Cuyamaca 100k SoCal Vacation (Though the Run Wasn't Quite a Vacation)

Cuyamaca 100k, Saturday 12 October 2013

This race timed perfectly with a road trip to SoCal that I had been planning.  Overdue for my younger son.  His older brother enjoyed Disneyland 4 years ago and Legoland 3.5 years ago, but he was too young to ride much or remember anything, so I felt we should hit these two parks this fall, and before he got too old for Legoland.

I have mixed feelings about zoos, but the ones in San Diego are pretty nice.  This panda seemed quite happy checking the line of visitors out as he munched on bamboo.

So we did two days at Legoland, one day at the zoo, and one day at the museums in San Diego.   I learned the difference between mastodons and wooly mammoths, among other things.

Friday we drove up to the state park (Rancho Cuyamaca) and set up camp at the Green Valley site.

awesome turtle rock right at our campsite

 Both that (#2, mile 13.5) and the other campground, Paso Picacho (#4, mile 27.5) were aid stations for the course.  There was a large group of loud Chinese (national Chinese, not Chinese-Americans) nearby making a lot of noise until late, but I got some sleep.  I left my tent sometime after 5, walked almost a mile to the entrance to the campground, and tried to hitch.

You would think that out of the many people driving up to the race, some skinny Asian dude in a La Sportiva jacket with a duffel bag would look more like a fellow entrant, rather than a serial killer, but amazingly more than 12 cars passed me.  I was going to get desperate and throw myself into the middle of the road, when this very nice volunteer, finally stopped and picked me up to take me to the start at Camp Cuyamaca.

with volunteer Lisa post-race.  thanks, Lisa!

I don't do mile by mile narratives anymore, but here is the course profile:

When I got to the 2nd aid station, I was delighted to see my kids sitting on the curb waiting for me. I think this was the first time I've seen either of my kids at an aid station except at my first 100 mile run in 2005 (Rio del Lago) when my older one was but an infant.

While at their campsite, their mother had heard the sounds of clapping and cheering nearby.  She was convinced I had already passed through, but headed over to check it out.

Leaving there was a 9 mile split mostly ascending to the high point of the course and the park, Cuyamaca Peak at 6512 feet.  I noticed soon that almost everyone was carrying hydration packs, or at least two bottles.  I was able to run pretty well.  The route went through areas that looked like they were recovering from a fire.  My family later told me the story about the Cedar Fire, that they learned from a ranger at the Visitor Center near the race start and finish.

Basically it was set by a dumb-ass hunter (per my kids per the ranger, he was hunting in a place it was illegal to hunt).  From Wikipedia:

The Cedar Fire was started by Sergio Martinez of West Covina, California, a novice hunter who had been hunting in the area and had become lost. In court Martinez gave an account of his being lost earlier that day from his hunting partner; he said he did not call out for "fear of scaring away deer". At first he falsely told investigators that the fire was started accidentally by a gunshot, but he later recanted and admitted he started the fire intentionally to signal rescuers. After gathering sticks and brush together, Martinez lit the brush and quickly lost containment because of the heat, low humidity and low moisture content of surrounding vegetation. 

Martinez was charged on October 7, 2004 in federal court with setting the fire and lying about it.^[12] On March 10, 2005, Martinez pleaded guilty to deliberately setting fire to timber, in a plea bargain under which the charge of lying to a federal officer was dropped. He could have faced up to five years in prison, but under the plea bargain he was sentenced to six months in minimum-security confinement, under which he was allowed to go to work and other commitments. He also was ordered to complete 960 hours of community service and five years' probation, and to pay $9,000 in restitution.^[13]

The lead female caught up with me and passed me right before the top.

winner Sally McRae at the halfway mark

It was all downhill, literally and figuratively, from the peak.  My whole body was feeling super sore and tight.  The first part of the descent was somewhat technical-- lots of loose rocks and ruts, but even when the trail got smoother, my body didn't.  Aside from pain, which I can run through, I was just too stiff.

stiffly fueling up at Paso Picacho, mile 27+, photo by Keshan Dahiya

Several people passed me during the next 9 miles back to the start/finish/mile 31 point.  During the next loop of 12 miles, I fared no better, got passed a lot, but the scenery was still pretty beautiful.  It did no good to try to imagine the pain Jon Olsen did a couple of weeks ago setting the new North American 100 mile record, and try to convince myself that my pain was much less.

The 2nd loop was a short 12.6 miles that ascended to a very pretty plateau, but I continued to struggle, even (or maybe especially) on the descent.

At mile 44, before the 3rd and final loop, I was again surprised and really happy to see my family at the start/finish aid station.

My kids weren't very impressed with my performance.  "Dad!  Some guy already won, even before you got done with the 2nd loop."

winner and new course record holder Igor Campos with his dad before his dad goes to finish the 3rd loop

They also thought I was taking too long to get out of the aid station, but I had to pack my light, a jacket, gloves, food, etc.  I felt bad that I was going so slowly, and figured I would be finishing really late and would wake up my family getting into the tent.

I got some caffeine tabs,  (leftover from the ones Shir Kochavi gave me at Headlands Hundred the previous month),

drug deal caught on film...
Maybe since I am wearing the new La Sportiva cycling style cap, I have to fess up.
Though I deny using intimidating and bullying to keep fellow competitors in line.

Unfortunately I couldn't find any acetaminophen or ibuprofen.

Jack Cheng catches up with me, and we start talking.  I am initially apprehensive that he will pull ahead of me, but Jack gives me some ibuprofen and we keep each other motivated at a good pace.  Jack is a much more efficient and better fast-packer that I (he did the John Muir Trail in only (I think) 7 days with a lighter pack).   He also hasn't DNFd yet, though he had some close calls.  His finish streak is about half as long as my 10 year one.  We end up running pretty much the whole 18 mile 3rd loop together, even without waiting for each other at aid stations.  Near the finish, we pick up another friend of his, Sylvere Valentin.  Jack suggests we hold hands and cross the finish line together, an idea I whole-heartedly supported.  I was very happy with my third loop-- it's always great to overcome a tough spell and finish strong.

The three of us tied for 23rd through 25th place, but for some reason I got the coveted 23rd place in the official results

Sylver somehow missed the cue to bit his medal.

Again I was surprised that my wife and kids were there at the finish.  My older son got a big kick out of helping announce the runner's bib numbers as they approached the finish.  My younger son won the affections of a cute girl whose mother was still out on the course.

After a hot shower and stuffing myself with make-it-yourself burritos, we headed back to the campsite.

race schwag.  with La Sportiva Ultra Raptor left shoe that helped me get there.
I have since figured out the medal can take caps off bottles.
Credit to my younger son for figuring out it was "magnetical."

GPS 1st half
GPS 2nd half

results with splits, including drops
results on ultralive.net
results on ultrasignup

website

The next day, we hike up Stonewall Peak from Paso Picacho, 5730 feet above sea level.  It was really windy and the final few yards were sort of scary for the kids.

My wife was not happy that it got to about 40 degrees F at night at the campground.  Luckily, it was time to head to Disneyland, where it was not so cold at night.  My kids had a blast, enjoying rides that I couldn't handle when I was older than they are now.

relatively benign ride, quite fun, but much work to get the FastPass tix

Tower of Terror, one of my favorites

I ran several of miles of recovery each of three days, running from the Embassy Suites after I dropped my family off and parked, running to get the car in the evening, and running ahead while in the park to get the FastPasses so we could avoid lines.  My otherwise useless hobby, sometimes, comes in handy!

Paced and Almost Self-Disgraced at the 2010 Angeles Crest 100 Mile Endurance Run

My kids have gone to Disneyland twice.  Both times the excuse to go down there didn't happen.

The first was for a medical conference, the costs for which I could partially offset with my modest annual continuing medical education allowance.  The conference got cancelled, but I had been granted the week off my work schedule, the tickets were purchased, and the hotel booked.  So we went to Disneyland anyways.  We had fun.

The second trip came when I first mentioned the Angeles Crest 100 Mile Endurance Run to wife about 30 months prior ago, as something we could do when the kids were older.  But she was all over it.  "Sure, sign up, let's go!  I loved Disneyland!"

So last year (2009), I did my trail work, paid my fees and was all ready to go.  It would have been my 3rd straight 100 mile run, each 3 weeks apart, after doing Vineman a week before the first (Headlands).  However, the Station Fire cancelled Angeles Crest.  But we did go to Disneyland, which is now not just about the Mice, Ducks and Mutant Dog.  We had fun.  (The first trip was a bit pricey, so this time we drove instead of flew down and stayed at a hotel outside rather inside the park.  I got some running by dropping my family off at the park, driving back to the hotel and then running back to the park, reversing the process at the end of each day.)

The race directors were very generous for not requiring us 2009 cancelled race entrants to pay again for entry to the 2010 race, scheduled earlier during the last weekend of August.  My kids' preschool was out the following week (leading up to Labor Day), so we planned a vacation with friends to Donner Lake near Tahoe.  So I decided to go down to SoCal the last weekend of August without my family, and booked a return flight from Burbank back to Sacramento arriving at 4:15pm, where my family would pick me up on way to the rental house.

Jonathan Gunderson was driving down, so I asked to get a ride with him.  He was going to arrive at my house before 4 am, but luckily he didn't show up until 4:20ish.  I managed to dump work hours so I could end at 7 pm, but with getting the kids down, I wasn't in bed very early.  The race directors quoted a noon cutoff for drop bags, insanely early.  During the ride, I dozed on and off, but enjoyed talking to him, his wife Wilma and their friend and pacer Peter, who is here taking my suitcase out of the trunk.  (Maybe I was supposed to tip him, dang, I'm so rude.)

Lunch at the Evergreen Cafe, ran into Brian Myers and his wife Ysa.  She saved my ass (or rather my feet by providing a nail clipper when I realized I had forgotten to trim them.   To give myself credit, I realized this BEFORE getting to the start line.)

Ysa Myers, Wilma Yun, Jon Gunderson, Peter MysteryLastName

Jorge Pacheco who would win the race, was sitting at the next table.  I thought of saying hi to him, but was too shy.  I am a shy guy.

After lunch, still sleepy, so laid down on my bed for an hour in my cheap but clean enough hotel around the corner...

...before the pre-race meeting, which apparently wasn't as long as in the past.

But some people still couldn't stay awake.

Ysa and Brian Myers

I opted for the official pre-race dinner, a fund-raiser for some nearby girls' organization that buys books to read to poor kids, and every member is a princess.  Yeah, I know what some of you are thinking...

For the night before a big race, I didn't sleep too badly.

Finally--since I'll never get into Western States, the less-hyped SoCal point-to-point equivalent!

photo by Ysa Meyers

On the ascent in the dark up to Inspiration Point, I heard numerous conversations.  Tried to engage in a few, but other than a few minutes talking with  Donna Utakis from Amherst, was too out of breath on the ascent to talk much.  At the top I was moved by Blake and Heather Wood, a veteran father (who had been leisurely snapping photos when I caught up) and his rookie 24--year-old daughter from Los Alamos, New Mexico, running together.  (Moved in that it would be so cool to run with my daughter when she turns 24 in her first 100 mile run, but I don't have a daughter.)

Blake in green, Heather (I think) in pink.

At the first aid station at Inspiration Point (mile 9.3) I ate a potato, grabbed some Chex Mix and pretzels and stuck them in my pocket.  No gels, no blocks.  There was only water at the start, luckily I had brought a couple gels, but I wanted salt.  "Any salt caps?" I asked loudly a few times.  Apparently not.  I complained about the sparseness of the station fare to Jeff Lang, and he shared a lyte cap.  At successive aid stations I would look for protein-- turkey, PBnJ, but none of those would show up until halfway through the race, which I and many others running found disappointing-- we weren't expecting this from such a long-running race.

Passed Scott Mills, San Diego 100 race director.  Catching up to him was initially disturbing since he's 16 years older than me.  He was concerned about Keira Henninger, who directs Leona Divide, and with whom he had been running.  Apparently some hikers gave her wrong directions, so she added some serious bonus miles.

Keira  on some fun run with Eric Wickland, stolen from her facebook profile

Ran also a while with David La Duc, pictured in action below at the princess dinner giving the peace sign with Jeff Lang on left (they drove down from Oakland together) and Roger Jensen in the shades at right.  We both agreed the scenery was much better here than the 100-miler we did in Oregon last (2009) year as a last-replacement for the cancelled AC race.

Slowly the course descends from that early high point, so was feeling slowly a little better.

Ysa Meyers

coming into Islip Saddle mile 25, photo by Ben Jones

Ysa Meyers

Eagle's Roost (mile 30) to Coudburst Summit (mile 37.5) started with a stretch of highway.  Yellow ribbons were on the right side, but I sidetracked when I saw a bunch of yellow ribbons on the left.  Only after getting close did I figure out they were non-race "DO NOT ENTER" ribbons.

As the course finally went back to trail, I caught up with John Rutherford, and we had good chat, largely about some altitude sensitization device by AltoLab, and his experience on the U.S. National Cycling Team when he was in high school.  I told him I was amazed I was running with him, but he told me the biking thing doesn't carry over to running.  Maybe.  As the course started going back uphill, I suddenly noticed that I had been overexerting myself.  John sped off ahead, and I started feeling nauseated and bad.  Also, I think the lack of nutritional choices at the aid stations was starting to catch up with me.

The final ascent was on a fire road.  I started seeing blue ribbons, and no official yellow race ribbons, which made me nervous.  I pulled out a copy of map of that section, and recognized a hairpin turn that wasn't on the course.  After some nervous deliberation, I decided to head back down the hill, rather than possibly cut the course.  Luckily I hadn't run more than a quarter mile when a couple other runners came up, and one of them knew the course, and assured me we were on.  Had these guys not been close behind, it could have been much worse.  I thought that whoever was marking the course could've placed a few yellow ribbons to counter whatever the blue ones were there for.  I had to spend extra time at the aid station to fuel up.  Charles Wickersham (in white shirt below) from Modesto gave me a caffeinated gel, and I started having ice put under my cap.

At Three Points (mile 42.7), I pulled out my spare Garmin Forerunner.  Maybe right after leaving did I see race director Hal Winton, and told him I was enjoying myself.  Sometime during this split I caught up with and overtook John Rutherford, who might have been behind on his calories.

At Chilao (mile 52.8) I met up with my pacers, Billy and Lori.  Billy was going to pace at Cascade Crest, but his friend had to pull out, so he posted a little blurb on facebook asking if anyone doing AC wanted a pacer.  Billy's knee had been bothering him though, so in the end he decided to run only 7 miles to Shortcut Saddle (mile 59) and Lori would take me two splits and 16 miles through Newcomb's Saddle to Chantry Flats (mile 74.6).

Both of them admitted to being nervous they wouldn't be able to keep up with me, but of course that wasn't the case.  I told them that I needed to not talk on the uphills, a rule I often violated.  It was good talking and running, and I enjoyed getting to know them both better.

As the evening approached and we hit some nice views (not as stunning as those at the beginning of the race, but beautiful enough).  Billy was extra pained that he had dropped his pocket camera and broke the lens.  The scenery shots lost, but really, how many photos do you all really need to see of me?

check out our Moeben sleeves!

Don't tell my wife I am being chased by pretty younger women in shorts!

It helped that Lori had an extra light after it got dark.  Pacing is light muling!  This time I could benefit for a change, though I was telling her whenever she stumbled if she fell and maimed herself, I would feel bad and have the ethical dilemma of whether to leave her on the trail or stay with her to administer aid.

No crew access from mile 75 to the end, so I had to be sure I had everything I needed.  But I was pretty disorganized, not sure what I needed, and had to ask my two pacers to shlep the suitcase they got from Jon's crew.  And somewhere there I must have lost my white Marmot running shade hat.

LAST QUARTER

The last 25 miles involved:

• two large ascents, including the largest of the race up Mount Wilson
• two even longer descents
• no crew access
• no pacers
• the dark

I started to really focus on the split times from a chart in the race booklet for Fabian, who finished one year in 23:55.  (I also had splits for Suzanna Bon (22 hour finish), but with the altitude and my two 100 mile runs in the previous six weeks, gave up on staying with her early in the race.)  His Chantry Flats (mile 74.6) time was 9:55 pm; I left at 10:03.  Being a split chart, I had no idea how he had been feeling, or how smoothly he had been running.  I assumed he had been paced, and I was on my own.  I was already lagging behind him, and I needed to make up time, as well as build up a cushion.

The split started as rolling ups and downs, but more up than down.  I wanted the big ascent, which I felt was my 24-hour make or break stretch, to come. Finally a volunteer doing some last minute course marking told me the turn-off was up ahead.  "The signs say four miles, but it's actually three."

I worked that late climb like no other.  I could feel the air grow thinner and my head lighter again as I approached 6000 feet, but kept pushing.  Finally I summitted. Arrows pointed me at an angle down a very nontechnical, wide fire road.

I loosened up, let gravity pull me down, and started cranking down the road.  If the course stayed like this, I calculated I was going to gain at least 15 minutes on Fabian.

After a few minutes, I noticed I wasn't seeing any yellow ribbons-- just reflective strips that were part of the road.  Some doubt.  Was I paying close enough attention at the top?  Did I miss a turnoff?  Oh, shit.  The thought of stopping to make my way back up was already unappealing, and each stride further downhill made it smell even more so.  I saw an isolated randon pink ribbon.  Great! ....  Or not.  Crap! Finally, I thought to pull out the map.  I reached in my shorts pockets.  Then my black Sportiva black pockets.  Then my mostly empty pack.  No luck.

Finally, I made the call.  Shouldn't I see the next peak or the next aid station?  I decided to stop and go back up, saying bye to that 24-hour buckle.  Sigh.  That one's out, I'll cut my losses.  At least there's a 2nd Sunrise buckle, which was still well within my reach-- as long as I didn't get off course again.

During this bonus/punishment climb, I couldn't keep up the intense pace of my original climb.  Despite trying to keep a positive attitude, I was inevitably dejected.  Also, the already long 9 mile split was going to be 10.5 to 11, and my body was anticipating the nutritional penalty, my bottle already dry.

I didn't have to kill myself to make that fall-back buckle. I reflected on the race so far-- I ran well, and this mishap really wasn't my fault-- the markings really were too sparse quite often-- though having that map would have allowed me to figure out if I was on course or not.  I enjoyed beautiful scenery.  I met some cool people.  No one really cares if I sub-24ed all my 100 mile races this year, or missed this one.

Almost back to the summit, I ran into a runner and his pacer coming down and asked them, "Is this the course?"   Most definitely yes was their definitive reply.  They obviously knew the course.  Relief and remorse.  I ended up tagging along with them all the way down the non-technical fire road to the Idle Hour aid station.  In contrast to all the chatting I did with Billy and Lori, they never talked to each other, so I wasn't about to try to talk with them.  Appreciated my Nano.

At Idle Hour (mile 83.75, though I had already run well over 85 miles), the runner and pacer I never formally met took off pretty fast. I went wussy, and in response to a volunteer's "you're looking great!" replied something like "thanks, but I just added at least a mile and a half bonus thinking I was off course when I wasn't.... which sucks because I had a great shot at sub-24ing."  To which they replied that there was plenty of time. I countered with 100% certainty "No, I've been following the splits of this guy who finished in 24 hours, and I've been struggling to keep up with him. There's NO WAY."  After which I spent a couple more minutes waiting for a more reliable answer to my question regarding when sunrise was scheduled in Pasadena.  We decided I was good for that Second Sunrise buckle.  I finally went on my way, 9 minutes after coming in.

It was hard to push the final ascent (1960' in 3.77 miles) to Sam Merrill aid station, but figuring I shouldn't jeopardize my consolation buckle, wasn't too lazy.  I noted that without really trying I had gained 5 minutes on Fabian coming in at 2:35 (he came in at 2:22).

Oops, guess I wussied out prematurely.  Big time.  Crap, maybe I CAN make this.  I was out of Merrill in 2 minutes.

And ran like hell.  Some parts were a little technical, but twisting an ankle or falling off a cliff seemed like reasonably risks for the resuscitated goal of finishing under 24 hours.

Was getting hot, but didn't want to waste time taking off my jacket.  So I was not only crazed, but really sweaty too.

Ran into another runner going the opposite way, lost, who didn't seem to trust me when I told him definitively the way I was heading was the right way.

Unchicked myself by passing 1st place woman Keira Henninger, who had passed me when I was running with Lori.  She did more bonus miles that I had, so in reality, she still chicked me.

Billy met me shortly before I left the woods.  He and Lori could see my splits from the finish, and they had been convinced I wouldn't make it under 24.  Little had they known that my pace was great, it's just that I was running bonus miles.  So Billy was surprised to see me this soon.  As he guided me, he kept telling me I would make 24 hours easily, but aside from suspecting I was 10th place overall, regarding the more important 24-hour goal, decided that I would not trust him, and wanted to punish myself for being such a wussy earlier, so I kept pushing it hard as I could, my sweat capture by Billy's photos.

I could not believe I made it!

No, sitting in this chair, I wasn't feeling like I had to throw up.

This is just how dorky I look when I get emotional and cry.

See, I'm really feeling good and happy when Larry Gassan asked me to step aside so he could take my pic.  Have seen these awesome finishers photos before--finally I was getting one!

Although David La Duc beat me soundly without my detours (5th overall, and our age group award trophy), apparently he was lying in the recovery tent not feeling nearly as good.  Had I known I wouldn't taken another action photo of him.

After napping at Billy's house somewhere in LA, we had brunch, and then he drove me to Burbank Airport, for my flight to Sac and vacation with my family and friends.

A happy ending, with a valuable lesson about adjusting expectations.

finishers photos by Larry Gassan

race results
race results with splits
race website

Garmin Forerunner recorded maps of run
first half (map data got erased, whoops/sorry)
third quarter
fourth quarter

shorter race report ("NOW he tells me!") on the La Sportiva Mountain Running Team blog, 2nd half narrating great recovery runs I did around Donner Lake northwest of Lake Tahoe

My AC100-- Running To And From the Magic Kingdom

I haven't made a habit of blogging my training runs, but my road runs are all that are left of my epic 100 mile run in Southern California this past weekend. Here is an example of how I was able to fit some running in with the time and location restraints of a family vacation to Disneyland. Originally the last day at the park was going to be today Monday, after the AC 100 Mile Endurance Run, but the Station Fire changed "AC" from "Angeles Crest" to (like the 2008 Western States) "Also Cancelled." So we decided to do Disney 3 days straight and then head home.

We drove down to Garden Grove on Tuesday, hitting a bit of rush hour traffic after the last hilly pass in Santa Clarita. The Nüvi GPS and the road map showed clearly that the Angeles National Forest lay on both sides of us. I wistfully looked to the left and tried to guess at the base of which mountain the race would have ended. I also tried to see if there was any smoke from any fires still burning. (I couldn't.)

Our hotel was about one mile from the southern edge of the California Adventure Park. There was a shuttle you could pay for, but it came only every 20 minutes, plus appeared to make many stops and get crowded quickly. This was confirmed by the lines of families in front of all the hotels on Harbor Boulevard with no shuttle in sight. Of course we could afford to pay for the official Disneyland parking lot but it wasn't very close to the park.

To maximize the time my kids got to spend in the park already curtailed by their obligatory afternoon naps, with the bonus of being frugal in tough economic times, I decided that I would drop off and pick up my family, and run to and from the park. I wasn't looking for a lot of training, since I was still recovering from Cascade Crest 100 even as my PCT 100 in the Hood loomed soon. But I didn't want a complete exercise hiatus.

So the routine was this:

Eat the complementary hot breakfast at hotel. Drive family 2.2 miles to park (had to go past the 15-minute parking area and U-turn),

drive back 1.5 miles to hotel. Run over 2 miles into park, directed by text messages from my wife. A little sweaty, but everyone there would be equally sticky in an hour or two.

When either kids shows signs of melting down in the early afternoon, run back to hotel, pick up car, and pick them up. The highs were in the upper 80's so counted as some heat training. Lunch and late nap at the hotel.

Early evening, get complementary dinner from downstairs, bring it back to room.

no free dinner on Fridays, but was more than happy to pay for a tastier meal at Joe's Crab Shack

Drop off family at park. Drink a beer or take a bottle to go (didn't want to miss free beer and wine), run back to park (immediately after eating) and meet them again.

Repeat the return of running ahead at close of park. The beginning of this last run was more technically challenging, weaving in and out of the crowds, pretending I was a running back , avoiding the motorized wheelchairs and carts, and small kids.

To avoid the traffic and save more time, my wife would keep pushing the double stroller and text me her location.

link to the Garmin Forerunner recorded runs, 2nd day

(Note: despite a lot of skillfully jayrunning, still a lot of waiting on the corner for the light to change.)

So, guess I made this work, and barely ran a marathon doing these runs over three days. But I do look forward to the day our kids no longer need the naps, not to mention when my younger son is tall enough to get on the more interesting rides.

one of several rides that go round and round, after a painfully and disproportionately long wait