My Profile

@M_Sohaskey

Marina Del Rey, CA Raving since 2014 Boston Marathon finisher, 50 States hopeful/finisher, World Marathon Majors Six Star hopeful/finisher, Seven Continents Club, Marathon Maniacs #9273 Blisters, Cramps & Heaves Active 33 minutes ago

About Me

  • Running club(s):
  • Rave race:

    Comrades Marathon

  • Race that's calling my name:

    London Marathon

  • I run because:

    it always gets me where I want to go.

My Races

Organize, track & review your races and personal bests here.

50 States Map
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Half Marathon

Marathon

Ultramarathon

(Marathon or Ultra) + Half

Marathon + Ultra

Other

Future Races

Personal Bests (16)

Race Distance Location Date Result
12 hr Relay San Pablo, CA Jul 6, 2019 74 mi
100K Cantwell, AK Jun 20, 2021 12:33:00
89.9K Pietermaritzburg, South Africa Jun 10, 2018 9:48:25
50 Miler La Grange, WI May 14, 2016 9:54:30
56K Cape Town, South Africa Apr 20, 2019 6:07:11
50K Dallas, TX Dec 12, 2021 4:44:40
Marathon Ojai, CA May 24, 2015 3:22:07
25K Olga, WA Jan 26, 2013 3:12:06
Half Marathon Oakland, CA Mar 25, 2012 1:34:02
20K Dallas, TX May 25, 2009 1:33:51
12K Sausalito, CA Mar 18, 2007 55:15
11K Irvine, CA Nov 11, 2011 53:45
10K Cleveland, OH Dec 7, 2019 50:09
5 Miler Anchorage, AK Jul 16, 2011 36:03
3.6 Miler Soda Springs, CA Aug 7, 2010 42:58
5K Carlsbad, CA Mar 29, 2015 20:00

Future Races (3)

Race Distance Location Date Paid
Marathon Abilene, KS TBD
Marathon Traverse City, MI TBD
Marathon Vancouver, Canada TBD

Past Races (127)

Race Distance Location Date Result My Raves My Performance
Half Marathon El Paso, TX Feb 18, 2024 1:55:23
Marathon Daufuskie Island, SC Jan 13, 2024 3:57:42
10K Los Angeles, CA Dec 16, 2023
50K Arlington, VA Oct 29, 2023 5:09:08
Marathon Sydney, Australia Sep 17, 2023 4:08:14
Marathon San Francisco, CA Jul 23, 2023 4:12:50
Marathon Duluth, MN Jun 17, 2023 4:12:23
Marathon United Kingdom Apr 23, 2023 4:25:22
Half Marathon Fort Worth, TX Feb 26, 2023 1:56:29
50K Dallas, TX Dec 12, 2021 4:44:40
Half Marathon Newport Beach, CA Nov 7, 2021 1:44:23
Marathon Atlantic City, NJ Oct 17, 2021 3:53:38
Marathon Marlboro, VT Aug 29, 2021 4:02:55
100K Cantwell, AK Jun 20, 2021 12:33:00
Marathon Spokane, WA May 16, 2021 3:51:35
50K Ottawa, KS Oct 24, 2020 5:01:07
Half Marathon Virgin, UT Sep 19, 2020 2:08:13
Marathon Little Rock, AR Mar 1, 2020 3:58:08
Half Marathon Huntington Beach, CA Feb 2, 2020
10K Cleveland, OH Dec 7, 2019 50:09
Marathon Tulsa, OK Nov 24, 2019 3:54:47
Marathon Huntington, WV Nov 3, 2019 3:44:47
Marathon Gilsum, NH Sep 29, 2019 3:49:55
50K Big Bear Lake, CA Aug 17, 2019 9:13:33
12 hr Relay San Pablo, CA Jul 6, 2019 74 mi
Marathon Fargo, ND May 18, 2019 3:51:45
5K Universal City, CA May 12, 2019
56K Cape Town, South Africa Apr 20, 2019 6:07:11
Marathon Waimea, HI Mar 9, 2019 3:58:38
Marathon Japan Mar 3, 2019 3:37:14
Half Marathon Huntington Beach, CA Feb 3, 2019 1:44:28
Marathon Little Rock, AR Dec 15, 2018 3:52:36
50 Miler Boonsboro, MD Nov 17, 2018 10:24:33
Marathon Des Moines, IA Oct 21, 2018 4:06:18
Marathon Kansas City, MO Oct 20, 2018 3:51:28
Marathon Jackson Hole, WY Sep 1, 2018 3:58:05
89.9K Pietermaritzburg, South Africa Jun 10, 2018 9:48:25
Half Marathon San Pablo, CA May 19, 2018 1:43:48
Marathon Las Vegas, NV Apr 28, 2018 3:47:01
Marathon White Sands, NM Mar 25, 2018 4:35:04
Marathon Los Angeles, CA Mar 18, 2018 3:39:48
Marathon Houston, TX Jan 14, 2018 3:41:56
Marathon Nashville, IN Oct 28, 2017 5:03:22
50 Miler Steamboat Springs, CO Sep 9, 2017 13:07:35
Marathon Frenchtown, MT Jul 9, 2017 3:59:17
Marathon Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe Jun 18, 2017 3:58:12
89.9K Pietermaritzburg, South Africa Jun 4, 2017 9:52:55
Marathon Eugene, OR May 7, 2017 3:27:33
50K Cool, CA Mar 4, 2017 5:35:39
Marathon Huntington Beach, CA Feb 5, 2017 3:44:41
Marathon Baton Rouge, LA Jan 15, 2017 3:31:13
10K Thousand Oaks, CA Dec 4, 2016 1:22:22
Half Marathon San Francisco, CA Nov 6, 2016 1:52:51
200 Mile Relay San Francisco, CA Nov 4, 2016
Half Marathon Vacaville, CA Oct 22, 2016 1:52:22
Marathon Omaha, NE Sep 18, 2016 3:47:22
Marathon South Williamson, KY Jun 11, 2016 3:53:23
50 Miler La Grange, WI May 14, 2016 9:54:30
Marathon Big Sur, CA Apr 24, 2016 3:44:21
Marathon Hopkinton, MA Apr 18, 2016 3:48:36
Half Marathon San Diego, CA Apr 2, 2016
Marathon Los Angeles, CA Feb 14, 2016 3:34:39
Marathon Oracle, AZ Dec 6, 2015 3:37:52
Half Marathon San Diego, CA Nov 21, 2015 1:35:26
Marathon Ojai, CA May 24, 2015 3:22:07
Half Marathon West Hollywood, CA Apr 19, 2015 1:36:49
5K Carlsbad, CA Mar 29, 2015 20:00
Marathon Lake Buena Vista, FL Jan 11, 2015 3:41:43
Marathon Folsom, CA Dec 7, 2014 3:24:15
Half Marathon Anaheim, CA Nov 16, 2014 1:47:15
Marathon Staten Island, NY Nov 2, 2014 3:32:04
Marathon Germany Sep 28, 2014 3:24:14
Marathon Big Sur, CA Apr 27, 2014 3:56:19
Marathon Mobile, AL Jan 12, 2014 3:44:12
Marathon Jackson, MS Jan 11, 2014 3:43:36
Marathon San Francisco, CA Dec 7, 2013 4:17:38
Marathon Portland, OR Oct 6, 2013 3:30:27
Marathon Rachel, NV Aug 18, 2013 3:56:40
50K Modjeska Canyon, CA Jun 29, 2013 6:33:45
Marathon King George Island, Antarctica Mar 30, 2013 4:29:50
25K Olga, WA Jan 26, 2013 3:12:06
Half Marathon Los Angeles, CA Nov 17, 2012 1:48:00
Half Marathon Moab, UT Nov 3, 2012 2:11:22
Half Marathon San Ramon, CA Oct 20, 2012 2:29:11
Marathon Chicago, IL Oct 7, 2012 3:28:45
Half Marathon Antioch, CA Sep 8, 2012 2:10:54
Half Marathon Martinez, CA Aug 18, 2012 2:04:36
Half Marathon El Sobrante, CA May 19, 2012 1:59:19
50K Brentwood, CA Apr 21, 2012 7:39:51
Half Marathon Oakland, CA Mar 25, 2012 1:34:02
Marathon Los Angeles, CA Mar 18, 2012 3:37:53
Marathon Folsom, CA Dec 3, 2011 3:39:15
Half Marathon Camarillo, CA Nov 13, 2011 1:36:52
11K Irvine, CA Nov 11, 2011 53:45
Half Marathon San Ramon, CA Oct 22, 2011 2:33:46
Marathon Crazy Horse, SD Oct 2, 2011 3:55:22
Half Marathon San Francisco, CA Aug 27, 2011 1:40:04
Half Marathon Dallas, TX Aug 14, 2011 1:53:43
Half Marathon Castro Valley, CA Jul 30, 2011 1:52:34
5 Miler Anchorage, AK Jul 16, 2011 36:03
Half Marathon San Pablo, CA Jun 4, 2011 1:39:37
Half Marathon San Jose, CA May 22, 2011 1:38:08
Half Marathon El Sobrante, CA Apr 30, 2011 2:06:30
Half Marathon Austin, TX Feb 20, 2011 1:39:20
Half Marathon Huntington Beach, CA Feb 6, 2011 1:34:14
Marathon Long Beach, CA Oct 17, 2010 3:51:54
Half Marathon Manitou Springs, CO Aug 21, 2010 4:08:52
3.6 Miler Soda Springs, CA Aug 7, 2010 42:58
Half Marathon Davis, CA Jul 24, 2010 1:41:59
Half Marathon Napa, CA Jul 18, 2010 1:38:51
Half Marathon Santa Ynez, CA May 8, 2010 1:37:42
191 Mile Relay Calistoga, CA May 1, 2010
Half Marathon Dallas, TX Mar 14, 2010 1:38:40
Half Marathon San Francisco, CA Dec 5, 2009 1:58:12
Half Marathon San Francisco, CA Nov 1, 2009 1:42:29
Half Marathon Geyserville, CA Oct 31, 2009 1:40:03
Half Marathon San Diego, CA Aug 16, 2009 1:36:55
Half Marathon San Francisco, CA Jul 26, 2009 1:37:19
20K Dallas, TX May 25, 2009 1:33:51
25K Stinson Beach, CA Apr 11, 2009 3:30:54
Half Marathon San Francisco, CA Dec 6, 2008 2:07:40
Half Marathon San Francisco, CA Nov 2, 2008 1:45:42
Half Marathon Monterey, CA Nov 11, 2007 1:38:39
Half Marathon San Jose, CA Oct 14, 2007 1:37:53
12K Sausalito, CA Mar 18, 2007 55:15
Half Marathon San Francisco, CA Jul 27, 2003 1:41:11
Half Marathon Tahoe City, CA Oct 12, 2002 1:51:01

My Raves

BOTTOM LINE: Though he died more than a century before his hometown marathon was born, long-time Londoner Charles Dickens' words still ring true: It was the best of times, it was … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: Though he died more than a century before his hometown marathon was born, long-time Londoner Charles Dickens’ words still ring true: It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. On the one hand, I did complete my sixth World Marathon Major and earn my Six Star Medal in London (best of times); on the other, my finish time was easily a personal worst for a road marathon (worst of times, literally) for reasons outside my control and which could have been avoided. To be clear, I have mad respect for any event that raises as much money for charity as London does and which bills itself as the largest annual fundraising event on the planet. Supporting charitable causes has become, in essence, its raison d’être. That said, and despite its global popularity and party atmosphere, London was hands-down my least favorite of the six World Marathon Majors.

If you’re reading this and are not a UK resident, odds are you have no choice but to run London—you’re more than likely somewhere along the path to completing the six Majors (including London) in order to earn what is arguably the sport’s most coveted award, the Six Star Medal. I don’t blame you in the least—it’s an epic journey with an enviable payoff. And if you’ve run any of the other five Majors (Berlin, Boston, Chicago, New York City and Tokyo), you know they’re all crowded races that pack thousands of fast-moving runners into limited space. And yet, I enjoyed them all. But when London posted on its Facebook page after the race that “The TCS London Marathon isn’t about running,” I couldn’t have agreed more. London hosts the world’s most popular 26.2-mile party, and as such it attracts a lot of first-timers and one-timers who are there to celebrate (not a bad thing) but who aren’t well-versed in the rules of the road (not a good thing). What set London apart from its fellow Majors was the appalling runner etiquette—dodging and weaving without looking, or throwing elbows and flapping arms wildly for the cameras or spectators, or stopping suddenly in their tracks without warning, or running in costume with little thought given as to how a bulky, oversized outfit might navigate such tight quarters. (London prides itself on the number of Guinness World Records set annually by costumed runners, so do expect to share the road with all manner of landmarks, superheroes, and extinct or endangered species.) To be sure, the lion’s share of the field was competent and mindful of their fellow runners. But every big-city marathon resembles a congested freeway in its choreographed flow of movement, and it doesn’t take long for careless (or reckless) behavior to cause avoidable accidents.

Case in point, in mile 14 I was side-swiped by a larger runner who didn’t bother to check his blind spot before cutting sharply across traffic to visit his cheering section on the sidelines. And in mile 18, I was forced to jam on the brakes after the runner ahead of me stopped suddenly to walk without warning. Together the two incidents caused an ankle injury that forced me to walk much of the remainder of the race. And walking during a marathon when you had no plans to do so sucks. Aside from a sprained ankle caused by my own carelessness in Nevada years ago, London was the first time I’ve ever injured myself during a race. The whole day felt more like a trail race than a road race in the amount of vigilance required, my eyes constantly scanning the ground ahead of me as I tried to avoid being stepped on or running into someone else. Spread that mental focus across 26.2 miles, and you’d better believe it takes a toll on physical performance.

(On a related note—if you do intend to run a sub-4-hour marathon in London, I’d recommend that on your race application you estimate your projected finish time on the speedy side, because presumably the closer you can get to the faster, more serious runners near the front, the thinner the crowds and the less chaos/fewer costumes you’ll have to contend with.)

For better or worse—and for many runners this is their favorite aspect of the race—London is also the LOUDEST marathon you’ll ever run. Admittedly I’m sensitive to volume, and so I tend to eschew loud, boisterous marathons in favor of smaller, quieter affairs. Even so, as raucous as the previous five World Marathon Majors had been, none of them consistently achieved the decibel level of London, where the cacophony of wildly cheering spectators started almost immediately and never let up. Not to mention that at several places on the course (including one stretch in mile 7 where the course bottlenecked, forcing us to slow to a walk for several seconds), the close-packed throngs felt like they were almost on top of us. I felt like I went to a rave and a marathon broke out. Rambunctious crowd support and bedlam for the sake of bedlam may look great in a 30-second sizzle reel, but the reality for an introvert like me can be unnerving and border on sensory overload. But again, I recognize that for many runners that’s the best part of race day. Different strokes, I reckon.

In the end, I feel like London’s ambition to throw the biggest running party on the planet prioritizes participant numbers over the runner experience. Hopefully this year was an outlier with its record number of finishers (48,791 per the results page), because in its 43rd year the organizers seem to have conflated “greatest marathon” with “biggest spectacle.” As a result, their race day has simply gotten TOO BIG. (For comparison, London totaled nearly 20,000 more finishers than when I ran an overcrowded Berlin Marathon in 2014 on similarly narrow streets.) For many runners and spectators, this amounted to a rollicking good time. And if you want to complete the World Marathon Majors and earn the Six Star Medal, you have no choice but to run London. But if you DO have a choice, and unless you have a specific reason to visit London (a city devoid of natural beauty and still fixated on the monarchy), I’d say do yourself a favor and skip it in favor of one of the many other excellent European marathons in a more interesting city. With so many other brilliant marathons in beautiful and rewarding destinations, London is simply not worth the hassle, the stress, and the hype—not unless you happen to be a UK resident, a raging extrovert (e.g. the runner cupping your hand to your ear and urging the already-deafening crowds to cheer even louder), or a serious Anglophile.

Independent from the marathon itself, I’d be remiss not to give a shout-out to the pros at Marathon Tours & Travel, who did a terrific job of organizing and executing for the 450 runners & 650 guests they hosted in London. MT&T has built and nurtured relationships with events like the London Marathon for 45 years, and it’s one of the reasons they’re the best in the industry. Sure you’ll pay a bit of a premium for their service—this is their business, after all—but if you’re an American who wants to run (and experience) London with minimal hassle, I can’t recommend them highly enough. Tell ’em Mike from RaceRaves sent you!

PRODUCTION: Admittedly it takes an enormous amount of time, resources and careful planning to pull off a race day as big and bombastic as London, and for that the organizers deserve huge credit. Not many races require four separate start lines to host nearly 50,000 runners, and as such it’s tough to fault the organizers for the 2½ hour wait I experienced from the time I stepped off the shuttle bus in Greenwich Park to the time I started running. (On the bright side, I’ve never seen so many Portaloos at a start line.) Despite being held across the city and an hour from our hotel, the pre-race expo too was masterfully laid out with enough packet pick-up kiosks to prevent long wait times plus a host of interesting speakers, vendors and events including the two candidate races vying to become the next World Marathon Majors, Cape Town and Sydney.

As expected, the temporary seating and fencing set up around Buckingham Palace for the Coronation inconvenienced runners and spectators alike. Fortunately, that was a one-time annoyance and not something future runners will have to contend with.

My biggest issue with London, as detailed above, is that the organizers cram their 50,000 runners onto some of the narrowest roads I’ve ever run, roads made narrower in places by the crush of spectators standing several deep on either side. Even as the notoriously crowded World Marathon Majors go, London was excessive in this respect. (See for yourself in the official race photo I’ve uploaded, taken at mile 7.) And my concerns were validated by the fact that I ended up injured due to runner recklessness and had to walk much of the second half of the race as a result—not how I’d hoped to experience my sixth Major. Try as it might, London is not New York City, and more is not necessarily better when it comes to the city’s narrow roads. After celebrating its largest marathon ever in 2023, it feels like now’s the time to pump the brakes and let some of the air out of London’s balloon before it blows up in someone’s face.

SWAG: As with most of the other World Marathon Majors, the swag was minimal but sufficient. This included a blue short-sleeve New Balance tee depicting London landmarks of interest in yellow silhouette, along with a finisher’s medal that displays the year prominently on front with those same urban landmarks subtly embossed on the back. The medal looks suspiciously like the 2022 version, which is perfectly fine if you’re Boston with its iconic blue-and-yellow unicorn, not so much if you’re London and seemingly relying on your status to excuse your lack of creativity. On the plus side, London may be the first medal I’ve earned with braille on the front, which apparently translates to this year’s race slogan, “WE FINISHED TOGETHER.”

One design note for future editions of the London Marathon: the race desperately needs a new logo. Since TCS became the title sponsor in 2022, the logo has been a stylized “LM” that feels apologetic and secondary to the TCS branding. The logo doesn’t stand out on any medium on which it’s used, and nobody who sees my London Marathon tee will recognize it for what it is. So it’s time for London to take a cue from Boston (unicorn), Berlin (Brandenburg Gate) and NYC (Statue of Liberty) and seize on one of its iconic landmarks—I’d suggest Big Ben or the Tower Bridge—as the centerpiece of a new logo for 2024 and beyond.

I also went home with my own Six Star Medal, which was all the swag I needed and the only reason I’d opted to run London in the first place. Mission accomplished!

DIFFICULTY
2
PRODUCTION
3
My Report
SCENERY
4
SWAG
4
My Media

5 members marked this review helpful. Agree?

BOTTOM LINE: If you haven’t “herd,” there’s a reason The Cowtown was voted “America’s Rave Race” back in 2020. There’s a reason it was voted the Best Marathon in Texas … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: If you haven’t “herd,” there’s a reason The Cowtown was voted “America’s Rave Race” back in 2020. There’s a reason it was voted the Best Marathon in Texas and Best Half Marathon in Texas by runners across the US. And there’s a reason that as of this writing, the event has earned Top Rated status with 1,000 reviews—more than any other event—here on RaceRaves. The Cowtown ain’t one of them “all hat, no cattle” races, y’all.

This was the first race where I felt like—for the first few miles, at least—I could HEAR each mile marker before I reached it. Every mile seemed to feature a different musical act, and in particular I appreciated the Elvis tribute as well as the high-energy accordion of the AlpenMusikanten polka band. If you’re a runner who finds motivation in the music, you’ll find what you’re looking (or listening) for in Fort Worth.

As far as highlights, mile 7 through the Fort Worth Stockyards National Historic District with its decidedly Old West vibe (and aroma 🐮) is what most folks think about when they think about Texas, even if the area immediately surrounding the Stockyards feels like a dilapidated ghost town. To one side of the street, a jet-black cow statue glared down on us (can you blame her?) from atop a neon steakhouse sign, while on the other a rust-colored horse mannequin stood like a sentry on the edge of a retail balcony. And not to be confused with cobblestones, the red brick streets around the Stockyards were comfortable and easy enough to run on, though I reckon that could change in wet weather.

After the Stockyards, the Blue Mile leading up to the Tarrant County Courthouse in mile 9 was a moving tribute lined with U.S. flags, ribbons and posters depicting fallen soldiers. This long straight stretch, which preceded the hardest-hitting hill on the course, was attended by servicemembers in uniform who cheered on the runners (a humbling feeling, to be sure), providing the perfect motivation to dig deep and get ‘er done. It’s tough to feel even the slightest pang of self-pity when faced with the reality of those who made the ultimate sacrifice to protect the rest of us.

The two-mile straightaway home stretch on Lancaster Ave was a smart way to end the run (the fewer turns, the better), followed by a smoothly executed finish chute with plenty of snacks and an easily accessible family reunion area where I met Katie. Spectator bleachers even lined the finish line, which I thought was a cool and thoughtful touch. One reason the Cowtown is such a bull-loved event is that it understands the devil is in the details.

If, by the time you exit the finish chute sporting your finisher medal, Cowtown-branded disposable mesh hoodie (another nice touch), bag o’ munchies and giddy smile, you still haven’t gotten your fill of Fort Worth’s western heritage, well then by all means do step inside the Will Rogers Memorial Center (conveniently accessible to all runners, this is late February after all) and specifically the state-of-the-art facilities that host the Fort Worth Stock Show & Rodeo. Take a deep breath and let the Old West fill your sinuses—in this day and age, it’s as close as most of us will come to feeling like a true cowboy.

Congrats to Race Director Heidi who, not surprisingly, was sans voice by the time I saw her at the finish line on Sunday, and who continues to host a world-class event that’s one of the best race weekends not just in Texas but in the entire nation. I ran this half as a fortuitously timed training run for London, but I’d love to come back and add it to my list of TX marathons (or ultras) in the near future.

If you’ve yet to run Fort Worth on the last weekend in February, I’d recommend you find out for yourself what all the fuss is about in 2024. The Cowtown is a race that won’t “steer” you wrong.

PRODUCTION: It’s no exaggeration to say I’ve yet to experience a race weekend with better production values than The Cowtown. Case in point, the corral layout on race day was among the best I’ve seen—the corrals were laid out (to use a physics analogy) in parallel rather than in series, so that faster runners didn’t have to elbow their way through the masses or climb over fencing to reach their corral. Rather, you simply bypassed the other well-labeled corrals before arriving at your own, with each corral feeding into its proper sequence at the start line on Gendy St in front of Dickies Arena. It was a well-designed layout that utilized the parking lot of the Will Rogers Memorial Center to perfection. In addition, pace groups carried different-colored signs depending on the distance—red for the half, blue for the full, green for the ultra (50K). And despite bypassing every aid station (my usual M.O. on a cool day), I have nothing but props and gratitude for all the tireless & enthusiastic volunteers who made the entire weekend possible. If you run a race of any distance without thanking the volunteers, you’re doing something wrong.

Coming from an hour away, we only managed to catch the tail end (no pun intended) of the pre-race expo; even in its waning moments, though, it was an energetic affair that featured more vendors than your typical expo and especially in the post-pandemic era. The Cowtown team are pros in every sense of the word.

SWAG: Maybe it’s a Texas thang, but as was the case when I ran Houston and Dallas, I received two shirts at The Cowtown—a short-sleeve white tech shirt at packet pickup along with a short-sleeve red Under Armour finisher’s tech shirt in a sealed envelope that we were instructed not to open until we crossed the finish line. I don’t know many runners who need two more short-sleeve shirts, one of which is emblazoned with sponsor logos, so I would have preferred a single lightweight quarter-zip … and especially in late February when I can wear it immediately. (I was tickled to see on the back of the finisher shirt the slogan “HOW THE WEST IS RUN,” which I do believe was first coined in our 2018 “Best Marathons in the U.S.” article here on RaceRaves.)

For its part, the attractive finisher medal depicts the Fort Worth Stockyards sign above longhorns in running shoes, the latter a subtle detail you may not notice on first glance. I’m proud to add it to my collection, my only objection being that the medal is shaped like a jigsaw puzzle piece (see photo) and is the second in a four-part series that, once completed, will no doubt make a bad-ass keepsake. I just wish they’d find a different way to design these modular medals so that each more easily stands on its own for us out-of-towners who aren’t able to collect all four.

DIFFICULTY
2
PRODUCTION
5
SCENERY
3
SWAG
4
My Media

9 members marked this review helpful. Agree?

BOTTOM LINE: If it’s possible for a big-city race with 25,000+ participants to be “underrated,” then I reckon Dallas fits the bill. Running in the shadow of more prestigious urban … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: If it’s possible for a big-city race with 25,000+ participants to be “underrated,” then I reckon Dallas fits the bill. Running in the shadow of more prestigious urban marathons like Chicago, New York City and even (arguably) Houston, Big D more than holds its own and deservedly stakes its claim to the title of best race weekend in Texas.

Though I was born and now live in California, Dallas is the city where I grew up. And yet despite a 20-year running career, I’d never run a marathon or farther here. So when 2020 rolled around, it seemed like ideal timing to tackle the 50th running of my former hometown race less than a month after my own 50th birthday. Cue a global pandemic, and like nearly every other running event on the planet, the golden anniversary of the Dallas Marathon Festival was postponed—first to May 2021, and then to its usual date one year later in Dec 2021. Despite all the uncertainty and shifting expectations over the course of an excruciating year, in the end the celebration was very much worth the wait. Without (too much) bias, I can happily say the Dallas Marathon Festival was an electric day that did not disappoint.

Dallas is a terrific running city, and the marathon/50K course—which starts and finishes at City Hall—does the city justice by showcasing some of its most iconic landmarks and beautiful neighborhoods including Reunion Tower, Highland Park and Lakewood, plus 8½ miles around the event’s long-time centerpiece, White Rock Lake. Here on the far (eastern) side of the lake, several geese sightings and a glimpse of the distinctive Dallas skyline peeking above the trees helped to distract from the mounting fatigue in mile 18.

Notably, the first mile of the race passes discreetly through Dealey Plaza, site of JFK’s assassination and where the former Texas School Book Depository—now the Dallas County Administration Building—overlooks the course (see photo). Though the race organizers avoid publicizing Dealey Plaza for obvious reasons, its inclusion feels like a respectful nod to its historical significance and widespread interest.

Later in the race, I wasn’t looking forward to the out-and-back extension on the Santa Fe Trail (miles 20–25) that was exclusive to the 50K runners. And yet even that stretch was a relatively pleasant experience, a quiet reprieve from the otherwise bustling streets and an opportunity to applaud my fellow ultrarunners while acknowledging each other as kindred spirits. (Our orange bib numbers also helped to distinguish 50K runners from the blue-numbered marathoners and black-numbered half marathoners.)

Though the course—with the exception of the lakefront path—is more rolling than flat, the most conspicuous uphill arrives as the route turns away from White Rock Lake and back toward downtown (mile 21 for marathoners, 26 for 50K runners). Essentially the Dallas equivalent of Heartbreak Hill, this ½ mile stretch encompassing the latter portion of Winsted Dr plus Tokalon Dr served as a nice gut check that slowed many runners to a walk. (Here I see an opportunity for an inflatable sponsor arch at the top of Tokalon to encourage runners as they crest the hill.) Once you turn left from Tokalon onto Lakewood Blvd, though, breathe deep and feel good knowing your last five miles are a smooth, gentle downhill to an epic finish that’s publicly broadcast on the jumbotron.

Apart from obvious exceptions like Boston and NYC, as a traveling runner you’re never sure what level of spectator support to expect from residents during an urban marathon. So I’m proud to report that Dallas came to play; all along the course with the understandable exception of the lake itself, civic pride and festive holiday energy were on display as vocal locals showed up to support the runners. Among the spectators lining the residential route on Richmond Ave was a 20-foot-tall inflatable Santa that towered above us like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man from “Ghostbusters”—HO, HO, HO, MY TINY SUBJECTS.

Performance-wise, Dallas was one of those rare days when everything fell into place. And I couldn’t have asked for a better end to a challenging year that included four new states and a 100K personal best. After missing the five-hour mark by 68 seconds on an unpaved trail in Kansas last year, paved Texas roads seemed like the perfect opportunity to finally break five hours at the 50K distance. And at the end of a chilly morning under stunning blue skies, I crossed the finish line alongside City Hall with a 16-minute personal best while achieving not only my stated goal as printed on my bib number (a sub-5 hour 50K), but likewise my unspoken “A” goal of a sub-4:45 as I finished in 4:44:41. Calculating before the race that I’d need to average a 9:04/mile pace to break 4:45, I’d run 31.4 miles (according to my GPS) in… 9:04/mile. [Cue Success Kid fist-pump meme.]

With Dallas (mid-December) and The Cowtown in neighboring Fort Worth (late February), North Texas boasts two of the best race weekends in the U.S. in close proximity. Throw in Houston in mid-January, and you’d be hard-pressed to find a better three months of road racing anywhere in the nation than what you’ll find in Texas. Personal best and formative years aside, the Dallas Marathon Festival is a Big D-elight and a family-friendly Sunday long run I can easily recommend to first-timers, traveling runners & 50 Staters alike.

PRODUCTION: As you may have guessed from the above description, this was clearly not the Dallas team’s first rodeo. Reminiscent of Houston (I’ve yet to run The Cowtown so I have no comparison there), Dallas is a well-oiled machine with near-flawless production. Even with high expectations thanks to positive feedback from previous finishers, still I was pleasantly surprised. Everything ran smoothly, from the pre-race expo in the spacious convention center near the start line (which included an impressive fleet of vehicles from title sponsor BMW), to the high-energy start corrals with jumbotron accompaniment, to the scenic & well-supported course populated by spirited spectators & virtuoso volunteers, to the post-race festival in Akard Plaza where pizza, chocolate milk & Sam Adams beer (not necessarily all at once) awaited. Around the plaza, exhausted finishers stretched out on the grass and around the fountain to quietly celebrate a triumphant end to the racing season. Well done Dallas, my Stetson is off to you. 🤠

SWAG: Dallas rose to the occasion with its 50th anniversary swag. The hefty finisher medal (see photo) is an attractive blue & gold(en) keepsake with the race logo engraved inside the number 50. Both the medal and its ribbon include the year & distance. In addition, runners received a comfy, ocean blue short-sleeve participant tee at packet pickup as well as a handsome distance-specific, navy blue long-sleeve finisher tee (a Dallas tradition) in the finish chute. Best of all, this isn’t swag per se but every registration fee included a donation to the primary race beneficiary, Scottish Rite for Children.

For a pictorial narrative of the 50th Dallas Marathon Festival, check out my report at https://blisterscrampsheaves.com/2022/01/12/dallas-marathon-race-report/

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(Note: Because it fell on the same busy weekend as the nearby Los Angeles Marathon this year, the OC opted to cancel its marathon distance and focus instead on the … MORE

(Note: Because it fell on the same busy weekend as the nearby Los Angeles Marathon this year, the OC opted to cancel its marathon distance and focus instead on the half marathon for 2021.)

BOTTOM LINE: There’s a lot to love about OC Marathon Weekend, most of all the race itself. The half marathon course is fast and smooth, with a net downhill (elevation gain of 295 ft & loss of 405 ft, according to my Garmin), beautiful views of Newport Bay, and some of the nicest, most well-maintained roads you’ll ever run. Course highlights include a speedy downhill mile on MacArthur Blvd in mile 2–3 with the Pacific Ocean stretching to the horizon ahead of you, several early miles through affluent Corona del Mar that showcase the magnificent waterfront homes along Bayside Drive, and exhilarating mid-race views across Newport Harbor and the Back Bay. Plus, the finish line venue at the OC Fair & Event Center offers ample parking along with plenty of space for finishers & their families, running club tents and sponsor booths. And this year’s post-race performers, ‘80s cover band/fan favorite Flashback Heart Attack, always bring a nostalgic good time wherever they go.

Like many of the best urban races, the OC provided a detailed online Runner/Spectator Guide before the race that featured an overview of race weekend including course maps, road closures, spectator viewing, start/finish line information, and sponsor shout-outs. Very helpful, and particularly for support crew hoping to cheer on their runners along the course.

Credit to the pacers from A Snail’s Pace (a local retailer & running club), who did a spot-on job of motivating their charges while also sharing frequent nuggets of wisdom re: hills, hydration, pacing, etc. I ran most of the race with the 1:45 pace group, despite not having trained at a sub-8:00/mile pace in months; thanks in part to their encouragement, I managed to hang on for a 1:44:23 finish, my fastest half marathon in 3½ years.

(Oh, and kudos to the humorist in mile 8 who chalked a large, rightward-pointing arrow on the sidewalk with the words “SHORT CUT” below it, which pointed to an offshoot pathway with a clear “do not cross” line and the message “NO CHEATING!” chalked across it. 😆)

In a normal year (which hopefully 2022 will be 🤞), the OC is held on the first weekend in May as the second of three races in the Beach Cities Challenge, the others being Surf City in Feb and Long Beach in Oct. Having now run all three half marathons as well as the latter two marathons, I can vouch for the fact that the trifecta is well worth doing. And if you ever have questions about any of the three races, feel free to reply to this review and I’m happy to help.

For SoCal natives and traveling runners alike, the OC Half Marathon comes highly recommended if you’re eyeing a personal best or simply want to enjoy a top-notch 13.1. And while this year’s race may have been many small steps for this man, it was one giant leap for post-pandemic normalcy. 🙌

PRODUCTION: From pre-race expo to post-race party, OC Weekend is a polished, professional event. The expo is well laid-out indoors at the OC Fair & Event Center, and although there’s a $10 parking fee for the fairgrounds, there’s also plenty of free parking after hours at Costa Mesa City Hall across the street (along with electric vehicle charging stations). Race day itself was nearly seamless, the only semi-hiccup being what previous reviewers have noted, namely the challenge of start-line parking and runner drop-off at Fashion Island. Though runner drop-off information is included in the online Runner/Spectator Guide shared before the race (see above), navigating the flow of traffic & road closures live on race morning is a different ballgame. At any rate, more signage around Fashion Island would go a long way toward alleviating confusion and sparing the poor traffic officers having to yell “KEEP MOVING, DON’T STOP!” at drivers who’d paused by the side of the road at what was ostensibly the runner drop-off spot. (Pro tip: If you’re driving to the start, take Jamboree Rd to PCH to Avocado Ave to 360 San Miguel Dr, where you’ll find plenty of parking followed by a short walk to the start line).

Other than that, the day was a pitch-perfect production, from the high-energy start & finish lines (thanks to race announcer Fitz Koehler, who was in midseason voice), to the well-spaced aid stations with volunteers who clearly announced what was in each tiny cup (water or Gatorade), to the spacious post-race layout at the OC Fair & Event Center. By the time you exit the OC Fairgrounds with a smile on your face and sporting your attractive blue-and-orange swag (of course, I’m partial to that color scheme 💙🧡), you’ll fully appreciate the expertise and attention to detail that the OC Marathon team and its terrific volunteer corps bring to race weekend.

SWAG: This is a race that definitely don’t skimp on the swag. Apparel-wise, all half marathoners received 1) a stylish, heavyweight white quarter-zip pullover with the OC Marathon logo on the lapel and blue sublimated side panels featuring a palm tree theme; and 2) a separate—and similarly stylish—short-sleeve blue tech tee with “FINISHER” printed on back, even though many folks chose to poke fate in the eye by wearing it during the race. Both are high-quality and decidedly above average on the comfort scale. Then of course there’s my favorite part—the shield-shaped finisher medal, which in this case is a hefty keepsake sporting a colorful ribbon and “OC 13.1” logo along with 3D sculpted palm trees. Very SoCal in its own distinctive way, which isn’t easy given that the OC must compete with Long Beach and Surf City, two other excellent Beach Cities races that are all within 25 miles of each other, to carve out its own unique identity. That said, if my own experience and the other reviews here on RaceRaves are any indication, the OC more than holds its own on the crowded SoCal race calendar.

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BOTTOM LINE: Life is all about setting and managing expectations, and the Atlantic City Marathon is no exception. If you toe the start line alongside Bally’s Hotel & Casino expecting to … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: Life is all about setting and managing expectations, and the Atlantic City Marathon is no exception. If you toe the start line alongside Bally’s Hotel & Casino expecting to run the next World Marathon Major, then you’re likely to be disappointed. But if instead you temper any preconceived notions and open your mind to the beach Boardwalk and quaint seaside neighborhoods, you may just find yourself singing the praises of the nation’s third-oldest marathon. Even if you’re a casinophobe like me.

Atlantic City tends to get a bad rap as a seaside tourist trap with a fading patina of relevance, but for one sunny offseason day in October the town provided an enjoyable and uncharacteristically healthy diversion for its visitors. I appreciated the diversity of the scenery, from urban roads and neighborhoods to seaside stretches along the bay to 8+ miles on the iconic Atlantic City Boardwalk. (I should mention that despite the occasional board yielding slightly underfoot, running on the Boardwalk was an agreeable experience, and neither fellow runner @slowjuan nor I encountered any rogue loose boards—a not-uncommon complaint among Atlantic City reviewers). Fans of Monopoly will likewise enjoy seeing many of the real-life streets and properties that inspired the most popular board game of all time. And depending on which way (and how hard) the wind blows on race day, Atlantic City acquits itself well as a fall Boston Qualifier thanks to its scant 45 ft of total ascent. If you like your marathons flat, this is about as flat as it gets.

Preferring to avoid the Boardwalk casino scene as much as possible, we opted to stay in an Airbnb in nearby Absecon, a 15-minute drive from the start line. This decision—together with the organizers’ one-time decision to hold packet pickup outdoors (as opposed to inside the Bally’s Hotel & Casino)—enabled me to avoid setting foot in a single casino during our stay in Atlantic City.

So if you’re a traveling runner searching for an East Coast fall marathon or a 50 Stater looking for an above-average New Jersey option, I’d recommend you roll the dice on Atlantic City 🎲. After all, any town that votes to blow up a Trump property must be doing something right.

PRODUCTION: Production-wise, the Atlantic City Marathon operated like a race that’s been around for 63 years—because it has. Race day featured an abundance of aid stations staffed by friendly volunteers, oversized mile marker flags (many with digital displays showing elapsed time) for most if not all miles, and enough orange road cones to make the most dedicated traffic safety officer jealous. What’s more, despite dropping the ball by not blasting New Jersey icon Bruce Springsteen’s “Born to Run” as our start line sendoff, the announcers did a nice job of keeping the energy high at the finish line by calling out names, congratulating incoming runners, and recognizing 50 Staters who were completing their epic quest in Atlantic City.

On the flip side, as with most races that offer runner tracking, the service worked sporadically at best and proved reliably unreliable. And whereas the post-race email promised “FREE official event photos will be email[ed] and posted on social media on or before Friday,” in the end no photos were emailed, and the official photos from MarathonFoto were decidedly not free. Not that I need more pictures of myself “running” with both feet on the ground, but the bait and switch annoyed me more than the lack of free photos.

SWAG: I can happily report that for bling connoisseurs and apparel aficionados alike, the swag was a highlight of the Atlantic City Marathon experience. The finisher medal, which doubles as a bottle opener, is among my favorites (see photo). Not only does it depict the state’s tallest lighthouse, the Absecon Lighthouse situated at the northern edge of the city just off the marathon course, but the lighthouse lamp—the real-world counterpart of which was extinguished in 1933—blinks with the help of a small battery. Literally and figuratively, a brilliant touch. Similarly, thanks to LA’s mild winters I’ve gotten a lot of wear out of the attractive, lightweight half-zip emblazoned with a colorfully styled print of the Absecon Lighthouse and seagull flyby on the back. Both are thoughtfully designed pieces of race day memorabilia that reflect well on Atlantic City’s hometown race.

For all the play-by-play and color commentary, check out my race report at https://bit.ly/3YDxfeo.

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BOTTOM LINE: The New England Green River Marathon is clearly a marathon created for runners and by runners, with no other distance offered and with the stunning beauty of the New England countryside in … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: The New England Green River Marathon is clearly a marathon created for runners and by runners, with no other distance offered and with the stunning beauty of the New England countryside in the starring role. The course runs point to point from Marlboro, VT to Greenfield, MA on ~40% paved roads and ~60% unpaved gravel roads, traveling alongside its namesake river for much of the race. Registration opens early in the year (Jan/Feb) and sells out its ~550 slots quickly with no waitlist. So this is very much a “you snooze, you lose” affair.

As road races go, NEGRM is a decidedly low-frills affair with no pre-race expo (bib numbers were mailed several weeks before race day), no pre-race pasta dinner, and a small but sufficient post-race party that included three food trucks plus a beer station, none of which I sampled because my stomach is a post-race buzzkill. If you thrive on spectator support and on-course entertainment, this may not be your ideal marathon. But if you favor low-key, picturesque gems that play to their strengths and let Nature do the talking, then do yourself a favor and check out NEGRM. In comparison to a very similar marathon, the Clarence DeMar Marathon in nearby New Hampshire, I liked Clarence DeMar a bit more for its diverse scenery and compelling pre-race speaker (Dick Beardsley in 2019). That said, either race comes highly recommended, and do keep in mind that 50 Staters can count NEGRM for either Vermont (where it starts) or Massachusetts (where it finishes). Double your pleasure!

Two key factors combine to make NEGRM a deceptively challenging course. The first is its steady downhill trajectory (net elevation loss of ~1,400 ft), which you really don’t appreciate until your overworked quads cry “uncle” late in the race. And the second is the insidious humidity, which wreaks havoc on your body’s ability to cool itself efficiently. In fact, Race Director Tom Raffensperger reported that if the race had been scheduled for three days earlier, given the combination of high heat & humidity he would have been forced to cancel.

So a word of warning to prospective runners: while the New England Green River Marathon is a beautifully memorable run in the woods, it’s definitely not a walk in the park.

PRODUCTION: Race production was streamlined in scope—as noted above there was no pre-race expo or pasta dinner and no on-course entertainment, while the modest post-race festival consisted of three food trucks and a live local band. When it came to the details that mattered most, however, the New England Green River Marathon team did a spot-on job of setting expectations and delivering a seamless experience as far as timing, aid station support, course markings, mile markers, volunteers in all the right places, etc. And I know that fellow 50 Stater @slowjuan was surprised and delighted to discover UnTapped energy gel for the first time, which apparently infuses pure Vermont maple syrup with real coffee for a sweet surge of energy.

SWAG: Not surprisingly, race swag comprised the basics: bib number, shirt and medal. Given that only the latter of the three matters to me, I appreciate the wooden medallion that’s tastefully rendered and smartly designed to convey a classic Vermont vibe, even if the green ribbon feels like an afterthought. The short-sleeve cotton shirt, on the other hand, fits nicely enough but features dark green & red lettering on a royal blue background for a visually cacophonous ensemble that—unfortunately for the sponsors—renders all but the largest lettering unreadable.

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BOTTOM LINE: You never forget your first, and especially when your first happens to be 100 km (62.2 miles) in one of the most beautiful destinations on the planet. Held along … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: You never forget your first, and especially when your first happens to be 100 km (62.2 miles) in one of the most beautiful destinations on the planet. Held along the Denali Highway, a wild and mostly unpaved stretch of 135 miles I’d immediately fallen in love with during my first visit to Alaska 15 years earlier, the Denali 100K is a bucket-list, back-to-nature adventure created for the intrepid ultrarunner. Though theoretically speaking I’d long been intrigued by the 100K as a “triple digit” challenge, it would take a special opportunity to make me commit to the distance—and the inaugural Denali 100K was just what this doctor ordered. The day I first learned of the event, it was as though someone had read my mind.

Run on the summer solstice (meaning I finished at 2:30am AKDT under relatively bright skies), the race starts at the Alpine Creek Lodge near the midpoint of the iconic Denali Highway and finishes, without a single turn, near the highway’s endpoint in Cantwell. The largely unpaved highway opened in 1957 as the lone road leading to Denali National Park. (For true masochists, the race also offers a 135-mile distance that runs the full length of the highway.) The terrain is highly consistent crushed gravel that’s ideal for running. And though the Denali Highway wouldn’t be considered “hilly” per se by trail running standards (and the route is, in fact, a net downhill), it definitely rolls from start to finish. As my fatigue mounted, I was able to establish a time-efficient rhythm of speed-hiking the ups while running the downs and flats, a strategy that minimized my exhaustion in the second half.

The Denali 100K is an untamed dichotomy of tranquil solitude on the one hand and unnerving vulnerability on the other. Because when you say “Alaska,” most people envision vast wilderness and the megafauna that call it home. Though I didn’t see any large mammals myself on race day (not such a bad thing when you’re alone for 12+ hours on foot without bear spray), other runners and their crews reported sightings of two grizzly sows and a cub, six moose cows and two calves, four foxes, and three porcupines including a baby. And on the topic of safety: given the remote nature of the course and the lack of cell service along the Denali Highway, each runner carried a SPOT tracker equipped with an SOS button throughout the race, which was used to track our GPS coordinates. Likewise, every runner’s crew carried a satellite phone which enabled them, if needed, to contact Race Director Sean or anyone else during the race.

A note regarding the race name: on a clear day the stately snow-covered peak of Denali itself, the tallest mountain in the United States at 20,310 ft, is visible as you approach the Cantwell end of the Denali Highway. Clear days in Cantwell, however, are hit or miss to say the least, so if it’s a Denali sighting you crave (and what Alaskan visitor doesn’t?), I’d recommend you make the short-but-scenic detour to the village of Talkeetna on the drive to or from Anchorage. There, your best bet for seeing The Great One is from the viewing deck of the Talkeetna Alaskan Lodge (see accompanying photo).

In essence, I can say without hyperbole that the Denali 100K is the reason I run, and I can’t recommend it highly enough. To call this a “race” almost doesn’t do the day justice—this is a soul-cleansing experience not only for veteran ultrarunners but for any lover of the outdoors who’s looking for the perfect inspiration to challenge themselves and tackle their first 100K. And it’s the ultimate destination race for an increasingly stressed-out world.

PRODUCTION: Race Director Sean Tracy, his partner and co-RD Holly, and their daughter Emilia (in whose young brain the idea for the Denali 100K originated) are amazing people who make an amazing team. Sean is a “big ideas” guy with the perfect temperament for a race director, while Holly is his detail-oriented right-hand woman who makes things happen. As with every event these past two years, the inaugural race (which was originally scheduled for July 2020) rode the emotional roller coaster of “yes, it will” and “no, it won’t,” and Sean did a terrific job of setting expectations and keeping us updated. For more background on the race and the man himself, I’d recommend you read “The Road to Denali” in the May/June 2021 issue of Ultrarunning Magazine. It lays out Sean’s story—including his becoming the first and only person to travel ~3,700 miles from Badwater to Denali Base Camp under his own power—and what compelled him to stage a 135-mile/100K foot race in the heart of wild Alaska. Most of all, I’d suggest you register to run the Denali 100K and discover for yourself why Sean and his family are exactly the type of thoughtful, caring and creative individuals you’ll be proud to call friends long after you cross his understated finish line.

Sean’s pre-race communication—which actually spanned 15 months from March 2020 when I first registered, to June 2021 when the race finally happened—was personable yet professional (much like Sean himself) and a treasure trove of useful information re: what to expect on race day and how to plan the rest of your Alaskan vacation. His enthusiastic yet comforting words reassured me that I wasn’t making an egregious error in judgment by jumping feet first into this inaugural event in one of the wildest places on earth. And he went out of his way to give credit to his runners and call out their accomplishments, including a heartfelt “get well” shout-out to one long-time ultrarunner who couldn’t join us this year after recent open-heart surgery. Sean’s was the rare pre-race communication I look forward to seeing in my Inbox.

Race weekend culminated in a beautiful evening and an excellent post-race buffet at the McKinley Creekside Cabins, our post-race accommodations located 15 minutes from the finish-line end of the Denali Highway. There we enjoyed grilled salmon, chili-lime tofu, coconut rice, plus salads, desserts and drinks while chatting and comparing notes with fellow finishers, and Sean presented a check to an appreciative representative from this year’s race beneficiary, the Denali Education Center. It was a fitting conclusion to an epic weekend.

Sean and Holly expended an enormous amount of effort to maximize their runners’ chances of success on race day. This included Sean running the entire 135-mile course himself during the initial planning stages because, as Holly told us, he won’t ask others to run a course unless he’s first run it himself. The end result is a testament to their dedication and their desire to give the ultrarunning community a special event. And it’s tough to say they didn’t succeed with flying colors—the Denali 100K is an event you won’t soon forget.

One important detail to note ahead of time: the Denali 100K is a self-supported, BYOC (Bring Your Own Crew) event. There are neither official aid stations nor so much as a convenience store along the remote route, and very few vehicles—aside from Sean or the other runners’ crews—drive the highway. So you’ll want to come prepared with your own crew and everything you need on race day. For this reason, Katie and I reserved a Jeep and an oversized cooler in Anchorage, then stopped for supplies before making the drive to Cantwell and the Alpine Creek Lodge where we stayed before the race. On that note, sports nutritionist Sunny Blende was spot-on when she said, “Ultras are just eating and drinking contests, with a little exercise and scenery thrown in.” Nailing my nutritional strategy was the single most important factor in keeping my performance consistent and reaching the finish line faster than I’d thought possible. If you’re going to run this or any other 100K, and assuming you’re trained up for the challenge, race-day nutrition is your key to success.

SWAG: Truth is, I doubt that anyone running 100K in wild Alaska does so for the swag. That said, I wear my Denali 100K finisher tee proudly, while the real keepsake is the finisher buckle made from shed moose antlers (i.e. bone) and hand-sanded by Sean himself. Adorned with the race’s namesake peak, the ivory beauty easily earns a spot in my top five favorite finisher awards and now hangs in my home from an Alaska lanyard purchased at a roadside souvenir store.

As you can probably tell, I have a lot more to say about the Denali 100K, and it all gets said (including logistics, recommended gear & more) in the accompanying blog report. I hope you’ll check it out at https://bit.ly/3N7OpuR.

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BOTTOM LINE: Named for a local real estate agency and its eponymous foundation dedicated to helping low-income & homeless families, Windermere is a relaxed, picturesque marathon that will be even better … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: Named for a local real estate agency and its eponymous foundation dedicated to helping low-income & homeless families, Windermere is a relaxed, picturesque marathon that will be even better in the post- (as it was in the pre-)Covid era. This is largely because 2022 is expected to welcome the return of the original point-to-point course, which includes 11-ish miles of this year’s route plus Gonzaga University and a festive finish near Riverfront Park (in contrast to this year’s necessarily low-key start & finish in the parking lot of the Windermere offices in Spokane Valley). That said, this year the Negative Split team did a terrific job turning gators into Gatorade with a pleasant, well-supported event that consisted of two out-and-backs on the paved Centennial Trail along the Spokane River. I’m typically no fan of out-and-backs, and especially in the later miles when you can clearly see the fatigue on the faces and in the body language of your fellow runners who are several miles ahead of you. Unfortunately, a global pandemic tends to limit your options as a runner or race director. And the river is a beautiful centerpiece for the race, even if the non-river side of the course doesn’t always live up to the same scenic standard.

Spokane itself is a charming city with two main highlights for the weekend tourist: Gonzaga University, a small Jesuit university that’s paradoxically home to one of the premier men’s college basketball programs of the past 25 years, and Riverfront Park, which is the legacy of the 1974 World’s Fair and the focal point of downtown Spokane. Riverfront Park feels like a more sprawling version of Tulsa’s Gathering Place but with a nicer river frequented by gaggles of elegant Canada geese. And while the park is the emerald jewel of the city, its beating heart is mighty Spokane Falls, whose power has been harnessed to generate electricity for well over a century. One of the joys of racing in Washington is that many (if not most) of the state’s marathons & half marathons run within view of an impressive body of water, and Windermere’s course alongside the fast-flowing Spokane River is no exception.

PRODUCTION: Windermere (along with Negative Split’s other marathon in nearby Coeur d’Alene) was one of the few marathons held in the U.S. in 2020, albeit with significant changes, and it was clear from this year’s production that this was not the team’s first pandemic rodeo. From the quick & easy outdoor packet pickup at the local Fleet Feet store (finisher medal included) to the rolling start line to the scaled-back post-race gathering, race weekend was seamless if subdued. The entire process gave me a renewed appreciation—and frustration—for the fact that given the chance to implement similar Covid mitigation strategies based on the science of viral transmission, more events could have safely and responsibly moved forward with reduced field sizes last year.

Out-and-back courses typically aren’t my jam, but this year it couldn’t be helped, and more than anything I think most of us were grateful for the chance to be healthy and racing again. The DIY aid stations were an afterthought for me since I only paused at the mile 8 turnaround to grab a bottle of water, but Race Director Ryan did pass me on a bike in the later (warmer) miles asking if I needed water, Gatorade or anything else, so a shout-out of gratitude to him. More than anything, I appreciated that mile markers were taped to the trail throughout the race, and especially in the closing miles when mentally I celebrate every mile marker as a mini-finish line. Plus, race photos were free, though for whatever reason no photos of me were available—not a big deal since Katie captured plenty along the course.

SWAG: The multi-blue finisher medal is brightly colored and nice enough, though as one-third of a three-piece interlocking medal for runners of Negative Split’s Run the PNW Series (comprising Windermere, The Split Half Marathon and Coeur d’Alene), it’s wedge-shaped and visually less satisfying than a comparable standalone medal. That said, I can imagine the three-piece medal in its entirety would be a lovely keepsake. Fortunately, the long-sleeve black tech shirt is a keeper—I know some folks aren’t fans of black and especially during the summer months, but having grown up an unabashed fan of heavy metal music, for better or worse I still have a soft spot for black clothing, even as my closet steadily fills with race apparel.

For more insights on Windermere specifically and Spokane in general, check out my blog report at https://blisterscrampsheaves.com/2021/09/06/windermere-marathon-race-report/

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BOTTOM LINE: The Kansas Rails-to-Trails Extravaganza was the perfect race to help me maintain my health, sanity and motivation in the midst of a global pandemic, as for five (near-freezing) … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: The Kansas Rails-to-Trails Extravaganza was the perfect race to help me maintain my health, sanity and motivation in the midst of a global pandemic, as for five (near-freezing) hours I was able to forget the virus heard round the world. And if you’re a fan of low-key, small-town events that feature grain elevators as highlights, then this may be the perfect race for you in any year. With a population of around 12,000 residents, Ottawa is one of the smaller towns I’ve visited in my 100+ races—a bit ironic, given that my original choice for the Sunflower State was the Eisenhower Marathon in Abilene, a town half the size of Ottawa.

The bulk (24.6 miles) of the 50K course runs north/south on the comfortable crushed limestone of the Prairie Spirit Trail, book-ended by 5 miles at the start and 1.5 miles at the end on paved terrain. (The 100 Mile course covers the entirety of the PST.) It’s tough to imagine a much flatter or straighter course than this one. And though the rural route lets you decompress and breathe, the flip side is that you better enjoy time alone with your own thoughts, because there’s little in the way of distraction—no energetic spectators or musical bands, only amber waves of grain as far as the eye can see. Aside from aid station volunteers and a few folks crewing for other runners, most of the spectators had four legs, and most of the two-legged spectators had wings. With the trail stretching out ahead of you for miles at a time, you’ll swear you can see Nebraska to the north and Oklahoma to the south. At the same time, the unchanging scenery makes it challenging to gauge progress, which in turn makes it easier to surrender to fatigue and give yourself permission to walk. Kansas Rails-to-Trails is a “dig deep, find your inner bad-ass, and keep going” type of race.

I’m not typically a fan of out-and-backs, but in such a relaxed, laid-back setting I appreciated being able to see and lend support to my fellow runners. In that sense, KRTE provides the opportunity to be both competitive and sociable at the same time. How many races can say that?

For anyone who likes the sound but not the timing of the Kansas Rails-to-Trails Extravaganza, the Prairie Spirit Trail Ultra held each March is the spring edition of essentially the same race, minus October’s fall colors and the marathon/half marathon distances: https://raceraves.com/races/prairie-spirit-trail-ultra-races/

PRODUCTION: Race production was minimal and even more so during a pandemic. Everything about race weekend was easy peasy, from the start and finish lines separated by just a few yards alongside incongruously named Celebration Hall, to the outdoor packet pickup, to the staggered start times with each runner being assigned a starting window of ten minutes. (I was among the last runners to start at 8:15am and did so alone.) Three well-stocked (though widely spaced) aid stations awaited runners at miles 11 (out)/24 (back) and at the turnaround at mile 17.5, along with a couple of other unmanned “stations” which basically consisted of a stash of bottled water. With crew access limited to the three manned stations, carrying your own nutrition may not be a bad idea. And to help you prepare for race day, the organizers provide a detailed booklet which answers most of the questions you’re likely to ask.

SWAG: Definitely a highlight of this low-frills event. Aside from the potential to set a personal record on its flat & speedy course, one reason I chose to run the 50K rather than the marathon was the promise of a belt buckle rather than the usual finisher’s medal—a minor detail to be sure, but nonetheless a silver lining on the dark cloud of a brutal pandemic/election year. And with Race Director Carolyn being kind enough to provide its own ribbon, the buckle now hangs proudly alongside the other medals on my 50 States Wall o’ Fame. With temperatures in the 30s and my brain awash in post-PR endorphins, I also had no qualms about buying a charcoal-and-green KRTE hoodie to match the standard short sleeve race tee. Both have turned out to be very comfy, even if I do live in Los Angeles where a heavy sweatshirt isn’t the savviest consumer purchase.

For more deets and plenty of prairie spirit, check out my race report at https://blisterscrampsheaves.com/2021/04/21/kansas-rails-to-trails-extravaganza-race-report/

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BOTTOM LINE: To sum up a terrific Little Rock weekend in one pithy statement, I’d say the medal is large and the Chicks are In Charge. And if I could … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: To sum up a terrific Little Rock weekend in one pithy statement, I’d say the medal is large and the Chicks are In Charge. And if I could earn only one non-virtual marathon medal for all of 2020 (which unexpectedly turned out to be the case), I’m glad I earned it in Little Rock. Arkansas’ capital city may be renowned among marathoners for its intimidatingly large finisher’s medal, but while every race does need something to hang its hat on, the truth is that Little Rock’s appeal goes well beyond the bling.

I wrote a bit about the city itself in my recap of the Jacob Wells 3 Bridges Marathon, but one of the coolest things about Little Rock is that unlike 3 Bridges, which runs mainly along the tree-lined Arkansas River Trail, the city’s namesake marathon treats its runners to a living, breathing history lesson. The course passes Little Rock Central High School (which in 1957 became the epicenter in the battle for forced desegregation), the State Capitol, the Clinton Presidential Library and Museum, the governor’s mansion, and even the Arkansas School for the Deaf with its leopard mascot (hence the deaf leopards, which totally fit with the weekend’s ‘80s theme). As urban marathon courses go, Little Rock is high on the list and particularly among mid-size cities. I’m even willing to forgive the two ho-hum out-and-backs from miles 6–8 and 19–24, since finding 26.2 miles of runnable roads typically requires some ingenuity.

Oh, and a word of advice for anyone trying to decide between the full and half marathon in Little Rock: if you have the training to run either, this is a no-brainer. Only the 26.2-mile course passes Central High School and the State Capitol… and though you may question the wisdom of your decision in the closing miles, all skepticism will fade once you cross the finish line and get your mitts on the nation’s largest and blingiest medal. Because the only thing worse than FOMO is the actual MO.

A year later, I admit our Route 66 and Little Rock weekends — separated by just over three months — tend to blend together, forming a memorable mid-size marathon smoothie in my brain. Then again, that’s a compliment to both since each features a festive atmosphere, top-notch organization & competence on the part of the race staff, a comfortable post-race gathering venue, great swag, and a lively Southern host city with its own Hurts Donut shop. And even though Little Rock is a city of bridges, the one brief section of the Route 66 marathon course that actually runs on Route 66 also happens to cross a bridge. So it’s understandable I might mix and match the two races in my head at times (luckily I’m a meticulous note-taker). My recommendation would be that you visit both cities and run each race for yourself to see how they compare through your eyes. The truth is you can’t go wrong with either, and I’d argue you’ll go very right with both.

As you may expect in Downtown Little Rock there’s no shortage of lodging options, chief among them the uber-convenient Little Rock Marriott, which borders the start & finish line and which shares a building with the Statehouse Convention Center, home to the pre-race expo.

PRODUCTION: Event Directors Geneva Lamm & Gina Pharis (aka the Chicks In Charge, or CICs) and their team know how to throw a 26.2-mile party and have a fabulous time doing it. Case in point their carefully crafted, always creative event theme (2020’s was “Totally Awesome” ‘80s) which changes annually but which never disappoints, and which the CICs clearly put their heart & soul into bringing to life. Seeing the two of them dancing atop the riser alongside the start line on race day, silhouetted against the rising sun with megaphone in hand, felt like the perfect start to my first and (as it turns out) only marathon of the year. And the two deserved to enjoy the fruits of their year-long labor, as race weekend itself was organizationally flawless, from the high-energy expo to the historic course (see above) to the comfortable post-race celebration inside the Little Rock Marriott where volunteers strolled the room offering exhausted runners hot dogs and breakfast burritos. The indoor venue in particular was a strong finishing touch, since Little Rock weather in early March tends to be less than totally awesome.

SWAG (5 shoes): Ask any traveling runner about Little Rock, and the first thing you’re likely to hear about is the finisher’s medal. It’s unabashedly ginormous and hefty with plenty of sparkle (see photos), and you can expect a solid core workout if you plan to showcase it proudly around your neck. (Given this year’s “Alice in Wonderland” theme, I hope the CICs model the medal after the White Rabbit’s pocket watch so the post-race gathering resembles a Flavor Flav fan convention.) Each year on the first weekend of March, the Little Rock medal elicits an outpouring of oohs and aahs on social media from amazed/envious/horrified commenters. And I heard several runners admit they opted to run the full marathon rather than the half based simply on the size of the medal, training be damned—because whether you race to collect shiny hardware or do it strictly for the purity of competition, few things trigger such inexplicable FOMO as the Little Rock Marathon medal. Don’t ever let a runner tell you size doesn’t matter.

Participants also received a short-sleeve race tee that fits nicely and… wait, did I mention the medal?

For a colorful recap of Little Rock’s “Totally Awesome” ’80s-themed race weekend, including 46 nostalgic song references, check out my blog at https://blisterscrampsheaves.com/2021/03/22/little-rock-marathon-race-report/

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BOTTOM LINE: Can a race be described as magical? For those of us who grew up loving the movie A Christmas Story, this may be as close as it gets. … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: Can a race be described as magical? For those of us who grew up loving the movie A Christmas Story, this may be as close as it gets. From the many inspired costumes (Katie and I dressed as Black Bart, but there was no shortage of pink bunny suits), to the 5K finish line/10K turnaround at Ralphie’s house on W 11th aka “Cleveland Street,” to the post-race Ovaltine that warmed me from the inside, A Christmas Story Run is a terrific start to the holiday season. As someone who runs mostly marathons and ultramarathons, it’s rare to see so many happy runners on race day — everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, and no one ended up in the medical tent after shooting their eye out. Even the early December Cleveland weather, clear and cold with little to no wind on race morning, was perfectly… well, perfect.

Every year has had a theme, and 2019 was the year of “OH FUDGE,” as in the PG-rated version of the phrase Ralphie lets slip one night while helping his Old Man fix a blown tire in the cold.

(Speaking of costumes, my favorite was one that passed so quickly I missed my chance to snap a picture. A boy walking with his mother in the opposite direction on the Hope Memorial Bridge was dressed as Ralphie post-soap poisoning — same hat, same coat and same dark sunglasses, all of it accompanied by his trademark walking cane. It was an inspired costume, the only one of its kind that I saw… and though I reacted too slowly to memorialize it on camera, luckily I was able to appreciate him in the moment.)

The course itself offers a pleasant tour of downtown Cleveland and the adjacent Tremont neighborhood, the two of them connected by an out-and-back across the Hope Memorial Bridge with its monolithic “Guardians of Traffic” sculptures. The towering statues, which face both directions on the bridge, symbolize progress in transportation but seem oddly out of place in the Midwest with their winged helmets (reminiscent of the Greek god Hermes) and Art Deco styling. Appropriately, 5K runners finish at A Christmas Story House & Museum while 10K runners turn around and make the return trip — with slight variations — to Public Square.

Honestly, my only race-day regret was that we couldn’t run farther — at 6.2 (or in Katie’s case, 3.1) miles, this was only my second official 10K in two decades and my first in the past three years. That said, if there’s any 10K or 5K worth traveling for, it’s this one — coming from temperate Los Angeles where winter means occasional rain and fewer beach volleyball games, A Christmas Story Run was a wonderful way to kick off the holidays, and I can easily see us returning to chase another “major award” in the 216.

And about the 216… Cleveland gets a notoriously bad rap; in fact, Google “Cleveland tourism video” and you’ll see what I mean. Sure, the city may not strike most folks as an obvious holiday destination, and yes it may have set the Cuyahoga River on fire 13 times in just over 100 years. But straight up we had a tremendous weekend exploring downtown Cleveland and particularly the area around Public Square, including Rocket Mortgage Fieldhouse (home to the 2016 NBA champion Cleveland Cavaliers, through ironically LeBron James now plays in our own hometown of Los Angeles) and the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. Throw in the charming A Christmas Story House & Museum, the world-class Cleveland Museum of Art (which we didn’t have time to visit this trip), plus eclectic dining options and a surfeit of craft breweries, and you’ve got more than enough to entertain and educate even the most dubious out-of-towner.

PRODUCTION: What’s not to love about a race that starts and finishes alongside a 20-foot-tall inflatable leg lamp and a jumbotron broadcasting A Christmas Story? Though the crowds at the start line outside the former Higbee’s Department Store in Public Square were tightly packed, the start itself flowed smoothly, and I was able to run comfortably in no time despite lining up with a significantly slower pace group as I took my time shooting photos of the festivities. (Yes there were pacers, which impressed me for a 5K/10K, even one with 5,500 runners.)

Given that the race also offers a “Running of the Bumpus Hounds,” kudos to the organizers for staggering the start times into four waves for runners (9:00am), runner with dogs (9:10am), walkers (9:15am), and walkers with dogs (9:20am).

Signs along the course offered cool trivia about the movie, e.g. one of the kids in Ralphie’s class at Warren G. Harding Elementary School can be seen wearing a wristwatch depicting The Dukes of Hazzard, even though the movie was supposedly set in the early 1940s. And apparently none of the actors knew about the singing in the Chinese restaurant ahead of time, as evidenced by the fact that Melinda Dillon (who plays Ralphie’s mom) couldn’t stop laughing on camera during the scene.

The post-race gathering at the 10K finish line in Public Square featured several tents offering pouches of Oikos yogurt, bananas, bottled water, and of course rich, chocolatey Ovaltine! Also available 3.1 miles away at the 5K finish line only was The Old Man’s (outdoor) Beer Garden, a seemingly odd addition to a 5K in December (and besides, wasn’t the Old Man only shown drinking wine in the movie?). Shuttles waited near the 5K finish line to transport runners back to the 10K finish in Public Square, so that Katie and I were reunited relatively quickly.

Friday packet pickup at the Renaissance Hotel in Public Square was quick and easy. And on Saturday morning, the Renaissance doubled as a warm shelter for all runners before and after the race, which proved a welcome retreat once the sun ducked behind the clouds and the freezing temperatures began to bite at my sweaty running clothes. It’s beginning to feel a lot like Christmas…

With more than 5,500 finishers this is no small-town holiday run; at the same time it does sell out, so register early to secure your spot (we registered in early November for $55). As I write this, the race is offering an early-bird registration special of $35 for the first 500 registrants, which should be a no-brainer for any runner or walker who a) is a fan of the movie and b) lives within easy driving distance of Cleveland.

SWAG: This year’s finisher medal is a welcome addition to my wall o’ bling, depicting as it does Ralphie with a bar of Lifebuoy soap in his mouth accompanied by this year’s theme, “OH FUDGE!” emblazoned below the familiar logo of A Christmas Story. Not only that, but the long-sleeved red cotton tee is high quality and perfect for the season. As a bonus, any runner fast (and focused) enough to reach the podium or place within their age group won a “Major Award” in the form of a scaled-down leg lamp — none of the Old Man’s crossword puzzle prowess required. And free race photos were available almost immediately after the race, which was hands down the fastest I’ve ever received my photos. Thanks, Santa!

For a pictorial narrative of the 7th Annual A Christmas Story 5K/10K, check out my blog recap at https://blisterscrampsheaves.com/2019/12/18/christmas-story-5k-10k-race-report/

DIFFICULTY
2
PRODUCTION
5
My Report
SCENERY
3
SWAG
5
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BOTTOM LINE: In a city known for its block parties, Route 66 bills itself as “Oklahoma’s Biggest Block Party”—and it may be right. Though “fun” may not be the first … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: In a city known for its block parties, Route 66 bills itself as “Oklahoma’s Biggest Block Party”—and it may be right. Though “fun” may not be the first word you associate with the Sooner State, there’s a reason Route 66 is an annual favorite with runners across the U.S. including national clubs like the Marathon Maniacs and Half Fanatics. From its colorful confetti gun start to its popular “unofficial aid stations” to its Center of the Universe detour (earning it the title of “World’s Shortest Ultra Marathon”) to its Arts District finish alongside Guthrie Green, few marathons take care of their runners like Route 66.

Yes, the rolling course boasts its share of hills—or what Marathon Executive Board Chairman Tim Fisher prefers to call “character”—but then again if you run 26.2 miles for fun, chances are you’ll sound a bit silly complaining about a few ups and downs along the way. Besides, there’s no better place to walk off your hard-earned post-race soreness than The Gathering Place, a sprawling urban park along the Arkansas River located in mile 10 that was voted “Best New Attraction of 2018” by USA Today. So then I guess what I’m saying is YES, you really will get your kicks at Route 66.

PRODUCTION: Full disclosure, we spent two days hosting a booth at the Route 66 expo, so I had ample time to pick up my packet and explore the expo. That said, the entire weekend was smooth sailing, and aside from holding the race in Upper Texas (sorry, I grew up in Dallas so the Texas-OU rivalry is still ingrained in me), I can’t recall any memorable glitches or obvious areas for improvement. Great expo, great start line, high-energy (albeit hilly) urban course, a “ONE MILE TO GO” banner that I missed while staring at my shoe tops, plus a comfortable recovery venue after the race in Guthrie Green. Aside from that last dozen or so hills, what’s not to love?

And hills notwithstanding, Route 66 is a great race for first timers—not only for its terrific on-course support but because first-time marathoners and half marathons earn a shout-out on their bibs as well as an exclusive “My First Marathon” or “My First Half Marathon” medal to celebrate their accomplishment.

SWAG: Route 66 features some of the best swag out there, including a nicely fitting jacket (for full and half marathon finishers), finisher’s medal (which in 2019 was modeled after a 1940s Cadillac hood ornament), Williams-branded gloves, and even hand sanitizer which turned out to be downright prophetic and the most useful freebie of all. And with a new five-medal series leading up to the event’s 20th anniversary in 2026 and showcasing popular, larger-than-life symbols from along Route 66 in Tulsa (such as Space Cowboy “Muffler Man” Buck Atom), the bling promises to remain a creative conversation starter.

For a better sense of Tulsa and Route 66 weekend, check out my full race report at https://blisterscrampsheaves.com/2020/12/30/route-66-marathon-race-report/

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BOTTOM LINE: For a solid, few-frills race through the heart of urban Appalachia, MUM’s the word. Held annually on the same Sunday as the nation’s largest marathon in New York … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: For a solid, few-frills race through the heart of urban Appalachia, MUM’s the word. Held annually on the same Sunday as the nation’s largest marathon in New York City, MUM is itself the largest marathon in West Virginia and a worthy late-season addition if you’re looking to conquer the Mountain State on your 50 States quest. As the name suggests, the centerpiece of race weekend is Marshall University, with the hands-down highlights of race day being 1) the opportunity in mile 26 to leave a white flower on Memorial Fountain to honor the 75 lives lost in the 1970 plane crash tragedy, and 2) the finish on the football field at Joan C. Edwards Stadium.

Aside from those two moments, MUM struggles to convey a distinctive personality or rise above the level of “good enough.” Located at the nexus of West Virginia, Ohio and Kentucky, Huntington isn’t exactly a tourist mecca, and what there is to see (aside from the Marshall campus) tends to be spread out across the city: a park here, a statue there, a small town square with shops and restaurants a stone’s throw from the Ohio River. And nary a grocery store to be found, though luckily I was able to score a peanut butter and jelly sandwich (my pre-race breakfast) at the local Speedway convenience store. All this civic distancing was particularly inconvenient for me since I’d registered too late to score a room at one of the two conveniently located hotels near campus (my bad), and so I ended up staying atop a hill nearly four miles away at the Fairfield Inn & Suites by Marriott.

With that in mind, if you do decide to run MUM I’d suggest you a) book accommodations early (though even the closest hotels are more than a mile from the race start/finish) and b) rent a car, because Lyft/Uber rides can be sporadic and tough to come by. (This is especially pronounced if you’re coming from a larger city like Los Angeles, where you’ve been spoiled by a surfeit of rides and short wait times.) In fact, in Huntington the same Lyft driver picked me up four times in a row and drove in from the next county to do so. So I spent a goodly amount of my 40+ hours in Huntington waiting for Lyft rides, though I knew when I saw my dedicated driver’s license plate (LYFT1) for the first time that I was in good hands. Thanks, Dan!

The TL;DR is that I did enjoy my MUM weekend — the course is largely flat (ironic since this is the Mountain State) and diverse enough to justify two loops. What’s more, the sunny weather but cooler temperatures were exactly what you wish for in a November marathon. The race organizers do rely heavily on the appeal of Marshall University to attract runners (it worked on me!), though there’s also enough to see around Huntington for curious minds (on active legs) to fill a Saturday. All that said, unless you’re averse to running in the heat, I’d recommend the excellent Hatfield McCoy Marathon in June (which starts in Kentucky and finishes in West Virginia) as a more memorable choice for the Mountain State. And I’m not alone in that opinion, since MUM finished as runner-up to Hatfield McCoy for both the best marathon and best half marathon in the state in the RaceRaves Runners Choice polls.

PRODUCTION: Race production on the whole went smoothly enough, though at the same time the weekend lacked a certain je ne sais quoi, that genuine sense of spirit and enthusiasm that distinguishes similarly sized races like Missoula, Jackson Hole and Clarence DeMar. As mentioned above, the organizers clearly count on the overarching presence of Marshall University to carry the day, from the Marshall-themed decorations at the pre-race expo to the finish on the field at Joan C. Edwards Stadium. (Disclaimer: While I’m a notorious sucker for college campuses and will always err on the side of the color green, the Marshall football team happened to be playing my alma mater Rice University in Houston on the Saturday of race weekend. That said, Rice so rarely wins that another predictable defeat didn’t color my feelings toward MUM.)

With the exception of Kiwanis Park, friendly volunteers were stationed at strategic points along the course, presumably to keep an eye on and direct the runners. I owe a particular debt of gratitude to the volunteers at the mile 2/14 aid station, who kindly allowed me to stash my bottle of Maurten at their table before the race, which I then claimed on the second loop. Oh, and kudos to the PA announcer whose welcoming voice on the field at Joan C. Edwards Stadium greeted runners as they crossed the end zone/finish line, many of them with football in hand. Near-freezing temperatures aside, I also appreciated the opportunity to lounge on the field for as long as I wanted afterward, an unexpected bonus and particularly when compared with another unnamed marathon happening that day in ew-Nay ork-Yay ity-Cay, where no sooner do you cross the finish line in Central Park than they kick you out the nearest exit.

Outside the stadium, the reasonable post-race spread featured hot dogs, burgers, Krispy Kreme donuts with Kelly green icing, potato chips, bananas, Coke, chocolate milk and water, plus Bud Light and always unappealing Michelob Ultra. (On that note, I’d urge the social media “influencers” who now awkwardly endorse Michelob Ultra in my Instagram feed to reconsider; I’ve yet to meet a runner whose face lights up at the mention of Michelob Ultra.) Nearby, a vendor offered runners the chance to put their feet up (literally) and treat their weary legs to the latest in pneumatic compression recovery technology.

Small, quiet and lacking in energy, the pre-race expo was held more than a mile from campus at the New Baptist Church, a converted ice-skating rink where a fleet of cars sporting “FUNERAL” placards greeted us at the entrance. The expo itself consisted of packet pickup, a registration table, a couple of booths selling running supplies and local apparel, a drop-off point for non-perishable donations to the food pantry, and an oversized United States map with pushpins to indicate your state. Given its utilitarian format I got in and out relatively quickly, all the while wondering why this wasn’t being held for convenience sake on the Marshall campus.

SWAG: The race shirt is a Kelly green Brooks tech tee, comfy though not as desirable as the stylish pullover that had been offered to registrants several months earlier. (With MUM now in its 17th year, I’d urge the organizers to follow the lead of other events and better anticipate participant numbers so that the pullover option remains available after the current July 1 registration cutoff.) The finisher medal is an understated bronze football with an attractive green and black ribbon, while Goodr sunglasses emblazoned with footballs and the Marshall University logo (never again to be worn by this Rice alum, go Owls!) rounded out the swag.

For a more colorful perspective on Huntington and MUM weekend, check out my race recap at https://blisterscrampsheaves.com/2020/07/14/marshall-university-marathon-race-report/

DIFFICULTY
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BOTTOM LINE: Whether you’re a focused 50 Stater or a restless runner looking for a top-notch race in a beautiful setting, CDM is one DeMar-velous marathon. With a population of … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: Whether you’re a focused 50 Stater or a restless runner looking for a top-notch race in a beautiful setting, CDM is one DeMar-velous marathon. With a population of ~23,000, Keene is a cute, quaint, welcoming community that feels like you’ve stepped out of a wayback machine somewhere in turn-of-the-20th-century New England (and especially if you’ve just driven in from nearby Boston). For out-of-towners there’s not a lot to do in Keene, but then again there’s just enough: take a self-guided tour of the charming Keene College campus, visit the collection of vintage-style murals and advertisements around town (which add to the anachronistic sense of time travel), and make a date with one of the town’s several brewpubs to celebrate your 26.2- or 13.1-mile accomplishment. Keene is a place where, 90 years later, the town’s favorite son would still feel right at home.

CDM is an impeccably produced event that clearly cares about its runners and the community it supports. And this attitude spills over into every detail, from the always friendly and eager-to-help volunteers, to the pre-race pasta dinner with its high-profile guest speaker (Dick Beardsley for us), to the way they treat their last finisher with just as much joy and excitement as their first, referring to this resolute soul as their “cardiovascular runner,” i.e. the runner with the most heart. Brilliant. After running it for myself, it’s easy to understand why CDM won our RaceRaves “Best of the US” Marathons poll for New Hampshire. In fact, if you find yourself registering for CDM after reading this, tell Race Director Alan Stroshine that Mike from RaceRaves sent you — the man’s smile and enthusiasm are infectious, and I guarantee he’ll be one of the best conversations you’ll have all weekend.

If a high-energy outing à la Vegas or New York City is your ideal race weekend, Keene may not be your cup o’ tea; then again, if you’re reading this and considering a marathon in rural New Hampshire, you probably already knew that. But if you’re looking to escape urban insanity for a few days in favor of a more peaceful and picturesque venue — and especially in early autumn when the local foliage offers a sneak peek of its fiery fall wardrobe — then CDM is just what this doctor ordered.

If you do decide to run, I’d recommend you first read “Marathon,” the 1937 memoir of 7-time Boston Marathon champion and former Keene resident Clarence DeMar. I was pleasantly surprised to discover it’s a terrific narrative that will give you a much deeper appreciation for the man, the town and the rich background of this event. And don’t forget to pay your respects to the larger-than-life mural of Mr. DeMarathon himself located next door to local sporting goods retailer Ted’s Shoe & Sport.

PRODUCTION: CDM production was on par with the best races I’ve run, a particularly impressive feat for a small-town race with only 768 total (marathon + half) finishers. Numbers aside, don’t sleep on DeMar — its 361 marathon finishers in 2019 represented a 143% increase over 2018. And I’m confident that once we’re able to overcome the challenge of COVID-19 as a nation, CDM will continue to grow in size and stature. Its increasing popularity is a tribute to Race Director Alan Stroshine and the Keene Elm City Rotary Club as well as to the Keene community, which puts its heart and soul into supporting this event. A well-produced race is one thing, but a well-produced race suffused with this level of dedication and pride is a special find.

RD Alan’s regular email updates in the weeks leading up to race day helped to set expectations for runners and spectators alike, with extremely detailed directions to ensure no key detail was overlooked. And whereas the pre-race pasta dinner is typically one of the more hit-or-miss aspects of race weekend (a lesson I’d learned the hard way in Mobile five years earlier 😬), the CDM pasta dinner at the Courtyard Marriott — the host hotel where we stayed — was an unexpected delight thanks to a remarkable guest speaker in Dick Beardsley, who lost the “Duel in the Sun” at the 1982 Boston Marathon by two seconds to crazy man Alberto Salazar. (If you don’t know Dick’s life story, pick up a copy of his autobiography “Staying the Course: A Runner’s Toughest Race.” Wow.) Previous CDM speakers included Boston Marathon RD Dave McGillivray and former Runner’s World editor-at-large/1968 Boston Marathon winner Amby Burfoot, so Alan doesn’t mess around when it comes to securing guest speakers that his runners actually care about. And as long as we’re talking attention to detail, I’m sure I wasn’t the only one who noticed the napkins at the pasta dinner were green and orange, the official colors of the Clarence DeMar Marathon. Then again, maybe I’m the only one who notices stuff like that?

As for race day, the route featured clear signage in advance of aid stations, plus frequent green (for the marathon) and orange (for the half) directional arrows on the ground; these were especially helpful at road crossings and where the full and half courses diverged. Though a minor detail, my psyche also appreciated the Mile 13.1 sign at the halfway point. And I was surprised to learn after the race that CDM recruits 500 volunteers; with everything they did to ensure race weekend went off without a hitch, I would have sworn the number was closer to 5,000. A huge THANK YOU to some of the most capable and caring volunteers in the country.

One curious choice by Alan and his team was the decision not to offer solid nutrition (CLIF, GU etc.) along the course, though this too was clearly noted in his pre-race emails, enabling all runners to plan accordingly — like resourceful 50 Stater John P from Tulsa (@slowjuan on RaceRaves), who apparently scored a much-needed jelly donut off one of the local kids late in the race. So there’s that. And speaking of munchies, the post-race party on the Keene State campus featured an assortment of food options served on the large grassy quad alongside the finish line, where runners and their families capitalized on the beautiful fall weather. Nearby, a Millennium Running timing tent welcomed finishers to print out their results.

One last detail worth noting: In addition to the marathon and half marathon, race day featured a DeMar Kids Marathon as well as a Super Seniors (70+) Marathon, a simple yet amazing idea. While kids runs are a staple of many marathon weekends to empower the next generation of runners, very few events focus on the opposite end of the age spectrum. DeMar’s Super Seniors Marathon is a novel concept I’d recommend to races across the country as a more inclusive way to support their local communities.

SWAG: The CDM finisher medal is a nice, multi-colored keepsake with the race logo depicted on front and a quote from the man himself engraved on the back: “Not only in running but in much of life is a sense of balance and proportion necessary.” The loosely fitting long-sleeve race tee is comfortable enough, though unfortunately I’ll never be able to pull off neon green — my name is close enough to Mike Wazowski’s already without me actually dressing like him. (I did end up purchasing an electric blue pullover that’s quickly become a go-to favorite, with the CDM logo in gray on front and “DEMAR” in gray vertical letters down the back). Every finisher also received a water bottle at the finish line which was, conveniently enough, pre-filled with water. Last but not least, I scored a free New Balance poster of the Duel in the Sun, signed by Dick Beardsley at the pre-race pasta dinner, to complement my purchased copy of his autobiography. All in all, a swag-errific race weekend in the Granite State.

If you’re Keen(e) on CDM, don’t stop at the Cliffs Notes — check out my full race recap of our Clarence DeMar Marathon weekend at https://wp.me/p2rSqE-1UT

DIFFICULTY
3
PRODUCTION
5
My Report
SCENERY
4
SWAG
4
My Media

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BOTTOM LINE: If you’re looking for a memorable summer ultramarathon in a scenic mountain setting, take a long look at the Kodiak Ultras. But beware — nearly a year later … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: If you’re looking for a memorable summer ultramarathon in a scenic mountain setting, take a long look at the Kodiak Ultras. But beware — nearly a year later I’m still not sure how to caveat the word “memorable,” because this race chewed me up and spit me out. “Big Bear” isn’t just the host city, it’s also an apt description for what is likely the toughest 50K you’ll ever run. As if the August heat (which was mercifully mild in 2019) and mountain elevation (topping out at nearly 10,000ft) weren’t enough — and apparently they’re not — the severe elevation changes (7,554ft up, 7,801ft down) and technical terrain will eventually wear you down.

The diverse and picturesque Kodiak course throws everything it’s got at you, so wear your grippiest trail-running shoes and come prepared both physically and mentally. The terrain varies from steep dirt trails to boulder-style scree fields to soft sand to a few short, paved transitions. The race even starts with an immediate ascent of Sugarloaf Mountain, as though not to lull its prey into a false sense of confidence. Kodiak was far and away the slowest of my four 50Ks, besting (or worsting?) my inaugural 50K seven years earlier by more than 90 minutes. Somehow, though, I still managed to finish 63rd out of 150 runners, so clearly there were plenty of folks behind me suffering worse than I was.

Of the 34+ miles we ran (yes, it’s a trail 50K so do expect some “bonus” mileage), six of my miles exceeded 20 minutes each, including aid station stops — that’s a first-time feat I hadn’t even accomplished at the 2017 Run Rabbit Run 50 Miler in Colorado, which started with 3,600ft of elevation gain in the first 10K followed by 38 miles at an elevation of 9,500ft or higher. My mile 30 at Kodiak‚ which came on the heels of a 28.5-minute mile 29, clocked in at a fleet-footed 32 minutes — and I passed at least two people along the way. (These two miles were the most punishing of the day because not only were they uphill, but the terrain was largely loose sand — so two steps forward, one step back.) Likewise mile 21, which was interrupted by the Skyfern aid station, featured a strenuous uphill climb on a dirt trail with motor bikes kicking up dust in our faces as they passed. Not since the Pikes Peak Ascent nine years earlier had I walked/hiked as many miles as I did at Kodiak — and Kodiak was 20 miles longer than Pikes Peak.

So yes, the Kodiak 50K in the popular resort town of Big Bear Lake is a memorable ultra and an epic challenge that will test your mettle. At the same time, keep in mind that when it comes to ultrarunning, miserable is memorable.

PRODUCTION: Kudos to Race Director Susie and her team — the organizers and volunteers were the angels that offset Kodiak’s devil of a course. The Kodiak krew did a fantastic job throughout the weekend, and the volunteers were first class in every respect, from their friendly smiles and constant encouragement to their general amazing support. I even saw someone I knew volunteering at one of the aid stations, which was a pleasant surprise. Speaking of which, the five aid stations are pretty spread out along the course, so unless you’re at the front of the pack I’d highly recommend you carry your own hydration/nutrition — especially if it’s hot.

As it turned out the finish line festival, which like the pre-race expo was held in town on a small dirt lot bustling with sponsor tents, may have been the highlight of the day. There I was able to collapse in a shaded chair and recover while cheering my fellow masochists, including 50-mile runners and the occasional 100-miler, across the finish line. Post-race fare included pizza and vegan donuts (the latter from local favorite Dank Donuts), though as usual my stomach would have nothing to do with solid food; rather, I enjoyed a pint courtesy of the event’s most appropriate sponsor, Sufferfest beer, while I sat and appreciated the energy and camaraderie all around me.

Note on registration: Kodiak is a popular summer option, and all distances did sell out in 2019, so if you drag your feet you’re likely to miss out. (On the other hand, dragging your feet on race day is not only acceptable but expected.) I learned this the hard way when I went to register in mid-July and found the race sold out. Luckily, Race Director Susie responded to my inquiry and encouraged me to add my name to the wait list, which I did; less than a week later, I received confirmation that I was in. Thanks, Susie! (I think…)

SWAG: The hard-earned finisher medal, paired with a plain black ribbon, is a basic yet attractive nickel-plated cutout with the top half of a bear claw above the words “KODIAK 50K.” Race apparel consisted of a comfortable gray short-sleeve technical tee that actually looks pretty sleek, plus a Kodiak Buff I’d normally never wear but which came in handy at the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic, before masks were readily available.

DIFFICULTY
5
PRODUCTION
4
SCENERY
4
SWAG
4
My Media

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BOTTOM LINE: Sometimes a marathon weekend just feels good from start to finish — marathons like Missoula and Jackson Hole spring to mind, and Fargo likewise is high on that … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: Sometimes a marathon weekend just feels good from start to finish — marathons like Missoula and Jackson Hole spring to mind, and Fargo likewise is high on that list. Which is a major reason this has become the go-to marathon in North Dakota for 50 States runners like me. With a tagline like “North of Normal,” the state’s largest city clearly embraces its cool and quirky vibe, and is an easy place to spend a memorable weekend. A word to the weather-wise, though: do come layered up and ready to withstand winter’s last gasp — even in mid-May, with most states happily transitioning to hay fever season, Fargo (and its adjacent sister city Moorhead, MN) greeted us with wind, rain and temperatures in the mid-40s. That said, for race director Mark Knutson and his team this clearly wasn’t their first rodeo, and the race’s start & finish inside the Fargodome on the NDSU campus was a stroke of genius. Because on a race day when Mother Nature was in foul temper, truly there was no place like Dome.

Outside of race activities, three examples of Fargo’s quirky charm that await your discovery: 1) As you drive around town, keep an eye out for the 15 or so full-size, painted fiberglass bison that adorn the city; these were commissioned for the 2005 art project Herd About The Prairie: A Virtual Art Stampede and were first unveiled at the 2006 marathon (see uploaded collage); 2) For fans of the 1996 eponymous Oscar-winning movie by the Coen Brothers, the actual woodchipper used in the film is on display in the Fargo–Moorhead Visitors Center; 3) As you might expect in a college town where winter tends to usurp much of spring and autumn, Fargo features an impressive microbrewery scene, and I can personally recommend the friendly confines of the Drekker Brewing Company where we met RaceRaves member John P. after the race. John is a pro when it comes to (in his words) “post-race pain management,” so if you’re a 50 Stater or traveling runner who’s always looking for the best places across the country to grab a post-race beer, follow @slowjuan and check out his reviews on RaceRaves.

If you have limited travel opportunities, I can certainly see why you’d prioritize Hawaii, California or even Montana over North Dakota. But if you’re a traveling runner intent on exploring and experiencing the United States in all its color and flavor, then I can’t recommend Fargo enough, dontcha know.

A note on travel: as Southwest Airlines devotees we flew into the closest hub, Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport (MSP), on Thursday (for a Saturday race) and drove the 250 miles across Minnesota to Fargo, a wide-open drive that featured greenery galore plus a whole lot of farmland and several of the state’s celebrated 10,000+ lakes.

PRODUCTION: Note to race directors: you’ll go far with production like Fargo’s. As mentioned above, Executive Director Mark Knutson clearly knows what he’s doing, having launched the marathon in 2005 and helmed numerous other events in addition. The prerace expo, with vendor booths uniquely situated on the concourse of the Fargodome, was thoughtfully designed and easily navigated, highlighted by a surprisingly interesting session with guest speakers Cindy Lewandowski and Scott Jansky, the winners of the inaugural 2005 Fargo Marathon. Each was returning to the Fargo Marathon for the first time, and they talked about their lives post-Fargo, with Cindy having gone on to complete a marathon in all 50 states.

Aid stations along the course featured signs to distinguish water from Powerade. And though this detail may seem small, veteran runners will appreciate its significance — during a marathon, the brain goes into standby mode as glucose is shunted to the muscles where it’s needed, so any visual cue a race director can provide to take the onus of decision-making off the runners will be advantageous and much appreciated. No runner likes having to waste time and energy at an aid station sorting out which drink is which with a well-meaning but frazzled volunteer, and especially if all drinks are served in the same nondescript white Dixie cup (though as I write this now during the COVID-19 pandemic, individual cups served by volunteers may soon be a thing of the past). And another example of Fargo’s keen attention to detail — for all those runners inevitably staring down at their shoe tops late in the race, the mile markers were noted in white paint on the street. So unless you were running with your eyes closed (in which case you had bigger problems than losing track of distance), you couldn’t miss them. Together with smart touches like these, starting and finishing inside the Fargodome may have been the wild card that earns Fargo a 5-shoe rating.

One hint for getting to the Fargodome on race morning: traffic on I–29 leading into the dome was a mess, with a long line to exit the highway. If you come from a big city or somewhere like SoCal where highway driving can sometimes feel like one of the desert chase scenes from “Mad Max: Fury Road,” you’ll quickly recognize that Fargo drivers (like their non-driving counterparts) are incredibly nice people, and that hypothetically speaking you could potentially save yourself a ton of time by bypassing them all and then quickly merging back into the slow-moving line closer to the exit. I’d never be the one to condone such behavior, much less recommend it, but I’m just saying in theory it’s possible.

SWAG: Definitely among the best I’ve received, including a sturdy orange drawstring bag with two zippered pockets, as well as what’s quickly become one of my two favorite hoodies — an attractive offering with denim-blue sleeves/hood and gray torso emblazoned with the colorful Fargo Marathon logo (on that note, I’d urge other RDs looking for quality race swag to take a close look at CI Apparel in Fargo). The finisher medal, always the true object of my swag affection, is colorful (maybe too colorful) and hefty enough to cause a neck cramp, though the medal’s muddled collage imagery is a bit busy for my taste, as though the designer were considering a number of candidate images and ultimately decided to include them all. On the back of the medal, a Fargo tradition as I understand it, is engraved a relevant Bible verse familiar to many runners: “Let us run with perseverance the race that is marked out for us” Hebrews 12:1. And finally, rounding out Fargo’s top-notch swag was a race poster featuring the same imagery as the medal. All in all, marathon #40 in state #27 was a runaway success, and between Fargo and my 2011 experience at Crazy Horse, I’m almost willing to concede the value of having two Dakotas. Almost.

For a full rundown of Fargo Marathon weekend, check out my blog recap at https://bit.ly/2LvWwnb

DIFFICULTY
2
PRODUCTION
5
My Report
SCENERY
4
SWAG
5
My Media

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The inaugural Minion 5K was Running Universal’s first entry in what hopefully will become a series of Universal-themed events geared toward both runners and (fast) walkers. Universal has a number … MORE

The inaugural Minion 5K was Running Universal’s first entry in what hopefully will become a series of Universal-themed events geared toward both runners and (fast) walkers. Universal has a number of popular properties it could feature in future races including Harry Potter, Jurassic Park and the Simpsons. And this is definitely an event that’s group- and family-friendly, since a loop of Amity Island with the “Jaws” theme playing, a run past the Bates Motel from “Psycho,” or a photo op with the Minions isn’t the same without someone(s) to share it all with. Plus of course there’s the post-race refueling session at Voodoo Doughnuts in Universal CityWalk, directly across from the finish line.

Luckily we took our time enjoying the backlot and were in no hurry to finish, since the out-and-back portion of the course included a significant hill (both up and down) in mile 2 as well as some other minor climbs. But by the time we crossed the finish line alongside the ginormous Eddie Van Halen 5150 guitar standing outside the Hard Rock Café, we were already looking forward to Running Universal’s next event, the Jurassic World 5K in November.

If you want to be in the first wave of starters, you’ll want to arrive well ahead of the 6:00am start time. We lined up in our corral at about 5:55am and, not surprisingly, ended up starting in the last wave at 6:37am — which sounds like a long wait, but the organizers made the smart inaugural decision to allow five minutes between waves, which nicely minimized crowding along the course and so was well worth the wait on a pleasantly cool, clear morning.

Though the logistics may be difficult given the limited size of the park and backlot, ideally Universal will find a way to offer 10K and half marathon distances as well — fellow runners have said they would happily travel to run a Harry Potter-, Jurassic Park- or Simpsons-themed half marathon. For now, though, as an Angeleno I’m excited to return for the Jurassic World 5K in November and to see what lies ahead for Running Universal, which should help fill the gap created when runDisney abruptly canceled all its SoCal events last year.

BOTTOM LINE: Unless you abhor Hollywood, I’d highly recommend the Minion 5K as one of the most entertaining 5Ks you’ll run. There were plenty of families running together, and though it’s not a cheap family outing, it is entirely unique and especially if you’ve been looking for a reason to visit Universal Studios yourself or bring the family along. And though the race guidelines did mention a strict cutoff time, we saw no evidence that anyone was rushed, and we even watched the on-course race crew provide a personal escort to the last participant across the finish line. It was gratifying to see an excellent inaugural event end on a positive note. Well done, Running Universal!

PRODUCTION: If you didn’t know, you may have been surprised to learn the Minion 5K was Running Universal’s first race of any kind. From my perspective, race day production went off without a hitch or a single “DOH!” moment. Parking and packet pickup on race morning were quick and easy, and the starting waves were spaced out five minutes apart to reduce crowding on the course. It was like they’d done this before… and in some sense they had, since race day operations were the purview of Spectrum Sports, organizers of the Catalina Island Marathon, Avalon 50 and SoCal runDisney events, among others.

Not surprisingly, the Minion 5K was more expensive than your typical local 5K, but then again this isn’t your typical local 5K. A race like this is more about value than price, and with that in mind I’d call Running Universal’s first effort a solid value for fans of any of the Universal Studios properties — and especially if it’s been a while since your last visit to the park (for us it had been more than a decade). Registration cost $75 and included:
– race course through the park and backlot (the main incentive for me)
– free parking in the ET lot (normally $25) before 5:30am; VIP runners received complimentary valet service in the slightly closer Jurassic Parking (get it?) Lot
– free race day packet pickup, a huge bonus for those of us who don’t want to spend the entire weekend driving around LA
– significant discount on park admission ($20 off the usual $114 price tag, if I recall)
– early access to the park (8:30am for runners, 9:00am for the general public)
– photo ops and decent swag

SWAG: As a bling junkie, I appreciated the eye-catching Minion finisher’s medal much more than the cotton t-shirt sporting the Minion 5K logo, which I’m unlikely to wear since the cotton in my casual wardrobe these days is negligible. As expected, professional photos taken along the course were available for purchase, but while other on-course character photo ops were available free of charge, post-race photos with the Minions were for purchase only, which struck me as an arbitrary decision. On the other hand, the bouncy Minion who joined the PA announcer onstage at the finish line was more than happy to either pose for photos or photobomb runner selfies (see attached photo), so I’m guessing most of the finishers who wanted a free photo lived happily ever after.

Hope to see you at the Jurassic World 5K on Nov 16!

DIFFICULTY
4
PRODUCTION
5
SCENERY
5
SWAG
4
My Media

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BOTTOM LINE: In a way, I feel like I’m writing this review with one hand tied behind my back — because I didn’t really run the Old Mutual Two Oceans … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: In a way, I feel like I’m writing this review with one hand tied behind my back — because I didn’t really run the Old Mutual Two Oceans Marathon. Sure, I completed 56 km along the official route within the allotted 7-hour, 30-minute cutoff time to earn my 50th anniversary medal. But due to the “credible and real threat” of disruptions (i.e. riots) along the original course, the race was rerouted to a contingency course that bypassed the iconic Chapman’s Peak section overlooking the Atlantic Ocean; thus, what we actually ran might best be described as the One Ocean Marathon. Never mind that at 56 km (35 miles) in distance, OMTOM is actually an ultramarathon. And never mind that neither route actually reaches the Indian Ocean; rather, each runs along False Bay which empties into — the South Atlantic. Not that I expect the organizers to rush to change the race name to the “One Ocean Twice” Marathon anytime soon.

And so despite all its positives, for this reason (exclusion of Chapman’s Peak) I couldn’t in good conscience give the 2019 edition five shoes. Because without the undisputed highlight of the course, Two Oceans is no longer “The World’s Most Beautiful Marathon.” Which means I now need to return to Cape Town to run the conventional OTMOM route. Two go-rounds at the same race? Sounds an awful lot like another South African race I know and love…

And speaking of that, having run the Comrades Marathon (OMTOM’s older, more brutish brother) twice in the previous two years, it was tough not to view Two Oceans as “Comrades Lite.” From the similar expos to the differentially colored bib numbers to the performance-based medals to the playing of “Shosholoza” and “Chariots of Fire” at the start, so much about this race hearkened me back to the Ultimate Human Race. And as the second-largest ultra in the world (behind only, yes, Comrades), OMTOM is undoubtedly the most popular qualifying race for athletes hoping to run Comrades two months later. It’s clear these two races captivate and dominate the running landscape of the nation.

All that said, call me a TOMboy, because there’s plenty to recommend about Two Oceans like its seamless production, international camaraderie and yes, even without “Chappies,” its Cape Town scenery. I’m gratified we made the trip halfway around the world to celebrate its golden anniversary. And this is a race I can recommend wholeheartedly to anyone looking to run their first or their 50th ultramarathon. Because to borrow a quote from the film “Run As One,” shown during the pre-race expo, at Two Oceans “You’re not running against anyone, but you’re running with everyone.”

One piece of advice: if you do decide to take the plunge and run Two Oceans, do yourself a favor and train for hills — no matter which course you end up running, you’ll be glad you did. After all, this ain’t your mama’s American road race.

PRODUCTION: Race day production was seamless, though the organizers did send out a post-race email apologizing for an apparent water shortage (which I didn’t experience) on brutally steep Ou Kaapse Weg, the toughest ascent on the contingency course. Pre-race communication was relatively sparse, including a lack of clarification and updates re: the rerouting of the course 24 hours before the start. South African runners may have had a better sense for the contingency course, but coming from 10,000 miles away I had no idea what to expect, and so Katie (as a spectator) and I ended up spending more time than we would have liked the day before the race scrambling to figure out the new route.

The OMTOM expo (held in the Cape Town International Convention Centre) was similar in size to a big-city US expo and smaller than the Comrades expo, though with many of the same vendors. I took the opportunity to stock up on my Maurten supply and to say hi to Lindsey Parry, the official Comrades coach whose podcast advice played a huge role in my Comrades success each of the past two years. Unfortunately, as someone with an Achilles heel for running shoes, I was disappointed to find Adidas (the official apparel sponsor) hadn’t created a limited-edition OMTOM shoe, which felt like a no-brainer. Luckily we were able to catch the excellent movie “Run As One” at the expo, plus I bought the coffee table book “Celebrating 50 Years of the Two Oceans Marathon.” So I had no trouble getting my OMTOM memorabilia fix.

(By the way, if you’re able to hit the expo on Thursday and avoid the rush, I’d recommend you do so unless you fancy your expo like Walmart on Black Friday. Don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of time for close-packed camaraderie in the start corral on race day.)

SWAG: As far as swag, the 50th Two Oceans Marathon was about one thing for me — the medal. And it did not disappoint, with a gold ribbon and a large bronze “50” emblazoned on the African continent in profile. Seeing the medal hang on my wall at home, I’m actually glad I didn’t finish the race in less than six hours, since the “5” outlined in blue that distinguishes me as a sub-7 finisher stands out boldly and complements nicely the blue dot situated over Cape Town on the outline of Africa.

And though it’s nice material with a decent design, the official Adidas race tee doesn’t come out of the closet much — you’ve got to have game to pull off seafoam green, and especially when you’ve got skin the color of Casper the Friendly Ghost. Luckily, the OMTOM store at the expo was selling a different shirt that came in a much more reasonable shade of blue.

For the complete “run”down of the 50th Two Oceans Marathon (come for the race, stay for the penguins!), check out my blog report at https://wp.me/p2rSqE-1RP

DIFFICULTY
4
PRODUCTION
4
My Report
SCENERY
4
SWAG
4
My Media

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BOTTOM LINE: If you’ve ever run a REVEL race, then you know exactly what awaits you on the Big Island… and if you haven’t, you may want to carry a … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: If you’ve ever run a REVEL race, then you know exactly what awaits you on the Big Island… and if you haven’t, you may want to carry a fire extinguisher just in case your legs spontaneously combust. With nearly 5,700 feet of descent according to my Garmin, Kulia wears the downhill crown as the steepest of the eight REVEL courses — which is a bit like calling the Pacific the deepest of the oceans.

Physically, my own race could be broken down into two clear segments — 18 miles of “Count me in!” followed by eight miles of “Get me OUT.” Even a tailwind in the last six miles couldn’t save me from imploding. Granted, I’d run Tokyo six days earlier or I might have expected more of a 20/6 or 22/4 split. In any case, based on my previous REVEL experience at last year’s Mt Charleston Marathon in Nevada, I knew the last few miles would be painful… I just didn’t expect that my quads and calves would call it quits in unison.

On the bright side, it’s Hawaii so the scenery is beautiful. Gazing out across the Pacific Ocean and seeing Maui in the distance certainly helped to distract from my mounting fatigue. Best of all, once you cross the finish line you are now free to move about the island and to enjoy all that Hawaii has to offer — if you can still walk, that is. It’s no accident the medical tent is only steps away from the finish line.

PRODUCTION: This year’s inaugural Kulia race definitely delivered on REVEL’s promise of “fast and beautiful,” though the evidence suggests that with 5,700 feet of elevation loss, the company may well have reached the law of diminishing returns on speed.

Not surprisingly given its venue, Kulia is the most expensive of the REVEL events — I’d paid an early-bird registration price of $130 including a $10 discount code. Still significantly cheaper than say, Honolulu, and probably not a deal-breaker if you’re traveling from the mainland to run in Hawaii. Plus, your registration comes with all the niceties you’d expect from a REVEL event, including free gloves/heat sheet to stay warm on race morning, near-immediate results via email, free race photos, and even free goodr sunglasses. Race day also featured some distinctly Hawaiian touches including a pre-race conch blowing and native prayer, plus purple orchid leis at the finish line. And who doesn’t love a lei?

The expo was small and easily navigated, with several of the same vendors I’d seen at last year’s Mt Charleston expo including doTERRA (essential oils) and Rapid Reboot (recovery). We also met the garrulous race director of the Big Island International Marathon who was none too pleased (understandably so) that REVEL had shown up in his ‘hood and scheduled a marathon/half marathon one week before his own.

On-course support was excellent, including a bottle of Maurten that Katie dropped off and which was waiting for me at the mile 15 aid station. (Mahalo, volunteers!) Be aware, though, if you’re a runner who feeds off spectator support and raucous crowds: outside of aid station volunteers, I could count the number of spectators on two hands. On the plus side, few spectators meant few vehicles, and despite the fact we shared the road with traffic for much of the race, the organizers did a nice job of allowing us a wide berth such that safety concerns were minimal.

That said, the course definitely needed more trash bins, as discarded Dixie cups or GU packets in several spots lay one gust of wind away from becoming island detritus for a grazing goat to find.

The post-race party felt more functional than festive, held as it was in a gravel clearing on the side of the highway with a spread of Domino’s Pizza, water, chocolate milk and canned beer. As the lead singer of Suicidal Tendencies once lamented, all I wanted was a Pepsi, and sadly there was none to be had. Chocolate milk or beer definitely wasn’t going to cut it for a stressed-out stomach that wasn’t yet ready for protein, fat or alcohol.

On a semi-related note, with the REVEL team now in charge things are looking up for this year’s newly resurrected Portland Marathon, which after several years of poor management and underperformance (culminating in a 2018 cancellation and change of leadership) finally promises to live up to its potential.

SWAG: REVEL takes its swag seriously. In addition to everything mentioned above (gloves, goodr sunglasses, lei), their race tees are among the best in the business, while their finisher medals are always hefty and well crafted, even if they insist on featuring their company logo (and was this year’s spiral supposed to represent a… nautilus shell?) rather than, say, a true Hawaiian-themed design. But the ultimate swag, really, is the opportunity to explore and experience the beauty of the Big Island. In the words of legendary marathoner William Shakespeare, “I like this place and could willingly waste my time in it.”

Want a better sense for the REVEL Kulia experience? Check out my race report at https://blisterscrampsheaves.com/2019/07/09/revel-kulia-marathon-race-report/

DIFFICULTY
4
PRODUCTION
4
My Report
SCENERY
5
SWAG
5
My Media

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BOTTOM LINE: Tokyo is big, it’s bold, it’s bonkers. It’s eclectic, electric, hypnotic, frenetic. And it’s a heck of a place to run a marathon. As the most populated metropolitan … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: Tokyo is big, it’s bold, it’s bonkers. It’s eclectic, electric, hypnotic, frenetic. And it’s a heck of a place to run a marathon. As the most populated metropolitan area in the world, Tokyo feels like New York City — on steroids. Coming from Los Angeles, I felt strangely at ease with Tokyo’s vast urban sprawl, which others may find unsettling (though if you’re only in town for the marathon, you may not experience it). And speaking of unsettling, the city is remarkably clean — never would I have expected to find myself in an urban setting of 13+ million residents where trash bins are both unavailable and unnecessary.

If you’re an American planning to run the Tokyo Marathon, odds are you’re doing so in your quest to run all six World Marathon Majors (Tokyo, Boston, London, Chicago, Berlin, NYC) and earn the coveted Six Star Finisher Medal. Either that or you love banging your head against the wall, because Tokyo (along with London) is the most difficult marathon in the world to get into; last year alone, the race received 330,271 applications for fewer than 37,500 slots.

With that in mind, if you’re determined to run Tokyo then your best bet is either to run for one of the race’s approved charities or to travel, as we did, with a tour operator like Marathon Tours — though be aware that given the high demand, Marathon Tours conducts its own mini-lottery to distribute its available Tokyo and London entries. And though you will pay a premium through Marathon Tours (this is their business, after all), it’s unlikely to be a deal-breaker for runners with Six Star fever on the brain.

Plus, the company hosts a Friday city tour and pre-race pasta buffet, as well as a terrific post-race party replete with drinks and hors d’oeuvres, the latter held in the swanky 39th floor ballroom of the Park Hyatt, the hotel where the movie “Lost in Translation” was filmed. (Apparently the Park Hyatt was also destroyed by a UFO in the movie “Godzilla 2000,” but hey you can’t win ‘em all.) As part of the post-race festivities, two Seven Continents Club finishers (including our friend and fellow Antarctica adventurer Louann) as well as over 100 Six Star Finishers were recognized. It was a unique opportunity to meet fellow traveling runners, and the perfect ending to an amazing day.

As for the race itself, Tokyo is quite possibly the most high-energy marathon you’ll ever run (I can’t speak for London yet, though apparently it holds its own). It’s a sporting event on a global scale, hosted by folks who know how to throw a party. Even in the cold and rain, the streets of Tokyo were lined with spectators and supporters holding signs and cheering loudly. If you’re the type of runner who’s motivated by community support, Tokyo will inspire you from start to finish. And being able to see fellow runners coming from the opposite direction on the out-and-backs was a nice distraction, as I scanned the soggy crowd for familiar faces. One word of warning: the combination of soaring skyscrapers and frequent turns may cause your GPS to betray you at times (mine claimed a final distance of 27.3 miles, along with a 6:26 mile 19 and 6:39 mile 20 that I’m confident I didn’t run).

Like the other World Marathon Majors, Tokyo is decidedly unique in the way it carries and presents itself. It’s the very definition of a well-oiled machine, professional and buttoned-up without sacrificing its luster and charm. After the race we were greeted back at the Tokyo International Forum by smiling volunteers holding signs that read “Congratulations! Tokyo loves you.” And the feeling was mutual.

PRODUCTION: Tokyo Marathon 2019 production can best be described in terms of pre- and post-finish. From the start line alongside the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building to the finish line on the grounds of the Imperial Palace, race day production didn’t miss a step or skip a beat. Similar to Chicago but unlike Boston and New York City, the start corrals were easily accessible and within walking distance of the host hotels. And volunteers posted every 50 yards or so along the course held trash bags to ensure that every scrap of trash found its happy home.

To be able to organize and mobilize 38,000 runners (including 500 10K runners) from around the world through the streets of a densely packed city like Tokyo without incident is an extraordinary accomplishment, one for which the organizers deserve huge props.

The only downside to race day (aside from the challenge of finding Katie amid throngs of raincoat-clad Asian people) was the long walk from the finish line to the Tokyo International Forum building, where friends and family waited for finishers. Fortunately I was wearing gloves and wrapped in a heat sheet; nonetheless the 30-minute walk in the cold drizzle was a bizarre end to such an impeccably organized event. But in the words of every pro athlete who’s ever been interviewed, it is what it is — and honestly I was too busy basking in my post-race high to focus on much of anything else, which made the lengthy stroll feel more like a slow victory lap.

As far as nutrition goes, with the weather virtually eliminating my thirst I didn’t take advantage of the plentiful aid stations, so I couldn’t tell you what Pocari Sweat (the on-course electrolyte drink of choice) tastes like — no reason to try something new on race day if I didn’t need it. And understandably given the sheer size of the race, post-race food was limited to a bag of munchies, the best of which was an odd custard-like peanut-butter sandwich which most runners seemed to agree hit the spot. That, and I always bring my own supply of Tailwind Rebuild for after the race.

The pre-race expo was unlike any I’ve experienced in the US or abroad. Strolling the expo was like stepping into a game show/video game, with high-pitched voices, alarms, bells and whistles assailing the ears from all directions. If you’re generally not a fan of busy expos or high volume, you may not appreciate the Tokyo expo; admittedly, though, I found it oddly fascinating and difficult to leave. Luckily, few of the booths were of real relevance to me (in part because, well, language barriers), though we did visit our friends from INKnBURN whose headquarters is located near us in SoCal. Due to ongoing construction as the city prepares for the 2020 Summer Olympics, this year’s expo was held in a new outdoor venue, a tent city set up at the Odaiba-Aomi Event Area, across the Rainbow Bridge and about an hour subway ride from the marathon start line in Shinjuku City. Whether the expo will return to this same venue in 2020 is unclear.

One note of warning: I’m not much of an expo shopper myself, but I heard several folks say the official marathon jacket sold out quickly, so if that’s your angle you’ll want to hit the expo on Thursday to beat the crowds.

Not surprisingly, Tokyo’s race photos were expensive — in fact, the most expensive of any of my 40 marathons to date. Even so, $39 per picture or $195 USD (21,600 yen) for the entire set felt like highway robbery. So if you have your heart set on buying professional photos of your Tokyo Marathon experience, be sure to factor that cost into your budget.

SWAG: Much like the other World Marathon Majors, Tokyo swag for me was all about the finisher medal, which is colorful and distinctive. On the other hand, I’ve yet to remove the short-sleeve white race tee from its plastic wrapper, since having seen it on others I know I’m unlikely to wear it. Cooler than the tee, though, is the full-size towel emblazoned with the race design and logo that we received at the finish line and which will come in handy.

In the end, completing the Tokyo Marathon is not only an awesome experience and a humbling achievement; it’s also one step closer to the ultimate prize of the Abbott Six Star Finisher medal. Five down, London to go!

For more about Tokyo 2019 (and there are a lot more words where these came from); check out my race report at https://blisterscrampsheaves.com/2019/06/23/tokyo-marathon-race-report/

DIFFICULTY
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PRODUCTION
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My Report
SCENERY
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SWAG
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BOTTOM LINE: Tell me you’re on the hunt for a high-value, low-frills scenic marathon in an underrated city you may not otherwise visit, and I’ll point you straight to the … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: Tell me you’re on the hunt for a high-value, low-frills scenic marathon in an underrated city you may not otherwise visit, and I’ll point you straight to the Jacob Wells 3 Bridges Marathon. Jacob was not only the race founder but an avid runner himself, having completed 154 marathons before his premature death in 2014. And though he’s no longer with us in the corporeal sense, 3B26 continues to honor Jacob’s memory as a race put on for runners, by runners.

The marathon is the only distance offered so the course never feels crowded, and there’s never a point at which tired marathoners suddenly have to merge with half marathoners or 10K runners. And what the race may lack in style — no colorful start-line balloons, live musical entertainment or showy bling — it more than makes up for in substance with a smart & scenic course, enthusiastic volunteers, a high-energy finish-line announcer and an awesome heated tent at the start and finish. Oh, and a friendly neighborhood Santa Claus greets each finisher with a white-gloved high-five. What’s not to love?

The three bridges — each of which runners cross twice — are the highlights of the race, along with the turnaround at the Clinton Presidential Library and Museum, which appropriately sits on the opposite side of the Clinton Presidential Park Bridge. (In case you didn’t know already, upon landing at Bill and Hillary Clinton National Airport you’ll quickly realize that President Clinton hails from Arkansas.). Both the Library/Museum and the Little Rock Central High School National Historic Site Visitors Center — the latter of which tells the 1957 story of the Little Rock Nine and their battle for desegregation — are worth a visit for anyone with an appreciation of American history. All in all, there’s plenty to do in Little Rock to promise any visitor a full and fulfilling weekend, and 3B26 offers a more low-key option compared to the big-bling block party of the Little Rock Marathon in March.

For prospective runners, a $15 discount was available on the 3B26 Facebook page for Black Friday, lowering the already reasonable $90 registration fee to $75. Sold!

PRODUCTION: As mentioned above, 3B26 is clearly a marathon for runners, by runners. The race production itself was nearly flawless, with no superfluous bells and whistles but with plenty of positive vibes and small, professional touches such as race-day packet pickup plus a cozy heated tent (stocked with post-race pizza and drinks) that was large enough to accommodate nearly everyone before and after the race. Genius, that tent. Keep in mind this is a marathon only (no shorter distances), which allows the organizers to focus their efforts exclusively on the 26.2 crowd, from the Green Bay Packers fan I met in mile 13 who was tackling his first marathon to the woman on the morning trolley who was running her 50th. Perhaps ironically for a race that starts with a prayer, 3B26 understands that the devil is in the details.

SWAG: This was another aspect of the race that underpromised and overdelivered. The long-sleeve gray Sport-Tek shirt is more comfortable than most and sports the colorful green-and-purple 3B26 logo. Meanwhile the finisher medal, which likewise sports the 3B26 logo and which at first glance struck me as basic and lacking in creativity, in fact has an understated yet attractive stained-glass quality that I always appreciate. It’s smartly designed without being showy. Nicely done, 3B26!

For a more detailed description of race day and things to do in Little Rock, check out my race report at https://blisterscrampsheaves.com/2019/05/09/jacob-wells-3-bridges-marathon-race-report

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PRODUCTION
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BOTTOM LINE: First held in 1963 during the Kennedy administration, the JFK 50 Mile is the country’s oldest and largest ultra marathon. It’s an iconic race that draws some of … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: First held in 1963 during the Kennedy administration, the JFK 50 Mile is the country’s oldest and largest ultra marathon. It’s an iconic race that draws some of the country’s most elite runners, as well as folks like me. The event remains a military race at heart with its most prestigious award, the Kennedy Cup, being awarded to its top military team. Buoyed by 56 years of history, this is a must-run race for serious ultrarunners, one that inspires fierce loyalty among its finishers — case in point Kimball Byron, who sadly fell short this year in his attempt to become the event’s first 50-time finisher. With limited elevation change after the first 16 miles, this is also a great option for anyone looking to tackle their first 50-miler.

The JFK 50 course is part road (paved), part trail (unpaved). About 80% of the course runs on the unpaved Appalachian Trail and C&O Canal Towpath, with the paved 20% coming at the beginning and end. The course is divided into three main sections, starting with the Appalachian Trail (~11 of the first 16 miles) and moving on to the unpaved/crushed gravel C&O Canal Towpath (26 miles) before finishing on paved, rolling country roads (8 miles). The good news is you’ll get through the toughest section of the course (i.e. the Appalachian Trail) at the beginning; the bad news is that the hills and highly technical terrain will sap a lot of the energy and bounce from your legs. This was especially true in 2018, when record annual rainfall and eight inches of snow less than 36 hours earlier created trail conditions that were, according to one 31-time finisher, “the worst ever.” So my recommendation would be to prepare for the worst and then be pleasantly surprised if/when you luck into dry (or at least not marshy) trail conditions.

Despite having four 50+ milers under my belt, this was the first race where I can recall feeling bored for long stretches, particularly on the flat 26-mile C&O Canal Towpath along the Potomac River where the scenery never changed. As one RaceRaves reviewer put it, it was like the running version of Groundhog’s Day. With no hills, no change of scenery and no headphones allowed on the course, I spent much of the middle 26 miles in my own head trying to focus on something other than my heavy quads and mounting fatigue, while slowly ticking off the miles one… at… a… time. If not for having to negotiate frequent mud puddles, I could have run this entire stretch on autopilot.

So although I’d be curious to take another crack at this course under drier conditions, given that we live 2,500 miles away and I still have 26 states remaining, I won’t be returning for a rematch anytime soon. Someday, maybe…

PRODUCTION: Race day was a smooth production for the most part. Aid stations were well stocked (which for me means peanut butter & jelly along with bananas), though I could feel my insulin levels spike just surveying the amount of cookies and sugary foods available. And the outstanding volunteers were ready to assist with pretty much anything you’d want or need, from food to Vaseline to good old-fashioned encouragement. As is the case with most events and especially the best ones, the JFK 50 doesn’t happen without the tireless support of its volunteers who sacrifice their day so the rest of us can chase our goals and play in the mud.

Conveniently held at the host hotel (the Homewood Suites by Hilton Hagerstown), the race expo was your typical low-key ultramarathon packet pickup with tables from Altra Running (the presenting sponsor), a local running store and the JFK 50 folks themselves selling race merch past and present. The organizers even created a cool booklet featuring statistics from past JFK 50 finishers and course record holders plus a detailed rundown of historical sites along the course, very few of which you’ll be able to appreciate on race day.

The post-race spread in the Springfield Middle School cafeteria was low-key but fairly generous including pizza, chili (Sloppy Joe or chili cheese dog, anyone?) and assorted aid station snacks such as pretzels, M&Ms and red velvet cake. Massages were also available for those who were willing to freshen up first. Most importantly for me, the indoor cafeteria offered a warm place to sit and recover while reveling in the accomplishment of another 50-mile run.

I’d recommend to the organizers that the pre-race briefing begin (or end) five minutes earlier, to allow for last-minute porta-potty stops before the race start. By the time I exited the crowded gym after the briefing, took care of business and then walked briskly to the start line, the starter’s pistol had already fired and I was among the last runners to start. Not a terrible thing except the JFK 50 has no chip timing at the start, so the clock started while I was still ¼ mile behind the line in my wind pants and jacket. Oops.

SWAG: From what I can tell, the JFK 50 finisher medal never changes aside from the year because similar to Comrades, why fix what ain’t broke? The iconic award is a silver- (or gold)-colored medal depicting JFK in profile, reminiscent of (but larger than) the half dollar coin that bears his likeness. The medal hangs from a patriotic red, white and blue ribbon. Like many trail races, the shirt is a simple cotton short-sleeve tee featuring the race’s patriotic logo on front with sponsors listed on back. And though I have no shortage of race tees, I’ll happily wear this one if for no other reason than its promise as a conversation starter.

For more details including the history of the JFK 50, check out my blog recap at https://blisterscrampsheaves.com/2019/03/18/jfk-50-mile-race-report/

DIFFICULTY
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PRODUCTION
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BOTTOM LINE: As midsize marathons go, Des Moines is one of des best in the des Midwest, if not des entire country. The meandering, Hyde-and-Jekyll course is best considered in … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: As midsize marathons go, Des Moines is one of des best in the des Midwest, if not des entire country. The meandering, Hyde-and-Jekyll course is best considered in terms of pre-Drake (rolling first half) and post-Drake (much flatter second half), with the highlight being a lap around the blue Drake University oval in mile 12. Despite a similar field size, the course felt more suburban and more intimate than had Kansas City’s one day earlier, with much of the route passing through quiet neighborhoods and local parks, including a two-mile loop of serene Gray’s Lake late in the race. That said, the spirited support from the Des Moines community was impressive, including one woman who stood at miles 9.5 and 14.5 shaking her sleigh bells as if the upcoming holiday season depended on it.

As a spectator Katie drove many of the streets and neighborhoods bordering the course, and in so doing witnessed the more blue-collar commercial and industrial sectors of the city, none of which were immediately apparent to us marathoners. My own impression of Des Moines from race weekend was of a scenic, comfortably sized town with few defining features but with an abundance of green spaces, a vibrant university campus and an artsy, entrepreneurial streak. And finishing 26.2 miles in the shadow of stately Polk County Courthouse was a nice touch.

(Note: I ran DMM as the second half of a back-to-back weekend with the Kansas City Marathon as part of the excellent I-35 Challenge.)

PRODUCTION: Des Moines was staged with clear attention to detail, from the scenic course that showcased the best of the city to the plentiful aid stations (and porta-potties) to the helpful volunteers who patrol the course on bikes, acting as mobile aid stations. And though the finish line festival (or in this case, the Samuel Adams Block Party) was a good bit colder and windier than the previous day in Kansas City, I stuck around to thank Race Director Chris Burch in person, and to take advantage of the free post-race nachos and Sam Adams DSM Brew, never a bad combination. Unfortunately I missed the complimentary massage tent, but that too was available to sore-legged finishers.

A handy pocket-sized Spectator Guide was available at packet pickup. The guide featured a map of the course showing the locations of cheer zones and parking lots, as well as helpful hints including the Sunday schedule, how to get connected with your runner and when/where to watch on race day. Super-spectator Katie found the guide to be particularly helpful in association with Google Maps.

One suggestion I might make would be for pacers (who always amaze me with their ability to lead, inform and entertain, all while maintaining a consistent pace for 26.2 miles) to carry signs that more clearly identify their pace times — the pace signs this year were difficult to read from a distance, which frustrated me on several occasions as I tried to gauge my progress based on a pace group running ahead of me.

SWAG: Des Moines overdelivered in the swag department. While the shiny round finisher medal emblazoned with the race logo is an eye-catching addition to my collection, it’s overshadowed by the high-quality full-zip jacket with the IMT DMM logo printed on the left lapel. Not only is the jacket a thoughtful and significant upgrade from the usual race tee, but it’s the type of outerwear I’ll find a reason to wear even in SoCal, as it’s both comfy and stylish.

In addition to race-specific swag, marathoners and half marathoners who also completed Kansas City the day before earned 1) a colorful stained-glass I-35 Challenge medal with the names of both races on the medal and ribbon, and 2) a long-sleeve gray tech tee with “Challenge Completed” printed on the front. Hats off to the organizers in Des Moines and Kansas City for going the extra mile to make the I-35 Challenge one of the most memorable weekends in running!

For more details I’d urge you to run, don’t walk to my DMM race report at https://blisterscrampsheaves.com/2019/02/07/des-moines-marathon-race-report/

DIFFICULTY
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BOTTOM LINE: Having entered the weekend as a Kansas City newbie not knowing what to expect, I can now enthusiastically gush about the City of Fountains. Both the marathon and … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: Having entered the weekend as a Kansas City newbie not knowing what to expect, I can now enthusiastically gush about the City of Fountains. Both the marathon and the city itself exceeded my expectations for a state that outsiders cheekily pronounce MISS’-ou-ri. Kansas City (as least the Missouri side; we spent very little time on the Kansas side) strikes me as a vibrant, scenic town that’s comfortable in its own skin, with a hint of cosmopolitan panache and plenty to see and do.

With significant upgrades to the marathon course in recent years, the rolling route now leads its runners past some of the city’s most notable neighborhoods, parks and landmarks including the J.C. Nichols Memorial Fountain (with its water dyed blue, presumably for race weekend) and the National World War I Museum and Memorial. Even the lengthy out-and-back along Ward Pkwy in miles 14-21 passed quickly with its upscale neighborhoods and flashy fall colors, which always appeal to someone coming from SoCal where seasons are more of a fanciful concept than a climatic reality.

Sometimes, in the course of running all 50 states, you find a race that just feels right, in an unassuming city that’s eager to showcase itself to anyone receptive to its charms. Kansas City was just such a race, and it’s probably no coincidence that it was also one of my most consistent marathon performances, from its uphill start to its downhill finish. For anyone looking for a Midwestern marathon/half marathon or any 50 Stater looking to add Missouri to their map, I’d highly recommend you #RunKCM. Oh, and do train for hills.

(Note: I ran KCM as the first half of a back-to-back with the Des Moines Marathon as part of the excellent I-35 Challenge: https://www.sportkc.org/marathon/register/i-35-challenge/)

PRODUCTION: For the most part, race weekend in the City of Fountains flowed smoothly from start to finish. The energetic pre-race expo, held in historic Union Station, was one of the more enjoyable mid-size expos I’ve attended, with plenty of diverse vendors big and small as well as a number of cool races I’d love to run if I lived in the Midwest. Popular Olympian and running coach Jeff Galloway was available to offer guidance, sign books or simply chat. Kansas City was also the site of the quarterly 50 States Marathon Club reunion, which further added to the energy of the weekend for club members.

Despite a densely packed start corral that was tough to access, the marathon course did a nice job of showing off the city and its highlights, with plenty of aid stations and terrific volunteers. And though some may disagree, I appreciated the fast downhill finish since I still had control of my legs. Spectator support was sparse, which I count as a positive since big, loud, raucous crowds typically aren’t my cup of tea. That said, a diverse collection of bands filled the air along the route with musical motivation. Hats off, too, to KCM and SportPhotos.com for providing free race photos — always a bonus, and especially if you don’t have your own star spectator like Katie to expertly (wo)man the camera for you.

Taking advantage of perfect late October weather, the finish line festival in Washington Square Park was jumping. Operation BBQ Relief dished out Kansas City BBQ while Central States Beverage served up local beers. As a vegetarian planning to run another marathon in another state the next day, I bypassed both the BBQ and beer, though not the complimentary massage tent where I got a (literal) leg up on my post-race recovery. A number of photo ops awaited happy finishers, including a gong waiting to be rung by anyone who’d qualified for Boston, set a personal record or simply run Kansas City for the first time (one out of three ain’t bad!). Even KC Royals mascot Slugger was on hand trading high-fives and posing for pictures. Given that we had our sights set on Iowa for the next day’s Des Moines Marathon as part of the I-35 Challenge, we couldn’t stay long, but I soaked up the post-race ambience for as long as possible before hustling back across the street for our noon checkout at the host hotel.

Speaking of the host hotel, this was our only legit source of race weekend disappointment. Although a convenient and comfortable facility, the Westin Kansas City at Crown Center seemed to have no clue that the city’s largest running event was happening just outside its doors and that many of its patrons would therefore be runners. For example, information on road closures in the vicinity of the hotel would have been helpful for friends and family members who would be driving the course to support their runners. Much more annoying, our request for a late checkout was denied, and by the time we reached our room minutes after noon, our room key had been deactivated. Sadly we weren’t alone, as I chatted with several other disgruntled runners in our hallway while Katie went downstairs to reactivate our key. We ended up disregarding the checkout time, grabbing a quick shower and hitting the road sometime after 12:30pm. So if you expect you’ll need more than 4½ hours to finish your marathon, you may want to think twice before booking the Westin.

SWAG: KCM earns two thumbs up (and five shoes here on RaceRaves) for this year’s standout swag, which included an attractive and comfy lightweight blue hoodie, the first of its kind I’ve received in 35 marathons and one I’ve already worn on several occasions. And the hefty square finisher medal is uniquely Kansas City in the best way, as it depicts four of the city’s fountains while distinguishing the race distance visually based on ribbon color. Well done, KC!

For more on the marathon that RaceRaves voters crowned the best in Missouri, check out my blog report (c’mon, you know you want to!) at https://blisterscrampsheaves.com/2019/01/30/kansas-city-marathon-race-report/

DIFFICULTY
3
PRODUCTION
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SCENERY
3
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5
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BOTTOM LINE: From now on, whenever non-runners (and even some runners) ask why I’m running in all 50 States, I have an easy two-word answer: Jackson Hole. The opportunity to … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: From now on, whenever non-runners (and even some runners) ask why I’m running in all 50 States, I have an easy two-word answer: Jackson Hole. The opportunity to discover incredible hidden gems like JHM is what motivates me to travel the country and the planet in search of the world’s best races. Few marathons can top Jackson Hole’s mix of eye-popping scenery, comfortable low-key production and easy access to two of the nation’s most beautiful destinations in Grand Teton National Park and Yellowstone National Park. It’s no surprise then that Jackson Hole was just voted the best marathon in Wyoming by runners across the country on RaceRaves.

For most of us Jackson Hole isn’t easy to get to, but then again that’s part of its allure. Flights into Jackson are typically expensive and indirect, with the airport located right at the base of the Teton Range. For this reason (but also because we have a Southwest Airlines companion pass) we flew into the closest Southwest hub, Salt Lake City, and made the 280-mile drive to Jackson through rustic Utah, Idaho and Wyoming. The drive felt like a Cliffs Notes version of the Great American Road Trip. And we stayed just outside of town (~2 miles from the marathon start in Jackson Town Square) at the Flat Creek Inn, a nice affordable alternative to the host hotel in the heart of Jackson.

The race is held on the Saturday of Labor Day weekend, when Grand Teton and Yellowstone experience the last gasps of the summer tourism season. So while there will still be plenty of cars in the parks, traffic won’t be what it is during the summer months. At the same time, weather for race weekend this year was gorgeous, with temperatures ranging from the high 30s to mid 70s with plenty of sun. And few sights are more stunning or life-affirming than Grand Teton and the little Tetons on a sunny day.

Note to sea-level sissies like me: Jackson Hole sits at ~6,300 ft, and though the altitude may not perturb your breathing, you’ll likely notice your legs feeling heavier than normal on race day. Luckily the course is relatively flat with gentle climbs and descents, so you’ll have that going for you in your battle against the thin air.

PRODUCTION: Don’t confuse adjectives like “low-key” and “relaxed” with “loosely organized” — race directors Jay Batchen and Lisa Smith-Batchen know exactly what they’re doing. This is a race for runners by runners, and one that does exactly what it needs to do production-wise before yielding the stage to the star of the show, Jackson’s pristine beauty. The marathon course was impeccably measured and marked, with plenty of aid stations (or so it seemed, though I didn’t stop at any). As a cup-free event, runners were instructed to carry their own “hydration system” (cup, bottle or vest) which could be filled and refilled at aid stations; I carried in one pocket a handy collapsible HydraPak SpeedCup which I ended up not using.

If race photos are your jam then Jackson Hole may not be for you, since Katie was the only photographer I saw on the course.

Reminiscent of Disney events, the post-race food was a FitFul box containing pita chips, hummus and applesauce. Best of all was the goodie bag, which included a voucher for a free beer (with the purchase of an entrée) at the popular Snake River Brewing, which happens to be Wyoming’s oldest brewery as well as a great place to celebrate another marathon success with friends. Cheers!

SWAG: My favorite finisher medals tend to feature some memorable aspect of the community, whether it be a city skyline or popular local attraction. Case in point the smartly crafted JHM medal, which depicts the iconic Jackson Elk Antler Arch with a “JHM” dangling from the peak of the arch. And not that anyone runs (or judges) a marathon next door to Grand Teton National Park based on its shirt, but JHM’s is a nicely understated blue Greenlayer tee that I’ve happily included in my regular rotation.

For a more detailed rundown (+ pictures) of our Jackson Hole weekend, my blog awaits at https://blisterscrampsheaves.com/2018/12/11/jackson-hole-marathon-race-report/

DIFFICULTY
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PRODUCTION
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My Report
SCENERY
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SWAG
4
My Media

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BOTTOM LINE: At the risk of sounding like a (happily) broken record, the Comrades Marathon is the greatest running event on the planet. Not only is it the oldest and … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: At the risk of sounding like a (happily) broken record, the Comrades Marathon is the greatest running event on the planet. Not only is it the oldest and largest ultramarathon in the world, but no other event can match its epic scope and time-honored traditions, its all-day adrenaline, and the easy camaraderie forged among runners from around the globe. Comrades is truly a race that celebrates all runners and wants everyone to succeed, from international runners who travel halfway around the world to local runners who qualify for the race but can’t afford lodging — for these athletes, the Comrades Marathon Association (CMA) sets up cots to sleep on near the start line the night before the race.

But to whom much is given — in this case, the opportunity to participate in the Ultimate Human Race — much is expected, and you can expect the journey from Pietermaritzburg to Durban (or the reverse) to be anything but smooth. Because Comrades is a trial by fire. Both mental and physical hardships await on the long, hot, hilly road to Durban, each of which will test you, test your resolve, and ultimately change you. As the 2016 race slogan predicted, Izokuthoba: It will humble you. And if you’re anything like me or the many other runners from around the world who return to this event year after year, you’ll discover that 90 km cycle of destruction and renewal to be cathartic and even downright addictive — physically, spiritually and psychologically. You’ve been warned.

PRODUCTION: Awesome, except for the post-race logistics in Moses Mabhida Stadium, which despite its sleek modernity was less runner-friendly than the smaller Scottsville Racecourse last year. I won’t be the first or last person to tell the CMA that the stadium as a finish venue is a work in progress. Whereas its grandeur and spectator-friendly viewing arrangement are beyond reproach, as a post-race recovery zone for runners it leaves a lot to be desired.

There’s plenty of work to be done to reimagine Moses Mabhida as a more comfortable and inviting post-race venue, and hopefully that starts with letting finishers and running clubs gather on the grass playing field. While I’d imagine there are liability and security issues that limit its access, it seems absurd to have exhausted runners dragging themselves up and down concrete stairs, sitting in cramped plastic seats and sprawling underfoot on the floor of the concourse while an immaculate grass surface lays unused below them.

Aside from that, race day was perfect. And a special shout-out of appreciation to all the volunteers without whom Comrades would be impossible — I’m constantly amazed at the selflessness of the folks who voluntarily stand on their feet for hours in any weather to help runners like me achieve our personal goals. You all are the real heroes of the Comrades Marathon!

SWAG: At roughly the size of an American quarter or RSA 5 Rand coin (the back-to-back medal is only modestly larger), the Comrades finisher medal may be the smallest in distance running. And yet it’s also among the most coveted. My three Comrades medals — two bronze, one back-to-back for running consecutive years — are the guests of honor in my collection alongside my Boston Marathon unicorn. To me, the medals are beautiful in their simplicity. Plus, they’re great conversation starters, particularly for puzzled non-runners who balk at the notion of running 90 km for something THAT small.

Unfortunately, the official race shirt this year was downright ugly. As my running partner Jimmy suggested, it’s almost as if Mizuno learned they’d won the Comrades sponsorship and immediately sent someone into the back of the warehouse to find a bunch of blank tech shirts on which to print a Comrades logo, year and distance. The royal blue shirt has the beginnings of a honeycomb pattern on front which morphs into a strange geometric pattern reminiscent — to this lab rat — of viruses viewed under an electron microscope. All of which adds nothing to the design. The shirt lacks the design sensibility of last year’s New Balance merch, a truth that extended to everything in the Mizuno store at this year’s expo. I showed up at the expo ready to support all things Comrades as I had in 2017, only to be disappointed by Mizuno running shoes with no Comrades branding and Mizuno t-shirts that simply said “Osaka Japan” on the front. In the end, I grudgingly saved my money and opted for a simple black tech shirt with a tiny Comrades logo on the sleeve. So a word to the wise at Mizuno: get back to the drawing board before next year’s event and KNOW YOUR AUDIENCE. You could sell hella more merch with even the slightest bit of foresight and design sensibility.

There’s a whole lot more to say about this year’s down run, and I say most of it on my blog at https://wp.me/p2rSqE-1GS

DIFFICULTY
4
PRODUCTION
4
My Report
SCENERY
3
SWAG
4
My Media

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BOTTOM LINE: Whether it’s held on the moon in zero gravity or at Point Pinole Regional Park, ain’t no race like a Brazen race. This year marked the 10th anniversary … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: Whether it’s held on the moon in zero gravity or at Point Pinole Regional Park, ain’t no race like a Brazen race. This year marked the 10th anniversary of the Nitro Trail Races, the first event Brazen Racing produced way back in 2009. Since then the company has built a fanatically loyal fan base and expanded to 27 (plus or minus) annual events on paved and (primarily) unpaved trails across the Bay Area.

The Nitro Half Marathon course comprises a shorter starting loop followed by two longer identical loops around Point Pinole Regional Park, site of the original Alfred Nobel Dynamite plant which speaks to the race’s theme. The beginner-friendly course is one of Brazen’s flatter off-road courses with only modest hills, so you can push yourself without having to pause frequently to catch your breath as on some of their more challenging courses (e.g. Wildcat, Drag-N-Fly and oh yes, Rocky Ridge). The diverse terrain varies from grass to gravel to asphalt to dirt with sweet views across San Pablo Bay, even if some of those views are marred by the not-so-sweet white smoke pouring out of the Chevron refinery across the bay.

I’ve been a huge Brazen fan since I first discovered them in 2011 (Nitro 2018 was my 12th Brazen race, plus two volunteer gigs). And if we still lived up in the Bay Area rather than down in SoCal, I’d seriously consider dedicating a year of my life to chasing “Streaker” status, awarded annually to those crazy runners (225 in all through 2017!) who participate in every Brazen race in a calendar year. Brazen’s diverse catalog of events is consistently that good, and the loyal community of runners and streakers they’ve cultivated in their nine years is a big reason why. Brazen really is a family, as evidenced by the fact that so many of their runners and volunteers know each other by name. It’s like “Cheers” for runners. All of which makes race day a lot more fun.

Enjoy running trails but don’t want to commit to chasing Streaker status? I’d highly recommend Brazen’s Ultra Half Series, in which you can earn a wicked cool coaster for running at least five of their toughest trail races plus their season-ending butt-kicker, the Rocky Ridge Half Marathon. Check out the deets at https://brazenracing.com/races/ultra-half-series/

PRODUCTION: Flawless, as always. Sam, Jasmin and their team have this down to a science, though it feels more like art. And I can appreciate that the smoother an event runs, the more work went into making it happen. Everything about the race is low-key but professional, from race-day packet pickup to the well-marked course to an awesome post-race spread (don’t forget your IT’S-IT). I could drone on for several paragraphs, but once you run with them you’ll understand what I’m talking about. And you’ll be hooked. Other race companies, if they’re smart, will sit up and take note of what Brazen is doing,

SWAG: All Brazen registration fees* (*for the half marathon distance and longer; I can’t vouch for the 10K and 5K) include a t-shirt, with one cool caveat — if you don’t want a shirt, you can deduct $5 at the time of registration. And though I own a small army of Brazen tees, I’m more enamored with the finisher medals which are a creative and ever-changing expression of Sam’s vision for the race. In recent years, he’s even started creating unique medals for his age-group award winners at each individual race. That’s 25+ different age-group medals to go with 25+ different finisher medals, every year — and each one thoughtfully designed to match the race theme. Incredible. It’s safe to say that no race company pays greater attention to detail or shows more respect for its runners than Brazen.

DIFFICULTY
3
PRODUCTION
5
SCENERY
4
SWAG
5
My Media

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BOTTOM LINE: The REVEL race series exists for one (main) reason: to help runners exploit gravity and qualify for Boston. And if you’re a skilled downhill runner who appreciates panoramic … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: The REVEL race series exists for one (main) reason: to help runners exploit gravity and qualify for Boston. And if you’re a skilled downhill runner who appreciates panoramic desert views, then Mt Charleston — REVEL’s most popular race — is right in your wheelhouse. Despite its 5,100 ft elevation loss over 26.2 miles, the downhill course feels comfortably runnable and never too severe. But be warned: while the course does deliver on its promise of fast and scenic, the last 4+ miles level out significantly, with a couple of uphill jags that feel even more challenging thanks to all the downhill that came before them. And if you think you’re sore the day after a flat marathon, you ain’t felt nothin’ yet — my quads were like concrete pillars the day after Mt Charleston. Not only were they acutely sore for several days afterward, they were still heavy and sluggish over a week later. Luckily the race is held on a Saturday, which allows most folks an extra day of recovery before having to waddle back to work.

I ran Mt Charleston not to qualify for Boston but as training for the Comrades Marathon “down” run, so I wasn’t out to smash any PRs. And happily so, because along with the leveling out of the course in mile 22, the day warmed up in a hurry once we turned off the mountain onto the Hwy 95 frontage road (this IS Vegas, after all). As both the sun and temperature rose in the later miles, I saw and heard folks around me try in vain to maintain pace, their BQ hopes slipping away with every step. And Katie, who was waiting at the end, agreed that she’s never seen so many finishers crying and suffering at a finish line. Case in point, I spent ~30 minutes after the race massaging a fellow finisher’s cramping calves as she literally screamed in agony with each muscle contraction, all while Katie fetched water and Powerade to help her stay hydrated. (My patient claimed she couldn’t stand to get to the med tent.)

In summary, severe downhill course + hardcore Boston hopefuls + desert heat = a take-no-prisoners race experience unlike any other. And the formula clearly works, because the race sells out quickly and an impressive 30% of finishers qualified for Boston this year. If you’re not running Mt Charleston to chase a PR or BQ, you’re definitely in the minority. And I look forward to running with REVEL again because, well, this is my kind of craziness.

Pro tip: Mt Charleston does sell out months in advance, so if you miss out but still want to run, I recommend you add your name to their wait list. I’ve been pulled off the wait list the past two years, though I couldn’t run last year since I’d already committed to Eugene. And though it’s tough to know how much advance warning you’ll be given, odds are high that someone will drop and open up a slot for you to chase your BQ dreams.

PRODUCTION: Smooth sailing for the most part, with one exception: the bus driver who shuttled us to the start line at the top of the mountain took a wrong turn — twice. By the time we reached the start area we had six minutes to disrobe, warm up, check our drop bag, make a porta-potty stop and do anything else we needed to do. Luckily the start was delayed by a few minutes, but still I found myself in the porta-potty when the gun went off and ended up running from the back. No big deal, and especially since this isn’t a large race so I didn’t have to worry about weaving around other runners — but that’s the kind of pre-race stress I can do without.

Aside from our navigationally challenged bus driver, race production was on point. The expo, held at the Cox Pavilion on the UNLV campus, was small and easily navigated, though the predominantly local vendors and expo offers seemed out of sync with the demographic of largely out-of-town runners who come to Mt Charleston with one goal in mind: to qualify for Boston. Aid stations were well distributed and well equipped by awesome volunteers, while snarky signs along the course (e.g. “Can you believe YOU paid US to do this?” and “It’s a hill — GET OVER IT”) made clear that anyone seeking sympathy was in the wrong place.

The highlight of the day may well have been the icy towels that awaited us at the finish — WOW, talk about nirvana. As usual my stomach was in no mood to eat after the race, though both food (pie and Papa John’s Pizza) and Lagunitas Beer were readily available to all finishers. Unfortunately but not surprisingly, the line at the massage tent was too long and moving too slowly, so I skipped it. Not that a few minutes of painful muscle manipulation would have changed the course of the next two days for my aching quads.

Admittedly I’d like to see the organizers better integrate this race with the community — there were very few spectators along the route, and it didn’t feel as though the locals had any idea a marathon was happening. Hopefully improving community integration is on REVEL’s roadmap, since community support (e.g. Flying Pig, Missoula, Richmond) helps a good race become a great one while creating a more welcoming, less “run and done” vibe.

SWAG: In addition to its downhill courses, REVEL is popular for its thoughtful swag which for the most part didn’t disappoint: gloves and space blanket for race morning in case it got cold at the start line (not a problem for our bus, which arrived six minutes before the start), nicely wearable short-sleeve gray technical tee with black side panels (one of the nicest in my collection), and oversized finisher medal which, despite its impressive size and cool orange stained-glass effect, strikes me as ho-hum because it’s emblazoned with the REVEL logo which is neither artistically satisfying nor symbolically meaningful. I’m just not a fan of a company advertising itself on its medals; I’d prefer a city skyline or similar. But to end on a positive note — free race photos plus a personalized highlight video! Another way in which REVEL goes the extra mile to take care of its runners.

DIFFICULTY
2
PRODUCTION
4
SCENERY
4
SWAG
4
My Media

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BOTTOM LINE: Are you a traveling runner in search of a uniquely inspiring (and patriotic) race experience? Or a 50 States runner looking for more than the usual race weekend … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: Are you a traveling runner in search of a uniquely inspiring (and patriotic) race experience? Or a 50 States runner looking for more than the usual race weekend of “fly in, collect t-shirt and medal, fly out”? Or maybe a recreational hiker looking to experience history through the eyes of those who lived it? All three opportunities await you on the White Sands Missile Range in the high desert of Southern New Mexico.

Bataan is a race with a purpose, and the marathon itself feels almost anticlimactic in the grand scheme of the weekend. In the words of one of the officers who spoke at the Opening Ceremony, race weekend is an opportunity “to honor the heroes of Bataan in a living history lesson.” If you aren’t familiar with the history of the event, I’d suggest you check out the race website (or my blog post) for details.

This year, the 76th anniversary of the Bataan Death March in the Philippines during World War II, seven survivors remained on the Symbolic Roll Call. With each of them approaching or exceeding 100 years of age, soon there will be none. Bataan will always be a special event for what it represents and what it honors, but being able to hear one survivor tell his story and to shake another’s hand at the finish line was incredibly special. And I’d urge any runner reading this to register for next year’s race while there are still Bataan survivors among us. Survivors like centenarian Ben Skardon of South Carolina, who shared an extraordinary narrative of the horrors and humanity he experienced as a POW, forced by his Japanese captors to march 69 miles over five days in tropical heat of 110°F. Along the way, with the help of his fellow POWs he conquered hunger and disease without ever giving up hope. And yet years later, he was able to visit Japan as a free man who harbored no ill will toward his former captors or the Japanese people. That feels like heroism to me.

In a country and a time when few of us will ever be asked to make any real sacrifices in our lives, Bataan is an opportunity to pay our respects to those who did and to whom we owe the freedom and the comfortable lifestyle we readily take for granted.

And speaking of comfort, one suggestion for race day: you don’t necessarily need trail shoes (the course is ~25% asphalt, ~75% dirt/sand), but do consider wearing gaiters to prevent any sand or small rocks from finding their way into your shoes and forcing you to either run in discomfort or stop to shake out your shoes along the course.

The upshot? Road shoes, trail shoes, marching boots or bare feet, it doesn’t matter — run/march Bataan and do it soon, before our nation’s last living connections to World War II are gone forever.

PRODUCTION: Throw out the first two miles, and the weekend ran with almost military precision. The most conspicuous race-day error was an apparent lack of signage in mile 2, resulting in a wrong turn that led hundreds of runners astray and added ~1.6 miles to my own total. Had this been most other races the fallout might have been loud and belligerent, but Bataan isn’t most other races — no one is there to set a personal best or qualify for Boston, and so instead I congratulated myself on my 4:34 finish in the inaugurual Bataan Memorial Death March Ultramarathon.

A couple of other race-day suggestions: 1) increase the number of porta-potties at the start, and especially if the event continues to increase its participant cap as it did this year with a record 8,460 marchers — unable or unwilling to fight the call of nature, many military personnel and civilians (like me) experienced the Opening Ceremony from our place in the long porta-potty lines; 2) create an actual start arch, or at least add clear signage to the existing “arch” (i.e. first timing station) to give runners and marchers a better sense for the start line.

Based on my Garmin the 26.2 miles of the official course were well measured, and after missing the first three mile markers due to the crowds, I saw every marker from mile 4 on. On the dirt portions once the runners spread out, there were a couple of side roads and potential detours off the main trail that could have been more clearly marked as “Wrong Way,” but even my own questionable sense of direction didn’t lead me down any of them.

Every one of the 2,000 volunteers, comprising both civilian and military personnel, was amazing. With 100% focus on the marchers and their needs, there was no drama and no distractions. I never had to waste valuable energy guessing who had water and who had Gatorade — that was made clear as I approached each aid station. A heartfelt THANK YOU to all the volunteers whose selfless hard work made Bataan weekend in White Sands a huge success.

As usual my appetite abandoned me after the race, despite an impressive selection of post-race food. The organizers did a nice job of refueling their marchers, offering all participants an entrée (including hot dogs and veggie burgers) plus three side dishes and a drink, with soft drinks and canned beer available. It all added up to one of the better post-race spreads I’ve seen at a marathon.

One last recommendation for the organizers would be to post the 6½-minute high-speed course video — shown on a loop at the expo — on the race website, to give all prospective runners a better sense for the terrain. (See video link on this race page.) I knew to expect hot dry weather on race day, so course layout and terrain were the biggest wild cards. And preparation is the cornerstone of a good soldier!

SWAG: Nobody runs Bataan for the swag, and in fact it almost feels like an afterthought with all runners/marchers receiving their swag in a reusable goodie bag before the race. And though I missed the pomp and circumstance of receiving a medal after crossing the finish, thumbs up to the organizers for the appropriate choice of dog tags rather than finisher medals. (The only problem with dog tags is they’re relatively small and, when hung on a wall alongside larger finisher medals, easily overshadowed.) Another cool touch would have been for the event to offer engraving services (e.g. name and finish time) à la actual dog tags at the post-race festival. At any rate, the dog tags are definitely one of my more unique and memorable pieces of swag.

Sadly I can’t say the same for the shirt, a neon green Gildan cotton tee with “bataan” printed in thin, unimpressive blue letters on the front and which I can’t see myself wearing among my collection of race tees.

Along with their bib number all marchers received a full-color “Certificate of Participation,” which the WSMR Arts & Crafts Center would custom frame — along with your dog tags and challenge coin — for $65 at the expo/In-Processing while you waited. This service wasn’t available at the post-race festival, so if you’re interested in a cool keepsake you should jump on this opportunity before the race.

For more details of an amazing White Sands weekend, check out my blog post at: https://blisterscrampsheaves.com/2018/04/17/bataan-memorial-death-march-race-report

DIFFICULTY
4
PRODUCTION
4
My Report
SCENERY
4
SWAG
3
My Media

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I’ve lived in Southern California for 5 years, and 2018 was my third time running the LA Marathon. I’d recommend my 2016 review and blog post for more details, but … MORE

I’ve lived in Southern California for 5 years, and 2018 was my third time running the LA Marathon. I’d recommend my 2016 review and blog post for more details, but the TL;DR version is: I’ve run Boston, Chicago, Houston and New York City, and from both a scenery and production perspective, Los Angeles is as good an urban marathon as I’ve run in the US.

If you’re a marathoner (or would-be marathoner) who lives outside SoCal, I’d love to convince you to give my hometown race a chance. The Stadium-to-the-Sea course is among the most scenic urban routes in the country, starting at Dodger Stadium with the playing of Randy Newman’s “I Love LA” and culminating in Santa Monica just steps from the Pacific Ocean. Along the way you’ll see the City of Angels in a way that few of its residents ever do, with your foot tour including the Golden Dragon Gateway of Chinatown, City Hall, Little Tokyo, Hollywood Blvd and the Stars Walk of Fame, Sunset Blvd with its hillside view of the Hollywood sign and iconic nightclubs like the Whisky-A-Go-Go, plus Beverly Hills and Rodeo Drive, to name a few of the route’s many sightseeing opportunities. It’s an inspiring course that will happily distract you from the fact that 26.2 miles is a long way to run. If you’re in it for the scenery, LA won’t disappoint.

Not only is the Stadium-to-the-Sea course one of the best in the nation, but the Conqur Endurance Group’s hefty, classic-looking medals are consistently among my favorite. If you’re in it for the bling, LA won’t disappoint.

On a normal day, Ocean Ave in Santa Monica is tourist central with a small footprint and a lot of foot traffic, so you can imagine what it’s like on race day. With that in mind, the post-race festival is held in a parking lot just off Ocean Ave and isn’t much to write home about. But there were a few food trucks along with the Angel City Brewery beer garden offering one free beer to runners. Plus, the Skechers Performance tent was a cool opportunity to get some great gear/apparel — much of it created specifically for the LAM — at 50% off retail (and I happily took advantage). All the while you’re a short walk from the beach, the Santa Monica Pier and the Pacific Ocean.

LA weather on race day tends to be on the warmer side, but this year was perfect: clear skies and starting temps in the high 40s, rising only into the mid-50s with a comforting sun by the time I reached the finish in Santa Monica. In other words, a perfect day to run a marathon.

One other notable that sets LA apart from other marathons: the course profile. With a few rolling (but manageable) hills in the first half and a 2.7-mile downhill to the finish, this is the ideal course to negative split. In fact, in 31 marathons I’ve run only two negative splits, and both happened in LA (2016, 2018). There are few more feel-good accomplishments as a runner than finishing a marathon faster than you started it. And doing so enabled me to hit my “A” goal of 3:39:59 and improve my corral seeding at the upcoming Comrades Marathon in June.

So do yourself a favor: set aside any preconceived notions of LA and give its marathon a shot — you’ll be glad you did. Hope to see you at the Stadium or the sea in 2019!

DIFFICULTY
3
PRODUCTION
5
SCENERY
4
SWAG
5
My Media

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BOTTOM LINE: Recommending the Houston Marathon is as easy as sliding off a greasy log backward. Houston is a crown jewel of the US marathon circuit, being one of the … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: Recommending the Houston Marathon is as easy as sliding off a greasy log backward. Houston is a crown jewel of the US marathon circuit, being one of the more smartly planned, flawlessly organized and professionally executed marathons you’ll ever have the pleasure of running. With 7,000 marathon finishers and over 11,000 half marathon finishers this year, it’s the tenth-largest marathon in the country. And yet everything flows so smoothly throughout the weekend, from the pre-race expo to the post-race exit from the George R. Brown Convention Center, that you almost won’t mind being herded like cattle into the crowded start corrals on race morning — and especially if race day temperatures hover around freezing like they did this year.

The race itself was a high-energy tour of the nation’s fourth-largest city, with an untold number of HOOPLA (cheer) stations set up along the course, along with a diverse array of musical performers to keep you constantly entertained and keep your mind distracted from the fact you’re running 26.2 miles on one of the hardest surfaces on the planet. The course is largely flat and speedy, though several wickedly positioned uphill jags in the final four miles will look to sap whatever life remains in your concrete-stricken legs. And once you cross the finish and collect your well-deserved medal, actual breakfast food awaits inside the George R. Brown (see “Production” below). Apologies to all you diehard fans of green bananas and stale bagels.

I ran this race differently than I had any of my other 29 marathons, starting from the very back (nearly 54 minutes after the gun) and passing runners to raise money (over $8,000!) for the Houston Food Bank’s Harvey relief efforts. So my focus throughout the race was less on enjoying myself (though I definitely did) and more on amassing “roadkill” (to use the Ragnar term for runners passed). That said, this struck me as an ideal marathon (or half) for first-timers, with so many raucous spectators and supporters — 250,000, according to the race website — to keep propelling you forward when the Gatorade and energy gels no longer can.

As a mobile supporter who likes to spectate at several points along the course, Katie had a tougher time in Houston than at most other races. Luckily the race provides a handy business card-sized Spectator Guide that folds out like an accordion, so figuring out where you want to see your runner on the course is easy enough. Getting there, on the other hand, can be a logistical nightmare. Katie spent much of the morning directing Lyft or Uber drivers who either didn’t realize the marathon was happening or didn’t know how to circumnavigate road closures to reach her destination. As it turns out, having her own vehicle would have made the morning more manageable and less stressful — something to keep in mind if you’re planning to be a mobile spectator yourself.

Disclaimer: I grew up in Texas and graduated from Rice University, so I already had a strong personal connection to the city. Even objectively, though, Houston is a must-run event for the hardcore marathoner or half marathoner based on the three E’s: efficiency, energy and all-around excellence. In the wake of Hurricane Harvey, the city’s unity and pride were on full (and vociferous) display throughout the weekend, and I’m psyched to have played a small role in helping a world-class city get its groove back.

PRODUCTION: In the best situation, producing a 20,000+ person event in a major urban center is a significant challenge. Throw in one of the most devastating natural disasters in U.S. history, and you add a level of complexity and uncertainty to the mix that would cripple most race organizations. And yet the Houston Marathon team managed the unforeseen arrival of Hurricane Harvey like the experts they are. And any arguments I might have with the production are more suggestions than gripes.

The 2018 Race Program provided a wealth of interesting and relevant information about race weekend, the runners and the city itself. And honestly I read more of the program in Houston than I did in either Boston or New York City. Flooding apparently moved this year’s expo to a smaller hall than previous years within the George R. Brown Convention Center (GRB); however, packet pickup was quick and easy, and the expo itself was very manageable and easily navigated within an hour, even with several stops at sponsor booths (gotta check out all the races!).

I stopped at exactly zero aid stations on the course, but I did notice water and Gatorade were provided in different-colored cups (water in plain Dixie cups, Gatorade in branded cups). As trivial as this may sound, visually differentiating the two helps to alleviate in-race confusion, particularly for the tired runner, and it’s one of my litmus tests for whether a race organizer knows their stuff. Because many don’t.

Immediately after the race, finishers were funneled into the GRB. There we collected more swag (see below), enjoyed a McMuffin-style breakfast and ice cream sandwich plus hot and cold drinks while chatting with fellow finishers, and finally reunited with friends and family to wander the “We Are Houston” RunFest set up on the Discovery Green outside the convention center. In my experience this smartly conceived, one-way directionality of post-race traffic flow (exit –> swag pickup –> breakfast –> gear check –> family reunion) on such a massive scale is unique to Houston. And while it arguably makes life more difficult for family members who have to wait at one end of the hall for their runner to reach them, it’s easy to see how creating this “finishers only” space would benefit the runners by reducing both traffic and confusion, particularly in the dining area. Though I can’t imagine this setup is optimal for sponsors who are (literally) left out in the cold in their tents on Discovery Green — aside from HEB which provided breakfast, Skechers was the only sponsor I noticed with presence inside the GRB.

And speaking of Skechers, all official Houston Marathon apparel and merchandise is 50% off at the Skechers booth on race day. So if you’re willing to wait and gamble that your size will still be in stock come Sunday, you can score some pretty sweet deals on everything from water bottles to shoes. I actually train in Skechers and ran the marathon in the Skechers GoRun Ride 6, so I can vouch for the fact the company makes a very comfy running shoe.

The GRB opens on 5:00am on race day to accommodate early-arriving runners, a nice convenience and especially in bone-chilling cold like we had this year. Coming from out of town, we stayed in the downtown area (at the Aloft Houston Downtown) within walking distance of the start line, and so were able to wake up later than most and arrive after the starter’s pistol had already fired. I’m pretty sure that not having an insanely early wakeup call helped me relax and enjoy one of my best pre-race night’s sleep in recent memory.

My only real suggestion for the organizers would be to move the celebratory photo-op signage (“Feel the pride,” “Feel the accomplishment” etc) from the finish chute just inside the GRB — where many dazed and exhausted runners passed them by without so much as a glance — to the family reunion area where they’re much more likely to be appreciated. Oh, and I’d recommend rethinking the on-course announcement at miles 20 and 23 that “Registration for the 2019 Chevron Houston Marathon and Aramco Half Marathon opens this afternoon at 3:00pm!” The timing was so absurd that even in my depleted state, I couldn’t help but laugh in the moment. Or maybe that was the point?

SWAG: The finisher’s medal is entirely unique and distinctly unTexan, being the creation of local aerosol/graffiti artist Mario E. Figueroa, Jr. aka Gonzo247. And though I wouldn’t have been upset with something in the shape of Texas, as a lover of street art this is a standout addition to my collection. Beyond the medal, runners received not one but two shirts — a Gildan short-sleeve cotton tee at registration with “Run Houston Strong” printed on front and a Skechers short-sleeve performance finisher’s tee after the race, which like the medal features Gonzo’s artwork above the word “FINISHER.” But wait, there’s more! Unfortunately, that “more” came in the form of a glass finisher’s mug that I will never use and which will sit on my shelf at home gathering dust for all eternity.

For more details on my “come from behind” fundraising strategy, check out my blog report at https://wp.me/p2rSqE-1D1

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BOTTOM LINE: Close your eyes — what comes to mind when I say “trail running”? Odds are it looks an awful lot like Tecumseh. TTM is the quintessential “over the … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: Close your eyes — what comes to mind when I say “trail running”? Odds are it looks an awful lot like Tecumseh. TTM is the quintessential “over the river and through the woods” type of experience, unlike most of the California trail races I’ve run which, while awesome in their own right, typically feature hard-packed dirt terrain in more exposed surroundings. And it’s a point-to-point course from one forest (Morgan-Monroe State Forest) to another (Yellowwood State Forest), always a bonus for those of us who try to avoid running loops and out-and-backs.

For weather reasons the organizers at Do INdiana Off-road (DINO) moved the race date from December to late October several years ago, giving Yellowwood State Forest the chance to fully flaunt its fiery fall colors. And aside from the brief gravel transitions, the entire trail for this year’s race was covered with a multilayered, multihued carpet of leaves cast aside by the surrounding forest.

Tecumseh feels like the middle of nowhere, to be sure — but what the course lacks in majestic mountain or expansive ocean views, it more than makes up for with rural Americana charm. Especially for us West Coast types who aren’t used to seeing leaves in any color other than green. My buddy Jeff, a Tecumseh veteran and the reason I decided to make TTM my first Indiana race, describes the course as “so deep in the woods… you expect to see the kid from ‘Deliverance’ playing ‘Dueling Banjos’ to keep you entertained.” Whether amusing or discomforting or maybe both, the truth is he’s not far off.

So whether you’re a road runner in search of something completely different, a trail runner seeking the best the Midwest off-road race scene has to offer, or a 50 Stater looking for a challenging change of pace in the Hoosier State, you’ll be hard-pressed to do better than this hidden gem tucked deep in the backwoods of Yellowwood State Forest. Banjo strictly optional, though you never know — you may just find a kindred spirit in Yellowwood.

PRODUCTION: Brilliantly executed, with just enough production to ensure the day ran smoothly and efficiently while not interfering with the low-key ethos. The comfortable, warm 30-minute bus ride from the finish area (where we parked our car) to the start in Morgan-Monroe State Forest was a nice waker-upper to start the day. And the leaf-carpeted course interspersed with gravel connectors — a wrong turn waiting to happen — was expertly marked by pink ribbons and hand-drawn white rectangles, with volunteers positioned at aid stations and other strategic spots to point us in the right direction where necessary.

Fans of stale bagels and green bananas may be disappointed by the excellent post-race spread, which featured an assortment of food and beverages including several soups and sandwiches (with vegan vegetable and peanut butter & jelly as vegetarian options) plus chips and drinks such as lemonade, coffee and hot chocolate. Two types of beer, an IPA and an Octoberfest, were also available from newly tapped kegs. The post-race party wasn’t held indoors around a roaring fire as it has been in past years, but despite the chill I was perfectly happy to sit out alongside Yellowwood Lake and chat with my fellow finishers while we all refueled.

SWAG: Tecumseh featured a couple of firsts for me on the swag side, as the first time 1) I’ve received a race sweatshirt and 2) the finisher’s medal (an extra $8 at registration) has been mailed to me after the race — the latter to allow time for the organizers to engrave the medal with my name and finish time. The sweatshirt is reasonably nice and feels warm enough to stand up to the Indiana winter, but the truth is I’ll never wear it in Southern California — I’ve lived in LA for five years now, and the next time I wear a sweatshirt here will be the first. And while the engraving is a nice touch, I prefer to receive the medal immediately after crossing the finish line, with optional engraving available post-race. Unfortunately, whereas my TTM experience will always stand out in my mind, the uninspired finisher’s medal won’t stand out on my wall. In fact, my first thought on sliding it out of its brown manila envelope was of winning my 3rd grade spelling bee, because the generic-looking award has my name and finish time engraved on the front, above and below the less conspicuous TTM logo. Yes, I know trail races aren’t usually known for their bling… but if you’re going to do it, do it well. On the bright side, at least it’s a medal I can hang and not a coffee mug!

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BOTTOM LINE: Looking for an epic adventure in the heart of the Rocky Mountains, one that’s (literally) above and beyond the usual ultramarathon? You’ve found it in Run Rabbit Run. … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: Looking for an epic adventure in the heart of the Rocky Mountains, one that’s (literally) above and beyond the usual ultramarathon? You’ve found it in Run Rabbit Run. Steamboat Springs is a charming, low-key destination town and especially in early September, which is the calm before the storm of ski season. Case in point the weather, which was perfect on race day and which made our 13 hours of essentially fast hiking (with a 15-hour time limit) a lot more pleasant than it otherwise might have been.

Trying to get up and down the mountain before my body wised up to the altitude, I flew into Colorado and arrived in Steamboat Springs the day before the race. Surprisingly I had no difficulty with my breathing at any point during the race — not even on the initial 3,600 foot climb to the summit of Mount Werner. No, the real manifestation of the high altitude was that I moved at a much slower clip than I do at sea level, even taking into account the steady diet of rocks and roots. And having my eyes take turns fogging over certainly didn’t help my progress.

(On that note, a word of warning if you’re considering this race: beware the unlikely possibility of altitude-induced vision problems such as corneal edema, which nearly blinded the eventual winner of the women’s 100-mile race).

Run Rabbit Run is a challenging course, yes. And at times I became frustrated with the seemingly endless climbing and my glacial rate of progress. But Mother Nature offers her rabbits plenty of rewards for all their hard work — this may well be the most picturesque course you’ll ever run. And if a sea-level sissy like me can get ‘er done, so can you.

PRODUCTION: Well done, for the most part. Packet pickup doubled as a pre-race pep talk and an opportunity for the race director to share guidelines, warnings and cautionary tales for race day. We arrived late as he was relating a joke about runners wearing bear bells on the course, the punchline being that bear scat can be distinguished from other animal scat by the fact it has bear bells in it. Comedic interludes aside, the RD also raffled off a bunch of sponsor swag to hold the audience’s interest, which was cool — and my friend Ken and I each scored a lightweight Ultimate Direction running vest, a nice take-home prize.

Race day logistics were smooth overall with a couple of annoying hitches. This year, apparently for the first time, the organizers decided to make runners retrieve a playing card from a volunteer stationed at the top of Rabbit Ears, to confirm they’d made it all the way to the top (mile 25). I wouldn’t have realized this, though, if I hadn’t happened to notice the playing cards sitting on a chair at the Dumont Lake aid station and asked Katie. Nor were there any signs or indicators up on Rabbit Ears as to where the turnaround point was, much less a warning about the cards. So I’m not sure how everyone else learned of the cards, and I wonder if anyone failed to retrieve one. Maybe I missed those instructions at the pre-race meeting, but on race day they should be clearly communicated to any exhausted runner who may be 10,000+ feet above his comfort zone and not thinking straight. And it was oddly unnecessary, at the top of Rabbit Ears, to make each runner scamper up the last 20 feet of loose dirt to where the volunteer sat precariously handing out cards — she could just as easily have waited below to enable a more agile turnaround.

A huge shout-out to the amazing volunteers who all day long were friendly, attentive and competent. And rumor has it there was a nice post-race spread; unfortunately the sun was setting and a chill was descending by the time we finished, so we were eager to get back to our friends’ place, get cleaned up and grab dinner.

SWAG: Aside from my vision failing me at times, the swag was my only real disappointment of the day. Yes, I understand this is a trail race and trail runners are supposed to eschew medals and material possessions. But for a race of this length and difficulty — and one that boasts the “highest purse of any trail ultra marathon in the world” — I’d expect a finisher’s buckle (apparently the 100-milers received one) or at least a medal, something I can proudly display on my wall alongside my other blingy shiny souvenirs. Instead, our reward for 13+ hours of running, hiking and stumbling was a ceramic beer mug to accompany the short-sleeve cotton race tee we’d received at registration (no more shirts, please…). What non-college age adult needs another f#*@ing mug? I felt like Ralphie in “A Christmas Story,” sitting in his bathroom frantically decoding with his Little Orphan Annie secret decoder pin, only to discover he’s been duped by corporate America. “A crummy commercial? Son of a bitch!”

For a (much) more detailed narrative of the race, see my blog post at https://blisterscrampsheaves.com/2017/12/20/run-rabbit-run-50-miler-race-report

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BOTTOM LINE: It’s no hyperbole to say Missoula is the perfect small-town marathon. But you don’t need me to tell you that – it’s one of the most highly rated … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: It’s no hyperbole to say Missoula is the perfect small-town marathon. But you don’t need me to tell you that – it’s one of the most highly rated events on RaceRaves. Tony Banovich and his team let the peaceful rural beauty of the point-to-point course and the friendliness of the locals speak for themselves, and both speak loudly. As you might guess, you won’t get mile after mile of blasting music or screaming spectators (thankfully), but you will get a wildly rewarding marathon experience that, Halfway Hill and potential July heat aside, makes you wish you could bottle Big Sky Country and take it with you. And lucky you if you live here.

Unlike other expensive events that “entertain” their runners on race day with blaring music, colorful distractions and contrived bells and whistles, Missoula feels entirely authentic. And delightful touches like a piano player on a front lawn at mile 17 only add to its charm. Missoula is a spot-on race to include in your summer vacation plans, with Yellowstone National Park and Grand Teton National Park to the southwest and Glacier National Park to the north. Though if you do opt for a racecation, do your legs a favor and run the race first — several days spent hiking in the Big Sky heat and at Big Sky altitude beforehand will wear you down, and the ultimate victim will be your legs on race day. Somewhere around mile 18. Hypothetically speaking, of course.

PRODUCTION: In a word, elk-cellent. The Run Wild Missoula team are clearly pros — from the regular prerace email updates (particularly important when the weather forecast threatens triple digits), to enabling expo latecomers to pick up their bib numbers hassle-free at the Missoula airport, to the low-key start-line fireworks in Frenchtown, to the well-labeled aid stations, to the motivational signs posted along the course in the later miles (when I very much wanted to call it a day), to the awesome post-race spread and Big Sky Brewing tent.

Case in point, I didn’t realize until Saturday afternoon — entirely my fault — that I wasn’t going to be able to reach the expo before it closed, so I sent an email asking if I might be able to pick up my bib number at the airport that evening. Soon after, I received a very friendly and personalized “Welcome to Missoula!” email that went on to say, “We are happy to provide you with the opportunity to pick up your packet late!” The whole process was quick and easy, with Missoula Marathon banners greeting us at the airport. I’ve never received better customer service from a race.

(That said, I would suggest extending expo hours until 6:00pm, since a 4:00pm closing time for a one-day expo seems a bit early.)

Seeing all the sprinklers, hoses and squirt guns mobilized for our benefit, it felt like the entire town of Missoula had prepared and shown up for its hometown race. The town clearly takes pride in its marathon, and as a visiting runner there’s no better feeling. Because you can’t fake that — coming from Los Angeles, I know the disappointment of having an A+ race play to apathetic locals. Like Louisiana in January, this is a race organized first and foremost with the runners in mind. Race Director Tony B. seemed very relaxed (despite fighting a cold) when we saw him moments before the race, which is unusual for an RD, and I was reminded of what Peyton Manning once said: “Pressure is something you feel when you don’t know what the hell you’re doing.” Clearly Tony and his team know what they’re doing.

(And if you decide to run Missoula based on anything I’ve said, tell ‘em Mike and Katie from RaceRaves sent you!)

SWAG: I’m not that guy who proudly displays his bib numbers, but the Missoula bib stands out since it’s shaped like the state of Montana — another of the small but cool details at which this race excels. But while I’m not a bib guy, I’m definitely a medal guy, and this year’s Missoula medal is a classic reminder of a first-class event. Suspended from an eye-catching orange ribbon, it’s a hefty piece of bronze hardware emblazoned with the race logo — not always a good thing for races, unless your logo happens to feature a silhouette of an elk with shoes dangling from its antlers on a backdrop of mountains. Then you show it off whenever you can. Likewise the race tee is a keeper that promises to become a regular in my rotation, white with attractive orange lettering and stitching.

Free finish-line photos were provided to all runners courtesy of Gameface Media, though unlike last year no photographer was positioned on the opposite side of Maclay Bridge, maybe the best vantage point for photos along the course. And Referee Photo was set up at the post-race festival to print glossy hard copies of your triumphant finisher’s photo at no charge. First time I’ve encountered that, and one more “surprise and delight” moment in a weekend full of them.

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BOTTOM LINE: Victoria Falls may not be the largest, or the sexiest, or the most hyped marathon in Africa. But unlike many American marathons, it continues to grow each year … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: Victoria Falls may not be the largest, or the sexiest, or the most hyped marathon in Africa. But unlike many American marathons, it continues to grow each year and for good reason. No other race on the planet promises immediate proximity to one of the Seven Natural Wonders of the World and a potential close encounter of the two-tusked kind. If you’re a Seven Continents hopeful or a traveling runner of any kind, I’d recommend you take a good long look at Vic Falls when planning your African adventure.

Other than the initial out-and-back across the bridge alongside the Falls, you won’t have the benefit of head-turning landscapes. The dusty two-loop course lacks compelling scenery, a fact made more conspicuous by having to run it twice. And even in winter, you should plan for a warm day—you can always be pleasantly surprised if cooler temperatures prevail. This is Africa, after all.

And yes, a disgruntled African elephant (the largest land mammal on the planet) wandered onto the course next to me in mile 15, an encounter that seemed to surprise us both. I’m proud to say I managed to give him clearance and still snap a photo, all without spooking him or soiling myself.

PRODUCTION: The organizers do a first-class job of hosting their third-world marathon. The Kingdom Hotel where we and many other runners stayed is a 3-minute walk from the start line, always a huge advantage. Likewise the outdoor expo held at the Kingdom Hotel was pleasantly small and easily navigated. At the expo we were able to sign up for shuttle service from the finish line back to the hotel on race day. And though shuttle service at the finish line at Vic Falls Primary School was a bit disorganized, the brief inconvenience was nothing that a bit of patience didn’t resolve.

The course could have used another aid station or two in the closing miles, and maybe a few more buckets of ice in which to store the water sachets. And there weren’t a whole lot of spectators, but then again that’s not really the expectation in a tourist town like Victoria Falls. Besides, I’m pretty sure my ears were still ringing from all the cheering at Comrades, so a low-key but well-supported race was just what this doctor ordered.

The course wasn’t closed to traffic, but on sparsely traveled two-lane roads this was never a concern, aside from the clouds of dust kicked up by passing vehicles. Though seeing discarded water sachets being blown into the underbrush by passing trucks was disheartening, and I hope the organizers and volunteers were able to find and collect them before the wildlife did.

SWAG: First time ever I received a finisher’s tanktop (rather than t-shirt), and an attractive one it is—eye-catching red and blue with the race logo emblazoned on front. And it was cool to see everyone wearing theirs at the finish line festival. I’m not a huge “suns out, guns out” guy with my runner’s physique, but I’m sure I’ll find ample use for it in the SoCal heat. The finisher’s medal is also nice, though small and understated, and depicts three (male?) runners with the Falls in the background. And despite its diminutive size, it’s still the largest of my African medals!

For more details including traveler’s tips for Zimbabwe, check out my race report at https://blisterscrampsheaves.com/2017/09/13/victoria-falls-marathon-race-report/

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BOTTOM LINE: Comrades is like no other running event in the world. It’s an audacious nickname to be sure, but the event lives up to its billing as “The Ultimate Human … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: Comrades is like no other running event in the world. It’s an audacious nickname to be sure, but the event lives up to its billing as “The Ultimate Human Race.” I’ve used the phrase “once in a lifetime” twice to describe races: once for the Antarctica Marathon and now for my first Comrades experience. And it’s that experience that keeps its finishers coming back 10, 20, 30, in some cases 40 times. I’d love to return to Boston someday, but I feel compelled to return to Comrades. This race will challenge you, it will inspire you, it will humble you. But most of all, it will change you.

They say you never forget your first. And now I get it.

The name says it all (though not the “Marathon” part, since the race itself is over 50 miles): you don’t run Comrades for the t-shirt and medal, though those are sweet perks. You run for the camaraderie and the community. You run to celebrate the spirit of brotherhood and humanity that unite us all—what the Zulu culture calls ubuntu. You run because there are no strangers between Durban and Pietermaritzburg, only friends you haven’t met yet. And you run to be part of something much bigger than yourself—17,000+ runners from 73 countries, all in pursuit of a common goal, all speaking a common language. The language of Comrades.

Unless you’re among the last-minute finishers or hooked up to an IV in the medical tent, the Comrades experience doesn’t end once you cross the finish line. Watching from the bleachers at the Scottsville Racecourse as the final few finishers struggled to beat the countdown to the 12-hour cutoff was one of the most gripping human dramas I’ve ever witnessed.

For prospective Comrades runners, if you have questions about any aspect of the race I’m sure @RorySteyn would be happy to answer them. He’s a fantastic ambassador and a wealth of information on all things Comrades, having crossed the finish line 12 times and earned a green number. Plus, he’s an incredibly generous and genuinely nice guy who knows pretty much everyone involved with the race.

PRODUCTION: Race production was flawless, as evidenced by the start corrals with 17,000 runners all crossing the line within eight minutes. And Comrades wouldn’t be the best race in the world without the best volunteers in the world. From packet pickup to on-course support to the unenviable job of forming a human wall at the 12-hour cutoff, the volunteers are as critical to the success of the race as the runners themselves. The difference being, they don’t take home a medal for their efforts.

The pre-race expo is so large, it even has its own food court. Rows upon rows of exhibitors, retailers, lounges, improvised stages and even massage stations filled the Durban Exhibition Centre. I’d recommend hitting the expo on Thursday or Friday to avoid the Saturday crush, since you don’t want to be on your feet any longer than necessary the day before the race. Separate lounge areas exist for newbies (“novices”), international runners and Green Number Club members to pull up a chair, grab a snack and chat with fellow runners while escaping the crowds. And international runners enjoy another underrated perk at the expo: a dedicated packet pickup line, which saved huge time by allowing me to bypass the Disneyland-length line of South African runners waiting to pick up their own packets. Seriously, the line looked like the wait for Space Mountain. International runners at Comrades are definitely treated like first-class citizens.

Speaking of which, Thursday evening also featured a highly recommended reception for international runners at a local hotel. The reception was well worth attending, as we met runners from around the globe as well as 9-time winner Bruce Fordyce and Cheryl Winn, the 1982 women’s winner and current Comrades Marathon Association Vice-Chair. Yet another benefit to being an international runner!

If you have a limited amount of time at the expo, I’d recommend you attend the back-to-back presentations at the Old Mutual tent by Lindsey Parry (the official Comrades coach) and Norrie Williamson (19-time finisher and official course measurer). Each man shares valuable expertise, insights and guidance to help you prepare for race day, along with pace bands that are either free (in Williamson’s case) or which can be purchased for a nominal fee (in Parry’s case, which turned out to be a smart call since Williamson’s bands were quickly snatched up by the “If it’s free, gimme three!” crowd). Coach Parry’s pace bands are temporary tattoos you can affix to your forearm, as I did on race day to track my progress.

SWAG: The smallest medal in road racing may also be the most coveted. With 92 years of history behind it, there’s a singular power and beauty to the quarter-sized medallion on its simple black-and-yellow ribbon. After all, it’s not the size of the medal you earn, it’s the size of the mettle that earned it. And when you’re the best in the world, you don’t need to change for anyone. I could go on to gush about the cool race t-shirt and wicking runner’s cap, but that’s hardly going to sway your decision on whether to run the Ultimate Human Race.

Here are my eight tips for conquering the Comrades Marathon up run:

1) Self-discipline is the key—don’t start too fast. If you find yourself running comfortably in the first few km, you’re probably going too fast.

2) Nothing new on race day—this goes for gear and nutrition. One possible exception is the official Comrades cap you’ll receive at the expo, though I opted against that too.

3) Dial in your nutrition early, before the day heats up and your stomach goes rogue.

4) Don’t underestimate the heat—Much will be made of the 2,500 ft of net climbing in the first half, and for good reason… but don’t discount the beatdown awaiting you courtesy of heat & sun exposure in the second half. International runners, this means you.

5) Focus on your breathing—when the going gets tough, deep breaths with a regular “inhale for 3 steps, exhale for 4 steps” cadence can help you relax and regain a sense of control.

6) Every step forward—if your primary focus is to finish within 12 hours, every step you take should bring you one step closer to the finish. And don’t stop moving at aid stations.

7) Expect the unexpected—e.g. many runners battled nasty cramps—and be ready to adapt.

8) Stay positive—when you’ve got nothing left to give, give a smile (I read that on the sidewalk at the Eugene Marathon).

Comrades Marathon resources I leaned on (in addition to @RorySteyn):

– Lindsey Parry’s podcast “RUN with Coach Parry”—especially its archives—is a treasure trove of expertise and insights from the official Comrades coach; older episodes are less than ten minutes each, so you can listen to several at a time. Coach Parry also has some very good content on YouTube.
– Norrie Williamson, 19-time finisher and official course measurer, recently relaunched his website (https://www.coachnorrie.co.za/); the current content is a bit outdated, but his Comrades calculator will give you a reliable sense for your projected finish time based on training mileage and recent performances.
– Bruce Fordyce’s blog (https://www.brucefordyce.com/blog) is another invaluable source of tips & tricks. And though I’ve not read them yet, both volumes of his “Fordyce Diaries”—Conquering the Up as well as Tackling a Down Run—are available as e-books exclusively on the site. If anyone can teach you to conquer Comrades, it’s the man who won it nine times!
– Our friends at Marathon Tours & Travel helped out with logistics, flights and lodging for Comrades and for our post-race travels in South Africa.

For the complete narrative of an amazing race day, check out my two-part blog recap at: https://blisterscrampsheaves.com/2017/08/07/comrades-marathon-race-report-part-1/

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BOTTOM LINE: Way Too Cool earns its name, from the awesome scenery to the race day temperatures to the chilly water that awaits at every stream crossing. As the largest … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: Way Too Cool earns its name, from the awesome scenery to the race day temperatures to the chilly water that awaits at every stream crossing. As the largest trail race in the country, it’s a bucket list event for serious dirtbags. And you may never find a more scenic and diverse course than the network of trails you’ll follow on your 30+ mile journey along the Middle Fork of the American River Canyon and through the Auburn State Recreation Area. The North Face Endurance Challenge, my benchmark for trail races in California, is a much different course than WTC—its jaw-dropping vistas of the Pacific Ocean and Golden Gate Bridge notwithstanding, the trails and scenery at TNFEC are less varied than at WTC.

The reasonably challenging course (4,000 ft of elevation gain/loss) is predominantly single-track with no two-way traffic, so slower runners need never worry about the possibility of colliding with speedier oncoming elite and sub-elite runners. There’s even significant overlap (roughly 12 miles) with the iconic Western States 100 Trail. Along the way you’ll have the occasional croaking of the locals (it’s frog mating season in Cool) to relax your mind and remind you that you’re far away from the chaotic hustle and bustle of urbania. Plus, in early March you can be confident of cooler race day temps—the real variable when it comes to the weather is how wet you’ll get.

The icing on the cake at WTC is… well, the icing on the cake. Cupcake that is, since you’ll have the opportunity to enjoy the race’s signature frog cupcakes at the finish line festival. What better way to quickly normalize blood sugar levels?

PRODUCTION: Smooth sailing with no real complaints. Pre-race packet pickup gave us an opportunity to support the local Auburn Running Company, which feels like a shrine of sorts to the iconic Western States 100 Endurance Run.

Race day itself flowed seamlessly: the course was well marked with ribbons, leaving no chance for a wrong turn even after my mind switched over to auto-pilot mode in the later miles. And the finish-line festival offered one of the more interesting assortment of vendor tents, with the presenting sponsor Clif Bar joined by GU, Camelbak, Dickey’s BBQ, Red Bull, Sufferfest Brewing, Salomon, Rock Tape, KaiaFit, Squirrel’s Nut Butter (great to prevent chafing!) and Monsters of Massage.

Aside from the number of stream crossings, the only real issue for most runners will be the sparsity of aid stations, which were few and far between at miles 8, 14, 19, 26 and (I think) 29. Thanks to the cooler temps I didn’t need to carry my own hydration, but I did bring my own baby food pouches just in case I felt my blood sugar dropping.

*A note about parking: At our pre-race dinner the night before (at La Fornaretta, a comfy Italian restaurant in nearby Newcastle), there was anxious discussion about how early folks—including several WTC veterans—were planning to arrive the next morning to secure a good parking spot. Many folks planned to show up over two hours early and nap in their cars, just so they’d be assured of a parking spot as close to the start line as possible. Not willing to forego that much sleep but wanting to play it safe, Katie and I decided to show up just over an hour before the start (way early for us)—and we ended up parking easily in the empty “overflow” lot of the local Holiday Market, no more than a five-minute walk from the start line. Other cars continued to park near us for the next hour or so as we sat waiting. IN OTHER WORDS, PARKING IS EASY NO MATTER WHAT TIME YOU GET THERE. Cool is a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it town so there’s no traffic, even on race day. Many runners park directly adjacent to the fire station (start line) on St. Florian Ct, which the race organizers close to traffic an hour or so before the race, But there’s no need to park that close unless maybe you’re expecting heavy rain and want immediate access to your car after the race. And you’ll benefit much more from the two+ hours of extra sleep than from the primo parking spot.

SWAG: Not much to recommend here. Honestly, the shirt was awful—a thin, poorly fitting Greenlayer tee that went immediately into the donation pile. Luckily the finisher medal was better, small and simply designed with the race name and frog logo (apparently the medal is the same every year, the only difference being ribbon color). The swag was the only aspect of the race that wasn’t way too cool, though trail races get the benefit of the doubt since trail runners tend not to be swagophiles like the typical road runner. If only cupcakes counted as swag…

Want to know more about the WTC 50K? Check out my race report at https://blisterscrampsheaves.com/2017/04/19/way-too-cool-50k-race-report/

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BOTTOM LINE: Surf City is classic SoCal – 19+ miles of the course (10 on the Pacific Coast Highway, another 9.5 on the beach path) are run along the coast … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: Surf City is classic SoCal – 19+ miles of the course (10 on the Pacific Coast Highway, another 9.5 on the beach path) are run along the coast and within a few yards of the beach and ocean, with the remaining 7 miles run as a loop around Huntington Beach Central Park and its surrounding neighborhood. Unlike Big Sur, where you run high up on PCH overlooking the Pacific for 21 miles, at Surf City you’re at sea level pretty much the whole time (elevation gain/loss for the course is 269 ft/259 ft, with a minimum elevation of –3 ft). And while I’ve heard some runners admit to “beach fatigue” caused by the two out-and-backs that parallel the coastline, I’ll never argue with the opportunity to run within sight of the Pacific Ocean on a Hwy 1 that’s closed to traffic. It’s awesome. That said, I can understand how the half marathon might be considered the perfect distance for this race, since 10 miles of the course runs along PCH and back, without the extra out-and-back miles along the beach path that the marathoners run.

True to its theme, the course featured live bands playing surf music, which was a cool feel-good touch. And though spectator support was predictably mellow (it’s SoCal, after all), around the park in particular exuberant kid volunteers greeted runners with boisterous cries and creative cheers such as “Hey runner, you’re so fine, you’re so fine you blow my mind, hey RUNNER! {clap clap, clap clap} hey RUNNER!”. I always appreciate spectators going the (pun ahead!) extra mile to give runners a psychological boost, since they could just as easily be doing anything else—like sleeping in.

In the past couple of years, the weather for Surf City (which is always run on Super Bowl Sunday) has been sunny and overly warm, but this year’s race was absolutely perfect – cloudy and 50-something for the duration. Always a huge plus when the biggest variable of ‘em all works in your favor.

PRODUCTION: Nearly flawless. Aside from the fact that Huntington Beach is tough to get to logistically (owing to its distance from any major freeway), an oversized tent right on the beach was the ideal venue for the pre-race expo. The wave start on race morning flowed smoothly, leading to plenty of elbow room within 100 yards of the start. Aid stations (which I largely bypassed) were very well organized and fully stocked with even more goodies than advertised. The CLIF Shot Energy Zone along PCH was particularly well marked with bright signage that could be seen well in advance. Not only that, but spectators along the route were handing out their own oranges and Clif Bloks. I didn’t pay much attention to the post-race munchies since I rarely eat after a race, but the chocolate milk, free Sam Adams Beer Garden and proximity to the Pacific Ocean convinced me to stick around for a while. No need to twist my arm…

The lone exception to the flawless production was that somehow, mile 16 was 0.3 miles too long so that my Garmin – which up to that point had been amazingly in sync with the mile markers – read 16.3 miles when I hit the mile 16 marker. And since my final tally ended up at 26.5 miles, the next 10.2 miles were clearly spot-on as well. So unlike the typical marathon where my Garmin gradually falls behind the mile markers and finishes at around 26.4 miles, in this case the entire 0.3-mile discrepancy happened in one mile. No big deal to those of us who were running this as a chill training run, but I feel for anyone trying to qualify for Boston on Surf City’s flat, otherwise BQ-friendly course.

SWAG: I love the classic Surf City logo and any swag that displays it. This year’s overly clever and artistic sneaker design notwithstanding, the long sleeve tech shirt is always a keeper, and as a bonus Surf City is one of the few races around that offers gender-specific shirts (I read a stat somewhere that only 4% of races offer gender-specific shirts). The medal is also eye-catching, a shiny gold souvenir the size of a coaster that smartly showcases the traditional wooden surfboard. Definitely worth running an extra 0.3 miles for. 😉

DIFFICULTY
2
PRODUCTION
4
SCENERY
5
SWAG
4
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Whether you’re a 50 stater or just seeking a great race, I can tell you with conviction Baton Rouge is just the place. With Deep South hospitality and lagniappe to … MORE

Whether you’re a 50 stater
or just seeking a great race,
I can tell you with conviction
Baton Rouge is just the place.

With Deep South hospitality
and lagniappe to spare,
you get the sense the folks in charge
do really give a care.

Logistics are easy, the course shows off
the campus and the town,
and ‘cross the finish line awaits
the best post-race fest around.

Free photos, awesome volunteers,
aid stations laid out well—
if the devil’s in the details
Louisiana gives ‘em hell.

Sure, the swag may not excite
with simple shirt and bling.
But ask me would I run again?
No doubt—and that’s the thing.

So a final word for runners
looking for a top-notch show:
Baton Rouge, Louisiana
is the place you want to geaux!

#GeauxRunLA

For a more detailed narrative—most of it in prose—see my race report at https://blisterscrampsheaves.com/2017/02/17/louisiana-marathon-race-report/

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2
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5
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3
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The first thing you’re likely to notice about this race is the name—you’ll want to pay attention to that. This is a one-of-a-kind trial-by-fire, and if you’re an endurance snob … MORE

The first thing you’re likely to notice about this race is the name—you’ll want to pay attention to that. This is a one-of-a-kind trial-by-fire, and if you’re an endurance snob who looks down on shorter distances, trust me you’ll look up to this one. Pulling into the parking lot adjacent to the race venue, my brother @CSohaskey and I immediately noted the number of vehicles sporting “26.2” stickers; clearly this was not your typical family-friendly 10K. This was a race that attracted masochists and those in search of a singular challenge. And they’d found it in quiet, suburban Newbury Park.

What makes this the Toughest 10K in the USA is of course the hills, made more challenging by the uneven, single-track dirt trails used to access them. By the time I reached mile 4, I found myself longing for a nice flat 26 miles. My brother’s Garmin recorded a total elevation gain/loss change of 2,123 ft while mine logged 1,954 ft up/1,945 ft down. Ironically, in 76 races this was the first timed 10K I’ve ever run, so it’s now officially my 10K personal best and less than 12 minutes short of my half marathon PR.

The race begins (and ends) with ~½ mile on asphalt, circling the Newbury Park Academy that doubles as the staging area before transitioning to dirt and making its first real ascent. This initial uphill is steep enough to require your second (and third) wind, and will cue the nervous voices in your head to start questioning what you’ve gotten yourself into. This is just a warm-up though, so don’t listen to them since the rest of the course will only get steeper. And keep in mind the uphills are the easy part—after all, what goes up must come down. That said, at each peak you’ll be rewarded not only with an aid station but also with amazing panoramic views in all directions. To the victors go the spoils.

Much of the course is narrow single-track, so at the same time you’re babysitting your own suspect footing, you’ll be watching out for other runners approaching in the opposite direction at varying speeds and varying levels of body control. On one steep grade I put a momentary scare into the woman ahead of me, who could hear me shuffling quickly downhill toward her and was bracing for the collision that (fortunately) never came. On another descent—a narrow single-track with slanted sides and a narrow groove down the middle that made for tenuous footing—I could hear the fellow just ahead of me respond to the steep grade in real time: “Shit, shit, shit…” before finally regaining control of his momentum. At one point, hoping to slow my own momentum I reached out to grab a thin branch which broke off in my hand as I slid by. Sorry, Mother Nature.

Despite all this, I lost my footing and ended up on my backside only twice. And I never fell forward (this is the key to success—your butt was designed to land on, your face was not). And though the Toughest 10K is a definite challenge and a race your quads won’t soon forget (my left quad and IT band were still tight 5 days after the race—5 days after a 10K!), it’s not a dangerous course. As long as you maintain focus, take your time and avoid being reckless, you’ll get up and down just fine. Unlike the Mount Marathon course in Alaska where runners routinely cross the finish line bruised and bloodied—and where one fellow disappeared mid-race, never to be heard from again—this was not a group of reckless runners. Everyone was careful and courteous, and even the two 70-year-olds in the group eventually found their way down from the hills, completing half a loop on the Newbury Park Academy dirt track before finishing on the field.

The Toughest 10K isn’t cheap—we paid $65 a month before the race—but then again for an experience this unique, the price is actually very reasonable. Certainly more so than a $190 Disney half marathon. And given that my calves, quads and IT bands have a year to forgive & forget, I can definitely see myself running again next year.

Pro tip: For greater success on uphills, power-hike with your palms resting on the tops of your quads, to help drive each leg downward like a piston. I followed this strategy at Ice Age, and it helped tremendously by lowering my center of gravity, improving my balance and providing more power on steep ascents. And on particularly steep descents, sideways is the only way to go.

PRODUCTION: Low-key and easy peasy, as befitting a race of ~100 finishers. We rolled up 30 minutes before the 7:30am start, parked next door in The Home Depot lot and quickly picked up our bib, timing chip and t-shirt. This left plenty of time to visit the indoor restrooms at the Newbury Park Academy. There’s something very special about low-key trail races, particularly when you can talk your intrepid brother into running with you. The course was well marked, so there was no concern about taking a wrong turn and, you know, accidentally bypassing one of the killer climbs. 🙂 And Alex, who was manning the finish line mic, enthusiastically announced each and every approaching finisher while encouraging others in the crowd to cheer them across. Thanks, Alex!

After taking a start line selfie with all his runners, race director Caleb encouraged us to take our time, hike the steeper hills sideways to slow our momentum, and basically treat the race as a beautiful 6-mile hike. And he and his team had an impressive post-race party awaiting us at the finish on the Newbury Academy sports field, with plenty of snacks (see photo), a few interesting sponsor tents, a raffle for cool prizes and a series of competitions that I watched while seated atop a foam roller—including a 40-yard dash (yes, you read that right), a push-up contest and a plank competition in which the 67-year-old winner held perfect planking posture for over EIGHT minutes. So much for 6-second abs.

SWAG (see photo): It’s been a while since I got a cotton race t-shirt, but this one’s a definite keeper with the wicked course profile printed on front, and in fact I’ve already worn it proudly a couple of times. The medal too is unusually eye-catching for a trail race, depicting (what else?) the hills of Newbury Park, so your quads will always be reminded of what they accomplished, even after the joyful muscle memory fades.

DIFFICULTY
5
PRODUCTION
5
SCENERY
4
SWAG
4
My Media

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BOTTOM LINE: The race name says it all—the iconic International Orange landmark that attracts tourists from all over the world is the main attraction of this race. And it’s worth … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: The race name says it all—the iconic International Orange landmark that attracts tourists from all over the world is the main attraction of this race. And it’s worth the price of admission. Not counting relays, this is one of only four races I know of—the other three being the SF Marathon, Rock ‘n’ Roll SF Half and Across the Bay 12K—that crosses the Golden Gate Bridge on foot. And whether it’s a clear day, or a foggy day, or a windy day, or a rainy day, I’ll never turn down a chance to run the bridge, especially with the added bonus of not having to dodge pedestrians on the walkways. I’ve run this race 3x now (twice in its original iteration as the U.S. Half) and could happily run it 20x more without ever tiring of the course—from the start in Aquatic Park through Fort Mason and the Presidio, to the bridge itself, to the quick down-and-back-up turnaround on the north side of the bridge, to Fort Point for a cool underside view, to the final mile along the marina before finishing in Fort Mason. San Francisco is the most beautiful city in the world, and if you don’t like running here then you probably aren’t cut out for urban running.

Three things for first-timers to keep in mind: 1) In foggy or rainy weather, footing can be slick on the bridge’s steel access panels; 2) If you’re looking to set a personal best and this isn’t your first half marathon, you’ve come to the wrong place—this is San Francisco in all its hilly glory, and you’re more likely to enjoy the ride if you ease off the accelerator and focus on the journey rather than the destination; 3) This is always a crowded race, and for back-of-the-packers the first few miles can be tough to find elbow room. So if you’re a faster runner and want to ensure you can run at your own pace, do yourself a favor and don’t get stuck waiting for the porta-potties when the starter’s pistol fires, as I’ve done twice now. Line up close to the front of the start corral so you don’t waste valuable energy weaving around slower runners.

PRODUCTION: Smooth as silk, for the most part. Sure there weren’t enough porta-potties, but then again there rarely are at road races, and if I’m planning to run a serious race I take no chances and hit the lines early. As far as the expo, it was small and easily navigated—we showed up on Saturday afternoon (race was on Sunday) and picked up our packets lickety-split with no waiting. The course was well-marked, not that making a wrong turn is a concern when you’re following several thousand people the entire way. And there were a couple of out-and-backs including opposite sides of the bridge, where you could keep an eye out for friends coming the other way.

Despite the chilly weather, the SF Marina is an awesome place to finish a race. The highlight of the post-race party was catching up with fellow Raving Lunatics @kenspruell, @JennyMax and @emcclendon and enjoying a complimentary beer at the Sierra Nevada tent—never a bad idea after a 13.1-mile effort. And for those who brought their wallets, several opportunistic food trucks were serving coffee, donuts and other offerings. One production-related glitch: finish line volunteers handed out nice GGH-branded water bottles (which I now use regularly) but didn’t bother to make finishers aware of the huge jugs of water available near the back of the chaotic finish chute, so that several of us were left carrying empty water bottles while absentmindedly hunting for water.

SWAG: I’m torn on this one; thus the 3-shoe rating. On the one hand the medal scores high marks for doing exactly what it should do—it features the Golden Gate Bridge (see photo, and note that 5K finishers weren’t so lucky), and for that reason it’s an eye-catching conversation starter. On the other hand the shirt is disappointing—a black tech shirt with ¾-length sleeves and an attractive-enough design, but with a sloppy neckline that made it look like a woman’s blouse on me and which earned it an immediate trip to the recycle pile. It also proclaimed “FINISHER” in huge white letters on the back, which seemed a bit presumptuous given how many runners wore the shirt *during* the race. Overall I’m much more of a medal guy than a shirt guy, so I’d say I came out ahead. 🙂

DIFFICULTY
3
PRODUCTION
4
SCENERY
5
SWAG
3
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BOTTOM LINE: Let’s start with the positives. As a Ragnar rookie, it’s now clear to me the Ragnar experience hinges on one thing: camaraderie. Ragnar is a mobile adult slumber … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: Let’s start with the positives. As a Ragnar rookie, it’s now clear to me the Ragnar experience hinges on one thing: camaraderie. Ragnar is a mobile adult slumber party, and if you’re a social runner who leaps at the chance to spend lots of quality time with 11 friends (hopefully friends!), you’re likely to come away with positive memories that—like the official beverage of Napa Valley—get better with age. On top of that, this particular relay features plenty of amazing scenery, from the majesty of the Golden Gate Bridge to the early morning fog swaddling the Napa vineyards. Throw in picture-perfect weather like we had this year, and it’s a great way to see a gorgeous stretch of the Bay Area on foot. As a bonus, our Ragnarmobile was the envy of everyone thanks to @cperrydds, who outfitted his truck with a rollaway food/equipment storage bin, a converted sleep station for two and a mobile ice bath attached to the front of the truck (see photo).

All that said, the organizers of this event were clearly asleep at the wheel, as though they were the ones who’d been awake for 24+ hours. Our team was stopped not once but *twice* late in the event—after legs 24 and 30—for roughly 90 minutes each time after outrunning our own expectations. In fact, by the time they released us and many other teams from our holding pattern after leg 30, the start line of leg 31 boasted more runners than had the actual race start on Friday morning. Despite that speed bump, we still finished as runners-up in our division. I’ve never organized a race myself, but I’m pretty sure the one thing you don’t ask your runners to do is STOP RUNNING during the event. All because the course permits apparently weren’t secured ahead of time. Who green lights a race without securing the permits ahead of time?? This reminded me of the Wile E. Coyote cartoon where he’s frantically laying down the track ahead of the speeding train. The situation was bewildering, and again were it not for the camaraderie of some awesome teammates, the combination of frustration and sleep deprivation could easily have led to a serious meltdown in the wee hours of the morning.

So as much as we all agree we’d love to get the band back together for another relay adventure, this won’t be the one. Maybe the Golden Gate Relay in May, since I ran that nonstop back in 2010…

PRODUCTION: Ouch, see above. Not only was the production severely lacking, but I was disappointed—though not surprised—to discover that Ragnar, the big glossy corporate machine that sends me twice-weekly emails urging me to buy their gear or sign up for another event, dispatched untrained high school-age volunteers to man key exchange points. Apparently the unfortunate volunteers were there simply to sit out in the cold and record bib numbers, with no working knowledge of the event or (in the two most important cases) why we were being detained.

I also encountered a couple of confusing junctures—including one in the pitch black of leg 31 in Spring Lake Park—where directional signage was absent. If not for a fellow runner familiar with the course, I likely would have wasted valuable time (and all time is valuable when you’re running on no sleep at 6:00am) playing “choose your own adventure,” which is beyond frustrating and easily avoided by throwing down a few more signs. And I know that at least a couple of my teammates weren’t so lucky and ended up taking wrong turns of their own.

Post-race food consisted of two free mediocre made-to-order pizzas per team, though honestly the last thing you’ll want to do after running and driving for 24+ hours is hang around the finish line area. So instead, once hugs are exchanged and team photos taken, I’d recommend regrouping at the nearby Gott’s Roadside adjacent to the Oxbow Public Market in Napa for a satisfying post-race meal and debriefing.

SWAG: Nicely done on both the Reebok shirt and medals (see photos), though admittedly I’m biased since I received an extra medal for running the “Ragnar Leg”—the longest of the 36 legs—early on the second morning. Curiously, the backs of the 12 medals fit together to recreate the Ragnar logo and a motivational message of some kind, though the purpose of this design detail aside from further branding is unclear since it’s neither conspicuous nor delightful.

DIFFICULTY
3
PRODUCTION
1
SCENERY
5
SWAG
4
My Media

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BOTTOM LINE: Enjoy trails? Want a terrific race day experience? You’ll never go wrong with Brazen. And that’s saying something since Sam, Jasmin & the team produce 26 races a … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: Enjoy trails? Want a terrific race day experience? You’ll never go wrong with Brazen. And that’s saying something since Sam, Jasmin & the team produce 26 races a year. This was my 12th Brazen race (and my first since 2012, after which I moved to SoCal) and the experience was just as awesome as I remember. I even had the good fortune to meet a lot of amazing Brazenites and RaceRaves am-badass-adors in person for the first time at Goonies, which made the morning that much more special. Definitely looking forward to seeing my new friends again soon, before another four years elapse!

Brazen has the most devoted following in the Bay Area and maybe the state, and that’s no hyperbole—136 (and counting) “streakers” including @mikebeckwith, @greeneyegirl9 and @ravyoly have run every Brazen race in a single calendar year, and some have done it more than once. You don’t command that kind of loyalty without taking pride in your product and caring deeply about your runners. The Brazen experience means family-friendly events, scenic yet challenging (!) courses, awesome swag and a post-race spread fit for a king. Even if you’re the last runner to cross the finish line a feast awaits you, so leave your craving for dry bagels at home.

Goonies is the quintessential Brazen course, run on hilly trails (mostly dirt) through a hidden gem of a regional park (Lagoon Valley) with rewarding views of the park and lagoon. This in fact is one of Brazen’s strengths—Sam & Jasmin have the Midas Touch with their ability to find relatively unknown, out-of-the-way green spaces throughout the Bay Area (even in far-away Vacaville) and spin them into trail running gold. Lagoon Valley isn’t as hilly as some of their other courses, but it’s definitely hilly enough, and your calves and quads will no doubt agree. Admittedly it wasn’t my favorite of their courses—that would be Wildcat (with its views out over the SF Bay), and Rocky Ridge (toughest half marathon in the state!)—in part because it included two identical loops. But I actually appreciated the two-loop route at Lagoon Valley since I was able to get a sense for the hills in loop one and then pace myself accordingly in loop two. And my personal highlight at Goonies was a paved mile 12 that, thanks to its downhill trajectory, allowed me to build up a head of steam and notch my first-ever sub-7:00 mile on a Brazen course. Flying recklessly down that hill with only a mile remaining was an incredible feeling.

PRODUCTION: From the runners to the photographers to the volunteers who mark the course, work the aid stations and hand out medals, everyone is part of the Brazen family. And corny as it may sound, as a runner you’ll feel like part of that family. But there’s nothing clique-y about a Brazen event—the team offers an early start for hikers, and in his pre-race announcements Sam makes sure to ask about first-timers and warn new trail runners that they should carry a course map to avoid taking a wrong turn. That said, the course at Lagoon Valley was so well marked with colored ribbons and flour arrows that even with my miserable sense of direction, I never missed a beat. Everything ran smoothly in Lagoon Valley, from parking to packet pickup (both a breeze) to the race itself. Turns out the course was roughly 0.2 miles short (my Garmin read 12.9 miles) due to the turnaround being in the wrong place, but I learned long ago as a trail runner to leave the type-A mindset at home, and +/– mileage on trails doesn’t faze me. The race itself is too much fun for that.

SWAG: With 26 events per year, you couldn’t fault the Brazen crew for mailing it in and designing a reusable template for their shirts and medals. But they don’t. On the contrary, their t-shirt and medal designs stand out in my collection, and their swag consistently gets rave reviews from their runners. I’m not a huge t-shirt guy (they even give runners the option to opt out of the tee and subtract $5 from the registration fee), but the Goonies skull-and-crossbones design is strong, and strategic parts of the medal glow in the dark (see photo). Sam even designed new age-group medallions specifically for Goonies, just as he had for their previous Tarantula race in Los Vaqueros. Just another example of the attention to detail that made Brazen the 2015 Best Trail Racing Series of the Pacific West region, according to Competitor Magazine. And unless the voting is rigged 🙂 , look for them to reclaim their title in 2016.

DIFFICULTY
4
PRODUCTION
5
SCENERY
4
SWAG
5
My Media

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BOTTOM LINE: Like its pleasant yet average host city, the Omaha Marathon is a pleasant yet average race. To this outsider Omaha was largely nondescript, and if you didn’t know … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: Like its pleasant yet average host city, the Omaha Marathon is a pleasant yet average race. To this outsider Omaha was largely nondescript, and if you didn’t know where you were you’d be hard-pressed at any point to identify what city you’re running through. So it’s definitely not the most memorable course you’ll run, but then again it’s a golden opportunity to tour (per the race website) “Nebraska’s most vibrant city”. And the course lies entirely within the state border, a plus for me since I was there to fill my brain with Omaha and Nebraska, like a student cramming for final exams.

(Each of the city’s two other marathons, the Heartland Marathon on Oct. 2 and the Nebraska Marathon on Oct. 16, includes significant mileage in Iowa—though why the 43rd most populous city in the country needs three marathons all within a month of each other is unclear. I sense a bit of civic competition!)

The city aside, the race itself felt like a faceless event devoid of personality and going through the motions. It felt detached from rather than integrated into the community, and it certainly didn’t seem to draw much interest from residents. On-course entertainment was lacking (unless you count a small number of spectator signs), and without aid stations we would have run in silence for most of the 26.2 miles—no high-school bands, no speakers pumping in aural adrenaline, no music of any kind. Even the music at the start line felt apologetic, its volume so low as to be nearly inaudible.

I certainly don’t mind smaller, quieter events—in fact I prefer them, and here some of my favorite races spring to mind, including Run Crazy Horse, the Mississippi Blues Marathon and the Hatfield McCoy Marathon. The difference, as their names suggest, is that these events focus on and embrace the local culture, giving runners a legitimate sense of place. Would you rather run the “Jackson Marathon” or the Mississippi Blues Marathon? The “Eastern Kentucky Marathon” or Hatfield McCoy? Not only that, but the swag for each of these races featured a “surprise & delight” nod to local culture (e.g. a harmonica from Mississippi Blues, a mason jar from Hatfield McCoy). The best race organizers understand that details matter.

The lone kernel of Nebraska culture on this morning was the runner dressed as an ear of corn who I saw shortly after the turnaround. On the bright side, the race was a solid value at $85 (plus inconvenience fees) and significantly cheaper than Omaha’s two other marathons. Though given the Nebraska Marathon’s competitive slogan of “Run local”, I’m guessing its organizers may do more to recognize and embrace local culture.

PRODUCTION: All things considered, I wasn’t surprised to learn that HITS Endurance, which produces the race, is based in New York and is “the largest equine show jumping production company in the world” (equine as in horses). The Omaha Marathon is currently the only running event on the company’s calendar, along with a handful of triathlons. Race production struck me as color-by-numbers and just good enough to get by, as though someone had watched a two-minute YouTube video or read a primer on “How to produce a marathon”.

Overall the day ran smoothly enough with no major speed bumps, and kudos to both the organizers and the Omaha police for resolving the pre-race shooting incident as quickly as possible and with minimal disruption to the event itself. At the same time, several missed opportunities throughout the weekend suggested a lack of attention to detail.

First, the expo was disappointing—the five or six tents set up in the parking lot of TD Ameritrade Park were of little interest and seemed scarcely targeted toward runners, including the vendor closest to the entrance who handed us each individually wrapped slices of bread. I could practically hear the planet groaning underfoot.

In addition to the concerns above and the color-by-numbers feel of the production, aid stations were inefficiently organized. Race organizers who pay attention to detail will ensure that water and sports drink (in this case Heed) are offered in visually distinct cups so you can tell at a glance which is which. In the heat of Omaha I had to expend energy at each aid station asking for water, since everything was served in white cups. Not only that but unlike Gatorade, Heed is clear and so indistinguishable from water, thus adding to the confusion. Though this didn’t prevent volunteers from mistakenly shouting “Gatorade!” at every aid station.

The post-race spread, though not terrible, was typical: bananas, oranges, dry bagels, an oversized open jar of peanut butter and a container of jelly with flies buzzing happily around it in the heat. No local vendors offering samples or selling food, something I always appreciate as an easy way to showcase the community to a receptive audience. Dan did manage to score us some chocolate milk from a cooler of ice.

Individually these may sound like the nitpicky ramblings of a high-maintenance runner, but while none are make-or-break details, together they’re a clear indication of how well an event production company knows its stuff—and maybe more importantly, how much it cares.

SWAG (see photo): Other than surviving the heat, the highlight of the Omaha Marathon may have been the swag, most of all the impressively sized medal that passes the “heft test” and which is now among the largest in my collection. The age group award—a colorful certificate in a curved & beveled acrylic frame—was an unexpected bonus; luckily I stuck around to claim it, since it would have cost me $10 to have it shipped. And the race shirt is a nicely designed, dark blue & green long-sleeve tech tee that will come in handy during the harsh Los Angeles winters.

For everything you ever wanted to know about the Omaha Marathon but were afraid to ask, check out my race report at https://wp.me/p2rSqE-1jL

DIFFICULTY
2
PRODUCTION
3
My Report
SCENERY
3
SWAG
4
My Media

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BOTTOM LINE: Don’t sleep on Kentucky — Hatfield McCoy is a hidden gem of the marathon (and half marathon) scene. Even if you’re not a 50 Stater, I’d recommend the … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: Don’t sleep on Kentucky — Hatfield McCoy is a hidden gem of the marathon (and half marathon) scene. Even if you’re not a 50 Stater, I’d recommend the race for its low-key ambience and peaceful, bucolic course that thumbs its nose at the modern, anxiety-ridden American lifestyle. Hearing only your own breathing and footfalls on the quiet, densely wooded back roads will relax your mind and make you feel like you’ve run back in time to a simpler era. The rustic setting is surprisingly scenic & beautiful, with the least appealing part being the start in the Food City parking lot. Plus, the people are among the friendliest you’ll meet anywhere, from the organizers to every volunteer who selflessly donated their time to stand out in the heat so the rest of us could run — especially the two good-natured fellows who played the roles of Hatfield and McCoy, wearing long sleeves + long pants and agreeably standing under the sweltering sun for HOURS to greet finishers and pose for pictures. Every man, woman & child was amazing.

The ever-changing course is challenging in that it rolls quite a bit, with notable hills in miles 7 and (ouch) 24. Luckily the first 20 miles are well shaded, since heat was a definite factor this year as indicated by a winning time of 3:13:22. In an age of ever-escalating registration fees and new events that don’t merit the expense, the HMM is also a tremendous value — I paid only $80 (plus a $6.20 inconvenience fee) two days before the race.

Granted the race’s remote setting — the closest “city” is Charleston WV, 80 miles away and we stayed in Pikeville KY, 25 miles away — works against it, making it difficult to attract first-timers and the more casual runners targeted by large urban marathons. On the other hand, that remoteness is a huge part of its charm. So if you’re willing to travel a bit out of your way, and unless you’re a runner who absolutely needs screaming spectators and rowdy on-course entertainment, do yourself a favor and check out the Hatfields & McCoys.

PRODUCTION: On point, from pre-race to post-finish. Race-day packet pickup couldn’t have been easier, though as a courtesy I’d avoid parking in the Food City lot if you plan to leave your car there all morning. But at 6:30am there was plenty of parking there as well as in the nearby lots recommended by the organizers. And while “More porta-potties!” is typically the race-day rallying cry of runners everywhere, there were more than enough of those at the start as well, with a relatively small group to accommodate.

Luckily traffic was sparse on the narrow roads and so not much of a concern. The course itself was well marked for the most part — even with my subpar sense of direction I never took a wrong turn, though more signage in a couple of spots (e.g. the end of River Rd in mile 18 where the course enters the golf course) would have been helpful. Thanks to the heat I made frequent use of the aid stations, where awesome volunteers were always ready with ice water, Gatorade, and even icy sponges. Given the lack of shade after mile 20 a couple more aid stations in the last five miles wouldn’t have been unwelcome, particularly for those who didn’t have a Katie taking care of them.

Hats off to the dedicated folks manning the post-race grills in the 90°F heat, making hot dogs & hamburgers available to hungry finishers. It being 2016 and all, a veggie option would have been a nice addition to the post-race spread, though in fairness my own stomach wasn’t ready to tackle solid food anyway.

SWAG: The finisher medal is unique in being shaped like a mason jar, even if it is an odd milky gray color (maybe that’s the white lightning?). And rather than the cheaply made, unflattering race tee I’ve come to expect from smaller races, the white HMM tee with stylish mesh side panels fits beautifully. As a complement to the standard shirt-&-medal combo provided at every road race, all finishers even received a nifty mason jar adorned with the race logo — another cool hometown detail that sets the Hatfield McCoy Marathon apart.

For more details — including a first-person account of Muhammad Ali’s memorial service, held in Louisville the same weekend — check out my blog report at https://blisterscrampsheaves.com/2016/06/29/hatfield-mccoy-marathon-race-report/

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BOTTOM LINE: If you’re a runner looking to make the leap to the 50-mile distance, do yourself a favor and check out the Ice Age Trail 50. It’s the perfect … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: If you’re a runner looking to make the leap to the 50-mile distance, do yourself a favor and check out the Ice Age Trail 50. It’s the perfect course for 50-mile newbies, a reasonably challenging hybrid of runnable flats and hikable hills. Well-groomed dirt and grass trails make up the bulk of the terrain, which isn’t particularly technical despite numerous rocky ascents & descents (gaiters will help keep those rocks out of your shoes). And speaking of ascents, there are a few relatively steep hills but nothing monstrous, so if you strengthen your core muscles and shore up your power-hiking skills during training, you should be fine.

Kettle Moraine State Forest is a gorgeous venue for the race, particularly in mid-May when spring has sprung and when heat & humidity are less likely to be a factor. If you’re lucky, you may even get the perfectly cool temperatures we got, and two awesome running buddies to join you. I can even recommend the Lake Lawn Resort in nearby Delavan, an easy 25-30 min car ride from the start line, if you’re looking for convenient non-camping accommodations.

The only downside to Ice Age is the two-way traffic on the out-and-backs, though this only became a problem with a handful of runners who­—for whatever reason—came barreling down the center of the trail refusing to yield the right-of-way. This could have resulted in some nasty collisions had the rest of us not been hypervigilant and quick to step aside. As with any event, though, it’s tough to police assholery.

PRODUCTION: Race-day production was top-notch. Despite being one of the largest 50-milers in the country, Ice Age reminded me why I miss low-key trail races. The course was clearly marked with yellow (50M) and/or orange (50K) flags at every turn, aid stations were well-stocked and well-spaced (the longest interval between stations was 5.1 miles, and that was at mile 9), and without exception the volunteers were nothing short of brilliant. After all, these folks were selflessly sacrificing an entire day of their lives so the rest of us could work through personal issues run an absurdly long way. I introduced myself to Race Director Jeff Mallach after the race, and he seemed genuinely surprised and appreciative that we’d made the trip from California just to run his race.

The only potential issue—and one I never encountered personally—was a shortage of medical personnel & supplies on the course, e.g. when one of our crew drove a fellow who’d sustained a bloody gash beside his eye back to the start/finish area for medical attention.

SWAG: How to argue with my first-ever ultra buckle? The Ice Age buckle with its woolly mammoth logo is one good-looking piece of hardware. Credit to RD Jeff Mallach for not subscribing to the “Bigger is better” mentality—as with other things, garishly large medals smack of a race trying to make up for something. And though the long-sleeve tech tee may be a bit bright, its lime green color will go a long way toward making me visible to oncoming traffic on my training runs.

For a complete race-day narrative, check out my race report at https://blisterscrampsheaves.com/2016/05/25/ice-age-trail-50-race-report/

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BOTTOM LINE: If you’re a hardcore runner and/or California native planning to run the Boston Marathon, then the Boston 2 Big Sur Challenge should be a no-brainer. Not only is … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: If you’re a hardcore runner and/or California native planning to run the Boston Marathon, then the Boston 2 Big Sur Challenge should be a no-brainer. Not only is it a unique bicoastal challenge, but you’ll have the opportunity to run one of California’s most highly recommended (and this year, one of its most blustery) marathons as part of an exclusive group. The only drawback is the steep price of admission—at $300 this is likely the most expensive marathon you’ll run. But if Big Sur is on your bucket list anyway, why not kill two birds with one stone and ride that post-Boston endorphin high for as long as possible?

PRODUCTION: Flawless, just as it was in 2014. School buses transport all runners from Carmel or Monterey (we stayed at the uber-convenient Portola Hotel & Spa at Monterey Bay) out to Pfeiffer Big Sur State Park for the start of the race, leaving plenty of time to eat, stretch, meditate, take selfies, visit the porta-potties and generally do whatever you need to do to prepare yourself for the 26.2 miles of hilly Pacific Coast Highway that await. The pre-race pasta dinner is always a relaxed opportunity to convene with friends beforehand, and the post-race spread for B2B finishers is among the best I’ve seen at any race. The BSIM organizers could easily skate by on the course’s proximity to the Pacific Ocean and jaw-dropping vistas—instead, their tireless attention to detail is the cherry on top of a very satisfying sundae (Sunday) long run.

SWAG: The swag for Boston 2 Big Sur Challenge finishers is among the best you’ll find anywhere. In addition to the standard clay finisher medallion (which itself is one of the best in racing) and tech tee, B2B’ers receive a second finisher medallion, long-sleeve tech tee inscribed with the B2B logo and nicely crafted, embroidered ASICS finisher jacket.

For more details & purty pitchers of the Big Sur experience, check out my race report at https://blisterscrampsheaves.com/2016/12/31/big-sur-international-marathon-2016-race-report/

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BOTTOM LINE: Boston is a pretty cool race. And Tyrannosaurus rex was a pretty cool lizard. Boston is hands-down (and it’s not close) the coolest race in the country, if … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: Boston is a pretty cool race. And Tyrannosaurus rex was a pretty cool lizard. Boston is hands-down (and it’s not close) the coolest race in the country, if not the world. Chicago has a similar feel in terms of race magnitude, community support/civic pride and an historic sports venue in Wrigley Field, but Boston is without rival. And unfortunately, the Cubs’ season typically ends well before race day in early October (oh no he di’int!).

So if you’re fast enough to run Boston, do it — early & often. If you’re on the cusp of being fast enough to qualify, train your butt off now before they tighten the qualifying standards again. And if you’re simply counting on attrition to qualify when you’re 80, hit up some family/friends/unguarded piggy banks and raise the $5,000 minimum needed to enter as a charity runner. No matter how you get to Boston (short of cheating the system and calling attention to yourself on Facebook), you won’t regret the effort.

Not surprisingly, Race Director Dave McGillivray said it best when asked what he does for a living: “I help raise the level of self-esteem and self-confidence of tens of thousands of people across America every year.” Now THERE’S an elevator pitch.

PRODUCTION: Spot-on flawless, from start to finish. Every race of any size could learn a lot simply by standing on the sidelines observing Boston Marathon weekend. McGillivray and his team are master choreographers, and it’s almost laughable (& unfair) to compare any other marathon to Boston. The genius of the production is that it’s airtight and yet never in your face to spoil the experience. And unlike Berlin, the porta-potties in Boston had toilet paper! The only potential downside to race weekend was the overcrowded expo… but even that can be avoided by waiting until Sunday afternoon to attend. Four thumbs up (I’m borrowing my wife’s) on a job masterfully done.

SWAG: No finisher’s medal outside the Olympics is more coveted or more instantly recognizable than the unicorn earned by Boston Marathon finishers. I was awestruck as the friendly B.A.A. volunteer hung the blue-&-gold ribbon around my neck, and that was when the reality of my achievement really hit home.

In addition, the official Adidas long-sleeve race shirt isn’t your typical wear-once-and-donate race tee, but like the medal itself a classic blue & gold that fits well and which I can imagine wearing until the sleeves fall off. Everything about this marathon screams “attention to detail”, even if Adidas has (for better or worse) boldly steered away from the classic color scheme and gotten a bit sassier with the colors of its celebration jackets in recent years. I definitely didn’t envy the women their teal-&-pink jacket this year (look it up if you don’t believe me).

For a more detailed narrative plus a few tips & tricks for Boston Marathon weekend, check out my blog post at https://blisterscrampsheaves.com/2016/04/27/boston-marathon-race-report/

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BOTTOM LINE & PRODUCTION: The Peace Love Run Half is a bit of a Jekyll & Hyde race. On the one hand, Mission Bay Park is a beautiful area and … MORE

BOTTOM LINE & PRODUCTION: The Peace Love Run Half is a bit of a Jekyll & Hyde race. On the one hand, Mission Bay Park is a beautiful area and scenic venue for a road race, since a) it’s always sunny in San Diego and b) the course follows paved footpaths removed from automobile traffic. From that perspective, I’d definitely recommend PLR if you’re looking for a leisurely morning run, either alone or with friends.

On the other hand, if you’re looking to race competitively as I was (using it as my tune-up race for the Boston Marathon), then Caveat Emptor — this was a bit of a clusterf#@*, especially once the 10K runners merged with the half marathoners in mile 4. At that point I lost track of the faster half marathoners ahead of me, and ended up expending a lot of energy trying to weave around a) slower runners in the left lane, b) runners wearing earbuds in the left lane so they couldn’t hear me yell “On your left!” or c) a mash-up of the two: slower runners wearing earbuds in the left lane who were completely oblivious to everything going on around them. Unfortunately there were plenty of these runners, as well as groups running together side-by-side-by-side spanning the path like a human wall, so that I actually had to slow to a walk long enough to “Scooz me” my way past them. Certainly this wasn’t intentional on their part; they just weren’t paying attention to the other runners around them.

The course required that half marathoners run two loops around Fiesta Island Park, with confusing signage at the end of each loop directing 10K runners in one direction and half marathoners in another. At the end of the second loop, half marathoners (I know this now) were supposed to ignore the signage and follow the 10K arrows. Confused yet? Then you can imagine how my brain — in its fatigued state, with all mental energy focused on weaving around runners and maintaining pace as the morning heated up — ended up missing a turnoff. The result: I ended up running an extra loop (i.e. 2 miles), meaning that by the time I crossed the finish line, my half marathon ended up being a 25K. No big deal — no harm no foul, since it was actually good mental & physical training, and luckily I wasn’t chasing a personal best. But I did sign up for a half marathon, and I would have won my age group by roughly 12 minutes on a 13.1-mile course. Haphazardly labeled courses are something I’ve come to expect in trail races, not road races… and for a half marathon registration fee of $80, I naturally expect the course to be clearly labeled at all times with unambiguous signage in place if there’s any possibility of confusion. Other half marathoners ahead of me after my bonus third loop were clearly confused by the “10K in one direction/half marathon in the other” signage, despite the valiant (and much-appreciated) efforts of one poor volunteer who was standing at the juncture trying to direct the oncoming flood of runners in the right direction. All in all a chaotic scene, like, “Duuude, where’s my turnoff?”

Another sub-optimal course consideration: the last several miles took us through a section of the park where the path was shared with the public, a situation which always makes for a near-collision or two when someone out for a morning stroll with poochie fails to anticipate or acknowledge oncoming runners.

So my two main recommendations for making Peace Love Run the excellent race it deserves to be: 1) much-improved course markers and signage; 2) pre-race emails/announcements emphasizing to slower runners and earbud wearers that they’re not the only runners on the course, and they need to stay to the right.

That said, the finish line festival was groovy, with plenty of music and a cool backdrop for taking photos (though it should have been facing toward the sun rather than away from it, for less shady results). And the post-race bananas were great!

SWAG: Aside from the chance to run with a good friend who recently moved from Boston to San Diego (and who won his age group), the swag was the highlight of the morning. The race shirt is a shiny white tech tee with the colorful Peace Love Run design on front, while the medal is an equally colorful VW bug decked out with flowers & surfboards (see photos). Very cool and, despite my on-course experience, definitely a medal that makes me smile when I look at it.

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BOTTOM LINE: I love LA, and Los Angeles should be high on any serial marathoner’s list. California has something for every road runner – the breathtaking beauty of the California … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: I love LA, and Los Angeles should be high on any serial marathoner’s list. California has something for every road runner – the breathtaking beauty of the California coastline in Big Sur, the classic SoCal beach vibe of Surf City, the enchanting allure of San Francisco. LA in turn shines with its unique mix of big-city energy, iconic attractions and laid-back SoCal ambience. If preconceived notions of smog and plastic people are all you know of LA, then you don’t know LA.

Aside from San Francisco, Los Angeles is start-to-finish the most interesting road marathon course I’ve run. Don’t let the net downhill profile (789 ft up, 1,192 ft down) fool you though – most of that downhill is at the very beginning and very end. Nor is the rest of the course particularly flat, so be prepared for several uphills, particularly in the first half.

Another positive note from this year’s race: the number of spectators seemed much greater than I recall from 2012. So if spectator support is important to you, don’t let the LAM’s reputation as a spectator-sparse event dissuade you from running. Sure it’s no Boston, Chicago or New York, but then again not every race can be a World Marathon Major.

LA isn’t a cheap race (I paid $160 on opening day of registration), but it’s reasonable relative to other big-city marathons, and you definitely get what you pay for. And weather-wise, the year-round warmth that draws so many visitors to SoCal is a double-edged sword for runners, since it means temperatures on race day tend toward hot. Just a word of “warming” for those hoping to chase a personal best at LA.

PRODUCTION: Aside from the usual expo chaos in downtown LA (with suggestions for its improvement noted in my blog post), the entire weekend – from the Olympic Trials to the marathon itself – was a seamless production. As staging areas go Dodger Stadium is among the best, and parking there is relatively easy. Post-race snacks were abundant, and any post-race festival with a free beer garden (+ short lines!) is a sure winner.

That said, I was admittedly disappointed by several aspects of the production & marketing:

1) that on a course with so many iconic landmarks, the organizers didn’t do a better job of calling attention to those landmarks during the race;

2) that pre-race emails lacked personality and were used primarily for sponsor messaging, rather than taking the opportunity to highlight the Stadium-to-the-Sea course

3) that the organizers haven’t done more to #UniteLA, to embrace the community and rally the locals around their event – the truth is that the LAM simply doesn’t resonate with many Angelenos.

4) that the organizers don’t seem to treat their race with the respect that it deserves. Case in point: rather than pre-race communications focused on the course and getting me excited for the marathon, one dedicated email let me know that by running both the LAM and another SoCal relay race, I’d earn a kitschy-looking double medal in the shape of the state of California. How this odd partnership stands to benefit the LAM or its brand is unclear.

Plus, no other heavyweight race would move its date up a month for no good reason, much less for an event like the Olympic Marathon Qualifying Trials which few recreational runners even notice. In 2012 when Houston hosted the Trials, the Houston Marathon didn’t budge from its traditional mid-January weekend slot. By moving this year’s race so it fell a week after the nearby Surf City Marathon (which is always run on Super Bowl Sunday), the LAM organizers cannibalized their own audience, including runners who usually run Surf City as a warmup for LA. And that’s not just my opinion – the race failed to sell out this year, and with just 20,627 finishers, this was the first year since its inception in 2010 that the Stadium-to-the-Sea course boasted fewer than 21,000 finishers. That number is down 6% from just one year ago.

So let’s hope the organizers stop treating their marathon like a small-town race and start marketing it like the world-class event it is – you’re Los Angeles, not Omaha!

All that said, these are behind-the-scenes details that don’t affect the actual runner experience, and overall race production was impressive by any standard – so much so that I happily used the discount from my virtual event bag to buy a pair of Skechers LAM model running shoes after the race. Turns out Skechers makes a comfy running shoe!

SWAG: Keeping with the Valentine’s Day theme, both the short-sleeve tech tee and finisher’s medal are a nice shade of red. The shirt lists course highlights on the front, though in small dark font that sort of defeats the purpose. The medal, though, is the real keeper ­– it’s a shiny round keepsake with the year & downtown LA skyline emblazoned on one side, along with the race logo & iconic LA scenery on the other. It’s among the most substantial medals in my collection, with a heft similar to Chicago or New York.

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BOTTOM LINE: I ran thru the desert on a course all the same... If you’re a focused downhill runner seeking that elusive Boston Qualifier, then dry desert air and barren … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: I ran thru the desert on a course all the same…

If you’re a focused downhill runner seeking that elusive Boston Qualifier, then dry desert air and barren scenery aside, Tucson may be your ideal marathon. But if you’re like me and much more comfortable going up (or staying flat) than coming down, you may want to think twice before committing to this race. And if you’re looking for a late-season BQ-friendly course that’s significantly easier on the quads, I’d recommend the California International Marathon which happens to fall on the same weekend as Tucson.

Beware too the artificially smooth course elevation profile on the race website, which omits many of the smaller rolling hills that will drain the life incrementally from your legs.

On the other hand, mile 23 hill aside, Tucson is much more intriguing as a speedy half marathon, where quads be damned you can throw caution to the wind and use the first 9+ miles of downhill to your PR’ing advantage. For those considering the 13.1 distance, I’d suggest you check out @dansolera‘s excellent post on his own Tucson Half experience here: https://dans-marathon.com/2010/12/18/state-eight-arizona-damascus-bakeries-tucson-half-marathon-2/

And if you’re looking for race weekend lodging, look no further than the first-class host hotel. The Hilton Tucson El Conquistador Golf & Tennis Resort offers reasonable rates and quiet, comfortable rooms, with the added convenience that the pre-race expo is held in one of the hotel conference rooms.

PRODUCTION: Race Director Pam Reed ensured that everything about marathon weekend operated like a well-oiled machine. Speaking of which, any event that uses buses to transport runners to the start – and does so with nary a glitch – earns extra points on my scorecard. This is no Rock ‘n’ Roll event, and that’s a good thing – the course lacked spectators and entertainment for the most part, while oncoming traffic provided the only consistent white noise along with the occasional waft of exhaust fumes. The expo was quick to navigate and had a small-town feel, including a wild-haired Doc Brown-looking fellow peddling “Magic Stuff” ointment at the corner booth. And the post-race spread, which included local sponsor Damascus Bakeries’ flatbread roll-ups, seemed sufficient to satisfy any but the most epicurean finisher’s palate.

SWAG: The official 2015 Tucson race shirt is an attractive (albeit bright) royal blue short-sleeve tech tee, while the finisher’s medal is a small and cartoonishly rendered red cactus that, if I were to learn had been designed by the local 3rd grade class, I’d think was really cool. Instead, it strikes me as more afterthought than thoughtfully considered keepsake.

For more downhill desert details, check out my blog report at: https://blisterscrampsheaves.com/2016/02/04/tucson-marathon-race-report/

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Like the Mountains 2 Beach Marathon I ran back in May, the USA Half is a race by runners, for runners. If your preference is for balloons, costumes and fanfare, … MORE

Like the Mountains 2 Beach Marathon I ran back in May, the USA Half is a race by runners, for runners. If your preference is for balloons, costumes and fanfare, you’ll want to stick with the San Diego Rock ‘n’ Roll Half in June. But if you’re a half marathoner who simply loves to run or who’s looking for a new type of challenge to motivate your training, then do yourself a favor and check out the USA Half. Its “qualifiers only” status and San Diego venue also make it a great option for 50 Staters looking for a distinctive California race.

The course is solidly urban and isn’t necessarily PR-friendly, with the first half falling somewhere between “rolling” and “hilly”. But the second half makes up for the sins of the first, with a Kansas-flat profile and a final three miles that border the sun-drenched harbor and marina. At $95.00 + processing fees the race isn’t cheap, but it’s a solid value – in both production and swag, you get what you pay for (see below).

The overarching patriotism of the event – from the name to the logo to the U.S. flags flanking both the start and finish lines – was a curious choice that wasn’t fully explored. I assume the star-spangled theme was in homage to the host city, which boasts a proud military (and specifically naval) history. In fact, several retired battleships – chief among them the USS Midway – now call the Port of San Diego their permanent home.

Given its overt patriotism and proximity to Veterans Day, it seems appropriate that next year’s race include a tribute to current military personnel, veterans and fallen heroes. And why not partner with a charitable organization that supports veterans? Because honestly, given that nearly $8 of every registration fee already goes to the hot mess that is Active.com, I certainly wouldn’t protest if a portion of my registration went to a worthy cause like veterans programs. This would also help engage the community and increase civic support for the race.

Overall, count me in for next year!

PRODUCTION: As expected given the parties in charge (including the Race Director of the Boston Marathon), event production was spot-on and a high point of the race. The pre-race expo (what we saw of it, arriving as we did an hour before it ended thanks to SoCal traffic) was small and easily navigated. Race day itself went off without a hitch, from the firing of the starter’s pistol at 6:00am sharp to the immediate and efficient disassembly of the finish line at 8:30am. The course was impeccably marked, to the point that my Garmin chimed the mile just as I hit the timing mat at mile 10. If GPS units can dream, then mine at that moment dreamed of being the official timer.

Aid stations (none of which I used, as usual) looked to be fully stocked, with vigilant volunteers calling out “Gatorade!” or “water!” as runners approached. As seems to be the case wherever I run, volunteers were friendly, encouraging and eager to help. Post-race snacks were plentiful, though finish-line festivities were minimal given the event’s constricted time limit of two-and-a-half hours (mandated by the city, I assume). And race director Ken Nwadike Jr made great use of his omnipresent camera, providing free race photos – always a much-appreciated bonus – courtesy of his own Runner Buzz Media.

SWAG: The race swag is a definite selling point, and includes a colorfully patriotic “USA” medal emblazoned with a bald eagle, as well as a black-with-white-zipper USA Half Marathon finishers jacket (though the logo on front could stand to be a bit brighter and more readable). Curiously, the jacket zipper is designed for left-handers. In any case, the jacket is a significant and much-appreciated upgrade from the standard race tech tee. And the medal will definitely stand out from its less flamboyant brethren.

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Mountains 2 Beach is an all-around awesome race, and one of the gems of the California marathoning scene in only its 5th year. Based on the laughter and smiles at … MORE

Mountains 2 Beach is an all-around awesome race, and one of the gems of the California marathoning scene in only its 5th year. Based on the laughter and smiles at the post-race festival, Boston hopefuls and non-hopefuls alike enjoy this event. With its fast and spectator-friendly course, first-rate production and laser-like focus on helping its runners qualify for Boston, M2B very much strikes me as the California International Marathon (in Sacramento) with warmer temperatures and better scenery.

The race perfectly complements its low-key venue. The outdoor expo at Ventura High School was easy and quick to navigate, though late arrivals on Saturday should expect a bit of a wait to collect their number. Apparently there was a pre-race pasta dinner available for $10 at Ventura High, though given my run-in with food poisoning at the 2014 First Light Marathon in Alabama, I figured the night before a PR & BQ attempt would be a bad time to poke the bear.

Whereas many races give lip service to their runners while bending over backwards for their sponsors, Mountains 2 Beach in every way feels like a race organized by runners, for runners. Admittedly I’m pleased I could support the title sponsor (Berkeley company Clif Bar) with my choice of Clif Shot Bloks for my race-day nutrition.

And reinforcing the “by runners, for runners” vibe of the weekend, the decision to have the pacers run at two minutes under their official Boston Qualifying time (e.g. a 3:23 pacer for runners with a 3:25 qualifying time) was a genius tip o’ the cap to the realities of BQ’ing in 2015.

In case you can’t tell, I’d highly recommend this race… unless your own choice of races hinges on a strong social media presence. Then you’re out of luck. #justrun

PRODUCTION: I loved the “show up, run fast” mindset at Mountains 2 Beach. If you favor low-frills yet extremely well-produced events that finish alongside the Pacific Ocean, this is your kind of race. If, on the other hand, you prefer screaming spectators and raucous on-course entertainment, you’re likely to be Ojai-ly disappointed.

Despite the fact that I tend to ignore aid stations and only grabbed two quick sips of water at M2B, there seemed to be plenty of aid stations serving both water and Fluid, the electrolyte drink of choice. The name “Fluid” made me smile, sounding as it does like the ambivalent beverage equivalent of Soylent Green (though I doubt Fluid is people).

Luckily my innards behaved, since bathrooms along the course were few and far between. If there were porta-potties I didn’t notice them, and the only facilities I remember were the public units in Foster Park near mile 16.

The cozy post-race festival in Promenade Park included more sponsor tents than the pre-race expo plus a beer garden, Boston Qualifiers gong, massage tent, medical tent and stage featuring a live band, all conveniently encircling an open grassy area where runners basked in the SoCal sun and their post-race glow. All in all, a very nice arrangement.

SWAG: The race tee is a simple gray Greenlayer technical tee that, like other Greenlayer apparel I own, doesn’t fit particularly well. The finisher’s medal, though, makes up for its less swaggy cousin with its attractive part-metal, part-stained glass design (see photos). And I’d swear I can hear the ocean when I hold it up to my ear.

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BOTTOM LINE: The inaugural Sunset Strip Half was a terrific opening act that’s only going to get better as it matures (unlike some of the musical acts who made their … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: The inaugural Sunset Strip Half was a terrific opening act that’s only going to get better as it matures (unlike some of the musical acts who made their name here). The course provides a one-of-a-kind opportunity for runners to retrace L.A.’s musical roots while collecting a finisher’s medal and t-shirt at the end of their tour.

Overall, there’s a lot to recommend this race:

1) The COURSE itself starts at the Pacific Design Center in the West Hollywood Design District and immediately heads south on a 2.5-mile loop back to the start, before leading runners on a challenging climb of ~1.5 miles up San Vicente Blvd to Sunset Blvd. Out-and-back stretches along Sunset Blvd and Santa Monica Blvd follow, stretches that to the uninitiated may feel like quintessential L.A. with their nondescript storefronts and seemingly endless strip malls, but which are in fact home to some of the city’s most historic nightclubs – venues such as the Whisky A Go Go, Troubadour, Viper Room, Roxy Theatre & House of Blues, where bands like Led Zeppelin, The Doors, Van Halen, Mötley Crüe & Guns N’ Roses all plied their trade as fledgling musicians.

How often do you have the chance to run down the middle of the city’s celebrated Sunset Strip, without having to dodge traffic or evade police officers? It’s an awesome feeling that I basked in, despite the fact that the “out” portion of each stretch does lead directly into the rising SoCal sun. Sunset Blvd in particular has a rolling quality to it that keeps the legs interested, without the steepness of San Vicente. And with the final mile along Santa Monica Blvd being a nice downhill to the finish line in West Hollywood Park, I was able to clock my fastest mile of the day.

2) The field was relatively small (1739 half marathoners, 577 5K’ers) and slow – I finished 28th overall and 4/180 in my age group. I only note this because I was surprised to find myself running the final two miles by myself, with the next closest runner ¼ mile ahead and the closest pursuer ¼ behind. I’m not sure I’ve ever experienced that much elbow room in a road race before, and it really added to my feeling of complete freedom while running along Sunset & Santa Monica. Understandably crowd density increased where the half marathon & 5K courses merged on Sunset Blvd, but even then I was able to negotiate the more leisurely 5K runners with minimal effort.

3) Energized positivity infused the start/finish area – the vibe was laid-back and festive, with enthusiastic runners who were excited to be there, and volunteers who were (as race volunteers usually are) helpful & friendly.

4) Race-day packet pickup in WeHo Park was smooth & easy, as was parking near the start line in the WeHo Library parking structure. Be aware that access to the Pacific Design Center (our original target) was blocked earlier than the published 6:15am cutoff time, so we shared a brief moment of panic while circumnavigating the road closures. Luckily the WeHo Library parking structure was still accessible, cheaper than the PDC and just as convenient.

5) The race is a great value – see “PRODUCTION & SWAG” below.

With all these positives in mind, this was nonetheless the race’s inaugural campaign, and several steps can be taken to make next year’s iteration even better:

1) Most notably, the music did not live up to the promise of the race’s name. Granted I was running closer to the front, but I saw only one band along the course around mile 6, and they were still setting up when I passed. Nor did the pre- & post-race music impress – in fact my only memory of the pre-race music was “Happy”, nowadays a race staple which I’d hoped to avoid on the Sunset Strip.

My recommendation here would be to forego all live bands along the course in favor of giant on-course speakers blasting the music that made the Strip famous. I’m going to presumptuously speak for all runners in saying we’re fueled & motivated by the classics we know played by the bands we know, rather than by live bands reworking those classics. On the other hand, live bands feel completely appropriate for the post-race party.

2) The 5K turnaround on Sunset Blvd made for some awkward & potentially dangerous moments, as faster half marathoners with a full head of steam had to swerve or slow down to avoid slower 5K runners turning around right in front of them. Separate lanes for the half marathon & 5K runners at this juncture would avoid these near-collisions.

3) According to Katie’s Garmin which clocked in at 3.35 miles, the 5K course was long.

4) Every race organizer has heard this race-day mantra at one time or another: more porta-potties, please. When your announcer is suggesting to runners that “If it’s not an emergency, feel free to wait and use the porta-potties on the course”, you know you should’ve ordered more. Luckily we got in line early, but there were plenty of runners still in the queue when the starting airhorn sounded.

PRODUCTION & SWAG: The race is an excellent value: I paid $55 for the half marathon, while Katie paid $30 for the 5K. In both cases this included a colorful long-sleeve tech tee and a cool medal (the medal for the half marathon is a definite keeper, a glitzy purple-and-gold Flying V guitar with the Sunset Strip logo emblazoned on the headstock – see photos). And post-race snacks (including fruit) were available in the finish chute.

Worth mentioning here is the contrast between the Sunset Strip Half and the more established Hollywood Half, held one week earlier: the Sunset Strip costs half as much and starts 90 min later (at 7:00am). These criteria alone made the choice of races a no-brainer for us, and we weren’t disappointed in our decision. And unless we find ourselves otherwise engaged next year (Boston, maybe?), we plan to run again in 2016.

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BOTTOM LINE: The Competitor Group bills the Carlsbad 5000 as its "Party by the Sea". It's an apt description – Carlsbad isn’t a 5K race so much as it is … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: The Competitor Group bills the Carlsbad 5000 as its “Party by the Sea”. It’s an apt description – Carlsbad isn’t a 5K race so much as it is an entire morning of 5K races. But even more than the races themselves, it’s a celebration of running. What better venue for a high-stakes race than a low-key coastal town like Carlsbad?

After running it, I now understand why the folks at the Competitor Group have branded this their signature event. Maybe the race gets obscured by the other 2,000+ races held in California every year – but the truth is, Carlsbad is a not-so-hidden gem.

The course is surprisingly hilly; according to my Garmin, the total elevation gain and loss over 3.1 miles exceeded both the Avengers Super Heroes Half Marathon I ran in November, and the Disney World Marathon I ran in January. Total elevation gain of the course (413ft) slightly exceeds elevation loss (387ft), and while the uphills are noticeable, I most appreciated the fact that the home stretch on Carlsbad Village Dr from the final turn to the finish line was all downhill. A great way to end a fast race.

Granted I’m used to paying marathon and half marathon fees, but the Carlsbad 5000 is very affordable – registration ten days before the race cost $40 (plus a $5.99 processing fee), and I was able to find a discount code online that saved me an additional $10. The fact that I was able to sign up for this race so cheaply less than two weeks out still surprises me.

My only – “complaint” may be too strong a word – objection would be that moving back the start line on Grand Avenue this year added ~88 yards (or in my case ~19 seconds) to the commoner’s course, or “Peoples Route” as it’s referred to on the race website. For a marathon 88 yards is negligible, easily falling within the margin of error for those not running the tangents. But for a 5K race 88 yards is over 1.5% of the distance, so it’s critical to get that measurement right. Not a deal-breaker by any means, but something for the organizers to keep in mind next year. Although the name rolls off the tongue, I doubt they want to rebrand their signature event the “Carlsbad 5080” (“Fifty-Eighty”).

PRODUCTION: It’s tough to beat a race that’s run only a few yards from the ocean. Or at least that’s what the course map showed – my laser (read: pained) focus during the race precluded me from appreciating my surroundings in the moment.

I’m not sure how runners in the later races fared, but running in the first event of the morning meant parking near the start line was a (ocean) breeze. I made a porta-potty stop, ran my warmup mile + striders, picked up my number directly adjacent to the start line (easy race-day bib pickup, how awesome is that?), and attached my timing chip to my shoe in time for the national anthem… all within 30 minutes. Thanks Competitor, for a seamless pre-race experience.

My only critique of the production would be, as noted above, that the course was 0.05 miles too long, a buzz kill for those of us chasing PRs and/or a well-defined finish time like 20:00.

On the other hand, the chance to meet and take photos with the elite runners more than made up for the added distance. For a race with significant prize money at stake, the organizers do a fantastic job of maintaining a low-key vibe and allowing spectators post-race access to the elites. Where else can an age-group runner stroll up to and shake hands with world-class athletes like Bernard Lagat and Deena Kastor? I felt like a kid on Christmas day, except in this case Santa Claus was real.

That said, there’s a lot to recommend here even for those runners who aren’t stargazers. It’s a premier race in a relaxed oceanside venue (the “relaxed” part comes once you cross the finish line), a solid opportunity to test your mettle and your fitness level. Plus it’s a great value – the entry fee ranges from $20 (early) to $40 (late). And if you really like running the course, you can sign up for the “All Day 20K” and run it four times to earn special 20K swag.

Speaking of swag, I was pleasantly surprised to receive not only a blue Leslie Jordan short-sleeve tech tee (always high quality) but a cool medal as well featuring women’s world record holder Meseret Defar. Not to mention some decent snacks in the finish chute.

The new elite course, with its tighter loops and two added hairpin turns, seems designed more for the spectators than the runners. But whereas the effect of the new course on finish times remains to be seen, the organizers may want to reconsider the sequence and timing of the events if they hope to see Sammy Kipketer’s course record of 13:00 challenged anytime soon. I didn’t envy the elites having to run in the heat of the day.

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BOTTOM LINE: If you’re a marathoner, then the Walt Disney World Marathon is a no-brainer. And if you don’t believe me, feel free to read a few of the gazillion … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: If you’re a marathoner, then the Walt Disney World Marathon is a no-brainer. And if you don’t believe me, feel free to read a few of the gazillion blogs dedicated to the runDisney experience. Nobody stages a more entertaining race than Disney, because nobody CAN stage a more entertaining race than Disney (Th-th-th-that’s a challenge, Warner Bros). Whereas other races rely on “loud and abrasive” for their on-course entertainment, Disney relies on its time-honored characters and theme parks. With a couple of well-timed exceptions (e.g. Pharrell Williams’ “Happy” blasting at mile 16), the WDW Marathon speaks softly and carries a big stick. And if you’ve only ever run a Disney race in California, don’t think this is more of the same – Florida is a completely different experience. It’s one of the very few (only?) instances where I’m willing to concede that Florida trumps California. That and alligator density.

I’ve heard the complaint that Disney races are too expensive – and if price is your sole criteria for judging a race, then maybe you’d be right. But the truth is, the next runner I hear second-guess their decision to run the WDW Marathon will be the first. Disregarding Active.com’s processing fee, my marathon registration was $170 (compared to $255 for the NYC Marathon and $195 for the Avengers Half), which by the time I crossed the finish line on Sunday felt like a bargain. And the fact that their most expensive option – the Dopey Challenge – is also their most popular says all you need to know about the supply & demand at work here. So if your primary concern is the $170 registration fee, I might suggest you focus less on price and more on value.

PRODUCTION: No one produces a race better than runDisney, and they have a whopping 68-page Official Event Guide to prove it. WDW is a race for the runners, as evidenced in every facet of the race organization with the possible exception of the 5:30am start time. While Disney may claim the early start time helps to beat the Florida (and California) heat, it also conveniently helps to clear as many runners out of the parks as possible before the paying customers rise and shine.

There’s a fine line between “flawless organization” and “military precision”… and I might argue that at times Disney’s organization is so good as to make the process feel devoid of spontaneity. Who knows, maybe this is the key to producing a race of this magnitude… I’m just not sure they need quite so many crew members and volunteers directing people every step of the way, from expo to race day. Save the stanchions for Space Mountain, Disney.

That said, my race weekend went off without a hitch. And every volunteer I met was sincerely wonderful, wonderfully sincere and clearly drinking happy juice by the tankard. I don’t plan to run WDW again anytime soon – after two of their races in two months I’m pretty Disney-ed out, and 41 other states await before a return trip to the Magic Kingdom. Then again, when it comes to Disney I’ll never say never, even if does bring me back to Florida…

SWAG: For us “marathon only” slackers, the t-shirt was a nice black Champion tech tee. And the ribbon on the finisher’s medal is fastened to itself by velcro, making it easy to separate ribbon from medal if that’s your preference – one final example of Disney’s unrivaled attention to detail.

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BOTTOM LINE: Six letters to sum up this review: run CIM. The organizers bill their marathon as the "fastest, friendliest, most spectacular course in the West!", and they may well … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: Six letters to sum up this review: run CIM. The organizers bill their marathon as the “fastest, friendliest, most spectacular course in the West!”, and they may well be 2/3 right. Suburban monotony notwithstanding, the net downhill course is PR-friendly and offers just enough variety (i.e. hillage) in the first half to keep the legs guessing. From its readily navigated expo to its easy start line access to its cowbell-toting spectators, CIM is a first-class marathon that doesn’t sacrifice its relaxed, small-town vibe. The field size (5,805 finishers this year) is very reasonable, not to mention fast – my 3:24:15 placed me in 997th place. Spectators and musical entertainment along the course maintain the low-key feel of the race, being supportive but not oppressively so. And weather conditions have been ideal both years I’ve run, although December typically is the rainy season in Northern California.

For runners looking for a year-end marathon in the first week of December, I wouldn’t hesitate to recommend either CIM (if you’re partial to roads) or The North Face Endurance Challenge Championship in SF (if you’re partial to trails). Both are terrific, well-produced races.

PRODUCTION: Don’t be fooled by its lack of bells (except cowbells) & whistles – race production for CIM is among the best you’ll find anywhere. And though there’s never a perfect race, clearly the Sacramento Running Association (SRA) puts a lot of hard work into chasing that goal.

Take my 40-minute journey from hotel (in nearby Rancho Cordova) to starter’s pistol: Katie drove me ~15 minutes to the start-line shuttle pickup point, where I hopped aboard one of the last departing shuttles at 6:40am, arrived at the start line at 6:50am, made a quick pitstop at one of the abundant porta-potties (more proof of CIM’s keen attention to detail – porta-potties nearly as far as the eye can see), surrendered my drop bag and lined up alongside the 3:25 pacer by the time the National Anthem faded on the breeze. Now THAT’S customer service.

The race’s late-registration window for BQ wannabes is, to my knowledge, another CIM exclusive. This is a pretty genius idea on the SRA’s part, one I’d anticipate other race directors adopting in the not-too-distant future.

SWAG: This year’s shirt is a nicely designed, dark blue long-sleeve cotton tee and admittedly one of the few race t-shirts I’ll wear with any regularity after race weekend. And the finisher’s medal is a stylish periwinkle-and-gold souvenir with the capitol building and Tower Bridge emblazoned across a gold “CIM”. All in all, a nice collection of parting gifts.

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BOTTOM LINE: For much of my childhood I ate, drank, breathed and slept Marvel Comics. And I greeted the announcement of the inaugural Avengers Super Heroes Half with wide-eyed enthusiasm. … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: For much of my childhood I ate, drank, breathed and slept Marvel Comics. And I greeted the announcement of the inaugural Avengers Super Heroes Half with wide-eyed enthusiasm. So I’m disappointed to say that after experiencing the race once, I have zero interest in running it again.

Yes, runDisney recently added their predictable enticement of an extra medal courtesy of their two-day “Infinity Gauntlet Challenge” (10K on Saturday, half marathon on Sunday). And yes, the race again will sell out faster than you can say “Ultron”. But my own enjoyment of the event derived almost entirely from seeing other runners in their full or partial superhero regalia, rather than from anything the runDisney folks did. So the folks in the home office have some major kinks to iron out here before I can recommend the race in good conscience to any but the most hardcore runDisney-ophile.

First, and speaking of “iron”, I don’t claim to understand licensing or film rights, but I do know Iron Man is a key member of the Avengers, as are the Hulk and Captain America. And yet Iron Man was conspicuously absent from the weekend’s activities, while the Hulk and Captain America appeared nowhere but on the cover of the official event guide. So Disney needs to untangle itself from Marvel’s restrictive licensing deals before this race can realize its potential and fully live up to the “Avengers” label. Until that happens, runners will have to be content with Thor, Hawkeye and Black Widow as the meager on-course Avengers representatives. Fans of the franchise know there’s a reason Hawkeye and the Black Widow don’t have their own movie franchises – they’re BORING.

Second, the course itself outside the parks – specifically miles 4-12 – is mind-numbing. Disney can create magic; it can make wishes come true; it can turn adults into kids, and kids into believers. Disney has the power to achieve a lot of things – but making Santa Ana, Garden Grove and the rest of Anaheim interesting ain’t one of them.

I thoroughly enjoyed January’s Walt Disney World Marathon in Florida and hope to return; on the other hand, I don’t anticipate running another SoCal Disney race. Tough to believe I’d recommend Florida over Southern California for any reason, but if you’re a runner eyeing your first runDisney race, and as long as you aren’t wed to either the Avengers or Star Wars, then set your sights on Florida. And if race distance is no object, then the WDW Marathon is a no-brainer.

PRODUCTION: I appreciate the fact that runDisney events attract a slew of unlikely runners and inspire loyalty among those runners, as only Disney can. And this year’s WDW Marathon was seamlessly orchestrated from start to finish. But the inaugural Avengers Half – and I never thought I’d say this about a Disney production – felt like a company going through the motions. Honestly, it felt like the folks at runDisney half-assed this race. Logistically the race went off smoothly enough, but when your reputation enables you to charge $195 for a half marathon while promising a “power-packed weekend of fantastic fun and amazing excitement”, you can’t half-ass ANYTHING. For $195, Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. should be waiting to valet my car on race day.

Unfortunately runDisney has no qualms about wringing every last penny out of its customers. Case in point, the runDisney ChEAR Squad program (get it? EAR? Mickey?) lets spectators purchase silver, gold or platinum packages to gain “special access” inside Disneyland during the race and to reserve seating at the finish line. This, rather than apathy, was the reason the finish line bleachers were largely empty on race morning – friends & family had to pay to sit there! Spectators who smartly refused to pay were positioned behind barricades on the far side of the finish line, where the real crowds gathered.

Note to runDisney: feel free to charge the runners whatever registration fee you can command for your races, but leave the spectators alone. Better yet, if you were to offer a race-day Disneyland park discount to every registered runner, maybe you could access those spectators’ wallets without seeming so blatantly exploitative.

The high winds on race day certainly weren’t Disney’s fault (so much for my illusion of a climate-controlled dome…), and I’d like to see whether the finish-line festival becomes more festive without the overriding concern of booths, tents and the main stage blowing away at any moment.

And one other question, runDisney: why would I dedicate (at least) 20 minutes of my time to complete your anonymous post-race survey that no other runner will ever see, when I can post my review on RaceRaves.com where other runners (and race directors) will read and benefit from it? Maybe it’s time to ditch the anonymous survey in favor of a forum where runners can openly share their honest feedback? Your finishers are your best evangelists, so a little trust in them might go a long way…

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BOTTOM LINE: New York City is a marathon in every sense of the word, and if you don’t like your races epic, you probably won’t enjoy New York. But I’m … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: New York City is a marathon in every sense of the word, and if you don’t like your races epic, you probably won’t enjoy New York. But I’m willing to bet you will – and that like the rest of us, once you’re running through its five boroughs with thousands of raucous strangers cheering you on, you’ll be willing to forgive New York its logistical hoops. The lengthy lag time between rise-and-shine and time-to-run is now an engrained part of the New York experience; it’s well worth the chance to start on the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge, and it hella beats running several loops within Central Park (as runners did until 1976). And by the time you reach that start line, you’ll be ready to run through a wall. Besides, what marathoner doesn’t want to be part of the world’s largest running party? Boston may be the marathoning mecca for the fast kids, but for everyone else, that distinction goes to New York City.

PRODUCTION: Not once did I hear – nor have I ever heard – a single runner complain about the marathon’s $255 entry fee ($288 for me, taking into account my three previous lottery entries at $11 apiece). Because it’s clear where all the money goes. This is a first-class production, choreographed down to the smallest detail and on par with the Best of Broadway. The NYRR did a {insert superlative here} job of ensuring the race and the entire weekend went off without a hitch. The expo was easily navigable, the swag (nice shirt, cool medal, sleek finisher poncho) was great, and the entire weekend was laid out in a colorful 53-page PDF, of which half the pages were ads.

So race production was silky smooth from the time we set foot in the expo to the moment I crossed the finish line. Which makes the NYRR’s misstep in mile 27 even more perplexing. Once the cheering died, and despite finding ourselves in the city’s emerald oasis, exhausted finishers were unceremoniously funneled out of the park and regurgitated onto Central Park West. Even – or maybe especially – with post-marathon brain it struck me: Why can’t we hang out here?

Note to NYRR CEO Mary Wittenberg: official post-race party or not, that’s your call… but you need to convince the city to open up Central Park to your runners and spectators. You already have the biggest race on the planet – this will bring you one step closer to having the best.

You must know better than anyone that endorphins sell merch. Were I in your position, I would a) be overwhelmed, but b) take full advantage of each and every runner’s post-race euphoria and hard-earned sense of accomplishment by setting up food carts, sponsor booths, a massage tent, the Asics finisher gear store and a medal engraving station right there in Central Park. My guess is the NYRR lost a lot of potential profit by inexplicably herding runners out of Central Park immediately after the race, and by asking them to return on Monday to buy finisher gear and have their medal engraved. Many folks were on their way home or already back at work by Monday, so this finish-line faux pas was a head-scratcher.

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BOTTOM LINE: “Flat and fast” is the phrase most often used to describe the Berlin Marathon, and I’d agree with the first part of that – the course is flat … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: “Flat and fast” is the phrase most often used to describe the Berlin Marathon, and I’d agree with the first part of that – the course is flat for everyone. And in all fairness, its obscene flatness does make it faster than just about any other marathon course out there – even the Chicago Marathon has “Mount Roosevelt” lying in wait at mile 26. But Berlin’s fastness is deceptive because as flat as the course is, unless you’re an elite it’s also among the most crowded courses you’ll ever run. And it’s crowded for pretty much the entire 26.2 miles, with Berlin’s narrow streets allowing for only occasional stretches of comfortably uncongested running. That said, I was still able to PR by 4½ minutes.

So race day felt a bit like an extended cattle drive, and race production – especially for a world marathon major – was surprisingly subpar (see below). But if you’re a hardcore runner, it’s doubtful anything I write will discourage you from running Berlin. In some ways it feels as though the organizers are saying, “Hey, if you want to go run a DIFFERENT world marathon major, be our guest.”

And honestly, I wouldn’t want to discourage anyone from running Berlin, if for no other reason than to experience and immerse yourself in one of the world’s most historically and culturally amazing cities. Despite my wanting to curl up and sleep under it by that point, running through the Brandenburg Gate at mile 26 was an indescribable thrill, and moments like that are a major reason I love running the world. But as epic a race weekend as this was, a few tweaks could have made it so much better…

PRODUCTION: I can only imagine how challenging it must be, and how much choreography and security must be involved, to organize and stage a marathon the size and gravitas of Berlin. With that in mind I tip my cap to the organizers, since to a person every runner I spoke with had an overall positive experience.

That said, race production is where Berlin fell short on many levels. In comparison to the only other marathon major I’ve run so far, Chicago 2012, Berlin was a disappointing second. And many if not all of these issues were echoed by other runners:

• The expo was TOO FREAKING HUGE, and was more like a trade show than a race expo. It’s a pretty clear indication your expo is out of control when it expands to fill several hangars of a former airport. Unlike U.S. race expos there were scarcely any free samples to be had… every item seemingly carried a price tag, and even the normally generous PowerBar peeps were carefully guarding their electrolyte drink station. What’s more, the expo was a harbinger of things to come on race day as I felt inexorably herded in different directions, first to access each separate hangar, then to enter the bib pickup area, then to exit the bib pickup area, then to traverse (how convenient!) the Adidas storefront hawking official race merchandise, and finally toward the ausgang (exit).
• And on the topic of the Adidas storefront, as absurd as it sounds in 2014, Berlin race registration includes NO race t-shirt – though official race shirts were available at the expo for the {ahem} bargain price of 30€ (= $39). Do a quick calculation, and you can estimate how much money the organizers must be a) saving by not providing t-shirts, and b) raking in by charging for shirts.
• Re: the pre-race setup, I arrived one hour beforehand and waited in line for ~40 minutes to use one of the ten port-o-lets that were serving literally hundreds of anxious runners. This was horrific planning by the organizers, and was by far the most stressful part of race weekend – even the much smaller (and more well-organized) California International Marathon, which I ran in 2011, had roughly 10x the number of units as Berlin. Not only that, but when I finally reached the front of the line my port-o-let was out of toilet paper. And to top off my pre-race cortisol levels, I completed my harried pit stop two minutes before my wave was scheduled to depart, and had to hurriedly jog another ¼-mile (at least) to reach the start line where I barely arrived in time to join the corral departing in the wave after mine. Damn, I’m getting stressed out all over again just writing this.
• Luckily I took advantage of only one aid station on the entire course, so I don’t have much to report about their frequency or offerings. But I couldn’t avoid noticing that the organizers chose plastic rather than paper cups – an unfortunate choice since plastic cups ended up bouncing underfoot at every aid station, as runners were forced to expend energy sidestepping carefully to avoid getting their foot caught in one.
• The post-race spread was abysmal, and in fact I walked what felt like several hundred yards through the finish chute before even reaching the first water station (at which point I was shunted to another table, since that water was only for medical emergencies). And with apologies to Erdinger, their sponsorship was a big ol’ letdown. I don’t think it’s unreasonable to expect that, after running a world marathon major in Germany’s largest city, the word “free” should fall before rather than after the word “alcohol”. Chicago after all had free-flowing real beer (thanks, Goose Island!). Alcohol-free beer after the Berlin Marathon felt like having your picture taken with a cardboard Mickey Mouse cut-out at the Walt Disney World Marathon.
• Food-wise, the only offerings I could see were apples and bananas, with no obvious source of protein – ironic, considering that even the 6K fun run Katie had run the day before had provided its scarcely winded finishers with both regular and chocolate milk. Later I realized that the not-so-goodie bag handed out by volunteers in the finish chute (why do I need another goodie bag?) contained a PowerBar wafer product, which like so many of their products over the years held true to the PowerBar ethic of falling just this side of “Soylent” on the palatability scale. Accordingly, I gave up after two nibbles.

For a more blow-by-blow account of the weekend, check out my race report at https://blisterscrampsheaves.com/2014/10/13/the-berlin-marathon-race-report/.

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BOTTOM LINE: Despite tainted race-day memories courtesy of plantar fasciitis, I'd recommend Big Sur in a heartbeat. And I'd love to run this race again (healthy) as part of the … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: Despite tainted race-day memories courtesy of plantar fasciitis, I’d recommend Big Sur in a heartbeat. And I’d love to run this race again (healthy) as part of the Boston 2 Big Sur Challenge. Nearly as impressive as the course itself is that the BSIM boasts an impressive field of national and international runners (from 50 states and 30 countries) while maintaining a decidedly low-key vibe. Yes, the BSIM will be among the toughest road marathons you’ll ever run, and if you’re looking for a Boston Qualifier then keep looking. But if you’re the type of runner who prefers to run with your head up regardless of pacing, you’ll be richly rewarded with stunning views on even the cloudiest day. And if I were to recommend just one road marathon in California, I have to agree with Bart Yasso (Runner’s World Chief Running Officer) that this would be it.

Unfortunately the race’s popularity (the 2014 race sold out in 59 minutes) compelled its organizers to institute a lottery system for 2015 and beyond. And though at the end of the day it’s still a lottery system, BSIM organizers have clearly given this much thought, as the upcoming 2016 “staggered” lottery offers five distinct opportunities for runners to earn a spot – as first-timers, locals, loyal BSIM runners, groups of 2-6, and finally a “last chance” lottery for all individuals.

If you’ll be running the BSIM as a destination race (smart choice!), your most convenient option will likely be to fly into the San José International Airport, then either drive or catch the Monterey Airbus down to the Monterey Peninsula. Alternatively, the Monterey Airport – with direct flights from Denver, Las Vegas, Los Angeles, Phoenix, San Francisco and San Diego – is located only minutes away from downtown, site of both host hotels as well as the race expo. Leave yourself time for a leisurely self-guided tour of this quaint seaside town including its premier destination, the Monterey Bay Aquarium.

Check out my included GoPro footage to get a better sense of the course along the Pacific Coast Highway along with some glimpses of Dean Karnazes, who I ran alongside/behind for much of the first half.

PRODUCTION: Not to be outdone by the course itself, race production was almost picture-perfect. The Goldilocks-style expo (not too big, not too small, but just right), conveniently located adjacent to both host hotels, was easy to navigate. The pre-race pasta dinner, though a bit pricey at $25, hit the spot without poisoning any runners. The 4:00am shuttles assigned to carry marathoners the 30+ miles to the start were dispatched efficiently and ran on time – and if I’m not mistaken, I thought I heard Race Director Doug Thurston say they mobilized 185 buses (!) on race day. Where they found 185 buses in Monterey and Carmel, I have no idea.

The most consistent element of every race I run seems to be the fantastic volunteers, and the BSIM was no exception. The selfless folks in maroon shirts worked tirelessly to ensure that every runner’s race experience was as positive and as worry-free as possible. Special thanks to Cheryl for my first-ever post-race massage, which refreshed my tired legs despite its inability to appease my overworked plantar fascia.

Aside from the prominent Michelob Ultra tent in the post-race Marathon Village (all the appealing local microbrews to pick from, and we end up with Michelob?), my only legitimate gripe from the weekend would be the disappointing performance of the runner tracking app, which after the 13.1-mile mark became increasingly unreliable. I’m not exactly sure why runner tracking is such a difficult technology to implement correctly, but its erratic behavior in this case wreaked havoc on my ability to catch friends at the finish.

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BOTTOM LINE: I ran First Light as the second half of a weekend back-to-back following the Mississippi Blues Marathon. And allowing for the fact that the organizers may have inadvertently … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: I ran First Light as the second half of a weekend back-to-back following the Mississippi Blues Marathon. And allowing for the fact that the organizers may have inadvertently poisoned their runners with the pre-race pasta dinner (and apparently there were many of us), I appreciated my 26.2-mile tour of Mobile. I always welcome the chance to support smaller races, particularly when they benefit as worthwhile a cause as L’Arche Mobile, whose members played a significant role in both the preparation and execution of the race. And as the second half of a geographically convenient back-to-back, the First Light Marathon will always hold a special place in the hearts and pocketbooks of Marathon Maniacs, Half Fanatics and 50 States runners.

PRODUCTION: First Light is a low-frills yet well-organized race. The course profile is unusual for a road marathon, in having a surprisingly hilly middle section (miles 12-21) flanked by perfectly flat stretches at the start and finish. Most important on this day was the abundance of aid stations along the course. Normally 19 aid stations would be about 18 more than I’d need, but on Sunday I found myself wishing – due to the aforementioned & highly inconvenient food poisoning affair – that there were actually more. On the bright side, I feel qualified to vouch for the cleanliness (if not the godliness) of the First Light porta-potties.

Potential dysentery notwithstanding, the pre-race pasta buffet hit the spot and was included with race registration (additional tickets were $10). And if I were to run First Light again, I’d feel confident the organizers would be extra-diligent in ensuring the Alabama Dept. of Public Health doesn’t get involved.

The First Light race shirt is a highly wearable long-sleeve black tech shirt with “MARATHON” printed along the sleeve. And as referenced above, back-to-back (Mississippi Blues Marathon/First Light Marathon) runners received their own long-sleeve white tech shirt with both race logos on the front and a “BACK 2 BACK” design on the back, as well as a commemorative plaque hand-painted by a community member of L’Arche Mobile. Nothing notable to report from the race goodie bag except the bag itself, which was both reusable and neon orange.

On-course entertainment was limited to the running commentary and frequent cries of “War Eagle!” from a good-natured fellow runner whom I’d catch up to after each of my five (yep, five) pit stops. Spectators were sparse but supportive, though not as supportive as in Jackson, Mississippi the day before, where everyone happily thanked us for coming. The enthusiastic orange-clad sentries stationed along the course in Jackson were replaced in Mobile by purposeful police officers whose job it was to keep both foot and motor traffic flowing smoothly.

Once my stomach settled somewhat I was able to appreciate the finish-line festival in sun-dappled Bienville Square, the highlight being the jazz stylings of the Excelsior Brass Band (see video).

If you’re a fan of potty humor puns, or simply want to know (much) more about the actual race, check out my blog recap of the First Light Marathon at https://blisterscrampsheaves.com/2014/01/28/first-light-marathon-race-report/

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BOTTOM LINE: If you’re a 50 States runner or are simply looking for a low-key, well organized road marathon that appreciates its runners, then you’ve gotta get to the Magnolia … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: If you’re a 50 States runner or are simply looking for a low-key, well organized road marathon that appreciates its runners, then you’ve gotta get to the Magnolia State for the Mississippi Blues Marathon. With its frequent turns and rolling profile the course isn’t necessarily PR-friendly, but it does offer an unrivaled opportunity to see Mississippi’s capital city up close and personal. Climate-wise, the state is tough to beat as a winter running destination. And if you’re a musician, the medal alone is almost worth the trip.

PRODUCTION: Aside from eating crunchy yogurt for breakfast on Saturday (through no fault of the organizers), my race weekend in Jackson went off without a hitch. Communication leading up to race weekend was minimal but sufficient, and the pre-race expo was small with just a handful of vendors. The post-race party in the Art Garden was similarly low-key; food choices could have been more diverse, but I was perfectly happy snacking on bananas and chocolate milk to supplement the trail mix we’d brought with us.

Race volunteers are typically among the most patient and friendly people you’ll meet anywhere. But the volunteers in Mississippi were a cut above in terms of friendliness, seemingly always smiling and taking every chance to thank the runners for coming to Jackson.

Other than the people, thoughtful race swag set this race apart. In addition to the eye-catching, core-strengthening finishers medal, each race goodie bag contained a Hohner harmonica and a “Made in Mississippi” CD featuring music of the Mississippi Blues Marathon (including the appropriately titled track, “Done Got Tired of Tryin’ ”). And rather than a race t-shirt, all runners received a long-sleeve black microfleece with the race logo emblazoned on the left lapel, and with a zipper that quickly broke. [UPDATE (Jan. 31, 2014): A huge thumbs-up for Race Director John Noblin – all Mississippi Blues runners today received an email saying he’d heard our feedback and would be replacing “all of the shirts that have bad zippers”. As a runner, you can’t ask for a more committed and responsive RD than that… thanks, John!]

One suggestion for future races would be to have MUCH larger labels for each handheld pace group sign. Our 3:45 pacer (Pacer Bob) did a great job, but whenever he got more than about fifteen feet ahead of me, I needed binoculars to read the time on his pace group sign.

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OVERALL: Unless you’re allergic to dirt or ocean breezes, I’d strongly recommend The North Face Endurance Challenge (the Bay Area edition is their Championship race). If you’re looking for a … MORE

OVERALL: Unless you’re allergic to dirt or ocean breezes, I’d strongly recommend The North Face Endurance Challenge (the Bay Area edition is their Championship race). If you’re looking for a memorable way to round out the year’s race schedule, this is it. The course is stunningly scenic, the weather’s been beautiful all three years I’ve run it, and Ultramarathon Man mojo (in the form of North Face athlete Dean Karnazes) hangs in the air. What’s not to like?

Now let’s talk details…

The Marin Headlands in the Golden Gate National Recreation Area (GGNRA), just north of the Golden Gate Bridge, is an awesome playground for runners. Thanks in large part to the GGNRA’s 117 square miles, the Bay Area deserves its reputation as one of the country’s trail-running meccas. I’d run the half marathon distance for this race twice before and decided this time around to step up to the marathon distance (50-mile and 50K options were available as well, but sold out more quickly).

WEATHER: Despite near-freezing rain the day before, Saturday (race day) dawned on a brave new running world. Bright blue skies, near-windless conditions and temperatures in the low 40s coalesced into a dazzling morning. Maybe, like the rest of us, the running gods wanted to see trail-running phenoms like Rob Krar, Emelie Forsberg and Max King tackle the technically demanding 50-mile course in ideal conditions. Whatever the reason, the crisp clean air that greeted runners in the grassy, sun-dappled staging area at Fort Berry confirmed that today would be a very good day for a run.

As a bonus adrenaline boost, Dean Karnazes was waiting at the start line to encourage and send off the marathoners.

COURSE DIFFICULTY/SCENERY: After an initial ¾-mile descent on asphalt to awaken legs and lungs, the course crosses Bunker Road and left-turns onto the forgiving and well-groomed dirt trails that lay stretched out ahead, like a rock-strewn orange carpet, for most of the next 25.5 miles. A quick right turn leads on to the popular Miwok Trail, where our eager caravan faced its first physical and psychological test, an ascent of 600 vertical feet over 1-1/4 miles.

The marathon course comprises six major hills, including two climbs each up the Miwok Trail and Marincello Trail as well as separate climbs up distinct sections of the Coastal Trail. Together these six major hills account for most of the course’s 4,757ft of elevation gain, and break down as follows:
1) Miwok, mile 1
2) Marincello, mile 3.7 (followed by Alta, mile 5.8)
3) Miwok, mile 9
4) Coastal (part I), mile 12.6
5) Coastal (part II), mile 16.4
6) Marincello, mile 20.3 (followed by Alta, mile 22.4)

Near its summit, the Marincello Trail opens out onto panoramic views of Marin City, which like a newly painted small-scale model lies neatly laid-out below at the foot of Richardson Bay.

The second half of the marathon is equally demanding but even more scenic. The Coastal Trail runs along the western edge of the continent overlooking the Pacific Ocean, with unspoiled coastline and the crash of pounding waves to distract from the hangover of another tough climb. For me the second climb up the Coastal Trail from Muir Beach was the most ughhhhh ascent of the day – 970 vertical feet in just under two miles – and required my first bit of power-hiking to reach the crest of the trail and the zenith of the course, at 999 feet above sea level.

The final descent of the day down the Rodeo Valley Trail offers glimpses of iconic S.F. landmarks Sutro Tower and the Golden Gate Bridge, both peeking over the hilltops to your left. From there it’s a short transition back on to asphalt, followed by a brief ascent up Bunker Road and back to Fort Barry to finish under the familiar red start/finish arch.

While the rest of us were enjoying the epic views, overall 50-mile winner Rob Krar and women’s winner Michele Yates were each earning $10,000 for their efforts. Talk about a runner’s high!

PRODUCTION/SWAG: The North Face organizers do a great job of staging a race they’re obviously proud of. During race bib pickup at the SF store, I had animated conversations about the race with two employees, one of whom would be running it as his first 50-miler. On race day the course was well marked, and strategically positioned aid stations were well stocked and manned by terrific volunteers who, despite having to stand out in the cold, were unfailingly supportive.

Other than the venue, one of the main reasons to recommend this race is the always impressive swag. This year’s goodies included a tastefully designed finisher’s medal, a pair of SmartWool socks and a nice royal blue TNF tech t-shirt, with the TNFECC insignia on the sleeve plus the option of having your race distance and “California Championship” screen printed on the front. And the virtual goody bag included a gem I’ve never seen before – a free magazine subscription from Rodale that allowed you to opt for a $20 refund rather than the free subscription. All this, and a $95 registration fee (not including a $5.75 processing fee from RaceIt)… so even without the sweet offer from Rodale, the marathon is reasonably priced for a high-profile trail race.

As the third-place finisher in my age group, I earned additional swag in the form of a nice pair of TNF arm warmers, assorted CLIF products, a Road ID coupon and – check your excitement – a SmartWool product brochure and stickers. Luckily we’d be celebrating my nephew’s sixth birthday later that day, so thanks to SmartWool I now had a present to give him.

The post-race buffet offered a selection of very decent options for meat-eaters and vegetarians alike, as half the grassy field of the finish line festival enjoyed the warmth of full sunlight while the other half found itself trapped in bitterly cold shade.

My only (minor) grievance would be the 50-question post-race survey sent out by the folks at TNF. Unfortunately I didn’t realize its scope until I was already committed (I’m sure that’s their intent), and though I did complete it, I was definitely losing patience by the midway point.

For an even more verbose synopsis, check out my race report at https://blisterscrampsheaves.com/2013/12/21/the-north-face-endurance-challenge-championship-marathon-race-report/

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The simplest, most honest way I can think to bottom-line the Antarctica Marathon experience would be “once in a lifetime”. Not only was the race itself unique and surreal, but … MORE

The simplest, most honest way I can think to bottom-line the Antarctica Marathon experience would be “once in a lifetime”. Not only was the race itself unique and surreal, but my fellow travelers were some of the most passionate and accomplished runners you could ever hope to meet. If you’re a running enthusiast with the time and resources, do whatever you can to get yourself to Antarctica, before climate change transforms it into an exotic island destination devoid of ice and snow. But do so with an open mind… if you’re a compulsive type-A personality who hates surprises, then you might want to skip this race. Sensible expectations will go a long way toward optimizing your Antarctica Marathon experience.

ITINERARY: The Antarctica Marathon was the brainchild of Thom Gilligan, the founder of Marathon Tours & Travel who produces the race. Our adventure began with a 4-day stay in Buenos Aires, the capital city of Argentina, followed by a short(er) plane flight to Ushuaia, the southernmost city in the world at the tip of South America. In Ushuaia we boarded the Akademik Sergey Vavilov, the Russian ship on which we’d be making the voyage to Antarctica, a voyage that would total 11 days – 3 outbound, 5 on the White Continent and 3 inbound. Two of those days in each direction would belong to the Drake Passage, the expanse of ocean between South America and Antarctica that is reputed to be the nastiest and most discombobulating stretch of open water in the world. Luckily both the Transderm Scopolamine patch worn on the outbound voyage and the Dramamine we substituted on the return trip did an admirable job of staving off motion sickness.

The marathon (and half marathon) were run the day after we sighted land and immediately after we all stepped ashore for the first time in 3-1/2 days. Gentoo penguins frolicked along the shore and joined runners on the course (see videos). But despite being every runner’s central focus, the race itself wasn’t the highlight of the trip – that distinction belonged to the continent. In the three days following the race, we stashed our running shoes and immersed ourselves in Antarctica’s nature porn, in the process earning a face-to-face appreciation for what is arguably the most breathtakingly pristine setting on the planet. I’ve yet to spend time on a space station, but Antarctica certainly feels like the last frontier. Check out the photos and videos on this page and on my blog to get a better sense for the landscape… though when it comes to capturing and conveying the Antarctic experience, nothing compares to being there yourself.

WEATHER & GEAR: Antarctica is the coldest, highest, driest, darkest and windiest continent on Earth. But despite the cold, it’s that last variable – the unpredictably brutal winds – that are the real wild card, and in this respect our diverse group of 92 runners (plus 8 spectators) lucked out. Yes it was cold (though relatively balmy at -5C/23F), and after the race both the marathon winner and runner-up made brief visits to the Russian medical tent for hypothermia. But the winds were conspicuously subdued on race day, and I found myself able to shed my face protection early in the race. Though I still felt like the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man running 26.2 miles in three upper-body layers (wool base layer, synthetic mid-layer, wind- and waterproof outer jacket) and two lower-body layers (fleece-lined tights and lightweight running pants).

COURSE: This wasn’t the most challenging race I’ve run, but it was certainly challenging enough. The hilly course consisted of two different out-and-backs (past several research bases) that marathoners ran three times each, with the start/finish line separating the two. Footing was precarious, with patches of snow and ice blanketing the course and causing many runners to fall at least once. Preparation-wise it’s important to bear in mind that with its precarious footing, this is a bona fide trail race. Then again, if you want to run in Antarctica it’s not as though you have a slew of choices – you can’t just opt for the road version of the race.

PRODUCTION: Thom and his crew did a commendable job of orchestrating all aspects of the marathon – their race-day execution, under some of the most challenging weather conditions any race director could face, was nearly flawless. But in the end, the real stars of the show were the highly competent, experienced and entertaining crew of One Ocean Expeditions who, along with the largely unseen Russian crew, ensured our safety and well-being from the moment we stepped aboard the ship to the moment we again set foot in Ushuaia 11 nostalgic days later.

SWAG: My only real critique of the Antarctica Marathon experience (and it’s a small one) would be that the finisher’s medal should vary from year to year, and should always include the year of the race (or barring that, complementary engraving on the back of the medal that includes name, finish time and year). There’s no excuse for the fact that as of the 2013 edition, the Antarctica Marathon medal had remained the same for at least six straight years (dating back to the image I found online of the same medal from the 2008 race). On the other hand, age-group awards included personally engraved plaques sent to the winners after the trip, so that was a nice and much-appreciated touch. That said, if you’re running a marathon in Antarctica, the swag – as long as it reads “Antarctica” – probably isn’t top priority.

For a (much) more detailed narrative of the Antarctica experience, check out my blog post at https://blisterscrampsheaves.com/2013/04/28/antarctica-marathon-2013-race-report-act-1/.

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BOTTOM LINE: If you’re a trail runner with a healthy streak of masochism, I can’t recommend the Rocky Ridge Half Marathon highly enough. My Brazen race reviews always include a … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: If you’re a trail runner with a healthy streak of masochism, I can’t recommend the Rocky Ridge Half Marathon highly enough. My Brazen race reviews always include a sackful of superlatives, but Rocky Ridge is a cut above in terms of mixing beautiful views with brutal hills. Sam, Jasmin and their crew have organized a genius of a race in the Las Trampas Regional Wilderness. The Marin Headlands may be the golden child of Bay Area trails (for good reason), but Las Trampas holds its own as an overlooked gem of the East Bay.

Rocky Ridge is the “Super Bowl of Brazen Racing” for a reason: with roughly 4,000ft of elevation gain/loss, it’s the most challenging half marathon in the Bay Area, and the toughest half I’ve run aside from Pikes Peak. And because of its Super Bowl status, it attracts some of the Bay Area’s top trail-running talent, so that’s a bonus.

The Rocky Ridge race course wastes little time in muscling up, and the last echoes of the starting airhorn will barely have faded when you reach the first quad-searing uphill of the course. Miles 2-6 are relatively relaxing and largely downhill, before miles 7-11 earn the course its stripes as the most challenging of all Brazen courses. This stretch feels like one extended uphill and, based on my experience here in 2011, is the reason I didn’t give in to early adrenaline and attack the first downhill at mile 2 more aggressively.

Keep in mind that here in Las Trampas, your real race doesn’t begin until mile 7.

Mile 9 features one of the more sadistic aspects of the course layout. As I reached the mile 9 marker, I could clearly hear Sam’s disembodied voice booming from the PA system at the nearby finish line, a finish line I wouldn’t be seeing for another 50 minutes. Adding insult to injury, I was just in time to hear him announce the men’s half marathon winner crossing the finish line.

The most lung-busting, gut-churning and soul-squelching uphills on the course – those beginning at miles 7 and 10 – immediately follow steep extended downhills. And if you haven’t experienced it for yourself, this abrupt shift in both momentum and muscle groups can be exhausting. Learning from my first-timer mistakes in 2011, I didn’t allow myself to glance up at the paved trail of mile 10 ahead of me, winding its way up, and up, and up some more, seeming to disappear into the clouds like Jack’s Beanstalk. Instead I put my head down with eyes on the asphalt and focused on simply getting… up… the hill. This proved a much more productive strategy than allowing myself to contemplate the gut-wrenching reality of another punishing ascent.

During mile 11 the course at last levels off, and aside from a couple of short-but-brutal uphill jags, it’s all downhill from there. Rocky Ridge itself is fairly exposed, so be prepared for a potentially stiff headwind in mile 12.

Again, aside from Pikes Peak I’ve never been so happy to see a half marathon finish line as I was in each of my visits to Rocky Ridge. Quite sure I’ve never enjoyed an IT’S-IT more than I did at that post-race spread.

PRODUCTION: Brazen is lauded among Bay Area trail runners for their top-tier production, which brilliantly combines “low-key” with “well organized”. Their courses are always well marked and their post-race spread is tremendous, with the aforementioned IT’S-IT always a favorite. And more so than any other race I’ve run, Brazen’s events feel like family affairs with many familiar faces (including mine), since their ethic inspires strong runner loyalty. For proof look no further than the “Be Bold, Be Brazen” fan page on Facebook, which as of this writing has 554 members.

SWAG: Each of Brazen’s t-shirts and medals are designed to be eye-catching, and they do the job nicely. And if you happen to be an Ultra Half Series finisher (meaning you run four qualifying trail races plus Rocky Ridge in the same year), you’ll receive additional bling which in 2012 was an impressively hefty coaster – a sweet way to end a successful racing season.

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The race’s official name says it all – Run Crazy Horse. The Marathon offers a wicked combination of picturesque beauty, historical context and a challenging course (5,919ft at the start, … MORE

The race’s official name says it all – Run Crazy Horse. The Marathon offers a wicked combination of picturesque beauty, historical context and a challenging course (5,919ft at the start, 6083ft max) you’ll both love and hate in a span of five miles. As such, Crazy Horse is a no-brainer for any runner looking to get out, explore a less ballyhooed region of the country and spice up their race catalog. I appreciate the argument against desecrating nature, but at the same time if you’re going to vandalize a mountain, you’d better have a Mount Rushmore or Crazy Horse to show for it.

The weather in the Black Hills in October can be unpredictable – unseasonably hot in 2011 when I ran it, snowed out in 2013 – so come prepared for a moody Mother Nature.

PRODUCTION: Sadistic though they may be – the full marathon course passes the finish line at the halfway point – the organizers of the Run Crazy Horse weekend did a terrific job from start (expo and pre-race dinner) to finish (medals). The Marathon had the comforting feel of a low-key trail race, without any wrong turns or logistical glitches. Though I carried my own bottle and the details of the aid stations escape me, I recall them being there when I needed water to dump on my head. As swag goes, the race shirt was a serviceable red short-sleeve tech tee. But the stars of the show, other than the Memorial itself, were the ceramic finisher’s medal and age-group dreamcatcher, both of which will always evoke the spirit of Crazy Horse and the dedication of those who have toiled to keep his memory alive.

For (much) more detail on an awesome race weekend experience, check out my report at https://blisterscrampsheaves.com/2013/11/07/run-crazy-horse-marathon-race-report/.

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BOTTOM LINE: No race name states its case more honestly or succinctly than the Pikes Peak Ascent. This is a terrific challenge for any trail runner, and a notch on … MORE

BOTTOM LINE: No race name states its case more honestly or succinctly than the Pikes Peak Ascent. This is a terrific challenge for any trail runner, and a notch on your racing belt that will boost your personal “bad ass” rating in the eyes of both runners and non-runners. Pikes Peak holds two distinctions for me that 4+ years later have yet to be equalled: 1) my only half marathon of over 4 hours (a personal worst 4:08:52), and 2) the only event in which my stomach actually reversed gears (i.e. gave back to the mountain) after the race. I still wear both of these achievements as badges of honor.

The Pikes Peak Ascent is a half marathon (actually 13.32 miles) that begins on the streets of Manitou Springs and gains 7,815 feet of elevation on the Barr Trail, en route to the finish line at 14,115 feet. And if one trip up the mountain on Saturday isn’t enough, you can register for the Pikes Peak “Double” in which you run the Marathon on Sunday as well.

For middle-of-the-packers, after the first 1.5 miles on pavement the race becomes a caravan to the top on an oft-singletrack dirt trail. Despite this, I was pleasantly surprised that I was able to maintain a fairly consistent pace until about mile 8, when I had to slow down for runners ahead of me. I’d been trying to maintain at least a slow jog to avoid walking, since once I stop running it becomes more and more difficult to start again, particularly on uphills. Passing can be awkward-to-impossible at times on the Barr Trail, but what you don’t want to do is pass another runner, only to slow down and have them leapfrog you once again. That’ll earn you some bad trail karma.

According to the Pikes Peak Marathon website, air pressure is 43% less at the summit than at sea level. By mile 11 my red blood cells were betraying their sea-level origins, and my oxygen-deprived muscles had stopped buying what my brain was selling. Once above the treeline (~12,000 feet) my progress slowed to a crawl, and negotiating the “Golden Steps” (i.e. the large boulders blocking the trail in several places) felt like trying to scale the Great Wall. Case in point, my mile 12 clocked in at an impressively sluggish 26 minutes, 55 seconds.

Once above the treeline I also paused to take pictures of the world spread out below, these pauses doubling as convenient excuses to rest. Runners trudging along like diligent, winded ants were visible on the trail above and below my vantage point.

Luckily Mother Nature cooperated with partly cloudy skies all day, which made for pleasant running conditions aside from not being able to draw a deep breath in the last few miles.

My brother and sister-in-law ran the Pikes Peak Marathon the day after I ran the Ascent, finishing in 7:29:52 and 9:55:13, respectively. Apparently my biggest mistake was stopping at the top… he claimed that as soon as he turned around and started his descent, he could feel more and more oxygen entering his lungs with each breath. Admittedly now, four years later, I’d love to go back and test my mettle in the full marathon.

My only regret was that with my stomach in post-race turmoil, I opted not to test it with a “world famous” high-altitude donut from the summit café. Next time…

PRODUCTION: The pre-race expo on Friday was held outdoors in a large tent and was comfortably low key, making it easy to pick up our registration materials and browse the sponsor booths in a short time. And despite the number of runners on the course on race day, only occasionally did the trail feel truly crowded.

I carried my nutrition with me in liquid form and so didn’t take advantage of the aid stations, but they seemed to be well-stocked and well-appreciated by other runners. I also caught a glimpse of several watchful medical personnel along the way. Pikes Peak is not an easy assignment for volunteers – there are no elevators on the mountain, so many volunteers access their aid stations the same way the runners do. And yet there they were on race day, smiling away and – as far as I could tell and from what I heard – seemingly flawless in their execution. Long live race volunteers!

SWAG: This included a standard white long-sleeve technical shirt with purple side panels (gold for the marathoners) that I still wear based on its most important attribute, the solitary number 14,115’ printed on the back; and a small, understated but perfectly acceptable medal.

DIFFICULTY
5
PRODUCTION
4
SCENERY
4
SWAG
3
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