesterday? I can see the Sundial Bridge in the distance, but it’s just not close enough!

Miles 22-26.62: 8:43, 8:56, 9:24, 9:03, 9:03, 8:23.

                Finally, I come across the 26 mile cone. Hmm, I still have to loop around the corner and traverse the distance of the entire Sundial Bridge?!? Sorry, it seems quite a bit longer than the 0.2 miles advertised! Up to the bridge and across I go, running down the final stretch of green glass. I search out and find my husband Jim and youngest daughter Sophie. I do my best finishing smile as I chug on to the line. Cross it and done!

 

                I’m tired and overheated. I guzzle the water a volunteer gives me while another one graces me with my medal. I am happy to be done and tickled to have the BQ in hand. It wasn’t a spectacular race for me, but it was solid. It was an even effort. I know my endurance is intact and I know my speed is lacking. And it’s something I have 13 weeks to work on before Boston. But for now, I’ll enjoy the moment. I was told I’m supposed to find pie at the end and request a slice of apple pie. Incidentally, that’s a hard thing to digest right after a marathon! It’s a small race, so I check the awards. There’s nothing listed yet for F40-44 (apparently, I picked the right day to not be 45-49, as 3 finishers had already come through).  While waiting for further results, I catch Christine after her finish. She is in good spirits – her watch 3:59:59, but official time 4:00:44 as she didn’t cross the start right away (but there was no starting mat).  I see John a short while later; he had faded in the final miles, but was happy with having completed his first marathon.

                Results are eventually up- and I take the 1^st in AG for 40-44!  The award is a beautiful tile with the Sundial Bridge. Well, it’s actually two of them, as there was some duplication with the awards company. I won’t complain! We celebrate with a burger, fried pickles, and a hard orange soda in a dive bar before driving home. This is satisfaction and happiness. It’s not about the speed every race, but sometimes about the journey the races take you on. It’s a stepping stone in the training for Boston.

 

Official: 26.2 miles 3:53:39 (8:56).

1^st AG F 40-44/16; 10^th F; 30^th OA/181.

Garmin: 26.62 miles in 3:53:42 (8:47). + 702 ft, 1207 ft.

1^st half 1:54:40, 2^nd half 1:58:59. 4:19 positive split.

                In thinking about Redding and the prior 24 marathons, I realize this was my smallest. There is the allure, of course, of the Bostons and the Chicagos, but there is something to be said for small town races. It reminds me more of the trails, where there is better opportunity for connection. My only critiques of the race are minor: have a timing mat at the start (sometimes those 45 seconds matter) and add a couple more aid stations. As a runner, I’d be more than willing to pay for both (the race was a bargain at $80).  The race has scenery that is really hard to top. I would place it 2^nd only to Big Sur in views, just edging out Avenue of the Giants (another small town race worth the trip). But toughness wise, I’d put in just ahead of San Francisco. There is less elevation gain, but the climbs are longer in the middle, and for me, that descent was perhaps my greatest challenge on the course. On trail races, my theory has always been that you pay for the views you get. You have to work for those river and forest views at Redding, but they are well worth the journey taken.