
34:59
I was shooting for 30:00.
Ultimately, I underestimated the HUGE descent at the beginning. I'm very careful about putting excess pounding on my joints, so I don't even train downhills. As you'd imagine, the 6-9% grade whomped a hurting on me. I knew there was some hills, but I underestimated the severity of the initial decline and what it would do to me.
Basically, I saw the elevation color coding and flagged the red part as "this'll be tough" but essentially looked past the green. Green's a friendly color, right? Green says "go!". Green, generally, doesn't say "I will mash your quads into hamburger and make your lower-legs malfunction."
Generally.
All-in-all, while it was great to go down to San Diego, this race was not a good one for me.
I am still determined to break 30:00, so I'm going to find and register for the closest flat-course 5k I can find. The sooner the better. I want to redeem myself.
Exeunt.
(Oh, quick side-note: @MapleJen handled the hill better than me and beat me in the race. Kudos! Also: @RussellNuts absolutely blew through the half-marathon course, clocking in somewhere under 1:32:00. Truly impressive stuff. Again, kudos!)
Elevation image courtesy the fantastic MapMyRun.com
This has been a recurring topic in the Frenette household in recent months. Our moves have really challenged our perceptions of what location means to us, and what criteria we value in making choices.
How would you rank (1,2,3...) the following factors?
__ Culture
I love hot dogs. I can't help it—I was raised in Chicago, by two Chicagoans. That's what we do.
The Chicago lake shore was my chosen running route; Chicago sits on Lake Michigan, and a great running and bike path stretches from the far south side to well into the north. Plenty of space to stretch the legs and get some relatively fresh air.
So I'm down in San Diego this week, helping out a friend and taking care of some bidness.