Summary: This was my goal race for the year.  Initially, I just wanted to break 4:30, but closer in I revised that to 4:20.  Final time: 4:20:20, an almost 18 minute PR.  First half: 2:10:29.   Second half: 2:09:51.  I could not be happier.

Blow-by-blow Account with Minute Details.

Goals and Training.   I had two goals this year: sub-2 HM and sub 4:30 FM. I got the sub-2 in May and picked the California International Marathon (CIM) to accomplish the sub 4:30. CIM has a great reputation both as a fast course, and as a well-organized “race by runners and for runners.”   If I couldn’t make it happen there, it wasn’t happing anywhere.

For training, I ventured out from the world of free on-line Higdon plans, and chose Pfitz’s 18/55 plan. Completing it was a struggle, partly because it was a healthy step up in mileage and intensity, and partly because I was tired of training even before it began.  It was my 4^th training cycle of the year; 2 tries to get the sub-2 HM, and 1 for the SF Marathon, which I ended up DNSing due to a sore hamstring.  But, I plowed through it as best I could.  I learned that 18 weeks is a very long time.  Occasionally, I had to drop a couple of miles on some easy runs and one of the 20 milers got converted to16 miles.  But I did most of it, including all 4 of the marathon pace long runs.  I was very relieved to get to the taper without injuring myself.

As the race drew near, I started obsessing over goals.  I realized that 4:30 wasn’t right.  I felt I could do better, but what was the number?  I didn’t race much.  I poured over what data I had.  I solicited advice.  I stressed.  Finally, the day before the race, I committed to 4:20.  I might blow up, but I was willing to risk that, rather than be overly conservative and never know what I was capable of.

Day Before.  I drove out to Sacramento on Saturday. My room wasn’t ready when I got in, so I ended up wandering around the expo toting a bag with my clothes, another bag with clothes for a charity drive and a cooler containing my meals (yes really).  Then, I bought more stuff at the expo, which I also had to lug around. But, I got a really cool bib, #1983, which was the first year the CIM was run.  I felt I had been given a good omen.

Once my room was ready, I dropped off my stuff and walked to the finish line area. They were just putting up the “finish” signs and the chutes were lined with banners. I stood there for a minute trying to visually me crossing.  It was at this exact moment when I truly committed to 4:20 as my goal. I felt that was the very fastest time possible for me, and I wanted to go for it.

I didn’t get much sleep.  For unknown reasons, my bedside alarm went off at midnight, then at 12:10 a.m. on snooze.  At 1 a.m. a group of revelers was shouting in the hallway.  At 2 a.m., I gave up, started brewing coffee and got ready.

Race Day. The day dawned to great weather; low to mid 50s.  It’s a point-to-point race, so we had to be bussed to the start.  It was a long ride up and I marveled that I had to run that entire way back.  Once there, I had just enough time to hit the POP and shed my throw-away. I jogged up to the staring chute right as the national anthem was beginning.  I felt strangely relaxed.  I had decided on my goal time, I had the cool bib, and the chips would fall where they may.

The gun went off and it was show time.  I’m a slow starter, so I planned to take it easy the first mile until I warmed up.  It’s a downhill start, and even with my cold start, I passed mile 1 at 10:11.  Much better than I had expected.  From there, the next few miles were an exercise and reining myself in.  Everyone around me was happily chattering and speeding up.  There was an air of celebration about everything.  I kept repeating, “run easy” to myself and stuck to my planned paces.

At around mile 6, I felt the first, extremely mild, signs of what was to come.  My gut was not entirely down with no sleep, race day nerves and downhill running.  I could feel an old nemesis, the side-stitch, doing some quiet complaining.  Also, my left calf felt tight and achy.  In a weird way, these were good things, because it reminded me to keep my pace down.

I passed the halfway point at 2:10:29, which was where I wanted to be.  At mile 13.5, I also had the pleasure of seeing some family members.  I happily squandered a couple of seconds for a hug and some high-fives.  The course was just great.  Some gently rolling uphillls followed by long downhills.  It wasn’t’ scenic like SF, but to my runner’s eye, it was beautiful.  It really is a “runner’s race.”

At mile 16, I could see that the end of the fun times was near.  As late as mile15, I was thinking that speeding up and hitting 4:19 was possible.  But, at mile 16, an honest, full-body inventory made it clear that I would be lucky to hang on to where I was.  My gut had become increasingly unhappy, and I hadn’t been able to take a gu since mile 9.  Both calves were hurting and overall, I could see the battle lines were being drawn.  I told myself just make it to mile 20 and then see how I felt.  The race is almost over then, I told myself, right?  Right?

Mile 20 came, along with a big sign announcing that I was at “The Wall.”  At this point, I was still within the realm of the kind of discomfort I had experienced on the very last mile or two of my MP long runs.  But, now I had 6.2 miles left.  I tried to wrap my mind around that, and couldn’t.  So I told myself that each mile from here would be a victory and focused on getting to the next one.

That strategy got me to mile 22.  Then I searched for something new.  I settled on the thought that yes, I was in extreme discomfort, but it was only for 42 more minutes.  Just 42!  Then, after I had run a few more minutes, I thought, now it’s only 35 more minutes of extreme discomfort!  That quickly became depressing.   All around me, I could see runners struggling, lurching to a halt or already walking.  All the happy-time chatter was gone.

At mile 23, I opted for the “go numb” approach.  I tried not to think at all, except that each leg must continue to swing forward as fast as I could make it.  I was struggling, but I still able to hold onto to my pace.  At mile 24, I woke up enough to do the math and realize I could break 4:20, if I could speed up, just a little, on the final 2 miles.  I tuned out the increasingly frantic SOS messages from my body, and picked up the pace a bit.

My body, however, had grown weary of the subtle approach.  At 24.5 miles, I felt the sharp stabbing of side-stitch. I was so damn close.  I spent a few seconds trying to run through it.  That wasn’t going to happen.  Then, I became one of those people lurching to walk, as I went through my breathing exercises and massaged my side.  After a few seconds, I tried to run again.  Too soon.  I walked and breathed some more, before I started slowly running again, as gently as I could, while still massaging my side. I could see my lap pace was now 10:25. Rats, rats, rats.

But, I was at least able to run again, and I began cautiously increasing my pace.  When I clicked over mile 25, my garmin beeped a 10:13 mm lap pace. OK, I told myself. I hadn’t lost that much time, I was still running, and, as the grim reaper’s sign at the Mile 25 marker said, “the end was near.”  I needed to give it all I had.

That last mile was a complete blur.   My side was throbbing, my calves were seizing up, and I was totally spent.  I was actually running with my eyes closed for periods of time.  Finally I got to the last ½ mile and there was amazing crowd support.  People were screaming, bells were ringing, and I could see the finish line area.  I let the sound and energy wash over me.  Someone screamed at me to pass those two guys ahead of me, so I did.  Then I rounded the corner and was running past the banners and under the finish line sign I had watched being put up the night before.   I was done.  I hadn’t wimped out on my goals, and I hadn’t quit on myself.  4:20:20.  I couldn’t have asked for anything more.

Final Thoughts.  This race reinforced the importance of pacing.   According to CIM, from 10K marker on, I passed 1000 people. From the half, I passed 800, and from mile 20 on, 300.  All, by just running even splits.  I’m sure lots of those people would have easily beaten me with better pacing.   Training is only half the battle.

All and all, I felt incredibly lucky that everything fell together the way it did.  From the great weather, to the lucky bib#, to stumbling upon the exact right pace, it felt magical.  Yet, the whole process took so much out of me.  When it was over, my guts were in turmoil, it hurt to breath, and I could barely walk back to my hotel. Two days later, my calves and side still hurt.  I’m in no hurry to do that again any time soon.  Also, the thought of trying to better my time is daunting.   I don’t know if I can train harder, or run a better race.

Thanks for reading, and here are my splits:

What a great race!  Fantastic job, ootb!  I give you lots of credit for setting a goal you knew would be tough, going for it, and hitting it.  It certainly sounds like the last 10K of that race got all marathony on you.    We're all too familiar with the late race mental math and mind games.  I tell myself, "Don't think.  Just run."

Also, pics.  Finish line pics, medal pics, pics pics.  TIA

Wow, your RR says it all.  I'm really impressed that you held it together and nailed your goal, in spite of all the pains.  Well done, and I agree with Baboon, please post pictures.  Some of us must live vicarously.

I never doubted it!  You have been nothing if not methodical and calculating in your approach to this race and training for it going back to your decision to not race San Francisco and moving runs around due to fatigue or other issues the entire cycle.

In that regard the end justify the means and more importantly you nailed it from A to Z.

Nicely done!

Music-girl -- Thanks!  I wasn't sure how good a handle I had on my fitness when I settled on 4:20, but I'm very glad it worked out.

Baboon -- Yeah, it did go all marathon-y on me.  I tried to tell myself at the time that it was all part of the fun -- or at least would seem like fun when I was all rested up and typing out a RR.  Pictures for the race haven't been released yet.  I actually tried to crack a smile crossing the finish line, so we'll see how that worked out.

Docket -- Reading about your side-stitch really got me focused on how I had dealt with that issue in the past, so when it happened on Sunday, I think I was better prepared than I would have been otherwise.  So, thanks for your candid description of what you went through on your last marathon -- it helped me out there.

Little Blue -- Thanks!  Hoping that when pictures come out, some will be decent, but that's always a long shot.  It's not the most photogenic of circumstances, lol.

4outa5 --I'm glad I'm not the only one doing the minute-by-minute count-down.  I guess it's one way of giving yourself a series of little accomplishments;  1 more minute down!  During the last mile, there was a stretch where I was just trying to keep running for as long as I could count to 10.

LRB -- Thanks, and thanks also for all the great advice and support you've given me over the course of this training cycle.  You are so generous with your time on these forums.  It helps to know people are pulling for you!

You're a great writer and I really enjoyed reading your RR.  The way you describe the end is so agonizing but its a good agonizing.  ha.  Im so happy for you and it sounds like you executed everything about this marathon perfectly.  Nice splits

Congrats on hitting your goal - feels good when your hard work pays off.

This is a great, well written RR. I love it when I can feel the pain, the doubts...

Congratulations on a beautifully run race.