Report at long last--Squeaky runs the Santa Ynez Half (Read 671 times)

The excitement started last Wednesday when Santa Barbara caught on fire. I ran on a treadmill and watched the news about how many houses were burning down (a lot) and how contained it was (barely, last week). My half marathon was in Solvang, pretty far north of the fires but still in Santa Barbara county. It's not like I was in any danger of losing my house--I'm in LA--but I spent the next two days selfishly worrying that the half would be cancelled, or that it wouldn't and the air quality would be awful. It didn't. On the way to Solvang Friday night, we took the 101 freeway right past the fires in Santa Barbara--if you're driving from LA to Solvang there's really not another road you can take--and holy shit, it looked like there was a volcano above the town. I hadn't been that close to a wildfire before, and every time I saw it flare up I had to wonder whether someone's house had just caught on fire. Anyway, here's an LA Times article about the race and the fire: http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/lanow/2009/05/santa-barbara-fire-14.html Now on to the part with the running. My training was more or less crap. I only managed to get over 30 miles a week for two or three weeks and my longest run was 11 miles. Worst half marathon training ever? No. Best I was gonna do? Yeah. I got a horrible chest cold in mid-April that derailed everything and went on vacation for a week immediately after, so that was two weeks with almost no running. We (that's Boyfriend and I) drove up Friday night, stopping in a little town on the way to carbo-load on Thai food. Yum. We got into Solvang around 9:30. Now, I have to explain Solvang: it was founded by some random Danish people (from Denmark) in the early 1900's, and is now essentially an entire fake-Danish town. Population 500. It's in the middle of Santa Barbara wine country, so the charming downtown area consists mainly of wine tasting bars, places that will sell you Belgian waffles, and stores with tons of kitschy nonsense. There are toy stores that sell only old-timey toys that are not actually fun. There's a store called the "Jule hus" that sells only Christmas things, such as ceramic figurines of Santa praying over the baby Jesus. (There wasn't even a token Chanukah section, like those stores usually have. You know, where the Hebrew is actually backward because they don't know you read it from right to left?) Thomas Kinkade has a gallery in Solvang. It's completely ridiculous, and because I have an excellent appreciation for all things ridiculous, I LOVE IT. So running a half marathon was a pretty good excuse to go spend a weekend in Solvang and just look at all the nonsense and the people who took the nonsense seriously. There were lots of tiny dogs and more than one being carted around in a carriage made specifically for tiny dogs. Gold sandals. That sort of thing. Running. Right. The race started at 7 on Saturday morning, and packet pickup had only lasted until 7pm the night before, which was not conducive to anyone driving there after work. It was a point-to-point race starting in Santa Ynez, the next town over, so buses started leaving from the finish area (two blocks from my hotel) at 5:15 am. Now, I am not a morning person. I rather dislike them, in fact. Nevertheless I set three alarms for Saturday morning and did eventually drag myself out of the warm, squashy king-sized bed, put on my favorite shorts and shirt, lather myself in sunscreen, chug a cup of awful hotel coffee, eat a banana and a clif bar, stuff a gel in the key pocket of my shorts, and get myself out the door and onto that school bus. In retrospect, I wish I maybe hadn't gotten on the VERY first bus. It's cold at 5:40am, especially when you're wearing shorts, and I was really bored for about an hour and a half. I used the portapotties twice and almost missed the race start because the line was so ludicrous, but that turned out to be a good thing--when you start at the very back of the pack, you get to pass people and that's a thing I'm not accustomed to. Mile 1: Houses, fields. I get to pass people and it's exciting. I pretend I'm playing one of those video games that's sort of like frogger but not, because I'm not jumping on cars I'm going around them, except they're people not cars. Yeah, that. Mile 2: Fields. Some horses. This course is quite scenic, actually. My feet start to feel funny, like either I've gotten rocks stuck in my shoes or the cushiong has completely deflated in one specific spot right under the balls of both feet. I pull to the side and check--no rocks. I quietly start to flip out, because HOW did I not notice these shoes were BROKEN? Didn't I run in these like Wednesday? They were fine then, right? Then my feet start to tingle, and it occurs to me: maybe they were just asleep from standing on them in the cold for an hour and a half. Mile 3. My feet are fine. I feel like an idiot. Mile 4: Okay, I have to pee. Every porta-pottie line has kind of a line, so I keep going... until I see one with only two people waiting for it. Sweet! It is the most disgusting pottie I have ever been in in my life, and I go camping and have used many a cleaned-yearly pit toilet. Mid-pee it occurs to me that this pottie isn't for the race, this pottie is for the farm workers who work on the farms we're running through. It's probably been sitting in the sun for a while. I pee as fast as possible and get back on the road, losing about two minutes. On the upside, I pass a couple of people AGAIN. Yeah buddy, you got chicked twice! How you like that? Huh? HUH?? Mile 5: There was running. I am pleased to be holding about an 11 minute pace, which to me feels about like breaking the sound barrier. Some horses. Some runners peeing in bushes. Mile 6: I begin to discuss the big hill coming up with myself. I know it's coming. It's called corkscrew hill, and maybe that's because we're in wine country, right? Or maybe it's named that because it's going to kill me. I get my own approval for walking up the hill, because based on previous bigass hill experience, it will be faster. At the water stop a volunteer hands me water that turns out to be some sort of awful, clear, watermelon-flavored sports drink. It's distgusting. I HATE watermelon flavor, and why would you serve clear gatorade on a race course? Do you not want people to know the difference? Mile 7: I pass a few people running while walking up the hill. I am comforted by the fact that I know there's a water stop at the end of it. When i come within sight of the water stop, I pull out the gel stuffed in my tiny key pocket and choke it down. Thank God there's a water stop here! Except... not. I crest the hill and some apathetic teenager shrugs and mumbles about how they're out of water. I'm not fast, sure, but I'm only 2/3 of the way back. Come on, people! Mile 8: Finally, downhill. Still no f%$&ing water. I speed up and start noticing the people around me who brought water with them. I imagine I can feel the gel doing horrible things to my stomach, sucking up all the water left in my body. There's no shade and it's sunny. I fancy that I'm seeing things, and I decide which person's water bottle will be the easiest to grab and run away with. Yes, her. She looks slow. Mile 9: Water stop! THANK THE GODS. Still sunny. There are cows. The course is getting a little hilly again and I can feel myself starting to flag. Mile 10: Sheep! Sheep! I smile and think that I'm glad sheep are always hilarious, even after running 10 miles. My piriformises (piriformii?) do not agree. I vow to do more trail running and core exercise if I survive this. Mile 11: Uh... ? There were some dudes with signs that said "sweat is sexy" at one point. I was not really feeling it. Near mile 12 there's another hill that's slightly larger than "small," and I make it about ten feet and then walk the stupid thing. Toooooooo haaaaaaaaard. Mile 12: Some volunteers are directing us and one says, "Almost there!" If I weren't so tired I'd probably want to punch her. That's just cruel, you know? Mile 13: YAAAYYYY! I run around a corner and see Boyfriend with my camera. I make the dumbest face I can as he snaps away. I pull a full-on run out of somewhere and blast past a girl wearing pink. There is a really, really long fifty feet before the finish line. I finally cross the mats and think, god, I am never ever doing that again. I probably drip sweat and nearly fall over on the poor young man who has volunteered to remove chips at the finish line, and unless he's like that guy who hit on me (sweat-covered, bright red, out of breath, wearing dumb shorts) at the end of a 5 miler a few weeks ago, he's probably not signing up for this particular job again. The finish area had oranges, carrots and bananas, which was great, and cheese, which was really weird. Does anyone really run 13 miles and then IMMEDIATELY want cheese? The part after the race was really poorly organized, though I got a sweet finisher's medal. I stood in line for no less than 45 minutes to get my t-shirt, and then stood in line for at least another 45 minute to get my pre-paid tickets to the post-race wine tasting. That ended at noon, I finished about 9:30, we finally got in around 11. There wasn't so much of a line as a total clusterf&*%--people who hadn't pre-paid for theirs were in the same place as people who had, everyone was tired and sweaty and just pushing to the front as hard as possible. There were two people checking the list, checking IDs and handing out the glasses to 3,000 people. It was awful. The wine was good, though! I couldn't help but notice that the lone brewery in attendance was by far the most popular stall. I got tipsy (not hard to do when you've just run 13 miles), we lounged around the park a bunch, watched some hilarious babies interact with some hilarious dogs, drank more wine, more dogs, more wine, etc. Then I spent most of the rest of the day lounging by the pool and the hot tub drinking cherry soda (my FAVORITE) and eating potato chips. That night we went to Andersen's pea soup (if you've ever driven the 101 or the 5 between LA and SF, it's the pea soup restaurant with all the billboards. Nothing special, but I really wanted to go) and saw Star Trek (awesome!). Sunday we went to Ostrichland USA. Those things are terrifying up close. Overall, I had a really good time but I don't think I'm in a rush to do it again. Running 5 days a week took a lot out of me and I started to feel like I was ALWAYS running--and I like running, don't get me wrong, but I like other stuff too. I have a blog I've neglected and a half-finished book, and to be honest, I like writing more than I like running. So I'm excited to cut it back--I think I'm gonna keep it at about 20mpw for the summer--which is plenty to run to stay in shape, race some 5k's and 10k's, maybe try out this "trail running" thing I keep hearing about. But I also might run the City of Angels half in December. MTA: ha, I didn't even tell you my time. 2:32:45. If I hadn't stopped to pee I probably could've come in under 2:30, but it's not like I'm upset.

Awesome race report, Squeaky! Congrats!!!

On the upside, I pass a couple of people AGAIN. Yeah buddy, you got chicked twice! How you like that? Huh? HUH??

Excellent report Squeaky, and I agree with Milk that you have to keep running races and writing reports......you had a LOT of classic lines but the one quoted for me was definitely the most classic of all.. You did good.......Fun Fun report....

Congratulations on your race, Squeaky, and thanks for making me laugh with your great report!

Ha ha! Excellent job and report. Make sure your summer of writing doesn't get in the way of giving us the reports we've come to know and love.

Great report and an accurate description of the unique charms of Solvang..... John

Great report and congratulations on the half. Well done.

congrats girl! loved the RR - you crack me up