Catalina Island Marathon
March, 2000
Just over a year ago, I got it in my head that I wanted to run a marathon.
Why? Good question. I'm not sure I know the answer, but nonetheless, I
decided to do it.
My friend Michelle and I talked about doing a marathon, and eventually
decided to run the one on Catalina Island. Catalina Island is about an hours
boat ride off the coast of California, and is the largest of the Channel
Islands. About a year ago I started running with the Hash House Harriers, a
wild, international group of runners and party-ers. We run each Monday
night, and I rarely miss a night. Michelle and I started running Thurs.
night too, and an informal little group has sprung up around that.
My training for the run was minimal. Running <=6 miles Mon and Thurs. night,
a few odd days here and there, and basically 2 long runs, the longest being
15-16 miles, and the other, a 20K (12.4 miles), way back before Christmas.
With climbing every weekend and other stuff going on, I just never really
made it a priority. As the time came nearer, the more experienced runners I
run with kept raising their eyebrows. I got lots of "oh, you're still
planning on doing that?" "Without training more?" "wow, be careful" My
roommate, an experienced marathoner told me several times that I'd picked a
hard one, and suggested doing some hill work. Michelle had been training a
lot, and soon I couldn't keep up with her on Thurs. nights.
As the day grew nearer, I felt less and less sure of myself. I'm a big guy,
and running isn't exactly a natural, easy thing for me. I got even more
scared when I learned the record for this course was @ 3 hours. The world
marathon record is under 2:10, and for the record to be over 3:00 hours
indicates a very hard course. I found out that it had over 4,000 feet of
elevation gain, and since it starts and finishes at sea level, it must have
4,000 feet of descending. Gradual downhills are nice, but I find steep
downhills pretty difficult to run, almost worse than uphills. This would have
plenty of both. I was seriously worried about hurting myself, and seriously
considered not doing it. Perhaps I could save face by faking an injury, or
committing to another marathon later and actually training for it. But in the
end, I decided I couldn't wuss out. If I did I knew I'd never do another.
Friday, March 17th- St. Patrick's Day. Skip out of work early and head over
to Michele's house. I pick her up, and we're off to Long Beach. Traffic is
kinda bad in a few spots, and we're running late. I drop her off at her
ferry, and find mine (we hadn't been organized enough to get tickets on the
same boat) . 15 minutes until mine is supposed to leave. I park in
expensive parking, not taking the time to look for something cheaper. Grab
my bag, forget my Band-Aids and $40 cash I'd just got out of an ATM. (Didn't
realize until I was on the boat) Argh. RUN down the stairs and across the
street. My boat is delayed an hour. For some reason, I'm nervous about the
whole trip, and illogically, the late boat seems like a bad omen.
So I get on my boat, and we cross, the water. The town of Avalon looks like
something from a movie set in the Greek Isles. It's built into steep
hillside surrounding a protected bay. Sailboats and sportfishing boats sit
at moorings, and a waves break on the rocky shore. It's dark, and the town
is bright, with the dark shadow of the hills behind.
Michelle meets me at the pier, and we walk to the hotel. The Hermosa is the
only cheap place to stay in town, pretty reasonable at $35 a night. Very
basic, simple and small, but pleasant. I drop my stuff off, and walk to the
Italian Restaurant. (Only residents of Catalina are allowed cars, there are
no rentals, so most people -including many residents- use golf carts to get
around. That, and the attractive seaside setting, kind of lends a
Disney-not-quite-real air to the town.)
Michelle and her dad are there, along with her stepbrother. Her Dad, Bob, is
a very experienced runner who has done this race 18 times, and several 50-100
miles races. Her stepbrother-in-law is also there, also named Bob, he's from
Colorado, and is also an experienced runner. Her dad was making me chuckle
with his very-dad like concern over Michelle in tomorrow's race. He was full
of tips and advice. Dan, Michele's fiance, shows up on a later boat, and he
and I sit while I finish my dinner, and he has a beer. The others have gone
to bed. He asked me how I felt, and I responded honestly. "I don't want to
do this"
Sat, March 19th- the Big Day- I find myself awake at 3:30. My alarm goes off
at 4, and Michelle knocks on my door shortly after. I get up, slip on my
running shoes, pull a shirt on, eat a Cliff bar, and head out the door. It's
chilly outside as we go and wait for the boat. The Boat shows up, and
400-500 runners pile aboard. It's packed, and everyone is smiling, happy,
anxious. Many runners have done this many years, and handshakes and
backslapping abound. It's a mostly older crowd, not many young people. I
sit nervously. I feel like I'm on death row. Somebody mentions that runners
world magazine voted this one of the hardest marathons in the US, and the
Ultimate guide to Marathons has it as one of their hardest. Now I feel like
someone on death row, who was just told that the chair hasn't been working
well lately. The boat ride takes about an hour, we ride around to the other
side of the Island, to Two Harbors, and pile off the boat. People are eating
muffins, drinking coffee, talking to old friends...Before I know it, it's
time to start running.
7 o'clock, and the pack is off. The first four miles are a long, mostly
uphill, rising from sea level to close to 1,000 feet. Ouch. What a rude
start to the day! I'm already hurting, and really beginning to wish I was
somewhere else. From mile 4 to mile 8, we're losing elevation, getting back
down to sea-level, but there are plenty of short hills, and the trail is
rough (all but a little bit of the run takes place on trails and dirt roads).
At mile 8 we're at Little Harbor, back at sea level. Little Harbor was
Easily the most scenic part of an overall beautiful run, crashing blues water
and rocky shores. Very picturesque. From there it's a rolling climb for 5
miles, at mile 13, we're back up over 600 feet. A mile long downhill drops us
to 400', then we have a hard mile long, 300' hill. Mile 15-17 take us up to
Middle ranch, gaining only a hundred feet. This is the flattest part of the
trail, but I'm too tired to enjoy it. (Somewhere here I pass a blind runner
and his guide. the blind runner is finishing for the tenth time. ) It's
crossing the interior of the island, there is no breeze, it's really hot, and
I'm miserable. The aid stations, due to the heat, have run out of water. I
need to eat, but I can't chew, so energy bars are impossible. I toss a
handful of Jellybeans in my mouth, thinking the sugar might give me a quick
boost. Instead it churns my stomach, I honestly thought I was going to
vomit. My run has been reduced to a shuffle, only marginally faster than a
walk. The next two miles (17-19), are the worst for me. In two miles we
ascend from less than 800' to above 1400'. I'm tired, thirsty, and
miserable. If I had told no one I was doing this race, I might have quit.
I'm walking most of this part, and barely that. The sun is intense. My legs
are chaffed from my shorts, my feet are blistered on the fronts of my toes
(from the downhills?). From mile 19-21 it's a hundred feet down, then back up
the highest point, around mile 21, at @1500'. Passing mile 20 gave me a
mental boost. Around here I started running with a guy, who'd run the race
before but was recovering from a broken foot. He was also a climber, and
talking about my favorite subject helped take my mind of the run for a bit.
We shuffled along. From here it was rolling hills for a bit, then a long,
steep drop for 3 miles. I was tired before this, but nothing really hurt.
During this three mile descent, everything began to ache. Feet, knees,
quads, shoulders...
The final 1.5 miles are back into Avalon, running through the botanical
gardens. Tourists looking strangely at you, a few shouting encouragement.
Somehow I missed the 25 mile marker, and was growing desperate before I saw
the 26 mile marker. A fellow was blocking traffic, and waved me diagonally
across the intersection, as I shuffled past he told me, "Dude, you're gonna
love the view around the corner" As I turned it, it was about 300 Yards to
the finish banner. A handful of spectators still lined the street as I tried
to at least put on a little extra energy to cross the finish. It was great.
It's that 300 yards that would make you want to run another. Instantly all
the pains of the run are forgotten (until later!) I proudly collected my
medal and my FINISHER T-shirt, which I wore the rest of the day. 6 hours
and 55 minutes was my official time. The winner had done it in just over 3
hours. Michele's stepbrother in law finished 5th overall with @3:10, her dad
finished in @4:45, Michelle in 6:15. A 67 year old guy had done it in 4:20.
As we were later meeting for dinner, a guy crossed the finish line after 11
and a half hours. You had to admire his fortitude for not quitting.
We gathered for diner around 6ish, Michelle, her fiancee Dan, her dad,
stepmom, stepsister, her husband, their kids, and tons of their family
friends. Everybody was very friendly and welcoming, it was nice to have
people around to congratulate me, have a beer, enjoy some food, and laugh.
After dinner I walked down to Luau Larry's, the local party spot, that had
been advertising live music. I walked in, stood around for a few minutes,
then left. It just wasn't where I wanted to be. I walked up and down the
beach front for a while, then crawled up the stairs to my room, where I read
for a bit, and then fell asleep.
Sunday Everything felt anticlimactic. As beautiful as Catalina is, I was
ready to leave. I changed my boat for an earlier one. I ate breakfast at a
counter, talked for a while with Vern, the 67 year old 4:20 guy, then to a
couple who had come for the race but not run it. At 10:15 I was on a boat.
Read the paper on the boat, then drove home.
It's Sunday evening, my legs are a bit stiff and sore, but no pain really.
I'm pleased with my painfully slow run, and I've already resolved to run this
race again next year. I plan to train a lot, especially hills. I want to do
it in under 6 hours, and I think I can.
Geoff "Marathoner" Jennings