The scene was dominated with the sound of rhythmic base drums being played on the sidewalk as I crested the top of the hill and turned a corner in the road in the Little Tokyo section of Los Angeles. It was Sunday morning and I was a little over four miles into the Los Angeles Marathon. Things seemed to be going fairly well thus far. The weather was great and my pace was pretty steady, but there was one concerning issue that I could no longer ignore. My shirt was getting increasingly more damp with sweat on my back and around my armpits. This is normal during races, however I was only one sixth of the way through the course. It seemed to early to be sweating this much, especially since it wasn't even warm outside. The more I thought about it, the more it occurred to me; the sweat on my shirt wasn't from heat. It was from anxiety. It was stress sweat. After I came this realization, the excess sweat made more sense. Truth be told, I was feeling some anxiety at the beginning of this race. In fact, in some ways, I find large scale road marathons to be more intimidating than ultramarathons. A lot of people who know me would be surprised by this sentiment. They would say "dude, why would you be more afraid of a road marathon than a fifty-mile trail race? A marathon is easy for you, isn't it?". No, it certainly isn't. Road marathons are tough. Most ultramarathons are held on trails in rural or mountainous areas in small modest towns, and only consist of a few hundred runners. Except for the aid stations along the course, which are typically five or six miles apart, you might run with one or two other people in solitude, if not completely alone. Because of the long distance and the laid back nature of most ultras, it is expected that runners will walk and hike for a portion of the race. It's completely normal to not run the whole course. This is a sharp contrast to the tone of large road marathons, where there are tens of thousands of runners present and the course travels through a major city with lots of spectators, media coverage, and sponsors. More eyes are on runners during road marathons, and we're expected to run our asses off. This in turn, adds pressure on me to have a strong race, hence the anxiety and sweaty back and armpits in the early stages of the 2021 LA Marathon. Let me says this though; if I didn't love large scale road marathons such as the LA Marathon or the Chicago Marathon, I would not have come back to do the LA Marathon for ten straight years. I think having that small amount of anxiety at the beginning is part of the reason why I love it. Sometimes it's good to put ourselves in uncomfortable situations because that's how we build confidence.
The days leading up to the marathon had been fun, busy, and eventful. Sam and I had decided to stay in her hometown of Irvine, California over the weekend so I could meet her parents in person for the first time. We left Silicon Valley early in the morning the Friday before, picked up my race packet from the race expo at Dodger Stadium, and arrived at our hotel in Orange County mid-afternoon. Friday evening consisted of dinner at a fish market & restaurant in Dana Point with Sam's parents. Although I had met them on video chat several times, it was really cool meeting them in person, along with their dog Lily. We spent some time in Laguna Beach on Saturday and Sam showed me around her old stomping ground. I had spent some time in Orange County when I lived in Los Angeles, but I felt like I was getting to know the area on another level with Sam. And of course there was more family time and delicious meals. We went to Sam and her parents' favorite restaurants, which allowed me to pack on a lot of extra calories for the race on Sunday. When race morning came, I woke up at 3:30 AM and made the hour long drive from Irvine to Century City. A cool thing about big city road marathons is they are always very well coordinated. There were several busses serving as race shuttles in Century City to transport runners to the start line at Dodger Stadium. I was still full from dinner the night before, so I chose to not eat on the way to Century City and purchased only a cup of coffee from the 7-Eleven store near our hotel. Despite my nervous energy at the start line, I was feeling pretty good physically and mentally, and when hunger set in about thirty minutes before race start time, I was able to eat a couple of bananas from a food booth. Feeling ready, I hopped into the open coral, the national anthem was sang, and within minutes, the field was moving slowly towards the banner that hovered over the start line. I took a few pictures as we approached the banner, "California Love" by Dr. Dre and 2Pac cranked on the speakers, the pace of our walk towards the start quickened, and just like that, we were off and running past cheering spectators and several media outlets. It was go time in Los Angeles.
After having the realization of why my shirt was wet with sweat early on in the race, I actually felt a little more relaxed. If I'm having an issue and I don't know why it's happening, that creates feelings of uncertainty and nervousness, but if I understand why something is happening, even if the problem persists, it makes me feel a little better because I feel more in control and I know how I can mitigate the problem. From miles seven through thirteen, we ran through Silver Lake and Hollywood, before continuing into West Hollywood, Beverly Hills, and Century City from miles fourteen through twenty. By mile seven, my big ass road marathon anxiety had calmed down and I was now trying to convince myself to run as fast as I felt like going and to not be afraid of crashing and burning. I was on track to finish in three hours and forty-eight minutes at the halfway point and I had moments where I was running at a seven minute and thirty second pace. I didn't plan on getting a PR today, but I began to realize that it was not out of the realm of possibilities. But I didn't put pressure on myself. I would simply run as quickly and comfortably as I could and we would see what happens. By the time I hit mile twenty-two, my pace had slowed, and by the time I hit mile twenty-three, it had slowed considerably. I had made it through twenty-two-ish miles going pretty strong but with three and a half or so miles left in the race I grew exhausted. This made sense given how busy work has been, the long drive to Orange County, and the fact that I hadn't been sleeping as much as I normally do the couple of weeks leading up to the race. I decided there was no point in beating myself up over it and just moved forward as best as I could. Typically the LA Marathon is held in March, but was pushed to November because of...well, you know...that little thing that shut the whole world down in 2020. Miles twenty-two through twenty-five are always ran through an area of Los Angeles known as Brentwood before crossing into Santa Monica and ending on Ocean Avenue near the beach. This year, due to some permit issues in Santa Monica and some logistical blunders, the course would be turning around in Brentwood and heading back three and a half miles, finishing in Century City, near where the shuttles had picked us up early that morning. Rounding the turnaround point, I realized that given the state of exhaustion I was in, I would have to run/walk the rest of the race, but I didn't care too much. I had a good first twenty-two miles, and now I just had to slog through to the finish. It was what it was.
The last few miles kicked my butt. Just as I had predicted, I had to alternate between running and walking, but the crowd support and the enthusiasm of the spectators carried me along pleasantly. Just when I began to feel like I was never going to get there, the tweny-six mile marker appeared, and the finish line came into view after turning a corner. I clapped and threw my arms in the air, crossing the finish line in four hours and three minutes. Not too bad, given how busy my life has been over the last few months. My performances at the LA Marathon have fluctuated over the years, and I would say that this year was probably one of the better ones. It felt good to test my fear in the middle stages of the race and try to run faster than I normally would, and although things got difficult during the last few miles, I still considered it a successful race. Sam and her parents were waiting for me at Katella Bakery, their favorite Jewish deli, so I made my way back to my car and drove down to Los Alamitos to meet up with them and have a celebratory lunch. They all congratulated me on my finish and listened to my stories as we reveled in the deliciousness of our pastrami sandwiches, corned beef sandwiches, french fries, and matzo ball soup. After we were all full and well fed, Sam and I hit the road and headed back home, arriving at around 9:30 PM. What was the main takeaway from this race? Well, there were three, I'd say. One, I would recommend not being too afraid of what you can do. You never know until you try. If you feel like you can run a little faster during a race, I would say go for it. Two, it's okay to feel some anxiety before a race. Three, I don't think it's a good idea to beat yourself up if you slow down or have a tough go at it. Sometimes life happens and you just have to take what you can get. Races are happening all over the world and they're only getting more popular, so you'll have plenty of more chances to have your best race. That's it for me for this year. Time to rest and get ready for snow season!
