It seems like no matter where you live, there’s That One Race that everyone raves about, the one that everyone says is their favorite, that you’ve absolutely gotta do, gotta put it on your calendar and register the moment it opens so you’re sure to be part of the fun. Since moving to the Bay Area almost five years ago now, I think That One Race has been both CIM, on the long side of things, and Wharf to Wharf, on the shorter side.

Of course, I already raced and wrote about CIM back in December, but until last weekend, I haven’t been able to race at Wharf to Wharf simply due to timing. More specifically: it’s always been on the same race weekend — hell, on the same day — as TSFM. This year, however, due to WTW always being on the fourth Sunday in July and TSFM going to the (random and rare) fifth Sunday of the month, I was finally able to register to run both.

I have heard about or read about Wharf to Wharf since shortly after moving here from probably 284107 people. It’s a 6 mile, not 6.2 mile, point-to-point course that begins in Santa Cruz and ends in Capitola, all of which is a simple, 45ish minute, just an “over the hill” drive. I’ve run in SC several times now because of SIB, but I had never run in, let alone visited, Capitola. From what I gleaned from the collective masses who have done WTW, the course would take runners periodically in and out of neighborhoods very near the coast, and when you weren’t in the road in front of someone’s house, you’d be running adjacent to the coastline, likely offering you pretty views of the water and quite pleasant running weather.

…but really, it’s about the party and the people, as these things often are. The so-called “best little road race in California” caps registration around 16k runners (and sells out in literal minutes), and I’ve seen and heard it referred to as “Christmas in July,” homecoming, a reunion, the best race of the year, a 6 mile block party, the one race worth doing each year, and so on. Though it’s not a PA race, no doubt due to its proximity, its storied history (forty+ years and counting), the thrill of shooting for a top 100 placement, and the simple fact that most every human alive loves the SC/Capitola area, my Wolfpack team historically has always fielded a co-ed team there and this year easily numbered 40+ strong (probably our largest collective attendance at any event all year).

Talk about a fantastic first race back after running in the midwest for a month, right?

As Janet and I drove over the hill Sunday morning, we chatted about how we were feeling, our goals for the day, and for me, how I was feeling a week out from the San Francisco Marathon. By virtue of never doing a 6 mile race, WTW would be one of those cheeky, automatic PRs, which is both silly and fun. As I told Janet, though, I didn’t quite know how to approach the race. It’d likely be my last hard running before TSFM, and with the added benefit of being on the beginning-of-taper legs, but … was it prudent to try to “do something” with this race and distance? Would doing so potentially hinder my SF race in a week’s time? Or should this just be another workout-within-a-race, as was the case with the races I ran in Ohio just a few weeks ago? I really didn’t know what the best approach would be and figured (read: hoped) that I’d get that realization sometime in the next couple hours before go time.

My teammates and I warmed up for a couple miles over to the starting area, along the way bumping into and finally getting to meet the lovely Page (at last!), and there were people eeeeeeeeeverywhere. Where did all these people come from?!  It was impressive. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Santa Cruz so busy.

 

 

 

Marathonfoto was out taking pictures, Steph Bruce and a few other Hoka pros were warming up, I ran into tons more friends and teammates in the starting corral (a hug for you! And a hug for you! And a hug for you!), and before long, we were sardined into the starting area very near the Santa Cruz Boardwalk, and we were off.

 

 

Most of my other teammates and I were smooshed into the Elite wave, which for me promised almost definitely coming off the line hot so as to avoid getting Lion King-style trampled by the sea of humanity surrounding me. My dear friends Meg and Janet, both WTW veterans of a million years between them, as far as I was concerned, described the race’s changing topography to me before the race, and both warned that everyone would come off the line hot, try as you might not to. Yeah… guilty. Unabashedly so.

My Garmin had about 250’ elevation over the six mile race, which in the grand scheme of things is relatively inconsequential, but of course, when you’re trying to run hard and fast and also carve out a little racing space for yourself, the smallest blips feel catastrophic. I don’t remember there being too many big hills — the largest/longest being later in the race, right around when Meg caught up to me and cheerfully said “this is the last one of the race, and it’s the longest!” before zoom-zooming off — but I definitely concur with others who have said that while WTW hills pale compared to those of TSFM, for example, this ain’t a pancake flat course.

I think part of the magic of WTW is its fanfare. In addition to the 16k runners and walkers actually doing the race, much of the course is lined with spectators — folks whose homes we’re running past, tons of bands, children handing out leis, people at a farmer’s market — and I didn’t detect much in the way of animosity. Naturally, closing down city streets can be a huge PITA to residents, and I’ve helped at or run enough races to know that some people get rather salty on the subject. Not so at WTW. Surely no doubt because the race has been around for more than four decades, presumably at the same time of the month each July, people along the route appeared to have grown to know, expect, and shoot, dare I say embrace the chaos. I saw a local newspaper’s report that said that WTW weekend brings in something like millions of dollars to the local economy, too, which dear god–for a 6 mile race?! That apparently every runner in these parts of California loves?! That’s pretty good in my book.

Because I’m so unfamiliar with where we actually ran, I can’t offer much in terms of a scenic play-by-play. It was super fun to be surrounded by so many runners I knew, though, both on my team and from others, making it feel like I was running alongside, in front of, or behind someone I knew for the entire journey. I’d pass someone I knew, and then soon enough, someone different would come up and pass me; it was like a reunion-on-the-go of sorts. Honestly, it was a blast.

For this race, the top 100 male and top 100 female finishers each earn a ¼-zip jacket made by California-based Rabbit, making “earning a jacket” something of a pursuit for the race’s fastest runners. New for this year, too, was a complimentary membership to PWR Lab for the top 100 finishers. Each year, the 100 finisher time threshold changes — which makes sense, right, because it’s dependent on who shows up that day and how fast they all run — and importantly, it’s based on gun time, not chip time. This helped to explain the sardine formation in the Elite wave at the start; no one wanted to lose precious seconds! As I was running, I tried to get a feel for how many women were in front of me at any given time, but I had no freaking clue. After all, I could only see so far ahead due to the course’s turns and bends.

Based on conversations with my teammates and a cursory look at previous years’ finisher times, I thought I may have a chance to break into the top 100, but if this race was anything like the PA races, it would be iffy at best and leaning toward “unlikely” than otherwise. More than anything, I wanted to stay present in the current moment of racing — going so far to actually write HERE on my left hand as a physical reminder of the sentiment — and to run a strong effort from start to finish without mentally checking out when shit got uncomfortable which, assuming the earth was going to continue to spin on its axis that morning, would surely happen at some point or another.

Of course, there were uncomfortable moments, particularly on some of the late-stage long ascents, but I feel pretty happy with how I managed my expectations and how I kept attempting to rally on the descents — use gravity here! It doesn’t matter if you’re tired; you’re freaking going downhill! Don’t be a baby!! — to make up for time. It’s so easy to dissociate, but I’m not convinced that that’s the best way to race. Sometimes discomfort can be illuminating.

And before too long, we were at mile 5, the beginning of a basic all-downhill final mile into the finish line. I had been passing women, others had been passing me, and one of my teammates, Mitch, was within view and practically close enough to me that we could have finished the race together holding hands. I willed myself to stay near him and to finish strong, on super tired legs, and to keep the turnover high for the downhill mile. Seeing and hearing Sara (with her newborn!) around mile 5.5 screaming at me that I looked strong, along with my constant reminder to stay mentally engaged, helped Mitch and me finish practically alongside each other as we hurled ourselves down Cliff Drive.

 

Like that, I finished and flew through the women’s chute — something like 40:57, a 6:49 pace — and a very pleasant gentleman handed me a hot pink rectangular ticket with #94 on it and instructed me to go get my jacket. 94?! holyshit I eked out a top 100!! What a surprise!! Moments later, it was more hugs for you! And a hug for you! And a hug for you! as I continued to run into more friends and teammates, all of us absolutely sopping with sweat and the humidity that we had apparently absorbed from the morning’s overcast skies. I spent a good while catching up with Michael, who had asked about my stroke and how everything had been going for the past ~6 months with running and training, and between talking with him and his GF, chatting with pro Steph Bruce (who had placed 4th and was first American woman overall), seeing TSFM ambassador buddy Elysha, and then meeting up with more teammates and friends for more pictures, my little heart was just on overdrive.       

 

Don’t get me wrong, earning a jacket was cool and such an honor in such a fast field. (Fun fact: finisher #100 for the women’s side was my 6 month pregnant friend Connie! And the top 100 men cut-off at like 5:45 pace [holyshit!]). Running a good-for-me time a week ahead of my target marathon was a nice confidence booster, too. Being able to race in a pretty location is always enjoyable as well.

What made this race — really, the whole morning, from start to finish — was being able to do it and share it alongside so many friends and teammates. People so often say that running (and/or racing) is this singular, solitary pursuit, and this race experience flies squarely in the face of that accusation. This race is all about the community — the people who organize it, the residents of both towns that runners veritably take over for several hours on a Sunday morning in July, the many non-profits that directly benefit from the race’s funds, the businesses who see increased sales each year over race weekend, the running teams from high school through post-collegiate who use the race as a backdrop for a reunion, whatever — this race screams  community from start to finish. The beautiful scenery, the fun vibes, finishing next to the beach, the rainbow arches that demarcate each mile marker — all of that stuff is fun and special, too.

But the community.

 

The community!

Perhaps fittingly, then, a handful of lady Wolves and I ran back to the start, another 6.66 miles, just furthering my claim here that the race is all about your people and your company. (Plus, it seemed a better use of time than waiting to be shuttled back). I have so few opportunities to race and train alongside many of my teammates, so being able to do that for a long while, several times, over the course of the morning … again, my heart. So full. So happy.

 

 

 

At this point, I’ll keep my concluding ruminations short. In a nutshell:

Do this race.

Put the registration time and date on your calendar, and F5 for all you’re worth.

Get some buddies to do it with you as well.

Make a day or a weekend out of it.

Revel in the race’s simple logistics — bibs get mailed to you (at no additional cost), you get your shirt once you finish, along with a little goody bag — and enjoy the bigger picture of the morning.

Race it hard, or jog or walk it.

Six miles is a good distance because it necessitates training, but it’s also not a distance whose training will necessarily dwarf your other responsibilities in life for a few months.

However you do Wharf to Wharf, do it. Enjoy it. It’ll be hard not to.

4 sleeps til the SF Marathon!