Half-Marathon #33 "Why do we do this?"

Rahbin Shyne (3rd from left) walking in the OC Half-Marathon

Just as happened at the Surf City Half-Marathon a couple months earlier, amidst a race of over ten thousand racers, I ran into my aunt, Janice. We both walk our half-marathons. Unlike myself, Janice keeps a very steady pace throughout the race. She always starts races a few corrals (groupings) ahead of me.

Caught up in the enthusiastic cheers of start line supporters and volunteers, the vast majority of walkers cross the start line jogging. Not me. I prefer to start at the back of the pack. Rather than warm-up ahead of the race, I use the first mile or two of the course to warm-up. I walk along the sides, letting the jogging walkers skip ahead. As I enter the third mile, my warmed up limbs hit their long, quick stride and make up time. I usually catch up to Janice sometime between the 6th and 8th mile. I recognize the up swept hair and close to the ribs arm swing. We exchange hellos and she pulls away.

Sometimes we pass each other back and forth. Other times it’s a one-time sighting. At the Surf City race, I was accompanying friends on their first half-marathon. Janice was a couple miles ahead and the distance grew wider. At the OC race, we passed each other a couple times. That happens quite a bit in races.

In most circumstances, the back-and-forth, I pass you, you pass me is just a reflection of the normal ebb and flow of pace changes over thirteen miles. In a very few cases, it is an annoying attachment. Around mile four I passed a rather large heavy-footed man, 6’ 5” and 250 lbs. A few moments later he jogged up and passed me by ten feet. Then he returned to his regular walking pace. I kept my same walking stride. I passed him again. A few minutes later, I heard his heavy breathing coming toward me. This time he stopped just a couple feet ahead of me. I kept my pace. I have no idea how far ahead of him I got. I only know that, again, minutes later the heavy-footed, heavy-breathing man was at side. I let this happen once more before I jogged for half-a-mile to end the game.

Between miles eleven and twelve, more back-and-forth with Janice before I slowed a bit, focused on keeping my limbs cramp-free and in motion.

After crossing the finish line, I took a few minutes to stretch, gather pretzels, water and so on in the post-race lane. As I exited the refreshment area, I saw my aunt sitting on the ground, against a fence taking a post-race selfie. We exchanged smiles of self-satisfaction even as our eyes acknowledged that the warming early morning temperatures had taken a toll.

Janice broke the silence, “Why do we do this?” I held up my finisher medal. “For this.” She smiled while shaking her head. I wonder which race I’ll see her in next. Probably the Jetblue Long Beach half in October when I also pick-up the Beach Cities Challenge Medal. Or sooner.

Half-Marathons #30, #31 and #32 - From Santa to Surf City and Participant to Pro

Melissa Mueller (left) and Deb Johnston (right) hold up their first half-marathon medals with Rahbin Shyne.

So much changed over the course of three races. On my 29th race I discovered that I was a pro at walking half-marathons. By my 32nd, I turned myself into an ambassador. An advocate.

My 29th race was in Ventura, CA. The Santa to the Sea half- marathon began in the city's outskirts, with the first few miles of the race adjacent to farmland. It was invigorating to walk past row after row of growing vegetables in the early morning hours, away from traffic. I kept up a brisk stride across mostly flat land set against a cloudless sky. It was a perfect morning.

As I passed mile 8, the inner monologue was familiar. "Mile 8? Wait. Is that 4 more. No. Five more. Five more? This race seems longer than usual. No. I think that at mile 8. Wait a minute. I think the same thoughts at the same miles..."

I'd noticed that before. This time, though, it was like listening to a cassette tape that runs 3 hours and 20 minutes.

Race #30 was the Pasadena Half-Marathon, starting and ending in the Rose Bowl Stadium. Somewhere around mile six I noticed that the usual inner monologue wasn't playing in my head. I wasn't concerned about the mile markers. This was the first race that my level of certainty and confidence superceded the monologue. My focus was solely on my race experience. 

This represented a profound shift in my self concept. Race #29 opened my awareness to the uselessness of continuing to run the doubt-based monologue of early races. In my 30th race, that monologue disappeared. I accepted that I was a pro at walking half-marathons.

All of that explains why it was such a pleasure to take care of my two friends at race #32 in Huntington Beach. I’d walked with novices before, multiple times. In prior races with friends, I thought of myself as a slightly more experienced novice. At Surf City (#32), I owned that I was a pro at walking 13.1 miles. I was able to give my full attention to their experience, rather than entertain any worries, concerns or considerations of my own race.

In short, the transition through races 30, 31 and 32 helped me realize that I’ve moved beyond a focus on my own races. I’m ready, even eager, to share the fun and joy of walking half-marathons with others.

Interested? Curious? My online course to get you trained, registered and across your first half-marathon finish line, Walk That Half! is now available.

It's All Downhill Half-Marathons

16 Amazing All-Downhill Half Marathons - HalfMarathons.Net

Register Kindness at Surf City Half Marathon

A couple night's ago, I started searching through emails. I most certainly registered for the Surf City Half Marathon months ago. It was in my calendar. That was my proof.

Certainty proved insufficient when they did not find me listed as a participant. I shuffled my way to the on-site registration. My first. The young volunteer was incredibly friendly as she juggled three last minute registrants and our questions.

They had a smooth setup. Slide your driver's license and your personal information is auto-filled into the screen. No typing your name or any other details. Click on your race choice and then slide your credit card.

In the couple seconds it took for me to marvel at the simplicity and ease, the woman on my left made a comment I didn't fully hear. I said, "I'm good." I thought she mistook my moment of marveling as a need for assistance. She pushed a piece of paper a little closer to me and said "$10 is $10." There was a bit of disbelief that I wouldn't want what she was offering, so I tried to figure out what I'd missed.

She was sharing a generic discount code. The immediate camaraderie among the community of participants is one of the joys of the sport. With the exception of the handful of racers who strive to be among the first three of their sex to cross the finish line, the remaining tens of thousands of us are racing against ourselves, pursuing our personal best times. Our goal, whether we run, jog or walk is to complete the race.

Knowing that we are all there to meet and exceed a purely personal challenge brings a giddiness at the EXPO centers where we pick up our bibs, shirts and supplies from vendors. Kindness comes easy when each of us is focused on our own race and not that of others.

See you on the path.

"It's Gonna Finish Like It Started"

A relative of mine is quite the colorful character. He’s the kinda guy who might say “I’ll cut you” if you piss him off and then within a minute make a joke about the entire affair and leave you in stitches with an incorrect but hilarious retelling of the moment. The retelling will inevitably cast him as more intelligent and handsome. I overheard him say “Damn, how’d you get so handsome?” while looking in a mirror on more than a few occasions.

“It’s gonna finish like it started,” is another of his oft-repeated oldies but goodies.

As mentioned in the prior post, I did not train for the Holly Jolly Half Marathon. I finished thanks to the kindness of a middle-aged woman from Pasadena. Her compassion when she saw me cramp up just after passing mile twelve was a highlight of the day. She literally walked the last mile with me, adjusting her pace to mine and allowing me to lean on her steps from the finish line when I cramped up again.

Knowing that this was not a stellar performance, I was surprised to find myself placed third overall for women in the final results. I liked it. The ranking was absolutely wrong and underserved.  Still, I found it satisfying to view. “Wow, that looks good!” “How’d I get so fast?”

A quick check on the California Half Series showed me with 11 points for the 3 races completed in their series. The error had gone viral, impacting my rankings on other databases. I didn’t even know earning more than one point for a race was possible. Given that I walk rather than run races, the odds of seeing another 9 point score for a single race is slim-to-none.

It's gonna finish like it started.

I had no integrity while I trained. Then my integrity was tested during the race, as thoughts of quitting passed through my mind for the first time in over a dozen races of various distances. Consistent with the start, my results were outside integrity:  Rather than finishing 69th of 74 women, I was reported as finishing third.

I have reported the error. I’m starting 2017 with integrity. Every race is an opportunity to train the soul as well as the body.

See you on the path.