2017 Miwok 100k Race Report - Spot the Ultrarunner

Spot the ultrarunner! Spot, the Ultrarunner.

Springtime in Northern California is 100k season, a time for tuning up for the summer 100 milers. Preparation for running a 100 is a months long process, and although I don't have one planned for this year, nor planning for planning one, I do want to be in shape for one. Why? Don't know. Can't say. I'm on autopilot.

Autopilot can bring unexpected surprises

The Miwok 100km has the most history among our 100kms. It is the last of the major California 100kms I tackled but it's arguably the "easiest" in that it has the least amount of climbing and best climate. Partially because of that, I was lulled into complacency in preparation. Mostly, I was just lazy. After a surfing vacation and some illness, I found myself with barely 40 miles of running in the 5 weeks leading to Miwok. Sure, I had some cross training, but nothing replaces time on feet. Worse, I carried forward my lackadaisical training into race day preparation and execution. Even worse, a burpee workout a few days prior worked my left shoulder, giving me an unbearable nerve pain on each and every running step. Given the lack of training and injury, I reasoned that hopes were simply for a finish and a Western States Qualifier, under 15 and a half hours, not for any personal speed record. Slow and steady should win the day. But just because it's the "easiest" doesn't mean that any 100km run is easy. 

The pre-amble

On Friday afternoon, I drove up from San Francisco after work. I gave a lift to Dmitiry Kernasovsky. A humbling conversation ensued, where he described his experience doing both Western States and Hardrock last year, and was broken up by the discovery of a mouse in my engine. Literally! And by literally, I don't mean figuratively because I couldn't pull off what Dima did. I pulled over and caught the mouse hiding near the windshield wipers. I released it near Ft. Point. No Miwok for this rodent.

I spent Friday night in a Mill Valley hotel watching Nike's sub-2 marathon attempt, Breaking 2. I wondered if I should have gotten a pacer or two, but the thought of having Ramiro breaking wind in front of me made my stomach turn. I'll break my own wind, thank you.

Stinson to Muir Beach - To go or not to go

The race started with a mad rush to a traffic jam up the Dipsea Steps. My shoulder was as bad as ever. I considered dropping then and there. As painful as the brief runnable sections were, I could handle the hike up, so why not? I'll hike to the top and at least get a couple hours in the hills. By the time we started the descent to Muir Beach, my shoulder pain had dulled a bit - sorta like getting stabbed in the shoulder with a dull knife instead of a sharp one. By midway down the hill, the shoulder was fine and all the aches were gone. I often joke that nothing fixes bodily aches like a 50 mile run, but this took less than 8 miles. See? I'm improving with age!

This was also my first time going down the Heather cutoff. I've been up it several times. I call this area the Taco Bell of ultrarunning because there are so many races but it's the ingredients are just in a different order. But this was different. Sort of like eating a burrito sideways. It's an exciting thought I know, but I'm sure one that we better keep to ourselves and not share with our spouses.

Muir Beach to Bridge View

Spot headed up Green Gulch 

Giddy that a bad shoulder wasn't going to stop me, and relieved that I wouldn't have to find another Western States qualifier (WSQ) later in the year, I ran and hiked willfully up Green Gulch between Muir Beach and Tennessee Valley. I chatted with Sarah Mista, a SoCal RD, about trails, races, and the misadventures of Alex and Satpal at the 2015 Sean O'Brien. SoCal raised and living in NorCal, I do what I can do bridge the divide in our large state where few seldom seem to cross. I still disfavor NorCal's penchant for including beans and meat in their burritos. When it comes to food in a tortilla, I guess I'm still a SoCal boy. All this talk of tacos and burritos is making me hungry.

Climbing Marincello Trail out of Tennessee Valley

Spring flowers bloom as runners suffer on Marincello

Spot, the Golden Gate!

Spot the hat, at Bridge View aid station

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

I'm just a regular Joe in many ways. By 7 AM, my bowels were ready for their first movement, but relief was far away. My pace slowed as my mind wandered between #1, having fun and enjoying the scenery and perfect running weather, and #2, duty. Yes, my #2 duty was urgent and the situation was getting tense, but relief wouldn't arrive until I did back at Tennessee Valley in another 7 miles. When it did, it was a great load off of my "shoulders" and I was able to resume by rambling pace again. And yes, dear readers, I'm sure my wife is about ready to shake her head off right now.

Spot in camouflage

Spot, Sausalito!

Spot, get down to Tennessee Valley!

Cardiac arrest and trail brain

From Tennessee Valley, we run through Pirates Cove, our only foray to the coastline, back to Muir Beach, and up to the Cardiac aid station. It was somewhere in here that trail brain kicked in. Just past Muir Beach is the half-way point, and the climb to Cardiac marks the end of all but one of the seven major climbs. In my trail brain, in between calculating elapsed time, time-of-day and remaining time, I misestimated my arrival time Randall mile 50 aid station by an hour, an expected an easy 14 hour finish, 90 minutes ahead of cutoff. I took my time, taking pictures of Spot every few minutes.

Spot is not just a stuffed toy representation of a dinosaur-duck hybrid, turtle or some such. Spot represents my daughter, Kim. It represents my thoughts of her, my time away from her, and her transition to sullen teenager. As I gave her a 2-day goodnight on Thursday, she gave me Spot the turtle to take on the run. I know that someday she will become an ultrarunner, a surfer, both or something even more amazing. For now, I take Spot to represent her to the places I wish she were with me.

Spot the Pirates Cove. Arrr!

Spot descending Pirates Cove 

Spot the shoulder buddy

Spot the ocean view

The mid-amble and long slog on Bolinas Ridge 

The second half of the 100km race went like the second half of most ultraruns. Terribly. Not having managed my nutrition and electrolytes all day, mostly because I hadn't put any thought into it, I could only amble and shuffle along. Both calves, both shins and my only groin were on the cusp of cramping at any moment. Stacie would tell me that I should be running, not doing yoga, but I'm not really supposed to be taking pictures of stuffed animals either. I got blagged again, which sounds like it means I drank too much Guinness, but I merely ran into Chris Blagg yet again while out on a race. Always a pleasure.

Chihping Fu and Wally Hasseltine caught up to me at Cardiac. We would leapfrog the rest of the day. I'm sured I missed a lot of other friends because trail brain. Chikara passed me? Did I ever see Sarah as she zoomed past me or was I having a "John" Muir moment? Where were Dmitiry and Christa? I wouldn't recognize my own mother if she wasn't wearing a name tag. 

Spot the poppies!

Who wouldn't want to spend 15 hours in this beautiful scenery - photo credit: Chihping Fu

The final push from Randall

I got down to the Randall aid station at mile 50 (officially 49.2 but who's counting) at 3:40 PM or 4:40 PM. It wasn't until then that I realized trail brain had me off by an hour. Having an hour less wouldn't stop me from enjoying the party though. All the other aid stations were aid stations, but this was the party station where all the non-runners, crew and pacers were. I saw Michael Li, once again, acting drill instructor for a lot of incoming runners. I hadn't seen Errol Jones since our joint San Diego disasters last year. And I got soup. I was so excited that I completely forgot to get my drop bag. Fortunately, I was between friends, Jake just ahead of me, and the Kitazumi's just behind me. Barry's donated GU packs added insurance to my final 12 miles.

Coming into the final aid station, I was feeling light headed. Not a good sign. I walked in, letting Chihping and Wally pass me, shortly after I had passed them again. The few minutes I spent there were a good investment as I was able to jog the next few miles. As I approached the last 3 mile section, even in my trail brain I knew that we (Spot and I) had some cushion. 

I got to the final turn-off, with 30 minutes and 1.4 miles left to go according to my GPS watch. Should be a cinch, but that beach sure looked far away (it was 2+ miles but who's counting?). In any case, I wanted to be done, and who has two thumbs, no more than 7 intact toenails and likes fast technical downhill trails in the dark? This guy! I blazed down the descent, passing several people, including both Dimitiry and Christa without recognizing them. Satpal caught and passed me. A lot of us, Wally, Keith, Satpal, Dmitiry, Christa, Chihping and I finished just minutes of each other, milking our entry fees for the full duration of the 15.5 hours allowed. 
   

Spot the nom nom nom 

Spot the good luck kiss 

Spot, beware the resting bench

The post-amble

Well, today, dear fans of idiocy, lack of preparation and poor execution did not stop me from getting the job done. Maybe there is hope for our government after all? 

15:26:31. Not quite DFL, but turtle or hare, a complete is a complete and a WSQ is a WSQ.

Ultrarunning legens, Rocket, J Magill and Spot.

Miwok coffee mug on the left, Headlands beer on the right and Spot in the medal. 

Spot the turtle beats the hare today