2022 TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE, NO GOOD, VERY BAD DAY THAT WASN'T ANY OF THOSE THINGS

It is no coincidence that shortly after California finally dropped its mask mandate 2 years after Covid, we celebrated with yet another Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. This was the third year that we hosted the event mid-winter in February. The humanitarian in me keeps hoping that one of these will occur during a fun winter storm, but no, it was a bit cold but really perfect running weather. I would even call it a Terrific, Honestly Very Good, Nothing Bad Day. Hey, that might make for a catchy acronym. What do you think? THVGNBD or THNGVBD? Eh, it doesn’t matter. It’s like the difference between chicken McNuggets and chicken Tenders. It’s the same thing with a slightly different aftertaste.

But honestly, it did not start very good, at least for me. What used to be a race in my backyard is now an away race. An hour into my trip north, my wife told me that I’d forgotten my entire drop bag at home. I am a genius. I remembered everything else. Person, woman, man, camera, TV. No dropbag. Too late now. Although REI had most of my supplies, I was sure to forget some other things (more on that later), not to mention my trip up the 2-mile supply line was with a grocery bag like some sort of trail noob. 

Speaking of noobs, if you’re here for the first time, if you thought your friends sometimes exercised bad judgment by signing up for this race, lemme tell you a bit about the course and see if you change your mind. For the low entry fee of $5, you get the privilege of showing up to zero reception at a trailhead, most likely before the sun even comes up. There are no real aid stations (more on that later, or should I say, moron, that later), so you have to pack all your water, food, and anything else you need, in a backpack or grocery bag and carry them up 2 miles and +1,000 ft to the Limekiln-Priest Rock saddle. From there the race starts, whenever you feel like it, going up the 1.5 mile “Dogmeat” section, gaining 1,000 ft. Mark a summit, come back down, and repeat. 10 times for the 50k, 5 times for the fun run, twice for the “Puppymeat”. And Jessi’s favorite part, carrying your remaining supplies back down to the car after your race is “done”.

I arrived so late in Los Gatos that I briefly considered just starting immediately at night, but nah, that would be so uncharacteristic of my usual reserved, conservative, cautious, prudent approach to all things. I later learned that Toshi started at 1 AM. Dang, that would have been epic. Just two Asian dudes in the night against mountain lions. I can see the headlines now. “Local cats go out for Asian food, finish with Korean ribs. 5 stars. Would totally recommend”. Instead, I left chez Sylvie at 6 AM to get some final supplies and hunt for breakfast. Finding little open, I had to settle on a banana. Dang. Really could have used some of Eminem’s mom’s spaghetti the night before too.

I started up my first hill climb alone as dawn cracked. Toshi, our midnight runner, was finishing his 8th hill climb already. He was going to finish early and have all day free to question his life choices from the comfort of, well, anyplace more comfortable than Dogmeat. I spent the past year hobbling through a knee injury, still unsure of my ability to run ultras, and honestly after having moved back to the county where I grew up, I gravitated to cycling and surfing, like when I was an energetic, handsome teenager. But while I was reliving my youth, surely my running quads weren’t ready? Who knows. My motto is, training leads to preparation and preparation leads to success, and that’s so boring. It’s a much more of an adventure if you have no idea you’re going to finish or crap out a third of the way in. Hardly trained for a month. I told you, I’m a genius. Genius! I should change my name to Genius Ultrarunner.

For the rest of the morning, it mostly seemed like the usual crew. Ramiro, Jessi, Johnny, Sam, Kay, I-Tao. Beau brought his dog, Penny, who ended the day with 6 repeats. It’s a dog eat Dogmeat world now. We had a few doppelgangers this day. Harrison came in looking like Bob, and confirmed he was not Bob when they ran side-by-side. First time thngvbd’er Nigel, I thought looked like Pierre. Heck, the first few laps, I even looked like a runner.

One of the Idiot Axioms is that if you can't find someone dumb enough to crew you for this race, then you’re the dumb one in your friend group. A corollary to that is anyone you do find to crew you must be really stupid. Well, Nigel convinced his sweet wife, Margaret to crew him. Not only that, she pulled a cart with a full aid station for everyone, including homemade cookies. So we’re going to have to carve out an exception.

If you can find someone to crew you for this race, that person may be more caring, loving and sweet to compensate for your stupidity.

Of the 22 of us on the trail, there were 4 runners, 17 just surviving, and one Toshi. Johnny and Sam both broke the previous 50k record. Beau and Tony both went under 2:45 on the fun run. And Toshi, that absolute unit of a runner, started at 1 AM and finished 14H 47M later with 20 hill repeats. 100km, 20,000 f vert. That’s an amazing feat especially considering he was carrying what I imagine are 20 pound balls of steel. For me, my nose was running faster than I was, launching snot rockets at a 7 min/mile pace while I was barely mustering 20 min/mile.

I was going to stop at the fun run. Really I was. But Sylvie was coming to join and she hadn’t arrived yet. So I climbed my sixth. My right knee started acting up, maybe overacting FIFA style, forcing me to walk down. So much for my downhill prowess. I told anybody who would listen that I was stopping after 6. But sitting down at my pack, you know, you haven't dropped until you pick up your stuff and walk down. So I gingerly forged up again with JC, one of our inaugural finishers and holder of the slowest time record. I should be able to keep up with that. His company helped me get to the top and again walked down. 

By now the field was dwindling. The fun run group was going home. Margaret packed up her aid station. I was still planning on stopping at 7. But I still had friends out there. Granted they only had a half a lap or two left, so while waiting for them, might as well do one more. With the crowd thinning, there was one more issue to address

Nature is calling, and I must go - "John" Muir

One of those essential items I left behind in my original backpack was something we all hoarded back at the start of Covid. Had nothing in my improvised grocery bag. I had to scrounge for a natural replacement. Good thing it’s spring. Terrible? No. Horrible? Nah. No Good? Nope. Very Bad? Nein. Relieving? Most definitely. Told you, I am a genius. Although I was having a crappy run, at least I wasn’t having a runny … 

Funny thing about THNGBVD. The 7th lap is the worst. You would think it keeps getting worse but it really doesn’t. Sorta like given how shitty 2020 was, 2021 and 2022 seem almost bearable. In fact, generally, the 7th or 8th lap is the slowest, and laps 9 and 10 are a bit faster. Something about being almost done. So nearing the end, I kept going. My knee stopped acting up, FIFA style.  I only fell once, much to Sylvie’s amusement. Glad to be of service, and glad to be “young” enough that falling down is funny, not a cause to summon an ambulance.

Finishing lap 10, only three other runners were left on the course. We fistbumped on my way down. With our asynchronous starting times, we didn’t know at the time how tight the battle was for DFL. In the end, just 15 minutes separated the four of us and I was honored with the DFL prize. Next year, I’ll come up with something grand, because I’m sure to win it again.

The next day, before DOMS sets in, I went out in Santa Cruz to catch the new swell coming in. 4-6 ft surf but extremely cold. Yeah, my legs were tired and sore, but my arms weren’t, so it should be good, right? Water was so cold that when I got out to use the facilities, the shrinkage looked like George Costanza in a turtleneck sweater. I started THNGBVD in 30F, too. For a SoCal boy, I must really like the cold. With that surf report, I’ll leave you with some words of wisdom from surf god, Laird Hamilton 

Fear is good

Failure isn’t bad

You should treat your body like a truck, not a temple

My body is a truck. A 50 year old Chevy C-10 with balding tires, lots of dents, misfiring frequently blowing out smoke at random times. But as long as the engine is running, let’s see how fast and far this truck can go.

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Wall of Shame

50k, 10 Summits (Dogmeat time only)

1. 5:19 John Burton

2. 5:28 Sam Cox
3. 7:12 Toshi Hosaka (20x)
4. 8:20 Jessi Goldstein
5. 8:24 Ramiro Garcia
6. 8:54 Alison Bassett
7. 9:02 Jason Chan
8. 9:08 Josam Mulinyawe
9. 9:10 Duke Hong

Fun Run, 5 Summits (Dogmeat time only)

1. 2:36 Tony Molfino
2. 2:42 Beau VanZante (6x)
3. 3:29 Paul Marshall (7x)
4. 3:29 Nigel Robinson
5. 3:30 Stefan Fiandeiro
6. 3:37 Harrison Blackwood
7. 3:51 Bob Callahan
8. 3:53 I-Tao Tsai
9. 3:59 Darlene Shinamoto
10. 4:18 Kay Sealer-Mungaray

Puppymeat, 2 Summits (Dogmeat time only)

1. 1:30 Sylvie Abel (3x)
2. 2:00 Krishna Parthaje