It was a dark and stormy night. The rain pummeled the thin nylon fabric of our tents as we lay sleepless, floating on air mattresses in our soggy tents. Despite the torrential rain, the four of us remained relatively dry in our shelters. Not the most ideal conditions for the night before the Big Sur marathon. Al and Janet were next door in their tent while Karen and I floated in ours. None of us slept very well. I don't think it was the rain. It was the terror we were experiencing as we visualized ourselves struggling up the huge hills on the course. We had driven down Hiway 1 from Carmel after picking up our packets and had our first glimpse of the course. It had been raining steadily since we left San Francisco. Seeing the Carmel Highlands in the fog and rain was an inspiring sight. Inspiring fear. We had heard so much about Hurricane Point and looked for it anxiously, but hadn't heard about all these huge hills from mile 15 on. Very scary. Then we saw Hurricane point looming above the majestic Bixby bridge. There was a very steep ascent from mile 9.8 to mile 12 with a net gain of 520 feet. Oh Boy. We knew then that Big Sur is a marathoner's marathon.
We arrived at Big Sur Campground and checked in. The attendant was not too encouraging about the camp site. It was 6 inches under water. We picked a site up the hill and proceeded to pitch our tents in the pouring rain. We collected a few inches of water inside while setting up, but no more rain got in after we tied down the rain flies. When we finished setting up, we stood under a tarp and shared French bread and a lovely cabernet with Janet's sister Susan who flew in from LA to spectate. She came well equipped. As we pondered the rain in our soaked clothes and muddy shoes, Janet commented on how much our friend Paul back in Chicago, who loathes getting his shoes soiled, would love this experience. We sought refuge in the River Inn and lingered over one beer for 2 hours. By the time we headed down the road to Nepenthe we were half dried off.
Nepenthe is a legendary Big Sur restaurant, undoubtedly visited by Kerouac, which evidently offered a spectacular view of the cliffs and crashing surf. All we could see was fog. We sat near the large central fireplace and had a truly excellent meal. We lingered for hours soaking in the warmth and ambiance. Our waitress was a sympathetic runner fortunate to have a roof over her head that night. She wanted to help us out and cut holes in giant garbage bags for rain jackets for us. By the time we returned to camp and holed up on our rafts, it was nearly 9:30.
By 4 AM it had stopped raining. We got up a 5:30 and had coffee and powerbars in the gray of dawn. It was foggy but it was not raining. This was a very good sign. Karen dropped us near the start and joined the one caravan to Carmel. Al and Janet lined up with the 6 minute milers while I lined up with the 9s. Having been injured all winter, I had decided to be very conservative and not reinjure my iliopsoas. I decided to start out slow and go slower. My strategy was to do the race in 4:30 by walking intermittently. I decided to preserve my self by following the advice of an ultramarathoner. The final instructions from the Big Sur organizers were to take it easy, "this is a moderately difficult course so unless you can win your age group we suggest you take it easy, enjoy the scenery, and walk up the steepest hills. We don't want to see you in the medical tent" It sounded like great advice.
Not for Al though. He should now be known as "the little engine that could." He trained like a madman all winter long on the stair master. It paid off for him. He was in great spirits, joking around, freely bantering away with Janet, until he got to mile 19 and then it was all business. He crossed the finish in 3:38. Janet trained for the marathon by working 36 out of every 48 hours for several months in a row, standing in her plastic clogs and catching babies. She pulled up at 19 and walked a few yards while Al motored on up the hill. She finished in 3:45.
It wasn't bad enough that we all had to survive Hurricane Point. Starting at mile 15, we faced big hills every 2 miles until we got through the Carmel Highlands at mile 22. The real killer is the monster hill at mile 25.5. The defining spot on the course. Laying at the foot of Decomposer hill was its namesake, a skeleton in full running gear. We were serenaded by a band playing Sousa, a String Quartet playing Bach, a fife drum and bag pipe band. Each water station offered water, Gatorade, reload packets, Vaseline, and orange slices. At the big bend in the road at the foot of Hurricane point you experience a huge cheer from the 1500 walkers waiting to do the 10 and 21 mile walks. The only spectators on the course are at the water stations and relay transfer points. The rugged coast and crashing waves offer breath taking views. I was happy I carried a camera with me. Another mechanism to slow myself down-- snapping photos of the scenery.
I felt strong and relaxed, comfortable with my strategy until mile 23 when the course flattened out. It seemed more difficult to run on the flat than on the changing elevation. It was great coming down all those big hills. At mile 24 the struggle began. I passed a woman who was holding out a bowl of strawberries which looked very inviting. I ate a few and soon had a terrible stitch in my side. Belly breathing and flapping my arms seemed to offer some relief. At that point when it seemed impossible to finish I reached deep within and drew on the power of my Jupiter chakra. Instead of visualizing the suitcase handle pulling me from the chest, I imagined a hand was pushing me in the small of my back. Finally, I saw the monster hill and felt a sense of relief! I knew the race was nearly over. I cruised down the hill and into a crowd of spectators. I could see the finish line banner in the distance and that joy of accomplishment sent chills through my body. I padded across the temporary wooden bridge which spanned the flooded-out Carmel River and kicked for the last 100 yards. I crossed the finish line at 4:32.
I was happy I'd finished without injuring myself or even hitting the wall. I was pleased that I finished when I wanted, feeling remarkably well. The idea of mixing in a little bit of walking cast a whole new light on running a marathon. Though I did experience a pang of remorse and began to regret that I walked during the race and I resolved that I would return and conquer the Big Sur marathon. But right now I'm just glad I survived.