Date: Thu, 04 Dec 1997 13:57:33 +0000 From: Doug White Subject: Quad Dipsea 1997 Quadruple Dipsea ( http://reality.sgi.com/stanj/results/qd97 ) Saturday, November 29, 1997 If running up out of Mill Valley, over the open crest of Mt. Tamalpais Ridge, and then down the Steep Ravine into Stinson Beach isn't enough for you, then I've got just the ticket. Why not do it, oh, let's say, four times. That's how I spent my Saturday after Thanksgiving. Courtesy of John Medinger and the Bay Area Ultrarunners, the 1997 Quadruple Dipsea was held Saturday, November 29th. I was there. Now then, this is a race that inspires the truly masochistic, for it traverses the infamous 7.1 mile Dipsea Trail four times. That's right, and over it's course of 28.4 miles it climbs a full 9,200 feet, and, of course, descends 9,200 feet. YIKES! Gayla Johnson and I had entered the race; we were stoked. My wife, Susan and Tom Kaisersatt had been kind enough to come along to provide support. Early Saturday morning, the four of us drove up to Mill valley together and met up with other Striders that suffered from a similar lapse of good judgement. It turned out that Noel Relyea and Pat Koren had entered the race too, and they were on station, ready to roll. We arrived in Mill Valley an hour early for the start. Unfortunately, I soon came to the harsh realization that this early arrival was really just in the nick of time... for men, that is. To my dismay, the usual ritual of waiting in line for a bathroom was to be much more than I had bargained for. With only one stall in the men's room, I was in line a full half hour before I got relief. And, as if inspired by poetic justice, every woman who walked by took a moment to chuckle and remind us that this is what they go through all the time. The women's line was non-existent... figures. The race started promptly at 8:00 AM. Although the weather was cloudy and gray, it was actually perfect for running. With temperatures in the upper 50s and a light mist in the air, it was actually quite nice. The only wind we encountered was high on the ridge, and the dense redwood forest of Muir Woods just wouldn't be the same under other conditions. It rained only a short while during the race, but don't let this fact fool you. As a result of the heavy rains on the days preceding the race, the theme for the day was decidedly wet. Yes, we were all about to be treated to a genuine "slog-fest." The terrain was muddy beyond description; and as a result, every root and rock in the trail provided more risk of slip that trip. Oh well, having "turkey loaded" to the maximum extent humanly possible only two days prior, I was ready for anything. And we were off... The first mental obstacle you encounter on this course is the "stairway from hell." In three flights, totaling 676 stairs, the course climbs straight up out of Mill Valley. The good news is that, with the mass start, the crowd of people kept the pace down to a brisk walk up those stairs. Although frustrating to the adrenaline crazed runner, this was a blessing in disguise. Later in the race, the quadriceps of even the most ambitious runner would be thankful for the slow start. After ascending this first monster of a hill, the trail descends into Muir Woods parking lot. From there the course begins the 2.4 mile climb up to the Mt. Tam Ridge. On this segment, the trail is steep, rutted, and unrelenting. It culminates at the top of "Cardiac Hill" where, mercifully, you finally get a break. However, the relatively level section of rough singletrack that follows is short lived, and you quickly begin a radical plunge down the Steep Ravine into the Stinson Beach area. Every rumor you may have heard about this stretch of trail is true, and then some. It is steep and traitorous. The wooden steps which permit passage of a dirt trail of this extreme angle seemed to be spaced at the most impossibly irregular and inconvenient intervals imaginable. Going up or down, they are no fun at all. But the scenery is exquisite, and we were on a mission. Sick though it may be, I love that stuff! Reaching the bottom of this precipitous descent, the trail fiendishly begins another steep climb out of the woods, and onto the rolling coastal zone just above the beach. This little demon of a climb is appropriately called, "Insult Hill." From the top of this hill, the Dipsea trail continues across the gentle coastal dunes and descends into the town of Stinson Beach, the turnaround point. At the aid station, I was greeted by the cheerful faces of volunteers and my crew, Susan and Tom. I wasted no time as I stuffed potatoes and Ultrafuel into my face. Turning one last time to my crew, I smiled and said, "Now that's a very long 7 miles. See you on the other side." Once back on the trail, it was over the rolling dunes, up the Steep Ravine, down Cardiac, up and out of Muir Woods, and then down those pesky stairs. Then you turn around to go back to the beach, then back to Mill Valley. I felt like I had a little voice telling me, "and you're going to this until you get it right!" Very spooky. And so the day passed, back and forth along this beautiful, yet devilish trail. I had noticed that most runners were fairly light-hearted during the first traverse. At that time, most people looked up as they passed each other and offered words of encouragement and "high fives" to all. However, that mood was soon to change. For after a couple more doses of the Dipsea Trail, most folks seemed to have lost their cheerful disposition, if not their sense of humor, entirely. Most were striding, eyes cast to the ground, with the determination of the possessed. That good old "relentless forward motion" axiom kicked in, and runners pushed to finish the ordeal. It was a very memorable scene. I, myself, went the last leg on guts alone. By the time I reached the infamous steps for the last time, my quads were too stressed to even think of running. Not even downhill! I happily crossed the finish line six hours, one minute, and 30 seconds after I started. Then, covered from head to toe with mud, I wasted no time in proceeded to the car to change into dry clothes and eat a turkey sandwich. All was right with the world... Doug White December 2, 1997 mailto:edwhite@earthlink.net