Tough as a Rubber Boot: CIM 2016 Marathon Recap

Sunday December 4, 2016 was the 33rd running of the California International Marathon from Folsom to Sacramento in California. This race was the highlight and closer of the racing year for myself and 10 of my Halifax Road Hammer teammates.

My journey to toe the line in Folsom wasn’t ideal as I got injured falling down the stairs while carrying my toddler.  I lost 2 weeks of training and didn’t have enough time to regain my peak mileage in the 4 weeks left.  With my coach, Lee McCarron, we managed this as best as we could.  I recovered from the injury without any lingering effect and I was all in on believing that it didn’t matter.  I would chase my goal anyway.

We all landed together in San Francisco on Thursday and enjoyed many laughs, good meals and carbs until Sunday morning. Then it was time to take care of business.  I don’t race important races without a specific plan from coach Lee. This race was a big day at the office for him with 10 of his athletes racing and him pacing our fastest guy, Matthias.  Leading into this race, given the injury setback, Lee gave me two race options: I could be conservative and go out at a pace that would get me comfortably to 32km and then start picking it up to negative split for a 3:04 or 3:05.  Or I could go for it and run faster from the gun at 4:19/km.  Bigger risk, bigger reward. He said after that he knew I would go for it.

Marathon day brought us unbelievably amazing race conditions. The 11 of us were on the bus to the start line together for this point to point race at 5am. We watched the sun rise over a well-organized sea of porta-potties.  The 7am start time had a temp of 5 degrees. The wind was 1km/hr.  Can you even believe that? Lee says no weather excuses, haha!

We slowly made our way to the start line in our own ways. I kiss my sister Kristen goodbye. Tash and I warm up together.  I jump into the starting corrals and find Damian, Doran and Kristen for one last fist bump.  I take my spot between the 3:00 and 3:03 pace teams. National anthem by local singer. Gun. Go time.

The race plunges downhill pretty significantly for the first 5 miles. I get out at 4:19/km. Easy. Comfortable.  I burned out badly in Nashville 2015 by being careless up front and I am so careful to keep myself on pace. Reins are on tight.  I don’t like my Garmin set to instant pace, I like it set to average pace over a period of distance. The night before the race, I was sitting with Lee on the couch trying to decide if I would set it for 2km splits or 5km splits. He chose the 5km splits.

The 5km splits are good to me. The course rolls more downhill at first and it is pretty hard to rein the pace in and keep it easy and smooth at 4:19/km.  I run relaxed and easy on the uphills and it’s evening out. My job is to run 21:35 x 5km over and over.  Breaking it up into 5km sections helps with the enormity of the distance.  It feels more manageable.

I want to enjoy this marathon as much as humanly possible while racing hard. There is so much to enjoy.  Sharing this race with 10 others is amazing and one being my sister is special.  I have my head up early on and am looking at the many kind people lining the course. I enjoy their neighborhoods where they are sitting in lawn chairs at the ends of driveways; kids bundled up, fires burning in barrels. I am mildly perplexed at the amount of marijuana I smell at 7:30am but, hey, it ‘s California.

The course is pretty urban to begin but then we pass through a meadow of horse fields around 5 miles. It is green and lush here and the air is fragrant with flowers: a scent we haven’t had on the roads in Nova Scotia in awhile. I think of running in The Gambia. The effort is easy.  I am happy.

The course is crowded to begin and I find myself looking around and seeing my Nova Scotia running friends in the strangers around me. A guy up ahead with arm warmers on looks like Steve Morley from behind. Another guy looks like Dave Arnold and I smile to myself thinking about Dave’s favorite Cliff Matthews’ race story. I look towards the sky and say hello to Cliff. Already there are few women around. There is one lean, mean master’s woman kicking some ass and she reminds me of a mix of Linda and Rayleen.  A young guy with crazy rainbow barely-there short shorts passes me and I am amused thinking of the young Dal guys who train with us. I think about my teammates pulling me along from ahead and I am relaxed. My feet stay light, my head is positive. I knock off 5km #1 and 2 effortlessly and on pace.

I’ve become ridiculously spoiled training with the Halifax Road Hammers and I start getting bored around 10km by myself. Time to make some friends. The course has cleared out some.  The water stops were pretty sparse early on and I am getting super thirsty and my guts are not as happy as my brain is.  They need hydration. I see a tall guy in his 20s grab a water bottle from a spectator. I saddle up to him and ask if I can have the rest when he’s done.  I score some water and a friend to run with for a bit.

Around here I also meet Steven from California. He is aiming for a sub3:05 and a negative split to win New Balance shoes.  We will run on and off together from 10km to 38km.  I also meet a girl from Buffalo who is around with me until 25km or so. Chatting helps the time pass and keeps me relaxed.  I start wondering why the 3:03 pace team is running so fast and this kept my thoughts on track until 32km.  Everyone around is talking about this.

Race Part One is 0 to 21.1km and I split through half exactly like planned at 1:31:09, right on 4:19/km pace.  I greet my best girls at home at the timing mat. I get here feeling strong and in control and happy. I can however tell that I am weaving on the course. My tangent running… sucks.

Race Part Two for me is 21.1 to 32km. Sometimes 25-32km requires more mental focus work.  I enjoy running through some little towns with huge crowd support. Several amazing marching bands. A dive bar with a band of old men playing rock’n’roll, including Santa smoking a pipe on the drums.  Kristen says that she saw not one but two spectators with pet goats on leash here; owners trying desperately to keep the goats out of the discarded gel packages on the ground.

In a town, we pass a reggae singer killin’ it with a Bob Marley song and I think of running in The Gambia again and my boys Spider, Pa Modou and Kebba. My spirit and my feet soar.

I hit a mental lull around 28km. Tired.  The sun is high in the sky now.  I have 2km left for this 5km split.  Then there’s 2km on their own (one for each of my children) to reach 20 miles and hammer-attack time. I could see at the 25km mark that I had already run 24 extra seconds due to shitty tangent running.  I am trying my best. Tired. Bored. It’s so far.

Then a band appears on the left playing Van Morrison. A burst of love for the marathon explodes inside me. I love racing marathons. I look around me and I cannot see any other women. Men surround me. I am filled with gratitude for the ability to do this: to race in this part of the field, on this day, in this beautiful place, with 10 people I care about on the course with me.  

There continues to be stretches where I can’t see any other women racers. I sing “Aint it Enough” by my favorite band Old Crow Medicine Show to myself.

Show me a river and I’ll show you an ocean,

I’ll show you a castle that will turn into sand,

For we rise and we fall and we crash on the coastline,

Only our love will last till the end.

Ain’t it Enough to live by the ways of the world

To be part of the picture, whatever it’s worth

Throw your arms around each other and love one another

For it’s only one life that we’ve got.

Ain’t it Enough.

This race, this day: it was enough. The lull stayed parked forever at 28km. Gratitude will take me home to the finish. I’m so lucky to be able to run this way.

Lee’s plan included permission to open it up at 32km and I spent the race patiently waiting to get there so that I could open it up. My road hammers were ready. An actual brick wall that you run through and a band playing Pink Floyd’s classic “Another Brick in the Wall” mark mile 20. I run through the wall. Steven is still with me and he is in on the plan to pick it up.  I throw down the hammers.

This course is a net downhill but it rolls.  I welcomed the uphills as my body wanted to

change form a little bit. I reached 32km strong and confident that I was going for it. My body wanted the slight change form that came with picking up the pace. For the next 5km, Steven was the man. He and I work together, stride for stride. Chatting is mostly done. I do tell him that he is the man.

You never know what words are going to pop into your head during the race and help you keep focus.  On Saturday, we had been worrying about teammate Leah’s marathon in San Antonio because the weather was predicted to be terrible. Doran proclaimed, “It’s no matter, Leah is tough as a rubber boot.”

When I throw down the hammers and climb into the hurt box for the last 10km, I also pull on my own figurative Tough-Doran-Rubber-Boots. These words float through my consciousness and help me stay on.  My pace is trending down to 4:18/km. My body feels awful and wonderful all at once but I can clearly feel that my stride is still strong. I am flippin’ stay in it. With Steven next to me, my 5km split from 32-37km is my fastest of the day.

Now in those last 10km, the PAIN is lurking somewhere. It’s waiting for you somewhere on the road. It’s going to find you and grip you: that’s inevitable. You just don’t know when.  Lee and I had talked about not knowing how my body was going to respond at 35km. I had missed two 34km long runs. But at the end of the marathoner’s day, no one really knows with certainty how their body is going to respond beyond 35km.  I get to 36km and I say, “Take that, 35km! I’m the boss of this train today!”

The PAIN gets me at 38km. But I tell it, “Not today, pain, not today.”  There will be no blowing up. Not today. I’m the boss of this pain box.  The pain gets me pretty good.  Clear thoughts are fleeting at this point. A functioning part of my brain is impressed with the intensity of the pain. I now have knives stabbing each of my calves. “Wow, I’ve actually never hurt this much in a race my life,” I think, “I must be running fast enough. Is this what Lee and Denise feel like?”  I know that Lee is happy that I am hurting so badly.

I respect the pain and it’s intensity. I embrace it and work with it. The words Tough as a Rubber Boot are replaced with the single word PAIN and it is ok. I keep hammering at it. I now have my watch on instant pace and when I look at it, I see that I am still on. I’ve dropped Stevan. I want this bad and I tell myself that I deserve it. My brain is clear of everything but the knives in my calves and the words: “Pain. Want it. Deserve it.”

Thank you, Rubber Boot, you effectively nailed the hurt box closed.

Over the last 5km, the looming skyline comes closer.  We cross a bridge lined with super loud athletes on stationary bikes and deafening music. The blocks begin counting down at 97th Street to the finish downtown at the State Capital at 7th street.  With the words “pain” in my head and knives in my calves, I knock off the last miles.  Giving up never presents as a thought. I am running to mile 25 and the wall of sound and training partner Damian’s wife Mindy will help get me over the last mile.

At mile 25, a full Gospel Choir fills the street with thunderous, amazing music.  Love for the marathon explodes inside me again and I push back tears.  You don’t cry in the pain box, you cry at the finish line. I can hardly believe that I am actually doing this. I am going to pull off a 3:02:xx. The Gospel Choir is replaced by a band roaring “Summer of ’69,” one of my mother’s favorite songs. I know that my mother is so happy and proud of my sister and I and fighting back tears becomes useless.

800m to go. 400m to go. I see Mindy! Yay I am so happy, I’m really, really doing this. I wave to her. I close in on the only woman I’ve been chasing for the last 5km and I pass her with 200m to go.

I cross the finish line with my arms in the air.  I don’t think about leaning in. I have no thoughts, just joy.

I stop my watch at 3:02:59.

Sweet Jesus in Rubber Boots, I did it.

I walk and I cry and I let myself and I feel joy. I shake off the concerned volunteers, I’m just really happy. I follow the finish chute back to the street, to the course, and I cheer the man Doran and my sweet amazing sister Kristen in to big PBs too. I find Mike in the beer area and I jump up and down and up and down when I see him because I am so happy. I need to find my sister now and I scream and scream her name when I catch a glimpse of her coming out of the finishing chute.  I scream her name until we make contact and we have an incredible hugging, crying, screaming joyful sister reunion.  Kristen and I drink our race beer and then we hobble slowly to meet our 9 other Road Hammers plus Rob W at a bar and we enjoy this happiness all together.

We all celebrate together on Sunday.  The Road Hammers put up an amazing set of times: Lee, 2:35. Matthias, 2:36. Rami, 2:38. Matt H, 2:42. Mike J, 2:46. Denise, 2:49.  Doran, 3:17. Kristen, 3:23. Damian, 3:27. Natasha, 3:31. Nova Scotian friend Rob Winslow is the fastest Canadian with his blazing 2:19.

Back at the house, I look at my Garmin and my total distance run is 42.40km.  Average pace is 4:19/km.  Official time 3:03:00 and good for 64th female. My goal had been top 150 in the female field. I did an absolute terrible job of running tangents and leaning in.  That extra 200m is equal to 51 seconds at 4:19/km pace and I get chirped thoroughly by my team and coach for this. It’s no matter.  Both my sister and I ran 8 minute Personal Bests together on the same day. That’s some seriously amazing special sister stuff right there. I nailed Lee’s plan. The plan read 3:02:0x. Minus 51 extra seconds, that’s precisely what I ran.

Everything came together for me in the best possible way at CIM and I’m so lucky to have gotten to share with the best people, including my sister. When I met Lee 18months ago, with a one year old and three year old at home, I was a 3:15 marathoner. I can now proudly call myself a 3:03 girl. That’s what possible when the coach:athlete relationship is at it’s best.

Thank you, friends and family for all the runner love while we were in California.

You can read up on the funniest and most amusing highlights of our team trip on my blog here: California Laughing.