Four! Marin Ultra Challenge 2017 - A casual approach to running 50 miles

March 12, 2017

Four! Marin Ultra Challenge 2017 - A casual approach to running 50 miles

I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion. - Jack Kerouac

Four! This was my fourth Marin Ultra Challenge, and who knows how many races I've done total in the Marin Headlands. The Headlands is situated just minutes away from San Francisco, yet has both miles and kilometers of trails - 50 miles in my case, 50 km for others. It really is the Taco Bell of trail running, where you can mix the ingredients to make a new creation. The Marin Ultra Challenge 50M is the big burrito here because it's the only one that uses the most spicy ingredient - Willow Camp, a harrowing glute numbing experience up 1800 ft in 2 miles. So how does one prepare for such a challenge? With the casual grace of Bill Murray, of course!

Last year, we had the El Nino, el viejo and el idiota. While we had plenty of rain in 2017, the past couple of weeks were remarkably dry leaving us with perfect running weather. But Ramiro and I were still going, so we still had uno viejo y un idiota (one old and one idiot) - or is it dos?

The MUC was my second ultra of the year. But after DNF'ing the first ultra from injury and hurting my knee on a wipe out a week ago, I haven't really been training much. So as much as I'd like to pretend that my casual approach to race training and preparation was cooly intentional, truth is, it was forced on me, like Suntory Time.

With my knee slowly healing the days before the race, I wasn't sure how far I'd get. Thanks to El Nino, the start/finish area moved to Rodeo Beach. So now I had the option - if I couldn't run, I could surf. If the surf looked really good, then I could drop to 50k and surf the afternoon while waiting for Ramiro to finish. How's that for planning?

If misery loves company, misery has company enough. - Henry David Thoreau

As a local race, there's guaranteed to be at least a dozen fellow Quicksilver Running Club members and lots of other familiar faces. Unfortunately, I missed seeing nearly all of them. With more than 400 runners, this has surely got to be one of the largest trail races this side of Chamonix. Not enough spandex nor walking sticks for France. And among the masses, I couldn't pick out friend from foe, Altra from Hoka. Missing from the start line was our car-pool buddy, Anil, a software engineer who couldn't figure out how to set alarms on his watch.

Those first 30+ miles went surprisingly smooth. What was it they say about avoiding loose cars and fast women? Well, apparently I don't listen well because I ran a lot of the first few miles with fast women, Stacie and Alysa (and later on, Christy). I ran up hills and bombed down the Pirates Cove staircase. Even after a nature call at Muir Beach, I ran more than walked up the hill to Cardiac aid station, and then stormed down the Dipsea steps to Stinson Beach. How's that for some razzle dazzle?

The 22 mile mark of the MUC 50 is where things get serious. The MUC 50 is really one thing: the dreaded Willow Camp. Or rather, it's two things: Can you still climb Willow Camp after running, climbing and descending for 20 miles? And can you run, climb and descend another 25 miles after Willow Camp? The seemingly never ending climb is a test of will as much as it is a test of leg and glute strength. Just when you think you've finally made it to the top, there's a bit more. It's enough to drive any sane runner to question ultrarunning as a sport. Fortunately, "sane runner" does not describe most of us.

And he says, “Oh, uh, there won’t be any money, but when you die, on your deathbed, you will receive total consciousness.” So I got that goin’ for me, which is nice

For gear, I didn't plan on much except to put food and some spare socks in a couple of drop bags. I casually opted to experiment with a cotton crop top, a fashion trend that is so 2016. On its debut outing, it worked surprisingly well, staying wet and keeping me cool. Worked well for 30+ miles until it didn't. I would have thought my man nipples would be well hardened from the years of homoerotic punishment doled out by my older brother - nipple twisting and ball squishing - but only the latter escaped punishment over 50 miles. As for the last 16 miles, I'd have to finish in style.

Don't look down. Cliche coming.

The mountains are calling and I must go. - John Muir

The final 15 miles were more of a struggle. The descent through the Muir Woods was awe inspiring. I mean, it's a place named after John Muir, the world's preeminent conservationist. I don't have any pictures because I just don't have that kind of camera ninja skills. Look it up. It's a place worthy of the moniker. Now, how could a lazy ultrarunner not admire someone like John Muir, a nature bum that took doing nothing into not jut a profession but a movement. Muir, Thoreau, Kerouac, ... Congress.

Four more climbs after Willow Camp were eased with pleasant company, Jake from State Farm (not his real name), Chris Blagg, and Christy. With a bit of effort on the last climb, I could finish under 12 hours. The final climb and descent were lonely until I ran through the hikers at Rodeo Beach. With cheering from onlookers, I felt a bit out of place in my running outfit but I was focused only on the finish line. 11 hours and 52 minutes.

And....

All the volunteers were awesome. Thanks to Chris DeNucci, the nicest bearded guy south of Santa Claus, manned the Tennessee Valley aid station. I was glad to see the team at Cardiac did not have to withstand a winter storm like they did last year. We were also treated to run into Wally Hasseltine on the trail - typical NorCal trail run.

And now for some real pictures.