theSmudge.com

What a weekend! I did a bunch of running, saw a ton of friends, and volunteered at the 29th annual California International Marathon (referred to by many as CIM). So, here are some older-iPhone-crappy-quality photos, along with some hastily written words that wound up being longer than an actual marathon. I’m not sure how that happened, but you might want to go get some caffeine if you plan to actually read all of this.

Saturday morning found me lacing up some almost-new shoes, which are the latest in a string of experiments since the New York Marathon. So, hey, why not go run 16 miles in hardly used shoes, along with socks that should be OK but you haven’t tested for more than a few miles?

I set out on a new route, which offered these kinds of views:

Yep, it’s rough to live in California’s Bay Area in December. Did I mention that it was 51 degrees, which is fantastic running weather?

However, it was windy. We’d been having gale-force winds that were supposed to die down, but that hadn’t happened. It made breathing a bit hard, but I felt fine. Then I turned after six miles. Then I turned again. The second half of that 16-mile run was directly into the wind. It was so hard, and my shoulders started hurting because I was unknowingly hunching over as I battled the wind. But I made it home with a good overall average pace (perhaps a bit too fast), then proceeded to dash around trying to get ready to leave.

Michelle arrived, and we headed off to Sacramento for the marathon expo. I wasn’t running, but I never mind wandering around a place filled with runners and running gear. And that’s where the “Layla keeps seeing familiar faces” phenomenon began. First I bumped into Kris and Janice, two buddies from my old Lodi running club. Then I happened to glance at Twitter and see that Todd (San Francisco Twitter running buddy) was at the expo. We met up just as I was talking to the race director of the Santa Rosa Marathon. Then along came Michaela and Cynthia, so it was like a mini party there at the expo.

Then Michelle and I headed off to Courtney‘s parents’ house east of Sacramento. Not only were they fun and cool, but they’d graciously offered to host as many people as would fit in their lovely home. Courtney and Alyssa had gotten partially made pizzas, then added lots of toppings. We chowed down on delicious pizza, garlic bread, salad and fudgesicles.

It was a nice evening of chatting with Courtney, Alyssa, Michelle, Angela and Don, Sesa and Karin.

5:15 a.m. arrived, and the wind had stopped! I drove Courtney, Alyssa, Angela and Michelle to the start line a few miles away, then went to find myself an extra hot venti soy misto on my way to the start line, 26.2 miles back to Sacramento.

I arrived at the start line, checked in, put on my volunteer shirt and set to work getting medals ready for distribution. They normally hang on big racks, but someone forgot the bases of the racks. We improvised by layering them in groups between cardboard.

The winner arrived at 9:12 a.m.

Twenty minutes later, along came the first woman.

I was on the women’s finishing side, and when the clock time neared 2:45, everything got electric. To run the Olympic Trials, women must run a 2:46 or faster. The Trials are in January and the last day to qualify was eight days after this marathon, so it was one last chance for women who have been working so hard to run a 6:20-per-mile pace for 26.2 miles. If they missed it by one second, they would have no shot for another four years.

Suddenly I was surrounded by ecstatic, crying women. I was putting medals on sobbing women who had just seen years of effort pay off. To my right, just on the outside of the fence, I heard a man crying and shouting. I looked over to see a man in San Francisco Giants clothing, jumping for joy as his wife made her way to him. “You did it, babe, you did it!” he kept shouting as he cried just as hard as she did. He was trying to take their picture, so I offered to do it for them. Even I was misty-eyed by the whole thing.

Meanwhile, Jana, Karin and Beth were spectating along the course and I’d asked Jana to text me when she saw Katie. I got an update at mile 20, so I knew about when to expect her. This was the second year in a row that I was going to be at the finish line when Katie crossed, and the other volunteers all knew to steer clear whenever she arrived. Then I saw her come around the corner in the distance. I think I was shouting her name (though I’m not sure), and I could see that she was hurting.

Katie reached the finish line and collapsed. I have no idea what I said or did, but I remember that it was all I could do to stand back while the medics helped her up — I didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize her finish time or health. They got her moving forward and I grabbed her in a big hug, not letting go except to take one side of her while a medic took the other side and we kept her walking. She was asking for water, so I finally let go in order to run ahead and grab a bottle of water. I soon found out that she’d been on pace for a 2:55 marathon until a brief port-a-potty stop at mile 8, which caused her hamstring to suddenly seize up. She kept on a sub-3-hour pace through several more miles of pain. The entire rest of the marathon hurt, but she still pulled off a 3:10. I am still in awe.

Anyway, I got Katie’s dry clothes from her husband and she went straight to the medical tent, where we were not allowed to enter. So I headed back to my volunteer duties. In the meantime, a guy had proposed to his girlfriend at the finish line — us volunteers had been told that it was coming. She apparently said yes, because they were both looking pretty happy in the finishers’ area.

Suddenly I heard a male voice, and there was Todd (from the expo the previous day). His goal had been somewhere between 3:14 and 3:20, but he didn’t quite do that. Nope, he ran a 3:08. He was pretty excited, and rightly so!

In the meantime, I’d gotten a bummer of a text from Naomi, who I knew would set a huge new personal record because she’s had great training. (She also finally realized that she’s stronger and faster than she thought.) Something went wrong around the halfway point, and at mile 18 she was walking, trying to rally and fight the pain in her knee and foot. At mile 19.5 she was done, and medical personnel told her so. I was sooo sad for her, because I knew how badly she wanted to finish and what she was capable of. Sometimes running saves us from ourselves, and sometimes it leaves us crying on the side of the road. The former is why we keep running.

Soon it was time to look for Alyssa. I saw her round that corner in the distance and said, “There she is!” One of the young volunteers said, “Stand back, we have a claimer.” Apparently I was not shy in making sure I got to my friends. Alyssa crossed the finish line in an amazing 3:35, taking nine minutes off her previous best time. I wrapped her up in a big hug and walked her through the finishing area, also leaving her long enough to run ahead for water. (They should not have water so far from the finish line!)

We tried checking on Katie, but she was still in the medical tent. But in the process, I ran into Sam, who had paced a friend to the finish. If you want an example of a genuinely good guy, he’s one of them. One of these days, I’ll figure out how to do more to help his organization, Operation Jack.

Somewhere in there, I heard another male voice, and there was my old college buddy/co-worker James. We’re friends on facebook but haven’t seen each other in person for almost 10 years. He took up running a year or two and asked me a bunch of questions about shoes, etc. He has stuck to it, and on Sunday he whooped his previous time by a landslide. He was so thrilled, he was almost incoherent with excitement. I gave him a hug and then he asked for another. Runners are so funny when we are high on endorphins!

Back at my medal duties, I saw more amazing people finish, and then suddenly there was Courtney crossing the line — I barely had time to realize it was her, she was so fast. She’d only decided to run the race three weeks earlier, just switched shoes, and hadn’t trained much. But she beat her time by a bundle, and I predict a sub-4 at her next marathon. Cue more hugging.

Around this time, a male finisher and a security guard started exchanging words because the guard was telling him to walk a different way. Another guard came over, the runner started walking way, and I congratulated him on finishing his marathon. As a runner who spent a decade working with cops and security folks, this was right down my alley. Once the runner left, the guard was obviously still uptight, which is not a good situation. So I explained to him that, though the runner had just run more than 26 miles, he was probably mad at himself for not finishing faster, and he was taking out his frustration. I told him that most marathon finishers are grateful to have someone tell them where to walk, but this guy was just upset. To my surprise, the guard thanked me for talking to him and explaining it, since he’d never run a marathon. (This is one reason I volunteer: I understand how those finishers feel and what they need.)

My next priority was Janine, who helped me train for what I thought would be my only half-marathon back in spring 2008. Then I found myself letting her talk me into running a 20-miler, and then I was signing up for a full marathon that same day. On the first weekend of December 2008, she was at the Tucson Marathon finish line to hug me. I wore that race shirt on my 16-miler this weekend, thinking about how this time I would be hugging her at the finish.

It was Janine’s first marathon after knee surgery, so she wasn’t sure how slow she’d be, but in no time she was crossing the finish line with Erin, another of my running buddies from Lodi. I was so thrilled!

I walked with them a bit, and before I knew it we were in a mini Lodi Running Club reunion. I don’t see them very often since I moved, but it’s always so great when I do get the chance. A bunch of them had done the relay, so many hugs were exchanged. “I’m still mad at you for cutting off all your hair,” one of the Steves said before hugging me. Oops. Another one, Carl, found us after finishing his 23rd CIM and we all watched his calf muscles do their creepy twitching.

I went back to my volunteering duties. “Hey, someone’s calling your name,” one of the young volunteers told me. (Yes, they’d started to think I knew everyone.) I looked around and there was an ex of mine on the other side of the fence; he happened to be in the area and figured he’d go see a friend finish. Small world.

It wasn’t long before Michelle finished. She also beat her previous time, despite having a crazy schedule that keeps her from training very much. Yep, more hugs.

I had unfortunately missed Angela, who conquered her first marathon and battled asthma to an incredible finish. Caitlin whizzed past me in 3:05 (I’ll meet her in person soon). Sesa finished her first marathon and snuck past me. I also missed Cindy and Leslie from Lodi, who recently finished a 50K together.

But I think I saw everyone else I’d been looking for, plus others I hadn’t even known were running. And then, as Michelle and I headed to meet up with Angela, I ran into a girl from my itty-bitty hometown. She added me on facebook a while ago, so I had seen her picture and knew she ran Boston, but that was about it. Out of nowhere, in the sea of humanity near the food area, there she was, saying hi. She’s younger than me, so I figured out that I hadn’t seen her since she was about 8 and I was 12. Welcome to my world.

Anyway, we made our way to Tower Cafe, where I had the most amazing French toast ever. We also attempted to take photos, but the results were comical because we didn’t know which camera to look at:

And that was CIM. I drove something like 300 miles, and it was fantastic. It was my third year there — last year I volunteered by giving out mylar heat sheets at the finish line, and the previous year I spectated and crewed for friends running it.

This year, there was one difference: I came home saying that I want to run it next year. I don’t usually say that when I am helping at a race. I love watching and volunteering at triathlons, but I don’t leave with a desire to become a triathlete. I love watching and pacing at the American River 50-Miler, but I don’t want to run the whole thing. The same thing applies to a few marathons where I’ve spectated, including CIM.

But now I want to race CIM. I’ve lived for 10 months in an area with hills, so I no longer fear the first half of CIM with its rolling hills. I want to cruise up them and fly down them. I want to run down Fair Oaks Boulevard, which I drove thousands of times in college. I want to see the finish line from the other side. Next year is the 30th anniversary of the California International Marathon, so maybe that’s a sign that I should aim for it.

Oh, but first I have some other business to take care of: I have another marathon in 25 days, and on Tuesday I registered for my first (and last) ultra-marathon.