In my early years of running, the joke was, when you get old and slow, you run ultras and buy Hokas! Well, I for sure ain’t old! And I still got a bit of speed on me still! And Hokas just don’t work for me. So the marathon is where I capped the distance at.

For years, a good ultra buddy of mine and I had this long standing stalemate that we mutually agreed upon. “When you do a tri, I’ll do an ultra.” A gentlemen’s agreement that has stood for about a decade. There we stood, line in the sand, that neither of us would cross.

Until one of us did. I signed up for the Noble Canyon 50K back in May. Equal parts giving in to peer pressure, listening to my mentors to do the scary thing, curiosity in understanding the runner’s POV compared to just coaching it on the sidelines. I always said if I were to do a 50K, Noble Canyon would be it. It also fell on the same day as my birthday. I figured the stars aligned to make this the year to make it happen. So I plunked down my money and put my training plan together.

Sixteen weeks later, here we are stumbling in the dark through the pot hole filled field to pick up my bib.

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.