Red Rock 40: Finally an Ultrarunner...

Red Rock 40

Remember when this was a running blog? I mean, remember when I actually BLOGGED? Yeah. Pretty exciting... and rather long ago, I realize.

Well, I'm finally catching up with this race and then I have another race to post as well, in which I'm going to tell you what I've realized about running this year. So you have a whole TWO postings to look forward to.

Hold on to yer hats, ladies 'n gents. The excitement just doesn't cease.

Anyway, I have to talk about this race first. I've talked about this race a few times. This race, along with the 50 mile distance, was my "vendetta" race. In '07, I DNF'd this race due to knee issues. Then last year, I was recovering from a broken foot and not ready to race. FINALLY, this year, I was healthy and ready to run.

Ready to run with not just a little trepidation, however. When you have tried to do anything more than once, and not accomplished it, there's always a bit of the "what-if" factor. (For those of you who have not read the Shel Silverstein poem, "The Whatifs," I highly recommend you stop what you are doing and go read it now for the best description of the "what-if" factor.) What if my knee started hurting again? What if Firetrails was a total fluke and I couldn't really run that far without collapsing? What if I wasn't really an ultrarunner and it was going to take this race to really find out? (I'd go on, but I think you probably get the picture...)

Anyway, I went down to Santa Barbara to spend Thanksgiving with my parents. We had a lovely meal (outside!) with some friends and then did the now traditional (because twice= tradition) wine tasting the day before at Jaffurs (my father's comment: "it will keep you relaxed") and I woke up early on Saturday morning, heading for Red Rock.

I've talked a little about this race before, but humor me with 20 seconds of background. This race used to be Santa Barbara 9 Trails, which was all Santa Barbara front country trails. (Front country= ocean side of the Los Padres mountain range.) Due to the Jesusita Fire last spring, the course had to be moved, and RD Luis Escobar decided to start it from Red Rock, which is considered Santa Barbara back country. From Red Rock, the course headed up towards Cold Springs Saddle, then down to meet up with the original course until Romero Canyon, at which point it turned around and followed the same trail back. (With an additional 5 miles...) I had run the first 7.5 miles of the course over Labor Day and was really looking forward to the run.

We started in the dark, a small group of runners, only one of whom I knew at all. (Suzanna Bon, the eventual womens' winner, was another Bay Area representative.) In true trailrunner fashion, however, friends were easy to make, and I found myself 4 miles into the race in the company of a bunch of hardcore women. For a mile or so, I ran with two women who had completed more than 15 Ironman triathlons apiece, the 2nd place finisher, and another woman who had completed at least 2 100 milers. For some reason, there were no men around for this section of the course, and someone remarked on how we were running with a bunch of impressive women. It's true. We were.

I ended up running for a few miles with Kathy, one of the "Trail Hoes" (FABULOUS sweatshirts!) and the eventual 2nd place winner. (She's not in that picture, by the way, but IS in the picture here.) For some reason, I thought that because I was running with her, I should not pay attention to my own nutrition needs, but follow hers-- and she didn't need calories the way I apparently did. She had pulled ahead by the time we hit Cold Springs Saddle, but for some reason, I decided I didn't need to monitor my own nutritional needs, and if I felt decent, that was a good reason to not eat. (Yeah, it's probably as bright as it sounds at this point.)


Really though, I didn't eat because I was feeling great and didn't want to mess with the "magic." And the race was feeling pretty magical at this point. I mean, really-- when you see the views we had at every turn? How could you NOT feel like it was a magic race? (I'll explain how in a minute, don't worry.) I was SO happy though-- I love Santa Barbara county and I think the trails are gorgeous. They're completely different than the Bay Area, but wherever I looked, I had an amazing view. I could have stopped and enjoyed the view for hours.

I came in to the turnaround and was extremely happy to see my parents. It's very rare in my races that I ever see anyone who's not already connected to running, and seeing my parents (who think I'm crazy for all this (extremely) long-distance running stuff) come out to support me was a huge boost. I had some food (not enough) and took off again, totally surprised to find out that I was in 4th place at that point.

Ha ha ha ha. Then the non-eating caught up to me and about 20.5 miles into the race, I crashed BIG TIME. I realized that my non-eating plan was about the dumbest thing I could have done, because I was totally out of gas. Unfortunately for me, this was also probably THE hardest section of the entire course. The trail out of Romero Canyon is ridiculously un-runnable. It goes straight up, and then straight down. It does this for a good 5 miles, and then it climbs straight up for the next 3 miles until you reach Cold Springs Saddle again. Grueling, difficult running. Especially on not enough calories.

This was the dark part of the race. A couple of people asked me if I was ok as they passed me (never a good sign). At one point, I went to pull my salt caps and ibuprofen bag out of my hydration pack, and the hole in the bag (that I had not noticed) spilled them all over the trail. All of them. Fortunately, at that point I had regained enough sanity to see the humor in the situation, but I was very close to weeping openly at the silliness of losing all my salt caps and painkiller in the worst section of the trail.

What I found fascinating even at that moment though, was the certainty that even though I felt like crap, I knew I'd get through it and that it would get better. I kept telling myself that if I could just get to the top of Cold Springs Saddle, I would be fine. And really, I knew I *would* get to the top of Cold Springs Saddle. I knew the aid station would have ibuprofen and salt caps if I really needed them, and I knew that I'd eventually make it up there.

The trailrunners I met supported my theory that trailrunners are the best people ever. As I dragged my sorry self up towards Cold Springs Saddle, a couple asked me if I was feeling ok, and then walked me through the list-- did I have enough calories, enough salt, etc. Even in my misery, I felt taken care of, and that's a pretty good feeling to have.

Finally I got to Cold Springs Saddle, had soup, ibuprofen, salt, and some coke. The fabulous volunteer at the top made me eat a potato in her sight, because she was worried I was going to wander off down the trail without enough calories. I took a sandwich for the road and toddled off down the hill.

Here was the point that I realized that all the miles I've done this year have finally paid off. My thoughts as I left the aid station? "It's only 12 miles! Anyone can do 12 miles! You're home free!" Even in my calorie-deprived state, I paused for a moment to reflect on how I would not have made this statement a year ago. "Only 12 miles" is just under a 1/2 marathon. But it felt so doable and comfortable. Don't get me wrong-- it definitely took me a minute to finish it-- but once I was under the 12 mile mark, I knew there was no way I wouldn't finish the race.

After I left Cold Springs Saddle, I just enjoyed the last 12 miles. I stopped to take more pictures, and tried to look around me more, happy that I was getting to experience this area of Santa Barbara County that very few people ever really see.

By the time I was down to the last 4 miles, I had my mojo back and I was running pretty strong. I was met at the finish line by my parents and my aunt, who was in town for Thanksgiving and who I don't think has ever seen any of my athletic events. Having a support crew at the finish was fantastic, and made me want to come back and run this event again every year (not how I was feeling on the death march up to the saddle, might I add).

This event was pretty major for me, though. For one, I FINALLY finished an event that I had entered twice before but never finished. For another, it proved that Firetrails was not a fluke. That race seemed so magical that I had wondered if I was really capable of doing that again. This race, particularly since a good 8 miles of it were not wonderful or magical in the least (in fact, they sucked), proved to me that yes, I can have a crappy part of my race and still finish. Rick said after Firetrails that "Good trouble shooters finish many races." I didn't run as fast as I did at Firetrails at ALL (in fact, the race was 10 miles longer and it took me 30 minutes more to finish!) but I feel so much more confident that I can have a lame section of a race and get back on track. This race (because of the death march section) made me feel much more than Firetrails that I might be able, finally, to call myself an ultrarunner.

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....

Montaña de Oro 50K- back in the racing saddle!

PCTR Montaña de Oro 50K


Ok, ok, I KNOW it's been a terribly long time since I figured out how to post something new. And yes, I realize it doesn't take too long to post something.

It's not like I don't have things to say, either-- I have fallen in love with a pair of shoes and my new hydration pack-- that ALONE would be worth at least two blog postings! I've run in some great areas lately-- AND had an amazing adventure crewing for a friend... so yeah, I've been busy. However, that busy-ness did not include posting on this blog. I am determined to rectify this situation though, because I have missed writing-- and reading other peoples' blogs, because I haven't been doing much of that, either. I kind of went into a writing hiatus-- both for this blog and for school (it's more of a problem for school, but oh well). I am hoping this blog entry will mark the end of that hiatus.

Anyway, yesterday I ran PCTR's Montaña de Oro 50K. Yes, a 50K! And guess what? Pain-free knees! (I know everyone was on pins and needles about that one, so I thought I'd provide the spoiler early.)

Montaña de Oro is on the Central Coast of California, an area that I have driven by countless times on my way to Santa Barbara, but never explored the trails. It's about 2 hours from my parents' house, and that means I am usually tired of driving and ready to get to Santa Barbara or just getting started and not wanting to stop and make the trip home any longer. It's too bad though, because this is a gem of a park.

I managed to talk my mom into doing her first trail race EVER, so the two of us left the house at a ridiculously early hour. By the time we got to Los Osos, it was daylight but quite foggy. Thanks to Google maps assuming we'd drive 55 miles an hour, we got a great parking space, and then spent the next hour chatting and watching people fill up the parking lot.

The Montaña de Oro course does two loops twice (12k, then 13k, then repeat). Normally I am not a fan of a loop course, because I hate feeling that I have to come into the finish and then go back out again, but for some reason this time it was different. It may have been the balanced quarters, and doing each section just twice-- whatever it was, I loved this course.

The first 12k starts along the bluffs (2 miles of flat! what joy!), then cuts up toward the peaks. The first time I did this loop, I was filled with the joy of getting started and I felt relaxed and very strong. I was quite honestly surprised when we reached the top of Valencia Peak-- I was expecting it to take longer for some reason. Perhaps this was because we were completely fogged in until we reached the very top of the peak, and so I had just assumed we were going to keep climbing. This made for a happy Victoria, as you can see here. Climbing up to Valencia Peak is not an easy trail, however, and the rocky shale around the peak makes for some tricky footing going up AND coming down. Once you get off the shale portion however, the rest of that loop is pure fun to run.

The second loop climbs up to Hazard Peak, but it is much less steep than the Valencia Peak climb. This loop was also gorgeous. Whereas the Valencia Peak loop is primarily out in the open and facing the ocean, the Hazard Peak loop takes you into the canyons made by the coastal hills. This trail as well had a nice bit of flat before started climbing, then after about 2 miles of climbing, a glorious stretch that winds down to the finish line again.

After such a fun couple of loops, I thought the third loop would be as much of a breeze as I had remembered it on the first one. Unfortunately, someone had put much more uphill on the 2nd Valencia Peak loop and I really wanted to stop. I also have noticed that I hit a low point in 50ks right around the 18 mile mark. For some reason, things can feel good at 1/2 way and then 3 miles later, 13 miles more seems ridiculously long, and I'm convinced I will feel like a slug the rest of the way. I'm getting better at recognizing that I will get through this period, and I tried to remind myself that I usually felt this way at mile 18, so to try to stop being despairing and just move through it. That sort of worked-- it was helped by the lifting of the fog and realizing that I could see up and down the coast, and the higher I got, the better the view became.

Once I turned around from the peak and started that extremely fun descent, everything got much better, as I knew it would. Hitting the aid station and getting some laughs in with Sarah before I headed out on the last loop up Hazard Peak got me back into a good mood for the rest of the race.

My mom enjoyed her first trail race, although I think the 12k she did was probably a little tough for a first trail race for someone who doesn't like downhill, but I think I might be able to get her to try another-- maybe Woodside if she comes up to visit? Either way, an absolutely wonderful day! Looking forward to my next race now!!!

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!!

AR50= Annoying Race

American River 50
(morphed into DNF American River 18)

Well, as you can see, you do not see a picture of me in a snazzy finisher's jacket. Yesterday was both irritating and lots of fun.

Well, I suppose I should start with Friday. Phyllis and her husband picked me up after work and we headed up to Sacramento. By the time we arrived, we were definitely hungry-- and fortunately, Phyllis had scouted out the Hoppy Brewing Company, which as you can see from the picture, advertised "Great Food, Awesome Beer and Cool People." Being cool people ourselves and fans of the other two categories, we went in. THEN they had a "beer sampler" where you could try ALL the beers for the extremely reasonable price of $6.75. Being cool people who know a bargain when we see one, we of course opted for the sampler. All three of us. When the beer came, we spent a good 20 minutes laughing at how ridiculous our table looked, considering two of us were supposed to be running 50 miles the next day.

Then it was back to the motel and to bed for us, getting ready to rise at the ridiculous hour of 4:15. I made some coffee and oatmeal for breakfast and by 5:15 we were in the car, headed for the start.

It was very dark at the start. And there were a lot of runners. And very huge lines for the toilet.

They shooed us all up on the levee for the start, which seemed to happen pretty fast. I've never been dropped off for a race before and usually I get to races early because I HATE dealing with parking and worrying about time.

The first 27 miles of AR50 are pretty flat. The first 15 are ridiculously flat. Pancake flat, even. I don't remember the last time I ran a race on such flat terrain. Phyllis and I were trying to hold ourselves back and all I could think after mile 2 or so was how bored I was. Yes, there was a sunrise and we were running alongside the river and that was nice and all-- but I was trying to run really slowly, which is not so interesting either.

However, when we hit mile 5, things started to get more interesting. But not in a "hey, cool trail!" interesting way-- more in a "uh-oh-- what's THAT?" kind of way. My stupid knee started to make its presence known, and by mile 8, I was in full-blown pain. I could stop and stretch it out a little, which would help for maybe 1/4 of a mile, but it was not getting better. Phyllis was running with me, but as I could feel myself needing to stop for stretch breaks, I told her to go on ahead-- which she did. (She ran to a great sub-10 hour finish for her first 50 ever! Rockstar!)

I limped on for another 10 miles, but by mile 18, I was not having fun. Quite literally, it hurt every step, and this was not the way I wanted to spend another 32 miles. I dropped at the aid station at mile 18, and then got a ride to Beal's Point, where I was supposed to meet my safari-barbie-pacer in crime. Needless to say, Suzanne was rather shocked to see me walk up from the parking lot. She let me cry on her zebra sleeve for a minute (and posed for this fabulous picture), and offered to hang out with me for the rest of the day while we waited for Phyllis, but I told her that was silly-- she came all this way, she might as well get a run in.

I took Suzanne's car (and two other runners who had dropped) to the finish line, where I spent a good four hours volunteering at the finish line, taking chips off peoples' shoes as they came in. As at Firetrails, volunteering lets you see the fast people come in, which is not an experience I will ever have if I'm running the race myself. It was also a little bittersweet, because it definitely added to the "I want to be a finisher, too!" vibe, but I was definitely having a better time than if I had sat around all afternoon. Plus, I got to give people I knew hugs as they came in, like Andy, and then Phyllis right as she came over the finish line. (I also confused people, with a "but aren't you... what happened... I thought...") Considering Andy ran a sub-8:00 finish, he probably would have eaten his hamburger and taken off to find a post-race beer by the time I had arrived. So DNFing has its silver linings, I suppose.

Up next? Well, back to the PT, I suppose. And no more flat concrete. Now I'm off to ice my knee and then take the dog on an outing, possibly with a post-race libation included...

Attack of the Leopard!

PCTR Pirates Cove
50K

Oh, more pre-race silliness!

As you can see, I DID end up getting some leopard print arm panties. I have matching gaiters as well, but they did not make it into the picture. However, based on the number of compliments I got on my outfit (no joke-- one guy actually told me the leopard print was inspiring!), I'm sure this combo will make it into more race photos in the future.

For some reason, insomnia (which I have perhaps one time a year?) decided to strike Friday night, and by the time I got to the start line, I was running on about two hours of sleep. I *know* it's supposed to be the night before the night before that affects you the most, but I was definitely mentally ill-at-ease with so little sleep.

I got to the start, checked in, hung out with Jo Lynn and Rick (totally classic shot), almost forgot to put my Garmin on before the start, said hi to everyone and then took off at a brisk uphill walk at 8:30.

As can be seen on the course map, the 50K does two loops of the 20K course, with a little (10K little) extra loop added to the first 20K loop. I have never done a loop 50K before today-- Ohlone and Skyline to the Sea are point-to-point courses, so once you get through a particularly grueling climb, you know you'll never have to run that piece of the course again in the race. Knowing I would have to come back and run the 20K loop again did interesting things to my mind. On the one hand, I think it helped me go slower at the beginning, knowing I would have to deal with the climb out of Rodeo Beach after completing 18 miles already. On the other hand, I think I was a little too focused on how I would need to run that section again, so I would hold back more than I really think I needed to.

As I said, I did a better job of holding back at the beginning. When I started the extra 10K loop after Tenessee Valley, I felt great, and continued to feel pretty strong until the top of Marincello. For some reason, even though the next section was downhill, I started thinking about how I had at least 6 miles left of THIS loop, and then ANOTHER 12 miles. My legs immediately began feeling more tired, and I would say that miles 12-15 were rather painful. I picked up a bit after the Conzelman aid station (all the 30K runners speeding it up for the finish helped), but then felt like I came to a dead halt at the top of the hill out of Rodeo Beach, and took a good mile to start feeling decent again.

Leaving Tennessee Valley for the last time, I dragged myself up Marincello. I started to try a run 1 minute/walk 1 minute alternation, which worked for about 15 minutes before I succumbed to walking. I do think this was a good idea for me though, and I'm going to try it at another event in the future. By this time it was raining and cold and wet, and I was half-tempted to run just to get warm. Emphasis on the "half" part of that sentence.

At the top of Marincello, things switched again and I found a huge reserve of energy I didn't realize I had. Don't get me wrong-- I was not moving super-fast, but my mental state went from "this is SOOOOOOO long" to "Hey-- you have 6 miles left, and most of it is flat or downhill. You can absolutely do this!" While my legs did not suddenly feel light and limber, everything seemed much more possible and I really enjoyed the last 6 miles. I even ran more of the uphill than I had run the first time I came through the same section.

I also started looking at my watch and thinking about if it might be possible to break six hours. I didn't have any kind of goal time, but I had figured somewhere between 6:00-6:30 was reasonable. When I hit the last aid station, I had exactly 30 minutes to finish 3.6 miles. 1.5 was downhill, but the last two miles were pretty flat with a tiny bit of uphill grade at times. I decided to go for it, and I ran HARD the last few miles, even holding sub 8:00s on the flat part. I broke six hours (well, I think it was a little shorter than 3.6 miles), but what amazed me is how much faster I could go at the end than I had thought I could. Let's not get carried away-- I was in pain and I couldn't have gone another 10 miles at that pace, but I really didn't know I could go that far and still have energy left over at the end. While I am definitely nervous about AR50, I think this race taught me two things:

1) I am stronger than I think I am. Don't get me wrong-- I am still probably under-trained for AR50, but I had much more in the tank left than I thought I did. My goal for AR50 is still just to finish, but I'm more confident about that now than I was before Saturday.

2) Running ultras is SO mental. Again, see #1. I know adequate training is necessary-- but I've been fascinated lately by the difference my mental outlook has on my performance. As I've pointed out before, running relaxed helps a lot. When I'm feeling good, I know that talking positively to myself helps a lot as well. This time I kept trying to remind myself (with some success) that however I felt at that moment was not permanent-- if I felt bad, I would feel better soon but also that if I felt good, it didn't necessarily mean I wasn't going to feel bad again. It's the dharma of running, I suppose. (As a side note, it's been fascinating to me how applicable Buddhist teachings are to long-distance running. I feel a post forthcoming in the next few months.) What I want to start playing around with is keeping myself positive when it hurts and I'm starting to feel like I can't do it, whatever "it" is. The "feeling bad" moments, when I think about it, were more mental feeling bad moments than feeling physically bad. Of course my legs were tired and tight and of course I was hungry--but that didn't change after about mile 12-- what changed the most from mile 12 to the end was my mental state.

I have also discovered my superpower secret weapon race food-- candied ginger! I ate some at the top of Marincello (round two) and it was amazing how much the spiciness of the ginger acted as a pick-me-up and calmed down my slightly complaining stomach. Definitely going into the belt in future races.

Finally, I think I'm becoming a reluctant convert to ice baths. I didn't sit as long as I probably should have last night, but it helped. I'm going to slog a recovery run this afternoon, but overall, I feel better than I ever have after a 50K.

Plus, I got a coaster for my efforts! I think these are the coolest things ever-- if you are a 50K finisher at a PCTR event, you get a coaster with the logo for the race on it and the date-- and if it's your first ultra, you get a really special one commemorating that as well. I kid you not-- one of the things that kept me from stopping at the 30K (which I was greatly tempted to do) was getting a coaster. (And pride as well, but the thought "I want my coaster" went through my head more than once...)

I think from here to AR50 is some mellow runs, maybe one longish run next weekend, but then... Victoria attempts 50 miles! Aack!

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!

DNF= Disappointing N' yet Fun...

PCTR Woodside
(17 of 35K)

You know what's really annoying? Thinking that you face one significant problem in your race, finding out that this is not a problem, feeling great about your progress in the race... and finding out a whole DIFFERENT issue is what brings you down.

I spent most of this week feeling rather crapola, and worrying that I would be too sick to run today's race. 35K felt long, and I was worried that I would die en route. I was vacillating between the 17 and 35K distances until Friday afternoon, but I started feeling much better on Friday and decided to do the 35K. I woke up this morning, saw some blue sky and was quite happy with my decision.

When I arrived at the start, there was so much good running energy (excuse the term-- remember, I'm from California and we're allowed to use phrases like "good energy"-- part of our constitution, I think) that I got happy thinking about the 35K. Mike was running the 35K as well, and I knew several people in the 50K group.

We took off in the last group-- 45 minutes after the 50K group and 15 minutes after the 10K group. I made a big effort to go out slow and steady, and I think I succeeded. I felt great up until the 1st aid station-- the first picture was taken just before the 1st aid station, and it shows the absolutely ideal running conditions of today. Running through the redwoods, cool temps (but not raining!), not too muddy despite yesterday's rain-- perfect! Until the 1st aid station, the trail leads pretty much relentlessly upward, and I kept a steady pace that felt neither too fast nor too slow. I was trying out one of the philosophies I have heard about running ultras-- think of the race as separate races between aid stations, and I was also trying to focus on my "run calm and relaxed" practice that worked so well (until the foot breakage) in Skyline to the Sea.

After the 1st aid station, the trail gently rolls up and down until the second. I had a second mental breakthrough on this section-- I started to feel tired and wanting to stop, and I could feel my thoughts turning negative, but I remembered something else that I read in a blog (or article) of wisdom about ultras-- someone said that the one piece of advice he had for newbie ultra runners was to remember that however they felt at a certain moment, it would change. It's amazing what mental comfort this gives, and I relaxed into the tiredness, had some food (key as well) and felt better within the next mile or so. Again, I was running very smoothly, and I was looking forward to the turn-around point, because I had told myself I would not let myself push it until I was done with 10 miles--and I was definitely feeling like I HAD something to push.

However, my knee had other ideas. Right about mile 9, my knee decided that it was not ok with my lack of attention to the exercises the PT told me to do last summer, and it decided to make its presence known. It shouldn't really be so much of a shock, as part of the reason my left knee has tendonitis has to do with the long-time weakness of my right leg from knee surgery 10 years ago, now compounded by being on crutches for a month in October. Have I been doing all the work to strengthen the right leg? No. Was the PT right? Yes. My knee HURT.

So I dropped at the turn-around, felt annoyed for a minute, but then came back and hung out/helped at the start/finish. It's hard to be bitter about not finishing a race when it seems like a big town-hall social hour at the finish line. People cheer others on as they come in, chat about running, upcoming races, where to go for sushi next weekend... Sarah and Wendell (RDs) are well on their way to developing not just a great race series (well, they've already done that), but a real community of runners--much harder, and in my opinion, when I think about the problems of the world, much more important and lasting.

Pacifica 21K- summer in January!

Pacific Coast Trail Runs

Pacifica (San Pedro Valley Park)

21K

Now, if you are not familiar with Pacifica, this picture might not be so exciting to you. You might, in fact, look at this picture and think, "Typical California-- what's the big deal?" Typical California if you live in a section of California that is not blanketed in fog 360 days out of the year, which is Pacifica's general state of existence.

However, we seem to be having a spate of summer in the middle of January, and so I spent a marvelous day running and then hanging out at the PCTR race in Pacifica today.

When I arrived at the race this morning, it was a little chilly, but the clear ocean views driving in promised this would be just a temporary state. I checked in and said hi to Mike, who was graciously volunteering his time, Sarah (RD) and Suzanne, a fellow tart of the trails. Jo Lynn almost missed the start, but she and her friend Christy also made it for the 21K as well.

This course has two loops-- if you are a 30 or 50K runner, you do them more than once, but the 21K runners had a 12K loop and then a 9K loop. The first loop leads up to the top of North Peak, from which we had an absolutely stunning view today. (The first pic is from the trail leading up to the top.) For the first time ever, I had someone take a picture of me during the race on top of North Peak, but since my camera's shutter is lamer than lame, it didn't come out, so you will not see me atop North Peak. You can see the trail leading up to North Peak however, and then the view looking towards the East Bay. While this is not an amazing picture, if you click on it, you can see the tip of Mt. Diablo poking through the clouds, which is why I took the picture.

Then the first loop drops back to the start/finish line (also the aid station), embarking on a loop that has less elevation gain/loss than the first loop, but which reminded me that I have not been running long or hills lately. This is another way of saying this portion kicked my behind. The second hill of the second loop is made up of switchbacks that are flat enough that they should be 100% runnable but steep enough to make you feel like your body is devoid of any kind of power at the same time. Fun. Then I got to the downhill and realized that my quads really need some downhill experience.

However, once I finally finished, I had a great rest of my day. I ended up hanging out for hours, both because the weather was great and because I was having fun talking with everyone. PCTR events are like a party with a bunch of tired and sweaty people and no alcohol. We are really lucky to have them in the Bay Area.

I waited for Jo Lynn to finish, then hung out with Christy and her for a bit-- Christy had taken a rather nasty face plant on her first loop (but still finished!). This course had a ton of very technical, rocky single track which was pretty but left a bunch of bloody runners-- the RD ran out of band-aids! I spent time talking with various and sundry people and sort of helping out Sarah (RD) until it was time to break everything down and go home.

This run was a great way to start the season and a good inspiration to get myself in gear for the upcoming craziness I have planned into my life. Running today was a big wake-up call that if I am going to run AR50 in April, I need a LOT more miles on my legs.

Rodeo Beach 20K

Rodeo Beach 20K
Race Report
PCTR Course Description

I was a little apprehensive about this run. Not because of my foot, which is fine, but because I hadn't really run much more than 7 miles since I started up again. However, seeing as how I am running in Spain in a week (Whoo-Hoo!!!) and I don't want to shame the trail runners of the US, I wanted to get some mileage in and assess what next weekend would look like.

Another interesting part of yesterday was my pre-race breakfast. Normally I am a "small bowl of oatmeal" fanatic, but since I was out of oatmeal and too lazy to go to the store Friday afternoon, I had a spicy tamal for breakfast. This could have been a bad move on several fronts-- new food, spicy-- all kinds of things could have gone wrong. However, it was what I had.

Driving to Rodeo Beach was a treat by itself. The race starts at Rodeo Beach, in the Marin Headlands, right by the water. As you can see from the picture, the weather was spectacular. Clear and sunny-- not a cloud in the sky!

The course heads straight up the hill, as you can see in yesterday's posting. I tried hard to hold myself back and not take off simply out of the excitement of actually being in a race again. One of the reasons I was so happy with my race at Skyline to the Sea (until I fell) was that I had managed to hold myself back in the beginning of the race and was feeling great after 20 miles. My goal today was to go out easy and then try to be steady throughout the whole race.

Heading up the hill, I talked for a while with Rick. This is probably the only race in my whole life I will be able to say that I ran with Rick for a bit. He was out just for a fun run with some friends, so he wasn't trying to stick with the 50K leaders. Rick is a very fast local ultrarunner who has had an amazing year with a TON of improvement. Plus, he's a really nice person. After a while, he decided to catch up on the gossip his friends were dishing out ahead of us and he took off.

The trail leads up Coastal for while before heading towards Tennessee Valley on Old Springs trail. This is one of my favorite trails in Marin-- running this direction at least. The trail is a nice, gradual downhill that one can practice speed without feeling out of control, and I'm not going to lie to you-- I'm still feeling a bit worried about falling.

After hitting the aid station at Tennessee Valley, the trail led up Marincello Road. I hate running this section. It's only a mile and a half, and it's not really steep uphill, but it's continuous and seems to go on and on. Yesterday I don't know what happened though-- I just decided I would be slow and steady and I ran the entire hill! I didn't break any speed records, but I felt so much stronger than I thought I would!

I will say this: the views from Marincello Road are rather lovely. As we were running, it was possible to see Tiburon, Sausalito, the Richmond Bridge and probably Mt. Diablo if the visibility was a little better. Not so bad--even if the climb is irritating.

After getting to the top of Marincello, the race took two trails that just might have made Victoria's "Must-See" list for Bay Area trails. Alta trail, from which the top picture is taken, was beautiful, as was the SCA trail. Unfortunately I was not paying much attention to the effect of the light, and so the pictures do not even remotely do justice to these trails. Coming round a curve to see the tips of the Golden Gate Bridge peeking out, and then running along a ridge with the Golden Gate Bridge beside you and the rest of the Bay beyond? Let's just say I was having a moment of smugness-- especially since it was sunny and the middle of December. If it's nice on Tuesday I might go back with my camera and try to snap some better pics.

Just after that, we hit the second aid station and I realized that I only had about 3.5 miles left, and I was feeling MUCH better than I thought I would, and so I pushed it a bit back to the finish line--and still felt great!

All in all, a great race. I have extolled the fabulous qualities of the race directors before (Yay Sarah and Wendell!)-- they put on beautiful races with extremely friendly people. Can't wait to get back from Spain and plan my next few races!

Thanksgiving Trot + Trails

Event #1: Turkey Trot

(4 miles)

This picture is from the trails portion of the day, but today was my first race back! True, it was a short four miles, and it was definitely not as fast as I've ever run, but it was a race and my foot didn't hurt at ALL. (I would like to say the same thing about my poor hamstrings, who were forced to run hard when I'd only done easy running up until now.)

It was lots of fun though-- my mom and I did the race, while my dad and my friend Jen went on a 25 mile bike ride. The weather was beautiful too, as can be seen in the one picture I actually took during the race.

Event #2:

Hiking on the Jesusita Trail (portion of the 9 Trails course)

(Tunnel Trail- Jesusita-Tunnel)

4 miles

Then we picked up my brother and his dog and took off for our family's favorite trail destination-- a small outcropping off the Jesusita Trail that has views of all Santa Barbara in the front and the Santa Barbara foothills behind.

While I did not get to do the 9 Trails course, (well, no one really did, as it got moved to Ojai because of the fires), this trail is part of the race. I've mentioned Santa Barbara foliage and general appearance in postings and this trail is very typical of other Santa Barbara trails. Steep climbs through dry scrub and sandstone lead to beautiful views.

One reason the city has been very worried is because of the post-fire qualities of scrub bushes like this manzanita- this bush has certain oils that keep the small bit of water it needs to survive inside, but when this plant is burned in a fire, the oil makes it difficult for water to sink into the ground, heightening the flood danger in any kind of storm.

Another fairly typical sight on Santa Barbara trails is streams like this, overhung with big sycamore and oak trees.

I hope to run some more in the next couple of days, but for now-- time to prepare for the wine-tasting biking adventure!