20 Muir Beach Trail Run – One Day Later

So as I sit here on my balcony, feeling cold and thinking about yesterday… what comes to mind? 

Running long trail runs is really really hard!  Neither Sarah nor I have felt so utterly broken and destroyed after a run (including Sarah’s sub 4 hour marathon a few years earlier).  Sitting at the dinner table yesterday, showered and in comfy, frumpy clothes… we didn’t want to get up!  Just going to get some hot water from the teapot was a mission accompanied by “ih, oh, ih oh.”

Nothing really hurt in particular – except for a modest soreness in my left knee and a little bit in the lower calf/Achilles region of both legs.  It’s just my whole body felt drained and stiff.  Like an old rusted, un-oiled grandfather’s clock that was done ticking, yet was being forced to tick some more by some inconsiderate bastard. 

20 miles took just over 5 hours.  Not a time we’re proud of, but good enough given the conditions and our own states of being.  I’m still battling some sort of throat bug that comes and goes and Sarah’s recovering from bronchitis and ear infection.  And speaking of conditions…

When I saw the weather forecast that it was going to rain, I didn’t anticipate the biblical deluge that was going to dump on us.  At one point, running on a hillside that normally faces the ocean (in our case it faced a wall of fog and clouds), we got barraged by buckets of water being flung at us by the crisp “breeze” from the ocean.  I at one point was running one-handed with my right hand covering my face and eye.  Luckily by that point I was feeling good and had my runner’s high and rhythm going which made it all OK.

I think running in the cold makes it that much more difficult for me.  My muscles just don’t quite get warm the same way and feel stiffer.  I think it makes them hurt sooner and makes me less flexible/agile during the run.  It seems my minimum comfortable temperature is got to be in the 60s.  Or maybe I just need to wear tights. 

The other thing we didn’t anticipate is the mudwrestling.  Not wrestling each other in the mud, but literally wrestling the mud itself.  I still recall Sarah exclaiming “Trail runners are ridiculous!” in reference to the race organizers putting the most intense uphill/downhill in the very beginning of the course.  It’s the sort of climb that you will not see at a popular city race even if it didn’t involve wrestling mud along with hundreds of other people.  The mud was so bad that most of us opted to walk up the hill on the side of the trail (which at that place was as wide as a road).  Those brave souls trying to run moved only marginally faster despite their best efforts.  The mud was so wet, sticky, and slick that just standing in one place, one starts to slide down.  The stickiness makes it harder to lift your shoes out once they’re in, requiring even more energy for every step. Though the fun part was going downhill the same route.  At first I went slower, being afraid to slip.  But then I got the hang of it and rolled with the punches - taking huge steps, sometimes jumps, and just sliding down on the mud, screaming "WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE" like a little kid.  

What else can I say?  Having a community of people out there was really cool.  There were a bunch of volunteers that came out to man the aid stations.  Not being used to being so cared for, I remember looking bewildered when a guy at the final aid station sought me with “What do you need?  What can I get you?”  “Umm………”  “Sports drink!” Sarah cut in who apparently was more on the ball.  It was organized by Pacific Coast Trail Runs. 

It was cool getting some varied food that we wouldn’t pack on our own necessarily, like boiled potatoes and salt, cookies and gummy bears.  They also had stuff like Cliff Energy Shots disgusting-tasting-but-apparently-really-good-for-you-gummy-cubes.  And it was cool knowing we’re not the only crazy fuckers running around in the rain and 50 degree cold.  We’d pass a person every once in a while and say Hi.  Ask how they’re doing, how long they’re running, etc. 

We also met these two dudes who were training for the North Face 50 miler in December which will happen in that area.  We waved at them thinking they were from the race, and they wound up joining us.  I picked their brain a bit about downhill running technique as they were clearly faster than us and looked like they knew what they were doing.  They suggested taking way smaller steps and making it more frequent – something I was already doing or trying to – and combine that with kind of zig-zagging it skiing style.  Using the terrain and stepping slightly sideways to brake.  Makes a lot of sense as it doesn’t put direct braking pressure on the knees, so I’ll play with a bit.  Sounds like a ton of fun!

Finally, big props to Sarah who manned up and pushed through despite being clearly in worse shape than me (as far as recovery from her sickness).  We had a moment at the first aid station where we almost turned back.  I told Sarah I will be fine with whatever decision she made and that’s it.  I knew that the only person who could convince her to do it was herself.  It reminded me of a time when Scott Jurek in Born To Run was laying face down on the ground during the Badwater Ultramarathon… thinking about quitting.  His wife didn’t say anything because whatever happened had to come from Scott.  He got up and won it.  Sarah got back into it and we finished, which is victory as far as we’re concerned.

So I continue to gain respect for the 100 milers, particularly on trails.  They use a variety of muscles and skills beyond just running on roads.  I think to do one requires years of training and skill.  I’m still really excited at the prospect and the journey to get there!