I
This time everything changed. Six months after running the Las Vegas marathon, with the New York race canceled due to Hurricane Sandy, the 42.195 kilometers through the avenues of San Diego turned out to be a journey of fun, constant challenges, and satisfaction.
The change was evident in the simplest details to the critical points that must be considered for a race of this kind: from the black commemorative t-shirt of the Las Vegas marathon to white; from the trucks that transported us to the start line to the Hummer limousine; from the route through the desert and scarce hydration points to the hospitality of neighbors who came out to the streets to cheer on runners; from Las Vegas at night to a morning of euphoria in the parking lot of the San Diego Padres baseball stadium, with more than 20,000 runners celebrating their achievements.
The day before the race.
Part of this change was also the Sunday before the race: a week before the Las Vegas competition I was in bed with 39 degrees of fever, while the Sunday before June 2nd in San Diego, I ran 15 kilometers, just as my training program dictated.
And yes, everything changed thanks in large part to the previous experience at this distance. Respect for the marathon made me plan a race with the sole objective of feeling good during the journey and the rest of the day. It was no small thing.
II
After three alarms went off at four in the morning, Vero and I were ready in the hotel lobby at 4:30 to wait for the bus that would take us to Balboa Park for the start.
The first surprise of the day came right in the hotel parking lot, where we were denied access to one of the buses and were sent, thanks to a pair of tickets they gave us when we checked in two days earlier, to another vehicle. A Hummer limousine awaited us, and like us, eleven other runners climbed in, first taking a photo.
At 4:50 we were sitting in the garden of Balboa Park, one of the most representative places in the city. It hadn't dawned yet and some runners took the opportunity to rest, eat something, check their things at the baggage claim, or prepare their music players.
Vero and I sat for a few minutes, took some photos, and located the special restrooms that the Brooks shoe brand set up for those who bought products from that brand at the expo.
Just that Brooks initiative was the second surprise. For those who have participated in a race, it's not difficult to locate the portable toilets — usually blue — that are installed for runners, cabins that have no other objective than to provide the basic service. Well, Brooks' bathrooms offered more space, hot water, and some free gifts for their customers, like petroleum jelly and gels.
The transfer service from the hotel to the start line was in a limousine.
This option allowed us a second stop just 10 minutes before entering the start corral and to be relaxed before the starting gun.
Over these months as a runner, I've heard different versions from those who run and finish a marathon. The descriptions generally focus on the moment when you cross the finish line, and some have equated that moment with the birth of a child.
In my case, and after two marathons, the most emotional moment is when you enter the start corral. That 10 or 15 minute wait for the starting gun summarizes months of preparation, schedule problems to train, crises at work, and pains in the body, that if they hadn't been overcome, that wait would be impossible.
Well, there was nothing left but to wait. The moment I had trained for was right in front of me with the start line of the San Diego Marathon.
III
The strategy was planned. I would start very slowly and increase the pace as kilometers passed. On paper, I had to run the second half of the marathon faster than the first. The watch was set to show split times every 10 kilometers.
The video showing the streets where the marathon will pass is shown at the Expo.
Vero and I signed up for this race with an estimated finish time of 4:00 hours, so from our corral we had no problem locating the pacers or pace markers who carried flags of 3:55 and 4:10 hours.
As expected, at the starting gun the 3:55 group overtook us and we went very close to the 4:10 group; however, and despite the adrenaline injection that the start means, we let the 4:10 group go. We thought it left too fast, which we would verify kilometers later.
Vero and I went together. At some point someone advanced to find some space, but we always found each other again.
We started with a faster pace than we had planned. We felt good. The same participants, the excitement, and a flat course facilitated the good rhythm, although I preferred to run slower and avoid at all costs what happened to me six months ago in Las Vegas.
We crossed downtown San Diego and just past the Mexican embassy the first alert of the four I had programmed sounded: 10 kilometers in 55:53 minutes, a fast time considering the plan was to lower that split later and that my best time at that distance is 50 minutes. More than 32 kilometers remained to be run.
The weather for this day couldn't be better: cloudy sky and 17 degrees Celsius. Not a ray of sun.
We passed kilometer 15 and everything was going better than planned. We felt strong and the forecast promised that the ride would be pleasant.
It was kilometer 19 and we were at Mission Bay Park, a residential complex facing the sea with large gardens and bathrooms every 800 meters or so. A piece of news that Vero thanks today.
Almost at the 20 kilometer mark, Vero decided to make a stop to use the restroom; we were still in Mission Bay and it was the ideal moment.
For me, this week meant the eighth consecutive week in which I ran at least a distance of 20 kilometers, exactly the mileage where we were. I felt strong and wanted to pick up the pace.
That's how it was. While Vero took advantage of stopping for a minute, I started passing people.
IV
Running is a peculiar sport with different objectives according to each person. While in baseball the objective is to win and be the best, when running a marathon the athlete has the option to do whatever they want.
On this occasion I got to see from the young man with the traditional Elvis Presley costume — common in races in the United States — to a person who at mile three was given a pair of basketballs with which they covered the route bouncing one with each hand.
What caught my attention the most was the conversation between two young women, mothers.
The truth is I wasn't paying attention to what they were saying until I heard one say: "Nice to meet you, my name is Ana."
Two strangers to each other stopped being strangers just when they were running a marathon and decided it was a good time to share their stories.
Ana told her new friend how complicated it is to train for a marathon. She replied and explained that, together with her husband, she organized to define when he would take care of the kids to program the schedules of her training.
San Diego turned out to be "a town," as @adrixaguirre would say, with people of great human quality.
Along the route, there was no shortage of people who came out of their houses to offer cold water and candy to runners; others brought out hoses to literally give a bath to those passing by.
"I'm proud of you, perfect stranger" and "You are no longer a runner, you are a marathoner" were two of the signs made by San Diego neighbors that they showed along the way and that I remember most today.
V
After crossing the half marathon, the next 10 kilometers were a real party.
The stopwatch didn't matter at that moment, at least for me.
However, it was precisely the time that was noteworthy: Kenyan Bernard Koech stopped the clock at 58:41 minutes in the half marathon, the best time recorded that year, the fastest half marathon on American soil, and the third best time in history.
After the second 10 kilometer split, my watch showed 59:08 minutes, more than four minutes faster than the first half.
I was heading toward kilometer 30, which traditionally marks the start of the most complicated part of a marathon and exactly the most difficult section of this race: a hill of almost two kilometers.
Kilometer 30, mile 20 approximately and the hill in sight.
It was a stretch of Highway 163 and, clearly, the most complicated part of the route.
For my part, I was still enjoying one of the best races of my life.
This climb was characterized by the bunches of runners who had to walk or stop before continuing.
On the other hand, I was able to continue with my jog without much difficulty.
Thank you Zacatecas!
The weather was one of the factors that played in favor of the runners.
VI
The final stretch.
By then the 4 hour and 10 minute pacer was history.
Whoever says that time is the least important thing in a marathon, believe them. However, I don't know anyone who avoids improving their times.
When I passed kilometers 30 and 35 and saw that my times were the best I had recorded, the idea crossed my mind that I could cross the finish line in under four hours.
I preferred to keep enjoying it.
The San Diego Padres stadium opened its doors for runner recovery.
We arrived once again at Balboa Park and upon exiting, the 40 kilometer mark awaited us.
When I crossed the finish line I stopped the clock at 4:08 hours, 28 minutes less than my time at the Las Vegas marathon.
VII
This time everything changed.
For the first time at the end of a race it was impossible for me to find Vero, even though she arrived just three minutes behind me.
We met at the family meeting point and from there we went to the baseball stadium seats to listen to the rock band that was celebrating the runners.
We ate hot dogs and drank beer.
Today it's even clearer to me that running hurts.
But after crossing the finish line of a marathon, you can experience a feeling of satisfaction that few things in life can give.
On Sunday, June 2, 2013, I ran a marathon in which everything changed.