Catalina Off-Road Marathon March 13, 2004
- Masochist
1 : pleasure in being abused or dominated : a taste for suffering
After my girlfriend Jen and I were beaten and abused running a concrete marathon in 2003 we elected to try an off-trail marathon.
We recruited two hearty souls to share the pain: a former co-worker of mine named Brian who elected to make this his first marathon,
and my longtime climbing partner Travis. Several items were omitted along the way like extensive training, a full grasp of what 4,300
vertical feet of climbing and 26 miles would feel like, and the abuse our bodies would encounter.
The boat ride over from the main shore contained hardened, weathered, pain seeking souls. The island had a pleasant atmosphere, a
nice little tourist town with an abundance of tourists, runners, restaurants, and bars. We cruised the town window shopping and taking
stupid pictures to get our minds off the parlor of pain we would enter tomorrow the following day.
The 4 am alarm sounded and surprisingly we got up right away. Brian looked horrible and informed us of his sore throat and fever that
had made for a rough night of sleep and an even harder start to his marathon. From Avalon we were shuttled on a boat to the backside of
the island (Two Harbors) where we were kicked out and told run home.
We lined up facing the huge hills and varied terrain as I kissed Jen good-bye and started the race season for 2004! Certain things
were missing, no crowd to cheer us out, no conversations on the hills (too steep to talk), no people that looked like they didn’t
belong (except some idiots from Idaho maybe).
We began immediately with an 800-foot climb that thinned the pack a little and left little doubt to the severity of the race. I hid
my apprehension by joking, and taking pictures and was doing well for the first 13 miles. Soon after I got an immense lift of energy
and strength I was on top of the world thinking I could finish in 4:10. This was the calm before the storm as I was hit with a gale
force that tightened my hamstrings and dropped me from a 9-minute mile to a 12-minute mile in a matter of minutes. I was crushed as
I watched runners blaze by me showcasing their hard as nails attitudes and conditioning.
Mile 19 took me almost 17 minutes and when I reached mile 20 I had one hour left to run the remaining 6.2 miles and break 4 hours and
30 minutes (My original goal). The race finishes on a 1500 foot screaming downhill so I figured I would be able to meet my goal. But
as mile 25 took me 16 minutes my hopes were abolished as I resorted to running backwards, and skipping to relieve the pain on my hamstrings.
The final mile was a combination of cursing, hopping, shuffling, and walking before crossing the finish line in 4 hours and 47 minutes.
Travis was there to great me as he had smashed his time goal and crushed my ego, Brian fought cramps and sickness to break the 5 hour barrier
and complete his first marathon, while Jen looked strong as she crossed the line and eclipsed her goal by 31 seconds. The soreness,
blisters and exhaustion were overpowered by the bond that was formed between each other, our goals, and our personal fears and doubts.
The day would not be complete even after getting up at 4 am, running 26.2 miles in the hills and heat, and surviving on nothing more
than energy gels and drinks, so we showered and began the consumption of massive amounts of fried food, and cold beer.
In what is billed as one of the toughest marathons in the world we succeeded not by athletic prowess or extreme training, rather a
simple philosophy of let’s get this over. As the weekend drew to a close, it was time to set new goals, starting with being able to
walk down stairs and then we would take it from there.
Nic