5:59:56. Just 4 seconds under my calculated total and run goal for my 31 mile and nearly 8,000 feet of elevation gain birthday trail run. I couldn't have been more pleased with this my first ultra-marathon. Four months of training and untold support of family and friends got me there. What a thrilling way to mark my 45th birthday, albeit in somewhat less than a mainstream manner.As I sit here with stiff legs some 24 hours later, I am just blown away with this adventure
Sunday started and finished under cloudy skies, cool temps, and light winds. Perfect running conditions. I awoke from a less than ideal sleep at 0500 (pre-race jitters?), ate a bowl of yogurt and granola, downed several glasses of water to pre-hydrate, filled water bladders, rechecked all my equipment, and relaxed with the paper while waiting on Racer X to pick me up at 0630. Bowing to athletic superstition, I wore my ragged, yet favorite, trail running shorts for the run. Racer X was prompt and by 0650 we were at the trailhead (pictured above). Mission and Rose Peaks were shrouded in clouds and already early morning hikers were climbing the slope in front of us. With a shot for posterity (or perhaps to help the coroner in the ID process later), I launched at 0700, as planned.
The first 4 miles were a steep assault up the side of Mission Peak from 390' to 2500'. I quickly transitioned from my intial running pace to a fast walk in order to keep my heart rate within the target zone and to remain prematurely out of the lactic acid building, muscle depleting range that would inevitably come late in the run. Up the face of Mission Peak, I monitored my heart rate and ramped up or down the pace, as needed. Reaching the summit within 39 minutes of the start, I looked to my watch and saw that my heart rate monitor had failed. Had I just died or did it just feel that way? Nope! the monitor strap battery had chosen this day to expire. Shrugging it off, I knew I would now have to listen closely to my body for the rest of the run and rely on internal signals and not electronic ones to judge my overall condition. In effect, it was almost liberating. I was no longer a slave to the HRM. From here on out, it was purely about listening to me, not the metronome of my watch. I picked up my pace and began a comfortable yet brisk descent down into the Sunol Regional Park at roughly 390' elevation.
From Sunol, I met the first 2 miles of a steep climb along the 10 mile climb to Rose Peak at 3500' with strength and plenty of energy. This was the first time I had laced together two segments that I had previously only run as separate training segments. RacerX had planned to meet me 4 miles in from Sunol at BackPacker's Camp. I had told him at the drop-off that I
would be there within 02:15 from the start. I couldn't have guessed better on the time nor my calculation about theamout of fuel and water I needed to reach that point. To save weight on the first big climb, I had put as little in my pack, as possible. So I needed to see Racer X at that rendezvous point or I would be running hungry and thirsty! He was there on as expected and I was thrilled to see that I had predicted my time almost to the minute. I had drained my water 1/4 mile before I got there, too! It was an emotional pick-me-up to have him meet me there and I felt great physically and mentally! I was on schedule and on the mark on fuel and water so far.With a quick change of socks and a re-loading of my pack, I was ready to climb out of the "gravity well" that I had monikered for this dip of terrain in the steady climb to Rose Peak. To get out of the well, however, I had to cover the next 1.5 miles that were virtually un-runnable. Even at a brisk pace I was hitting a very high HR. On this steep upgrade I met and power hiked past a troop of descending boyscouts who met me with strange looks (and I'm sure fouled noses from my stink).
Over the next 2 hours I climbed my way towards Rose Peak. I stuck to my eating schedule and slowly injested aPower Gel or Balance Bar every 40 minutes, taking care to wash every bite or slurp with water. As the climb continued, I increased my water consumption to ensure that I stayed adequately hydrated. I reached the junction of Maggie Ranch and Rose Peak at the 3:39 mark. In order to ensure I got the right amount of total mileage (the trail is only 27 miles and I needed 31), I had to circle the peak twice. That was a mentally tough shot to the head. As I looped back through the mist covered summit into the deserted Maggie Ranch campground near the summit, I stopped to refill my water bladder. Good thing I did. I had nearly drained the 1.5l I had carried and had drank .5l more than expected. For good measure, I filled my bladder bag to the 2.0l mark increasing my weight somewhat as a result. Knowing that my climbing was virtually over and I could afford the extra weight, it was a risk worth taking. On this last critical section when my body would be especially taxed and tired, I could not run short of water. Rose Peak was quiet and even the slight wind within the enveloping cloud was chilling. I was glad to start running again after the short water stop. It was cold and an alien place I now inhabited, both physically and mentally.
In the gray of the cloud and with 10 miles more to go, my confidence was somewhat dampened. The next section would be mainly downhill but my legs were beginning to feel the work. I was now into unknown territory both mentally and physically. I had never run more than 4 hours at a time; I had two to go I now thought--and hoped. And, while I had backpacked this trail once, 5 years ago, I had not trained upon this next section on my runs. How many boogie men lay ahead?
The next 0:40 minutes of running was mainly flat with a few (what were increasingly seeming to be steep) climbs of a 100' here or there. On the ascents, I could feel the muscle fatigue, but they were still strong and I still felt a reservoir of power lay within.
Mentally, I had broken the run into small segments. Running 50K seemed huge and overwhelming. By breaking the run into smaller more manageable sections I could mentally absorb and meet those smaller goals. Running a just a steep 2 mile section here, or just an hour on this flat section there was easeier to do and mentally manage. The mind is a very bad companion to bring along on a long run sometimes. So, at this point, I reminded myself that I only had to do a 10 mile run and I'd be finished. I had done plenty of those! No bigee!! Then I noticed I was talking outloud to myself. And I no longer thought my jokes were funny.
On the initial descent from Rose Peak I began to get some previews of the quad-aching downhills that were going to hit me in the steep descents in the final section of the run. At about the 5:00 mark I passed the marathon distance of 26.1 miles. Passing four backpakers, I cheefully complained, as I powered past, that the hills seem to be getting harder. (The hill was only 25 yards long). Only 5 miles to go. Then the steep descent from 3000' to the 2000' canyon floor below began. At the bottom of the river just 1.5 miles ahead, I would meet RacerX for the final 3.5 miles to the finish. As I descended on the narrow and twisty singletrack, I involuntarily grunted and groaned as tired quads shreaked. Passing a backpacker, he commented that I must have "knees of steel." How funny. I could barely feel my knees, but man my quads ached! I would have preferred the uphill to this pain! But down I went, knowing I was so close. I ran with purpose: below RacerX had my M&M's and he would be my only companion on a this long run and final dash to the finish!
Racer X and I simultaneously hit our meeting point. It was a great euphoric moment. But, the course wasn't done with me yet. It had a few nasty zingers it planned to toss at me. A last parting shot. The next .5 mile was an excruciatingly steep climb back out of the canyon. On fresh legs, Racer X set a brisk walking pace up that hill. Downing a mouthful of M&M's I stiffled a complaint and sought to keep up with him. RacerX kept up a continuous stream of comments and described the course ahead. I grunted here and there to acknowledge him and was grateful for distracting me from focusing on myself and the stiff legs and aching quads that now were a third, and unwelcomed companion on this segment.
The trail now turned steeply down hill. Painfully so. On fresh legs I would have cut loose and let gravity pull me with long stides and fast pace downhill. On tired legs, I postholed each step and grunted and grimaced. I braked instead of letting the clutch out. The quads would not have let
me do otherwise I thought. A glance at my watch and a quick calculation of remaining distance said that if I were to make 6:00 hours, I would have to dismiss the pain and ignore the accelerating heart rate and step up the pace. I put the clutch in andwe picked up the pace. In the last half mile I was going flat out. Pain was completely blocked out. I saw the final mile marker and I grunted out the last few yards. Another 200 yards ahead I saw a crowd and recognized my family and friends. A suprise party! A welcome sight indeed as we kept up our pace and finished to a flurry of "hurrahs."The race was done. The goal was attained. And, so what have I learned? Well, there is the obvious: training hard pays off. Goals can be realized if we apply ourselves. Things that seem
insurmountable aren't nearly so if we break them down into smaller and less overwhelming pieces. Sacrifice has it's rewards. And family and friends are more precious and valuable than you give them credit for, even when you value them highly.But what about the less obvious? I learned that I love challenges and that those goals give me life and appreciation for all those I live with, love, and even meet along the trail. I did this not as race because I wanted to prove to myself what I could do, and did not as a friend pointed out, cheapen it by trying to prove to others what I could do. I raced myself. And, I won. What a wonderful feeling to race yourself and win.
