Lee's Big Sur Journal 2006
Big Sur International Marathon 2006– The 21 Mile Power Walk

April 30, 2006

It’s 3:07 am on the last Sunday in April. The alarm on my cell phone rang at 3am, 3:03 and most recently at 3:06. Each time it went off playing a different ring tone. If variety is the spice of life, then this spice better get me out of bed. A start line is waiting. More accurately, a bus is waiting to take me to a start line.

The buses will leave Carmel Barnyard Shopping Plaza at 4:45am to drive me and hundreds of other eager bodies to the start of the 21-mile walk/run event at the Big Sur International Marathon (BSIM). Big Sur has been described as the greatest meeting of land and sea in the world. After training in the cold and dark mornings of Canada for 4 months, it would be a sad spectacle to miss the bus to the start. Indeed, I’m going to be on the first bus leaving the parking lot for that start. And not just because I’ve been waiting a long time for this day.

Big Sur may be a place of unspeakable beauty, but the porta-potties at the race start are just as unappealing as any you would find elsewhere in the world. If these plastic boxes for the relief of the racing masses can be at their best, the only time is when as few people as possible have visited their fragrant interiors. When you are on the first bus out of the plaza heading south on Highway One toward the start, you are also the first to line up for the porta-potties at the starting area. I know I’ve said this before but it bears repeating. If at all possible, be the first in line for the porta-potties.

So, at my encouragement, most of the WoW Power Walkers find their way to the door of the first bus leaving for the 6:30 am start of the Big Sur 21-miler. We are giddy with excitement as we climb on the bus. We’ve all trained hard for this day. We are missing a few of our comrades who are walking the 10.6 mile walk and who have to board buses for a start at a different location and time. And there is our token alpha male walker who is entered in the full marathon. We miss them but we are all focused on our personal challenge for the day.

The bus rolls out at 4:45am. Everything is on schedule at the BSIM. It is very black. There are minimal street lights here in Carmel. As the driver turns the bus south on Highway One, I turn to Patti in the seat behind me. We talk about what we are going to wear and eat along the route. I am semi-conscious of lights flickering ahead of us. Still, it isn’t until the bus pulls over to the side of the road that we learn that the headlights on our lead bus are not working. It’s not safe to drive along the precipitous coast of the Pacific without headlights at five in the morning. We are rather unceremoniously dumped at the side of the road and told to go to the bus behind us. Except that there is no bus behind us. We stand on the side of the road, fortuitously positioned beside some, as yet unused, porta-potties. This isn’t exactly what I had in mind when suggesting we take the first bus. As a couple of members of our group decide to take advantage of this rather unusual turn of events, we need to make sure no one is left behind in one these “porta-poopies” as the next bus arrives to get us to the start. This is not an auspicious beginning.

Fortunately we arrive in the fog without further incident. When we get to the parking lot at the Andrew Molera State Park, site of the start for the 21-miler, the line-ups for our favorite green boxes are already substantial. Ah well, we did try. As it turns out, the line-up never diminishes because the race organizers have changed the location of the relay start so that there are many relay participants waiting here to pick up the baton from their team members running the first leg of the marathon. Sadly, this means there is no dashing to the front of the line for last minute evacuation before the start. A few of us are forced to find a private location in the fresh air.

Forgive me, if I seem preoccupied with the bathroom facilities. I know anyone who has entered a race will understand the tunnel vision on this issue. I always consider a race a success if this pre-occupation is left at the start line.

The twilight zone of marathoning is that time before the start. At Big Sur we arrive at the start area close to an hour before the race begins. Although it seems that it should be a slow hour, it always rushes by as we try to determine if we should eat any of the snacks that are being offered, line up for last-minute toilet visits, and have endless discussions about our attire, followed by more discussion on when to put the extra layers in the sweat bag for pick up at the finish. As the sun rises over the hills, it becomes more believable that some California sunshine may warm us up along the route.

As 6:30am approaches we sidle toward the start area. Music is playing. It feels good to let off some nervous energy bopping to the sounds of Mamba Number Five. Finally a race official climbs a makeshift podium to welcome us to the race and introduce the woman who will sing a stunning version of the Star Bangled Banner.

After this emotional send-off, the start is announced and we all do the start line shuffle to make it over the chip timing mats. A group of people take off running up the hill that leads from the parking lot of the state park to Hwy One where the course continues toward the Carmel finish line.

As I crest that first hill onto Highway One I soak up the view of rolling hills even if it is covered in a dense fog. Within a kilometer we are passing a ranch on our right. Just as they have the past two years, the horses gallop to the gate to meet us. At the same time, cows grazing on the hillsides beyond are running at top speed away from us. I wonder if those cows have had a bad experience with human beings that are not in cars. Under normal conditions those cows just hear and see thousands of vehicles each day. Today there are no cars and no trucks, just a few buses and thousands of people walking or running very fast. This would definitely be out of the ordinary experience of a Big Sur cow. As we approach the sign identifying the BSIM 500-pound Hereford mascot, Tchaikovsky, there is no sign of said bovine for several miles. Since he is the mascot, I would have thought he might show greater courage than the average Big Sur cow. Those organizers have some work to do finding a more enthusiastic mascot.

The air continues to be cool and the sky overcast. Despite this insipid weather, the beauty of the landscape fills me with wonder. The ocean is off to my left, undetectable visually but the feel and smell of its salty air is calming. The green of the hills rising to my right would make even the most nervous race participant thankful that they had signed up for the experience. This is a grueling and tiring course, but there is no tiring of this view.

At 8 kilometres into the race we are faced with our first challenge. And what a challenge it is – two miles of climbing to the highest point of the race at Hurricane Point. As I approach the final turn before reaching Little Sur River Bridge that marks the beginning of the ascent, I strain to hear the sounds of the Taiko drummers that I know are there to encourage my pace up the grade. This morning there is a breeze off the ocean, making it difficult to hear them in advance. I can see them and I look forward to that primitive rhythm pushing me from behind to the top. The drum beat, staying focused on strong walking technique, and all that hill training through the winter combine to power me past many walkers and runners. This is a long hill. At two miles and an overall race pace of 11 minutes and 49 seconds per mile it will take about 24 minutes to get to the point at the summit where the sign says “Look Back To See Where You Have Been”.

Today there is not much to see. The Pacific fog is still well settled at the shoreline. In any case, it isn’t a good idea to look back for long. The precipice falling to the ocean is still shockingly close on the left and there is the one-mile descent to Bixby Bridge on which to focus. The downhill challenge is difficult in a way that uphill never can be. This is when damage can really be done to muscles, ligaments, and tendons, if I try to push too hard. Staying focused is essential. As I descend the final few hundred meters I can make out the strains of the grand piano. Stepping on to Bixby Bridge the sun bursts through the imprisoning fog. The bridge, the white caps on the crashing waves, the green hills are glowing with the clear, pristine Pacific light. The moment is pure magic. I close my eyes to burn it in memory to be savored later.

The beauty is enveloping and elevating. Walking over Bixby Bridge and passing the grand piano on my left I cherish the moment. Strangely, I know if I were to stop and watch him play, it would not be as poignant. The challenge of trying to walk this grueling course as fast as I can sharpens my senses to everything around me: the air, the land, the wind, the sky - the music of it all. The rest of the race will have plenty of spectacular shoreline visual treats to offer but nothing as enduring as this moment of music and glory after Hurricane Point has been conquered.

The irony is that the seemingly minor rolling hills ahead may easily prove my undoing. Already I can feel a twinge in my right hip. I pushed too hard on the downhill of Hurricane Point and I am suffering the consequences. Concentration through every downhill step is essential if I’m to keep the hip pain under control. Every so often I lose that concentration and a severe pain starts in the joint and moves sharply into the glutes. It’s not only concentration on good form that is required but also concentration on maintaining speed. Strangely, slowing down my pace aggravates the hip. Perhaps it is because at this slower pace the joint actually experiences greater impact. Whatever the reason, the hip problem is forcing me to maintain good form and good speed.

Soon I arrive at Rocky Point. Earlier in the morning this was the start location of the 10.6.mile race. For the 21 miler, we are just about half way through the race. Rounding the right turn at Rocky Point I am rewarded with yet another outstanding California panorama ahead of me. As far as the eye can see layer upon layer of rock, ocean, and hills washed in the gold Pacific light. It’s still a long way to the finish and the pain in my hip has not diminished but the perfection of the Big Sur race is that these hits of coastal paradise are a potent medicine that distracts me so wondrously from the pain.

Continuing toward the Carmel Hills, the course offers a more residential feel with cultivated gardens and shady trees lining the road. Occasional glimpses of homes as architectural gems can be had from the road, jutting out on rocky promontories over the pacific or shaded behind west coast foliage on the hills to the right. The climate of the race changes now too. There are some stretches sheltered from the wind and far enough away from the ocean that the California sun beats out the Pacific breezes to raise the temperature to an uncomfortable heat.. Thankfully, there are loads of friendly people cheering us on and offering wet sponges, orange slices and banana pieces.

For me the race is becoming a mental tug of war with the pain in my hip. As long as I stay completely focused on form and speed, everything is under control. But I can sustain this for another seven miles?

Concentrating on form is not that easy as I approach from behind groups of people strolling through the 10.6 mile walk. They are walking three and four abreast on the left, while runners are coming up from behind on the right. There are tense moments of near collisions. Side-stepping the slower walkers requires a monumental physical effort and usually results in breaking my form – something not so easily recovered.

With just over two miles to go, the last challenging hill tops out at the Highlands Chevron gas station where the crowds are particularly enthusiastic and loud with their encouragement. Some volunteers are offering luscious local organic strawberries. Sadly, my stomach can’t manage the acid from even one strawberry at this point. A stomach cramp would not be manageable.

The final stretch of any race is mentally tough. My legs just can’t seem to move as fast as I’d like to get me to that finish line. On my right medical staff are assisting someone who is down, covering him with blankets and asking him questions. So close but impossibly far from the finish line. I try to enjoy the charm of the Carmel Valley hills to my right and the crashing waves at the Carmel River State Beach on my left. When I can hear the crowds yelling and the race officials calling names and encouraging people to hurry up if they want to make it in by the four hour time, I need to focus on each step. It would be easy to let them go to jelly.

As I pass over the mat, I know I can’t take one more step quickly. Stopping to lift my foot so that a volunteer can remove the timing chip from my shoe feels as difficult as if she is asking me to touch my nose with my toe. I get light-headed with the sudden cessation in movement. I am reminded how important it is to keep moving for several minutes after the race so that blood doesn’t pool in the lower extremities. If she takes much longer, I’m going to pass out right here. Oh well, at least I have finished the race.

Fortunately all ends well and I collect my medal, my space blanket, and my box of food. I hobble directly to the sign-up sheet at the massage table. It’s at least an hour wait. That’s OK. I need to move around so that I don’t get stiff and the wait will give me a chance to see the other walkers from our group come in past the finish.

It’s great to see the looks of exhaustion and exhilaration as they arrive. Vera, Karen and Lisa, Rebecca and Carleen, Lani and George, Karl and Sue, Brenda and Patti, Janet, Jane, Francine and Heather. Everyone has conquered the Big Sur coast. Later I will catch up with Geoff and Marie who were unable to upgrade from the 10.6 mile distance to the 21 mile event because of some changes to the race organization. They still enjoyed the spectacular sights of the 10.6 mile race. After everyone passes through the food tent, I lose track of some as they search out the beer tent. Yes, there’s some good carb replenishment at this race.

There is minimal shade at the finish area, so after a restorative massage and sufficient carb replenishment, we head back to our lodgings. Most of us are staying at the Green Lantern Inn in downtown Carmel. We take advantage of the fact that we are just a few blocks from the Pacific and take a walk (!) to the beach so that our feet can enjoy some pampering (of sorts) in the cold ocean. This icy treatment should reduce any swelling.

What really cures the pain is a little more carb replenishment in fluid form and some intense lounging around the Green Lantern garden table sharing stories and laughs. The pressure is off and we can bask in the glow of achievement. It was an achievement that saw many of us rising hours before the sun for months in the cold and dark of an Ontario winter. If we were questioning our sanity back in February, all those doubts are being washed away with each sip of wine and gulp of beer, sitting in our garden paradise under the California sun in Carmel-by-the-Sea having conquered the rugged edge of the western world on two feet.

Sign us up for 2007! Registration opens August 1 2006.