Big Sur Conquered

I thought I knew what I was getting myself into when I signed up for Big Sur. This wasn't my first rodeo, after all. I knew what it took to run a marathon. I remembered the fatigue and emotional drain that even the easiest course can produce. And, yes, I even knew that Big Sur was known for being one of the most gnarly courses around. And still, I fooled myself into thinking I was prepared. After training at Red Rocks and countless hill repeats, I thought I would conquer this course without a problem. In short, I was cocky.

All of that swagger went right out the door, though, as soon as I saw the course up close and personal. My confidence dropped even faster than my stomach. I knew right then this was NOT going to be good...

Cut to race day. I started the race fast and strong, falling into an easy pace. Unfortunately, that easy pace became steadily slower as the route's elevation began to rise. By the time the killer hill presented itself around mile 10, my quads were begging for mercy, and my pace resembled that of a snail. But I kept on going, one foot after the other, until I conquered that hill.

Then came the frigid winds, descending over the cliff edges and into the never-ending stream of runners with such force that we had to huddle in packs, using each other as human shields against the hostile elements. When the winds finally died down and the frozen mist dissipated to reveal the breathtaking coastline, another hill was waiting in plain site, almost certainly to torture us. As my legs threatened to buckle, I began to wonder if this course was ever going to cut me a break.

Despite all of this, I actually felt fairly good until mile 20. But I guess this is fairly common among marathoners, considering they do call 20 "The Wall", after all. My wall was decidedly more mental than physical. I had stuck to my nutrition plan and hydrated well, so my body held together, despite its fervent protests. My mind, on the other hand, was beginning to fall apart. Mile 20 brought another daunting hill along with it, which only managed to plunge me into a pit of despair. At that weakened and vulnerable state, I could only think of how totally unfair that hill was. (Completely logical, right?) But I forced myself to take it one mile at a time, which was the only distance my feeble mind could digest at that point.  And so I pushed on, ticking of one slow mile after another, until I could finally see the finish line.  At that moment, nothing in this world had ever felt so rewarding, or so absolutely necessary.

Even though I felt as though I had run at the slowest snail pace ever, my time turned out to be fairly respectable at 3 hours, 41 minutes.  That landed my the number 15 spot (out of 284) in my division (women 30-34), and 79th overall for women (out of 1586).  So, even though I finished more than an hour later than the winner, I'm happy with my results.  I set out to conquer Big Sur and I did.  Now on to my next challenge...