California International Marathon (CIM) 2015 Race Report

Over the years, many of you have mentioned that you follow along during some of my races. Through the magic of online tracking, you can follow along as I move through the course. Heck, it's even possible that you knew my finish time before I did.  In fact, this time I'm willing to bet on that last part.

If you did your own sleuthing around, you know that I finished in 3:30:28 on Sunday. That looks a lot like my Boston time, doesn't it? That's because it is almost the same, just two seconds slower over the entire twenty-six miles.

Romantic sunset with my running buddy on our last long run before CIM. Rachel C. photo credit.

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Gathered around large heaps of colorful fluorescent fabrics, Matt, Rachel, and I debate our race outfits. Rain, but not cold. Rachel is deciding between capris and tights. As I debate whether or not I want to wear a long sleeve shirt or arms sleeves with my club jersey, Matt alternates pairing two shirts with his arm sleeves. "Are you having as much trouble deciding how warm to dress, too?" I ask. "No, I'm just not sure what coordinates better with my giraffe arm sleeves," he replies.

Soon we're tucked in bed and hoping that a restful night finds us. The rooster crows far too early and the three of us roll out of bed. The room is quiet as we pack up and head for the shuttle bus. It's not until we arrive at the start of this point-to-point course that I realize race day is here. "Huh, I don't suppose there's a shuttle to the finish line," Rachel says nonchalantly, "I guess I'll have to run a marathon today." After a year of fighting off injuries that kept her from running her first marathon this spring, Rachel has made it to the start line of this one. I give her a hug, remind her to enjoy it, and wish her luck before finding my own starting area.

Then comes the national anthem, the starting gun, and the pack shuffles forward. As I begin my short approach to the timing mats, I think of Zoey, who's probably back at the hotel sleeping in the warm spot I left on the bed. Even though she's about as good a traveler as any cat is, a thought pops into my head: "Make it worth Zoey's trip." I burst into tears thinking about all we've been through with her lately and cross the starting mat in a fit of ugly crying. As the miles pass by, that phrase will become my racing mantra.

Thanks Zoey!

The air is warm and humid. My outfit is damp from the small shower that fell, but I'm almost overheating in my long sleeves and running hat. Rain would feel really good right now, I think to myself. Just as that thought leaves my head, it begins to rain. Thanks!! It will rain on and off throughout the first two hours of the race, but it's never very much and it's quite refreshing. I focus on dodging small puddles on the roadway, but this is nothing compared to my first CIM in 2012, so I'm a happy camper. I think back to both Boston and Santa Rosa, also rainy-drizzly, and I had a great day. I'm starting to wonder if this is my own version of ideal marathon weather.

Mile 1: 7:52
Mile 2: 7:46
Mile 3: 7:47

I try to find my own bubble of space within the tight and aggressive pack of runners. Instead of weaving around, I settle in behind someone and pass them when there's a gap. It's relaxing to let the momentum of the crowd pull me along. I glance down at my watch, which almost perfectly aligns with all the mile markers on this course, and see that my pace is precisely where it should be, a 7:50/mi overall. Meanwhile, both the 3:25 groups are way up ahead doing who knows what and I make a mental note to ignore them if we meet up later.

Mile 4: 7:50
Mile 5: 7:56
Mile 6: 7:50

I settle into my pace and by the time I've reached the 10K timing mat, I notice that my effort level is already quite high. The second five miles of a marathon are never as easy as I expect them to be. Experience has taught me that's just how it is when I race this distance, it's no cause for alarm just yet, but it always comes as somewhat of a surprise.

Despite being a net-downhill course, there are plenty of little rolling hills. I've never run a truly flat and fast marathon, but even this early in the race, I can tell my legs appreciate that. One muscle group never gets overly fatigued. Contrary to what most of those around me are doing, I'm finding a good rhythm in pushing the uphill pace and relaxing on the downhill. I keep leapfrogging with the same runners as they blow past me on the descents We look over our shoulders and smile as we pass the other for the umpteenth time.

Mile 7: 8:00
Mile 8: 8:07
Mile 9: 7:55

Other than these brief exchanges, I spend most of this race deep inside my own head. My thoughts shift from one friend to another. I wonder how Matt is doing, far up ahead with the fast people. He planned to go out with ladies seeking an Olympic qualifying time. I think to Rachel behind me, I hope she saw my favorite spectator sign at mile 2: "Only a shit ton more miles to go!" Then thoughts shift to Terri, Jessie, and Susie, three ladies in my running club who were struck by a car while out for a run in 2012. Just a few days ago, the trial ended and the man responsible for the hit and run was found guilty of his crime. Although this doesn't fix anything or bring Susie back, I'm glad a small part of this painful chapter of their lives can finally come to a close.

Mile 10: 7:59
Mile 11: 7:59
Mile 12: 7:55

Soon my race eclipses that of a pack of blind runners with their guides. Following along behind one set through a series of turns, I hear the guide describe the course. "There will be a gentle right curve here. Oh wait, no it's more like a hard right. Then there's a small hill." I imagine what it's like to run without visual cues along this course. Would hills be as intimidating? I lose track of them at an aid station but enjoy having the brief glimpse into their race day.

Mile 13: 7:56

I pass the halfway clock as ticks over to the next minute, now reading 1:44. I notice that my watch is still reading 1:43, so I'm less than a minute off of gun time. From here to the finish line, I find myself looking less and less at my watch. The first half is about holding myself to the right pace, the second half is all about hanging on. I've found my stride and even though I'm slowing a little bit, it's steady.

Mile 14: 8:03
Mile 15: 8:05
Mile 16: 7:51

Right around here, the first 3:30 group passes me. A woman trailing off behind the hangs back and encourages me to hang with them. I ask if the group is running a little fast. Yes, she says, about 3:27 pace. Aid stations are starting to eat away at my overall pace, but my moving one is still steady and there's no sign of that dreaded electrolyte bonk.

Mile 17: 8:11
Mile 18: 7:54
Mile 19: 8:14
Mile 20: 8:05

Before I know it, I'm at mile 20. Seriously. I've been taking mile splits the whole way, but when I first see it, I think that the mile 20 sign is a mirage and it will blink away before I reach it. I cross the second timing mat in 2:39, still just a few seconds below the 8:00/mi pace. I do a little mental math in my head and discover that I'm going to come in very close to my PR, depending on how much I slow.

There's a relay exchange point at mile 21 and a large crowd of people. From here to the finish line, spectators line most of the course. I spot Brandon in the crowd. The second 3:30 group passes me here and he calls out for me to chase them. I give it my best shot, but notice my pace becomes very uneven, a sign I'm pushing too much, and I relax back into my own pace. I've been passing a lot of people the last five miles, so I focus my energies on catching the next person ahead instead.

Mile 21: 8:05
Mile 22: 8:18

We cross a bridge over the American River just before mile 22. I think back to my 2013 race here. Even though I set a PR that year, this bridge marked the beginning of a very steady meltdown. Comparing that day to today as I ran along, I can't help but smile. It's not until I run the same course again that I realize how far I've come as a runner in a relatively short time. Back on the numeric grid of Sacramento proper, the countdown from 48-somethingth street begins. The final turn is on 8th. I admire the spectacular display of fall colors lining the route as I count down the city blocks. I try to think about my previous runs here and other than the bridge, it's all a blur. Today it's pretty gorgeous.

Looked a bit like this, except this was en route to lunch after the race.

Mile 23: 8:06
Mile 24: ????

I look down at my watch as I pass the mile 24 sign. The screen is blank. Well crap.

Battery finally gave out. I'm still researching my options: replace battery or buy a new one. I really do love my gigantic screen though.....

I fumble through my two glove layers and get it to turn back on. It's not easy to turn my watch off accidentally, so I'm puzzled as to what happened. Signal resumes quickly and I notice my watch is still displaying a 7:59/mi overall pace. Unsure how much time I've lost, I decide not to trust it.  When I reach mile 25, I push the button again, but it includes a part of the previous mile, so I'm puzzled as to what it means. Darn you, Garmin. You never know how much you rely on a watch until it's suddenly gone.

Mile 25: 14:03 (1.67 miles) 8:24/mi. 

I'm almost certain I've lost a sub-3:30 and based on my steady slowdown, predict a 3:32 finish and am happy with that. I'm still running hard, but without the noise of each passing second ticking in my ear, I'm enamored by the gorgeous fall colors as I make my way downtown. How am I still having fun at mile 25?! I grab a water at the mile 25 aid station, bargaining with myself as I slow to a walk. We're taking a break here, but then we're running hard the rest of the way. We're picking up the pace until there's a finish line, got that, legs?

Mile 26: 8:14

As I pass the mile 26 sign, I look down at my watch as if it has magically healed its problem. 3:27. Yup, well that's no help.

I turn onto 8th street, run a block, and turn to see the state capitol and the finish line come into view. I can hardly believe it when I see the clock  just now ticking over to 3:30. WHAT!? Knowing I've got around a minute of cushion on that gun time, I sprint off. I pass a dozen girls in the home stretch and finish marathon #16 with the fastest kick I've ever had.

Mile 26-26.2: 1:46 (7:41/mi.)

3:30:28
8:01/mi.

First half: 1:43:37, 7:55/mi.
Second half: 1:46:51, 8:09/mi

Matt spots me just beyond the finish line and asks how my race went. I tell him about my watch (Garmin time reported: 3:27:42, oh don't I wish!) and that I have a feeling I tied my PR or ran within seconds of it, but not sure in which direction. Little did I know how right I would be. We look around for a results tent en route to the gear bag check, but don't find one. That will have to wait.

We return to the spot Matt was waiting and look for Rachel. Within just a few minutes, we spot Brandon, who had planned to run the last few miles with her. Then we spot a familiar pink shirt. Rachel! With the largest grin I've ever seen! Inside I'm jumping up and down with excitement (okay, and maybe a little on the outside too). Yaaaaaaaay!!! Being part of Rachel's first marathon was the highlight of my weekend.

Matt realized early on that he wasn't going to have a very strong race, so he slowed it down a little and ran the most evenly paced marathon I've ever seen, finishing in 2:51:25.

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After the initial surprise of being that close to a new PR, I'm happy with how my race went. My training this fall wasn't as seamless and strong as this spring. A lot of things didn't go well during the weeks leading up to the race. Obviously I have some unfinished business with that darn sub-3:30, but I'm looking forward to taking some time to explore other race distances and recharge before I do. Trail running, mud, and pretty mountains, here I come!!! Special thanks to Matt, Rachel, and Zoey for such a wonderful weekend. I look forward to training and recovering with you this spring. :)