There was nervous energy in the air as hundreds of shivering, cold runners lined up behind the starting line while a cold drizzle fell from the sky. We were all wet already, and we knew that it was just going to get worse as we ran a shortened course on extremely muddy trails. That was last year; this year was bound to be better.
The scene was similar, but there was no rain. The forecast for rain had been replaced by a forecast for fog, which was again replaced by a forecast for clear skies. I wasn't complaining. But it was still cold. 34ºF at the start made my decision to wear my Pearl Izumi jacket and NF beanie, gloves and sleeves easy.
A couple of good friends and I had made the drive from Phoenix, AZ to Mill Valley, CA the day before, which helped to calm my nerves a little. I don't know what it is about airports, but I can't relax in them, and that nervousness is hard to shake. The drive was long, but an overnight stop in Burbank broke it up enough to be enjoyable. I slept well the night before the race and I was feeling rested at the start. I was in unfamiliar territory.
The race started in waves, and it wasn't long after we lined up that the first wave was off. The headlamps of the elites leaving the start and snaking down the road on the way toward the first climb. Two waves later and Deron, Jon and I started out together at an easy pace, finding our place in the long line of lights. The first mile we spent going at a real easy pace, talking and laughing while we headed for the climb up to what would later in the day be the Alta aid station.
I had committed myself to running this race immediately after finishing last year's race. It was a score I had to settle. The race was also a qualifier for Western States 100, and I wanted to make sure I got my name in for 2015. That is, until Western States changed the qualifying standards and removed 50 milers as qualifying races. Of course, I had already registered for this race. So, I figured I would just go out and enjoy myself. No pressure. But anyone who knows me knows that I rarely take it easy ... especially on race day. I'm not a front of the pack runner, but I do like to see how well I can do, and today was no different.
It wasn't long before I broke away from the guys and started a slow, methodical run up the first climb, passing walkers right and left. I was feeling really good. It seemed like the first climb was over quickly, and I was on my way down to the 5 mile aid. I pounded down the hill, again passing runners as I went. "I'm going too hard," I told myself over and over. But I was feeling good, and breathing came easy. Why fight it, right? I passed right through 5 mile aid without stopping, my bottle of Tailwind had hardly been touched. The aid station was a good reminder to stay on top of my hydration and calories, and I began sipping my Tailwind while I headed to Tennessee Valley.
The next climb was a little tougher, and I mixed in a little bit of power hiking on the steeper grades with running on the more mild grades. Again, my breathing felt controlled and I was still passing other runners, so I went with what felt good. The climb seemed longer than I remember it, but we eventually topped out and began the quick descent into Tennessee Valley.
I had a drop bag at this aid station and had intended on leaving my headlamp, jacket and beanie and picking up my hat. But I had arrived a little before the sun was up, and still had the headlamp in use. Oh, and it was still really cold -- too cold to leave my jacket and beanie behind. I ended up grazing a little at the aid station, grabbing some orange wedges and water before heading out to Muir Beach. Besides, I still had over half a bottle of Tailwind and it was cold enough that I wasn't going through fluids very quickly.
This next section of the course is one of my favorites. The climbs aren't terrible and the trail follows along the side of a slope that leads to the edge of the water. The views are incredible and the single track trail is some of the best I've had the pleasure of running. It was easy to lose myself in this little bit of heaven and the time flew by. Before I knew it, I was finishing the last of the climbs before heading down the steep service road and into Muir Beach. Last year, I remembered, this road was almost not runnable because it was covered with inches of mud and was extremely slippery. This year was completely different. The run was fast, and I had to remind myself not to descend too hard or my quads would be in no shape to descend later in the day.
The stop at Muir was quick, just long enough to fill my now empty bottle with electrolyte drink (boy, I sure didn't plan that well), grab some fruit and water and continue. I fell in with a small group who were moving quickly toward the climb up to the Cardiac aid station. Before long, we were in a conga line heading up the switchbacks. One of the runners behind me making 80's video game sound effects, which later I realized were from Donkey Kong. It felt a little like that, minus the barrels. This section, although uphill, was almost entirely runnable. I ran nearly the whole way to Cardiac, passing fewer and fewer runners as I eventually found that I was surrounded by runners who were more closely matching or surpassing my ability. I had to dial it down a notch.
The stop at Cardiac took a little more time. I grabbed my drop bag and refilled my bottle with Tailwind. I was getting behind on sodium, and I knew the Tailwind would provide what I was lacking ...if I could remember to drink it. When the weather is cold, I have a much harder time remembering to drink. With Tailwind, that's a bad place to be since everything you need is in your drink. Mental note: drink more.
I had been looking forward to this next section out to the McKennan Gulch aid station. A few miles out of Cardiac, the trail becomes an out and back section of single track trail on a grassy slope overlooking the ocean. This would probably be my only chance to see the elites ... if I was fast enough to get there before they started their descent into Stinson Beach. Unfortunately, I wasn't fast enough to see the leaders, but I did see some notable runners. In fact, I nearly knocked Anna Frost up of the trail. Yeah, I should have been paying attention to the oncoming runners a little better and before I knew it, Anna was almost right on top of me and was moving fast. I had just enough time to hop off the trail to let her past. I called out something like, "go get it Frosty!" To which she replied, "thanks, you too". Ok, I'll get right on that, ha ha!
This section is difficult because there is very little room to pass, and runners going out are to yield to runners returning from McKennan Gulch. So every so often, I found myself jumping up the hill to let someone pass, then I would return to the trail, run 50 yards or so and repeat. It was cold at McKennan Gulch. I hadn't consumed enough calories, and I could tell I was low on sodium. So, when the aid station worker asked if I would like some chicken broth, I was all over it. Chicken soup for the runner's soul. Mmmmm. Good stuff.
I was making really good time and I decided not to stay long at the aid station. Besides, it was too cold to want to stay there long. I quickly jumped back onto the trail and began my run to Stinson Beach. Along the way, I briefly saw Jon, who wasn't that far behind me and a little while later ran into Deron. He was looking rough. Of course, I told him he was looking strong, and as I passed him he told me he was having issues with his hip. "That would be awful to have to run this much of the race with pain in the hip," I thought. "Glad I'm feeling great."
It wasn't long after I thought this when I came upon a group of four runners who had just climbed up a very short, very slippery iced over muddy section of the trail.
"Careful," they told me, "this section is really slick."
I actually had the thought go through my head, "Uh, yeah. I know, I just came up this trail, remember?"
No sooner had I thought that than my foot slipped and my body twisted and contorted as I slid downhill, trying to catch myself and keep from falling. In retrospect, I probably would have done better to just allow myself the fall. I didn't go far, maybe just 10-12 feet, but the twisting had hurt my lower back -- and my pride. I continued running so as to not look phased, but I was in pain. I came to the turn down to Stinson Beach, the section of the trail I thought I would crush, and found that I couldn't run fast downhill without terrible pain in my right leg and lower back. Great. There goes my race. I had thoughts of dropping at Stinson Beach as each step I took on my right leg sent pain into my back. I was angry that such a stupid mistake would ruin my day, but I kept moving as fast as I could go without causing myself too much grief.
I came into Stinson feeling defeated. I knew what the downhill was going to feel like, but I had no idea how I was going to deal with the remaining uphill climbs. I sat down in a chair and tried to stretch my leg out. OUCH! No, that wasn't going to work. I wasn't ready to quit though. Earlier, I had been talking to Kristin about the race and about how I was just going to go out and enjoy myself. And here I was, sitting in a chair at Stinson Beach, a little over halfway, thinking about my options. As cheesy as it sounds, I had the thought go through my head of Gordy Ainsleigh describing his first WS100 experience where he contemplated what he was capable of doing. Now, my situation wasn't anywhere near as dramatic as his, but the line, "one more step" got stuck in my head. I decided to hit the trail again.
Even with the stop to sit in the chair, I didn't stay long at the aid station. The next climb, back to Cardiac, was going to be interesting. I channeled Kristin a little at this point and decided I needed to make this race a little more fun. Take in some of the scenery, enjoy the people around me, and relax. This was a good time for that, too, as it wasn't long before the steps began. Wow! Who installed these things. Was this some sort of joke? I didn't train for stairs. I kept pushing forward, and upward, feeling pain every time I lifted my right leg to climb another stair, but I had found a climbing buddy and with the conversation filling the air, I soon let the pain slip to the background.
Matt, my climbing/running buddy, and I managed to push a pretty decent pace, all things considered, back into Cardiac. I again sat and drank some soup, filled up my Tailwind and ate some orange wedges. It was still really cold at Cardiac, and I didn't want to hang out long. I dropped off my sleeves and wondered why I hadn't put my hat in the drop bag here instead of at Tennessee Valley. Hindsight is 20/20, right?
Matt left a little before me, and I made it my goal to catch him before Old Inn. Ooops, I forgot, I can't run fast downhill now. I managed to get down the hill at a slow easy pace; other runners passing me as I hobbled along. No sign of Matt. He was probably long gone. I got to the Muir woods and started passing hikers. The trees were beautiful and amazing and I soon realized that I was on a nature trail and hadn't seen a marker in a while. I stopped and looked around to take inventory. Let's see ... hikers wearing uggs, texting, strollers, no markers ...I'm lost. I asked a few of the tourists if they had seen any runners. Nope. I turned around an made my way back the way I had come.
After a while, I saw a group of runners up a trail with obvious trail markers at the entrance. How had I missed that? There was something wrong though. These runners weren't running. They were all sitting on the side of the trail. A park ranger was blocking the trail and the turn uphill. I ran into the group and asked what was going on. Yeah, so apparently, the forest service decided that today would be a good day to transport 673 lb steel I-beams down the trail, carried by 1-12 men, stopping every 10 feet. So, we were told we would just have to wait. After 10 min of waiting, trying to calm down some of the other runners and not get on the bad side of the park ranger, he finally let us pass. Seriously though, who thought this would be a good idea?
I could see my goal of finishing under 10 hours slipping away; injury, getting lost, trail work delay, yeah, this isn't happening. To my surprise, my injury was calming down, at least on the uphill. I was able to climb strong again, but the pain was still there. I began to push the uphills, passing as many runners as I could, only to have most of them pass me as I hobbled down the hills later. I was making progress though, and that was all that mattered.
Old Inn aid station was a very welcomed sight. I was almost out of electrolytes and hit the aid station table hard, but trying to stick with fruits and chicken broth. After I had a little picnic at the aid station, I left for my final pass through Muir Beach. This section was tough for me. I had to fight the negative thoughts pretty hard as I continually had to reign myself back on the downhill sections, and pushing the uphills was taking its toll on me. Before long, I found myself walking through the woods, alone with my Bonk Breaker bar. It's funny, looking back on it now, but I was having a tough time when I ran into Matt again. He had stopped on a bridge and was sitting on a railing looking rough.
We decided to stick together into Muir Beach, mixing walking and running, oh, and listening to Matt's cheesy jokes. But it took my mind off the moment and I began to pick back up. Old Inn to Muir Beach is only 3.5 miles, and that time went quickly with company. I have to admit here that I had lost myself on the course and thought I was running to Tennessee Valley. Even after arriving at Muir, I couldn't figure out where I was -- it just didn't compute. Then I realized where I was and that I had just a couple of big climbs remaining. I started to do my thing and pushed through the next big uphill climb. It was relentless. I almost had flashbacks to Speedgoat 50k earlier in the year. I was now on a section of the course I had done before, and I could pace myself a little easier, knowing what was ahead of me.
After the big climb out of Muir Beach, the trail is very runnable and beautiful. I cruised through this section at an easy pace, just enjoying myself as much as possible. It was in this section where I realized that I might just run into Kristin doing her 50k. Of course, I'm not really great at math after running so far, and this was no exception. I was way behind.
I came cruising into Tennessee Valley and decided not to break my pace too much. A quick pit stop and I was on my way again. The last big climb up to Alta aid. This was a doozy. All I could do was to select a point 20-30 yards ahead, run to that point, walk to the next point, then repeat. Walking that whole hill would have been too monotonous. This proved to be a good strategy, and I felt like it made that climb go much faster. It also helped that I had someone leap frogging with me up the hill. She was about equal in ability and though we didn't say anything to each other, there was a strong feeling of competition and we were both eating it up. She had a pacer though... darn pacer. I couldn't match her pace downhill and lost her before long as I struggled to make a 10 min mile down the last hill out of Alta.
After that last hill, I knew I had only a mile left to go and tried to use whatever was left in the tank to carry me up that last climb up the paved road leading to the finish. I wasn't going to walk that hill. I would run if it killed me. Ok, fine, I'll walk. But only because I'm exhausted and the wind is blowing against me. Ok, fine. I'm not a pansy, I'll run. I managed to keep the walking down to only a short section of the road and ran the rest of the way to the finish.
I was honestly a little surprised to see the time on the clock. Earlier in the day, at Stinson Beach, I had figured that I could MAYBE squeak by with an 11:30 finish. I had made it almost an hour faster than that! On the other side of the finish line, Kristin was waiting for me, looking like she was freezing, but it was good to see a familiar face. I couldn't get in to long pants, dry clothes and a jacket fast enough. It was getting cold again as the sun got low on the horizon.
What an amazing experience. Despite the bad turn of events with the twisted back, getting lost, and the inappropriately timed trail maintenance, I had managed to finish in 10:38:51. I'm confident that I could have finished in under 10 hours, had the stars aligned, or maybe if I had been a little smarter. This was all on me, but it was a good learning experience. Next time I'll be faster!
