By Brian Sawyer

Golden Gate Bridge, Mile 6

Like everyone else, I was really looking forward to running this part of the course, but beyond the possible bragging rights for the accomplishment, there really wasn’t much more to like about crossing the Golden Gate Bridge. Engulfed in haze and mist, the road was wet, making footing difficult, especially on the raised reflectors, which became slippery and difficult to dodge. And it was crowded. Really crowded. I don’t know how the photographer got a shot of me that wasn’t wedged between a bunch of other runners, because I spent the whole bridge squeezing through the pack in an attempt to keep my pace.

I’m sure my miscalculated wave start (I was obviously on track to beat 4:30 by a fairly wide margin at this point in the race) had something to do with the slow runners ahead of me (I passed many, many people at this point), but general congestion (only half of the bridge was closed to traffic) and tourism were likely more to blame. Seriously, people stopped in the middle of the course to take pictures of themselves on the bridge, even though the background was pure haze and a stampede of runners threatened to send their cameras right into the bay.

At the end of the bridge, the course winds around Vista Point (another potentially breathtaking view, if it were visible through the haze) before turning around to cross the bridge going the other way. The first official checkpoint is right at the turnaround at mile 7.6, where I clocked in at 1:02:44, right on the 8:16 pace I started out with. (Spoiler alert: it would be the last time I’d see that pace for the rest of the race.) I still felt great, like I could run all day at this pace if everyone would just get out of my way.

At this point, the elevation levels off (and even decreases a bit) for a couple miles, which I basically just coasted through before hitting the next serious incline at mile 9.5. Rising 150 feet over the next half mile was hard, but the following descent (250 feet in less than a mile) felt like a barely restrained freefall and was actually even tougher on my knees.

Golden Gate Park, Mile 12

Then, another incline, and another, and another–three little peaks before entering Golden Gate Park at mile 12.5, which was quite lovely, and not just because it began another gradual downhill.

I crossed the halfway mark at 1:50:21, gaining 10 seconds on my pace (8:26) but still feeling very good about my time and my fitness. Hell, I’d told people I would be happy with anything under 4:00 (though I secretly had slightly higher hopes than that), and if I kept up this pace (and it certainly felt possible), I could come close to a 3:40! (Spoiler alert: I didn’t.)

Passing more people than were passing me, but basically evening out in pace with most of the runners around me since the bridge, I had quite a reality check at mile 14, when a number of very fit, very fast runners wearing yellow shoes, skimpy shorts and looks of both ease and determination on their faces started breezing by me like I was standing still. It didn’t take long for me to figure out that these were not late-wave starters who had simply been keeping a lot in reserve, but were actually the elites in the second Half Marathon (you can choose the first or second half, and the second is faster). As humbling as it was to be left in their dust, it was pretty cool just to be on the same course at the same time as them (even if we were technically running different races).

As I watched the backs of the wicked fast fade into the distance ahead, the hills of this “killer course” started to have their cumulative effect on me. Mile 14 to mile 17 was a relentlessly steady incline that never seemed like it would end. Rolling hills turned into climbing, climbing, climbing, and the race first started to feel like work.

And then the pain started.

In Act III, the drama of my agony unfolds …