But a few weeks before the race I developed a pain in my right heel. I first thought it was just a bruise and would go away after some rest. But that didn't happen - in fact I had to abort my most important training run for this race at Mt. Diablo after only 10 miles. The pain felt like a bruise because it only seemed to flare up when I stepped on small rocks in a very particular way. But as long as I kept off the heel, I could keep running without issues. The catch is that my downhill running style relies on landing on the heel and then rolling through to the forefoot.
So after giving myself 10 days' rest, I did a 10 mile morning run a few days before the race, just to test if I could manage the crazy downhill without aggravating my heel. I told myself that if I could make it work, then I will do the race, and if not, then I won't. At first, it didn't seem to work. I stepped on a rock, and felt the familiar pain - damn, 10 days of rest didn't make it go away! So then I slowed down even more, taking smaller steps, but at a high cadence. And made sure to not land on the heel, at least not hard. And it worked!
10 miles is of course no indicator for being able to do 50, but I decided to go for it. At first I was apprehensive - running in a way that didn't hurt my heel felt a bit awkward, and well, it hasn't healed. But on the other hand, I'm not going to take the downhills nearly as aggressively in a 50 miler as I would in a short training run. And this would just force me to be conservative from the get go, which can't hurt in an ultra. I remembered something my early mentor told me about ultra running - it's about problem solving. And I thought I found a good way to solve that problem. I also told myself that if something went wrong, I would either drop or have to walk for a while. The course had 15000 ft of uphill and downhill, so plenty of things that can go wrong. I adjusted my goal from 12 hours to finishing and not hurting myself.
So I bought an an air bed so I can sleep in the tent in comfort and set out for Santa Barbara. Luis Escobar - a prominent character in Born to Run is the RD. He's an awesome RD and runs in his own races. He's also quite a character. He placed huge emphasis on how the race will have aid that's minimal but adequate. He kept stressing minimal (the aid stations were actually a lot more than adequate, but there were fewer of them than a typical 50 miler). So people started ribbing him by asking whether we're going to have maximal aid, and mile markers, and timing chips. He took it in stride. I enjoyed meeting a bunch of folks and hanging out by the camp fire.
Went to bed around 9:30 or 10 for a 6 a.m. race start. Woke up in the middle of the night to some shuffling sounds around me. Turned out I set up my tent near some horse enclosures, and the horses were moving around and eating hay. Since it was so quiet, it felt like their every move was right next to my tent.
The race start wasn't as cold as I expected. I started out fairly conservatively, towards the back of the pack. Ran with this guy Micah I met the night before for the first few miles and we wound up chatting about various things. He was going at a pace that felt fairly conservative which was just what I wanted. Wound up forging ahead after the first aid station at mile 6 or so.
I was really enjoying myself around this time. The course was gently rolling, and I was meeting and chatting with all sorts of people. For a while I ran with Vika, a Ukranian mother of two. It's not often that I met folks who speak Russian at these things. It was nice chatting with her. Her story of how she got into ultras was pretty funny. She got a desk job for the first time in her life. So she wanted to find something to make her butt look good. So she Googled how to make your butt look good if you have a desk job. And Google came up with trail running. I ran with her for about an hour… and then she took off and I haven't seen her since (except on her way back from the turnaround point). I love this about our sport - that folks from all backgrounds, ages, and walks of life can do awesome. She wound up finishing 3rd woman, about 25 minutes ahead of me.
The mountains were beautiful. I was enjoying the views and the single track. They had a pretty similar feel to the mountains in LA. So I was completely surprised when the mountains suddenly opened up onto a massive expanse of the ocean!!! I was so not expecting it, that I was just overcome with happiness.
One thing that got me really excited about the course is taking a side trail to hit Montecito Peak. Many ultras have routes that go by awesome peaks, but not a single one that I have participated in actually routed you to do the peak (unless the course already went through it). So I have often found myself wishing to bag some of these peaks I was running by. And I would finally get my wish. Montecito did not disappoint. It was a very short but steep side trail, and we received our finishers' medal at the peak. While it wasn't tall, it was very prominent and opened up onto the ocean. I was very excited to go up it.
My heel hasn't bothered me at this point, so when the final downhill of the first half came, I started taking it pretty aggressively, but making sure not to land on the heel. And my calves cramped up. AT MILE 20 OUT OF 50. I was not excited about dealing with cramps for the next 30 miles. I was bummed out. I've had cramping issues at 6/7 races I ran without Sarah (AC being the exception). My theory is that running on my own, I push the pace more than normal, and my muscles are just not ready for it. It's pretty frustrating. I've certainly had lots of fast shorter training runs, though I didn't get any solo long runs in later in the season. Maybe that was it. I don't know.
My spirits went from awesome to down in one go. Thanks to lots of experience, I have become very attuned to when I'm about to cramp up. So as soon as I got the crampy feeling in my calves, I slowed down to a walk. This was good because I didn't actually get to a point where I cramped up so bad that I had to stop. Those are the worst.
First instinct is problem solving mode. Slow down and walk. Check. Take lots of salt and drink water. Check. I'm not convinced that salt plays a role in the cramps I've been having, but I took a bunch anyway because it couldn't hurt. After walking for a bit, try running gently while minimizing the use of the calves. Check. So far so good. However, not having use of my calves on this trail was pure torture. It was a very rough technical trail with lots of rocks, boulders and little drops. Precisely the kind of trail where it's fun and fast to take little jumps and go from rock to rock. All the things for which usable calves are required.
I noticed that I slowed down every time I felt sorry for myself and thought about how much this sucked. So I banished those thoughts and just focused on moving forward and getting the job done. A guy in a yellow shirt caught up to me and was running behind me for a bit. I tried to convince myself that I'm going at a good pace and he didn't have to pass me. But that wasn't the case, so eventually I let him pass me. I hate getting passed on the downhill.
After what felt like forever I finally made it to the turnaround point, descending about 3000 ft in 6 miles. I went got my water refilled, went to the bathroom, and headed back home. The fun part in a out-and-back course is seeing everyone at least once. So I said hi to people and gave out encouragement and high 5s, and got lots back, as I walked back up the hill. It was quite a long walk. I have no idea how long it took because I wasn't wearing a watch, but I'd guess close to 2 hours. Once the last runners went by me, I was completely a lone for a long time. I kept getting glimpses of the guy in the Yellow shirt off in the distance with a few other folks, but most of the time I couldn't see anybody, and nobody passed me. While I often like being on my own at ultras, at that time I wasn't feeling particularly great and didn't feel like being by myself.
I looked at the elevation chart I printed out and confirmed that the next 10-12 miles were mostly rolling downhill. I would have to be very careful with my calves and my heel, but now I'm only 20 miles from the finish and should be able to finish. That gave me something to look forward to. I made it to the next aid station as the Yellow shirt was walking out - wow he's actually not too far from me! I decided that I wanted to try and catch him. I sat down and had some chicken soup while my water was being refilled. Thanked the volunteers profusely and started running the down.
Moving at a relatively conservative but steady pace, I ate up the miles, passing a runner here or there. But the Yellow shirt remained elusive. Not wearing a watch, I was trying to figure out the time by looking at the sun. To finish in under 12 hours, I would need to come in around 6 p.m., or just after it gets dark. The middle section is very long - about 13 miles between aid stations. Even moving at a decent running pace, it took forever, or felt like it did.
The aid station finally materialized and lo and behold, the guy in the Yellow shirt was there! I knew I was a little low on water, but with only around 6 miles to go to the finish, I decided to go for it. The last 6 miles brought an incredible sunset as the mountains were painted red. I stopped and admired it for a second as I got out my flash light and put on a layer. I felt like I was in a race against the sun - trying to get home with as much light as possible.
The Yellow shirt would get away from me a little bit on the uphill. But I would get closer on the downhill. Finally I caught up to him! And around the same time another guy named Scott caught up to us too. We ran together for the last mile or two. I was feeling excited that I'm running so well at the end coming back from a real low point earlier in the day.
Scott started walking up the final uphill, but I bellowed "LET'S RUN IT IN!" and we all charged up the hill! The campground and the finish line were now in full view! And we were sprinting! I was sprinting not because I wanted to beat these guys, but with exhilaration of being able to sprint! I screamed and yelped and the spectators at the finish line yelped back at me, as the three of us crossed the finish line within seconds of each other.
Anxious, I asked what my time was. 11:32. ELEVEN THIRTY TWO!!! Wow. I was so happy to do so awesome despite some of the issues I had to address. And I love LOVE running without a watch. It was so cool not really knowing the time and just running by what felt good and racing against the sun. And the finish was just awesome. I found Scott and Chris (Yellow shirt) afterwards and gave them big hugs.
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| Ready to go |
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| On Montecito Peak |
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| At the finish line with Chris and Scott |
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