Dick Collins Firetrails 50 Miler- Finally!

Dick Collins Firetrails 50 Miler

Wow. It's 8 am on Sunday, the day after Firetrails, and I'm completely awake. I've checked email and refreshed my Facebook newsfeed enough times that I might as well get started writing this while it's still fresh.

(Note: there are very few pictures in this long-ish race report. Thanks to Suz for the one on the left.)

This race started in 2008 for me. I had decided after Ohlone that I wanted to sign up for my first 50 miler. I had planned to run Skyline to the Sea as a last training run, and we all know how that went. Dick Collins last year was spent handing out awards at the finish line, pink cast on my foot.

Fast forward to April of this year. I still wanted to run a 50 miler, so I signed up for the American River, which, thanks to my knee making a painful appearance, became American River 18. (Not to disparage AR50, but the 18 miles of paved bike path--and there was more after that--was one thing that let me get over the DNF. I run trails because I like dirt.)

By this point, I was feeling pretty frustrated. In the last year, I had met a bunch of ultrarunners who were talking about what 100s they'd run, or were planning to run, and I have been asked a couple of times if I'd run a 100 yet. (And yes, the word was "yet.") I said no, I had yet to run a 50 miler.

Needless to say, by the time yesterday morning rolled around, there was a bit riding on this day for me. I REALLY wanted to finish this race. I was also pretty happy that I was back attempting my first (completed) 50 on East Bay trails. I have a lot of East Bay love, and it seemed very appropriate to be running a milestone race on hometown trails.

My main goal was to finish, and to have a good time while running. I knew there would be tons of people I knew out on the course, either running, spectating or volunteering, and I was looking forward to spending the day getting to see everyone. In the back of my head, I had a "if everything goes perfectly" goal-- to break 10 hours--but I didn't tell anyone this, as I didn't think it was very likely.

I drove up to the Lake Chabot Marina yesterday morning in darkness--but it was already a flurry of activity, with head-lamped runners checking in, adjusting their gear and greeting each other. Many hugs were exchanged as I ran into all the people I knew who were running as we got ready for the send-off. Sooner than expected, Carl brought us over to the starting area, and we were off!

The first 2 miles (and last 2) are on the paved path that encircles Lake Chabot (but we're not going to hold that against it). I ran with Leigh and Mike, trying to start conservatively, as I have a long history of getting excited about racing and going out too fast.

As the group started to spread out, I tried to keep my pace at a comfortable, manageable speed, staying as relaxed as possible. I checked my watch around an hour and found that I was right around 10 hour pace, but since we had just started the race, I figured I'd slow down later on and stopped thinking that was an attainable goal and just kept running.

During the 2nd hour, I started to get worried, though. I was running with people that I had no business running with. Steve has completed a bunch of 100s and is MUCH faster than me, and I was keeping him in range. I ended up running with Larissa for a bit-- another runner who is WAY faster than me. I kept checking in with myself, asking if I was pushing it too hard, and reminding myself to keep it relaxed and easy. Here's the thing: it WAS feeling easy. Not easy like drinking-a-beer-on-the-couch easy, but I felt great. I was power hiking the steep hills, running everything else, and I felt marvelous.

Another very cool thing about this race: The Golden Hills Trail Marathon starts at the turn-around point and then heads back along (mostly) the same trails as Firetrails. This meant I got a huge hug from Miki while heading up one of the steeper sections toward Steam Trains, but it also meant that it was a continual stream of "good jobs" coming from runners as they passed by me. Seriously, trail runners are the best for giving each other support.

At Steam Trains (mile 21), a fellow runner was working the aid station and she looked up in surprise to see me, as I had come in just behind her boyfriend, who is also MUCH faster than me in real life. She asked me what I was doing, and I said I didn't know, but I was feeling good, so I wasn't going to question it.

I had really started trying to focus on the ultrarunner tip of concentrating just on the next aid station, and this was making things go much faster. There are tons of aid stations on this course, and each 3-4 mile section kept appearing faster than I thought it would. Even the climb from the turn-around back to Steam Trains, which is the longest stretch of uphill in the entire race, seemed to go by quickly. As I went through Steam Trains again, I heard my name being called-- Suz and her boyfriend (who is also a runner, or so I've heard...) were out cheering people on. It was especially nice of her to come out because she was planning on running FT herself (with me, even!), but a stupid knee injury had sidelined her just days before. It's easy to get bitter when you can't run a race that you were looking forward to, but they came out to support people anyway. (This is part of the reason I maintain that the trail running community has a very high percentage of quality people.)

It definitely helped to see familiar faces at Steam Trains, and I took off down the hill feeling happy and upbeat about the final 20. Incidentally, I was at least 15 minutes faster than my 50K PR time by the time I hit 31 miles, which definitely gave me a lift. (A confused lift, because I still didn't feel like I was running exceptionally hard, but a lift anyway.)

About a mile and a half away from Sibley, my knee started to hurt. I was SO MAD. It couldn't have been any more perfectly timed, either-- I go a TINY bit further than I've ever gone, and it starts to hurt. This definitely messed with my mental state, which had been ridiculously happy up until this point. I had thoughts of dropping at Sibley, because I didn't want to run 17 miles of pain, and then I got sad because I was doing so much better than I thought I was going to do-- it didn't seem fair. (And yeah, I know life is not fair, but this is my brain mid-50 miles.) However, I did stop to stretch my hips out and realized that it got better when I stretched, so I decided to keep on trucking and NOT drop at Sibley. Miles 33-37 were definitely the low point of my race. There is a very steep section out of Sibley that was PAINFUL, and people were starting to pass me, which hadn't happened much during the rest of the race.

Then there was a good section of uphill that made me feel better, and I ended up chatting with a really nice guy who was very encouraging and told me I was doing great for my first 50 miler, especially if that was my "dark moment" (which it was). People telling you that you are doing well is always helpful, and I realized that my knee wasn't going to be painful for every step, so I was feeling better about making it in.

Skyline Gate was the ending point of the dark time. Steve H gave me a big hug, I saw Suzanne again and I was so overwhelmed with the niceness of the people I know, I almost started crying. (So maybe I was a little tired at this point, too...) I also realized that I was going to finish this thing-- even if my knee got worse and I had to slow way down for the last 13 miles. This resolve was tested as I headed down Stream, but Steve (fast person from much earlier in the race) caught back up with me as I was walking and asked me if I'd taken any ibuprofen. I was trying to avoid it, but I realized that one round would probably fine, so I did. And what do you know-- drugs help. Seriously, I think it loosened up my hips, which meant that my knee was running in a better position, and it generally stopped hurting.

From there, things generally improved little by little, as I realized I was getting closer to the finish line, and that I was going to absolutely break my "if everything goes perfectly" goal time. By the time I hit Bort Meadows, I was feeling SO good about the day, I ran the next 3 (blissfully flat) miles holding around 8:30s, and feeling much more fabulous than I thought I would have been feeling at that point.

From there, it was a short 3 miles (with some lame hills on the first mile!) to the finish line. I finished in 9:33, much faster than I would have ever remotely thought myself capable of.

A few take-aways from the day:

1) Training helps. (Who knew?) I have been running more long runs this past couple of months than I ever have.

2) While I didn't have any major stomach issues, I don't think I was eating enough either because nothing appealed except for coke and watermelon and the occasional 1/4 sandwich. (This is particularly tragic because Ann Trason, the RD, baked all week to have about 3 kajillion different kinds of yummy-ness at the aid stations. Not eating chocolate chip cookies was one of the few sad things of the day.) If I'm going to run more than 50 miles, I need to figure this out--especially if there are delicious baked goods available.

3) Running on trails I knew= HUGE. It was a major mental support to be running along and know the trails, and know when the aid stations were scheduled to appear.

4) The reason people run these long distances? It's FUN. Seriously, until the knee problem started again, I was having the time of my life. Sure, some parts were harder than others, but I completely understand the draw for 100s. Once I got back in a better head space after the knee stuff, I was back enjoying myself. I'm definitely taking some time for rest and recovery (and lots of knee work!) but I'm looking forward to my next race already....

Ms. F-n-D finally runs Lake Chabot...

Lake Chabot Loop
(Bort Meadows Staging Area- Brandon Trail- Ten Hills- McGregor George- West Shore- Bass Cove- Columbine- Cascade-Brandon)
(15.8 miles)

Sheesh. This run was HOT. And not because the Trail Tarts of Power were running. I mean, we certainly heated up the trail on our own-- if I must be modest about these things-- but I really meant the weather.

And while this run was quite delightful in some ways, here's a hint: when it's boiling outside, you might want to stick to Redwood. And by stick to Redwood, I mean down in the stream section, under the redwoods.

However, let me tell you about the nice things about this run:

1) It's almost completely runnable. The Trail Tarts were trying to save their legs this weekend (one 50K last weekend, one 50K the next), so between that and the heat we walked quite a few sections, but if we had been in our normal PowerTart form (with normal temperatures), we could have run just about all of it.

2) There are multiple water stops. After a recent brush with dehydration, this is a plus. Also, one of those water stops is at a golf course that apparently provides reading material in the bathrooms, should you be so inclined.

3) You run by Lake Chabot for a few miles. I am a big fan (as everyone probably knows) of running by lakes. Even though it was blazing hot, it's nice to have a large body of water right next to you.

4) It's Firetrails practice! Not all of it, but enough that I felt as if I were doing my Firetrails training some good (besides getting some miles in, of course).

It starts out with a section on Brandon that looks flat but which is actually slightly downhill, making you feel like a rockstar fresh out of the gate. Then the trail winds through some eucalyptus trees for a while, providing some welcome shade on Sunday's run. Then the trail comes out on the top of the ridge and you follow Brandon down to the golf course (where reading material and a water fountain await you...). This section was one of the most brutal on Sunday because it was so exposed-- the heat seemed to rise up from the trail in waves. (And yeah, I'm sure it's hotter in Arizona right now. But we're wimpy Bay Area people who don't know what it's like to run in blazing heat all the time.)

From the golf course, we took Ten Hills trail. Apparently there are MORE than ten hills (false advertising!), but they're all rolling hills and again, if it weren't 5,000 degrees outside, quite runnable. This was a nice trail though- most of the time it was relatively shaded.

Water stop #2 was at the Lake Chabot Marina, the start/finish for Firetrails. We hung out here for a while, slurping up as much water as we could stand. If we had a car there, we might have called it a day, because another 5 miles was not sounding like a picnic. However, we saw no one we knew (and hence no car) so we slogged on up the trail. The first bit of the Firetrails course is on a paved path that runs next to the lake-- this is nice if you have a baby jogger, I suppose, but it was nicer when we got onto the trails.

The section that leads away from the lake (Columbine-Cascade) was one of my favorites of the whole run. Unfortunately, by the time I got there, I was a little over taking pictures and trying to avoid whining about how hot it was, so I forgot to snap any, but it's a green leafy section in the East Bay in the middle of the summer-- nice.

From there, the trail connects back with the last mile or so on Brandon, and you can realize that the trail that looks flat is actually slightly uphill-- enough to make you bitter about running it, but not enough to make you feel ok about walking it.

All in all, a great loop and one I think I will do again! Thanks to my fellow Trail Tart for bringing me out there-- next time we'll run when it's not Saharan desert temperatures.

Also, it's all EBRPD land, so you can bring the pup- must be leashed around Lake Chabot/Marina area, but if you bring enough water, no problem!

The Rodney Dangerfield Run

PCTR Mt. Diablo 8K

I am about to go into a doctoratin' frenzy, trying to finish up papers and classes by June 28th. As a result, it's likely that I won't be doing much racing for the next few weekends-- maybe not even so much long running! (Gasp!) I was not excited about this turn of events-- I haven't been at a PCTR event since I volunteered at Diablo 6 weeks ago-- I was going through withdrawal!

I had a bunch of other social events planned for the rest of the day, so I had originally written off the possibility of doing any kind of a race on Saturday, but then Sarah suggested I run the 8K. The 8K???? Who runs an 8K? (Ok, so I've run lots of 5Ks, and quite a few 10Ks, so plenty of people run both of them, but lately? Not so much...) Plus, now I hang out with people who wouldn't even bother changing into their running shoes to do an 8K-- let alone drive for 30 minutes to do one.

BUT the race was going to be on Mt. Diablo, and as we all know, I'm in love with the big devil. AND I'd heard a rumor that the t-shirt design was going to be very cool, with RED in it. I love red and really don't have enough in my running wardrobe with that color, so I signed myself up and even talked a friend into running his first trail race with me!

We got to the start early so I could see all my trail peeps (yes, that IS how I think of them!). They were all running the longer races though (25 and 50K), and when they heard I was running the 8K, I got some interesting reactions. One person asked me why I was running the 25 and not the 50, and when I said "I'm running the 8K" she said "Oh. I don't know what to say to that." I did see Cynthia just before the longer races took off, and ran into Jo Lynn in the parking lot-- here is the pink trail brigade!

It was Jo Lynn who delivered the final insult as she headed toward the start line-- "Have fun on the baby race!!!" she yelled back at me. Um, thanks. As my friend pointed out later, the 8K was the Rodney Dangerfield of trail runs-- it didn't get no respect!

The 8K at Diablo is not a super-easy 8K. It's almost 3 miles of up and then around 2.5 straight down. Given that my knees weren't totally happy from last weekend, I probably shouldn't have been running on them, but I thought oh well, it's less than 6 miles, I'll be fine. The uphill was great-- my knees were doing fine and I was having a good time not worrying about saving myself, which I usually think about while on the beginning climbs of a longer race. As you can see from this picture, even though the trail never got up to the top of Diablo, you still ran surrounded by beautiful views.

Unfortunately, my knees were complaining on the downhill and I had to slow down a few times to stretch out and walk a few feet when it was too steep, but I had a great time running hard and was very happy I managed to get out and run a quick race before jetting off to a social-event filled weekend.

I missed not seeing everyone else finish though....

C'est Spécial, Ohlone...

Ohlone Wilderness 50K

One of the best things about learning a different language is discovering expressions for which there is no translation in English. Take the word "spécial" in French. You might look at the word and assume it means "special" in English. And you would be wrong. If someone calls you "spécial," it's not necessarily a compliment--but nor does it mean "riding the short bus" special. "Spécial" means that it's rather particular. You could like it or you could hate it. Berkeley's Telegraph Avenue is a good example. I love the activity and the grit and the people selling "Kill your television" bumperstickers right alongside a thriving Greek system. But this is not everyone's opinion. Lots of people can't stand Telegraph Avenue. People generally feel this way about teaching middle school-- you either love the craziness or you run screaming in terror, but you don't feel very neutral about it.

The Ohlone 50K? C'est spécial. This course runs from Fremont to Livermore, through the (big shock) Ohlone Wilderness. Inland hills in the Bay Area get hot during the summer-- very hot and dry, and usually by May the hills are covered with dry grasses. This landscape does not appeal to everyone--nor do the neverending climbs. I love this area though-- I fell in love with it the first year I ran it, and I'm still completely enamored with the golden hills that give way to scrub pine areas that put me in mind of Sierran foothills. Ohlone is similar to teaching middle school though-- people don't feel very neutral about it. Here's two stories to illustrate the different reactions people have to the course:

Story #1: I end up running with a woman from probably mile 21-23. We talked about how the course was so much cooler than last year, and then she said she was sad she didn't bring her camera because there were so many stunning shots.

Story #2: After the race, I was talking with another running friend who ran the race for the first time this year and I mentioned wanting to come back and do a picture-taking run, where I stop and take pictures whenever the mood strikes me. She blurted out, "What is there to take pictures of? It's SO barren!"

Perfect illustration. Ohlone, c'est spécial.

Anyway, to get to the race reporting bit of this posting....

I started late and almost forgot to get cash for the park entrance at Del Valle, so by the time I got to the reservoir, I was feeling a little flustered. Fortunately the buses had not left and I had time to pull myself together and eat a shot blok or two. The ride to the start was nice-- I am starting to feel like an old-timer for this race, and I spent a large part of the ride to the start answering questions about the finer points of the course for the running friend who starred in Story #2.

Once at the start, there was just time to put on sunscreen, and say hi to Lori and Andy, who I had met at Ohlone last year when Lori ran the race. This year, Andy was running and Lori was on pup duty for the day. I met up with the Austrian Cougar (a.k.a. Norbert) and Steve, who had run Mission Peak the day before to hold himself back and run this as a training run for Western States.

On the way up to Mission Peak, I think I went out too fast once again, because I was ahead of Norbert and just behind Steve by the time I got to the top, and considering Norbert blew by me once we hit the top, and I never saw either of them again, I should have held back a bit. But I was feeling good, and coming out of the fog was beautiful.

I tried to take it easy from the top of Mission Peak to Sunol, as it's all downhill and a good chance to rest before the grueling climb to Rose Peak, but I felt tight and heavy the whole time. Plus, coming into Sunol, my left knee started to hurt and I immediately went into a tailspin of bitterness. I stopped and stretched it out, which helped a bit, but I was instantly in a pretty bad head space. I fueled up at Sunol and headed up the trail.

Fortunately (ha) the trail from Sunol to the next aid station is all uphill, which did not bother my knee but was exhausting. By the time I got to Backpacker's aid station, where Rick was helping out, I was definitely in a dark place. My knee hurt on the downhills and I was pissed about it. I had been doing my exercises and had no idea things would have been anything except for great. I was tired and knew the rest of the trail was going to be tiring uphill or painful downhill. I came very close to asking if I could get a ride out of the aid station, but for some reason, I decided to keep going straight up the hill. Plus, Ann Trason had just personally made me a sandwich without bananas because I had complained about the banana presence in the rest of the sandwiches. (Bananas are one of the only foods in the world I loathe.) You cannot accept a sandwich from Ann Trason and then drop. That would be embarrassing. So I headed up the hill, sandwich in one hand, piece of potato in the other.

Here's a secret though: I never ate the sandwich. For some reason, food was not appealing to me at all. I drank a little Coke at the aid station, which is the strangest thing ever, because I HATE Coke in real life, but apparently I like it during ultras now, because it was pretty much the only thing I had the rest of the day. However, I knew I should be eating, so I carried my Ann Trason sandwich along with me. And kept carrying my sandwich. And kept on carrying my sandwich... all the way until the next aid station. Yup, I carried a sandwich for over 3 miles.

This was the bitter and whiny part of the race. I kept being afraid of the downhill I knew was coming after Rose Peak, and I didn't have any energy to run up the hill so as to take advantage of the knee-pain free section. I was obsessing about how long it was going to take me to run all the way down with knee problems-- and worried there would be no place to stop and drop if I needed to. I had a really funny moment of missing Neko too-- the last time I was out on that course was when Neko got so sore she couldn't walk that night, and I really wanted the happy-to-be-alive energy she has. This left me feeling dumb for missing my dog in the middle of a race, which made me even more annoyed...

And then... I started channeling some helpful stuff. Somewhere around mile 17, it gets a little flatter and I figured out that I could probably run a little. Not a lot-- maybe just a minute here or there. I realized that yes, my knee was definitely THERE, but I could stretch it out and it would get better for a minute. I thought about my favorite online yoga instructor, who is always talking about "finding ease in your effort." I thought about being friendly to all experience. I thought about the comment Rick left after Pirate's Cove, where he said that during ultras, "job #1 for [him] is to keep the mind and spirit happy." And THEN I thought-- um, DUH, Victoria. You LOVE being out here. The whole reason you run for hours is because you get to be outdoors in beautiful places and see lots of cool stuff.

Oh. Right. And suddenly it didn't matter anymore that my knee was bothering me, or that it could take more time than I wanted to finish. I was happy again and looking forward to whatever the trail had to offer.

Once I had made the transition to that head space, the rest of the race was really enjoyable. I enjoyed the climb up to Rose Peak and chatted with the volunteer handing out wristbands, who took this picture of me. Don't get me wrong-- my knee hurt-- AND the other knee started hurting, which it has never done before, and that sucked, but I would stop and stretch it out and just carry on as best I could. Plus, at one point when I stopped to stretch out my knee, I noticed all these ladybugs on the ground-- literally thousands of them all over. I bet most people ran straight through this section and had no idea they were stepping on so many ladybugs-- and if my knee hadn't been hurting, I wouldn't have seen them!

By the time I got to Schlieper's Rock, I was happy about having only 5 miles or so to go-- Monica snapped the picture at the top of this post of me drinking even more Coke. The section from Schlieper's Rock to Satan's Pit (great name, I know!) was pretty much the worst from a pain perspective, and I have never been so happy to start climbing again. However, I realized that my 1st year's time would probably have been broken if I had not needed to walk most of the single track section after Schlieper's Rock. This could have made me bitter, but it just made me happy that I was in better shape than I thought I was.

When I finally limped in, I was thrilled to hear Jo Lynn yelling my name. She didn't run the race, but came out with her friend Christy to run a little of the course and to support some of her friends who were running-- like me! I think that knowing people are going to be there at the end is one of the most motivating things EVER for me. Well, that and beer. Fortunately, there were both and I spent the rest of the afternoon hanging out with Norbert and his family, Roy, who came to see the finish as well, and a bunch of other runners.

One unexpected treat? Speedsters Clare and Jon suggested going down to the reservoir to cool our legs off-- but it turned into an impromptu swimming session, and that was definitely the perfect way to end the day!

Ohlone-- j'y reviens!!

Correndo con il trio infernale en Mt. Diablo!

Mt. Diablo!
(Mitchell Canyon trailhead-Mitchell Rock trail-Eagle Peak-Meridian Ridge Rd-Deer Flat Rd- Upper Juniper- Summit!- North Peak trail-North Peak Rd- North Peak trail- Zippe-Olympia Rd-Wasserman-Donner-Hetherington Loop-Donner Canyon Rd-Tick Wood trail-Back Creek-Coulter Pine trail-Mitchell Canyon)
(16 miles)

As I had said before, I was embarrassed to say that I had never (until last Tuesday) run on Diablo. It's ridiculous, I know. I talk all the time about how much I love exploring new trails (it's true! I do!) and yet I had not explored one of the biggest trail networks in the Bay Area.

However, I can now hold my head up high and toss around names like "Eagle Peak" and "Deer Flat" and "Tick Wood Trail" with aplomb. When people talk about coming down from North Peak (shown in the above picture) and how it's such a tough descent, I can nod knowingly and picture the slippery, twisty, tricky, flower-lined trail too.

In short, I have finally arrived.

Here's the best part about this day, though-- it was a day of playing hooky, too! See, Sarah (of PCTR fame) and Suzanne (of Miwok fame) and I had tried sooooooo hard to find a weekend day to introduce Suzanne and me to Mt. Diablo. (Suz had never run it either, but as someone who claims to get wilty in heat, this is not quite such a surprise.) We tried and tried, but thanks to PCTR events and graduate school and other life happenings, it was looking impossible until someone suggested we just take a day off. What? A day off? Who DOES that? Oh yeah. Lots of people take days off. I don't know if it's 7 years of teaching middle school and HATING to write sub plans, but I am completely trained to not take days off. Even when I can, and the only thing my boss said when I told him I was taking off May 19th was "great!" I still forget that the world will not come to an end if I don't work that day.

Another secret: turns out the world is absolutely STELLAR when you don't work and play hooky on Diablo!

I got to the Mitchell Canyon trailhead late, thanks to finding out my directional sense is 5% less than I thought it was (an important 5%, it turns out), threw on some sunscreen and we headed out.

We ran 16 miles of the marathon at last month's event-- and that 16 miles left me very impressed with the marathoners... and REALLY impressed with the 50-milers! Mt. Diablo is no joke. I'm not sure if we ran more than 1 mile of flat the entire day. But you know what? It's so beautiful, you don't care. Well, you don't care as much. All that climbing means that every time we turned around, there was another scenic vista. I felt like I was in a live advertisement for the Bay Area, because all we could see were views of some part of the Bay Area. We could look up the Delta, over to Mt. Tam, across to SF, out at the hills stretching toward the Central Valley-- really, it gets to the point where you become blasé about the view-- "oh yeah, another view of the closest 50 miles-- haven't we seen that already?"

Fortunately, if you got bored looking out at scenic vistas, there was plenty of beauty on the small scale. Mt. Diablo still has (for probably the next week or so-- get out there!) tons of wildflowers, and looking down was easily as rewarding as looking out to the big views.

Here's the thing about Mt. Diablo though-- the downhills are just as challenging (for me, more so) than the uphills. We ran the famed "all downhill except for little North Peak" route from the summit-- and it's TOUGH. My friend Jen, a notoriously strong athlete (she won the women's division at 24 hours at Cool this year!) had talked about how hard it was, so I definitely wasn't expecting a cakewalk, and running that section with 10 or 34 more miles on my legs? Sheesh, but there are some strong runners out there. I definitely felt like I was picking my way down after Suzanne, a.k.a. "Let's sprint downhill at Miwok" and Sarah, who is also a very strong technical downhill runner. I really *want* to do Diablo next April, but I think quite a bit of training is in order....

The best part about this day though? Finding out that apparently, Sarah, Suzanne and I are a walking comedy show. There were multiple times were we had to stop and walk not only because the trail was straight up (although that happened plenty, too) but because our hilarity made running impossible. (And yes, we *will* spend the day running-and-being-hilarious-for-hire, so if you want to fund our trail-inspired laugh-fest, let one of us know.) All this plus our post-run sushi stop made this day a brilliant introduction to Diablo. Have no fear-- this is the first in many diabolical adventures to come...

Friendliness to all experience...*

*(Credit to Flora)

Firetrails Practice
(Lone Oak- Meadows Canyon- Seaview-Skyline-Return)
(14 miles)

To explain this run, I have to take you back to Miwok. As you know, the weather was um, miserable. Cold, wet, rainy-- not at all what everyone had predicted for May weather. Lots of ridiculous moments, as Suzanne pointed out on her race report. As we were leaving, (another Bay Area ultrarunner) Flora said, "Well, that was a day to be friendly to all experience!" I laughed then, because I understood what she meant-- everyone expected it to be hot, clear, beautiful, etc., and well, the experience was wet, muddy and cold. However, the Marin Headlands can be beautiful in all kinds of weather-- I thought that even the freezing, fog-blanketed, wind-whipped Coastal Trail had a certain beauty to it. So I got where she was coming from, but it dropped from my mind pretty quickly.

Fast-forward to yesterday. I got off work, totally excited about running a good, long run. The weather was beautiful, my knee is getting MUCH better, and I felt like I *should* be running well right now.

I started at the Firetrails turn-around, because I'm dead set on running that this year, and I'm going to start practicing running the trail NOW so that it's all very familiar when I have to run it in October. I ran the first couple of miles to Inspiration Point feeling great, but when I crossed the road to head up on the Seaview trail, all my energy disappeared and I felt like I was a lump running along. I felt SOOOOOOO tired. Normally, I'm a decent uphill runner, and I actually *like* running uphill for miles. Yesterday, I thought I was going to die if I ran anything that resembled a marginally steep grade.

The weather was still beautiful, and I took a little time to snap some pictures as I was galumphing along, but I was not a happy camper. I was totally resentful about the tiredness that was pulling my body down. It was ridiculous, I thought. The week after I ran Miwok, I ran several hard runs and I felt GREAT. I had taken it easy last weekend (school), and I felt totally justified in expecting my body to be performing well.

But it wasn't. I felt like I had been running for days, every step taking a major effort. All I wanted to do was stop. Then I started inhaling bugs (yay spring) and then, to make things even worse, I slammed my thumb in a cow gate. It hurt. A lot. By this time, I was about 7 miles out and decided to turn around, even more resentful about the crappy run I was having.

For some reason, I thought of Flora's comment post-Miwok. "Friendliness to all experience." I was having the experience of a crappy run. Or at least, the experience of not having my body do what *I* thought it was supposed to do. But really, was the run all that bad? It was beautiful out, and I was running through green grasses and wildflowers, with amazing views all around. Really, not so much to complain about. So maybe I'd walk a little more than I thought I "should"-- but so what? I had my camera with me-- I could use this time to take more pictures than I normally would.

And like that-- the run was fun again. I have been thinking about this since yesterday, and how so much of what we usually get angst-filled about is because it's not what we THINK should be happening. Recently I discovered just how much I'm among all the people who have been screwed by the mortgage crisis, and I spent a good day or so thinking about all the things I won't be able to do for the next year or so, but then it struck me that really, if I didn't have all these expectations, I wouldn't be so upset. Plus, I've been eating MUCH healthier as a result of my "don't buy any food outside the house" money-saving strategy.

And here's the kicker-- I took one of my favorite pictures ever on Friday after I decided to not be so focused on what was NOT happening in my run. Here it is--I like it because it isn't a view we often have of these flowers. It's a good reminder to me that there are many other ways of viewing an experience, and being open to them can yield beautiful things.

The Hills of Sunol

Sunol Regional Wilderness
(Canyon View- McCorkle- Ohlone Wilderness Trail)
(11.2 miles)

Looking at the map for Sunol, I just became sad that I don't live closer to Sunol. We came down here so I could practice running the Ohlone trail for the Ohlone 50K at the end of May, but there are SO MANY other trails in Sunol! Perhaps I shall have to schedule another Sunol outing soon.

As I've said before, Sunol is definitely a spring/fall running locale. The hills get hot, hot, hot in the summer, but our weather on Sunday was pretty much perfect. Amusingly enough, I ran this exact same trail a year ago in preparation for Ohlone. You can read more about the trail in this run, but this time we took Neko (who was absolutely thrilled) and we ended up running shorter because we decided to climb up this hill on the right to see the view. It's kind of a pain to get to-- you can't see the extremely steep down-and-up that leads off the regular trail--but the view from the top was marvelous.

This is not a trail for the faint-hearted. In fact, it's hard to write much of a trail description besides this: It climbs and climbs until you turn around. Then you run downhill. I was pretty pleased though, because I felt pretty good the entire run. I felt like I could have run farther when we turned around, but decided to play it safe because of the 5 1/2 miles of downhill on my knee (which turned out fine). I'm pacing Mike next weekend at Miwok, and I figured that having knee problems as a pacer would be unmannerly. So we kept it shorter-- but still had a great run.

One hilarious thing about this run? The dog ran so much that she made herself really stiff and sore that night-- she was limping when she got out of the car! I spent the evening worrying that I had made my dog injure herself, but then she was fine the next day-- tired, but fine. It's not surprising that she was exhausted-- I'm sure she ran at least twice what we ran, and much of that at a dead sprint (this being her favorite way of moving from place to place). So one thing we know about Ohlone? It can even tire out an Aussie/Border Collie-- and that's saying A LOT.

Clearly, dogs are fine on this trail-- plenty of cows, but dogs can be off-leash. There's some water on the trail now, but we brought water for Neko, too, and if you're going to go on a long run/hike with your dog, especially in the summer, I highly recommend bringing water.

An Edifying Run for Nerds...

Huckleberry Botanic Regional Preserve/Sibley Volcanic Regional Preserve
(Skyline Gate- Skyline- Huckleberry Path- Skyline Boulevard (whoops)- Round Top- Quarry Trail- Pond Trail- Volcanic Trail- Round Top Loop- Bay Area Ridge Trail- Skyline)
(8.6 miles)

While neither Huckleberry nor Sibley have enough trails individually to warrant a run, this was an exquisite combination of trails, and includes plenty of learning opportunities for the inner nerd in you.

We started Easter morning from Redwood's Skyline Gate around 9:30, and barely got parking. If you are trying this hike on a weekend, come early or be prepared to be creative in your parking search. (Alternatively, if you wanted to do a little less mileage, it's possible to start from the Huckleberry Botanic Regional Preserve trailhead, just up Skyline Boulevard-- far less cars will be parked there, I'm sure.)

We started out on the East Ridge Trail (take the big fire road to the left) but very quickly turned off on Skyline Trail. This leads to Huckleberry, a great little botanic wonder that I have covered here. This morning, the views were outstanding, as can be seen from this vista of Mt. Diablo.

We took the upper path through Huckleberry, planning on coming back on the lower loop on our return. This was a great plan, but it meant we accidentally missed the turn off to the Bay Area Ridge Trail, and we ended up on Skyline Boulevard for a short moment (1/4 mile?) until we reached the entrance to Sibley. Getting on to the Bay Area Ridge Trail would have added another 1/2 a mile and a very steep section of trail.

However, if we had done that, we would have missed the informational kiosk at the entrance to Sibley. Sibley Volcanic Regional Preserve was, to quote the informational brochure, "a complex volcanic center that was the source, 10 million years ago, of most of the lavas that underlie the ridges from Inspiration Point in Tilden Regional Park to Moraga." Perhaps you are not as nerdy as me, but I love learning different historical facts about the trails I am running on. Plus, there was a John McPhee quote included in the park information. John McPhee is one of my favorite writers-- I was convinced, simply through the strength of his writing--that geology is a fascinating subject. I will read anything John McPhee writes.

The trails in Sibley are very flat, so do not come expecting huge elevation gain/loss. However, Sibley has a high ratio of gorgeous-views-to-miles of trail. It was possible to see the Bay on one side and Mt. Diablo on the other. Mining practices have carved out hillsides in dramatic relief, exposing layers of geologic history (nerds, get out your natural history books!). Finally, Sibley is an explosion of color at the moment-- hillsides are covered with lupine, accented with California Poppies. I highly recommend running here in the next couple of weeks. Sibley will be beautiful even with the characteristic East Bay golden-brown hills of summer, but it's stunning at the moment.

We took Round Top to Quarry, and then decided to take the tiny Pond Trail loop. By itself, the little pond is quite beguiling-- a little spot of peacefulness tucked away on the hill. As we started around the pond though, frogs started jumping off the side of the pond into the water--lots of frogs! Jen took a video to try and capture the noise the frogs made as they jumped in- it sounded like a partial duck-quack, only shorter and quieter. Dogs aren't supposed to be at the pond, and while I'm clearly a dogs-on-trail kind of person, I was happy Neko wasn't there to scare the frogs. Some of them were quite large, too.

After the thrilling frog-sighting, we took Volcanic Trail back to Round Top. Volcanic Trail winds through a huge basalt lava flow--the brochure for the self-guided tour drops names like "chalcedony" and "zeolites" in its description-- how's THAT for nerdy?

Once past Round Top, we took the Bay Area Ridge Trail back towards Huckleberry. This is a great stretch of trail as well-- it drops very steeply down off the ridge, winding through shady oak trees and lots of poison oak, crossing an unnamed creek and then climbing back up the canyon to Huckleberry.

In short, a great option for a meandering run on a Sunday morning. This run has too many beautiful corners to rush. It would also be possible to start at Joaquin Miller or another gate in Redwood to add some more mileage on, if 8.6 were feeling short.

No dogs at Huckleberry, and dogs only at parts of Sibley, so I wouldn't recommend taking the pooches on this run.

Minxes in the mud!

Ramage Peak Trail
(Chabot Staging Area- Ramage Peak Trail)
(11.5 miles- but it seemed much longer!)

First, for the prurient amongst us-- yes, there were two very muddy ladies on the trail today. But there was no wrestling and no titillating pictures. Just to be clear about that.

A new trail today! It's been quite some time since I explored uncharted (for me) territory. This hike was characterized in David Weintraub's East Bay Trails as "one of the most adventurous hikes in the East Bay, combining beautiful scenery, rugged terrain, and a sense of isolation found in few other East Bay parks..." You can do this as a 10 mile point-to-point from the Chabot Staging Area (the EBMUD staging area, not from Lake Chabot) all the way to Las Trampas, but we only had one car today, and I was thinking I wanted to go a good deal longer than 10 miles. This was before I realized how much mud slows one's pace.

Weintraub is right though-- this trail is isolated. As we drove by Lake Chabot on our way to the trailhead, tons and tons of cars were spilling out of the parking lot. We were one of TWO cars in the parking lot at this trailhead-- and we never saw any other people the entire afternoon. For the accessibility of this trail (literally 10 minutes past Lake Chabot!), I find it truly amazing how easy it is to find spots in the Bay Area that take you away from the madding crowd with very little effort.

There is one possibility for the lack of people on the trail. They might have known how muddy the trail is, post-rainy weeks. Perhaps we would not have taken this trail today, had we known how much muddied our experience today would be. And it was-- very, very muddy.

Given all that, I think this is a gem of a trail that I can't wait to come back to in drier times. EBMUD trails are definitely less well-marked than East Bay Regional Parks trails, but it is beautiful scenery to run through. The trail starts out skirting a christmas tree farm and then a cow pasture (cows seem to be the main users of EBMUD land-- there were cow patties a-plenty!). The one reminder of civilization is the shooting range nearby-- for quite some time the bucolic landscape had a soundtrack punctuated by intermittent gunfire. How picturesque.

From there, the trail alternates between open hillsides, carpeted in brilliant green (one advantage of the recent rain) and gullies shaded by oak trees. Those gullies? Mud city. And the thing about this mud is that you can't just run through it-- it was bien slippery. Plus, this was some steep up-and-down. All this made for rather exhausting trekking, even though we weren't running the whole time at all. I felt like the times we were running were actually the least tiring moments of the whole run.

Then the trail climbs steeply up to Riley Ridge. From here, Ramage Peak is just a few steps away. This is also the point at which one could continue on to Las Trampas for a point-to-point, or a very long out-and-back run. (There is also a possibility of creating a loop in Las Trampas and then heading back on the Ramage Peak trail for probably a 17-18 mile run.)

The view from atop the ridge is, as seen in the first picture, quite beautiful. Everywhere we looked we could see green hills-- and no sign of civilization! We were menaced by a gang of cows though, who were not impressed by our presence whatsoever.

We also saw two groups of wild turkeys, but they flew away before we could capture them on film. Jen almost stepped on this little newt, who I suppose we might not have seen on drier trails, so perhaps there is some consolation for the hours spent slurping through the mud.

In the picture below, you can see the beauty of the feet (and legs) after a couple of hours on the trails. So very delicate, those trail runners!

Afterwards, we headed back to Oakland for a burrito and a beer-- and since I forgot to bring pants to change into, I ended up in the skirt I was running in-- and mud-covered legs to match! Yes, I got a couple of strange looks, but at that point, I was so hungry, I didn't care. (Actually, I don't think I ever care what people think of my fashion choices if food is involved.)

There was also a video of me taken today attempting to do a "Sound of Music" moment on a hillside (because really, what's a trail run without some silliness?). If I am technically advanced enough, I will try to post it here.

In summary: Ramage Peak? Worth doing in dry weather. Because it's EBMUD land, no dogs, no bikes and you should definitely get a permit. No one asked today, but when I ran Briones Reservoir last year, we were asked for a permit 4 minutes after we parked. Fear not, Ramage Peak trail-- I'll be back!

Too Awesome for Snot Bubbles

PCTR Sequoia 30K
Joaquin Miller/Redwood Regional Park

I'll get to the slightly cryptic title in a moment. First, I would like to draw your attention to the fabulous picture of the trail tarts pre-race this morning. This is why I love trail running. Other people might be running around, stressing about this or that-- but we spent a good 15 minutes shooting hilarious pictures like this one, in which you can clearly see the hoof-like characteristics of our hands, in honor of Suzanne's zebra arm panties.

(I'm getting some arm panties with my Zombie Runner gift certificate, I just haven't decided if they're going to be leopard or zebra. Seeing as a zebra pair and a leopard pair already run the PCTR circuit, I suppose I *should* get giraffe, but what's fast (or fun, really) about a giraffe? I want Moeben to create a pair that are tiger print, or maybe I should get the flame pair, but then I'd have to get gaiters to match...Such fashion dilemmas!)

Anyway, besides acting out zebras before our race, we also showed how strong we are. Wouldn't you be afraid if you saw us blazing down the trail toward you? No? Oh.

In any case, despite being doubled over with laughter looking at these pictures, we managed to get started. As seen in my previous post, the knee thing has definitely been annoying lately, and I really wanted to just finish with a pain-free run. To this end, I decided to run with Suzanne, who was running the 50K and who I figured would go out at a good pace-- not some ridiculous "Look at me run up the trail for the first 3 miles" pace, which is what I tend to do. Plus, it's easier to run relaxed when I'm running slower.

The race followed quite a bit of the trail we did two weeks ago, running up and down French trail, but today was minus the sheets of rain pouring down. It was a great day for running-- cool and overcast but not raining. I kept checking in with myself, trying to be positive and relaxed. I realized shortly after the 30K turnoff that when I engaged my core muscles when I ran downhill, my knee didn't hurt. Oh, so THIS was what the PT was talking about last summer about the importance of core strength? It was a pretty obvious thing, too. It made me really happy about all the yoga I've been doing, because I could feel different muscles engaged throughout the run, particularly when I got tired.

After the turnaround point, I was feeling really good and I started taking it a little faster. A very little bit, but I kept checking in with myself and trying to use my core muscles whenever possible. I feel like I'm finally "getting" why core strength is important. Duh.

The rest of the run felt good-- I was definitely running stronger in the later half of the race than I usually do, and I'm going to try and keep this in mind at Pirate's Cove, when I'm going to do the 50K, but also for AR50. Major note to self: GO OUT SLOW. There is plenty of time in a 50K or 50 miler to pick up the pace if need be. Right.

After I finished, I had some chicken noodle soup, which has become my new favorite post-race food ever. I got to see Jo Lynn, who did the 20K, and chatted with some of the other regulars of the PCTR community while waiting for Suzanne to come in.

The best line of the day came from the RDs' son, who reminds me that part of the reason I loved teaching middle school is because really, I have kind of a middle school sense of humor. At one point, after a particularly funny episode that will not be detailed here (yet which involved, not surprisingly, bodily fluids of the nose), he pronounced himself "too awesome for snot bubbles," a declaration that made me almost hurt myself with laughing. I would hate to see those who didn't make the awesomeness cut.

Great day again-- can't wait to do the 50K at Pirate's Cove next month!

The Tarts Go Hardcore

Joaquin Miller-Redwood Regional Park
(Sunset- Sequoia-Bayview- Castle- West Ridge- French- Fern- Stream- East Ridge- Canyon- Stream- West Ridge-Dunn-Joaquin Miller Rd)
(15 miles)

Yesterday I was going to do a long run, but I wimped out due to tempestuous conditions. This was serendipitous for me- not because of the weather (which was rather worse today), but because l'autre Tarte des Trails was doing a loooong run in Joaquin Miller/Redwood and thus I had some company!

I thought at first I would only run a portion of Suzanne's planned 4 hour jaunt, as I was feeling somewhat nervous about the state of the knee after last Saturday's DNF. I did yoga four times this week, which reminded me every time that I have ridiculously tight hip flexors and quads. This must change, I think-- especially based on today's results. My knee was feeling pretty good, but I was thinking that 2 hours or so would be a good goal.

I woke up this morning slightly dehydrated from a fun dinner the night before. This, added to the sheets of rain falling outside my window did not exactly make the thought of hitting the trails especially tempting. However, I had informed Suzanne I would be there, so I suited up, put the dog in the car and headed for Joaquin Miller.

When we got to the trailhead, the rain was coming down so hard, it was making tons of noise on the car's roof. Running in the deluge was about the last thing I wanted to do, but there I was. And there Suzanne's car was, too, so it's not like I could claim I got there and she wasn't.

Amazingly enough, it wasn't hard to find each other. For some reason, there weren't too many runners out this morning. We waited around a couple of minutes for Steve, who was supposed to join us, but then decided hypothermia wasn't a good plan for the day and took off. Fortunately, we met Steve coming down the trail a few moments after taking off (he did a bunch of miles before meeting up with us), and the three of us (plus Neko!) took off.

I don't have many pictures from the run because everything was so soaked, I didn't want to take my camera out too much. (It's making some strange noises tonight-- I'm a bit worried I got it too wet.) However, running today was lovely. If you could get over the fact that every single piece of clothing you were wearing was absolutely soaked, it's hard to complain about towering redwoods, dripping ferns, green, green, green moss over everything, and then, when it broke up a bit, wispy clouds sitting on the tops of the trees. Suzanne pointed out that this looked very "Middle Earth" and I could not agree more.

The other good news? I ended up running 3 1/2 hours today and my knee did not hurt at ALL. (Ok, so we weren't setting any speed records, but you try running through ridiculous puddles and up and down French trail and then tell me how fast YOU run!) I couldn't be more pleased-- I have definitely been worrying about AR50 and my knee, and while I don't think I'm out of the woods, I felt so much better today than I expected to, I have much hope for the spring!

The big winner of today though? Neko. I think this is the longest run I have ever taken her on, and let me tell you-- she is a dog built for endurance. An hour and 45 minutes into the run, she was still bounding around, trying to get someone to play stick with her! I think at about 2 1/2 hours, she finally started running with us, as opposed to bounding up, back, around and around. I think that I actually tired her out today though-- another first! She has been sprawled out, sleeping on the floor the entire afternoon.

Great day today-- definitely a day that earned us our "hardcore" stripes as well. Just ask Neko.

PCTR Events Ceremony and Run

PCTR Events Ceremony and Trail Run
(Shell Ridge Trail--7-8 miles?)

This morning found me drinking coffee and eating bagels with some very fit people. As a culminating event for their race series, the race directors for PCTR decided to have a breakfast celebration in Walnut Creek.

It was fun seeing people "clothed"-- I almost didn't recognize Andy and his wife Lori, as the last time I had seen them was at the ridiculously hot Ohlone 50K last year.

I went to this breakfast thinking it would be a chance to hang out with runner people and talk in a more relaxed fashion than pre-race chats, and also for the chance to do a mellow group run. I hadn't run enough races to be even remotely competitive in any of the categories, so I wasn't expecting any awards. Imagine my surprise when Wendell called my name up for a special category of awards that they felt showed "something extra" (depending on who the award was for). I got an award for my performance in this debacle. Apparently twisting one's ankle and complaining about pain is fairly common, but doing 8 miles on a broken foot is not. Anyway, I got an unexpected $25 gift certificate to Zombie Runner, which was a serendipitous bonus from that ridiculous day. (I'm leaning toward a pair of these, probably in zebra or perhaps the leopard print?)

Probably 10 minutes later, my number was pulled for a raffle prize--I won a pair of Vasque trail runners!

After that, a group of us (led by Wendell) took off for a trail run. I had never run this area, and while I felt extremely sluggish and very, very tired (fighting off a sickness, I do believe...), I was quite happy to see this new trail area. Given that Wendell was leading the run, a goodly amount of hills were involved as we ran up to the top of the ridge, a trail that gave beautiful views of Mt. Diablo (yes, I will end up running there someday!) and all around the East Bay.

As can be seen in these pictures, the East Bay hills think it's time for spring--green has carpeted the hills and is appearing wherever you happen to look.
I know we need rain, and I sincerely hope the warm weather we had today is not a portent of a ridiculously hot and dry season to come, but it was SO NICE to run in such a temperate clime today.

Tomorrow's run should be long and slooooooowwwww in Marin. The knee was making itself known today, which did not make me happy. No hurting, but I'm aware of it--not part of the plan. Hopefully it will make it through tomorrow fine-- it will have a couple of days to recover because I have a conference in San Jose next week and will be pulling a few long days without much running.

Finally, a pic of the other Tart of the Trails and me. I think we should get t-shirts made proclaiming our tartness, don't you?