Last Sunday I ran the Humboldt Bay Marathon in Eureka, California. It was my 27th marathon overall since I ran my first marathon back in 2009.

This marathon was also unique for me in several ways. It was the first time I ran a marathon in August, it was the first time I ran a marathon on my birthday, (August 12th,) and it was also the shortest time for me between two marathons. I had run the San Francisco Marathon only two weeks before.

Humboldt bay was also, by far, the smallest marathon I’ve ever run. Only 98 marathoners altogether! There was also a half and a 5K, but I don’t know exactly how many people were running those races. (Hopefully more than 98!)

The start was quite informal. After having failed to find a large inflatable arch indicating the start line, I found a group of runners standing on a side street where two small orange traffic cones indicated the start line.

The whole enterprise was so different from all of the other marathons I’ve run. There was no dance music, there were no DJ’s asking us if we were ready over obnoxiously loud loud speakers, and It did not seem that there were a hundred runners there. (That’s how many were registered. Two didn’t start.) There were at least five pacers in bright neon tops. They seemed to make up a decent amount of the runners there.

With the sounding of an air horn we were off. Even though my bib had a timing chip on it, there were no timing mats. Still, I ran between the cones, just in case.

That morning it was cold and very foggy. No sign of sun in sight. Just to play it safe, I ran quite easily at the beginning, making sure that I didn’t go too fast and burn myself out for the rest of the run. I chatted with a few people at the beginning, but it didn’t take long for us to start spreading out. By mile four I was watching the faster runners make their way ahead of me and the slower runners bringing up the rear. Between miles four and seven I passed a few people, as I knew I would. There’s always a few who take off too quickly.

We ran along the waterfront unitl we got onto a highway. That’s when I ran into two DNF’s. One runner, a young and very slender woman who had a Shakespeare quote on the back of her shirt, had pulled her hamstring and was walking back to the start line. Also, one of the pacers was sitting down at an aid station. I learned later on from another pacer that she had pulled her calf and could no longer go on.

For the rest of the race I would run into people hitting the wall and slowing down. But it didn’t take long before the faster runners were out of eyeshot. By mile thirteen, all of the runners faster than me and all of the runners slower than me were all out of eyeshot. True, I’m not fast, so most of the runners were ahead of me, but I was running essentially alone for a good long stretch, from about mile thirteen until around mile eighteen.

It was still foggy and cool by mile eighteen and I was running along country roads. I ran past a few curious farmers who asked me how I was doing, but mostly I was running past horses, cows, chickens, and a few alpacas and some goats.

Despite being a small and rural-ish marathon, it was quite well organized. The markers were just spray painted arrows on the streets which were oftentimes hard to discern, but there were so many volunteers and police on the course that only once did I feel lost, and that was in the middle of farm fields with nothing but chickens to ask for directions. (I never went off course, even though I did consult my smartphone just to make sure at one point.)

Indeed, the number of volunteers and police on the course amost seemed to outnumber us marathoners. By mile eighteen the Sun was threatening to make an appearance, but it never really came out until the last few miles. It was around mile eighteen that I started catching up to some more stragglers, and one of the pacers caught up with me. I talked to a few people who were really struggling, people who had resorted to pretty much walking most of the last six to eight miles of the course.

We didn’t really hit any real inclines until the last six miles or so when we started up some long yet not necessarily daunting hills, but then we had to go over some bridges which were basically pretty good hills. It was just before mile twenty two that a woman who I had passed earlier around mile seven caught up to me. We had chatted before and I had told her it was my birthday. Just after mile twenty three she chugged ahead of me, and I saw her go off into the distance. At a mile twenty four aid station, three volunteers threw up there arms and shouted “Happy Birthday!”

I cannot remember the woman’s name, but if I find her I’d like to thank her for that. It was really a nice surprise!

In the last few miles the Sun did come out, but it never got very warm. I ran out the last few miles, having run pretty much the entire course at a just-finish pace since I was taking on another 26.2 so soon after another marathon.

My feet and hamstrings were sore when I finished, but it was only temporary. I can honestly say I’m recovering quite nicely from my two marathons in two weeks.

If you would like to run a nice, ruralish, well-organized marathon complete with plenty of cows, horses, and chickens along an easy course, check out Humboldt Bay. I certainly hope this marathon continues to grow.