2 B2B or not 2 B2B

Have you ever had someone mention or recommend some event, a running race, a concert, a triathlon, or a movie that sounds really good at the time of the mention, you commit to said event, but when reality wipes away the fog, you are usually faced with a monumental lapse of judgment and decision making? I would count my decision to enter the Boston to Big Sur Challenge as one of those said lapses. The B2B, as it is affectionately called, is the act of running the Boston Marathon and then less than two weeks later, running the Big Sur Marathon. Yes, you heard me correctly, two marathons in less than two weeks and the opportunity to be called “bicoastal”.

I’ve previously described the Head Slapper 2000, a device for which I am seeking a patent, which allows the operator to slap themselves upside the head when faced with poorly reasoned decisions or life choices. Buy the special “undercoating” for your new car – wham, upside the head. Purchase the extended warranty for your Iphone – whump to the back of the head. Go home with that person that looks like Brad Pitt/Angelina Jolie after a night of heavy drinking –thunk to the forehead. Sign up for the Boston to Big Sur challenge – whack goes the Head Slapper 2000.

Recovery week after Boston was a painful exercise in movement management. I tried unsuccessfully to minimize the amount of time any neurons would fire in my legs causing muscles to contract and me to cry out in an agony only surpassed by having to watch reruns of Jersey Shore. I managed to propel myself around the office, butt firmly placed in my ergonomic chair, by simply doing arm pulls on the nearest doors, cubicle walls or coworkers. For meetings in other buildings, I would wait in my chair near the exit of my building until an unsuspecting colleague ventured across the parking lot and then I would lasso them with a monitor cable and hitch a ride. Second floor meetings were especially daunting, not so much for the up as for the down. I discovered you can walk down stairs supporting your entire body weight on one arm without letting your knees bend or quads engage. So what if HR has opened a file on me for suspicious behavior.

By the Wednesday after the Boston Marathon, I thought I should try a little running to see if I was still capable of upright forward propulsion using my own appendages. I started slow and tried to suppress the whimpers of pain emanating from deep within me so as to not alarm the other denizens of the group run I joined. Pain receptors fired from parts of my body whose existence was unbeknownst to me at the time. Simply put, the run was ugly. I’m talking Donald Trump giving Rush Limbaugh a naked back rub ugly. I lurched forward, face contorted like Jim Carrey in the Mask, and tried to find my happy place, that mystical realm runners reach when the endorphins flow, your legs stride effortlessly beneath you, unicorns trot alongside you, and rainbows mark your path. Instead of running nirvana, I entered a dark place populated by the anguished cries of angels, visions of my running form being criticized by Simon Colwell on national television, and the tears of newborns as they witnessed the horror of that first post Boston run.

Race day arrived like an out of control freight train. My legs had recovered and I was capable of running without frightening innocent children with my cries. My friend and partner in insanity, Andy, and I drove down Saturday to Monterey to pick up our packets and meet up with the other deranged residents of our race club asylum participating in the B2B. The Expo did not yield any new surprises other than a few products being offered of which I questioned the marketing strategy being employed. At every Expo I’ve attended of late, I always have to smile at some of the products and services companies feel are suited or targeted for runners and triathletes. I can certainly understand if you have a line of compression socks, putting efficacy or outcome data aside, where runners and especially triathletes (who will purchase anything with the promise of increased speed) are the perfect target demographic. The companies I question are the ones hawking legal services, magic balance bracelets, and George Foreman grills. Are runners plagued by excessive legal woes, inner ear problems, and insatiable pannini cravings? At least the attendees are showered with a virtual cornucopia of free schwag at these expos.

After exiting the Expo, Andy and I met up with our team mates in downtown Carmel for dinner at the requisite Italian eatery, trying hard to not be attacked by the roving bands of cougars. Well, to be perfectly honest, we didn’t try that hard. I have to doubt the wisdom of aging cougars and pumas prowling the streets of Carmel. I question whether the prey they seek would be frequenting any of the establishments in the cozy burg. Unless they were seeking one of the emaciated runners in town for the marathon, I think all other prey was already engaged in some form or fashion. I’m sorry to say most if not all of the pack went home alone with wine migraines, sore feet, and crushed dreams.

Race morning was beautiful with clear skies and the absence of the customary coastal fog. The temperature dipped down into the 30’s so we sought refuge in a teammates SUV. We were packed shoulder to shoulder like the sardines which were once the major economic driver in nearby Monterey. We huddled in the car preparing our post race performance excuses until the porta-potty clarion call sounded. Being a well organized race, there appeared to be at least one potty per 3 runners, making the normally nauseating and daunting pre-race evacuation of the bowels a less than onerous task. Some runners camped out in the Safeway store located next to the start/finish area staking out territory in favorite sections. Gaggles of gals occupied the wine aisle while their male brethren enjoyed the beer section.

I went to the start line with my friend and team mate Alexia where we formulated our race strategy. Having run the exact same time down to the second at Boston despite starting in different corrals, we determined we should pace each other. We then decided to simply have a good time and run within ourselves. We had no pressure on us to BQ or PR since the course really was not conducive to either objective. We ran comfortably at a conversational pace drifting between the 3:30 and 3:40 pace groups. The musical interludes along the course were fantastic and kept us entertained the entire way. The volunteers outdid themselves practically falling over each other to ensure we got our needed hydration and nutrition. The sun was shining and the temperature never reached an uncomfortable level. We saw many other B2B lunatics along the way and chatted with those around us, something I rarely do in competition. Without pushing the pace, we came in to the finish line only 6 minutes off our Boston time including one unscheduled bathroom break and multiple photo ops.

The B2B organizers treated us extremely well after the race, plying us with copius amounts of beer and food. We collected our prized B2B jackets and medals and made our way home, taking the time to ensure proper post-race recovery by executing an In & Out Burger drive through. What started with hope banished and dread looming, ended on a high I’m still riding almost three weeks later.