Day 5: Pescadero

Trust me when I tell you: The rest of the time was spent either by the pool, on the beach, or by the fire pit. We were practically slithering with relaxation. We'll likely come back. When the world gets too much and our communication is mainly grunts and one-word texts, we shall return.

Because sometimes doing nothing...is everything.

Day 4 - La Paz

Okay, so we had to get off our butts. We had a rental car! And there were beaches to explore! So we drove north and then across Baja to get to La Paz and some of the beaches around that area. The beaches? Are lovely. La Paz? Not so much.

I will show you this selfie so you can see my awesome hipster cat T-shirt.

The drive to La Paz looks like this, over and over again:

Actually, that's probably the most attractive part of the drive. La Paz is not a pretty city. The approach to it, even less so. Traffic, dirty, rude, scary, ugly. It looks like it was designed by someone who's imbibed too much tequila. Actually maybe it was designed by tequila. 

We got a little lost on the way to the beaches, but ended up at Balandra Beach. It's warm, clear, and calm. You can wade out forever and still be only up to your knees. Kind of reminded me of Jericoacoara, in northeast Brazil. Except Jeri didn't have a wasp that followed me around and which Justin heroically smote by clapping it between the shoes he carried in his hands. (Seriously. That was amazing. As I watched its mean old dead stinger ass fall into the sea I turned to my husband and said, "I have never wanted you more than I do right now."

 See? Another sniffy. I'm strange.

Balandra! There were maybe 20 people at this beach? Delightful.

We then went into La Paz to check out the Malecon, the street by the harbor. It was...eh. We got some decent ice cream but then just felt like going home at this point.

The Clamato Zone was kind of funny though. Zona Tourista? No! Zona Clamato! We did not go in. 

One redeeming feature: The seal trash cans. Put trash up a startled sea mammal's ass, yo!

El Malecon.

Giant oyster.

Yeah. After this we bailed in time to catch the sunset at the B&B. We were done. 

El Pescadero - Day 3

Day 3

We journeyed to the beach to the north of us. You have to go over this hill. The trail's not real clear. It was warm. I was a little apprehensive. Like the scree in Maria Island. That was harder, actually. But we kicked its ass. That was fun.

Panoramic from the top of the hill. Beautiful. Empty. This beach had a lot more debris on it. Lots and lots of driftwood. Like downed soldiers. 

We then went back to our whale-watching perch (i.e. chairs by the pool) to contemplate this for most of the day:

Oh look, another freaking sunset. Sorry! We were boring. This was a do-nothing trip. We have plenty where we are traipsing all over the goddamn country. This was not one of them. 

Actually this whole trip should be titled "Sunsets 'n' Selfies. Sorry.

(not a selfie if relaxed happy spouse takes photo)

Silly sunsets 'n' selfies. 

#thisis40 and no Botox!

 Oh hey! A sunset.

We got off our collective asses the next day -- La Paz.

El Pescadero - Day 2

What did we do day 2? Pretty much fuck-all.

We had breakfast and then moseyed down to one of the beaches (the easier-accessed one) for a walk. Because who likes to sit still after eating?

Did I mention that one of the best things about where we stay is the emptiness of the beaches? Cabo this is not. This beach was really quite clean of debris, save the occasional decaying puffer fish washed up on the beach.

Justin taking off his socks & shoes for the beach. Thanks, honey.

Ain't no one. And that's how I like it.

It appears then we accidentally did some selfies that look like would-be extras on Lost who didn't make the cut!

Not sure why I tend to look like I'm sniffing Justin in photos. Maybe I am, actually. He smells good. I guess that's one reason we're still married...

Return journey. The squares on top of the rock is where we were staying. Those footprints are only ours. So cool.

After that we decided to drive into Pescadero. For we were to check out the Gringo Center of Baja: Baja Beans' Sunday market. Because who can resist a market? It was blinding white. Kind of like...Portland.

The coffee was pretty good, though.

We did not purchase this sombrero.

 Cool light fixture Justin noticed.

Cool old cooler (see what I did there?) Justin noticed. "I would totally buy that," he said. Me: "You're not here for work."

I'm posting this because I have a lot of photos of Justin from this angle. Humoring me. But he's cute.

After that we went back to the B&B and hung out by the pool and watched for whales all afternoon. Did I mention it was whale-watching season? And last year we saw a ton of them and also manta rays which go flap-flap-flap in the water so loudly you can hear them from super-far away. We didn't see as many this year.

I have some bikini pics but do you really want to see those? I took some because I thought about including those (part of it is to share that 40 IS NOT THAT BAD, in fact it's pretty goddamn fun) but now I feel like they're inappropriate.

They're not, like inappropriate photos but it's kind of weird to show them, no? Bikini selfies? On your travel blog that's really more of a repository for yourself of where you've been? I don't know. I'm on the fence. I'll leave this for now. I mean, employers might google me and stuff. So I'm probably leaning toward no.

Anyway! We ended the day with another sunset and some pina coladas. I'm not sure I like pina coladas. They kind of taste like suntan lotion. High-calorie suntan lotion. I'll just have the rum instead, thanks.

Oh, ho hum, another beautiful sunset...what else is there to do but continue to watch the shit out of that sunset...?

El Pescadero - Take 2, Day 1

When I write Take 2, you'd assume I messed up the first post and am trying again. Not the case, friends! It's because 1) I didn't write about this trip last year (why, I don't know, I think I was a little depressed? work got a little crazy when I returned? I didn't have time/procrastinated? all valid reasons, really) and 2) because -- in a first for the Groonins -- we returned somewhere.

When we go to a place we really like, we have the "sure, we'd come back here" conversation but that pretty much gets buried in new places! new things! but when we went to the place we stayed (I'm honestly hesitant to link it here; I love it but I also love that it's a secret. then again it's not really a secret if you go on TripAdvisor and/or read my description below, but...still. I want to book again, you know. Yes, that might mean a three-peat.) last year we liked it so much, and we liked the people who ran it so much, that we came back a year later.

Because January sucks anyway. It's long, the days are short, it's cold, it's crummy. Not quite as bad in Portland as it was on the east coast, but it's one of my favorite times to get the hell out of Dodge. (Or SE Division, as it were.)

Anyway. So we went back. To paraphrase my favorite elementary school (where I went they called it "Lower School," don't ask) song, "The Cat Came Back" I will tell you that the Groonins came back, we couldn't stay away, we were sitting by the pool the very next...year.

In September 2014, Baja California, Mexico was hit by Odille, a category 4 hurricane. It was hit hard. But the areas you will primarily see as a tourist/traveler are largely cleaned and functional. That said, things like the Alamo rental car building? No windows, open air -- when it wasn't like that in Jan. 2014. Driving to and from the airport to our B&B, we saw major signs still blown down, huge letters off major hotels missing. I think neon signs with various letters missing are hysterical, but this wasn't that kinda funny. The takeaway here is that Baja is back and you should visit. They need you. Don't be a-skeered.

So anyway, onto the recap. We were there five days, which I think is just enough time. This is where we go to be lazy. Four to five nights is about the max I can go without getting antsy. You know how some vacations are all rushy-rushy? This is the anthesis of that. It's quite honestly awesome to see your spouse/partner/person you give two shits about who normally is not relaxed, relaxed. That's one of the best things about vacations, IMHO.

We get there Saturday -- and our bags do, too.

(This makes us happy considering last year they didn't. They showed up that night but it was just late enough that we bought $150 worth of toiletries and over the counter meds and too early for our travel insurance to reimburse us. Uh, yay.) I always think Cabo should be a quicker flight than it is. I'm no good with the mafs. But things this year went as seamless as seamless could. Upgraded to economy plus (thanks Justin for all your biz travel last year) on both flights (we connected in SFO).

Get the rental, doesn't take much time, already feeling the sun, the smell, the way Baja smells is different, that desert next to the beach, you get this mix of dust and sea and floral. I kind of love it. It's become synonymous with doing fucking nothing. Cabo to me has seemed like Las Vegas at the beach so we drive right by it, and we've been to Todos Santos, which is like Mexican New Hope, PA, which --been there, done that for 18 years--but where we stay in El Pescadero is just right. Though you are many miles from nowhere.

Where we stayed is about a 75-minute drive from the airport.

First order of business: Taking off socks and shoes and drinking margaritas and eating chips around the fire pit. The place we stayed has three guest rooms. We were the only guests for the first three days. It was heaven. Like staying with awesome friends who wait on you hand and foot.

We got there *just* in time for sunset. And what a sunset it was!

Those are rocks. We are about 45 meters up.

I love this picture because could it look any more '70s? It's like a Carpenters album or something. (At least I think it is. Just slightly before my time, dontchaknow.)

Newport Marathon

I don't have any photos from the marathon and I'm kind of glad.

I didn't sleep well, but everyone expects that before a race, right? 

But I hadn't slept well in the several days before the race, which is really what matters. I'm not sure why. It wasn't like I had specific things keeping me awake. I wasn't rehashing a race plan in my head or doing visualizations or anything (though maybe I should have?). I could fall asleep but I couldn't stay asleep. The room was too hot. Or too cold. Or it was too light out. Too dark out. I was stuffy. My thighs touched. My knees touched. The pillow was too flat/puffy, etc. 

So I'm up at 4 a.m., even before my alarm and wakeup calls go off. The race starts at 7. The shuttle to the race comes at 6:04 (and kudos to Newport Marathon organizers, it departs right at 6:04. Portland Tri-Met, you can learn something from your sister to the south.) Do the usual pre-race things. I feel nervous but like, FINALLY, let's just get this shit over with. Can I do this? I think I can do this. Let's do this!

I think this was the first time Newport also offered a half-marathon in addition to the full. That's great and all, but if you're going to have several hundred more people in the race you might want to, I don't know, add a port-o-potty or two? I got there early enough so I didn't have to wait long but the lines! 

I did some stretches. I stretched in front of a friend of mine and I didn't even notice. I did some warmup strides to check my shoes. I then realize I'm right in front of another friend of mine. We exchange pleasantries-slash-sandbags "You ready for this?" "No. So no. I want to go back to bed." 

My achilles feels FINE. No pain. 

The Newport Marathon is small enough that you can drop off a gear bag with your warmup clothing like 5 minutes before the air horn goes off to start the race, and that's what I did and cue up the Garmin, cue up the iPod, BLOOOOP! goes the air horn and we're starting. No national anthem, no sponsor announcements, no foofy, let's get this show on the road. I appreciated that. I appreciated how fucking PROMPT everything was.  

Newport's race course spends a few miles running around the town before you do an out-and-back by the bay. The turnaround is at mile 15ish. My plan was to go out conservatively but to have even effort. Hold back in the first and then pick it up after the turnaround. I'm pretty sure I can do a 3:45 but I'd like that cushion of a 3:43 or faster. I don't think it's a lot to ask for. 

Runners have a saying, "The hay is in the barn," when your training has gone well. To butcher the metaphor, I'll share that I'd had some hay in the barn, but it was placed in there haphazardly, pressing out the door, coming out the windows.

Actually, it was probably more like (spoiler alert!) the silo scene in Witness. 

People are zooming by me at the beginning. I'm holding back, but doing the right thing, running the tangents when I can. There are some hills at the beginning: I run them well, slower on the up, race on the down vs. powering on the uphill and recovering on the down. I run downhill very well. 

Mile 1: 8.34

Mile 2: 8:19 (downhill)

Mile 3: 8:29

Mile 4: 8:25 (downhill)

Then we leave downtown and head out to the estuary. I try to dial in the pace a little more since we're supposed to flatten out and be more consistent. But what I said in 2007 comes back to haunt me: this is not a really flat course. 

There's a photographer around this point and I give him a thumbs-up. 

This will also come back to haunt me.

Mile 5: 8:32

Mile 6: 8:33

Mile 7: 8:30

Mile 8: 8:31

Mile 9: 8:33

Honestly, by this point I am BORED. I am ostensibly checking my Garmin to check for pace--which I am--but I'm also checking how many miles have gone by. Around mile 8 I am feeling like, "What do you mean it's only been .4 miles?!" and getting kind of mad and antsy about it. I try to lock in and just cruise but it's just not happening.

I don't need bands and cheerleaders and multiple Elvis impersonators (Elvii) and shit every three feet on a race course, and I did the majority of my training alone, so that's not the issue. I'm just bored. What should feel like a victory (yay! I'm healthy! I've made it here!) just feels like a boring-ass slog, and I am not even at 15k.

I see Justin on his bike around mile 6, which surprised me because I knew he'd be at 8. Maybe he's bored too. He offers me a fresh water bottle but I shake my head.  I yell back at him, "Don't take anything I say seriously this morning, I love you!"

Weather: It's cloudy and a little breezy but not bad. I'm just trying to get my head and my body in the right place. And that place is not Newport. I try, though. We all have lame parts of races, right? Maybe this is one of those where I will finish strong. That's happened in some training runs. 

Mile 10: 8:35

Mile 11: 8:27

Mile 12: 8:29

Mile 13: 8:25

I look at my watch and notice the time on it: It's a PR in the half. It wasn't like I tried to do it, but I'm surprised because I feel like I'm running slower than that. I'm pleasantly surprised: Too bad I'm running the full. 

Mile 14: 8:29

I'm still telling myself I'm going to be conservative. The turnaround is at mile 15 and I can just make it to the turnaround and then pick it up. I'll feel like doing that, right? My music is good, I can do this. 

I was SO BORED though. I didn't have anyone to run with. I couldn't occupy my brain with running the tangents because there is traffic on one side of the road and then faster runners are coming back on the opposite side of the same side of the road and the road cants. I haven't had IT band problems before, but hey! No time like the present, right?

Here's the thing though: My body felt fine. My achilles was a little stiff in the early miles but then I didn't feel a thing. I was just...dulled. I wondered if I could pick it up. Fueling-wise, I did what I normally do and in training runs, which has worked for me just fine. I do feel a little nauseated, though, which happens sometimes. I have the Clif Shots and I just kinda let one dissolve in my mouth as opposed to chewing. It's like, something to do. Because I am SO BORED.

That reminds me: I know some runners who say "racing is never boring." It's like when my parents say, "money is never boring." Actually, they both are. They can be interesting at times, but they are often boring and dull and drone-y. Kind of like race recaps are for people who don't run. AND I AM SORRY FOR THAT. 

Finally, after looking at my watch more than the road, the turnaround point comes and then I keep going and did I mention I was bored? 

And then all of a sudden it's like the sun is out and it gets hot and the wind, hellooooo, here you are and you are NOT HELPING ME, WIND. 

I can get to mile 17, right? Then it's just a 15k and I like 15ks. 

Mile 15: 8:35

Mile 16: 8:31

Mile 17: 8:25

Okay, so maybe I'll get in under the wire. But I can still pick it up! And save some for that SADISTIC HILL AT MILE 25, right?

I take out the extra-caffeinated Clif gel, because I don't feel like I have any energy and maybe extra caffeine will help. I usually take this around 22, but at mile 17 I feel like it's mile 22-23, where you are hunting your brain to remember your own name. 

And then I start to get nauseated some more. I pop an antacid from my pocket (race ready shorts are awesome, by the way). 

Mile 18: 8:34

Mile 19: 8:36

I see Justin. He's all, how are you, I'm all, I feel like shit, he's all, keep going, I'm all, I fucking hate this and you and everything in the world I don't think I can and now I am overcaffeinated. 

And then that's it. Mile 18, really, the wheels started to come off, and I'm surprised my splits don't show that. Around there I saw an aid station and I walked through it, and then that's when the Walk Monster grabbed me. 

The Walk Monster is like the quickest virus ever in the world. He lures you in with the "Oh, it's just a few steps through the aid station. Everyone does that, it's just FINE!" and then it's "see, wasn't that niiiiiice? want to do it again!" and when the wheels have bounced off and you are getting smothered by the grain silo of uncertain training and race planning, the walk monster is the snake in the Garden of Non-Eden that is your race. It truly is the Blerch.

So that's kind of my story. I felt like I was going to vom. It got hot. There was a 20+ mph headwind. I gave into the walk monster. I tried running after that and my splits went from 8:20s to 11:00s. IT SUCKED. 

I thought about DNF'ing (Did Not Finish) and when I saw Justin I'd asked him where he parked. He said, "The finish."

Fuck!

I could have taken a spectator bus back to the start but they never came around when I was needing it.  My race became a mission to find Justin on the side of the course. He didn't know I was doing this but I was. 

It wasn't just me, though. There was some serious carnage on the way back. Most of the people I know who ran this either DNF'd it or ran the last 8 miles MUCH slower than expected. I don't know what was in the air today other than the wind but there was some sort of bad race juju. It's not the fault of anyone behind the Newport Marathon; they are delightful, but there was some kind of weird feng shui out there and it was unpleasant.

My Garmin's splits here are weird because of the walking and occasional stopping to do IT band stretches. I walk/ran a good chunk here.

Have you ever tried to slap yourself sober? This was the race equivalent. I was actually shouting, "Go! Now! Do this!"

Mile 20: 10:01 [which is weird because I thought I fell apart before 20 and this was the first time I have ever hit The Wall]

Mile 21: 10:00

Mile 22: 9:51

Mile 23: 11:09 [I was almost crying here; not because anything hurt, but because I was wanting to be crying out of boredom and like, this is never going to be DONE, this is so embarrassing]

Mile 24: I got this weird second-wind here; yet a still embarrassing (for me) 9:18. I'm better than that.

Mile 25: 9:43

Mile 26: 10:16 WHO THE FUCK PUTS A HILL AT MILE 25 AND ADVERTISES THEIR RACE AS A BOSTON QUALIFIER?!

Last .2: 7:54.*

*The last .2 miles of Newport are a screaming downhill. So even when you completely cock up the  race and feel like complete and total shit about the athletic ability you think you've acquired over the past nine years running, you can come zooming into the finish like A REAL RUNNER!

And that's it. 3:54 on my Garmin (which says I ran 26.3 miles, by the way). The clock said 3:55 when I came in but that was an additional insult. 

I don't think I went out too fast. I really don't. I wasn't out of range for my expectations for the race and based on my training. I just think it wasn't my day. Am I glad I finished the fucking thing? Yes and no. It feels good to have accomplished that; on the other hand, did I really need the additional mileage to prove a point?  But I ran the last several miles so slowly that maybe that will hasten my recovery and I can run the marathon in six weeks that is my backup-to-the-backup? I could have bailed at 17 and called it a training run.

But I had to get back to the car.

My achilles is not sore at all. My quads are. 

So what do you think? Try for another in six weeks? I'd really like to get to Boston next year. I think I'm capable. 

But first I need to get down the stairs. 

The Groonins go to Newport

This will be more of a marathon recap than the usual travel report, but you might want to read it anyway. Or at least I'd like you to.

Because this wasn't even supposed to be a Newport recap. This was supposed to be a Mountains2Beach marathon (M2B) recap.

In 2013.

(I was also supposed to write up a recap of a summer 2013 trip to Victoria, B.C. -- which I loved! -- but that didn't happen either, though it was no fault of a run and just a fault of my procrastination. But Victoria? Go. Though I have heard good things about their marathon, too.)

I had/have been fighting achilles tendonitis for about a year, off and on, first on the left, and then on the right. Generally, my left side is quicker to heal than my right (because I am right-brained?) and so the right side dragged on for far longer than expected.

Sometimes I think it would actually be kind of a pleasure to have two left feet...

Anyway! So that precluded a marathon in May of 2013 as well as in December of 2013. I signed up for M2B again...and then Newport, in case M2B fell through or it was too hot or in case life came up. Well, life came up and for reasons beyond my control I was unable to run M2B, so Newport was my backup.

It's like the plot of an '80s teen movie: Say M2B was the date I really wanted to take to the prom, and Newport was the plain friend. And like any good '80s movie, the dark horse rears up and announces, "You know what? You're not good enough for me. And here's why!"

But we'll get to that later.

Begin nerdy runner stuff/

Training? It'd been okay. This was marathon #7. In previous training cycles, I'd actually peaked in training and then been unable to run the race (Boston 2011, I'm looking at you!). So I didn't do that at all here. I didn't want to push too hard in training (and maybe that's what got me) because my true focus was ensuring my Achilles wasn't going to snap up like a cheap motel room shade.

So I limited speed work--I did some tempo runs, but even then not super-fast--but my long run pace was getting faster with less effort, so I was happy about that. I focused more on maintaining the pace I wanted to do in the marathon.

So what was that pace? Below 3:45 would be good and would be totally doable, as a lot of my training runs were around that pace, and it didn't feel too fast. It felt normal, like regular pace. I felt like I could beat my PR of 3:43. In a pipe dream I might have done 3:40 or below but I didn't want to push that far yet. I turned 40 two months ago, so I do have the 3:45 qualifying time for Boston; while I like the extra five minutes, I also want to be enough under it so that I don't miss qualifying by like one second or something.

/End nerdy runner stuff--for now.

But travel! Let's get to the photos, yes?

Justin and I left work early on Friday to drive down to Newport. I didn't let on that I was running a marathon to basically anyone else. I will spew all kinds of shit about my runs and races after I do them, but beforehand I am a combination of superstitions and OCD. I did say we were going to the coast for our anniversary, which is kind of true (12 years June 2!), but that's about it.

("Happy anniversary, honey! Nothing says lovin' like  moving like an arthritic Tin Man!")

The drive was uneventful but in that freeing way that escaping four hours of work on a Friday on a sunny day is. Got to Newport, picked up my bib number and goodie bag from the Embarcadero Resort (where we were not staying) and got the hell out of there. I was glad there wasn't a real expo; a couple vendors sold things like extra Gu and some t-shirts but that was about it.

I am, however, thinking about starting a tumblr of The Random Things Included In Gift Bags. When I ran CIM several years ago, my bag had mini olive oil and balsamic vinegar samples. What does this have to do with running? For this race, they included Odwalla bars and a mini Clif bar -- ok, I get it, I can't eat them but I get it--but then also, a plastic disposable razor, with no identifiable brand name. What? They also had a small bag of dried cherries. Because mainlining dried fruit is a great way to prepare your GI system for 26.2 miles.

(I did eat a few of said cherries this morning and they were fucking delicious.)

Then we drove through Newport, which is cute and small. I'd been there seven (I think?) years ago, when my friends Joe, Kristin and I drove down and stayed there for a night and Joe and I paced Kelly in her first marathon at Newport, while Kristin took race photos. That had been a lot of fun: Joe and I started at the finish and ran to meet Kelly and then ran her in.

In the famous last words category, I'd then said to Joe as we ran out to meet Kelly: "Why do they call this race flat? This race isn't flat? It rolls. I'll never do this race."

Fuck.

I should have listened to my 33-year old self. She knew things.

But the memories were fond and the race was close to home and it would be cheap to go, so we went.

Back to 2014: Justin and I made our way to the Best Western where we were staying. It was friendly and clean (I'm sure the strand of hair on the bed was mine when I leaned over the pillow, right?). Even the remote was specially cleaned (?)

and our room had an excellent view of the lovely and very wide Agate Beach:

Though this was a bit Engrish:

WTF?

We went for an early dinner and to walk around the town. Driving back to town, Justin saw a store that advertised Antiques! Coffee! Jewelry! so we screeched into the parking lot. Maybe a find for his job!

But...no. For the first time he wanted to leave before I did.

But I was having a grand ole time. Sparkly hats! (That I was wary of actually putting on my own head, but whatevs, right?)

Perhaps Nora Ephron's inspiration for THE WAGON WHEEL COFFEE TABLE?!

Anyway. 

Then by the Bayside: Seals! I LOVE seals!! Seals are awesome. I could watch them for hours.

I love seals. I'm totally not being sarcastic here. I LOVE SEALS. I think I need to learn more about them. I love seals.

Ate an early sushi dinner and retired early. Justin actually fell asleep before I did. (12 years of marriage, yay?) No photos of that, but here's a sunset photo taken from our room. You can't really tell with the shitty iPhone, but it was one of those skies where multiple sunbeams shoot out from moderately densely packed clouds and it's like a hand from the sky. I took that as an omen of sorts.

What KIND of omen, you ask? Wait for the next post.