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Race Report: Stockton Half Marathon






For the inaugural running of this race, it was pretty nicely put together. The weather was perfect and the aid stations were plentiful. The course itself was about as scenic and interesting as it could be for Stockton. If anyone was counting on seeing palm trees based on the race logo, we passed them in front of the pawn shop on Pacific Avenue.

My goal going in was sub 2, a pretty long way from the 2:12 I ran in Modesto, but I've been training with a group through Fleet Feet and felt prepared enough to do it. All I wanted was to see the number 1 in front of my time.

excitement




I had a plan: Take it easy. Go out at about 9:30, relaxed, ease into it, then kick it in and run negative splits the second half.

At take off I was so excited, happy, energized by the hometown crowd, all I was doing was telling myself to slow down and back off. I found the pace and settled into the rhythm.

Mile 1 passed by, 9:06. NOT THE PLAN! I panicked. I could hear myself describing the race after it was over, I didn't hit my goal because I went out too fast and tanked, so sad for me. I didn't want any sympathetic head nods.

Mile 2, 18:16. Um, ok. Well hell, I'm  comfortable. I'm happy...and this IS a RACE. I decided to just go with it. A lot can change in your mind in one mile, apparently. We did a nice little loop through UOP, and then back out to the levee.

I spotted my cheering squad

happy! early in the race...
Scenic Stockton. It's the Levee!

We did our long runs on Sundays down this stretch, so the seemingly endlessness of the path was bearable. Then it was back to civilization, a big loop through a residential area and then back the way we came. I had slowed out on the loop, somewhere around 8 miles. My head was fuzzy trying to calculate pace and finishing time. Multiplication? How many minutes are in an hour? WHAT IS 13MILES - 8MILES?!!

Around mile 10 is when I passed my cheering squad again and found fresh energy. It felt like I was in the homestretch. It felt like I was really going to do it.

The high hit me. Big style. I thought about mile 10 at Modesto, the work I did to get here. I loved the beautiful morning, I loved the blue sky, I loved the sun. I loved everyone and everything. Look, there's a BIRD! Running back up Brookside Road, back to Pacific Avenue, I was grinning like an idiot. On top of the world.

That lasted about a mile. And it was glorious. Then the real work began. I cranked it up, tried to keep my legs moving, and again, couldn't do math to save my life. The minutes were passing. The 2 hour mark was getting closer, and I was getting delirious. Suddenly, I was racing against the number 2. I was very mad at the number 2. I HATED the number 2. There was never a doubt the entire race I wouldn't hit my goal, until these last couple of miles.

coming into the finish


1:57:15
mimosa time...
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