On The Road Again: Report from the Venice Half-Marathon

No, I’m not referring to Venice, Italy, that much-revered, portal into an older chapter of Italian history. My “City of Water” is not home to an intricate system of canals that snake through the splendors of the Venetian capital.

No.

My Venice is one with rivers that splinter off into the Gulf of America Mexico. In lieu of gondolas, we have pontoons, kayaks, and bowriders that barrel through the local rivers like mat trucks. All carrying obnoxiously large MAGA banners waving in tow.

It’s home to Sandhill cranes, Cotton tails, and Alligators. You know, Florida locals — polite society.

Crossing into the everglades will bring you into contact with the local wildlife. Namely, a Florida staple: The retiree. A callused, sleepy and perennially grouchy lot that typically reside within the confines of suburbia.

They lament urban decay, loud noises, and foreigners. On the other hand, they love moderated speed limits, lunch specials, and social security.

This is the sort of person I was expecting to meet at the Venice half-marathon one early, Saturday morning. What I actually found on race day, at the local park, was an active demographic that ran the gamut of age and nationality.

Young adults , retirees, family units, white, black, hispanic, parents with strollers, bikers, dog runners. It was invigorating to see such an active community reside around Venice, which is, otherwise, a sleepy town catering to surf lovers.

Last I checked, the combined number of runners — 5k/half-marathon — hovered around 250. An impressive haul, even for a known-quantity like Elite Events.

The night before:

I’ve been around the block enough to come upon an ideal food group that caters to my fuel tanks. A bowl of pasta for dinner with a light sauce (marinara, vodka, what have you) with sautéed veggies. Onions, peppers, tomatoes, spinach. Foods rich in vitamins C, K, and important minerals like potassium. Chicken breast is my choice of protein for it’s versatility. And, if it’s a long-run, I’ll some garlic bread for extra carbs. (my mouth is watering as I write this)

Then, it’s early to bed.

RACE morning:

If the race starts at 6:30 am, then I’m up at 3:30 am. If you want an adequate summation of me most mornings, picture Atlas, the titan from greek mythology, carrying the weight of the ancient world on his shoulder.

Only I’m not atlas. I’m the useless weight.

Since it takes an eternity to marshal the four limbs of my corporeal form, waking early is essential. While laying flat on my back, I’ll start rotating my arms and paddling my feet. Get the blood flowing.

Then comes the next hurdle: What can I wolf down? My go-to for long runs has been cinnamon raisin bagels lathered in almond butter and topped off with a honey drizzle. This, followed up with a small carton of blackberries.

Carbs, fiber, natural immune support. All this on paper sounds delectable, right?

Well, when it’s 4:30 in the morning the last thing you’ll want to stomach is bagels and almond butter. Trust me. Blah!

I nurse a bottle of electrolyte-infused water on the ride over to legacy park, the location of the starting line. Once situated, I do some more stretches while breaking down a banana for extra potassium.

Mushroom supplements have been a tried and cure staple in my diet in preparation for runs. Namely, Cordyceps, which deliver an extra payload of oxygen to the muscles. Magnesium to soften the arteries and increase oxygen flow in the blood stream.

I stored a couple of lemon-flavored CU electrolyte gels into my pocket for mid-run consumption. I recommend these to all runners, as I’ve felt the difference in my performance and stamina.

I slurp on these medicine-flavored magic potions once every four miles; that seems to be the sweet spot for me. Water consumption is kept to a minimum during runs, but I will chug a bottle of trace mineral infused electrolyte water before hand.

Salty!

At this point the word “over-kill” might be blinking in your mind. You are correct. But! it’s best to be over prepared and chalk-full of fuel on races where that last banana before Go! can make all the difference. And, of course, you want to prevent injuries.

Oh, the things you learn the hard way.

Time to kick-ass.

The pistol sounded just as the first streaks of rust-colored sunlight flashed across the horizon, and we’re off.

Legacy park is located near the heart of Venice and neighbors the historic Venice train depot. It is the southern-most point of the “Legacy Trail,” a recreational rail-trail that connects Venice with Sarasota, Florida.

The majority of my half-marathon track was mapped out on the legacy trail, a flat, bike track extending half-way into South-Venice before eventually circling back north, towards the park.

It was a quaint track. Much extended into the sleepy, Saturday morning walk trails of the local residents, wide-eyed and damn-near startled to see dozens of runners trekking by their peaceful abode.

To put it bluntly, the course was unremarkable. Visual stimulation was scarce. I ran parallel to a narrow river that separated the runners from High Schools, loading docks, warehouses. So. much. excitement.

When your first full-marathon happens to be the Marine Corp. in Washington DC., everything else feels……homely. The cheering crowds are non-existent, the cowbells, nowhere to be heard.

Gone are the monuments and cherry blossoms that harken back to a cherished era of American history. Back there, everyone feels like an adoring fan, genuflecting at the alter of your hard work. God, the excitement!

But, that said! This is precisely why sleepy runs like the Venice half-marathon are perfect for serious runners. They cut all the unnecessary fat out of the experience. At the end of the day, the story of running is the story of our relationship with asphalt, and the thin lining of our shoes that separate it’s harsh surface with the soles of our feet.

Let’s not forget the fundamentals, people!

As I cross the finish line I immediately reach for the tracking app and check my statistics:

My finish time was 1:40:36, at an average pace of 07:41. A personal record. A data point that brings the Fuck Yeah! energy out. I made out #1 in my age group, #2 in men and #8 overall out of 160 runners.

I’m hardly one to reminisce, but the urge to recall my first foray into competitive running was too strong. But! the work continues. No day like today, until tomorrow comes.

Till next time. See you out on the road.