レースレポート：『第44回館山若潮マラソン』／Race Report : Tateyama Wakashio Marathon 2024

Jan. 28, 2024

On Jan. 28, 2024, the 44th Tateyama Wakashio Marathon took place in the picturesque rural city of Tateytama at the southern tip of the Boso Peninsula in Chiba Prefecture. I joined the race together with a bunch of other citizen runners and completed the race barefoot. I clocked 3:48:01(gross)/3:47:30(net), my quickest barefoot marathon ever since I ran a 3:52:43 marathon in the same course 5 years earlier. The following is how the day unfolded.

<Morning>

I woke up at 5:20 a.m. to have a light breakfast of porridge and fruit.  My friend came to pick me up at 6:20. Together we went to the nearby train station to pick up my runner friend. Three of us left town around 6:35. The traffic was smooth on the toll road. We reached Rest Spot Furari a little before 7:30. The sardine soup there is delish. We warmed our stomachs with it. In less than 30 minutes after the soup break, we were at the venue. The designated parking area the closest to the start area was luckily still not full. We found a little open space on the grass part of the baseball ground next to the final stretch leading to the finish arch. People continued to reach the venue one after another. In no time, an announcement was made to tell runners to get ready at their respective corrals. 

<Pre-Race Communication>

While waiting in my corral, I was talked to by a couple of female runners. They said they saw the video I shared on YouTube. Earlier I had uploaded it to help inexperienced marathoners to pace themselves in the early stages because the climax of the course comes in the second half. Both female runners were aiming at a sub-3.75 marathon, namely running it under 3:45:00, so they were better than my imaginary audience. Nonetheless, they both thanked me, saying it was a useful input. I was glad.  

<Race>

At 10:00 sharp, the gun went off and the race was officially underway. I enjoyed the cold feel of the paved road on my sole with each step. The cheering on either side of the road was festive. There were occasional friendly exchanges between leaving runners and cheering spectators. They must be close friends. The clouds in the sky were expected to go away toward noon, but you never know. The weather in the region at this time of year is unpredictable...

The first 10K is the flattest part of the course in this incredibly challenging course. And yet a good amount of undulation is noticeable to the eye of a novice. You have to run cautiously. Otherwise, you could end up paying a huge price later on.

As I tried to settle into my comfortable pace, I almost felt sleepy. I kept saying to myself, "The first 10K is a warmup for warmup." 

Past the 10K mark, the course slowly curbed to the southeast into an undulated straight section. When it's sunny, a temperature rise happens in the section. But today, the clouds continued to cover the sun, and cold winds often chilled uncovered parts of my body.  At the aid station near the 15K mark, I picked up some hard sweet cake and motivated myself. 

Shortly before the halfway point, I spotted a woman in a familiar-looking outfit. She is a woman who talked to me at the corral. Obviously, she was in trouble. I said hi when I was side by side. She said she had a stitch. Oh, dear... "Go easy. It'll go away," said I to her. I pressed on. 

The coastal section soon ended, and a sharp U-turn to the left got us into the race's iconic hilly section. The surface condition of the road improved. It gave me a temporary relief because although the previous 10-20K section is less hilly, the road surface condition is awful. It is so poorly maintained. Many barefoot runners choose to run on painted lines because the surface is smooth. But in this section, much of the paint is cracked and the benefit is completely lost. There are countless edgy small stones as well which pained my soles incessantly. I felt the effect of natural painkillers such as endorphins and enkephalins started waning. If something called hypersensitivity sets in, the game is over. I can no longer continue to run. I did my best to find better parts of the road to minimize the detrimental effect on the sole, which takes up a huge amount of extra mental energy.

The 25.5K mark, where there is a Seven-Eleven convenience store, is a place to look forward to. My friend from my elementary school days, Ui-san, is waiting for my arrival for a memorial photo shoot. The spot is almost 10K away from the start area. He biked between them. He even bought a new electric bike to make his access easier.  There he was! When I was about to reach the peak of a long hill, he was holding his new iPhone with a smile on his face. I thanked him and turned right into a winding downhill which was soon to be replaced by the most challenging part of the course.

Between the convenience store and the intersection where the hilly route merges once again with the coastal road is the roughest part of the race, especially for those who have mainly raced in half marathons. The distance beyond 21.1K is a challenge. Steep hills present another challenge. I still remember how this part seemed endless when I first ran this race. But after years of hard training, I even welcome this area because your true fitness is tested. I love forging up the hills. The 500M uphill at the 30K mark is beyond description. You feel like a winner (though the race still has more than 10K to cover!) when you reach the top. The long downhill that follows is a tremendous reward. You feel like you have just become a racing car! And the dramatic return to the coastal road with a magnificent view of the Gulf of Tateyama up ahead is definitely one of the great highlights! 

Nine more kilometers to go! Those who cheerfully waved us off in the early stage are back along the road again, welcoming us back. Some of them remembered seeing me in the caveman's costume yell, "The caveman is back!" I wave back to them.

The kilometer signs are great motivators at this stage of the race. One by one, I count down, getting excited by the prospect of the approaching finish. But the race is not over yet.

The last coastal section, though significantly flatter than the previous one, has is own challenge. It is moderately undulated. If you go too gungho when climbing upward inclines, your legs can get cramped. A tactical ascent is required. Narrower strides and rhythm are the key to success. 

As I painfully moved forward down the final stretch, a memory of the start flashed back when I was still full of legs. Though the road surface was not particularly smooth, I didn't feel much pain because the soles were still intact, and the excitement of the festive atmosphere eased the discomfort. 

But now, after having covered more than 30 kilometers, my soles were beaten up and sore. What didn't feel uncomfortable 3 and a half hours ago now felt excruciatingly painful. I wanted to run on the painted line. But red cones are placed on it at regular intervals for traffic control. I ran on it 5 meters, and then avoided the cone and was back on the painted line again. But it was painfully obvious that this zig-zag approach wouldn't last forever. Finally, I decided to run on the main area of the road with an uncomfortable surface, gritting my teeth. 

The riverside resort complex is in sight. The finish is near. There is a river past that building. And the bridge over it. There is the largest cheering crowd on the bridge. I'm almost there. A quick left turn will get me into the final stretch. But alas! The first 50 meters are completely gravel. I had to slow down. A pain shot through my body. Why now!? Why at this most dramatic moment of the race!? I tip-toed like someone walking on burning charcoal.  A woman overtook me. And another. A man said, "The last test of endurance!" "Indeed!" said I. 

Finally, the graveled part ended, and the rest was a fluffy lawn. I surged. Like a madman. The clock was in sight. It read 3:47 something. Mamma mia! That quick!? I was thinking of something under 3:55 or thereabout. But that's good. I was not as bad as I thought I was. In no time I was on the other side of the finish line. The race is over. I yelled. And looked up into the sky. It's not sunny. But that's not bad. I did it. Running 42.195km without wearing shoes, the same feat that more than 60 years ago legendary Ethiopian marathoner Abebe Bikila accomplished in the Rome Olympics. 

<Post-Race Meal>

Me, Uisan, and Mr. Hashimoto, my runner friend dined at Rest Area Furari on our way back home. There was a good collection of dishes made with local seafood. My runner friend tried kinme dai or alfonsino, Uisan had some fried seafood, and I enjoyed having a bowl of hot steamed rice topped with grilled whale steak.

**************************************

Overall, it was a good race. I'm happy to know that I am now strong enough to run a marathon even after experiencing a meniscus tear. I hope my achievement gives hope to citizen runners who is struggling with a meniscus injury. It will heal. And you can be strong again. 

Thank you for reading.   

Race Report: Tateyama Wakashio Marathon 2020

On January 26 the Tateyama Wakasio Marathon 2020 took place. I aimed to run my first sub 3.5 marathon. I fell short of the goal by a narrow margin of 19 seconds, but nonetheless I am happy with the result. I finished strongly by running a negative split. Plus, I now know what a sub-3.5 marathon feels like. Below is a report of how I ran the race.

                     

The gun officially went off at 10 o'clock sharp. The temperature at start was 4.3 degrees Celsius. There was a strong north wind. Most runners were either in rain coats or water-proof running jackets. I ran in a plastic garbage bag with a hole cut out, out of which I stuck my head.

I ran in a pair of aqua shoes like the one above. After having completed 16 full marathons, most in shoes of various kinds, and a handful without shoes, I had come to a conclusion that this 999-yen pair of aqua shoes with little cushioning are by far the best choice to run a marathon. They are light, warm enough under most conditions, and they remain light even after they get wet in the rain, because the sole is made of a meshed material so that the water drains immediately and never stays inside the shoe. 

Back to talking about the race, the first quarter of the race is warm up of warm up. I ran at my own pace without caring much about getting overtaken by so many runners. 

The first quarter of the course is only slightly undulated, but largely flat. Shortly before the 10 K mark the course winds down towards east, though, and then comes a first major uphill. I climbed it, making sure my heart rates wouldn't go up too much. This isn't the place to race yet.

The second quarter of the race, which is mostly along the southern tip of the Boso Peninsula, is flat. It overlooks the beautiful Pacific Ocean on the right. If the weather was good, the sky would be blue, and the sea even bluer, and the sun would be blazing, and it would be even slightly hot. But today both the sky and sea were grey. The bitter cold of the first quarter slightly eased as the northern winds were significantly blocked by the hills on the north, and they died down. I continued to be overtaken by so many runners in this phase of the race, but I just let them go, because the real race begins after the halfway point and when the course takes a sharp left turn into the hilly area. The course continues to ascend until a little past the 30 K mark with a few moderate downhills appearing along the way. The hilly section culminates with an almost 500 M ascent after the water station near the 10 K mark. I saw many runners walk here, but this is THE part of the race I most anticipate. It's the heart and soul, the flesh and bone of the Tateyama Marathon! In fact, when I finally reached the foot of the uphill I was so excited that I cried in those words, "Here comes the cherry of the cake!!" I shortened my strides and increased the cadence. I pulled my chin and looked at my own feet as I climbed the hill. You can run economically that way, and can also trick your mind. It doesn't feel like you are going up. 

When I finally reached the top of the hill, I was so happy that the worst was finally over. I hammered down the hill, accelerating with each step, overtaking runners who were too exhausted to take advantage of the descent. I took full advantage of it, and slowed down when the course flattened out again to calm down my breath. 

Between the 32 and 33 K mark the course takes a sudden right turn, and there comes a brief steep downhill just 50 meters long. It is there that the hilly section gives way to the coastal road again! A vast expanse of waters suddenly appears up ahead. Ordinarily it's calm and blue. Today it's grey and rough as if to tell me the race is not over yet, but that the real game begins right here, right now!

Once back on the coastal road I suddenly realized there were far fewer runners along the way. It was then that I realized that I was significantly ahead of most runners. I didn't know how fast I was going because I didn't have my watch on. But one thing was certain. I was still full of energy, compared with most runners around me. I did occasionally spot a runner or two who was still full of running, and was in fact accelerating at this last quarter. However, most were slowing down, some significantly presumably because their fast pace in earlier stages was now taking a toll on their legs and cardio-vascular system. I had been saving all of my energy until 30 K. That was the main difference. 

I continued to pick up the pace, overtaking one struggling runner after another. With two kilometers remaining I saw a familiar sight of the back of a female runner. I followed her for a while in an earlier stage of the race, but she was a lot faster, and her pace wasn't mine, so I just let her go. I enjoyed the greatest pleasure of marathon running--overtaking runners who had long gone ahead!

A prospect of the approaching finish started lifting my spirit, but the discomfort from building lactic acid and increasingly difficult breathing wouldn't allow it to be a pure joy. With 500 M to go, one of the cheerers along the road cried, "You can make a sub 3.5 marathon!" I couldn't believe my ear! Was I going that fast? Believing what he said, though, I put on a spurt like a mad dog. Taking the last left turn into the final stretch leading to the finish, I accelerated even more, losing balance slightly on a brief muddy section between the paved road and the lawned home stretch. The official clock was in sight up ahead on my left, but the time wasn't visible. I pressed on. With just a few meters to the finish finally I saw the time. It said 3:30 something. Goodness, how close I was to my first gross sub-3.5 marathon! But that's OK. I gave it everything I'd got today. That's what's most important. Give it all you've got. I trained so hard for it. And I certainly enjoyed the fruits of my months-long preparation. That's most important.

This is where the hilly section starts.

500 M to the finish line

Me overtaking runners who had long gone ahead of me in earlier stages of the race

My next race is the 54th Ohme 30 K Road Race on Feb. 16.

裸足でサブ４：館山若潮マラソン2019 (My First Barefoot Sub-4 Marathon: Tateyama Wakashio Marathon 2019 )

Jan. 27, 2019
42.195 K: 3:54:16 gross (3:52:43 net)

On Jan. 27, 2019 Tateyama Wakashio Marathon 2019 took place. I joined it in bare feet, and ran my first sub-four marathon without wearing shoes. There was an added bonus of running a negative split (running the second half faster than the first half). Below is a report of how I ran the race.

The gun went off at ten o'clock sharp. I ran from the coral for runners aiming for sub-4. It was sunny with daytime highs expected to reach 10 degrees Celsius and the humidity of 60 %. Occasionally fairly strong winds blew from the north-north-east, but other than that the condition was good for a marathon.

I kept telling myself that the first half was warm up. I carefully ran on painted lines on the road with smooth surface. It was an important strategy to minimize damage to the sole. I talked with every part of my body--my legs, my feet, my knees, my ankles, my back, my cardio, and so on. They said they were ready, and that they were enjoying every step of it. I felt both relaxed and strong. 

Near the first aid station I took my first pee-break. In the past I would have been upset about time loss. But today I didn't mind it at all. My main goal was not to renew my PR. My goal was to complete the race in bare feet. It was going to be a long and hard journey. I knew I should take comfort over speed.

I ignored the first aid station and made my first stop at the second one at the 11 K mark where custard cream bread from local bakery Nakamuraya's was served. I grabbed four pieces, holding two in my both hands, and put the other two into a small ramie bag tied to my waist strap. I enjoyed having all four over the next couple of kilometers. 

Around the 12 K mark the course slowly curved to the south, and winds stopped. Suddenly strong rays of the sun were felt on my forehead and I could feel the temperature was up a couple of degrees. From there the course continued to go east southeast for almost 10 kilometers. It's almost straight. Also, there were downward inclines every now and then. Most inexperienced runners will pick up the pace here. I did so when I first ran this course. But this is where strategic patience is required, because once past the halfway point and past the 22 K mark, the course takes a U-turn into a west-north-west-bound road that leads to the hilliest part of the course. Being too bullish before hitting this area can take a toll on your legs. Saving energy is the key to success. So I took two strategic pee breaks after my first one before getting into the more challenging section, alleviating all sources of future anxiety as well as giving a strategic rest to my legs.

When I finally reached the 25.5 K point where my friend Ui san waited to cheer me on, I was almost 15 minutes slower than last year. Later he told me that something was definitely wrong with me. At this point he never imagined that I would run a negative split. But he was right about one thing. There WAS something wrong. Not so much about me, but rather about the road condition! It was far worse than I had expected, and that DID keep me from running as fast as I wanted to. But the flip side was that I was able to save up enough energy for the latter half which is much richer in undulation. 

The deterioration of the road condition after the 25.5 K was beyond description. I often had to significantly slow down to avoid injury. Then came the so-called "Wall" which is a long and steep hill that lasts for almost 500 meters. This is the biggest challenge the course presents to the runners, and it is also the section of the course that I most welcome. I run this course to conquer it! Thanks to a temporary adrenaline rush I felt less pain as I hammered up the incline. I overtook one runner after another. Many were gasping for air, contorting their faces in grimace. Some were taking care of cramps midway up the hill. They were paying the price for going too fast in the first half. 

Once I reached the top of the hill, I relaxed for a moment and then started a descent at an equally brisk pace. 

Soon another aid station was in sight near the 32 K mark. Locally grown strawberries were served. I grabbed four of them, and threw them into my mouth one after another. They were incredibly sweet and my motivation shot up right away. As I went farther away from the aid station, a faint smell of the sea was in the air. I felt a sure proximity to the coastline. 

A few minutes after I left the aid station, the course took a right into a straight down hill that leads right to the coastal road. A majestic view of the Gulf of Tateyama suddenly opened up ahead. However, this straight road had the worst road surface in the entire course. I had no choice but walk for a while. And when I realized that not even walking was possible, I stepped aside to the sandy bank and walked down the bank for 10 meters until I finally reached the coastal road where the condition was much, much better. 

Once back on the coastal road, I wasted no time and surged. The last quarter of the race is the hardest for most citizen runners. It was the case for me too in the past. But today I was a different man. I was waiting for this moment. I was so happy I was still full of legs at this stage of the race. I hammered down the road, overtaking another barefoot runner near the 35 K mark who had left me behind in the initial phase. He was hurting significantly. I talked to him as I went past him, but no reply was returned. That said it all.

When I was finally back on Hojo Kaigan Dori Street leading straight into the finish area, I only had 3 K to go. Near the 40 K mark I finally overtook the sub-4 pacer. I didn't have the slightest intention of going with him. I got around a huge crowd of citizen runners surrounding the pacer into the front of the pack. I was going so fast that a roar of surprise was heard behind me. But my mind was so set on going as fast as I could and finishing strongly that they were soon off my mind. 

A mid-size condominium with an orange roof designed in Southern French fashion is a landmark 300 meters from the finish line. I waited for it to come in sight as I pressed on. Congratulatory words welcomed in returning runners. I looked back on the long and hard journey, especially the formidably rough road surface at so many sections of the course, and I was overwhelmed with emotion and tears welled up in my eyes. My vision was blurred, and I couldn't see well. There were now so many people on both sides of the street. They were walls of encouraging cheerers, clapping hands and shouting congratulatory remarks at the top of their voices. 

Then came the last left-turn into the home stretch. A pebbled part stretched for about 20 meters before fluffy lawn started. Sharp pain shot through my spine and I almost choked. My face contorted in agony. I literally tip-toed through it. Some spectators who knew very well I meant business couldn't help but laugh to see me troubled. But when that last ordeal of the race was finally over, I wasted no time and kicked to the finish line like a mad dog. And at 1:54:16 p.m., exactly 3:52:43 after I crossed the start line, I crossed the finish line.

Mission accomplished! I ran my first barefoot sub-4 marathon in 3:54:16 gross and 3:53:43 net.

My next race is the Ohme 30 K Road Race. It is held on Feb. 17. My goal is to run the entire course in bare feet. There is no time goal. My PR recorded last year is pretty good. Running my first barefoot 30 K road race and renewing my PR for that distance at the same time seems too ambitious for me. I want to achieve one goal at a time. This year I want to run for a modest goal of completing the race in bare feet. Then in Year 2020, which is the Olympic year, I want to go for my PR in bare feet. 

To close this report I want to thank my friend Ui san who volunteered to give me a ride to the venue, my bilingual companion Chiaki who managed my diet and total health care, and my runner friend Takahashi san who ran with me to make the event memorable. He had a broken rib, but dared to run the race and went as far as 10 K. Awesome achievement! Both thumbs up for his bravery.