Lake Tahoe Marathon: The Brief Recap

I'm not sure when, or if, I'll have time for the full blown LTM race report, so in case I never get around to it, here's the short and sweet version.

Sean and me at the finish (photo by Steve Yingling/TDT)

First, here's a link to the Tahoe Daily Tribune article, which they managed to get posted about 3 hours after I crossed the finishline. (Impressive!) You can read the exact same article at the Sierra Sun, but they give me the headline instead of Sean. Funny!


I'll tell most of the story via highlights. Let's get the negative over with first.

The Lows:

• Arriving at the start with a swollen and sore throat, still feeling sick (although slightly better) after several days of illness.
• Hearing Peter's tale of Super-Triple race cancellation.
• The last three miles where I really, really didn't feel like running anymore.

Okay, that's it, now on to the "Hi's"

• Catching a ride to the event with Reno legend Lynyrd Skynrod. (I mean, how lucky can a girl get, right?)
• Seeing numerous friends at both the start and finish, including Peter, Turi, Sean, and Bryon, plus all the new friends I made out on the course.
• Getting my own "pace car" (read: guy on a bike) while in the lead for the second half of the race .
• Running along the shores of Lake Tahoe.
• Winning, and taking home $500 for the effort. (Plus, I totally cemented the truth of my theory on shirtless chicks, right?)
• Slicing over a half hour off my best time for the course.
• Cheering on, and getting cheered by, so many awesome runners and walkers.
  
• Swimming in Lake Tahoe.
• Chilling with friends on the beach after the race on probably the last "summer-like" day of the year.
• Lynyrd suggesting that he, Sean and I all pool our winnings and put it on "black" at the roulette table. (I about died laughing!)
• Just getting to run after taking the whole week off due to illness.
• The unending flood of well wishes after the race from people I didn't even know.
  

If you think it sounds like another beautiful, amazing Tahoe day, you're right!

I keep thinking about all the myriad of things I could say about this race, and it's just overwhelming to think about. This was the first race I ran in the Tahoe area, back in 2001, after having lived in Truckee for just a year. I won the Triple back in 2003 as my second ultra, and afterward swore I'd never run another road race again. (78 miles of pavement is no bueno! It was also 3 years before I ran another ultra.) My time on day 3 of the Triple, 4:12 I think, was still my course PR until this past race, despite having run "just the marathon" (or the "J.V event" as Sean called it) on two other occasions. My only real motivation for running it this year was the realization that I am supposed to be training for a road 50M and I haven't set foot on pavement in 4 months of running.

Even though it wasn't my goal, and I recognize that it is rather slow for a winning time, (last year's winner ran 3:05) there's still a certain amount of symbolism in winning what is essentially my home town marathon. Pretty nice.

I fell down on my picture taking duties on this one, but I noticed Peter and his crew taking plenty, so keep an eye on RunLakeTahoe for his race report. Turi also has a nice report up already with pictures.

Thanks to Les for another great race, and the fleet of volunteers. I'd like to give a special shout out to the kids at the Hogwarts themed aid station at mile 23. I felt way too awful to show them the enthusiasm that I really wanted to, but they were definitely my favorites. I believe getting handed a cup of water from the chosen one himself was key to my victory. Thanks Harry!

Squaw Valley Mountain Run

The first day of August this summer marked a traditional running event here in Tahoe: The Squaw Valley Mountain Run. Runners begin at 6,200’ at the base of the mountain, and climb 2,000’ over the 3.6 mile course to finish at High Camp. I had never participated before, having always been out of shape, or out of town, or maybe just out of sorts. But this year, it finally sounded like the perfect way to begin a long run in the backcountry.

I found my friend Betsy in among the 500 or so starters, and we stood comfortably back from the starting line. I didn’t know what to expect of myself from a 3.6 mile race. It just seemed so…what’s the word I’m looking for here? Short.

We headed off up the hill, and I quickly settled into what seemed like a sustainable pace. I’m so used to walking the uphills in a race; it seemed weird to plan on running the entire distance.

I spotted Caitlin Smith leading the women’s race, but there were so many people between us at that point, that I had no way of judging what place I was in.

The course heads up a ski run called The Mountain Run. (I know. Weird, right?) It’s the exact same course I ran this winter at the Billy Dutton Uphill, except without all that cold, white stuff. More famously, it also shares its first three miles with the Western States course. It’s the easiest ski down from the top, and in the summer it’s a maintenance road. It doesn’t feel like the most scenic route for a run, considering the possibilities in this setting, but with so many runners out there it was a good thing we didn’t have to crowd onto a singletrack trail.

I could see two women not far ahead, and I had a vague inclination to try catching them over the next two miles. I worked my way up slowly through the crowd, but somehow neither of the women seemed to get any closer.

Before long, I hit the three mile mark and could see the finish at High Camp. I had been playing leap frog with a local woman named Julie, and I figured if I couldn’t catch the two women who still seemed so tangibly close, I could at least make sure I finished in front of Julie. I was happy to see that I crossed the line in just under 40 minutes.

Finishline area at High Camp

Post race activities included comparing notes with a crowd of local friends.

“That was hard!” Betsy declared.

We all agreed.

“I mean, that was harder than running 100 miles, that’s for sure!”

No one agreed. (This, from a woman whose favorite races are Hardrock and Wasatch!)

I had a chance to briefly meet women’s winner Caitlin Smith. Not surprisingly, she is as kind and friendly as she is talented. I was surprised to learn that I had finished 4th among women. Races this short are not exactly my specialty, but I had forgotten one other important aspect of the SVMR: It’s all uphill, and I am definitely a hill climber. I’m thinking I may have to seek out more of these one-way, uphill races in the future.

I had planned on finishing the day off with a longish run. I figured since I was already most of the way up to the crest, I may as well reap the benefits of all the hard work. I tried to rally some companions but couldn’t get any takers. Betsy and Paul were running repeats up the Mountain Run, which sounded decidedly “yuck!” to me. (I guess those kinds of workouts are what separate the truly hardcore from the rest of us.) The other ultrarunners in the crowd had work or family obligations. Everyone else didn’t even bother with a verbal response to my suggestion of another 17 miles; they just rolled their eyes with that familiar look that clearly says, “You’re crazy.”

I wasn’t disappointed though. It had been a long time since I’d spent a day on the trails by myself. I strapped on my hydration pack, and set off on the Western States trail with no real plan for the rest of the day.

Looking down on High Camp from the top

If I’d been thinking ahead, I realized that I could run north on the PCT, drop off Anderson Ridge at Tinkers Knob, run down through Coldstream Canyon, and get to within a mile of my own front door on dirt trail. Unfortunately, my car would still be parked at Squaw. I could have easily carpooled to the race with people from my own neighborhood, but I hadn’t even thought about it. Next year!

Marking the summit of Emigrant Pass, the Watson Monument was built in 1931.

Down the Western States Trail

Squaw Peak

After a couple miles, I hit the junction with the PCT. I considered continuing down the WS trail, but the PCT is always so alluring to me. We have a long and storied history together, and when I’m on it, I somehow feel connected to every thru-hiker strung out along its 2,600 mile expanse. I couldn’t resist its siren song, and I quickly hung a left and high-tailed it towards Mexico.

Wildflowers along the PCT

It was a beautiful run, in spite of the heat. The flowers were still in full swing on that side of the ridge. Eventually the thunderheads rolled in to cool things off and create beautiful shadows across the landscape. After enough relaxing miles to make it 20 for the day, I turned around and headed back to the mountain.

Auburn Trails 50K

I’ll begin this report with the obligatory apology regarding the lack of pictures. I’d left my camera at a friend’s, and didn’t discover until race morning that my husband’s camera apparently doesn’t fit into the pocket on my water bottle. So, once again, no pictures. Sorry. (Personally, I think reports with no pictures are often kind of boring, so if you choose to stop reading here, I won’t blame you. Go ahead.)

As part of my training plan for the TRT 50M in July, I chose two races in June: the Auburn Trails 50K, and the Burton Creek Trail Marathon. Both of these races were to be included as part of high-mileage training weeks. However, by the time Thursday rolled around last week, I realized that I had only run 18 miles (and wouldn’t have time for much more on Friday). How did this happen? I demanded of my self. I have no clue! came the exasperated response. Even I, a notoriously lazy and low-mileage ultrarunner, wouldn’t really call 50-55 for the week “high mileage.” (Although it would only take another 10-15 miles for the moniker to fit, in my world.)

I decided my best plan to make up for my slothful efforts would be to run hard at Auburn Trails. I was essentially well-rested, and mentally ready to push myself at something. It was a good time for a race.

I arrived at Auburn’s Overlook Park on a cool and cloudy Saturday morning with about 70 other runners. Everyone seems to be complaining about the lack of heat-training this spring, but I have been perfectly happy with the unseasonably cool temps. I don’t need heat-training for TRT!

I hesitated at my car, indecisive over my attire for the day. The forecast had said chance of rain, but it didn’t really look like it would do much more than drizzle, and it felt quite warm compared to Truckee. I briefly contemplated running in just my shorts and sports bra, but finally opted for the addition of a short-sleeved shirt. These decisions should not be made lightly you know! There were multiple reasons for my “shirt-on” choice, but, sadly, this was the most prominent:

When I see a woman toeing the line, clad in little more than shorts and a sports bra, she looks fast and I assume she will be the winner. I didn’t want anyone making those kinds of assumptions about me. Who needs that pressure!

Okay, I know this is probably just a stereotype that I have, but I swear it’s true! Let’s look at the evidence from my racing schedule so far this year:

AR 50—Well, I wasn’t near the start when the gun went off, but according to photos, all the top women were decked out in singlets covered in sponsor logos. Okay, score one against my theory.

Billy Dutton—Um, it was too cold to go sleeveless!

Diablo Marathon—Prudence: Sports bra, 1st place. Score one for my theory!

Escape From Prison Hill Half—The top two women (Elizabeth Lyles and Shannon Rahlves) both wore sports bras. Can this count as two more points for my theory?

Rock N’ River Marathon—Elizabeth Lyles: Sports bra, 1st place.

So anyway, I guess you can see where I get this idea that shirtless chicks run fast.

Gathering at the start, I saw a few familiar faces. I spotted Joe Palubeski, and scanned the crowd for the rest of Sunsweet’s “Team Red Bluff,” but they were conspicuously absent. In fact, I noticed that the vast majority of the runners were men. Where were all the women?

I positioned myself slightly back from the front line, and was soon joined by Peter Lubbers. He hadn’t been feeling well all week, and consequently he was holding back enough that I got to run the first few miles with him.

The course headed downhill for the first four and a half miles to No Hands Bridge. After crossing the bridge, we did two laps on the Olmstead Loop, beginning with a steep hill known as “K2.”

By the first hill climb, Peter had moved ahead, and I found myself running with a runner from Davis named Mark. We passed the time sharing training and racing tales until we hit Norm and Helen Klein’s aid station, about half way through the loop.

I was feeling relaxed and enjoying the weather. The wildflowers seemed abundant for this late in the year, and I wondered if that was due to the cool, wet conditions we had been experiencing.

The tallest grasses had already turned to dry wheat, but there was a new growth of green underneath. They whispered softly under the wind’s caress, rolling waves across a golden, green sea. I was running alone now, and filled with the peaceful escape of time on the trail.

At the Cool aid station, I was told that I was in second place for the women. As I headed back toward No Hands, I wondered how far ahead first place was. Approaching the aid station, there is a very short out-and-back section. I was disappointed that I didn’t see the first place woman on this section. I figured that meant she was at least five minutes ahead of me, and possibly quite a bit more.

The day was warming up a bit (although temps would top out at about 71) and I decided to leave my shirt at No Hands. At the aid station, I sucked down about my 8th GU of the day. For some reason, I ate way more Gu’s than usual for a 50K, and little else.

Hiking up K2 for the second time, I realized I needed to let go of the idea of catching first place. She could be miles ahead for all I knew.

After the hill, I was bounding pleasantly down the trail, when I remembered my pledge to run this race hard. Was I running hard? I asked myself. I only had about 13 miles to go, I figured. If this was a road marathon with only 13 miles to go, how hard would I be running? Certainly harder than this! I picked up the pace.

Somehow, making the analogy to a road marathon changed my perspective on the race. The course had a few hills, but most of it was pretty fast and runnable. It was here that I realized this axiom: Most 50K’s are more akin to a marathon than to an ultra. The flip side of this idea is that some marathons (like, um, Diablo!) have more in common with most ultras than with other marathons.

Anyway, the point is, with 13 miles to go, I finally started running at race pace.

At the next aid station, Norm asked if I wanted a tattoo. Having no clue what he was talking about, I said, “Sure.” He proceeded to whip out a sharpie and write his name on my thigh. As I stood there and laughed, he added to the artwork with hearts and arrows and such. The best part was Helen standing there rolling her eyes at him.

“Oh God,” she chided. “He thinks he’s such a big shot!”

I know Norm has a bit of a reputation as a grump, but he cracks me up. He has also done me some kindnesses over the years, and I think he’s great, in spite of the fact that he never remembers my name.

He sent me off with instructions not to bathe for a week. (I promise, Norm. I haven’t washed it off!)

I was running hard now, and both my heart rate and breathing had increased noticeably. The downhills were smooth, and I felt awesome.

After a short while, I approached a pair of runners ahead of me. I was shocked when I realized that it was Peter and the first woman, who turned out to be Lainie Callahan-Mattoon. I had totally given up on catching her, and now suddenly here she was.

I gave a few friendly words and ran right on by them. I felt a little rude not slowing to chat, but I had a great pace going and I didn’t want to break my momentum. As I headed down the trail, Peter called out behind me, “Watch out for Lainie! She has the afterburners!”

I contemplated the fact that I was now leading the women’s race, and I felt kind of nervous about it. It’s not unusual for me to compete for a top five spot in a race, but when was the last time I had worked for first place? I’d won the Burton Creek 20 miler last year, but I’d led the entire thing from start to finish and never once saw any of my competition. This was way more nerve-racking.

I tried to focus on just holding the same, steady pace, but the entire time I was wondering if Lainie would catch me. As I ran into the Cool aid station, I could hear people cheering for her behind me, so I knew she was still close.

I didn’t waste any time at the aid station, and as I ran out, I looked back and still couldn’t see her on her way in.

It was mostly downhill to No Hands, which isn’t really my strength in running. I figured if I could hold her off until I crossed the river, I could probably hammer the last 4.5 uphill to the Overlook and hold my ground.

I moved through the aid station with a mission, and I think the volunteers could see it in my eyes. As soon as I approached, they jumped up and moved fast to get me out of there quickly. They did a great job!

As I ran up the hill on the other side of No Hands, I glanced back at the deserted trail behind me. For some reason, I was surprised to be still in the lead.

I had recalled this section of trail to be fairly steep, but as it turned out, it was quite a runnable uphill. I stayed focused, and enjoyed the feeling of really pushing myself.

Near the top, I passed Roger Laesure, and he called out to my retreating form, “Oh, you’re killing me, Pippi Longstocking!” I had to laugh. Do the pigtails keep me from looking like a serious runner or something?

As I crossed the line, the ever-smiling Jeff Barbier was there to cheer me on and congratulate me! Hooray, I had support! Hmm, it felt just like AR 50, finishing in this same park.

Robert Matthis immediately handed me a certificate for a pair of Innov-8 shoes, and I was stoked. RD’s take note here—please give useful prizes like this instead of plaques! It doesn’t even have to be as fancy as a pair of shoes, (although that is pretty darn cool). It should just be useful, you know, like socks, or insulated coffee mugs, or whatever!

I had a wedding reception to attend in the evening, but I still had enough time for a little socializing. I sat around in the sun with Joe, Peter, Roger, Greg Bomhoff, and a few of the other men and enjoyed Linda’s freshly grilled hamburger and a Coke. Such a nice way to end the day.

I was a little disappointed with my finishing time of 5:44, until I found out that the course was nearly 3 miles longer than 50K. Last year’s course started from the fire station in Cool, and ran about three and a half loops on the same stretch of trail. This year, we started at the overlook, ran down to No Hands, and then did only two loops before running back up to the overlook. I didn’t ask Robert why he changed the course, but I suspect it had something to do with the novelty of getting to run across historic No Hands Bridge twice, plus the scenic aspects of that stretch of the Western States trail. It also made for a cool race logo. I have to say, I think I like this course better, in spite of the extra miles (or perhaps because of them).

I felt tired, and it was a good feeling. I was happy with my day.

I’m pretty sure I can attribute my win to one of two things (or perhaps the combination of both). It was either A.) running with no shirt for the second half of the race (score another point for my theory!) or B.) Norm Klein’s tattoo. We’ll never know which one was the deciding factor, but sometimes Norm works an aid station at TRT, and I definitely plan on asking him for a tattoo on race day.

Thanks to Robert, Linda and their team of volunteers for another professional event!


To make up for my lack of photos, here is some footage from the wedding reception later that evening. It was a cowboy themed party, thus the mechanical bull. If you can’t tell in the video, I was having a hell of a good time.