Spot the Run Party - Rob Rhodes' BayTrailrunners Coastal Marin 50k or Thereabouts

Spot, nesting.

This was my second outing at Rob Rhodes' BayTrailrunners Coastal Marin 50k - it takes nearly as long to say that as it takes to run it. It's an unusual run/race. It's held on a Sunday, so one could still go on a long training run the day before and limp into work fresh from the race the next morning. It's point-to-point, so if you get lost, you could easily find yourself on a tangent. And it's part race, part fat-ass, but all run party.

The run party starts with a run party bus. The magic school bus would ferry us slowly, loudly, uncomfortably but still merrily from San Francisco's Presidio to Olema, an hour north. It looks like the kind of bus that Timothy Leary might have once taken a trip on. The only things missing were a disco ball and Mariachi music, although it looked like it was decked out for both. Maybe a night run next time, Rob? The inside of the bus was also lined with interesting pictures, like the Hispanic Martin Luther King, Jr., that made one ponder life - the meaning of life, and the choices we make. Like, how the hell did I end up on this bus?

Party bus! Photo: Chris Blagg

Spot the Magic Schoolbus

Stripper pole! Work it, dude!

The race/run itself starts inauspiciously enough at a tiny trailhead just south of Tomales Bay. So close to fresh oysters yet still so far, and oysters at 8am? Bleh! Rob also makes us go through a security check, through a tiny gate and an armpit visual inspection. Post 9/11 race reality, I guess. No dog brave enough to sniff under my arms though.

Hands overhead. Hold steady. Familiar to anyone who flies today. Photo: Rob Rhodes

The run starts in cow pastures. As our herd made its way past several cows, I got the sense that many of them were thinking, "Run 50k? I don't even like to graze that far!". My hermanos corriendo and I set off at a strong pace to start. We didn't want to be caught by our sweep, filmmaker Myles Smythe, a guy who couldn't get enough y's in his name and would undoubtedly make a movie of our disaster if he caught us. My legs felt heavy during the first few miles. I always have two challenges with runs: elevation and age. Any run at an elevation is hard. And, this is the oldest I've ever been out for a run. I was also feeling sore from Saturday's run, surf and climbing festivities. Damn Sunday races. Fortunately, this is a party run. Every few miles, we would all regroup and start fresh. It's sort of a like a cross  between the Tour de France and Whose Line Is It Anyway where your time don't matter. How much further until the Kodak rock? Just 5 miles, baby.

Hermano Ramiro, reading the trails?

Hermano Edmundo, with his best "WTF is this stuffed turtle" expression

Patina, Myles Smythe, Rob and Spot at the Kodak rock.

It was around this point that would turn our day into an adventure. Ramiro kicked a rock. Instead of falling gracefully into a few piles of cow dung like an experience trail runner, he caught himself hard upright, in the process injuring his right quad. Whether it caused a cramp or a tear, pulled or pushed a muscle, the pain in his leg would slow his progress the rest of the day. That was his problem #1. Problem #2 was #2. Probably too many tacos the night before. Ramiro came flying in after shedding a wee bit of excess baggage. Edmundo appeared to be sleepwalking his way in.

Spot the idyllic forest trail

Coming in for a landing...

As casual as it gets

After 11 miles, we reached our first mobile aid station, blagged by the man himself, Chris Blagg of Immortal Race Crew and Michael Tatham. With freezing temperatures in SF and the long distance, I chose to start with a pack, but with the warming morning and shorter segments later in the day, I opted for a handheld water bottle to keep the sweat off my back. See? I'm not as stupid as I look. Granted, that's a pretty low bar.

I see some trees

The woods here on Bolinas Ridge are pretty amazing. Dense groves of trees capture the fog and drip on the forest floor, creating mud soaked trails in the middle of summer. We haven't had rain here for two months, but you wouldn't know it. Emerging out of the coastal fog and dense forest and onto the open, sunny grassy hills of Bolinas Ridge, we came to Kodak point. If you haven't figured it out by now, these aren't really called Kodak Rock or Kodak Point. I just call them that because Rob stops us there for pictures. Yeah, yeah, I know you kids call them Instagram Point or something, but we old people have a hard time changing our graying habits.

Looking back at the fog we left behind.

Smiling, because we didn't have to climb Willow Camp

Spot taking a break

Spot the Spring Energy

Our next stop was Pantoll. Mile 18 and the home of the best restrooms for ultra runners in the Marin Headlands. While everyone else got refueled and departed, Ramiro had a one man pitstop party. The rest of the party left without us, so from here on, it would be us tres hermanos with Myles and Patina behind. Through Muir Woods on the Miwok Trail, we blithely made our way to the next two aid stations. While my hopes for an Asian podium were dashed, my place on the Hispanic podium was guaranteed (I forgot about Sandra Campos, who sped out in front and hadn't seen since our armpit inspection).

While Ramiro had a good trip, even though it's only August, I already had a great fall, or two - first kicking a root with my right foot and crash landing on my right side, and later kicking a rock with my left foot and crash landing on my left side. Balance. Next, I'll be tripping on both feet and landing flat on my face, but fortunately, I don't have any executive presentations planned. 

Both of my #2 toenails were already hurting from a long road run. Normally my road shoes are fine, but the longer run I did in them a week ago did a number on them. I won't say which brand it is, but I will suggest they modify their name to *something* Two Two after taking out my #2 toenails. My trail shoes, made by Altra, are normally perfect for my patos grandes, but this trail run and all the tripping and kicking doomed my poor toes to death. I'll include a picture the early stages of a dying toenail, but in recognition of the fact that some of you may be eating while reading this, I'll cover up my grotesque big toenail. If you're reading this while otherwise occupied and could use an extra laxative, IM me and I'll send you an uncensored version.

Early stages of toenail withdrawal 

Making our way slowly up Marcello Trail, a low flying vulture made a few circles and landed in front of us. No doubt the vulture knew before we did that Patina had dropped and now we were the last runners on the course. Not knowing this yet, we took our time doing what "ultra"-runners do. Taking stupid pictures. I have to say, after taking pictures of Spot, a stuffed turtle, all day on the trails, I felt a bit self conscious doing the same thing in civilization on the Golden Gate bridge. I'm sure I came across a slight more effeminate than usual.

Vulture, waiting for one of us to DNF

Spot rolling out some tight muscles

Spot the flowers

Spot, don't eat the flowers. Nom nom nom

Spot the San Francisco

Spot the Golden Gate Bridge

Spot has electric kisses

Spot the two modestly gay brothers

Myles the Swyeeper of Dyeath caught up to us on the bridge. I had planned on walking the crowded bridge but whether Ramiro wanted to race me to avoid DFL or he just has a strong finish line-of-sight and I'm lazy, he took off at a 7:30 min/mile pace across the bridge, weaving in between tourists like the night bus driver in Harry Potter. We needn't have worried though, as two of our Asian runners got lost getting to and across the bridge and came in behind us. Yes! Asian podium! I don't know how one gets lost crossing a giant freaking bridge. Perhaps the stereotype of the Asian driver isn't that far off.

In the end, the run was 34 miles, not 31, making it 55k. It's still a run party, like a party that just won't quit. Even with the added distance, I felt great all day. I only ate a couple of bananas, some grapes, a few mini-donuts, two honey waffles and 3 Spring Energy gels. Note: Spring Energy - if you need a brand ambassador, Spot and I are available. Ramiro gutted it out, and not just during his pit stops, but he really pushed through a lot of pain to finish respectably, nearly leaving me trapped behind some German tourists on the bridge. Imagine that, a Marine leaving his brother behind German lines...

Spot the Headlands Brewing Co. Double IPA, nom nom nom! Photo: Rob Rhodes

The Headlands Brewing Co. Double IPA was a fantastic way to finish. Far, far, far, far, far better than the crap DNF beer I got a month ago. Note: Headlands beer guys - if you need a brand ambassador, Spot and I are available. We'll even do a beer mile for you! Spot the beer mile! Spot the upchuck! Spot the idiot ultrarunner collapsed on the trail!

Almost the same route on PCTR's The Ridge next weekend. And it's a proper race!

As a small run/race party, I didn't get a medal to hang in my closet, or another shirt to overflow my dresser. Instead, I just got great memories. That and a top notch Victory Sportdesigns drop bag in the drawing. And second place Asian! Top that, bitches.

With bodacious drop-bag, we gotta find a 100 miler to do!