Half-Marathon #37 - My last half before 2020

Rahbin Shyne finishes 2019 at Huntington Beach’s Run in the New Year.

I shared with anyone and everyone that my big plan is to complete my 50th half-marathon at RocknRoll Dublin this summer. There was a slate of races picked out to get there.

Then came the rain, the doldrums and a disinterest in putting myself for a race. All of a sudden 2020 was upon me and I was three races behind my schedule. Fortunately, a close read of the race listings at halfmarathons.net and I found Run in the New Year at Huntington Beach.

It was definitely last minute. I’m not a fan of the double loop. I prefer a point-to-point or out-and-back. Fortunately, the race was held right across from my favorite spot, Bolsa Chica Wetlands. It was a double loop between Seal Beach and Huntington Beach.

The weather was a perfect California chill in the 60s. There were only a handful of walkers out on the course with me. It was a perfect way to end 2019.

Half-Marathon #36 - Lexus Laceup Ventura

Race #36 #walkthathalf #venturacalifornia #lexuslaceupventura #venturahalfmarathon

16 Likes, 0 Comments - Rahbin Shyne (@allthingsshyne) on Instagram: "Race #36 #walkthathalf #venturacalifornia #lexuslaceupventura #venturahalfmarathon"

This was my first race advertising my Walk That Half course. The back of the shirt said “Next time, bring (more) friends.” I knew there’d be plenty of walkers on the course to catch a glimpse. My reason for sharing my half-marathon love with others is because it is such a great addiction to make walking a habit.

The thing about the Lexus Laceup Ventura race is that is mostly downhill. That means a fast race and a chance to PR (personal record). We walkers can be as competitive as runners and joggers. As I came to mile 6, I was sure I’d made fast time jogging several downhill stretches. I was seeing the possibility of coming in at under 3:00 hours, an elusive goal for a walker.

By mile 7, I was kicking up the jog speed. I dare say I might have actually ran a few downhill parts. Which is when my knew started to bother me. Nothing major, just my knees sending me a message:
”Oh, you bought your own hype. You think you just love walking because it’s a more relaxing way to journey 13.1 miles. Oh no, my dear friend. You’ve forgotten all about the arthroscopic surgery recommendation you got from the student health center in college. Remember trying to run off the freshmen 15 weight you gained? You were told that running would require surgery. So you chose walking. And you’ve been walking ever since….”

It was hilarious to have the conversation with my knee. I’d absolutely forgotten all about that minor detail.

So, yeah….walking is a fantastic low-impact option for those who can’t or shouldn’t run.

Half-Marathon #35 - The Fourth Times the Cure

Rahbin Shyne crossing the JetBlue half-marathon finish line for the fourth time in five years.

For some reason, the Long Beach half seemed longer than others. Of course I know it isn’t really longer. Thirteen point one is thirteen point one. It was the long stretch along the bike path with the endless sea of sand between us and the ocean. I finally understand why I had such an unfavorable view.

My first JetBlue half was in 2015 in the midst of major heat wave. Our race was moved up half-an-hour to get marathoners and half-marathoners alike off the course before the sun reached midday. I am not proud to admit this, but I left my two buddies at mile 9. They joined me out of love and friendship and a sense of adventure. I’d started off training for the marathon, so when I dropped down to the half, I can see why they didn’t see training as imperative. Their pace meant more time on the pavement, more time on my feet and more time next to the heat bouncing off the sea of light beige sand. I kicked my pace into high gear and was off. Although this was the race that made me fall madly in love with the 13.1 distance, it was miserably hot and seemed endlessly long.

She’s thinking “Look at that stride!” Rahbin Shyne strolls past mile 11.

Memories of the 2015 JetBlue Half were with me for the second walking in 2016. It came and went uneventfully. It was the 2017 race that sealed my negative impressions of the Long Beach half. And it was entirely my fault. I ordered two pairs of my favorite New Balance because the model was discontinued. Two pairs a half-size too small. I ordered two pairs at once because I’d completed worn down the old ones. When race day came, it was a choice between tread-thin perfect fit and the “slightly tight” new ones. I’d worn them a few times…for three miles or so. Please don’t waste time asking me how it is I chose to wear too small shoes for a 13.1 mile race. It wasn’t until mile 4 that I realized just how bad it was going to be. I had to choose between quitting and sticking it out another 9.1 miles. I figured I already knew how much it was going to hurt, might as will stick it out.

I crossed the finish line and vowed never again JetBlue half! I skipped the race in 2018.

Image from https://averageocrunner.com/half-marathon-long-beach-ca-2018/

I returned in 2019. It was the challenge medal that got me. I’d completed the Surf City and OC Half-Marathons that year. All I had to do was complete the Long Beach half and I’d get the chunky-hunky glam Beach Cities Challenger Medal.

Rahbin Shyne somewhere around Shoreline Village.

After that race, I realized the Long Beach Half isn’t that bad on a pleasant day in shoes that fit.

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.

Half-Marathon #29 on The Strip at RocknRoll Las Vegas

In the post-race rush following finishing the Temecula Diva Half-Marathon in February, Donna says, “I want to do one of the Rock n Roll half-marathons.” We settle on Rock N Roll Las Vegas over the Veteran’s Day weekend.

One by one, four drops to two. Donna (far right, below) registers and books her flight. I didn’t. I was waiting to for certainty that two wouldn’t become one.

I’m not a fan of Vegas. I was. Once. Okay, lots. In my early twenties, there was the all-night partying with college friends. A late twenties romantic excursion. In my thirties and forties, a mix of multiple trips—family, friends, romance and Donna’s bachelorette party. The latter a source of gratitude that “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.”

Come October, Donna’s still in. Rock n Roll Las Vegas is happening. As I register, I see the option to buy race insurance. Yes, there’s even insurance on race registrations. I wish I’d thought of it. Add a few bucks to your $130 registration in case you can’t or don’t make it to the race. It seems like a sucker’s purchase, so I never buy it.

Five hours after I register, Donna calls with exciting news. She’s was just offered an opportunity to go to a conference in Botswana as a VIP. Now, there was one.

I wanted to cancel. An evening race on Veteran’s Day weekend. It was going to be worth the drive to hang out with my BFF and laugh all weekend. Now, the idea of being stuck in holiday traffic for an evening race in a city that I’ve outgrown was entirely unappealing. Except, I didn’t buy the insurance. Though it would cost me more to make the trip than simply flush away the registration, it was the principle of it all.

I waited till late evening and drove without a hint of traffic to Las Vegas from the Southern California. Slept-in and then off on the adventure of parking and picking up my race bib. And it was worth it!

Every visit I’ve ever taken to Las Vegas has included walking along the Las Vegas Strip. Dozens of walks along the busy, gorgeous, lights-flashing strip. They close down the entire strip at night for the Rock n Roll Las Vegas full- and half-marathon. Granted, they close it down in the morning for the Veteran’s Day Parade. Meaning, they get two events from the same street closure. There were over 40,000 people participating in the full or half-marathon—buying meals, snacks, renting rooms, some gambling, some watching shows. It’s a good move for Vegas.

It was around mile five when I let it fully sink in that I was walking in the middle of one of the most iconic roads in America. Movies like Casino, Leaving Las Vegas, the Oceans 11 franchise and on and on. A road whose pavement was tread by people from all over the planet, celebrities of every ilk.

The course passes Wynn, Luxor, Bellagio, the Stratosphere, Circus Circus, etc. It keeps going through the seedier areas. There are barricades and plenty of security who have cleared the streets of the people who normally populate the sidewalks in front of the pawn shops, liquor stores and motels that folks shelling out $130 for the privilege of walking 13.1 miles never visit.

There’s a quick view of old downtown and Fremont street before a return through the less lit strip en route back to the finish in front of the Mirage.

As a half-marathon walker, I’m used to being at the tail end of the participants. By the time I was heading back to the well lit part of strip, a few of the colorful regulars were slowly settling back into their usual places.

I heard an aged and weathered woman wrapped in layers repeat from the sidewalk, “You all runnin’ through here. You pretendin’ you don’t see. You pretendin’ you don’t see. Keep on running…”

Half-Marathon #28 "Good Deeds" at Lexus Laceup in Ventura

First, there was the weird roundabout route to the Ventura Fairgrounds parking. Then there was the quarter-mile long slow, winding drive to the parking entrance. All the slower as participants discovered, car by car, that attendants were collecting a $5 parking fee. That the there was a parking fee surprised lots of us. There weren’t even signs ahead of the attendants to allow those with cash on hand to prepare for the request.

Finally, my turn to learn. I was cashless. All I want after a race are the free salty snacks and sips of the free beer and a slow back to the car that will take me to any decent coffee chain. The parking attendant directed me to an ATM a couple hundred feet away. Did she really expect me to drive in the opposite direction of the shuttles, withdraw $20 at a cost of $26 thanks to bank fees on both ends, while the shuttles to the drop-off point were beginning to drive away? Fortunately, she did not. She reluctantly waved me through.

There was a short wait for the next set of shuttles. I’m first on board the rented yellow school bus and sit directly behind the driver. A couple hundred feet into the drive he announces, he doesn’t know the route and can’t use a navigation tool. He asks someone to help by looking up the address and directing him from our phone. The bus is abuzz with friends and partners and groups chatting up their race day breakfast, race day preparations, bib mishaps and so on. It seemed no one heard, or wanted to hear.

Had I sat even one seat further back, I doubt the sense of obligation would have fallen over me like a cloud. It did. I offered to help.

The elderly driver handed me a paper and said, “Here’s the address.” And so began my rediscovery that no good deed goes unpunished.

I type it in, touch “maps” and the haughty female voice begins telling us where to go. All was well for the first couple miles. Then the all-wise navigation system tells us to turn right onto a two-lane windy road. That’s when the first irritating voice wondered aloud if we were going the right way. “Is someone giving directions.”

I reply yes. What I wanted to say was “Yes, since no one else seemed to care.” Two gentlemen one seat back and across the aisle stepped in. They gave a reassuring “She’s got it” referring to me. I could hear the “We got your back” in the background and was grateful. Not that I looked back to say so.

A few more miles down the windy road and now an ominous quiet descends upon the riders several rows behind me. “We’re not going the right way” says one female who is now standing and leaned over her seat. I turn to the two gentlemen now, show them the google maps app is on and working and then flash a partly-pleading and, more so, irritating look their way. They stay quiet as a form of support, giving no credence to the increasing cluster of concern arising from the ancy folks in the back.

For my part, I was indeed irritated. I didn’t want to navigate in the first place. Now, these back-seaters are questioning my ability to type in an address and follow step-by-step directions. My basic intelligence was on the line. You can imagine how this went down.

I was right. We were headed to the destination I typed in. They were right. We were headed to the wrong drop-off spot. The driver handed me a paper with address for the full marathon in view. It was dark when we headed off at 6am. Neither the driver nor I saw the words “full marathon” at the top of the page. We went a couple miles further than needed.

Here’s the kicker. As I fumbled to turn off the navigation voice emanating from my phone, the driver now found the haughty female voice so distracting, he griped "Turn that thing off!” An old man scolding the good-deed-girl after he invited me into the mess in the first place. Not to mention he’s the one who gave me the bad address.

About a mile into the race, the two gentlemen who supported me through it all by not joining the mob, jogged by me. I don’t recall exactly what they said. I just remember saying “No good deed…” as they pulled away.

____________

Race Review: The Lexus Laceup in Ventura is a great course. Due to the location, a set apart path that hugs San Antonio creek, cheering locals are mainly cluster near the aid stations until the last couple miles in the city of Ventura proper. The volunteers are friendly and accommodating. The aid stations are well-placed and plentiful. Port-o-potties are adequately placed along the course. This is one of the few courses I’d gladly repeat

Half-Marathon #25 All For One and One For all in Reno, NV

I arrived at the race just as the start countdown began. Straight to the Reno Half Marathon registration table. Less than a minute to put on my bib and cross the start line. All I saw in the distance, about a quarter mile ahead were a pair of hot pink socks belonging to one of the only other walkers in the race.

The goal was simple. Keep my eye on the hot pink socks. Close the gap. Hold my pace. Except the gap never closed. It didn’t get any larger, it just didn’t close. It takes me a few miles to warm up, so as usual, I began to catch up as we passed mile four. By mile five, after making good time on a couple inclines, we were together and chatting.

Cathy and Annette are veteran racers. Each has completed as least one marathon along with several other races. Annette is the big heavy, preparing for her next ultra-marathon. I was impressed by their steady walk. They never jogged. Never broke pace.

With my quickened pace in gear, I considered passing them and doing my solo thing. Instead, fortuitously, a nature call took me off stride and the gap returned. I caught up again within a mile and decided to stick around for the conversation.

Some races are about my time or my mood. This race was about being part of the larger race community.

Since we were the clean-up crew in a race of runners and joggers, each time we passed a group of officers at an intersection we’d let them know we were it and they were free to go. There was a “Thank you for your service,” from one, two or all of us each time.

A few of the officers got a kick out of the way we walked it in. We weren’t in a rush. We weren’t struggling, either. Just doing our thing, keeping our pace, walking our race. We noticed one motorcycle officer stayed behind us around mile eight, like an escort. Then a couple more joined in. We walked the last three miles with a full-on police escort.

When a car would assume the race was over and ignore the orange cones, heading in our direction, a motorcycle officer would pull in front of us and head them off. In one case, he had to exclaim “No” loudly and authoritatively several times while motioning a car to turn around. Once the car did so, he headed back our way with a wide grin, “I got your back, ladies.” It was super cute and very sweet. At times we took childlike pleasure in pretending we were super special walking streets cleared up traffic with up to three motorcycle cops there to keep us safe.

One of the things we racers love about half-marathons, marathons and so on is the camaraderie. It extends to the many volunteers, the safety personnel, officers and organizers. Everyone is there to make it a great experience. The community is as addictive as the sense of accomplishment each race brings.

Half-Marathon #24 "You Got This" at the Los Angeles Marathon

"You got this!" This is the most oft repeated encouragement from standers-by. I love it for it's simplicity and wide applicability. It doesn't matter if you are walking, jogging or running your heart out. Doesn't matter if you are at the front of the pack or at the back. "You got this!" warms the marathoner's soul whether it is heard once or hundreds of times in a race.

Then there's the "Keep running." Also encouraging. Unless you're walking. "Don't give up!" I'm not even considering it. I'm just walking my way to the finish line.

Today's half-marathon within the larger Los Angeles Marathon provided me a new experience and greater appreciation for the impact of these cheers on runners. As an avid walk/jog half-marathoner, I never genuinely doubt that I will finish. I get in my head like everyone else. There are moments I question why I keep doing these. My most common internal hater commentary goes like this: "Why are you even concerned with your time? Go as slow as you want. You just need to finish, quit pushing!"

The Los Angeles Marathon was a brand new experience. It does not include an open-registration for half-marathon participants. It's a full-on marathon that allows a handful of charities to offer half-marathon slots to increase fund-raising opportunities. I ran with a World Vision Team. Some of the charity-entry participants start at Dodger Stadium and end in West Hollywood. The others start in West Hollywood and end at the Santa Monica finish. I was in the latter group.

There were, at most, a few hundred of us joining the marathoners at their halfway point. Plus our segment of the race was either flat or downhill. I was surrounded by folks committed to achieving a good runner's time. Not to mention, our start time put us in the race with the average runner, not walker. It pumped me up. I took on a quest for a personal record (PR). 

The cheerers understandably assumed everyone participating started at Dodger Stadium and, in this part of the pack, had a shot at completing the full marathon in under four hours. A pretty good time for the non-competitive marathoner.

I'd jog a little then transition to a  fast walk. Streetside supporters would yell, "Go runners!" "Don't stop running." "You can do this!" In each of my prior twenty-three races, it was either only half-marathoners or the marathoners were on a separate route for the bulk of the distance. This time, I wasn't passing any slower walkers. I was only being passed by runners. Their passion and the enthusiasm of their supporters was contagious.

I caught the runner's high and the runner's joy off-and-on throughout the race. I jogged nearly all of the last mile. It was exciting. Hundreds, though it felt like thousands of spectators, lined the railing as we headed to the finish. They were relentless in their encouragement to run it the rest of the way in. It felt great. I experienced a tunnel-vision focus on the finish line for an entire half-mile, only hearing their cheers, feeling their faith in every person wearing a bid.

Me (Rahbin Shyne) and other half-marathoners warming up, waiting to join the LA Marathon at the half-way point in West Hollywood.

At the end, though, even before confirming officially that my time was not a PR, I knew that I preferred walking. When I jogged down rodeo drive, I didn't enjoy the experience of being there. I was too focused on how many minutes I had to get to the next mile to stay on pace. It was only miles twenty-two to twenty-four that I had time to take in the sights. By mile twenty-two, I knew a PR was unlikely.

To the cheerers, supporters and community members, you make a HUGE difference. Thank you!! While I might personally love it if you didn't say, "keep running" to those of us who choose to walk, I don't dare begrudge a runner the chance to hear you lift them back into their pace with your words of love.

See you on the path.

Half-Marathon #21 - Operation Jack Virtual Half Marathon

Your city. Your race.

While other folks were taking advantage of after-Christmas sales or enjoying a third helping of Christmas leftovers, I was completing my twenty-first half marathon. Operation Jack benefits Talk About Curing Autism. Sure, I’m a half-marathon fanatic, but that’s not the only reason to race the day after Christmas. I wanted my challenge* medal.

Virtual races are a cool option if you can’t make it to the actual event. I was up till 2am Christmas Day and appreciated the option to skip waking up at 6:30am to get to a 7:30am race. That said, virtual races are a unique experience and one I wouldn’t recommend to anyone who hasn’t completed at least five, preferably ten, actual races.

Bolsa Chica Wetlands

Pluses

• You pick your race time. Expect to complete the race on the same day of the regular race. Beyond that, you are in control of when you start. Most virtual races do not require that you start at the exact same time as the regular race.

• You choose the location. I completed a virtual half marathon in July, 2017. One of the places I enjoy walking on hot summer days is the Bolsa Chica Nature Preserve along the coast. The Shoreline Half Marathon was smack in the middle of a heat wave. I chose a favorite location, starting at the cooler part of the early evening and finishing just as bonfires were lighting up at Bolsa Chica beach. It was a beautiful walk.

• You get all the swag and the finishers medal.

Minuses

• You’re on your own. At regular races, the organizers provide water, electrolyte drinks and port-o-pots along the route. With virtual races, you bring what you need and plan out locations for nature calls in advance.

• You are your own medical support. By the time you’ve completed five or more races, you know how much training you need to complete the race without any difficulty. This is important. Actual races will generally have paramedics on stand-by. They are ready to transport anyone who can’t finish the race to the finish line. See the recommendations below to keep safe.

• There are no volunteers cheering you along. Wait till you’ve completed several races and built the mental endurance to complete a half-marathon.

• Finisher medals are at the official finish line. Virtual racers receive their swag in the mail. Many race organizers are busy people with full-time jobs and regular lives. Don’t expect that your medal and swag will get dropped in the mail the moment you confirm that you’ve finished the race distance via email.

Recommendations

o   Plan your route. Google pedometer makes it pretty easy.

o   Use a pedometer app to track your distance. Double-check that you’ve enabled the location service on your phone for accurate tracking. Even if you plan your route, your app will allow you to make on-the-spot adjustments if you need to take a detour or alter your plan and still meet your distance.

o   Share your plans with someone. Most races require you to provide the name of an emergency contact. Since you’ll be racing on your own, let at least one person know your start time, route and expected finish time. Let the person know the latest time you’ll call to either report that you finished your race or to adjust your finish time.

o   By your fifth actual race, you’ll know whether you need a mid-race bar or energy gel to keep you moving. Bring everything you need to finish with you. Roo Sport is my favorite race pack. It’s less bulky than a fanny pack and has plenty of compartments for phone, keys and a gel or two.

o   Identify locations of public restrooms at least every couple miles.

o   Have a back-up ride. No matter how well you plan and train, life can throw you a curve. Have your Uber or Lyft ready to roll or a friend on stand-by. Hopefully, you’ll never need it.

o   Be safe. Race organizers plan their routes and staff them with volunteers. I’ve walked very small races in natural settings where I was out-of-sight of others for a quarter-mile or more. Still, I felt very safe because there were organizers on golf carts along the route and I knew someone would come find me if I didn’t make it to the finish line. Choose a safe route with little potential for surprises during daylight hours.

Walk That Half!

Visit calhalfseries.com for more information.

*For those of us participating in the California Half and Full Marathon Series Challenge, it was the last race of the year to complete and pick-up challenge medals. This series includes a few dozen races in both Southern and Northern California. In addition to the usual finisher’s medal, anyone completing 4, 7, 10, 15 or 20 races from the list of included races earn an additional challenge medal. The catch is that you can only pick up the challenge medals at one of four races at year’s end—two in Southern California, two in Northern California. Operation Jack is the absolute last medal race.

Half-Marathon #17 Overcoming Disappointment at the jetBlue Long Beach Half

Feelings are an inconvenience. I didn't feel like finding parking. I didn't feel like walking. Just not at all in the mood to walk 13.1 miles.

In retrospect, I know when my mood shifted. It was after picking up my bib at the Expo the day before. When you hit your third race in the JetBlue Half Marathon you are bestowed Beach Bum Club membership.

Upon registration I was informed I was special, eligible for Beach Bum Club membership. I love being special. What would I get for my prestigious inclusion? I fantasized getting a special greeting area with fanciful samples of something or other. Certainly, a special post-race space with sanctified water, banana pieces dipped in chocolate and fruit slices in the shape of flowers or simple animals. Membership has its privileges.

As I fast-walk through the Expo in search of the special door, I can't find it. I ask one of the lovely and helpful volunteers. "Over there. In the back corner." I see it and make a B-line straight over.

Just as I would expect, there are only a few people there. Funny, though. All I see are a few tables with a couple volunteers engaged in quiet conversation. There are no mimosas in sight. Another wonderful volunteer asks for my bib number and confirms that I belong.  She directs me to two chatting young ladies.

"Ah, what size are you? We are kinda out of some sizes." 

"What size do you have?"

Turns out the largest size they have is medium. I require a large and take the thin medium no-frills Caribbean blue t-shirt. I walk over to a slightly older volunteer sitting by herself near the entrance to the fenced in Beach Bum Club area.

"Are there any other perks besides the t-shirt."

"No." She adds a note of shouldn't you be grateful to, "You get a free t-shirt."

I walked off thinking, "Not even a negotiated $1 off a post-race beer?" I expected something special. Joining the Beach Bum Club had zero to do with my third registration. I wasn't looking for it until I told was a member.

The loss of something I didn't expect or care about, something I built up from a mountain of self-glorifying expectation, created a disappointed that carried over until the following morning. I even arrived late to the race.

By mile 12 I got over it. The JetBlue Long Beach Half Marathon was my very first half. In three short years it is seventeenth overall half. Smiles all around. The only feeling I have at the end of the race is satisfaction.

Half-Marathon #16: Arrogance and Integrity at Valley of the Flowers Half Marathon

With 15 half-marathons behind me, all I do is watch out for the "challenging" races. My attitude for everything else: "How hard can it be?" Arrogance was the only extra training I brought to the Valley of the Flowers race.

The paragraph long description of the race included the sentence: "The course is hilly and very scenic with majestic views of the Lompoc Valley and the La Purisma Mission." It didn't say "mountainous." It didn't say "challenging climbs." It said "hilly." Sure, this picture was included on the information page. I assumed it was to show the location's beautiful backdrop.

That aqua area is actually a steady 175 foot climb up a "hill" in just over 4 miles and a descent back down in about a half-mile. When I arrived at the base of the aqua loop, I was ecstatic. My first climb, even if unanticipated. It was beautiful. I even pulled out my phone to capture a Facebook Live moment of me twirling atop. "This is a great course!" I said to the pair of encouraging volunteers I passed at the hill's bottom. "You're the most enthusiastic person out here," one of the volunteers replied.

As I walked off to complete the last 5 something miles of the race, I wondered why. It only took a few hundred feet to find out. A volunteer who's job it was to make sure racers crossed at the straight pink line at the bottom of the route map said, "Just one big ol' hill and you're done."

Boy was I irritated as I found myself on the same lap I'd taken twice earlier. She'd made me anxious for no good reason. As I assured myself she was just pulling my chain, another part of my brain started doing math. Finishing the same lap around the basin would leave me a couple miles short. There had to be a turn somewhere. I gladly reasoned it was probably out into some hitherto unseen valley. I didn't bother paying attention to the route in advance. How hard could it be? 

It wasn't until mile nine that I encountered the turn up a hill. The trail wound about. Two hours in, it was hotter at 10am than it was when the race started. It was at the turn a bit into mile 10 that the steep final ascent toward the water towers became clear. Or so I thought. There's one last leg directly up to the water tower. The steepest part of the race.

My integrity was given a good run approaching mile 10 all the way to the top. That big ol' hill included a steep 23 story climb in just over a mile. The last of the runners would pass me as they headed down the mountain. Each time one of the last of the runners passed me with a variation of "That was hard!" on their tired faces, I would say to myself, "If she went all the way to the top, I can." "If he can, I can." "If she did, I will." Oh, arrogant pride.

It intensified my sense of integrity. Let me be fully frank about it:  I heard a small voice suggest turning around when I was alone on a long stretches of the path with no one in sight. "Who would know?" I would know.

My commitment to arrogance is incompatible with cheating, quitting or cutting a corner.

Winning might be hard on the body, but stopping short of personal victory is even harder on the soul.

This elevation map courtesy of halfmarathons.net.