How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the 50 Mile Pacing Job

“It's incredibly obvious, isn't it? A foreign substance is introduced into our precious bodily fluids, without the knowledge of the individual, certainly without any choice. That's the way your hard-core Commie works.” - Brig. Gen. Jack D. Ripper

Three weeks into the era #shelterinplace and social distancing, we were still practicing our ability to exercise outdoors with our virtual housemate, Antonya, aka AF. Editor’s note: AF was with us the weekend the lockdown order went into effect, and has not gone to work nor been with anyone besides us, and likewise for us, so, including our kids, we considered ourselves a five-person “household”. Three weeks on, it has been a surreal experience, Time spent outdoors has become ever more precious. Socially accepted outdoor activities went from “social distant” group trail runs, to solo trail runs, to even safer activities. What’s an ultra-idiot to do?

American River 50, scheduled for April 4, 2020, was one of the first spring races to cancel in light of the corona virus pandemic, though it was to be AF’s first 50 mile run. True to their terms and conditions, they offered no refunds or rollovers. Ultimately, they offered to ship the swag the racers already paid for and the organization already made, provided the runners actually fatass run 50 miles (to their credit, I think they’ve since waived the latter requirement as the lock-down became stricter). And to her credit (or detriment), waffling to the end, AF decided to proceed with her own 50 miler regardless.

“I think you’re some kind of deviated pervert. I think General Ripper found out about your perversion, and that you were organizing some kind of mutiny of perverts. Now move!” - Col. Bat Guano.

The course she ultimately chose was a relatively safe one, starting from home but spending a good deal of time over lonely trails on local sloughs, in four loops so as not to ever be too far, with a couple of seasoned trail perverts to help crew and race.  Editorial: the definition pervert is someone whose behavior is abnormal and unacceptable, so the term “trail pervert” would be fitting.

With Ramiro conveniently getting ill the day before, it fell on my shoulders to see that our young padawan could fulfill her destiny. With the course involving repeats of two loops, the larger one being 15 miles, ferrying supplies as a mobile aid station seemed like the thing to do. And on my bike of course, because I’m not the one running 50 miles. What I thought was the easy way out turned out to be anything butt - that is, I hadn’t been on a bike in over a year, and my derrière was not preperrièred. That in turn put more work on my wrists and back as I spent the next twelve hours standing on my pedals. Would have been easier to just run.

“Mr. President, I'm not saying we wouldn't get our hair mussed. But I do say no more than ten to twenty million killed, tops. Uh, depending on the breaks.” - Gen. Buck Turgidson and/or Jared Kushner

We started at 6AM from San Jose on the Guadalupe Trail. As the day wore on, the paved trails would become more populated, though much less so than usual, and half the people, including me, were wearing masks. It was hard to avoid the thought of all the cooties that might be out there. In any case, the morning sunrise was gorgeous, one of the benefits of waking up at 4:45 AM to go running. After a few miles, we were at Alviso Marina, the start of a 10 mile dirt loop on the slough and the site of a steamboat disaster in 1831. Hopefully not to be the site of an ultrarunning disaster in 2020. The far end of the loop was marked by a malordorous breeze, decidedly stronger than mine. We decided after that we would not come back for a full second loop, but the theme of the day was set.

The end of the first loop was extended for a side visit to home facilities, the first of many. With the shutdown, few public restrooms were open and any that were came under suspicion. Planning a home stop as an easy detour was safe and smart! Something only a woman could think up. Anyone who knows me knows that I’d just plan for bushy terrain and big leafy trees.

“Women uh... women sense my power and they seek the life essence.” - Brig. Gen. Jack D. Ripper: 

15 miles later, we finished the first loop. Still amazed that this was still happening. I wasn’t sure if I was just supporting her, or if I’d subconsciously goaded her into this half baked idea. I certainly tricked encouraged her to do other stupid things like the THNGVBD 50k and some off-trail character building shortcuts.

The second shorter loop went smoothly. We bypassed the crowded trail and opted for roads, passing the empty high tech offices of Samsung, Dell and of course, Cisco, and the empty 49’ers stadium. At times we felt like we were trapped in the Twilight Zone as the last two people on Earth. Hearing an airplane pass, over an hour after we started, was a reassuring reminder that civilization still existed. I was able to run the 5k dirt loop on the slough with Antonya. Was refreshing to use my legs differently, though it turns out my back was none too pleased about being bent over on the bike all day. Does anyone know a good chiropractor?

You're almost done now. Don't choke!

At the start of the third trail loop on the slough at Alviso, I let Antonia go on her own as I had my only break as crew. Had my lunch and beer while watching the birds and keeping a wary eye on all the unmasked humans. It was finally here, after mile 30, that Antonya finally felt her legs getting tired, slowing from a steady 11 min/mi pace to a slower run-walk pattern. As I say about most ultras, the first 30 miles were so easy! But, she did pass the 40 mile mark - something that she’d never seen on her watch until now. After a light rain, she got excited by the sight of a large rainbow, which undoubtedly led back to her apartment for another bio-break, not a pot of gold, but a pot of something.

“Sir! I have a plan! [standing up from his wheelchair]  I can walk!” - Dr. Strangelove

The fourth and final segment was to be an out-and-back, just 9 miles to go! Hopefully no more surprises. The run/walk out to Twin Peaks park went without a hitch, though I was nearly rear ended by speeding cyclists several times. The sun came out from behind the clouds just as we reached our turnaround point, appropriately marked by groves of palm trees. Palm trees are a rare sight in the Bay Area, but common in San Diego, where AF and I both lived our formative years, though hers were a couple of decades after mine!

“I want you to remember one thing, the folks back home is a countin' on ya, and by golly we ain't about to let 'em down.”  - Maj. King Kong

Just 4.7 miles to go. Antonya’s steps became lighter knowing that short of getting carried out on a gurney, as long as she made it back home on her own, she’d be a 50 mile finisher. Antonya received encouraging support from her fans (I should have known she was Instagramming the whole way), even from her ex-boyfriends, whose names I instantly ruined with songs and tales of other homonymous losers. That section of trail that Antonya frequently runs will be forever etched in her memory as the “MY NAME IS LARRY!!!” trail. Ah, the duties of a pacer. Keeping them fed, distracted and entertained, keeping them on course (I’m looking at you, Jim Walmsley’s pacer!), and as my final duty, playing the sounds of cowbells on my phone as Antonya finished her final 100 meters and 50 miles a-f! A true ultrarunner, not just because she went nearly twice as long as a marathon, but because the idea of fatass running your first 50 miler, and during a pandemic is so stupid that she earned the synonimous titles of ultra-runner and ultra-idiot. Congrats on a gritty run. It took incredible courage and fortitude to start and stick it out to the end. There's no limit to the stupid things can I goad her into now!

Alviso at sunrise 

The Poo-loop before the poo-smell

The Niners can't stop this runner, or any runner apparently 

During my brief running sojourn

10% single track... 

50% dirt...

... 100% relief at final turnaround 

How She Learned to Stop Worrying and Just Run 50 Miles