From: Missy Date: Wed, 9 May 2001 06:28:06 -0700 (PDT) Subject: Mi'Wok-o-rama (LONG and possibly incoherent!) Well, I'll give it a shot to paint a picture of our California ultra experience - though parts of the race are pretty blurred - particularly those that I hit during the heat of the day. This is the third time the Sherpa (a.k.a. Karen C.) and I have bunked before an ultra - our packing habits claim both ends of a bell-shaped distribution leaving us in perfect balance. I blindly pack the minimum, assuming nothing unusual will happen; and Karen, who ain't called Sherpa for nothing, meticulously packs the maximum, accounting for any unforeseeable event. This leaves me with a free hand to help carry stuff and if I need anything Sherpa's got it! In contrast to our packing diversity, both of us were completely organized and ready to go the night before. This left us with plenty of time to eat, dress and chill after our early-morning wake up call before heading out pre-dawn to Rodeo Beach - followed by speedster Slug in his stud mobile. We parked our cool, gold-metallic truck (bizarre upgrade from the Geo Metro we had on reserve - not nearly as "chic" as Slug's totally decked-out sports car a la spoiler - hmmm, Slug:sportscar = oxymoron?) and all three of us made our way to the check-in line . . . Stan J. from the infamous www.run100s.com marked us off and wished us well. We followed the herd to the start line on the beach and waited patiently for race instructions and the start . . . And then, we we're off . . . ugh, across dry, loose sand. Shoot! I should have known better having grown up on a beach, as I enviously glanced at the folks running on the packed, wet sand below the tide mark. They probably didn't get any sand in their shoes and were moving swifter with ease than those of us trapped above the water line. Thank goodness that part only lasted a few minutes! Unfortunately, being in the slower pack right before being funneled onto single-track, meant being placed far back in the pack . . . this was probably a good thing since it forced me to take that first climb slowly - I've been going out way too fast in the last couple of races. After what seemed like an endless single-file trek - sorta like the first part of Escarpment - but in reality was probably less than a half mile, we got dumped onto a paved road. First, I stopped and poured (yes, poured) the sand out of my shoes. Wow, I hadn't finished a mile yet and I already had my shoes off! Then, after putting my shoes back on, I slowly worked my way up the road. This checked off the first 1,000 feet of climb in just the first two miles - I paused to savor a glimpse of the Golden Gate Bridge in the early morning light - and then proceeded to run all the way back down to the first aid station . . . nice little warm up! After topping off my two bottles of Clip with water, I headed back up and then down another 1,000 feet; but this time on trail. You could start to catch sight of the lowland wildflowers amidst the chaparral -lots of Indian Paintbrush, purple and black sage and what looked to be miniature statice poked the colorful heads out from between the creosote and sagebrush which cover much of the coastal hillsides. The sun was already beating down and I could hear a voice say "Western States heat training, Western States heat training . . .", over and over again. I decided to leave my shirt at my first drop bag at the next aid station. There, the volunteers took my bottles from me and filled them up with any dilution of electrolyte drink I requested . . . they were all awesome - like having your own crew! The course continued to lead us on a mix of paved road, fire road and many different types of trail including Karen's nice and shady "Jurassic Park", which was a glorious wetlands filled with columbine, yarrow, queen anne's lace, datura and a variety of iris. Some flowers I couldn't place - probably should have asked at the aid station tucked in the middle of it all. One was particularly beautiful, resembling oversized, blue baby's breath . . . still can't figure out what it was and will never forget those soft, blue wisps. We only got a brief respite from the heat before heading back out on exposed grassland and the heavenly odor of sagebrush. We then set out to tackle the first of the monster climbs (~1800 ft/5 miles). A few hundred feet shy of the top was the next drop bag aid station, Pan Toll. Ahhhhh, Pan Toll, the sight of flush toilets and sinks with running water . . . something that would save me on the return from the out and back! After replenishing fluids, I was led through a parking lot to a trailhead that led you onto a path that weaved its way through a fantastic woodland. It started out winding through manzanita groves (which has the most amazing burgundy-colored wood) before entering a shaded area filled with ferns and pine. The latter, being a welcome change during the heat of the day. Particularly, since it came just prior to an extended, runnable part of the course. I hadn't really eaten much until this point - nothing was striking my fancy on the tables; although, the aid stations were extremely well-stocked. I realized that what I craved wasn't there. I desperately wanted/needed (whatever) a dry turkey sandwich on Wonder-type bread. They only had PB & J, which I tried - but eventually ended up donating back to the land. I decided to stick to some chips here and there and began rationing my personal supply of sour gummi worms (my secret weapon). I hoped that'd be enough to get me through the 100K. Now, I'm a little sketchy about things at this point; but I think this is where the poppy-filled savannah came into play. What I remember without fail were the BEES. Ah, what a combo, my new flowered mesh hat, sugar-covered skin (from having dumped Gatorade over my head to cool down), flowers everywhere, and an allergy to bee stings and YES, you guessed it - no epi-pen! This kept me moving fast and furiously through this section. Here the trail sloped laterally towards a steep grade. Not a problem for me on the OUT, but incredibly difficult for me on the BACK. Just a few hundred feet more of elevation gain/loss and I headed out on the looooooong descent to the turn around at Olema. The course profile didn't do this section justice . . . what looked to be a gradual downhill, descending ~500 feet over eight miles was instead a series of rolling hills with grades steep enough to necessitate walking for me. However, I was quite pleased to be running a bit of a downhill when I passed by the leaders (who were all running the ups on their return from Olema) - Chad R., Scott J., Ann T., Tom N. and my friend Scott E. (who ran a fantastic time!). I exchanged hellos and good lucks with Tom and Scott and yelled that I'd see them after dark. At this time, I assumed I'd be arriving at the finish well after nightfall. I love these out/back courses where you get to see everyone and exchange greetings! How else could I ever catch a glimpse of Ann T. in action. She is truly phenomenal - just gliding along effortlessly . . . As you begin the final descent in to Olema, you leave the shady woods and enter a section that extended just over a mile through cow pasture, fully exposed to the blazing sun. I ran out of fluids. . .two bottles simply was not enough to get through this section. At the turnaround, I loaded up with a 1:2 dilution of electrolyte drink - decided my stomach was still too touchy for food or Clip, slammed a few gummi worms and started the endless trip back through the pasture and through the rolling terrain back into the woods. I got to see the Starnes, Kelly F, Slugrunner himself, Karen and Jim F. on this section and all seemed to be doing great, filled with smiles and enjoying the course . . . Then, the savannah came back into view. In reality, I barely remember the tall grasslands on the way out - except for the bees and how runnable it seemed. Now I was thinking it only felt so runnable due to the bees keeping me in high gear. The lateral slope of the trail, now made running uncomfortable and every flower was a dangerous distraction from the trail. Any slip here would result in rather a lengthy fall - check out the website for pictures of this cliff-like coastal trail. What had seemed like a walk in the park on the way out, was now a treacherous run due to the combination of the heat and uneven trail. Although much of this section was fairly flat, I ended up walking most of it. A couple of women, whom I had passed earlier on, caught me in this section. I asked them to just give a holler when they wanted to pass - the trail was so narrow you had to step up (not down!) into sloped, tall grass to allow someone to pass. They said they wouldn't pass until it was less dangerous and steep. That was a relief to hear, I realized that it wasn't just me dying in the burning sun on the exposed ridgeline. The high temperatures were definitely draining me and making me think things were tougher than they actually were. All-in-all this was probably a good thing, since it slowed me down and got me to conserve some energy for later. The trail constantly teased me by tracing a path around any potential shade trees and all I could think about was making it back to the woods I could see off in the distance - oh, and then I remembered those sinks with running water. I couldn't wait to fill my bottles and dump the water all over me so that I could cool down a bit . . . I still had about twenty miles to go to the finish, no time for bonking now! Apparently there was another aid station in here somewhere; but I can't even recall it . . . all I wanted was that running water. When the parking lot eventually came into view - I broke in to a sprint and darted across the road. I headed for the first open door in view, dumped my bottles and then filled them with water. I stepped outside and them both over my head. A shock to the system to be sure - but a welcome one! I remembered that this meant there was only a half-marathon to go . . . no problem now that I reduced my core temperature a bit! I felt totally re-energized with the "cold" shower and literally booked through Pan Toll, grabbed a handful of Fritos and stuffed another wad of sour gummi worms in my mouth. I left my hand-held bottle in my drop bag and boogied on out of there. Good to Go! I'm really curious if I actually did pick up the pace here or if it was a figment of my imagination . . . hopefully they'll post this years splits on the website. At this point came the down of that first monster uphill . . . this is what I wanted - downhill quad-buster training for Western - time to enjoy it! Everything felt fine, we were now running into a coastal breeze, it was later in the afternoon and temps were noticeably dropping. Running downhill felt fine . . .just two more aid stations to check in to and then a sprint for the finish. From what I could remember those last two "hills" were nothing . . . Hah! The joke was definitely on me . . . after checking into the Highway 1 aid station, the volunteer who filled my bottle gave me some unsolicited advice and cautioned me to just focus on the mileage remaining and not to worry about the climb. Climb, what climb? Why was he cautioning me at all? As far as I could tell, I seemed to be toying with a sub-12 hour time - 2 less than I had predicted for myself. I was jazzed to be getting in before dark. Hah, again! As I rounded a corner and saw a steeper, longer climb than our own Bare Mountain . . . brutal! Coastal hills in California are twice the height of any Happy Valley Mountain - sad, there goes that sub-12 hour finish. I was forced to hike with a vengeance. I started passing folks on the climb . . . muttering under my breath the whole way - hills, huh, yeah, right - wishing I hadn't left my second bottle behind. Next, I ran out of my sour gummi worms and wondered how long it was going to take me to do the measly 3.1 miles to the Tennessee Valley aid station where I could restock my worm supply. When the station came into sight, I saw Stan J. He filled my bottle with straight Gatorade and said the same thing as the volunteer at the last aid station, to just focus on the few remaining miles (<4) and don't think about the climb. Climb, climb, climb, climb, climb! Ugh, another climb . . . now, with the lack of food (yup, I forgot to pick up those worms) in my system starting to take its toll, my legs were a bit shaky on the up . . . a good 2 miles of up were straight ahead of me. I was forced to shift-down into four-wheel drive mode (thanks Steve P.) and just stare at the ground (Thanks Mike M.) and concentrate on getting up that grade. I actually caught up to a woman and her pacer here and managed to pass them. Immediately after I did, the woman said "NO" rather loudly and her pacer commented to me, as they literally flew by me, that sometimes you just want these things to end. This woman turned out to be Suzanne Brana - I can see why she's won so many ultras - that was digging pretty deep to start flying back up that hill . . . When I finally crested the "hill", I realized I could still make a sub-13 and with plenty of daylight to spare. In the distance, I could see other folks cruising down the last grade on road, then stairs to the final straight-away into the finishers tent. I started to run and didn't stop until I high-fived the RD. I grabbed a Cinco de Mayo Margarita, a beautiful hand-made finishers medal and some Mi'Wok Trail Ale . . . took an ice-cold shower, prayed that I wouldn't have any poison oak/ivy and sat down to some fine feasting on veggie burgers and sausage . . . What, Mi'Wok - heck yeah! According to the RD, Tropical John, this is one of the best Western States trainers around . . . there's tons of gain/loss for downhill training, over 90 degrees for heat training and the aid stations are fairly spread out - and yeah, you gotta learn how to walk! mmh