I like to mark time and celebrate milestones and anniversaries. It seems hard to believe but this Sunday will be the 20th anniversary of my first marathon. I ran the San Francisco Marathon in July of 1996. If you’re old enough to remember 1996, you may recall that many things were different. First, marathoning was not as big of a mainstream activity. There were not many 50 staters, marathon maniacs, etc. The Internet was pretty much static web pages where you might be able to get some information if you were lucky. I think there was some information on the marathon online, but I distinctly remember writing a check and sending in a paper application. I can’t remember how much it cost, but I know I balked at the $75 fee the first year I ran Boston (1998). So… times have changed.
To celebrate this anniversary, I applied to be a San Francisco Marathon ambassador and they picked me! I’ll tell you all about that this weekend! I also have a bunch of friends coming to run and cheer. I am so excited and grateful.
In 2013, I wrote a blog post for Jamie at Couch to Ironwoman in her first marathon series. I saw the shout out and asked if she wanted a “vintage” post. She was game, so I took a trip down memory lane. What stands out to me is how little I knew about running a marathon. Ignorance is bliss. With all of the resources and information out there now, I might have had analysis paralysis. As you will soon see, I was woefully unprepared and had pretty much no idea what I was getting into. Following is an updated version of the post I wrote for Jamie.
My First Marathon was…
…a long time ago (1996)
…run on a dare
…in San Francisco
…run with a max long run of 16 miles under my belt
…run in cotton, college shorts that I stole from a friend and a cotton tank top (ouch)
…woefully paced
…under 4 hours
… the start of something big for me.
I was a high school runner, a college drinker and a post-collegiate person looking to get back in shape. I took up running again and once I had my base I started doing local 10Ks. I ran into an old coach who told me if you could run two thirds of a race distance then you could do the race. I used that logic to tackle a 15K and my first half marathon. I did surprisingly well in these races so I kept at it.
A friend at my first job was an avid marathoner. He “dared” me to come with him to San Francisco to run the 1996 San Francisco Marathon. I had never been to San Francisco and had a good friend there, so I agreed to go to check it out. He assured me that, “it is not so hilly… for San Francisco.” Like I said, ignorance is bliss. I took his word for it and did not look at the elevation chart. I also did not seek out a conventional training program. When you are 24 years old (or when I was at least), it does not seem necessary to really train. Right? Keep in mind, in 1996, there were no running blogs and marathoning was not as popular as it is now. That is my story and I am sticking to it!
I lined up a friend to go with me on a San Francisco vacation and accommodations. I trained…some. The time came and I flew from NJ to San Fran for the race. Given that we were 24, we stayed with friends in a walk up.
To be honest, I don’t remember the expo at all. I do remember going to Trader Joe’s for the first time (OMG) and eating huge burritos in the Mission District with Josh and Leslie for carb loading.
I do remember the race. The race used to start on the Marin side of the Golden Gate bridge, run through the Embarcadero, though the city, midway was almost to Haight-Ashbury, into Golden Gate Park, up the Alphabet Street Hill (don’t remember the name of the area – I do remember the hill!) and then back into Golden Gate Park and finished at the stadium on a track.
It was foggy on the bridge, but I got a decent start. I went out WAY TOO FAST. Well it seemed fine. I was running 8 minute miles. This was slower than my half marathon pace, so that was OK – right? (Um, no. but I will get to that.)
I chatted with other runners and ran through the Embarcadero, past Lombard Street (thank goodness) and through the city. Then, the hills started to appear in earnest. I took this in stride. My first half was 1:45.10. I am not sure why I remember that. I just do. It seemed reasonable to me at that time.
Something happened between miles 13 and 16. My newbie confidence and blissful ignorance changed to a panicked “what have I done?” When I got to 16 and realized that a) I had never run farther than that and b) I still had 10 more miles to go, the wind left my sails. Oh, and then there were the two huge hills on Haight Street. My friends were cheering for me here and I gave the obligatory smile and waves and then settled in to my fate. My slow trudging fate as it turned out.
I kept running but my pace slowed – A LOT. My 8s turned into 9s and then closer to 10s. But, I kept on. At mile 20, they were offering sports drink. It is called XLR8. They were yelling the name. I thought they were telling me to speed up. I wanted to cry.
Then we turned out of the park and started up a big hill that crossed alphabetical streets. I think we had to run to “T”. Oy. A nice, young woman jumped in and started talking to me. She was supposed to pace a friend but could not find her. She chatted cheerfully and my inner New Yorker who was in pain wanted to strangle her. After about a mile, she found someone nicer than me to “help.”
When we finally got to turn around and come down the hill, I realized that my quads were shot and I trudged down. I had to go to the bathroom, but I was too scared that if I stopped I would never run again. I kept going. I randomly saw a friend from college (in NJ) working at a water stop at mile 23. She was surprised, too, but cheered me on. I waved, thanked her by name and trudged past.
I finally made it to the stadium. My friends were there cheering. I “sprinted” the last quarter. At least I tried. The last half felt like a death march. My pace slowed from 8 min/mile for the first half to almost 10 minutes per mile in the second half. The good news about that? My overall pace was a very respectable 9 minutes per mile. I finished in 3:55! Under 4 hours? Ah, to be 24 years old again!
After that, I was bit by the marathon bug. I’ve done 42 marathons including 16 NYC Marathons and 5 Boston Marathons. I’ve never run such bad splits again, but I’ve had a few crash and burns in going for personal bests. I still start too fast … most of the time. The one big change for me is that I always train. I have a true respect for the marathon distance. Oh, and of course, I wear technical clothes!
I’m headed back to San Francisco this weekend to tackle the marathon again. My goals are to “beat 1996” and to enjoy every step. I’ve had some ups and downs with my running and I am grateful to be able to run strong and happy.
Swing by on Sunday to see how the anniversary run goes! Tell me about your first marathon (or race) in the comments!