Sequioa 30K Trail Run
There's something wrong with my memory: I have trouble remembering pain. Surely it can't be genetic -- if my ancestors had been afflicted with this disease, they would have exterminated themselves well before procreation, perhaps by slamming their heads against a cave wall repeatedly because they had forgotten the discomfort this causes. Either way, this condition has landed me in many a pickle. It struck again this past Saturday as I found myself at the start of a 30K trail race a scant four weeks after another one had hobbled me for days afterwards.
Of course, one of the reasons I was back was the excellent race put on by Wendell and Sarah of Pacific Coast Trail Runs. Even though a couple hundred runners were milling about the start area, everything was under control with short lines for race number pickups (and bathrooms). Unlike other events where the nervous energy is like electricity in the air, everyone seemed entirely laid back and calm, looking forward to a little Saturday morning run. For some of these guys, "a little run" would be 50 kilometers.
Once we got going, I found out again about trail running. It's hard. Not only do you have to contend with the rough terrain, the courses are much hillier than your normal road race. Not long into the run, my calves were on fire and painfully tight. Soon I found myself getting passed by a bunch of people, especially on the downhills. I was astounded at how fast some of those guys run -- it looks like they're completely out of control, rolling down the steepest of inclines. Yet I saw nobody fall (although I found out later that at least two runners had twisted/sprained their ankles).
Humbled by the competition, I opted for a conservative pace, even walking up some of the steeper hills along the way. Mindful of my penchant for getting lost, I kept my eyes peeled for the pink ribbons that marked the course, and except for a brief 20-yard mistake (the runner behind me said "I didn't say anything because I couldn't believe you missed that turn!") I managed to stay on target.
Unfortunately, there were no really spectacular views along the way. Most of the race was in densely wooded areas, and at one point there was even a fully-grown bush on the trail that we had to force ourselves through. The real highlights were the aid stations that were stocked with all sorts of goodies ranging from trail mix, to sports drinks, to oranges and cantaloupes, to PB&J sandwiches all the way to Sprite and Coca-Cola.
Nearing the end of the race, I was taught the lesson in pain that I have forgotten over and over again as my hamstrings and calves tightened up and started to ache. I am not sure if it is glycogen depletion, lactic acid buildup or something else entirely, but it's no fun at all. Even though I was slowed by this, I managed to drop a lady who had been around me for most of the race, but who evidently was hurting more than I was. I ended up limping in at 2:55, well behind the winner (2:14!), a 52-year old man (2:45) and the female winner (2:43).
I gorged myself on the snacks around the finish and the complementary bowl of chili. As the pain dissipated, I caught myself wondering whether they would be putting on any other trail runs in the next couple of weeks. I hope eventually I'll learn -- but the lesson hasn't sunk in entirely yet.