Friday, March 28, 2014

Tempting Death In Georgia - Part One

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            I first met Sean “Run Bum” Blanton last summer before a race around the Eiger in Switzerland.  We talked for awhile as we ran the first few miles of one of the toughest races I’d ever run, and he kept telling me about a race he puts on in the mountains of northern Georgia called the Georgia Death Race.  Any race that takes places in the mountains has the word death in it is right up my alley.  Once I found out the race would fall during my Spring Break, I knew I had to sign up.  As an added bonus, my good friend from high school lives in Atlanta, and he and his wife agreed to pace me the last 23 miles.  My training leading up to the race had been decent, with my focus being on getting in as many hills as possible.  I haven’t been that excited about a race in a long time.  I couldn’t wait to get to Georgia.

(Finisher From Last Year's Race)
            I flew into Memphis the week of the race to visit family and then drove to Atlanta on Thursday to stay with a good friend from high school (Doug) and his wife (Rebecca).  If you ask my mom or Doug’s mom, he’s the one who got me into running long distances (not completely true), and he gets blamed for some of my adventures.  It was great to catch up with Doug and Rebecca and get a decent night’s sleep before making the 2 hour drive north to the race start in Blairsville.  On the way up, I stopped at Amicalola Falls State Park (where the race would finish) to see the impressive sights and get an idea of what lay in store for me on Saturday.  After dropping my gear off and checking into my hotel room in Blairsville, I hiked up Brasstown Bald, the highest peak in GA at just over 4700’.  The views were spectacular, and I sat on a picnic bench and popped a beer to savor the moment.  I then headed over for the mandatory gear check and race briefing.  As per Forest Service regulations, the RD was making us carry a thermal top, gloves, headlamp, emergency blanket, whistle, hat, and weather proof jacket AT ALL TIMES.  It turns out that I would only use my gloves (for a couple hours) and headlamp, but I carried everything with me for 68 miles.  The theme I sensed during the race briefing was that the word of the day would be “ish”, as in the race is anywhere from 60ish to 68ish miles long.  The finish banner advertised a 60 mile race, but our race bib had 68 miles printed on it.  After the briefing I went to dinner with fellow San Antonio runner John Sharp and his friend Gina, as well as Mike from Virginia.  After sampling the local trout and sweet potato fries, I made a few last-minute preparations and crawled into bed for a few hours of restless sleep.

(My New Buddies Collins and Cooper)

(Highest Point In Georgia)

(Typical Northern GA Terrain)
            The 3AM alarm came all too quickly, but I tend to sleep restlessly the night before a race anyway.  Mike and I gathered our gear and made the 20 minute drive over to Vogel State Park, where the race would begin at 5AM(ish).  It was a cool, crisp morning, but the forecast called for the rain to hold off until late Saturday evening, giving us extra incentive to run fast.  A full moon illuminated the ridge high above the start and provided a beautiful backdrop.  I positioned myself in the middle of the pack, and soon after 5AM, we were on our way up a wide paved road that would lead us out of Vogel and onto the singletrack where we would spend the next 30+ miles.  Having the race start with about a mile of road allowed me to warm my legs up as I ran the modest incline, but it also allowed the field to thin out a bit before we hit the trail, making it slightly less crowded once we did.  My goals for this race were simple – finish.  I had no real time in mind (although I wanted to finish before midnight), and this wasn’t necessarily a “goal race” for me, as all of my training and effort is focused on Wasatch.  I wanted to keep the pace easy, run as much as I could, and hope for the best.  Sean had told us that if we could manage the first 38 miles properly, we would make up lots of time on the last (more runnable) 30(ish).  Sounds easy enough, right?  The trail was fairly narrow, full of fallen leaves that covered up the occasional root or rock.  I ran most of the gradual climbs, energized by the cool morning air.  Some flats, some climbs, and soon we crossed the only water of the day, less than 4 miles into the race.  Sean had warned us that there was no dry way across, so I jumped right in and enjoyed the cold mountain creek water.  Knowing I would have wet feet for over 60 miles, I wasn’t excited about what my feet would look like, but I figured I would just suck it up and deal with it, not wanting to waste any time changing socks along the way.  8 miles in we hit the first aid station at White Oak Stomp.  With the sun still down and only 5 miles to the next aid, I decided to refill just one of the 2 handheld bottles I was carrying.  My nutrition plan was to drink a bottle of Carbo Pro/Skratch mix every hour, a plan that had worked in several previous races.  This would give me roughly 300 calories an hour, and I would throw in a gel or aid station food along the way if I felt I needed more.  After a quick fill, I was out and headed up the steepest (and worst according to Sean) climb on the course, Coosa Bald. 
            Settling into a nice power hike, I was able to pass a few people on the climb (only to be passed on the descents, a trend that would continue most of the day).  The one thing that stood out most on these trails was the lack of switchbacks.  If you had 1000’ to climb, it would be straight up the hill, not the twisting, winding way I was accustomed to ascending in the mountains.  This made the climbs tough but the descents even tougher.  The sun was starting to peek out above the eastern ridges, providing glimpses of the surrounding mountains.  Most of the views were partially obscured by trees, but you could tell that we were in the heart of the southern Appalachians.  Very pretty.  After hitting the top of Coosa Bald, we began the Duncan Ridge section of the course, which previous finishers had warned about.  They told of the relentless nature of this section, how you would climb 500’ – 1000’, only to drop down an equal amount and repeat the process over and over.  Knowing this (and realizing I had nearly 9 miles to the next aid station), I filled 2 bottles with Carbo Pro/Skratch at the Mulky Gap AS (mile 13).  The temps were still cool, and although I was sweating pretty good, I felt like 2 bottles would be enough.  


(Beautiful Morning)



(Rare Flat Section Early)
            The next 7+ miles were just as tough as advertised, as we rolled up and over countless ridge tops.  The terrain underfoot was nice, but the leaves hid any rocks or roots that might want to grab your foot, preventing me from really opening up the legs (can I even do that?) on the descents.  I could feel myself applying the brakes a bit on each drop, knowing my quads would pay for the effort later.  Overall I felt pretty good, but I still had a long way to go over some rough terrain.  At the top of a ridge, a volunteer pointed me to the right and let me know I had a 1000’ descent over 1.5 miles and that I would head back up this same trail after reaching the aid station.  It was a quad-crushing descent, but I enjoyed seeing other runners headed the other way, even though most of them looked like they weren’t enjoying the climb back out.  I saw Sharpie headed up and figured he was a mile or two ahead of me.  After surviving the ride downhill, I arrived at Skeenah Gap AS (mile 21.5) and saw Sean there greeting runners.  As volunteers filled my bottles, Sean asked how I was enjoying the course.  “This is my kind of stupid fun” was my response.   While struggling to pour my Carbo Pro/Skratch mix into a bottle, I did learn an eat new trick (at least it was new for me).  Instead of opening the baggie from the top and pouring the contents in, I found that it was much easier to bite off a corner of the bag and dump it.  Way faster and less messy.  I grabbed my bottles and started the climb back out.

(Climbing On Duncan Ridge)

 (Race Director Sean "Run Bum" Blanton)
           

Friday, February 14, 2014

Wasatch and The Wall


 (Moonlight on Top of The Wall)


(Sun Coming Up over SA)

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I haven’t blogged in quite awhile, as life and work always seem to get in the way.   A lot has happened over the past few months, some of which I hope to write about.  Most recently, I was accepted into the Wasatch 100, so I will be heading out to Utah in September trying for finish #4.  I have a very definitive goal this year, to break 30 hours.  Everything I do between now and the weekend after Labor Day will be with Wasatch in mind.  That is my only goal race for 2014.  Sure, I will run other races, but my focus is on Wasatch and Wasatch alone.  With that in mind, I headed out to Stone Oak yesterday for some hill repeats on “The Wall”.  I love using this hill, as it is a mixture of grass, dirt, and rock.  I will be making The Wall and The Crossing a regular part of my routine as I prepare for the 52,000’+ of elevation change Wasatch will throw at me.  I’m excited about the challenge that lay ahead.  Now I just have to train.


(My Focus for 2104)


Thursday, May 23, 2013

Massanutten 100 Race Report


           As I sit here staring at my puffy feet, which are still too swollen to put on shoes, I am still trying to process what transpired this past weekend in the mountains of Northern Virginia.  I ran my best 100 mile race ever, with nearly everything going perfectly and totally exceeding all of my expectations.  To be honest, the race is still a blur to me.  I usually remember minute details, but this one seemed to pass so quickly that I can’t recall everything.  What is etched in my mind are the incredible aid stations, my unbelievable pacer and crew, and the rocks – oh the rocks.  Here is my attempt to recap my experience at the Massanutten Mountain 100.

(Just a few hills)

          I met my friend Dave (he was running Massanutten as well), his wife Kim, and pacer Liza (more on her in a bit) at the airport, grabbed some much-needed caffeine, and squeezed into a very uncomfortable middle seat (I’m 6’6” – guys like us don’t fit into these seats very well) for the 3 hour flight up to Baltimore.  Upon arriving in Baltimore, we met up with Dave’s friend and pacer, Sean, who had procured some snacks for the drive down to northern VA.  It was a good thing he did this because the drive took us 4 hours (I think I’d go crazy if I had to deal with DC traffic on a daily basis).  We arrived at the campground that would serve as the start/finish for our race, dropped off my drop bags, and grabbed our bib numbers for the adventure we would set off on in the wee hours of the morning.  After having dinner in the nearby town of Luray, we settled into the bunk beds at our cabin (a 5 minute walk from the start) for a few hours of sleep.  As has been the case in my last 3 races, my bed was far from comfortable, as I had a top bunk which was a good deal shorter than my body, causing my legs to stick out pretty far off the edge.  Oh well, it seemed to work out fine at Syllamo and Miwok.  

 (Liza carrying all my stuff - just kidding)

(Dave and I before the start)


          Just before 3AM, the alarms went off and we all started to prepare for the 4AM start.  Although I didn’t sleep well, it was really nice not having to drive anywhere for the start.  10 minutes before we were scheduled to take off, we walked down from our cabin to the starting area, where race director Kevin Sayers sent us off into the woods at precisely 4AM.  My dream goal for this race was to break 30 hours, although I figured a more realistic “A” goal was to set a 100 mile PR (31:49 from Tahoe in 2011).  This was going to be tough since the course was notorious for its climbs and rocks.  Everyone talks about the rocks at Massanutten.  I was curious to see how they stacked up to the rocks we have here in South Texas (at Bandera).  Add to this the fact that the course was 103.7 miles and this was sure to be a wicked trek.  

 (Massanutten has lots of rocks!)


          The first 4 miles are run up a gradual incline on a dirt road, which I really liked because it allowed me to ease into the race and slowly let my legs warm up.  It also allowed runners to separate themselves a bit before we hit the singletrack climb up Short Mountain at mile 4.  Since Liza, Kim, and Sean were planning on meeting us at the first crew-accessible aid station (Edinburg Gap – mile 12), I started with only one handheld water bottle and a flask filled with my EFS “Slurry” concoction.  I topped off my water at mile 4 as we veered sharply onto the trail.  The first thing that hit me was the rocks..  They were everywhere.  Big, small, and everything in between.  If the entire course was like this, it could be a long day.  Up Short Mountain we went, climbing over rocks the entire time.  I felt good and tried to maintain a consistent hiking rhythm.  My plan was to push (but not overdo it) during the daylight hours, knowing it would be tough to move over the rugged terrain at night.  I carried a card with me that had the average arrival time of people who finished around the 30 hour mark last year.  I wanted to check my progress every few aid stations to see if I could stay on this pace.  2 hours and 45 minutes after we started, I ran into the Edinburg Gap aid station, where Liza handed me my Ultimate Direction pack (which I would carry for the rest of the race) and a new Slurry.  Feeling good, I ran out of the aid station and headed for the next climb.

        The general flow of the course was to ascend steeply to the ridgeline, traverse over gently rolling terrain at the top, then descend down a rocky trail to the next aid station.  This pattern was repeated over and over until we had completed nearly 104 miles.  I had 8 miles between Edinburg Gap and the next aid station at Woodstock Tower.  I tried to hike the uphills hard, jog the flats (there weren’t many on this course), and run the downhills as hard as I comfortably could without trashing my quads or rolling an ankle.  I took consistent nips on my Slurry every 20 minutes, trying to keep a steady flow of calories in my system.  I drank plain water as well.  Since the Slurry mix had electrolytes in it, I was able to only have to use 2 sCaps the entire race.  It was nice not having to worry about popping pills every hour despite the humid (but relatively comfortable) weather.  My shirt was drenched with sweat from the humidity, but overall I felt pretty good.  



(Photo by Bobby Gill)


          After grabbing a few things from a small drop bag I had at Woodstock (mile 20.3), I set out for the fairly flatish section between there and the next aid station at Powell’s Fort (mile 25.8).  I honestly couldn’t tell you much of what happened between Woodstock and Elizabeth Furnace (mile 33), but I remember I felt great coming into the aid station, where I startled Liza by arriving so early.  She quickly helped me top off my water and off I went.

          Between Elizabeth Furnace and Shawl Gap (mile 38), things changed.  The day was warming up and I entered the point of the race where my stomach didn’t want to take in any calories.  I wasn’t nauseous or sick, but nothing sounded good.  This usually happens to me when I push the pace or the temps start to rise.  I entered Shawl Gap (mile 38) a bit behind on both fluids and calories, and my crew could see it in my eyes.  I sat down briefly while Sean and Liza filled my bottles.  I quickly drank one down and filled it again.  After a couple minutes, I trudged off down the road, where a 3.5 mile stretch of gravel road awaited.  Knowing I was in need of fuel, I tried to nibble on some Stinger chews I had in my bag.  This seemed to help a bit and soon enough I was at the Veach Gap (mile 41.1) aid station, where the volunteers were extra friendly.  I grazed at the food table and managed to wolf down enough calories to convince myself I was ready to go.


 (Headed out of Veach Gap - Photo by Aaron Schwartzbard)


 

          After a brief section of runnable trail, we started climbing again.  Much of the course is buried beneath the lush greenery of the Virginia Mountains, but every once in awhile you are rewarded with beautiful views of the valleys below.  I was starting to feel much better after catching up on calories and fluids, and now that I had my music on, the descent down into Indian Grave (mile 51) was fast and furious.  In my estimation, I need to be at this aid station at roughly 12-13 hours to have a chance at a sub 30 finish.  When I glanced at my watch and saw that it read 11:21, I was shocked.  Almost halfway done, and I was ahead of schedule.  Still a long way to go I reminded myself.  Things can change quickly. 




(High on a ridge - Photo by Aaron Schwartzbard)
 

 I grabbed a few things from the aid station and headed out for a rolling 4 miles of country roads, during which time it started to drizzle.  I enjoyed the brief sprinkle, as well as the tunes I had blaring on my iPod.  I passed a few runners (I had passed lots of people since mile 20 and had yet to be passed by anyone since then) and jogged into Habron Gap (mile 54), where Liza was waiting to take care of me.  I sat down (something I normally try not to do in a race) and let the wonderful volunteers (and Liza) do their work.  After handing me a popsicle (I hesitantly put it in my mouth as visions of Joe T and his bloody lip flooded my mind), I climbed back onto the trail for the longest stretch between aid stations of the course, nearly 10 miles.  On the bright side, I knew Liza would be waiting at Camp Roosevelt to pace me the last 40 miles (hopefully) to the finish. 

The climb out of Habron Gap was brutal.  I was sweating profusely and felt like my legs were turning to sludge.  Each step felt labored, but I knew I needed to just put my head down and keep moving forward.  The rocks were huge, and it was often difficult to find a good spot to place your feet.  Having music helped, and despite feeling bad I wasn’t getting passed by anyone on the climb.  Soon I reached the top, where we rolled up and down the ridge on narrow trail, a steep drop to the left and solid rock to the right.  To say this trail was narrow would be an understatement.  Nearly 3 hours after leaving Habron Gap, I arrived at Camp Roosevelt (mile 63.9).

          Liza Howard is a great friend, and as soon as I got into MMT she agreed to pace me.  In the interim, she got pregnant, so I assumed she wouldn’t be able to pace me any longer.  Boy was I wrong.  Pacing someone is difficult enough, but doing it 4+ months pregnant is unbelievable.  I couldn’t have done the race without her help, and I am very grateful for her being there.  The initial section of trail leaving Camp Roosevelt led us through an area that had been affected by fires, but interestingly the fires seemed to only have burned one side of the trail.  The footing was rocky, muddy, and very wet in places.  Up to this point I had managed to keep my feet fairly dry, but that was about to change.  My legs didn’t feel too bad, but I wasn’t feeling much like running, so I continued to hike as quickly as I could.  Daylight was slowly fading, and I hoped we could make it 7 miles to the next aid without the aid of my headlamp.   Up and over a steep climb (no surprise here) and into Gap Creek (mile 69.6) we went, just as darkness was settling over the mountains. I was in need of a sock change and some solid food, so I sat down while Liza unlaced my shoes and helped me put on fresh socks.  A volunteer gave me 2 cups of chicken noodle soup, which has always been my go-to late night food in ultras.  Having fresh socks felt like heaven, and after a few minutes I was ready to tackle the next climb.  

(Eating soup at Gap Creek - Photo by Aaron Schwartzbard))



(Liza tending to my feet - Photo by Aaron Schwartzbard)

           We made our way up a jeep road that eventually turned onto a singletrack trail, all the while steadily climbing.  We would make this exact climb once more in the race, at mile 96, so I made a mental note of what to expect.  The first ¾ of the climb wasn’t too bad, but then we hit a section filled with large rocks that made navigation slow and labored.  I had to stop briefly a few times to catch my breath and take in calories.  This stretch seemed to take a lot longer than I had anticipated it would, but we still managed to get to the Visitor Center (mile 78) over an hour ahead of my “goal” time.  I sat down and ate half a hamburger and some quesadillas, washing it all down with 2 cups of ginger ale. 




            On the way out of the aid station, we linked up with another runner and his pacer (local guy) who told us what to expect over the next 25 miles.  He warned abut the climb up to Bird Knob (mile 81), saying it was steep and that we would face a boulder scramble near the top.  All of this sounded fairly daunting in my weary, sleep-deprived state of mind.  We slogged our way up the mountain, ready for this boulder scramble we had been warned about.  When the scramble never came and we found ourselves standing on top of the climb, we found ourselves relieved and excited that this section had been far less troublesome than we had anticipated.  Another mile of running and we arrived at the Bird Knob Aid station (mile 81.6). 




            We didn’t stay at Bird Knob long, and I now knew that finishing was no longer in question.  It was just a matter of what my time would be.  I had 21 miles to go and plenty of time to complete it.  This section of trail was pretty neat because once we ascended to the ridge top, we were engulfed in a cloud, making it difficult to see.  There was a fine mist hanging in the air, which added to the surreal effect of the surroundings.  I was starting to get sleepy and knew I needed to find caffeine at the next aid station, but it seemed to take forever to get there.  2 hours and 15 minutes after leaving Bird Knob (it sure seemed like it took longer than that), we were greeted by another round of ultra friendly volunteers at the Picnic Area (mile 87.9).  I ate several slices of grilled cheese downed a cup of Coke and one of Mountain Dew while Liza put fresh batteries in my headlamp, and then we were off again.




            Only one aid station stood between me and the finish line, just under 16 miles away.  I started doing some mental calculations and realized I had a good chance to break 30 hours, but I knew it was no slam dunk.  I still had a nasty section to navigate between the Picnic Area and Gap Creek, a stretch that would shoot us straight up a drainage full of rocks, water, and plenty of mud.  My feet would remain wet the rest of the race, and the mud made for slippery footing.  I’d love to say this section was enjoyable, but it wasn’t.  As dawn approached, I was filled with a renewed sense of energy, bolstered in part by the caffeine spike from the soda I drank.  With less than an hour to go before we reached the final aid station, we turned off our headlamps and enjoyed the quiet solitude of the new day.  We broke from the woods out onto a dirt road, and soon we could see the lights of Gap Creek (mile 96.8), where I would stop for the last time.
          Having passed through this aid station earlier in the race, I recognized a few faces who offered to fill my bottles and get me food.  As I was stripping off any unnecessary gear to make my pack as light as possible for the final push, a volunteer asked if I wanted a piece of French toast.  Heck yes I did!  As if that wasn’t good enough, she stuck a huge piece of sausage in the middle.  Wow, talk about hitting the spot!  After devouring my piece of toast, we thanked the volunteers and hiked up the road to begin our final climb. 
            We had made this climb earlier, and while it was certainly steep, the footing was relatively smooth, making it much easier to navigate than the nasty drainage we had ascended in the previous section.  Once we reached the paper plate marking the 98 mile mark at the top of the climb, I glanced at my watch to see if I would make it safely under 30 hours.  Much to my surprise, I realized I had a chance to get under 29 hours.  I was ecstatic.  The descent down the singletrack to the road that would take us home was far from graceful, but I managed to stumble/hobble, shuffle most of it.  Once we hit Moreland Gap Road, there was a sign that told us the finish was 4 miles away.  4 miles of road to finish this race – I could handle that.  Much to my chagrin, the road gently sloped down, meaning I had no real excuse to walk.  As I started to jog, my legs felt really good.  I wasn’t setting a blistering pace like Dave had earlier, but I was able to run much of the 4 miles back to camp.  Liza and I calculated where we believed the 100 mile mark was and noted that I reached it in roughly 27:25 (which would have been a 100 mile PR by 4 and a half hours).  If only we could have stopped right there.  We ran/shuffled/hiked, laughing and telling stories along the way.  We finally turned onto the property of the Caroline Furnace Lutheran Camp and saw a sign pointing us to the finish line of the Massanutten 100.  In what seemed like a cruel joke, we turned again, this time back onto a winding singletrack trail.  This didn’t last long, and in a matter of minutes we hit the big grass field, where I could see the finish line.  I ran as hard as my legs would allow.  28 hours and 15 minutes after I left this exact spot (103.7 miles ago), I crossed the finish line.  

(Crossing the 100 mile mark)






 (With RD Kevin Sayers - Photo by Bobby Gill)

           
           I’m still shocked that I ran the time I did.  Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would run sub 30, much less sub 29.  I don’t think there is such a thing as a “perfect” 100 miler, but this was about as close as I could come to having that magically perfect race.  I never puked, something that I would normally do 4-5 times in a race of this distance.  I only consumed 2 sCaps, choosing instead to get most of my electrolytes from EFS liquid shots and electrolyte drink (most often in the form of a “Slurry”).  Best of all, I had zero chafing, a malady that has crushed me in the past (thank you Monkey Butt!).  My feet got wet, but I managed to come away with no blisters, thank to my Injinji socks and Brooks Cascadia shoes, which have always been the perfect shoe for me.  Joe Sulak had me ready to rock in the mountains.  Thanks for all the strength work and killer workouts!  Time flew by for me during the race.  There is usually a point in a race (often more than once) when I get overwhelmed with the distance/time still left to cover.  That never happened at MMT.  I felt like things were over almost as soon as they had begun.  I had a blast out there, enjoying my time in the woods and mountains.  While not having Cindy there to help crew was a bummer, getting to share the experience with other close friends was special.  I can’t say enough about Kim, Dave, and Sean.  And Liza was amazing.  There’s no way I could have done this without her help.  To do what she did (while pregnant) was nothing short of miraculous.  I am blessed to have such a great group of friends.  Massanutten was by far the best overall race I’ve been a part of.  The volunteers went above and beyond, always there to get what I needed.  They were the best I’ve ever seen.  The course was both challenging (certainly tougher than Tahoe and close to being on par with Wasatch) and beautiful., playing to my strengths as a decent uphill hiker.  MMT is a must do, and I can’t wait to get back.

 (Sean, Dave, Kim, Myself, and Liza)


 (Buckle #5)
 






Wednesday, May 8, 2013

Miwok 60K Race Report



 I entered the lottery for the classic Miwok 100K in the Marin Headlands with no real hope of getting in, but to my surprise my name was selected, along with San Antonio friends Amanda and Lalo Alvarado, as well as Jay Danek from Arizona.  Jay secured a house 100 yards from the beach, travel plans were made, and training preparations put into place.  I had heard that Miwok was beautiful, though not as technical as what we are accustomed to running here in South Texas.  I met Lalo and Amanda for an early (woke up at 3AM) flight to San Francisco.  Once in California, we made the hour drive across the Golden Gate Bridge along the scenic coastal Highway 1, stopping for lunch at the Dipsea Café and visiting the newly opened San Francisco Running Company store in Mill Valley.  We dropped our stuff off at the house, went to the beach for a bit, then headed into town (a short walk from the house) for an early dinner.  
(Stinson Beach)



3AM came early (again), but we needed to be up early so we could walk to the start to pick up our packets by 4:30.  It was a cool morning, which suited me just fine.  We arrived at the Stinson Beach Community Center to find runners milling about, but no one seemed to be picking up their race numbers or packets.  That’s when Jay turns to me and said, “the race has been shortened to 60K due to fire danger, and the start has been pushed back to 8AM (from 5AM)”.  Surely he’s joking, I thought.  No, he was serious, as this info was written on a board for all to see.  Clearly stunned (and a bit bummed that we wouldn’t get to run the “real” Miwok course), we trudged back to the beach house to re-group.  It could have been worse, as many folks drove in that morning from San Fran and beyond, meaning they would have to sit and wait at the Community Center for 4 hours for the new start since it was too far to drive back home and no restaurants were open yet.  The shortened course (basically the same as the last 37 miles of the normal Miwok course) meant we would need to re-think our race strategies and re-pack drop bags (there would be one spot for bags, which we would hit at mile 12 and again at 24).  After making sure all my gear was in order, I crawled back into my 6’ bed (I has to twist myself like a pretzel to sleep) for 45 minutes of sleep. 
           Up again, we headed back down to the start to pick up packets, etc.  One advantage of an 8AM start was there would be no need for headlamps.  Also, we would be starting the race by climbing up the famous Dispea Stairs.  Soon we were let loose on this cool, clear morning, a rarity in the Bay area.  Knowing we were only racing 37 miles instead of 62, I wanted to push my pace a bit without totally trashing my body.  I was more concerned about running 100+ miles at Massanutten in 2 weeks than 37 on the smooth California trails.  I settled into a nice rhythm with Lalo and Amanda, hiking some parts and running where the terrain allowed.  We climbed the stairs through dense trees, occasionally popping out of the woods for a brief view of the ocean and beach below.   Starting with a 3 mile climb allowed my body to warm up, and since the trail was pretty narrow I was forced to keep the pace easy and follow the conga line of runners.  
 (Brothers From Another Mother)

(Pre Race)

(Early In the Race - Stinson Beach Behind Us)

(Lalo Climbing the Dipsea Stairs)

At mile 3 we hit the Cardiac aid station, but since I still had plenty of water (I carried one handheld and stuff another bottle in my Ultimate Direction pack), I blew through without stopping.  This next section was my favorite of the course in terms of running.  For the next 3 miles we would bomb downhill on a soft and wide fire road, weaving our way through a dense redwood forest.  I told myself to take things easy and not trash my quads this early.  I ran what I felt was a conservative pace, but I kept passing people (highly unusual for me on a downhill), so I glanced at my Garmin to see what my pace was.  7 minute miles, while not super fast, is not what I need to be running for 3 miles this early in the race.  But I felt good, so I just went with it, knowing I’d probably suffer the consequences later in the day.  I took an occasional sip of my EFS “slurry” (this would be the only fuel I would use all day) and was soon headed into the Muir Beach aid station at mile 8.
 
(Running In the Redwoods)


   
 I quickly filled my handheld and backtracked a quarter mile (saw Amanda and Lalo along the way), where we run past horse farms and organic fields before beginning our next big (and very exposed) climb of the day.  I’ve always been a good climber, and today was a good test of that.  I passed several people as I hiked to the top, where we were afforded beautiful views of the surrounding mountains and Pacific Ocean below.  The trail was very smooth and non-technical, so I was able to run most of it.  I chatted with runners as we passed each other, swapping a story or two along the way.  Soon I began the twisty descent down to the Tennessee Valley aid station, where Jay’s wife Traci helped me find my drop bag and a new Slurry.  My friend Matt was there, and we chatted for a quick bit before I was re-filled and headed out on another climb. 


 (Arriving At Tennessee Valley)



The initial climb was pretty warm, but the views were some of the best I’ve seen in a race.  The trail would take us less than a mile from the Golden Gate Bridge, affording us views of both downtown San Francisco and Alcatraz.  While the sun was certainly warming things up, the temperature was still fairly comfortable by Texas standards.  I tried to conserve energy in these middle miles, knowing I would need them later for the climb up Cardiac Hill.  After stopping at mile 17 for a water re-fill and popsicle, I was headed back out on the longest section between aid stations we would encounter – about 7.7 miles before we would hit Tennessee Valley once again.  I never felt bad, but I struggled a bit on this section, as the cumulative fatigue was starting to set in.  Luckily I was still climbing well, so I tried to gain back some ground on the climbs since I wasn’t feeling great on the few flat sections we ran. I didn’t feel great (stomach was fine but legs were tired), so I just put my head down and forced myself to keep moving.  Up another hill and back down to Tennessee Valley, where I swapped out an empty flask for a new Slurry and headed back out.  Overall I felt like my aid station management was really good.  I didn’t linger, staying only long enough to get what I needed and then getting out quickly. 
 
                                        

 
(Alcatraz)
 
After a mile on a flat/downhill road, we were again climbing again.  My favorite part of this section was when we crested a hill and saw giant cliffs and rocks below.  The ocean waves were crashing into the walls, and fog was starting to roll in, creating a mystical scene.  We ran along some rolling terrain until making the final descent back down to Muir Beach, which was full of people, some affiliated with the race and others just out to enjoy some sun and surf.  I filled my bottles with ice and water, some of which I would drink and some of which would end up on my head and neck in the next section.  For some reason I was having difficulty running the flats, which I think was probably more of a mental barrier than any real physical ailment.  I knew I had 2 miles of flat terrain before tackling the final climb up Cardiac Hill.  I was actually looing forward to the hill, as I knew my climbing legs were still working and I felt I could pass people on this section.  The 2 miles leading up to the climb, however, were a different story.  I couldn’t seem to muster the energy to run for any prolonged period of time, giving a dozen or so people the chance to pass me.  I was hopeful I could make up some time on the climb, but each person that passed me seemed to fly by.  Once we hit the bottom of Cardiac, I decided it was time to invoke my secret weapon, my iPod, and get down to business.  Over the next 2.5 miles of steep uphill, I passed over 20 people, some of whom were running (I hiked the entire way).  This gave me confidence and a renewed energy that I hoped would carry me to the finish.  Once on top of Cardiac Hill, I filled my bottle at the aid station and began running, slowly at first, but then faster as the terrain opened up and started to descend.  The smooth terrain wound back down through the trees, broken up by the steep series of steps we had to negotiate.  I felt great on this section, helped by the cheering hikers we passed as we made our way back down the mountain to the beach.  7 hours and 32 minutes after I started, I crossed the finish line of the first ever Miwok 60K, good enough for 128th place (out of 349 finishers). 
While not my favorite trail (the views were spectacular), I did enjoy the race and will definitely go back to complete the full 100K.  




 (Mystical Scene On the Cliffs)





 (Amanda and Lalo Finishing)



 (Around Mile 7 - Photo by Brett Rivers)

(Catching Up On Sleep)