Return to Diablo

Week number three in my “race every weekend in April” extravaganza brought me back to that hot, hellish, yet beautiful mountain known as Diablo. In thinking about why this race has gotten so popular, (both the marathon and 50 miler sold out this year) I concluded that it must be the challenging course, beautiful scenery and strong sense of camaraderie present at this race. Whatever the reason, it seems to draw a good percentage of the ultra-runners in Northern California (and beyond!) When I scanned the list of entrants a week before the race, I was excited to see many familiar names. I think it was the pleasure of these friendships, and new ones made on the trail, that made this year at Diablo special.

The weekend began when Prudence and I piled in my trusty Forester and headed down the hill from Tahoe on Saturday morning. Even in Truckee it was hot, and I had to change into shorts to be comfortable for the drive. This did not bode well for the next day’s temperatures at Diablo! We planned to stay at a hostel in Marin—still a bit of a drive from the starting line, but beautiful, affordable, and with an abundance of trails on which to spend Saturday afternoon.

On the drive down we planned the future of trail running in Tahoe. (Ask Prudence about her future RD duties!) We got pretty excited about ideas for some upcoming adventures, and soon enough we were in Marin, where it was about 20 degrees cooler.

As planned, our late afternoon run on the Coastal Trail through the Marin Headlands was a perfect answer to the stiffness of the long drive. I made the mistake of letting Prudence take the lead, and was reminded of one of the things that makes her such a wicked fast runner: she’s a killer on the downhills! Even though she was taking it easy, I still couldn’t keep up with her down those hills. Fortunately for me the terrain was rolling, and I enjoyed a fun game of pushing the uphills to close the gap that would inevitably re-open on the next downhill. We spent the rest of the afternoon stretching out, and cooking dinner in the vast kitchen of the hostel.

The first challenge of the weekend came at 5:00 am Sunday morning when we discovered that someone had parked their car and blocked us into the parking lot. We freaked, naturally. We had no way to get back into the hostel, nor any knowledge of whose car it was even if we could. Desperate, I finally set off a car alarm. That awoke a rather grumpy hosteller, who grudgingly stumbled out into the dark to move his car. We had no sympathy for him, but we were relieved nonetheless. We were running late, but we knew we would make it. Disaster averted!

We eventually parked the car at the Mitchell Canyon trailhead at 6:40. We had both been hoping to arrive by 6:15, not only to keep things feeling relaxed, but also to socialize with friends we might not get to see once the race started. Instead, we found ourselves rushing to check-in and get to the start on time.

As the crowed of runners headed toward the start, I heard someone call my name. I was excited to see Leslie, and to finally meet Keith.

“Your race report from Diablo last year is what convinced me to come this year!” Keith declared.

“Oh God!” I was slightly mortified. “You actually read that comedy of errors?” We laughed and enjoyed a shared enthusiasm for the potential of the day ahead.


Leslie and Keith

The race began, and we set off up the hill into the light of the rising sun. The trail turned to single track and the colorful ribbon of runners wrapped smoothly up and around the lush hillside. The air was still comfortable, but a warm breeze whispered of the torrid day to come.

Early miles of uphill single-track (photo courtesy of Sean Stephenson)

We had to limit ourselves to the pace of the runners ahead, and I was content with this. We ran some of the hill, but walked much of the steeper sections. I felt like I was moving at the right pace, and enjoyed the company of other runners. As I pulled out my camera for a photo, I noticed not only the runner in front of me doing the same, but several runners ahead Rick Gaston was also going for the photo-op. I couldn’t resist the urge to heckle such a display of paparazzi! (I hope you know it was just me teasing, Rick!)

During the week preceding this race, I had been learning to play “Boulevard of Broken Dreams” on the guitar. I’m here to tell you that nothing gets a song stuck in your head like learning to play it on the guitar. Even with an easy song such as this, by the time I have it dialed, I’ve played it so many times that I don’t ever want to hear it again. Even worse—with this particular song I don’t know the words all that well, thus I found myself plodding up the slopes singing in my head, “I walk a lonely road, the only one that I have ever known. Don’t know where it goes, but it’s only me and I walk alone.” Then all I can recall after that is the part that goes, “I walk alone I walk alone, I walk alone I walk alone.” Sort of an inauspicious refrain to loop through one’s brain on a long, hot trail run. Fortunately, it did not turn out to be an omen of any sort.

We moved off the single track and on to the dirt road, and this allowed a pleasant amount of socializing as runners variously passed one another and grouped up. I ran a bit with Scott from Sacramento, who was running his first trail marathon, and exchanged speculations with others about whether today would be as hot as last year’s race.

I heard my name posed as a question, as a tall runner came up beside me. It was a familiar face, but one that I had yet to meet in person.

“Donald!” I declared in delight, as he smiled his affirmation. I have been an admirer of Donald’s blog for some time now, and it was one of the bigger disappointments of my rushed morning that I had been forced to cross “find Donald and say hi” off my pre-race checklist. This serendipitous trail meeting however, more than made up for it. I resisted the urge to greet him with a hug on the run, visualizing the trip-and-crash into the dirt that it would inevitably cause. (I thought that might leave a bad first impression.) We shared a few minutes running together, exchanging training and racing tales, before his faster pace moved him ahead up the hill.

Donald and Rick--still fresh and full of smiles! (photo courtesy of Sean Stephenson)


About this time I met a couple from Calgary, running the 50 mile event.

“So,” I hesitated, “This is going to sound kind of dumb. I mean, I don’t really think that everyone in Canada knows each other or anything, but do you guys know Leslie?”

“Oh yeah! She only lives about 45 minutes away.” came the response. (Whew, they didn’t think I was stupid for asking!) “Anyway,” the woman went on, “I think wherever Leslie goes, she immediately gets to know everyone within a 5 mile radius.” And we all proceeded to espouse the various brilliant aspects of Leslie—her friendliness, adventurous spirit, awesome blog, etc. Yeah, we think she’s pretty darn cool.

By this time, people had sorted themselves into their various positions and paces on the trail, and I found that I was still running with the guy who had been in front of me the entire way up the initial single-track. This guy turned out to be Sean Stephenson, and we would share our entire day at Diablo together. I walked plenty, yes, but I did not walk alone.


The buffet at Juniper (photo courtesy of Sean Stepehnson)


After the first aid station at Juniper Campground, I found a faucet under which to soak my head. It was heaven! I made use of this technique numerous times throughout the day to keep cool.


Donald makes his way down from the summit as I head up.


I hit the summit feeling good, and on the way back down all the nearby runners were full of enthusiasm.

Trip #1 to the top!


“Wow, everyone’s mood just skyrocketed!” one runner observed.

Kiera, from Laguna Nigel, was running the 50, and I think she alone contributed about 80 percent of the surrounding energy. She was so positive and friendly! That kind of thing is just contagious, and we all enjoyed picking our way down the trail together.

After the 50 milers made their turn off, it was just Sean and me again. We took a lot of time for pictures and exchanging tidbits of our lives. This was Sean’s second trail marathon (his first was this same race last year) and he was considering making the foray into the world of ultras. I assured him that this race was probably harder than most 50K’s out there.


Views, flowers and endless down hills.


Sean had spent time as a teacher in the Ukraine, and we exchanged philosophies on education until a missing trail marker forced us to focus on more immediate issues. Several other folks were running in circles at this junction, unsure of where to go, when finally someone who knew the course well arrived and led us forward with a very confident, “It’s this way!” We obediently chased after him, a pack of lemmings down the precipice.


"Ooh, ooh! It went this way! Follow me!"


Somewhere on the approach to Rock City the pack of three lead men came by in the opposite direction. Shortly thereafter, Prudence came bouncing up the trail looking strong. We cheered her briefly, then made bets about whether she’d take the overall win. I certainly didn’t bet against her!

We blew through the Rock City aid station without stopping since we knew we’d be back there in a mile and a half. We made the turn around for the marathon runners, and refueled back at the aid station. I was still feeling good, which was fortunate since we were about to start the long climb to the summit for the second time that day. By this time Sean and I had reached an unspoken agreement to run together, and this fact dawned on me when I automatically checked for his presence before departing the aid station. Water? Check! GU? Check! Sean? Check! And we were off!

Last year I finished the marathon in about 6:30 and Sean had finished in about 6:20. We were both hoping for about a 6 hour finish this year, and I began to check my watch to see if we would be close. I told him I thought we would need a minimum of 90 minutes for that last 8 miles from the summit to the finish line. As soon as I said it, I realized that I was almost certainly underestimating the time it would take. (I was.)

The day sizzled on, and we kept a steady hike up the sun-drenched slopes. The intermittent shade provided little respite, as it was packed with swarms of gnats that were only too happy to fly into any bodily orifice available. Yuck! Still, it was great to have someone with whom to share a laugh over the irony.

Upon reaching the summit for the second time, my spirit soared, but my stomach wasn’t quite as happy. The idea of forcing down any more GU’s was just unpleasant, but I persisted in sucking them down in spite of the fact that the only flavor available was chocolate. Ugh! I purposefully slammed a quantity of water and coke at the aid station, knowing that 8 miles in this heat was a long way to go with only two small water bottles. Almost as an afterthought, I popped two salt caps, and I’m quite certain that was the key to improving the state of my stomach. Twenty minutes later it felt 100% better.


Trip # 2 to the top


I recalled this last stretch of the race as being by far the worst. I guess that’s true with any marathon, but Diablo reserves a special hell for those who hit the wall. It’s 8 miles of technical downhill, with just a bit of uphill thrown in for fun. After a day full of pounding the quads, we had to negotiate some downhill switchbacks so steep and loose that we were forced into a treacherous and careful walk. I had checked my watch at the summit and saw that we had only 85 minutes left if we wanted to finish in 6 hours. I knew it was a lost cause, and I happily forgot about looking at my watch from that point on. We would run what we would run.

At some point it became clear that Sean was falling behind, and I kept pausing to make sure I could hear his footsteps in the distance. I forced some clif blox on him, and inquired about his water supply. He said he still had a little, but I didn't totally believe him. His footsteps became more and more distant, and eventually I couldn’t hear him at all. Suddenly, in this barren heat, I felt quite alone. “I walk alone, I walk alone…(Ah-ah, ah-ah, ah-ahaa…)” I contemplated my choices. I knew Sean wouldn’t begrudge me the need to finish at whatever pace was comfortable for me. However, I’d already had a brilliant workout, and a beautiful, fun day, and much of that was due to the shared experience of having a running partner. It just didn’t seem worth giving that up in order to finish 10-20 minutes faster. When I reached the creek at the bottom, I decided to take my time soaking my head in the icy water and make my way to the finish with Sean.

It's worth noting that this kind of thing generally goes against my nature. I love running with others, but when it comes to racing, I'm a competitor. I can't help it. I like setting goals and pushing myself to achieve them. I suppose since I already felt at peace with the fact that I certainly wasn't going to run 6 hours that day, it was easier that I would have thought to let go of the competitive mindset.





We meandered down the trail, which had now become smoother and less technical, and I have to admit, it was somewhat refreshing not to be in a hurry. We startled a small flock of wild turkeys, (which was very startling to me!) and tried to catch a snapshot of a coyote as it loped across the grass. I wondered if this was the same coyote that I had spotted at this point in the trail last year. I felt like he had come out just to say hello.

A loquacious turky bolts into the bushes.


Somewhere close behind, Sean called out, “You are really wonderful!” I smiled, and knew I had made the right call in not blazing down to the finishline solo. I challenge you to find anyone who doesn’t absolutely light up when told, quite sincerely—especially at the end of a long, difficult trail run—that she is wonderful.



We were all smiles as we crossed the finish line, and per usual, I immediately donned my flip flops and headed to the food table. I got the recap from Prudence on her race: She finished fifth overall and first female, in spite of some frustrations with getting lost numerous times. The three of us sat with our feet soaking in the creek and happily sucked down pizza and coke, as runners continued to finish.

Although this was only my second Diablo, I think this race has earned a special place in my heart. Maybe it’s a bit of one of those twisted, love-hate relationships—the kind where you keep returning to the boyfriend who has treated you badly at times, but you can’t help it because there are also so many wonderful things about him, and you've shared so many poignant experiences. Last year’s race was an epic adventure for me. This year was equally tough and even more rewarding, but in a much different way. I accomplished a few big things, namely finishing a tough course. I also managed not to get lost (unlike last year) and had a more social day on the trails than I can recall in recent years. I happily left my ipod in my pocket all day.

Prudence and I prepare to head home after a long day.


Thanks to everyone out there who made this day so awesome: the volunteers, Sarah and Wendell, and most especially to all the awesome runners sharing the trail with their upbeat attitudes!

Billy Dutton Uphill

Last Sunday, I finally took part in a local event I've always wanted to do: The Billy Dutton Uphill. The race celebrates the life of Billy Dutton, who used to hike to the top of the mountain every day before work during his days at the Squaw Valley Resort. Athletes are invited to ski, run, snowshoe, or, as the event declares, just "run what 'ya brung!" in your attempt to climb 2000' to High Camp.




Runners Gather at the Start


Squaw Patrollers run in memory of fellow patroller Andrew Entin



Ascending the initial slope


I had a blast doing this race, and I have to admit, the 3.2 miles were harder than I'd expected. I opted for running shoes with YakTrax on. These "chains for shoes" make running over ice and hard-packed snow a breeze. Conditions were firm, and snow shoes were definitely not necessary.

The runners and skiers seemed fairly evenly divided, and I wondered which would prove the quickest up the hill. The director signaled the start, and we headed up the Mountain Run (the easiest way down from the top). My heart rate soared, and I was immediately reduced to a walk. When the incline relaxed a bit, I was able to run again, and thus began my slow slog to the summit: run-walk-run-walk.

Runner Peter Fain leads the skiers up the hill


The day was gorgeous, and I was appreciating this unconventional time on the slopes before the hordes of downhill skiers would invade. Conditions were perfect for running! A mere 51 minutes later, I was at the top.

It turned out that the first two finishers were skiers, with Peter right behind them. The last stretch is downhill, so a runner would have to have a good lead to avoid being caught by a pursuing skier at the finish. Full results can be found here.

My friend Ben and his band provided live music on the deck, while people sipped beer, relaxed in the sun and gazed out at the stunning view. Just another day in Paradise.


Skiers gain the advantage on the slight downhill into the finish


The view from the top--well worth the climb!



The tram ride back to the bottom


Check back tomorrow for my report on a much different race: this weekend's adventure at Diablo!

American River 50 Mile Endurance Run

Before embarking upon my race report for the wonderful American River 50, I must apologize for my lack of a report on Rucky Chucky. I can see that if my blogging is going to keep pace with my race schedule, I will have to reform my slacker ways. I don’t hold out much hope, but I’ll do my best.

So a brief recap of Rucky Chucky: I went into the day with very little running in the previous 6 weeks. I knew if I had any hope of finishing AR50, I would need to get through this race without much trouble. Fortunately, that’s exactly the way it went! I shared a cool, and slightly rainy, day with some familiar faces and new friends, including Peter, Catherine and Dave. I took it fairly easy, enjoying the scenery and the dirt trail, and finished in 6:25: 2nd woman. I was a “go” for AR50!

By now, my husband is fairly used to my running antics, but even he balked at the fact that I wanted to set the alarm for 2:15 am for this race.

“That’s not early, that’s just later tonight!” He declared, with one of those “I don’t understand you at all!” looks on his face. I just shrugged my agreement.

I was in the car by 2:50, coffee in hand, for the drive to Auburn. After getting slightly stressed out by the freeway closure and subsequent detour, I arrived in Auburn on time for the 4:15 bus to the starting line.

I had the fortune to nab a seat between the familiar faces of Scott Dunlap and Catherine Sullivan, and we spent the early morning hour catching up. It made the normally anxious waiting go by quickly.

Unfortunately the bus left quite late, and we arrived at the start at about 5:40 for the 6:00 race. I still had to check in, and the line at the outhouse was predictably long. I had to forgo pre-taping my feet, and rushed through my pre-race duties just a bit frantically. Finally, I tossed my finish line bag into the appropriate trailer and dashed toward the start. I was still a few hundred yards away when I heard the race start, but no matter, it would be a long day.

I moved my way steadily through the crowd in the dark. With 650 runners, it made for a tight start on the bike path—unusual for an ultra! I saw the leaders headed back, and soon I was at the 1 mile turn-around and heading towards Auburn.

The sun came up, and suddenly Scott appeared from behind. I thought I had seen him going the wrong way at the start! Apparently he decided last-minute that gloves would be an appropriate asset for the morning. I couldn’t disagree, since I was a bit chilled in my tank top and shorts, but being from Truckee, I was more concerned about the heat later in the day. Anyway, I think the gloves were just an excuse for Scott. Coming from the back, he had a chance to chat with everyone in the race. What a nice guy! He jogged along with me for a few minutes before moving on to socialize with faster runners.

Me--pigging out at the aid station! (photo courtesy of Catherine)



Eventually I caught up to Catherine, and we ran together for a little bit. Our walking breaks weren’t matching up though (nor were our bathroom breaks!) and it seemed like most of the time I could see her 50 yards ahead, but we weren’t really running together. I considered skipping a walking break to catch her, but I knew I would pay for it later. I was just about to catch her again when I saw her veer off toward an outhouse. Nooooo! Oh well. I wouldn’t see her again until the finish line.

The day was looking beautiful, and these early miles were easy. My watch said I was probably running a bit faster than I should be, close to 9 hour pace, but I knew the trail section of the course would be slower. I stuck to the dirt shoulder of the bike path as much as possible, and the miles flew by.

The view from Beal's Point

Soon we were at Beal’s Point, and switching to mostly trail. I kept company with my ipod for a little while and soaked in the scenery. I just don’t understand people who don’t like this race. There is a lot of trail, though most of it is non-technical and not too hilly, and the setting can’t be beat. Even in 2006 when it was rainy and muddy, I had a blast! This year, the flowers were beautiful, and the green hillsides a nice change from the dirty, melting snow in Truckee.

In ’06 I struggled between Granite Bay and Rattlesnake Bar (~miles 31-40). This year I felt strong through this section, and this was where I began passing people. I was loving the trail and the weather, and could tell that I wasn’t going to blow up. I chatted with a few folks as I moved through, and I am disappointed that I can’t remember anyone’s name. I can’t figure out how bloggers like Scott can remember so many people’s names, hometowns, times, etc.!

By the time I reached Buzzard’s Cove, the day was warming up. Although the aid station was advertised as water-only, the first thing they offered me upon entering was an ice cream cone. I questioned the wisdom of that much dairy at mile 35.

“Twietmeyer took one!” came the testimonial from the ice cream man.

“Okay, you sold me,” I reached out to grab the proffered cone, and the ice cream man laughed. I laughed myself, when around the next bend I found myself posing mid-lick for the official race photographer.

After passing through Rattlesnake Bar, I knew that I only had ten miles to go. This section of trail was mostly gentle, and quite scenic. I stayed with my comfortable pace, thinking I might be able to finish in 9:30—about the same as in ’06! I could tell that I was pushing things a bit, but that I would finish feeling fine. I was more concerned about how this race was going to affect the Diablo Marathon in 2 weeks. Wait! Don’t start worrying about the next race before this one is even done!

Approaching Last Gasp, I found myself walking the steep stretch of dirt hill. After the aid station, the trail gives way to pavement and the slope relaxes quite a bit. I was able to run most of this section. After a few minutes, a woman whom I had passed just before the aid station, came up behind me. She had a pacer, and was moving well. Since I was running, not walking, I didn’t feel too bad about being passed, especially since I had just passed her a few minutes before. Still, I thought she looked familiar. Could this be the same woman who had passed me in the last 10 miles of TRT last year? Well, I had certainly been delirious at mile 90, so who knew what that woman really looked like, but I recalled her age, and this woman didn’t look old enough. I convinced myself it wasn’t her.

Once the hill was over, I knew I was basically ‘there’ and ran in to the finish line. I had to flash the announcer a big smile as he declared my pigtails ‘beautiful!” Braids are the best way to keep my hair from becoming a snarled mess during a long run, but if someone wants to think they’re beautiful, hey, that’s cool by me!

Crossing the line, I was gifted my beautiful finisher’s jacket. I finally requested the right size this year, and I LOVE this jacket. Seriously, I don’t think I’ve taken it off since Saturday.

I scrubbed poison oak from my legs, and stretched out in the sun with a cheeseburger, coke and ice cream. Yum! I caught up with a few other runners, including Jeff Barbier, Jenny Capel and Catherine, and scanned through the results while I waited for my massage.

And then I saw her name. It WAS her! Yes, the same woman who had passed me near the end of TRT had just finished right in front of me. Dang! Well, it was a good thing I didn’t know, since I wasn’t supposed to be getting competitive today!

I finished with a course PR of 9:22, which made me satisfied. I don’t know my place among women, but I was 11th in my age group. Not bad really, for such a competitive race.

Catherine and I sport our awesome finisher's jackets!

All in all, it was an excellent kick-off to my spring break! Thanks to Julie and everyone who helped to pull off this wonderful event!

I think my “race-your-way-into-shape” training plan is going fine. I was extremely sore after both Rucky Chucky and AR50, but I am feeling good today.

See you all at Diablo?

At Last, a Race Schedule

I know it’s standard practice to plan out the race schedule for the year in December, or at the latest, January. The planning, the dreaming…it’s all supposed to be part of the pleasure of the off-season. Well, if you haven’t figured it out by now, I’m the world’s worst procrastinator.

I had one great race already in February, but was still having trouble getting excited about the rest of my running plans for the year. One thing I did decide over the winter was that I do not plan on doing a hundred-miler this year. TRT was epic, and it was a great experience. However, it so dominated my every thought for the year, that when it was over, I didn’t have much running left in me. I was tired of training, and I didn’t know how to run without training for a race. So, this year a 100 miler is conspicuously absent from my schedule. (Don’t worry; they’re on the long term calendar.) You will notice instead, a number of shorter, local trail races that I think will be pretty fun, and will hopefully keep me motivated throughout the summer. My themes this year are “keep it local” (that’s standard for me—I can’t really afford to add travel expenses to all my race fees, plus there are so many great local races, why go somewhere else?) and “keep it fun.”

Today it is so beautiful, that I have moved the kitchen table and a chair out to the deck, and am currently typing this in short sleeves and sunshine. I didn’t bother hauling the deck furniture out of the basement since we are supposed to get a foot of snow tomorrow night, but for now, it truly does feel like the first day of spring! As such, I am feeling pretty excited about my race schedule. So without further ado, my 2009 race schedule:

Rucky Chucky 50K –March 21

This 50K is run on the Western States Trail near Foresthill. It should be a beautiful day, although there’s a chance of rain. The truth is, I am woefully out of shape after an illness following Surf City, and then a lot of “skiing instead of running” type of workouts. The two reasons I didn’t cross this one off my schedule are, number one: I am dying to get some dirt under my feet, and two: If I can’t finish this, then I’ll never be able to finish AR50 in two weeks.

American River 50 –April 4

This was my first 50 miler back in 2006. I like the course, and there will be a lot of runners. I had originally been hoping for a fast time when I signed up, but now I’m just hoping not to be a lot slower than my 2006 time of 9:28. How well I survive, and recover from, Rucky Chucky, will give me a good indication of how this race should go.

Billy Dutton Uphill –April 12

This is billed as the original “run what ‘ya brung” race. Athletes ascend 2000’ in 3.2 miles from the base of KT to High Camp at Squaw. You can use skate skis, striding skis, or snow shoes. This is sort of the winter equivalent of the Squaw Mountain Run. I will need to find some snow shoes to borrow for this. There is no way I am going to try skating it when I haven’t had my skate skis on all winter. Should be interesting, since I don’t really snow shoe.

Diablo Marathon –April 18

One of these years I will run the full 50 at Diablo. Since I am doing AR 50 just two weeks before, I decided to forgo it for the marathon again this year. Plus, after getting lost on this course last year, I need some redemption. I had also considered The River City Marathon for this day, but it’s a road race and, as stated earlier, I am just dying to get some dirt under my feet. Diablo was super fun last year, and I have no doubt that Sarah and Wendell will give us another great day!

Escape From Prison Hill Half Marathon –April 25

I have run this race for the last three years. I love the course! Typically I don’t race it because I go out for some additional training miles afterward. If I feel good, I’d like to race it this year. We’ll see.

Reno Rock ‘N River Marathon –May 3

This is a road race in Reno. I haven’t decided if I’m doing the half or the full marathon yet. I’ve never run it before, but I hear good things about it from people who ran it last year.

Silver State 50/50 –May 16

I have run this one for the last two years, and I like it. It’s a tough course, and it’s very close. That being said, I’m not totally committed to running it this year. If I do, I’ll probably go for the 50K option.

Auburn Trail 50K –June 6

Another event in the Ultrarunner.net race series. I had a great time at this one last year, and look forward to returning.

Burton Creek Trail Marathon –June 28

Last year I won the first Burton Creek Trail Run, so I feel a little pressure about returning to this one. They changed the distance this year from a 20 mile run to a full marathon. Hey, I guess I don’t have to worry about losing my course record! It was a beautiful course, and hopefully this event will get bigger every year.

Tahoe Rim Trail 50M –July 19

What can I say, I love this race. Scenic, challenging, and the best aid stations and volunteers imaginable! I suspect I’ll be back to the 100 eventually, but for this year, I think the 50M will be plenty.

Squaw Mountain Run –August 1

This classic Tahoe event is 3.6 miles to the top of Squaw. It has a pretty big field—over 500 runners, and it’s the first race in the Tahoe Mountain Trail Run Series. (Can you call it a series if there are only two races?) I can’t believe I’ve lived in Tahoe for over 8 years and have never run this race. This is my year! I’ll trash talk myself all day about how bad I suck at running downhill, but I have to confess, I consider myself a pretty decent hill climber. This will be my chance to prove it.

Northstar Nirvana Mountain Trail Run –August 15

This 10K trail run at Northstar Ski Resort is the second race in the Tahoe Mountain Series. I’m hoping this is a good one with big turnout. I am excited to run some short trail races!

Lake of the Sky 50K –Sept 12

This is a beautiful 50K on the Tahoe Rim Trail starting in Tahoe City. Part of the Ultrarunner.net series, it’s a beautiful and challenging course. (Notice that theme here in Tahoe?)

Emerald Bay Trail Run –Sept 20

Another short one (12K). It is also another new race for me.

Helen Klein 50M –October 31

This is a flat, fast 50 mile course. If I manage to avoid burnout by this point in the season, I really think I can run under 8 hours here. I somehow have this idea that if I can go sub-8, it will make me “fast.” Where do we get these strange definitions and standards that we like to apply to ourselves?

Run the River marathon –November 14

After running 3:28 in February, I decided that I should try to break my 10-year-old marathon PR of 3:26 this year. This is my only road marathon at low altitude, so this will be my chance. I love the American River Parkway, so it should be a nice course, and certainly a good chance to go fast.

Well, writing it all out there like that makes it look pretty ambitious. I have to remember that a lot of those races are fairly short, and some are really short. My biggest goals are to run 10:30 or faster at TRT, sub-8 at Helen Klein, and PR at Run the River marathon. That puts all my goals pretty late in the season, which is ideal. It also takes a lot of pressure off of Rucky Chucky and AR50, neither of which I am really prepared for.

I also feel the conspicuous absence of any triathlons. I really wanted to do the Olympic distance at Donner Lake this year, but unfortunately it is scheduled for the same weekend as TRT. I love that triathlon! I am considering a few of the local off-road tri’s in the area put on by Big Blue, as well as some of their adventure races. I’ll add them to my schedule in the sidebar as I decide.

Livin' the Local Lingo

Gus, Cap and I take a break on the way up to Castle Peak

This past week was a holiday that we in the mountains refer to as “ski-skate week.” It’s basically a week-long President’s Day holiday. I don’t really know where the 'skate' part comes in, but the slopes definitely get a little more crowded during this week. I was planning to use the extra time to boost my running miles, paint my living room, and get a few more chapters on to my book. Ah well, things never seem to work out exactly as planned for me.

Since living in Tahoe, I have become what one might refer to as a “powder snob.” In other words, if it’s not a powder day, I’ve got other things to do besides ski. Well, this winter there have not been many powder days that also coincided with my days off. This week, that all changed. Winter made a brilliant comeback with a series of storms that resulted in almost a week's worth of fresh powder. Running was happily put on hold while I got in six powder days in a row. I still haven’t quite wiped the grin off my face.

So, in celebration of the return of my inner ski-bum, I thought I’d share a little tutorial in the on-the-hill lingo you might get from skiers and boarders. As with many sports, one who is not part of the scene can often have trouble interpreting some of the basics. In the same way that your office buddies scratch their heads when you talk of tempo runs and fartleks, so too will the uninitiated skier find his eyes glaze over when the kids spew about getting first chair, schralping it, and sick freshies.

So, next time you’re in Tahoe, keep the following words and phrases handy, and you’ll be welcomed as a local.

bra n. a good buddy; friend; similar to “bro”

as in:
ski bum: “Hey Bra! What up?”
ski bum’s buddy: “Not much, bra!”

backcountry n. any area not within the boundaries of a ski resort

as in:
Shane: “You going backcountry today bra?”
Chris: “Nah, the avy danger is sketch out there man, we’re keepin’ in inbounds today.”

corn n. snow that develops after several days of a melt/freeze cycle; requiring cold nights and warm days, it usually forms in the spring; characterized by small pebbles or kernels of snow, it is fun and easy to ski; also known as “hero snow”

as in

Becky: “Where did you guys ski today?”

Gretchen: “We totally farmed the south face of Castle Peak. The corn was deep, and it was so warm, I was skiing in my tank top!”

Becky: “Sweet!”

face shot n. snow that flies up in your face as you are skiing powder; usually the result of deep and/or very light pow; face shots are a huge bragging right.

as in:

Andrea: “The pow was waist deep today!”

Gretchen: “No kidding! I got face shots all day!”

first chair n. the first chair that gets loaded on the ski lift. If you get first chair, you get fresh tracks. If you get on one of the first 5 chairs, you can legitimately claim that you got first chair

as in:
Gretchen: “I got first chair 5 days this week!”

Andrew: “Sick!”

freshies n. (usually plural) untracked powder

as in:

Brian: "I got some sick freshies this morning!"

Liz: (whining) "I had to work this morning! By the time I got there everything was tracked out!"

gaper n. someone from out of town whose not really down with the scene; frequently spotted skiing in jeans and using straight skis

as in:

Frank: “I thought I might go night skiing at Boreal tonight.”

Jason: “Seriously? You’re going to be hanging with all the gapers!

huck vb. to throw, launch or fly (usually one’s self) off a hit or cliff

as in:

Larry: “Did you check out Meghan in the park today?”

Andrew: “Yeah man, that girl can seriously huck her meat!”

pow n. powder

as in:

Andrew: “Sick pow today, eh bra?”

Courtney: “The sickest!”

schralping vb. (to schralp) skiing hard, with reckless abandon; frequently done in the pow

as in:

Steve: “You get out there today?”

Cicely: “Dude, I was schralping it!”

Andrew skins up Andesite Peak in the Tahoe backcountry

The Surf City Marathon

Back in November, when I chose the Surf City marathon as my “comeback race” (i.e. - something to get me motivated to run again) it looked attractive for a few reasons. Among these were the chance to visit family in Orange County, get away to somewhere warm in the midst of a snowy winter, and run a flat course at sea-level. All of these enticements came together to create a beautiful running vacation for me last weekend.

My training back in November started out well. I had a handful of excellent speed sessions on the track, in spite of a long illness that kept my mileage low. As soon as the snow fell in early December though, covering the melee of pot-holes, goose poop and mud puddles that Truckee High calls a track, my speed-work went to hell. I still managed the occasional fartlek and/or tempo run on days that the roads were ice-free, but they never had the quality of an interval session. My weekly mileage was moderate at best, hovering between 30-35. The one bright spot was that a few of my long runs were done down in Sacramento along the river, and I was able to keep about an 8 minute pace for those.

I decided to take an actual taper for this race because…well, because it was a good excuse to take some days off I guess. Which begs the question: how much does it help to taper when you were training like a slacker in the first place?

With all these factors, I wasn’t really sure what kind of shape I was in. Some things had gone well, but I had some major holes in my training. Upon signing up for the race, participants were asked for their projected finishing time. I had put 3:40 without giving it much thought. In the days before the race, I found myself feeling that my 3:40 prediction had been a bit arrogant. Wasn’t it? My PR, run nearly 11 years ago, was 3:26. Did I really think I could come within 14 minutes of my PR?

My sister had signed up for the 5K, and my mom had volunteered to drive us, making it a girls’ day at the beach. We left the house at 5:20 for the 6:50 am marathon start. Mom and Laura dropped me off at the finish line in the pre-dawn fog, and headed off in search of the 5K start.

I couldn’t recall the last time I’d actually warmed up and stretched for a race. I headed off along the bike path paralleling the sand for a mile or so, and was thrilled that I felt so excited about running. The first rays of light gave the ocean a serene glow, and the empty beach was beautiful. I spotted a few bathrooms that were far enough away that there were no lines, and they were miraculously unlocked. That was a definite score, and I made use of them several times before heading to drop my gear bag off and jog to the start.

The start area was cordoned off into two sections: those who expected to finish in under four hours, and those who would take longer. It was honor-system, and I had no compunction about heading to the under-four-hour section. Standing around with the other racers, I heard a woman talking about an expected finish time of 3:15 or 3:20. Then I noticed the guy standing in front of me was wearing the official 3:10 Pacer’s singlet. Hmm…maybe I was in the wrong place? I started to get a little nervous, but it was too crowded behind me to move back. Well, I thought, I’ll just be sure not to let the crowd take me out too fast.

They cranked up the official song over the loudspeakers, of course, “Surf City” by the Beach Boys. With that, we were off down Pacific Coast Highway. “Surf City, here we come!” (I'm pretty sure it wasn't "two to one," but whatever. Boys can dream.)

The morning was cool and foggy, but I felt perfectly comfortable in shorts and a tank top. My sunglasses stayed perched atop my head for the first 8 miles before the fog cleared to reveal a perfect, blue-bird day.

I had planned to run no faster than 8:20 pace for the first 10 miles, then try to pick it up from there if I felt good. Thus, I had to let streams of faster people go ahead in the first two miles or so. It took all the common sense I could muster, plus a lot of fear about crashing and burning later, to let them all go. Two girls passed me wearing red running skirts, matching red sports bras, red and white polka dot visors, and pigtails with red and white curly ribbons in their hair. The kicker? They carried red pom-poms. I thought about how much Claire would want me to kick these girls’ butts. I took a deep breath and calmly let them go. I was not going to let a couple of cheerleaders ruin my pace.

During the first couple miles we ran past the starting area for the 5K. I managed to spot Laura and my mom cheering as I ran by, while they waited for her race to begin.

When I saw the 3:30 pace group go by me around mile 3, I thought I was finally running with my people. I looked back to see the 3:40 pace group not far behind, and I settled comfortably into the less-crowded space between them.

Since I haven’t done a road marathon in a long time, the whole “pace group” thing is a new phenomenon to me. I found it hilarious how everyone wanted to be as close as possible to the person with the pace shirt on, yet 15 yards behind him/her, the crowd was much thinner and the running more comfortable. It was like they thought the closer they were to the pacer, the better chance they had of running that golden time.

Mile 4, and I made my first pit-stop in an outhouse. I allowed myself to run fast up the hill immediately afterwards so I wouldn’t lose too much time on that mile. To this point I’d been doing about 8:15 pace, and I still managed 8:40 for the mile with the pit-stop. Not too bad. Now I was a bit behind the 3:40 pace group, which I thought was fine.

We headed out for a loop through a big park. The paved trails were surrounded by eucalyptus trees, and a slew of local kids had been recruited to cheer throughout this 5-6 mile section. They were amazing! I don’t know who taught them how to cheer, but they were loud, enthusiastic, and sincere. They had me smiling the whole way.

I kept coming up on the 3:40 pace group, but told myself I shouldn’t be passing them until mile 10. It was so crowded right near them though, that I couldn’t stand it anymore, and I finally let myself pick it up a little and pass them at mile 9.

I felt totally relaxed, and until this point had been focusing primarily on not letting my pace get too fast. I picked it up to 8 minute pace, and it wasn’t until I started to hear myself breathe, that I realized I hadn’t been breathing hard at all in the first 9 miles.

By mile 13, 8 minute pace was still feeling easy, so I allowed myself to pick it up to whatever pace felt good. I started clicking of 7:40-7:50’s without much trouble. Now I was passing people with some consistency. The sun was shining and I was feeling fast.

Around mile 16 we turned onto the paved bike path that went along the beach. It was a beautiful day, and I was immediately captivated by the sight of the paddle boarders surfing out on the water. I was so caught up in the scenery in fact, that I missed 3 mile markers in a row, and I had no idea what pace I was running. I was still passing people like mad, and I felt good, but I was frustrated that I lacked some confirmation of my pace. When I finally saw another marker, it looked like I had averaged about 7:55 for those 4 miles. I was satisfied with that, considering I'd had to make use of another outhouse during that time.

Somewhere in this section I saw, and passed, the cheerleaders. They were walking. Somehow, that took all the pleasure out of passing them.

The bike path section was an out-and-back, so runners going the other way were actually some distance ahead of me on the course. I hit an aid station at about mile 19 and noticed it was unusually crowded. Where had all these people come from? A few yards later I hit the turn-around. As I came back through the same aid station, I realized who the crowd must have been: the 3:30 pace group!

I could see quite a ways down the beach ahead of me, but there were so many other people on the path—runners, bikers and families headed to the beach—that I couldn’t tell how far ahead the pace group was. One thing was for certain, I was gunnin’ for ‘em, and I was sure I could catch up.

With only 6 miles to go and feeling great, I knew there was nothing to hold back for now. I spent the rest of the race pushing things as much as I could, and wondering not ‘if’ I would pass the 3:30 pacer, but only how soon. My biggest hindrance seemed to be the increasing crowds on the bike path. With runners going in two directions, plus recreational users out on the path, I felt like kind of a jerk yelling “on your left” and trying to weave my way through the crowd.

Running 7:35 pace during the last 4-5 miles in a marathon led me to wonder. Perhaps I should have run faster than 8:20 pace in the first 9 miles? It’s a difficult question to answer. If I had run faster earlier, maybe I would have just slowed down later, and felt worse. When I ran my marathon PR, at a somewhat similar pace but starting much faster, I felt like hell in the last three miles. By stark contrast, I felt absolutely great at the end of Surf City.

I finally passed the 3:30 pacers with 3 miles to go. My only question now was, how much time could I get on them? I knew that I wouldn’t hit the sub-3:26 I’d need for a PR, but I was pretty excited about the knowledge that I would be under 3:30.

My mom and sister were there to cheer in the last half-mile. I found myself passing the woman whom I’d overheard at the start discussing her plans for a 3:15 finish. She looked like she was in real pain, and I actually felt pretty bad for her. Maybe I had done the right thing after all by starting slow.

As we re-merged with the half-marathon runners on PCH, I was suddenly passing masses of people again. I felt as though I was running the 5K and they were the marathon runners. Fortunately, there was plenty of room on this road for passing, and I crossed the line in 3:28 something.

As I approached the finish, I heard the announcer call out my name. I started to raise my arms in excitement. Then I remembered that I was wearing a tank top and hadn’t shaved my pits in probably a week. I didn’t need hairy pits in my finish line photo, even though I knew I would never purchase it. I quickly put my arms back down and just smiled.

Near the finish. That's me on the far left with the orange bib number, sprinting past the sea of half-marathon runners with yellow bibs.

After the race, Mom, Laura and I chowed finish line food while sitting out on the beach and watching the surfers. It was a beautiful day, and Laura and I both basked in the post-race glow of a job well done.

Overall, Surf City was a wonderful race. Between the marathon, half-marathon and 5K, there were over 18,000 runners. The marathon itself had about 2,000. (They limit the marathon field because we run for much of the course on a narrow bike path.) Aid stations were plentiful, and in addition to water, they had some electrolyte drink, Lara Bars, and Sharkies. Yum! My only complaint is that some of the mile markers were pretty far off. In the last 5 miles my watch said I ran two 9:30ish miles followed immediately by a 4:10 mile. I laughed out loud at that one. (I think all three of those miles were about 7:45.) Many thanks to the race organizers and all the volunteers who gave water, cheered and made it happen!

Final stats: I finished in 3:28:50, averaging 7:58 per mile. I was 142nd out of 1943 overall, 14th out of 851 women, and 8th out of 138 in my age group.

In the days since this race, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about how things went so right (and how I can duplicate that experience in the future). Although I'm still not really certain, a few thoughts come to mind. Here are some of the things I thing might have worked in my favor to bring about a good race:

I had no major goals for this race, so there was no pressure.
I had some excellent speed workouts (although they were a long time ago!)
I was well rested
The weather was perfect
The race was at sea-level, and I live a t 6000 feet
The course was flat

I remember exactly how hard I trained to run 3:26 though, and I still can’t believe I came so close to that time with so much less training. Maybe a few years of running ultras helped, rather than slowing me down like I would have thought? Maybe 35-year-olds are faster than 24-year-olds? (I was 24 when I ran my PR.) That makes no sense to me though. (What does make sense is that an 11-year-old PR needs to be taken down!)

Anyway, I still have a few ultras on the schedule for the spring and summer, but after Surf City, I think I’ll pick up at least one more road marathon and see what I can do. I like running fast!

"I got a '39 wagon and they call it a woody. (Surf City, here we come!)"

Surf City, Here we Come

Tomorrow I run the Surf City Marathon in Huntington Beach, California, and I have to confess, I’m pretty excited about it. You’d think after running ultras, that a little marathon wouldn’t be much to get excited about, but I guess it just doesn’t work that way.

It’s not that I’m in great shape, or think I’m going to run a fast time. In fact, neither of those things is true. I think the excitement in the air is mostly due to the fact that this is my first race in….six months. Yeah, it’s been a long time.

I won’t go down the road of philosophical musings about exactly how this big gap in racing happened; it just did. It does, however, bring to mind something of which I am already aware: I love to race. Even when I’m not moving that fast, or near the front runners, there is just something so exciting about that racing atmosphere. I always find it hard to go into a race when I’m just trying to take it easy. It’s impossible not to get excited, and end up pushing things al least a little bit.

So, for a race time tomorrow, I really don’t know what to expect. I feel confident about going under four hours, but beyond that, I’m just not sure. I’d like to run 3:40: far from a PR, but still very respectable. Given my very-low-mileage training plan though, I’m not sure if it’s at all realistic, but I guess there’s only one way to find out.

And I have no doubt it will be a great day, running aside. I arrived in Orange County on Thursday, and the only sign that it’s January around here are the plethora of flowering trees in everyone’s yards. It’s beautiful!

I spent Friday with my parents and sister, chasing my two nephews around Disneyland. Today we went down to Surf City proper (that’s Huntington Beach to you folks) to pick up our race numbers at the expo. Playing out on the beach afterwards, I thought I should have brought my bathing suit. The sky was so clear, and the weather so warm. It was like summer, but without all the hordes of people. So peaceful.


For those who have asked about the book…well, I’m still plugging away. And I will be for quite some time at the rate I’m going. I have definitely not written a page a day. I managed to modify that goal to be: “write something each day.” Much more manageable. Still, I occasionally have productive days, and I’m having fun with it. Hmm…sounds a lot like my winter running regimen.

Big, Fun and Scary Adventures in 2009

It’s odd how I tend to take a hiatus from my blog in the winter. The cold sets in, and I retreat to hibernation and start baking things. I can only take comfort in the hope that this break is over, and the knowledge that it was shorter than those in years past. Sometimes I feel that if I’m not running, then I don’t have anything to say that’s appropriate to this blog. In reality that’s not true, and besides, I am running. Still, it’s winter, and I’ve been…distracted. Okay, maybe lazy is the more appropriate adjective, but whatever. I’m here now, and I can only be grateful that you, my friend, are still here as well.

Some notes on the running front: I have managed to do some training in spite of the snow, ice, and, oh yeah, laziness. My mileage has consistently fallen short of weekly goals. (Let’s hear it for consistency!) Quality has been good though, and I am enjoying myself. That’s about all I ask of my running in the winter. Mix in some incredible backcountry skiing, and I’m calling it a good season so far.

This generally seems to be a time of year for reflection and goal setting. Well, I don’t plan to shake up the paradigm too much here. I’ll save reflection for next week, since this post is all about goal setting.

I have to start my goal-setting pontification with a little background. Several years ago, my friend Charlie called me with a proposition that we should embark upon this project called NaNoWriMo, whereupon we would write an entire novel in 30 days.

Sound scary? What about big, or fun? Okay, if it sounds nuts, you may fall into the majority, but I thought it was brilliant.

NaNoWriMo, the better-known name for the National Novel Writer’s Month, dares participants to complete a novel of at least 50,000 words in 30 days. The main premise is that we, as writers, want to write a book, but we lack sufficient motivation to actually finish this seemingly enormous task. Apparently many writers are like me: procrastinators. I loved the idea of NaNoWriMo because it operates on the principle that we just need motivation, in the form of a deadline, to get out that first draft. We can beautify it later, we just need to keep going for now. Don’t worry about being brilliant, just keep writing. Don’t stop! Constant forward motion! Sound familiar?

In my first attempt at NaNoWriMo, I wrote about 18,000 words before I gave up. It was a valiant attempt, and although the book is complete tripe, it was a great experience and it's still the single longest piece of writing I've done since college. (Wrimo'ers believe in art for art's sake. Yay!)

In my second attempt, this past November, I basically gave up before I even started. I knew I wouldn’t finish in 30 days, but I wanted to participate anyway. I wanted that motivation that comes from being part of a large group of people all working towards the same goal. The NaNoWriMo website has some great support features, and I got encouraging emails all month long from famous authors. Pretty cool, actually.

So this brings me to my point, and the explanation for the title of this post. The creators of NaNoWriMo also sponsor a challange called Big, Fun, and Scary Adventures. If you choose to participate, you can take whatever goal you have for the year, share it, and basically let others track your progress. You choose what you want to do—hike the Pacific Crest Trail, build a house, run your first 100 miler, start a business, go back to school, propose marriage, whatever! Let me just emphasize that it should be Big, Fun and Scary to you! So I don’t want to hear anything like “get organized” or “lose 10 pounds.” Those are resolutions, and those are fine. But for this project, I want you to dream BIG!

I’m not overly fond of the discussion forum for this project, found here, but you can take a look and choose to post your goal if you’d like. What I’m really asking you to do is to share your goal with us here on my blog! Please post a comment, and if you’d like, you can write your own blog post about what you plan to do with your year. Post it on your website, update your Facebook status, and plaster it to the front door for all your neighbors to see. If you share it with the world, you’re so much more likely to actually do it! We will be here along the way to check in with you and offer as much (or as little) support, advice, help and distraction as you may need. So tell me, what is that thing you’ve been dreaming of, the one that is a little bit scary, that you keep putting off because it’s just not the right time?

As you may have guessed, I already have my big adventure planned. I’m going to finish the book I started this November. I have a paltry 2600 words at the moment, but I am also armed with a stack of character sketches and plot outlines and the like, and that has to count for something, right? Anyway, I figure writing a book is much like running an ultra. You don’t want to spend too much time thinking about exactly how far you have to go or you’ll scare yourself out of doing it. You want to break it into smaller, more manageable goals.

Therefore, my goal for now through the end of March is to write at least one page per day, every day. I followed this plan for approximately one week in November. While it’s not actually as easy as it sounds, it is still certainly manageable. (Again, let’s hear it for consistency!) After that, I will set the next goal that seems necessary to getting through a first draft. I’m hoping to have a first draft done by May.

Well, I’ve declared myself. (It’s a little scary, yup.)

I'd like to leave you with a quote from one of the final emails sent to writers by Chris Baty of NaNoWriMo. I think he says it very well. And then, I ask you to declare your dreams.

“Each of us has a wealth of talents spread broadly over domains both marketable and deliciously impractical. The tricky part is that we tend to develop the former at the expense of the latter. Passions become hobbies. Hobbies become something we swear we'll get back to when we have more time. Or when the kids are grown. Or when the stock market recovers.

Which means we leave unexplored many of those paths that ultimately make us feel most alive—the moments of creating, building, playing, and doing that lead to extraordinary and unexpected things.

Like writing a book.

Or, more loosely, postponing the must-dos of the real world to spend 30 days [or a year] exploring an attractive, improbable dream.

Giving ourselves that time is so important. Because the world can wait. It's what the world does best, in fact. It was hanging out for 4.5 billion years before we arrived, and it'll be waiting around for another few billion after we're gone.

Our dreams, however, have much shorter shelf-lives.

If there's one thing I've learned from running NaNoWriMo, it's this: Whatever you think you are, you are more than that. You possess a fearsome array of skills and abilities, and the most satisfying of these may be completely unknown to you now. Your curiosity is a dependable guide; follow it. Put yourself in unfamiliar places. Kindle passions. Savor the raw joy of making things, and then remake the best of those things until they take someone's breath away. Wrestle bears.

Actually, skip the bear-wrestling.

But do keep trying big things, okay? Sometimes we can wait so long for a clear sign that it's time to begin, that the opportunity sails right past us.

Life is so short. Adventures beckon. Let's get packed and head out on a new one today.

I think it's time.”