The 2007 California International Marathon is the 25th anniversary of this event and my very first ever marathon. Here is my incredibly unusual experience.
All my training for the past 8 months have led to this race but the last thing I wasnted to do was think about it. When I started to put the pressure of a perfect finish time in my head, my nervous stomach quickly makes life uncomfortable. Luckily I avoided the thought up until a few days before the race. On Thursday, I pick up some of the local media hype when I went to the local television station, KCRA, for the weather report. On their front web page were headlines and streaming videos from history of the race to which high school bands would be playing. They even have a whole section dedicated to the marathon: http://www.kcra.com/cim/index.html. This was going to be a big deal and my mind started playing over every possible scenario from unexpected miracles such as a tailwind and boost of energy to qualify for Boston or the worst scenario of a "DNF" because I go out too fast and collapse on the side of the road. 
Luckily for me, I was too busy to give those scenarios much thought. Right after work Friday, we rushed the kids to see a "Rags the Dog" show in San Jose. The next morning, my wife, two kids grabbed breakfast and headed to Sacramento. We arrived at our hotel Saturday afternoon and quickly met up with my parents, got situated and headed down to the convention center right around the corner. I grabbed my race packet and activated my timing chip as my kids created some signs for me with my parents and wife, Rosemary.
I went looking for the race pace leaders booth because I'm a fan of Tim Tweitmeyer but he wasn't there. I took the opportunity to pickup a 3:20 pace wristband. I returned my gear to the hotel room as the rest of the gang walked around the convention hall sampling Starbuck's and collecting various knick-knacks, such as the Saturn-branded cowbell.
My son Matthew is Thomas the Tank Engine's #1 fan so we decided to visit the train museum in old Sacramento. We walked the 10 blocks there and it was a bit colder and longer than anticipated. When we finally arrived, my daughter Christina took her nap on my coat on a bench with my mom and wife watching over her as my dad, Matthew and I checked out the old trains and train toys.
Next stop was for food. Along the way, some cruisers in their 50's Chevys rolled down Front Road and put on quite a show. We settled in for a bite at Fat City. Now, this doesn't sound like the place to eat before a marathon but their menu was pretty robust. I ordered pasta of course and we luckily just beat the crowd of large party reservations. After we finished eating it was quite cold so I ran back to the hotel in my running shoes at an 8 minute pace and drove the car back to the restaurant to pick everyone up.
We prepped the kids for bed and I met up briefly with my friend from work, Joseph, in the lobby of my hotel to go over some last details of the race, such as "Where should we pick up the morning bus to Folsom?"
After returning to my room, Matthew was quick to fall asleep but Christina's late nap made her a frustrating challenge to put to sleep. She didn't fall asleep until 11pm and even then woke up again at 3am as she rolled off the bed with a soft "THUD" and a ear-piercing scream. After she calmed down and went back to sleep, I took the opportunity to eat some leftover breadrolls from the restuarant. I topped them with the honey given out at the expo and washed it down with a bottle of water. Oh joy..."YUM".
Attempts to sleep failed so I just lay there until 4:30am. I cancelled my hotel wake-up call, got dressed and quickly made my way downstairs for my morning pre-race ritual in the lobby restroom so as not to torture my wife and kids with the odor in the hotel room. I sat around for a while in my hotel lobby before deciding I might as well walk over the the Sheraton Grand as the buses would definitely be there by now. On the way, I ran into Joseph and his TNT teammates. We all boarded the bus and were off.
I was still fighting off sleep as we pulled up to the start line and I had this image of the opening scene to "Saving Private Ryan" as the troops are unloading from the amphibious vehicles, guys are screaming, "GO! GO! GO!", attempting to storm the beach head with bullets whizzing by and just absolute chaos but all that excitement was in my head as it was very calm with a much smaller crowd than I expected. Of course we were one of the first buses and that quickly changed to a crowd a mile wide and deep with an endless row of portapotty lines stretching the width of the road.
Joseph and I hit the portapotties in rapid succession in between warm-up jogs, water, and sweats bag check-in. Minutes before the race we high-fived and went to our respective pace groups. I spotted my running partner, Michael Stella, from my running club, 2nd Wind Athletics. I made my way and was able to line up next to him and my coach, Louis Kao just as the national anthem ended and starting horn blarred.
As I was told so many times, I was finally experiencing the marathon runner's rush. Adrenaline-fueled legs, unbridaled optimism and a crowd of people running the same speed surrounding me made the first few miles disappear as if I was hardly making an effort to hold the 7:37 pace. Rookie thoughts of a break-away negative split at mile 20 to the finish danced in my mind.
Michael and I followed Louis for a few miles then he disappeared. When I realized this and asked Michael, he said Coach felt pain in his achille's and calf and stopped to stretch. Around mile 8 he caught back up and pushed ahead of us. The first 13 miles were great. They felt just like one of our Sunday morning casual training run. Hanging with the pace group had the advantage of blocking headwinds and maintaining optimism but negotiating the water stops was a challenge when you were on the farside of the group.
The miles were uneventful as I frequently checked my breathing and heart-rate, drank at every water stop and popped Gu every 5 miles. My heart-rate would increase as I ran up the rolling hills but level off with an average increase of 1 bpm per mile. I thought to myself that starting in the 160's bpm and adding 26 for a 180-something bpm finish would be fine but it didn't go according to plan around mile 19 and at mile 20 everything caught up to me.
My heart-rate was increasing faster than anticipated and I was like the quintessential roadkill victim hitting the wall. I lifted my long-sleeved running shirt to the back of my neck to expose my bib number but keep the arms covered. The cool air rushed to my inner running shirt but the effect of that chill wouldn't be clear to me until much later. Lack of sleep and hunger were on the attack as I felt my body start to weaken and fall off the pace. I dropped behind Michael and checked my pulse. The 170's bpm were increasing and by mile 21 it was at 183bpm. $H!T.
My 7:30 splits up to that point were now mocking me as it became apparent I couldn't hold the pace for another 5.2 miles. We hit another water stop and I had to tell Michael he would be on his own to the finish. I gave him a shout of encouragement to hold the pace to the end but I know what it's like to have to go it alone at the end. Your muscles are already messing with your mind and a change like that can be fuel for a funeral pyre. Luckily for my guilt-ridden mind, Michael would make it to the finish 7 seconds under the Boston qualifying time with a 3:20:52 through his pure gut-wrenching, mind-altering perseverance.
Our splits to mile 21 with my heart-rate listed were as follows:
Mile 1, 7:56, 7:56, 167bpm
Mile 2, 7:16, 15:12, 169bpm
Mile 3, 7:32, 22:44, 167bpm
Mile 4, 7:35, 30:20, 164bpm
Mile 5, 7:33, 37:53, 167bpm
Mile 6, 7:36, 45:29, 169bpm
Mile 7, 7:34, 53:04, 168bpm
Mile 8, 7:47, 1:00:51, 169bpm
Mile 9, 7:41, 1:08:33, 170bpm
Mile 10, 7:35, 1:16:08, 169bpm
Mile 11, 7:52, 1:24:01, 166bpm
Mile 12, 7:41, 1:31:42, 169bpm
Mile 13, 7:28, 1:39:11, 172bpm
Mile 14, 7:35, 1:46:46, 173bpm
Mile 15, 7:35, 1:54:21, 176bpm
Mile 16, 7:36, 2:01:58, 175bpm
Mile 17, 7:23, 2:09:21, 176bpm
Mile 18, 7:37, 2:16:58, 178bpm
Mile 19, 7:19, 2:24:18, 182bpm
Mile 20, 7:31, 2:31:49, 183bpm
Mile 21, 7:48, 2:39:38, 183bpm
Now I on the other hand never planned to qualify for Boston but I had told enough people my expected 3:20 finish time that it was a real driving force to get somewhere in the ballpark.
As I crossed the bridge and approached the long road home counting down from 58th to 8th Street, I learned the hard way I didn't have the base to keep the pace and my mind and body drifted. At points I was literally sleep-running and dreamt of a nice big breakfast that was interrupted occassionally with an artic blast of wind rushing up J Street from downtown which seemed to hold me in place for a few seconds. I jogged when I could focus my brain on moving my legs and at times I'd notice another runner in slightly worse shape. Of course there were other times I'd notice the strange looks of concern from cheering spectators. "Just keep moving", I told myself.
As I approached the last mile I struggled to move into a "comfortable" jog. I knew I'd need to smile and look alive for my wife, kids and parents or they'd think there was something wrong with me. Well, I thought it would be better to save the truth until after the finish line right? I looked at my watch and calculated a sub-3:30 finish as the goal. I turned the corner and began to run. It friggin' hurt like hell but I soon caught sight of the clock at 3:29:30-something. Next I saw my family cheering on the right-side of the road. My kids with their signs and cowbells clanging loudly. I came alive and pushed across just as the clock struck 3:30 even.
My post-wall-meltdown splits were as follows:
Mile 22, 8:35, 2:48:13, 178bpm
Mile 23, 8:13, 2:56:26, 177bpm
Mile 24, 10:57, 3:07:24, 162bpm
Mile 25, 10:46, 3:18:11, 154bpm
Mile 26, 9:32, 3:27:43, 155bpm
Mile 26.2, 3:29:27, 169bpm
| PLACE | FIRST | LAST | CLASS | BIB | SEX | AGE | HALF | FINAL | ChipFinal | PACE | Div Pl | CITY | STATE |
| 924 | CHRISTOPHER | RUMBLE | M30-34 | 4069 | M | 34 | 01:40:27 | 03:30:00 | 03:29:27 | 00:08:00 | 119 | DUBLIN | CA |
http://www.runcim.org/data/07Results.html
Once I crossed the finish line, I could barely lift my leg to on top of a cinderblock for the volunteer to cut off my timing chip. My family found me and I struggled to tell them "food.. water". They got me a chair and I gladly slumped on it. I ate half a banana, three orange slices and drank some water but my leg muscles were in such pain. I was cold and my legs wouldn't stop throbbing and shuddering. I asked my wife to take me to the medical tent expecting some warmth, some sports cream and maybe a rubdown.
When I arrived I was taken aback by the scene in there. People looked terrible (at least worse than me): IV drips, a woman was in tears, and a guy was puking into a bed tray. All the beds were full so I sat on a only empty chair and a doctor looked at me and checked for my pulse. He couldn't find it and also noticed my lips, fingers and feet were purple so they parked me on a bed near a heater wrapped in blankets. They pricked my finger and noticed my blood-sugar was super high (all that Gu) and asked me if I was diabetic. I'm not but then they proceeded to check my blood pressure and it was low around 110/60 or something. They seemed concerned but other than my sore legs, I couldn't figure out what the big deal was. They told me I'd need an IV drip and I might need to go to the hospital. 
I wasn't getting warmer (as they figured out they were pumping cold fluids into me) and still couldn't find my pulse. I told them to just check my damn heart-rate monitor. I wasn't very happy with all the fuss when in my mind I felt and looked OK except for the sore legs and purple extremities.They insisted I needed to go to the hospital, I said I didn't need to go, the doctor said I probably don't know how bad I really am and up went the side of the tent as they rolled me off to an ambulance and to the hospital.
My wife got to ride in the ambulance with me while my parents watched the kids. I hung out on a gurney in the hallway at Mercy General Hospital next to a pungent homeless woman with turrets but managed to get much needed nap. My core temperature and blood pressure eventually increased, I received four bags of fluid and around 2pm, I walked out of there feeling much better but truely disappointed I missed the CIM festivities.
We got a very late checkout from the hotel, were way too late to get my sweats bag, and just decided to head home. The following day I had planned to take off from work and was afforded time to nurse my sore muscles. My running partner, Michael did the same. I've linked to his incredible experience here.
For my first marathon I'd say it was a mix of success and failure. I failed to be realistic but succeeded in crushing my body to get close to what I wanted. Okay, maybe it wasn't much of a win-win as much as a fool's win. I'm glad to be looking at that finisher's medal and I'm sure I'll be up for my usual Superbowl Sunday run in San Francisco's Golden Gate Park next year with a new PR.
Hope y'all learned something. I know I did. Have a good winter break...
Chris "RoadKill" Rumble
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