Nothing marks the beginning of the ulra season for me like
the Way Too Cool 50K. If you live in another part of the country, I’m sure you
have a similar race – the one where you finally see all your ultrarunning
friends again after the hiatus of winter and its accompanying holiday binging. Cool
is a big race – approximately 700 runners – and although I typically prefer
fewer people, in this case that’s one of the draws. The excitement generated by
seeing so many friends is a great way to start the year.
Jenelle and I carpooled down the hill together, and soon we
were gathered in the start area with Jamie, Clare, Amy, and several hundred of
our closest friends. Truthfully though, standing with those ladies before the
gun was a great feeling. They are all fast, badass chicks who I know can push
me to have a good race. Plus, they’re all super fun to run with!
My legs were still in pretty rough shape after
Napa, and I
could feel the soreness in my quads just walking around. I had run only easy, recovery
miles in the previous six days, so taking off at 8-minute pace was a bit of a
rude awakening for my legs. I knew I had put forth a truly hard effort at Napa
and wasn’t nearly recovered, so my expectations for Cool were wide open. It
would be nice to go under five hours and run a similar time to last year’s
4:56, but I also knew something like 5:30 might be in the cards. I was still
pretty stoked about my new marathon PR and happy to accept whatever race I
could muster at Cool.
I ran the first few miles with Jamie. That’s not typical for some reason, and it was a really nice way to feel relaxed about the fact that it was a
race with a lot of fast people. Clare and Amy were just in front of us, and
Jenelle, possessing the most leg speed of the group, took off out of sight.
Jamie and I got caught up on life together before I eventually moved ahead on a
downhill and kept my eyes glued to the back of Clare’s pink shirt in an attempt
to stick with her.
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| Please do not mock my running form. My PT would laugh at this picture. But what the heck - I'm having a blast! |
After about two miles, runners merge from the road onto
singletrack. The landscape is marked by open, grassy hills dotted with broad,
ancient oaks. We were still running in a long line of people both ahead and
behind, but I felt the pace was right for me; I didn’t feel crowded or trapped. Shortly
before the first aid station at mile eight I ducked into the bushes in a move
that was to become a theme of this race for me, although this time it was just
for a quick pee. This allowed a solid gap to open up between Clare and me, but
I knew she was close and I worked on regaining my place.
After exiting the aid station, which is at the start/finish
at the fire station, runners hit a nice, downhill singletrack heading toward
the highway 49 crossing. I was flying down this technical section when I
suddenly realized I really needed a bathroom. Like, NOW.
Have you ever run down the trail while squeezing your butt
cheeks together in a desperate attempt not to soil yourself? Well, yeah, so
have I. But doing it in a race, while trying to run fast? That’s a whole other
level of challenge. Holy-moly, I thought I might die! I knew there was an
outhouse at highway 49, so I just tried to hold myself together until then.
Sadly, I had to slow my pace for this effort, but certain things are more
important than being fast, you know?
Of course, the most horrific of nightmares ensued when I
arrived at the Quarry Road trailhead outhouse at highway 49 and it was
occupied. Gagh! Nevermind – I knew there was another port-a-potty about a
quarter mile down the trail. No problem. I was sure I could make it.
Until I got there and it, too, was occupied.
I let the occupant in on my state with a bit of a door shake
and a solid scream of frustration. I’m certain he appreciated that.
But wait for him to leave? It was a race! I was too freaked
out by my own quandary, and my brain apparently had shut down because I made
the huge mistake of running on down the trail, bathroom unused.
This section of the course, on Quarry Road, is quite wide
open. No bushes. No trees. Just river to the left, and steep slope up to the
right. No place with even a shred of privacy to do my business.
It only took a half mile before I knew that not stopping to
wait for the outhouse had been a fatal error. I began to imagine the scenario
if I crapped my pants. I can’t even write this without laughing hysterically,
but at the time, I was near tears. It was sure to mean a DNF and an
annihilation of my dignity.
Miraculously, I could see Clare and Jenelle ahead now, and I
tried to focus on closing the distance. If I could just get my mind on
something else, maybe the lack-of-bathroom situation wouldn’t seem so dire!
Slowly, in my squeezing-the-butt-cheeks-shuffle, I came up behind them.
Just when I was close enough to say hello, I spied some
picnic benches about a hundred yards off the trail. Could there be an outhouse
near those benches??? It was hidden by a slight bend in the trail, but I was
sure there must be. I sprinted off course to investigate. Hallelujah! I’m saved!
I must have spent at least five minutes in that outhouse.
Maybe more. I could not have cared less about all the runners who, I knew, at
that very moment, were flying by on the trail. I had found an empty outhouse
and some toilet paper, and that was really all that mattered in life.
Seriously. The race was over. I had won!
When I finally got back on the trail I wore a triumphant
smile, but inside somewhere, I knew my body had not yet had its final say.
What’re you gonna’ do though? I just kept running.
Turning up the American River Canyon Trail, we traveled my
favorite miles of the course. Beautiful singletrack follows creek and
waterfall, eventually connecting with the Western States Trail. Past the ALT
aid station runners are treated to miles of smooth, runnable, and just slightly
downhill singletrack. Heaven.
If it hadn’t been for my intestinal rumblings, that is.
One advantage of being familiar with the course was that I
knew at this point there was no hope of a bathroom until the finish. I also
knew the options for ducking into the bushes weren’t going to get much better.
It required a sketchy scramble down a steep ravine to find any privacy, but,
once again, what’re you gonna’ do? I was only worried that I might lose my
balance and go tumbling down the hill through gobs of poison oak with my shorts around my ankles. Things could be worse than just a little upset stomach,
right?
I had to make one final dash to the bushes to finally put an
end to the drama. After each stop, I worked hard to catch back up to the same
people. There’s the guy with the argyle
arm warmers, the girl with the braids and green headband, the girl with the
Urban Cow shirt. Every time. Same people. Was I even getting anywhere in
this race?
Once I realized I had control over my bowels for good
though, my attitude shot way up. Did I care that I had lost at least ten
minutes to digestive issues? Nope. I really didn’t. I felt great, and I was no
longer worried about finishing the race with diarrhea legs. (It’s the little
things, you know?)
I was all smiles up Goat Hill, happily greeted Norm and
Helen at the aid station, and had a blast pushing my pace to see if there was
any possibility of catching up with any of the girls. I knew everyone had to be
well in front of me at this point, but I figured I had nothing to lose by running
hard the last eight miles.
I knew the last aid station was 1.4 miles from the finish,
and I’d been keeping a close eye on the watch. I came through at 4:46, giving
me 14 minutes to go sub-five – exactly 10 minute pace. Normally that would seem
pretty doable at the end of a 50K, but I was also aware that those 1.4 were nearly
all uphill miles. I ran straight through the aid station, knowing it would take
a little effort to make it in under five hours.
I crossed the line in 4:59, ecstatic to see Jamie and Clare
cheering me across the line. Jenelle and Amy had already gone to clean up. We'd
all finished under five hours!
It may seem strange to feel good about a race where I
had so many problems, but I can’t help feeling proud of myself. Given the
post-Napa state of my legs, and the fact that I lost at least ten minutes to
emergency bathroom breaks, I can hardly believe I was only
three minutes slower than last year. The stakes were not high for me at Way Too
Cool, and I figure if I was going to have a race with such issues, this was a
good time to have it.
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| Recovery beverages and frog cupcakes in the lounge. |
Afterwards, Jenelle, Jamie and I kicked back in the
Patagonia “Recovery Lounge.” Oh yeah – Patagonia knows how to recover in style, with plenty of sofas and a keg. It was a perfect place to enjoy our frog cupcakes! Jenelle and
I entertained ourselves when we found a copy of the latest Ultrarunning
Magazine and searched out all our names on various top-100 lists for the year.
I already knew that I train with some hardcore ladies, but I’m glad to see the
rest of the ultrarunning world knows it, too.
Thanks and congratulations to RD Julie and everyone who worked
hard to put on this fabulous event. It makes a perfect start to the season, and seems to get better every year!
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| Jamie and I had also planned to ski the day after the race, because who doesn't what to follow up back-to-back race weekends with a little tele skiing for recovery? We'd been picturing spring corn and t-shirt weather, and this is what we got. It was awesome anyway! | |
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