I ran my first marathon yesterday, along the majestic redwood trees of Humboldt State Park. It was an ideal location to run my first 26.2 miler -- the 2,000 year-old groves of redwood trees shade the flat course and, I've heard, provide an extra oxygen boost to oxygen-deprived runners as well.
For the first half, I felt great. I paced myself early, staying in a thick pack of casual runners that took time to enjoy the scenery around us.
A quarter into the race, I realized I needed to pick up the pace if I wanted to finish in four hours. I left the comfort of the group and forged ahead.
As the course dragged on, though, my spirits flagged -- by mile 16 my legs were hurting and the few runners around me were bonking. A troubling sign occurred at mile 18, when a dehydrated runner was being loaded into an ambulance, muttering nonsensically.
With five miles left, and my spirits at a low, a deer sprang out of the woods and leapt across the course. Certainly a better omen than yesterday, when Jess and I spotted a pair of turkey vultures near the finish line. I couldn't hold back a loud exclamatory "Wow!" that refocused my effort. I decided to speed up and was amazed when my legs actually responded.
After the last hill, I charged down the last 1000 yards to the finish line, completing the course in 4:01. Not a record-breaker by any calculation, but good enough for me.
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