The moniker comes from my kids who coined the term after I returned from a backpacking trip sporting a full, bright red beard. Since I love the outdoors and actually grew up living on a mountain (at 3,849ft Mt. Diablo just barely qualifies), the nickname sorta stuck.
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Saturday, October 4th, 1am PST We're sitting on our plane for Costa Rica. We booked an overnight flight to allow time for the drive from San Jose to Manuel Antonio and take full advantage of our one week in paradise. We're ready to start our vacation. The plane pulls back from the gate, but makes it only a short ways along the tarmac before the pilot's voice comes over the speaker. Some words in Spanish and then the English translation---a leak in the front hydrolics or something. The gist of it being that we head back to the gate. It's about a half an hour before a mechanic shows up to look into the problem. Another half hour before we find out they need some piece of equipment and are trying to get it from another airline. I doze off and it's somewhere around 3:30am when they usher us off the plane. This is followed by more waiting in the departure lobby before we are finally told we will be sent out on a flight tomorrow night. We head back home and get to bed around 5am, sleeping for most of the day.
We make it out without incident on the second try and arrive Sunday morning.
Friday, October 10th, 5:40pm I'm on my flight heading home. We have pulled away from the gate and are told there will be a small delay before we are cleared. My wife is staying over until Sunday to visit her brother's family. I had signed up for a race Saturday morning so I'm flying home to arrive only a handful of hours before the start. After 20 minutes, we begin our taxi down the runway, picking up speed. I'm mentally preparing myself to get as much sleep as possible on this flight so I'm trying to settle in, ready to be in the air. Just at as I'm expecting to begin feeling the sensation of the nose lifting from the ground, the captain suddenly slams on the brakes and we all lurch forward in our seats. Apparently, an indicator had come on for one of the engines and the captain decided to abort at the last minute. We head back to the gate. More waiting. Our connections in San Salvador are lost. They plan to still fly us there tonight where we will stay and then head home the following evening. I opt to get off and stay in Costa Rica. Unfortunately, my luggage has already departed for the States on an earlier flight.
I miss my race, but gain back the lost day of vacation.
Saturday, October 11, 3:00pm I'm sitting in my brother-in-law's house in San Jose pondering the above two events. My conclusion? They werre insignificant since between the two we had an absolutely perfect vacation.
Join us on another exciting adventure with our fearless duo as they attempt to descend from the heights of the Skyline (or, at least, a parking at a whopping 2600ft elevation) to the depths of the very sea (aka a plot of grass across the highway from the beach). Will they be up for the challenges that lay ahead of them? Will they be able to pound the steep, downhill trails without their quads exploding? Will they survive the onslaught of hoards of angry wasps? Traverse rocks and hidden tree roots? Navigate deceptive uphills nestled amongst a net-downhill course? Our ever-accelerating Rocky "the flying squirrel" should be able to literally soar unstoppably down this path as he leads the front of the race. But, what of our beloved though befuddled moose? Will the venerable “mid-pack plodder” be able to complete the distance sans allergic reaction and seizing limbs, or will he be shamed into returning to his previous vocation (and avocation) of conveniently storing head wear amongst his cranial projections? Tune in to our next episode to find out.
Cast: Rocket J. Squirrel - Lon Freeman (Leor Pantilat understudy) Bullwinkle Moose - Steve Ansell Boris Badenov - Wendell Doman Natasha Fatale - Sarah Spelt Fearless Leader - Aaron Doman (yes, he is really the one behind the scenes) Gidney & Cloyd - Beat J and Harry Walther (Explorers from the Moon) Dudley Do-Right - Craig Slagel Snidley Whiplash - Fred Ecks
"Hey Rocky, watch me pull a Yellowjacket out of my....OOWWW...&@$%*$!!!!!"
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OK, I think I just expended my limited reserve of creative juices on the intro. I guess I'll have to proceed with a mundane report of the actual race.
I'd been looking forward to the Skyline-to-the-Sea (aka SttS) for some time. I've always wanted to run this entire trail that goes from Skyline Blvd up above the city of Saratoga and finishes at the Pacific Ocean near Waddell Beach. In fact, I was one of the people encouraging Sarah and Wendell with great enthusiasm to add this event to their already crowded calendar (sorry Aaron). Not only is this a classic Bay Area hiking and backpacking trail, but it is a downhill course that seemed like it would play to my strengths. I even ran a preview of the top part of the course a couple of weeks ago. It was almost as if I was planning to treat this like a "real race" or something. After the preview, I had pretty much run every bit of this trail at one point or another at some point in the past. I ran the bottom part up from the beach to Big Basin Headquarters a couple of years ago when preparing for the Big Basin 50K. I ran the section down to Berry Creek both times I did that race. The last part from China Grade down, I didn't know I had been on until race day. It seemed very familiar and I now think it was part of the Big Basin Trail Half Marathon that I ran about 5 years ago.
Because this was a point-to-point course, there was a shuttle bus arranged that started from the finish and took us to the start. This also meant that I had to be at the shuttle area just south of Santa Cruz before 6:30am. And this meant that I had to get my sorry butt out of bed at 4-something A.M. in the morning. I'm really not a morning person. Somehow I managed to wake myself up enough to drive to the bus location without incident. Since this was a 50K only event for PCTR, it was all ultrarunners and so a lot of familiar faces. I was surprised that many people were actually able to go back to sleep on the bus especially with people like me and Craig blabbing on and on as we did. But, it was fun catching up with everyone during the 45 minute ride to the start.
After more catching up and milling about, Wendell gathered everyone at the start of the trail. He called for all the fast runners to line up in the front. The early miles consist of a lot of rolling singletrack so in order to try and avoid a messy bottleneck or lots of passing on tight trails, he was attempting to put people into some semblance of order. He then called for people who planned to finish in the 5-hour range. Now, I've only dipped below 5 hours once and that was on a 50K course that was pretty much a flat, road run. However, I knew that with a good deal of downhill early in this race I was going to have to hang with a lot of faster runners early on. If the trail had a nice big straight-shot downhill from the get go, it would not have been a problem. However, the initial few downhill miles didn't quite allow for an all-out, "let it fly" approach. They more wind around through the woods, crossing the road a few times and rolling up quite a few times on the way down.
While the broad view of the profile might make it look like a straight drop...
...a close examination of some of those initial steep sections shows quite a bit of up-and-down interspersed throughout.
For me, this meant that I had to push a lot more than I normally would. It was either that, or I would have been exchanging places with some people over and over on each up and down bit of trail. I tried to keep it reasonable, monitoring my breathing and reminding myself that most of these people would be leaving me as soon as we came to the first major uphill towards China Grade. My plan was just to push to that initial extended up hill section and then take it easy on the climb.
Craig Slagel stuck with me as did a guy named Franz whom I knew from the Runner's World Forums as "pure_h2o". We were only a little ways into the race when I heard the yells behind me. Apparently, the famous Big Basin Wasps were already out and ready to make sure we remember that we are mere interlopers in their park. I missed the first batch which I figured would probably fuel further rumors that I am the one who lures them to the runners in the first place. However, a little ways after the first aid station a lone yellow jacket caught up with me and nailed me in the arm. Not too bad. Nothing like my 20+ stings from the Big Basin 50K last year. Well, nothing like it yet, anyway.
We were having a good day despite the initial attack and I definitely enjoyed the downhill. But, all good things must end and the first long hill was upon us. I took it easy, but still maintained a shuffle pace as most of the uphill is fairly gradual. As expected, I was passed by many as we made our way to the second aid station. I went in and out quickly as I knew there would be another downhill section coming up. We headed over the rocky bit that I recognized from the Big Basin Half Marathon when it hit us, The Swarm! I felt the first one on the back of my head, then my back, then my neck and shoulders. It was probably even worse for Craig and Franz as they could see the mass of the little buggers as they got me, but there was nothing they could do to avoid them. It was just run screaming down the trail, waving arms and spraying oneself with water. Once we were out of immediate danger, we all stopped to inspect one another and remove any hangers-on. I know I got at least 1/2 a dozen stings, but what could be done? Deal with it an move on thankful that I didn't inherit my mothers allergies.
I know Sarah and Wendell always dread holding these races during heavy wasp season as I can't imagine anything worse for and RD than the thought of someone having a severe allergic reaction out on a remote section of trail. The three of us stuck together and tried to get back into a good rhythm. The other thing that an attack like that does is to totally throw off your heart rate and drain an awful lot of mental energy. I know the rest of the downhill section was run a bit more cautiously than normal mainly due to a simple lack of focus. For some reason, the ones in the head always feel like I'd been knocked with some sort of blunt instrument.
I tried to just focus on enjoying the trail and the beauty of running through the woods. We came to the section just before the Gazos Creek where the trail leveled a bit. I knew this trail and that it would go through some rolling terrain before we acquired the aid station. I was focusing on keeping a good pace over the varied terrain when I head "on your left" a little ways behind me. I thought that maybe someone in our little group had decided to pick it up when the voice came too soon right behind me. I barely had time to move to the side when Lon Freman flew by me at a pace that I would probably be proud of in a 5K race let alone a 50K. I figured that he was way out in front, but I didn't know that there was another runner whom he was reeling in. "How the heck do you get lapped in a point to point race?" I joked. Of course, I knew the answer as the section of the course we were on would be repeated as we did the only loop of this race.
The loop included the steepest uphill section of the course right after the aid station. I took it easy here, maybe even a little too easy as it is all runnable. We were past the half way point and if I was serious about racing, this is where I should have pushed myself. But, I'm never really that serious. This is also the section where Craig and I expected Fred to catch up with his superior climbing abilities. However, we didn't see him and I was happy when we hit the downhill again. Franz went ahead of Craig and I on the last uphill and then proceded to charge the downs. I gave chase, but he did a fabulous job of staving me off. I was recharged a bit and ready to push the final bit, but I knew there was one more uphill before my favorite part of the trail.
In and out of the aid station I went and then proceded across the road to the trail that would be the longest section without aid. I, again took it very easy on the uphills, walking quite a bit here. Craig caught up with me and we chatted a bit before a familar voice called from below us on the trail. Fred!
"Dude, what took you so long? We expected you to catch us on the Gazos loop."
It didn't matter, Fred had caught us now and marched right past on the next uphill. I tried to let him drag me up, but I couldn't match his hiking pace and I didn't want to go into a run, saving myself for the long downhill to come. I knew if I kept him in sights I would probably catch him somewhere up ahead.
Finally, I crested the ridge and I took a short breather anticipating a crushing downhill for the next few miles as it descends, twists and winds on technical single-track. I started down and immediately had to pull up. A shot of pain through my right knee. It wasn't a jarring sort, but more like a feeling of over-extending the leg. I stretched and massaged, watching up trail for anyone coming down behind me. I took off again, but more gingerly this time. My knee kept wanting to lock. I knew it was something that would likely work itself out, but I couldn't let myself go when it is, so, what I wanted to do. I put up with it and just let it work itself out. Eventually, I was able to run in my normal manner and had fun jumping over roots and rocks on the bottom part of the trail. I caught Fred and bid him farewell just before reaching Berry Creek. I was not necessarily looking forward to the final miles on the gradually sloping fire road, but I did want to test my recent speed work and see if I could push myself to the finish.
I continued pushing. This is the part where experience pays off. I passed a number of people during this next section. Some who had gone out too fast in the early miles, some who didn't have the quads for all this downhill and a few who just made logistical mistakes (no water bottle for an 8+ mile section of trail with more than 20 under you belt?) I caught up with Franz and hung with him for a little while, but he looked to have spent his legs already. Just as I left him, and just as I was mentally patting myself on the back, I did it. As usually, on a relatively tame section of trail, I let my mind wander and caught my foot on some little rock sticking up from the dirt. Somehow I managed to just take it in stride performing what Franz would later describe as a "perfect Aikido roll" before landing right back on my feet and not loosing stride.
In fact, after checking the pain in my left knee, I think the adrenaline that kicked in after my little spill drove me to push even harder. The last part of this course only drops about 300ft in the final 5 miles and much of those miles includes more than a few little uphill bits to assure that a final effort is needed to meet any time goals. I had pretty much given up on a sub-5 hour finish as I didn't think I could make up the time needed for it. However, I am always doing mental math as I run the final miles of a race and so I thought that breaking 5:10 seemed like a good goal. That is basically a sub-10 minute mile for the 50K. I tried hard to stay under 9s on the down slopes and not to break too much above 10 on the uphill sections. I also was contending with making my hydration last as the day had gotten pretty warm and this was a long stint without aid.
Running with two empty water bottles in my hands, the final aid station came into sight. I didn't know quite how far it was to the finish, but I simply wanted to be in, out and on my way at this point. Before I could even make out who it was, the taunts came down the trail at me.
"Is that Steve?" " No aid for you, buddy. Just keep going!"
While I'm not sure that abuse was exactly what I needed at this point, I knew these two jokers wouldn't let me linger any longer than necessary. In fact, I had barely sucked down a Coke when Beat was literally kicking me in the rear to get a move on. It turned out to be only a couple of miles to the finish. I was happy to learn it was muchless than I expected.
I knew these last couple of miles woudl be long. I remembered running them during a training run. It would be hot and exposed. To make matters a little worse, Wendell had to alter the course a bit. Instead of heading all the way to the beach and then back to the finish, we would around on some meandering trails over footbridges and through hedges that seemed to go on and on. I could hear the finish line chatter somewhere in the distance, but could not tell how far off it was. The clock was ticking, I was pushing, 5:10 was approaching. Finally, one last turn to the left and the inevitable sprint to the finish.
5:09:32
A respectible time for a "mid-pack, plodder" and 30th overall putting me well in my goal top-1/3 with 178 finishers in the final talley. However, I still wonder if I could find 10 minutes out there on the course somewhere. In the end, the fact remains that on a course that played well to my strengths, the only way to really improve is to work on my weaknesses. Those obnoxious uphills in the midst of this "mostly downhill" race, are where lost minutes are to be found.
Attempting to get up to date on running things after my typical blogging ennui that seems to follow my 100 mile races. I have generally returned to normal running within a week or so after my big races, but I seem to take longer and longer to arrive at the point where I can sort it all out in my brain and report about it. Perhaps I will analyze and write about that at some point. Then again, maybe it's as simple as the fact that finishing each of these races is a very personal experience and it is hard to figure out what and how to share.
As previously reported, the week after Cascade was focused on my wife's race at Disneyland. We did a few short runs the week leading up to the race. The following week, I returned to my running schedule in earnest. I've set a goal for myself at my next hundred, Javelina. Last year, I had a sub-24 hour finish and this year I've decided to try and take it down even further. I will write more on this later. The initial implication of this goal is that, I have decided to add weekly speed work into my schedule. The idea is that training my body to become accustom to some faster running at least once a week will make all my slower running seem easier as well as allow me to tap into a slightly faster pace late in a long race. I'm starting with intervals since I've read that they are better than simple tempo runs. I like 1/2-mile repeats with 1/4-mile jogs between. My goal is to build to 8-10 repeats per week. I may do some variations once I have been doing it for a while, but the most important thing is to be consistent in doing some "work" once a week.
Unfortunately, my first week of speed work coincided with a local heat wave that saw temps hit triple digits. Mid-day repeats plus appresive heat minus a water bottle equals a redlined heart rate and more than a fraction of pain. I only managed 4 repeats before I realized what a stupid idea this was. I did two more 1/4-mile repeats followed by an extended cool down that still left me far from cool. Not quite as I planned, but I have managed a bit better in the following two weeks. The second week of intervals I managed 7 repeats. I targetted sub-7 minute miles as a starting point. I managed to stay close to that even when running into a strong headwind and managed my last tailwind repeat at a 6:43 pace. This past week I did what felt like my first "real" speed workout. I managed to keep all but my second (windy) repeat under a 7 mpm pace and dropped things down the more I did. On my 7th repeat, I pushed it down near a 6:40 pace and kept going for a full mile finishing in 6:45. I felt so good after that, I knocked off one final 1/2 for a total of 9. Now, 7-minute miles may not constitude speed work for many people (anyone who runs around a 3-hour or faster marathon, for instance), but for me it's about what my 5K pace was last time I ran a 5K. I imagine that I am a bit faster now, but I do have a pretty active imagination.
Aside from the speedwork, I have been trying to get my weekly mileage back into the 60+ mile range. I managed 62.5 miles the week after Disney doing a couple of runs on each of Saturday and Sunday. Sunday included a 24 miler along the top part of the Skyline-to-the-Sea trail. I hadn't run this section of the trail before and wanted to see what the race a couple of weeks later would be like at the start. While the course is a net downhill, there was quite a bit of rolling terrain at the start so I would have to think about what that would mean for a downhill "purist" such as myself come race day. The heatwave was ended, but not over and the run turned out to be pretty hot and a bit humid in the shaded woods. I ended up dehydrating myself pretty badly due to bad planning and a couple of bonus miles, but still had a good run. This race was one I was definitely looking forward to. I haven't "raced" a 50K in a while and wanted to see what I could do on this course. I didn't plan to taper or anything like that, but I did want to at least push it a bit.
The next week I managed nearly 67 miles mostly due to my friend Craig's 36-mile birthday run. My wife left for Singapore on Friday so I had pretty much no time constraints so it was going to be a full day of running with friends, something I almost never do outside of a race venue. There were six of us at the start including myself, Craig Slagel (the birthday boy), Fred Ecks, Chuck Wilson, Stephen Sorrow and Craig's girlfriend Mira who would be our roving aid station and support crew. We started at Muir Beach and generally followed the Headlands Hundred course up to Pantol. We then headed on to the top of Mt. Tam for the first loop and back for the first loop. Chuck wasn't up for the full 36 so he headed down via the Heather Cutoff trail that Headlands takes while we retraced our route up. This came to around 19 miles. For the second part we were going to go back up the same way and then just do an out-and-back towards Bolinas Ridge, but we decided to alter it a little bit. We went up the Heather Cutoff on the way out and came back down via our original route. We had a great time, in fact, almost too much fun in the beginning as our pace put our plan of making it back in time for the Sunday buffet at Pelican Inn out of reach. We picked it up a little for the second part, but still finished between 81/2 and 9 hours for the group. We all had a good time both during the run as well as at dinner afterwards.
My commented slideshow of the event can be viewed below for the interested.
By necessity I do much of my mid-weak training on roads, but I have never been much of a road runner. My one and only road marathon was about 3 1/2 years ago. My one and only road 1/2 marathon was almost 7 years ago. But, when my wife agreed to train for a marathon, enticed by the lure of amusement parks and people dressed as giant cartoon characters, I was more than happy to hit the roads. Keeping with the Disney theme, the first stop along the path to Orlando was the Disneyland 1/2 Marathon during Labor Day weekend. So, the week after Cascade Crest, I was back on a plane headed in the opposite direction for my wife's race and my recovery run. That and a whole lot of fun.
The really short summary of the weekend is that my wife did awesome and we had a really fun time. If you are going to do a road race, it might as well be in a unique and entertaining venue. The course winds through both the Disney's California Adventure Park as well as Disneyland proper. It then takes a less entertaining trip through the streets of Anaheim going out and around Angel's Stadium before returning and finishing through Downtown Disney.
No mountain vistas, no winding forest paths, in fact, no real trails of any kind. Just my wife and I running around enjoying the "Happiest Race on Earth." So, if your not one for big crowded road races or you just don't like amusement parks, this is not for you. But, if you can appreciate a trip on Space Mountain as well as a trip to the mountains, then enjoy the pictures and report below.
Our hotel was close enough to the start of the race that we could just walk there in the dark hours of the morning. It was hard to figure out which exact group you were supposed to line up in, but certainly not hard to find some place to be. We were supposed to be in last group since Zane had never run a the distance, but we landed in the middle group which ended up being pretty much exactly where we finished the race.
Some people chose to wear costumes including this couple who both dressed as my wife's favorite Disney character, Tinker Bell. They were actually near us for much of the race. They were a lot of fun and I came to think of them as "The Tinks."
My wife said that mile 11 on were tough. We found a great bracelet that I bought for her at the Expo the day before that helped get here through this section. It read "Tough Times Don't Last, but Tough People Do." She said she looked down at it about a dozen times in those last miles. I can't exactly wear the bracelet, but I will certainly remember the saying the next time I need it in an ultra.
But, as we sat there with our post race goodies (which included yummy little mini pies), we eventually realized that the shuttle wasn't coming and we had to walk back to the hotel, but that didn't stop the smiles.
After some food and rest, we spent the rest of the day having fun riding rides and then went to dinner with the boys at the ESPN restaurant where we enjoyed eating from lounge chairs in front of giant screens showing about a dozen different sports.
The whole weekend was a lot of fun and I'm looking forward to adding the full marathon medal to this one.
Wow, am I behind on my race reports! I guess I've been hit with a strong dose of the post-100 ennui that Perhaps it will encourage me to essentialize and keep this brief.
What can I say about Cascade Crest? It is definitely a classic course. Every course seems to have its major unique challenge that identifies it whether its high altitude, super steep climbs, technical trails, hot canyons or unpredictable conditions. This course up in the Cascade Mountain Range in Washington state, seems to be an attempt by its course designers to try to fit in as many of the traditional trail challenges as they could while throwing in some of the most unique twists you will find anywhere. Even Hans-Dieter Weisshaar, who has run more than 100 100-milers, said that there are some parts of this course that are like nothing in any other 100 mile race.
To summarize, Cascade Crest includes the following:
Over 20,000ft +/- elevation change (enough to qualify it as one of the harder 100's alone)
Some long slow uphill grinds (almost 3000ft right off the bat)
Some short, but VERY steep climbs (late in the race, no less)
Big wide fireroads
Narrow single-track
Rock-strewn trail
Creek crossings
Muddy sections
Dozens of downed trees to climb over
Downhill sections so over-groan you can't see your feet
A little bit of snow on the ground for good measure
Potentials for severe weather in either direction (we only had a little rain at the end)
Add to those one a descent that is so steep that it requires a safety rope to go down, a 2 1/2 mile run through an old rail tunnel in the middle of the night and something called "The Trail from Hell" that takes even the front runners nearly 2 hours to complete though it is only about 5 miles and doesn't contain any significant climbing (unless you count climbing over logs, under branches and around pieces of the trail that seem to be falling into the lake below). This is one unique race and something that needs to be experienced rather than explained. About the only thing this course doesn't have is high altitude (peak is a little over 5500ft) which is a good thing for me because even without it I was eerily reminded of being at Bighorn during one of the last steep climbs.
I didn't really do a very good job of studying the course beforehand and maybe went into the race a little more nonchalant than I should for a 100 miler. However, I felt well trained and my only real goal was to redeem myself at this distance after my less than desirable finish at Bighorn. I did look at the maps and the profile a little bit and, somehow, figured that 27 hours seemed like a good goal for this race. I even put together a quick, "back-of-the-napkin" sort of plan. My simple idea was to run the first 1/3 of the race in 8 hours then have 19 remaining to run the other two thirds in something like 10 and 9 hours each (or vis-versa or some other similar combination). It wasn't a horrible plan and looking at the splits there is at least one person who came very close to splits like this and a couple who did much better in the last two thirds coming in under 26!
The thing is that if you look at the elevation profiles, it is clear that the bulk of the climbing, in terms of pure numbers, is in the first half of the race. So, even given the normal tendency to slow down by as much as 20% in the second half of a 100 miler, it seems possible to not loose so much time on this course, if you are just looking at it in the abstract. Except that things like trees, creeks, rocks and hills don't just exist "in the abstract." They exist in reality as real challenges to be faced and overcome and they don't really care how undaunting they may have appeared on a some computer-generated chart with alternating colored bars filling in the space beneath a squiggly line. If any course had to prove the assertion that "the overall elevation gain and loss doesn't tell the whole story," then Cascade Crest should be given the whiteboard marker and sent to the front of the class to school us all.
My plan was to go through my race now, section by section using the course profiles as a guide and posting the many pictures I took to give a sense of the place. However, at the rate I'm going I may never finish this thing and by the time I did I don't think anyone would want to read it. So, I am going to perform a complete cop-out and use modern technology as the crutch it was designed to be. So, in the place of witty banter, insightful observations and compelling narrative, I bring you a photo slide-show provided by the good folks at Google Picasa. This should provide all the entertainment, thrills and intellectual stimulation of back when my parents used to drag out the slide projector to show pictures of my butt-naked 3-year old self taking a bubble bath. Enjoy!
Act II, Scene 1: A wide fireroad trail near the coast just north of San Francisco, California.
Enter two runners clad in shorts and long-sleeved shirts, making their way down the trail. It is 11:00pm and both are carrying flashlights. One (John Reynolds) has the number "140" pinned to his shorts with safety pins and is carrying a water bottle. The other (Steve Ansell) is wearing a backpack with hydration bladder that fits like a vest in front. John seems to be struggling a bit going downhill, but not nearly as much as he imagines.
John: I'm starting to have my doubts, Steve. I think I'm really starting to loose my legs here. Steve: Hmmm...[he makes a motion with his hands as if he is searching the pages of a small book] Nope, nothing in here. I'm afraid that "loss of legs" is not one of the approved reasons for being allowed to drop from a race. So, unless one of your legs literally falls off and I happen to trip over it while running behind you, I am afraid that you are just going to have to continue. John: OK, I now officially hate you. Steve: Well, that's fine, perhaps good even. You are allowed to hate me so long as you continue on with the race. In fact, if it helps with your motivation, you should feel free to conjure up as much hatred toward my person as you can muster. John: Oh. But, you see, I was honestly hoping to not have to start hating you until somewhere along the way through the final loop. Steve: Ah. Well then. I think I must tell you that it has been my plan all along for you to be filled with feelings of adoration, perhaps "love" even, during that final loop. So, as far as I am concerned you are right on schedule with the "hate" thingy.
The two men continue down trail towards the aid station with John moving just a slight bit more easily.
Narrator: The race would continue, but a new bond had been forged between the two runners. A bond born from the pain of a shared struggle, melted in the fires of mutual suffering and molded by a common goal to complete the distance before the full realization that this torture was ultimately self-inflicted could be allowed to take shape.
Director:[Ahem!] Maybe they're just running away from your ridiculous analogies! Could you dispense with the improvised melodrama and please stick to the script!
Narrator: Fine. Everyone's a critic. Where was I....Oh yes, the race. The race would continue, and John's recovery would begin during the long climb out of the aid station; the pain and stiffness lessened by shared laughter over a funny story about exploding eggs in a microwave. Mile 75 lay just over the next ridge down at the beach. But before we tell the "Tale of the Final Loop" we need to hear the story of how our two intrepid heroes arrived at this location in the first place.
=============== Steve's Monologue =============== The meeting I'd never been a pacer before so when Meridith sent me email asking for someone local who was familiar with the trails to pace a friend of hers, it was with a bit of trepidation that I accepted the task. I had intended to sign up for the 50-miler at Headlands and then volunteer my services through the night. However, pacing 50 miles seemed like it might be a smarter option just 2 weeks before my next 100 as it would assure that I would not hurt myself trying to run too fast. Since I don't use pacers or crew myself, I was very unsure about the expectations that John might have. There are many reasons for using a pacer including (but not limited to) safety, fear, staying awake, entertainment, companionship, not wanting to get lost and a desire to be pushed to a maintain a certain pace (i.e. the literal interpretation). From some email exchanges it seemed that what John was mainly looking for was mainly someone to keep him focused and to push him a little to make sure he didn't just fall into a pattern of trudging along when he could go faster.
Since I still wanted to volunteer for the race, I offered my services to Sarah and Wendell for the first part of the day. With my shift starting at 7am, I decided to take Friday off work and get a place in SF for the night. My wife would join me so we could spend a nice night in the city before I disappeared for most of the rest of the weekend. With Friday free, I suggested to John that we meet early in the day to at least get to know each other a little before spending the whole night together out on the trail. I headed up to Sausalito for breakfast with John and his wife Crystal who would be his support crew.
It's funny, I was actually a littler nervous as I was driving to meet them. I wasn't worried about his personality so much as my own. What if he found me obnoxious? Would I ruin his race? Would I talk to much? Would I know how to motivate him? When to speak up? When to offer advice? When to keep quiet and when to encourage? I had to laugh at myself and my schoolgirl-like nerves. In the end the breakfast went fine. John seemed to be a pretty mellow laid-back guy. I definitely talked to much, but didn't seem to scare him off. While I am naturally an introvert, when discussing things that I am passionate about like running, I tend to ramble on a bit. You'd never know if from my writing...
Volunteerism My volunteer assignments would keep me pretty busy throughout the day. This was good as it both let me feel a part of the race from the start as well as keeping me from thinking too much about my pacing duties. It allowed me to be a bit of a spectator which was especially fun since I knew so many people who were running either the 50 or the 100. My first assignment began at 7am at the intersection of Conzelman Rd and the Coastal Trail. My job was basically to wear a bright fluorescent vest, hold a bright fluorescent flag and point people off the road and onto the trail somewhere around mile 3. This was about an easy assignment as they get and I should have brought my camera up there with me as it would have been easy to snap shots as I pointed and gave directions. It was fun seeing the front runners in the 50-miler pushing hard from the start and then see the last folks coming in, taking things out very easy. There was a long gap after the bulk of the group had passed by until I saw two more runners coming down the road. I asked if they were last and was told that "Barbara" was behind them. I was pretty sure I knew who that was. Barbara Elia is pretty much a local icon. You only need to go search her name at either RealEndurance or the Zinsli.Com to see that she has run more miles than just about anyone.
Barb was hurting and not expecting to finish the race since her sciatica was keeping her from really being able to run much. I joined her down the trail and chatted a bit before heading over to the Rodeo Valley aid station where I would work the morning. I arrived just shortly before the first 50 milers came in. They were in the same order as I had seen them up on the road with Oswaldo Lopez leading, Juan Sanchez in second and Victor Ballesteros in third, but seeming to be working a lot less hard than the two in front of him. He had my vote to win even though 2008 Miwok 100K winner Lon Freeman was behind him. I was told Lon was taking it easy. In the women's race, Beth Vitalis was in front with last years second place runner Kelly Ridgway in the same position not far behind. Meridith was holding 3rd again this year and looking very strong at this point. Again I didn't bring out my camera since the runners started coming in as soon as I arrived and there wasn't a very big gap between the front runners and "the pack" at this point.
From Rodeo Valley, I was to head over to Muir Beach where I was scheduled to spend the rest of the day until my runner came through. After cleaning up at Rodeo, I headed over there with Flora where we would join Will Gottardt and Fred Ecks. By the time we arrived, the bulk of the runners had already passed through and headed out towards Pantoll. We would have a long gap after the back-of-the-pack folks headed out as this was mile 17.2 and they wouldn't be back until 40.6. This allowed me to finally get out my camera.
Will G. Chillin' at the aid station waiting for the runners to return.
Fred Ecks keeping things stocked.
Aaron...just being Aaron!
Eventually, the front runners started coming in. I decided to take some photos as the field would be pretty spread at this point. An additional advantage of being fast is you get better service at the aid station due to the volunteer/runner ratio.
Here comes lead runner Oswaldo heading down the road
He did a quick fill-up then headed right out so fast we didn't have time to stop him from pouring sports drink on his head.
Juan Sanchez comes in about 12-13 minutes back. I figure Oswaldo has the race locked with just 9 miles left.
He is equally as efficient getting in and out.
Next, Lon Freeman is spotted.
He is in 3rd since Victor wasn't having a good day and dropped at Pantoll
A little further back and Kevin Rumon, first masters comes in.
Shortly after sending Kevin out, I am informed that I need to head over to the next aid station at Tennessee Valley as a volunteer there is a bit late. Unfortunately, just before leaving I see Oswaldo running down the trail back towards our aid station. He doesn't look happy as he tosses his bottle to the ground and says in his thick Mexican accent, "I don't know the course. I made a wrong turn!" Apparently, after getting up to the ridge he came to the intersections where the 100-milers would return via a shortcut trail. He tried to ask some hikers which way to go, but received some bad information and returned to us down at the beach. This put him back into 6th place as a couple of other runners had just passed through.
I arrived at Tennessee Valley to find "the authority" Stan Jensen in charge of the aid station. His run100s website is one of the first places to check for information on races, results, series, reports, whatever!
Stan runs a tight ship evenly spacing cups and keeping snacks ordered from sweet to savory.
My buddy Craig Slagel was also working this location and would be doing some pacing duty himself as well.
The final volunteer who's name I can't recall (doh!)
The front runners came through and Lon had now taken the lead. Since he was in first, he had apparently decided he might as well make a good show of it so he went on to break the course record in 7:43:24. Behind him were Juan and Kevin followed by my friend Harry Walther who had moved into 4th. Harry and I ran this race as our first 100 just a year ago. He has gotten way to fast for me to run with him anymore.
Kelly Ridgway had taken the lead on the woman's side. No bridesmaid this year!
Beth was holding onto second.
Here comes Meredith still in 3rd place
She had apparently had some trouble earlier, but you'd never no at this point.
Ready to pace Meridith told me that John was not that far behind her so I decided that I better head over to Rodeo Beach and get myself together. John was definitely on a good pace, perhaps too good if he was really that close to Meridith. One way or another I was gonna have my work cut out for me. I arrived at the finish line just before Meridith came in.
Meridith coming in 3rd with a 4-minute PR.
Looking tired, but satisfied.
Harry had already finished busting out a sub-9 hour race!
The 100-milers were coming in and heading out including PCTR regular Brian Wyatt
I got my pack on and prepared all my gear to run with John. I told him the day before that he should get everything he needs at the start/finish, but don't dally too long. We should plan to head out and walk it across the beach and up the first trail giving plenty of time to get into the flow of the longer half of the race. Olga V was also there getting ready to pace. In fact, her runner (and boyfriend) was good friends with John. There was a more than just a little bit of Texan rivalry going on behind the scenes.
I snap a pic of Olga before we run
She snaps one of me.
Then one together!
Rick Gaston is here too. Pictures for all the pacers!
The Play's the Thing... John came into the aid station at around 10:20 into the race. A pretty good pace, though perhaps a little too good given that he was himself saying he may have gone a little hard. I wasn't worried as I had a plan at least for this first part. OK, when he had trouble bending over, I will admit that I was a little worried. His wife got him taken care of pretty quickly and we were off. There is really no point running the first part out of the start even though it is flat because you are on the beach crossing the sand in a short time. All that would be accomplished by running would be to waste energy and put lots of sand in your shoes. So, you walk. Walk and complain about the sand. Then you get to the single track heading up from the beach and you walk some more.
John was moving well, staying focused and able to shuffle just fine on the flatter bits. In fact, he was even able to do something akin to a run on the road sections. I encouraged him to keep it easy at this point and think of this as his "recovery" loop. While one of John's stated goals for having a pacer was for me to push him when he needed it, but now was not the time so I tried to keep things relaxed and snapped some pictures as we moved our way up the road.
Perhaps, John did not look at his best during the beginning of this loop, but I knew from my experience last year that the body could actually recover quite a bit on the climbs that were to come. Its good to capture a photo when a runner is looking low as it helps to remind them of the ups and downs of a long race such as this.
The afternoon was quite beautiful as the fog had cleared and the sun was out, but there was a nice cool crispness to the air. We made it to the point where I had been working in the morning directing runners off the road. We would be heading onto trail and not returning to pavement until the end of this loop.
John heading down the Coastal Trail with Angel Island in the background.
I sent John ahead down the trail so I could continue taking pictures. He hadn't complained so I was going to continue. The next section was mostly uphill for a while, but John was persistent in continuing to run anything that flattened out a bit. In fact, I was very impressed with his pace over the flat or even slightly uphill terrain. He would later have trouble wth his legs on the downhills, but his ability to run the flats at a pace much faster than I would at this point in a race, kept him on a good time. He had rightfully given up on a sub-24 finish and was talking about 26, but I secretly knew even at this point that if he could keep things together he was definitely on target for at least sub-25.
We would soon be headed into the big climb over to the SCA Trail. I grabbed a short downhill opportunity to shoot ahead of John to catch a classic picture of him with the SF skyline in the background.
John looking strong for the ultimate Headlands photo op.
John was starting his first recovery at this point and would move very well along as the sun was setting and we finished off the initial hills.
The sun goes down on one of the last climbs before heading into Rodeo Valley
John continued doing well into the night especially on the flatter sections where he continued running at a good clip. However, as we headed into Muir Beach his legs began to give him more and more trouble on the downhills. I generally went on ahead or stayed further behind him on these sections to let him go at his own pace. He had asked me to push him on this run, but I wasn't willing to push someone to go beyond their comfort zone downhill in the dead of night. So I let him be, but made sure that he tried to run anything that was runnable.
Returning up the Pirates Cove stairs and the relentless hills that follow them, I commented that it was all downhill to the aid station, but this brought no relief to John's face. We headed down the hill in silence just moving along at whatever pace made John comfortable. Heading down the switchbacks he decided to break the silence.
John: I'm starting to have my doubts, Steve. I think I'm really starting to loose my legs here.
Director: Wait. Wait! Wait!! We already did that scene. You were supposed to jump to the Rodeo Beach scene after John finished his monologue.
Writer: Speaking of monologues, what the hell was all that! You were supposed to give a brief review of the pacers perspective and then hand the story over to John. You've stolen the whole show! It's one thing for a director to ruin one of my plays, but one of the characters? And a pacer at that!!!
Director: Hey, don't sully my good name here. I only tell them what to do, I can't force them. Monologue! That was more like a treatise! And, what was with the slide-show in the middle of it? That's it pacer, you're out of the story. He's going to have to run the rest of the race solo.
Writer: Agreed!
Narrator: That's what you get when you let an amateur provide the voice of the story. Leave the narrating to the professionals. I agree, kick him out!
Steve: What are you talking about! You can't write me out of the story. This is my blog. John can tell his side of things when he gets around to writing it on his own blog. Besides, the egg story is coming up and its hilarious. Then there's his miraculous recovery and how much better he felt for the final loop. I have some amazing photos to share of him coming back down to Tennessee Valley at sunrise at the very same spot where he was talking about dropping during the previous loop. And there is the grand finale with the the amazing bit of John running 7 minute miles down the final hill and me unable to keep up with him as he crosses the finish line in under 24:30!
A scruffy looking man with two day's of growth on his beard appears carrying a loudspeaker. He has tanned skin and a lean runner's build but is flanked by two very large muscular men in 70's style sweatsuits wearing gold chains around their necks and large rings on their fingers.
Scruffy Man:[Yelling loudly, but not through the loudspeaker] Alright, that does it. I am putting a stop to this whole operation right her and now!
All: Who are you?
Scruffy Man: Pacer's union.
[Steve Gasps loudly]
John looks at Steve with an expression of surprise. The director, writer and narrator with exasperation.
Steve: But, but...
Scruffy Man:But nothing. Let's see your card.
Steve: Well...I....you know. Drop bags and...er...I have this pace chart here.
The two muscular men move towards Steve. The narrator, writer and director all back away and descretely make their way out of the scene.
Steve: OK. Ok. I don't have one. Just call off your goons!
Scruffy Man: Just as I thought. A Scab!
John: How could you! You know this was my first 100 and I traveled all the way from Texas. [turning to the Scruffy Man] I didn't know. I swear! He sounded so organized and knowledgeable. He showed me a copy of the Pacer's Manual. He even had references!
Scruffy Man: Don't worry. On a first offense we would never hold the runner to blame. Just go about your way. You know the script. Up and over to Muir. Miraculous recovery. Strong second loop then the fast run down the road to the finish. You still get your finish in 24:28:21.
John: How do you know all that? How could you...
Scruffy Man: Son, it's my job to know. That's why we have a pacer's union. Now, off with you.
John continues up the trail moving well, but without his pacer.
Steve: What about me?
Scruffy Man: We have way's of dealing with you.
Steve: Can I at least show my last couple pictures?
Scruffy Man: Fine. Show the pictures, but then you are off with Vinnie and Nick
The sun was just starting to rise to the east when John and I were headed back down towards Tennessee Valley. This time down rather than talking about his legs we talked about how quickly we planned to get in and out of the aid station. Efficiency was key at this point. I knew that sub-25 was a near lock if we played things right, but I wasn't going to say anything until we hit the final road section.
John looking strong heading down to the final aid station.
This is what a strong runner looks like at mile 95.
Scruffy Man: You done?
Steve: Well, there was the whole alternate ending idea where I actually trip over John's leg that has fallen off and end up chasing him down trail with it in my hand saying "it's just a flesh wound!"
Scruffy Man: Alright funny guy.
Steve: What's going to happen to me?
Scruffy Man: We have ways of dealing with people like you. Nothing horrific, it is your first offense after all...well, that we know of. Just a little something to make sure you remember us.
Vinnie: Now boss?
Nick: Uh?
Scruffy Man: Go ahead boys.
...
Thump. Thump. Thump-ump-ump-ump-ump-ump-ump-ump
I start awake and gasp. I'm driving. It takes a second to catch my bearings. Steady the wheel. Focus, Steve, focus. I'd drifted to the right out of my lane. Those things they put on the side of the road to keep truckers awake. I guess they work. For some reason because I just paced 50 miles through the night rather than running a full 100, I thought I would be able to drive home without trouble. I had the window rolled down, the radio going, chewing gum. I obviously was failing at keeping myself awake. I've had head jerking, near drift-off moments before, but I think I was actually out this time. It scared me. I took the next exit and pulled into the first parking lot I could find parking under a tree for a bit of shade. Within 10 minutes I fell asleep.
I woke up after about a 1/2 hour feeling much better. I called my wife to let her know that I would be a little later than planned. I thought a bit about the previous night.
It was a good experience, pacing. It presented its own unique challenges always running outside one's comfort zone, never allowing one's own energy level falter, always focusing on another's race. It really did have its own unique feeling of accomplishment. Perhaps I shouldn't look so lightly on the practice of pacing. I can see what a valuable asset they really are in endurance races.
Steve: Why, maybe pacers really do deserve a union of their very own. [Glances around furtively and then exits stage left with haste]
