Spot the Gimp. Limping through the 2021 Quicksilver 100k

Hello long time readers. By now you know the tale as old as time itself, your third least favorite runner, who’s been battling several injuries this year can’t help but sign up for races that are inevitably doomed to fail. But as I like to say, preparation leads to confidence, and confidence leads to success, and that’s kinda boring, no? Bounding forth into an event wholly unprepared and without a clue as to the outcome, that is the real adventure. So dear readers, it is with this infallible attitude that I signed up for the 2021 Quicksilver 100k a mere 5 weeks before the event with no prior plans or training for a long distance run. Adventure!

One unfortunate factor is that I carried a laundry list of injuries with me into October, a veritable Frankenstein of broken parts - twisted ankles, tenacious lower back problems, a slowly recovering knee sprained from surfing, and suddenly tight hips, what? One thing I have in common with Shakira, is these hips don’t lie, except mine say “you old, dude!” Every once in a while, my hip flexors would tighten enough to make running impossible. In my so-called training runs, all these imbalances made 12 mile outings somewhat tenuous and my sole 20 mile outing essentially a self-DNF. How was I to triple my long run and double my weekly mileage in one go? I dunno? Ramiro suggested I drop to the 50k, but I’m fairly confident I could finish the 50k. The 100k? Probably not. Adventure!

So went the gimp, travelling back home to Los Gatos to run my home race. Here, not only do I know the course, a course that I finished in both of my two attempts, but the race is filled with the usual suspects that we all know and love. Or maybe you don’t love, but at least tolerate politely, I don’t judge. I love you all, even if you only tolerate me, especially after reading this next part. Two weeks before the race, I sent every thought and prayer I had for a major storm for the race. A record October storm did arrive race day weekend, but race day itself was going to be cool, partly cloudy and rain-free - a perfect day. Dang. If I’m gonna DNF, it will be on my own (de-)merits.

Sylvie, my running partner from afar, picked me up on race morning at 3:45 AM. The last I would see of her for a while would be at the lines for the porta potties. Of course, her day would end with a #1, and mine would be a crap day. If only we had read the signs. Now some of you may be wondering, of all people, why does Sylvie seemingly only run with me? Well, you see, in the before-Covid times, Sylvie used to work with challenged children… 

But I did read some signs. As my training runs over 12 miles seemed destined to fail, I made plans with Sylvie’s crew chief, Mika, to pick me up at either the mile 18 Lexington aid station or the mile 26 Kennedy aid station. I doubted that my undertrained, over-injured and over-tapered ass could go any farther. But the day started off well. The first few miles were uneventful as they usually are, and even the feared 6 mile long downhill to Lexington was easy on the knees after a modest pace. 

Lexington A/S. Backyard VK alum, Miriam!

Up next is the 2000 ft climb up Priest Rock and Dogmeat, a trail I love so much I like to do it 10 times in a single day. Someone called the aforementioned downhill and this climb the “Morale Crusher” on Strava, lol. Es verdad. From the top, we descend 2000 ft in 4 miles to the Kennedy aid station and come right back. It’s also the one chance to see everyone else in the race. After about a mile down, I exchanged a high-five with my carpool buddy, and a bit later with Anil, who was having a rock star day. I waved off opt-out support from Mika as my once slim hopes for finishing the 100k were brightening.

Kennedy A/S. Getting some pineapple love from Sprinkles

Immediately after leaving Bikini Bottom, aka Kennedy Aid Station, though, is when my real adventure would begin. My back became uncomfortable with running, to put it mildly. I gently jogged the one flat section here, but I was hoping that by the end of the 4 miles of slow climbing, things would return to normal. In some sense they did as ailments and pains bounced from one spot to another. That and my existential pain, but as they say, no pain, no gain. And of course, the more I hurt on the outside, the less I hurt on the inside. 

Wood A/S. She's so good, Jill takes care of you twice on the Morale Crusher

With half the race done, heck now we have less than 9 hours to run. That’s barely a workday. And it’s net downhill. Score! The problem was that my back and knee were not happy with downhills. I shared some miserable miles with Alvin and gimped my way slowly to the Hicks Aid Station. Adventure?

Hicks A/S. Starting early and staying late, Clare and team

From the mile 37 Hicks Aid Station it’s a short jaunt back to the cars at Hacienda. Or, if like me, you’d just run 37 miles, then it’s a long slow arduous tenuous trek downhill to Hacienda. Half way down, and Bob’s your uncle - the turn off at English Camp with Bob Callahan as your guide. 10+ hours after leaving Hacienda, I was back where it all began. And crew! Not my crew, but Sylvie’s crew to at least cheer me, heckle me, and goad me into charging on. Coerced adventure!

Hacienda A/S. Spot the King, Paul King

At Hacienda, I was feeling pretty confident… confident that I wasn’t going to finish. Actually, I knew that before I started. I’d already gone twice as far as expected. One thing that kept me going was my wife, but maybe not in the way you think. You see, she had her own plans and that included not having to pick me up until 5pm or later. So it was far too soon to drop, so why not hike to the next aid station. Sigh… adventure….

Mockingbird A/S. Happiest face at mile 44, Ramiro.

Most of the climbing was already done, but there are some short but steep mother cluckers on the trail to Mockingbird, both up and down. In February, I managed to go 50k on Dogmeat until my knee hurt enough that I had to walk the final 3+ miles. The steep downhills gone and done me in here, too. Seeing my friends volunteering and company-in-misery, Alvin, slumped in a chair was enough for me, too. Save my knee for future races and future DNFs. 

Co-Race Director, Loren (Pierre not pictured) kept things running smooth

Epilogue. What to make of the experience? Should I have signed up or even bothered to show up? Should I have ditched my Chihuahua training partner? Or as Tony suggested, should I have surfed less, or as Chris would suggest, should I have surfed more? Perhaps all of the above, but I am glad I came and glad I ran. Each aid station, I was reminded of the amazing community we have, the people that always support you no matter how fast or slow you are, how far you go or don’t go, run or just show up. After over a year of lockdown, working from home, and cancelled and postponed races, it’s easy to get isolated and mired internally, but remember that out there in the real world are people who love you and whether you can admit it to yourself or not, you love them too. 

Sylvie and her ankles

Chihping!

Jim finishes yet another 50k

Elizabeth spots an incredible finish

A spotless finish for Anil

Oh, big stretch!  photo: Mark Tanaka

Alvin, Spot and I slumping.  photo: I-Tao Tsai