2009 Dipsea Race
Last weekend, I ran a race, and got beat by a seven year old girl. Wait... let me explain.
The Dipsea is a handicapped race, designed to give old and young, male and female an equal chance at winning. I ran it for the first time last year and had a blast doing it. Although difficult to get into, I finished well enough in 2008 to make the invitational section in 2009, which meant a guaranteed spot in a race that I had been looking forward to all year.
Like last year, I watched the first runners get going, which this year included a seven year old girl from Mill Valley, mixed in with the older gentlemen/ladies. She got the event started with a bang when she sprinted -- and I mean sprinted -- out to a huge lead right off the bat, much to the amusement of the assembled crowd. Every minute, more runners followed, and soon I headed out to warm up and get ready to enter the fray.
Unlike last year, I was in the invitational section, which I was looking forward to as I figured I'd get way more room to run. It would also change my goals for the race: instead of trying to finish in the top 750 combined, I'd have to finish in the first 450 of the Invitational. I'd aim for that, not that I had a clue what kind of time it would take.
As the "scratch" group moved into the holding pen, then to the start, I got the feeling looking around that things would be... more competitive this year. There were some fast looking people in my group, and I had only just squeaked into the Invitational.
And then we started. Within a few seconds, my goal dropped from staying in the invitational to not being the last guy out of Mill Valley! These fools were flying down the street, and I was huffing and puffing to keep up. On reaching the 671 stairs out of town, I had a clear path to the top, unlike last year. So no more taking it easy and blaming it on the traffic, I had to haul ass up that crucible. Within a couple of minutes, I found myself catching some of the other runners, both from my group and from others who had head starts on me. Perhaps I wouldn't finish DFL after all.
Feeling like an old pro at this now -- I ran the single, double and quad Dipseas last year -- I flew down Windy Gap towards the trails. Wearing trail shoes that seemed ideally suited for this shorter, not-rocky but at times technical course, I managed my descent down Suicide much better than last year, although I still got passed. On reaching the bottom, I started the climb up out of the valley, mixing in a bit of walking on the steep stuff.
Things got interesting on the long, exposed trail named Hogsback, as I again opted for the parallel track north of the main thoroughfare. But unlike last year, I did not rejoin the rest of the pack when entering the wooded area, instead continuing on, remembering that the trail would merge again further down the race. As I entered the forest, the main trail disappeared from view, and I suddenly found myself all alone in the silence! In a race like the Dipsea, this is pretty crazy. I tried not to lose my nerve and cut through the woods, or worse, turn back, and I was helped along by catching glimpses of the others every couple of minutes. Finally, my trail did indeed merge with the main one, much to my relief. Also to my benefit: though my detour was slightly longer, it had been free of traffic and also cooler.
Now this is where things start getting jumbled in my mind. As the pack begins to bunch up as the race nears its finish, there's less and less time to relax. Instead, it takes all your concentration not to crash into other runners, and to push yourself to go faster. After all, since the handicapping levels the playing field, a difference of a minute in your finishing time can make a huge difference in your final result.
One guy got an elbow in his face, just in front of me. He was not happy. I reflected briefly on what it must feel like to get a big head start, only to be passed by hundreds of people later. All in all, I think I prefer catching everyone from behind, even if it feels like you're rushing to make a train for 7.4 miles.
I managed not fall going down The Swoop (which would have resulted in a trampling, too), and I was pushing hard climbing Insult Hill. Now that my trail running has gravitated towards the longer distances, I found I had lots in the tank near the end of this race, and I tried to make the most of it. By this point, I was constantly passing people, and when I turned into the final straightaway, I fell into a (flailing) all-out sprint, which netted me one final victim, then almost a collision as some guy had just completely stopped in the chute.
According to the preliminary results, I finished 300-something, good enough for an invite next year, but not good enough to beat, among others, that seven year old girl (-3:06), a 71 year old man (-14:14) or a host of other runners. Less than four minutes separate me from spot #451, which shows how tight a race this is. Finally, I improved my time from last year by seven minutes -- which based on my training level is probably all due to being outside of the crowded Open Division.
Depending on personal circumstances, I am definitely back next year. And even though I decided to skip it this year, I'm now day-dreaming about the Double Dipsea, which is coming up quite soon!