Course Matters

My favorite thing about a race course (and the only thing I thought mattered) used to be that there are so many people running on it that I couldn't possibly get lost. That's still my favorite thing, but I have found there are other things that can be good or bad about a course. Here are two examples:

The Seattle Rock and Roll Marathon. It barely occurred to me to look up the course before I ran this race. It certainly wasn't a consideration when I chose to sign up, nor did I factor it into my training regimen. My thinking was, "I liked the half last year, so I should love the full, right?" WRONG.

The first half of the course is beautiful: full of pretty scenery, residential neighborhoods and tree-lined streets. After mile nine, the courses diverge and the full-marathoners head out across a floating bridge and back. Pay attention here, because the out-and-back component is a major feature of this race. The bridge wasn't horrible; it was flat and the day was somewhat overcast so the lack of shade wasn't that big of a deal. After heading back off the bridge, we met up with the half course again for a few miles, staying with them until we could smell the finish line and then out past the jubilation for another out-and-back, turning around at mile 18.5. The only good part of this is that I knew exactly how envious the runners were who had yet to make the u-turn as they stared glassy-eyed and longingly in my direction--because I was one of them a few short miles ago.

Meanwhile, I am pounding away on concrete, bermed (is that a word) freeway. I guess one good thing about the out-and-back model is that I screwed up my hips equally on both sides from the curvature of the road.

The course passes the finish once again at mile 23, close enough that I could hear the cheers and continues on for a final (you guessed it!) out-and-back. I'm normally a fan of this model, but it doesn't hold nearly the same charm when you double back so many times. For the last 3.2 miles I got to run near the wharf. As if running a marathon wasn't vomit-inducing enough, the course adds some nice dead-fish tang to the equation.

There was one good thing about this last bit of the course--half of it was downhill. The only problem was it was the first half. As every runner on an out-and-back knows, if it's downhill on the way down, it's uphill on the way back. Son of a bitch. The last .2 miles was the same as every other marathon I've ever run (okay, so there have only been two, but it made an impression). In fact, I think I will save my rant on the demoralizing quality of the .2 in another post, possibly entitled, "Point-F*#!ing-Two." To neatly tie up this story, despite the atrocious nature of the last half of the course, I was able to PR by nearly 45 minutes. I was 28 seconds off my goal of 4:30:59 (see Point-F*#!ing-Two).

The second race that made me question the wisdom of signing up for a race without scrutinizing the course was the Fueled by Fine Wine half marathon. Oddly enough, this is a good story. Before I signed up, I had a look at the course and even read a blogged description of it online. "Sure," they said, "there are some hills. You won't clock your best time, but you'll have the best time!" I bet they said it with a smirk on their face and a false, jocular tone. Having learned my lesson about knowing what to expect, I looked at elevation maps and practically memorized the blog post. I was expecting a big hill from mile 6 to 8, but then the worst would be over and it would be more or less downhill from there. And so it seemed until I turned the corner at around mile 11 and was confronted with a hill so steep that every single person on the course was walking. Even the guy with the Ironman logo tattooed on his calf and the old chicken-legged master that could run laps around me up and down Leaf Erickson (and probably does). The crazy thing about this is that it was so preposterous, instead of feeling demoralized, there was this collective sense of unfettered joy. Suddenly everyone had permission not to worry about their time or to be ashamed of walking; everyone was walking. I am sure that the beautiful day and stunning scenery of vineyards added to this phenomenon. The fabulous and plentiful wine at the end didn't hurt either.

In general, I think I will be more careful about selecting which courses to run. The problem with this new found wisdom is that I have yet to complete two more marathons that I have already committed to, and which I signed up for prior to realizing how much a the course really does matter. I am sure I will be back complaining about the Nike Women's Marathon and the Columbia Gorge Marathon in October.