Sunday, February 7, 2010

Woodside 50K Race Report

While drinking a cup of coffee this morning I finished reading the book Once a Runner. Coupling this excellent novel with yesterday's memories was an immensely gratifying experience.

Yesterday... yesterday was the Woodside 50K, and it was pretty darn cool.

In northern California we've been getting hit with storm after storm this winter, bringing rain to the lowlands and snow to the mountains. I've been doing the bulk of my training indoors mostly because I can't be bothered on the weekdays with the inconvenience of getting my shoes all wet, and running around the San Jose suburbs in the rain just isn't all that fulfilling. And on the weekends the idea of sloshing around in ankle-deep mud doesn't sound enticing.

If it sounds like I'm being a little soft about the whole thing, I am. Or I was. All week I was watching the weather hoping that we'd get two rain-free days for the trails to dry out enough that they wouldn't be sloppy messes. On Thursday I realized that this wasn't going to happen, and then I realized what a wimp I was being. Some of my best runs have been in the worst weather.

In fact, my first run after deciding to get into ultra running was a ten mile point-to-point on the Bay Area Ridge Trail (a five-hundred plus mile trail system that mostly circumnavigates the San Francisco Bay) on Skyline Ridge. It was raining on and off through the whole run. The trail was muddy, shoe grabbing muddy in places. I was unprepared for the challenges of trail running. But I remember coming out of the forest at one point on the west side of the ridge, the clouds cleared, and I had a beautiful view of the giant valley below me, blanketed in mist. I loved every minute of it.

So at 5:30 am yesterday I awoke (the 8:30 am start time is mercifully late), gritted my teeth for a day of inclement weather, and went through my usual routine. My biggest concern was whether or not to wear a raincoat. No coat in a downpour can wind you up soaking wet, and possibly at risk of hypothermia in cold weather. And a raincoat when there is no rain can be like carrying a sauna around with you, as raincoats (not surprisingly) don't breathe very well. I took clothing for both eventualities and deferred the decision till the start.

Jen rode with me to Huddart Park prior to the start. As soon as we turned on to King's Mountain Road, the torrent started. We pulled into the parking lot and any misgivings I had about a raincoat were quickly dashed when she stepped out to use the bathroom and came back fairly drenched.

I tried to get all of my gear on while sitting in the driver's seat. Unfortunately I had just stuffed everything into my backpack and in the process of emptying it out lost a running sock. I got out of the car to get a better view of the seat and the floor, and started getting drenched myself (no raincoat on yet). After a few embarrassingly frustrating minutes I found my missing sock and several other items that I lost in the process of looking for the sock. Next time I will remember to organize things a little better.

In addition to the rain coat, one extra piece of gear I brought on this race was a second bottle. There is an 8.5 mile stretch between aid stations in the middle of the race that I didn't think one bottle would get me through.

Soon I had all of my stuff together and was ready to register. At the desk I saw Martin, one of the guys with whom I worked the aid station at the same Woodside series last December. We chatted for a bit about races, and I was reminded that he had won a spot for Western States this year. I'm really looking forward to hearing about his adventure, hopefully I see him again.


Is there a race around here?

Soon we were being called to the start, and at 8:30 sharp we were off. I didn't know the trail, but I could sense that soon after the gun the stampede that was moving across the meadow would need to collapse to a queue, so I tried to place myself so as to not get delayed for too long. After a tight turn around a fence we were on fast fire roads. I was trying to keep a good pace but not get too excited. I knew after a short downhill comes a six mile climb, so I was steeling myself for that.

Once on the climb it seemed that things were moving a little too fast. But I felt pretty strong and just tried to keep pace with those around me. Near the top most of us started to tire and there was a lot of walking, even on sections that weren't very steep, so I regretted pushing on the early parts of the hill. On the other hand, everybody was walking so I wasn't really losing time to anyone.

Which brings me to my strategy: Don't lose too much time on the uphills, put the pedal down on the flats, and keep pace on the downhills. The biggest challenge was going to be the downhills, as one can lose a lot of time there and it's been a weak spot of mine in the past. But I've been working hard on getting my legs stronger for this very purpose so I was excited to test myself.

Going through the King's Mountain aid station (mile 6) I was a little bothered at having to get in line for water. This was no one's fault, it was just that several runners arrived at roughly the same time and I was last of the bunch. Had I thought about it before hand, I might have skipped this aid station since two bottles would probably carry me to the second one, but for now that's just something to remember next time.

It was nice to see the familiar territory of the King's Mountain station- this was the one that I had volunteered at last time. There are a couple of tricky trail directions leaving the station and I was glad to have them already mapped out.

After King's Mountain the trail flattens out. We were running along a section of the Bay Area Ridge Trail that I hadn't seen before. The trail is invariably well maintained, and I was excited to be checking another segment off my list. I put the hammer down... so did everyone else around me, and so did the clouds as they opened upon us. I was very happy for my raincoat.

I had passed a few folks at the aid (I carry my own food so I don't have to agonize over such concerns while the clock ticks away), and only one or two of them passed me on the flats. I overtook a couple of people who were dealing with technical problems, but mostly we all stayed together. We were in a good rhythm.

At the Bear Gulch aid station (mile 11) I got my water quickly and found myself in a new group starting the big descent into Bear Gulch itself. Stay smooth, stay light, let it coast. That's what I told myself. Not an easy feat when negotiating 2 inch-deep mud puddles.

Mud is strange. Most of the time it's best to just charge through the puddle. The ground seems to be the most stable there. Except for the rare step that grabs your shoe and muddy water pours in over your ankles. I had nabbed a couple of these on the flats earlier, and while my shoes are good at draining water, they're also good at filtering out the suspended dirt in the process, leaving a fine grit against which to grind your macerated piggies (i.e. an invitation for blisters). I felt the beginnings of a blister around mile 12, but decided that it would be best to just tough it out.

Near the bottom of the descent the trail forks off in a loop around which runners go before returning on the same trail that brought us here. I was really hoping to get to the fork before seeing the leaders. I hadn't worked out the distances, but intuitively I figured I would be doing pretty good if I managed that. I didn't quite make it; I saw three guys and one girl before splitting off. But I do always enjoy seeing the leaders, so it wasn't all bad.

The trail bottoms out about halfway around the loop, stays flat for awhile, and then starts to climb again. Once I hit the uphill I realized my legs were spent from the descent. But I didn't panic. My scant two ultra marathons previous have at least taught me that a lot changes over the course of a race, and as long as you're still moving you're fine.

So I walked a bit. Some fellows caught up with and passed me in a slow jog, so I picked it up for a minute or so and then started walking again. I decided to employ a technique whereby I would run for a minute-thirty or so, and then walk for a minute. This seemed to allow me to recover sufficiently and I found that I could comfortably run up the gentler sections out of Bear Gulch and power walk the steeper ones.

About halfway up I started to feel good again. At first I was happy about this. But then I asked myself, do you want to look back and know that at mile 18 you could have picked it up and didn't? I didn't. So I started pushing the pace again.

And somewhere I have developed quite a power walk. In the past I've always been disheartened by folks speeding past me while we both trudge uphill. I couldn't understand how they could move themselves so much faster. But I think through a combination of strength training, ankle rehab, and determination, I can move at a reasonable clip now. I passed several people near the end of the climb, which I found quite satisfying.

Back at Bear Gulch aid the second time (20 miles) another quick fill and I was off retracing the Bay Area Ridge Trail segment. Time to put the hammer down again! The 35K race turnaround is at this aid station, so I was now encountering lots of people in that race, always uplifting to get and give encouragement.

I had to take it easy on the slight uphills, but I was feeling pretty good on the flats. But the fatigue was starting to take its toll. I didn't think I would be able to hold it together for another 11 miles (I thought it was 11 because I am have not gotten used to the miscalculations that my new GPS watch makes, especially over winding and wooded terrain), but I pressed onward anyway, continuing to push the pace. At some point I broke into the caffeinated Clif Bloks that I save for the end of a race, which allowed me to keep it going. But my strength I was flagging.

Before I knew it I was back at King's Mountain aid for the second time (26 miles). My watch suggested that I had about 7 miles to go, and I thought I had remembered reading that it was 6 miles from here to the finish. I asked the aid station volunteer how far it was, and she said 4 miles. I couldn't believe it! But when I thought about how far it must be given what I knew about the 17K course that follows this same section, I realized that she must be right. I was overjoyed. Just topped off the water and was off again.

After King's Mountain it is a slight uphill before a long downhill. Once I hit that downhill I kicked it into high gear. At one point I my watch showed me at a 7:00 pace, which I believed. I was feeling great (the caffeine helped), ready to run this thing home. There is a bothersome little climb in the middle of the descent, but after dispatching with it I knew I was home free. I kept pushing, pushing. I wasn't running against anyone else at this point (my nearest competitors were 1-2 minutes ahead and behind), just running faster because, well, that's what you do.

Soon I saw the parking lot and the typically confusing finish of trail races (literally across a path, around a parked car, through a parking lot, down a sidewalk, through a children's playground complete with spongy platform, across another section of the same sidewalk, through a meadow, into a foreshortened finish chute). Then I saw Jen standing on the side with the camera at the ready. I regretted having unzipped my jacket because I knew it would make for a crappy photo (I had unzipped it so the finish staff could see my number), but whatever.

Hammering down the hope stretch

Before I knew it I was over the line and breathed a sigh of relief. I was really happy with my performance, I knew I was fast compared with my previous races, and I had pushed myself the whole way.

My finishing time was 5:35:49. While only 6 minutes faster than my last 50K, I don't feel so bad about it for a couple of reasons. First, Jen and I heard many people complaining about slow times because of the trail conditions. Second, my overall place was 30th, but, more importantly I finished at the 30th percentile of finishers (my last two races have been at about the 50th percentile). So measured in raw speed I was not substantially faster, but measured against the field (a better measure in my opinion) I improved substantially.

That said, I'm excited for the next one. I'm forever wary of flukes, so I feel I need another performance to prove it to myself that I really have gotten faster. For now I have a week of soreness to look forward to, and a nasty blister to take care of. But I am very happy with my race. Best ultra so far.