Whose Destiny Are We Talking About Here?

Tacoma calls itself the City of Destiny. I don't know what that means, exactly. Since I can remember, Tacoma has been the joke of the Puget Sound. Dirty, crime-infested, ugly, and decidedly a "drive through" sort of place. You drive through Tacoma on your way to Anywhere Else, USA. I can count the number of times I've actually spent any real minutes or hours in Tacoma on one hand. A couple of concerts at the Tacoma Dome back in the 90s (anyone remember when the pyrotechnics at the AC/DC show set the wooden ceiling on fire?), a conference for work, and most recently a surprise trip to see Billy Collins. So signing up for the Tacoma Narrows Half Marathon had very little to do with the city itself. Truth is, I saw that Cap'n Ron had signed up and figured, what the hell? I'm out of shape and recovering from surgery. I've been on the road for most of the summer. I haven't trained over 6 miles since May. Sounds like a recipe for success to me! So I signed up and started rationalizing. Like I do.

"I can just take it easy and use it as a long run."

"I can run-walk it."

"If I crash and have to walk in, no big woop."

And with that cycle running through my head, I started my intense training regimen, which included not running at all in the days leading up to the race, drinking PBR in the sun at The Boat Yard, and drinking wine with The Colleague at the Lyle Lovett concert the night before the race. Oh, and let's not forget a nice big helping of Pad Thai at midnight before the race. This is some good training and preparation.

Let me also say that if given the choice, I'd rather wake up in my own bed on race day. But when this means an alarm going off in my ear at 4:30 a.m., the benefits of sleeping at home are questionable. At best. I think The Colleague summed it up pretty well when the alarm went off to Midnight Oil's "Beds are Burning":

"What the hell?!"

Exactly.

Keeping to my rigorous preparation plans, I had half a glass of water and part of a NutriGrain bar (mixed berry, for those of you keeping score), and when Cap'n Ron pulled up at 5:00, I was "ready" to roll.

After the drive and a parking fiasco, we met up with First Time Half Marathoner Friend and shuttled a car to the starting line across the Tacoma Narrows Bridge



Of course, they have rebuilt the bridge a couple of times since it crashed down in 1940. But still, when you think Tacoma Narrows, you think "bridge collapse in wind storm" don't you? Maybe it's just me. Anyway, after the requisite milling about and waiting in impossibly long Honey Bucket lines, we got onto the course (10 minutes late...do races EVER start on time?)


The race started at the Narrows Airport in a chilly sea fog, which once we started running was perfect, but standing around waiting for the start was miserable.

With only 1000 participants, the start was easy and there was no jockeying for position or running room.

Kudos #1: Starting on the runway at the airport is a good choice. Wide open running for everyone.

At mile 2.5 the course hit the bridge, and the wide pedestrian path on the new span. Very nice! Though in the heavy fog the crossing was very eerie. I couldn't help think of the poor souls who have jumped to their deaths from the bridge as I ran over the top. Yikes. Don't look down, there be vertigo there.

Kudos #2: Much of the run is on pedestrian and bike paths, with nice surfaces and no traffic. They had to close very few roads, which is always a nice way to run a race.

After the bridge is the first real hill of the course, and it's a killer. Mile 4 goes up almost 300 feet from the end of the bridge through Veterans Park. I was holding a little under an 8:00 pace at this point, but that wasn't going to last long. The hill about killed me, and my meticulous planning and preparation forced me to stop at the Honey Bucket in the park. I lost almost 2 minutes there. Oh well. I wasn't looking for a PR here anyway, right?

From there the course crosses Highway 16 on an overpass and enters a little middle class neighborhood for a 2 mile loop. An old couple sitting on their lawn drinking coffee were the only people awake and outside in the whole place. Hi folks. Why is it so quiet around here?

Criticism #1: Granted this isn't the race organizers' fault, but the course is lonely. There was almost no one out supporting the runners and once the field spread out, I was literally running alone most of the time. I don't know how to fix this.

The course then picks up the very nice trail system through the west part of Tacoma. We did a little loop on the baseball diamond at Cheney Stadium, which was pretty cool, and then headed up the hill. And up the hill. And up the hill...

At the starting line I listened to people talk about the course (in my intense preparation I neglected to look at the course map, naturally). I heard several people, including First Time Half Marathoner Friend say something like "After mile 10 it's all downhill to the finish."

Bullshit. From mile 11.5 it's all downhill to the finish. Mile 10 is uphill.

I was pushing by this point to keep a solid pace, counting on the downhill to save me from an epic bonk. But the trail we were on near the golf course kept going up.

And then when it did go down, it went STRAIGHT down.

Criticism #2: Steep downhills are worse than steep uphills. There has to be a way to keep the two steep descents out of this course. They're actually a little dangerous because they come late in the race when legs are fatigued. I know how to fix this.

If one looks at my GPS track really closely, he or she will see at mile 11.5 a little hitch, where your hero made a dash behind some poor industrial building to approximate the second Honey Bucket stop, sans Honey Bucket. I hear you can get a ticket for "Depositing Human Waste in Public" but given the loneliness of the course (see above) I was in no danger of my transgression being discovered.

After that I did my best to kick to the finish, and actually had a great time doing it. I caught up with a runner I had been sort of near since the start and we agreed to race to the finish. Last I checked, Tony and I were running a 5:40 pace to the finish line, and according to the official results I got him by 1 second.

I finished, took off my chip (minor complaint: I hate ankle chips. They chafe and bother me throughout the run. Can we please stick to the shoelace chips, folks?), and got my finishing prize: a nice pint glass with the race logo on it. All around me I heard the sound of smashing glass on the pavement. Maybe handing out glassware to sweaty, dehydrated, fatigued finishers of a half marathon isn't the best plan? Still, it's a cool glass and is far more useful than a finisher's medal.

By my watch I came in at 1:46: 51. By the chip I came in at 1:48:36. I don't know how the hell that happened, but I'm not going to protest. That's a little over an 8:00 pace, which is a full minute faster than I had any business running.

Cap'n Ron came in a minute behind me at 1:49:41 and didn't break his pint glass either.

First Time Half Marathoner Friend finished his first race at 2:22:32. A solid effort on a pretty hard course.

We sleep-drove our way back north and refueled at The Ram in Northgate. They have both food AND beer there. What a concept. Putting back 1600 calories always feels good!

Next up is the Super Jock and Jill Half Marathon on September 7th. I ran 1:33 there last year and like the course a lot, so we'll see.

Then it's the Seattle Marathon on November 29th. Why do I do this?