Though this was my second SD Rock 'n' Roll Marathon, I nonetheless experienced several "firsts" in this race.
For one, it was the first time that I ever arrived late for a marathon. My plan was to carpool with two friends from Scripps, Tyson and Vicki, along with Vicki's boyfriend Zach and friend Kevin. We left my apartment around 4:15 AM and arrived at Vicki's by 4:40 AM. We packed in Vicki's CRV and headed downtown via the 805. When we exited at the 8, we noticed closed lanes everywhere, and when we then tried to merge onto the 5, we found ourselves stuck in a sea of impatient runners. Minutes ticked by rapidly as we nervously eyed the clock to no avail. After fending off countless renegades who refused to wait in line, we finally merged onto the 5, and then crawled our ways towards Balboa park.
When we ultimately arrived within a mile of the start, we left the car, and took a short detour to a Subway to relieve ourselves -- I was thankful to avoid the port-o-potties near the start line. After wending our way through traffic we got the start around 6:45 AM, 30 minutes after the first wave of people had left. This year's SD Rock 'n' Roll Marathon (and half marathon) had over 30,000 participants, most of whom still hadn't started, so by no means were we out of place starting so late. However, starting that far back meant that I was amidst a much slower crowd than usual.
I pressed hard at first in an effort to catch up to a better pace group. After just a few miles in, I had reached the 4:30 pace group, and I continued near a 8:00/mile pace until I was 6 miles in. My legs started causing me some discomfort, so I slowed my pace and kept in a comfortable rhythm, weaving in an out of the pack.
This year was the first SD Rock 'n' Roll Marathon where I really paid close attention to our route, and it was exhilarating to make my way through a city that I've come to think of as my second home. After looping around Balboa Park, we cut across the highway into the heart of downtown. We passed right by Petco Park, where I had watched the Padres take on the Astros the previous night, and then made our way through the Gaslamp District before heading north on the 163. After a long stretch on the highway, I was thrilled to spot a University of Michigan tent, and see a long string of volunteers in maize and blue. As we exchanged shouts of "Go Blue" I sprinted forward, my spirits sailing high as we charged east through Fashion Valley. Hunger pangs had been with me for a few miles, thus I was relieved to see a Gu station, and load up with three Vanilla packets.
As we turned north for an out-and-back on Morena Boulevard, the sun's intensity started getting more bothersome. I knew that the final 10 miles of the course would be essentially shadeless so I gritted my teeth and scolded myself for not remembering to put on sunscreen.
We wound our way through a neighborhood where one house was handing out beer -- which was a first for me to see. On the bridge to Mission Bay, our pack was noticeably losing steam. There was another long out-and-back in the sunlight, where I passed a girl, her back on the grass, who was wailing out in pain from cramps. My legs were actually feeling fairly fresh, and psychologically I was in good shape -- a pleasant byproduct of starting in the back and passing people for most of the race.
The toughest part of marathons for me is normally thttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifhe 18-22 mile stretch, but in this race, I found myself at mile 23 before I even realized. The final stretch was a loop around sandy embankments, where the heat and light were overpowering. I found another runner who was still keeping up a quick tempo and drafted behind him as we headed towards the finish.
With less than a mile left, I kicked hard, only to realize that what I had thought was the finish line was nothing but another turn, and it took all of my willpower to keep a strong pace at the finish after that. The runner who I had been shadowing and since passed during my kick was fast upon me at the finish line (though I'm fairly sure I edged him out at the end).
As I cooled down and rehydrated, hobbling around the finisher zone, I felt the deep satisfaction of completing a hard task. I boarded a bus to Old Town to meet up with Jae, who would take me home. I had left all of my belongings in Vicki's car since we were so late -- I hadn't checked anything. Literally all I had was Jae's phone number (the emergency number on my bib), my iPod, and a rapidly maturing sunburn -- another marathon first.
I later learned that Vicki, Kevin, and Tyson all finished. For Vicki and Kevin, it was their first marathon, and for Tyson, it was his second.
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