Race Report: May 5, 2007: Miwok 100k

Well, guess what? Due to an injury, I didn't start heavy-duty training for Miwok until about a month before! In both years, injuries came because I tried to ramp up too fast after a long period of hibernation. I really should learn this lesson! Last year, it was a mysterious pain in my foot, which did not fit the description of any of the usual runners' maladies. This year, it was a mysterious pain in my knee, which did not fit the description of any of the usual runners' maladies. Last year, it did not get better with rest, I could even feel it while walking or doing other everyday activites after a month off from running, and eventually I decided to just start running again because it seemed like it might not be related to running after all. This year, it did not get better with rest, I could even feel it while walking or doing other everyday activites after a month off from running, and eventually I decided to just start running again because it seemed like it might not be related to running after all.

To rest my knee as much as possible, I decided that, once I had built up to long runs, I would do one long run each weekend, and NO running during the week. I've never heard of anyone doing this, but it seemed to work for me. My training went like this:

• Late March/early April: short runs in town, building up to about 14 miles on flat dirt paths.
• April 7: 22-miler on hilly trails, feeling so-so.
• April 14: Same course, much faster (cooler temps). Feeling good.
• April 19: 28-miler on hilly trails, about 6 hours. I had to do this during the week because of a business trip starting on Saturday. This trip made me go 9 days between long runs.
• April 28: Same course. This was only 7 days before the event, but due to that business trip, I had to do it, or run the event incredibly rusty. I was slower than on April 19, but hoping that I was working the rust out.

Early going

By this time I had bumped into Jack Rodgers, whom I had met last year when we were partners in the Western States Safety Patrol. We chatted and caught up on events. He was entered in States this year, after two years of losing in the lottery, and this was his big training run. Then we hit a big downhill, and I went ahead. Compared to anybody who runs about the same average pace as I do, I am a better downhill runner and worse on the uphills, so I expected to be leapfrogging with Jack, but probably to fall behind eventually because I had not adequately prepared for Miwok. On the other hand, Jack was not worried about his time at all. He just wanted to run 100k comfortably to build confidence for Western. So maybe we would finish in about the same time after all.

At the top of that big hill, we could see across the valley and see runners making their way up the other side, so far ahead of us. Although it could have been demoralizing in a purely racing sense, it was a cool view. At the bottom was the Bunker Road aid station, at mile 6.2, and I cruised through at 6:50 or 6:52. I just filled up the one empty bottle, and then ate an e-gel on the way up the big climb. In my first year and a half of ultras, my electrolyte intake consisted of drinking whatever sports drink was offered, and eating potatoes dunked in salt. In 2006, I concluded this was not enough to go beyond 50 miles, and I started carrying e-gels, which are just gels with electrolytes mixed in. That seemed to work pretty well in the hot training for my first 100-miler, and in the 100-miler itself, although as I write this, I now recall looking bad at the 37-mile aid station, being advised to take more electrolytes in the form of enduralytes, doing so, and eventually feeling better. Too bad I forgot this! My strategy in Miwok was to just take the e-gels and skip "real food" as much as possible, because I had been reading about how real food just takes more time and energy to digest. I would eventually feel the lack of salt from potatoes and enduralytes.

Anyway, at this point I was still feeling good, and pushed it a bit. After the big climb, it was rolling for a bit, and I passed some people, and then passed even more on the downhill into the Tennessee Valley aid station at mile 11.9, which I reached right about 8am. I downed an Ensure and changed my socks. It takes some time to get into those injinjis, but it was definitely worth it: My initial pair were definitely wet (partly because of dew), and now my feet were MUCH more comfortable. Just after leaving, I started feeling that perhaps I had pushed it too much and should start taking it easy. Jack caught up, and we were together for a bit, but soon there was a little downhill where he waved me forward. On this section (past Pirates Cove to Muir Beach), the runners were pretty thinned out and it felt pretty isolated. I probably started pushing too hard again, but there was no one to chat with and take my mind off getting to the next aid station.

I rolled into Muir Beach at about 9am. I had thought that MB was at mile 17.0, and so had an overinflated idea of how well I was doing (it is actually at mile 16.0). I again zipped through without picking up any food, amazed at how much time I "gained" by carrying my own "food" (e-gels and an Odwalla bar in case I really got hungry. I ended up carrying that Odwalla bar the entire 100k without eating it!) I passed a bunch of people in the aid station itself, and another group just after, because they were walking (a natural thing to do if one has just eaten something in the aid station).

However, just past Muir Beach, I started feeling flat. The course here is a very, very gentle slope upwards, but I still walked most of it. A few of the people that I had just passed, now passed me. As the course popped out of a trail to cross a road, a hiker stopped me and asked for directions. I said I had no idea, I'm just following the race course. She asked me where the race started and I couldn't even remember! I said really far south and then she came up with Rodeo Beach and I said, yes, that's it.

Just after this road crossing, the biggest climb starts. I had been looking forward to this, because I wanted to get the climb behind me and see how I felt after that. Jack caught me again on the lower-to-mid slopes of the big climb, we did a bit together, and then he went ahead. After that, I was passed by two women, and I asked them if they knew the course, how far to the aid station at the top of the climb (I was getting sick of the climb!). They didn't know the course too well either, but they gave me an estimate of a half mile or so, which turned out to be reasonable. More interestingly, it turns out I sort of knew them already! One of them was named Sandra and she recognized me from my innumerable training runs in her hometown of Auburn, even though I did not recognize her. The other was Molly, who had won Rio del Lago (my first and only 100-miler at this point) in September. Around miles 32-37 of that race, I was briefly runnning with, and even a little ahead of, her and a guy named Gary. At the end of RdL, I was stunned to learn that I had been running with the eventual women's winner! I probably went out too fast!

The Low Point

A mile or two after Pan Toll, I really began to drag. The course was kind of rolling but with a net downhill, and I was not making time on the downhill as I usually do. In fact, many people passed me, and they asked me how I was feeling, which is a clear sign that I looked awful. It was now getting toward three hours without peeing, but at the same time, my stomach felt like it was sloshing full of water. I tried to remember what that meant....too much electrolyte? Wow, I felt bad. I was even passed by Rajiv and Anil, two runners who finished a few hours behind me in each of the previous two races we had done in common. I hope I am not offending them by saying that when they passed me, I really became demoralized and feared that I was actually the last runner on the course. (I think they were the last finishers in the two races I had seen them in previously.) On the plus side, they had a really nice attitude and offered me ginger chews when I said that my stomach was slowing me down. But it wasn't nausea, it was this feeling of being sloshingly full.

After that, I really lost my will. I actually began to look forward to the fact that I would miss a cutoff and thus get out of the race without quitting. I cannot recall ever having such a defeatist attitude during an ultra. (That's not to say it never happened...runners tend to forget how low their low points were in the past.) The cutoff was actually at Randall Trail at mile 35.6, but I figured if I got into Bolinas Ridge at mile 28.4 in a bad enough time, I could stop there on the basis that proceeding to Randall Trail was definitely futile. Really, I lost my will in a way that had never previously happened to me.

Some time later, yet another person passed me and asked me how I was doing, I told him about not peeing in 3 hours, and he asked me how I was keeping up with electrolytes. That made me think...I had taken NOTHING but e-gels and that was really different from all my previous ultras. I told him about e-gels and he asked if they had sodium. Hmmm, not sure (actually, they do). OK, he offered me an enduralyte and I took it, and he went ahead. He didn't get very far ahead when there was a little downhill that brought me back up to him. We started to chat. His name was Dave from Fremont, and he had a lot of experience in this race, including experience missing the cutoffs. I asked him about cutoffs, how far to Bolinas Ridge, whether he thought we were the last people on the course, etc. I started to feel better and found I could keep up with him. He was kind of looking for someone to run with to keep his pace fast enough to keep ahead of the cutoffs, and I started to think I could do that for him, at least for a while. I still wasn't sure I was capable of finishing, but I was starting to think about trying to stay ahead of the cutoffs.

As we neared Bolinas Ridge, I told Dave that although I was feeling better, it seemed only prudent for me to stay at BR until I peed. (I had peed just a little bit at 11:30. I can't remember if this was before or after meeting Dave, but I felt that this pee was way too little, way too yellow, way too late, and that I should get a good clear pee before leaving Bolinas Ridge just to be safe.) I would catch him on the downhills after that and then maybe we could run together (I thought...I didn't explain my plan to him in much detail). There was a little downhill and I asked to go ahead of him so that I could spend more time in the aid station. But when I got there (mile 28.4, 12:10pm), I started getting excited, and I left as soon as I thought that I would be able to pee at some time in the near future. That was only 6 minutes, and I said a bittersweet goodbye to Dave. He had saved my race, but I now felt some urgency to redeem myself, and it was clear that, if I felt good, our paces were not going to be a good match. Obviously my will was returning!

Back From the Dead

I started sipping my water bottles and YUCK! WAY TOO MUCH SALT! This could be a problem. I had 7.2 hot miles ahead of me...should I drink a way-too-salty solution, or go without water? I cursed my stupidity. In the end, the Gu2O bottle was drinkable, but the water bottle wasn't, so I was able to postpone that difficult decision for a while. I started to catch one or two runners, including Rajiv and Anil. They had a great attitude! They congratulated me for overcoming my problems. Then I ran into Nick Kaiser who was coming back up from Randall Trail (although this was quite soon after Bolinas Ridge, so he was waaaayyyy ahead of me). I know Nick professionally because we are both astronomers, and I had only recently learned how he was an ultrarunner too. I knew he was registered, but I hadn't seen him all day, and figured that he was just way ahead of me from the start. And that turned out to be the case. He looked very happy and in very good shape, and our smiles suggested that we were both happier doing ultrarunning than doing astronomy! We exchanged a few words but quickly got back to our respective races. Of course, my smile was because I had come back from the dead, and his was because he was on track for an awesome 12-hour finish!

I reached Randall Trail (mile 35.6) at 1:30pm and stayed until 1:34. There was a funny lady volunteering, who was talking about how she strict she was with the runners, but I can't remember exactly what. Something about runners deluding themselves into thinking they were in good enough shape to leave the aid station, but she would tell them exactly how bad they looked. Luckily, she did not say anything to me, and I got out of there after tossing my too-salty water (luckily, I hadn't needed it, as the 7.2 downhill miles took me only 1:14 to run), and getting salt from potato chips and from bananas dunked in salt (not good-tasting, but I had to do it because they ran out of potatoes).

At Randall Trail we turn around and I finally got to see the people behind me for a change! (Coming down, I had seen Jack on his way back up, but on such a steep trail, it was impossible to estimate how much he was in front of me. It seemed like a lot, and I didn't expect to ever catch him.) I didn't pass anybody on the steep half-hour climb, but after that it became more rolling and I did start to pass more people. On this section, I passed Eric Hicks from Reno, who looked in pretty bad shape. I had met Eric in 2006 at the TRT50/100 training run. He was training for the 50 with a goal of 11 hours, which really impressed me (I had done it in 13:05). When I saw him on TRT race day, he looked really strong, and missed his goal by only a little bit. But now I felt bad for him. He talked a little about how he had done too much the previous week and was resigned to just toughing it out on a "flat tire". I wished him luck and went ahead.

Nearing Bolinas Ridge, again, I ran out of water at 3:08. Good thing I was only 6 minutes from the aid station, because with my hydration issues, I can't afford to be without water on the trail! But at BR aid station (now at mile 42.8), I discover they have run out of water and Gu2O!!! How is that possible? A kind volunteer gave me his personal water, and with that plus ice I barely managed to fill my two bottles. But runners just seconds behind me were completely screwed. They had to take 7-Up or something like that. I found out later that about 15 runners were affected before the resupply truck came. The volunteers there blamed it on runners filling up their camelbaks, but OF COURSE everyone is going to fill up their camelbaks here!

Anyway, I arrived at 3:14 and left at 3:18. I felt somewhat guilty in being the last runner to get water, but at the same time, given my hydration issues, there was no way I would attempt to continue without water. I could only hope the other runners were reaching BR better hydrated than I was. Had I been a few places behind, I might have opted to wait for the resupply truck rather than chancing it.

Back to Reality

Pan Toll, mile 49.5: I plan to spend some time here drinking and fueling up, but Jack looks like he's ready to leave quickly, so I hurry up and leave with him. But then it turns out he has to walk because his hands are full of watermelon, so I just go ahead. We certainly didn't plan that one well! Oh well, it probably doesn't matter because soon after, the biggest descent of the course starts (the mirror image of the biggest ascent, on which Jack had passed me), and I would have gone way ahead of him anyway. This descent is where I started really passing people downhill and pushing myself to not be lazy there. At this point in the race, legs just aren't as mobile as they used to be, and it's hard to take proper advantage of a downhill. I passed a guy who thought he was running downhill, but his legs were so stiff that it was just a shuffle. I felt some stiffness, but forced myself to take advantage of the downhills anyway. While I had passed only one person on the last really big downhill (to Randall Trail aid station) because I was at the back of the strung-out pack, from here on out the downhills supplied more "targets".

However, the last couple I passed on this descent was clearly very good downhill. I caught them only at the very end, after a long chase, and they promptly passed me on the next uphill. This was where the course departed from a simple out-and-back. We passed the point where the hiker had asked me directions so many hours ago, then took a different turn and started the climb to the Highway 1 aid station, which seemed endless. On the way up, I tried to calculate my time based on a 14-minute pace. I thought it was about 6 miles from Pan Toll to Highway 1, so it should take me AT MOST 84 minutes, considering I had the benefit of that huge downhill. As it turned out, it was only 5.2 miles, but it still took me about 78 minutes, or 15-minute miles!

Hwy 1, 54.7 miles: gosh, it was tough getting here. The couple that had leapfrogged with me was leaving just as I entered. They had gained a few minutes on me on that climb. I learned the correct distances and thus revealed my true, rather disappointing, pace. I am told that the last 2 legs are 3.7 and 3.5 miles, so I predict 52 and 49 minutes respectively, for a finishing time of 14 hours and 19 minutes, or 7:59 pm. So the time here must have been 6:18 pm, though I don't remember what my watch said.

Leaving the aid station: geez, there is still an upward slope (even if gentle) for as far as I can see! I have to walk a good deal, even though it is not very steep. The road is on the east side of a ridge, not much below the top, but just enough that it is in shadow now that the sun is well down in the west. Am I going to be cold? I can see runners strung out quite far ahead of me on this road as it follows undulations in the ridge. Despite the uphill, I slowly overtake a few people, and I think it is still true that no one has passed me since just before entering Bolinas Ridge for the first time.

Ah, here's the descent to Tennessee Valley! I really push myself on this big descent, but I still can't pass that couple until the very bottom. AND, they pass me right back on the very gentle, short uphill to the TV aid station. Still, that big push allowed me to roll in to the TV aid station (mile 58.4) in 52 min just as predicted (7:08 pm). On the way in, I catch up to and start chatting with a guy who confides that he ran 12:05 here last year, and everything went wrong for him this year. I leave him in the dust at the aid station.

On the way out, I am surprised to find myself walking alongside the famous Chrissy Weiss and the perhaps less famous, but Badwater-tough, Linda McFadden. I don't see any course markings heading out of the aid station, so I check with them to make sure we are headed in the right direction. And then I am shocked to find myself putting distance on them up this climb! I'm actually pushing it here (relatively speaking), just to get it over with...or is it because I really want to meet an 8pm time goal? With my 49-minute prediction for this leg, I am right on the edge. 8pm sounds really good because I had told my wife Vera that I would arrive between 8 and 9. To do it exactly at 8 after almost dying on the course would be really sweet.

I did what I thought was the "big" part of the climb in reasonably good shape. After that, I thought it would be rolling, but the trail offered up some of the shortest, steepest pitches in the whole race. That's just cruel! But those climbs didn't sap my strength as much as I thought they would: I'm still keeping that couple in my sights, hoping I'll be able to catch them on the final descent. Now it is absolutely stunning when we get to the top of the ridge. Amazing views of the Pacific, and it is absolutely scary to see how far down Rodeo Beach is!

Now it's rolling, and both the couple and I pass some people before I FINALLY get to pass them. As I pass, we talk about how sweet it will be to cross that finish line. When the real descent begins, I pass even more people as I again force myself not to be lazy on the way down. Someone at the finish line is whooping through a bullhorn and it carries all the way up here. I whoop back even though I know they can't possibly hear me. It feels soooooo good! Finish, mile 62.4: 8:04 pm (14:24 running). I cry a little bit as I tell Vera how hard it was. Wow, now I feel bad. I didn't sit down at any of the aid stations (there we no chairs anyway!), but now I feel the need to. It quickly gets dark and I start shivering despite putting on a warm coat. I really did push myself for a better time (not just to finish) over the last two legs, and that feels good mentally, but physically I am toast. (The last leg was actually 3.8 miles, not 3.5 as someone at Hwy 1 told me, so a time of 56 minutes was not that bad.) I stay just long enough to see Jack come in 23 minutes after me, and shake his hand.

Aftermath