California Dreaming - Surf City Marathon
by Mark Jimenez
On Sunday, February 2, I ran the Surf City Marathon for the 11th time in a row. As I finished the race I grabbed my medal and walked to a fence that was about waist high. I crossed my arms on the fence and put my head in my arms and started to cry. I don’t always cry when I finish races, but it isn’t uncommon for me either. A race can be a trying experience, you put your body through a lot, and when you finish there is a rush of emotions that comes to the surface. The tears are usually happy. This time there were many emotions. The week before the race had been a very hard week for me personally. Some very difficult life decisions had been settled. The tears at the end were a mix of happy and sad. My life as I knew it for the previous 19 years was over, and a new life was starting. It all came out at the finish line.
There were so many struggles going into the race. Only 2 or 3 weeks earlier I was worried my run streak might be at an end. My ankle was swollen and it hurt. It made crunching noises when I walked and I couldn’t flex it at all. The amazing Dr. Prince worked on me religiously, and ice baths became something of the normal for me. By the time I lined up for the race, my ankle was feeling good, probably about 90% of normal. It didn’t flare up during the race at all, and for that I am grateful.
After I had a good cry on the fence I gathered myself quickly and looked up, calling out to a friend I saw walking to the end of the chute. She had that winning smile that so many people have at the end of a race, and it was great to see. We let each other know how our day went and then I went looking for Drew. When I found him he wrapped his arms around me and hugged me tight, telling me how proud he was of me. That made me cry all over again. On an incredibly humid day where both of us were covered in sweat and lord knows what else, there wasn’t a lot that felt better than that hug. Drew is taller than me to begin with, but I felt very small as he wrapped himself around me and congratulated me. The barriers that hide our emotions are worn down after running a marathon, and when somebody who I look up to as a friend and an individual tells me he is proud of me, the emotions come out again. I think Drew’s voice might have even cracked a bit in that moment.
Running is a beautiful thing.
The finishers chute at a big race is usually pretty long. They try to separate the crowd from the finishers and they keep us walking. As we walked I reflected back on the race I had.
The Surf City Marathon starts before the sun comes up. They had a moment of silence for the victims of the helicopter crash that killed Kobe Bryant, and then before we knew it the mayor was counting down. The gun went off and we got started. I had tucked myself in right behind the 3:05 pacer. I had no goal of making that time. Last year I had ran with the 3:15 pacer as long I could and ended up with a Personal Record (PR) of 3:19. I knew that I had been hitting some good paces in my training, but I also knew that I was coming off an injury and my longest training run had been 18 miles. I figured, “What the hell? I’m going to run with 3:05 as long as I can and just have fun with this race.”
I had learned my lesson from St. George. I wasn’t interested in a time. I was interested in chasing that smile, the smile that can only be found at a finish line.
Hanging with the 3:05 pace group early in the race
The start of a marathon is a fun time, especially if you are with a pace group. There is a strange camaraderie there. The pacers start giving tips, and the people in the group start to talk to each other. We quickly become friends with a common goal of helping each other get to that time, but we also know that realistically this group of 20-25 people running with the pacer will probably end up at around 2 or 3 people running with the pacer at the finish. Having run the course 11 times in a row, my comments to the group were mostly about what the course was like. I had no advice to give regarding how to keep the pace.
Another thing that’s nice about running in a pace group is that I didn’t worry about my pace. I turned off the autolap on my watch so that it didn’t bug me every mile and just smiled every time I saw a mile marker.
The Surf City Marathon runs mainly right on the beach. You start off heading north, and a little less than 3 miles in you make a right turn and run around Huntington Central Park.This part of the race includes the only real hills of the course, but in truth they are just babies and they are over with just about as soon as you start them. I don’t know why, but the run around the park is always one of my favorite parts of the race. I love running through the park. There’s usually a middle school band that’s playing music and I always cheer for them. On Sunday the park was extra foggy, and it felt mystical running through it on a quiet morning. I’ve been listening to the Lore podcast lately, and I wondered if there were any magical beasts that might be hiding in the fog.
Hey, don’t judge me. I do what I can to keep my mind busy while my body is working.
The two pacers kept talking about our times every mile. A couple of times they said things like “we’ve banked a few seconds on that mile.” I didn’t really pay attention because I’ve run enough marathons to know that I always slow down at the end. I’ve never been able to keep a steady pace throughout. After about 8 miles of them telling me we’ve banked time I looked down at my watch. We were at a 6:55 average.
“Oh shit,” I thought, “That’s hot.”
A small part of my brain was setting off alarms. Part of me was saying “DANGER, DANGER, DANGER, back off. You’re being stupid. You’re going too fast.”
But another part of me was like “Chill dude, you feel good. Besides, you’re wearing these magical Nikes on your feet, what could go wrong?”
So I kept going.
We came out of the park and at mile 10 I ran my fastest mile of the day, clocking a 6:46. It was my last mile under 7:00 pace for the day. That being said, I still felt good. The only thing that was bothering me was that I had to pee. I thought about stopping as I saw a few port-o-potties, but I kept going.
By this time we were back on Pacific Coast Highway (PCH) and headed North. The pace group started to pull away from me, but I was cool with that. I was still at a sub 7:00 average. Soon the race leaders started coming back South after the turn around. To give myself something to do I started counting how many runners I saw before I got to Drew. When we saw each other we waved and I yelled at him a place that I don’t remember now. I remember Drew looking at me and saying, “Dude, you’re killing it.”
I thought I was doing ok, but I was just having fun and smiling. Then I realized how close I was to the turn around. The 3:05 group was still only about 20 yards ahead of me, and as I turned I realized that the other 3:05 pacer was still behind me. I looked at him and he yelled, “it’s ok, they’re fast. I’m still on a 3:05 pace. If I catch you then you’ll be behind 3:05.”
“Groovy,” I thought.
At the half marathon I was still at a sub 7 minute pace, a 6:58 or 6:59 average. But I was definitely slowing down, and there were some uphill areas ahead. The inline wasn’t steep, but it was uphill. I crossed to the middle of the road hoping to find two of my kids, who were doing the half marathon, but I didn’t see them. I did see the legendary John Maultsby, though. He called out my name and I said hello. it’s always good to see somebody you know. John was doing the full and was killing it! It was great to see another Red Rock Running Company jersey out there.
Just before I got to the next turn around that sends the runners onto the beach path I ran into some friends. I gave a quick wave and then made the turn. I was headed North again with the wind at my back. Miles 15 - 20 are no-mans-land for me in a marathon. This is really where I need to work on my training. If I’m going to stop and walk it will happen in these miles. I just don’t know what to do to stay mentally strong. It’s like there is nothing to look forward to. I know once I get to mile 20 I can start ticking off the last 10k. But other than a gel at mile 15, there really isn’t much for me to be excited about. My pace dropped but I was able to stay positive because I knew I was living in PR territory. The marine layer hadn’t burned off and the weather was humid, but cool. The second 3:05 pacer passed me probably around mile 16, but I didn’t panic. I knew I was having a PR kind of day, and I just kept running happy.
I kept going and filled myself with stupid thoughts.
“Use your butt,” I would tell myself. Yes, you read that right. I told myself to run with my butt. Dr. Prince, who I go see every week and who helped with my squeaky ankle, tells me that I should be using my glutes to extend my leg back, not my hamstring. So when I noticed my form starting to fade I’d tell myself to engage my glutes, or run with my butt, or use butt power. Basically whatever would work to make myself smile and keep going.
Hi, my name is Mark, and I’m a math teacher. Yes, you read that right. When I’m not selling shoes at Red Rock Running Company I’m teaching high school math. So I’m pretty handy with numbers, and to pass the time I started playing with numbers in my head. “If I can get to mile 18 with around 2:10 on the clock, that means I only have to run a 7:30 pace to run a 3:10 marathon.”
“Groovy,” I told myself.
Then I had to check and double check my math, because the problem with mathing while doing a marathon is that there isn’t much oxygen going to your brain, and you often math wrong. Bad math gets you bad results.
Sure enough mile 18 came and I was like, “oh snap, I can actually do this.” In fact, I probably did myself a disservice by doing that mental math because I had a slow down from miles 13 - 20 in the race, and then picked it up again the last 6 miles. If I wasn’t calculating how fast I had to go, I might have ran faster.
In any case, the miles ticked off and believe it or not my GPS was pretty close to what the mile markers were saying. My nutrition plan was to take a gel every 5 miles, and at mile 20 I was ready to take my last gel. I was doing great, and if my math was right then I only had to run an 8 minute pace for the last 10k to get that time of 3:10.
The problem was, the mile 20 marker didn’t show up. My watch said 20.1, 20.2, 20.3 and I had a thought. “If my GPS is this far off, then my math is screwed and I won’t get that 3:10 time.”
And at that point I realized I had a choice. I could throw in the towel and say screw it, or I could carry on.
This choice probably only took about 5 steps, but it seemed to take forever in my brain. I was hurting, I could feel a pretty gnarly blister forming on my right foot, my shoulder was killing me, and it’s hard to stay mentally strong when mile 20 just won’t show up. Truth be told, however, I never came close to quitting. I stayed true to myself, and being true to myself means that “Every run is a good run.”
“Mark,” I told myself, “even if you don’t break 3:10, you are still on a PR pace, and that is pretty freaking awesome.”
“You’re right Mark,” I told myself, “I’m glad we had this chat.”
I decided to take my last gel and carry on.
Mile 20 showed up when my GPS said mile 20.6.
“Well, something’s off here,” I thought.
I got to the final turn around and headed South. Mile 21 showed up rather quickly, and my watch was right back on track at that point. “Bad mile marker” I told myself.
“Do you realize what this means, Mark?” I asked myself.
“Yes, Mark, I do,” I answered.
We both knew that a sub 3:10 was still in the cards.
It’s hard to stay patient when you know the finish line is 5 miles away. You just want it to end. I’ve run 5 miles a lot of times, and it always ends quickly. It doesn’t end quickly when you’ve run 21 miles immediately before. The last 5 miles consisted of telling myself to just stay right here. It’s so easy to look ahead, but looking ahead made me impatient and frustrated. So I just stayed in the moment.
“Just stay right here,” I’d tell myself.
“Just run with your butt” I’d say.
“Oh look, there goes a dog,”
And of course, my all time favorite, from my youngest daughter Amy, “Brave bears don’t quit.”
The marathon course goes on the beach path, and they don’t close the beach path to the pubic. There were people riding bikes and in one case a peloton of bikes came through in a very rude fashion. There were also a group of 4 surfers walking right next to each other. I had to run around them, which I thought was rude but they probably didn’t realize what was going on.
Mile 22, Mile 23, Mile 24. They did not pass quickly, but I still managed a 7:22, 7:36, and 7:40 pace. Mile 24 was my slowest mile of the day.
“Only 2.2 miles to go,” I told myself. But the problem with this was once again I wanted it to be over quickly. 2.2 miles is still a good 16 minutes, and when you’re hurting that takes time. I was able to pick it up a bit for mile 25, going 7:26, and keeping that pace for mile 26.
As you run South to finish the marathon you see the pier, which is close to the finish line, from a long way off. It seems to take forever to get there, and when you finally pass it you know you are close. The half marathon joins the marathon at the end of the race and PCH gets very crowded. I finally had the courage to look up over the sea of people and I saw the finish line ahead of me. The end was in sight. I was able to pick it up and do the last .2 in a 6:45 pace.
When I crossed the finish line my official time said 3:08:35.
I had knocked 11 minutes and 11 seconds off my previous personal best.
It was great to see the string of text messages I got after the race. Michael texted (If you haven’t met Michael I suggest you come in to the Centennial store on a Saturday. He is a great source of knowledge for all things running!) and said I was third in my age group, which was a pretty awesome surprise. I have age group placed before, but never at a big race. The results actually updated later to show that I was 2nd in my age group. I met John Maultsby at the awards stand. It ends up that he was 2nd in his age group as well! Not bad for a couple of Vegas boys!
After the race I spent some time in the finisher area looking at all the people gathered around. I was once again reminded why I run. Sure, there were some disappointed folks, but there were so many smiles. I remember one lady just sitting on the ground, in obvious pain but still smiling from cheek to cheek. There’s something about running an event like a half or full marathon that brings out the best in people. I love seeing how happy folks are when they finish. I love that Red Rock Running Company plays a part in spreading that joy. There aren’t a lot of places as happy as a finish line. If you haven’t tried it, I really suggest you do.
I owe a lot to Drew. He ran with me 3 days a week and pushed me. He let me set my own goals and encouraged me to stay realistic. He wouldn’t let me get away with a 1.96 mile surge when the workout called for a 2 mile surge. He always encouraged me and he believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. Vegas is lucky to have him. Please come out to a Saturday run and meet him. You won’t be disappointed.
Mark and Drew soaking their feet in the ocean after the run
So how about those shoes? Yes, I wore the Nike ZoomX Next Percent shoes. While my youngest daughter Amy would probably tell me that the pink shoes clashed with my orange shorts, there is no doubt that they helped. I have only run 40 miles in the shoes, but the very first time I put them on I said, “Whoa,” after I took my first step. They just feel different. In fact, before the race I called it almost exact when I commented to Drew that “If these shoes are the difference between me running a 3:09 and a 3:12 then I’ll take that advantage.” Ends up I was 25 seconds off of that statement.
The flip side to that is this: I wonder if I would have given up had I not been within striking range of a PR. In other words, the shoes helped me get there, but in any race there comes a point where I want to quit. Would I have quit if I wasn’t close to succeeding? I honestly don’t know.
The shoes are not without problems. My feet got very hot around mile 9. I had a wicked blister, something that hardly ever happens to me, on the bottom of my foot by mile 20. I don’t have a wide foot but the platform of the shoe felt narrow, and if I had to turn it didn’t feel very stable. These shoes did great when I was going straight, but any twists and turns led to pain that only increased as the race got longer. Looking at pictures from the end of the race, I’m also pronating a lot. Most runners will pronate at the end of a race, but again, I feel like these shoes made that a little worse.
Pick your poison when it comes to the Nike. There is no doubt that they helped, and they feel like nothing else I’ve ever put on. I was definitely faster with them on my feet, but there is a trade off. I’m excited to try some of the new shoes coming in the market, such as the NB FuelCell Racer, the Saucony Endorphin, and the Brooks Hyperion. I think I’ll be trying all 3.
As for me, what’s next? Well, I’ve already signed up for the Famous Potato Marathon in Boise. I might do the Summerlin Half Marathon as well. The best way to combat post-race depression is to sign up for another race and get right back on that horse. I’m looking forward to another finish line with many more smiles. I’m looking forward to another training cycle with my friends, and I can’t wait to see how I progress as a runner and a person in 2020.
For now, though, I think I’ll take some time and reflect. I need to stay in this moment. I need to contrast the disappointment of St. George with the success of Surf City. For me, it comes down to believing what I tell people every day: Every run is a good run. When I believe that, then the stress of the marathon and how fast I run doesn’t get to me. Sure, I want to do as good as I can, but the journey is about the joy, not the end result. At least, that’s how it is for me. That’s when I perform my best. Before St. George I got so caught up in the hype of trying to get that Boston qualifying time that I completely self-sabotaged. At Surf City, I wasn’t looking for the Boston Unicorn, I was just looking for the Unicorn at the end of the race.
Running is a metaphor for life. I learn so much about myself when I push myself in a marathon. What I learned on Sunday was to stay in the moment and enjoy it. I learned to not get too far ahead of myself.
And I remembered to smile.
The Strava link to the race is below.
https://www.strava.com/activities/3066231041
Every Run Is A Good Run