I had worked hard physically and mentally for at least the previous 3 months, so I felt ready and
confident going in to Lake Sonoma 50. More confident than I've ever felt
before a race. I had done speedwork at the track, on the trail, tempo
runs, pushed myself up hilly roads and trails to the point of
grimacing and grunting. I ran when I was tired, when my legs hurt,
when I didn't want to. I also rested hard when I was supposed to,
so my body would grow stronger and not continue to deteriorate. I had
started daily positive affirmations. I did not feel any sense of
desperation or panic like I often have. I was completely calm and
relaxed. The afternoon before the race, I drove out to the finish and
walked back up the trail about ¾ mile to see what it was like, and
to envision my race finish.
The alarm went off before 4am on race morning. I
had gotten perhaps 4 hours of sleep, but I felt good. I had made a
comprehensive list of everything I needed to do that morning, from
what I would eat to applying sunscreen, filling my hydration pack
reservoir, and the specific places to apply Body Glide so I wouldn't
forget a spot. As I checked items off my list, I drank a bottle of
kombucha, ate 2 slices of apple-cinnamon bread, 2 boiled eggs, and a
banana. I left my hotel room right on schedule at 5:10am and arrived
at the race start area just before 5:30. There was some fog (they
called it a “marine layer”) and some light moisture was falling
out of it, which could be seen in the dark with the headlamp.
Oddly appropriate sign just after the start. Photo: Chihping Fu |
Just after it got light out, the race began at
6:30am. I had lined up no farther than ½ way back and didn't see
anyone I knew. Suddenly, people were off running, and so was I. The
first 2.4 miles are on pavement so folks can get spread out before
hopping onto the trail. Those 2 miles are much like the rolling hills
through Tetherow, only bigger. Someone I thought I recognized passed
me. Jim? Yes, it is Jim, who I see a couple times a year at races. We
chatted for several minutes, but finally I had to let him go as his
pace was too quick for me.
We hopped on the trail and I came alive. I felt
very good, I was rested; positive thoughts were going through my
mind. I was running in a gorgeous new area. Temps were cool. I was on
my game. I jogged the smaller hills, hiked the larger hills, and
picked up the pace on the downhills. I passed several people on the
downhill in the first miles. Seemed to me that they were putting on
the breaks. I let it go and ran the tangents, passing them on the
inside curve on switchbacks.
I began taking gels every 30 minutes starting at 1
hour in. My Garmin is set to buzz at me every 30 minutes so I
remember. I skipped my gel at 2 hours because I was still full from
breakfast, but other than that, I kept on pretty close gel schedule.
Lots of Oak trees. Photo: Chihping Fu |
Though it was cool out, for some reason, I was
sweating profusely and my clothing was dripping wet. Or was I
collecting moisture out of the atmosphere? I didn't know, so I
started taking salt (an S!Cap) every hour starting at 90 minutes in.
Seeing drips of water/sweat falling from the brim of my cap reminded
me to up my water intake. I felt like I was drinking a lot. More than
my training runs anyway. (A hill— drink! Another hill— drink!)
But my longest training run so far this year had been less than 4hrs
30 minutes. I can make hydration and nutrition mistakes in a run that
short and get away with it, but I expected to be out close to 3 times
that long today, so had to be on top of my fluids and nutrition, or
else those mistakes would be compounded.
The first creek crossing came at 6.4 miles. A
smile lit my face. I LOVE creek crossings, and this one was
beautiful. Wet feet for the next 43 miles! I am thankful I have no
issues running with wet feet and don't get blisters. Part of it might
be that I'm lucky, and part might be that I practice running with wet
feet during summer trail runs: hop in a creek and purposely get my
feet wet. Keep running. Repeat. I'm not afraid of water. It buoys my
spirits.
Around 9 miles in, I had the same thought I do
during almost every race I've done that's marathon distance or
longer: “Why do I do this? I could just quit at that aid station up
ahead and get a ride back to the finish and enjoy the festivities the
rest of the day.” But I am not a quitter. I know I would be
disappointed and that feeling would linger. The pain it takes to
finish only lasts a few hours or a few days. Being a finisher is
forever. I'll be done in ½ a day, then I'll forever be a Lake
Sonoma50 finisher. That questioning feeling soon went away, and by
mile 15 I felt like I was settling in for the day, and happy. I
actually was happy to think “I'm ONLY 10 miles away from the
turnaround!” Hey, whatever makes you happy!
Water fun about 11-13 miles. Photo: Nate Dunn for UltraSportsLive.tv |
At mile 19, near the start of the 3 biggest
climbs, I put on my iPod to start the party in my head. I sang,
played air drums. I was happy and grateful for this experience, the
beauty, the other runners, the awesome volunteers. By 11:30am, the
skies had cleared, and it was now sunny. This middle third (or more)
of the course was more sun-exposed than the first and final sections.
I was thankful that I got to run under cool, clouded skies for nearly
5 hours. I felt really strong coming in to the turnaround at mile 25.
There is a 1-mile loop at the end to the aid station and I ran that
downhill really strong. As I did, I made a list in my head of what I
needed to do here: take off hydration pack, get it filled with ice &
water, remove my shirt, wipe down with icy-wet towel in my dropbag
(ahhh!), reapply sunscreen, change shirt, reapply body glide, get rid
of trash, restock gels, eat applesauce. As I sat down on a tarp with
my drop bag, someone appeared to help me. I looked up, and it was
none other than 14-time WS winner Ann Trason. What an honor. She
helped me with everything I needed, and then I was off, nearly ½ an
hour ahead of the cutoff here.
Leaving the turnaround, I felt cool and refreshed.
Some of the downhill was quite steep here and I wasn't moving as fast
and taking short, quick steps, but now I was putting on the brakes. I
passed a couple people in this section though. One fellow said,
“you're still able to run downhill, that's good.” He was walking.
My heart went out to him. There were several people still approaching
the turnaround. I loved-on and high-fived every one of them with
encouraging words.
At mile 31 aid, I was still feeling quite good
physically and mentally, but recognized I was slowing down more. The Queen said to me, “this is when you just keep moving.” This,
along with advice from a friend who ran this race last year but
didn't make the mile 38 cut-off: “Hike the hills with passion and
you will be OK” kept me focused on staying ahead of the cutoffs at
miles 38 and 45.5.
Photo: Chihping Fu |
I had decided to count the number of people I
passed during the return trip. That number was 3. But as I slowed
over the continued hilly miles in the sunshine and fatigue set in,
more people passed me. It was only 2 miles to the next aid, a
water-only stop at mile 32.8. As I walked up the hill into the
station, I sang along with Kanye: “I'm amazing, yeah I'm all
dat...” The two gentlemen there bowed to me. I felt great and happy
to be here. One asked if I'd like water poured over my head. Yes,
please! He poured an entire pitcher of ice-cold water over my head
and neck. Orgasmic sounds ensued. “You needed that,” he said.
“Your whole body needed that.” Agreed. I had been able to hold
off a gal behind me, but soon, 72 year-old Eldrith Gosney passed me.
Damn. Maybe I can be like her in 27 years. And she went on to run
Miwok 100k just 3 weeks later. (I’ll be running Waldo 100k three weeks after Siskiyou Outback 50M, so I won't have to wait to be like her!)
Somewhere in the 5 miles to next aid and my last
drop bag, things began to slowly change. My shins began to ache a
bit. I was slowing down appreciably overall. I couldn't think about
how far I had left to go. I could only think about running to the
next aid station the best I could to beat that cut-off time. I did
not look at my watch all this distance; just run the best you can.
Several times as I was hiking uphill, my friend's advice went through
my head and I asked myself, “Are you hiking with passion? No? Well,
pick it up!” This worked for me. Finally I arrived at mile 38. I
was excited that I had beat the cutoff by 7 minutes, but was told
that the cutoff was really 30 minutes later than I had thought.
Excitement to be 37 minutes up! I grabbed a headlamp from my dropbag
“just in case,” downed some applesauce, and got out of there. 7.5
miles to the next aid. This was a VERY long stretch. My shins and
calves ached. Not bad, but noticeable. The rest of my hips and legs
felt fine. My Garmin died at 41.2 miles.
A bit earlier I had noticed my breathing becoming
labored. Now it was even more so. I could not do much more than a
slow jog even on the downhill because I would be breathing so heavy.
I wondered if this meant my heart rate was high as well. This has
never happened to me before. So I took it a little easier on the
climbs, jogged what I could of the downhill. And I took advantage of
the creek crossings. I stopped and splashed water on my legs and
hair, doused my kerchief and tied it around my neck. The rivers were
so pretty. There was one especially that appeared to have cascading
pools down to where I was. I wanted to stop and sit and have a picnic
and check them out. But I must keep moving. At the last creek
crossing, which I knew was around 6.5 miles from the finish, I sat in
the middle of the river up to my waist. I felt I had to. Maybe I
should have done this earlier. I got teary-eyed. This is damn hard! I
sat in the river until I began shivering, then got up and moved on.
The cold water made my legs feel better and cooled off my thigh
chafing. Now I was actually able to jog up some of the smaller hills.
Now, not even knowing that I had less than 10
miles left excited me. I couldn't believe that earlier I was excited
to be 10 miles from the TURNAROUND! I just needed to make it to the
next aid station. But I didn't know for sure how far away that was
'cause my Garmin had died. I'm sure this threw off my gel schedule
too, since I now had nothing buzzing at me every 30 minutes to remind
me. Being deficient in calories doesn't make things any better.
Things got damned hard. I had to focus just to keep running. It was
hard to start running again after walking. I was so very tired and
just wanted to be done and hug somebody.
Such brilliant colors! Photo: Chihping Fu |
I realized my inner dialogue had changed over the
last 10 miles. No longer was I thinking positive things about myself
as I was earlier when I felt good. It was a challenge just to make
myself jog on the downhills. I was mostly just thinking about
keeping moving. I did know however, that I would finish. My inner
finger pointed at me: You've worked so hard lately, you should have
done better than this! How can everyone be so much better at this
than you? But the positive mental work I've been doing kicked in:
HEY! If you hadn't worked so hard lately, been so prepared and felt
so confident coming into this, you wouldn't have even finished. And
you're finishing today. All these people work hard too, and many have
been working for a lot longer. And the number of people in front of
and behind me doesn't tell the entire story. Many people got sick or
injured and couldn't even show up. Then there were those that started
but didn't finish. (I later found out that 26 people who started the
race did not finish.) Though I didn't want to finish at the back of
the pack, I had stepped up my game with this race, my most difficult 50-miler yet:10,500 feet of gain in the form of relentless rolling hills as advertised. I was going to
meet my single goal for the day: finish.
When I saw the sign “1/4 mile downhill to last
aid” I was thrilled! I got down to the aid station, chest heaving,
breathing still labored, and broke into tears. “Don't worry, you're
going to finish,” a volunteer said. I replied that I knew I would,
that I was just a little emotional right now. He also said that it
was only 6:30pm. I said, “no way!” shocked that I was now an hour
ahead of the cutoff. I sat here for a few minutes to get my breathing
under control, ate some chips, drank some Coke, and found out that
these volunteers had camped here at this boat-in campsite to be ready
for the runners early in the morning and as they came through all
day. What dedication!
Photo: Chihping Fu |
So now with a little less than 5 miles remaining,
I had to focus completely to just keep moving: barely jog the downhills, and
hike the rest. Did I say how hard it was? I was looking forward to
seeing that damn “1 mile left!” sign. Finally, I saw it. Shortly
after, I recognized the spots I had visited the day before the race
when I walked backward from the finish to check it out. I was glad
I'd done that. Those flowers, that bush, those rocks, that view, bend
in the trail. Look over there, there's the finish line! Cross the
road, round the bend. Into finish line chute. It was nearly dark. 5
minutes more and I would have needed to pull out my headlamp. There
were like 3 cars left in the parking lot, and one was mine. But I was
finishing, running as fast as I could down the grassy chute edged by
multicolored flagging. I immediately doubled over, hands on knees. A
volunteer asked if I was all right. “Yes. Can I hug you?” I asked
her. “I've been waiting to hug someone.” We shared a nice hug.
Then someone stood up from the timer's table, and I got a hug from LB
too. “That was so hard!” I said. “You're the only one to say
that,” he joked. I didn't hang around for long, since I was
beginning to shiver uncontrollably. I grabbed my race swag, a slice
of pizza, and was driving away within about 15 minutes. One day I
will finish these things early enough to hang out and enjoy the
festivities while it's warm and light out and there are people still
around.
Finish line chute in the daylight. I finished just as the last light was leaving the sky. |
Wore new Salomon S-Lab shoes that I've been trying
out for a couple months. The longest I'd run in them before race day
was less than 20 miles. I took a risk and it went fine (but had a
pair of my tried-and-true road shoes in my turnaround dropbag just in
case). Mistake?: I did not have any protein or Recoverite at the
turnaround. Usually on these longer races I have. I wonder if this
contributed to my fatigue. Hydration could have been better. I was
shocked at how much water it really takes. I peed 3 times during the
race. The second time urine color was not good, 3rd time
it was much better. I had pouch of applesauce at each dropbag. I
continue to not be interested in chewing any food other than potato
chips.
Garmin had died, which I'm certain totally threw
off my gel consumption. When I unpacked my Garmin at the hotel it was
on. I think when I'd repacked from the previous night, it turned on
and was on for several hours during my drive to the race hotel. In
the future, I will always bring my charger. When fully charged, my
Garmin lasts 17–18 hours, which would have been more than enough
today. I reached the race turnaround in 5:58. In comparison, last year I finished
the Eugene Marathon in 5:07. It kicked my butt. I was
done at mile 8 and just jogged it in to get it finished. Today I had, in 25 miles, run one mile less but about 5,000 more gain in less than an hour
more. So I am really happy with that progress.
I didn't think I would slow down the second half
as much as I did (I have no idea how the final 5 miles took me more than 2 hours, when I felt like I was working hard). And the whole labored breathing thing was new. Not
sure what caused that. Maybe it was just how my body dealt with the
fatigue that day. I'd also had some mild pollen allergy symptoms both
at home and down there, so perhaps that was a contributing factor? My
neck, shoulders, and arms felt relaxed though. I did start telling
myself “I am relaxed and breathing easy,” but it did not seem to
help. It was just my chest that felt tight/tense.
I really enjoyed the course. It was gorgeous! I
actually liked the rolling hills. At least the climbs did not go on
endlessly for miles and miles and miles! I ran some, I walked parts
of some, I hiked all of some. But the trade off is no miles and miles
of downhill to bomb down. Everything was beautifully green. Someone
said that in 2 more weeks, it would be “California brown.” I
loved the creek crossings! I loved the color contrast: blue lake,
rich brown dirt above the water, green grass, blue skies. Volunteers
awesome, runners awesome. Everyone (well almost), seemed to be
enjoying themselves.
Even when I was not having such a good time later
on, I asked myself what 3 words would best sum up my Lake Sonoma
experience, and quickly came up with: Love. Service. Gratitude.
Just awesome, I'm so thankful I got to experience
this! Big smiles still...
_________________________________________________________
A postlude, so that no one worries:
A couple weeks after the
race, I had blood-work and an echo cardiogram stress test done, just
to be safe. After all, I have some strikes against me (former
obesity and smoker, family history). I ran on a treadmill and
got my heart pumping really hard and they used sound waves to check
my heart function. All tests came back normal. My electrolytes and
iron are fine, my heart is working fine. So I have no excuses.
A couple weeks after this, I was reading a book
where a runner told of a similar situation he had in a race soon
after he had gotten a bad bug (spider?) bite. This made me remember that the
week before my race, I also had a large bug bite on my left arm. To
this day I can still see where it was. So maybe this insect or spider
bite had a negative effect on my body when it was put under stress.
Who knows. But I am fine now and carrying on as planned.