2020 Sean O'Brien 100km - I can see clearly through the fog

Under-training syndrome is a real disease infecting the lazy ultrarunners among us more than you think. I seem to have developed a serious case, getting less than 100 miles in the month of November and just a tad more in December, and with that, more of it urban and less trail and hill climbing that normal. On my one “serious” trail run in November, I even threw in the towel just 4 miles in and walked back. The situation deteriorated even more as I developed a chronic calf cramp before Christmas that would keep me sidelined from real running for the entire month of January. As I finally healed five weeks later, what could be a better recovery run than the 2020 Sean O’Brien 100k? Such brilliance! Not only have I avoided over-training, I also avoided over-thinking. Drop down to 50M or 50K? No chance. Just commit! Going full monty baby!

As a destination race, we NorCal runners have, in my past two visits here, either travelled together or at least had pre-race dinner together. I never thought of myself as a social butterfly but I tried to wrangle this group of loners to no avail. Only my hotel-mate, Samir, was up to going out and having a drink, along with a local work colleague. Are two beers enough for good luck for the morning’s race? Only time would tell. 

Doing a race while having or recovering from muscle cramps is something I’m familiar with. So I started this race a little easy, but not too easy, knowing that the course demands all the time buffer one could manage in the early parts of the day. By the time I got to the top of the first of three major climbs, 5 miles in, I was comfortably ambling along with Samir. Passed the first aid station and hit the single track, no problemo. I completed this race in 2016, had a weird injury during an otherwise good run in 2017, and was confident that even with lack of running that my cross-training would carry me through. And then... things got interesting….

At mile 9, I stepped on one of two billion rocks on the course and irritated an otherwise already irritated nerve in my left foot. Sure, I still had one good foot, but I still had to use my left foot half the time. I took the next couple of miles cautiously, walking when needed, knowing that I was now favoring my right foot and that would lead to other problems down the road. But before that happened, there were yet other problems down the road.

Just after leaving the Kanan Rd aid station at mile 13, both of my calves cramped simultaneously. Unlike before, I didn’t have one good calf left (my spare calf was out on the farm). As a precaution, I called out to Samir, now about 100 yards ahead, to get the car key, in case I decided to turn back and drop now, or more likely drop a little later on. While some salt did help, if at least psychologically, it didn’t shake the pain away. <insert dad joke> Maybe needed bigger salt shakers?

On a junior climb up at mile 16, both quads cramped, followed by pain in my right hip flexor (there’s that imbalance!), along with an irritating little pain in my right knee. Pain, I can deal with as long as it’s not an injury. An irritated nerve is painful, but pain is temporary. Glory is forever. So we tell ourselves. The next 4 miles downhill were about the slowest I ever go downhill. If anything, that downhill seemed to go forever and any self-delusional thoughts of glory were temporary.

That I didn’t drop here at Bonsall is a miracle. But this kind of miracle shouldn’t make one believe in God, but perhaps in the Devil, because what followed next was a 1700 ft climb, a steep 1000 ft descent, followed by another 1600 ft climb, all under a relentless, hot blazing sun only to reach a summit aid station rationing water. That I somehow managed to keep climbing on cramped quads was a miracle, too, though, and as miracles go, I would hope for another as I kept going. What’s another 31 miles at this point, anyway.

I arrived at the Kanan aid station at 2:24PM, well ahead of the 2:45PM cutoff. I quickly got some fluids and edibles (if only) and moved along. The next checkpoint is a critical one. With an hour and 20 to go, I would have to quickly traverse the next 6 miles to make the 100km/50M cutoff. Make it, and I’d have a big descent and the third and last of the big climbs ahead. Miss it, and I’d have a shuffle to a 50M finish. I did some quick trail brain math and came up with 13 minute mile pace, giving me two minutes cushion. Legs, no work, brain work. Usually in races, the opposite is preferred.

My optimism soon faded as I realized that I would miss the cutoff by a country mile. Yeah, yeah, a country mile is a unit of distance, not time, stoopid nerd. OK, so I couldn’t have hit the cutoff if it was the broad side of a barn. Yeah, again, a unit of space, not time, but you get the drift.

Actually, it’s a good thing that I did miss the cutoff because those final 7.5 miles to the compensatory 50-mile finish were as slow as wet wig. Nearly 2.5 hours even though most of it was downhill. But the sunset… that sunset was so totally worth it. Made me forget the most painful and difficult run I’ve ever done. Then I passed a couple out for a leisurely hike and thought I could have enjoyed that sunset without the previous 12 hours of misery. Stoopid ultra runner.

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