Big Sur and Beyond
Big Sur . . .
Sitting on the plane to California, it was all a bit surreal. I had put my name in the lottery to run the Big Sur International Marathon in July 2015. I hadn’t even run a full marathon at that point. Ah, blind ambition. I had gotten swept up in the’ romance’ of it all. Like after I read the book ‘Wild’ and thought that hiking the PCT alone was a great idea for a couple of weeks (didn't happen). After running my first marathon in October of 2015 (the Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront Marathon – a very flat course), I began to question my life choices. Either way, I was selected, signed up, and paid. I was going to California. I was going to run Big Sur.
I arrived in San Francisco the evening of the April 22nd and was picked up by my best friend Roy who had flown in earlier that day. Big Sur was his idea – so I figured if it was a disaster, at least I could blame him (until now he had no idea this was my plan).
The months I had spent agonizing over were here. The nights I had spewed my anxiety ridden dialogue onto Roy over drinks … What if the hills were too much? What if I burn out? What if I hit the wall? What if - and the biggest what if of them all, I don’t make the time cut off point? I was not an experienced enough marathoner to know whether or not this would happen, what my capabilities were at this level, on this kind of course. I’m no elite athlete. I’m a middle to back of the pack runner. I had not only hit the wall in the Toronto Waterfront Marathon at KM 39, I had barrelled into it unsure if I could keep going. Now I faced a course that was continuous hills. To say I spent months with my nerves bubbling at the surface is an understatement.
April 24th, 2016: Marathon morning. 2:45AM my alarm went off, but I was already up and awake. We needed to be out of our Air BnB and on our way by 3:30AM for the 4AM shuttle bus pick up. I was eerily calm. The shuttle to the start lines takes an hour as it travels the weaving Highway 1 next to the ocean, the route that we would be running in a short few hours. It was still in complete darkness so the beauty of the day we were about to experience was not yet given away. Around 5AM we reached the start line. With an hour and a half to kill, we found a patch of pavement among the crowds, the porta potties (of which there were plenty – thank goodness) and the giant redwoods to calm our pre-race jitters. The time passed quickly, the sky became bright and we were still in a crowd of people making our way to our starting corral when the gun went off. I felt ready to go.
Roy and I had decided that we would run together for the first half of the race. We wanted to enjoy the experience together, and of course get some photos at Bixby Bridge. The first 5 miles (8KM) is a gentle downhill through a forest of giant redwoods. Holding yourself back and staying with your planned pace and race strategy can be really difficult. You get caught up in the thrill of the start, the race day high and the easy downhill can all take over. However we managed to stick our pace, stayed slow and steady, taking our planned walk breaks to conserve energy in anticipation of what is to come. Around mile 6 (9.6KM), you find yourself coming out of the forest into farmer’s fields and finally spotting the ocean. You only get to bask in the beauty for a short while as without the protection of the trees, we found ourselves running straight into a pretty brutal headwind (which stayed consistent for most of the race) as the rolling hills begin to start. However, the hills and headwind could not dampen my mood. I was thrilled and having a truly surreal experience. Being an overcast day kept the temperature under control making for perfect running weather. The fields slowly transition into the picturesque green mountains to ocean scenery.
As you turn away from the ocean through mile 9 (14.4KM), looking to your left you can see runners off in the distance, tiny bits of colourful clothing climbing the mountain on the opposite side. A beautiful sight, but definitely intimidating as you know you are approaching the biggest climb of the day. With the Taiko Drummers at mile 10 (16KM) begins those dreaded two miles (3.2KM) up to Hurricane Point. While fretting over this particular hill for months, it was actually not as bad as I had built it up to be. Hell, I may have actually even enjoyed it. For a course that is sparse on spectators (as the entire highway is closed down for the race and there is virtually no way to get onto the course unless you were already there), there were actually a few people on the climb cheering us on. “Way to go! You guys are doing amazing – this is a tough hill!” … to which I surprised myself and blurted out “I love hills!” That comment received a couple of open mouth stares from the spectators and I’m sure some shade from the runners around me. Laughing to myself, I thought ‘if only Mel (my coach) heard that I’d live to regret it!’ Reaching the top at Hurricane Point (mile 12) was extremely rewarding. Although I knew there was plenty more hills to come, having conquered the monster of the race, I was on top of the world.
A mile later we reached the iconic Bixby Bridge, and the half way point of the marathon. After stopping for a photo op, and crossing the bridge together, Roy and I went on our separate ways to the finish.
Being a person that usually runs in groups, I always worry that the loneliness of these long races will be what breaks me; that when the going gets tough and the pain sets in, when it becomes a question of my body versus my mind, that my demons will overtake my confidence. Many runners talk about having a mantra for the race to repeat to yourself when the going gets tough. I didn’t have one planned. But something kept running through my head as I slowly but surely kept clocking off the miles. In Ethan Newberry’s video ‘Amongst the Evergreens’ during his first 100 mile race, as he’s hiking up to the highest point of Cascade Crest, his pacer Gary Robbins says: “The thing I love about how Ethan is working out here today is that he’s not stopping. That’s the key to getting these things done … he feels terrible as he should …. But he keeps moving. That’s how you get to the finish line in these things.”
This stuck with me. It was no 100 mile race, but the sentiment was the same. In front of me was a distance that I once thought impossible. On those inevitably tough miles, I kept telling myself: “No matter what, just keep moving forward.” And I did. The worry of being ‘alone’ dissolved as I chatted with other runners on the course, my ‘Canada’ calf sleeves drawing an unprecedented amount of attention from other runners yelling “Go Canada Go” as I passed them.
While the hills of Big Sur were an obvious a challenge going in, the unprecedented challenge I faced during the race that hurt more than the never ending hills was that the road was slopped or slanted horizontally for what felt like a good portion of the race. By the end, my feet hurt so badly from the uneven road, it was worse than the pain from elevation. I legitimately had a vision of taking my shoes off and throwing them into the ocean just to get a little relief. As the miles clicked by, I kept waiting to hit the dreaded ‘wall,’ like it would jump out of the bushes and smack me in face as soon as I let my guard down. But it never came. Of course I was in pain, and of course it was tough, but somehow I ran better and stronger than I had in my last marathon. And I was enjoying it!
Mile 25 & 26: Hallelujah! These mile markers nailed it! While I had enjoyed this absolutely EPIC race experience, I was so happy to stop running. Finishing a race where you don’t have anyone there to greet you is always a bit anti-climactic and a little strange. However, coming into the finishing chute lined with cheering spectators someone in the crowd yelled “Go JP’s Team - you got this!” I don’t know who it was, and they didn’t know me, but this random stranger gave me the jolt I needed to pick up my pace to the finish. I was done.
In a surprising surge of emotion, I fought back tears receiving my medal, struggling to get a thank-you out to the volunteers. The weight of the experience all converged on me as I looked at the medal for a race I had been anticipating for nearly a year. The time on the clock didn't matter. It was the months of hard work, hills and long runs; the support from my family, my running group, my coach, and JP’s Team; all the people who supported me with a donations to The Gatehouse … it was everything that got me to this point. While I finished the race alone thousands of miles from home, this truly was a group effort. It was a beautiful moment.
Beyond Big Sur . . .
I honestly don’t know how I’m going to top Big Sur. Finding something to measure up to its insane beauty is going to be difficult. However, as I had decided at the beginning of 2016, I will not run another full marathon this year. I will spend the rest of the year having fun, concentrating on shorter races and improving my overall strength and fitness as a runner. With chronic back issues that have continued to pop up and plague me over the past couple years I know I need to reduce the distance, and up the strength training. I’m tired of being sidelined by injuries.
The goal for 2016 has been, and will continue to be: Have an epic, FUN running year.
