Big Sur Marathon Report: Guest Post

Ladies and Gentlemen, let me hand over the mic to my brother, for his report on Sunday's Big Sur Marathon:
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The Big Sur International Marathon probably has the highest percentage of runners carrying cameras of any marathon in America. But you pay a price for the gorgeous course up California’s Highway 1 from Big Sur to Carmel: the hills. The biggest is a two-mile monster beginning at the 10-mile mark, but they’re scattered throughout, and an equal number of downhills put plenty of strain on your quads. To top it off, the last few miles through the Carmel Highlands are full of wicked little banked curves, putting your cramped and aching legs on uneven ground.

And I’ll probably run it again next year.

A little background. For various reasons, I don’t run as often or as seriously as Brent does: usually three times a week, about 100 miles a month. This year’s Big Sur was my fourth marathon – I did Boston twice in the late ‘90s – but I’ve never approached Brent’s speed or level of intensity. Basically, I try to eat right, hydrate, choose good shoes, and put in as many long, slow miles as possible.

I’d finished Big Sur last year in just a few seconds over five hours, and hoped to trim that to 4:50 this year: an 11:00/mile pace. I managed to stay right on pace for the first half, even up and over Hurricane Point, that massive two-mile uphill. But the day warmed up considerably, and in retrospect, I didn’t hydrate nearly enough the last few days before the race. That gave me stomach problems, so that while I’d consumed plenty of Gatorade, water and GU the first half, as planned, I just could not make myself down much during the second half, which didn’t help me stay on pace.

At 25 miles, the mile-marker volunteer called out the time: “four hours, 50 minutes.” I knew I not only wouldn’t meet my goal, but I probably wouldn’t match last year’s time… and I sagged, nearly slowing to a walk (though that wouldn’t have been much slower than my jogging pace at that point!). But I wrenched myself back to a jog, knowing I’d hate myself afterward if I quit.

I wound up a few minutes over five hours, but the same sun that sapped my energy made the Pacific sparkle and the green hills of Big Sur glow, and while my time wasn’t great, I had a great time.

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Congratulations, bro!