A true country mouse/city mouse experience: 75% on road, 25% trail with about 1800ft of climbing.
I remember heading out for the first 3 flat miles out-and-back, and the clear view of Mt. Tam in the distance looking over us. I remember thinking of dozens of runs up that mountain this last year and feeling grateful she let me train on her. I remember looking at my watch and being horrified at my pace~ too fast. I had never done this before.
I remember looking for my mom with my water bottle- she was supposed to hand it off to me at mile 3 as I approached the start again, but I couldn’t see her. I thought I saw her sitting on the curb way up the road and I remember thinking, “Oh shit, I’m fifteen minutes early”. I remember realizing that I couldn’t pass through the start line again or it might mess up my chip and quickly began scanning the crowd for someone who might run to go and get her for me. I thought to myself, “I can’t run this race without that bottle and my food”. But then she appeared out of nowhere, running toward me in a panic, tossing me the bottle and saying, “I love you. Go get ‘em.”- I remember hearing that, having my precious bottle in hand, and starting my first hill climb ignited with positive thoughts and energy. She saved me.
During Miles 4-7 I remember running along the north side of China Camp, staring out at the bay with the sun sparkling on the calm water and having a conversation with a fellow runner about how lucky we are to be here, right now. A charmed life we lead... I mistook a CHP officer for my buddy Dave, oddly waved then did a double-take-stare-down that he didn’t seem to like much. I ducked behind a park bathroom to pee and was spotted by a group of men as I reemerged on the road. I smiled and kept running.
Mile 7: Actually, I never found Mile 7. I asked a guy, “Have you seen the Mile 7 marker?” to which he replied, “No, actually, I think we’re supposed to run two 6’s”.
I remember realizing that I missed a turn after about Mile 8 or so- I was at the civic center and didn’t see a soul around me, no signs, nothing. I though of the PCTR rule, “If you haven’t seen a flag in 50m, turn around and go back because you’ve taken a wrong turn.” Luckily, my knowledge of the area and the supposed route made it so that I could sprint down a side road to meet up with the route- luckily, I eventually saw other runners (the ones I had passed a few miles ago) and was able to chase them down and pass them again, making up for missed time. I remember thinking after that- “Ha ha, today is my first “ultra””.
I remember calculating my split for the first 13 miles and thinking, “Slow down, slow down…you’re sub-8 and that ain’t good. You can’t keep this up… or can you?” I remember doing body checks and feeling like I wasn’t going to tankk, so I just kept running. “Don’t look at your watch, just run.”
I remember hitting the trails at mile 13 and thinking, you’re halfway there. I remember running around the estuary, stumbling upon a fellow runner relieving himself, and laughing and how intimate a trail can be with total strangers. Nobody cares- it’s almost funny to get caught. I realized I had to pee too.
I remember a song coming on my iPod that reminded me of my sister Michaela, and that made me exceedingly happy. I was out in the marshes, running on trail and worried I might see a snake- this reminded me of my sister Anna and that made me exceedingly happy.
I remember stooping behind a car to pee in the weeds at an overly-crowded county park. Another runner passed by and saw me sprinting out from the ditch. We laughed and discussed peeing on yourself instead of stopping. I know I can’t do that yet (he obviously could). We chatted for the next 4 miles. His name was Gary and he was from some land ‘down under’. He stayed with me/us until about Mile 22.
I remember seeing my mom, sister Anna (with nieces and nephew in tow) and brother-in-law, Lenny, at Mile 18 aid station. My mom said, “She’s 8 minutes ahead of you!” and I thought, “Dude, she can have it!”. My new buddy Gary said, “Don’t worry, keep up your pace, you’re doing great”. Lenny started to jog with us.
I remember how great it was to have Lenny join me- he said, “I’m running you in.” and he did. I’ve never seen anyone I know during a race, not midway. In the dozens of races I’ve run, only three people have witnessed a finish. A mid-way cheering section was more amazing than I had ever imagined. It was fantastic hit of adrenaline.
I remember the familiar Mile 19 back ache setting in- what is up with that? I'm perfectly fine on 19 miles of trail- why now? Why the road? I remember telling Lenny that I think I may have overdone it, “We’ll know in the next three miles, I guess.” I said to him.
I remember the tightness in my low back and upper hamstrings, the spike of pain shooting down my left leg. I remember feeling as though my legs might snap in half, as I tightly skimmed along Miles 20-22. I felt tighter and tighter, like I was made of splintering wood, and each step produced more pain. I couldn’t tell if I was hitting a wall or if my body just needed some time to adjust and relax. I remember being really worried and making a concerted effort to focus on my breathing to give my body oxygen to access whatever fuel it could find.
I remember telling Lenny I had to stop talking to breathe better. He’s a funny guy and I remember thinking that laughing at him was creating more pain. It sucked because I loved that he was with me but I couldn’t show it.
I remember realizing weaving back and forth on the road searching for even ground to land on, away from the curb, hoping it would alleviate the pain. I remember as each step became easier.
I remember the 7 long and short hills, again. I knew they were there waiting for me. I was dreading them.
I remember noting that my blood sugar was pretty stable and that I was likely more tired and tight than actually depleted. Somewhere along the way, I remember realizing Gary had fallen behind and was gone. I was bummed- he was good company.
Mile 22- I remember a release. My legs finally released, or my back did, anyway. I was at the base of the 7 hills I had to climb to the finish line. I remember making the decision to start stacking the shot blocks. I remember asking Len for more blocks and to time it on the downhill to keep breathing easy while I ate. Thank god he was there~ my worst nightmare at that point was to have to resort to the “Gu” shots at the aid stations that would make my stomach cramp. I remember thinking, "Whaddup, sugar high".
I came down the first hill and into a brief flatland and started to joke with Len again. I remember singing, “I’ve been si'pin’ on that Pa-tro'on” to him and he laughed.
I remember seeing my friend Deb on the side of the road at China Camp- I couldn’t believe she was there. I remember a HUGE surge of energy after giving her a hug and kiss, actually running backward for a few steps to catch one last glimpse of her.
I remember the shock of how good it felt to start climbing, that a nearly untapped group of the most highly trained and strongest muscles in my body (thank you, Mt. Tam!) were finally being used. I remember the relief it gave my tight and achy flat-pavement-pounding muscles. They said, “thank you” to my climbers and I felt strong again and wasn’t afraid of the hills anymore.
Mile 23: I remember being tired, but no longer in pain. I remember counting each of the hills, out loud, one at a time. I remember apologizing to the cop at Mile 25 for the weird looks I gave him earlier mistaking him for Dave.
I remember joking with a few bystanders at Mile 26, with a few hundred yards to go. They laughed and it felt good to have a sense of humor in the end. I was unbelievable happy.
I remember coming down the hill on a path leading down to the park. I remember hearing NOTHING but silence and wind in the Eucalyptus and wondered if I had taken a wrong turn (again). I remember, with about 300 feet to go, coming down the hill and a woman on her cell phone standing RIGHT in the middle of the 4-foot path I was careening down. A few bystanders started trying to get her attention, but none of us could and in the end we all shouted, “Get off your phone!” and laughed.
I remember, seconds later, seeing the green grass and flags of the chute. To my left, standing alone, was Emily, reaching her hand out to hit me a high-five. To my right, was Mike, standing alone, reaching his hand out to hit me a high-five. The smile on his face was intoxicating.
I remember running the grassy 30 feet of the chute and thinking, “Don’t trip.”.
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