Surprising

I didn't know what to expect from the Diablo Trail Challenge 50K. Despite it probably being the race closest to where I grew up, I was almost completely unfamiliar with most of the trails. It started in Round Valley, a preserve that didn't exist until after I graduated high school. It then travels through Morgan Territory Preserve-- which I'd run in a couple of times--before heading onto Mt. Diablo proper. Last year was the first for this race and I knew a few people who ran the inaugural event. However, the weather and trail conditions were such a major factor during the first running, that both their tales and the results were a bit misleading.

I stayed at my parent's house in Concord. I only had a 10 minute drive to get to the race. Unfortunately, I thought it was longer so I had a bit of a wait for the bus. No big deal. It wasn't too long until it showed up, loaded us all on and headed out for the long drive to the start. The first part of the drive was very reminiscent since it was basically the bus ride I took home from school every day from age 10 to 17. However, the start was much further down Marsh Creek road. The nice thing about a point-to-point course is that you really get a sense of the full distance you will be running.

It was a bit chilly at the start, but we could already tell it was going to be a great day. I mulled around chatting with friends and meeting new people, sporting my, very-identifiable, new Brooks ID uniform. You gotta love how the fluorescent sticks out in a trail race!

 photo courtesy of Brazen Racing

We didn't have too long to wait before the start and we were all off and running.

photo courtesy of Chihping Fu

In his usual style, Chihping raced ahead so he could turn back and snap photos of us all.

photo courtesy of Chihping Fu

A few initial ups and downs helped spread out the field. After ripping a couple of the short, steep downhills (because I can't help myself), I settled into a nice easy pace for the early miles. There were a few descent hills and then came the first big climb, about 1500ft in 2.5 miles. I worked on my power-hiking pace and it didn't feel so bad. I even managed to pass a few people. I am hoping to improve my climbing this year, especially my walking pace. I remember watching some people running the early hills and reminding myself of the math. I was walking these hills not much over 17 minutes per mile and could probably run them around 15. However, if I reserve the climbing legs I will still be able to shuffle the later hills at a similar pace, but if I don't they will turn into slogs of well over 20 minute miles, easily making up for any early hill speed.

The really nice thing about this race for me is that there were some nice long downhill sections were I could let myself go. I was really enjoying these sections even though the trail was pretty beat up with hoof-holes from the cows and the wet winter. It allowed me to move up through the pack a bit as I think they slowed me less than they did other folks. I also seemed to really be enjoying myself.

photo courtesy of Brazen Racing

I really tried to take the time to look around and enjoy the amazing day and excellent scenery of this race. There were a lot of new faces here including quite a few first timers--many making typical rookie mistakes. I ended up giving one woman half of the water from one of my bottles when because she only had one for the long 7+ mile stretch between aid. I spent some time chatting with a guy named Dan who is in States this year and was starting to ramp up his miles. Before we knew it we were coming into the half-way aid station.

photo courtesy of Brazen Racing 

A few friends were there volunteering and it was good to have a brief chat before heading for the next climb up onto the Diablo trails. Most of the climbs seemed fairly gradual and so I focused on keeping a solid, maintainable pace. As we went through three hours, I tried to take advantage of the rolling single-track. I also took advantage of a few peoples early race mistakes as there I passed a number of people who were definitely starting to slow.

Approaching the 23 mile aid station, I had passed a number of people and felt like I had opened a bit of a gap on some of the downhills. However, just as my bottle had been filled and I was enjoying a bit of grazing at the food table, a runner I hadn't seen all race came cresting the previous hill. Jim Winne handed me my bottles and told me not to let "that guy" catch me. I guess it was time to race. We were back out on big fire roads with more rollers. It was time to push a bit as I looked back and saw that the guy behind me hadn't wasted any time in the aid station as well.

I made my time on the downhills and even passed one more guy who seemed to be having difficulty on them. However, once we reached the flats and a few more climbs, it was clear that he was far from dead yet. There was a bit more single track before the final aid station, but none of the downhill was steep enough for me to let fly. In fact, coming into this aid station, running uphill, I could see the runner I'd passed working hard too.

photo courtesy of Brazen Racing

Lucky for me, after this aid station there were a couple more short climbs and then a big descent after which I wouldn't have a pretty good gap. Heading down the hills, I saw a red shirt a few switch backs below me. I recognized it as a guy from UC Berkeley with whom I had run for a bit early in the race. I thought it might be fun to try and catch him, but there was little chance of an overtake since the final couple miles were relatively flat. I had no illusions of keeping up with a young whippet on that sort of terrain. It didn't matter anyway because he saw me coming and having seen my downhill pace, worked hard to assure that we wouldn't meet again until after the finish.

At this point, my focus was more on the numbers than the runners even though I had been told, incredulously, that I was in 5th place. I was more interested in breaking 5:30. When I looked at the race, I figured 6:30 would be a reasonable time for me. However, the elevation gain on the site is high by nearly 1000ft by my estimate and I was also having a pretty good day. I was pushing the pace as best I could, making my way through the many creek crossings in the final miles.

"A mile and a half to go," I was told. I glanced at my watch and saw that I would have to do that in just about 12-1/2 minutes. OK, 8 minute mile it was and no slowing for the creeks!

photo courtesy of Brazen Racing

With less than a mile to go, I felt like I had it. I was on pace. Then, just one little climb. It was nothing really, less than a quarter-mile long. But, it was enough to slow me down when I had no margin for error. I started to sprint for the finish as soon as I saw it, but quickly saw the clock next to it tick over to 5:30. I crossed the line about 10 seconds later. I smiled. It's a good feeling to race the final miles even if you just miss a goal.

In the end, I felt surprisingly well and had a very surprising finish. 5th place is probably about as good a result as I'll see this year so I have nothing but good memories for this race.

Go Short

I guess only someone who run's ultras would think of an 18.6 mile race as short. My intent last Saturday was to run the Sequoia 50K. But, this is basketball season and my son's high school team is in the regional playoffs. His game for Saturday was scheduled for 2:45pm. It didn't take too much math to realize that I would have to break the course record and PR by over an hour at the 50K distance to run that race and make it to his game. Needless to say, I didn't quite feel up to the task.

After a quick email to the RD, I was able to drop my registration down to the 30K distance. With an 8:30am start, I figured I could finish between 3 and 3-1/2 hours and still have plenty of time to shower and clean up before heading down to San Jose. The only problem was that I really hadn't raced a distance less than 50K in a long time. I was wondering how I should pace myself. I was also wondering about the fact that in an ultra, I generally feel pretty bad somewhere around the 3 to 3-1/2 hour zone.

I figured that if I could stick with some 50K runner who would normally be a bit faster than me, I would be at the right pace. Luckily, Harry was signed up for the full distance and he is not only faster than me, but also a good friend. Race morning was clear, but major rains had dumped the night before so it was going to be another muddy race for 2010. Harry and I started a bit far back in the field, but passed a number of people running up some of the early hills. Running hard uphill early in a race was definitely not something I would not have done in a longer event.

Harry and I stuck together through the initial miles through Joaquin Miller Park, but after the course enters Redwood there is a nice steep downhill on which I knew I would loose him though the mud did keep me a bit in check. I expected him to catch me again on either the next uphill or the rolling section of French Trail, but either he wasn't having a great day or I was pushing hard. It turned out to be a bit of both.

I decided to see what I could do and worked my way up a bit, passing people on the downhills and trying to hang on to them on the ups. I ended up coming upon one guy that I couldn't pass downhill. He wasn't that great going uphill, but on the downs he was actually out pacing me. He even dropped me on the Golden Spike trail which I alway considered myself to have "wired." I've always known there were better downhill runners than me further up in the field. The interesting thing was that he wasn't that much better a climber than me. I guess others are just as lopsided in their abilities as I am, only faster at both.

When we reached the flats, I caught up with this guy and we chatted a bit. He was doing the 50K so had I ordered the full meal deal, I would unlikely be seeing him at this point in the race. It turns out that he was doing his first ultra. It also turned out that he was closer to my son's age than mine. I also learned that we went to the same college only separated by a decade or so. I didn't stick with him on the way back as I was just focused on getting the race done and seeing if I could keep the pace.

Running in the mud is actually much worse on the uphill. I could feel that extra bit of effort with every step climbing up to the West Ridge. Had I known at the time how close I would finish to 3 hours, maybe I would have pushed a bit hard once we reached it. I was already pretty far outside my comfort zone and, being an ultrarunner, I have sort of installed a permanent governor on my ability to push into the red zone before the final miles of a race, my inner voice echoing "not yet, not yet" inside my head.

From the final aid station it was just two miles to the finish, but I was already pretty sure a sub-3 was not going to happen since I knew the trails pretty well. I took a little breather on the climb up out of Redwood to let myself focus on the final downhills. I knew the descent down Cinderella was going to be a blast. At this point in the race, we'd already caught up with many of the 20K runners. I think I scared a few of them on my way down muddy technical trail. I wanted to believe that I could still break 3 hours. Unfortunately, I knew the final rolling bit of trail after the downhill was just long enough to keep that from a reality.

I watched 3 hours go by just as I was heading up towards the final little hill. My hamstrings were feeling it and there was no reason to push to the limit at this point. I was plenty satisfied with coming in just under 3:02. Finishing 15th was certainly better than I had expected at the start. I did get a tiny bit of excitement before learning my final place. When I finished they had only put up the first 10 finishers. There were only 2 others listed ahead of me in the Men's 40-49 category! I thought there was a chance that it was younger field given the shorter distance. Alas, 3 of the 4 people posted next ahead of me were all in my same age group. Oh well, back to my mid-packer ultrarunning status.

Sliding into first base

A start. An actual start. That's how I felt driving home last weekend after the Los Gatos Overgrown Trail Marathon. That fatass event topped off a week of 67 miles. Having run 15 the previous day from Mission Peak to Sonol and back, the marathon was a nice finale. I was quite satisfied having finished the 26.6 miles (and 6000ft of climbing) in just under 5 hours. My hip was not so happy on Monday after a weekend total of 10,000ft up and down, but I still managed a nice little recovery run to loosen up and some time on the foam roller. Tuesday, unfortunately, I awoke with a scratchy throat. Always some fits to go with those starts.

Luckily, I wasn't down too long. I eked out a meager 15 miles during the week and then got out for 10 miles of steep hill repeats with Harry and Beat yesterday. Today I sit inside snuggled in a lack of motivation, watching the rain fall outside. I really should get in at least 5 miles, but it's too easy to comfort myself with reassurances that I shouldn't push it based on how I felt this morning. I did sign up for the Sequoia 50K next weekend. So I am, at least, guaranteed more miles next week.

It's funny, I seem to be more paranoid of injury, illness and whatnot this time of year than when closer to my goal races. If I have my fitness where I want it and am laid up for a week or so, I know that it is just a matter of recovery to get back on track. However, if I am put out during my buildup period, I start worrying about failing to get into shape in the first place. I'm not sure if the analogy holds, but it's sort of like sliding into first base. Risking too much on a play so early in the game doesn't make sense. Well, it sounds good anyway.

Mudside 50K

A muddy mess! A sloppy, slippery, beautiful, muddy mess. That pretty much describes the Woodside 50K course that I ran last weekend. I signed up pretty late in the game based on my son having a game that night in a city not far from the park where the race is held. Besides, I wanted to start upping my weekly mileage and it is always so much easier to commit to a long run when you've already shelled out the cash.

The weather, like my schedule, had been sporadic the week leading up to the race. However, Saturday was calling for showers. The rain started almost right on schedule with my pulling into the parking lot in the morning. After check-in I mulled around, caught up with a few friends and tried to stay warm before the start. It wasn't raining hard so I stuck with my super-lightweight Brooks LSD jacket.

While it was my first time running this event, I had run most of the trails aside from the section through Wunderlich Park. Being on the peninsula, these its a beautiful course run through big redwood trees. It's probably a good race for a first-timer as well since it has less climbing than many PCTR events (4500ft in the 50K), its not very technical (some of the trails are essentially paved) and it doesn't have multiple loops.

Personally, I didn't have any intention to race this thing hard, but wanted to push myself a little bit and get in a brisk run. Less than 5000ft of climbing for me generally means I should be able to finish in the low-5 hour range. I thought something around a 5:15 would be a good target, but the weather was not calculated into that estimate. I tried to take it easy at the start, but in truth, probably should have held back a bit longer. The climb up to Skyline is so gradual and runnable that its hard to take it too easy.

I enjoyed the new section to the turnaround loop down into Wunderlich, but my calves were pretty tight on the climb back out. The cold wet weather wasn't helping and was probably sweating more than I realized since it was so cool. I took an extra salt at the aid station and looked forward to the final downhill even though it not being "real trail" didn't play completely to my strengths. First, though, I had to get through the rolling Skyline trail. I'd run this a number of times and it can seem long. I was hoping to just go on autopilot, but the trail was much worse than on the trip out. Not only had it been raining the whole time, but, between the 35K and 50K, a couple hundred runners had run through it. I went ankle deep a couple of times.

Eventually I made it through and was actually not to bummed about the "paved" trail. I took every advantage of the downhill I could, passing a number of runners including a couple of 50K racers who I thought had dropped me on the previous climb. The final stretch is actually on road and it seemed to be much longer than I remembered. The 5:15 time went slipping on by so I set my targets on 5:20 to keep myself motivated. I ended up a little under 5:19 which was actually good enough for a top-20 finish probably with some help from the no-shows.

Running your first race is always good motivation for the upcoming season. I did a nice 6 mile recovery run the next day to top the mileage above 50 for the week. Sunday was also the Hardrock 100 lottery. My chances of being selected were pretty slim, but I was both hopeful and worried about the prospect. The laws of statistics held true and I was placed #74 on the wait list; basically, no chance I will get in unless over half the accepted runners decides not to run. I guess the good news is that I don't have to spend all my vacation days acclimating for the race.

I hadn't given too much thought to what I would do in exchange. I'd been considering perhaps a long through-hike. I've thought a lot about doing Bighorn 100 again (and finishing without having to limp the final miles). There were also a number of new races including an intriguing run in Montana called Swan Crest. Harry and Beat agreed to join me for Bighorn, but then Beat started talking about doing both. I should know better than to listen to him. When he sent me the note about having to carry bear spray and the mandatory watching of a video about what to do in the event you meet up with a grizzly bear, I was hooked. The 24 mile section without aid and the initial 4000ft climb were just gravy.

In my exuberance, I failed to check the calendar. I've just committed to run five 100 mile races in less than a 6 month span. I realize there are those out there who do much, much more, but I'm not generally one to race again too soon after a big event. The only good news is that the shortest time between is 5 weeks. I guess that's what I get for hanging out with a guy who is training for a 200 mile race in the Italian Alps this fall. I'm sure he'll be trying to get me to add something in August during our next run.

Run Together

I do most of my training runs solo. In fact, outside of races, I almost never run with other people. With a relatively sparse race schedule this year, I've a desire to change this situation a bit. I don't have what one would call a particularly rich social life--never have. About the closest I come is when Harry, Beat and I get together for dinner in order tell tales and generally BS after one of us has run a big race. Hanging out with two guys equally as running-obsessed and only slightly less anti-social than me probably isn't what most people would call progress in terms of my interpersonal development. I will admit that it is a bit funny that, since all we do is talk about running, it never occurred to us to just plan these outings around an actual run. When Harry recently suggested the idea in an email, it was sort of an enlightened moment of "duh!"

With Beat up north in Berkeley and Harry in the south bay, we decided the first group run would be near my place. After spending a week rehabilitating a sore hip from running Mission Peak during the previous storm, I decided that, after the recent rains, a different locale would be a better choice. I settled on Pleasanton Ridge due to it's facing the east-rising sun, easy planning due to the water access on the trail and the fact that it would be new trails for my two friends. In short, we had a great run. With Beat only two weeks out from his finish at the HURT 100, the pace was slower than I would have done along and that's a good thing since I usually end up going harder than I should when alone. We ran a little over 14 miles and conversation ran well beyond run, ranging from the latest technology to American colloquial malapropisms to the epistemological basis for the non-belief in God.

Post run, we headed out for lunch and then back to my place for some hand-brewed coffee and a bit more conversion before parting to our respective lives. Retrospect says that both the idea and execution were good. Don't get me wrong, I'm not about to start a running club or anything, but it is nice to step outside my reclusive ways every now and then. We will plan further runs together. It's good motivation and good training.

Shhh...

Impatience trumped frugality and I couldn't wait for my Brooks ID discount in order to try this new shoe. Besides, it was quite different from what I normally run in so I needed to try them on first. Green Silence: the name sounds like a super hero--some sort eco-ninja perhaps. The shoe's name comes from the post-consumer and biodegradable material used in its construction. While I'm probably one of the last to jump on the whole "green" bandwagon, something about these shoes attracted me and I'd been anticipating their arrival since I'd first learned of them.

I have odd-shaped feet, but Brook's Adrenaline shoes in EE width seem to accommodate my overly wide forefoot with mismatched, narrow heel. I was skeptical about trying a shoe that didn't come in width sizing. I was pleasantly surprised. Going up a half-size in order to compensate for width has, in past, resulted in slippage either just in the back or of my whole foot within the shoe. However, the unique design and lacing pattern of the Green Silence seemed to wrap my foot and eliminate the slipping. There was also an extra eye-hole to help secure my heel. Happy with the fit, I made the purchase. Thanks Don and Gillian!

Of course, the real test would be on the run. The soles of these shoes are almost completely flat so their use would be relegated to roads and relatively smooth trails. My plan for the day called for 4 miles of road and 6 on soft dirt and gravel paths. I was happy to find that my custom orthotics fit the shoes just fine without altering their extremely light and flexible they feel. Overall, the shoes performed great and I experienced no pain in either my feet or joints during the run. This was especially surprising because previous attempts to use a more neutral shoe caused some knee pain on my right side.

For someone used to a "support" shoe, it seems a little strange that this "racing flat" would work better than a shoe which originated as a spin off of my usual model. I haven't run enough in these to come to any solid conclusions, but I believe it has to do with the midsole height. The Green Silence has the lowest midsole (18mm heel, 10mm toe) as well as the smallest heel-to-toe ratio (8mm offset) of any shoe in Brook's line. Though I have no science to back this up, its possible this low-to-the-ground design doesn't give my foot as much space to overpronate through its range of motion. Having less cushioning also keeps me from striking too hard on my heel. It felt a little bit like barefoot running.

I've done a bit of barefoot running and also used the Vibram Fivefingers in the past. While nice training tools, I doubt I will ever dispense with my trusted running shoes. Going barefoot does help toughen the feet and works all those supporting muscles. However, when I run sans shoes for more than 5-6 miles or for a few days in a row, my calves become incredibly tight. It's possible that I just need to build up more slowly, but my training is so time-limited as it is that I don't need any more reasons to limit my mileage. With the Green Silence I felt similar to how I feel after about 3-4 miles running barefoot when, actually, I'd run much longer than that.

In the end, I guess that one fact pretty much says it all: I had planned only 10 miles for the day, but ran more than 12 simply because it felt good and I wanted to keep going.

Back and Forth

This is the part of the story where I;m supposed to wax poetically over the previous year's accomplishments and then blather on excitedly about plans for the new year. I finished off the final week of 2009 or the first week of 2010--whichever you like better--with the Epiphany Run, a fat ass run based loosely around the birthday of Ultrarunning Magazine editor John Medinger. Finishing the run with a little over 50K due to my own creative course creation, I then topped off my week with a short recovery run the next day giving me 76 miles. I definitely felt like I was in the flow of training, but my over-enthusiasm created some back issues the following week ending in less than 35 miles. The back is better, but training is still sporadic. However, mentally, I am in the right mode so plans is underway.

I'm only going to say a few words about last year; if I let myself think too much on it, I know there is far too much to say. In short, from a running perspective, it was my most accomplished year yet. As with the previous year, I finished 4 100-milers. Each of these races represented a milestone of one sort or another.

Looking back, here is how they stack up in my mind:

Coyote Two Moons
This was a repeat race for me and one that I didn't really need to repeat for any reason other than where it fell in the year and the fact that a couple of good friends were going. The course is tough, but the format of going through two nights makes it a bit ridiculous. It ended up being my most epic event yet. Starting at 11pm, I had about 8 good hours before I started feeling bad. The second day and night was one long continuous deterioration--physical, mental and emotional. The last few climbs were arduous and I kept telling myself and others that I was going to drop at the next aid station. Looking back, I still can't figure out what kept me moving through the night except maybe that my mind was too addled to come up with a convincing reason to stop. It's the closest I have come to a DNF yet. It made me realize that, for better or worse, I am unlikely to quit a race unless I am physically unable.

Western States
What can be said about this race that hasn't already been said. Like most people, this is the first 100 miler I ever learned about. I'd thought about it for years. I had good confidence in finishing, it being my 8th 100, but I really wanted to go for the gold--or silver as it were. I had a plan and I was totally on it, at least for 60-70 miles. After that, it became more about getting the mark on the checklist. I loved the idea of such a classic event with its history, but, ultimately, it wasn't really the type of race that moves my spirit. I enjoyed the early mountain miles much more than the more famous sections with big packed aid stations.

Plain
I don't recall exactly when I first learned of Plain. However, I do recall that it captured my imagination immediately. The adventure, rather than the competitive, aspect of ultras is what attracted me the most. The idea of traveling 100 miles under one's own power intrigued me, being able to do so while carrying all one's own necessities, drinking from mountain streams, following an unmarked course, that was a whole other level of self-reliance. I'd intended to write more about this race, but life got busy. All I can say is that it retains a distinct position in my memory. I'm sure there are plenty of low points whitewashed by time, but no other race has given me such a feeling of belinging out there.

Javelina
I've spilled more words on this race than any other. It being a loop course and my most repeated 100, the 15.4 miles of this races main trail is as familiar to me as anything I run. This familiarity presents both a level of comfort as well as a certain pressure to perform. I've managed to beat my previous results upon each return, but I've no idea how long I can keep that up. I plan to return for at least 5 finishes. if I can keep my streak of sub-24s alive, perhaps I'll keep going.


That's about all I have to say about last year. This year is, again, focused around the 100 milers; perhaps even more so. It's not that I've lost any respect for the shorter distances. In fact, I often find them tougher; feeling the need to push myself much more than in a 100. I'm never going to be competitive in them and I'm not getting any younger either. The real motivation, however, has more to do with limited time and a desire to focus on events that fill my spirit with a sense of renewal. On that slightly melodramatic note, my plans for this year will again are really only set for the beginning of the year.

The first is a quest for a new experience. I have entered and been chosen in the lottery for the Massanuttan Mountain Trails 100. Any race on the east coast would represent new territory for me. This race has a reputation for toughness; a toughness very different from the mountain altitude or steep climbs that mark the hardest races in the west. Extremely technical trails and rocks galore will be the new order of the day.

Next, is another lottery, but with a fairly slim chance of selection. I will find out about Hardrock 100 next month. This is still the only race that really scares me. I haven't traditionally done well at altitude, suffering in anything above 8500ft. Elevations up above 10K are completely new territory for me. If I am selected, I will need to acclimate properly and it will still be a risky proposition. This race will be my new challenge. I am still thinking about what I might do in its stead in the likely event that I find July open in my schedule. I am thinking about some sort of fast pack, a long solo trek, perhaps.

I plan to finish the year with both Plain and Javelina again. Plain, because I want to see if I can repeat that most singular experience. Javelina, for all the reasons I mentioned before. I will fill in with other races as opportunity permits. I am also going to try to add in more long self-supported runs. I rarely go much beyond 25 miles in my training runs, but I'd really like to plan some 30+ milers of my own design.

That's it. Nothing particularly special this year, but a gradual progression, I think. There is a certain transition underway, but right now I'm not looking that far ahead.

Jump Start

Today's 16.5 miles marks five days straight running--first time in a few months--the past 4 all on trails covering 47.7 miles and over 9500ft of climbing. It's a little early, but I am going to declare this my first official week of 2010 training. I'll probably do something easy tomorrow and then take Friday off before the weekend. I'm not sure what I'll do this weekend. If I'm feeling ambitious on Saturday morning the Epiphany Run will mark the first official unofficial ultra of the new year. I mainly just want to log a good week of miles to start off the new year.

Today's run was one of those rare sampling of new trails. While looking for someplace to run before doing some errands over in Palo Alto, I discovered the existence of the Bay-to-Ridge Trail. It's an interesting idea even if it does require a start and initial miles on pavement. Once the path reaches Arastrodero Preserve it's pretty much all trail to Skyline Ridge. As a future project, I think doing a "Bay to the Beach" run continuing on from Skyline Ridge through Long Ridge and Saratoga Gap open spaces to link up with the Skyline-to-the-Sea trail would be pretty cool. I was slightly less ambitious today starting in Arastrodero and continuing up through Foothills preserve to Los Trancos. I'd run in this last park before, but the rest of the trails were all new to me.

Arastrodero is mostly open grasslands with wide smooth paths. There are some nice looking single track, but all were closed due to muddy conditions. Foothills is a true gem, but is only open to the public via Arastrodero. It has some excellent winding trails leading gradually up to the ridge through deep tree cover. Very nice. I had a great time on this extremely runnable trails. I took it pretty easy, however, since I had done Mission Peak the day before. I will definitely have to sample these places out some more as there were many side trails leading off in all directions and it isn't too bad a drive since it is right off Hwy 280. Best of all, the experience of cruising along new trails having to force myself to turn around and head back was just what I needed to rejuvenate my passion for running trails in the new year.

Happy New Year everyone!

Perspiration's Inspiration

94. That is the sum total running miles I logged during the month of November. I'm over 100 for December thus far, but not by much. I always take some down time at the end of the year to recover both physically and mentally. This year has been a bit more "down" than normal. A busier usual life on both the personal and professional front has conspired with the usual holiday hubbub to leave almost no time for any weekday running. Well, that, and a near complete lack of desire.

After Javelina, I was trying to figure out what to do with the following month. Given that last year I spent the two months after this race rehabilitating a torn calf muscle, I definitely planned to take it very easy. I didn't want to take the month totally off from running; however, I wanted whatever running I decided to do to be about something. Perhaps I would dig up the heartrate monitor and limit myself to only very easy runs. Maybe I would only run when I could to a trailhead. In the end, I decided it was to be about inspiration; I would run only when I was inspired to do so whether it be by some interesting route, a new trail or just the return of the internal desire to move my feet.

I did force myself to take a full week off. Even though my legs felt better than they had after the previous year's race, I didn't want to tempt fate. The following Saturday, my first inspiration run came to me. Eschewing my watch, I placed my personal journal in my pack, put it on my back and headed out the door. The legs felt heavy, but I just kept them at a very slow pace. I was headed towards the Mission Peak trailhead, given myself permission to walk the whole way back if necessary. I headed up the trail taking the immediate right fork towards the less populated route. I headed up the Horse Heaven single track, but went off trail upon topping the first hill. There, on a rock overlooking the Bay, I took off my pack and sat. I spent the better part of the afternoon enjoying the view and writing. I had no concern for time and decided that I should go without my watch for the remainder of the month. Eventually I shuffled on home.

The next day I had a very odd inspiration, if you can even call it that. I hopped on the treadmill for 2-1/2 miles while watching a football game. I think I mainly just wanted to loosen my legs up after the previous day's run. The next weekend I had to wait for my wife to finish some work and so I went on a "run of opportunity" around the bay trail in Foster City. It ended up turning into a bit of impromptu speedwork as I kept pushing more and more as I ran along the flat path. I had no idea of the pace since I was without watch. The next day's inspiration had me putting the GPS watch back on the wrist, but not for myself. I was planning to visit my parents for dinner, but wanted to get a run in first. Upon learning that they would be watching my niece and nephew, I invited my sister's 10-year old son to join me on his bike. We traveled the flat, paved paths that run throughout Contra Costa County traveling a full 24 miles in about 4 hours. We had a great time stopping for ice cream at the turnaround point. I was glad I brought the watch because I knew the return trip would be filled with questions of "how far?" and "how long?"

The third weekend of the month consisted of just a couple of mid-length road runs that would normally be considered quite uninspiring. However, in each case I simply ran when the impetus struck. The final weekend was, perhaps, a bit more interesting. Having the Friday after Thanksgiving off, I headed down to Grant Park in San Jose. I hadn't run there in a long time, but it was a favorite destination back when I used to mountain bike. With a bit of rain in forecast, I found the park nearly empty. I saw one set of hikers as I headed out and then had the entire 13+ miles of trail completely to myself for the rest of the afternoon. Saturday I did a little 4 mile shakedown and then headed up Mission on Sunday for one of my favorite routes looping around the back side and heading out to Monument before heading over the Peak on the return.

The monthly miles may have been small, but every one was quality.


I'd intended to kick things back into training mode once December hit, but a continued busy schedule along with my old nemesis called "inertia" has kept that from happening. I started off with a descent week of 47 miles including a 23+ mile long run starting in Redwood City and going up to Skyline Blvd which was followed by 12+ miles the next day at Purisima Creek. Unfortunately, once the holiday's got into full swing the only thing that's gotten much of a workout is my liver. I do have this entire week off so I am going to make an effort to get on the trails every day. I'm also going to write a second blog entry this week ruminating on the past year's accomplishments and the coming one's goals.

thr3ee

On various online forums I can be found posting under this odd pseudonym. It's proximate source is that I used it as my password throughout college until one of my friends (and fellow Unix hacker) snared me with a spoofed password program. Since it'd been made public, I decided to just use it as my public persona. However, its ultimate source goes back much further into my personal history.

I have always had a, I don't want to say fascination, so how about we call it an interest in the number 3. It's possible that it has something to do with being raised on things like this. But, my real appreciation of this integer came about much later. I was aware of many of its unique mathematical properties and an idea of the significance it played in various philosophic and religious contexts. Though, with no Internet back then, the scope of my exploration was much more limited than it might be today. In truth, I was really just a bored public school adolescent with a geeky mathematical fascination.

I made up some sort of "numerology" of my own based around the number 3. While it's possible some version of the full list is still written down on a scrap of paper someplace, lying at the bottom of a box buried in the back of a closet. I really don't know. I do, however, remember something about the initial bit:

1 = Existence (everything that has or will occur will happen at least once)
2 = Coincidence (a second occurrence demonstrates only that the first was not unique)
3 = Evidence (or perhaps even "proof" on my more optimistic days)

From there things went pretty far afield based on various mathematical operations beginning with these first few entries. This is not, thank goodness, a tale about the odd behavioral tendencies of my teenage years, so I'll just leave it at that.

It is a tale about my third time running the Javelina Jundred.

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A Charm
I was quite happy when my request for bib number 333 was granted. I talked a bit about my goals in previous posts, but the most important one came down to proving to myself that I really knew what I was doing out there. Despite my passion for events like Plain where I feel locked in that classic narrative theme of "man versus nature", I also like the idea of having a 100 miler where I can actually gain some sort of handle on the distance. Not that I will ever apply the term "easy" to running 100 miles, but the combination of familiarity and the relatively few inherent variables at Javelina allow me to experiment with the other aspects of such an undertaking that are (more or less) under my control. It is the only 100 miler where I've demonstrated success at meeting my time goals. This year was to be the test, the "evidence" as it were.

Pre-Race Haste
It was clearly going to be a bit different this year given that the field was about twice the usual size. They had already enlarged it before Angeles Crest 100 was canceled due to fires and they allowed even more entrants. The check-in, briefing and dinner all felt a bit less low-key than previous years. They even had a guest speaker. Unfortunately, they also had much smaller dinner portions so Beat and I didn't stick around for the talk. We headed right to the traditional giant Safeway for some more eats, snacks and breakfast foods. I probably ate too much and too late, but that was something I wouldn't pay for until very late in my race. The rest of the evening was spent in the traditional manner of last minute prep followed by the early morning wake up call. Apparently, it wasn't early enough as we were forced into the overflow lot due to the larger than normal number of participants. It just meant less time waiting at the start.

"It really is impossible to run that first lap too slow"
I'd given this advice to a first-timer in an online running forum the week before the race. I'd repeated it again a few times the night before. We lined up closer to the back of the pack, knowing that sage advice is rarely taken, especially as it pertains to an event that is all about experience. It's taken me some time to learn this lesson myself. It has only been very recently, where I have started to understand what it really means to go out slow. It's served me quite well at my last three races. However, at your first 100, there is really no way to know. Until you've felt it, how could you know that the gradual slope in lap-1, that feels excruciatingly slow at your sub-12 pace would require enormous effort during lap-5 to even approach 15 minutes per mile? Even after you have felt it, it is difficult to convince yourself that a 1 minute per mile slowdown during the first 15 miles, can actually translate into a 3-4 minute per mile speedup during the final 30. Even with such knowledge, and experience, I still finished the first loop faster than I intended. However, coming in slightly slower than last year, I had confidence it wasn't going to be an issue.

Spectacular Spectating
The great thing about Javelina is that you can be both participant and spectator at the same time. The "washing machine" style loops--changing direction each time--mean that you see everyone in front and behind you on each lap. In the early laps this means you can play a little guessing game about who's going out too hard, who's gonna "reel 'em in" and who's in store for a spectacular blow up. The front-runners always seem to start out at a blistering pace. With fast guys it's hard to tell who can hold it and this year was no different. I watched a couple front-runners who looked "worked" early on manage to hang to the finish. I saw a very experienced ex-winner drop from the competition. There was also some young gun, who'd been holding second place, sitting in a chair mid race with head hung low. Finally, I was privileged to be present for the most incredible crushing of a course record I have ever witnessed. Further back in the pack things are a bit more predictable.

"That should be a clue"
While most everyone finishes lap 1 too fast, it's lap 2 that can be the real game killer. It's possible to smoke the first 15 miles, yet back off enough during the middle section of the race to still finish strong. That is essentially what I did two years ago. However, if you come into the 50K mark and utter, as one guy did to me last year, that you just set a PR for the distance, well, there's only one appropriate response. Lap 2 is where I watched people making their initial mistakes. It's also where I watched myself closely to not do the same. Going up the gradual slope I noticed that I was able to maintain a walking pace of 13-14 minute miles. If I'm walking that well, there is really no reason to run. Beat was chatting with some young girl trotting up ahead. Eventually he backed off and hung back with me. Apparently she was saying how she didn't feel like she was going too fast, a common perception at that stage in the race. The thing is, in the first 20 miles at least, you should really feel like you're going too slow.

3rd
This is the transition. I think about this race in thirds of 50K--the final partial loop isn't factored in because it is run purely with whatever you have left. I set splits for each 3rd. The first was 6 hours, but the goal here was "no faster than." I missed it slightly, finishing just under. The next two splits would need to be under their targets. If I was to have a shot at 22 hours, I would need to hit the 100K mark under 13 hours and complete lap 6 within 20--I knew those final miles could be done in a bit over 2. Mentally switching from "stay under this time" to "have to hit this time" does not mean, however, that I had permission to start pushing the pace. Lap 3 is still a time for restraint especially given that it is run in the heat of the day. This year was the coolest of the three I have run this race, but the temps still managed to creep into the mid-80s on parts of the course. My goal allotted me about 7 hours for each of the next two 50Ks. This meant I would need to hit the faster clockwise laps in under 3:30. I finished this one in about 3:25.

"The race doesn't start until lap 5"
If lap 3 is the mental transition then lap 4 is the physical one. At this point, my focus turned to strategy. Monitoring my body closely, the mantra weaving through my thoughts was to stay within a "solid, but maintainable" pace. After catching up with a couple of runners about half way through this lap--just before sundown--I was discussing how lap 4 is where the urge to push can be very strong, but the need to hold something back is still important. The real race hasn't yet begun. As if to punctuate my comment, the two of them took off shortly after our conversation only to drop from the race after the next lap. As night settled in, I was feeling good. Leaving the last aid station, heading to the start/finish area, I could see I was coming in solidly below my 13 hour target. My mind drifted to lap 6. That was my critical slowdown last year. I began running that final loop over and over in my mind. I became fixated on it. So much so that I made my "big mistake" at the next aid station.

One can be "too focused"
As mental acuity dissipates late in a race, I begin needing to remind myself of what I need to do as while approaching an aid station. I usually have a list that I repeat in my head. I almost always end up forgetting something. My hope is just that isn't anything too critical. I had a strong desire to get out of the 100K aid station in less than 13 hours so I set a plan for super-efficiency: drop the bottles off to be filled, head to my bag, grab a few essentials, down the rest of my Frapuccino, quickly grab some eats on the way out and then get back on trail. I thought I'd hit everything on my list. A little over a mile into the loop I was reminded of what I had missed. I'd ran right past the row of porta-johns leaving the aid station. What would have been a quick 2-minute diversion eventually turned into a matter of urgency. I'm won't go into details, but my failure to "take care of business" meant that loop 5 took a full 4 hours with at least 15-20 minutes of it spent off trail. I did manage to get my GI system back in order before finishing the lap. I also switched to gels and soup for the remainder of the race.

2x3=6
As I mentioned earlier, last year lap 6 was my tough one. I don't know if my plan just hit right or if the slow lap 5 was a contributor, but this year I had a great lap 6. I decided to repeat what worked well during lap 4 which was to walk some of the early section out of the aid station, but then shuffle up the gradual slope. I was able to maintain the pace for pretty much the whole way. Not only was my pace great, but I actually enjoyed myself the entire time. So often, as ultrarunners, we have to resort to certain mental techniques in order to get through the more difficult aspects of these long events. Whether you call it dissociation, mind games or simply "phasing out", the effect is the same. You distract yourself and forget the present moments, letting time pace without record. While I've always found this an interesting cognitive phenomena, my most treasured times during an ultra are those where I manage the exact opposite, a state of total mindfulness. To be completely present, in the moment, observing both yourself and your surroundings when expectation would have you entrenched in pain and avoidance, is as close as anything to what I might label a spiritual moment. It's also the best I can come to explaining how I felt during this lap.

3 out of four ain't bad
I finished lap 6 in a just over 20:22. 22 hours was an impossibility, but I felt great and, besides, there were plenty of other goals from which to choose. Heading out 3 minutes later, I knew I could beat last year's time. It had taken me 2 hours and 10 minutes to do the final lap then and I knew it could be done faster. I started off easy preparing for the slow uphill grind. I decided that I was going to shuffle as much as I could, but still make sure I had energy to crush the final downhill. I reached Coyote Camp around 21:45, almost 15 minutes faster than last year. A runner and pacer had left just as I came in. I figured to catch them on the downhill. The first bit is not very steep so it doesn't quite play to my strength. I leaned into it and pushed just enough to keep the breathing heavy, but even. I passed them a mile or so in. I knew there was a short steep section just before it leveled out leading to the intersection. I was looking forward to it. I wanted to let go and put on some speed to help energize myself for the final stretch. Just as I hit this section, another runner/pacer pair appeared in front of me. I barely had time to call out "on your right" as I banked an outside turn to fly on by them. That was all I needed to kick it into high gear. Not only was I guaranteed my 10th 100-mile finish, my 3rd sub-24 hr and a PR for the course, but 22:30 had suddenly come into view. It was nothing but push the rest of the way.

By my reckoning, I ran the final 9.1 miles in under 2 hours and 2 minutes putting my finish time at 22:27:20. Hmm...that's an awful lot of 2's. Maybe it's time to pick a new favorite number?

Quick Check

Words and images are still swirling about in my brain, mostly during times not very conducive to writing (i.e. traveling down the highway at 65). Hopefully, enough will be retained for a report to spill out onto this medium in the not too distant future.

For the time being, here's a quick update on last weekends results from the goals I set for myself:

Finish my 10th 100 miler:
- Check


Keep the sub-24hr streak at Javelina going:
- Check


Beat my 22:41 time from last year:
- Check


If the the stars all align, the desert smiles on me and the moon's bright light fills my soul, hit something around the 22 hour mark:
- Not quite.

After losing at least 10-15 minutes during loop 5 due to some GI distress, I had to push hard during loop 6 and the final 9 miles. I still managed to knock 14 minutes off last years time to break 22:30. Finish time was 22:27 and change and, even more surprising, another top-20 finish due to typically high drop-out rate.

Full results are here.

Early Departures

This time tomorrow morning I should be at the airport in San Jose awaiting a flight to Phoenix for my final scheduled race of 2009. I like to take the month of December off from races and, given last years post-Javelina calf explosion, I am not planning anything for November either. The season is ending a bit early this year. I'll figure out what to do with the last two months when they show up. For now, I am focused on the final adventure of this excellent year of races.

Javelina is the only 100 miler I have run that just feels like "pure fun." Even last year when I had my eyes set on specific time goals and splits, it was still a consistently enjoyable run with few low points. It will be interesting going into this race for a 3rd time. With just under 15-1/2 miles of trail, I can pretty much envision the entire course in my head, step by step. I always enter races with some specific goals, but I am fairly casual about this one.

It's always possible I'm being a bit too casual. I'll pack my gear at the last minute tonight and training since my last 100 has been minimal. That's not to say that I'm taking the race lightly. I don't think that running a 100 miles could ever become routine. It is still a great adventure and there are so many things that can turn over such a distance no matter how many times you repeat it. From the start, one of my goals in doing ultras has been to bring my mind and body to the state where I could undertake these epic runs with a certain simplicity of intent. Distilling life down to just the bare essentials of "eat, drink, move" is perhaps the most appealing aspect to me.

I mentioned my training--or lack thereof. Since Plain, I have had only two weeks of 50+ miles which included just one 21 mile long run and a 50 mile race. Dick Collins Firetrails 50 is another perennial favorite, though I missed it last year. It always falls near my birthday so I get to participate in the traditional "run your age in miles" thing without having to do much planning. This year I really just wanted to see how my fitness had held up since Plain and get a 50 miler in before Javalina. I was hoping to break 9:30 as I did 9:33 two year past. However, a bigger goal was to practice my pacing, especially my strategy of going much slower in the earlier miles and retaining some push for the later miles.

The night before Firetrails, I was about to charge my GPS watch and breifly considered ditching it altogether. Well, the gods of electronics must have been listening because about 10 minutes before race start, I tried to turn it on and it was "no go." I had go0d success at the Mt. Diablo 50K earlier this year running sans watch so I just smiled and went with it. I've started to really enjoy going slow at the start. With a familiar course, I especially savor the knowledge that there many people ahead of me going out too fast whom I can use as motivation later in the race.

I took things very easily in those early miles. Despite my inability to keep from charging the big downhill on MacDonald or crushing my favorite Golden Spike trail, I still felt very much at ease as I approached the climb up to Skyline Gate at mile 15. I continued to feel good even pushing up the big monster hill to Sibley. I saw the 20 mile slowdown coming and eased off bit heading up to Steam Trains, letting go my old man fantasies of being able to keep up with that woman a decade of younger and a much better climber than me. I was looking forward to the long, gradual downhill to the turnaround, but my hips had a different idea.

Things started tightening up. After the turnaround I tried stopping and stretching, but it was going to be a long slow climb. I hooked up with Brooke Stasiak whom I'd met at Quicksilver, but, unfortunately, my memory failed me at the time and she had to re-introduce herself. I missed her at the finish, but I really have to give thanks as it really helped to have someone to hang with during this low point. After some of the steeper downs and ups, I was moving a bit better, but still felt pretty tight coming into Skyline again at mile 37.

I succumbed to temptation and accepted a couple of Ibuprofen at this point. Whether real or perceived, they helped and after cruising the downhill, I was able to move well along the flat (and least favored) section through Redwood Park. I caught back up with Victoria Folks who had passed me during my low point. She was hitting hers with some knee pain so I suggested the same remedy that had me moving better now. I was now on autopilot planning my strategy for those final miles.

I know the trails through Redwood and Chabot like the back of my hand. I had joked earlier of running all out on mil 40-41 for my birthday since it was on Golden Spike, a trail I pretty much have "wired." My real plan was to start my push there. I would hit that trail and exercise my knowledge of every up, down, curve and bump in the trail to take it at a maintainable push. I knew that the key was to still keep something in reserve for the climb back up MacDonald.

As I headed up the big climb, I had a distinct strategy in mind. Many people are reduced to just walking this entire section. However, if you haven't completely spent yourself, there are plenty of sections to jog or shuffle. These are also key spots to pass people and get that extra mental boost from dropping a competitor late in a race. Over the top and down to Bort Meadows, I felt excellent. I did a time check there and was told it was just minutes until 3:00pm. With 6 miles left, this was it. Time to test the tank. I pushed down the hill and decided that the only someone pushing much harder was going to get an easy pass.

I hit the awesome Stone Bridge and headed into the winding, rolling section heading towards the final aid station. There was a guy right on my tail and I committed to see how long I could hold him off. I knew if I made it to the start of Columbine, there was a good steep descent that would allow me to open it up. I pushed, passing a few others having there low spots late in the race. By Bass Cove, and the final 3 miles, I decided to keep pushing though I had "gapped" anyone behind me at that point. I just had to maintain it over the final couple of climbs before the dam and then see what I had left for the last road section. I caught one more runner down the final hill and then just put it in cruising gear. With less than a mile to go I could see one final competitor in front of me, but I didn't have the wheels or the will to push more.

Without a watch I had no idea the time I was tracking, but I knew I had 9:30 in the bank. I didn't think 9:20 was quite possible. As hit the grass I could see the clock and the seconds ticking towards 9:22. That seemed plenty good to me. Not only had I beaten my goal time, I had also bested my Quicksilver time from earlier this year and, best yet, had run the final 6 miles in under an hour. I guess I accomplished the goal of having something left at the end.

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Well, I hadn't intended this post to be a full Firetrails race report, but there you have it. OK, I guess it's not time to focus on Javelina. I don't have much to say going into it, but I'll just lay out the goals I have for this race. In order of priority, here they are:

1. Finish my 10th 100 miler
2. Keep the sub-24hr streak at Javelina going
3. Beat my 22:41 time from last year
4. If the the stars all align, the desert smiles on me and the moon's bright light fills my soul, hit something around the 22 hour mark.

Well, that's it. Have a great Halloween. If you stumble in from your festivities and want to flip on the computer to check out where all us desert dwellers are, they are supposed to have live results this year.

Plain un-Plain

The next 100 miler after Plain on the schedule is my perennial (3rd time) trek to Phoenix, AZ for the Javelina Jundred. Other than both being listed as 100 miles (and both being longer than said distance), these two races share very little in common. There are so many ways in which Plain stands alone in my racing experience, but none so much as in the preparation that was required. In different ways, preparing for Plain was both more and less than other races. The "more" part seemed almost overwhelming at first.

Weeks out from Plain, I felt like a complete and total newbie. It was to be my 9th 100 miler, but I felt more like I was tackling my very first ultra. The logistics seemed so daunting. My initial focus was on the maps and directions. Packing was just too much to consider until I could glean at least a basic understanding of the course. I am generally pretty good with directions and, for the most part, the times when I've missed turns in races were from lack of focus. There would be no cruising past intersections in this one; zoning out on the run was not an option. Still, I wanted to obtain as much of a feel for the route as possible from the topographical maps. As I followed the contour lines, I imagined the bits where I'd be climbing or descending for long periods and took special care to note the distances of all turns.

Harry sent me a copy of the GPX tracks for the course, allowing me to view it in Google Earth and the obsession was taken to a whole new level. I walked through the entire virtual tour of the course multiple times. The climbs and descents became more real. While I, obviously, couldn't see an exact image from the trail, I could stop at points and rotate the view to see surrounding peaks and valleys. Mainly, I just tried to get an image of the whole thing in my head, envisioning when I would be headed north or south, memorizing prominent features or landmarks. This was as close to a course preview as I was going to get. Once I felt there was a reasonable imagine fixed in my head, I turned my focus to the written directions.

The Plain 100 website supplies detailed instructions on all the trail intersections for the course including warnings about any potentially confusing bits. The directions supply the micro-view to the map's macro version. I divided the instructions into sections and pasted them into an electronic document formatted as a table. Each rectangular cell contained the text describing a single stretch between trail intersections or turns. I then added the mileage estimates at the below the text (overall and segment totals for the second loop). My intention was to cut these up like "flashcards" and put them into a Ziploc bag. I would then keep the current section at the front facing out. When I printed the whole thing out, I discovered that I could actually fold the paper in such a way that a simple unfold/re-fold operation would put the right section in front without the need to deal with dozens of bits of paper. It's a little hard to explain, but if you've ever seen someone read the Times on a NY Subway, you get the general idea.

I could only occupy myself so long with the course before I had to face the fact that I wasn't going to be able to avoid packing until the last minute like I usually do. At other 100 milers, say Javelina with its aid stations every 5 miles and two drop bags per 15 mile loop, you can just throw all the stuff that you might possibly need into a few sacks, plan your water needs between aid and figure it out later. The idea of having to fit everything I would need for somewhere between 55-59 miles--as much as 17 hours--into a single pack, left me more than a little fearful. I'd already decided to stick with my UD Wasp.

I wanted to have at least some "real food" and I knew from my experiment pacing at Headlands that bean burritos worked well for me. I also wanted to have some stuff that I knew I could handle and so Clif Bars and some gels also easy choices. Beyond that, I went in search of foods that were both compact, but calorie dense. It was weird to be counting calories on the back of packages, but looking for the highest values possible. Bonk Busters were a good choice and would replace my PB&J staple. I also added in some Promax bars, flattened bananas from Trader Joes and some beef jerky. This last is actually not very calorie dense, but I knew that sometimes it is exactly what I need late in a race. I didn't make a list of everything I took and now I wish I had. My goal was to carry around 3000-4000 calories for each loop.

My UD Wasp was about as fully packed as it can be. I filled all of the front pockets with food and other immediate needs (electrolytes, etc.). I attached an external storage pouch to the back with more food. I stuffed my lightweight shell and gloves into the mesh pocket on the back and strapped a second water bottle to with the cinch straps. I filled the back compartment with some more reserve food and backup supplies (extra batteries, etc.), but that space was limited by the 100oz bladder I was going to need to fill with water for the long stretch. I had another handheld I would carry for my NUUN mix. Basically, the pack was stretched to the limit. I only planned to completely fill the the bladder once at mile 30 so I figured some of the supplies would move from the pack to my gut by then.

For a drop bag it was a bit easier. In fact, easier even than for a standard 100. If I couldn't survive on what I could hold in my pack for the first loop, there was no point having much more in the drop bag for the shorter second loop. The drop was basically a resupply of what was in my pack with a few extra options. I threw in a change of clothes including a few warmer options if needed. I also figured to put in some special items that I would eat during the break. Beat and I agreed to split a pizza and I figured I'd make it my one risky food items. I'd had mixed results with pizza, but couldn't think of any other real food to put in there.

---

Well, that about sums up the prep I did for Plain. I started this post some weeks ago and, due to a busy work schedule, am just finishing it now that Javelina is less than a week away. I'm back to my usual procrastinator self. I'll put it all together some time before Thursday night. I'll also make sure to post something about my race goals such as they are. It seems such a casual race after Plain. Which is probably why I'm having a hard time getting motivated for serious goals. Well, that and the fact that my training has been, to use the vernacular of my father's homeland, complete shite. No matter, it's gonna be a load of fun.

Plain

As the pain seeps slowly from my memory, the image of this race and what it means to me will continue to take shape. It's been a full week since I was traipsing about the North Cascades with a pack full of food, taking water from mountain streams. The Plain 100 is a different type of race. It's difficult to be sure--a course that measures somewhere between 106 and 108 miles, 21,000+ feet of elevation gain/loss, no course markings, no pacers and a single aid station after the first of two different loops, somewhere north of mile 55. Everything else is only what you carry with you including map and directions because, despite a few Search and Rescue checkpoints set out on the course, only your fellow runners are allowed to help you figure out which way to go.

My schedule is pretty busy right now so I'm not sure when I'll find the time to write up a full report, but I would like to give some sense of the race and how I feel about it after being one of only 10 people to finish this year (out of 32 starters). The course itself is difficult enough what with the added distance, very technical trails and three major climbs up and over 6500+ft peaks. However, it's the format that adds another level of complexity and more than just a little bit of time to the trip. Course directions must be checked at each intersection (doubly or triply so during the night) . Filling up water and diffing food from one's pack are additional sources of time. Finally, there are the almost inevitable mistakes to be made in terms of managing hydration, nutrition or both. There is no next aid station where some kindly volunteer will suggest and then hand you "just the thing" to help turn your low around. Certain foods, such as fresh fruit or hot soup, are pretty much off the menu. If you don't like what you packed, you need to just deal with it.

While it may sound a bit miserable--and, indeed, it had its moments--I also found it quite wonderful. The area where Plain is held is absolutely gorgeous. In my personal race experience, it's natural beauty is rivaled only by Bighorn. Despite the fact that the trails are shared with motorcycles, they are narrow, challenging and surrounded by a pristine alpine environment. The guys who ride here are absolute experts and probably as passionate about the outdoors as any trail runner. The course traverses streams, runs alongside crystal clear lakes, through expansive meadows, into deep forests and over mountains that provide 360-degree views of the surrounding summits. Even with all this, what really sets Plain apart from other races has little to do with its setting. There's something I find just immensely satisfying about being able to traverse great distances through remote areas with only the pack on my back for support. It strikes at the core of why I fell in love with trail running in the first place. It's why many of my long training runs in the hills often best my race accomplishments in supplying fuel for the soul.

There's more than one tale to tell about a race that took more than 34 and half hours to complete. I sincerely hope I will find the time and inspiration to unfold at least some of them here. But, there are a couple moments that are key to explaining how special this race was to me. Some time during the second loop I remember saying that I was motivated to finish just so I would never have to return and do loop 1 again. I was thinking of that loop's pinnacle climb up Signal Peak--an arduous beast that goes up 4600ft in total with the initial 4200 ascended in about 4.5 miles all while carrying enough water to last 15 (for me this meant 145oz). However, even as I was saying it, I felt that it wasn't quite true. Confirmation came hours (and hours) later upon finishing. Despite the immediate feeling of having completed perhaps my most difficult race to date, I was never more certain that I would be returning to do it all over again. It usually takes at least days, if not weeks, before I want to give an event another try. Plain, however, I knew to lay in my future as well as much as my past even before I'd finished my first post-race drink.

Pacing and Chasing

The week after Skyline Beat, Harry and I got together for dinner. This is where Beat put the hammer down in his efforts to recruit us to join him at the Plain 100 this year. Despite my totally slacker month of July, I was easy to convince. Plain's ethic of self-reliance has always attracted me. Harry was a bit harder sell as he was still beating himself up over his DNF at States. By the end of the meal, we were all in. I did have one condition. I wanted Beat to let me pace him for the last 50 miles of Headlands the following weekend. I wanted to get a 50-miler in before I signed up for another 100. Since Harry was already pacing someone at the same race, we would all be out there on the course together.

Truth is, I had a twinge of guilt about being a pacer for someone who really didn't need one. It was almost as if I'd be sneaking into the race for free. Not only would I get to run the loop course once in each direction (the full race repeats each twice), I could sleep in Saturday, get some weekend errands done and run all through the night (which I love). To assuage my conscience I decided I would not partake of the aid stations. Harry and I had discussed how carrying our own food for the 50 miles would be good training for Plain where we would have to carry our own supplies on loops of 55 and 45 miles.

Saturday afternoon and I'm tired of waiting around so I call Harry to see if he wants to carpool to the race. After a little bad decision making, a lot of traffic and some more time spent waiting for an accident, we finally made it to the race. We missed the 50-mile race leaders coming in, but would still have plenty of time to wait for our mid-pack 100-mile runners. Or so we thought.

There was Beat standing around at the start/finish area. Only one possible scenario would have him there at that time in the race. His off-kilter walk and immediate attempt at explanation confirmed that he had dropped from the race. His knee had been giving him some trouble since his finish at Hardrock. When it started to act up during the race, Beat opted to not push it. He decided that making it to Plain in one piece was more important than hobbling to the finish of Headlands. I was bummed, but knew he'd made the right choice. Besides, I figured I'd be able to find someone else to pace if I just hung out for a while.

Jon Burg is someone I have known casually for a couple of years. He's generally quite a bit faster than I am so I don't see him much in races. For example, he ran Headlands as his first 100 the same year I did, but finished more than 3 hours ahead of me in 23:33. When he came in at the 50 mile split this year I went over to say hello and see how he was doing. After a brief conversation and explanation of my situation, he invited me to join him for the second half of the race. Like Beat, he certainly didn't need a pacer, but welcomed the company. I'd be heading out a little earlier than planned and also pacing a bit faster than expected.

The new course is a 25 mile loop that is repeated 4 times, twice in each direction. Like Javelina Jundred, the "washing machine" style loops add variety to the repeats. Reversing directions each lap turns climbs into descents and vis-versa. Then, as day turns into night, the familiar once again takes on a another new dimension. The modified course is very nice, covering most of the best trails in the Marin Headlands. As challenging as it is beautiful, the modifications add significantly to the overall elevation gain/loss. However, the familiarity and increased contact with other runners on the trail help to distract from the difficulty.

It was nice joining someone with whom I wouldn't otherwise get to run. Jon is a really nice, down to earth guy as well as a fairly talented runner. He's an even more talented walker. Pacing is always a unique challenge as it forces one out of the comfort zone matching someone else's cadence rather than running your own. It is generally compensated for by the fact that your runner is overall much slower during the second half of a race. While this was definitely true for Jon, I could tell right away that his long legs and ability to walk at a running pace were going to become a challenge for me as the night went on and miles accumulated.

With a 9:47 50-mile split, Jon was on pace to easily beat his sub-23 hour goal. However, as we headed out on the first loop after an extended aid station stay, he expressed some concern over how he was feeling and then complained of some stomach issues as we later on. Of course, this is a guy who can walk 15 minute miles uphill and 12 minute miles on the flats even when he isn't feeling well. I found myself constantly shuffling or jogging to keep pace with him. The weather was perfect and we had some very enjoyable conversation getting to know one another. Despite his issues and continuing to slow throughout the loop, Jon still knocked it off in a little over 6 hours.

Jon's stomach started feeling better during the final loop. About half way through he started upping the pace again (or at least it felt so). A key scene for this loop was when we were coming out of Muir Beach. Jon was striding up the steep climb while I was fell behind. A couple runners heading down the hill gave me a "good job" encouragement. I immediately responded by explaining "No, I'm a pacer trying to catch his runner. I need to do a better job." I managed to catch him, as expected, on the next downhill and pushed to keep up with him the rest of the loop. Jon ran a great final stretch passing one final runner in the last 2 miles to capture a top-10 berth in a time of 22:46.

I am very grateful to Jon for allowing me to "pace" him as I think I may have gotten more out of it than he. I bagged a 50 mile run for my training, managed my own food supply for the full course and, while I was hoping for a little more time on my feet, I definitely had a good workout covering the distance in well under 13 hours. After congratulating Jon and watching a few more runners come in, I hit my car for a nice nap. I spent the rest of the day hanging out at the finish line, cheering in runners and waiting for Harry. He ended up getting "the full meal deal" as his runner struggled with some problems. However, she was one tough woman and ended up giving Harry a lesson in the fine art of never giving up.

In the end, I think the race was a success for us all. Well, maybe not for Beat, but I guess he didn't have to learn about his knee problem somewhere in the Cascade mountains in the middle of an unmarked course. How much this run will help with Plain, I'll have to see. My training over the weeks that followed it wasn't exactly what I had hoped...

Skyline Byline

As I hinted at in my previous post, I decided to jump into a 50K race in order to kick-start myself back into training mode. Similar to last year, I was able to add the Skyline 50K to my schedule at the last minute. In fact, I added it at the very last minute signing up on race day. It sort of felt old school handing over a check and signing the waiver that morning--well, except for the fact that I had contacted the RD on Facebook the day before to make sure there were openings.

Skyline is a classic race that has been around in one form or another for 28 years held on the 1st Sunday in August. It was originally a point-to-point course starting from Tilden Park in Berkeley, but now begins and ends at Lake Chabot in Castro Valley. It travels through Chabot and Redwood parks sharing as few trails on the out and back sections as possible making it more or less a loop course (really a figure-8 to be exact). It has a lot of similarities to the beginning and ending sections of the Dick Collins' Firetrails 50. In fact, it is probably an excellent training run for that race if you are approaching it as your first 50 miler.

Despite all of this as well as the fact that it is part of the PA/USATF Ultra Grand Prix, the race does not fill up. I think that this has as much to do with timing as anything. By August, most experienced ultra-runners are just recovering from or preparing for their big summer races. Most people in the area new to the sport have chosen one of the popular early season 50Ks as their first race and/or may now be focused firmly on the 50 mile distance. It is popular among long-timers in the sport--long being a preferable adjective to old now that I am closer to 60 than 20. At my count there were 15 (of 122) finishers over the age of 60 at this year's race and one finisher, Bill Dodson, finishing 74th at the age of 74. With a finishing time of 5:52 he bested a few folks half his age.

My personal goal going into this race was not much more ambitious. In fact, since I hadn't run longer than 14 miles in over a month, I stated that anything under 6 hours was fine with me. Just as I did last year, I started out slow on the rolling paved section along the lake. In fact, I continued keeping the pace easy just cruising and chatting. Starting my races at an easy pace is something I have been working on. Ohlone was a good test earlier this year as I noted that each year I have run it, I have tried to go slower up the initial ascent, but always ended up reaching the peak around the same time. It is difficult to convince oneself of it mentally, but the fact is you loose so much less time taking it easy in the early miles of a race than you do if you are forced to slow down in the latter miles.

I look at it this way. Slowing just 30 seconds per mile during the initial miles can feel like an easy jog yet will only add an extra few minutes to the first hour or so of running. However, late in an ultra, the difference between an easy pace may and a solid one may end up being many minutes per mile. Not only will this eat up much more time, but it the mental impact of being forced (rather than choosing) to slow down creates a cumulative effect. This fact becomes more important the longer the race. However, it is still difficult to slow youself abnormally when everyone around you is blazing out of the gates. It takes practice.

This strategy paid off well for me in this race, as I ran well behind my normal pace at start hanging way back in the field. As the race went on, I passed more and more people, but my paced remained as close to constant as possible. A look at the splits reveals some interesting facts. At the first aid station there were more than 20 people ahead of me who would eventually finish behind me. By the last aid station, there was pretty much nobody behind me who finished ahead of me. My average pace at the first aid station was just over 9.5 minutes per mile, my average pace at Skyline Gate (mile 14.4) was 9.86 and my final average for the race was 9.79. I believe that is as consistent a race as I have ever run.

Once again the Skyline 50K was an excellent addition. I went in just planning a training run, but came out with my third fastest 50K time at 5:10:28. It was a beautiful day with cool, cloudy conditions for all but the final 2 miles around the race when the sun came out and stuck around for the BBQ. I had a great time and the race topped off my first 60+ mile, post-States week. It definitely served its purpose of putting me back on the training track.

Looking back, catching up

I intended to have written some further thoughts about Western States by this point.A busier than normal work and personal schedule combined with the fact that I find it difficult to write about running when I am not actively doing so, have left this space rather silent. As might be expected, the weeks after my race have not been especially active. I am focusing on recovery. July, like December, is a month when I generally "plan not to plan" as far as my running goes. I still hope to do some sort of retrospective on the different phases of my Western States race at least before my next race--whenever that might be. However, I'd first just like to get back in the flow of running and writing. Below are some of the "opportunistic" runs that I've managed to fit in over the past few weeks.

Lodge Run
I took the full week off after States. The next weekend was the 4th of July. With no plans, I started looking for last minute trips near the end of the week. I discovered that the Tenaya Lodge just south of Yosemite National Park was available so I booked a room for my wife and myself. We had no plans other than to relax and enjoy the weekend in a beautiful setting.

There really isn't much to tell about the trip, but I did get in my first run since the race on the fireroad (and a bit of single-track) behind the lodge. I wore my Vibram FiveFingers and clicked off about 7.6 miles. I have been using the Vibrams for my recovery runs and to see if they can help with the plantar fasciitis that I've been fighting most of this year. This was the longest run I've done in the them and was terrifically enjoyable.

The fireroad behind the the hotel went for quite a ways, but a few miles up there was a nice little singe-track trail that led to a small waterfall. In an uncharacteristic turn, I actually remembered to bring my camera on this run and snapped some photos along this section of trail.
















Birth of a Trail Runner
Edgewood Park is an unassuming bit of open space especially given that it sits within one of the greatest expanses of publicly accessible land around. Between the 17 San Mateo County Parks and the 26 Mid-Peninsula Regional Openspace Preserves there are more than 72,000 acres of land and countless miles of trail available on the southwest side of the bay. However, it is within the relatively small expanse of Edgewood park where my love affair with trail running began.

I believe I've told the story here before, but to be brief, it was during my time working at an Internet start-up company in Redwood City. I had switched from mountain biking to running as my main form of fitness. Mostly I would just run on roads around work, but discovered the idea of trail running and wanted to do more of it. Mission Peak is my local park, but with an initial mile that climbs more than 700ft, it wasn't exactly beginner friendly. Besides, being in start-up mode, I was spending more time at work than at home. Discovering a local park with a variety of trail options was just the thing I needed to get me off the pavement back in touch with my love for the outdoors.

For various reasons, I've recently found myself back in the neighborhood of my (literal) old stomping grounds. My first Edgewood Park run in more than 6 years was a Tuesday evening romp wearing the Vibrams. The first thing I remembered was how much I used to hate the initial 1/2 mile of uphill. While it is still a bit of a climb, relative what I am not used to I actually had to keep myself from pushing the pace during this initial warm-up. The other memory that came back was the first time I was actually able to complete the 5-1/2 mile loop. I was set to repeat it on this day, but on the way back I decided to add a little bit more climbing going around one side of the Ridgeview Loop. Finally, on my way down I was reunited with my final (and perhaps fondest) memory.

The switch-backing singletrack trail in this park has just enough twists, turns, rocks and roots to be considered moderately technical for a new trail runner. I remember how I used to try and take the final downhill mile faster and faster each time I ran here. I remember learning the practice of scanning the trail up ahead of me, anticipating my foot placements and the excited, staccato breathing pattern following my footfalls along the uneven surface. This is where I learned that trails are run with the entire body, using arms and torso to control both speed and balance allowing me to eventually glide easily down trail where I had previously only tentatively tread.

Running this trail again in my nearly-bare feet was like a return to those days as I felt much more in touch with the ground and had to relearn how to move fearlessly at speed without the extra support of a traditional running shoe. Of course, I am a much more skilled trail runner now so it really was like the best of both worlds; a renewed sense of excitement and discovery combined with the confidence of experience.

Simple City
As the crow flies, Club Sport is about a mile and a half from my house. Driving generally takes about 3 miles, but on foot has required something more along the lines of 5 as the only pedestrian passable roads have required going far out of the way. That is, until they finally finished the 880 overpass. Now my gym is exactly 2 miles from my house by car, bike or on foot. As soon as it was open, I of course had to give it a try. The convenience of being able to run to the gym and back is great. It also puts the Baylands trail within accessible distance if I want to hit up a nice flat piece of dirt. Mostly, I just like the idea of using my feet as my vehicle of transportation. It is probably the only type of road running that I really enjoy.

Legs and Feet
A new road route is fine, but nothing is more satisfying than discovering new trails. Two weeks post States and jonesing for a real trail run, I found myself once again heading to the other side of the bay. I wanted to get in at least 12 miles or 2+ hours to test my legs so was looking for something more than Edgewood could offer. However, none of my mainstay openspace preserves were really enticing me. Then I noticed Pulgas Ridge. It was literally right across the street from Edgewood Park. I could do a run there, fill my water bottle at my car and then head across the street for some more miles in Edgewood.

New trails and old combined with a checkpoint in the middle to see how I was holding up. Aside from running more in my Vibrams, I had recently switched from my venerable Brooks Adrenalines to the more neutral Defyance shoes. A podiatrist on a mailing list had mentioned that he puts people in neutral shoes after they have been fit with custom orthotics. I have been wondering if getting "too much support" has been part of my foot problem. Besides, I never liked the idea of pronation control when running on trails. The stop in the middle would also let me see how my feet were holding up as well.

To make this short, I will just say that the trails in Pulgas were a blast. It started on an uphill, but after attaining the ridge it was about a mile and a half of fun rolling hills before the descent. I then went back up on a paved road and down another single track before heading back to the car. I got in about 6 miles and covered just about every bit of trail in this wonderful little park (skipped half of the Hassler Loop if you must know). I would definitely recommend this place with one caveat. If you don't like dogs, stay away. They have an off-leash area here and, for the most part, it extends de-facto throughout the park. This means there are a lot of people with a lot of dogs out there on the trails. After Pulgas, I headed over to Edgewood and did my standard loop with an option of going all the wait to the peak of Ridgeview trail. Came out with just under 14 miles and everything feeling fine, though my foot would start hurting later.

And, Now...
Since weeks have now past since I started this post and I am actually considering a race this weekend to kick myself back into training mode, I will just give a quick summary of the rest of the weeks. That second week summed up to a grand total just over 25 miles. The following week I was in West Virginia with my son for a few days for a basketball tournament, but still managed to get in a 38 mile week that included 12.5 miles of rail-trail and a 14 miler on Mission Peak once I returned home. Last week we were in Vegas for a tournament and between basketball, staying on the strip and temps that bested 105 degrees, I managed all of two whole treadmill runs for an 11 mile total.

Finally, this week, I feel like I am back into some sort of a routine. Back at work. Running in the evenings and my foot feeling better. Still, with just barely 100 miles for the entire month and a longest run barely over 14, it may not be the wisest thing to jump into a 50K. We'll see how I feel when Sunday morning rolls around. It's not like I am diving into a 50 or 100 miler on a whim. Then again, Headlands is next weekend...