Over the course of my training for the San Diego 50 Miler
(my first legit ultra) I gradually began to wrap my head around the possibility
of running that far, and actually felt pretty confident during my peak training
weeks. I ran about a hundred miles over
an eight day span during Christmas break, and got a sense of what it must be
like to push on with tired legs. But in
the days leading up to last Saturday’s race, I just felt like a shell of
myself, distracted and anxious. It
seemed like it would be a miracle somehow to even get to the starting
line. But sure enough, after an eight
hour drive from the Bay Area to San Diego on Friday, with my two and
four-year-old boys in the back, some bad Mexican food in Oceanside for lunch,
and a slight wrong turn on the way to the race Saturday, I found myself picking
up my number and shirt at the registration table in a dark parking lot with
about forty-five minutes to go until race time.
We were staying with my brother Jay and his girlfriend Julia
whose own brother, Mark, was also running the race. He had completed a couple 50 milers before,
and his excitement on the drive over did a bit to dispel some of my own
anxiety. After we checked in, we went
back to Jay’s heated car and sat for a while.
I kept going over my gear to make sure I didn’t forget anything, and
miraculously, it seemed like everything was in order. Lesley would be meeting me at the 30-mile aid
station and the two after that, so I wasn’t going to use a drop bag. I generally never run with a hat, but after
Mark told me how exposed parts of the course would be, I began to regret not
having one. Fortunately Jay said he
would send one with Lesley, which turned out to be a lifesaver.
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| Mark and I are ready to go |
At about ten minutes to race time, everyone started leaving
the warmth of their cars and heading over to the starting line. After some brief instructions about trail
markings, and a bit of encouragement, we were off. The sun wasn’t up yet, but it was light
enough to see, and the outdoor temperature on Jay’s car said it was 38 degrees. I just had a short-sleeved shirt and shorts,
and carried my one hand-held water bottle.
Most of my big training runs were done on cold mornings, so it felt
perfect. My biggest fear in the
beginning was going out too fast and getting caught up in the moment, so I held
back for the first few miles up to Raptor Ridge, keeping an eye on my watch and
trying to stay between 9:00 and 9:30 miles.
At Raptor Ridge it felt great to be on some single track and to get some
climbing in, and I caught up with Mark and we chatted a bit. We both flew down the backside which might
have worried me a bit, but I’ve found that sometimes it takes less energy to
run fast downhill than slow. Going into
the first aid station, I kept to my plan of eating often and early, and grabbed
three quarter-cut peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and shoved them down my
throat. I didn’t want to spend much time
there so I raced out, leaving Mark behind.
For the next section of the race I tried to stay as relaxed
as possible and enjoy the moment. The
sun finally came up from behind the hills and I knew it would get hot
eventually, so I just tried to stay loose and cool. The course went through a dry riverbed
alongside strawberry fields at one point, but mostly through open chaparral. I brought my iPod and planned on listening to
it eventually, but wanted to see how far I could go without it. Eventually I heard the noise of I-15 and we hit
the second aid station. Sticking to my
plan I grabbed another three quarter-cut peanut butter and jelly sandwiches,
and even a chocolate chip cookie. I
decided to start using my Nuun tablets here, but decided to keep going without
the iPod. For the next fifteen miles, I
just settled into my run and tried not to worry too much about anything. I felt pretty confident with runs up to about
thirty miles in length, and figured I’d have plenty of time to deal with
anything that might come up. I chatted a
bit with a few people and it was nice to reach Lake Hodges. But I kept thinking about how exposed the
trail was, knowing that eventually the sun would be a factor.
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| Hi Five From Lucas at mile 30 |
I felt good at the turnaround and dumped some water over my
head, but I knew that I was entering the unknown, that stretch of running that
had initially made ultras seem so intriguing, but mostly because of the fact
that it had seemed impossible to go that much further past a marathon. There was a bit of climbing after the
turnaround and I decided to power-hike most of it to conserve energy. I was actually behind someone who was running
and we were going about the same speed, so it seemed like a good choice. But this was my first bit of walking, and in
a way it snapped me out of the trance of running. I saw Mark after a mile or two and he
reminded me to take salt capsules at the aid stations. I put my iPod on at about 28 miles, and just
thought about how great it would be to see Lesley at the next aid station. But the heat was really starting to bother
me, and my plan to eat early and often now seemed like a poor choice because my
stomach was starting to bother me. When
I reached the aid station, I first saw Lucas, my four-year-old, then
Lesley. Jay, my brother, was holding
Evan, our two-year-old, and Jay’s girlfriend Julia was there too. It was definitely a lift, but a bit of a
struggle to leave and head back out into the sun. Lesley had brought Jay’s running hat though,
which made a huge difference, and has made me wonder why I had never run with a
hat before.
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| Shuffling away from the 35 mile aid station |
The next twelve miles or so were a struggle, and the wheels
fell off a bit. In preparation for this
run, I had read about “bad patches” and how runners can get through them and
actually feel better. But given my
experiences in marathons, where you feel bad with a few miles left and gut it
out till the end, it seemed unlikely. At
this point though I was really hoping there was some truth to it. The stretch between miles thirty and forty
were flat and exposed. I thought maybe I
could distract myself with music, but this was some real suffering – although I
guess all suffering is relative, and this was definitely self-imposed. My stomach hurt and even today a week later,
the thought of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich makes me a bit nauseas. I began walking some stretches of the flats
and told myself if I could just make it to I-15, the forty-mile aid station, I
could walk it in if I really had to. I
definitely vowed during this time to never run another ultra (but was looking
for another 50 on the internet the next day).
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| I actually thought I was smiling here |
A couple things helped me through my bad patch. The first were ginger candies, which Lesley
loaded me up with at the forty mile aid station, and instantly helped my
stomach problems. The second was ice in
my running hat, which would last about five miles until the next aid
station. Of course I should mention my
crew, Lesley, who got me everything I needed, reminded me when I had already
taken a salt tablet, and got me back on the trail. But the two people that really snapped me out
of it were Dr. Dre and Snoop Dogg. I was
walking out of the forty mile aid station swallowing masticated pretzels like
pills to keep getting calories when “Nothin’ but a G Thang” came up on my
iPod. I needed to get kind of fired up
at this point to bring it home, so I started rapping along with Snoop and Dre
along the bicycle path by I-15. The more
I rapped the more I felt like a true G, so I threw some arm movements into it,
not really caring when I passed people out for a Sunday bicycle ride – I guess
I must have looked like some salt stained, running freak yelling some
unfortunate lines about women, but I figured the fact that I was wearing a bib
gave me a bit of a license to be a weirdo.
The song got me going, and I started walking less, knowing I just had to
make it to the next aid station. Things
were pretty spread out at this point in the race, but I passed a couple people
and we traded encouragements to get through the shared voluntary suffering.
My tank was empty when I got to the last aid station before
Raptor Ridge, and I leaned on the table for a minute, eating some watermelon
and trying to get some Coke in for the caffeine and sugar to get me home. When I left the aid station and started up
Raptor Ridge, a Pixies cover of the Warren Zevon song “Ain’t That Pretty at
All” came on, which seemed perfect for my state of being at that moment, so I
shouted the chorus as I got up the hill.
On the backside of the hill, I found I could run, or shuffle, but
whatever it was, it was continuous, and even though I promised myself some
walking breaks, I didn’t really walk much at all. The closer I got, the more I felt the excitement
swell up within, and I had a minor emotional breakdown when I saw the cars of
the parking lot through the trees. But I
kept it under control, and just enjoyed the moment as I ran in to my family and
was able to finally stop. My time was
8:45:19, I came in 16th overall, but most importantly I finished
something that I previously thought impossible.
The world really begins to open up at such moments in life.
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| Pure Joy! |
For now I focus on the Boston and Big Sur marathons in
April, but Lesley and I have tentatively planned on teaming up for the Dirty
Dozen twelve hour race in Pinole in July.
We figure she could probably run about three hours and I should be able
to do nine, but my personal goal would be to see if I can go beyond 50. After that, who knows? Road marathons don't quite have the same
appeal anymore, although I am looking forward to Boston and Big Sur. A 100-mile race seems awesome in theory, but
impossible to wrap my head around, but I remember when a 50 felt the same way.
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