I was just here.
On September 11, 2021, I ran the postponed 25th Annual Surf City Marathon. There were all kinds of covid protocols and attempts to address concerns… even if it was perhaps more lip service and cosmetic than enforced.
But yesterday at Huntington Beach, it was as if the pandemic never existed — the website made no mention of covid protocols and there weren’t any signs advising masks or distancing. Zero attempts were made to even acknowledge covid continues. There were a few of us sporting masks or bandanas, and a few of the water stops did have volunteers masked up, but for the most part… for the 99% let’s say… it was as if the coronavirus was a thing of the past. It may not have been a return to the before times, but it certainly was a “bury one’s head in the sand” time.
These are strange days… made stranger by the rift in reality and perception of reality that has plagued our nation at least since 2016… and given the surge in popularity, had existed in the underground for much, much longer.
I ran this year because they offered a discounted price and it worked spatially and temporally for where I was going to be.
Weirdly, I ran a bit slower than last week when every footfall hurt. The foot was much better at this race, and I kept what I thought was a fairly steady pace. And yet, the closing miles once again were a mental cluster of “ugh, are we there yet?!”
After all, as I’ve written MANY times before about this race, the turn off at mile 16 to run out and back along the beach is dishearteningly trying. And all the more this year as I kept picturing the Mandalorian with Ahsoka gazing up at Luke and Grogu… and Ahsoka telling Mando he shouldn’t see his little friend. “But he’s right there…” he says with such heartbreak. That’s how I feel at mille 16 when I can see the finish ahead but have to turn and run 10 miles to get back to this point.
This is the way I suppose.