Oakland Marathon
Yesterday we ran the Oakland Marathon, the first such race in 25 years. Today, I’m limping around, legs sore, foot aching, but excitedly telling anyone I can about what a great race this was.
Oakland is a city bursting with so much enthusiasm for anything good that comes its way. Witness the Raiders fans for Exhibit A of Oakland loyalty you don’t want to mess with. It’s also a city that represents the world. Not just a black vs white racial mix. It’s everyone from everywhere. And for the most part it works. It’s diversity in people, food, ideas. It’s more complicated than crime statistics. If we ever live anywhere else, something will be lost that you can’t find anywhere but Oakland.
I’ve now lived in this city for 7 years and Patty was born here. We first moved to Oakland right after Kelly our daughter was born because both of us worked in the East Bay. At first we rented in Rockridge, later we bought a house in Glenview and watched that area emerge as a local dining center on our very own block. We live in a place where I take public transport to work, we walk to our local restaurants and stores, and all the neighbors kids run through each other’s houses like they were their own.
This is also the city where our running lives were born. The East Bay is home to some of the best runners and running anywhere in the world. While Lake Merritt forms a running hub with it’s dependable 5K perimeter, the hills above Oakland provide world class trail running over high Bay Area ridges to deep redwood ravines. Further east, beyond ‘the tunnel’, are endless miles of unbroken multi-use paved trails spanning the valley below Mt Diablo — perfect marked routes for marathon training. This is a place to get fit. Running fit.
Later we joined the Lake Merritt Joggers and Striders and eventually became board members. Last year the club was approached by the event organizers of the Oakland Marathon looking for a local club to partner with. The club agreed and we became the official training partner. We took on over 100 runners to train them each Saturday, running them all over the East Bay.
It was obvious that we had to drop any other plans and take part in this event.
While I’d plan out the LMJS training group routes and map them each week, hoping not too many of them would get lost, we planned our own journey to the race. A goal was to minimize how much time we spent on the pavement, so we alternated between long trail runs deep in the regional parks for strength and duration, and long pounding flat canal trail runs to build straight out long running endurance and some sense of pace. In one memorable run we set out pre-dawn with head lamps to run 20 miles in Lake Chabot. Thousands of feet of elevation change ahead of us we made it about 1 hour before it started to steadily rain. The trails became mud, we saw almost nobody in over four hours and when we were finished, soaked and muddy, we were tougher. At least mentally.
There’s almost always more to the journey than the destination itself. Finishing a marathon is largely (for us at least) about successfully getting to the start line ready to go. Months of long runs, sneaking runs in where they could fit, day or night, in the dark, in the rain or in the rare sunshine. Someone along the marathon route asked me “How do you run so far?” I thought of a winter full of running. That’s how you run this far I thought, you commit, you train, and you don’t miss workouts even if 4 hours of running in the rain one Saturday morning is the last thing you want to do. In the end the journey was already a near success, for the first time I was lining up at a marathon with no specific injury and was ready to roll. Just 26.2 miles of the journey to go…
–
At 7:30am we were off. Helicopters buzzed overhead. The sky filled with confetti and we ran under a semi-collapsing inflatable start line. It was a rocky yet memorable start. I looked down at my watch to see just how slow we were going. 8:30 pace. Way too fast but it felt like the slowest we could possibly run. Apparently the taper had worked. We slowed as the race adrenaline leveled out and settled in behind the 4:20 pace group leaders more by accident than anything. We decided we’d use them as a pacing wall, that we wouldn’t run faster than them for the first 10 miles.
Every mile, as we reached one of the official mile markers, we’d walked for one minute, then pick up our pace enough to catch back up to the 4:20 pacers. This took about 3/4 of mile if we did it right, faster if we surged too hard. Then we’d settle in behind them again. At this point their pace seemed so very slow, but we knew later that would change. A long way to go.
We quickly passed through the Temescal district and past our favorite coffee shop, Remedy, which was unfortunately still closed. No latte to go. Hundreds of people were out along Telegraph cheering. Next stop was Rockridge, where we ran the full length of College Ave. Again, lots of people out either watching or cheering. Lots of kids had made signs. Already we’d seen more spectators that either of our previous two marathons.
(from flickr)
Beyond Rockridge we headed up to Lake Temescal. The hill, all part of the miles of climbing in the first 10 miles of the course, still felt easy on the effort scale. Others around me panted, or walked, or simply dropped back. We maintained pace, each mile slowly catching the 4:20 pace group again and settling in.
At the Lake I refilled my water bottle on schedule and emptied a ziplock bag of Gatorade into it. The official course beverage was Powerade fruit punch which we decided was the same flavor as cough medicine and couldn’t imagine drinking. Patty’s bottle was only half empty, but she seemed ok with that. We also took a Gu every 3 miles. All was going well on that front, for now.
Beyond the lake we entered the hilly residential streets of Montclair. People’s driveways filled with home made aid stations run by their kids. One family had a giant spread of banana bread and fruit and other goodies laid out for the passing runners. I felt bad I couldn’t take anything. I hope they realize how much support they provided just by being there even if most marathon runners aren’t going to go for banana bread 8 miles into a 10 mile climb. Their presence was awesome and as I could note all through the course, in any neighborhood we passed through, the community support for this race was like nothing I’ve seen in any race.
We finally reached the Mormon Temple that looks out from the East Bay hills over the whole Bay towards a distant San Francisco. We looked down into Oakland beneath us and mentally sketched out the route that lay ahead. Even a straight shot to the downtown buildings where the finish line waited seemed a long way. But, one mile at a time and we’d get there. I still felt good and it was all downhill from here.
Past the Temple we dropped hard downhill on Lincoln. The first mile was very steep. We tried to think of the advice we’d been given at Big Sur: Fast turnover. Shuffle. Shuffle. Shuffle. Our pace still quickened and we left the 4:20 pace group long behind us. Half way down the hill, less than a mile from our house, our daughter was waiting for us with her Grandpa. We each grabbed a replacement packet of Gatorade from him and I gave Kelly a hug. “Ugh! Daddy hugged me and he’s sweeeaaattty!”
We continued on as the downhill became much less steep through the Dimond district, past our local Peet’s coffee and Farmer Joe’s grocery store, past I-580, and down Fruitvale. The inside of my left knee started to ache a little. Crowd support was more scattered, but resounding enthusiasm for the race. People sat on balconies or on lawn chairs or just outside a local store, watching us run and cheering us on. Others just stood mouth open and watched and didn’t know what to make of it. I wonder if we inspired anyone to run next year? Or even just to run at all? We ran past car repair yards and Mexican markets and taco stands smoking grilled meat into the air. My tummy groaned. I guess time for another yummy Gu!
I really enjoyed running though this part of town. It’s not a part of town I spend much time in so to be able to run here and have some kind of connection with the people who live here was something you just can’t get on a regular day. People here didn’t even speak the same language as me, their signs of encouragement were in Spanish (”Sí se puede”), but to them I represented support for their part of Oakland, the part much maligned in the press, but yet full of great people and culture. Another interesting feature was the police who were helping with traffic control all over the city were also fully fledged race supporters, cheering on the race participants and us in turn thanking them for their help. One community, at least for a sunny Sunday morning in March.
As we headed back towards town I felt sad that this part of the course was ending so fast. When I’d thought of the race, imagined what it would be like while I trained all winter, I though of this part the most. The chance to see another side of my own city.
Unfortunately the miles were ticking past and we were soon in the mid-teen mileages. I refilled my bottle on International Blvd, about a mile past schedule. We’d taken half a Bonk Breaker on the steep downhill between mile 10-11, then a Gu at mile 15. Frankly I was getting a little sick of all the sugar and I could feel my nutrition getting away from me a little. My legs were starting to feel the fatigue too, although about what I would expect. All in all it was going well. Patty said she felt like she’d like to have felt better at this point and she still was only a little into her second bottle when I started my third.
As we ran back towards town on a long hall down International Blvd, a man yelled out “Where did you start running?” The man running next to me yelled back “Downtown!” pointing to the downtown buildings in the distance. The man next to me said to me “Ha, he probably thinks we only ran a few miles to get here,” “Yeah,” I replied, “but I bet he thinks that’s still a long way to run!”
We eventually turned in towards Jack London Square and ran through old produce warehouses and historic red brick buildings mixed with new developments of shiny metal condos and lofts. This was a theme of the more industrial parts of the course: old and new. thanks to the Jerry Brown push for redevelopment of the inner areas of Oakland. He would be proud of how the city was being represented today at least.
It was here we were joined by the back end of the half marathon race. And I mean the BACK END. Four across walkers were the name of the game and we were forced to weave around them for the next 8 miles. Could they not have timed it a little better so that equivalent paces could meet up with each other? I suppose that’s complicated. Oh well, with the full marathon crowd thinning as the miles went on, at least it made it still feel like a busy race.
At around mile 18 we headed across to West Oakland with it’s seriously industrial edge. “This isn’t a safe area, run fast” yelled one spectator. He was joking. Sort of. We ran into Kelly’s school teacher here too, she was running a leg of the relay. At the industrial art workshop of the Crucible we run through an archway of metal with flames coming out of it!
By mile 20 Patty and I were both struggling with pace. It’s those late miles before the finish line seems something you can push for that are the worst. The 4:20 pace group caught us and I ran with them for a mile. We hit the 20 mile mark together. Then the 21. Then I waited for Patty to catch up and the pace group was gone from sight and we never saw them again. We entered some part of town we’d never been before, some industrial back streets of overgrown lots with fallen down wire fences and discarded mattresses and trash. A part of town I’m betting not many people have run through before, at least not for recreation. During this section I was also trying to swallow another half of a Bonk Breaker and it wasn’t going well. I throw the last 1/4 of it on a pile of trash and give up eating for the rest of the race. My stomach wasn’t interested anymore.
Around mile 22 we emerged from industrial wasteland where-the-hell-are-we to near Kelly’s school. Her and her Grandpa were waiting there. Some kids and parents from her school had set up an unofficial aid station but had run out of cups a while earlier. I discarded my bottle there, I was done with Gatorade anyway and gave Kelly another gross hug. It was good to see them again.
We crossed over the the Lake right to the point where I’d met Patty for dozens of runs after work as we trained for the race all winter. Just one trip around the lake and I was done, like I’ve done hundreds of times. No problem. Except I was beyond beat.
And hot.
Hmmm, I hadn’t noticed that up until now. I took a couple of cups of water at the aid station and poured them over the back of my neck and then my head. The first cup of water to run off my head and down my face felt like I’d been splashed with a salt water wave. The cool breeze from the lake hit my wet body and an I felt a surge of energy. I headed off towards the Grand Lake theater and then back around towards the Lake. Another interesting part of the city, but too late in the race to feel a lot of appreciation for the scenery. At the mile 24 mark I stopped for my walk break and look back. Patty was nowhere to be seen. I started walking to the aid station up ahead instead of resuming running, grabbed some more water to pour on myself and to drink. I looked back again and Patty was still nowhere to be seen. I felt like I needed to get running so I headed off. It was the end of our run together.
I rounded the top of the lake and hit mile 25 running quick and strong. I passed a bunch of full marathon runners but they were very far apart. Someone yelled “Go full marathon runner!”, and a half marathon runner yelled back “Go all of us!!”. I thought, hmm, you have no idea what mile 26 feels like. But then I remembered what a big deal my first half marathon was and put the idea out of my head. We all have our limits and pushing past them is always an achievement to be acknowledged. I didn’t walk at that mile marker, with 1.2 miles to go, I kept pushing and my pace was actually good and strong. I turned off from the Lake towards downtown, glancing back to see if I could spot Patty at all. I wish she’d kept her bright pink arm warmers on, but in the crowd of people and the bright sunshine she was gone.
I took some final water and headed up towards the 26 mile marker in the shade of the tall downtown buildings. Again I stopped again and waited. I could hear the crowds of the finish line around the corner and someone yelled to me “You’re so close, keep running!”. Still no Patty. I don’t know how long I stood there. It felt like minutes. Maybe it was just seconds. Eventually I decided to finish the job. I took off round the corner and ran through a corridor a cheering spectators and across the finish line. My time was 4hr 24min.
–
I rounded the corner and got a foil blanket wrapped around me (the first time in a marathon, I felt finally like a marathoner) and a pretty cool medal handed to me. John Windle, one of the LMJS regulars was handing out medals. It was nice to see a familiar face. We chatted for a while until Patty came through the shoot in 4hrs 28 min.
In the end this was a fantastic, awesome experience because it was a truly unique community event. Thanks go to the organizes who put on an amazing first showing. And of course to everyone out on the course who came out to support the event. Performance wise, well I don’t know. Running a marathon is a shot in the dark. Pick too fast a pace and you’ll pay double at the end. Pick too slow a pace and you’ll still feel horrible at the end, but you’ll have a slower time. We wanted to go under 4:30 and on a pretty tough course we more than met that goal. In the end, who cares. We’ll have faster times, and probably slower times in the future, but what I really wonder is if another marathon will ever better this one in that special way that comes along so rarely in life. Somehow I doubt it.
–
When we got home Kelly had left us a card with a flower taped to the front of it:
