Race Report - Salinas Valley Half Marathon 2017
I chose two half marathons this year for my summer and fall races. I'm between the two now, tweaking my training plan and getting ready for the Folsom Blues Breakout Race in October after finishing the Salinas Valley Half in August.
Each year, The Husband and I try to find an interesting destination race for our anniversary month in August. This year's choice was the Salinas Valley Half because of it's proximity to the beautiful town of Monterey, California and because the race was affordable and well advertised. We arrived on Friday morning in Monterey and checked into the Monterey Marriott which had a terrific location close to the wharf area. The hotel was clean and the staff was very accommodating and welcoming. They had a lovely complimentary wine tasting and taco pairing in the evening and they helped my husband find a nearby florist for an elegant orchid as an anniversary gift.
We set out early Friday evening to walk the wharf area and see the sights. We ended up walking some of the pier, which we found was a bit of a carnival atmosphere with restaurant vendors hawking their food specials as we walked by. We wandered a bit farther up the street to Cannery Row and discovered The Fish Hopper with it's large bar and expansive view of the bay. We ordered some snacks off their happy hour menu and a Zombie cocktail for me, which as far as I can tell is just a Mai Tai they've lit on fire. The effect is nice, the drink was delicious and the snacks were just the perfect amount for the evening.
We wandered back to the hotel, noticing my Garmin was showing some 18,000 steps for the day (not my goal the day before a half marathon), and decided to call it a night. We had to be up at 4:30am to get ourselves out the door and down the road to the starting line in the morning. The downside to staying overnight before the Salinas Valley Half is that you have to stay in Monterey, but the drive in the morning is about an hour to the starting line. By the time you're up, dressed, gathered your stuff for the day, stumbled downstairs to find a cup of coffee and get your car from the valet, you're already sweating about being late.
So my GPS took us the direction that equated to the least mileage, although I doubt it was the quickest route. We ended up driving through the Salinas Valley and basically touring the course backwards. Thank goodness we were early because we were clearing the checkpoints as they were setting up and hadn't closed the course yet!
The race organizers had the parking lot, which was a plowed agricultural field, all marked and ready for us when we arrived. It was about 1/4 mile to the starting line so we left our car and wandered down the road for our bibs. I was looking well coordinated in my Fired Up Capris from Moms Run This Town and my turquoise Run Heart tank from Gone For a Run and it was a new experience to have women stop and tell me how much they loved my outfit. That simply doesn't happen to me because I'm not that into my clothing choices! So shout out to our mother hen, Pam Burrus, for selecting cool capris colors because Lord knows I can't take credit.
On to the race: My main goal with every half marathon is to run the entire thing, with quick water stops but no long stretches of walking. So I chose a 10:00 pace as my average goal because I can run at 10 without getting out of breath or even having to breath out of my mouth. I know if I'm breathing through my nose and easily having conversations that I am conserving energy and feeling relaxed. My time to beat is 2:19, so a 10 minute pace would improve on that in a meaningful way but not a blow-the-doors-off way.
The course is flat, without any shade and with sweeping views of the farms and wineries that line the roadways. This is California agricultural country at its finest. We were on a two lane road dotted with farm houses and small tasting rooms, with a foggy coastal marine layer overhead for the first hour to keep the temperatures moderate. Coming from the sweltering heat of the Sacramento area, this weather felt amazing!
We decided to hang with the pacers in the 10:00 minute group because we figured we couldn't lose track of our pace and these runners are familiar with the course and the race history so they always have positive attitudes and fun stories to entertain with along the way. There were aide stations with electrolyes and water that were well run, well stocked, and well spaced. I chose electrolytes at each stop because I have stomach that tolerates that well and because I tend to get my electrolytes low easily. We passed a person dancing in a t-rex suit, we sampled the most amazing strawberries at one of the stations, and we were feeling relaxed and having a good time. Until we hit an hour and forty five minutes.
At 1:45 in, The Husband looks at his watch and confessed that this calves are tightening up and he's just feeling tired. "I'm usually done by now," he says, not realizing what an insult that is to my slowness. We've got about 2.5 miles left in this race, roughly 25 minutes, and I'm on track for my PR at around 2:10. Yet he's starting to feel wear and tear from being on his feet so long. I'm still feeling groovy, maybe tightening up a little, but I'm honestly riding high and looking forward to a PR.
So I encourage him to go on ahead and finish the race. It's only 2.5 miles and I'll likely see him most of the way, if not all the way through because the views are expansive and the road is straight. That's when stupidity popped in and hit me upside the head.
Off he goes, with his faster turnover and his quickness. And (here's stupidity talking) I decide maybe I'll pick up the pace a bit so he will be impressed that I'm so close at the finish. I know I won't stay with him, because he's running 8:00-8:30 pace, but I can pick my 10 up and shoot for a 9:30 pace for the last 2 miles. And here's the other thing: I'm not great at judging pace, despite my Garmin. Unless I'm running along staring at the watch, I don't "feel" what the pace is. So I'm zipping along at more like 9:00, which again -stupid -and he's pulling ahead and I'm okay with that but also imagining staying with him a little. He gets 1/4 mile ahead and turns around to check on me and I already know I've just screwed myself. My left knee, my barometer of how it's going, is tightening up. I feel this tightness like a slow freeze that starts in the calf, begins rusting in my knee, and spreads up through my hip. And it's coming for me. He turns around to wave, to see if it's really okay for him to zip ahead, and I just smile and wave. He turns back around, satisfied and proud of me, and continues forward.
And I make it another 200 steps before lightning strikes my knee and I nearly fall to the ground. Oh My God! What is THAT?! I hop around on my right foot for a second, afraid to even take a step on the left, until it calms down. Carefully, I put weight on it. Seems okay. Take a few walking steps, no problem. So I start walking. I've got just under 2 miles left. I've padded my PR by nearly 10 minutes and I'm 1/2 mile ahead of the pace group I was hanging with. Maybe it will wear off if I just walk it out. So I'm walking.
No, I'm POWER WALKING like a granny in the mall at 6am. I'm walking a 13:45 pace, which is really just under a run. I'm rotating my hips, digging in with my feet, pushing off with every step, my arms are pumping and my heart rate is actually climbing higher than it was running at my 10 minute pace. I get another 1/4 mile ahead and decide that this is just crazy that I can walk with such intensity but I can't run. It's got to be all in my head, I tell myself. So I start running and make it approximately 4 steps before lightning strikes again and I can't even put weight on it for a full 30 seconds.
The pace group cruises by, shouting out an encouraging "come on, Sacramento, you got this" as they pass. They've seen me floundering, hopping on the side of the road. They know it's not good, but they also know I'm nearly there.
So I'm walking in. I'm pissed. I'm muttering curses under my breath and trying not to look like a poor sport, but I'm pissed. I'm walking as fast as I possibly can, 13:45 for a mile and a half. And the clock is just ticking away. It's like one of those dreams where you're trying to get away from something but your legs don't work and everything is in slow motion. That's me, living a slow motion nightmare.
Around the final bend and through the chute, I look like a perfectly fit, uninjured, POWER WALKER! My husband is at the end, looking at me like I've lost my mind. Like I've just decided maybe that last mile I'll toss my aspirations of a PR and walk for fun. Final time: 2:21:11. I've missed my PR by a minute and a half. There's a black storm cloud hanging over my head and I'm just ruminating in my failure.
The medal for the race is a wine bottle stopper that is nice and different from my other medals, and I've even used it in my wine. The after party included an average barbecue and not enough beer for an extra $10 each that I'd skip next time. The husband reports that he's likely pulled his calf muscle because it hurts like hell and he's mad that the busses are a half mile walk from the finish line. He's not sure whether to blame my slowness for his injury, or his late-in-the-race quickness. Somewhere in his mind he's convinced himself that the trick is to just run these things faster so you've got less time on your feet. I don't know why I didn't think of that: I should JUST RUN FASTER!
It took me a few hours post race before I started thinking rationally again. My optimism slipped a bit post race, but it always finds its way back to me. I missed my PR by a minute and a half. And I walked 2-2.5 miles of the course. That's actually not that far off from success. I'd say it's a setback and a window to some insight on a problem more than a failure. If I can figure out the fatigue happening in my leg, I can get that PR next time. If I can strengthen, if I can work on my pace, if I can maybe do some extra speed work, I can get there.
On the car ride home, I made a modified Hal Higdon Advanced Half Marathon training plan. I'm not a beginner anymore. I'm a scooch beyond intermediate, but I'm not into the advanced territory. So I figured I'd take the intermediate plan and jack it up a little. And I'm following it about 70% of the time. Because life.
Each year, The Husband and I try to find an interesting destination race for our anniversary month in August. This year's choice was the Salinas Valley Half because of it's proximity to the beautiful town of Monterey, California and because the race was affordable and well advertised. We arrived on Friday morning in Monterey and checked into the Monterey Marriott which had a terrific location close to the wharf area. The hotel was clean and the staff was very accommodating and welcoming. They had a lovely complimentary wine tasting and taco pairing in the evening and they helped my husband find a nearby florist for an elegant orchid as an anniversary gift.
We set out early Friday evening to walk the wharf area and see the sights. We ended up walking some of the pier, which we found was a bit of a carnival atmosphere with restaurant vendors hawking their food specials as we walked by. We wandered a bit farther up the street to Cannery Row and discovered The Fish Hopper with it's large bar and expansive view of the bay. We ordered some snacks off their happy hour menu and a Zombie cocktail for me, which as far as I can tell is just a Mai Tai they've lit on fire. The effect is nice, the drink was delicious and the snacks were just the perfect amount for the evening.
We wandered back to the hotel, noticing my Garmin was showing some 18,000 steps for the day (not my goal the day before a half marathon), and decided to call it a night. We had to be up at 4:30am to get ourselves out the door and down the road to the starting line in the morning. The downside to staying overnight before the Salinas Valley Half is that you have to stay in Monterey, but the drive in the morning is about an hour to the starting line. By the time you're up, dressed, gathered your stuff for the day, stumbled downstairs to find a cup of coffee and get your car from the valet, you're already sweating about being late.
So my GPS took us the direction that equated to the least mileage, although I doubt it was the quickest route. We ended up driving through the Salinas Valley and basically touring the course backwards. Thank goodness we were early because we were clearing the checkpoints as they were setting up and hadn't closed the course yet!
The race organizers had the parking lot, which was a plowed agricultural field, all marked and ready for us when we arrived. It was about 1/4 mile to the starting line so we left our car and wandered down the road for our bibs. I was looking well coordinated in my Fired Up Capris from Moms Run This Town and my turquoise Run Heart tank from Gone For a Run and it was a new experience to have women stop and tell me how much they loved my outfit. That simply doesn't happen to me because I'm not that into my clothing choices! So shout out to our mother hen, Pam Burrus, for selecting cool capris colors because Lord knows I can't take credit.
On to the race: My main goal with every half marathon is to run the entire thing, with quick water stops but no long stretches of walking. So I chose a 10:00 pace as my average goal because I can run at 10 without getting out of breath or even having to breath out of my mouth. I know if I'm breathing through my nose and easily having conversations that I am conserving energy and feeling relaxed. My time to beat is 2:19, so a 10 minute pace would improve on that in a meaningful way but not a blow-the-doors-off way.
The course is flat, without any shade and with sweeping views of the farms and wineries that line the roadways. This is California agricultural country at its finest. We were on a two lane road dotted with farm houses and small tasting rooms, with a foggy coastal marine layer overhead for the first hour to keep the temperatures moderate. Coming from the sweltering heat of the Sacramento area, this weather felt amazing!
We decided to hang with the pacers in the 10:00 minute group because we figured we couldn't lose track of our pace and these runners are familiar with the course and the race history so they always have positive attitudes and fun stories to entertain with along the way. There were aide stations with electrolyes and water that were well run, well stocked, and well spaced. I chose electrolytes at each stop because I have stomach that tolerates that well and because I tend to get my electrolytes low easily. We passed a person dancing in a t-rex suit, we sampled the most amazing strawberries at one of the stations, and we were feeling relaxed and having a good time. Until we hit an hour and forty five minutes.
At 1:45 in, The Husband looks at his watch and confessed that this calves are tightening up and he's just feeling tired. "I'm usually done by now," he says, not realizing what an insult that is to my slowness. We've got about 2.5 miles left in this race, roughly 25 minutes, and I'm on track for my PR at around 2:10. Yet he's starting to feel wear and tear from being on his feet so long. I'm still feeling groovy, maybe tightening up a little, but I'm honestly riding high and looking forward to a PR.
So I encourage him to go on ahead and finish the race. It's only 2.5 miles and I'll likely see him most of the way, if not all the way through because the views are expansive and the road is straight. That's when stupidity popped in and hit me upside the head.
Off he goes, with his faster turnover and his quickness. And (here's stupidity talking) I decide maybe I'll pick up the pace a bit so he will be impressed that I'm so close at the finish. I know I won't stay with him, because he's running 8:00-8:30 pace, but I can pick my 10 up and shoot for a 9:30 pace for the last 2 miles. And here's the other thing: I'm not great at judging pace, despite my Garmin. Unless I'm running along staring at the watch, I don't "feel" what the pace is. So I'm zipping along at more like 9:00, which again -stupid -and he's pulling ahead and I'm okay with that but also imagining staying with him a little. He gets 1/4 mile ahead and turns around to check on me and I already know I've just screwed myself. My left knee, my barometer of how it's going, is tightening up. I feel this tightness like a slow freeze that starts in the calf, begins rusting in my knee, and spreads up through my hip. And it's coming for me. He turns around to wave, to see if it's really okay for him to zip ahead, and I just smile and wave. He turns back around, satisfied and proud of me, and continues forward.
And I make it another 200 steps before lightning strikes my knee and I nearly fall to the ground. Oh My God! What is THAT?! I hop around on my right foot for a second, afraid to even take a step on the left, until it calms down. Carefully, I put weight on it. Seems okay. Take a few walking steps, no problem. So I start walking. I've got just under 2 miles left. I've padded my PR by nearly 10 minutes and I'm 1/2 mile ahead of the pace group I was hanging with. Maybe it will wear off if I just walk it out. So I'm walking.
No, I'm POWER WALKING like a granny in the mall at 6am. I'm walking a 13:45 pace, which is really just under a run. I'm rotating my hips, digging in with my feet, pushing off with every step, my arms are pumping and my heart rate is actually climbing higher than it was running at my 10 minute pace. I get another 1/4 mile ahead and decide that this is just crazy that I can walk with such intensity but I can't run. It's got to be all in my head, I tell myself. So I start running and make it approximately 4 steps before lightning strikes again and I can't even put weight on it for a full 30 seconds.
The pace group cruises by, shouting out an encouraging "come on, Sacramento, you got this" as they pass. They've seen me floundering, hopping on the side of the road. They know it's not good, but they also know I'm nearly there.
So I'm walking in. I'm pissed. I'm muttering curses under my breath and trying not to look like a poor sport, but I'm pissed. I'm walking as fast as I possibly can, 13:45 for a mile and a half. And the clock is just ticking away. It's like one of those dreams where you're trying to get away from something but your legs don't work and everything is in slow motion. That's me, living a slow motion nightmare.
The medal for the race is a wine bottle stopper that is nice and different from my other medals, and I've even used it in my wine. The after party included an average barbecue and not enough beer for an extra $10 each that I'd skip next time. The husband reports that he's likely pulled his calf muscle because it hurts like hell and he's mad that the busses are a half mile walk from the finish line. He's not sure whether to blame my slowness for his injury, or his late-in-the-race quickness. Somewhere in his mind he's convinced himself that the trick is to just run these things faster so you've got less time on your feet. I don't know why I didn't think of that: I should JUST RUN FASTER!
It took me a few hours post race before I started thinking rationally again. My optimism slipped a bit post race, but it always finds its way back to me. I missed my PR by a minute and a half. And I walked 2-2.5 miles of the course. That's actually not that far off from success. I'd say it's a setback and a window to some insight on a problem more than a failure. If I can figure out the fatigue happening in my leg, I can get that PR next time. If I can strengthen, if I can work on my pace, if I can maybe do some extra speed work, I can get there.
On the car ride home, I made a modified Hal Higdon Advanced Half Marathon training plan. I'm not a beginner anymore. I'm a scooch beyond intermediate, but I'm not into the advanced territory. So I figured I'd take the intermediate plan and jack it up a little. And I'm following it about 70% of the time. Because life.
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