Hurricane training
The most feared, at least by me, portion of the Big Sur Marathon is Hurricane Point. It is my Goliath, a two-mile, 500-foot climb that drives me on training runs to go up hills I'd rather go around, that drives me in the gym to do one more set of lunges that I'd rather skip, that haunts me at the dinner table and makes me look at that chocolate chip cookie and ... OK, it doesn't keep me from eating cookies, although I kind of wish it would.
After a hard day of hills on Monday and a solid week of weightlifting, on Friday I decided to give myself a break from this Hurricane Point obsession and take a long, flat "comfort" run. As I pulled the car up along the coast, I could see the shrubs bending with the wind and a mist being blown off the breakers. Earlier in the day, spying the world from the safety of my bedroom I could tell it was a fine sunny day. But what I hadn't realized was that it was a windy one as well. Yet, as I began running up the coast I could feel the slight tailwind (why is it always slight when it's a tailwind and always a gale when it's a headwind?), and it was nice to be pushed along, even though I knew I'd be facing a headwind on the way back. ... Now, one thing about Hurricane Point, there's a reason "Hurricane" is in the name. The two times I've run up it there has been a headwind, but one only strong enough to annoy. I've been told I've been extremly lucky. As the sports editor of the Monterey County Herald, the hometown paper of the Big Sur Marathon, I've read plenty of stories about Hurricane Point and the winds up there. I've read about runners feeling like they were actually being pushed backward by the wind and having to strain just to hold their ground. ... Well, I can tell you if the wind gets raging up there the way it was on my run Friday, I could be in big trouble. As I turned around on this 10-mile run, I was stunned by the strength of wind. It made me feel like I was running in slow motion (OK, I often look that way even when the wind isn't blowing). I was being pelted in the face by sand. If I hadn't been wearing the sunglasses my wife had given me for christmas, I'd probably be blind right now, my eyeballs having been sandblasted. I bent my shoulder into the wind and dropped my head. Next thing I knew I was getting a virtual facial shower. The hat I was wearing had become soaked with my sweat. When I bent down, the liquid was dripping off the bill of the cap and being blown back in my face. But I'm no dummy, it only took me a mile or two to figure out if I turned my hat around this wouldn't happen anymore.
I arrived back at my car my lips stinging and chapped and my legs stiff and sore from battling the head wind. Foremost on my mind was the very thing I didn't want to think about this day, Hurricane Point.
After a hard day of hills on Monday and a solid week of weightlifting, on Friday I decided to give myself a break from this Hurricane Point obsession and take a long, flat "comfort" run. As I pulled the car up along the coast, I could see the shrubs bending with the wind and a mist being blown off the breakers. Earlier in the day, spying the world from the safety of my bedroom I could tell it was a fine sunny day. But what I hadn't realized was that it was a windy one as well. Yet, as I began running up the coast I could feel the slight tailwind (why is it always slight when it's a tailwind and always a gale when it's a headwind?), and it was nice to be pushed along, even though I knew I'd be facing a headwind on the way back. ... Now, one thing about Hurricane Point, there's a reason "Hurricane" is in the name. The two times I've run up it there has been a headwind, but one only strong enough to annoy. I've been told I've been extremly lucky. As the sports editor of the Monterey County Herald, the hometown paper of the Big Sur Marathon, I've read plenty of stories about Hurricane Point and the winds up there. I've read about runners feeling like they were actually being pushed backward by the wind and having to strain just to hold their ground. ... Well, I can tell you if the wind gets raging up there the way it was on my run Friday, I could be in big trouble. As I turned around on this 10-mile run, I was stunned by the strength of wind. It made me feel like I was running in slow motion (OK, I often look that way even when the wind isn't blowing). I was being pelted in the face by sand. If I hadn't been wearing the sunglasses my wife had given me for christmas, I'd probably be blind right now, my eyeballs having been sandblasted. I bent my shoulder into the wind and dropped my head. Next thing I knew I was getting a virtual facial shower. The hat I was wearing had become soaked with my sweat. When I bent down, the liquid was dripping off the bill of the cap and being blown back in my face. But I'm no dummy, it only took me a mile or two to figure out if I turned my hat around this wouldn't happen anymore.
I arrived back at my car my lips stinging and chapped and my legs stiff and sore from battling the head wind. Foremost on my mind was the very thing I didn't want to think about this day, Hurricane Point.
posted by dave kellogg at 1:11 AM
1 Comments:
A word of caution about Hurricane Point. I enjoyed the since edited? post about Hurricane point being a 'bloody metaphor' for the race and life, but. . .
When doing the mental preparation for Big Sur, its best not to make Hurricane Point be the high point of the marathon challenge. Its too early in the race. Make Hurricane point the center of your race preparations and you may find yourself in a very bleak place somewhere around mile 18, when there's lots of race left. After having this happen the first couple years I decided the 'hard part' was that long hill in Carmel Highlands. I'm still battling that monster but at least the fights much closer to the end of the race.
Great BLOG by the way! ! ! and wishing you downhills and tail winds on your birthday
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