The Perfect Race

Once again, it's been a little while. With the Angeles Crest 100 coming up and Western States behind me, I wanted to reprint the article/race report of mine that showed up in Ultrarunning Magazine. There's a lot I could post about my race and a lot of details there left to share, but with my current writer's block, this should give you a nice overview of what just happened.

The Perfect Race

When Roy Jones Jr. won a silver medal in boxing in the 1988 Summer Olympics in Seoul, South Korea, it was certainly not the result that he had hoped for or even earned. I had seen a documentary about the circumstances surrounding it on television a week or two before. I hadn’t thought about it since, but at the time I remember it touching a nerve in me by how much Jones had out boxed the Korean boxer and how utterly stunned the result had left everyone on television. He had clearly given a performance worthy of the gold medal, yet in the end the record books do not read “Olympic Champion”. It was a sad irony that seemed to illustrate one of life’s enduring truths: you never get exactly what you deserve.

In the middle of the Western States 100 out on that lonely, isolated trail down to Volcano Creek from Michigan Bluff, it hit me that even if I had done everything that I thought I needed to do in this race, nothing was guaranteed. Roy Jones Jr. had fought the perfect fight and in the end it was not enough to guarantee him the result that he desired or deserved. This thought started a rather deep, internal discussion on the meaning of perfection.

At the time, I was a literal and figurative mess out there. I was being punished by a badly sprained left ankle early on going downhills and fits of nausea on the uphills. In fact, the ankle had grown so troublesome that I was intentionally avoiding pivoting on the left foot all together on downhills. A race that began with a disciplined beginning and a major ramp up from miles 32 through 44 was now cracking at the seams. The level of disgust with which I felt with myself was clearly evident to all around me, even as I strained to put my race back together again. It didn’t matter to me whether I failed at every race in 2010. After succumbing to elevation-induced sickness and general exhaustion in 2007, I was doing a poor job make amends for it here in 2010.

I had just seen my wife and a friend at Michigan Bluff, beaten down and in need of some inspiration along with a couple of new body parts. Coming away from the aid station, I steadily meandered down the trail, not concerned with much else other than trying to feel a little bit better. As the trail got steeper and more rocky near bottom of Volcano Creek, I tried to steady feet with each foot strike when Roy Jones Jr. entered my consciousness and with it a streaming internal discussion on expectation and perfection.

I had been acting like a pestilent child, not getting what I desired out of the race and choosing to wallow in my own self pity. Children lament when things don’t turn out exactly they imagine because they see things in black and white. To them, there is no acceptable outcome other than the one which they were expecting. It reminded me of times as a child watching the San Francisco 49ers play in the Super Bowl when I came close to tears more than a few times fearing possible defeat. A child sees no other outcome more important than the one they were expecting.

Maturity, in many respects, allows us to see the shades of grey in a black and white world. It sees beauty in unimagined possibilities. It also allows us to see that rarely is there a 1 to 1 correlation between the effort we put in and the results we receive. Nothing in my training or previous racing guaranteed an outcome; rather, it could only feed the internal hope for a given race.

The truth was that my family and friends who had come out to support me didn’t come just to see my post a particular time or come in a particular place. In my disappointment and disgust, I lost sight of the fact that those most important to me were there for no other reason than to support me because they loved me. I could’ve stopped right there, in my disappointment and disgust, and they would’ve loved me regardless.

We expect perfection of our imperfect selves in an imperfect world. I wanted perfection, but only the kind of perfection measured by results. I had expected the improvement in my running over the past year as well as the training and comeback from injury over the past 7 months to be rewarded with results. However, life doesn’t all of the sudden become perfect simply because we are participating in this “perfect” race. The race only magnifies the imperfections which are all around us and within us. In my moment of weakness, I had made it about myself.

I would go on to continue experiencing the nausea and the ankle instability the rest of the race, but from that moment on, it did not matter. I would continue to pursue perfection even if the results didn’t reflect it. In my struggles, there was something refreshing about knowing that I did everything I could to run the race well. Coming in second, whether that be to a competitor or to our own expectations of self, is never easy. Someone else sees the race you had while you see the race you should have or could have had. But in that final moment sprinting around the track at Placer High School Stadium, coming in 114^th never felt so good. 23 hours and 47 minutes after I started, my journey was coming to an end. I was not accepting mediocrity, but rather embracing the highest standards of sport which demand that we empty ourselves in mind, body and spirit in the pursuit of excellence. Others may be more celebrated or publicly lauded, but this was special to me because this was the day I found perfection. On that day, I had run the perfect race. Never before has taking home the silver felt so satisfying.

T-Minus 3 Days

It’s down to the wire now….the hay’s in the barn and all that’s left is to countdown to race day. Am I excited? Yeah, I am. However, it’s always tempered by the fact that 100 miles is still 100 miles. I wonder why I chose a sport that never gets easier, but I’m going to at least enjoy this one. I’m in Lake Tahoe right now getting used to the elevation and making all the last minute preparations. For people unfamiliar with the terrain and course layout, there’s two really key points that will tell you all you need to know about how my race is going: Robinson Flat (29.7 miles) and Foresthill (62 miles). If I come into Robinson in 4:30 and Foresthill in 11:45, then I’ve got a real good shot at achieving my goal time of sub-19 hours.

Thanks go out to the following people:

Crew: Wilma, Kimi, Uncle Andy (Sugar Bear) and Uncle “Mambo” Jose
Pacers: Tara, Lori
Sponsors: Injinji, Brooks, GU, NUUN

Let’s go do it :)

God bless,
Gundy

P.S. For those curious about the race or what's going on, you can go to www.ws100.com for the live webcast.

Goal Race Psychology

Miwok is over now and Western States is now upon me, so I thought it would be an excellent time to examine goal race preparation from a tactical and psychological perspective, which is a pertinent topic for all racers. With 2.5 weeks left until race day, I am pretty much as prepared as I’m going to be to execute what should be an excellent race.

One major confidence boost was the 45 miles I ran on the course on Saturday of Memorial Day Weekend, which included descending and climbing out of the canyons highlighting the major challenges of the race. My climbing was much, much better as compared to Miwok with a lot more pickup to my uphill paces. I feel much better about my sub-19 hour race goal, although I realize that success at the 100 mile distance still requires consistent execution and pushing through all the way to the end. That said, confidence runs often provide a psychological boost that one can maintain a particular effort level over the life of the run. In my case, it’s just one really long day.

One’s psychology going into a goal race can hinge on these little assurances that the body can handle the various unknowns. These unknowns come with them a certain stress that an issue which starts out as a pebble will eventually become a boulder. Alleviating this undue stress means coming into a goal race prepared. Whether it’s the food you eat or the gels you take or how fast to approach each individual segment, that preparation should be precise in detail and structure, yet flexible in execution. Life is full of surprises, so why should a race be any different? When a race presents 1000 different scenarios for how it will play out, it’s best to expect Scenario No. 1001.

Things develop so slowly in a 100 mile race that they often resemble the slow cooking a master chef employs to get the right taste. The focus always has to be on the process with the foresight to know that a good process will give you the best opportunity for good results. While the training is the major part of that process, allowing your race day plan to evolve at the race itself takes a major amount of patience and resolve. You develop your race day plan based upon the feedback you’ve received in training, and yet your body may present something different on race day itself.

I, myself, have 3 different pacing plans based on 3 different outcomes. While my race will probably end up resembling all 3 at some point, different sections of the course will yield various surprises based on how I feel and how much I’m willing to push. This is not to advocate that everyone’s best race means being conservative; rather, it’s a recognition that even with months and years of training and racing, what one is given on race day can still be a pleasant surprise or rude awakening. Those who are best at managing the necessary adjustments required are those who will psychologically be best able to weather the storms.

And if I don’t weather the storms? Well, a little divine intervention couldn’t hurt either.

2010 Miwok 100k

The anatomy of a good race report is this: It is able to tell the story of your race in a thoughtful, engaging way that makes the reader feel like they were there. I will include splits and goal splits at the end of this report, but the real story for me lies in three key events which I will describe in detail. First, though, a quick summary of the mindset and goal coming into this race.

Coming off a rather vanilla 6th place performance at Skyline To The Sea 50k, I still came into the Miwok 100k with the idea that I wanted to take it to the course. I could not simply sit back on my heels and let the course wear me down, but I needed to assert myself and run with authority. Running with authority means running assertively, particularly in those single-track and small technical sections where it is easy to lolly gag and move gingerly. I needed to run hard, to help further dust off those calves in need of a more serious race to keep the training train rolling. I had a plan for a sub-9 hour race, but having slowly worked my way back from my previous calf strain, I was looking for consistent effort in my climbing as much as anything else. Still, there was the raw realization going in that while I would be very strong on the flats and downhills, the uphills would be where many of the top runners would hold a good advantage on me. If I could limit the lost time on the uphills, I would be in great shape coming back from Bolinas. Having run every section of the course except for a small 2 mile single-track section at the outset, there would be no surprises and no need to worry about anything else other than how I was running. Since Miwok has been a popular race as a precursor to the Western States 100, there are various theories for how one can take their Miwok performance and extrapolate a projected finishing time for States. Most people double their Miwok time, although there seems to be a some amount of variation depending on how one chooses to run Miwok and how well developed is one’s endurance.

I gave myself a range to run within which would tell me if I was on or off-pace. Each range came with it an absolute limit that, based on previous years’ performances, was the theoretical cutoff. I gave myself space to run faster on some sections and slower on others, knowing that my standing relative to the range would depend on the section being run.
The plan was solid and my capabilities had been tested against various sections of the course over the last 2-3 months. While at times during my training I felt incredibly lethargic out there, I had enough excellent runs that tracked well against a couple of other 8:xx:xx performances I was baselining against. It was the same strategy that used going into the Firetrails 50 last year which served me well last October when I cruised to a 7:25, 5th place finish.

The race at Miwok played fairly true to form, highlighting both my weaknesses (uphills) and my strengths (downhills and flats). I kept a brisk pace through the early going, moving continuously on the uphills and slamming the downhills, as I am prone to do. The race played out fairly close to my expectations, minus a few minutes here or there. Having reached Pantoll Ranger Station at mile 21.7 in 2:58, I felt a bit sluggish but nothing of any major concern. I had been drinking copious amounts of fluids and devouring 270-280 calories per hour in GU. Still, the uphills started to bother me and left me wondering why I wasn’t moving faster.

Key moment #1: After having been passed by a couple other runners and slipping out of the top 10, I seemed to find my groove again on the lonely single-track Coastal Trail which slithers tightly on the steep grass hillside overlooking the Pacific. While the views are stunning, the narrow trail makes it important to not lose focus. I was quietly ticking off the miles, but started feeling sluggish on the small climbs. To a Miwok runner, what I’m describing probably seems absurd considering the relative flatness of this section. However, even as I was moving along in relative solitude, I knew there would be other runners coming up faster than I was moving.

The silence was finally shattered by the swift, easy strides of Kami Semick. Kami may be much shorter in stature, but she is built like a rock and moves fluidly over a variety of terrains. Kami would go on to finish 1st woman and 10th place overall in 9:10:29. I would go on to follow right behind Kami into the Bolinas Ridge Aid Station (mile 28.4), but after that she would fade out of view until seeing her again near Randall Turnaround (Mile 35.6).

The significance of the moment had nothing to do with getting “chicked” ( a common, light-hearted ultra term for getting passed by a woman). It was the subtle beginning for what would become my crucial undoing during this race; my relative weakness on the uphills. While I would end up losing the most great majority of time against my 9 hour goal on the 1000’ climb back from Randall, this is where I could feel the race slipping from me. Sometimes we need to see what others are capable of in order to give us perspective about what we need to do better.

Key moment #2: After Tara came aboard to pace me, I spent the section from Bolinas Ridge (Mile 42.8) back to Pantoll (Mile 49.5) getting my head together and getting back into the race. It wasn’t that there was anything specific wrong with me; I just felt incredibly sluggish on the uphills. I could’ve been slightly dehydrated since I never did drain the kidneys during the race. Even that, though, is a bit of stretch since it wasn’t accompanied with the lightheadedness and general loopiness. Tara didn’t necessarily say anything; rather, she acted as a sounding board for all my meandering thoughts. I confess that I did feel bad that I subjected her to watching me curse out a solitary coyote on the hillside for no apparent reason. But in reality, the act of being pushed subtly and working to keep myself in perpetual motion worked to get the freight train moving again. And yes, at 170 lb., I was a freight train compared to some of the sticks out there.

All of this leads me to my key moment. Coming out of Pantoll, my pep had returned and I warned Tara that I would be cranking it for the next 3 miles of mostly screaming downhill. After warming up over the 0.5 mile flat, we started cranking it over the next 0.2 mile transition trail before over 1000’ ft. of decent over 2.2 miles down Deer Park Fire Road that can best be described as an out-of-control barrel race. We took the brakes off and kept cranking with ease. Soon enough, a little more than half-way down the Fire Road, we spotted two runners about 0.2 miles ahead. Even though one turned out to be a pacer, not too much seems to motivate more than seeing “ducks on the pond”. A couple minutes later while slightly cranking the arms to get a little more momentum going, I eased on by the two guys with a polite “On Your Right”. At that moment, one of the runners looked back to his right with a shocked look on his bearded face. I’m not sure if he was shocked just to see anyone or shocked at how quickly I was coming up on him; regardless, the look was priceless. It’s the kind of look that as a competitor, you love to see. It had the exact opposite effect that Key Moment #1 had on me; downhills and flats are definitely my strength. I feel like if I had to run a marathon right now, I would definitely be in the 2:40s coming off of my 2:51 PR run last year. My quads feel strong and my ability to navigate downhill trails with ease is definitely high. Part of it comes with my simple approach to downhills; why fight gravity when it feels so good to let it ride. This will become a key point at Western States, a net downhill course.

Key moment #3: After 58.5 long miles, it was 1000’ ft. up and 1000 ft. down to the finish at Rodeo Beach. 3.7 miles of dirt between the finish and I. After righting myself somewhat on the way to Pantoll, I stayed steady the rest of the way. Yes, I was still relatively weaker on the ups and stronger on the downs. But while there was some passing and being passed, I was in 19th place overall which was right where I was coming into Pantoll. The hardest thing for any athlete is maintaining focus when the original goals are out of reach. I had reached a point where top 10 and 9 hours were not in the cards, but I still had an opportunity to maintain my position in the top 20 in this ultra competitive race (no pun intended). The final 3.7 miles is over 2 miles of climbing 1000’ and about a mile and a half of hard, steep decent to the finish at Rodeo Beach. To make things more interesting, there are a number of steps and logs to go over at various times during the descent to mix in with asphalt roadway and winding dirt switchbacks.

Starting the climb, I was in 19th place and simply wanted to maintain my position. While 18th was just a minute in front of me and still well within my reach, I simply wanted to stay ahead of any pursuers. I told Tara that if we made it up to the top of the climb first, we could cruise on in from there. This first 1.4 miles up Old Springs Trail provides fairly good footing and many parts with gradual grades allowing someone to run/jog quite a bit. Some sections have dirt stairs built into the trail to help firm them up against erosion. A couple minutes into the climb, I spotted my nearest pursuer wearing a white sleeveless top and red ball cap. I didn’t feel like climbing much, hoping that the gap between myself and the next runner was enough to allow me to coast in. Tara, though, pulled a play from my own pacing playbook to get the ball rolling. “Let’s try and run for 30 seconds.” I’ll admit; this is one that I use quite a bit to have a reluctant runner getting the legs moving again on an uphill. It’s a simple request that helps speed up the inevitable grind that uphills can become and also help a runner find their legs again.

The first few cycles, it was a bit of grind to put in the full 30 seconds of running before 30 seconds of walking. But after a few cycles, I started to feel better about the rate I was moving at. My posture become more upright, I was slouching less, and I seemed to be able to pick up my legs with a little more gusto. On the flattish ~0.4 mile section near the top, I even stopped the walking altogether and kept a nice 10 min./mile jogging rythym. This carried over to the 0.2 mile connector section on the Miwok trail and the first slight downhill before two brutally steep ascents on the Wolf Ridge trail over the next ~0.7 miles. On the first of these two ascents, I peered back to see “The Man In White”, as I took to calling him, continuing to close in with less than a quarter mile between us. I knew that with the climbs, the time difference was more significant, but I still needed to hit the top of that final ascent first.

I moved quickly on the quick 0.2 mile downhill dip before the final quarter-mile climb to the top. I could see the 2nd place woman just ahead on the climb, but once she crested I simply retrained my focus on holding off my pursuer. With scree littering the trail of this quad-busting ascent, good footing was always hard to come by. My hands latched firmly to my quads as I kept driving through each step and turning over my burning legs more quickly. Those minutes felt like a lifetime with the only thing holding my attention being my upward gaze at the end of the rocky earth under my feet and the beginning of light blue skies at the summit.

I was not disappointed, gazing out on the ocean and Rodeo Beach below with a sense of relief releasing some of the building tension. With over 25 minutes into this section, I had only a mile and a half to go until the the finish. While gingerly starting up on the steep, narrow road outlining the ridgeline, gravity quickly sucked me in to pick up the pace. A walk became a trot. A trot became a jog. Finally, a jog became a nearly out of control run with gravity as my fuel and my brake pads (quads) worn to the metal. This half-mile barrel race hits a dip, going slightly upward before returning to the dirt and fine sand. I began losing touch with Tara, focused on putting distance between myself and the “Man In White”. At the dip, I glanced back only to see him coming down the road himself about 200 yards away. I just couldn’t seem to shake him.

This is where the race becomes part obstacle course, part road race and part trail race. I’m not sure exactly when it happened, but when I hit the first set of winding stone stairs, I just took off and left Tara behind with a mile to go. The coming pursuer was now close enough to see clearly but not quite close enough to touch. Tara is not the first pacer that I’ve “ditched” in the final 5-10 miles of a race; I have a clear pattern of being motivated by pursuing runners and the anticipation of the finish. My uncles earlier had clued her in that it may happen and my intimate knowledge of this section of the course makes it much easier for me to anticipate all the various pitfalls. As a more experienced trail runner, I also find that I’m much more willing to take chances on the trails than less experienced trail runners. I moved with a clearer sense of urgency, bounding down stairs and leaping over logs that left me precariously close to taking a fall. Even with a water bottle strapped to both my hands, I reigned myself in a bit half way down one set of logs to avoid a catastrophic fall.

Once away from the steps and logs, I hustled on the winding, paved fireroad leading down from the WWII-era bunker. My uncles down below watched the action with no idea that I was the runner in the black cutoff shirt being chased since they were looking for a runner in black with a pacer. Uncle Jose remarked to Uncle Andy, “Look, that guy in white is going to catch the guy in black”. The “Man in White” had closed to within 25 yards with less than a half a mile to go and although I briefly entertained the idea of coasting it in and finishing together in an show of sportsmanship typical of ultras, the speed with which he was closing made me believe that he was pushing for my placing. I responded by continuing to push as hard as I could as I entered the final 3 short switchbacks on the winding trails which lead to the parking lot.

I resisted the urge to look, realizing that I would waste more in time than I would gain in comfort. After each turn, I expected that now would be the time he would pass me. But each time, I simply got closer and closer to the finish. It wasn’t until the reaching the short, 20 yard L-shaped finishing chute at the Rodeo Beach Picnic Area that I realized I would hold him off. Making that final turn, I charged through the finish line in 9:37:09 and gave my customary silent props to the man up above.

While the official finish times reflected a 1 second gap between us, in reality the “Man In White” would come through the finish line about 10-15 seconds later. I clapped with a smile on my face, tired but happy to have had the experience. Once he crossed the finish line, I walked over to him and we both smiled before giving each other a big hug. We laughed at what a crazy journey that final 3.7 miles had been; he kept trying to hunt me down and I just wouldn’t let him have it. We pushed each other harder and were rewarded for it with a nice way to end the day. It was a great moment where two competitors, when it was all said and done, could just appreciate what had happened. The roles could’ve been reversed, but the ending would’ve stayed the same: respect for one another and a sheer joy for having been a part of an exhilarating chase to the finish line to end 9+ long hours.

In some ways, the finish line is the line between heaven and hell. It has this funny way of turning struggles into learning experiences and making triumphs grow larger. Somewhere in the retelling of the story, it takes on new meaning and foretells the necessary steps for future successes. Sure, I can needle my weaknesses from this race and talk about what it will take in the next 6 weeks to finish Western States in 18+ hours…..but I can at least take heart in the simple fact that with some well-timed words and a little push, I seem to have no trouble finding motivation. Thank you to my crew, my pacer and Tracy Moore.

God bless,
Gundy

The Miwok Bet

Rick Vs. Gundy: Miwok 100k

The Prize: Lunch post-race

Since I won’t be doing the San Diego 100 in June and Rick didn’t get into Western States 100, it’s time for a little head-to-head action at Miwok. There’s nothing like a little friendly competition to help spur oneself to better performances and this one should be good. The competition is simple; we each pick a goal for the race and the closest one to their goal wins. However, beating your goal is worth more than coming up short. Every minute you beat your goal is equal to one point while every minute you come up short of your goal is equal to two points. The lowest score wins.

While this is predicated on both of us picking goals that accurately fit our current abilities (and not sand bagging), we’re competitive enough people with ourselves that it shouldn’t be a problem. I want to pick a goal that’s going to stretch me on race day, but that I think I have a 50% shot of hitting.

Originally, I had targeted 9 hours as my goal for Miwok knowing that slightly more than doubling my time would give me a guestimate for Western States. With my good training run on the weekend of the 10th and feeling good despite some nagging PF and calf issues, I’m ready to shoot for sub-9 hours at Miwok.

Here are the approximate thresholds/gating points in this race in order to finish under 9 hours:

1) Pantoll Ranger Station (21.7 miles) in 3 hours (8:45 am)

2) Bolinas Ridge Rd. (28.4 miles) in 4 hours (9:45 am)

3) Randall Turnaround (35.6 miles) in 5 hours (10:45 am)

4) Bolinas Ridge Rd. (42.8 miles) in 6 hours (11:45 am)

5) Pantoll Ranger Station (49.5 miles) in 7 hours (12:45 pm)

6) Tennessee Valley (58.5 miles) in 8 hours, 20 minutes (2:05 pm)

I always seem to want to go out quickly to warm up the legs and then slow between miles 6-10 as I start to settle into a rythym. The rest of the day seems to work like clockwork. Rick is setting his bar at 10 hours. She's also stated that if Rick and I both don't meet our goals, then she should get taken out to lunch by both of us. The big winner will probably still be my wife no matter what since I'm taking to Napa for our anniversary. It’s going to be a great day to race and a great tune-up for Western States.

There will be a lot of elite runners there and you can follow the race live at www.ultralive.net.

Skyline To The Sea 50k

Going into the Skyline To The Sea 50k, I expected that this would be a fast race. With 3000’ of climbing and 5500’ of descent through the Redwoods on the Skyline to The Sea trail, it had the look of a race that would test my quads as well as my ability to maneuver on tight, steep trails. I had been warned ahead of time by Rick to position myself well from the outset since the single track trails would get tight early and often before opening up onto a few scattered fireroads in the middle. It ultimately opens up at the bottom of the hills where the final 5 miles is mostly flat and rolling fireroad with a few single track connector trails thrown in.

My initial expectations were to go for a Top 5 finish under 4 hours. It had been 3 weeks since the Lake Sonoma 50 and I felt that much of the residual effect of the calf strain which limited my training from early February through late March. The only thing that concerned me going in was a sporadic bout of inflammation in my PF which caused some minor discomfort. In order to finish well, a major key would be my ability to manage the race on a course that I had never run before. I wanted to give myself a shot to let the wheels go over the last 1/3 of the race. I spent some time before the race looking at the elevation charts and a few previous race reports to identify key climbs and key descents. There are three major climbs to take note of: 1) Just after the first aid station for 1000 ft., 2) The Gazos Creek loop from miles 16-20 and 3) Mile 22ish, during the final long stretch down to the ocean.

One of the more deceptive features of this course is its endless array of obstacles (fallen trees, rocks, etc.) and tight trails which can take away straightaway speed at times and can act as a detriment to runners who haven’t run it or seen it previously. While the quick drops can help a runner pick up a good amount of speed in a hurry, they often leave you with the choice to treat upcoming obstacles with a) respect, for fear of injury or b) indifference, looking for the quickest route past. While this description shouldn’t deter a runner from embracing the challenge of this race in a fabulous natural setting, it will at least inform you that in order to do well one needs to be proficient at making quick decisions with their feet.

After a relaxing Sunday morning drive (courtesy of my wife) with Rick and Billy to the starting area at Saratoga Gap, a nervous energy came over me while waiting for the race to start. It’s that anticipation of racing again, knowing that for the next 4 hours I would be focused and zoned in on simply moving through the redwoods with a smooth, consistent effort. The time I had spent studying the course and putting together my splits would be put to the test. It’s one thing to study an elevation profile; it’s a whole other thing to study a course in person.

After a quick 5 minute warm-up followed by a brief stretching session, I was ready to go. Once the pre-race briefing was completed, we were off down the trail. I had the gospel and rock blaring in the earphones and I was ready to go. The course began on a downhill slope with the trail narrowing to single-track for 6.5 net downhill miles (1000 ft. of elevation drop) to the first aid station. There is enough room to pass for at least the first couple of miles. I was in the 7th or 8th position, although the number of runners also included those in the marathon race. Leor Pantilat took the lead from the outset and slowly distanced himself as the redwood forests with its myriad of twists and turns made it difficult to see very far. In the early 2-3 miles, I let me legs go on the downhills and ultimately moved up to share the 2nd position with Kevin Swisher. He and I were only about 10-15 seconds ahead of a main chase pack of 4-6 runners, but continued to maintain our distance in the early going.

As we wound our way through quite a bit of hanging brush in particularly windy section on the hillside, my headphone cord kept getting knocked to the left or right. At one point, 19 minutes into the race, the cord came undone completely. I looked down quickly and though I had lost my iPod. I stopped, allowing Kevin to pass in order to look for it quickly. Within 10-15 seconds, I was passed by the train of other runners in the main pack. All in all, I spent a minute and a half looking for that darn iPod only to feel embarrassed to see it still clipped to my shorts.

As I started up again, I found myself alone in my own space. In one way, I considered it a bit of a blessing which forced me to focus on my own race. I didn’t feel particularly inspired to be out front, since I tend to run best at the back of a pack and don’t like the feeling of being pushed on a course which I had never seen before.

However, being in your own space brings with it other challenges. I had no one else around me with which to judge my pace against. Keeping contact with the main pack would also help me keep my fellow competitors (particularly those who were veterans on the course) in sight. This could have been a valuable resource since my Garmin had been reduced to a big stopwatch by the tree cover overhead. At that point, I just kept moving and figured that I simply needed to work on my own race.

One rather harrowing moment was having to cross Highway 9 in order to continue on the trail. A number of cars zoomed pass me, including a red Lotus, which had no intention of ever stopping. It took 15 seconds before I had an opportunity to cross. When I did, I put me head down in a full sprint to avoid becoming the latest road kill.

About a mile out from the aid station, I came up on the first runner who had passed me. He looked as if he had slowed significantly and I quickly moved past on the slightly uphill slope on the edge of a small basin. Coming into Aid Station #1, I was right on time at 46 minutes sharp. I was in fairly good condition and kept this stop brief in order to grab a couple of gels and get my bottle refilled. A big advantage of coming into the aid station alone was the ease of which I was able to get in and out quickly. 15 seconds later, I was off to tackle a 1000 ft. climb before descending again into Aid Station #2 4.7 miles later.

This 1000 ft. of climbing in the second section really highlighted one of weaknesses exposed with a calf that I didn’t have 100% confidence in. I allowed the psychology of being alone to somewhat dictate my physical exertion and walked steeper portions of the climb. It was a bit of downer, wondering if any of the other front runners had chosen to walk during these small sections. I was fatigued, but generally considered that to be par for the course since I tend to get into a groove after mile 10. While I was able to push through that fatigue at times, I clearly allowed it to take me out of my game in the early going.

Once I reached the top, I once again took off on soft, slowly rolling downhill before a quick climb to the 2nd aid station. The soft surface, blanketed by pine needles, provided a needed rest bit absorbing the impact of the downhill. My PF was giving me some minor discomfort, so the soft surface seemed to calm it down. I came up upon another runner during this section, a young Indian runner who was running the marathon. He was one of the first to pass me when I was looking for my iPod and looked as if he was pushing for a podium finish. After exchanging pleasantries as I passed, he kept fairly close to me for the remainder of the section.

I eased into Aid Station #2 at mile 11.2 in 1:28, about 5 minutes off of my appointed goal time. I knew that I had lost time with that walking episode, but was generally ok with the early paces. I needed to continue to work within myself to maintain a good rate of speed overall. I picked up another couple of gels and some water before scampering away for this long 4.6 mile downhill jaunt to the bottom of another basin. Two other 50k runners came up on us, leaving the aid station just after I did.

The four of us continued to push the pace as the top half of this section was filled with major rock formations and narrower trails. On a couple of occasions, I had to catch myself before sliding down the slick and sometimes wet rocks. You could tell a number of these formations had been there awhile

About 1/3 of the way through, I allowed the three runners behind me to pass as I re-tied my shoelaces (which would happen another couple of times). We continued to stay fairly tight together, although I dropped back somewhat when I fell on my backside prior to a creek crossing. I got a bit frustrated with my early pace, imploring myself to keep at it.

The section ends in a basin which was filled with numerous mud puddles, roots and large logs. The roots blend in quite well, which is a big reason I did a face plant at one point onto the trail. I was shaken a bit as I wiped the front of my sleeveless shirt, but all in all found the experience to be a bit of an awakening. Besides, this is a trail run so you need to get dirty every once in awhile. I also got onto my hands and knees to quickly slide under some of the logs. It was about then that I was starting to enjoy this race, which was starting to resemble an adventure races as much as anything else.

To my surprise, I entered aid station #3 at Gazos Creek in 2:02, which was now only 2 minutes off my pre-race goal splits (for a 3:50ish). I felt like I was losing time, but apparently I was picking it up once again. It was a pleasant surprise, putting me at 7:20ish min./mile clip for the last section. After a quick check-in with volunteer and trail runner extraordinaire Will Gotthardt, I departed northbound (the race goes east to west) on the 4.5 mile loop back to the aid station.

While leaving, I saw one of the 2- 50k runners in a yellow SCRC (Santa Cruz?) singlet who had passed me earlier. The third person, being a marathoner, had already departed not needing to do this add-on loop. I surmised that I was probably around 7th or 8th place and would probably need to pass at least two more runners to ensure a top 5 finish. We were now beginning the second of the three major climbs and this one also brought with it 1000’ of climbing. We started out on a fire road for less than a mile, which is a nice and steady grade. Fire roads are much easier to climb due to the firmness of footing and general predictability of the grade which allows a runner to get into a rythym.

I kept a steady rythym as my legs started to feel warm again. I sort of lost sight of the overall time goal, although I figured if I could get back to the aid station at 2:45 with 10.5ish miles to go that I would have a fighting chance at a sub-4 hour finish based upon the final section’s layout. Although the splits were developed with 3:50 in mind, they left a fair amount of buffer to shoot for that 4 hour time. Although I ran quite a bit of the uphills, I still walked the fairly steep grades near the top. The course opens up on another fire road near the top where the route gets fairly exposed. While most exposed sections are loathed by runners looking to stay cool on an otherwise warm day as this, it was a very nice change. The damp, cool air below the redwoods’ canopy had given way briefly to the warm, bright glow from the sun up above.

Eventually, a sharp turn off the fire road led to 2 mile stretch begun with a sharp, steep downhill and ending with a return to 1.5 mile rolling flats that we originally came into Gazos Creek aid station on. It was during this stretch that I had a chance to say hi to Steve Ansell and Harry Walther, who had yet to come into the aid station the 1st time to begin their loop. Steve and Harry looked good for a couple of guys who had run 50k prior to the race as training for an upcoming 100 miler. Steve asked me what place I was in, to which I replied that I didn’t know.

Shortly before I polished off the section, I finally passed that 50k runner in yellow, Stefano Parsado. I came into Gazos Creek at 2:45 with at least a shot at 4 hours. While I had fallen off the goal time of 2:36 (for a 3:50 overall) by 9 minutes, I still had a shot if I could get moving in a hurry. 30 seconds later, I was gone with 3 gels in my pocket and full water bottle. I knew I would probably have to be careful with the fluid intake with 9 miles until the final aid station and 10.5 miles total until the finish line.

Well, whatever visions I had of averaging 7:06 min./mile for this last section vanished when faced with the final long uphill climb that lasted for about a mile. I just couldn’t seem to get into a rythym and I decided to slow down in order to protect the right calf. Fortunately, once at the top of the climb, I knew the rest of the race would be a 3 mile downhill followed by 5ish miles on mostly rolling fire roads to the finish.

I had to stop a couple more times to take care of a loose shoelace as well as another faceplant. This final downhill is sharp and steep, punctuated by numerous obstacles. I was jumping over, under and sometimes around huge fallen trees and tree stumps. Other sections had fallen rock on the path, creating a potential slipping hazard with those that were wet. I rather enjoyed this section, taking care not to fall as I moved methodically to try and catch up to 1 or 2 others.

People on the trail told me I was 2-3 minutes behind the next runner, so I continued to try and gain time by jumping up and over obstacles every chance I got. At times, I had to be careful with quite a few Team In Training hikers along the trail. They looked at me inquisitively, probably wondering why I was moving so quickly on the narrow trails in this hiker’s paradise. I was in a hurry, but never in such a hurry that I got close to knocking anyone over. They seemed to know when to pull to one side or the other and I respected them by taking care to be deliberate with my own movements.

Once at the bottom and on the fireroad, I knew that I needed to get to the final aid station at 3:50 in order to get in under that 4 hour barrier. As the minutes rolled away, it seemed less and less likely. I had no Garmin reading and although I was moving quickly and smoothly, every turn seemed to lead nowhere on the endless road with limited forward vision. My fluids had long been tapped and my mouth was getting parched, although my gels were keeping me fueled sufficiently.

Passing one more marathoner, I cruised into the final aid station at the 4:02 mark to fill up on some electrolytes and down one final gel quickly. The quick 20 second stop was just enough to put my electrolytes back in balance once again. I took the next few minutes to marvel at the cool breezes and rustling trees signaling that the ocean was upon me.

With a half a mile to go on the final long straightaway, I finally spotted the next runner. It was too late for a pass, but I kicked it in strong finishing in 4:13 and good for 6th place overall. Not exactly the race I was thinking about, but still a good step towards restoring my lost endurance from injury. I needed that kind of race to get me back into the mindset of running fast, which requires strong, explosive calves rather than the passivity I’d been accepting during training lately.

Some of the key takeaways is the need over the next 2 weeks to loosen up my calves and my PF in the foot. I think the confidence to run up the hills I need to run at Miwok in order to hit 8:5x:xx will be huge. I’ve run a number of hills in training and the general strength is there; I just need to confidence to come through when it counts. Running at least 30+ miles for my long run each of the last 5 weeks (starting just before Lake Sonoma) is finally giving me the endurance back that I lost during that 6 week calf strain recovery period.

I don’t think the mental games that I allowed to plague me at this race will crop up at Miwok. I know the course inside and out and should be able to anticipate each and every turn, uphill and downhill. Knowing a course and the type of effort your body will tolerate as it progresses through that course can be a significant advantage. The best runners can often “feel their way” through a course, always tuned in to the subtle physiological cues about when to fuel, when to hydrate, when to back down and when to speed up. I don’t remember the last time I saw an elite marathoner wearing a Garmin on their hand. I feel like the additional miles I’ve put in on my long runs will ultimately lead to a much more relaxed and well-paced raced in 2 weeks. I’m going to need it at Miwok, which is a much more stacked race to score a Top 10 finish as compared with Firetrails 50, Rocky Raccoon 100 or Skyline To The Sea 50k. While somewhat disappointed in the consistency of my effort, I know that my time is coming and that I just need to keep working hard to meet it.

2010 Western States Challenge to benefit Well-Building in Uganda

sponsored by Injinji, Brooks, Josh Moberg, P.T., and Diakadi Body

The Challenge: To raise $5,000 towards my yearly goal of $12,000 to build 4 water wells in Uganda. Each well built will help provide fresh water for over 1,000 people. To put it another way, every $3 you donate will give one person access to fresh water that is free of many water-born parasites and diseases. You can help me reach that goal by making a donation now towards World Harvest Mission's well-building program. All money donated goes towards this goal. Donations are tax-deductible and receipts will be sent to donors at the end of the year in addition to the email receipt sent to you by PayPal. For more information on the program and my personal involvement with the people of Uganda, click on the "WHM and Donations" button up above.

My Challenge: Run the Western States 100. My goal is to finish the race in less than 19 hours. All donors can additionally challenge me personally to finish with a particular placing or a particular time for additional donations. If I accept your challenge, I pledge to make a donation in the challenge amount if I don't meet it. Email me personally at gundy80@hotmail.com.

The Schwag: Every donation, regardless of amount, will receive a picture of the well-building projects in Uganda. For each donation of $25, you will receive 1 entry into the drawing for the Grand Prize pack which includes the following: 10 pairs of Injinji Performance Toesocks including one pair of their Nuwool socks and one pair of their brand new Compression socks. You will also receive a pair of Brooks shoes of your choice with a retail value up to $100 (per www.brooksrunning.com).

Second Chance Drawing: If you don't win the Grand Prize, there is a drawing for the Second Chance Prize which is a 1 hour personal training session or nutrition consultation with Josh Moberg, P.T. Josh is a personal trainer with Diakadi Body, www.diakadibody.com, a Personal Training and Wellness Center in San Francisco, CA. There is no need to apply for this drawing; all individuals entered in the Grand Prize Drawing who do not win are automatically entered in this Second Chance Drawing.

The Charity: All proceeds benefit the Uganda Well-Building Program for World Harvest Mission, www.worldharvestmission.org.

Be Part of The Challenge:
To be a part of the challenge,
1) Make a donation via the ChipIn icon to the right. Donations can be made via PayPal account or Credit Card. Again, every $25 in donations equals one entry.

http://seegundyrun.com/2010_WS100_Challenge.html