2009 Catalina Marathon

Avalon, California
March 14, 2009

I was near the highest point on the course around mile 22, overlooking the town of Avalon, when I encountered yet another ridiculous hill. There was no one else in sight, as had been the case for the last mile or so, and I was overcome with emotion. The endless climbing was getting to me and my legs were killing me. But I knew I would finish, and I felt an exhilaration I'd never before felt during a race. I was overwhelmed by the experience - the enormity of the challenge, the stunning beauty of Catalina Island and an immense sense of accomplishment combined to create a feeling that's difficult to put into words.

I had only signed up for the Catalina Marathon five weeks earlier, when I found out I would be traveling to Los Angeles on business. Like any dedicated distance runner, my first thought upon hearing I would be in L.A. was to seek out a race that weekend. I had never heard of the Catalina Marathon, but quickly grew excited as l learned about the race and about Catalina. In addition to the chance to run a great race, it seemed like the perfect escape for my wife Patty and me.

Working out the logistics to participate in this race presents quite a challenge. I suppose that's part of what makes it so special. There are few boats to and from the island, and it takes 90 minutes to get there from L.A. We thought of staying in Avalon, where the finish line is, but the desirable and affordable options were limited by the time we looked. Staying on the island, as it turned out, would have been only slightly more convenient than staying on the mainland. Even those staying in hotels on the island had to take a boat to the start line. Camping near the start line is an option, but that's not my speed.

We booked a room at a surprisingly luxurious Holiday Inn Express in Marina del Rey, not far from the airport and very pleasant. The Catalina Flyer ferry service had scheduled a special run for 4:00 the morning of the race, and it would be leaving from Marina del Rey.

For dinner the night before the race I had a very nice chicken piccata, with loads of angel hair pasta. I had a couple of beers and lots of water. I was in bed by 8:30 but couldn't fall asleep for about an hour.

A LITTLE ANXIOUS, ARE WE?


I had three alarms set to go off at 2:30, but was wide awake a half hour before that. My taxi was coming at 3:00 to take me to the pier, so I had plenty of time to eat, apply Vaseline and generally get anxious. I consumed a bottle of water and a banana. I didn't want to eat much because the ferry ride to Catalina is often quite rough, and I didn't want to have too much in me if I got sick on the boat.

I arrived at the boat-loading area by 3:15, 45 minutes before the departure. I was first in line, which wasn't my intention. I just was overly cautious about finding my way there because if I missed this boat, there would be no way to make it to the race. When a couple other early birds arrived ten minutes later, I told them that it had certainly paid off camping out overnight to get the first spot. They laughed.

The spirit among runners as we waited to board was contagious. First-timers were asking race veterans about strategy for tackling the hills, runners were comparing notes on how well-prepared they were, and there was plenty of talk about how lucky we were to have such a nice day for a race.

The enthusiasm continued on the boat for the first 15 minutes or so, but as folks settled in for the long ride, many fell asleep and others listened to their iPods, with just a few carrying on conversations. The waters were calm, but it felt a bit odd to be sailing across the ocean in complete darkness. I ate a container of Honey Nut Cheerios, a Power Bar, drank some coffee and had a bottle of water.

We disembarked around 5:30 in the town - if you can call it that - of Two Harbors, where the race would start. I headed straight to the registration area to pick up my bib and grab my bag-check tags. (No chip timing here)

I then entered the small diner where runners had congregated and asked a fellow runner if I could sit at his table. We struck up a conversation and - this is one for the 'small-world' files - quickly realized that we both worked for the same company - his name is John and he works in L.A., while I work in Chicago. This would be John's second Catalina Marathon, and he was using it as a training run for Boston, which he hopes to finish in under 3:00 hours. The pre-race time flew by as we gabbed about running and work. (He would finish this year's Catalina race in 4:10, after an astonishing 3:37 last year.)

We had to walk about half a mile to the start line, which was simply a white line painted across the dirt road. No banners, no blaring music or irritating MC. The runners were an eclectic mix - a more-grizzled lot than in your average marathon.


AND THEY'RE OFF!


The gun went off at 7:03 just as the sun was coming up. The temperature was in the high 40s, and conditions remained ideal throughout the race. The skies were slightly overcast throughout, so it was never uncomfortable even as the temperature rose.

The first third of a mile of the race may have been the longest flat stretch on the course. After that, we climbed above 800 feet by the 2.5-mile mark. We then descended to about 600 feet by mile 3, and then climbed about 400 feet over the next mile. I had to walk part of that climb, as did everyone around me. The views of Two Harbors below were stunning at the start.

My splits for the first four miles were 10:30, 9:57, 9:18 and 10:20. Though that's about two minutes slower per mile than I would typically run a marathon, I was quite pleased with my performance over a difficult stretch. I was hoping to finish the race in 4:30, so I was a bit ahead of that pace.

I was somewhat anxious, though, because my first dose of a steep downhill proved to me that going downhill took a big toll on the body. I wasn't accustomed to running such steep downhills for sustained periods, and certainly not over dirt and sharp rocks, so I was putting on the brakes with every step to avoid losing control. The experienced trail runners clearly knew how to let go, and their legs were conditioned to handle the pounding.

As we approached a sharp corner on a steep descent, I asked a fellow runner, only half-joking, whether he thought anyone had ever lost control, failed to make the turn, and tumbled down the hill. He told me he'd seen people over the years fall face first into the dirt. I didn't see anyone fall, but did see plenty of bloodied knees on runners crossing the finish line later in the day.

The next four miles were mostly downhill, losing a net 1000 feet in elevation. My splits for this stretch were 9:11, 9:32, 8:39, and 8:03.

The following three miles treat runners to some of the more beautiful views on the course, as well as some very steep ascents. I was walking up each of the big climbs, as I'd been advised to do by folks who'd done the race before. By this point, I'd decided that I would try to keep my average pace below 10 minutes per mile. I did miles 9 through 11 in 10:28, 8:56 and 10:56, and I was quite pleased with that.

With mile 12, runners venture into the heart of the island, moving away from the coast into areas that few tourists typically see. Mile 12 also has the last downhill stretch before 8 miles of climbing that take the runners from about 200 feet to 1500 feet above sea level. I completed mile 12 in 8:50.


HILL FROM HELL


I had studied the elevation chart closely before the race, so I was well aware of what lay ahead. Still, it was hard to comprehend just how tough the climbing would be until I was out there on the course. There was no way for me to train for these conditions back in suburban Chicago. I was just hoping that my legs would hold out long enough for me to finish. I could feel my right calf tightening a bit on occasion, and my thighs hurt on the downhills.

I had to walk a bit in mile 13 and also made a pit stop to use the bathroom at a place called Eagle's Nest Lodge (which wasn't really a lodge at all as far as I could tell) at the 12.9-mile mark. I finished mile 13 in 10:14.

My time was somewhere around 2:07 at the half-way point of the race. I started thinking that I might be able to finish in 4:15, but I didn't dwell on it.

The nice thing about having to endure steep climbs is that the not-as-steep climbs seem flat by comparison. As a result, I was able to settle into a nice groove for the next few miles. My splits for mile 14 through 16 - a stretch that involved a relatively modest 300-foot elevation gain - were 9:20, 9:50 and 9:02.

It's probably worth mentioning something here about crowd support. There really was none to speak of until the last half mile or so of the race. The population of the whole island is less than 4,000, and nearly all those folks live in Avalon. (Interesting note - William Wrigley purchased Catalina Island in 1919, and the Cubs did their pre-season training there from 1921 through 1951. The Wrigley family deeded its shares in the island in the mid-1970s to the Catalina Island Conservancy, which stewards almost the entire island now.)

The middle stretch of the course was particularly tough without anyone cheering you on, especially since the runners had spread out quite a bit by now. There were lengthy sections where I was running on my own.

The grades of ascent get steeper in the second half of mile 17, which caused me to slow my pace for that mile to 10:49, as I braced for some of the tougher climbs on the course.

I'd heard from plenty of folks earlier about how difficult Pump House Hill would be. It involves a 400-foot climb over nine-tenths of a mile, ending at about the 18.6 mile mark of the course. (By comparison, the much-ballyhooed Heartbreak Hill in Boston involves a near-100-foot climb over half a mile.) Everyone - except three guys running together who had to be in their early 20s and who looked remarkably fresh - walked almost the entire hill. I completed mile 18 in 13:16.

I met a guy walking up the hill (we'd been passing each other for miles) who told me he'd done this race eight years in a row. He advised me not to put any pressure on myself, to not worry about time. He said there was a lot of running left, including some significant climbs, and that the best advice he could give was to enjoy the beautiful scenery. He assured me the payoff would be substantial in the final miles.

There was a much-needed rest area at the top of Pump House Hill. I walked slowly through this area as I'd done at each one previously to consume food and drink. I had a couple cups of Gatorade, as well as some pretzels and M&Ms, which were available at every rest area. At an earlier rest stop I'd eaten a homemade chocolate chip brownie, which was a welcome treat. Fruit and gel were also available at some of the stops, and I had carried Jelly Belly Sport Beans and a couple packs of Power Bar gel on my belt. I felt as though I had done a good job of fueling.


ON MY OWN


I jogged away from the rest area onto the start of a two-mile stretch of paved roadway, and we were climbing once again. About a quarter mile down the road, my right calf locked up completely. I stopped momentarily to rub it, then walked a few yards, then shuffled off. I finished mile 19 in 13:12, and was now thinking that I'd be lucky to finish the race in 4:30, if I finished at all.

The climb continued until about the halfway point of the next mile, before a descent that enabled me to speed up the pace in mile 20 to 9:21. No cramps.

The next few miles had some quick, steep ascents and descents. My legs were generally sore at this point, so much so that even walking up certain inclines was tough. At one rest stop I took Advil, which was the first time I'd ever taken anything to deal with the effects of running. Until this race, I'd never event taken anything in the days following marathons.

I completed miles 21 and 22 in 12:40 and 11:01, respectively, and was completely on my own during most of that stretch. It was strange to be running in this reasonably large, and very-well-organized race, and to not see another soul in front of or behind me.

And so it was that I found myself in tears as I climbed what turned out to be the second-to-last big hill of the race. I can't pinpoint why I was so emotional, and maybe it doesn't really matter. It wasn't because I was in pain or that I thought I couldn't finish. In fact, I was feeling quite satisfied at that point. I knew that soon it would all be downhill, and the views of the town of Avalon below were amazing.

Three guys passed me in mile 23, as I walked one last time up a hill. We all congratulated one another and one of them assured the rest of us that we were just about to start the 1600-foot descent to the finish line. I finished mile 23 in 9:49.


SCREAMING THIGHS


The descent was exceptionally painful. With each step my thighs were absolutely screaming. The downward pitch was tough enough to deal with, but the uneven surface and sharp rocks added another challenge. My big toes were hurting now too from the rubbing against the sides of my shoes.

But, hey, at least I wasn't walking. I was moving at what seemed like a very fast pace, though it never got faster than 8 minutes per mile. A man and a woman who obviously had plenty of experience on hills blew by me. I asked the woman how her thighs felt, and she said, 'They feel great. I love this part.' (She ended up finishing nearly four minutes ahead of me, so she was flying.)

The guy I'd met on Pump House Hill also passed me late in mile 24. He congratulated me and told me to look forward to the crowd support in Avalon. We chatted momentarily about how difficult it was to train for a race like this in suburban Chicago, and he told me I should be very proud.

I finished mile 24 in 8:49, and was now thinking I might actually be able to finish in under 4:20.

I had another severe cramp in my right calf early in mile 25, but rubbed it briefly and shuffled along for a few seconds until I could resume my stride. I passed a handful of hikers who were enjoying a Saturday in the Catalina hills, another sign that I was approaching civilization. I finished mile 25 in 8:50.

Late in mile 25, the course leaves the trails and goes to paved roadways for the final stretch into town. I recalled that a fellow runner had told us while we waited for the boat earlier that we would know we had made it when we saw the Catalina golf course. So I was indeed relieved to see the golf course, though the good feeling dissipated when my calf locked up one final time. This one caused me to scream in pain, but I did the same rub-walk-shuffle drill and I was fine. I finished mile 26 in 8:34.


SOAKING IT ALL IN

No one had passed me in the previous two miles and I was intent on not letting anyone do so before I crossed the finish line. I had never felt so strong in the final stages of a marathon. Maybe all the walking had helped me conserve energy. Maybe the running on dirt had taken less of a toll on my body. Maybe I'm just in better shape after running four marathons in a little more than a year.

The great thing about running on my own at the end of the race was that all the cheering once I got to the streets of Avalon was just for me. The three teenage girls jumping and hollering, the couple walking their dog who said 'way to go', the grandparents strolling their grandchild who congratulated me, the folks sitting outside the cafe cheering and clapping - all for me. And in a first ever, my name was pronounced correctly by the announcer as I crossed the finish line, in 4:20:09.

I was greeted at the finish line by Patty, who had arrived just 5 minutes earlier after taking the 9:30 boat over from Marina del Rey. She told me I looked great and gave me a hug and a kiss, which was impressive given how grimy I was.

Thanks to a tip I got from some folks I met on the boat, I knew there was a public shower not far from the finish line. The two dollars it cost me to shower was money well-spent. Patty and I enjoyed a lunch of fish tacos and beer, and then took in the sights on the island until the boat left at 5:00.

The Catalina Marathon was the best race I've done. It was the most demanding by far and, even though I finished 45 minutes slower than my marathon PR, I've never felt a bigger sense of physical accomplishment. I can't recommend this event highly enough. I will definitely do it again, and hopefully will lure a friend or two to do it with me.

In the days following the race, I was back at work dealing with the usual stress of the job and concerns about whether we'll ever sell our house. But each time I thought of the race, or looked at a picture from that wonderful day, the stress would melt away. I was blessed to have experienced Catalina.

THE STATS

My finishing time of 4:20:09 (per-mile pace of 9:56) was good for 121st place out of 652 runners. I was 19th out of 53 runners in the Male 40-44 group. The average finish time among all participants was 5:12:09 and the average time for my age group was 4:45:35. The overall winner came in at 3:00:09.

Click here to see the details of my run.