If you continue to move forward you will get there: TNF 50 miler

GPS data here: https://www.strava.com/activities/795572032

Johnny and Billy told me, in no uncertain terms, that I was to write a trip report for the 50 mile race that finally brought the west coast part of the WCAC together.  To be honest, Johnny and Billy could probably convince me to do many silly things through casual suggestion, so even though you were all there I will try to summarize some of the best and worst bits.  Maybe the most interesting part is what you do with your brain for that long, and I often fill it with other people’s words, mostly from poems1.  I’ll include a few that occupied my thoughts.

First off, I would like to thank the esteemed nutcase GG for making the 5AM race start seem like a completely rational proposition.  I have survived enough of his “morning” starts that absolute pre-dawn darkness for hours seems normal, and I even remembered fresh headlamp batteries. Johnny and Billy came to the start with me (they are also nutcases) and we all hung out in the dark for a bit before it was time to go, and I headed into the night as part of a huge pack of headlamps.

pre-race excitement, pc: Johnny

Mile 1: 7:08, -50ft (all elevation changes are net change during that mile)

Mile 2: 8:14, +245ft

Mile 3: 9:27, +425ft

The headlamps and the stars seemed to reflect one another, and in the dark you could sense the pacific churning out to the west. The Geminid meteor shower coincided with the race this year, and even with my headlamp on I saw three bright shooting stars.  I turned off my headlamp for a few steps to try and watch the show, almost fell, reluctantly turned it back on again, and had to content myself with the first lines of a Rilke poem2 that I half remembered, which is so good that I include it here in its entirety:

Do you remember still the falling stars

that like swift horses through the heavens raced

and suddenly leaped across the hurdles

of our wishes--do you recall? And we

did make so many! For there were countless numbers

of stars: each time we looked above we were

astounded by the swiftness of their daring play,

while in our hearts we felt safe and secure

watching these brilliant bodies disintegrate,

knowing somehow we had survived their fall.

Mile 4: 7:59, +24ft

Mile 5: 6:36, -550ft

Mile 6: 6:54, -154ft

Mile 7: 10:04, +430ft

Mile 8: 12:26, +501ft

Before the race I was wondering how to pace this distance, and had decided to treat the first half as if it weren’t a race, just a long, hilly run that would eventually get me through a lot of miles. My quads felt strange in this section, like they were made of jello, even though I shouldn’t be causing them any problems yet, and I tried to keep it relatively mellow and roll with the terrain. I held onto an idea from another poem3  as many runners passed me:

You need to move slowly,

methodically, never trying to finish early,

never even hoping that you'd be done sooner.

It's best if you work without thought of the

end.

Mile 9: 6:49, -346ft

Mile 10: 8:02, -446ft

Mile 11: 7:13, -79ft

Mile 12: 11:17, +537ft

Mile 13: 9:04, -25ft

Mile 14: 7:15, -594ft (down to Muir Beach)

As we swung back up onto the ridge again the sky started to take on a faint blush of color, and I knew that this run was about to move out of the dream state and into reality.  Anyone who runs with me regularly knows that I get excited about sunrises, and this one was no exception.  And as it got light I heard whooping and hollering and saw J&B!!  Seeing friends’ faces and watching the coastline appear out of the darkness felt like a blessing, and even though this sunrise would have scored poorly with BG I really enjoyed cruising the top of the hill in the new light and thinking of a few garbled lines from this poem4:

Would I love it this way if it could last

would I love it this way if it

were the whole sky the one heaven

or if I could believe that it belonged to me

a possession that was mine alone

or if I imagined that it noticed me

recognized me and may have come to see me

out of all the mornings that I never knew

and all those that I have forgotten

would I love it this way if I were somewhere else

or if I were younger for the first time

or if these very birds were not singing

or I could not hear them or see their trees

would I love it this way if I were in pain

red torment of body or gray void of grief

would I love it this way if I knew

that I would remember anything that is

here now anything anything

Sunrise!!!! PC: Johnny

Mile 15: 8:52, +70ft

Mile 16: 9:23, +150ft

Mile 17: 10:48, +346ft

Mile 18: 9:34, +322ft

Mile 19: 9:58, +329ft

Mile 20: 10:41, +206ft

After Muir Beach we began the longest climb of the day, up to the Cardiac Aid station, but this climb really didn’t bother me much because we were finally getting onto actual trails instead of the fire roads that made up most of the first and last 15 miles. I fell in with a couple of experienced looking guys who were comparing notes about other long races, and we chatted for a bit.  They said they were looking to run 8:30 total, and I was thinking that I should end up between 8 and 9 hours, and they were telling funny stories, so I considered attaching myself to them like a limpet, but I realized that I was feeling pretty good, especially on this climb, and I decided that I should keep on going past them, and see what else the race would serve up. This section was really nice, and even though it was all uphill it felt like we were making progress. It was starting to get warm, and I realized that I wasn’t really drinking enough, and probably not eating enough either.  The 8oz bottle I carried in my hand ended up being a little too small for the length of the race and the weather, even when supplemented with drinking at aid stations. Getting through Cardiac, and 20 miles, felt good-- I know how to run 30 miles in a day, that’s no big deal, and that was all that was left!

Mile 21: 9:45, +89ft

Mile 22: 9:27, +132ft

Mile 23: 10:02, +106ft

Mile 24: 8:11, -149ft

Mile 25: 9:02, +90ft

As we approached halfway I started to see more women in the race again, and realized that people were starting to slow down, though looking at my splits I was clearly slowing down too!  

I saw the Bolinas Lagoon below us and I realized that I had never been this far out on the headlands-- I wish I had pictures of this section because it just felt so classically Marin.  We were contouring along the side of the ridge on single-track in high grass with the ocean stretching out ahead of us. Unfortunately this single-track was also one of the few out-and-back sections of the course, and dealing with the runners headed towards us was kind of dicey.  Eventually we cruised through the turn-around 25-mile aid station, and I started to think that I would finish this race, as long as I didn’t screw up anything major.  I passed maybe four ladies between miles 20 and 30, and I was hoping I could keep moving up the field. I was also starting to get excited about seeing Kelz and C-dawg pretty soon.  Growing up The Little Prince5 was one of my favorite books, and I was reminded of when the prince becomes friends with the fox, and the fox teaches him how to be a friend, how to tame him:

The fox gazed at the little prince, for a long time.

"Please-- tame me!" he said.

"I want to, very much," the little prince replied. "But I have not much time. I have friends to discover, and a great many things to understand."

"One only understands the things that one tames," said the fox. "Men have no more time to understand anything. They buy things all ready made at the shops. But there is no shop anywhere where one can buy friendship, and so men have no friends any more . If you want a friend, tame me..."

"What must I do, to tame you?" asked the little prince.

"You must be very patient," replied the fox. "First you will sit down at a little distance from me-- like that-- in the grass...."

The next day the little prince came back.

"It would have been better to come back at the same hour," said the fox. "If, for example, you come at four o'clock in the afternoon, then at three o'clock I shall begin to be happy. I shall feel happier and happier as the hour advances. At four o'clock, I shall already be worrying and jumping about. I shall show you how happy I am! But if you come at just any time, I shall never know at what hour my heart is to be ready to greet you... One must observe the proper rites..."

Mile 26: 8:49, -126ft

Mile 27: 8:12, -344ft

Mile 28: 10:37, -746ft

Mile 29: 11:18, -448ft

This descent to Stinson Beach was fun until it became annoying.  We had slowly ground our way up for the better part of 10 miles, and then we dropped the elevation so fast, and with tricky footing, that it felt like we were cheated of the good part, and it beat the hell out of my legs.  I was trying to push the pace downhill because I think I’m getting better at moving my feet quickly, but I had my only fall of the day here, somewhere in mile 27 or 28.  I tripped headed downhill, I think over a stair (there were lots of them) and somehow managed to come down on my hands in a pushup position, so I did a burpee and popped up, and kept going downhill, but a bit more cautiously, thinking over one of my favorite first lines6:

Everyone forgets that Icarus also flew.

It’s the same when love comes to an end,

or the marriage fails and people say

they knew it was a mistake, that everybody

said it would never work. That she was

old enough to know better. But anything

worth doing is worth doing badly.

 

Mile 30: 11:11, +428ft

Mile 31: 15:40, +674ft

Mile 32: 10:53, -167ft

Mile 33: 9:45, -680ft

Mile 34: 11:37, -43ft

Mile 35: 16:37, +589ft

At the long-awaited Stinson Beach aid station there was a lot of excitement.  There was C-dawg looking ready to run and Kelz with a bag of useful things, the most useful of which was body glide.  That is a high quality product!  50 miles and almost no chafing, and when I body-glided the spots that were starting to rub they went away.  In my experience it doesn’t work as well in torrential rain, but otherwise I give it all the stars!!

C and I started to sprint out of the aid station, high on flat coke, and nearly got run over immediately.  Then, once we were free of the volunteers who had saved us we headed up stairs.  This stretch of the course was chock full of stairs, beautiful redwoods, and, as time would tell, poison oak.  It was slow going, and I regretted that we couldn’t move a little faster, but the woods were really lovely, and a certain poignant fondness for the California redwoods burbled up7:

I am looking at trees

they may be one of the things I will miss

most from the earth

Having company was grand, and we chatted our way up and down. We topped out on the ridge again to some great views, and C took a few pictures.

Runners leaving the Cardiac Aid Station, PC: C-dawg

Out over the headlands, PC: C-dawg

Mile 36: 9:36, -218ft

Mile 37: 9:06, -266ft

Mile 38: 9:31, -331ft

Mile 39: 8:04, -71ft

Mile 40: 8:12, -23ft

To be honest, I have no recollection of these miles.  The downhill footing must have been poor, since I was pretty slow through here. Probably there were more stairs?  I think the peanut butter incident8 may have occurred somewhere in here?  I remember being thirsty for quite a while?  Perhaps C remembers some of it.

Mile 41: 10:27, +133ft

Mile 42: 15:38, +648ft

Mile 43: 8:46, -477ft

Mile 44: 9:44, +14ft

Mile 45: 12:11, +495ft

Mile 41 and 42 were, hands down, the worst miles of the race.  There we were trudging slowly in full sun up this godforesaken coastal fireroad FOREVER.  It is as if the organizers had never heard of the lovely trails with switchbacks that I know are nearby. The most annoying part was that I felt OK, and I could have kept running, if it weren’t for the damn hill in my way.  I swore a lot. Sorry, C-dawg!  Near the top of the hill Billy jumped in with a lot of energy and promised that we were near the top, and that it wasn’t just another false summit. We finally topped out and began a joint crushing screaming fireroad descent into Tennessee Valley.  As we came toward the bottom of the Fox Trail hill a random spectator yelled out, “You can still go sub-8!”  For several miles I had not thought about time at all, but suddenly I realized that this race would end, eventually, and that sub-8 would sound pretty good!  

Near the top of the Coastal Fire Road, I think. PC: Chris Blagg

Now we had something to work on.  We came up a gentle hill toward the aid station moving decently, and got to give Kelz a hug before heading up one more big hill.  As we tried to run the ascent of Marincello, mostly failing, I felt like that sub-8 hours was slipping away, and suddenly I cared about it passionately, and wanted it so much, and just couldn’t quite convince my legs to care as much.  I think this and the coastal fireroad hill were the two parts of the race where I just needed to harden up a little more, and I didn’t, maybe because I was unsure of how much physical capital I could still spend.  Late in races the illusion of mind-body dualism becomes particularly strong, and I found myself thinking of these lines9:

Body my house

my horse my hound   

what will I do

when you are fallen

Where will I sleep   

How will I ride   

What will I hunt

Mile 46: 8:43, -105ft

Mile 47: 9:05, -74ft

Mile 48: 6:35, -513ft

Mile 49: 7:16, -89ft

Mile 50: 7:51, +34ft

At the top of Marincello, Billy guaranteed that there were no more significant hills, so I tried not to hold it against her as we hit small rollers that would leave me suddenly walking again.  None of them were long, and we began to smell the barn and pick up the pace.  I realized that I would make it, and it was just about trying to get under 8h now, which I thought would be a close thing.  I got Billy started singing on a tune we’d jammed to long ago10:

Well the moon is broken

And the sky is cracked

Come on up to the house

The only things that you can see

Is all that you lack

Come on up to the house

I actually apologized out loud to my quads before starting to bomb down the fireroad hills with abandon. Near the bottom of the last big hill we passed one more woman who was actually in the 50 mile race, and now I knew we had to keep moving!  As we came up towards the road I recognized the beginning of the race, and tried to keep the pace up, but I was tired.  It was a real boost to see Johnny and Kelz headed towards us, and we made a silly whooping hollering crew as we headed for the finish.  They all peeled off, and I ran down the grassy hill, finishing only 6 seconds ahead of the woman we had passed about 1.5 miles before the finish.  I hope she didn’t find us too obnoxious!!  I finished in 7:54:49, 13th place woman, 54th overall, surrounded by the WCAC and the California sunshine.  It was a very good place to be.  

After all of the normal finish line faff we walked down to the beach and tried to wade into the ocean to ice my legs, but the waves were quite big, and Billy and Johnny almost got washed out to sea.

Glad to be standing again.  At least I didn't fall in wearing Rab!! PC:C-dawg, who stayed dry

Then we sat around a fire in Stinson Beach and had beers, drove home while watching the sunset over the pacific, and ate Bal Daat in good company.  Anyone want to do it again next year?  I’ll even train for the hills.

Post-beer :-) PC: Billy

This is too long already, and I’m almost done, but this race had ups and downs (and more ups, and more downs), and though I am satisfied with the results I always want more-- a top 10 finish, a race where I run the whole time, the ability to access a higher heart rate on tough trails-- the whole thing is a process, as every runner knows.  But here’s one more set of lines11 that I’m enjoying while not running, and watching the snow fall here in Portland, and thinking about contentment.

from You Can’t Have It All

But you can have the fig tree and its fat leaves like clown hands

gloved with green...You can have the dream,

the dream of Egypt, the horses of Egypt and you riding in the hot sand.

You can have your grandfather sitting on the side of your bed,

at least for a while, you can have clouds and letters, the leaping

of distances, and Indian food with yellow sauce like sunrise.

You can’t count on grace to pick you out of a crowd

but here is your friend to teach you how to high jump,

how to throw yourself over the bar, backwards,

until you learn about love, about sweet surrender,

and here are periwinkles, buses that kneel, farms in the mind

as real as Africa. And when adulthood fails you,

you can still summon the memory of the black swan on the pond

of your childhood, the rye bread with peanut butter and bananas

your grandmother gave you while the rest of the family slept.

There is the voice you can still summon at will, like your mother’s,

it will always whisper, you can’t have it all,

but there is this.

Footnotes:

1. Some people find poetry pretentious-- I don’t mean it that way at all.  For me it is just very high content written expression, and so turning lines over and over in my mind is satisfying, and pretty simple to do while watching my feet and the landscape. It’s like having a song in your head, but without the tune.
2. Falling Stars by Rilke, translated by Albert Flemming
3. Putting in a Window by John Brantingham
4. The Morning by WS Merwin
5. By Antoine de Saint-Exupery, translated by Katherine Woods, I think
6. Falling and Flying by Jack Gilbert
7. Trees by WS Merwin
8. Wherein I tried to eat a packet of Justin’s peanut butter, which is one of my favorite trail foods, and discovered that the dry mouth I had been running with for the last two hours precluded swallowing anything as viscous as PB.  I drank the 3oz of water I had left in my flask and it did not help at all, and I thought I might die of peanut butter.  It was about three more miles to the aid station.  
9. Question by May Swenson
10. Come On Up To The House by Tom Waits
11. You Can’t Have It All by Barbara Ras