Running with Buffalo
Catalina Island Marathon - 2004
Here I was again. At the start of another marathon. And I was on an island that was partly inhabited by buffalo. Hadn't I sworn after my first one, that I would never run this distance again? But somehow, here I was, at another early morning start line. And twenty-six miles of running lay ahead of me. But this time, it was one of the country's most difficult - the Catalina Island Marathon. - in all its glory with 4300' vertical feet of hills to climb. Woah. Obviously I missed the exit ramp for this one. ;)
I ran my first marathon on 1999 in Las Vegas. It was the natural progression of a sport I started to pursue the year before with a simple 5k. I even wore a home-made bib with my name of the back: "Jen from New Mexico" and right below it..."1st and ONLY - timer - Don't let me quit!". This was the first race of this distance that I had trained for. And I had done it as a combined effort with some good friends. We began training together in Albuquerque, New Mexico where I was living at the time. And even when my training partners moved to Boise later that year, we kept in touch via phone and email, trading weekly reports of mileage and sharing complaints of sore muscles and achy knees. However, when we reunited to run this '1st and only marathon' together in Las Vegas, my training buddy was unfortunate enough to spend the entire weekend in the hotel bed with the flu! What rotten luck. So I ran the race anyway and completed my time goal. But my post-race euphoria was short-lived as the 10 miles of gradual downhill that had made my legs feel swift on the day of the race....had me lurching around stiff-legged and sore, and jackknifing down curbs and stairs for 3 days afterwards! Yup, I had done a marathon. And one... seemed to be quite enough.
But my training partner's thwarted participation had been so disappointing, that of course to him that meant...we HAD to do another one together! Great, I said to myself... here we go again. And Portland Marathon became the goal later that year. Okay. So maybe I'd just do 2 marathons, I told myself. But that was it. Really! My legs loved 1/2 marathon distances.....tolerated 18-20 milers.....but that last 6.2? I just start fantasizng about cheesburgers and hottubs! So this time my home-made bib read "Jen from New Mexico - This is the LAST one. REALLY!" Oddly enough, there were racers there in Portland who remembered me from Las Vegas earlier that year! "Suuuuure.", they chided. "You'll be back", they kidded with knowing appreciation. I glared at them. Didn't they know, I was NOT a marathon runner! I was simply doing a 'repeat' for the sake of a friend. But then, several months and several beers later, and after an offer was made to even pay for my airline ticket..... I ended up in Chicago running the Lasalle Banks Marathon. Now, THIS was truely an exception, right? How could I possibly turn down a free airline ticket?? And I had never been to Chicago. :) Denial - its definately not a river in Egypt. I just hadn't figured it out yet.
So then came the hairbrain idea that triathlon looked like fun...and doing an Ironman distance would be an even bigger challenge! Now granted, they do ask you to run 26.2 miles at the end of it. But you get to swim and ride your bike too. So, technically.... that one doesn't really count. Right? Then there was the new guy I started to date. He had just started running that year. And guess what? He wanted me to do his first marathon with him. Cripes! Would this madness every stop? I hobbled through the last 6 miles of the San Diego course, cursing the large numbers of participants that forced the course to be on reinforced concrete freeways and ramp
exits. And I finally came to the conclusion.....that I may as well quit fighting it. I am...(gulp) ..a marathon runner. Because I just can't say no to a challenge. And admittedly, some part of me? Is some sort of glutton for punishment, I think.:) I felt a huge sense of relief sweep over me, as I accepted this concept. I was like a junkie admitting my addiction. So here I was at the start line of my sixth marathon. Catalina Island, with the challenge of its hill-laden course on dirt trails and fireroads, coupled with the attraction of a unique, tourist island and the promise of a fun get-away weekend with friends - well, it got my attention. But my criteria has definately changed. No more 'concrete jungle' runs for this girl. But if its scenic, challenging, and in a unique place, I most likely will be there. Some part of my psyche actually enjoys the suffering....as much as the comraderie and the well-earned beers after the race.
Catalina Island Marathon is definately unique. Of all the races I have done of this distance, this was the most difficult. And not surprisingly, it was my favorite. Located a one hour ferry ride off the coast of San Diego, Catalina Island provides an escape weekend for California locals, a haven for the 'Islanders' who reside or retire there, and on this particular weekend? A challenge for 600 runners to test their legs on hills that would challenge even an avid hiker with their trekking poles. Catalina Marathon has been around for 27 years. And judged by the obvious display of up to several DOZEN Finisher pins dangling off participants ballcaps and t-shirts......it has to be one of the country's most often repeated. It began with a small group of men, led by Hans Albrecht, simply looking for a way to train for ultramarathons. Beginning with only 40 people in the early years, the event slowly attracted more and more runners, as the word spread about the beauty and challenge of this wilderness course that was so close to a metropolitan area.
Although it has grown in popularity, the Catalina participant list remains small by comparison to other marathons - limited to about 700 entries - mostly due to limited accomodations and ferry space on raceday. Most racers opt to book hotels in the portside town of Avalon, welcoming a soft bed the night before and ferrying to the start early on raceday. But some actually camp near the startline on the opposite side of the island near Two Harbors, preferring the solitude of the coastline and the crash of the surf as tradeoff for sleeping on terra firma for a night. Maybe this makes you feel tougher for the race, I wonder. But me? Call me a wimp, but this girl snuggled deep into the down comfortors and pillows at The Pavillion Lodge, surrouded by seascape decor and breezy windows....and got 8 hours solid sleep both nights. Bliss.
We were up at 4AM raceday morning. The ferry was scheduled to leave for the start at 5am. So bleary-eyed and pumping coffee down our throats, we managed to get a few of the last seats on the back of the ferrry and watch that welcoming port from the previous day .....slowly fade away. I shivered. There was something mind-clearing and foreboding about a race that drops you off 26 miles on the opposite side of an island and tells you that the only way you are getting back to that cozy, down comforter and bed.....was to run back. I squelched the impulse to smack my boyfriend, Nic, who was lightly snoozing beside me. I felt the need to blame somebody for the pain I was about to experience. The start line was in Two Harbors. And after 45 minutes of sipping coffee on the ferry, the only activity in that sleepy port that morning was the small 'warm-up race' upon arrival.....to the restrooms. I guess regardless of where you run a marathon, some things remain the same. :)
I used the next 30 minutes to stretch, consume some last minute calories and marvel at the caliber of athletes that surrouded me. And I am not talking about the lean, 20 and 30-somethings with deer-like legs and gaunt faces. I was blown away by the number of sleekly-muscled, tanned bodies....with 65 or 75 year old heads attached to them! My jaw just about dropped as I heard a wirey-bodied, white-haired gentleman down-play a compliment given to him about a race he had run the month before. "I heard you did 4:15 in Oregon last month....not bad". I whipped my head around in disbelief to get a second look at this amazing man. 4:15? FOUR FIFTEEN in your 70's???? I can't even run a 4:15 ! And I almost was 40 years younger than he was! Then I started to look around with more attention. There were a dozen or more like him. Men and women with legs that mismatched the age of their face and vivacious attitudes to match. These guys had been running for years. Running long and running hard, over hill and on trail. They were running.....even before running was cool. And here they were, lined up like a little army of prophets with a lifetime of wisdom to share, at the toughest race this country has to offer. I was in awe.
The rumored advise is to add 45 minutes to your best marathon time, to estimate your completion of the Catalina course. And that pretty much gave me an idea of what I was up against. In hindsight, looking at the elevation map on the website sooner than 2 days prior to raceday...may have enhanced my training strategy. :) But nonetheless, I felt ready. And surprisingly, I wasn't nervous. At my pace, I was planning to be out there anywhere from 5 to 51/2 hours. For me, it wasn't exactly a 'race'. It was an event. So I planned to give it my best shot and enjoy the unique experiences that this day was bound to offer. The first of which occured within the first 3 miles - when I found myself already walking. Well, hiking, I should say. The first of the several reknowed hills that this course was famous for appeared almost right away. I sighed as I watched the front-runners sprint up ahead with amazing strength and oversized hearts. "Don't worry", a voice said beside me. "You have the right idea." I looked over to see a tan, weathered and smiling face next to me. "Walk the uphills and then run 'em down. You'll last longer that way." He was a Islander. One of only about a dozen of Catalina's full-time residents, who had retired to Avalon and who were registered in the race. He had also run this marathon every year since its inception. My spirit rose. I was getting advise and affirmation from one of Catalina's 'pros' ....and he was 68 years old.
The course was amazing. The scenary varied from that of coastal inlets with crashing waves to wide open fields and scenic overlooks from some of the highest points on the island. I kept mentally kicking myself for not bringing a disposable camera. Especially when the first shout of "Tetonka!" was heard from a runner, citing the indian phrase popularized by Kevin Costner. I looked over and sure enough, standing there in the field 50 yards away like any herd of cows would stand ......were Buffalo. Wild buffalo on an island off the coast of California. It was unique experience #2 for the day. These amazing and oddly-placed creatures were intially brought to Catalina Island in 1924 to film a Zane Grey novel "The Vanishing American". When completed, these bison were left there to...well, do whatever buffalo do. In 1934, the original herd of fourteen was enlarged to 44 by additions from Colorado, and then again in the 70's by a donation from Montana. Currently, the population is kept at about 400-500 animals. So there you have it. If you want to run with Buffalo? You have to go to Catalina Island. The locals seem to revel in this unusual island attribute, offering up tasty buffalo burgers and some mean buffalo jerky ($12 a pound! ). And of course if you weigh over 200 pounds ( men ) , you can actually run the marathon AS a 'Buffalo' in an elite division traditionally offered for the big-boy long-distance runners. Very cool.
So the miles ticked by, strategically and amply supported by
water stations and volunteers every 2 miles. I hiked up hills so steep they had me pushing on my thighs with my hands to complete, and I ran down the other side as my heartrate recovered. By the time I reached the final 3 mile downhill, my hamstrings were taxed. But my quads were ready to roll and surprisingly ( unique marathon expereince #3 ) , I passed the most number of people on this stretch of the course. Avalon was alive with music and cheering supporters as expected. We were lucky this year to have ideal weather - cloud cover for the first 2 hours followed by blues skies and 60 degrees. Previous years had seen downpours and cold temperatures that changed the course in to a longer version of a Muddy Buddy race. But this day was a day for sunshine and finishline beers. :) Nic and his two buddies had already finished as expected. But they looked pretty beat, learning the hard way that 26 miles of hills.....requires very different pacing than that of any other marathon course. But I was done. And I made my time goal just by the skin of my teeth : 5:29:34. Wheeha! It was time to get Wicky-whacked! Oh, that's right. I have to tell you about the fourth unique tradition on Catalina - Wicky-Whackers at Luau Larry's!
By good planning (ahem) or good fortune, our hotel was stumbling distance from one of the ports most rockin' and raucous bars on the island. Famous for its goes-down-smoothly-but-kicks-you-in-the-ass highly 'toxic' drinks, this was THE place to be post-race (once we all drank enough water to pee of course) and was filled to capacity by 4pm. For about 7 bucks you get a straw hat and a sticker that boasts " I Got my Wicky Whacked at Luau Larry's" ...and a mystery drink that taste pretty much like fruit punch - with a wicked kick. We loved it. And we soon forgot about all our aching muscles and gaping blisters, spending the next several hours indulging in a variety of great food and great beers offered by welcoming restaurants and open-air bars. Ahhhhh. Now I remember. THIS was part of why I kept coming back to the startlines of marathons! And although I hate to admit it, the topic of discussion that night, as we rubbed our bloated bellys and sat sipping beers in the evening air..........was if we were tough enough to try an ultramarathon. Now, I know I have lost it.
Pictures
Cheers,
Jen.