"Have you been training for Comrades long?"
"My whole life".
Riding the taxi from the Durban airport (about 35 minutes outside of town), my taxi driver asked me about my training. I felt like as soon as I'd heard about Comrades (probably in the 80s when Salazar won it) I was intrigued. The more I heard, the more I was interesting. But the race always seemed like a distant, unattainable idea. 54 miles--so far. And how would I get the time and money to go to South Africa? This year, everything seemed to fall into place. After finishing North Face 50 Mile two years in a row, my boyfriend strongly urged me to enter. "you can do it". Work very generously allowed me to work remotely the week before the race so I had time to acclimate to ~14 time zone differences, along with a different climate. And I cleaned out my frequent flyer account to get there! I told my taxi driver I'd be happy to finish, and it would be great to go under 11 hours. He said "9 hours or don't bother". Wow. Everyone's a critic, huh? I said when he ran 9 hours, he could challenge me.
On race day morning, I left the hotel carrying my "tog bag" (change of clothes and shoes for the end of the race) and started following the streams of other athletes heading to the start line, about 8 blocks away. Halfway there, I realized I'd forgotten to take my allergy medicine. #$@#!!! I debated going on without it, but not having taken it had hurt me so much in windy polleny St Louis Marathon, where I'd barely eked out my qualifier time for Comrades. I dashed back to the hotel, and got the desk to cut me a new key, then dashed upstairs. No time now for a tog bag--I'd wear my sweaty clothes home.
More confident, I lined up at the back in the "H" corral. Every runner is seeded based on their qualifying time, from "A" all the way back to "H". I'd expected a mob scene like Chicago, with pushing and race officials slamming shut the corrals. Much more low key, and I even had time to go to the bathroom. The cruel irony of Comrades is the slower you are, the more it hurts you to be at the back. The race is a strict 12 hour cutoff, GUN to GUN. So if it takes the H group 15 minutes to cross the start line (as it had in other years), I actually would only have 11:45 to finish.
As the local anthems played, it was very hard for me not to cry. I was so happy to be at the start-even just getting here felt so special. I told myself "no tears, save the water".
5 AM was still pitch black, and I'd wondered how I would see. The first miles (KM?) were all on city streets and highways lit by highway lights. The biggest danger was dodging the black burlap overcoats that runners were discarding. Even at the early hour, the street was lined with cheering spectators. As we rolled out on the highway, spectators were over us at the overpasses. It was like a highway too in traffic jams and oscillations from runners in front slowing down. At this point, the course was still packed. I cut off a guy, and he snarled something in Africaaner at me that I couldn't understand, but it ended with a curt "Edith". We'd gotten bibs for front and back, and he was calling me out!
As soon as I hit the first uphill where I was working hard, I decided to walk. And run the downhills. And walk. To South Africans, the day was a cool day. Coming from foggy San Francisco, anything over 70 is considered a "scorcher". I wanted to get in miles before the sun rose and it got hot. When the sun did rise, it was anti-climatic, rising behind us. Just as I thought the whole race would be on a highway, we got off on an exit and started climbing local streets.
I hit the first waterstop, where I was confronted with "baggies" of water and Enerjade, and cups of Pepsi. The baggie was sealed--just bite and drink! Except for I'd gnaw for a bit, get a snootful of liquid sprayed on me, then drink.
At the expo the day before, I'd hovered over the 11 hour paceband or 11:30 paceband, before settling on the 11 hour. Up into 20 K, I was a bit ahead of it. I saw my first "buses"--large bands of runners, moving together. They are a combo of an organized club (with set leaders who chant the pace) and assorted hanger ons who decide to "climb on". They would sing songs in unison and gnerally, have a good time! I was a little ahead of an 11 hour bus, and feeling good.
Then we hit the first named hill, that without undulation went up and up. Nothing I hadn't done before in the Marin Headlands, but I wasn't even thinking about running. In terms of grade and length, comparable to Randall Trail in the Miwork. The buses would jog and walk. I stuck with walking, and got left behind. Both men and women were wearing outlandish costumes with feathers and crazy hats. I asked a women why she was dressed like this "So my friends can find me". True, with 15K starters, finding your friends was a challenge.
A nice stretch through a suburby area full of families "barbing", then another hill. Then I was pleasantly surprised that even on an "up" year there were still lovely downhill long stretches that I could cruise down. The other runners were so friendly, saying "Well done Edith" or "where are you from Edith"? Eventually I realized my bib color was different, signifying I was international, and runners might be extra friendly due to that. I'd started stashing two baggies in the perfect storage place--my sports bra! One of Energade, one of water, so I always had one handy for a thirsty uphill walk. Suddenly I felt very sticky from an Energade that burst and oozed down me. I tried to hose off with water, but was just hopeful there weren't bees around.
I kept seeing signs for "Valley of a Thousand Hills" which sounded ominously ugly. More beautiful up, more beautiful down, all so green and lovely it almost brought me to tears, though I needed the hydration. I thought of everyone who had helped to bring me to here, my aunt Carol who'd paced me at my qualifier at St Louis Marathon, my grandmothers who useda walker, my friends with injury, and I thought how lucky I was to get to experience such a grand run. Along this stretch, I saw the sad sight of two young child offering Enerjade--until I realized they were begging for Enerjade.
I crossed the hallway point about an hour before the cutoff, as the announcer helpfully pointed out that the winner had just finished (in ~5:35). Ok, I get it, I'm not running. Then there was the final big climb of Inchanga. I settled into a walk, debating whether my stomach was sloshy cause I was over hydrated or under hydrated. I felt a jot in my hand like an electro shock, like Greg had told me was a sign of dehydration. I fished out an Energade and drank it.
At the top, I was ready to run, but when I started I felt like absolute dogmeat and that the race was disintegrating. My foot had swelled, and my chip was cutting into my ankle with every step. My stomach still felt terrible. I spent a minute retying my shoes to a comfy tightness, then a 3 minute bathroom break. I drank an Energade. Ok, I was ready to go NOW!
Now I was in the "Drummond Flats", ~ 10 miles of rolling unshaded road. The 11 hour bus had passed while I was in the bathroom. I continued on, running the downs, walking the ups. When I was walking an up, a bus passed me. I expected the sign to say "11;15". The sign said "12 hours". Holy !##! I immediately tried to pick up the pace and managed to pass it back. I fell in with Sonnett, a four time finisher (as her bib said) "Why is the 12 hour bus sooo close? I thought I was on pace for 11:30!" "It's the under 12 hour bus, and it's the FAST 12 hour bus". Got it! I felt much better. Being on pace with a 4 time finisher made me feel much better.
This part of the race suited me--the long swoops reminded me of the rolling Marin trails, but with better footing. I kept passing and then repassing a cow. I finally asked "how many cows?" There were FOUR guys all dressed up like cows--I wasn't actually passing the same cow multiple times! On the long uphills, a sweep car would drive along, popping all the discarded enerjades.
Right around mile 40 I was sincerely wishing that the founder of Comrades had planned the race between two towns closer together than Pietzerburg and Durban. 54 miles? wouldn't 44 miles be more than enough? I'd run out of S-caps, and gagged down a truly horrible overly salted potato at the green mile cheering station at mile 43 (?) I was in a low contemplating the ten plus miles remaining when a college aged guy said exactly the right thing. "Go get your medal girl". YES. I'm GONNA GO GET MY MEDAL!!!
The rest of the race went by with me keeping an eye on my watch, trying to make sure I would beat the cutoff. I walked up Polly Shortts, then discovered I'd walked up "little" Polly Shorrtts (the mile before Polly). Determitedly, I strode on, past guys collapsed on the side, their race over.
Only 8 miles to go! At the beginning of the race, the thermometer style signs measuring down the kilometers had tormented me with how full they still looked. Suddenly, the kilometer "meter" looked very empty at 10K to go. Then my blisters popped with a jolt of liquid agony. OH NO. Was my race over??? I kept going, and the pain abated. If I had to hobble every step, I could still finish in time.
The air was hazy and the sun setting into my eyes. I could barely see, but I knew I was getting closer and started pushing. I could break 11:30! I started asking other runners "how long do we run in the stadium? How long is the lap"? I saw a stadium, and thought we were done, but we cruelly ran around that stadium. Suddenly I was on dirt in a cheering crowd. The stadium was DIRT! I was almost done! I was there!!! I heard people say USA and chanted USA! USA! I crossed the finish line and was so overcome and proud of myself I cried. Then I realized there was a camera and tried to smile for a good finish photo. Then I started crying again, so happy and surprised and thrilled and overcome. I had really done it. I had really, really, done it.
On my way to the international tent (run a race in South Africa, become a superstar!) another runner wanted their photo with me "because you're international". I posed for a few, then barely standing, went into the tent and watched the finish. Someone nicked my space blanket when I went to the bathroom, the bus line back was a 50 minute race, the bus itself was a two hour ride, and my left leg swelled alarmingly. None of it outweighed how happy I was.
The next day I limped down to the beach, a half mile, 20 minute walk for a quick salt water soak. Other blue shirted Comrades runners were there too, bouncing in the waves, and I joined the happy blue Comraderie.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Friday, May 20, 2011
Miwok 100k May 2011
Starting Miwok 100k at 5:40 AM wasn't as cold as expected, easy to get started, especially compared to the hail and wind fest of Pirates Cove 50K, which before the start I decided would be the Pirates Cove 30k a decision I didn't regret in overall terrible weather that day. Short line for women's room!
Saw Darshan at start, then quick dash cross beach! Bottleneck at beach, but not as bad as expected. Glad previewed course, I was ready for steep Conzelman climb. Greg lost his phone! at bathroom by Marin Visitor Center. I didn't see Chuck Wilson directing traffic, though Greg did. Chatted with Sandy, who said she was dropping at Pan Toll. Guy next to us said "Fast walk". Coastal around hostel more technical than expected (and poison oak), stopped to double tie shoes. Strong wind crossing back over the beach, but then back to Rodeo Beach to see Rick Gaston! I didn't realize he knew my name, but he said "go Edie". Greg was at the car, getting my phone so he could coordinate with his pacer. I grabbed an antacid and chugged my Gatorade. The car really was a perfect aid station, so I didn't go to the official aid station!
The climb up Hill 88 went by at a fast walk, then it was an easy float down into Tennessee Valley on Old Springs. Darshan passed me, then I passed him back. At Tennessee Valley I drank as much as I could and grabbed a handful of pretzels.
TV to Pan Toll was the longest section (8.9 miles) with two climbs. I'd glad I'd climbed Fox Trail the week before in hotter weather, the weather was actually cooler and more pleasant. Greg and I walked and chatted, then jogged a downhill before the final ascent up Coyote Ridge. Somehow I managed to lose my iPod!!! in taking it off to chat with Greg. Luckily, he had a spare one on him, so I was once again "tuned", though Greg's earholes are a different size than mine, so the earbuds kept falling out.
I prefer the new course--the climb up Coyote Ridge is steep, about 1,000 feet climbing, but after it, there's a nice 4 mile downhill on Miwok. This was all very runnable so I listened to my music and kept an eye on Greg in the distance. So far I'd been (roughly) on my pace chart. At Randall (34.5) the cutoff was 8:15, or 1:55. I'd planned to arrive at Randall at 1:40. I'd drifted about 7 minutes behind, but I still had 8 minutes, so wasn't concerned, but knew I couldn't dawdle. Again, my course previews helped me, I walked the steepest part of Deer Park, saving my energy for later. I looked at my watch, 10:20, and my chart had me getting to Pan Toll at 10:37. I picked up my pace, breaking into a jog. I could see Greg ahead of me on Cardiac hill and caught up with him, to his surprise. We were about 3/4 mile out of Pan Toll, and both of us were completely out of water. "C'mon, let's get to Pan Toll and get all our goodies!" We companionably ran together into Pan Toll, where Coach Ken was!
Coach Ken was a huge help. He knew how to fill my HydraPak, and got us in and out of there quickly. The aid station was hyper organized with the drop bags neatly arranged by race number, unlike the North Face races where Pan Toll is a confusing mess with 50 mile runners and 50K runners and their bags jostling for attention. I wanted to chat with him more, but there was NO TIME, we had to hustle the 13 miles to Randall in 2:20. We'd caught up to within 5 minutes of pace, but knew we still had to push.
I fell in behind Greg, and he set a good pace through the gentle forest shade of Coastal Trail, then out into the exposed single track. We kept passing people, which felt good. Greg turned around "I thought I lost you! I'm working hard!" "you're doing great, let's keep catching people" The miles went by quickly behind him, though he was not pleased I was keeping up with him. I stopped to tie my shoe and he put some distance between us, and I couldn't catch back up.
It was a beautiful clear day, with Stinson Lagoon laid out at our feet. The earlier fog had burned off, but it was still not as hot as the previous week. And now, the front runners were coming back, approximately 20 miles! ahead of me. Nathan Yanko was a cheery sight, and also Will Gotthart, who ran the Pirades Cove Soggy Aid Station. The highlight was a windblown Elvis (Ian Sharmian) stretching his legs.
I made it to Bolinas Aid station basically back on my chart, and decided to relax. There was no point in exhausting myself to get to mile 34.5! I took off my shoes and socks for the first time of the race and got all the crud out. An Oregon runner (Dave) fell into lock step with me, so much I called him my "shadow". He was worried about the cutoff, and said I was pulling him along. "nothing to worry about, we'll make it". The fire road was wide and shaded, and pleasant to run on. However, where was that darn gate where the 1.7 mile descent started? Right at 1:20 I got to the gate, and I knew the cutoff was mine. Other people pounded down, but I saved my quads and got there at 1:42. Greg! was leaving as I came in.
Dave (the Oregon runner) and I started the hike back up. At first, it was fun to see the runners come down and encourage them "it's close! you can do it!". Then I started to wonder if they would make it. At 1:54, about a half mile out, a girl ran by in tears. "I'd cry too if I missed it". A runner I'd flip flopped with earlier (in compression socks like me), knew she missed it but said to me "oh good, I'm glad YOU made it". Dave had done 7(?) 100s and said if I finished Miwok, I could do a hundred.
Greg was adjusting his pack at the gate at the top of the hill, and we started walking. "8 hours to do 26 miles…we can walk this in". This was perhaps, the absolute worst or the absolute best thing for Greg to say. All motivation to "push" left me, and I walked almost all of this section. "why push? why work hard? walking is fine…" Runner, including a blond lady and her tall boyfriend, passed me as I ambled along.
Greg picked up his pacer (Brian) at Bolinas, and I stopped at the portapotty for 3 minutes, then started off the potholed half-track. This was the ugliest section of trail, with bad footing and gopher holes. I saw Greg way off in the distance and thought "well, I'm not seeing him again". As always, I was happy I knew the trail. The condition got better, and much to my shock, I was bored of walking and WANTED to run. So I did. And all of a sudden I was right behind Greg and Brian again! My opinion was that Brian was pushing Greg too hard, as he would run for 100 feet, then walk. And I was catching up to his run! I passed him. He passed me. I passed him, and he tried to keep up, but I was having too much time running. We kissed goodbye, saying "see you at Pan Toll".
I really did feel better than I should. Running felt good, and I made myself walk the uphills.
I'd mentally divided the race into the tough first 20 miles (with four tough climbs), the "Bolinas Ridge Marathon" (the 27.8 miles out and back) and then the last 15 miles on the homestretch from Pan Toll to the YMCA finish. At Pan Toll, this was the last drop bag for 14 miles. I changed into my long sleeve, refilled my pack with scoobies, and grabbed my headlamp though it was still light at 5 pm. I started down Old Mine and my iPod had technical difficulties (repeating the track information over and over and over). I gave up on that one and switched to my spare after 4 minutes and 5 people passing me, the same people I'd worked to pass on the way INTO Pan Toll.
Here was my chance to rock down Deer Park! Except--I didn't much feel like rocking. All my energy from Coastal was gone. I mustered a light jog down the downhill. I'd hoped to do well on the 3 mile flats of Redwood, but all I could think about was how sad it was when Coach Ken thought he was running fast downhill at mile 80 of Headlands 100, when I could barely NOT pass him with a slow walk. Ok, ok, a walk is okay. I decided I might be low cal and started eating a scoobie every 5 minutes instead of 10. Also, I was at mile 49 of a race--maybe I'd earned the right to be tired?
Along Redwood a guy said I was at mile 51. Cool, I'd broken my 50 mile PR, as it was roughly 12:40 then, and my prior PR was 13:23.
At Muir Beach grabbed pretzels for the next to last climb. I HAD been low cal, I felt better with more cals in me, and even ran well down past Pirates Cove on Coastal. I wanted to run all of TV road, but decided again, not to push it. I had in the back of my head that I'd like to finish in 15 hours, but I ALSO didn't want to wreck myself--I'm running Comrades Marathon (87K) in 3 weeks. I was disappointed that there wasn't a Pirate at Pirates Cove, I'd heard in other years he came out there to chat with people.
The people at TV aid station were sweet. "How are you feeling"? "About as well as can be expected for having fun almost 60 miles. And I get the fun part, you guys do the hard work!" There were only 5 miles left…I knew I could do it!!! It was harder and harder to chew, my mouth was tired. I'd bite a scoobie with my front teeth, then swallow it whole.
Running down Miwok was awesome, the sun had set but I had just enough night vision that I picked off people ahead of me by their head lamps. I remembered Greg running up to meet me with Gatorade during a training run, a sweet memory. I barreled down the hill, and crossed the stables to find…a very poorly marked trail. It was completely dark, and there were painfully few glow sticks. A guy was adjusting one, and he said he'd come to set more. "Which way do I turn on the road after the trail?" I asked "no turn, stay on the trail".
Well….I stayed on the trail, along with a woman with a brighter headlamp who caught me. We got up to the road and turned right, and went about 5 minutes, without more glow sticks. I started to get very nervous. Where was the finish? Were we going the right way? I had an hour to get to the finish, was I going to get lost in the Headlands AND MISS THE CUTOFF?? I talked the woman into turning around to find someone else, which she did. We walked the 5 minutes back, and a New Zealand dude PULLED OUT A MAP (cool) and showed us we were on the right way. I stayed with him as we went into the finish. When I saw the finish line I started to pass him, but then decided it would be tacky to beat someone who'd stopped to help me!
I was done!!! 100K BABY BABY
Things I did right:
It really, really helped me to preview the trail. I knew the trails and the terrain.
The pace chart helped me. The tough climbs were budgeted for, but I also knew when (and where) to push it.
Coach Ken helped as an impromptu crew at Pan Toll
My drop bags had everything I wanted (long sleeve, snacks, extra salt, extra iPod, headlamp)
Running back to back runs on the course gave me a good feeling of how tired legs can keep going.
Compression socks protected my calves/shin from poison oak, and gave me a cool knee high tan
Things I wish I'd done better
I didn't preview the last mile! and psyched myself out in the dark
losing an iPod (sigh, trail casualty)
haven't figured out nutrition on such a long race. If I'm moving up to 100, have to eat more than scoobies and Gatorade
Relaxed and didn't push for "a better time"--I knew I would finish under the cutoff. If I didn't have another big race in May, I would have pushed harder.
Saw Darshan at start, then quick dash cross beach! Bottleneck at beach, but not as bad as expected. Glad previewed course, I was ready for steep Conzelman climb. Greg lost his phone! at bathroom by Marin Visitor Center. I didn't see Chuck Wilson directing traffic, though Greg did. Chatted with Sandy, who said she was dropping at Pan Toll. Guy next to us said "Fast walk". Coastal around hostel more technical than expected (and poison oak), stopped to double tie shoes. Strong wind crossing back over the beach, but then back to Rodeo Beach to see Rick Gaston! I didn't realize he knew my name, but he said "go Edie". Greg was at the car, getting my phone so he could coordinate with his pacer. I grabbed an antacid and chugged my Gatorade. The car really was a perfect aid station, so I didn't go to the official aid station!
The climb up Hill 88 went by at a fast walk, then it was an easy float down into Tennessee Valley on Old Springs. Darshan passed me, then I passed him back. At Tennessee Valley I drank as much as I could and grabbed a handful of pretzels.
TV to Pan Toll was the longest section (8.9 miles) with two climbs. I'd glad I'd climbed Fox Trail the week before in hotter weather, the weather was actually cooler and more pleasant. Greg and I walked and chatted, then jogged a downhill before the final ascent up Coyote Ridge. Somehow I managed to lose my iPod!!! in taking it off to chat with Greg. Luckily, he had a spare one on him, so I was once again "tuned", though Greg's earholes are a different size than mine, so the earbuds kept falling out.
I prefer the new course--the climb up Coyote Ridge is steep, about 1,000 feet climbing, but after it, there's a nice 4 mile downhill on Miwok. This was all very runnable so I listened to my music and kept an eye on Greg in the distance. So far I'd been (roughly) on my pace chart. At Randall (34.5) the cutoff was 8:15, or 1:55. I'd planned to arrive at Randall at 1:40. I'd drifted about 7 minutes behind, but I still had 8 minutes, so wasn't concerned, but knew I couldn't dawdle. Again, my course previews helped me, I walked the steepest part of Deer Park, saving my energy for later. I looked at my watch, 10:20, and my chart had me getting to Pan Toll at 10:37. I picked up my pace, breaking into a jog. I could see Greg ahead of me on Cardiac hill and caught up with him, to his surprise. We were about 3/4 mile out of Pan Toll, and both of us were completely out of water. "C'mon, let's get to Pan Toll and get all our goodies!" We companionably ran together into Pan Toll, where Coach Ken was!
Coach Ken was a huge help. He knew how to fill my HydraPak, and got us in and out of there quickly. The aid station was hyper organized with the drop bags neatly arranged by race number, unlike the North Face races where Pan Toll is a confusing mess with 50 mile runners and 50K runners and their bags jostling for attention. I wanted to chat with him more, but there was NO TIME, we had to hustle the 13 miles to Randall in 2:20. We'd caught up to within 5 minutes of pace, but knew we still had to push.
I fell in behind Greg, and he set a good pace through the gentle forest shade of Coastal Trail, then out into the exposed single track. We kept passing people, which felt good. Greg turned around "I thought I lost you! I'm working hard!" "you're doing great, let's keep catching people" The miles went by quickly behind him, though he was not pleased I was keeping up with him. I stopped to tie my shoe and he put some distance between us, and I couldn't catch back up.
It was a beautiful clear day, with Stinson Lagoon laid out at our feet. The earlier fog had burned off, but it was still not as hot as the previous week. And now, the front runners were coming back, approximately 20 miles! ahead of me. Nathan Yanko was a cheery sight, and also Will Gotthart, who ran the Pirades Cove Soggy Aid Station. The highlight was a windblown Elvis (Ian Sharmian) stretching his legs.
I made it to Bolinas Aid station basically back on my chart, and decided to relax. There was no point in exhausting myself to get to mile 34.5! I took off my shoes and socks for the first time of the race and got all the crud out. An Oregon runner (Dave) fell into lock step with me, so much I called him my "shadow". He was worried about the cutoff, and said I was pulling him along. "nothing to worry about, we'll make it". The fire road was wide and shaded, and pleasant to run on. However, where was that darn gate where the 1.7 mile descent started? Right at 1:20 I got to the gate, and I knew the cutoff was mine. Other people pounded down, but I saved my quads and got there at 1:42. Greg! was leaving as I came in.
Dave (the Oregon runner) and I started the hike back up. At first, it was fun to see the runners come down and encourage them "it's close! you can do it!". Then I started to wonder if they would make it. At 1:54, about a half mile out, a girl ran by in tears. "I'd cry too if I missed it". A runner I'd flip flopped with earlier (in compression socks like me), knew she missed it but said to me "oh good, I'm glad YOU made it". Dave had done 7(?) 100s and said if I finished Miwok, I could do a hundred.
Greg was adjusting his pack at the gate at the top of the hill, and we started walking. "8 hours to do 26 miles…we can walk this in". This was perhaps, the absolute worst or the absolute best thing for Greg to say. All motivation to "push" left me, and I walked almost all of this section. "why push? why work hard? walking is fine…" Runner, including a blond lady and her tall boyfriend, passed me as I ambled along.
Greg picked up his pacer (Brian) at Bolinas, and I stopped at the portapotty for 3 minutes, then started off the potholed half-track. This was the ugliest section of trail, with bad footing and gopher holes. I saw Greg way off in the distance and thought "well, I'm not seeing him again". As always, I was happy I knew the trail. The condition got better, and much to my shock, I was bored of walking and WANTED to run. So I did. And all of a sudden I was right behind Greg and Brian again! My opinion was that Brian was pushing Greg too hard, as he would run for 100 feet, then walk. And I was catching up to his run! I passed him. He passed me. I passed him, and he tried to keep up, but I was having too much time running. We kissed goodbye, saying "see you at Pan Toll".
I really did feel better than I should. Running felt good, and I made myself walk the uphills.
I'd mentally divided the race into the tough first 20 miles (with four tough climbs), the "Bolinas Ridge Marathon" (the 27.8 miles out and back) and then the last 15 miles on the homestretch from Pan Toll to the YMCA finish. At Pan Toll, this was the last drop bag for 14 miles. I changed into my long sleeve, refilled my pack with scoobies, and grabbed my headlamp though it was still light at 5 pm. I started down Old Mine and my iPod had technical difficulties (repeating the track information over and over and over). I gave up on that one and switched to my spare after 4 minutes and 5 people passing me, the same people I'd worked to pass on the way INTO Pan Toll.
Here was my chance to rock down Deer Park! Except--I didn't much feel like rocking. All my energy from Coastal was gone. I mustered a light jog down the downhill. I'd hoped to do well on the 3 mile flats of Redwood, but all I could think about was how sad it was when Coach Ken thought he was running fast downhill at mile 80 of Headlands 100, when I could barely NOT pass him with a slow walk. Ok, ok, a walk is okay. I decided I might be low cal and started eating a scoobie every 5 minutes instead of 10. Also, I was at mile 49 of a race--maybe I'd earned the right to be tired?
Along Redwood a guy said I was at mile 51. Cool, I'd broken my 50 mile PR, as it was roughly 12:40 then, and my prior PR was 13:23.
At Muir Beach grabbed pretzels for the next to last climb. I HAD been low cal, I felt better with more cals in me, and even ran well down past Pirates Cove on Coastal. I wanted to run all of TV road, but decided again, not to push it. I had in the back of my head that I'd like to finish in 15 hours, but I ALSO didn't want to wreck myself--I'm running Comrades Marathon (87K) in 3 weeks. I was disappointed that there wasn't a Pirate at Pirates Cove, I'd heard in other years he came out there to chat with people.
The people at TV aid station were sweet. "How are you feeling"? "About as well as can be expected for having fun almost 60 miles. And I get the fun part, you guys do the hard work!" There were only 5 miles left…I knew I could do it!!! It was harder and harder to chew, my mouth was tired. I'd bite a scoobie with my front teeth, then swallow it whole.
Running down Miwok was awesome, the sun had set but I had just enough night vision that I picked off people ahead of me by their head lamps. I remembered Greg running up to meet me with Gatorade during a training run, a sweet memory. I barreled down the hill, and crossed the stables to find…a very poorly marked trail. It was completely dark, and there were painfully few glow sticks. A guy was adjusting one, and he said he'd come to set more. "Which way do I turn on the road after the trail?" I asked "no turn, stay on the trail".
Well….I stayed on the trail, along with a woman with a brighter headlamp who caught me. We got up to the road and turned right, and went about 5 minutes, without more glow sticks. I started to get very nervous. Where was the finish? Were we going the right way? I had an hour to get to the finish, was I going to get lost in the Headlands AND MISS THE CUTOFF?? I talked the woman into turning around to find someone else, which she did. We walked the 5 minutes back, and a New Zealand dude PULLED OUT A MAP (cool) and showed us we were on the right way. I stayed with him as we went into the finish. When I saw the finish line I started to pass him, but then decided it would be tacky to beat someone who'd stopped to help me!
I was done!!! 100K BABY BABY
Things I did right:
It really, really helped me to preview the trail. I knew the trails and the terrain.
The pace chart helped me. The tough climbs were budgeted for, but I also knew when (and where) to push it.
Coach Ken helped as an impromptu crew at Pan Toll
My drop bags had everything I wanted (long sleeve, snacks, extra salt, extra iPod, headlamp)
Running back to back runs on the course gave me a good feeling of how tired legs can keep going.
Compression socks protected my calves/shin from poison oak, and gave me a cool knee high tan
Things I wish I'd done better
I didn't preview the last mile! and psyched myself out in the dark
losing an iPod (sigh, trail casualty)
haven't figured out nutrition on such a long race. If I'm moving up to 100, have to eat more than scoobies and Gatorade
Relaxed and didn't push for "a better time"--I knew I would finish under the cutoff. If I didn't have another big race in May, I would have pushed harder.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Ohlone 50K Race Report 2010
drove to the start of the race, and parked my car while I hung out a little before the start. The race director announced “runners, line up!” All I need to do is put on my shoes from the car. I can’t find the car though! I look and I look, and I hear the race starting without me. It’s okay, I’ll start a few minues late, all I need to do is find the car...but there’s a buzzing by my ear, louder and louder, distracting me from looking. Just got to turn off my alarm and go back to sleep so I can find my shoes. Uh-oh. Time to wake up. The missing shoes were a dream, and I need to drive to the start of the Ohlone 50K.
My friend Coach Ken had run Ohlone 50K last year, and he gave me two bits of advice from his own experience: 1) Be on time to the finish to catch the 6:45 AM bus to the start (he missed it) and 2) Pay attention to the cutoffs. At 5:30 AM I’m not the sharpest, and I leave my breakfast at home accidentally. I stop at Starbucks to pick up breakfast, and also have a trying to be quick gas stop. As I pull into Del Valle at 6:46, I see the buses heading out. UH-OH. As I pay, the park ranger asks me how many buses I saw go by “Four”. “That’s all there was”, he says. UH-OH. I am spared a meltdown by a kindly volunteer, Paul, who sees me parking and offers to drive me to the start in Fremont. Paul is the nicest possible guy, and saves the day from my own irresponsibility. I have a bunch of excuses as to why I missed the bus, but everyone else could have had the same excuses, and they were on the bus and I wasn’t. Lesson learned: Bus leaves exactly at 6:45 (if not a minute earlier). And Paul is a super nice guy! THANKS!
After some nervous standing around at the start with fellow Endurables Jen, Todd and Jorge, we started along a fireroad, then UP a big hill. Gillian Robinson chatted briefly with me (she’s running Western States & Badwater), then walked quicker up the hill. Actually, everyone seemed a little quicker than me up this hill. My plan was to take the first hill conservatively. However, I came to the sudden realization that I was absolutely DFL on the hike up Mission Peak. I looked behind me again. I was it! The advantage of being last is that everyone has trampled down all the grass, and I never wonder about where to go.
At the top of Mission Peak after a 2,000 foot climb, and I wished I had more time to enjoy the views. Down on a lovely shaded fire road, as I slowly started moving up the pack, running gently and calmly. I left the Sunol Aid Station at 10:25, with 20 minutes to spare. I started the climb up to Backpack feeling confident. I looked at my watch, and it was 11:20. Where had the time gone? I hustled into Backpack and left at 11:25, only 5 minutes ahead of the cutoff.
Then came the endless climb up to Rose Peak, all 3,500+ feet of it. I had ample time to reflex on why I thought this race was a good idea. I’d chosen this race to get out of my “comfort-zone” of mainly doing Pacific Coast Trail runs where I knew the trails so well. The course didn’t disappoint —views, views, views. Though I’d feared that I would get burned by being out in the sun, there was a surprisingly nice amount of shade. I just wished I had more time to sit and enjoy the views, instead of continued walking, walking, walking. I pondered that noone in the race had an Ohlone 50K shirt—many Skyline to the Seas and Way Too Cools, but noone in Ohlone 50Ks. Did people not COME BACK? Was I going to keep walking up the same hill for the next 2+ hours? (answer to second question is yes).
Finally, long after I had resigned myself to never getting to loll in the sun among the California Poppies like I wanted, I was finally at the lollipop course up to the top of Rose Peak. There was a guy at the top to give a bracelet proving you’d been to the top, then a short run down to the Maggie’s Half Acre Aid Station. Every aid station just had fantastic, fabulous volunteers. Coach Ken had given me advice to be more assertive with the aid stations—instead of stumbling around looking for what I wanted, to start calling out as I was coming in. Maybe the volunteers were more prepared (I’d heard that many were doing their service requirements for 100 mile races), or maybe it was me asking for what I wanted, but this went very well. As I came in I’d unscrew my bottles and say “Gatorade, Gatorade”, and a volunteer would grab it from me and fill it, and put the lid back. All the volunteers were cheery and looked super peppy in their tie dyed volunteer shorts.
I had all this energy for the last ten miles, but my pinky toes were hurting like crazy. I scampered past Chuck Wilson on an uphill, as all the caffeine from my PowerGels all seemed to hit at once. I’d tried two new things for this 50K—my new Sugui Verve shorts to stow all my snacks in, and my La Sportiva Fireblades. I’d run all my prior races in my trusty Nike Air Pegasus, but I had been trying out La Sportiva Fireblades for more traction. My little toes were squeezed. When I bent down to try to adjust the laces, I surprised myself by throwing up on my shoes (almost all Gu2). This was not so fun. And adjusting the shoes didn’t help, my toes still hurt on every down step. Chuck Wilson passed me back on the switchback single track like he was gliding on vegetation.
I was disappointed—I wanted to kick it in the last five miles and finish strong, and instead I was hobbling trying to avoid toe contact. I ran up the last little up hill, and finished just at 8:55. I’d met my pessimistic goal of 9 hours, but was far from my optimistic goal of 8 hours. I still had so much energy! Today, the day after the race, I walked the mile to Tartine Bakery to cheer myself up with a Sopressta sandwich.
Lessons learned
1. Sportiva FireBlades aren’t good for downhills (though who knows, maybe I would have had shoe issues with my trusty Pegasus—the downhills were so steep.
2. New Sugoi Verve shorts are great! http://www.rei.com/product/800181 They held 5 ounces of PowerGels in each back pocket, leaving me well fueled for a long race.
3. Ask the volunteers for what I want.
4. Leave more time for the bus—just because the Skyline to the Sea bus left 10 minutes late, don’t assume other buses will.
5. I can get by on one water bottle even on a hot day if I drink up at aid stations.
6. Volunteers have the most fun!
My friend Coach Ken had run Ohlone 50K last year, and he gave me two bits of advice from his own experience: 1) Be on time to the finish to catch the 6:45 AM bus to the start (he missed it) and 2) Pay attention to the cutoffs. At 5:30 AM I’m not the sharpest, and I leave my breakfast at home accidentally. I stop at Starbucks to pick up breakfast, and also have a trying to be quick gas stop. As I pull into Del Valle at 6:46, I see the buses heading out. UH-OH. As I pay, the park ranger asks me how many buses I saw go by “Four”. “That’s all there was”, he says. UH-OH. I am spared a meltdown by a kindly volunteer, Paul, who sees me parking and offers to drive me to the start in Fremont. Paul is the nicest possible guy, and saves the day from my own irresponsibility. I have a bunch of excuses as to why I missed the bus, but everyone else could have had the same excuses, and they were on the bus and I wasn’t. Lesson learned: Bus leaves exactly at 6:45 (if not a minute earlier). And Paul is a super nice guy! THANKS!
After some nervous standing around at the start with fellow Endurables Jen, Todd and Jorge, we started along a fireroad, then UP a big hill. Gillian Robinson chatted briefly with me (she’s running Western States & Badwater), then walked quicker up the hill. Actually, everyone seemed a little quicker than me up this hill. My plan was to take the first hill conservatively. However, I came to the sudden realization that I was absolutely DFL on the hike up Mission Peak. I looked behind me again. I was it! The advantage of being last is that everyone has trampled down all the grass, and I never wonder about where to go.
At the top of Mission Peak after a 2,000 foot climb, and I wished I had more time to enjoy the views. Down on a lovely shaded fire road, as I slowly started moving up the pack, running gently and calmly. I left the Sunol Aid Station at 10:25, with 20 minutes to spare. I started the climb up to Backpack feeling confident. I looked at my watch, and it was 11:20. Where had the time gone? I hustled into Backpack and left at 11:25, only 5 minutes ahead of the cutoff.
Then came the endless climb up to Rose Peak, all 3,500+ feet of it. I had ample time to reflex on why I thought this race was a good idea. I’d chosen this race to get out of my “comfort-zone” of mainly doing Pacific Coast Trail runs where I knew the trails so well. The course didn’t disappoint —views, views, views. Though I’d feared that I would get burned by being out in the sun, there was a surprisingly nice amount of shade. I just wished I had more time to sit and enjoy the views, instead of continued walking, walking, walking. I pondered that noone in the race had an Ohlone 50K shirt—many Skyline to the Seas and Way Too Cools, but noone in Ohlone 50Ks. Did people not COME BACK? Was I going to keep walking up the same hill for the next 2+ hours? (answer to second question is yes).
Finally, long after I had resigned myself to never getting to loll in the sun among the California Poppies like I wanted, I was finally at the lollipop course up to the top of Rose Peak. There was a guy at the top to give a bracelet proving you’d been to the top, then a short run down to the Maggie’s Half Acre Aid Station. Every aid station just had fantastic, fabulous volunteers. Coach Ken had given me advice to be more assertive with the aid stations—instead of stumbling around looking for what I wanted, to start calling out as I was coming in. Maybe the volunteers were more prepared (I’d heard that many were doing their service requirements for 100 mile races), or maybe it was me asking for what I wanted, but this went very well. As I came in I’d unscrew my bottles and say “Gatorade, Gatorade”, and a volunteer would grab it from me and fill it, and put the lid back. All the volunteers were cheery and looked super peppy in their tie dyed volunteer shorts.
I had all this energy for the last ten miles, but my pinky toes were hurting like crazy. I scampered past Chuck Wilson on an uphill, as all the caffeine from my PowerGels all seemed to hit at once. I’d tried two new things for this 50K—my new Sugui Verve shorts to stow all my snacks in, and my La Sportiva Fireblades. I’d run all my prior races in my trusty Nike Air Pegasus, but I had been trying out La Sportiva Fireblades for more traction. My little toes were squeezed. When I bent down to try to adjust the laces, I surprised myself by throwing up on my shoes (almost all Gu2). This was not so fun. And adjusting the shoes didn’t help, my toes still hurt on every down step. Chuck Wilson passed me back on the switchback single track like he was gliding on vegetation.
I was disappointed—I wanted to kick it in the last five miles and finish strong, and instead I was hobbling trying to avoid toe contact. I ran up the last little up hill, and finished just at 8:55. I’d met my pessimistic goal of 9 hours, but was far from my optimistic goal of 8 hours. I still had so much energy! Today, the day after the race, I walked the mile to Tartine Bakery to cheer myself up with a Sopressta sandwich.
Lessons learned
1. Sportiva FireBlades aren’t good for downhills (though who knows, maybe I would have had shoe issues with my trusty Pegasus—the downhills were so steep.
2. New Sugoi Verve shorts are great! http://www.rei.com/product/800181 They held 5 ounces of PowerGels in each back pocket, leaving me well fueled for a long race.
3. Ask the volunteers for what I want.
4. Leave more time for the bus—just because the Skyline to the Sea bus left 10 minutes late, don’t assume other buses will.
5. I can get by on one water bottle even on a hot day if I drink up at aid stations.
6. Volunteers have the most fun!
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