As Sara and I stood around waiting for the race to begin, constant streams of thoughts plagued my mind, "What pace should I start out at? Attack the hills or hold back? Arm warmers or not? Calf Compression socks or not? Carry two Gu's or one?" Sometimes, I really have to discipline my mind and rid any unecessary thoughts. I remind myself not to take myself so serious. Coming into the race, I was far undertrained for such a distance. My longest run over the past month had been 90 minutes and I was expecting to finish somewhere around 2 hours and 30 minutes. However, I favor such occasions where a point of adversity is challenging me to step up, or step down.
The morning seemed to be somewhat sunny with partial overcast. Although, as soon as the race director shouted instructions and important reminders, he might as well have been summoning Thor "the god of thunder" because as soon as the words left his mouth, the rain came with haste. In prior instances, I may have been a little caught off guard by the sudden shift in weather, but after experiencing an hour and a half run with Jason and Tim; being soaked and caked with mud, I thought the rain actually added some flavor.
Immediately after the start of the race, I prepared myself for a steep first climb not 200 meters into the race. I was in the front pack with five other runners and as I controlled my pace and breathing, I realized I might be the strongest climber among my fellow runners. The climb was about 1km in length before it somewhat leveled off and continued to climb, but don't take it from me, here is a complete elevation chart of the course:
After cresting the first climb, I found myself leading the race (which I had not intended to do), but the climb felt comfortable and the pace fluid. Keep in mind however, the 20k, 30k, and 50k runners all began together, therefore, when I was passed by a younger looking guy about a mile after the course flattened out, I was somewhat perturbed, but little did I know at the time, he was a 20k entrant. My mind has been so conditioned to shorter races in which there is very little room for error or allowing a gap to form in the field which is why I loved a longer race such as this; there is ample time to makeup time or distance.
To be honest, I was not enjoying the rain in the beginning of the race, my quads felt tight from the cold air and my arms felt numb from the constant pelting of rain. I was praying I would eventually warm up. After a little downhill and another good climb, I was joined by an older man named Will. Will was very cordial and informed me that the guy ahead was a 20k runner and so was he. He said I had a decent lead on the next 30k runner. Running with Will was great because it gave me someone to pace with and talk to. He was very helpful in giving me a heads up about the course as he was a seasoned veteran. Two things caught me off guard from Will though: First, he told me I had probably gone out a bit fast (Really? I thought. This feels comfortable). Secondly, as I ripped open a Gu and spit part of the wrapper off on the course, I heard will sternly say, "Dude, I hate to call you out, but don't litter. We want to be respectful of the park and the rangers, if they see trash from us out here, they may not let us race in the future." He was gracious about it and it revealed my lack of etiquette out on the trails. If this had been a road race, I don't think anyone would've given a crap. But I was thankful for that reminder and to be more aware of my impact on the environment.
The next section of the course after running along a beautiful ridge (it reminded me of the spectacular views hiking along the Incan Trail in the Andes Mountains of Peru - gorgeous, lush green forest with a mist hanging over) was some nice downhill. Albeit, the downhill was nice, but my lack of efficient downhill running became apparent. I don't know if it was the fact I was racing in road trainers and not trail shoes, therefore did not have much traction along the slippery course, or my form and mechanics are in need of some serious work or both. The reason this became apparent was not only did Will take off, but I was joined shortly after by Barry - the eventual overall winner of the 30k. Barry was a chiselled little man with strong legs and a lot of determination. We exchanged greetings and ran together for most of the downhill section.
The most annoying part of the course was the clay surfaces we ran over occasionally. It was during these sections of the course where much slipping and sliding took place. It was completely unavoidable however, due to the shrubbery which lined the course. As Barry took a slight lead, I was coming around a bend in the course and at the last moment happened to notice a striped pink ribbon, indicating a turn. Well, my body turned, but my legs went in the opposite direction and I slammed right into ground. My left shoulder was scraped up a bit from the rocks, left palm of my hand numb, my knees scraped a little, and my whole backside and right side of my face covered in mud. I wondered if I had broken anything, but continued, hoping the pain would eventually subside (which it did). As we got onto some nice single-track, and more secure footing, I figured I would catch back up to Barry and allow him to pace me for a bit. It took about a mile to catch Barry and upon doing so, told him how much of a beast he was on the downhills.
The trail eventually met up with some asphalt which would take us to the 20k aid-station. As Barry and I cruised along the road, I happended to spot Sara along the course and told her I took a nasty spill and that we were leading the 30k race. She encouraged me and as we hit the aid-station/20k mark in 1:30:30, I quickly refilled my bottle with gatorade, but forgot to grab some shot blocks or solid nourishment. Barry and I headed back to the trail for the last 10k and he mentioned, "We should be under 2:20 or even get under the course record." (according to our 20k split, we were averaging 45 minutes per 10k, and the course record was 2:17:39). One aspect I admire about professional cycling is that if two competitors are battling it out - though it's not mandatory - but out of respect you usually give the win to the strongest rider or the one who did most of the work. I made up my mind that if Barry and I came toward the finish together, I would give him the win because he was the stronger runner that day.
We continued to exchange pacing duties throughout the winding and somewhat hilly last 10k. It seemed I was stronger on the uphills and would pull away, but then Barry would be right back on my heels coming downhill. After a couple miles, we met a nice incline and at this point, my hamstrings informed me that they had had just about enough. My quads decided to join in on the rebellion upon going downhill and that was the last I saw of Barry. He blazed the downhills and while I tried to keep up, my energy levels began to shout, "Warning, warning!" I had no cruising-gear from that point on, it was a matter of letting gravity do its work going downhill and surviving on the uphills.
The last two miles I was a wreck. I felt dizzy, light-headed, and energy-less. Even though I was struggling because I was so hungry, I was really proud of myself for what I had accomplished. A second-place showing in a race I was not equipped for and the realization that I may have found my niche in trail-racing.
As the trail met back up with the road, I knew it was a short distance to the finish. Barry was waiting for me at the finish line to congratulate me (He put four minutes on me in the last 3 miles! What a stud!). After finishing, I immediately ran to the picnic table which was covered with delicious treats. I threw down two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, a Sprite, and anything I could get my hands on. After about five minutes, my energy levels felt back to normal. Will came over and congratulated me as well and said he had caught and passed the young-gun to take the win (in fact, upon coming up to the 20k mark, Barry and I were only about 50 meters behind him, we made up significant ground). Will told me, "You definitely have the speed, now it's a matter of learning the technical aspect of trail-racing; downhill running and mastering tight turns without damaging your quad muscles. Also, increasing your long runs and volume." That was really encouraging coming from a veteran.
All in all, the Redwood Park 30k was a nice ending to an up and down Spring season. I am looking forward to easy runs with friends out on the trails and putting in some good volume throughout the Summer. At this point, I'm thinking adios Boston Marathon and hello Way Too Cool 50k and whatever else is lined up, but we'll see. I'm having fun running, passionate about the sport, and looking forward to discovering uncharted trails this Summer.
