On Sunday, I ran the Mission Inn
Half Marathon. I hadn’t wanted to run the race after the bad experience I’d had
in 2011, but when some of the runners in my pace group asked me to pace them in
the race, who was I to say no to that?
Once I opted to run it, I had
some ideas about how the race could be memorable for me. It was my 10th
half marathon, which is a bit of a milestone. Also, the race was an opportunity
for me to begin my Long Beach Marathon redemption.
But the race was not about me.
Not at all. I decided that on Sunday morning when I met up with my newbie
runner, Ashlynn. Not only was Sunday Ashlynn’s first half marathon, it was her first
race ever, at any distance. It would also be her longest run ever. She’d never
run more than 11 miles, and that was just one week ago at our Sunday run with
the Lopers.
The morning was extraordinarily
chilly. The temperatures dipped into the 30s, startling considering it had been
in the 90s just on Monday. I worried a bit since I haven’t really talked to my
pace group about cold-weather clothing but I saw Ashlynn made the same decision
I’d made – a long-sleeve white shirt underneath our pink Loper shirt.
Despite the enormity of the day
for her, Ashlynn seemed rather calm about the pre-race experience. We’d
gathered near the start line and the energy of a throng of half-marathoners was
present but it did not distract her much at all. We went over a bit of how we
wanted the race to go, planned our course of action and off we went.
The first mile was all downhill
and we tackled that fairly effortlessly. The second mile was a bit more of our
Sunday pace but that was partly because it was a steady incline. By the time we
got done with the third mile, I was feeling strong and hopeful that I could get
Ashlynn to the finish line feeling and looking the same.
Now, there had been another
first-timer with us but he dropped back around the fourth mile. I’d tried to
locate him behind us but he got lost in a group of runners. I hoped that he was
well but did not want to break up the momentum we had going forward so opted to
push ahead.
Just past Mile 5 we hit some
really familiar ground. I was after all on my stomping grounds. The Santa Ana
River Trail is after all my favorite place to run (well, the entire Mt.
Rubidoux area because of the trails and the mountain itself). I had been out
there three times just last week, including a seven-mile run that took me to
the turnaround and back.
Now I was back but with hundreds
of others, including of course the first-timer alongside me.
We talked and talked and talked.
I’ve chatted with her before during our races but this time the conversation
flowed smoothly and effortlessly. We talked about food, about our favorite restaurants,
about San Francisco and marathons and our respective children. I discovered
that she has a love of bread and I can certainly relate. Hearing her talk about
the food she likes to indulge in made me rather hungry.
All the while this was going on,
I had been trying to gradually increase our speed. Not a great deal, not enough
to where we were going to hit the wall and crash and burn down the stretch but
enough to where she could push herself a bit more. While she has not run long
distances with regularity yet, I have no doubt that Ashlynn can and will do
great things in running. But she has not pushed herself in a race before, and
that’s only because she’d never run a race before. I wanted to give her a bit
of that experience.
We reached the turnaround and I
was thrilled. Unlike a year ago, this time the race was a legitimate 13.1
miles, and that was confirmed by the location of the turnaround. Once we
started heading back in, I saw our other friend who had fallen behind, all
smiles, saying he felt great. Buoyed by the sight of him and some other
familiar faces, we plowed ahead. I was feeling better and better with each
passing mile and, given by how our steady conversation had not dropped, it
looked like Ashlynn was as well.
After Mile 11, we had reached
unchartered territory for Ashlynn. I did not want to bring this up, though. I
did not want to feel as if I was putting any sort of extra pressure on her.
Once we ran past the Mile 12 marker, though, she celebrated. I did as well,
congratulating her on adding to her longest run ever.
The final mile was a bit
difficult, as it always is. The course starts to go uphill a bit and the street
that takes you back out the Market (where the race began) is deceptively long.
It does not seem like it will be long but it seemingly stretches out endlessly.
Perhaps it’s the anxiety you feel about the race and just wanting to be done
with it, but either way it seemed long again on Sunday.
We rounded our second-to-last
corner, finally back on Market. I pushed forward and we picked up our speed. I
told her that if she wanted to go on ahead to do so but she said no, that she
was feeling the race in her legs. Still, we kept going on steadily ahead and
got to a stone’s throw of the finish line.
I let her go ahead a bit, excited
for her to see the finish line and wanted her to experience that moment all to
herself. I was smiling, happy that she had done it, happy that I was able to
help her ever so slightly reach her goal, when something unexpected happened.
I crossed the finish line, slowed
down and saw Ashlynn crying. Tears had hit her hard and she was overcome by the
moment. Without warning, tears swelled up in my eyes as well. I congratulated
her, patted her gently on her back and told her that she had just done
something grand. She seemed caught off guard by her tears as well, but I told
her that I’ve cried in each of my eight marathons (true story) and that she
should be proud of herself, that nobody was ever going to take that away from
her.
I met her smiling family and told
them all how fantastic she had done during the race. She was a bit less
emotional, smiling and such but without the tears. After a few minutes we
parted ways.
I went over to look at our finish
times. She had come in at 2:00:10 and I’d come in at 2:00:12. Time was not at
all a factor for me. I knew that we were going to come in right around two
hours and had actually debated whether I should bring her in for a sub-two or
not.
Ultimately, I decided to let fate
answer that question. Fate wanted her to come in where she did, and it will
work out nicely. I was able to help her get to her first finish line but she
will ultimately break the sub-two mark on her own, and will continue on to
bigger and better things.
Knowing that I played a small
role in her own running story… well, that’s the kind of stuff that brings tears
to my eyes.
