Returning to Ohlone 50K as Mere Mortal

Did I Ever Tell You the Story about that One Time...

Runners ascending Mission Peak

Last year I ran the race of my life at the 2013 Ohlone 50K where I was utterly immune to the effects of gravity and flew effortlessly up the hills enroute to finishing 2nd overall behind my Quicksilver teammate Jean Pommier. This year however I got to again experience what it feels like to run Ohlone as a mere mortal. I found myself hiking up hills with hands on knees, breathing hard and thinking, "this sucks". Ah yes.

Last year I came into Ohlone in the middle of my Western States ramp up, having several 100 - 120 mile weeks under my belt. I was in amazing shape: veins were bulging out of my muscles and erythropoietin (the natural stuff, not the junk you buy from your cycling buddies) was coursing through my blood.

This year unfortunately Ohlone feel during a down period in my training where I was recovering from my Spring racing campaign (Way too Cool, Boston Marathon, and Miwok 100K) and resting up before my ramp-up for Hardrock 100 in July.


Off and Running

Ohlone Wilderness

Initially I though I might have a shot to win Ohlone this year after I found out that defending champion Jean Pommier would miss this year's race in order to attend his son's graduation from Yale. But my dreams were dashed when I saw local stud Lon Freeman's name on the registration list. In fact, looking at the list of fast guys who were running this year, I suspected that I might not even be able to crack the top-three.

Standing at the starting line seconds before the start of the race, I was still debating which strategy to employ. Should I go out ridiculously hard on the first climb like a maniac and try to get an early lead, or should I hang back a bit and run conservatively saving my energy for later in the race? As usual, I opted for the ridiculous/maniac approach. Unfortunately for me, so did Lon Freeman.

Lon jumped out to an early lead and I had to work harder than expected together with George Torgun from Berkley to slowly bridge back up to Lon. Together the three of us crested the first mile and a half climb together. Unfortunately that would be the last I would see of Lon as he eventually pulled back away, running away with the race in a winning time of 4:52:30.

George, who would eventually finish second in 5:08:32, showed an act of great sportsmanship when he stopped several miles into the race to try and help another runner/hiker (who had taken the early start option) who had gotten stuck waist deep in a mud-pit sinkhole! Unfortunately, even with four or five people helping, they weren't able to extricate the runner. Hopefully he managed to get out at some point! Otherwise the mountain lions may have gotten a tasty treat later that night.


Cruising and Cursing

5th overall and 2nd in my age group

With Lon and George safely out in front, the rest of a race became a four-man fight for third place between me, Kevin Sawchuk, Erik Wilde, and Remi Delille -- all of whom would finish within minutes of each other. At one point on the hike up out of the river with only 3 miles to go, Erik, Remi and myself all pulled even with each other for a brief moment. It was pretty cool. But we were all still a minute or so behind Kevin. If one of us wanted third place, he would have to make a move now!

My hopes for third place were dashed when Erik mad a strong move and pulled a few seconds ahead. I knew that this would be the deciding the move and that if I wanted a chance at third place I would need to stay with Erik now and hope to bridge up to Kevin together. But knowing and doing are two different things and I just didn't have the will power to push hard. I watched somewhat apathetically as Erik pulled away, leaving me alone in 5th place with a slight 30 second or so lead over Remi.

Crossing the finish line in 5th place at 5:15:33, I shrugged mile shoulders and smiled as if to say, "I just didn't have it today... but don't worry, I'm saving myself for Hardrock". Of course, my shrug could have also been interpreted as, "Oh man this race sucks. I'm never going to run it again". Both interpretations could be equally valid.


The Women's Race

I had a nice front-row seat to the women's race as I got to witness the battle for first place first hand at the turnaround point on top of Mt. Rose. As I was running down the mountain I saw women's leader Darcy Africa (a Hardrock veteran and hero of mine) followed only seconds behind by local legend Prudence L'Heureux. And although I didn't catch a glimpse of her at the time, slightly further back was Quicksilver teammate Lisa Hughey who was running a strong steady race.

Darcy Africa held off the competition and come home with the win in 5:27:35, good for 8th place overall! Teammate Lisa Hughey finished 2nd about 8 minutes later in 5:35:50, just outside the top 10 in 11th place overall. Prudence, who struggled with leg cramps, still managed to hang on to 3rd place in 5:57:32.


Other Facts, Figures, and Weirdos

Women's winner Darcy Africa
photo by Joseph Swenson

Karl Schnaitter, who many felt would be a threat to win or at least finish on the podium, had a rare off day and finished 10th in 5:34:45. Having just run the grueling Quicksilver 100K the weekend before, he probably wasn't fully recovered and never was able to tap into his energy reserves. However, he will hopefully be recovered and ready again for Western States in late June.

The surprise break-out performance of the race goes to buddy Andy Belk who shocked the world by running shirtless (albeit with a liberal dose of 100+ SPF sunblock) and cracking the top 10 with a 9th place finish in 5:32:34 just ahead of Karl.

Also of note were a couple of brave/crazy/misguided souls who ran the Ohlone 50K on Sunday after having raced the Silver State 50 miler the day before on Saturday! Congratulations and/or condolences to teammates Toshi Hosaka and Sophia Shi for their amazing acts of bravery/foolishness.

A Tale of How I Almost Cracked the Top 10 at 2014 Miwok 100K

Miwok 100K logo

Indians are Terrible Navigators

"Native American Indians must have been terrible navigators" my friend (and Quicksilver Running Club teammate) Loren Lewis likes to jokingly proclaim. He's referring of course to two local ultra marathon races, the Miwok 100 and Ohlone 50K, both of which traverse mountain trails named after local Indian peoples who once inhabited the San Francisco Bay area.

Both of the races, Miwok and Ohlone, contain ridiculous amount of elevation gain (12,000 feet for Miwok 100K and 8,000 feet for Ohlone 50K) and both seem to go out of their way to traverses the most difficult and direct (albeit beautiful) routes possible rather than taking the easier, longer way around. And both of these races are held in May each year, just weeks apart.

Being part Indian myself, I identify closely with these indigenous peoples who ran these same footpaths, hundreds and even thousands of years before I was even born. Sure, we may have some differences. My diet probably consists of fewer grasshoppers and acorns, and more beer and pizza. But even so, as I find myself flying down these treacherous rocky trails, I can't help but picture myself running shirtless, long hair flowing, in my moccasins.

This year in 2014 will be very special for me as I am running both races, with just two weeks rest in between.


Miwok 100K Race Morning

Amy and I woke up at 2:00 am on race morning, somewhat apprehensive -- not just about the long grueling day ahead, but also about the long grueling drive through the twisty mountain roads. Luckily, thanks to my Mustang GT, an awesome selection of driving music, and a pot of black coffee, we were able to make it up to the starting line in Stinson Beach in record time, making the hour-and-a-half drive in under an hour.

In prior years Miwok 100K had been one of the most competitive 100Ks in the country, drawing top professional ultra runners from around the country and the world. However, with the advent of new races like UROC 100K (Ultra Race of Champions), this year Miwok had more of a local feel drawing mainly top California and Washington based runners from the Pacific Northwest.

Looking a the start list before the race I counted about five people who would certainly beat me no matter what kind of day I had, and then about another five or so who would probably finish ahead of me unless I ran the race of my life. Nonetheless, I decide to hope for the best and shoot for a top 10 finish!

I self-seed myself right up at the front of the pack along with familiar faces Gary Gelin, Chris Wehan, Joe Sanders, Thomas Reiss, Bree Lambert, Mark Richtman, Ricky Russel, and others knowing that the race begins with a long single-track uphill where it will be difficult, if not impossible, to pass anyone for the first few miles. I definitely don't want to lose valuable time getting stuck in a long conga line.

Running John
photo by Marc Klemenic

Heat of the Battle, Heat of the Day

The first 25 miles of the race, which is basically an out and back section along the Bolinas Ridge after the initial climb up the Matt Davis trail, go very smoothly. I go out rather aggressively on the opening climb in about 11th place overall, but quickly realize that I am pushing too hard to sustain for 62 miles. So I back off a bit on the climb back out of the turnaround on Randal trail. A few people pass me, including Quicksilver teammate Joe Sanders and LaSportiva runner Thomas Reiss, causing me to slip back to 16th place overall.

As the sun comes out and the temperatures warm up, several of the runners ahead of me start cramping up and slowing down a bit, opening the door for me to move up into 13th place by the first pass through the Cardiac Hill aid station. I am also starting to hurt a bit by this point, but trying my best to hold it together. However, I really start to struggle on the next section down to Muir Beach which involves quite a bit of road running on hot flat pavement. Call me a trail snob, but I hate road running.

Somewhere just before the Muir Beach aid station I really begin hurting and overheating and have to sit down in Kent Creek to cool off and regain my composure. The icy cold water feels great on my cramping legs and sore feet, and it definitely helps lower my body temperature which had been gradually creeping up. I could have (and perhaps would have) sat in that river all day, but I am shamed into getting back on my feet as at least 3 or 4 runners ran past me during my ice bath and give me scornful and sympathetic looks as if to say, "I feel sorry for that poor dude. Put a fork in him, he's done already".

Now back in 16th place I do my best to focus on guy in the yellow shirt in front of me. Eventually I bridge up to him and strike up a conversation as we enter and exit the Muir Beach aid station at the 50K mark in 15th and 16th place. His name is Joe Ziegenfuss, a veteran ultra runner from Colorado. We start chatting about anything and everything -- from the fact that we both have six-year-old sons, to his adventure pacing Troy Howard to 2nd place at Hardrock 100 last year.

We work together helping each other up the long Middle Green Gulch Trail climb, an insidious climb that while uphill, is not quite steep enough to warrant power hiking, forcing tired runners to actually run much of the climb. Oh the horror!

We then have a close call on the Miwok Trail descent when we initially overrun and almost miss a barely marked right turn. (Note: while I have a lot of great things to say about Miwok, I definitely have issues with the course markings as I would later almost miss another turn on the return to Tennessee and then actually make a wrong turn coming back out of Tennessee). Thankfully I spot the one lone ribbon out of the corner of my eye and this particular potential crisis is averted.

Minutes later, while telling Joe about my adventures pacing my friend Marc Laveson at The North Face 50M Championships last year (where Marc got chick'd my both Michele Yeats and Magda Lewy-Boulet) we actually run into Marc hiking up the trail. He, like many others (myself included), seems confused and perplexed as to why I am wearing a shirt -- as I am famous for dismissively eschewing upper-body garments and the lamentable "hobby joggers" who wear them. Being an elitist snob, I often remark that real runners don't wear dorky tee shirts, baseball caps / trucker hats, or fanny packs. Note: friend and fellow runner Karl Schnaitter, who violates all of the above fashion guidelines, proves that there is an exception to every rule.


Big Johnny Starts Going Downhill Fast

After power hiking the long climb out of Tennessee Valley up Marincello Trail and Bobcat Trail, I suddenly start feeling an excruciating stabbing pain in my knee cap. I tell Joe to run on without me and I start walking, hobbling, and hopping trying anything to modify my form to alleviate the inexplicable pain. Luckily it is only another mile or so until the mile 41 aid station at Bridge View where Franz Dill and the good folks from Coastside Running Club hook me up with some good drugs (i.e., Mountain Dew and Advil).

Stoned out of my mind on a terrific caffeine and ibuprofen high, I quickly catch back up with Joe and run the next few downhill and flat miles together. As we approach the start of the long climb back up Rodeo Valley Trail I see Thomas Reiss up ahead. Joe tells me to go ahead since I seemed to be feeling good. I catch up to Thomas and we chat for a while as we power hike the climb together.

Eventually toward the top of the climb I pull away and open a bit of a gap on Thomas and Joe. This is where things start to get a bit fuzzy. I'm not sure if it is the climb, the heat of the sun, or the Advil and Mountain Dew cocktail, but suddenly I start feeling a bit dizzy and nauseous. I think I passed another runner somewhere around this point, but then again I might have hallucinated the whole thing. One thing I am sure of however is that Quicksilver teammate Sean Lang's brother Jesse Lang comes flying past me at this point sprinting at least 30 miles per hour up the hill. #BeastMode

Luckily, just as I am about to continue straight (and go horribly off course) I see Jesse veer to the left up the Miwok trail. This intersection was not marked and there was no volunteer stationed here to direct people. I am certain that numerous runners probably missed this turn later. I wanted to yell up and thank Jesse for his assistance, but he was now just a tiny figure receding off into the distance.

Unsuccessfully trying to drop my pacer Dr. Joe
photo by Glenn Tachiyama

My Pacer Joe Bistrain Saves the Day

I stagger into the Tennessee Valley aid station at mile 49 in bad shape, secretly hoping that my pacer Dr. Joe Bistrain won't be there and that I will be free to just shuffle-walk the last 13 miles at my leisure. Son of bitch, there he is -- holding my cold bottle of Mountain Dew and exuberantly bouncing around ready to go. Fresh-legged bastard.

I immediately do a little expectation setting, "My knee hurts, my legs are cramping, I don't care about top 10 anymore, I just want to finish this motherfucker." Like a good pacer, Joe smiles and  ignores everything I say. "Ok, let's start running and catch Sean's brother; he's just ahead." I nod while silently thinking to myself, "fuck you asshole." Hell hath no fury like an exhausted ultra runner.

Amazingly Dr. Joe somehow gets me moving. Unfortunately, less than a half mile into our journey we come to an unmarked intersection where the runner ahead of me (who I have been chasing since before Tennessee Valley) turns right. So I follow him and run for about a quarter mile before getting worried and yelling ahead to ask whether he sees any ribbons. Then to my dismay he turns around and yells no, but that he's not in the race. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Mother fucker. I turn back around. #BonusMiles.

The little detour only costs me a few minutes, but now I am suddenly back behind my new buddy Joe Ziegenfuss whom I had pulled ahead of earlier. Oh well, that's what I get for not studying the course maps better. And honestly, it could have been a lot worse. But still, I'm pissed. I do my best to harness that energy and power hike up the Coastal Trail Climb.

I am suffering like heck and certain that we are absolutely flying uphill. I glance over at my pacer Joe hoping to see him sweating and breathing hard. But no, he's walking comfortably and typing on his phone. Fresh-legged bastard.

Joe and I keep moving. I am able to glance back and see a group of 3 or 4 runners a ways behind me. Although I am holding them off, they are still moving well and I'm definitely not gaining any ground. As we drop down the steep descent to Muir Beach I am a bit worried that they will catch me on the flat paved road section after Muir Beach where I tend to struggle mentally.

I'm still in 14th place, (or so I think), but with no one insight ahead of me and a pack of runners chasing me, I've given up on my dream of top 10 and am just trying to keep moving well and get this torture fest over with. Around mile 56 we cross back over Kent Creek again where I had taken my ice bath earlier. Much to the dismay of my pacer Dr. Joe, I plop back down into the river again and lay there like a dead man. It feels wonderful. I decide to make the best use of my time and do a little multi-tasking by peeing my pants while I float on my back.

Finally another runner comes flying down into the river, so I get up and start running again out of embarrassment. Luckily, I think he stops to cool off in the river as well. Hopefully he didn't sit down in my "warm spot".

Just let me die, please...

The Final Push

After a sucky mile of running on the stupid paved road we finally reach the trail head for the start of the last long climb up Muir Woods Road that parallels the Dipsea Trail back up to Cardiac. Joe futilely tries to convince me to do some running, but I am having none of it. "Fuck you, I'm not running any hills" I scream over and over like a mantra.

After several miles of power hiking we reach the top of the climb at Cardiac aid station. Now it's only 2.8 downhill miles to the finish line in Stinson Beach. Thank goodness. I drop the hammer, throwing down my first sub-10 minute mile in the past hour. Joe employs every trick he can think of to drive me on faster. "Uh oh, I hear someone behind us" and "Hey, I think I see someone up ahead". I know he's probably full of shit, but just in case he's not pulling my leg I speed up a bit more. Surprisingly, we actually catch another runner, 53 year-old Kevin Rumon of San Rafael with about a mile to go.

Somebody tells me that I am now in 11th place! I doubt there is anyone else up ahead who I can still catch in the last mile, but just in case I give it everything I have. Joe is shouting encouragement and driving me on. Finally the finish line comes into sight and I break into my 5:30 minute/mile pace sprint. I cross the finish line in 11th place in a time of 10 hours and 20 minutes which is about 9:59 minute/mile pace average. This is my fastest Miwok 100K ever, and in fact my fastest 100K ever. Of course, it is also the first Miwok 100K (and the first 100K in general) that I have ever finished after DNF'ing at Miwok in 2009.

I'm not quite dead yet... I think I'll go for a walk

As soon as I cross the finish line, pain comes crashing down on me. Everything hurts. I'm dizzy, disoriented, and out of breath. My wife Amy congratulates me and takes my picture. "Oh no" I exclaim realizing that Amy must have had a bad day and dropped out. But she is in good spirits and seems OK. I stumble around in circles for a while looking for a cool, comfortable place in the shade to pass out and die. But Dr. Joe, being an ER doctor and all, finds a cold garden hose and helps me get my core temperature back down.

Surprisingly, I don't actually die as I half expect. Rather I spend the next few hours slumped over a table in the shade feeling like crap and binge eating sausages and potato chips hoping they will resurrect me. Aside from half a glass of Pliny the Elder that I split with my buddy Tony Lafferty, I can't even will myself to drink any beer! That's how I know I was hurting!

All in all, not a bad day though. Despite having a bad day I gutted out the finish, ran a PR, and punched my ticket for the 2015 Western States lottery by running a qualifying race. And I got to hang out with all my Bay Area ultra running friends including Quicksilver teammates Gary Gelin (1st place), Lisa Hughey (1st woman), Bree Lambert (2nd woman), Jean Pommier (3rd), Clare Abram, Kat Powell, Stephen Wassather (8th), Harris "the Younger" Mason, Harris "the Elder" Goodman, Stephen Strauss, Loren Lewis, Andy Benkert, Jeremy Johnson, Chris Wehan, and Melanie Michalak. What a day!

2014 Boston Marathon

Race start in Hopkinton

Take back the finish line!

Like many runners, I took the tragic events of the 2013 Boston marathon personally. My wife is from Hopkinton where the race starts, and she and I have both run the race in previous years. And while we weren't there in 2013, we both have friends who were. Though nobody we personally knew was directly hurt in the bombings, many of our friends were affected. Some found themselves displaced and lost, wandering through the streets unable to communicate with friends or family.

I remember telling Amy immediately after the events transpired that I wanted to run in 2014, that I wanted to help send a message that a few misguided nut jobs will not intimidate or deter our running community or the great people of Boston. I was happily surprised when Amy said that she felt the same way and wanted to run as well!


Long-slow ultra marathon shuffling is not ideal marathon training

Although we both wanted to do well at Boston, being ultra runners neither Amy nor I were really going to be able to tailor our training specifically to the marathon this year. I was already signed up (or on the waitlist) for several big races this summer including Miwok 100K, Hardrock 100, and Lake Tahoe 200. And Amy was already signed up for Miwok 100K and Tahoe Rim Trail 100 among others.

So instead of following a normal marathon training approach of long tempo runs on the roads and fast speed work on the track most of our training would involve slow jog-hikes through the mountains. I remember looking at my training log one week and laughing when I saw that I had logged over 20,000 feet of vertical elevation gain that week but that my average pace had been around 10 minutes per mile. And now here I was about to ask my legs to run somewhere around 6:50 pace for 26.2 miles in attempt to break 3 hours for the marathon.

In a panic, I decided it was time to put my Hardrock 100 training on hold and to get in at least a few weeks of more marathon-appropriate training. I dug through the back of my closet and found an old pair of racing flats. I dumped out the petrified moth carcasses and squeezed my big flat feet into those tiny little slipper shoes. I felt a bit like a Japanese princess.

Then I hit the track and started pounding out mile repeats. Every week I recruited anyone foolhardy enough to join me -- my wife Amy, our Quicksilver teammate Jeff Clowers, my long-time partner (training partner, not life partner, just to be clear) Joe Bistrain. It wasn't an ideal or typical approach to marathon preparation, but it was all I had time for. And I hoped it would be enough.

Harris, John, Amy, Gary from Quicksilver

At the start line in Hopkinton

My wife Amy is from Hopkinton and thankfully she still has family there. That means that instead of having to rent a hotel in Boston and wake up at 3:00 am to take the buses into Hopkinton, we were able to crash at her Uncle Charlie's house one block away from the athletes village in Hopkinton. The race doesn't start until 10:00 am, so I was able to sleep in until just after 7 am when I was awoken by what sounded like Apache helicopters landing on the roof.

One blueberry muffin and a cup of coffee later I was awake and ready to run. Or at least I hoped so! Amy and I posed for some pre-race photos with a couple of our Quicksilver Running Club teammates Gary Saxton and Harris Goodman. Then we began the long 30 second walk from the front yard to the end of the block where the runners were funneling into the race corrals.

Going into Boston, my goal was to at least improve my marathon PR and qualifying time of 3:04:39 that I had run in Oakland in 2013. However, I also really, really, really wanted to try and crack 3 hours. I've dreamed of running a sub 3 hour marathon all of my life and to do would signify, at least in my mind, that I had finally become a "real" runner. A bit arbitrary and silly perhaps, but powerfully motivating nonetheless.

The race is on

Staying relaxed and patient

My race plan was to go out at a conservative comfortable pace of around 6:55 for the first 10K just to prevent myself from going out ridiculously hard (e.g., 5:45 pace) and blowing up early. I knew that I would eventually have to pick up the pace a bit, as 6:55 miles would only give me a 3:01:20 finish time. My plan was to gradually ratchet up the pace each 6 miles so that I would be running my fastest miles toward the end of the race.

Running a "negative split" (where the second half of the race is run faster than the first half) can be difficult because it is often difficult to hold yourself back in the early miles when you have fresh legs and feel great; and of course, it is equally hard to try and speed up toward the end of the race when your body is overheating and your legs are screaming at you to stop.

Luckily, my body is ideally suited to running negative splits in that, while I lack impressive leg speed and turnover, my strength is... well, my actual muscle strength. Being an ultra runner who can run nonstop for 20 hours or more through hilly mountain trails for 100 miles, I tend to not tire out as quickly as the average road marathon runner.

After hitting the half-way mark in 1:30:35 I knew that I was going to have my work cut out for me if I wanted to go sub 3. Yet, I didn't panic. I increased the pace slightly and dug in, waiting for the Hills of Newton (including the infamous Heart Break Hill) that span miles 17 - 21. As soon as I hit the base of the first hill I attacked like a madman in an all-out controlled sprint. It was actually somewhat scary as I had to keep dodging other "slower" runners who were running at a normal pace instead of sprinting like lunatics.


Sprinting and hobbling to glory

Time to fly now

In 2010 I'd had a tough day at the Boston Marathon finishing in 3:31:57. This included several miles of walking/limping (due to horrible leg cramps) and numerous stops at medical tents where I tried to convince the volunteers to let me drop out of the race. Yet to their credit, the volunteers and the spectators wouldn't let me quit. They urged me on. A couple of college kids even gave me a can of Bud-lite lime, which even got me running again briefly.

This year in 2014 it was a completely different experience. I felt amazing in the last 4 miles and continued to accelerate drawing on the energy of the cheering crowds. I really got into it, high-fiving kids along the side of the road and pumping my first into the air. The crowds were going nuts. It was just such an amazing surreal experience, unlike anything else I have ever experienced.

As I turned the corner onto Boylston Street and saw the 26 mile marker I looked down at my watch and saw that I was at 2:58:30. That meant I would only need to run sub 6:00 minute pace for the last .2 miles to break 3 hours. I pumped my fist in the air and launched into my finishing kick. Crossing over the finish line in 2:59:52 I collapsed to the ground in a mixture of joy and relief.

A couple of volunteers ran over and picked me up and started to put me into a wheel chair. Bless their hearts, but there was no way in hell I was going out like that. I wave them off and started hobbling away as fast as I could. Thankfully they showed mercy and let me limp off to glory.


Post race beers (of course)

Nice medals, but where's the beer??

In my post-race confusion I ended up getting lost and going to the wrong meeting area. Thankfully Amy and I both ran with our cell phones so we were able to eventually locate each other. It was a bit comical as we had a 5 minute conversation that went something like this, "I'm at the Four Seasons Hotel beneath the American flag. Where are you?" "I'm at the Four Seasons Hotel beneath the American flag! Are you on the sunny part of the sidewalk or the shady part?" Finally we just looked up from our phones and saw each other.

After tracking down my buddy Bill Pritchett and his crew of runners from Midland (Michigan), we all exchanged race stories. Bill and the crew from Midland had struggled a bit with the unseasonably warm temperatures after a long cold winter in Michigan. Amy had run a 3:26:29, her second fastest marathon ever and the fastest of her four runs at Boston. Incredibly, Amy had run nearly the exact same time as one of Bill's friends, Maggie, who ran 3:26:30, just one second difference!

During the long walk back to the hotel that Bill and his friends were staying at, all I could think about was drinking a celebratory beer. Suddenly to my surprise I look over and see Bill actually drinking a glass of beer that a patron at a side-walk café had handed to him! And then people on the street started congratulating us and thanking us for coming back to Boston to run their race! We all felt like celebrities! It was so surreal and incredible. I can't say enough about the wonderful people of Boston.

Having met my lifelong goal of running under 3 hours, I had initially proclaimed that I would be retiring from the Boston marathon -- and perhaps from marathons in general. After all, I've got nothing left to prove. But when even the TSA agents at the airport thanks you for running their race and say that they hope you will come back and run again, how can you say no?

DNF at 2014 Oakland Marathon

Note: Hand goes over your HEART

Last year I had an amazing run at the 2013 Oakland Marathon where I shattered my marathon PR and finished 15th overall in a time of 3:04:39. You can read that race report here.

This year things didn't go nearly as well. I found myself struggling (and walking) by mile 15 and eventually dropping out at mile 18.

Where did it all go wrong? Sure, the obvious choice is to blame my choice or racing attire. Clearly the cape was not very aerodynamic and should take all the blame, right?

But not so fast, the drag of the cape was likely more than balanced out by the weight and aerodynamic savings of my extremely tight and short racing shorts (Full disclosure: technically these are not actual running shorts).

Most likely my dismal performance today was the result of one or two of the following factors:

1) I simply went out too hard (no short-shorts pun intended)

These are not actually running shorts

I purposely tried to avoid going out too hard and held back as the pack of lead runners rocketed off the starting line. I was probably in about 20th to 30th position, which I thought was appropriate based on my 15 place overall finish last year.

What I failed to account for however was that (as I would only later learn after the race) the field was much faster and more competitive this year. Also, I failed to realize that many of the people ahead of me were running the 4 person marathon relay, and hence would only be running about 6.5 miles each.

So in reality, I probably went out too fast and fell apart. This would be the simplest and most likely explanation. However, I think it is only one factor. The other being that I am mentally weak, particularly when things aren't going the way I hope/expect.


2) I am a mental weakling!

Sure, I can dig deep and endure tremendous suffering when I am in a dog fight battling for a top position in a race. My amazing performances at 2014 Way too Cool, 2013 Quad Dipsea, and 2013 Ohlone have shown me that I am capable of exceeding my own expectations and pulling amazing performances out of my ass when something epic is on the line.



I walked through downtown Oakland in these!

However, as I have seen in many other races (too numerous to chronicle here) I also have a tendency to shut down mentally and give up when things aren't going my way, particularly when I am failing to meet my own expectations.

Today I had a goal of breaking 3 hours. Never mind that my PR is only 3:04 and that my next fastest time is 3:12. Going sub 3 on such a difficult course would have been a major accomplishment. Only a handful of runners did it last year at this race.

So, when I saw my split of 1:31:30 at the half way point, I was quite disappointed. In reality, my half-way split time was not so bad considering that first half of the course contains all of the hills while the second half is relatively flat. And, my split this year was about two minutes faster than I ran last year at this course. But nonetheless, it became obvious to me that I wasn't going to meet my (rather arbitrary) goal of sub 3 hours. So I gave up mentally.


 

 

The aftermath

Somewhere around mile fifteen I stopped running and sat down on the street curb. It was in a rather shady section of Oakland. I looked around and saw a few people smoking crack. Not wanting to get arrested and I got up and starting jogging again.

It's 4:20 somewhere!

Finally around mile eighteen I'd had enough and decided to call it quits. Rather than run the last 8 miles, which basically just meander around in circles around downtown, I decided to take a shortcut directly to the finish line. What I hadn't realized initially was that this route would take me off the official course with all of the police monitored intersections, aid stations and cheering crowds and into the heart of Oakland.

You would think that a guy wearing only a speedo and a super hero cape would feel uncomfortable and unsafe strutting down the sidewalk past drug dealers, prostitutes, and tough-looking guys clad in Oakland Raiders jackets? But no, I simply did my best beauty-pageant contestant wave, graciously accepting all of the "Boy you look good... real good" cat calls and accolades.

Eventually I made it back to the start/finish area, unharmed and unmolested. And, while I don't think I will be back to run the 2015 Oakland marathon, I did make some new friends along the way and have an open invitation to shoot dice on the corner of Martin Luther King Jr. Street and 7th Street anytime I want.

Even though I did not run a PR (or even complete the race) and hence did not earn a celebratory beer, I decided to "award" myself a compensatory beer. Granted, it wasn't quite noon yet. But what the heck, it's 4:20 somewhere, right?

2014 Way too Cool 50K

25th annual Way too Cool 50K

Contemplating dropping out -- on the car ride up the race!

"I don't even know why why I signed up for this race. There's a good chance I'm going to DNF," I told my buddy Jeff Clowers as we drove up to Way too Cool together that morning. Luckily my wife Amy didn't hear me mumble that. She was in the backseat, head slumped over taking a short and rather awkward and painful looking power nap. Amy doesn't like it when I pay money for a race and then don't finish.

Admittedly, as Amy can attest to, I'm a bit unpredictable as a runner. You never know -- regardless of my fitness level or the amount of training I have been putting in -- whether I am going to crush a race or drop out inexplicably. More than once she has packed our 6 year old into the car and started driving to the race finish line only to get a text message or phone call from me saying, "Turn back around. I dropped. I'm on the way home."

This year Amy and I had both put our names into the Way too Cool lottery, figuring that only one of us, if either, would get into the race. So we were surprised, and somewhat alarmed, when we found out that the race was expanded to allow 1200 runners and that nearly everyone who put their name into the "lottery" had been selected. Oh no,  we both got in. Now we needed to find a baby sitter.

Amy and drove up to the race with our neighbor, friend, and Quicksilver Running Club teammate Jeff Clowers who I have been coaching this year. Jeff, a former Marine, only began running two years ago after his doctor told him that needed to lose some weight. After dropping 70 pounds and increasing his training base, Jeff jumped into the world of ultra running. He ran his first 50K in 6:48:04 (Siskiyou Out Back) and has since been slowly whittling down his times with a 6:31:32 (Whiskeytown) and a 6:15:11 (Los Gatos Overgrown Fat Ass). He was hoping to finally go sub 6 today at Way too Cool.

Amy, who has run a 4:08:37 PR for 50K on a flat, paved course at Ruth Anderson was looking to better her trail 50K PR of 4:50:37 that she set last summer at the Skyline 50K. Way too Cool is supposed to be a relatively fast course, with only around 4,000 - 5,000 feet of elevation gain. However, it had been raining the week prior to the race and the trails looked to be very damp, if not muddy in spots with numerous flooded creek crossings.

Initially leading up the race I had been hoping that if I had a perfect day with perfect conditions I might be able to break four hours. But now, sitting in the car, biting my lip in pain after having just accidentally dumped scalding hot coffee into my lap and crotch, I was re-assessing my goals. Perhaps I should just focus on trying to finish. Perhaps I should skip the race and head to the local ER burn and trauma center?

Tucked in back behind Caitlin and Magda

Running with reckless abandon

With over 1200 people in the race, this was a huge field for a trail race -- especially when you consider that much, if not most, of the race is run on narrow single track. To help ease congestion, the race organizers divided the race into two waves with faster runners in the first wave. They also put up big road marathon style corrals with signs for 7 minute mile, 8 minute mile, 9 minute mile, and everyone else. I of course walked up to the front of the field near the starting line in the 7 minute mile corral, even though I knew that there was no way in hell I was going to be able to run 7 minute miles for a 50K on hilly, muddy, technical trails.

Standing at the starting line I chatted briefly with some running friends and acquaintances including 5th place Western States stud Dylan Bowman who came over to wish me luck, friend and arch-rival Karl Schnaitter, and former Vasque Trail Team captain Ethan Veneklassen who now runs for Hoka. I looked around quickly hoping to spot friend and former coach and training partner Caitlin Smith and her coach, 2008 Olympic marathoner Magdalena Lewy-Boulet. I hoped that they were up in front, hidden from view behind some of the taller men in front of me, and not stuck in the porta-potty line somewhere.

The race starts with about one and half miles of wide paved road before funneling into narrow technical single track. I knew that I needed to go out hard if I wants to get out in front of the main field and avoid getting stuck in a conga line for the next 8 miles. I hit the first mile in 6:15, which would normally be a bit fast, but which seemed to do the trick. I hit the single track in the top 25 of 30 runners, just behind Caitlin and Magda (who I was happy to see). We were stuck in a bit of a conga line in a group of about 6 runners with a fairly large gap opening up to the next group of runners ahead.

Although I knew it was probably a foolish, impetuous move which I would later regret, I stepped on the gas and sprinted around Caitlin, Magda and the other men and started chasing down the next lead group ahead. I wouldn't necessarily describe my pace, at only four miles into the race, as "suicidal" but I certainly wouldn't call it "restrained", "smart" or "sustainable" either. But like I always say, "If you're not going to run a smart race, do the next best thing and run an aggressive race". And to be quite honest, I figured what the hell. It's not like this was a race I really cared about or wanted to do well at. If I went out too hard and blew up and had to jog it in... so what, who cares?

I continued running like a nut job, with reckless abandon, not caring or worrying about the fact that at some point it was all going to blow up and come crashing down on me. Somewhere around mile 18 or 19 we began a long climb and I passed quite a few other runners including Quicksilver teammate (and USATF men's 50 - 55 50K national champion) Jean Pommier who was having a rare off day. But then it happened. The engine room ran out of gas.

Making my move!

The crash and the recovery

I heard footsteps behind and looked back to see Caitlin, Magda, and another male runner queuing up behind me. I stepped aside and let them pass and braced for an epic meltdown. Suddenly I was feeling low on energy and my right inner quad was starting to spasm. This might be the end for our hero. So I swallowed my pride and did the unthinkable: I slowed down a bit. I also took a gel and couple of salt pills and washed them down with some sports drink.

Oddly, a couple of minutes later the cramping subsided and I started feeling good again. I picked up the pace and eventually caught back up to and then passed Caitlin, Magda, and other male runner. I apologized as I passed, acknowledging the ridiculousness of my sprint/jog/sprint strategy instead of just running a nice even steady pace. But as they say, "the legs want what the legs want". And mine wanted to fly!

At some point earlier I had come across "Speed Goat" Karl Meltzer (who has more 100 mile wins than anyone else in the world) spectating on the side of the trail. He told me that I was in 18th place. So having caught a few more people since then I figured that I was now in 13th place or so. If I could just reel in a few more runners in these last 6 miles I could do the impossible and finish in the top 10!

But it was not to be. As we approached the steep, twisty, rocky "Goat Hill" climb, Magda launched a beautiful attack and surged effortlessly up the hill disappearing around the bends. While she ascended graceful I shuffled up, hands on knees, praying that a mountain lion would jump out of the bushes and put an end to my suffering.

Celebratory post-race brew with Amy

Finally, the finish!

Finally, as I hit the highway 49 crossing with only 1.5 miles to the finish, I looked down at my watch and saw that, barring a mountain lion attack, I was definitely going to finish in under 4 hours. I could see and hear Caitlin only 20 or 30 seconds behind and I was hoping that she would catch up so that we could run the last mile or so together. I thought about stopping to wait for her but my legs were hurting so bad that I worried that if I stopped I might not be able to get the started again.

I crossed the finish line in 14th place with a time of 3:55:55, a new trail 50K personal best for me, about 26 minutes faster than my previous trail 50K best of 4:22:08 that I ran in Woodside. And I had somehow even beaten my "best case" goal of 3:59:59 that I was secretly hoping for. It was an amazing day! But unfortunately I have no idea why I ran so well, or how to replicate it in the future.

Quicksilver team photo (by Jean Pommier)

But I wasn't the only one who had a great day. Magda won the women's race and finished 10th overall with the second fastest time (3:53:09) ever on that course. And Caitlin finished 2nd woman and 15th overall with a personal best and the 4th fastest time (3:56:25) ever run by a woman on that course. My wife Amy also shattered her own trail 50K personal best by 18 minutes with a blistering 4:32:56. And not to be outdone, our buddy Jeff Clowers absolutely crushed his 50K personal best by 27 minutes with an impressive 5:38:26.

And not that I was able to witness it, having finished nearly 40 minutes back of the leaders, but apparently the men's race came down to an exciting sprint finish with Chris Vargo edging out his Nike teammate Alex Varner by only 13 seconds with a 3:16:51 and 3:17:04, the 2nd and 3rd fastest times ever run on that course respectively.

After the race Amy, Jeff and I had a great time eating, drinking, and chatting with our large contingent of Quicksilver teammates who also made the long trek up for the race. It was an amazing day in which I ran too hard, drank too much post-race beer, and sat in the hot sun several hours too long. But trashed legs and funny suntan lines are a small price to pay for a wonderful day or running and celebrating with good friends.

A Farewell to Beer...

Beer. Yum!

After a long holiday season of "carbo loading" on pizza and beer, I decided it was time to clean up my diet and get down back to "racing weight" for the upcoming 2014 running season. Even though I had put on an extra 5 or 6 pounds since last summer, I wasn't really running any slower than normal. But still, even if just for the sake of mere vanity, I knew my abs were there somewhere under all that winter "insulation", and I was bound to find them again.

I decided to put myself on the "sausage and Greek yogurt diet", which has always worked well for me in the past. I don't actually limit myself to just sausage and Greek yogurt. In addition to sausages, I also eat a variety of other cured meats including beef jerky and bacon.

Occasionally I also eat other stuff like chicken, eggs, cheese, peanut butter, nuts, gluten-free granola, veggies, pineapple, blueberries and grapes. Basically, a high-protein and high-fat diet where I try to avoid carbs. Because carbs are stupid. And yes, unfortunately this means giving up beer. (P.S. Giving up beer is also stupid.)

Obviously though, no one can actually "give up" beer. That would be suicidal and would certainly lead to all kinds of physical and mental ailments. So I decided to implement an emergency beer "rationing" program where I am only allowed to drink beer after races. And only after races of at least marathon length or longer. Though I also made a special exemption where I could earn a beer for shorter wimpier-length races if I managed to at least win my age group, set a PR, or win the race outright!


So hungry, I could eat my medal.

Campbell Resolution Run 5 Mile


I started my new diet and beer-rationing system on Dec 31, 2013 in order to get a jump on the whole new year's resolution thing. One day later I couldn't take it anymore and was desperately craving beer.

So I quickly scoured the Internet and found a small local race -- the Campbell Resolution Run 5 Mile. Thirty-one minutes and sixteen seconds later I was standing at the finish line enjoying a cold IPA courtesy of my 6th place overall and 1st place age group finish. Ah, beer!

I won't bore you with the details of the race other than to say that I almost got beat by a 15 year old, but thankfully I was able to run him down in the last quarter mile. Apparently I was soundly beaten by a 16 year old -- who finished 2nd overall -- but he had a mustache so I am going to consider him an adult rather than a teenager.

Here's a link to the results.

photo by freeradical.me

InsideTrail Pacifica Foothills 50K

Several weeks later I was again craving some beer, so I signed up for the Pacifica Foothills 50K, a favorite local race of mine. It's a tough course with lots of climbing, and magnificent views of the Pacific ocean. There are several different organizations including Coastal Trail Run (CTR) and Pacific Coast Trail Runs (PCTR) who also organize similar races at Pacifica; this one however was put on by InsideTrail.com who do an amazing job.

This wasn't really an "A" race for me, so I didn't plan to train specifically for it or to do much/any tapering. Based on the list of entrants published on the website I figured I would have a good shot to come home with the win. But alas, that was before the last minute entry of my Quicksilver teammate Marc Laveson who is blazing fast! I paced Marc at The North Face Championships in San Francisco in December and he is going to pace me at Hardrock in July. I've never beaten him in a race -- unless you count our "mock beer mile" training run.

I figured the only chance I might have to beat Marc is if I could catch him off-guard by going out as hard as I could and trying to build an early lead while he was still warming up. And it worked! Well, it worked for the first 200 meters. Then he passed me. And that was all she wrote. He gradually pulled further and further away from me all day, eventually finishing over 20 minutes in front of me. My time 4:43:33 was good -- good enough for 2nd place, over 30 minutes ahead of the next two runners. But Marc's time was great. He ran a 4:18:48, breaking the old course record!

As I sat at the finish line eating my BBQ pulled pork (thanks Will Gotthardt) and drinking my cold beer in the warm sun, it was hard to not to smile and enjoy the day.

Here's a link to the official results. And here's a link to Marc's race re-cap.

2014 Racing Plans: Further and Farther

Where will 2014 take me?

2013 was an amazing year for me. I set new personal records at the 5K, half marathon, marathon, 50 mile, and 100 mile! I had an amazing performance at Western States bringing home the coveted silver belt buckle on the second hottest year ever in the history of the race. And I had a breakthrough race at the Ohlone 50K where I finished 2nd overall and ran 30 minutes faster than any of my previous efforts on that course. And then there was my crowning achievement -- first place at the Silicon Valley Beer 2 Mile Championships!

“Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before” -- Edgar Allen Poe, The Raven

Perhaps I should be happy? Perhaps I should be content? Yet something deep inside of me knows that I am capable of more; that all of these accomplishments are just precursors and stepping stones to something greater.  Right now I am running faster and stronger than I have ever before; but who knows how much longer it will last. I desperately want to take advantage of this fitness and test myself.

“Sometimes I’m terrified of my heart; of its constant hunger for whatever it is it wants. The way it stops and starts.” -- Poe, "Terrified Heart"

Let's not call it a mid-life crisis, at least not officially, not yet anyway. It's not like I came home one day unannounced with a new Porsche or anything. But I want 2014 to be the year I seize the moment and attempt something majestic, something seemingly impossible, something unspeakable.


Hardrock 100

There's this little race in Colorado called Hardrock. As far as 100 mile races go, it's the hardest, highest, and baddest. It has nearly twice as much elevation gain as either Western States or Leadville, and it is run at an average elevation of 11,000 feet with numerous mountain passes above 13,000 and 14,000 feet. And as if that wasn't hard enough, while most of the course is run on mountain rugged trails, some of the course isn't even on trails at all! Rather, runners just run "cross country" up and down the sides of mountains over steep fields of scree and snow.

I've always dreamed of running Hardrock. It's a big part of the reason why I convinced my wife that we should buy, and sleep in, an altitude tent. She's a good sport, I might add. Not a lot of spouses would tolerate being asked to go "camping" on a nightly basis in a hot, humid tent hooked up via a long plastic tube to a loud rumbling contraption. But I digress...

Much to my surprise, this year I was selected 7th on the waitlist for Hardrock in the category for people who have never run the race before. What this basically means is that if 7 or more of the original 35 runners selected ahead of me in the lottery decide not to run the race their year (due to injuries, work/family commitments, financial hardship, or whatever) I will be allowed into the race. Last year 9 people from the waitlist eventually made it into the race. So I am optimistic that I may get in. In fact, I've already moved up to 5th on the waitlist.

I may not actually find out until race week or race morning whether I will be allowed to run. So basically that means I will need to train for the race and make my travel arrangements as if I am already in. This requires a bit of faith and dash of luck. But if there's even a one in a hundred chance, I'm going to take it. This is Hardrock, and nothing about it is easy.

“The depth lies in the valleys where we seek her, and not upon the mountain-tops where she is found.”  -- Edgar Allen Poe, The Murders in the Rue Morgue

Everything about Hardrock is difficult -- from just getting into the race, to finding a hotel room, to following the sparse course marking (which usually get eaten by the marmots anyway). And then there are the legions of biting black flies harassing you as you are stumbling up the mountain. And once you are on top of the mountain, struggling to breathe at 14,000 feet, you have to survive the hail and lightening storms that roll in each afternoon. Welcome to Hardrock... my dream race!


Lake Tahoe 200

Most people would say that you'd have to be insane to run 100 miles through the mountains around Lake Tahoe. But speaking from experience, as both my wife and I have done it, it's definitely hard... but it's not crazy hard. But just in case I don't get into Hardrock -- or perhaps even if I do -- for reasons that I still not completely clear to me I put my name into the hat for the inaugural Lake Tahoe 200 Miler. Yes, that's right. Two hundred miles around Lake Tahoe over rugged mountain trails.

"I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity." -- Edgar Allen Poe, a letter to an admirer

I still can't decide which sounds like more fun, Hardrock or Tahoe 200. Both should be glorious sufferfests. The Hardrock course is definitely harder, but Tahoe is longer -- twice as long in fact. It's difficult to pick a winner. Either one could kill you. But no one's died -- at least not yet -- at either race. Though in fairness to Tahoe 200, no one's actually run it yet. And I guess that's part of the potential attraction for me.

I know that I have absolutely no chance to win Hardrock with several returning champions and a deep field of international stars including Killian Jornet and two-time Western States champion Timothy Olsen. But Tahoe 200 on the other hand... Well, a lot can happen over 200 miles. There are very few people in the world who have ever run that far. Being fast doesn't necessarily ensure victory.

“And I fell violently on my face.”   -- Edgar Allen Poe, The Pit and the Pendulum

At the end of 200 miles the victory may very well go to whoever is just able to keep eating, stay (at least partially) awake, and keep plodding forward -- no matter how slowly. It might come down to an ugly, bloody street brawl. And if that's the case, I like to think I may have a decent shot at winning.

At this point, I still need to wait and see what happens. For example, will I actually get into Hardrock? And if so, will I survive it? And if I do survive, will I really feel like racing 200 miles just a couple of months later? Heck, for that matter, will I even be able to walk, much less run, two months later. There are still a lot of questions. I'll need to sit down with my wife and discuss as a family.

But whatever happens, I'm definitely going to be doing at least one of these two races. And I am going to be all-in, going for broke. I might not win. I may not even finish. But it's not going to be for lack of training or want of effort. I plan to approach 2014 as if it might be my last.


And some other normal races that are less likely to kill me:

• Jan 18, Pacifica Foothills 50K -- A small local race that I enjoy running
• Feb 23, Limekiln Overgrown Fat Ass 50K -- Fun team training run; Ohlone tune up
• Mar 8, Way too Cool 50K -- Fast race with elite field; hoping for sub 4 hours
• Mar 23, Oakland marathon -- Tune-up for Boston
• Apr 21, Boston marathon -- Shooting for PR and sub 3 hr
• May 3, Miwok 100K -- Hilly! Hoping for top 10 finish
• May 18, Ohlone 50K -- After 2nd place last year, I want to win it this year!
• Jul 11, Hardrock 100 *
• Sep 5, Tahoe 200 *

Note: it was brought to my attention by a friend that a runner named Joel Zucker did indeed die after the 1998 running of Hardrock from complications arising from a cerebral hemorrhage. I was not aware of this when I wrote my blog post above, and I certainly would never make light of such a tragedy. I did not know Joel, but I certainly feel for his family and friends.