1:54:17

On ambitious goals, settling, and my fastest race in years

“I’m just trying to finish in 2:05.”

On Saturday I ran the Santa Barbara Wine Country Half up in Solvang, and I knew what I wanted to run it in. 2:05. That would be my fastest race since becoming a dad three years ago, the moment I removed quality sleep from my life and replaced it with the left over quesadilla my son wouldn’t finish.

It wasn’t an unreasonable goal. Since my wake up call at the Rose Bowl Half last January I started making a lot of changes. I watched what I ate. I pushed myself harder during my training runs. I made conscious decisions to take better care of myself. And all that added up to me dropping about 15 pounds, and feeling optimistic about this race up in wine country. 2:05 wasn’t going to be anywhere near my PR, but it would be a sign of marketable improvement.

But instead of running it in 2:05, I ran it in 1:54:17. A full ten minutes shaved off my goal, and about 15 minutes off my last half marathon time. So if you’ll excuse this vain and incredibly braggadocios aside for a quick second…

HELLLLLLLLL YEAAAAAA KIDDDDDDD!

Sorry, were you talking to me? I couldn’t hear you cause of how FAST I WAS RUNNING BY YOU!

Holy shit I fucking ROCK! DRU! DRU! DRU! DRU! SUBSTACK!!!!!

Me enjoying a ham and cheese croissant after the race. I am COVERED in sweat.

Meeting The Moment

For most of my life I’ve set ambitious goals, and then doggedly pursued them. But the thing about ambitious goals is that you often don’t reach them. And your inability to reach the top of the mountain can pale the fact that you got all the way to base camp.

A friend once told me that you need to make your New Year’s Resolutions more manageable and within your own power. If your resolution is “I’m going to write and sell a movie this year” and no studio is interested in paying you six figures for it suddenly you can look at the year as a failure. But the reality is you wrote the movie. And that’s a huge accomplishment. Putting your success in the hands of someone else is like putting all your dreams on red at the roulette table. It’s not up to you.

But I’ve found that nowhere is that disconnect more apparent than the lofty dreams you tell yourself about your athletic goals and the brutal reality of what your body can actually achieve. It’s even more rough because it’s not like you’re relying on another person to give you a green light, you’re relying on yourself. Your own damn body. And it just won’t cooperate!

When I ran my first marathon I had gotten it into my head that I needed to break four hours. Friends and coworkers kept pushing me, insisting that should be my goal. I asked my physical therapist about it, he seemed confident I could hit that time. And what it all added up to was me standing at the start line on Staten Island, a first time marathon runner, telling myself that running a sub 4 hour marathon was what would equal success.

But what no one considered in all these lofty goals was that running a marathon is really, really, really fucking hard. At mile 21 I hit a wall, my splits plummeted, and I ended up finishing that marathon in 4:08.

The good news is that running a marathon is such a physical toll on your body that you can’t really be mad at yourself when you finish one. You’re just so absolutely thrilled to cross that finish line. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have a little pang of disappointment when I did the math at about mile 23 and realized a sub 4 hour was out of the picture.

So I’m used to it. In both life and running. I’m used to setting goals and getting just short of it. And I’ve grown to accept it, because if you don’t set ambitious goals you don’t push yourself.

But this weekend I learned what it feels like when you set an ambitious goal, and realize about half way through that not only are you going to hit your goal, you’re going to blow past it. My god, it’s thrilling. It’s incredible. What happens when just everything works our perfectly?? That was this weeks race.

Run Now, Wine Later

The race was beautiful. Honestly it’s one of my favorite half courses I’ve ever gotten to run, second only to the New York Half that starts in Prospect Park and ends in Central Park. It’s a scenic race through vineyards and cute little towns, it’s got rolling hills, an incredibly challenging middle appropriately titled “Corkscrew Hill,” and you finish in Solvang, a kitschy Danish inspired town that looks like Disneyland went all in on a Hamlet themed ride.

Plus, there are wine puns everywhere. Multiple signs that say “Run now, wine later.” They even offer a wine festival immediately after the race, which I definitely opted out of… no disrespect to the organizers of the race but after running 13.1 miles I can’t think of anything less appealing than a full bodied Merlot at 9:15 in the morning.

I started the race slow. Don and I started the race together but at about half a mile I told him to run on ahead. I needed to take it slow to make sure I didn’t bonk and I didn’t want to slow him down. So I took my sweet time, running at a comfortable pace.

The first half is a sneaky uphill… it felt flat to me, but looking at my Garmin tracking after the fact it was definitively uphill the whole time.

Guess what part is “Corkscrew Hill”

During this time there was one man who decided to wear a speaker and blast techno music. He passed me. I kind of let him because I really hated that music. I vowed that at my next race I will also run with a speaker, and if I ever cross paths with him again I will start blasting Terry Gross at .5 speed.

At mile 6 you hit Los Olivos, and I was feeling absolutely solid. In fact, I had caught up with techno man, and somehow passed him. Then it was Corkscrew Hill, also described as a number of switchbacks for half a mile, and then four glorious miles of downhill.

And this was about the point, mile 7 or so, that I looked at my watch and realized that a sub two hour half was definitely possible. And also, I realized I felt great. Almost too great. I wasn’t used to being so far ahead of myself, so I started convincing myself something had to go wrong. Maybe I would bonk. Maybe I would fall and twist my ankle. I decided to hell with that, stick with the plan, and maybe it would all work out. It did.

I never saw techno man again. I kept at a pace around 8:15/mile, and pushed and pushed. Suddenly a sub two hour wasn’t just in the cards, it was a near mathematical certainty. And it let me run with a kind of wild abandon and freedom. The last two miles has some out of the blue hills, and I chugged my arms, pushing myself forward.

The final push came and I ran down the Solvang streets, past cheering onlookers, and crossed the finish line with fuel still in my engine.

I felt great. I felt strong. I felt like the version of myself I always want to be.

This was the race that you want running to be. The freedom. The achievement. The joy. This is when you’re at your best.

And that night, I enjoyed some unbelievable wine surrounded by family and friends.

I can’t wait for the next one.

Last Week’s Runs

Monday 05/04 - 3.13 Miles, 8:54/Mile

The final real run before the half. Three loops of echo park. Tried to push a bit, but not too too hard.

Wednesday 05/06 - 2.01 Miles, 10:20/Mile

Got to do two shake out miles with my brother Zane who was in town visiting and it was great. He’s at the start of training for his first half marathon and I’m so, so excited to see him achieve it.

Saturday 05/09 - 13.17 Miles, 8:42/Mile

See above.