Home is where the heart is....

Running in the suburbs in north Texas may not be as glamorous as running in areas with more elevation, but while we are "vertically challenged", there are definitely some things that I would consider to be benefits. One is that one is always relatively near an aid station/bathroom (a.k.a. gas station). Whether because this is the heart of oil country or because everyone around here seems to drive a vehicle that gets approximately 7 miles per gallon, it's hard to miss our abundance of service stations. Some are the size of small grocery stores and come in quite handy when one needs to make a pit stop and perhaps indulge a craving for spiced beef jerky. Another benefit of being a suburban runner is that there are usually other people around to give and receive greetings. Trails are often populated with other runners, walkers, dog walkers, folks on bikes, and young parents wheeling young children in strollers. For whatever reason it gives me a great deal of energy just being around other people when I am heading out for a run as friendly faces make the miles seem to fly by. And an added bonus to living here is the general lack of mountain lions (although residents should be careful because, well, you never know).  

The running scene in these parts is also remarkably diverse. When trying to describe it to someone the best way to put it is that there is literally something for everyone. Runners fill the spectrum of races from the 5k up to marathons and beyond. On a few of my runs of late I have considered what a benefit it is to have so many different kinds of people from whom one can draw inspiration. Showing up to a local race and seeing hundreds if not a couple thousand runners toeing the line, each with their own goals and ambitions, hopes, and dreams is a wonderful testament to the sport I love so much. Whether these athletes know it or not it also serves as inspiration to so many others who may not quite be there yet but are trying their hardest to make a dream become reality. 

I've had the good fortune to be around folks who get the chance to live their dream. I've seen it happen at a 5k's, marathons, and even at 100 milers. The one thing that I found that all of these amazing and inspirational people have in common is that one day they made a decision. They decided to act - to take a risk, to make a plan, and to get it done. Some overcame tremendous adversity. All worked very hard. And in the end, they were able to achieve something very special that no one will ever be able to take from them. I know it's not exclusively a "Texan" thing, but there's a certain sense of pride down here that goes along with getting the job done. 

I know there are stories like this in cities and towns across the country, but I love my little corner of the world. The people here inspire me and encourage me. I meet new friends out on the roads and trails on what almost seems like a daily basis. There's beauty here and it's not just in nature (although there is plenty of that). So I guess rocking the suburbs isn't all that bad. What it lacks in glamour (and mountain lions) it makes up for in other areas - if you know where to look. (Hint: check the trails!)

Tick Tock

When I was young I always enjoyed the every-so-often family get-together. It would usually take place at a relative's house (there seemed to be some sort of a rotation at play). Local family members would come together on a special occasion and celebrate with food, various activities, socialize, and if you were lucky enough to have the event at someone's house with a pool, you'd swim yourself into a stupor. Every few years we would have a coming together of family from various points on the map. Sometimes that would take place in Texas, my home at the time, or in another port of call home to more distant relatives. My memories of these special times are limited to mental snapshots - sort of a historical Instagram that exists only in my mind.

As the years have passed the elders of my family have either moved on or passed on. The get-togethers have become more sporadic as distances and life changes have kept my generation from making the time that previous generations made for each other. (Could this be a technology thing? Facebook making the family reunion obsolete? Something to ponder.) Whether or not this is a good thing I don't know. Yet in whatever way we are able, we do keep up with one another and exchange the family news of the day.

The thing about time is that it never stands still. It continues on. In those days, my parents and their siblings were the age that I am now. The time has gone by so quickly that it's almost difficult to process how I came to this point. It is almost a universal sentiment that time seemingly flies by faster as you age and I have certainly noticed this to be true. The recent passings of my mother-in-law and a coworker have only crystallized my thoughts that our lives are fleeting. I heard someone use the phrase "the ending is nearer than you think." I do not think this is a call to despair, rather a reminder. There is an end to our story - but right now it is still being written. 

As I mourn the passing of relatives who have moved on, I also celebrate the birth of the next generations. I look with profound joy as others start their own families and welcome children into our extended family. I hope I get the chance to meet them all! And who knows, maybe there's even a future trail runner or 2 in there somewhere....

Miwok 100k Video

John Paul Lacroix, a fellow participant in the Miwok 100k, shot some footage of the race and uploaded it for all to enjoy. He did a fantastic job. He really captured the beauty of the race, and picked a great song to go with it.

Gratitude

Today's schedule presented me with a recovery run, an easy day that keeps my heart rate low and allows me to get a few miles in while still allowing my muscles to recover from a harder workout yesterday (a 9 mile higher tempo run). I am still in a recovery cycle from my last race a couple weeks ago so in general my mileage is low and I am trying not to push too hard. It's going very well. I feel great and I'm starting to feel some bounce in my legs again as the miles begin to come effortlessly.

Since we have been blessed with unseasonably cool weather, particularly in the morning, my last couple runs have been very pleasant. I've had the chance to reconnect with a couple of my local running clubs and spend time touching base with friends. Today's run was a solo effort and gave me the chance to reflect on where I am today. My thoughts also drifted to where I want to go. I have set some pretty lofty goals for the next several months and years involving events large (Boston Marathon) and small (a local 5k), epic (the Tejas Trails 300) and very ambitious (the Ultra Grand Slam and UTMB). Hey, I dream big.  

But even with all of that, in the midst of my daydreaming, the word that came to mind today was grateful. Grateful for the ability to get out every day and enjoy this amazing sport. Grateful for the health that allows me to travel long distances on foot. Grateful for a family that supports my particular brand of lunacy. Grateful for friends that offer support, advice, and a listening ear. 

Today I was grateful to be able to lace them up, to dream big, and enjoy an easy run at home on a cool spring morning. It's a simple thing to be sure. But sometimes the simplest things are the best.

Running Shoes Sketch by DanDantheArtMan

A Risky Proposition?

Little Creek in the Gila Wilderness, near Silver City, N.M. (nytimes.com)

Almost as predictably as the blooming of spring wildflowers, as the weather begins to warm and folks begin to journey outside again, we runners are treated to a slew of articles and publications whose sole [sic] purpose is to try to save us from ourselves. I believe the intentions of the authors are, in general, good. Occurrences of runners who die while running, while rare, are well-documented. Less well-documented but seemingly more substantiated by anecdotal evidence are the stories of folks who suffer from sore knees/backs/legs/ankles/etc as a result of having run at some point in their lives. While there is much to be said about proper training and it's effect on running injuries, I will save that for a future post.

To cut to the heart of the matter, many suggest "why bother?" If running could be risky, then why do it at all? Or if you must run (for fitness, training for another sport or - perish the thought, because you enjoy it) then should one not limit it to very small doses spread out over several days or weeks, thus to offset any potential damage that the body suffers from the act?

I think there are a couple of different ways of looking at it. Yes, people have died while running. Famous examples include Jim Fixx, Ryan Shay, and Micah True to name a few. It happens. It is tragic and causes us all to pause and reflect. But does it mean we should stop pushing ourselves?

Micah True - "Caballo Blanco" - one of my running heroes. (Photo by Max Cunha.)

I suppose we could play it safe. That might even be the prudent approach. But I believe that sometimes the call of the heart is so strong that it must take precedence over what is practical. Think about it. Was any great human achievement ever accomplished by someone "playing it safe"? Greatness is also a relative concept. For some, individual greatness is achieved by winning an Olympic medal in the marathon. For others, it is finishing a local 5K. For still others it is challenging the mind and body to move continuously over 50, 62, or 100 miles (or more). Such accomplishments, each in their own way, are inspirational. They remind us that we can be better and encourage us to step out of our comfort zones. And isn't that what living is all about?

My other thought on the subject is somewhat more solemn. The fact of the matter is that none of us gets out of here alive. I am a big believer in playing the odds. Living a healthy lifestyle, making careful choices about what I eat, what I do, remaining very active, and following all the "rules" do not in fact guarantee me (or anyone else) anything. I have a finite time in which to live, to love, to explore, and to do the things that I enjoy. There is no greater joy in my life, aside from spending time with my family, than to be outdoors - exploring trails, climbing mountains, chasing my dreams...and I am grateful that running has allowed me to go places and do things I could not have imagined when I began running many years ago. I know that for me and for so many others running isn't just about fitness. It's not something we do to control our blood pressure or help prevent diabetes. We do it because it's what we love to do. Someone once said "people don't climb mountains for fitness." I think there's a lot of truth in that statement. Should my life span somehow become shortened because of the adventures and the experiences that I enjoy now then I would accept that trade-off. Gladly. (But I hope that is not the case!)

I would also suggest that the world needs runners these days. It needs the examples of folks who can unplug for a while, untangle themselves from daily duties, and for whatever period of time their heart desires, just go "run around." To get some fresh air, enjoy the accomplishment of running a race or a group run, and share experiences with others is becoming a lost art in an increasingly busy world. 

I look forward to allowing my thoughts to evolve on this subject as I become a more proficient and experienced trail and ultra-distance runner. I have a lot of time out on the trails to think! Who knows what the future has in store? But for now I will continue to lace them up and look forward to joining my friends on the trails. Because that's who I am, and that's what I do.

  

2014 Miwok 100k Race Report - Part II

Jump to part one here.

The cliffs above Pirate's Cove, overlooking the Pacific Ocean.

The 2014 Miwok 100k course can be thought of in 2 distinct parts. The first 50k begins at Stinson Beach, climbs 1800' in the first 2 miles, then tracks 11 miles out across grassy hillsides and through redwood forests to the Randall Trail aid station. The course then heads back through the forest and across the hills along the same route to the Cardiac aid station (basically above Stinson) and finishes with a 5 mile descent to Muir Beach. The second 50k is sort of a figure 8 that begins at Muir Beach, extends out through Tennessee Valley, loops around Rodeo Valley, back to Tennessee Valley, Muir Beach, Cardiac, then finishes at Stinson. A full map of the course can be found here. 

I finished the first half of the race a little tired but determined. I had just checked in at Muir Beach, compared notes with Michelle, and was about to begin the next long, slow climb. Michelle had located a prime parking spot at the busy beachfront and had planned on remaining there and waiting for my return trip through this aid station later in the day. The next aid station would be less accessible so it made sense for her to wait there - plus, she would get to spend some time on the beach. For someone who loves the ocean as much as she does the location of this aid station was perfect for her! It was a great place to hang out, people watch, and just enjoy the day. It was a little too cold to swim - for us, anyway. (The locals were not deterred by the cooler temperatures!)

Life's a beach for the crew chief!

My day was quickly becoming anything but a day at the beach. I had left the aid station and was moving slowly up the next steep grade. I had convinced myself earlier in the day that the first climb out of Stinson would be the toughest. "It's all downhill from here!" Well, not so much. I was slowed to a hike as the trail wound up and around a series of open hillsides surrounded by a variety of small plants, shrubs and grasses. One thing I will say for this climb is that the smaller fauna along the trail allowed for some incredible views of the surrounding mountains and the bay off in the distance. The terrain was not technical so footing was not an issue but I was becoming a little frustrated with my inability to handle the climbs. Occasionally a runner would pass me (yes, some people actually ran up this hill; parts of it, anyway) but I kept my pace slow and steady. 

When I finally crested the hill I was once again awestruck by the view from the top. If there is one thing that this course offered it was amazing views that would quickly take my mind off of my sore and burning quads and hamstrings. I may sound like a broken record but being in this place was an experience I will never forget, and I was thankful that the weather cooperated and allowed me to fully appreciate the majesty of these hills and mountains.

The scene began to change again as I descended into Tennessee Valley. The trail brought me down along a dirt path that ended at a road that I thought would be the next aid station; however, this was not the case. I was directed to make a sharp right turn and along a 2-lane country road for around a half mile or so before turning on to what appeared to be a freshly mowed farm field. I thought I had made a mistake - this didn't look like a mountain trail at all! The ribbons on the trees pulled me onward but I was still a little hesitant. I hadn't seen any other runners in a while and at this point in the day I was not particularly interested in venturing too far off course. The trail went through some woods, across a couple of sleepy streams, and brought me to the next aid station - Tennessee Valley, Mile 36.5.

Following the ribbons!!

Over the river and through the woods......

Crews lounging at the laid-back Tennessee Valley Aid Station.

Tennessee Valley was tucked away between rolling hills, horse ranches and organic farms. The atmosphere was laid back and a number of other runners had chosen this point to regroup. Drop bags and crews would be here to provide sustenance and support and the volunteers were eager to help at every turn. We were now about 37 miles in. The preceding few miles had been flat and runnable so I felt pretty good as I cruised in. Michelle surprised me again, as I had not expected to see her until the return trip to Muir Beach. It was another welcome surprise! It turned out that the drive between the aid stations was not that far so she came over to Tennessee Valley. I was so glad she did! I chose to rest for a few minutes at this aid station, taking some time to eat and catch my breath - and I was not alone in this decision. A number of runners were using Tennessee Valley to take inventory of how they felt, what they needed, and to discuss the race (where they had been, where they were going) with crew members, friends and family. I talked to Michelle about the last few miles and the difficult climb out of Muir Beach. Her response was, "Well, I hate to be the one to break this to you, but wait until you see what's in store after you leave here." It was great to have a crew chief who would offer support but still tell it like it is!

It was time to get moving again. Since the next couple miles were uphill again, and I would be hiking anyway, I grabbed a little extra food for the road. 

Climbing out of Tennessee Valley.

The trail at the top of the climb.

At the top of this hill was a tree-lined path that opened up into more climbing and descending. The hills were steep but short. The trails were now solidly dirt and rock and there was little vegetation aside from low-lying brush and weeds. The number of day hikers had also greatly increased. I was asked more than once what we were doing out here and what race we were running. Since I wasn't "running" at that time (like I said, uphill...) I was able to briefly explain what was going on. I am not sure that I was the best ambassador for the sport however. I wasn't in a particularly sunny mood going through that stretch and I hope I was able to at least muster a smile and a cogent enough answer to portray my fellow runners and I in a positive light, as opposed to looking like a group of trail-crazed wackos who needed professional help! 

The next dozen or so miles were kind of a blur for me. The composition of the trail remained dirt as we cruised along the tops of several hills. We passed through an aid station, Bridge View, at mile 41. I stopped to douse my head with water (the temperatures had picked up considerably and there wasn't any cover) before grabbing some food and heading out. As we descended into Rodeo Valley I could really feel soreness in my back and legs from the pounding my quads had taken all day. We were now squarely in the middle of the day and my focus was to keep shuffling. If I could not run, just keep shuffling. I had 7 miles to go to finish this loop and get back to the Tennessee Valley aid station. 

Before descending into Rodeo Valley we were treated to this amazing sight - looking down on the Golden Gate Bridge and downtown San Francisco.

                         "If you're going through hell, keep going." - Winston Churchill

I reached the valley floor and cruised for a mile or 2 on a flat stretch that led to another very long climb. It was at this point that despair began to creep in. I was around 45 miles in, heading uphill again for who knows how long, on legs that felt like lead. Other runners were passing me now with more regularity and I was feeling lost. I began to question my training, my nutrition, and why the hell I was even out here in the first place. Try as I might I could not clear my mind of the thought that I still had almost 20 miles to go. The only thing that kept me going was knowing that Michelle was on the other side of this damn hill waiting for me. I questioned my own inner strength and whether I could push myself on to get there. Did I have what it takes to finish this race? Am I mentally strong enough to get through a mountain race? Doubt can ruin your day just as decisively as any physical injury. I tried to push through and just get to the top of the hill. 

I finally made it to the top and was able to take some shade under the trees. My relief was short lived however as additional climbs lay between me and Tennessee Valley. I continued my pattern of shuffling the flats and hiking the ups. I crested the top of the hill and looked down - WAY down - into Tennessee Valley. I was about 1.5 miles from the aid station. I could see it directly below me. I thought now all I have to do is get down there!

I actually felt strong on this descent and was able to make relatively good time into the aid station. I saw Michelle there and took a few minutes to sit at a picnic table and talk to some of the other runners and crew members. I still felt good from my descent so I didn't want to linger for too long. Michelle filled my water bottles and kept me company while I "powered up". I felt that making it this far practically sealed the deal - I had made it to mile 49! Only 13 to go! I could do that (or so I told myself). Plus there was another aid station only 5 miles away when I would pass back through Muir Beach. I was running very well and thought I had it. Whatever hills were left, bring it on! Michelle and I agreed that she would head to the finish line at Stinson and await me there. I charged out of the aid station and down the road.

I was humbled in a hurry when I turned a corner and saw this:

This one's going to hurt....

What began as my triumphant charge from Tennessee Valley to the finish line actually turned quickly into my darkest hour. About halfway up this hill I ran out of gas again and could not seem to pull it together. I had just snacked on some food but for some reason my body wasn't responding very well. This climb became much more difficult for me than even the previous climb out of Rodeo Valley. "Keep moving. One step at a time." Coming over the hill was a tremendous relief until I saw my next obstacle.

Borrowed from the Miwok website. 

What followed was a steep drop along narrow stairs that led down to Pirate's Cove. My legs were shaking uncontrollably as I tried to navigate the stairs while impatient runners and hikers backed up behind me. I tried to move out of the way but was frustrated with myself that I could not move any faster. The hike down was steep but fortunately short. I only had 3 miles to go to get back to Muir but I just wasn't feeling well at all. I had to walk the rest of the way, even into the aid station, and I fought the demon of doubt the entire way.

At Muir (mile 53.5) I was forced to regroup. I tried to get some food down and I sat on a bench for what seemed like an eternity. I wasn't the only runner in this boat - there were a few others with me who were likewise trying to "pull it together". We offered some mutual encouragement; a couple decided their day was done, and others decided to journey on. We were still well ahead of cutoffs, and with only 9 miles to go I was going to keep moving if I had to walk it in. And walk is what I decided to do. Since I wasn't going to get to Stinson by sitting at Muir Beach I decided it was time to press on. I walked out of the aid station and onto the road ahead.

The next couple of miles were thankfully flat road. I was able to shuffle, then jog, and then actually pick up the pace and run a little. I started to feel better as I ran back across the "farmer's field" from earlier and down that stretch of road. With each step I felt stronger, and as I felt stronger I ran just a little harder. I was about to reach the last major climb of the day - a 2 mile, 1500' climb back up to the Cardiac aid station - and I was actually feeling quite good. As I hit the climb my outlook had brightened tremendously. It was a difficult climb to be sure, but I didn't find this last climb to be quite as tough as some I had faced earlier in the day. And if it was, who cares? It was the LAST big climb of the day. It was straight downhill from Cardiac to Stinson Beach.

On the way up I chatted with a couple of runners who seemed to be in pretty good spirits as well - a local runner named Jeanne and her pacer Juan. We chatted for a few minutes on the way up but ended up splitting up over the course of the climb. I felt strong and surged to the top of the hill, feeling the need to finally put this thing behind me. I stopped at Cardiac and grabbed a quick bite to eat. I made it a point to thank each of the volunteers at this aid station individually - my way of thanking everyone who had come out that day to help (which I was not able to do during the course of the race). While I do not usually consume candy and sugar on the course at this point I really didn't care. I had 3 miles to go so I grabbed a handful of M&M's, some licorice, jellybeans, and a cup of coke.

Candy is my FAVORITE!

I set off to Stinson. I wasn't on the trail for a minute or 2 before Jeanne and Juan caught up to me again. They looked amazing - Jeanne was leading the way and Juan right behind. I asked if I could follow their lead for a bit down the mountain. They said no problem, and away we went! Jeanne and Juan were amazing. We were running absolutely full out, as hard as we could, over roots, rocks, down stairs, over fallen trees...and I was having a blast. We would slow for a couple of occasional short uphills but for the most part we pushed it all the way down. Jeanne led our convoy to the bottom. Juan was in lock step right behind her, bounding down the stairs and keeping his runner focused - in short, being a great pacer. It was very clear to me that she knew what she was doing! Just a couple of hours before I was limping along and struggling to stay positive, but thanks to Jeanne and Juan (and a lot of sugar in my system) I was having as much fun running hard as I ever had. I let go of all the frustrations of the day and just ran. 

Following Jeanne down the trail toward Stinson Beach and the finish line.

As we approached Stinson the path leveled out and our pace slowed slightly. I eased up as well. There was no way I was going into Stinson in front of Jeanne and Juan. They were an incredible team and I owed them a great debt for getting me down the hill so quickly when my confidence had been so shaky. Jeanne was insistent that I run the flat stretch and take us in - she would be right behind me. It was my turn to be in front. If that was going to be the case then I wasn't going to let them down! I ran hard into Stinson and across the finish line. I was ecstatic! Jeanne was in just behind. 

Bringing it home!

The fantastic Jeane Kysar-Carey.

I had lived my Miwok dream! I was overcome with emotion as I accepted my medal from the race director, Tia Boddington. I wanted to pick her up and hug her but I am sure she probably appreciated my restraint. I was so thrilled to be back in Stinson Beach having accomplished a true bucket-lister. While I did have some time goals and hopes for the day that were not fulfilled, I can honestly look back on the race and know that on that day I gave it all I had. There were a number of terrific runners out there on the course that day. I am honored to have been a part of this race.

In previous posts I have mentioned the camaraderie that one experiences around these ultramarathon events. I was so pleased (but not at all surprised) that the feeling of community is just as strong out in California as I have experienced at home in Texas. California has a reputation of being pretty laid-back anyway, so it seems that the birthplace of ultrarunning (Gordy Ainsleigh and Western States 100) would be a natural fit for these kinds of events. This course was a complete change from anything I had seen or done before, and while I am slowly starting to feel like myself again, I can't wait to get back up into the mountains again. It'll be a few months until my next ultra but for now I can reflect on this race, what I learned, and the friends I made that day. Thanks to my wife Michelle for her unending love and support, to all the volunteers for their selfless service, to Jeanne and Juan for allowing me to hitch a ride, and to Tia for pulling my number out of her hat! I hope that someday I have the good fortune to venture back to the Marin Headlands and have another go at this iconic event.

2014 Miwok 100k Race Report - Part I

When the alarm sounded at 2am on Saturday, May 3rd, 2014, 3 hours before the Miwok 100k trail race would begin, I took a moment to sit in the dark to consider where I was and what was about to happen. Miwok. The race I had dreamed about since I first stepped off the roads and onto the trails 4 years ago. The race that I had been fortunate to even be selected to run - a race that was already in high demand (participants are selected via lottery) had become even more so due to a wildfire-shortened race in 2013. I sat there in the dark and tried to focus. Whatever happened on the trails that day, whether good or bad, I would savor it and live in the moment. Deep breath. Time to go. I had laid out my gear the night before - team singlet, compression shorts, favorite hat....I went through my normal morning routine, made some coffee, and had a bite to eat. I was dressed in a matter of minutes. My wife (and crew chief for the day) woke soon after and offered some words of encouragement. I was so glad to have her there to keep my nerves steady. Regardless of how I was doing I knew she'd be there to keep me calm and focused. 

It wasn't long before we were heading north from downtown San Francisco in the middle of the night toward the quiet town of Stinson Beach. We arrived early, parked, and checked in. Runners had just begun to roll into town in earnest and the excitement was building. A perfect day had been forecast with clear skies, relatively cool temperatures, and low humidity. The views would be spectacular and everyone was itching to get started.

Some last minute gear preparation.

The room was buzzing as the start of the race drew near.

At the starting line moments before "go-time".

The race organizers called everyone to the starting line as 5am drew near. I had set up at the front of the race, not so much out of a desire to push the pace as it wasn't quite as crowded up there. The "elites" up front exchanged some pleasantries and even a few awkward laughs. It was clear to me that while these runners were superb athletes they were just as nervous as the rest of us. As the race director began to count down from 10 I tried my best to remember this moment. It was time to run Miwok. One more deep breath, and we were off! 

The race jumped almost immediately from a residential street onto a narrow bridge before leading to the first section of the trail. My strategy at the start was to get out in front of the inevitable traffic jam as runners were funneled onto the trail. In this I succeeded - I was with the lead group out of Stinson, over the bridge, and onto the trail relatively quickly. It did not take long, however, for me to realize the flaw in this plan. The trail was narrow single-track and quickly turned into a long, steep climb. I felt that I needed to keep up with the runners in front of me out of courtesy to the ones behind me. As we moved forward and up over a seemingly endless series of switchbacks, my heart rate had jumped up and before long I could feel a little burn in my legs. Up and up we went. At each switchback I expected to feel the course level out - only to be met with another switchback and more climbing. After over a half an hour later, as we were still climbing, all I could do was hope that I was not going to pay for this later. 

Eventually the trail did level off and open up into a wide open grassy hillside that gave us the first chance to catch our breath and have a look around. The sun was just beginning to come up and we could look back over our shoulders on Stinson Beach far below. There was not much time for contemplation however, as the grassy hills before us presented their own set of challenges.

Looking back down at Stinson.....

....and looking ahead down the trail.

I had a tough time figuring out the footing on this stretch. The trail itself was very narrow, less than a foot wide, and was sloped and rutted in many spots making it easy to slip and fall. The grass had also overgrown the trail in several places forcing us to watch closely for ribbons among the weeds to make sure we would say on track. The path would offer a few gentle climbs and descents but nothing particularly severe. Yet I just could not seem to keep myself balanced along the narrow footpath and fell several times. After stumbling and shuffling for around 2 hilly miles, I made my way across these grassy fields toward a treeline of giant firs.

Approaching the forest.

As I approached the treeline the scene changed abruptly. The grasses became ferns and the open sky was hidden behind a dense canopy of fir and redwood trees. The trail opened slightly into a wide fire road and began to level off. As I moved into the forest I was greeted by the songs of a thousand birds coming at me from every direction. It was a beautiful scene, and for someone who lives on a flat prairie, it was like stepping into another world. I slowed my pace to appreciate my surroundings and soon I was cruising into the first aid station of the day called Bolinas Ridge. 6 miles down, around 56 more to go. Bolinas is a small aid station for runners only - no crew or drop bags. I felt great, was energized by the forest surroundings, and was in good shape energy-wise. I dropped off my head lamp, topped off my water bottles and moved on.

The footpath changed quickly from grass to mossy ferns.

Approaching Bolinas Aid Station.

The next several miles allowed me to take in the forest surroundings. The trail itself rolled gently without any particularly technical terrain. It was easy to run and stunningly beautiful. I was in a good rhythm, and somewhat surprisingly, I did not encounter many runners on this stretch of the trail. I was able to enjoy my own thoughts, the sounds of the forest, and relax. Eventually the trail would begin what was at first a gentle descent but soon became a rather steep gradient. I started to cross paths with some other runners now as we began to navigate the descending switchbacks, each footfall now used more for the purposes of braking than forward propulsion. While I enjoy running downhill this was becoming quite a severe slope and I was forced to concentrate lest I turn this descent into a face-first slide to the bottom. After a few minutes of negotiating this hill I was passed by runners going in the other direction. "You mean we have to go back UP this??" I thought, observing the pained looks on my fellow runners who had the misfortune of being ahead of me. All in due time. 

I continued down the trail until the woods opened up to a short open area that consisted of an aid station and the turnaround point. This was the Randall Trail aid station (mile 13) and now it was my turn to climb again. At this aid station I was greeted with a pleasant surprise - my wife Michelle had come to this aid station to meet me! My spirits soared when I heard her call my name. I had not expected to see her until later but having her there gave me a little extra spring in my step as I headed out and back up the hill. 

Leaving the forest, approaching the Randall Trail Aid Station.

Quick water refill at the turnaround checkpoint.

The climb was every bit as challenging as I thought it might be but I made it a point to smile all the way up and not grimace so as to offer some encouragement to the runners who were still on their way "down". It was their turn to feel sorry for me! Their smiles and enthusiasm were contagious and I hoped I could return some of their good vibes to them. I waved, high-fived and offered as many "howdys" as I could on the way back up and not run out of breath. This actually made the climb pass much more quickly than I had anticipated and before long I was back on the smooth path back toward Bolinas Ridge. I was able to knock out a few quick miles on the gentle terrain and make good time back to Bolinas (mile 19.50). I grabbed a snack, chatted with the aid station crew for a few moments, and proceeded out of the forest. 

A section of the forest trail heading back to Bolinas.

After leaving the forest the race puts you back on the grassy hillsides above Stinson again. The good feelings I had from running in the forest quickly disappeared knowing what lay ahead of me. While certainly beautiful and offering stunning views of the Pacific Ocean off in the distance this stretch was the most challenging part of my morning. The second round on the grassy hills did not go much better than the first for me and when the trail would narrow and slant I would inevitably find myself sliding off and stumbling to stay upright. When I felt footsteps behind me I would try to step out of the way of those who wanted to pass, feeling somewhat envious of their superior skill at navigating this stretch. 

Here we go again!

    
Proceeding over, across, and around the grassy hillsides was a tedious process but I tried to remember the promise I had made to myself to savor the day no matter what it would bring. I was as careful as I could to avoid twisting an ankle (or worse) and keep a positive attitude. This was one of the longer stretches of the race without an aid station. I would have to navigate around 7 miles to get to the next stop - the mountaintop Cardiac aid station. I proceeded from hill to hill, tree to tree, and slowly but surely I was able to get to Cardiac (mile 26.5). I was now pretty hungry and ate several pieces of fruit and a couple sandwich squares. I could feel some fatigue setting in and needed a boost. I paused for a few minutes to take in the spectacular views but soon it was time to move on. The next few miles would be downhill, so I didn't linger too long and soon set off down the hill. 

The view from Cardiac. A picture does not do it justice.

The next descent was relatively mild and uneventful. The trail had changed again to wide dirt and rock fire road and would bring me down to the next aid station at Muir Beach. The trail ended and funneled onto a stretch of road and a row of parked cars, driven by tourists and locals who had come out to enjoy the beach for the day. Unfortunately for me I made the mistake of following a runner who was actually not running our race and ended up on the wrong side of the aid station! After a half a mile or so I realized something was wrong, as I had not seen any ribbons or course markers. I could see the aid station but could not figure out how to get there. I retraced my steps and found the trail again. It was not long before I cruised into the aid station (the right way this time!) and met my wife for a quick bite to eat and a chance to catch my breath. There was a lot of activity at this aid station as a number of tourists and beach goers had gathered to try and figure out what was going on. 

Muir Beach Aid Station

Snack time!

I was now at the halfway point in the race. 31 miles down, 31 to go. I was definitely feeling fatigued but knowing that I only had 50k to go (and seeing Michelle again) kept my spirits up. As I set out from Muir Beach I was blissfully unaware of what lay before me. While the hills on the first half of the course were certainly challenging, it would be the relentless climbs over the second half that really punished me. It would begin almost immediately after leaving Muir Beach with a long steep climb that for me was a solid hike to the top. Try as I might, I could not get any running in and was reduced to a crawl for almost an hour. It was difficult for me to remain in a positive mindset but I continued on. It was 5 miles to the next aid station and I had to keep my focus on that - and try not to worry about the fact that my legs were completely dead and I still had over 30 more miles to go......

Jump to part 2 here....