Then we headed through downtown which is normally quite silent and empty at that hour on a Sunday. I noticed several dog walkers, smugly thinking they were getting a jump on the day while everybody else is sleeping. I love their slack-jawed expression of surprise when they turn around to see a herd of 350 sweaty determined runners thundering toward them.

The fog was thick and cool as we ran past the Santa Barbara Mission and shortly after that the road began winding its way up and around the mountains. At around mile eight we got above the fog layer into sunshine. The views were spectacular looking back down over thick puffy clouds filling mountain valleys. To take my mind off my complaining hamstrings and hip flexors I admired the sights: the red-barked manzanita bushes, wild flowers, runners far ahead of me who looked like ants climbing the road. I imagined each tree I passed was making oxygen just for me to breathe - anything to take my mind off the fact that the road was unceasing in its upward slant and the knowledge that the finish line was still a long way off.

When I climbed across the finish line (OK, I'm exaggerating here but only a little bit - it was really steep!) I was so light-headed I forgot to stop my watch and as somebody hung a finisher's medal around my neck I just stumbled toward the refreshments. I hydrated with vitamin water, wolfed down a few snacks and then had an ice cold beer. Runner's World says drinking a beer is a good thing to do after a long run, it guards against hyponatremia. It did make me feel better. Most runners hung around for a while, cheering for other finishers and taking in the amazing view from our perch high above the clouds which was made all the more beautiful because we'd really earned it.

Shuttle vans drove up and down the mountain delivering us back to our cars at the beach. They weren't very large vehicles and ten stinky sweaty runners packed into the one I was on. The driver either had no sense of smell or he was a saint.

I talked to many people who've done this particular race several times and I don't understand why a person would want to do this more than once. Maybe the memory of pain fades quickly? Actually, it wasn't terribly painful for me, just grueling, but the experience did underscore something I already knew - I don't like running uphill! The good thing about having done this is that, provided it's not too hot, the flat-as-a-pancake Chicago Marathon course will feel like a walk in the park by comparison.

My plan for the rest of the day? I'm going to have another beer and then take a nap.