Marathons

44. February 7, 2009: Furnace Creek, CA; Death Valley Westside Road Marathon. My time: 4:51:40.  Two-time loser!  For the second time, I signed up to run what is suppose to be a stunning trail run through Death Valley's colorful Titus Canyon but instead got stuck with running the boring out-and-back course along the Westside Road on the sub-sea-level valley floor.  Three years ago, Titus Canyon was closed due to snow; this time it closed the day before the race due to rock slides from heavy rains.  And rain it did, the entire race.  While being peppered with a steady cold rain the entire run in one of the hottest and driest places in the world was a unique experience, running a fairly flat course in mud on a washboard track and sloshing through puddles was no piece of cake.  I suspect most runners added a quarter mile to the run dodging puddles and potholes along the way.  It took me 33 minutes more to finish the course than 3 years ago, partly because of the elements but also because I'm considerably slower.  I'm resigned to the fact that I have not fully recovered from my hamstring injury from last year.  Biomechanically, I'm really off.  I continue to run asymmetrically, pushing off my right calf for power and landing flat footed on my often-pained left heal and pounding my left quad.  During this run and after, I had bouts of shooting pain in my right calf and my left quad and heal were sore as heck afterwards.  While my left hemisphere brain tells me I should hang this long-distance stuff up, I have this glimmering hope (illusion?) of running Western States 100 in 2010.  I'm guaranteed a slot -- all I have to do is run a sub-11 hour 50 miler.  Thus I used this and several upcoming races as training runs for a planned 50-miler in March.  We'll see. Notable memories: Being very bummed when discovering that Titus Canyon road was closed when driving by from Las Vegas en route to Furnace Creek and formerly hearing, when checked in at the lodge, that once again what was suppose to be a gorgeous point-to-point run was being substituted by one of the most boring, monotonous landscapes imaginable, the Westside Road course, with the added bonus of drenching rain and mud. 

43. October 19,  2008: Humboldt State Park, CA; Humboldt Redwoods Marathon. My time: 4:38:27.  I hadn't run a long road race in over a year, thus my legs felt pretty beaten up afterwards.  This is the fall version of the Avenue of the Giants marathon I ran 5+ years earlier (and 19 minutes faster). Two 6.5 mile out-and-backs, the second tougher than the first. Tall trees are nice, though after 4 1/2 hours, they get a bit monotonous.  This was meant to be a training run for an upcoming ultra -- a week after I ran a much tougher trail marathon. Hopefully I'll recover. Notable memories: greenery -- tall trees and verdant ferns.  Enjoyed my drive to and from the race, rocking to CDs I haven't listen to in ages. 


42. October 11,  2008: Berkeley-San Leandro, CA; Golden Hills Trail Marathon. My time: 5:50:26.  A repeat of my first trail run ever, 3 years ago (and 38 minutes faster).  A gorgeous but demanding run -- 5800+ feet of elevation gain -- on a course that I've done a fair amount of practice runs on in recent years.  The two prior years, I entered the 50-mile version of this run (Dick Collins Firetrail 50), once successfully the other not (last year when I dropped at mile 31).  Thus I know the course pretty well and notwithstanding ups and downs (physically and mentally), it's one of my favorites.  Conditions were great -- high 60s, light wind, and not muddy as in years past. The only bummer is I snagged a bee in my hair the early part of the run which proceeded to sting my head -- which along with the stock market's steepest drop ever the previous week left a stinging discomfort throughout the race. A slow but gratifying run. Notable memories: great conditions, watching the 50-milers hammer away on tough course, and enjoying the great barbeque at the Lake Chabot finish line provided by the race sponsors (notably ultrarunning marvel Ann Trason and her partner, Carl Anderson, who, by the way, own the 50-mile course record for women and men, respectively). 


41. March 15, 2008: Catalina Island, California; Catalina Marathon. My time: 4:53:11.  A memorable trail run, this was.  A fairly tough course (pretty much constant up and down, with 4200 feet of elevation gain) in an absolutely gorgeous setting.  The race starts in the quaint village of Two Harbors, takes you up to some great overlooks with views of the Pacific Ocean on all sides, back down to the beach, and then upwards to a high point of 1900 feet with sweeping panoramas of the Pacific, followed by rolling terrain and a steep drop over the last three miles into the island's main town, Avalon.  Even more memorable, however, was the boat ride to and from the race. I caught a special charter boat from Marina del Rey that left at 4:15 AM the morning of the race. The winds were blistering and for much of the hour and a half journey, the small craft was tossing and turning in the high swells.  A number of runners got sea sick, barfing and moaning in the back of the boat.  I usually handle rough seas pretty well but toward the end of the ride, I too was heaving and choking.  Some folks were so incapacitated that they couldn't run the race.  I recovered fairly quickly and enjoyed the wide hard-packed trails with great vistas in all directions.  I had just come off a injury to my left quad that had me sidelined for a month or so, thus I was OK with my run given the up-and-down nature of the course.  I was lucky to get off the island after the run.  The scheduled return boat ride to the mainland was canceled due to the rough seas.  I was able to hop on a large catamaran, the last and only boat out, an hour before the planned departure.  The only seats left were on the top of the boat, and those of us sitting in the back got sprayed by cold saltwater the entire one hour ride back. Fortunately, I had a water proof wind-breaker to help keep me dry.  The boat was shifting from side to side throughout return journey and honestly I and others felt it was going to capsize on several ocassions. I was prepared to grab a life vest at any moment.  There's no way the scheduled smaller boat would have made it across these rough seas -- it would have literally cracked in half.  Since the weather was going to get worse on Sunday, if I didn't get on the last boat out there's no telling how long I would have been stuck in Avalon. The town is nice enough, but after an hour of exploring the streets of Avalon after the run, I was ready to return to LA.  The boat arrived in San Pedro, thus I joined with six other runners to share the tab for an $80 cab fare back to Marina del Rey to pick up our cars. Overall, the trip of getting to and from this marathon was more nerve-wracking and debilitating than the run itself.  Notable memories: bumpy boat rides sandwiched between one of the prettiest marathon courses I've ever run.  
 

40. December 1, 2007: Brown & Monroe Counties, Indiana; Tecumseh Trail Marathon. My time: 5:00:43.  Indiana does have hills! I did this run because I was "in the area", giving speeches the prior two days (in Bloomington & Indianapolis). The race's web site said the trail has 3500 feet of elevation gain.  I didn't believe Indiana had such terrain but indeed it does.  It's a beautiful point-to-point run along mainly single-track trails in heavily wooded forests to the east of Bloomington -- pretty much continuous up and down, though the hills were fairly gentle and quite runable.   My only gripe is it was way too crowded -- with 500 runners, there were people on my heels throughout the race...as I stared at the heels of runners in front of me.  A woman on the bus going out told me it was amazing that in such a crowded field you could spend considerable time as a solitary runner.  Not!  It was a elephant train of runners and you couldn't go any faster than the slowest person in front of you.  There were a number of gentle uphills I would have liked to have run but couldn't because it was impossible to pass 15 runners on a narrow single-track trail.  The weather was nice, though on the nippy side -- high 30s/low 40s, with bouts of light rain.  Still, a most enjoyable run.  Notable memories: being around a totally different group of trail runners than who I'm used to, though still bumping into a Californian who recognized my Pacific Coast trail tee-shirt (which I had to wear as my only bright clothes to prevent deer hunters from mistakenly shooting me) and with whom I ended up talking about a number of west-coast runs we've both done.


39. July 29, 2007: San Francisco, CA; San Francisco Marathon. My time: 4:34:42.  I ran this on a whim, signing up the day before the race.  I needed to get in a long run for some upcoming ultras, thus why not run through the streets of one of the most beautiful cities in the world?  I struggled quite a bit, suffering muscle cramps and reduced to a fast walk in parts, perhaps not unexpected given that I ran a 100 miler the previous week.  I was resigned to a slow, easy run on this one, thus I was OK with my time, even though it was 22 minutes slower than what I ran last year at the San Fran marathon ... albeit on much fresher legs.  Notable memories: cool misty weather throughout and the delight of getting back home mid-morning in time for a much-needed nap.


38. April 29, 2007; Clayton, CA; Diablo Marathon. My time: 6:35:00. Set almost in my own backyard, this one was hands-down the toughest marathon I’ve done so far.  For me, it was actually closer to around 28 miles.  With 0.7 miles to the finish, I took a wrong turn and ended up on an out-of-way loop that, with some directions from day-hikers, eventually got me to the finish line. The course summits Mount Diablo (3900 feet) twice on rocky, rooted, single-track trails for a total rise of 8000 feet.  It’s all up-and-down.  Among marathons, probably second only to Pike’s Peak in difficulty. The winning time is usually no better than 5 hours. Coming one week after my toughest 50 miler, this was back-to-back weekends of hard running. I didn’t even plan to run this one but needed a long training run for a 50 miler in two weeks thus when I woke up I thought, what the heck, give it a try. I registered on-site just before the race. My stamina was good; I passed quite a few folks the second half.  I opted not to wear my trail shoes.  Big mistake.  Because I had a sore big toe, I wore my son’s size 13 Asics on my left foot and my size 12 Asics on the right.  The soles were too worn for these steep trails, meaning I was slipping and sliding much of the day.  I’ve been eying this mountain every morning when driving my kids to school, thinking one day I’d run it.  Wasn’t sure I could.  Nice to lay that to rest. This marks my 50th run of a "marathon and beyond"...would love to do 50 more. Notable memories: several technical sections that required crawling on all fours, tripping face-first at a bridge near the end (leaving me disoriented and probably contributing to my two-mile detour), getting passed by young runners on the downhills only to later pass many on the ups, and great 360-degree vistas of the East Bay and the Sacramento delta at the summit’s observation deck – twice in the same morning!

37. February 10, 2007; Sedona, Arizona; Sedona Marathon. My time: 4:32:40.  Beautiful but tough run in the rolling hills outside of Sedona, in the high Arizona desert.  It's an out-and-back course, around half on roads and half on dirt...and virtually all of it up and down.  While I like dirt, the combination of rocks and cars kicking up dust (plus some grueling uphill) made the dirt-road part of the course the least enjoyable.  They might consider distributing face masks for this portion of the run.  Only 200 or so ran the full; most runners did the half (which was all pavement).  The scenery was gorgeous -- fabulous vistas of towering red rocks buttes, plateaus, and craggy hillsides in all directions.  Downside -- the event was too pricey (almost $100) for what one got -- a standard tee-shirt and medal and not much else (few refreshments at the end).  My time was slow, though so was everyone else's -- I finished in the top half.  I felt the altitude (4100-4700 feet) throughout.  Great weather in the high-60s/low-70s with a mix of sun and clouds.  Notable memories: Beautiful red-rock towers, open skies, and non-stop hills.


36. December 3, 2006: Folsom-Sacramento, CA; California International Marathon. My time: 4:13:26.  This was the first time I've run a marathon race for a second time.  I signed up at the last minute (at the last hour of the Expo, in fact), using the race as a training run for an upcoming 50K (heck, why do a 23 mile training run when there's an official run nearby with aid stations, 4000 cheery runners to hang around with, etc.?).  I didn't push it, choosing to walk the aid stations and enjoy the bright, brisk Sunday morning.  My time suffered -- I was fully 22 minutes slower than last year and this is a pretty fast course.  Having run a 50 miler two weeks earlier, my legs were no doubt still were feeling the effects. Notable memories: Knowing the course after having run it last year, spending a little time chatting with Tim Tweitmeyer (of Western States fame), who was the pacer for the 3:50 group (which I hung with for a while but lost contact after walking through aid stations), and enjoying a nice weekend with my family in the state capital.  


35. August 26, 2006: Ashton, Idaho; Mesa Falls Marathon. My time: 4:27:33.  I hit the wall on this one, a combination of two factors: sleep deprivation and altitude. I flew into Idaho Falls late Friday night and didn't get to my hotel in the little farming town of Ashton till 1 in the morning.  Three hours later, I was up to hop on the bus for the ride to an eastern corner of the state, near West Yellowstone, Montana, to begin this 26-miler.  The point-to-point course starts at around 6200 feet and ends at 5300.  Most of the course is gently rolling and while it's a net downhill, there's a challenging 300 foot rise between miles 17 and 20 -- just about when I began to go into oxygen debt. That high-altitude climb did me in for the last 4 miles I was reduced to a walk-shuffle. The course itself is superb: 10 miles of dirt road with vistas of the backside of the Grand Tetons, 3 miles of double-tracked trails along the Warm Springs river, a turn off to catch a glimpse of the run's namesake, Mesa Falls, as well as road running through open potato fields -- what else could one ask for in Idaho?  This race earns an A: superb organization, well-stocked aid stations, a catered breakfast in an elementary school gym at 4:30 in the morning, and a great after-race picnic in Ashton's central park. Plus all runners received a free post-race Huckleberry shake from a drug store in the center of town. The only minus: joining up with the half-marathoners (who outnumbered marathoners two to one) at the mid-point mark where the double-track trail began, making for a  cluttered run along the most scenic part of the course.  I really dislike joining a bunch of fresh-legged runners after having hammered out fourteen miles. Notable memories: Small-town hospitality, variety in both viewscapes and running surfaces, and fighting off a bumble bee who got caught in my hair at the 21 mile mark, proceeding to sting my noggin' just about the time my head starting spinning from the altitude. 

34. July 30, 2006: San Francisco, CA; San Francisco Marathon. My time: 4:12:54.  Most years I've been on vacation at the time of the SF marathon, thus I was glad to finally get a chance to run it.  Considered a moderately challenging run, it's a nice tour of the city by the bay -- Fisherman's wharf (when it's still dark), Marina district, Chrissey field, across the Golden Gate bridge to Marin and back, the Presidio, Baker's Beach, Sunset district, Golden Gate Park, Haight-Ashbury, Mission district, Pac Bell Park, with a finish at the waterfront under the Bay Bridge.  The temps were in the pleasant 60s, though toward the end of the race it was fairly bright and sunny.  Lots of hills, which I enjoyed for the variety.  The event was marred by a local runner who died of a heart attack.  Having arrived the day before after an 18 hour flight from Sao Paulo, Brazil and done two 50ks earlier in the month, I wasn't sure how I'd do.  I did alright, coming in the top third of my age group.  My son, Chris, ran the 5K. We enjoyed a nice morning together at the waterfront, post-race.  Local runs are great -- I get to sleep in my own bed and arrived home within 20 minutes of leaving the venue. Notable memories: Nice vistas of the City from the Golden Gate Bridge, having a biker gang hand out drinks at the turn around aid station at the end of the bridge in Marin, the buffalos in Golden Gate Park, and finishing with the dude from Ft. Lauderdale who for some inexplicable reason runs marathons carrying a campaign bottle glued to a tray, a denim jacket, and dress shoes.

33. June 4, 2006: Deadwood, SD; Mickelson Trail Marathon. My time: 4:49:54.  This one has been an albatross around my neck.  I signed up to run this two years earlier but couldn't because of any injury.  I had a non-refundable airline ticket thus I ended up flying there with my son Chris, working as a volunteer at an aid station and enjoying the scenery (Mount Rushmore, Spearfish Canyon).  I was struck by the beauty of the course in the Black Hills of South Dakota and committed myself to running it the following year.  Well...I did run it last year, however I bailed at the half-way mark due to a torn flexor muscle that reduced me to a hobble.  This was my first and only DNF.  I recall being really bummed and determined to re-register for the Mickelson trail race in 2006. The injury was serious, sidelining me from running for 2 1/2 months and reducing my training during the family vacation in Bali in the summer of 2005 to beach walking.  Well I finally finished the run this year and I must say it almost finished me.  I did not handle this one particularly well --  I was reduced to walks and slogs the last 2-3 miles, resulting in a really slow time. I'm not sure why as I felt my conditioning would be superb having completed a marathon, 50K, and 50-miler the previous two months.  Perhaps non-stop travel (China, Korea) the prior two weeks took its toll.  The first half of the run is a gradual but steady uphill climb (2-3% slope) along a former railroad grade, peaking at an elevation of 6200 feet.  The last half is mainly downhill, thus I thought I could do negative splits -- not!  My quads were shot.  With rolling hills, horse farms, canyons, and dozens of wooden bridges, it's among the prettiest courses around.  Notable memories: A feeling of deja vu, having run the first (and toughest) half of the course the previous year and interacted with some of the same runners both years.  The crushed limestone running surface was easy on the legs, though my shoes quickly filled with small pebbles.  Jerry Dunn, the race director and self-professed marathon man who ran 200 marathons in 2000, gave me and other runners a hardy welcome at the finish line.  He recalled my attendance at the Mickelson trail the previous two years -- once as a injured volunteer and once as an injured runner -- and suggested I come back next year.  I'll pass.

Left: 2006, downhill; Right: 2005, DNFed after finishing the first half. 

32. May 7, 2006: Reno, NV; Nevada Wide Open Marathon de Mayo. My time: 4:14:50.  The inaugural running of the marathon in the Biggest Little City on Earth, Reno Nevada, was splendid -- bright skies punctuated by a backdrop of snowcapped mountains. It's an out-and-back lollipop course with a few hills that takes runners along Virginia Lake and through the horse farms of southwest Reno.  After that, the course gets pretty drab, winding through the wide empty streets of a huge master-planned subdivision in southeast Reno.  I took it easy -- a training run, if you will, as a prelude to a 50K six days later.  Reno's 4500 foot altitude, combined with temps in the upper 70s, took its effect later in the race.  While my time was nothing to write home about, I managed to come in 2nd among 14 runners in my age group and the top third overall -- one day before my 55th birthday. Notable memories: Watching a poor guy one step ahead of me twist his ankle and stumble to the ground while reaching for water at the mile-2 aid station, a victim of old Reno's pock-marked roads ... and enjoying a balmy weekend with my family, with the kids taking in Circus-Circus and Sophia covering the cost of the trip with jackpot winnings!

                Chris crossing the finish with dad...my kids & I, post-race

31. March 5, 2006: Napa, CA; Napa Valley Marathon. My time: 4:15:13.  This gently-rolling point-to-point run along Silverado Trail in the heart of Napa Valley was marred by a wet, messy, windy morning.  The first half of the run was fine, however the headwinds of 20-30 mph kicked in by mid-morning, making the last half difficult at times.  The rain blew horizontally, prompting me to tuck my chin down and bore forward.  I was a wet rag, chilled to the bone (despite 3 layers), by the time I crossed the finish line.  Over a quarter of the registrants did not complete the race, though I suspect some bailed at the outset given the weather prognosis. I appreciated the fans who lined parts of the course, braving the elements to cheer folks on.  Notable memories: Attending the Expo with my kids to hear Dick Beardsley give a great motivating speech the day before the race, getting to sleep in my own bed the night before, and catching side glimpses of the rolling green vineyards as I tucked my head down and barreled forward that cool, damp, windy morning. 


30. February 4, 2006: Furnace Creek, CA; Death Valley Westside Road Marathon. My time: 4:18:18.  While officially called the "Death Valley Trail Marathon", I'm calling it the Westside Road marathon because this is exactly what it was: a run along a mainly graveled road in the depths of Death Valley, around 5 feet above and paralleling Badwater (the lowest point in North America).  For the 3rd year straight, the planned point-to-point trail marathon through gorgeous Titus Canyon was relocated to the heavily pocked Westside Road, configured as an out-and-back run.  A real bummer: I had trained for hills and was psyched to run through the marmalade-walled Titus Canyon,  however a rockslide a few weeks before the race closed the road, prompting Enviro-sports to relocate the run to a totally different landscape: flat, not a canyon wall in sight, and frankly a repetitive and boring viewscape of salt flats (particularly given I ran the similarly sited Death Valley Borax road marathon several years earlier).  Chalk this one up as a novelty. The road surface left a lot to be desired: mostly rough gravel and where the gravel had washed away, the sun-scorched surface was washboard-like. The tricky footing slowed me and evidently others down: I finished 7 of 26 in my age group. The hot dry air was nice.  I had hydrated so much the night before that I took what for me was a marathon first: a port-o-potty break at mile six, tacking on a few minutes to my time.  The aid stations, three miles apart, were well stocked.  The last two miles were a gentle 200-plus foot uphill that I actually enjoyed -- one could see the finish line some 4 miles away and a break from the monotonous pancake course was welcomed.  Notable memories: A guy who (gingerly) ran the course barefooted, bonding with my 14-year old son, Chris, the day before the run by hiking around Ubehebbe Crater and Titus Canyon, and kicking back at the Furnace Creek resort after the run.
 
29. January 15, 2006: Houston, TX; Houston Marathon. My time: 4:16:47.  I struggled on this one -- a twisted ankle plus cramps in both calves and feet.  The cramps likely stemmed from a faulty gait throughout -- I couldn't get a good push off my left foot.  I probably shouldn't have run this one for I re-injured my left ankle a few weeks earlier, the same one as last fall.  However I happened to be in Houston, so I thought, why not?  Sophia and I spent the prior week in Colombia (Cartagena, Grand Isle of the Carribbean) tied to a business trip to Bogota, with the return flight through Houston the very weekend of the marathon. The timing was too good to pass up.  It's a fairly flat and fast loop course, though a bit boring and the concrete surface was bone-jarring.  The weather was nice -- 60s and low 70s.  The race wins kudos for good organization, enthusiastic fans, and plentiful aid stations. Notable memories: Running through Post Oak and seeing the same image of the Transco Tower as in my book, Suburban Gridlock, of 20 years earlier, catching in the corner of my eye a young girl face-fall on the bridge at around mile-14, and being frequently reminded of Texans' chest-thumping pride -- everything from running Longhorns in full football regalia to dudes with over-sized foam cowboy hats carrying Lone Star flags and sporting Don't Mess with Texas tee-shirts. 
 

28. December 4, 2005: Folsom-Sacramento, CA; California International Marathon. My time: 3:52:01.  The morning of the run was frigid -- we had to remove ice off the windshield when driving to the bus launch in downtown Sacto.  With daylight came a bright crisp Sunday morning as some 4K runners plodded the gently rolling hills of Folsom to the tree-lined flats of the state capital.  I liked everything about this run -- the organization, scenery, group camaraderie, weather, the wide girth of Fair Oaks Boulevard, the tree-lined streets of downtown Sacramento, enthusiastic fans.  I wasn't sure how I'd perform running only 2 weeks after my previous marathon.  It turned out to be my fastest run of the year -- albeit a year plagued by injuries that had me DNF one run and sidelined without running for 2 months.  I was thus happy with my 8:50 per mile pace, hopefully a sign of faster times to come.  Notable memories: Having my kids, Chris and Kristen, meet me at mile 26, following me toward the finish line holding posters saying "Go Dad!" and enjoying the after-run entertainment in the crisp but sunny Capitol Park with my family.
     
Just squeaked by Sacto LRT train! Basking in the sun in front of Capitol.

27. November 20,  2005: Philadelphia, PA; Philadelphia Marathon. My time: 3:57:17.  This was a nice urban marathon -- a tour of historic Philadelphia, Chinatown, the university district, several working class neighborhoods, and the river parkway.  It was chilly in the morning, however a half hour into the run, things started warming up, so I like others started to shed layers.  A lovely day it was -- bright sunny skies with temps in the 50s.  The course is fairly flat though it's got enough gentle grades to mix things up.  With some 6 thousand runners, things got crowded in spots, like the turnaround in Manayunk at mile 20. The logistics of this run worked out well.  I stayed at a friend's place a mile south of the start line at the Eakins Oval on Benjamin Franklin Parkway.  It made for a pleasant Sunday morning walk to the start and back to her house for a quick shower and lunch.  We dined the night before at a great Italian restaurant in old Philly.  This run was a year in the making.  I registered to run it last year but had to bail the week before the race because of an injury.  I had studied the race the year before and was psyched to run it, thus being unable to do so made me all the more determined to run Philly this time around.  Notable memories: Great weather and ambience, having a running duo of batman and spiderman pass me mid-race only to pass them later at mile 23, and plodding through century-old streets steeped in early American history.
 

26. October 15,  2005: Berkeley-San Leandro, CA; Golden Hills Trail Marathon. My time: 5:12:34.  Finally, I've been introduced to the world of trail marathoning and I'm a convert!  Definitely will do more  -- though tougher and more time on the feet, running on dirt beats up your legs less.  This was certainly the hardest 26.2-miler I've done to date -- some 5000 feet of elevation gain (and a bit more loss) from Tilden Park in the hills of Berkeley (a couple of miles from my office at UC) to scenic Lake Chabot in San Leandro.  I've never run this part of the East Bay hills before.  The trails are stunningly beautiful and wonderfully varied -- chaparral, redwoods, deeply carved creek beds, amazing vistas (San Fran on one side, Mount Diablo on the other), lakes, and lots and lots of up and down, akin to a stock market chart.  It was nice to finally do a local marathon -- I slept in my own bed the night before and had the support of Sophia and my two kids much of the way.  The weather generally cooperated except it rained before dawn which made for a muddy trail.  The first 4 1/2 miles from Lone Oak picnic area in Tilden to the Steam Train aid station was straight up (1500+ ft. elevation gain) run in mud.  Hugh chunks of clay stuck to my shoes, feeling like lead weights, until the clots got so heavy that gravity ran its course and they fell off, only in a minute to be replaced by new chunks of mud.  The race started at 9 AM (to accommodate a 50 mile race that began earlier on the same course), meaning we ran a lot in midday when things heated up.  The course, runners, and aid stations were absolutely fabulous -- each station had friendly, smiling volunteers and was bountifully stocked (power drinks, fruit, candy, cookies, pretzels, and some even had pizza).  While I struggled with parts of the run and had to power-walk the steep uphills (trying to run was literally no faster), I was glowing most of the day, simply amazed by the beauty of the surroundings.  Being new to trail marathons, I had problems navigating some of the course.  I got lost at one juncture, realizing after a few minutes I was no longer seeing pink ribbons on the trial side, thus I had to retrace my path and eventually find the right route.  And at a couple of junctures, there were huge swarms of ornery bees, forcing everyone to leave the trail and seek out alternative paths.  The finish in Chabot Park was the icing on the cake.  My family greeted me with open arms upon crossing the finish and we were all treated to the best imaginable edibles -- grilled salmon and burgers, wonderful salads, great soups, delicious carrot cakes, on and on.  This was clearly a side benefit of the marathon being run parallel to the Dick Collins Firetrail 50.  Though this was my slowest marathon to date, all and all I was as happy with my run as with any.  I was running with incredibly fit and dedicated trail runners and while I finished around two-thirds from the top, no one who beat me was older than I -- for my age group I did quite well.  And what absolutely made my day was when the race director, Ann Trason, a veritable God in the world of ultra-running, complemented me on my finish, saying "that's a really good time for your first trail marathon".  I was in Nirvana. Notable memories: Beautiful but tough course, great camaraderie among runners, seeing my wife and kids at five different aid stations along the way, having my 14 year old son, Chris, yell "Dad, you're the greatest", and relishing in the best post-race party ever.  Life is good. 


25. September 17,  2005: Chelan, WA; Lake Chelan Shore to Shore Marathon. My time: 4:18:42.  A wonderful point-to-point run around the southern shores of Chelan Lake in central Washington state, reputedly America's 2nd cleanest lake.  A small marathon -- only 50 or so runners.  The first 7 miles were hilly followed by a flat midsection and a return to more hilly terrain toward the end.  It was cool and cloudy when the race started just after daybreak; by mid-morning temps got into the low 70s.  Except for the last mile, the race was run entirely on the shoulder of a two-lane road, which was fine early Saturday morning, however the last 7 miles from Chelan to the finish at Manson, runners faced lots of head-on traffic.  I struggled mightily  to complete this run.  At around mile 7, I felt a sharp pain in my left calf muscle.  I figured I had pulled a tendon and was prepared for an abrupt end.  I DNF'ed at my last marathon attempt in South Dakota in June, forced to stop mid-way upon pulling an abductor muscle in my inner thigh.  This injury sidelined me from running for 2 months, thus I only had begun to get back into running shape 4 weeks before this late-summer race.  The prospect of DNF'ing at two out-of-state marathons in a row was agonizing. I slowed my pace. The tightness and numbing pain remained,  however it wasn't severe enough to keep me from plodding forward.  I ran the final 19 miles fearing that my calf muscle would snap at anytime.  To ease up on the strain, I walked through aid stations every two miles and at several junctures stopped to do leg stretches.  This seemed to do the trick, allowing me to shuffle forward at roughly 10-11 minute mile pace.  While my time wasn't great, I felt good about persevering and completing this run.  I was surprised to have placed 2nd in my age group!  After the run, my calf sported a big shiny bruise -- evidence of muscle hemorrhaging.  I have my fingers crossed I can recover in time for a tough trail marathon (the hills of Berkeley) I'm signed up for in October.  Notable memories: Starting off at a fast pace and then having it all come crashing down at mile 7 as my calf muscle gave in, not sure how I would make it the next 19 miles hobbling to the finish line, and the adrenaline rush of when I did, bum leg and all.  


24. May 14,  2005: Fargo, ND; Fargo Marathon. My time: 4:22:20.  Ugh! Another marathon I just as soon forget. This affair had things in common with my marathon experience the prior month in MD -- it was an inaugural event and the weather sucked: strong winds (20-30 mph), coupled this time with chilly temps (mostly in the 30s) and sogginess (drizzle and early morning flurries).  However, unlike Maryland, the event was very well organized.  This was my second slowest marathon to date. The morning of the race I wasn't sure I would be able to run.  Injuries continue to nag me.  I twisted my ankle several weeks before and it was still sore, even when walking.  I couldn't get a good push off my left foot, forcing me to run flatfooted.  And continued pain in my right groin and inner thighs restricted my stride.  The combination of unhealed wounds, bad weather, once-a-month marathoning, and perhaps age (I turned 54 the weekend before) evidently did me in.  Nonetheless, kudos to the organizers and good folks of Fargo for a first-class show.  The inaugural event went off without a hitch.  The city came out in full force, with cheering fans all along the route. The course was pleasant and flat -- sections through nicely manicured neighborhoods, along park trails and the riverfront, several miles touring Moorhead, MN, and a meandering loop through the North Dakota State campus.  Aid stations handed out bottles of water, which seemed a waste since most people took 1-2 swigs and threw the rest away.  Perhaps this had something to do with the fact that the run's sponsor, Scheels, is a local water bottler/distributor.  It was a figure-8 course, with lots of turns.  Most folks ran the half-marathon, peeling off at mile 13, and marathoners (at least myself) got passed quite a bit the second half by all of the marathon relayers with fresh legs.  Notable memories: Blustery weather, great fan support, and hobbling along the course, unsure if my ankle would make it to the finish.   

You've gotta be kiddin...This is May? 

23. April 16,  2005: Ocean City, MD; Ocean City Marathon. My time: 4:18:24.  Brutal! With 35-40 mph headwinds the last 12 miles of the course, this was among the toughest runs I've ever done.  The inaugural running of the Ocean City marathon was marred by hurricane-like gales along the mid-Atlantic. The frontal assault of headwinds forced me to run-walk the last four miles of the course.  Besides being physically spent from having fought non-stop winds, I found there wasn't much difference between power-walking and running along some segments. The morning of the run, with winds whipping in from the north, I was resigned to a 5-hour marathon, thus I was frankly surprised by my time.  The course was configured such that the first half of the run caught more cross-winds than tailwinds. Heading over the Verrazano pedestrian bridge at mile 12, I felt as if I was going to be blown over the side. The course itself is fairly flat, save for two bridge spans, and in parts, quite scenic, complete with horse farms and wild horses on Assateague Island (though this part of the course wrapped around an unremarkable campground where the half-marathoners ended their run). Significant parts of the course are along a well-trafficked highway. The surroundings went largely unnoticed since I spent most of the morning running with my head ducked and leaning forward. Media attention went to "the world's strongest man", who was trying to enter into the Guiness Book by running the half-marathon with a 40-pound backpack in full Army fatigues (boots included).  The guy, Joe, bolted out quickly; he was having serious leg cramps by mile 7 when I passed him.  Notable memories: Punishing winds, nippy weather, the beautiful drive up the DelMarVa peninsula, and witnessing waves splash over the Chesapeake Bay Bridge that connects the Eastern Shore and Virginia Beach. 


22. March 19,  2005: Virginia Beach, VA; Shamrock Sportfest Marathon.  My time: 3:56:57.  This was a homecoming.  My mom & dad (who just celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary) got to cheer me on along the route as well as my sister Louise, my daughter Kristen, and Amber, Louise's puppy.  We all enjoyed the event. It was a bright crisp sunny day -- in the 40s and later on in the high 50s.  It was also a fairly flat course.  I was hoping for a faster time, however a nagging groin injury pretty much dictated my speed. The course follows Virginia Beach's waterfront, which brought back a lot of memories -- especially of surfing in the late 60s.  Around 10 miles were run in Fort Story, not all of which was particularly scenic despite being next to the Chesapeake Bay.  The last mile and a half along the boardwalk was pleasant, despite the concrete running surface (no boards on this boardwalk).  Lots of enthusiastic fans once we got back to the main strip.  Notable memories: Rendezvousing with my sister and Kristen (to pick up some Gu at miles 8 and 19 -- I've never had a support team before!) and catching several glances of my dear parents, cheering their hearts content, along the route.   
    

21. February 5,  2005: Tybee Island, Georgia; Tybee Marathon. My time: 4:07:10.  Flat as a pancake, this course is.  I recall thinking when registering for this run that I should be able to PR given the fact I'd run mostly hilly courses to date ... Not!  I really struggled with this run.  Some of it had to do with the flat, repetitiveness of the course -- constantly hitting the same pressure points on my legs, with no variation induced by terrain, took its toll.  Also, I ended up "reverse tapering" -- because I injured my calf muscle shortly after my previous run (less than 3 weeks earlier), I did virtually no training for this run.  Four days before the run, I wasn't sure I could do the race, but pushed forward (partly because I had a non-refundable airfare to Savannah!).  I did two 9 mile runs followed by a 14-mile run several days before the marathon.  While this restored my endurance, it left my legs spent.  Stiff headwinds didn't help (funny how one can't feel the tailwinds when reversing course).  While this run earns high marks for good organization, small-town enthusiasm, and being a real deal ($35 for a well-staffed course, a nice long-sleeve t-shirt, and a great medal with a sand-dollar from local beaches), in truth, I did not enjoy this run.  Besides the monotonous terrain, it was a double-loop with all kinds of twists and turns.  Five out of six runners were doing the half marathon, meaning marathoners had to cope with seeing most folks celebrating the end of a run when slogging forward for another 13.1 mile loop.  Also, Tybee Island is not that big.  To fit 13.1 lineal miles onto this island, the course had to be designed with a fair amount of back-tracking -- head south, then north, then south, then north, etc., etc.; marathoners had to go through this twice.  I was also surprised that despite being an island off the Atlantic, there were zero vistas of the ocean anywhere along the route.  For me, the highlight of the day was enjoying the elegant streetscapes of downtown Savannah after the race, sore legs and all.  Refined Southern charm, Savannah is  -- Spanish moss dripping off century-old oaks, Olgothorpe's shady public squares, stately southern mansions...it's truly an American treasure. Notable memories: Turns, turns, turns ... and the gentleman who sang the national anthem encouraging runners to dig in as they crested over a "hill" at mile 18, a mound that must have had all of 3 feet of elevation gain!  Still, the rise was a nice change of pace and the guy's positive vibes at that juncture were much appreciated. 

20. January 16, 2005: Apache Junction, Arizona; Lost Dutchman Marathon.  My time: 4:00:02.  This run earns kudos for its stunning start.  Runners huddle around small bonfires ringed by carpeted mats, sipping hot cocoa and munching on bagels, as the crimson sun rises over the Superstition Mountains in the high Sonoran desert.  The first 6 miles are along the Peralta Trail, mostly downhill and surrounded by saguaro cacti, palo verde, and fallen mesquite.  By midcourse, the run gets pretty hilly and the cool early morning gives way to much warmer temps.  At mile 23, just after receiving water from some ladies decked out in ornate purple felt dresses, runners are greeted with a steep incline called the Dutchman's Revenge and at the top pass through a large poster wall whereupon a photographer takes snapshots of their tortured expressions.  From there, it's more hills till the finish, giving this course its well-deserved reputation as a challenging run (...the winning time in a field of nearly 300 was just over 3 hours).  I just missed breaking the 4 hour mark, leaving me pondering, upon crossing the finish line, where I could have shaved off a few seconds. What made this run special was having my wife, Sophia, and our kids, Chris and Kristen, enter the 2-mile family run around Prospect Park while the marathon was underway.  It's a very well-organized, family-friendly event, with lots of goodies and activities at the end.  Kristen and I got our photos taken with a bona fide prospector and his burro near the finish line -- evidently this ole codger is looking for the Lost Dutchman's treasure chest of gold, reputedly hidden somewhere in the surrounding hills.  Notable memories: Getting stuck by a cactus while excusing myself behind the campground prior to the start of the race, running alongside Pam Reed the first few miles (she's won two Badwater Ultras!), getting passed by an older gent hauling an American flag at around mile 9, aching quads from the day's cascade of up- and down-hills, and catching bright purple sunsets in the evening while taking in hot chili in Tortilla Flats with Sophia and the kids.
    
Post-race: Kristen & tired dad with
Lost Dutchman Prospector & his Burro

19. December 12, 2004: Honolulu, Hawaii; Honolulu Marathon.  My time: 4:04:44.  The 5 AM start near Ala Moana Park, complete with fireworks, was meant to keep the time spent in the Oahu sun to a minimum, however good conditions (weather in the low 70s and little wind) prevailed, resulting in both a men's and women's course record for the 32nd running of this mega-marathon.  There were 23,000-plus finishers, around two-thirds of whom were from Japan.  Save for the balmy temps and tropical scenery, at times I felt I was running in Tokyo. JAL sponsored the event, most fans along the route were Japanese tourists, and the Expo from the prior day was principally a Japanese affair.  Only halfway into the race, when the sun came up, could one really appreciate the surroundings.  Still, the event was a bit too crowded for my taste.  I had a hard time getting out of the gate, tripping over runners and stumbling several times the first few miles.  Lots of elbowing and dodging throughout.  I wasn't in the best of condition: because of a lower-back ligament strain, I didn't run for 3 weeks in November and only had started running again two weeks before the race.  Perhaps I shouldn't have run, though it was hard to resist:  I had a business meeting with Active Living Research (scheduled to coincide with the marathon), thus all my expenses were covered, even part of the registration fee!  The steep registration fee is another matter -- it's a pricey affair without the amenities I'm used to (e.g., no food along the way or after the run), though the cold sponges and iced water were nice touches.  While I wasn't thrilled with my time, given I was at about 90% of capacity, the 4-plus hour finish was expected.  I was surprised I finished in the top 11% of all runners and 18% of my age group and men.  This was more a reflection of the competition than anything: most folks walked part of the way, and quite a few took 8+ hours, with the last-place finisher coming in more than 15 hours after the start. The sponsors earn points for patience -- it's the most walker friendly marathon around.  Notable memories: A very early rise (2:30 AM to catch the bus to Ala Moana park from the Honolulu zoo), crushing crowds at the start, silhouettes of Diamond Head in the early dawn, vistas of the blue Pacific at the top of the hill at mile 25, and assorted running Santa Clauses and scantily-clad Hawaiian warriors along the way.


18. October 16, 2004: Grand Isle, Vermont; GMAA Green Mountain Marathon.  My time: 3:57:53.  There are few more delightful ways to spend a Saturday morning in mid-October than running through the gently rolling hills of Grand Isle in northwest Vermont.  It was idyllic -- running alongside Lake Champlain with the New York countryside in the far-off background, being treated to a mosaic of fall foliage at its crimson-orange brightest, catching eyefuls of farmsteads, llama herds, stately homesteads, wineries, and open pastures throughout the out-and-back course, and enjoying the company of 150 dedicated runners and a handful of really appreciative fans. The temperature was near-perfect -- overcast and in the low-50s, with a constant threat of rain that never materialized.  What prevented fast running times were the brutal headwinds the second half of the course.  After running from the town of South Hero along the west coast of Grand Isle some 13 miles to the northern tip of the island, runners were treated to what felt like hurricane gales the last half of the race.  While the tailwinds helped some going out, the winds picked up considerably as the day wore on, thus the ornery headwinds and crosswinds coming back took away any advantage that had been gained earlier.  From mile 13 to 25, for every step forward, it seemed, one got knocked back a half-step.  The winds, however, couldn't detract from the utter beauty that surrounded us.  Financially, there's not a better deal in marathoning than this runner-organized event.  For a mere $20 (nearly unheard of in this day of 3-digit registration fees for big-name races), one gets not only a great course with good aid-station support, but also a long-sleeve tee-shirt (without tacky corporate logos on the back), a finisher's medallion that is nicer than many from more pricey events, and wonderful after-race treats like sparkling apple cider from right down the road and even apple donuts.  Notable memories: Stunning landscapes and seascapes at their Autumn peak, catching glimpses of llamas staring in bewilderment as throngs of runners passed by, the blustery yet refreshing winds coming off of Lake Champlain, and being awed by a guy who ran the entire course (nearly half of which is on graveled roads) bare-footed (reputedly the second year in a row he's done this...ouch!). 


17. September 19, 2004: St. Charles, Missouri; Lewis and Clark Marathon. My time: 3.48.14.  A run through the historical town of St. Charles, alongside the Missouri River and Katy Trail, in the year of the 200^th commemoration of Lewis and Clark's exposition out west.  It was a nice double narrow-loop course -- northbound along paved (and for a short section, bricked) roads in the heart of St. Charles and southbound along the gentle-on-the-legs, crushed-limestone Katy Trail, a rail-to-trail conversion that stretches across Missouri.  The course was pretty flat except for a hill at the southern turn-around -- miles 11 and 24.  The only downside was the weather -- in the low 80s without a cloud in the sky.  There were plenty of water stations and the trail provided welcomed shade, though for many sections the sun beat down unmercifully.  Running topless and downing lots of fluids, I managed to stay hydrated and avoid cramping, however it was a pretty sweaty morning run nonetheless.  My main concern was psychological: how would I react to a double-loop course upon hitting the 13.1 mile mark, asking myself: "wait a minute, I just looped this thing; I've got to do it one damn more time?".  Also, there were four times as many half-marathoners as full-marathoners and the two groups both departed at 7 AM; thus at the 13.1 mile mark, there were all these folks ending the half-marathon run and celebrating while I and others, sweating profusely, had to crank it up for one last round.  Fortunately, it didn't bother me as much as I feared -- I was able to keep on rolling and indeed enjoyed the second loop because it was far less crowed. Notable memories: Nice vistas of the Missouri River along the Katy Trail, bright sunny skies, and a guy who I ran alongside part of the way who carried a Missouri flag mounted to a pole; I ended up beating him to the finish by some 10 minutes, though if I hauled a draping banner tied to a wooden stick for 26.2 miles, my time would have greatly suffered. A true patriot!  
 

16. August 22, 2004: Washoe Valley, Nevada; Silver State Marathon. My time: 4.06.24.  Nice mile-high run around Washoe Lake midway between Reno and Carson City, Nevada.  A friend who ran this years ago advised me to forget about times on this one -- just go out and enjoy it as a long, challenging Sunday morning run.  A challenging run it was.  Besides the 5000+ foot elevation, a good 3 to 4 miles of the off-road trails are mainly sand.  While granular sand provided welcomed cushioning after miles of pounding pavement, sand-running can be taxing and slow.  Fortunately, skies were overcast and the forecasted 80-plus temps never materialized, though the second half of the run was quite gusty -- headwinds from miles 17 to 22 followed by much-appreciated tailwinds the last few miles to the finish. The course has lots of diversity: sandy trails, gently rolling hills, residential tracts, horse farms, open stretches of ponderosa pines, busy highways, campgrounds, and open, pristine expanses.  The run starts before sunrise at Bowers Mansion Regional Park, does a huge loop around the lake, and returns to the park.  The post-run picnic was fun, especially with my family around. It's a well-organized event.  I highly recommend it to anyone, though don't expect a PR.  Notable memories: Blind-folded horses galloping around their fenced-in enclosures, as if challenging the runners going by.  Running on sand some 300 miles from the nearest ocean.  Nearly being blown over by strong crosswinds a half-mile from the finish.  And enjoying a juicy hamburger, baked beans, and chips with Sophia, Chris, and Kristen at the post-race picnic.  
 
Along a farmstead                   Nearing the finish                                                    Kristen & a tired dad

15. July 24, 2004: Salt Lake City, Utah; Deseret Morning News Marathon. My time: 3.58.09.  With a starting elevation of 7500' and the finish line at 4500', I found that downhills can be both your friend and enemy.  Gravity certainly adds speed -- I ran my fastest half-marathon ever (1:40); however, toward the end my legs were so beat up and I was so much in oxygen debt that the second half was one of my slowest -- 2:18. The 80-degree July heat also took its toll when reaching the Salt Lake valley toward the end.  The temperature contrasts were startling.  We caught a bus at 3:15 AM and reached the summit of Big Mountain at 3:50.  We then waited for an hour and a half in shivering cold temps for the 5:30 start.  My trash bag did little to protect me from the elements; runners mainly depended upon collective body heat by bunching together under a large open tent. The first five miles of the course are beautiful -- alpine forests with a crimson glow from the rising sun on the horizon.  Some 15 miles into the run, we dropped into the city.  The toughest part was heading uphill along the road to the zoo, blasted by strong headwinds.  It was virtually impossible to run, thus (for the first time for me) I power-walked.  Running and walking speeds were fairly equivalent. By mile 22, my legs were spent. I had nothing left, thus I shuffled, walked, trotted to the finish line.  I set a goal to run one marathon a month for a year, and with this run I achieved that goal. Whether I continue at this pace, time will tell, though I know for sure I won't tackle a predominantly downhill marathon anytime soon.  Notable memories: Shivering high in the Wasatch Mountains in late-July to only later be greeted by the blast furnace of downtown Salt Lake City. Running along the Pioneer Day parade route at mile 25, cheered on by throngs of parade-goers and feeling totally spent. And very sore quadrilaterals after the run.  


14. June 19, 2004: Anchorage, Alaska; Mayor's Midnight Sun Marathon. My time: 3.59.37.  This was probably my toughest marathon to date -- I had done relatively little training (due to a calf injury), the course was a fairly challenging, and it was hot (mid-70s and bright sunshine, nearly breaking Anchorage's temperature record for the date). While I barely broke 4 hours, I was satisfied with my time -- the day before my leg was swollen thus I wasn't sure I'd be able to run and throughout the race I was expecting my calf to give out at any time.  To my surprise, my legs were in pretty good shape when crossing the finish line.  It's a point-to-point course of gently rolling hills from a high school in northeast Anchorage to a high school in the southwest part of the city.  The course gets high marks for variety: the first half is mainly uphill, following a bike path, a country road, a wide and then narrow (and rocky) trail alongside the Chugah mountains; the course peaks at mile 14 and then a gradual downhill along another country road, a bike path aside a busy thoroughfare, through the U. of Alaska campus, and then along a scenic river creek trail to a blue lagoon, with a final 95 foot steep ascent to the finish line. I was impressed by the amount of "grade separation" -- despite going through busy parts of the city, one rarely encountered traffic because of the many bike/pedway overpasses and underpasses. The marathon was dominated by a sea of purple jerseys (Team in Training -- a worthy cause indeed), many of whom were walking (and thus I only saw at the start since most lined up behind the runners).  My only complaints were the selling of refreshments at the start line and a puny finisher's medal (what's the $50 registration fee for anyway?).  On the upside: good organization and fan support. Notable memories:  Balmy weather (hotter than the Bay Area and Beijing, where I had been the week before), occasional glimpses of snowcap peaks (though mainly views of trees along narrow trails and bikepaths),  a pebble in my shoe picked up along the trail that nagged me throughout, the refreshing bags of ice handed out at mile 18, and the mad scramble at the end: I finished around noon, grabbed some refreshments and stretched, drove to my hotel to shower and check out, dropped by for a free Subway sandwich (to all finishers), returned the rental car, and got through the airport logistics in time for my 3 PM flight.


13. May 16, 2004: Olympia, WA; Capital City Marathon. My time: 3.46.01 (PR).  Can't complain about conditions on this one. They were ideal.  Overcast skies, temps in the 50s, and a fairly flat course interspersed with a few gently rolling hills.  While I PR'd (by all of 28 seconds!), I wasn't that happy with my time given it was just a hair under what I ran on the much tougher Big Sur course 3 weeks earlier.  It was my kind of marathon -- moderate in size (just over 400 ran the full marathon), dedicated runners, well organized, and good fan support. The course mainly traverses residential neighborhoods with a few rural stretches here and there.  The beginning is nice, running around the lake west of the state capitol building, and the end is even nicer -- a mile of straight downhill.  Notable memories:  Ease of parking (within a block of the start line in downtown Olympia), a deep massage after crossing the finish line without even having to wait in line (a first for me), and seeing Joan Samuelson (there to run the 20th anniversary of the first women's Olympic marathon trial that was run in Olympia; she's aged nicely -- ran a 1:27 half marathon!).


12. April 25, 2004: Big Sur-Carmel, CA; Big Sur International Marathon. My time: 3.46.29.  Called by some the world's most scenic marathon, this lived up to its billings -- gorgeous vistas, big and brilliant skies, micro-climates at different points along the route, and a continually changing scenery (redwoods, rolling pasture land, rocky cliffs with waves breaking below, and multi-million dollar homesteads in the Carmel Highlands).  This was also billed as a difficult marathon, however I guess I was hill trained: I finished in the top 14% of my age group, top 15% overall, and ran a PR.  Running the steeply sloped Lafayette Ridge and at high altitude in Bogotá, Colombia (elevation > 8000') the weeks before Big Sur evidently paid off. The conditions were good -- bright skies and little wind (unusual for Big Sur), though it was fairly hot by 9 AM and the heat took its toll on some runners (though after running Thailand the month before, I was also heat conditioned.)  It's a point-to-point run along rolling terrain -- fairly long slopes that weren't too steep and lots of downhills, enough to spread the muscle pain.  The 2-mile, 500' steady uphill at Hurricane Point (miles 10-12) is fine; it's the hills in the Carmel Highlands (plus the crowned road) that takes its toll the last 4 to 5 miles. A superly organized, well-stocked marathon.  The downsides: too many 10- and 20-mile walkers who crowded the road the last half of the marathon, requiring a fair amount of weaving, and too many marathon relays with buses hauling folks back and forth along the course.  While I applaud all for their efforts, the fact that some 3/4 of the folks out there were non-marathoners detracted from the "long haul" experience.  The one thing everyone griped about was having to catch a bus at 3:45 AM, followed by a 2-hour wait in chilly weather for the race to begin; this logistical "cushion" seemed excessive.  Notable memories:  The huge Pacific Ocean, classical musicians and orchestras along the route, the baby grand and tuxedoed pianist at the north end of the majestic Bixby Bridge, belly dancers and flame throwers at mile 24, and the skeletal remains of "de-composer" at mile 25 (a "dehydrated, decomposing" skeleton prop to remind everyone of the need to hydrate).
 

11. March 21, 2004: Samuthsongkram, Thailand; Thailand Temple Run. My time: 4.03.51.  For a first marathon abroad, this was quite an exotic affair -- Buddhist monks sprinkle holy water on the runners at the outset, the course meanders along narrow winding roads through ornate gold-leaf temples, rice fields, colorful chanting orchestras banging on drums, hanging palm trees, wild dogs laying in the road and occasionally giving chase, and some fifty-odd canal bridges/oversized culverts.   While the course is fairly flat, running conditions are harsh to say the least -- it was around 97-degrees and 97% humidity despite an early morning start.  Fortunately the event was superbly organized.  Aid stations were frequent and well-stocked with ice-chilled water and cold sponges; still, I found running in sauna-like conditions quite taxing.  While I failed to bust 4 hours, I was fairly happy with my performance, especially given I did absolutely no heat (or humidity) training.  Most non-Thais were running a good hour or more over their usual times and a few guys who regularly run sub-3:30 marathons were clocking in upwards of 5 hours.   I came in 7th among 45 in my gender-age group and 2nd among 18 American runners. Still, I have no desire to do a marathon in the tropics anytime soon.  Notable memories:  Catching a bus in Bangkok at 2:45 AM to reach the venue by 4:30, starting in pitch dark at 5 AM and being led along the way by flaming tourches and the silhouette of arched Thai temples, nearly running over dogs lying in the street, and the numbing thought when hitting the 23 kilometer turn-around soaking wet with a boiling radiator and realizing I had another 19-plus kilometers to slog through.
 
Monk initiates the race and a very tired me nearly hitting the wall at around the 36 km mark (photo courtesy of Clement Marin)

10. February 1, 2004: Miami, FL; Miami Tropical Marathon. My time: 3.58.33.  Not the best of weather -- rained pretty much the entire time.  Despite the mugginess, downpours, and headwinds, it was a wonderful course -- two long expanses across Biscayne Bay, Miami Beach at sunrise, glistening Brickell Avenue, and the oddly upscale yet Bohemian community of Coconut Grove.  The organizers also let you see Miami's "other" side -- for a good mile or so, you pass through skid row where folks were huddled under the freeway, seeking shelter from the rain.  It's a mostly flat course except for a couple of bridges, however because of soggy shoes, humidity, and headwinds, running times generally suffered.  A great medal, bands and cheerleaders at several junctures, and wonderful folks in Coconut Grove who provided cups of microbrew, bananas, gummy bears, oranges, and other treats that were much-appreciated upon having slogged some 19 miles in the rain.  Notable memories:  Catching the sunrise in Miami Beach, seeing a group of guys who looked like the Village People returning home in the wee hours from a night of clubbing, and crossing the finish line in downtown Miami during a downpour and within 30 seconds getting served a ice-cold brewski that really hit the spot (despite not being terribly accustomed to drinking beer at 10 AM on a Sunday morning).
     
Wet, Wet Miami

9. January 10, 2004: Charlotte, NC; Charlotte Observer Run for Peace Marathon. My time: 3.54.53.  Brrrrrr. It was cold -- in the high 20s throughout the morning and with 10-15 mph gusts, the windchill was in the low 20s/high teens.   Despite 3 layers of clothes, a shell, and a double set of gloves, it was still chilly, especially the last half when the temperature dropped and we hit head winds.   I couldn't feel the tips of my fingers for a good hour after the race.   Despite the cold and occasional snow flurries, it was an enjoyable run.  The course is fairly challenging -- rolling hills throughout.  The toughest hills are the last half, not made any easier by the frontal assault of winds. It's a nice loop course that goes through some of Charlotte's toniest neighborhoods -- most notably, the mansionesque Myer's Park.  There were plentiful aid stations and although not many fans along the way, those who did endure the cold to cheer folks on are to be applauded -- I much rather have been running than standing in the sub-freezing temps.  It was a dedicated group of runners willing to brave the elements.  Besides bone-chilling temps, the only downside was that at least as many folks were doing the marathon relay as the full 26.2 miles.  It wasn't particularly fun having all of these fresh legs starting the second half of the relay pass you up around mile 15.  While I have no desire to do an artic-like marathon anytime soon, it was an interesting experience.   Looking forward to my next several runs, slated for much balmier temps. Notable memories:  Freezing my !*@!#*! off.  Being passed (and later passing) a buffed-up guy who was running in shorts and a thin singlet top.  And the wonderful vegetarian chili served at the finish -- it really hit the spot that cold, cold morning.
  Crossing the finish line in cold, cold Charlotte, NC

8. December 6, 2003: Death Valley, CA; Death Valley Borax Marathon.  My time: 3.51.54.  Death Valley was sparkling this crisp Saturday morning in early-December -- fresh air, boundless vistas, and quite often, solitude.  My first (and most likely only) marathon entirely below sea level!  Can't complain about altitude and thin air on this one.  It's a nice out-and-back course between Furnace Creek Ranch and Salt Creek Road with a gently undulating profile.  Some folks complained it wasn't a flat course and while the hill at mile 24 doesn't come at the best of times, I (and my calves) liked the variable terrain.  The weather was near-perfect -- high 50s/low 60s and overcast.  This race gets high marks for convenience -- it was great to be able to roll out of bed at the Furnance Creek Ranch and get to the start line within 5 minutes.   I did fine -- 35th overall (in a pool of 190 registrants and 154 finishers) and 3rd in my age group.  Particularly nice were the contrasts (flat salt lake beds with a backdrop of towering mountains), earthy visuals (white salts, marroon soils, scrawny sagebrush, gray mountains), and the seemingly endless vistas.  One is quite exposed -- hardly a tree in sight along the way and running alongside passing RVs and motorhomes.   My only complaint was the scarcity of aid stations and limited help at each -- too much time was wasted fumbling for drinks, trying to find Gatorade (they mostly had water), and unpeeling bananas.  Notable memories: Being able to see the course (and lead runners) several miles ahead and when hitting the mile-20 mark literally being able to see the oasis of trees at Furnace Creek some 6 miles in front of me -- never have I been able to see my target that early in the race.  Also enjoyed having Sophia and the kids follow (via car) and root me on the last quarter of the race and having Kristen join me at mile-26 for the final 1056 foot sprint to the finish line.
   
Around mile 19                                                                      Just before mile 26                            Kristen joins a tired dad near the finish

7. November 2, 2003: New York City, NY; IGN New York City Marathon. My time: 3.59.21.  By far, the biggest marathon I've ever done -- light-years from the small marathon venues of rural California I'm more use to.  The Big Apple put on a splendid show.  It was warm and muggy (15 degrees above normal for the time of year and 81% humidity), thus running times suffered.  Over the first few miles on the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge and into Brooklyn, you're slogging through a crowd, thus it's hard to get a good cadence.  Still, I broke the 4 hour mark, though barely.  At least I beat P. Diddy (who "ran for the city") by 15 minutes, including his entourage of handlers who tended to his every need along the way.  The bridges, especially the Queensboro at mile 15, add some slope to the race, however it was the muggy weather more than anything that sapped my strength.  The NYC crowds are great, especially through the heart of Brooklyn and when dropping into 1st Street in Manhattan.  Musically, I enjoyed the pulsating salsa beat in the Bronx, which had the thinnest crowds but they made up for numbers with enthusiasm.  One really gets a feel for the cultural richness of NYC through the changing musical landscape along the course -- gospel singers in Harlem, hard rock in the Queens, four-part harmonies on 5th Avenue on the upper east side, and gangsta rap and Disco in Brooklyn.  Despite its almost suffocating size, NYC is a very well-run event, from the coffee-bagels-yogurt and upbeat music at the Fort Wadsworth staging area at 7 in the morning to the aluminum-foil blankets and goodie bags they hand out after the finish line while making the tiring trek from Terrace on the Green in Central Park to the UPS van a mile-plus away that has your stored change-of-clothes bag.  Notable memories: Many foreigners -- thousands of French, Italian, and Scandinavian runners, with a good showing of Mexicans and Brazilians as well.  The roaring blue-collar crowds of Fourth Avenue in Brooklyn and Lafayette Street and Bedford Avenue in the Queens, much different than the largely tourist-dominated white collar cheering sections along 1st Avenue in Manhattan.  And of course, the thichet of runners: a swarm of humanity hoofing it up the gentle hills of 5th Avenue as far as the eye could see.  At that juncture, there were some 7,000 folks ahead of me, but also a good 28,000 at my rear.
    

6. October 4, 2003: St. George, Utah; St. George Marathon. My time: 3.48.47.  A wonderful downhill run from the Alpine hills of Southwest Utah to the red rock desert oasis of St. George.  While there's a net altitude loss of nearly a half mile, this run is no picnic -- the first half has a good 1000 foot altitude gain along rolling terrain and most of the drop is the final 6 miles when your legs least need it.  Still, a fast run, fast enough for me to finally break the 4 hour barrier, with room to spare!  This is a supremely organized marathon.   It starts at the mile-high point in the town of Central.  It was a chilly 42-degrees Fahrenheit when we arrived at 5 a.m. via a packed school bus, however they have dozens of bonfires to keep your body warm and grooving music to warm your spirit.   You're running in pitch dark for the first 20 minutes or so, but once the sun hits runners are treated to sparkling vistas of rocky cliffs and shining desert skies.   Great fan support throughout (lots of kids high-fiving along the route).  The run up the slope next to Veyo volcano at mile 7 was invigorating, matched by another good uphill trot at mile 11 to 12.  At mile 17, you drop into glistening Snow Canyon, treated to a wonderful vista of brilliant red rocks, backed by bright blue skies.  By mile 23, you're into St. George; streets are lined with appreciative fans, egging you on to the finish line. Kudos to the organizers; lots of nice little effects throughout -- the showers along the route, frequent well-stocked aid stations, ability to toss extra clothes (needed at the cold beginning but a burden once the temperature heats up), and great replenishment at the end (ice cream, yogurt, bananas, and more).  What I most appreciated, however, was the iced wet towels they gave runners turning into the last stretch at mile 25.  What a refreshing feeling once hitting what felt like a blast furnace in St. George (high-80s).  Notable memories: Bonfires at the start, cold wet towel at the end, and smiling, appreciative supporters in between; also the drive through the great barrenness of Nevada getting to and from St. George, especially the Extraterrestrial Highway (skirting Area 51) where there's nothing as far as the eye can see, a car comes by every 20 minutes, and sitting in the middle of nowhere lies the otherwordly UFO town of Rachel. 
   

5. September 14, 2003: Burney, CA; Burney Classic Marathon. My time: 4.05.17.  A nice run through the rolling hills of northern California near the wonderful Burney-MacAuthur waterfalls.   The start was fairly chilly (in the low 50s Fahrenheit) but things quickly heated up -- two hours in the race it got up to the high 80's without a cloud in the sky.   It's a nice point to point race -- from the McAuthur High School track to the Burney High School track along a lightly-traveled two-lane road, except for a 5-mile hard-packed gravel road section between miles 20 and 25.  It's a moderately difficult course -- rated a 7 on a 1 to 10 "difficulty" scale by the USTAF (and 84th out of 250 in the nation by The Ultimate Guide to Marathons).   Nice vistas throughout -- particularly of snow-capped Mount Shasta at the crest of several high hills.  The race is not organized by runners but rather the local Lion's Club -- this shows in many respects (meager refreshments and support along the way).  I did fairly well -- came in 4th out of the 27 folks who ran the full marathon; to my surprise, I even won the over-40 age division (one of the advantages of running small, home-spun marathons, though still a proud moment for a well-over-50 dude). Notable memories: Being walloped with sparkling vistas of towering Mount Shasta upon struggling up several hills, watching all these Lion's Club guys relaxing on lounge chairs, shooting the breeze and toking away on cigarettes while sweating and panting through aid stations, and greeting my kids while lapping the track field at Burney High School to close out the race, cheered on by a small but appreciative hometown crowd.
   
Coming down the home       Getting a medal for finishing first in my age group -- not hard to do in a small
stretch of the Burney              marathon, but a gratifying moment just the same.
marathon with my
daughter, Kristen,
cheering me on!

4. August 23, 2003: Choteau, Montana; Grizzly Marathon. My time: 4:08.31.  My first out-of-state marathon, this was the inaugural running of the big, bad Grizzly Marathon -- a tough one befitting its name.  The good folks of Choteau Montana are to be applauded for putting on a good show, though this was a challenging run -- heck, the winning time was over three hours out of 220+ runners and quite a few folks didn't finish.  While the run was billed as offering a good chance of seeing bear, elk, and mountain lion, in truth I spent most of my time staring at my feet, trying to avoid twisting an ankle while running on the good-size rocks embedded in a hard-pack dirt surface over the last 20 miles.  While some complained of the elevation gains (4100 to 4900 feet) from miles 8 to 12 and at miles 18 & 19, for me the rocky running surface is what made this  tough (and painful).  On the positive side, the weather cooperated nicely -- overcast skies and on the comfortable side; the day before, you couldn't see the mountains from the thick smoke from the nearby forest fires.  Fortunately, it rained the night before the race, which along with strong winds helped clear out the gunk.  Running in that stuff would have been equivalent to smoking a couple of cartons of cigarettes.  I was one of 65 runners who received a "Hillus Horribilus" pin for getting up the steep hill at mile 19 without walking and within three hours, evidently in honor of the grizzly (aka horribilus) and his/her ability to scamper up steep slopes. Notable memories: Aching feet, no wildlife to be seen (though a wonderful back-drop of northern Rocky Mountains when I managed to look up from the rocks), and a pre-race national anthem sung by someone who sounded like Tiny Tim.   
 

3. June 1, 2003: San Diego, CA; Suzuki Rock-n-Roll Marathon. My time: 4:07.25.  My first "urban" marathon -- quite a different experience from my prior long trots through the backwoods of California.  All and all, very enjoyable.  Between the 26 bands and 48 cheer-leading squads spread along the route (mixed in with running Elvi, fire-eaters, serenading troubadors, and garage bands working off power generators), it wasn't hard to get pumped for this one.   The positive vibes were infectuous, seemingly drawing my aging legs forward.  Good running weather -- overcast and low 60s.  While the course doesn't show San Diego's better side, it's relatively flat and fast.  Visually, the most scenic legs were the 163 freeway stretch through Balboa Park (despite the slanted alignment) and parkway long the canal; the ugliest stretch, unfortunately, was toward the very end (to be expected given airports are generally surrounded by warehouses and industries).  It's a very well-run venue, despite the messy logistics of having to park near the airport, catch a bus to the start line in Balboa Park, and at the end, bus from the finish line (at the Marine Depot) back to the parking lot.  Notable memories: Most of the running Elvi ran at my pace, thus their presence remains etched in my memory of this one.  Heard Steppenwolf's "Born to be Wild" played by three different bands along the way.  Saw several folks collapse over the last six miles, being resuscitated with oxygen.  For me, what was most fun were the wonderfully bubbly and enthusiastic cheerleaders from the area's middle schools -- they were great.
 

2. May 4, 2003: Humboldt State Park, CA; Avenue of the Giants Marathon. My time: 4:19.14.  A fairly flat course, I shaved nearly a half an hour off my previous performance -- progress!  Not the best of weather -- lots of rain and some wind, however the canopy of tall redwoods helped moderate both effects.  Much larger venue than before, with some 500 marathoners and twice as many half-marathoners and 10-Kers.  Said to be one of America's most scenic marathons.  The tall trees were nice, though the canyon effects can get monotonous.  Still, amazing scenery throughout.  To me, the biggest annoyance: a lot of early-birders who got an hour jump on the race, meaning the trail was busy in the middle and toward the end when things normally thin out. Notable memories: The carefree excitement when a thundercloud unleashed loads of rain on us sticks out, though what I'll remember most was Highway 101 southbound was closed because of a mudslide, meaning we (and hundreds of others) had to navigate some 40 miles of narrow, winding one-lane dirt-paths in the inland hills of Mendocino County to get around the landslide, creating more thrills during the ride home than the race itself (plus making for an 8 hour journey home -- ugh!).

Pleasure Pain? The Ave

1.  March 22, 2003: San Miguel, CA, San Luis Obispo County, Camp Roberts: Buzz Marathon.  My time: 4:47:00.  My first marathon was exhilirating.  As soon as I crossed the finish line that early (and fairly hot) Spring day, I knew I was hooked.  It's 13.1 miles in and 13.1 miles back in the beautiful gently rolling hills of inland San Luis Obispo County.  A small, homespun marathon with only around 50 runners -- perfect for a first-timer.   Veterans told me this was a tough course, with some fairly steep hills, thus I was pretty happy with my finish.  Hell, I came in 3rd in my age group (50-55), a benefit of running a small marathon -- pretty much everyone places.  It's a well-run venue -- refreshments/nourishments every 2 miles.  The tee-shirt they gave finishers was a joke, currently part of my rag collection.  Also, there was no finisher's medal -- only winners received momentos. Still a highly recommended race.  Notable memories: Running through a large flock of sheep crossing the road at around mile 16 and being passed by Bradley Army tanks driven by National Guardsmen along the route (Bush and Company had just began the attack on Iraq two days earlier).

Camp Roberts, CA: Just finished my first 26.2 miler