"Serious fun": Santa Monica Mountains trail race

So, our race bibs had the tagline "Serious fun", reminding us of why a fairly small group of people had arrived on the early side of a Sunday to do something crazy like run a 30K or an even longer distance.  Throughout much of this race, I completely forgot the fun part, and even now I would say that a more appropriate description of my experience is "Fun if you love suffering".

Because suffering is what I did today.  I certainly don't consider myself a badass, but I can usually hold my own in a race if I've trained.  This race humbled me far more than anything that I've done recently - maybe even in all my very limited racing experience (even Wildflower in May and certainly harder than Boulder 70.3).  I often say that I'm just happy that I finished, but let's be honest.  Really, I'm not happy to "just finish".  I like to have a sense satisfaction when I reflect on my performance and know that I ran a good and smart race and finished strong.  As for today, I have zero satisfaction about my performance, except that I'm still a bit surprised that I finished the damn race.

To back up, the race for the 50k and 30k participants started at 8:30.  The 30k course was made up of two different 'loops', or lollipops, the first one being 12k and the second one 18k.  The 12k loop was tough - challenging, rocky uphill and downhill trails.  Also, there was one stretch that should have been fast and easy, but because of the rain yesterday it ended up being muddy - and a sticky mud.  I kept stopping to scrape the mud off my shoes because it felt as though I was carrying around an extra two pounds per leg!

Once I returned to the start line, I then began the second loop - the 18k.  I finished the 12k in over an hour, but I felt good about my pace.  We had a long climb for a few miles, but the trail was a lot easier than the 12k loop, so I was confident that I would have a strong 18k.  I felt that way until about mile 11.5.  At that point, I had hit a nice downhill slope and should have picked it up, but I just could not make my legs go.  So, I asked myself "What is going on" - a rhetorical question because I felt clammy, cramping, and weak.  I started walking on the downhill (how lame) and even sat down a few times.  I knew that the aid station was up ahead and I just had to walk another 1/2 mile or so which, in any other circumstance, wouldn't have bothered me.  However, this was the longest half-mile walk of my life.  Meanwhile, tons of people were passing me which drove me crazy but there was NOTHING that I could do about it.

Finally, I made it to the aid station.

Ah, the aid station.  I hoped that there would be paramedics there or a huge crew, ready to deal with any and all problems.  Ahem, this is a trail race, and a tiny one at that.  There were two guys managing the aid station, but even then I hoped that one of them would call an ambulance for me - or do something dramatically helpful like drive me back to the start/finish line.  I had accepted that this would be my first DNF, and I didn't even care because I wanted the experience to end.

Well, no such luck. Instead, they jumped into action, making me sit in a chair, giving me two salt tablets, a cup of regular coke and some boiled potatoes with salt.  I was too fried to say "no, I need a doctor!".  When I eventually felt a bit more energetic, I apologized for all the trouble.  Again, the volunteers were great and assured me that it happens to everyone, at least once.

After a 15 minute (or longer?) break, I shuffled off, thinking that I must really be crazy to continue, but what choice did I have? Also, I noted that I was feeling better with each step, and eventually I caught up with a few people who had arrived at the aid station and then continued on while I was still 'recharging'.  I kept ticking off the miles and feeling a bit stronger and more confident, even on the uphill.  Once I turned onto the trail that would lead me down to the finish line, I felt incredibly happy and relieved, despite the fact that I still had a few more miles of downhill to navigate.  For a brief moment, I hoped to push it on the descent and try to pick off one or two people, but I then settled into an easy pace and accepted the fact that just finishing would be quite a feat at this point.

So, I crossed the finish line at 4:17.  Woo-hoo!  I thanked the organizers and told them that the only reason that I made it back was because of the people at the aid station.  I also saw those guys - they seemed surprised and happy that I had made it back so "quickly".  It was obvious to me that their concoction - salt tablets, coke and potatoes -was some sort of holy trinity of trail running.  I think that I was one of the very last people running the 30k to cross the finish line.  I won't lie - that hurts my ego a bit, but considering that I didn't even think that I would finish, I'll try to find some satisfaction in that.

So, final thoughts on the day?  I'm glad that I ran the 30K, despite the fact that the race shredded me.  It was a new distance, and it challenged me more than I could have expected.  I learned an important lesson - fuel, fuel, fuel on real food during longer trail races.  I'm not sure what happened, but I know that I'll be more careful in the future.  Also, I hesitated to wear the Garmin, but I opted for it, and I think that it helped me continue when I was in my meltdown mode.  Otherwise, I probably would have sat on the side of the trail and given up completely.  A major positive - the race was beautiful, although I wish that I could remember more of the great views and the wonderful trails (especially that 18K loop).  I'd love to return and hike some of the trails and actually take in the scenery!  Finally, it was a really tough race.  I knew that the climbs would be serious, but I trusted my training, perhaps naively, because it was all much harder than I expected.

But, I'm alive and well now and don't feel too terrible after 18.6 miles and 3200 feet of climbing.  Looking back, I'm also happy that despite my meltdown today,  I remained relatively healthy during the training cycle.  I am not, however, about to sign up for a 50K, or even a 5K, at the moment!

*Sorry this was so long!
**Sorry that I have no photos - no energy at the end!

Running tomorrow!

Okay, after my mini crisis on Wednesday when I was doom and gloom and feeling sorry for myself, my eye has improved enough each day that I think that I can safely run tomorrow!  After embracing the notion that I wouldn't be able to run, I now have to switch gears and get into that "race" mode.  Although calling this a race is, perhaps, abusing the meaning of that word.  I recognize that I'll be going slow, for much of it.  While it won't be as brutal as, say, the Mt. Wilson race, in terms of elevation, I will have to sustain the ascents and descents for considerably more mileage.  So, the race/run will certainly challenge me, even if I take it in a slow gear!  It should be a beautiful day - or a wet one, if today's rain doesn't clear up by tomorrow.  Obviously I'm gunning for the former, and the idea of great views was one of the reasons that I signed up for this run/race.

Today, then, is a bit of a rest day.  Well, the entire week has been a bit a rest week, in terms of running (or any physical activity, for that matter), but this is "intentional rest".  I did go cheer on our students who raced today - go cross country!  They were super fast - oh, to be young again!  But at the moment, I'm watching the UCLA/USC game, looking at a pile of papers, and listening to our dogs snore.

As for tomorrow, most of my gear is ready to go.  The question that still remains - to run with the stupid garmin or not?  In many ways, I really do enjoy the information that garmin gives me, and sometimes I push myself a bit more because I'm looking at my time.  However, this is not a road race, and, as I mentioned earlier, I cannot focus on speed tomorrow.  Like the tortoise, my goal is a slow and steady pace and, hopefully, a strong finish.  At the same time, I'd love to see the data, see my elevation gain/loss and, if I sign up for the same race next year, to be able to compare.  Oh, garmin, how you confound me!

So, the jury's still out.  I'll probably decide as I line up at the start!  Speaking of the start, I do appreciate that I will be showing up to run tomorrow, and I'm excited (and nervous!) about the experience!

Peer pressure

One would assume that a person who is an adult, at least by most of society's standards, would be comfortable and confident in his/her decision-making capacity and would be immune to the influence of his/her peers.  That if, this person is signing up for a race and believes that the 30K would be fun but way too long and challenging (3,000+ feet of elevation gain), he/she would trust his/her better judgment and would go with the 19K (or 18K or whatever it is).  That this person would not succumb to people telling her "Oh, come on!  It's not that much more elevation that the Mt. Wilson run!  You can do the 30K!".  And she would not go home, after drinking margaritas, and sign up for the 30K.

But that is exactly what went down last weekend.  In my shame I didn't want to report on this until I fully wrapped my head around the fact that I just might get my ass kicked on November 18 at the Santa Monica Mountains Pacific Coast Trail Run (long title!).  I do think that it will be a gorgeous run, and I'm excited and nervous about the challenge of a 30k.  This will be the longest run since my 1996 (yes, I'm old) Philly marathon.  So, the plan for the next few weeks is to run at least three times a week (which isn't much for some people, but I've slacked off since August) and build up my long runs, incorporating plenty of hills and focusing on long, slow distance.

As for the 30K, I actually had been knocking around that idea, so I can't abdicate any responsibility, as much as I'd like to point the finger elsewhere.  In fact, a week before signing up for the race, I hit "reply all" when someone inquired about different people's interest in the Santa Monica run and said that I was in for the 30K.  I did not, however, realize to how many people I replied until several people at school came up and said "The 30K?!?!".  So, the seed had been planted well before a friend reasoned with me about the elevation issue.

As much as I'm nervous about the distance and the elevation and the challenge of a trail run, I also think that it will be great.  This is the only fall race for which I'm gearing up, which is a change from the last two years when I ran lots of different distances (5k, 10k, 20k, even a half-marathon) and focused on speed, to a certain degree.  I'll be happy with a good strong race in a beautiful setting and running a new and more challenging distance, for me.

Training started this past week, and my first long run in a while will be this coming Saturday.  At that point, I can decide if the decision was foolish or not!