Andy's alarm went off at 5:00am and after some mild panicking about whether or not I remembered everything I needed, we caught the bus at around 5:30am and made it to the Embacadero at 5:45am. The sun was barely started to show over the bay and the plaza was streaming with runners and families. As the announcer shouted through his mike to rile up wave 4, I nervously handed off my bag and headed over to my own wave. I remember walking over the cobblestone road and hoping that I wouldn't trip and sprain my ankle before the race even started. I finally got corralled into my wave area but lo behold, I had forgotten my shoe tracker in my bag. Yes, that would happen to me. I quickly jogged back, grabbed the tracker from my bag and then raced back, hoping that the gate hadn't shut.
Soon after, everyone began shuffling to the start line. I crossed the line in the middle of the golden hour and I remember looking behind me and thinking that the view of the sun rising through SF-Oakland Bay Bridge was one of the most beautiful sights I've ever seen. (Damn my phone for being broken.)
My "strategy" for the race, aka something I overheard other runners joke about was "first half - make it to the bridge, second half - finish the bridge and do the rest of the marathon". The Golden Gate started at mile 5 and in my mind, that was totally do-able.. ish.
The first thing that I noticed was that there were almost no spectators. I remember running LA and even though it was six in the morning, there were people standing in Little Tokyo and Chinatown, cheering on the runners. SF was completely quiet, even though we were running along the wharf and all it's little shops. Just the sound of hundreds pairs of feet hitting the ground around me and some small chatter to keep me company. I had realized right before I started that my ipod was at very low battery from being used on the drive up to SF.... (rookie mistake!)
Miles passed by and before I knew it, I was at the golden gate. Wow. What a beauty. Cars were honking as they passed by and once again, I cursed my malfunctioning phone. As runners coming off of the bridge ran past, I remember telling myself that soon, I would be on their side of the street as well. The bridge seemed to go on for forever but as I hit the turnaround, I was ecstatic to see that there was a water/electrolyte and energy gel station at the turn. (Side note: This was also where I found SF lacking. LA had stations at practically every mile but SF had them every 2-3 miles. Hellooooo, we runners need water! I can't exactly drink my own sweat here. Rant over.) I took a minute to call my mom to tell her that I was on the bridge and then off again I went, stuffing a few gel packs in my marathon belt. (In my morning rush, I had forgotten my energy gels in the apartment. Rookie mistake #2!) As I began the journey back across the bridge, I scanned the oncoming traffic of runners for George because I knew he was in the wave after me and probably wasn't too far behind me. I found him within a few minutes and as he passed, gave him a hug and pushed on.
Surprisingly, I was still going and somehow, was able to keep my mind off of my growing groin pain. At mile 11, I met what I thought was the prettiest view of the entire marathon. The clouds had come in and created a nice overcast so the lighting wasn't too harsh. I rounded this corner and the view literally took my breath away. On the right was the bay and the road in front of me sloped down into what looked like a picture out of a book about Italy's coast towns.
Soon afterwards, I hit the Golden Gate Park. Hands down worst part of the race. MY GOD, it went on for years. It probably didn't help that our route ended up next to the finish line for the 1st half marathon and merged with the 2nd half marathon start line. I just wanted to strangle all those runners who were finishing or had fresh faces and big hopes for finishing their half marathon. Meanwhile, I half-limped my way through the mini hills. I don't think I've ever hated forest as much as I did during this marathon.
Looking back, there was only one reason why I finished this marathon and it was the 2:45 pacer for the 2nd half of the marathon. Sadly, I never got her name and she isn't on the official pacer list but she saved my life. At around mile 16-18, she and I played cat and mouse: I would run past her, then she would pass me when my groin muscle forced me to walk. Eventually at mile 18, I just said "screw it" and told her I'd stay with her because although I would have liked to think that I could run faster than 2:45, I probably wouldn't have.
From my experience with the LA marathon, miles 20-25 were the worst. You're completely exhausted and you've already run 20 miles but you still have six more. SIX. But with my new running partner, we laughed and joked all the way through the last stretch. Crossing that finish line was the most satisfying thing I've done in a long time. And now I have two shiny medals. Lo behold:
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