Friend of Fansmanship, Matt Jones, gets ready to kick into the last two miles of the half-marathon on Sunday. By Owen Main

Sometimes, your best isn’t really your best.

Last night, I had my alarm set for 5:15 AM. I had it all planned-out. First, I’d get downtown and take photos of the two huge groups of runners as they streamed through downtown. In front of the Fremont Theater. Under the railroad bridge on Johnson Ave. and back over the pedestrian bridge by the train station.

I had the saddle bags on my bicycle packed, camera batteries charged. It was going to be a great morning. I went to sleep about 9:30.

“Wasn’t your alarm supposed to go off at 5:15?” my wife asked. It was 6:30, and my plans were out the window.

If I had been a runner, it’d have been Seinfeld-esque

I know the issue wasn’t “snooze” or “AM/PM.” Pending a few tests, my bet is also on “volume.”

Anyway, when it came to the marathon, I didn’t go to the finish line, and I didn’t try to get downtown during the day, which helped me avoid a disaster like the great Fosters Freeze blockade of 2013. There were a few frustrated drivers I saw downtown, but none of them were me.

I set-up shop on the west side of the pedestrian bridge over the railroad tracks. I got some decent shots of the first few guys that came through, some shots of people I knew who were running, and watched in awe as an increasingly large mass of humanity jogged past me with varying levels of suffering evident in their eyes.

In a lot of ways, it was inspiring to watch people who had absolutely put in time and painstaking training to get to the point they were at. For a minute, I talked to a friend about what it would be like to train and do it next year.

I brushed that thought out of my head pretty quickly, got on my bike, and headed home.

Photos by Owen Main

[See image gallery at www.fansmanship.com]

Last weekend marked the second annual SLO Marathon. As someone who doesn’t exactly get excited about running, it seemed like just the thing to go spectate on a Sunday morning.

So I trudged out of bed at about 7:30 and walked the 3/4 mile or so to go watch the finishers of the races that had started in the wee hours of the morning.

The event was a big one – about 3,000 participants on Sunday all battling their inner monologue, willing themselves to suffer a little more than they thought possible. At least that’s what I thought. More on why that may not have been true later.

This Giants fan might have been my nemesis. Respect goes to him for finishing the half-marathon in a respectable time and (presumably) running the whole way. By Owen Main

As most of the half-marathon runners were pushing toward the finish, the winner of the Marathon itself came through, looking like a spring chicken. This guy was like one of the crazies described in Born to Run (a great book, by the way). Just by watching him run the half-mile I saw down the stretch, it was clear that this guy really loved what he was doing. It’s one of the things, I’m sure, that helped him go wire-to-wire and win the race by a wide margin.

There were others that passed, and my people-watching intensified. Many people had a team shirt/jersey they were running with. Some of the runners had people’s names inscribed across their chests. Others showed off their professional, college, or high school sports colors.

My favorite accessory, other than the variety of iPhones, was the water-bottle hip holsters. As if they would somehow get overheated or dehydrated in the 2 miles between available water-stations, people loved to wear the hip water.

Here’s a great account of how it was to RUN the Marathon by J.J. Jenkins of The Mustang Daily.

More interesting than the hip water or the boob-sweat soaked gel that Jenkins described, were the looks on people’s faces as they finished. Some were smiling. Others grimaced. Some had what I’m sure was tunnel vision, just trying to get across that finish line. Their respective gait was as interesting as the looks on their faces. People of every shape, size, disposition, iPhone case color, ear-bud type, and running-shoe type and color passed by. So many people who set a goal and finished with a resounding sprint were inspiring to a big lug like me. They made me want to get on my bike… to get out and about… to get moving.

Still trying to figure out whose team he’s on. By Owen Main

Smash-cut to me, four hours later,

An angry, bitter look on my face. It is now 1:15 in the afternoon. The Marathon started at 6:00 AM, so seven hours and fifteen minutes later, I figured even those people who had to walk some of the way must have finished the marathon by now. Downtown, which had its street closed in the early-morning hours must be bustling by now, I thought. My friend, who ran all the way (albeit super slowly) finished in 5:30. So give someone almost two additional hours, and we should be good to go, right?

Wrong.

I should tell you why my fat, non-running self was in the car — it was to get a milkshake. Foster’s Freeze has wonderful milkshakes. And after the mile or so walk to and from Madonna Inn from my house, I was feeling like some sugar was a good thing. So, in the spirit of the Marathon, I got in my car and tried to drive the 1.5 miles to Foster’s Freeze in downtown SLO.

I started down South Higuera. The blinking signs told me the roads would be closed until 3:00, but I thought they couldn’t possibly be closed still at 1:00 PM, five hours after the race winner had crossed the finish line, right? Wrong again. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Traffic was a nightmare, cars with nowhere to go on Higuera, turning around or spilling onto streets adjacent to High Street.

After getting turned around and realizing I was on the “wrong side” of the closed-off route, I decided to park and walk once again. About 3/4 of a mile from Foster’s Freeze, I left my car at the curb and started my second walk of the day. That’s when I noticed some other walkers, walking slower than me.

They had numbers on their chests and smiles on their faces. They walked in groups and alone, but they walked nonetheless. They were participants in the Marathon, and they didn’t look like they’d been running at all. Could you take over 7 hours to go 24 miles if you had been running?

Is 8:30 too early to have a beer? Apparently not. By Owen Main

I got to Foster’s Freeze. It was dead. I walked straight across Marsh St since there was no traffic. Hardly any cars graced that part of downtown. While they said they were busy the night before, the employees also said it had been really slow on Sunday because of the Marathon. I procured my shake in no time and headed back to the car.

As I crossed back over the race route back to my car I saw more walkers. No more runners. Just walkers.

So allow me to be the grumpy guy here:

Marathons are for running. To have streets closed-off through an afternoon to allow some walkers to finish doesn’t make a ton of sense to me. I know we’re talking a few hours to allow for a few more people to enter the “race,” but is it really the same if they are walking? It seems to me they could be walking on the sidewalk just as easily.

I know, I’m the bad guy here. I assume that part of their entry fee went toward closing the streets down. Lots of people who finished the Marathon-walk probably felt great. They surely burned a ton of calories and should feel accomplished to have got themselves that far. Being active is a really great thing. I rode my bicycle 2,000 miles last year. It was good times.

That being said, there are walks — the Avon Walk or the Susan Komen 3-day  — that allow people who won’t be running to walk. They walk similar distances to Marathons over a few days. People who sign up know they’re walking, so they join a walk. And they don’t prevent me from getting to Foster’s Freeze.

In the end, the Marathon and the city gave everyone notice that the roads would be closed. I should have picked a different route and it would have been easier to get where I wanted to go. The organizers probably ran a pretty great event and it seemed like everyone, even the walkers, were succeeding in their goal of moving through 26.2 miles in a day.

Just don’t get between me and my chocolate shake.

Find more pictures from the race at www.facebook.com/fansmanship or click here.