Lost Runner

The National Weather Service San Francisco Bay Area Has Issued A Heat Advisory...Which Is In Effect From 12 PM To 8 PM PDT Saturday.

Another Hot Day Is Expected Saturday Following A Very Warm Night Tonight. A Very Warm Airmass Has Settled Over The Region And This Combined With Weak Offshore Flow Has Lead To Record High Temperatures Near The Coast Today. Highs Tomorrow May Approach Record Levels Again Especially Inland.

Darn!

This was the news that greeted me the evening before I was to run the Double Dipsea. The Double Dipsea is a trail race that is perfectly described by its name, as long as you are familiar with the (single) Dipsea, which I had run two weeks before.

The morning of the race, I made my way to Stinson Beach, which is in itself quite an adventure once you cross the Golden Gate. Let's just say CA-1 is a highway in name only; I almost made myself sick navigating the twisty, curvy and steep road in Marin County. I arrived just before 8am, picked up my race bib, goodie bag and finishers' T-Shirt (bad karma!), only to realize my start time was 9:22am. After watching the first waves go out, I sauntered back to my car and read a magazine with the door open. Even right on the beach, the temp was around 75F. It was going to be a scorcher.

The race kicks off with a wicked climb to the top of "Insult Hill". The real problem of course wasn't the incline, or even the length of the ascent, but the heat. We alternated short stints on the asphalt road with longer sections of very dusty single track. I wasn't wearing a watch, so it felt like it took forever to reach Insult, where the first aid station was. Already I was drenched in sweat and had nearly drained my water bottle. Thankfully, the volunteers were prepared for the heat and had ample fluids available as well as buckets of water with which to sponge down the runners. I took advantage of this amenity, and it made a huge difference.

After leaving the aid station, running a downhill kicked up so much dust I could barely see the ground in front of me. Then suddenly my vision went out of focus and I realized all the dust in the air must be drying out my contacts! I blinked a couple of times and my focus came back, not that it helped too much. The descent was followed by a gentler climb to the high point of the course.

At this point, the course enters a more wooded, covered area, much to the relief of everyone, I think. I still felt pretty strong and managed to make up some time (and places) after having started in the scratch group again. Unlike the original Dipsea, I had enough room to run freely. As we approached Mill Valley, the course rolled a little but remained mainly downhill.

I remembered much of the course from my adventure two weeks before. As we hit Mill Valley, the really interesting part of the race began. Those famous 671 steps? Yeah... now we had to run down them, which was an exercise in mental concentration, not physical prowess. Because those steps, they came in all shapes and sizes. Concrete steps... wooden steps... stone steps. Wide... narrow... deep... shallow. I played it safe, hopping down one at a time, especially as we hit an area that was bathed in shadows, which made it really difficult to see. And just when I thought things couldn't get more complicated, I got showered by a wayward sprinkler from a nearby residence. Boy, they need to adjust that thing, I thought. Looking up, I discovered a friendly resident was using her garden hose to keep us cool. Neat!

The half-way point had an aid station. I got another sponge bath, filled up the bottle and made my way back out of town, only to discover, on the 671-step-Mill-Valley-stair-stepper, that my quads were a little tired. The friendly neighborhood resident was still giving us showers, and another runner promised "We'll be by later for Margeritas!" She did have an interesting house, perched as it was in the steep hill and right over the Dipsea course. Can't imagine what it would be like to live out there.

Once out of Mill Valley, a long, long climb out to "Dynamite" and the high-point of the course awaited us. It was over this stretch that the Dipsea Course, finally, maybe inevitably, broke my spirit. The shade was nice, of course, but it was still so hot that I was panting like a dog, and soon I had to start mixing in some walking. I had lots of company, of course, and the irony of it was that we were still passing other runners and getting passed, albeit while moving at a snail's pace. At some points, say upon coming to a particular high rock to climb onto, it was all I could do to make my leg straighten.

I abandoned sponge baths and moved straight on to the fire-hose-drenching at the aid stations. My shirt was soon off my back and wrapped around my hand, not something I'm prone to do, but it was just so... so... hot. In terms of race position, I had stopped really making any progress since leaving Mill Valley, but I wasn't complaining. In particular, there was one guy I followed almost the entire second half of the course. Everyone was hurting.

Cresting the high point, we began our descent back down to Stinson Beach. Exposed though we were to the sunlight, at least the downhill kept everyone cool, and I shudder to think what type of carnage a climb like the one at the beginning of the race would have caused. Seeing the ocean only a mile or so in the distance was a welcome sight, and as I dropped down towards the finish, I tried to keep my pace up. I was almost upended by a sneaky root, but I ended up running the race completely on my feet, and none of it on my knees or rear-end (like some other folks I'd seen).

Finally, the finish line was in sight. I checked my back to find someone running hard maybe 20 yards back, but I kept him at bay and finished in about 2:25.

After downing copious amounts of food at the aid station, washing myself down with Tecnu and checking my sunburn -- I got burned to a crisp -- I hobbled over to the beach. Unlike the Double Dipsea, the Pacific Ocean was cold, and I bathed my calves in the icy water as long as I could stand it. All in all, another race well worth the effort. Say what you will, a trail race is never boring, even when it's like running in an oven.

Luckily, the Quad Dipsea is in November.

Posted by Michael at 10:03 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by.
- Robert Frost

At times, you find yourself in situations you never would have anticipated. Picture this: you come to a fork in the path. The left trail is marked "Suicide". The right one dubiously claims "Safer".

In a nutshell, this is the Dipsea Race, a helter-skelter, reckless free-for-all through the Marin hills, starting at Mill Valley and ending at Stinson Beach. Clocking in around seven miles in distance, it nevertheless boasts 2,200 feet of elevation change. First run in 1905, it has accumulated many peculiarities over the years.

For instance, in this day and age of internet registration and credit cards, the only way to get into the Dipsea Race is to mail in an entry form with a check. If you're not in the invitational section, entries are accepted on a first-come, first-served basis, and due to the race's popularity, you'd better get your snail-mail out as soon as the entry form becomes available (this, interestingly enough, is in fact an online download).

Then, the race has a staggered start. Big deal, you might say, many races do this nowadays. Sure, but how many have the slower runners go first, and the faster runners go last? In fact, the staggered start isn't designed to help spread the runners out; its purpose is to give young and old, men and women an equal chance at winning the race. It is a handicapping system intended to level the playing field. In the process, it turns the trails into a crowded, NASCAR-like experience, but that's the price you pay for equality.

The system starts all the invitational runners first, then works its way through the open field. Not knowing this, I arrived way too early and got to watch the very first old geezers start (three of them, and I use the term geezers respectfully; you would too if you'd seen them). Most of the rest of the 1,500 strong field followed suit, one minute at a time. This was a distressing experience, since each and every man, woman and child starting ahead of me was building up a huge lead that I would have to overcome. The only way to get into the invitational section is to finish in the first half of the race. Which, as I strolled up to the starting line, was already half-way up the mountains.

I was, in fact, in the very very last group. The announcer looked the sorry-looking bunch of us up and down and said "You'll have to pass about 700 runners to get into the invitational section next year. That's about 100 per mile. It's been done before. Your 2008 Dipsea Race starts in two... one... now!" I looked down at my bib, marked with the letters "SCR", for "scratch", as in scratch group, no head-start. It might as well have been marked "FCKD", because that's what I was.

The race started off on Mill Valley asphalt streets, and I questioned my decision to wear trail shoes. Where were the trails? After approximately a quarter of a mile we began our climb of the 671 steps leading up to the Marin hills. At the base of these steps is where I caught the first of my many passees. In fact, I felt like I caught up with all of them, as the climb was narrow and crowded. We were soon forced to walk, but I managed to force my way by a couple of people. Their labored breathing was music to my ears, since I was still quite comfortable. With any luck, many more of the runners up ahead of me would be having difficulties.

It was, in fact, a surreal experience to climb the first little bit of trail, leaving almost everyone else in the dust. I hadn't achieved some new level of fitness, but in comparison to the back-of-the-packers, I was Speedy Gonzales. At least, until we started our first descent. It was at this point that I was faced with the "Suicide" / "Safer" choice. I committed (to) suicide.

The trail turned into a stomach-dropping, narrow and dusty plunge into a little valley. Runners blew by me with panicked yells of "On your left!" I marvel at the skill, courage and strength of these trail runners. Downhill running is a discipline I still need to master. Or just advance a little in.

Luckily for me, Suicide was followed by an initial steep climb (known as "Dynamite"), then an interminable, long ascent to the highest point of the course. I found myself stuck in traffic, but managed my energy wisely and passed when I could. A mile into this second climb, I found enough room to run freely. Another peculiarity of the course is that runners are allowed to take any and all shortcuts that they want to. Actually, that's not entirely true: there are exceptions that will get you disqualified. Nevertheless, I followed a group of runners onto a parallel path which may not have been the shortest route, but was definitely less crowded. Things were going well, and I managed to keep running all the way to the top. At one point, a runner explained "This is Cardiac Hill", but even that was soon conquered, and we began a long descent to the beach and the finish line.

Halfway down, another fork appeared, this time allowing us to choose between "The Swoop" and "Safer". Once again, I opted against the safer route, only to find that The Swoop was just as bad as Suicide. I managed not to fall down, but others did, and I was amazed at the many runners covered in dirt and blood. This is not a race for the timid!

The Swoop was followed by "Insult", a final climb and flip-of-the-finger to us runners. Once mastered, a long stairway (interrupted by sections on road) led us into the finishing straight. I found myself left with lots of strength and sprinted past a final couple of runners, finishing so quickly I forgot to check the clock. Since I was not wearing a watch, I am not sure how I did, but from conferring with other runners, I might have been in the 1:10-1:15 range. The real question, of course, is how I placed. I could not possibly have less of a clue.

Not having any reason to linger, I climbed into a shuttle that took us back to Mill Valley. Unlike another big-name race I ran this year (*cough* Boston *cough*), this one lived up to its billing. I do anticipate another excursion to the post office next year in April, to get another crack at passing 700-plus runners.

Posted by Michael at 2:42 PM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)