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| Jeff Pace, Tiffany Trevers, and Bull Dozier at Quicksilver |
I was apprehensive about running a challenging 100k just 2 weeks after running 200+ miles at Icarus Florida Ultrafest. In the end this turned out to be an advantage.
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| Jeff Pace, Jeff Clowers, Tiffany Trevers and Paul King at Quicksilver. |
Since both of my 72-hour races this year were flat, I hadn't been doing any hill training. One week after Icarus and a week before SOB 100k I tested out my legs at Quicksilver with Jeff Pace and a few other members of Quicksilver Running Club. Jeff and the gang were attacking some Strava segments so I went along for the ride. It turned out to be a hilly 17-mile interval training session, and I felt fantastic (much to my surprise). But 62.2 miles is a different story so I proceeded with caution.
Coming from a business trip to San Diego, I woke up at 1:30am to drive up to Malibu for the 5am start. This definitely clocks in as the earliest I've ever gotten up for a race. But it was fine because I knocked myself out with some melatonin at 7pm the night before.
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| Waiting for 5am so we can get moving |
At the race site I met up fellow bay area runners Josam Mulinyawe (100k) and Nate Dunn (50M) as well as Redding runner Josh Ritter (100k). Josam and Josh and I all went out together in the dark of the morning at a relaxed pace, expecting an incredibly difficult course that would push us close to the cutoffs. Race Director Keira Henninger had just announced that anyone could drop down to 50M or 50k at any time in the race, almost like she didn't want people to attempt the 100k. Going out slowly seemed prudent.
The three of us reached the river crossing at the 2 mile mark in the dark (no dry shoes allowed in this race) and proceeded up the first major climb. While power hiking up the hill, the moonlight gave way to sunrise and we were treated with majestic views of rocks, mountains, and highways down below us, all glazed with early morning hues of orange. Cool weather and clear skies above hinted at a wonderful day to come. Josam snapped some nice photos of the scenery.
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| Looking down over a highway, glad to be up here instead of down there in a car. |
At mile 13 I stopped at my drop bag to change socks and dig all the sand from the 2-mile river crossing out of my shoes. Josam and Josh pushed ahead. I managed to catch back up with them on the following climb, the second big one of the race. Josh's achilles tendon was hurting on climbs; he usually powers up them much faster than I do.
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| Heading down to the Pacific Ocean |
At the top of the climb, we began the largest descent of the race, a monster quad killer that drops almost 2500 feet down toward the Pacific over 5 miles of rocky fire road. I love rocky downhills so I attacked it with reckless abandon, hoping my quads would hold out. I lost Josh and Josam and caught up with Andrea Kooiman in this section.
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| Bull Dozier (me) |
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| Josam Mulinyawe |
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| Josh Ritter |
Of course, in ultrarunning what goes down must come back up. The ascent ranged from mile 23 to 33 with a steep 1000 foot drop stuck in the middle. This section broke people. Before this the course seemed reasonable and runnable, even the uphills. By mile 33 we all realized the reality of the situation and started thinking about Keira's pre-race offer to drop down at any time. How tempting it seemed as I gobbled salty food and stretched my hamstrings at the aid station at the top of that climb.
Something else happened at that point: the fog rolled in and the beautiful vistas were replaced by towers of rock appearing suddenly in the mist. By the top of that climb I heard someone say "it's no longer drizzle; now it's rain". It still felt like drizzle to me, but regardless it was the last time my shirt was dry.
The next 11 miles were nice, mostly rolling hills. My hamstrings felt better after stretching and I felt great on the flats. As I told Nate and Josh later, it seemed that I had infinite endurance on the flat sections after running 400 miles of them already this year.
After this "easy" part I came up on mile 43. This is where the 100k runners have the choice to turn left into the dense fog to do an out-and-back with a huge descent and subsequent climb, or tuck tail and turn right, cutting it down to a 50 miler. Many people made the latter choice, but a surprising percentage turned left. The last person they allowed to go on for 100k is fellow (former) bay area runner with his iconic white/pink baseball cap, Sean Nakamura.
The cool part about a long out-and-back late in a long race is that you get to see all your friends, whether they are in front or behind you. The bad part is that every step you take is one you have to take again on the way back. And when you come down almost 2000 feet in 3 miles on the way out at mile 44, you know what's coming a few miles later.
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| Robert Whited |
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| Tyler Garewal at the finish line |
My quads were still doing well so I hit this section pretty hard. On the way down I saw Robert Whited hauling ass uphill. This guy is the reason they say "50 is the new 30". He ended up finishing the 100k in 11:31. A little bit later I made eye contact with Tyler Garewal as he started the ascent, but neither of us remembered one another's name in time to say hi. But you know that look when you see someone and you know you know them and you know they know you but ... yeah, anyway, he kicked ass as well, beating the 12 hour mark by a couple of minutes.
So here's where everything fell apart for me. Well, sort of. The problem started a few miles back when I ate too much real food and started feeling sick. When I'm pushing myself, I don't get blood flow to my stomach and digestion turns off. I have to stick to pre-digested food like simple gels. But I hadn't in this race so I had to stop eating completely. By the bottom of the hill in the out-and-back, I felt like I had been descending for hours and hours. "Perceived effort distortion" kicked in big time and every mile felt like two, even on the downhill. I expected the aid station to be at the bottom of the hill but I was wrong. Very wrong.
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| Where is that blasted aid station? |
Earlier I felt like I had infinite endurance on the flats. That was gone. I had to go another 3 miles to find the aid station. It was muddy and miserable and my legs ached. I kicked myself for forgetting to bring some Aleve. The course passes right through a M.A.S.H. film site complete with old jeeps, so that brought my spirits up for a good 200 meters. At one point I hit a slippery sloped surface above a creek and started sliding sideways. I had to use a tree to keep myself from plunging into the water. I cut my wrist grabbing onto it. I started thinking about dropping at the 50-mile aid station ahead.
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| Kathryn Schjei by the least rusty M.A.S.H. jeep |
Speaking of which, I kept asking people how far it was to the aid station. I'd ask, then run about a mile, then ask again. Three people in a row answered "about 1 more mile". I almost punched the third guy who said that. Luckily he was wrong and I finally made it there, promptly sitting down on the nearest dry surface I could find and refusing to move. My hamstrings throbbed and ached, I was hungry and soaking wet, and I had just discovered that my waistline was chafed raw where my hip bones poke out in the back. Ugh.
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| Sean O'Brien at the Bulldog aid station with me sitting in the background. Photo by Ric Munoz. |
One of my favorite pieces of advice to give ultrarunners who are getting ready for their first 50 or 100 is that you are going to have horrible lows, but they will pass. They always pass. Now it was my turn to listen to that advice, so I found anything I could eat while resting my legs. I had to beg for some chips from the aid station workers since it was a water-only stop. I put on the dry long sleeve shirt I had in my pack and topped off my hydration pack. Runners that I had passed on the way down (including the course designer and race namesake, Sean O'Brien), came and went while I watched.
I have no idea how long I sat there, perhaps 15 or 20 minutes. But eventually I got bored and decided that I would just walk out the last half marathon if I had to. I don't like quitting, and I had plenty of time. For a water-only stop, there were a lot of people there and they gave me a wonderful sendoff full of cheering and clapping. It really brightened my spirits. But then the chafing stung and I realized I was carrying way too much water on my back (70 full ounces) and I discovered the trail had become even nastier since I passed on the way out. I walked carefully over the section where I almost fell earlier.
I grumbled and cursed and bitched and whined. But then Josam came by. I was so happy to see him close behind me doing well. I had been wondering which of my friends would take the easy way out and turn right at mile 43. I figured Josh would have to given his history of injured achilles. Anyway, seeing Josam perked me up a bit. If I didn't get moving he was going to catch me! Nothing like trying to beat your friends to get you moving. I sucked up a bunch of water and spit it out to lighten my pack and stepped up my speed a bit.
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| This was taken earlier in the day |
The muddy climb is where it got interesting. There was no way to prevent the mud from sticking to your shoes. You simply had to carry it up the hill with you. You could rub it off on a rock, but 10 steps later it was back. Nothing like carrying weights on your shoes on a huge climb at mile 53 to bring you down. But it had the opposite effect on me. I laughed at the silliness of it. Andrea and Josh came down the hill soon and seeing them out there fighting the same fight turned me around. If Josh could brave this battle with his achilles hurting, who was I to complain?
Before long I found myself actually running uphill. I was down to single digits remaining in the race and it was the last real climb. No sense saving anything now! I caught back up to Sean O'Brien and chatted with him for a bit. I made sure he knew how much I liked the out-and-back. I also asked him if he thought we could finish before dark; he didn't think so.
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| Nate Dunn earlier in the day |
I passed by the final aid station and began the last long descent. I caught up to Nate Dunn and ran with him for a while. We pushed hard up the rolling hills. Nate's goal was to finish the 50-miler in under 12 hours, and he mentioned that it was still within range to make it. I don't wear a watch when I run, but since I started an hour earlier it meant I had a chance to finish sub-13. My PR for a trail 100k is 13:14 at Miwok.
I was invigorated by the chance to set a personal best on a tough course just 2 weeks after running 200 miles at Icarus. When we hit the steeper downhills I punched it into overdrive, all the pain fading away as endorphins flooded my bloodstream.
This is why I run. The air rushing by as I fly down the hill, pain free and feeling light as a feather. I chose a path down the mountain, dodging rocks and roots and runners. I entered a zone where my subconscious chooses my footsteps. Sub 13 was going to be mine.
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| Blue = Training miles, Purple = SOB 100k, Magenta = 200 mile races. |
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| Jeff Pace coming in to the 50k finish earlier in the day |
I almost made a few wrong turns in the fog, and I almost fell a few times when I lost traction on the muddy downhills, but nothing was going to stop me. I powered up the last uphill in the final mile and came through the finish line, sopping wet and happy as a lark, seeing a 12 in the hour position on the clock. I bent over with my arms on my legs and almost cried. Almost. I tend to cry when I've worked hard in a long ultra. But I guess it wasn't quite enough pain this time.
Looking back, starting the race slowly and without pressure was a huge benefit. I even managed to negative split the 100k. My average pace improved by a few seconds between mile 36 and 62.2, even though I took a long break in the latter portion. When I think about my best races ever, they all have this in common. I started out without any goals or expectations, just wanting to enjoy the day.
This seems like a good plan for all the 200s this year.
Here's a video of my post race chat with Victor Ballesteros. I came through at the 00:56:00 mark in the video, or 12:46:20 on the race clock.
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| Sean Nakamura, Kathryn Schjei, and Greg Durbin after almost 16 hours on the trails |
I hung out at the finish line party watching the rest of the gang come in. Everyone made it! Josam missed his 100k PR by just 12 seconds. Nate and Andrea and Josh streamed in one after another. Even Sean Nakamura, who beat the cutoff at mile 43 by less than 2 minutes (if I recall correctly), finished the race under the final cutoff, crossing the line with a couple of friends who shared some foggy off-course adventures in the night.
The back of the pack (mostly 50k and 50M runners) were averaging 4-5 hours to run the last 6 miles of the race. This is insane, but tells you something about the deteriorating trail conditions out there in the drizzle and fog. Steep downhills in mud that has been smoothed out by the passing of many shoes before you is not easy to navigate in daylight, much less the dark. Hats off to those folks for getting it done. I bet their legs are even more sore than mine.
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| Josam, Nate, Josh, and Andrew Guitarte heading home after an epic road trip |
All photos courtesy of the pictured friends and Louis Kwan.
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