‘Twas May of 2009, and once again I
lined up at Point Ferman Park in San Pedro to trounce the hills of Palos
Verdes. The race was super small that
year because the LA marathon was being held over Memorial Day, so my guess is
most runners were saving their legs for later in the month. Personally, I love every opportunity I have
to run in PV, especially if there was a marathon attached, so I did not want to
miss it. In hindsight, I am glad that I
did run this race because they stopped putting on the FULL marathon a couple
years later, which is tragic, but true.
The day started off on a bright
note because I snagged a sweet parking spot, a priceless feat at both the
beginning and the end of race day. It
was cold, I was nervous, and not because I was going to run a marathon, but because
I was going to run a hard marathon. This
course is the real deal; scenic, sure, but tough. I ripped through the first two miles, around
eight minute miles, which back then was quick.
Then, the road went right and up.
I slowed down, but this was not my first rodeo on this hill, so I did
not let it dampen my mood. I had run
this hill many times during training, and during my first marathon on this
course in 2004, so I was prepared, but it was still painful. When we made the left hand turn at the crest
of the hill I was relieved, and started really movin’. I settled in right behind a young lad with an
impressive white boy fro at around mile ten, and he was cruisin’. I try to never to waste precious time or
breath making friends on the race course, but we were in the middle of no man’s
land, the race was very sparse, and honestly I just couldn’t shake him. It was his first marathon, and he was a
fast-paced ball of nerves, and I was not looking for a PR, so I broke my rule,
and kept him company for as long as I could hang with his rippin’, “I have no
idea how to pace a marathon, fleet-footed teenage pace”. I think he dropped me
at mile twentyish, but I was happy to see him go ahead, I felt like my Padwan
was ready to finish his own race, and I could relax and suffer in solitude.
I was alone for most of the last
10K. I knew that I was pretty far up in
place for the women, but I was not exactly sure where my rank really was,
because the course was nearly deserted, even of volunteers. I did not feel spectacular, the course
punished my limbs like I knew it would, and I was looking forward to it just
being over. Luckily, the steep uphill at
mile two, was a welcomed downhill trance basher at mile twenty four. As a bonus, the last mile traveled right past
my Dad’s first house he moved into when my parents separated in the mid
80’s. My favorite memories in that house
are of playing two-touch football games in the front yard with my Dad and
siblings every Sunday afternoon before we had to go back to my Mom’s house. I loathed Sundays. There is nothing as bitter sweet and crushing
than starting your day with one parent, and ending it with another. So, I gave the house a quick nod as I passed
it, but picked up my pace to leave it quickly behind me.
The last half mile is my favorite
part of the course because they wind us around the road to where we can see the
finish line and truly relish in our epic journey. The crowds were abysmal at best, again, not
many runners at this race, so after I crossed the finish line I sauntered off
to find a tree where I could rest my legs, close my eyes, and swim in the
giddiness of another marathon finish. It
was confirmed later in the day that I was the third overall female in the race,
which was wonderful, but a finish that high up with a time of 3:45 meant that
there were not many contenders, but it was still pretty cool to be on the
podium for such a challenging race.
