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It’s been a pretty good year in terms of running. We started the year by giving up plans to run a marathon, deciding instead to run a lot more trails and spend far less time on pavement. We also started to run by time and not distance. We made our goal be the East Bay Triple Crown trail series, hoping to get through the three tough trail races in 6 or 7 weeks without serious injury. In the end we did that and threw in a fourth, an Xterra trail run for good measure. It was really a big success. During this time neither of us had a running-related injury and our base endurance really picked up. Running three hours at a time on the weekend became the norm rather than the exception. But during this time, I wondered if I was getting faster or just stronger at running trails. The problem was there was no real measure of speed. Those races were fairly random distances, and the terrain is crazy hilly trail running. Not the place for PRs.

Fast forward a few months and our disastrous-for-training trip to south east Asia. With little motivation for running when we got back, a drop in fitness, and with Patty slammed with her first year teaching, we needed a goal. We settled on the Bizz Johnson Half Marathon, a fast trail run in the forests east of Lassen National Park. It combines the best of both worlds: fast running, a measured half marathon course, beautiful scenery and soft surfaces. What was not to like?

The only problem was it’s in the middle of nowhere. After pondering the accommodation situation for a while, we found ourselves Friday night in Reno, at the Super 8 across the road from the U of N football stadium. On game night. Don’t worry the woman at reception said, they’ll all head up to ‘The Wall’ and be drinking and playing loud music all night. I’ll put you in a room a little further away if you’d like. Um… “The Wall”?

Fortunately the noise level wasn’t bad at all where they put us and we got to bed fairly early. However, by 3am Patty was complaining how cold it was. She was wearing everything she had. I was complaining how hot it was. And the heater wouldn’t take “Off” for an answer, it just kept coming on with the sound and heat of a jet engine. Oh well, 3am is sort of like 4am when we planned to get up anyway. So we got up.

In Susanville, about an hour away from Reno, all was quiet, dark, and freezing cold (Google maps had said 2 hours, hence the early arrival). There was just the occasional pickup truck loaded with hunters headed somewhere to shoot something. The former logging town itself seemed a little in reclining fortunes with the more interesting businesses along the street having For Sale signs on many of them. Perhaps that’s just how it is in the Fall. At least the Walmart and the Guns n’ Ammo seemed to be doing well. We headed to the cute railway depot where we were basically the first ones there. We could see the trail, a former railway line, head into the darkness. We parked and used the un-used port-a-potties. In the dark, Patty managed to drop a whole roll of toilet paper into the hole. Oops, sorry!

Back in the car we noted how we could have slept in three more hours and still made this race. There were hardly more people than at our local Lake Merritt races registered for the half marathon on Saturday. There were no lines to negotiate, no large expo to take in, just a volunteer handing out t-shirts and bib numbers in the little historic train station, with runners huddled around a wood burning stove. I again noted that at these things there are always the following characters: woman with makeup, a little plastic surgery and too much tanning; a man who tells stories of past marathons from around the world to the poor stranger next to him the entire bus journey; the young guy in the military / coast guard / Carson City fire t-shirt who is going to kick your butt later and he knows it and you know it. Other than that, there was a decent sized group from a running and fitness club in Reno and assorted other fit and nervous (or shivering from the cold) participants.

At 7:45am or so the buses loaded up (nice fancy tour buses) and headed up to the start. It was like being airlifted into combat. Deploy! Deploy! Get out there private and RUN! Fortunately 13 miles isn’t a distance I have too many concerns about these days. We got off at a dusty campground and trudged over some pine cones to a small set of wobbly port-a-potties. It’s hard to imagine something more disconcerting that a wobbling port-a-potty. Waiting around it was pretty cold, almost exactly unlike Hanoi. Our heat training wasn’t going to be much of an advantage. We discarded our outer layers, stashed them in our sweat check bags and then shivered in the sun until it was time to start. I was looking forward to getting going by then.

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The start was uphill in the wrong direction for 1/2 a mile, then a U-turn and back down the trail the way we’d come. After that it was 12 more miles down the trail into Susanville. Easy. The guy in the yellow hat from PCTRs counted us down and off we went. Immediately I felt both a little stiff (it was hard to take off so cold), and a little out of breath (the altitude). The beginning was kind of a shuffle and that mile took more than 10 minutes. At the turn around Patty was 30 yards behind me and I thought that would be the last I saw of her so I settled into a pace that felt good. About half a mile later I glanced back and she was right behind me. We finished the second mile in a little over 8:30, I was impressed she was holding on. At that mile mark she suggested we do a walk break for 30 seconds on the mile markers so that’s what we did. We had our own bottles and Gu, so didn’t need the aid stations. That strategy worked well, we cruised along with each mile marker coming quickly, each being in the 8:30 range.

The scenery was nice, mostly like running along a pretty smooth dry and dusty fire trail up in the forest. The runners had spread out so it was more peaceful than half marathons usually are. Nobody around us was talking. Footsteps on the gravel. Breathing. We’d catch up to a few people, take our walk break, then catch up to the same people again. That was fine. Having the bottles let us sip fluid every mile and take our shots when we wanted, plus the short break let the legs flush out a bit before the next mile repeat. It was a good way to break it down and give us something to look forward to.

At mile 7 there was a burned out bridge that caused the trail to dip down into the valley and up again the other side. It wasn’t serious by trail running standards, but it was like the people around us who we’d been catching each mile slammed on the brakes and we ran right by and never saw them again. That also marked the beginning of the really nice part of the course as the trail followed the Susan river more closely. Bouncing shimmery water cascading down between rocks and the fall colored aspen trees. It really was beautiful. We crossed 12 bridges and ran through two tunnels. Patty said she thought she was having a religious experience as she hung in there with my pace. It could have been the location, or how hard we were running, or both. We started talking about doing the marathon here one year.

Credit: Flickr (matthigh)

Credit: Race website

By mile ten I was starting to feel it and our pace was trending upwards. We’d probably gone out a little hard, but the first half of the course is easier, so overall it was going okay, we just needed to concentrate and bring it home without posting too many slow miles. With 3 miles to go, I was mentally pushing much harder but not running any faster. My heart rate was certainly up although I didn’t have a monitor on. My legs were tiring a bit, but felt like they could still run. There was less downhill, the temperature had managed to rise to where it actually felt really warm and exposed out running and there was probably the usual onset of dehydration. About what we expected.

It looked like we could make two hours, we just had to keep it up. There was the first slow mile. There was the mile with the missing bridge which took around 10 minutes. Off-setting that was mostly 8:30-8:40 miles. It was going to be a little close. And then we posted a 9:30 mile. Yikes, we needed to push. It hurt. As the last couple of miles went by, we kept looking at our watches. I’d look down at my watch and think “this will only be another 7 minutes or less” and keep running as hard as I could.

Finally the course took us off the main trail down nice single track into the finish area at a place called Hobos camp. I slowed down a little and Patty came running alongside me and we finished together in 1:58:51. For Patty that was a 10 minute gain over the Big Sur Half we did last year and for me more like 6 minutes. She came 3rd in her age group while I came 5th. We were around 71st and 72nd out of 188 finishers.

–

After the race we took the bus back to the depot and then headed out of town. We spent the rest of the day in Lassen National Park, visiting a few of our favorite places there but not really up for much of a hike. At a spot just past the peak trail we pulled over at a meadow, threw our blanket down and fell to sleep in the sun. At summit lake we soaked our feet in the cool water. Every hour or so we’d make another turkey and cheese bagel. We stopped in Redding on the way home for dinner and coffee and were back home by 8pm. An awesome weekend!!

Race reports, Running, Trail Running

On Saturday we completed our first triathlon in the non-competitive, Tri for Fun series at Shadow Cliffs Regional Park in Pleasanton, CA.

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It was 7:25am and I stood knee deep in a muddy lake. Around me I was surrounded by nervous people. Minutes earlier I’d kissed Patty goodbye, in case one of us drowned. She’d left with the earlier group which, as I stood there, was rounding the first buoy of the course. I couldn’t spot her, so hopefully she was in the mix somewhere doing fine. I turned my attention back to the guy standing in the water with the microphone. We were the final wave, and he was making jokes, mostly. “If you don’t know why this is like water polo, don’t be near the front.” I think that part was serious. I looked around and I was sort of near the front as many people had joined my wave. I tried to move sideways, but it wasn’t going to be enough. There was way more people in this wave than I expected, maybe a hundred people had joined it behind me and there was 20 seconds left. Oh well, I’m going for it. I looked down at my watch and it was ready to go, pulled my googles over my eyes, took a deep breath, and thought this is it, I’m finally facing my swim fear for real. The horn went off and we all started to move forward…

—

Our alarm would have gone off at 4:30am, except both of us had been awake for some time. I’m so used to running races that it’s barely exciting to think of one that morning. This morning was different. When we watched the tri for fun #1 there was a lot of people being rescued from the water, even in the supposedly experienced and elite wave. While my swimming has been going well (I’m up to swimming a mile straight in the pool, though not fast), the open water thing has remained hard with the various added stresses like sighting that seem to come along with it. Added to this was the uncertainly of doing it with other flailing humans in the water. Maybe it would be better having someone to sight off, or feet to draft behind? Or maybe I’d be run over, kicked, punched, semi-drowned, fight to the surface in a panic and not recover. Or maybe I’d simply be blown off the back of the pack and I’d watch everyone disappear around the course while I tried to go back to swimming like in the pool, the best I could. All these seemed like real possibilities. I simply couldn’t know what would happen once I was in a swim race.

A swim race! That’s so unlike me. I hated swimming as a kid. I couldn’t do it. It was all horrid chlorine and water up your nose and people yelling at you. Several months ago I couldn’t freestyle 25m. But, if I’ve learnt anything from running it’s that if I set my mind to something I can do it. Anything. Even swimming. So, this race was all about that. If I made that then my whole goal for the year to ‘learn to swim’ would be a success. I didn’t really care what happened after that, I was determined to make it round the swim course. Then I’d go for a bike ride with Patty. Then we’d do a little run.

We packed our mountain bikes with their nobly tires — it would have to do –onto the back of the car, along with our transition gear stuffed into a bag we got from some race, and headed out as the glow of the approaching dawn appeared to the east. Just before 6am we pulled into the parking lot at Shadow Cliffs.

The racks were already filling up quickly so we decide to grab our bikes off the back of the car and head right to them to get a spot. That strategy worked well because by the time we returned from our car with the rest of our gear and our bike pump space was almost gone and people had started to claim trees or picnic tables or just random pieces of grass.

We got registered and body marked. Patty showed me her ‘corrected number’. “I can’t believe she wrote my number wrong: it’s an omen, my whole race is ruined,” she sort of joked.

We walked down the the beach and listened to a ‘first timers’ talk. She ended by saying she hoped to see us crossing the finish line of an Ironman. Whether people like it or not Ironman and triathlon are inescapably linked. The question I’ve got twice now: did you do a half or full? Still, though this was short, it wasn’t that short for a previous non-swimmer. And on top of that, a 5K can hurt a lot more than a marathon. It’s just shorter and different. And it’s a place to start, anyway.

After the talk we did a little swimming. It was already 75 degrees, so getting into the water wasn’t very hard. The water was warm and the air was warmer. It felt good in the water, gliding along with the sun rising across the far side of the lake. We watched the first few waves go and then headed over to the start area. Patty would go in her age group wave (40+ woman) and I’d take the wave after that which was basically anyone who’d not already gone.

—

The Swim: 400yds in 9:28 (2:22 min/100yd)

… and so I dove in and the world filled with green bubbles and disembodied limbs. My head would surface and there’d be heads all around me. Some looking at me. I’d go back under and there’d be bodies and suddenly a foot from nowhere would come at me and I’d come up and tread water or throw in a little breast stoke because there was nowhere to go, and wait for a spot to open up. Back under with some freestyle. Back up and looking for space or a direction that might be clearer. Green. Bubbles. Random feet and hands. If I think back on it it’s surprising how fast we made it to the first buoy, our tangled mass was at least moving along.

At the buoy I breast stroked wide and then found some space and got myself into some sporadic freestyle. My sighting was going well and I kept thinking I’d get on someone’s feet and let them tow me along. But I’d do that and then next thing they were stopped in the water figuring out which way to go. So I’d go around them and start the process again. My heart rate was up for sure, the initial washing machine took a lot out of me, but it was under control. Breath, relax, breath, relax…

Also quicker than I imagined I reached the final buoy and rounded it with a clear sight to the shore. I’m almost there I thought. I was getting a little tired and was glad it wasn’t too much longer. This section dragged, but soon I was looking down at the bottom and the weeds growing there. I wondered if Patty was looking down at this too, the thing she hates most about swimming in the lake. The weeds gave way to sand and I put my feet down and started walking up the shore. I stopped my watch and stared at it disbelieving for a moment. It about a minute faster than I’d swam that distance in a pool. I’d done it! I looked back and there was a lot of people still out in the water, so I wasn’t the slowest either. The day was already a success. The months spent in the pool were a success. I could swim!

T1: ~5:30

I made my way up into the transition area. Patty was sitting by our bikes pulling shoes on. I grabbed my towel and dried down a little then sat down and washed my feet off with a bottle of water and pulled on my running shoes. Overall T1 was sort of a mess, but we got out of there eventually with our bikes and helmets.

The Bike: 11 miles in 41:15 (16 miles/hr)

The bike leg was the surprise fun of the race. We thought we’d be passed a lot because of our heavy mountain bikes, but that didn’t turn out to be the case. We just applied some of our trail running muscles to it, as well as relatively high fitness (for us at least) and started passing a ton of people. It was fun! There’s nothing quite as fun as riding past someone on a fancy tri-bike with your mountain bike. By the end of the bike course I was getting a little tired but was okay. I figured I could use up a bunch of energy on the bike and then tough out a 5K run.

The course too was nicer than I imagined, running either around the perimeter of the regional park or past vineyards.

We pulled into T2 something like 15 minutes faster than our test ride of this distance.

T2: ~2:15

This transition went much faster because we already had running shoes on. The only problem was the rack next to us started to topple and so we helped get it back up and everyone’s bikes back on it before we left. Otherwise it was just off with the helmet and gloves and on with a visor. I took a Gu and sucked down a little more fluid. It was pretty warm by now and the run course was nothing but exposed dirt fire trails.

The Run: ~3.2M 28:06 (8:49 min/mile pace)

Running wasn’t the easiest. My legs felt heavy and it was pretty easy to get a burn out of them. I settled into an uncomfortable 8:40 pace or so. It felt slow. I felt slow. But it seemed like a reasonable effort given it was baking hot and I’d used most of my legs propelling a mountain bike around the course. Plus, the Gu wasn’t sitting right.

At some point I looked back and Patty wasn’t with me. I decided to keep going and see if I learned anything by trying to keep up my pace under these conditions. My race thoughts were down to basics: how far to go, what’s my pace, is my HR too high? Occasionally I’d try to ponder how it felt, what I could compare it too. It was different from running alone for sure. Less pounding, more tired. Fatigue without the swelling maybe? And on top of that there was also the heat, which felt reminiscent of the Tilden race a few months ago. Cooking.

I tried to concentrate and keep going strongly. I passed people all over the place. The course had some hills and each one had a lot of people walking. Hills I could do, and so I ran right up them all, while I walked through the aid stations where I mostly poured the water on myself.

The finish was great with lots of people cheering. While hot and sort of hellish the run went pretty well. It wasn’t my fastest 5K but it certainly wasn’t my slowest. I felt proud of myself for not letting up during this run and pushing to the end. It’s always good experience to be suffering and endure past that point when you’d rather just stop and walk. That kind of pain is temporary, you can keep running.

Total: ~1:26:30

After I crossed the line I circled back and watched Patty cross too, not too far behind me. She was glad to be done.

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In the end, this race was all about the swim and as I think back on it I still can’t imagine that it was me out there doing that, mixing it up in a watery brawl. It wasn’t really pretty as I never got truly clean water to swim in, but it’s all about getting around the course and I did that. I can’t help but wonder what a longer course would be like, if I could just get into a rhythm out there.

I was also pretty excited to get across a triathlon finish line for the first time. Now we have to figure what’s next. Our goals for this year have been met and for much of August we’ll be on vacation in South East Asia where training will at a minimum. That will make it hard to ramp up to something bigger this year on the triathlon front. But we’ll see.

Race reports, Triathlon Biking, fear, hot, swimming, tri for fun, Triathlon, washing machine

Yesterday Patty and I ran the Dick Houston Woodminster XC race in Oakland and I feel my interest in running restored. Why? Was it because we got to drive to it in our brand new 2010 Prius? I think so. Maybe. A little.

The other reason was because this is really fun. It was our first Handicapped race, which means different age and gender groups leave at different times. It seems a slightly old fashioned notion, but I guess it’s grounded in some real differences. Anyway, the result for us was that Patty headed off with the 2nd group to leave, while I stood around and left with the 35-45 men in the second last group. That put her 12 minutes ahead on a 9M hilly course. The target was a go.

By the time it came to our group there wasn’t too many people at the start. I chatted to Francisco for a while, but I knew he was going to take off and there was no chance of keeping up. When they counted down the last 5 seconds I really hoped I’d be okay. My legs were still a little rough since the half marathon two weeks early and it’s probably fair to say I hadn’t had a good run since then. Anyway, it was too late to worry about if my legs were going to have a good run, we were off and the all male crew headed down the trail at break neck pace. Ahead of us was most of the field with between 4 and 16 minutes head start on us, including Patty, and behind us were the fast young men in the final wave. It seemed like we were going pretty fast. When we hit the first uphill I looked at my watch: 7:20 min/mile pace. Yep, a little fast! But the first big hill (400ft in half a mile) took care of that problem as we first trotted up the bottom section and then settled in to a power walk to the top.

Once that was out of the way we pushed on with runners still close behind and in front of me, onto Sequoia Bayview (one of our favorite East Bay Trails). Around here the first of the super-fast group from behind caught me. Amazing! In here I probably could have moved a little faster, but wasn’t ready to commit to overtaking a bunch of people. We crossed over Skyline and was stopped for a moment to let a car go by. Several people charged pass me when it okay to continue, which didn’t seem entirely sporting. At any rate we ran up the Chabot driveway and back onto the trail. At this point the climbing was done for the moment and it was either rolling or downhill for some miles and people were more spread out so I focused on not twisting an ankle, maintaining fast turnover on the downhills and pushing on the uphills. I managed to maintain a 8:30 min/mile pace through all three miles of this section, which was somewhat of a break-through for me on trails. I was catching people, I was flying down hills with recklessness caution, powering up others and missing aid stations. It was great.

All that came to an end at the famous “Woodmonster” hill which rises 800ft in a mile. Needless to say I walked the whole way up. I wondered if maybe I’d been going to fast, but there wasn’t really anyone passing me. Good runners or not, everyone around me was walking and groaning. “I hate this hill with a passion” declared a runner behind me. I’ve blanked out most of the memory of this part of the course, but my GPS recorded some pretty slow progress in here that I’d rather not document.

At the top I was officially tired, but set off to see how fast I could get this finished. I couldn’t maintain the rate of the earlier miles as easily now, but I was still moving along, hitting 9:30 through the Redwood Bowl and Chabot area followed by 8:45 and around 9:00 paces for the last two miles. It wasn’t enough to catch Patty through, who crossed the finish line about a minute ahead of me. My actual time was just over 1 hr 30 minutes, a time I can’t really compare to anything, but that I’m proud of anyway.

We stayed around for the trophies to be handed out (none came our way), then headed back to the Prius to proudly initialize its floor mats with some hard earned trail dust.

Race reports prius, race, Trail Running, woodminster, xc

Two down, one to go. Yesterday we ran the Lake Chabot Trail Challenge, the 2nd race in the East bay triple crown.

This half marathon was written up in runner’s world a couple of years ago as the best off-road half marathon in the country. I’m not really sure about that, but it’s nice.

The course is a very demanding, hilly loop with some technical ascents and descents. You won’t set a personal record here, but that’s precisely the appeal. The dirt trails you’ll cover are part of 315 beautiful acres surrounding Lake Chabot, about 25 miles east of San Francisco. You’ll run among giant California redwoods and fragrant eucalyptus trees. And each torturous climb comes with its own reward: some of the best vistas in the Bay Area.

In a way this race was a home coming. We ran this on the way to our first marathon two years ago, and it was a our first real trail run. We were shocked at how hilly it was, and how brutally unprepared we were, but at the same time completely elated with our result. This time, much has changed. I finished about a minute per mile faster than that last time, and felt in much better shape afterwards. The course was beautiful as usual and the weather was cool enough this time. The new organizers of the race, the Castro Valley Track Club, added a new level of organization to the event too. Here’s a few random thoughts about what has improved since I ran this two years ago:

1. 13 miles is not a long run these days. I had plenty of endurance left at the end of this. Not enough to catch the guy who ran by me on the final hill, but enough to run the final mile in less that 9 minutes.
2. Hills: I almost love them! I ran or walked by a lot of people on uphills this time.
3. Downhills have gone from weakness to relative strength. You can make up a lot of ground on a steep downhill if you don’t crash, but you can’t be shaky legged from the previous uphill.
4. I passed two people with ironman gear on (really, isn’t that just showing off? see Rule 13), the woman with the purple singlet who taunted me the whole way through Tilden Tough Ten only to beat me, and the crazy woman with the fake tan running with a rat dog.
5. My HR was much lower than it has been in the past for most of this race. In fact, my HR data would tend to indicate I wasn’t actually that stressed running this.

I’ve been contemplating this race a lot over the past day, however, and here’s what I keep coming back to: the lack of elation. Crossing the finish line this time didn’t seem particularly noteworthy. There it was, its numbers ticking up, the time low enough to reflect two years of running and the effort of the past two hours. There were people clapping and someone yelling my name. How did I feel? Glad to not be running anymore, a little like throwing up, and generally wondering why I do this.

Patty didn’t have a very good run either, which is starting to become the norm rather than exception. I lost contact with her walking up the huge hill at mile 3-4.5. When I looked back she was nowhere to be seen. At the top of the hill was the first aid station where I waited for a bit, but she wasn’t coming, so I continued on even though I felt like I wanted to run this race with her. In the end she finished in basically the exact same time she did 2 years ago. Afterwards she declared that she’s given up running, though I might be able to talk her out of that. Even for me, with my list of things which have obviously improved in the last two years , shouldn’t there be some excitement associated with finishing a race? Perhaps those days are gone.

Anyway, while we ponder out motivation levels, we have another race in two weeks, the Woodminster race, then it’s on to try a tri in July.

Race reports lake chabot, Race reports, Trail Running

When we got out of the car, I knew we were in trouble. The shirt I’d put over my running singlet was already too hot. The temperature, at 7:30 am, was in the 70s. Heat pockets wafted up the canyon. Oh boy.

It’s been our plan this year to do the triple crown of trail races, this being the first, the Tilden Tough Ten. It’s a 10 mile race put on by our running club each year. It’s an out and back course, with the middle mile or so being on dirt.

We walked up the road to the start area. Already chaos had started with the race, in addition to the heat. The port-a-potties had not turned up. A long line stretched back from the two toilets available. We walked over to the registration table and picked up out bibs and discarded our shirts by a tree. Someone walked up to a volunteer and asked if they could fill their water bottle. The answer was no. They didn’t seem happy. The PA system was also not working, a whole other story. Len walked around trying to get people’s attention with a mega-phone. He was telling them about the port-a-potty situation. Right then the port-a-potties turned up, attached to a EB Regional Parks pickup truck.

We settled into the back of the waiting crowd of runners and were soon on our way. I set off at around 9:30 pace, thinking I could probably run 9:00ish on a less hilly 10 miles, but wanted to save some. I’d run 9:30 until the turn around, walk up the hill, and then see what I had left. The plan went well. For a while. The path rolled up and down and had some good shaded sections. My legs felt good and my HR stayed low enough.

As I headed onto the dirt at mile four, with its steeper rougher surfaces, I was starting to feel it. The previous couple of miles had consisted of 1) an extended gradual downhill, although almost completely exposed to the sun and the hot easterly wind and 2) a good sized hill. The downhill had hid the fact that I was baking, dehydrating fast, and that maybe my pace had been too fast for the conditions. The hill I’d just come up had laid the truth bare.

Around here I saw the lead runners heading back. They looked pretty distressed, for the most part. By the time I hit the steep downhills there was plenty of the fast runners headed up. Some of them looked like they were about the keel over. Almost all of them were walking. I knew at least I’d be walking back up the hill.

I headed down to the turnaround aid station, grabbed some water, and then started my walk up. I walked by several people, but by the top I was cooked. My HR was up to 190 or so, which happens, but I was wondering to myself what that meant on such a hot day. I resolved to make my way back by keeping my HR in the 180s. Time didn’t matter. I walked for a bit, even though it was flat, and then slowly picked it back up to a run. It was survival mode.

On the way back lots of people were walking. I passed an emergency vehicle while it was assisting a downed runner. It looked like one of the lead runners. He didn’t look like he was conscious. Later a helicopter air lifted him out. (he recovered). There was numerous other emergency vehicles headed in too. I wondered what was going on behind me. The scene had deteriorated, obviously.

I mostly ran all the way back to the finish, though I took my sweet time at one of the aid stations. They had a hat dip, which was the best treat of the day. In the end I finished in just under 1 hour 46 min. By the end of the race the temperature was around 88 deg.

Although my time was way slower than my plan, I was happy enough to have got out there and finished such a brutal race. Or maybe I was just happy it was over and I wasn’t lying on the side of the trail being devoured by ants. In the end I suppose I’d call it good experience. We don’t have too many hot races in the Bay Area and now I’ve had two of them in a row to learn from. Who am I kidding?! If the forecast is for 90+ degrees when I have a race to do like this one, this is what I’ve learnt: stay home.

From the race we went to a brunch (changing a toweling down in a pullout), rushed home, showered and then headed to Patty’s graduation. She’s now a teacher!

Course map and elevation profile from my GPS.

Note: photos are from the LMJS website

Race reports ants, ems, graduation, hat dips, Lake Merritt Joggers and Striders, Race reports, Running, tilden tough ten

On the weekend we took part in the 2nd race of the XTerra Trail Running NorCal series. It sounds impressive, but we were really only taking part because Patty had won an entry at the LMJS volunteers dinner a few weeks ago. Despite Len trying to talk us out of taking it, the reality was it was in our local parks, Roberts and Redwood Regional Park, and we needed to get out and do a run anyway.

Going into this we felt like we were decently prepared. My two (non-running) injuries seems to be mostly healed and this year we’ve been concentrating our long runs on trails almost exclusively. Each weekend we’ve run between 2 and 3 hours, most around 3 hours. Plenty of time on the trails.

As the start time approached we realized there was one thing we weren’t prepared for yet: heat. We’d already discarded our top layer and it was getting warmer by the minute. Disturbingly warm for 8am. We walked over to the finish area and downed another cup of water for good measure.

The start was rather cramped with people crowded down a steep side trail the leads from the bottom of the Roberts parking lot onto the trail proper. The start line was a line of flour on the ground and a guy to yell “Go!” The next thing we knew we were off. Within the mile I’d lost Patty. I looked back and she was gone. At a mile I realized I was going a little fast (9:30ish for the mile). I guess that’s how I lost her. I kept going, slowing the pace a little to about 10 mins for the second mile as we headed over the west ridge and steeply down the Orchard Trail into the valley. Nobody really passed me here except for a guy who was just catching up to his girlfriend immediately in front of me. He pulled in and then slowed right down as she wasn’t moving very fast. After a few twists and turns I pulled back out and past him, never to be seen again. Patty later had an encounter with this couple: she was apparently not very happy later on.

Once in the valley there was some flat running as we headed into the first aid station. I filled my bottle up and then wandered back down the path to see if Patty was coming. No sign, so I set off again.

Immediately after the aid station was the first steep uphill, the canyon trail. We’d taken note of this in our practice run and decided to walk it from the beginning. A couple of enthusiastic guys ran by me here, only to stop defeated a dozen yards in front of me and start walking too. It was a rough hill and with the heat building it simply wasn’t worth running.

Onto the East Ridge I got back into a mostly running pattern. It was hot and exposed up there and my HR was pretty high as a result: over 190 on the uphills, which most of it was. There was a time when a HR of 190 would be a death blow. Now I seem to take it relatively well. At about 55 minutes into the race I started to walk in a shady section and took a shot of Gu and tried to get some fluid into me. I sensed dehydration had already set in. One woman passed me here and asked how I was doing. Fine I said. Me too she replied, then was gone. I was fine, but toasting quickly.

I worked my way up the East Ridge, walking more and more of the hills. I expected people to catch me, but it seemed the heat and the elevation gain was having the same effect on everyone. My pace stayed around 11:30ish through this section, which I was pleased with. Originally the course was supposed to drop off the East Ridge down to girl scouts camp and then back up to Skyline gate. I had mixed feelings about losing this part of the course, on one hand nobody was having fun on this exposed section of East Ridge, a drop down into the shaded depths would have been a welcome change. The downside, of course, would be the addition of another hill.

Finally I was at the top and running into the Skyline gate aid station. I wasn’t really feeling like much to drink (warning sign, I suppose), but took a cup, drank half of it, and poured the rest on my head. It might have been worth it to spend more time here, but I figured it wasn’t that long of a race. I’d just get it finished and rehydrate later.

From there we headed along the West Ridge, thankfully shady, and dropped down the French Trail into a gully filled with redwood trees and running streams. It was fun running downhill and I noticed in this race I wasn’t passed by anyone on the downhills, which is a change. On the other side of the downhill was the Big Uphill I’d been anticipating the whole race: the steep hiking trail up to Redwood Peak. I settled into a steady walk, working away at it. It was brutally hard going, but I passed two guys on the way up. One was slumped against a tree exhausted, the other I simply walked past. That mile took me over 25 minutes, to give you some idea!

From the other side it was mostly downhill to the finish. Kelly and her grandpa were waiting at the finish for me which gave me a little push up the final hill. Kelly ran through the parking lot, but didn’t go across the finish line with me. I think the finishing chute kind of freaked her out so she let me run across by myself. I vaguely remember the announcer yelling out my bib number and some people cheering. Patty came in about 4 minutes after me.

Finishing

In the end it was a pretty fun race. I could go on about how aspects weren’t really worth $50, but the venue was world class trail running and they got my time right. In the final results we were pretty far down the field but we’re both totally happy with our results. I crossed the finish line (according to my GPS almost 10 miles from the start, not 15K) in 2hrs 2min. Patty ended up not very far behind me, finishing in 2hrs 6min. As a bonus, she was 3rd in her age group!

The course route and info is here.

Race reports Race reports, Running, Trail Running

On Sunday I ran the 5K race at Lake Merritt.

For me it was a new PR although I had hoped to break 26 minutes. As it was I had to settle for 26:11 (’gun time’) or so, although my GPS recorded a 5K split of just under 26 minutes so that’s good enough for me to use 26:00-26:05 as the basis of the half marathon I plan to run in the Fall and also for a speed work class I’m taking in June.

Obviously this isn’t an especially fast 5K time, but since it was 33 seconds faster than the same time last year (my last 5K) and 4 minutes faster than 2 years ago, I think it’s at least headed in the right direction. It will be interesting to see if there’s much change after the speed work class as up to this point we’ve done almost nothing to try and increase speed, only long run endurance.

This months field was weakened by the Tilden Tough Ten the previous weekend, with many of the regular fast runners sitting this one out. Amazingly I actually placed 3rd in my age group (30-39 Male), and came in 16th out of 71 overall. Easily my best Lake Merritt placing. Unfortunately I didn’t stay around for the awards.

Here’s the pace/HR vs distance graph. At this point my my AT is just over 192 bpm and equates to around an 8:25 min/mile pace. Above this HR my running quickly goes anaerobic. I was feeling pretty good holding a little below this level through the 2nd mile. Interestingly at this point a couple of (small) hills and some pace fluctuations (it wasn’t a closed course), didn’t really alter my HR by more than a few bpm. Into the 3rd mile I decided to push the pace as best I could and see if I exploded. That didn’t happen, and I did manage to keep it together. My fastest mile was the last one.

Lake Merritt Joggers and Striders, Race reports, Running

On Sunday we took part in, and completed, the Big Sur International Marathon. This was our second marathon, and, what a difference 9 months makes.

Anyone who knows anything about this marathon knows two things:
1) it is often considered the most beautiful marathon in the country.
2) it is one of the hardest marathons in the country.

These two factors seem to be appealing to us, though it might take some soul searching to figure out our attraction to more and more difficult goals of completion rather than picking something easier and doing better. This is the kind of thing that is drawing us closer to the ultra marathoning world and further away from the flat course optimum speed marathons.

I think the reason for this is probably a combination of not being naturally fast, our desire to run our races together, and our past life hiking these same trails that we now run. We seem to be in it for the challenge of completion and the beauty of the journey. Perhaps speed will come, (and I’ll come back to that in another post), but for this marathon, again, completing it was the goal, enjoying the course was paramount, and a sense that we did well and ran strong for our current abilities in the face of adversity important.

However, I was also asked several times about what time I wanted to run. Since Big Sur is said to be 20 minutes or more slower than other marathons I said if I could PR (against my other injury plagued first marathon), or break 5 hours, then that would be complete success. With the six hour time limit and the prospect of more hill running than I’d ever done, I imagined a scenario where I could only walk uphill, limp downhill and generally walk aimlessly for hours until I was either pulled from the course for taking more than 6 hours or preemptively leaped into the Pacific Ocean. I hoped that wouldn’t be the case, but couldn’t discount it completely as I truly wasn’t certain my body was ready for this.

Finally the time had arrived. My parents were visiting from Australia and my parents-in-law took on Kelly early Saturday morning while we packed up and drove south the 2 hours to Monterey. Our pack list filled all the space of a notepad page, imagining hot or cold race conditions, cold start with warm finish (note: buy throwaway gloves at expo), cold waiting for bus (what if they have run out of TP? camera?) , post race needs (what if we need to stitch our own arm back on?), if we had our car nearby, or not, what to bring to eat (what? 8 packets of Gu??), what to buy down there (pasta place reservation?) etc. We had a surprisingly complicated checklist for what should require a pair of shoes and some sunscreen.

EXPO

Down at the expo we picked up our race numbers and chips and then shopped for a while. I came away with $80 of Big Sur branded (mostly Asics) gear, so really hoped I’d finish, and also a signed copy of Bart Yasso’s new book. He’s the chief running officer at Runner’s World and maybe the nicest most interesting guy in running. He also has a quoted as saying that if he could run one marathon he’d make it Big Sur. How can you not like the guy?

I asked him about running the course and he said to negative split it, that although the second half in hilly, it’s a net downhill and to save yourself in the first half and use the energy to work the downhills in the second half.

Later in the day we saw Jeff Galloway talk. Now here’s my problem: I’m a runner. I’m a sucky runner, but still a runner. That means, I run. I don’t walk. Walking is not the challenge running is. On the other hand, I’d rather make it through an event strong than ‘run’ hard the first half and then implode at mile 18. So, we listened to him answer questions about his walk running, the strategy of dropping the walk run ratio down to 1:1 or 1:2 on the hills, and other Galloway wisdom and by the end we both thought for this race it could be worth a shot. For this kind of course, where the ups and down were going to make energy conservation critical, we thought it couldn’t hurt. We’d keep our planned pace, but we’d do some walking.

RACE PLAN

So we formed a race plan over our spaghetti and marinara that evening, largely formed off advice we picked up at the expo:

1. We’d use 4:1 run/walk ratio. This was very different from any walk/running we’d done before (mostly either walk through the aid stations only, or walk 1 min every mile). When the time hit a 5 min mark, we’d walk a minute then run again. We’d do that until Hurricane Point (a 2 mile climb starting at mile 10) where we’d do 2:1 (run 2 min, walk 1) to get to the top. If the going got tough later on we’d do 2:1 and then 1:1 until we completed the course.
2. We’d run 11 min/mile average pace until the hill. After that we’d do the best we could for the last half.
3. If Jeff Galloway ran by us (pacing for a 5 hour finish), we’d run with him.
4. Eat a Gu shot 15 minutes before the race and every 45 mins on course
5. Run down hills with caution, don’t brake, shuffle. Save the quads!
6. Drink a cup of water at every aid station.

RACE

We spent the night in Salinas, CA, about 30 minutes of iceburg lettuce fields east of Monterey. Set alarm for 2:45am, woke up at 2:30 and made coffee. Yes, 2:30am. It was vomit inducing. I put on my race t-shirt and shorts. Stuffed an iPod shuffle deep into a pocket in case the going got tough. Added 8 Gus. Yum. Over that I layered a long sleave shirt. Over that stuff, a pair of fuzzy pants and a fleece. We grabbed our stuff and headed back to Monterey. Outside it was warm, already. I knew I wouldn’t need my fleece.

We parked in a garage and boarded the school buses for the start line. It took more than an hour to wind their way down the coast in the dark. Half the people on the bus were talking loudly to each other, nervously telling strangers about their lives, while the other half stayed quiet, silently knowing what lay ahead, that perhaps by the time that made it back to the finish line hours later they might be changed forever. That makes some people disappear into themselves while others cover it up with apparent mindlessness.

The area where we started was filled with people already. It was good people watching. There were people doing push ups. There was much personal grooming. That a large number of people still run in cotton socks was an interesting fact. After a final trip to the port-a-potties we headed to our start spot on the road. A lone bagpiper played nearby. Once in position, it wasn’t long before the national anthem was sung and the doves released. I’m not kidding. The gun fired and (3 minutes later) we were off. This is the point when you wonder how you got yourself into this again. Too late though, there’s only one way back home. Start running.

For the first couple of miles it was hard to settle into anything, and walk breaking was difficult for fear of being run down. But we did it. Patty took charge of calling ‘5 seconds’. In 5 seconds we’d try to find some road shoulder to walk on. Way before 60 seconds we were itching to start running. But we held steady. Slow now will get us there faster later. Don’t worry about the people running by. Stay on the plan.

We ran through redwoods towards the coast. Some kids were out now to watch us and the sun was out. It was already in the mid-60s and I’d started in just shorts and a t-shirt and never even begun to feel cold. I had a moment of thinking that was a little bad, but perhaps that should have worried me more. It was going to be hot. For now, it was perfect running, looking at the trees and the little streams and campgrounds or two nestled down in between trees. And the running was easy too, so life was good. But hold steady. Our pace settled into an 11:01-11:03 average. Perfectly on plan.

By mile 6 we’d cleared the trees and headed straight towards the coast and the Big Sur lighthouse perched atop a piece of marooned coastline. From there we curved north and started up along the coast. The road climbed slowly past cow fields with the Pacific ocean behind them. Cresting the hill we headed down to sea level and then onto the big climb: Hurricane Point. This hill was approximately 600ft up over 2 miles. It’s work, but it’s very doable and never gets too steep. Both of us felt strong the whole way up. At the top we stopped and posed for pictures (in hurricane force wind), the view was spectacular. People headed up the hill behind us, a trail of runners stretching along the coast in front of us.

Then started our way down. Easy on the quads. Easy. Easy. Easy. At the bottom was the famed bridge that is seen in many photos of the area. It was also 13.1 miles, halfway there. As we ran across the bridge a man was playing a baby grand piano.

Behind Patty the ocean was a deep deep blue. “This is Californian living,” said Patty, “this is why you moved here.” It was magical. And it was living.

We continued on. The next major hill I came too was the first sign of fatigue onset. It wasn’t too bad, but the climb up the Big Bad Boy had taken something out of me that I wasn’t going to get back before the end of the race. It was only going to get worse. The course became a fairly steady stream of climbing and dropping with little which you’d consider flat. Where there were hills, which is to say, everywhere, they had no name, but were still the equal of any heart break hill elsewhere. It was hard running. By mile 18 I was getting tired and my legs and I were having conversations. Our pace average had taken a hit on the big hill (with one mile in there taking 13 minutes), partially recovered on the following downhill (ran some nice sub-10 sections in there) and stabilized at about a 11:12 pace. All in all, the race to mile 20 was pretty good. Why don’t they make races 20 miles long?

I remember at the San Francisco marathon a pace group leader giving the following assessment of running a marathon: run the first 10 with your head (be smart, don’t go too hard), run the second 10 with your legs (it will get harder, use you legs to hold the pace), and run the last 6.2 with your heart. Not long after mile 20 I knew where she was coming from.

Around me the scenery was only more spectacular. Cliff sides we ran along were covered with flowers and dropped spectacularly into intimate little coves that you’d never see from a car. Sea gulls would soar by us against clear blue sky, while a we ran by a musician playing the harp. This is 80 or 90% of the experience of running Big Sur. The beauty of Big Sur far outweighs the challenge. And the two experiences become separate. While your legs can be saying lets stop. We’re done. Your mind can be saying “Hell no, this is living. Let’s keep going. This is fun.”

By mile 23 I was hurting on the uphills. I was tired, there wasn’t too much glycogen left, but largely it was this: I was very dehydrated. My HR was high and I unable to keep it down on the hills. Patty, we need to do 1 minute run, 1 minute walk, okay? What? My HR is 195! You know, like, as though I was sprinting the final 400 yards of a 5k, only we’re doing a 12 min/mile up a hill and there’s still 2 miles to go. I don’t want to blow up here. So we walk-ran up the last few hills and cruised down the final downhills. They still felt good.

Soon we crossed the Carmel bridge and headed into the finish line. People cheered. It was amazing. A life moment. Our chip time was 4 hours, 57 minutes. A 10 minute PR for the two of us.

One of the organizers shook my hand as he placed the hand crafted medal around my neck. “How was it?” he asked with such sincerity. “It was hard” I said. But I felt like it wasn’t a very good answer to his question. It was a momentous spiritual journey that I’ll never forget. And it was hard.

CONCLUSIONS

Well, I’m still digesting this. The race itself was a perfect race for me. We beat our expectations on all levels. Our second half was less than three minutes slower than the first half (and some of that was picture taking). Not quite Bart’s negative split, but I’ll take it.

But there were things to learn from it, as always. Here are some initial thoughts:

Water. Hydration was the big issue. By the time we finished it was in the high 80s. Under those conditions I know I need a lot of water. It seems likely I need more water than I can reasonably take in at an aid station. I either need to practice that, or I need to run with a bottle like I do in training. And then I need to think about sodium intake.

Food. The 100 calories (1 gel) every 45 minutes worked well.

Knees. My knee is still a problem, but my PT and I are working on that. After the race I had someone at the medical tent tape ice onto it. It was borderline annoying during the race approaching ‘pain’ in the final few miles. Ugly afterwards. Back to those exercises.

Walk/Run. This was the brave experiment of this marathon, and I think it works. It doesn’t sit right with me, but at this time and this place it made for a much better (and faster marathon). Being a slave to a watch is not fun either, but being in control of the outcome of your race is. Like they say: walk before you’re forced to.

Hills. Good technique down hills worked really well. The final hill we ran down was our fastest. After 5 hours our quads were still going strong (not as good today!) Something to take forward. We can always be stronger running up hills, but all our trail running certainly helped. We’ll get stronger.

All in all, we had a fantastic time. I haven’t even mentioned how well organized this is too. Everything was perfect for every aspect of this event. Like the half we ran last November this is a class act.

Big Sur, Marathons, Race reports, Running

On Saturday we ran our first race of the year, the Sequoia 30K. This was our first trail run with Pacific Coast Trail Runs. And what an experience it was.

BUILDUP

Our goal this year is to run a lot more trail races and a lot less road courses. When we are running down a road, some part of us is always wishing for a beautiful single track winding through the redwoods. But some part of us also knows that we’re not strong enough for the trail runs around here and the thousands of feet of steep elevation gain (and loss) they bring. It’s the former hikers and backpackers in us that love being on the trails.

Our lead up to this race was actually a build up for the Napa Valley Marathon. Since the half marathon in November last year we’ve increased our long run up to 20 miles and our weekly mileage peaked at 32 miles. We’ve run about 260 miles since then. It wasn’t ideal. There was the usual winter sickness. There was travel. There weren’t enough mid-week runs because work squeezed them out. But for us there was a good sustained set of miles stretching back to last October, and it’s nice to head into the year with as many miles as we have and being in probably the best shape of our lives.

A few weeks ago Patty and I talked about what our goals were as we felt ourselves being swept towards another road race (Napa Valley Marathon). We thought about what and when we enjoy running, and it’s always running in the hills which makes us happiest, so we scrapped the marathon plan (at least as a goal race), and set our sights on doing what we need to do to finish our first 50K ultra this year. The first step was to jump right in and see how these things work. That led us to this race, which is held practically in our backyard and on trails we’ve run many times.

RACE

We arrived early and picked up our bibs. Our friend Eric was there and we chatted a bit. He was running the 50K, us just the 30K (18.6 miles). There was little of the usual pre-race craziness, just people greeting old friends and getting ready to go. The lines for the bathroom were there, of course.

It was chilly, but I shed my long sleeve shirt and reluctantly discarded my fuzzy sweat pants. But soon we started and off heading out of the meadow and towards the first climb. From our back of the pack position, the field came almost to a halt as we were funneled into a narrow track that climbed up to Sequoia-Bayview. Most of those around us walked and so did we. In fact, we couldn’t have run if we wanted to. It was a road block.

At the top people started to settle into their pace on the gently uphill trail that is one of our favorite runs. Around us people chatted about if they were planning to do Western States this year, or this or the other ultra. Below us we could look across the bay towards a foggy San Francisco. In front of us the trail followed the hillside trying its hardest to stay level as it ducked into gullies of redwoods and trickling steams and then out again for bay area views. We crossed over Skyline Blvd (were a volunteer made sure everyone crossed okay), and arrived at the Moon Gate aid station. Being our first run of this type we checked out all the offerings, dug into some of the potatoes and I filled up my bottle and drank two cups of water. I knew it would take us close to 1.5 hours to get to the next aid station 7.3 miles away. With just a 20 oz bottle to work with, better top up!

From there we dove down into Redwood park towards the French Trail. It was just steep enough to fly down, and I was feeling strong at this point and didn’t need to brake much. Even cruising down as fast as I was we were caught by the 20K lead runners who flew by ‘on ya left!’. They had started after us. I tried to stay roughly to the right, but figured if they were going that fast into traffic while plummeting into the valley, they’d have to be the ones to make sure they were safe.

As soon as we hit the French trail (one of the nicest trails we know), we slowed down and started to power walk the steep parts and run the rest. People continued to pass us running the shorter distance, but mostly we’d found our place in the 30K field. I felt like the trail was more runnable than I remembered from training runs, but perhaps I would have felt better later if I’d not moved through this section as quick. At the time it was just fun and hard and beautiful.

At the end of the French trail we climbed up to the west ridge (walking), and then headed onto the out and back section for the 30K and 50K runners. This took us down a long hill section of fairly tight trail. Here we encounted the first of the lead runners running up the hill at full speed. Steve Stowers was headed for a 50K course record (at a 7:36 min/mile pace!) followed closely by Victor Ballesteros, who wasn’t going much slower. For the good runners, these hills clearly aren’t a problem like they are for us.

At the bottom we took Golden Spike trail into the main Redwood park area. Along the way we had to keep jumping off the trail for runners headed the other way. We greeted Scott Dunlap along here, whose blog I’ve read for the past year. We also ran into Eric who was placing well.

Eventually we made it to the mid-run aid station (at around 9.5M). I filled my bottle with cliff sports drink, drank another couple of cups, ate a cookie (which didn’t work too well), so went back for the potatoes and bananas. It did feel good to break the shot bloks with solid food. After that break we headed back the way we came. I was happy to see there was plenty of folks headed towards the aid station still, so my fear of us being the last one there hadn’t actually come true. Of course I didn’t really know how many of them were 30Kers.

We headed back to the hill where we’d seen the lead runners. It was our turn to head up. In my imagination, before the race, I thought maybe we’d maybe run this hill, and normally it was pretty runnable. It was long, but not horribly steep. But there was no way. We slipped into a power walk, which by the top was more of just a walk. Fatigue was setting in, and uphill progress had become painfully slow. I’d hit a wall. If I was on flat or heading down, I was beat-up, but okay. If I was going up then it had become a real struggle. My HR was high and my pace was slow and getting slower. Basically I was done, but I still had 4 miles left to run. I stopped and poured several rocks and small trees out of my shoes. It felt good to sit on the ground. Nice ground. Birds chirped happily. I noticed it was just warm enough in the shade for this kind of lazying around to be the ideal way to spend a Saturday. Then remembered I was in a race. Sigh.

The next couple of miles were great. They were all uphill. I loved it! Actually, they were pretty horrible. We walked a lot of the 500ft climb behind Roberts before arriving back at the West Ridge. I joked about being lapped by the lead 50Kers right as we were, in fact, lapped by the lead two 50Kers.

At this point I knew the climbing was basically done. We were back on a trail we’ve run dozens of times. Although I’d probably never felt so horrible any of those times, we knew the end was within our grasp. Patty took off, sensing the finish line was waiting for her. We stopped briefly back at the Moon Gate aid station and downed some more potatoes and other snacks, and for some reason I had my bottle filled. Then we were headed back across Skyline, back along Sequoia Bayview and then down down down. I did notice that when it came to some small uphills I did surprisingly better at running them than walking them. Perhaps I should have run more of the hills through the race?

Eventually the finish sign appeared over one last hill, a heard a couple of voices coming up behind me while Patty was 30ft ahead of me, clearly doing much better than I. I was pushing as hard as I could. My HR spiked up to 197, my GPS registered me at the break neck speed of a 10 min/mile! It was all I had. I crossed the finish line right on 4 hours and 15 minutes (about 75 people ahead of me, 25 people behind me). Patty finished 9th in her age group. I finished… well, lets just say I finished. We’d done it. And I was SO done.

CONCLUSION

• Trail runs are fun. And even when they aren’t fun, they are still beautiful.
• People were super friendly and this event was really well organized and marked. I had a great time!
• Hills, hills, hills: We need to incorporate hills, both running them and power walking them into our training. There was over 3000ft of elevation gain. Much of this was in short steep bits on ‘rolling’ trail. I see walking up and down Mt Diablo, Lyon steps, and Lovers Lane many times in my future if I want to improve at this.
• Water: I was somewhat dehydrated at the end, but about what I expected. I need to drink more if the race is going to be longer. I need at least 20 oz every hour. The distance between stations and our slowish pace meant I couldn’t get that much with one water bottle. I should think about running with two.
• Food: I stuck to my plan. I ate 100 calories in shot bloks before the race. I ate at the aid stations and liked the results. A ate 100 calories every 30 mins between aid stations (again, shot bloks). I drank 20 oz of sports drink between aid stations (Accelerade on the way out, Cliff on the way back). I don’t know if it was enough. It didn’t seem to be the problem, but perhaps more food would have helped.
• Strategy: I went through the French trail too hard as it turns out, but I was there for the lessons. I wasn’t going to run it as slow as I ran it in training, I already know I can do that. But running it as fast as I did burnt me out on the uphills. The lesson is probably that I need to train for that better. Train to power walk the really steep stuff and to run the moderate hills. And keep doing it for 32 miles!
• What gave out: apart from uphill muscles, my upper back was pretty sore especially walking up hills. I also got a couple of good blisters, but I’am retiring those shoes anyway. On the positive side, I felt like my hip flexors held out better than they have in the past, so maybe the core work is starting to pay off. My other known weak points also held out: my IT band twinged around mile 3, briefly signaling the end to my race. Then didn’t bother me the rest of the time. Outside foot and peronials also didn’t present a problem. A case of runners knee we’ve both had this past few weeks also didn’t present a problem.
• A couple of days later I’m a little sore in the quads and calves but in basically good shape. Yesterday afternoon I even went for a jog at the track. In some ways it was as hard as the marathon. Certainly the course was harder but the duration shorter. But I feel much better than I did after that.

So, our feet wet, we’ll be back for more. We’re still deciding if we want to run Napa Valley as a training run, or perhaps hold off a month and run the Big Sur Marathon. After that we have our eye on Pirate’s cove and then the East Bay Triple Challenge (Tilden Tough Ten 10M, Lake Chabot Trail Challenge 13.1M and Woodminster XC 9M), beyond that our goal ultra is the Skyline 50K.

Race reports, Trail Running

This weekend Patty and I ran the Christmas Relays at Lake Merced in San Francisco. Our running club put together 9 teams, each of 4 runners. Each runner completed one lap of the lake, about 4.5 miles.

On my team one runner couldn’t run because of a knee problem, so Ken stepped up to run two legs, each at a spectacular pace (sub 6 min/mile). My leg of the race went well and I held roughly my previous 5K pace for the 50% longer distance. Of course, that meant I was passed by a lot of people as the position Ken had put us in was totally out of my league. At one point I was running down a hill at just under 7 min/mile and people were flying by me on both sides like I wasn’t moving at all.

The course itself was tougher than I thought when I drove around it. There’s a hill at the start which you run too hard because it’s the start, then a lot of downhill with a lot of people moving faster than you. Here you fly, too fast. By the third mile it’s a slow uphill and the reality of how fast you ran the first two miles and how far it is still to go sets in. The final push to the finish also had a untimely hill. On top of that, the whole time you know there’s a guy standing at the finish waiting for you. That keeps it moving along. I finished my leg in about 39 mins. Our team was the second LMJS team to finish.

Anyway, a fun time was had by all. After the race Patty, Patrick and I ran around the lake again to keep our miles up. It was a little rough as Patty and I were thinking 12 min/mile and Patrick was thinking 10 min/mile. Oh well, the legs were already trashed from the race, so what did it matter.

Lake Merritt Joggers and Striders, Race reports, Running