Date: April 29, 2018
Location: Big Sur, CA
Runcation (n): A vacation taken with running friends for a race
-or-
Runcation (n): The act of weeding by hand
Pretty sure - given that this is a running blog - we're talking about the first one, right?
This runcation in California was all thanks to my friend Nicole who now lives in San Francisco. She asked a group of us if we wanted to come out and run the marathon, which starts in Big Sur and ends just south of SF in Carmel-by-the-Sea. The entire course is on Route 1, which means breathtaking ocean views for 26.2 miles, so of course we said yes!
Looking back on it, the whole thing feels surreal. As if it didn’t really happen to me. I have a hard time fusing my real life with the experience. The race in my memory is broken up into three distinct chapters, each with their own magical elements.
The fables of Big Sur
Chapter 1
Running for Joy
One upon a time, there was a runner. She crossed the starting line of the Big Sur International Marathon and found that she'd suddenly sprouted wings. She was flying down the redwood-lined path. Tree after tree soared past her. A small thought appeared in a corner of her brain like a quiet, far-away voice. I’m probably going too fast. She knew speed in the early downhill miles is never a good idea. But she muted the voice almost immediately. For once, this race was not about achieving a personal best. She let her newly-sprouted wings spread wide and continued to soar.
She blinked and the scenery opened up to reveal the ocean. Perfectly framed by the coastal mountains on one side and by the misty horizon on the other. She couldn’t believe she was here right now. What a privilege to run here, at this edge of the world. She wanted to drink in every last rock, every last flower, every last bit of foam at the crest of each wave.
With each step she felt lighter. Shedding the weight of stress back home, the weight of the pressure she usually felt to do her best at everything. To run the best race every time. She felt liberated.
Chapter 2
Thunder and a Serenade
The runner could see Hurricane Point long before reaching it. She felt the energy shift around her; a mixture of eagerness and apprehension. Hurricane Point would be the pinnacle of the race, but she knew it wouldn’t be easy. She was 10 miles in and about to start a two-mile journey climbing 600 feet.
A mile later and she was cursing herself for her lack of California-sized hill training. How could she possibly continue this for another mile? The peak seemed to get further away with each insufferable step. Now she understood the nickname of this course: Beauty and the Beast.
Then, she heard them. They sounded like distant thunder at first. Rhythmic, inviting thunder. As the drums got closer and closer she found herself putting each foot in front of the other to the metrical beat. The combined cadence of drums and pounding feet consumed her and carried her one step at a time further up, up, up.
Finally, finally she crested the top. And was rewarded with a huge blast of wind that knocked her breath out and carried it away down the mountainside. Every muscle and tendon was buzzing with fatigue. She felt defeated and alive all at once.
Then began the blustery descent down to the halfway mark and Bixby Bridge. Excitement took over when she spotted the iconic bridge ahead.
Once she reached the bridge, some other, unmistakable music notes filled her ears. The surreal, almost eerie piano notes floated across the bridge, danced along the water, and dissipated over the horizon to another realm. The notes serenaded her, drawing her closer and closer to the source: a tuxedoed player sitting at a baby grand piano, waiting to greet her on the other side.
Chapter 3
The Enchanted Strawberry
A few miles down the road, and the magic of Hurricane Point and Bixby Bridge were now a distant memory. Drums? Piano music? Had any of that actually happened? With 10 miles to go, the runner was already spent. The beautiful, awe-inspiring scenery continued to stretch on as the clouds started to gently release their rain.
At mile 21, the ocean views turned away, and rolling hills hit with a vengeance. The runner felt like she was being beaten repeatedly with a wooden stick. Rain sliced at her skin as she stared down the next hill ahead. A voice, slightly louder than the one before, came from deep within her core. You are strong, you are fierce, you are resilient.
A few miles later, that voice was dampened as doubt started creeping in. Her legs and lungs were growing too weary. Would she even be able to finish? Then, at the mile 23 water stop, she reached out for a cup of water. Instead, she was handed a strawberry. One of the famous, mystical berries of the Strawberry Lady.
She had never tasted anything like it. As soon as it hit her tongue, the power of the Strawberry radiated from each taste bud through her veins to reach every corner of her body. By the time she finished it, she had been propelled so far down the road that she couldn’t go back for another.
But one strawberry was enough. Each step was a little less excruciating; each hill a little less daunting. Thank you enchanted strawberry. She knew now that she could finish.
She felt her new peace of mind spread from this very moment in time to other moments, past and future. Worries and fears from all realms of her life blanketed by tranquility. She caught one last glimpse of the ocean before climbing her final hill, then coasting down into Carmel and the warm embrace of the finish line.
Her group assembled as each person finished. Some were new friends, some were old. Either way, they were all now bonded – and possibly changed – by this experience. The magic began to lift and reality began to sink back in. But they will always carry it with them: the fabled journey of Big Sur.
The End
Runcation (n): A vacation taken with running friends for a race, during which you may experience some supernatural phenomena, meld with several forces of nature, and pull some metaphorical weeds from your life.
