On Sunday, February 13, 2011, I completed the San Dieguito Half-Marathon. I had never run 13 miles straight. I don’t even really like running. People think I’m a runner because I run, but I’m not. Before starting training for the race my longest run was a 15K (9.3 mile) race over a year before that left me unable to run for months. So why was I running this one?

There are a couple of reasons, but I’m still asking myself if any of them were good. After finishing several Olympic-distance triathlons, I have several friends that have been pushing me to run a half or full marathon for quite a while. Peer pressure, right? Eventually I want to compete in an Ironman triathlon. My next step towards that goal is a Half-Ironman, which contains a half-marathon distance run as the last leg. Before I can consider doing that I needed to run that distance by itself. And of course, the entry fee was cheap – about one third the cost of most half-marathons.

So I signed up. I managed to convince my girlfriend and a few other people to do it with me. Beware of stupid people in large groups. In addition to Tina was Jack, my long time running buddy, Katie a multi-marathon veteran and Karun and coworker and aspiring Ironman. It helps to have people signed up to provide encouragement, support and sometimes necessary harassment!

Soon after signing up I told a couple of my other runner friends that I had signed up for San Dieguito as my first half-marathon. Every single one of them replied with some variation of “Really? You’re crazy! That’s one of the hardest courses!”

“Uh, really? No one told me that! It was cheap!”

Apparently the course, while beautiful, is non-stop rolling hills. Well shoot, time for some hill repeats…

Before we could run the race, we had to train for the race. As I mentioned before, the closest I’ve come to 13.1 miles was a 15K, 9.3 miles, race a year before.  Since that race I have been consistently running, including several 5K races, a 10K and 2 Olympic triathlons, but nothing longer than 6 miles. I needed to ramp it up severely.

With everyone talking about how hilly the course was the primary focus of the training was hills. Secondary was distance. Luckily (or not) San Diego is very hilly. During the middle of the week Jack and I would meet up at lunch a few times and did hill repeats. We also had our friend Nick take us on ridiculous hilly routes around the office. On the weekends Tina and I did some long runs. Two weeks before the race we met up with one of her friends and pulled off a 10 miler. That helped my confidence a lot, even though it was fairly flat and at a mostly leisurely pace. Right about then Karun told me that due to sickness he wasn’t able to keep with his training schedule and was dropping out.

The week before the race we drove the course we’d soon be running on.  I think more than the training this served to boost my confidence. Sure the course was hilly, but now I knew exactly what to expect when out there and when to expect it. After running up some long, steep hills in training, like Laurel, Lusk and Pacific Heights, most of the hills weren’t worrisome.

The San Dieguito Half-Marathon

Soon enough, the day of the race came. Being a triathlete, the 5:00 am wake-up call was actually pretty nice.  With the wake-up call was a text from Katie saying her legs were too tired from walking a lot the day before so was not going to show up. And then there were three.

We got everything ready and drove down to the Del Mar Fairgrounds in order to catch the shuttle to the race site. For some reason our shuttle bus had a stripper pole in it. Who knew? Once we got to the site and got our bibs and met up with Jack we had over an hour to kill. We ate some food, hydrated and double-checked our gear. And I went to the bathroom. Then went again. And I think a third time. Races do that to me. I had absolutely nothing riding on the race. It was all for fun. But that doesn’t stop the nerves or my body’s tendency to lose as much weight as possible for the run.

When 7:30 rolled around, the sun had come up and it was warm and pleasant up near registration. The perfect time to leave. Hiking a half mile down the hill to the start line we lost the sun and about 10 degrees of temperature, made doubly apparent when we dropped off our warmup gear and only had our race garb. We jogged a little, did some last minute stretching and Jack and Tina used the bathrooms. I thought I had enough already. Once all the pre-race rituals were completed we lined up.

And we were off. Thousands of crazy people with the goal of running 13.1 miles. As per any large race, the first mile was a fairly leisurely pace spent dodging people until things thinned out and you can hit your stride. Also, it is downhill, but more on that later. Tina stayed with us the first mile and then I wished her good luck and Jack and I picked it up some. Soon, both of us realized that a bathroom stop might be in order. You would think with all the stops before the race we would be all right, but I guess not. Jack stopped at a porta-pot but I kept going.

In no time it seemed I hit the 5K turnaround point, staffed by the Queen of England. Don’t ask me to explain, I got nothing. I remember thinking “Man, if I was running the 5K I’d be half way done!” I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to be running a 5K more in my life. Only 11.6 miles to go! The Hash House Harriers also had a beer station giving me a small time boost over all the people that stopped.

Jack caught up with me in another mile or so. At that point I was really thanking the training. Most of the uphills weren’t bad at all. Some of the downhills were though. There were a few steep downs where the pounding got to me. And of course, big downs mean big ups, in particular mile 5 and 6. This is about when Jack headed off on his own and left me to slog on by myself. The mile 6 uphill was HUGE. I was expecting it from the drive but turning the corner and seeing it was almost as painful as running up. I put my head down and focused on pushing off a little more and sooner than I’d thought the worst was behind me.

Right about then I was thinking, “Man, a 10K is a great distance! I would be done now!” Only 7 miles left! On top of the hill was the turnaround point. Halfway done! It was mostly downhill from there. Mostly. There was a point where I was glad for the uphill because it used different muscles than my totally burned out downhill muscles.

Mile 10 came around and I was definitely tired but otherwise felt ok. Each step I took from that point was the longest I had ever run. That was kind of a neat feeling. It was a much better feeling than the burning in my glutes and calves! I had one of the energy goo packets in my belt and considered using it around then but decided to keep it in case of emergency. I ended up not using it at all and am kind of proud of that.

So, remember around mile one when I realized that I had to pee but didn’t stop? Well, an hour and a half later around mile 11 I remembered too. At that point it was too late. I couldn’t stop. If I did then it would be game over. Besides, only two miles left! No problem!

Unfortunately, the last mile is one long uphill. It wasn’t particularly steep, but after 12 miles without stopping it was very nearly the straw that broke my back. One straight shot to the finish line. I could see it in the distance through the glare of the sun shining in your eyes. All I needed to do was to keep moving. The act of simply continuing to move was quite possibly one of the toughest physical feats I’ve done, followed closely behind by not peeing myself on that mile. Man I had to go! I’ve wondered if I would have finished faster if I had made a quick stop to go and instead of diverting the energy to not peeing used it to run. I just kept moving me my feet, chanting to myself that “I can do it, I WILL do it, I AM DOING IT!”

But then I was done. 2 hours and 8 minutes after starting I managed to cross the finish line with a semi-decent burst of speed. I donned my finisher’s medal, grabbed some water and stumbled to the bathroom. Victory! Or perhaps just peace. Either way the fight was over and I was still alive.

Jack found me and we made our way back to the finish stretch to watch for Tina where I promptly collapsed to the ground. To stretch! Yes, that is why I wasn’t standing any more. Tina finished shortly after, looking great. She finished with a very respectable 2 hours and 35 minutes. We all met up and relaxed in the grass for a little while before trudging up the hill for a bowl of victory chili.

It was both my and Tina’s first half-marathon race. I felt half-dead afterwards so can only imagine how a full marathon would leave me. I’m not sure I want to find out. I was glad that we had done it and even more glad that it was over.

Click Here for the GPS Track of the Route

– Christopher Manuele