Humboldt Redwoods Half Marathon Race Report 2012

I tossed. I turned.  Matt smacked me in the face.  He stole my pillow.  Visions of the morning’s race swirled through my head.  My heart raced.  Okay, only some of those things are true, but it is pretty safe to say that I got no more than three hours of sleep the night leading up to the Humboldt Redwoods Half, but I was determined to PR or collapse trying.  To sum the entire night up, I’d say I was this: jazzed.

The gun went off and we moved downhill.  Since satellite signal is spotty under the Redwood canopy, I knew I wouldn’t be able to rely on the watch’s pacing, only my mile splits.  But when a few mile markers were in the wrong place, it became even more challenging.  I listened to my own internal cues and just ran comfortably hard.  

The morning fog that settled above the Eel River began to dissipate.  Sunshine broke through the canopy sending great streaks of light across runners ahead of me.  As it felt we were running mostly downhill on the way out, I remembered the run Matt and I did here a few weeks ago: it feels downhill both ways.  Something about those tall trees creating the illusion of downhill, I think.  Two ladies behind me discussed the course, “it is uphill on the way out,” one said.  “No I looked at the course profile, it is definitely uphill on the way back,” the other countered.  

I trailed a local runner that made running tangents look like an art form.  When I did eventually catch up to him at an aid station, he accidentally threw a full cup of water over his shoulder onto me.  I was not amused.  His only apology was, “well, that might make you run a little faster!”  If that was a joke, I wasn’t laughing.  I was just happy it was water.

I decided to keep the first half to a slightly easy feel.  With the excitement of race day, it equated to something much faster than I was accustomed.  After passing Matt on his return trip, I made my own turn-around at about 51:20, well within the target I set for myself.

By mile 8, fatigue was setting in and the same effort predictably yielded slower splits.  With every third mile marker being off, I really had no idea what my pace was, except it was somewhere near the 7:50 range.

Flashes of light danced on the asphalt as the trees swayed in the wind.  I remembered what this race felt like last year.  I didn’t enjoy any of the scenery because I was in such misery.  Proper pacing, something I need to stick with, I think.  Until this point, I was being trailed by a middle-aged man that would moan on the slightest uphill.  The moans were dramatic and sounded like he was having an orgasm.  I almost wished for headphones.  Thankfully, I lost him eventually.

At mile 12, I hit the only hill on the course that everyone can agree is indeed a hill.  More than a hill, it is a bridge over Hwy 101.  From here, I thought to myself, it is practically downhill the rest of the way.  On my training run two weeks ago, it was a final kick here.  I imagined myself running tall and relaxed.  The area that speed training has helped me the most is undoubtedly my form when fatigued.  I felt like a beat up action figure: strong on the outside, abused on the inside.

The last incline came just before mile 13.  From almost a mile away, one can see the final mile marker.  It stands alone in the sunshine through the dark tunnel of shade trees.  I found myself crossing the bridge with another runner.  A friend of hers appeared, M.J. a familiar face to both of us.  “Sprint it!!” she shouted.  Although the support wasn’t for me personally, it gave a little boost to make it through the final stretch to the finish line.  If anyone ever wants to encourage me at the end of a tough race, park yourself at the bottom of the last incline of the race.  I will love you for it.

Sun now poured down over me.  My eyes adjusted to the brightness and fixed on the timing clock as the crowd cheered. I saw Matt snap a photo.  And with one final push, my new PR became real.  After so many races not working out this year, I was pleased on the outcome with this one.

Look!! I'm floating!!  Y. Kim photo, SRRC.

1:43.07.

7:53/mi.

About 700 ft. of elevation gain.

The second half of the race was 29 seconds slower than the first.

An improvement of almost nine minutes over last year’s finish time!!

I’m sure I could have pushed harder at the end to wipe that smile away, but this photo accurately illustrates what I felt today.

Matt had a pretty fantastic day too, despite him trying to murder me (drama alert!) in my sleep last night.  He dropped almost five minutes from his PR by finishing in 1:24.40, a 6:29/mi pace.

Y. Kim photo, SRRC.

The way this race fell in our training plan was perfect.  It was at the end of a recovery week, so it was a little bit of rest, but not anything resembling a taper.  With a proper marathon taper, a slightly slower pace, and a good night’s sleep, we both believe that our CIM goals are within reach.