Two Hours at 180bpm Is Not Panic: Race Report from the Surf City Half-Marathon

In the early-ish hours of last Friday, I discovered that I had lost my wallet. I was in the midst of towing two dogs and a cat out to the car, en route to Oakland International via the pet-sitter’s house. It was not on the dining room hutch, or my desk, or the dresser, or the floor behind the dresser, or in the puffy vest, or this pocket, or that pocket, or, or . . .

I left an obligatory freak-out voicemail for my wife, who was 2,500 miles away and couldn’t do anything about it; then put my big-girl chonies on, made some phone calls, got my checkbook and passport, and decided not to cancel vacation. When my wife called back, she asked, “Did you look, or did you Sarah-look?” I was at the gate, waiting to board. I set down my bag. I looked. Wallet. Right there, where I packed it yesterday. “Oh. Haha.”

That was Panic #1.

Deceptively peaceful view from the hotel.

Several hours later, my friends and I were lounging in a hot tub along Huntington Beach, still laughing about times we’d outsmarted ourselves, when the bubbles stopped and I sprang out of the water to turn them on again. There was a knob, and a big red button. I pressed the big red button. The entire pool area erupted in apocalyptic buzzing. EMERGENCY SHUT-OFF, I read, a little bit late.

That was Panic #2.

So, when I pressed the start button my Garmin the next morning and crossed the starting line of the Surf City 13.1, I was primed for something to go wrong. I’d be too cold, too caffeinated, too hungry, too sore . . . I’d twist an ankle, or accidentally snort the Gatorade (Vitalyte, whatever) while running and drinking. Actually, all of these things did happen. And I felt absolutely great.

Maybe it was the brand-spanking-new Oakland Triathlon Club gear, or the first effects of working with OTC’s Elite Team coach (Mitchell Reiss, thank you!). Maybe it was also the flat out-and-back course along a picturesque beach. Maybe every single song was the right one at the right time, but I kept a steady 8:30 pace, sped up to dodge knots of runners, and made myself push to a 7:14 pace for the last quarter-mile so that the girl with the orange shirt wouldn’t get too far away. Every time I looked down at my Garmin, my heart rate was at a panic-threshold 180 beats per minute, and somehow I didn’t mind at all. I finished in 1:51:50. There is room to improve over the season, but I was delighted with the time as a starting point.

Mentally, I often struggle. I get grumpy and call myself slow and make myself feel worse, for no good reason except that it’s a place to vent all the little frustrations that build up across weeks, and come out when my body really starts to hurt. But I’d already hit the panic button before the race–literally–and this time, just kept telling myself to manage discomfort with kindly common sense. I would finish, would not walk, and would get a boost every two miles as the Gatorade (Vitalyte, whatever) kicked in.

So, in this year’s coming races with the OTC Elite Team, the goal is to get the panic out of the way beforehand, stop thinking myself into a death spiral (or out of a wallet), and most of all, enjoy the company! In the pic is USCG Captain Select Charlene Downey, whose dozens of marathons and relentlessly positive attitude are an inspiration to me.