My last race of the year was also the 100^th race that I’ve ever done.  Marathons, half marathons, 5Ks, mile races, triathlons, Spartans, Ragnars, virtuals (I raced them all hard in 2020 like they were in-person). It was also fitting because number 100 was just like number 1, a triathlon.

The thing with running a race year after year is that you really have an intimate outlook of the race. You know where every valley and peak is. You know how you’ll feel at specific points of the race. You know where you should be at the beginning to avoid the crush of the starting crowd. You know when to pull the trigger to finish strong.

When you’ve been running a race multiple times over the years, you can become complacent in how to step to the starting line because you’ve done it before; you know all the twists and turns of the course. You sort of feel over confident about it. Well that’s what happened to me over the weekend running my eighth La Jolla Half Marathon.

I had been wanting to run the Oakland Marathon since the first one 15 years ago, so when the calendar finally cleared way for it, I jumped at the chance and signed up. Having lived in the Town (as it’s affectionately called) in my 20s, it’s got a special place in my heart.

At some point in a marathon, you have to “pay the piper” as I tell my athletes. The goal with training is to be well enough in shape to pay him the least amount. The crowd supports picks up as we loop off the ramp and head north up 1st Ave. Running up 1st Ave from mile sixteen to just past nineteen is a bit of a blur. It’s a lot of crowds like the rest of the race has been, but by now, I’m really focused on myself. I had been feeling little twinges of pain here and there and largely ignored them. But this late in the race as I hit mile eighteen, I’m wondering if I’ll have to pay the piper for 8.2miles or can I stave it off longer. Nothing major is wrong, but I notice, things. With this pace I’m on, I know I just got an hour left. “I can do this!” “It’s just a tempo run.” “You’ve been here before.” Let’s compare it to say, the check engine light going on. You can still drive your car, but hey you should take a look sometime soon.

It’s been nearly 20yrs since I did my 1st tri – Treasure Island Tri. Inspired by seeing a 65 year old nun doing one. If she can do it, why can’t I? I had no idea what I was doing training for it, but loved the challenge. It was a one and done thing at the time. Bar hopping and partying was a lot easier. In 2010 I decided to try it out again. This time with a different attitude; different mindset.

Going into the race, I knew I would be able to put out a solid effort just based on my overall fitness, but I didn’t have no real expectations. Besides, with it being my first time doing this race, I don’t have any history with it. Luckily, I got a chance to ride the bike route once a few weeks prior. It felt comfortably hard and not as bad as I thought. I’ve ran the run course dozens of times prior so I know that part very well. And for the swim, with it being in a harbor, I knew it would at least be calm waters early in the morning and the water temp will be whatever the water temp wants to be.

“Well this is going a lot better than a couple of weeks back!” I thought to myself as settled into the first few miles of the 25th Rock n Roll San Diego Half Marathon. My previous half marathon two weeks prior was trash

We’ll deal with what we got, put our best foot forward and give it all we got! I know it’s not gonna be a great race – I hadn’t ran more than three miles in the past two weeks. Lungs felt somewhat heavy with a suppressed dry cough. Body felt weak. As I get to the top of the hill around mile three, turn right and head toward the beach, I finally know how this race is gonna go. And it’s not gonna be pretty.

Another year taking on the Spring Sprint Triathlon. Came away with some good results!

On your mark, get set, GO! I’m tucked in just behind the front runners. We cross the timing mat and I stay on the left side of the road. Since I’m not in prime 5k form, I know racing smart is clutch to get the best time possible. I gotta run the shortest route possible which means hugging the road closest to the turns, running the tangents and drafting behind folks as needed. It also means pacing well….

When I say that training has gone by the wayside, it definitely has. I love racing hella much, but I love Joni more obviously. Running and the gym have always been my source of therapy; something I use to release stress. Joni’s cancer diagnosis definitely has me releasing stress out on the roads & trails and clanging & banging at the gym! But I just don’t have the mental capacity to stick to something regimented and strict right now. So I’ve been listening to my body and doing what I can.