Miwok 100k

[Left: pre-race gathering] Saturday I completed the Miwok 100k in Northern California. It was a beautiful course and a perfect day. My official finish time was 14:45:17, finishing about 15 minutes faster than my goal. From my 19 hour finish of the Katcina Mosa 100k last August, this was a much improved race.

Miwok is a popular race and it filled up soon after registration open. I initially didn't register fast enough and just got on the waiting list, but the race director decided to increase the number of runners and I got in. 318 started this race this year compared to 228 in 2007, with a 89% finish rate.

For training since Antelope Island, I started to run steep hills: 800ft/mile elevation climb. There is a good trail from Pleasant Grove that goes for 3 miles, although early in the season you can do only two before reaching snow. I would run that trail up and back multiple times, trying to complete a 4 mile loop in under 1 hour. During the week I would run fast 7-8 mile (~8min/mile pace), which was difficult with several business trips during that time. I increased distances until I hit overtraining two weeks before Miwok and took a week off of running. Looking back I was probably not getting enough sleep.

[Right: traffic jam] Saturday morning the start was cold, damp from the ocean, but luckily not windy. I wore a jacket until close to the start time, when I packed in a bag that would be there for when I finished. Due to the increase number of runners, they had parking issues and the race was delayed from a 0540 start to about a 0555 start. Those extra 15 minutes provided enough light that I left my headlamp in my drop bag destined for Pan Toll aid station. The race director took us onto the beach to the starting line and gave us a few last words of encouragement over a hand-held megaphone, then counted down to "Go". The first couple hundred yards where in sand, but soon we bottlenecked as the running mob had to go single file up a trail. I waited a minute or two until finally started moving again. After a little bit, it opened up onto a road that allowed for passing. The road wrapped around and offered a striking view of San Francisco and the Golden Gate Bridge in the pre-dawn hour as we climbed and passed old coastal defense batteries from the early 20th century. That road turned into a trail that dropped back down into the second climb over to the Tennessee Valley at mile 11.9. I could tell that the air was much thicker than I was use to, being around sea level when my training is usually above 4500 feet. I could tell that was giving me an advantage over the sea-level training runners I was passing on hills, and my heart rate and respirations were lower than I would have expected. Living in Utah has it's advantages.

[Right: climbing out of Pirates Cove] From there we climbed over and dropped down into Pirates Cove and then up and over again to Muir Beach, offering beautiful coastal vistas along the way. Muir Beach was mile 16, at which point we left the beaches and heading into the Muir Woods. This section took us through some enchanted forests before sending us up the longest climb of the day to Pan Toll. It was beginning to get very warm, and after 4 hours, you begin to see the first signs of cracking. Up to that point I had been averaging around a 12 min/mile, which for me is really good considering the elevation gain we had been doing. [Left: dropping to Muir Beach] At this point, my left IT band began to tinge, which is an early indicator of bad things. I decided not to wait and put my wrap I was carrying around to stop it from twisting. Secondly, while running a downhill section, I tripped on a tree root in the trail that sent me leaning forward, wildly frailing my arms in desperation to regain balance. At first, it seemed a lost cause, but I was able to pull myself back. My neck was sore from the strain, but I continued on unscathed. I needed to slow my pace to keep myself from falling apart.

Pan Toll to Bolina Ridge is a particularly nasty section for several reasons. First, it is through exposed grassy section. Secondly, the trail cuts across hills, often putting the trail itself on a slant. Third, one step off the trail could send you rolling down the hill side. Fourth, you had to watch out for the occasional hole in the ground made by some gigantic prairie dog. It was rolling and very long. I was glad to be done with it.

[Right: enjoying the redwoods] Bolinas Ridge was the start of a rolling section through the California redwoods. I felt like I was wondering through Endor and would see Ewoks jump around at anytime (fortunately, I never did see any). At this point, the front runners would pass on their return trip. The drop down to Randall Trail wasn't too long, and it was great being more than half way at the turn around. I had originally planned on reaching Randall Trail in 7:30, and did it in 7:21, which kept me ahead of schedule. Now was the return trip.

[Left: high grasslands] The next 22 miles were the same as on the way out, which helps make it seem not so far. At this point you kick in some type of built in cruise control and just try and avoid tripping or getting lost. My legs actually felt great, like they had given up trying to quit and now were just going to keep going and going forever. My pace had relaxed, so my heart rate was in the 130's most the time. The day was hot, so I drank lots of water, took electrolyte tabs and eat Gu whenever I was hungry. I avoided eating much solid food, as that has a tendency to promote the need for bathroom breaks later on. I chatted with the fellow runners along the way, learning about their path that lead to the fellowship we now embarked on: running for endless miles through foreign terrain. Many other folks were out on the trails as well, most returning a courtesy when I'd comment on the beautiful weather. It just felt good to be alive, to be there, to be doing it.

Then reality begins to come back at some point. The muscles begin to tire. Pains in various places begin to wear on you. Each mile seems to go on forever, downhill stretches begin to pound harder on you. The second wind is gone and forgotten. I think that hit me shortly after leaving Pan Toll. I grabbed my headlamp, re-lathered myself in sunscreen, grab a few more Gu packets, and headed out. The downhill was long, the afternoon hot. And I knew that at least two more major climbs loomed ahead. I was also going slower than I hoped to be at that point.

Pan Toll to Hwy 1 also had the fortune of taking you through areas full of poison oak, that wonderful, shiny plant with "leaves of three". Passing though the poison oak wasn't too bad, but it leaves you wondering if you aren't going to have cauliflower legs in a few hours. It was in this section that, in the dimming afternoon sunlight, I saw a coyote running above on the hillside and towards me. I had been seeing signs all day warning of feeding or approaching coyotes (California State Law-required signs), so the site wasn't all too unexpected but still very alarming. He was only a couple hundred feet away and moving very fast. He must have been chasing prey, and we both might have seen each other at the same time, because he suddenly changed course, diving down the hillside and passing across the trail just a hundred feet in front of me. Wow, what a beautiful animal, and how fast he was. Well, what could I do but continue on, yelling "Hey Coyote" hoping that he had decided to get far away from me as possible. I never saw him again.

[Right: last view of Mill Valley] As the sun disappeared, the wind started and the temperature dropped. I put on my long sleeve shirt I had wrapped around my waist and pressed on, as new hills continued to appear to be climbed. The scenery was vaguely familiar, having seen the same landmarks half a day earlier, but deceptive. I knew I was closer to the finish, and now counting in single digits the miles left, you begin lying to yourself: "only one hill left" and "it's all downhill now". I think race directors plan their courses with as many hills in the last 10 miles as possible simply to break you down at the end. The hills continued on, even after the last aid station stop at Tennessee Valley, where less than 4 miles remained.

With the light quickly fleeing, I decided to forgo the headlamp and continue without it. The last section has lot of pavement, which was easier to run on in the dark, but there were also sections of stairs and trail left. On section had handrails that were wet from the rapid cooling and ocean breeze. Even when the finish came into site, the road seemed to wind away from it, mocking you. I could hear applause of other runners finishing, the end was near. Then, the announcer noticed me and mentioned my running without lights. That propelled me faster down the trail, now scanning in front of me for the contrast of light and dark, using what little light remained to see what obstacles threatened my finish. Soon, the end of the road came and the finish was there and I was done.

[Left: being a tourist the next day] When you finish a race, you don't stop to take it in. You look for the basics: food and a chair. I wish now I asked someone to take my picture, but that wasn't my priority. I ate and was filled.

Damage done: 48 hours after finishing, I can take inventory on what toll it took on me. I'm still fairly stiff, but that can be worked through. I got two nickel to quarter sized blisters on the bottom of both feet, a minor blister on one toe, and what appears to be a deep blister on my left hear. Walking on the blisters was painful. I have some raw skin on my left arm and side from rubbing (not enough Body Glide???), which was extremely painful in the shower and trying to sleep the first night. Now, it's fine. I appear to have avoided any serious injury (for now). [Right: my wonderful blister]

What's next: Squaw Peak 50 miler on June 7. This is a tough course, and took me 15:30 last year (dehydration is hard to recover from during a race). I hope to bring it down closer to 14 hours this year. I just need to avoid overtraining and injury in the next five weeks.