Catalina Marathon 2008!

Here I was, 4 miles into the 2008 Catalina Marathon and averaging 12 minutes and 15 seconds per mile. My stomach was all out of sorts, and at that pace, I'd finish in 5 hours and 20 minutes. What am I doing here? I barely trained over the last 3 weeks after catching a cold, I cut my longest training run 8 miles short, and the big motivation to enter was a really fast 2.5 mile run! I was a long way from the finish, and stuck on this island until who knows when. If I somehow managed to finish, I'd either get stranded in Avalon for days on end as the boats were canceled, or I'd lose my lunch on the trip back to the mainland. How did I get here?



*Fade to black*

[See the in-race photos, the highlights, a few more from 2008 or even some from the 2007 Catalina Marathon. Updated 3/17/2009 to add the 2009 Catalina Marathon race report.]

[Race reports rolling in from this triathlete and the good folks at SoCal Running. Two more: from Angela's Running Page and one from the Yak, which turned out to be a nickname unrelated to much morning misfortune.]

Now I remember. My decision can be traced back to March 17, 2007, when I ran my the 2007 Catalina Marathon, my first on the island, in 4 hours, 28 minutes. I was in the best shape of my life, and ran one of my best races after 3 months of innovative training. It was such a great run, and so cool to finish the race in quaint Avalon. In January this year, I decided to keep my options open by going for 15 and 18 mile runs. Finally, I completed one training run over the top of Palos Verdes. Despite a few setbacks, I knew I could finish the race, so 2 days before the race I finally signed up when the weather was predicted to be cloudy but dry & windy.

My alarm would have sounded at 3 AM Saturday morning, but I was already awake, having left sleep about 5 minutes earlier. I had carefully arranged my pre-race gear on the floor, and packed my post-race gear into a small bag. I spread some honey on a toasted tortilla and drank some Gatorade for breakfast, and I headed out the door, to catch the Catalina Flyer right up the road in Marina del Rey. I met Ed in line, who was in the midst of a 19 marathon in 12 months drive. He hadn't even looked at the elevation chart, and I told him to expect it to take at least an extra 30 minutes. At about 4:30, we finally piled onto the boat for what promised to be a bumpy ride. That turned out to be an understatement. No more than 5 minutes after leaving did the first person walk outside to help deal with their nausea. Soon after that, the captain opened the windows to give everyone in the boat some fresh air. I had luckily chosen a seat near the back, dead center, so I was OK for now. My eyes were constantly on the meager lights near the horizon. In the pitch black, I could see nothing else. My seat neighbor didn't look well, and she put up a brave front but eventually headed outside after having received a barf bag. Not a good omen. She was in real bad shape, and there were many others. Despite my great seat location and horizon stare, I didn't feel very good. I kept wishing I had eaten less at dinner, and was suddenly thankful I had forgotten to eat my traditional pre-race banana. When I couldn't see the lights any longer, I was worried. I managed to hang on, and after 1 hour 40 minutes, we reached Two Harbors. There, we sat tantalizingly close to shore for 20 minutes as another boat unloaded. Ugh! Finally, at 6:30 we filed off. I was very relieved, but still nauseous.


I didn't get my bib until 6:55, and had only minutes to run to the restroom, grease up, and make final preparations. In my rush, I lost my Gatorade bottle and forgot my heart-rate monitor. As I strode to the start line, I was still tying my shoes and adjusting the camera. The race started as I was 100 feet from the crowd, and I eventually crossed the starting line about 1-1.5 minutes late. And my stomach was still upset. What I was excited about was the scenery. Last year, it was foggy the whole day, and the ground was mostly brown from th lack of rains, foreshadowing the large Catalina fires. Today, the sky was clear and Catalina was lush. The sun was rising over Two Harbors and rising over the hillsides as we got off & running. Maybe there was still hope. The first couple miles of the race are brutal, an 800 foot climb, a 100 foot descent, and then another 300 feet of climbing as we reached the 4 mile mark. By this time, I found my first bit of fame. As we passed the 1 mile marker after 1.13 miles, I overheard someone discuss their splits, and I responded with "don't trust the mile markers." The woman recognized me (or my expression) from last year's blog post. She may have also commented on my apparently infamous photo of my feet, pre- and post-race. Fame would strike yet again, before the day was through.

So, I'm not feeling good. I'm barely running. But is it really that bad? It's a beautiful, you've got your trust camera readily available, and those first 4 miles are brutal-- it won't really take me 5 hours and 20 minutes to run the marathon. Yeah, it took me 49 minutes, but last year took 46 minutes to cover the same four miles and I did OK. Time to buck up! This year, the weather was better (50-55 degrees, sunny and with a cool, refreshing breeze throughout that was rarely if ever in our faces), but the course was more treacherous. Many more loose rocks seemed to be on the course, probably from the heavy winter rains. Pretty much irrelevant on the climbs-- you have to walk the steep bits-- but quite troublesome on the downhills, meaning I had to hold back a little to make sure I had good footing. So screw it. Who cares if I'm a little undertrained? Who cares if my stomach feels like hell? It's a beautiful day, an amazing event in one of the most scenic places in coastal southern California. I'm going to run as hard as I can for as long as I can, and god willing, I'm not gonna stop until I get to Avalon!

* cue inspirational music as you watch the slidshow-- maybe Rocky or I Love LA, whatever works for ya*


It was mostly downhill to mile 8, and I obviously ran faster, about 39 minutes. I asked another runner to take my photo, and I returned the favor. We closed to within about 50 feet above sea level, although that included a "little" 150 foot hill. Keep in mind, the famous Heartbreak Hill of Boston Marathon is only 100 feet top to bottom. By mile 8, We had already completed climbs of 800 feet, 300 feet, 100 feet and 150 feet. By mile 8. Don't believe me? Check out the elevation chart! I kept on trucking, and managed to complete the next two climbs of 250 feet and 350 feet. The views were amazing, hills in every direction, trails snaking up, down and all around the place. And marathoners on most of them. Last year, I never really appreciated how big Catalina is, but with clear skies there was no mistaking-- Catalina is a big place! Really, take a look at those photos again. I lost count of how many times I spotted the coastline, lost count of how many stunning green hillsides were set against the blue, blue sky. But soon, the course would head to the deep interior of the island, and it would be a long time before seeing the ocean again. After another descent, there was a 400 foot climb over the next 1.5 miles, bringing me the halfway mark in about 2 hours, 27 minutes and change. 58 minutes for those 5 miles.

The truth is, that 400 feet was only part of a much longer climb. Before taking even one step downhill, the course climbed 1300 feet over 7.5 miles. Read that again, slowly. One thousand, three hundred feet of continuous climbing over 7.5 miles. And the truth was, I wasn't feeling so hot at mile 13.1. Sure, my stomach was better, but not good. I could barely eat my GU, and I was worried about the long, slow climb leading to Pump House Hill. So what got me through? I have to say, as much as anything, it was the encouragement of the other runners. I did my best running through Middle Ranch in 2007, and really worried that was a one-time fluke. Thankfully, I met Enrique, and not only did he take the photo seen on the right, he also helped pull me through the next 3 miles.

I was worried when I first spotted Enrique. I was tired, and even the mild incline of Middle Ranch concerned me-- would I slow considerably, and be wiped out before I even reached Pump House Hill? I was doing more passing than I expected, and somehow started chatting with Enrique. While far from speedy, I ran about 3 miles in roughly 30 minutes. Enrique is actually an analyst covering the pharmaceutical industry, and we chatted about engineering after he mentioned that his son is starting college in the fall. In his 10th race, Enrique gave me some tips (like stay the night before in 2 Harbors!) that I mostly forgot in my delirious state. We eventually parted ways. Enrique gave me a tremendous lift during the long, Middle Ranch stretch of the race. (The photo of Enrique is #1 in my 100 strangers project. Find out more about the project and see pictures taken by other photographers at www.100Strangers.com or www.flickr.com/groups/100strangers.)

Suddenly, I had new life! Soon I was within sight of Pump House Hill, and was holding steady at about 30-40 seconds slower than last year. Check out my splits for 2007 and 2008 to see how I held up. So you know you're at this ridiculous hill when you see the signs of encouragement appearing. At the top of the hill, several of the long time runners added medals and notes to a makeshift memorial for Court Mumford, a gentleman who had completed more than 20 marathons. I decided to try some video this year, and, well, let's just say that watching it made me more nauseous than I felt since morning. Take a look.



Now, there were only about 8 miles left. My stomach was to the point where I stopped eating GU and skipped the last 2 or 3 water stops. But I knew that, while there was still a 200 foot climb and 100 foot climb ahead of me, the worst was over. Plus, I could push hard through those hills since I wouldn't need my lungs for the 1500 feet, 3+ mile descent to the coastline. Running along the ridge, I was lucky enough to spot this buffalo! I was pretty happy about that, and spent about 30 seconds getting a photo, since this was a truly rare occurrence for me. Soon, Avalon could be seen below, and the downhill bit was upon me. I raced as fast as I could, but was slowed by the rocky terrain. I was actually relieved to reach the harder, but more even, pavement leading to the shore. My pre-race estimated finishing time was 4:45, and with the help of fast trip down the hill, that was well within sight. And so were my friends Vinay & Stacey, who took some of their own photos on their way into town. It was great to a couple familiar faces, and Vinay got a great picture of me as I neared the finish line. My official time was 4:44:59, and my clock time (remember, I started late!) was 4:43:49. I even managed to jump and tag the finish line banner, getting at least 2-3 inches of air!

And that, like my post-race gear, was that. My stomach still acted up & I was concerned about the trip back, so I had a light lunch and watched the awards. Soon, we heard that my boat back to Marina del Rey was canceled. Instead, I took the Catalina Express to San Pedro. The wind was strong, and the ride back was bumpy. But it was a great day, and a great race.

Thanks all for reading my lengthy report. If you have your own story, feel free to post it in the comments or provide a link to your own race report. If you'd like to use any of the photos I've posted here or on Flickr, please contact me & we'll figure something out.