No Snow, Just Fun Mud at Redwood Park 50k

coming into the start/20k/30k/finish aid station, photo by Rick Gaston

The forecast was that it would rain a ton, and then snow Friday into Saturday, in which case the PCTR Redwood Park trail runs would be cancelled by the East Bay Regional Park District. I walked out of the emergency department shortly before midnight Friday, and the parking lot was dry.

Amazingly I woke up at 7 a.m. on Saturday (February 26th), 15 minutes before my alarm was going to go off and less than six hours after I'd gone to bed, feeling fairly rested and feeling pretty good.  Wednesday I had started feeling like another flu was coming on.

After running HURT 100 so sick in January, I feared someone had put a curse on me so that I would fall ill before every competitive race in 2011, and I would feel progressively more ill as the race went on.

Even then, I wasn't sure that the antibiotics I started Thursday to kill the Strep which grew from the throat swab would necessarily completely cure me in time, especially as I had the suspicion that it was more a viral flu thing going on, rather than Streptococcal pharyngitis. (The throat wasn't all of it, but since my nose wasn't running and I lacked a cough, had figured my throat was worth swabbing.)  I figured I would know how recovered I was only around half-way through the 50k.

Baldwyn Chieh picked me up at my house, which I much appreciated since this way I could get picked up by my family in our loaded SUV and head straight to Tahoe, where it did snow a ton on Friday.  Maybe because everyone was scared of icy roads and left real early, the parking lots were all full as early as 8:05 when we arrived, so we had to park outside the entrance on Redwood Road and walk in at least 1.25 km to the start finish area.

volunteer Darshan Thaker and my chauffer and fellow racer Baldwyn

Presumably due to the parking issue, the race started 15 minutes later than the scheduled 8:30, so more time to mingle.  Surprisingly, I was shivering in the cold, possibly due to the bright sunshine unblocked by the puffy cumulus clouds-- it was going to be a beautiful morning.

 nature-made ice, rarely seen in Oakland

In additional to greeting several friends I had seen since last fall, I got to briefly meet a few others (there were a couple of other yellow Sportiva jerseys, though most of the people doing the 20 and 30k races were gone by the time I finished the 50k.  My pre-race highlight was to congratulate in person (rather than just on facebook), Mister100-mile Trail North American record holder himself, Ian Sharman, whom I'd completely ignored (and didn't recognized) at Stinson Beach 50k in November, where he had finished in 2nd place.

In addition to pulling off an incredible ultraruning feat almost by accident, I thought he was extra cool for being around my height.

photo by Rick Gaston

He lost a little credibility though when he told me, after telling me this was just going to be long training run (pefectly reasonable), "in fact I would be surprised if I finished before you today." (No shit, he really said this, and then a few lines later told me was going to run the whole thing (I was planning on walking several steep uphill climbs).

Once the race finally started, Ian, along with several others, including many probably running the 20 and 30k races, shot up the hill.  I knew it was futile to try to keep up, but was still out of breath even walking half of it.  (Ian would drop after 20 or 30k, so at least he proved it was really a training run for him.  He would run a 2:40 at the Napa Marathon the next weekend.  Heck, he can do whatever he wants!)

So it wasn't until the ridge that I felt well enough to suspect, that yes, I had recovered, and this was going to be a fun run.

The single track French Trail section, the middle 10k in between the 20k loop done twice, had been closed (by the East Bay Regional Park District) to the race, and it was rerouted.  This made no sense, since that trail drains well.

original and usual course:

The "extreme weather contingency course" we ran:

It was soon apparent that the muddiest parts of the park were the flatter fire roads on the ridges, which effectively became fairly technical unless you wanted to completely soak your feet.  Which I didn't, though I was amused at the number of runners who at least early on, seemed to use extreme effort to avoid getting their shoes and legs wet at all costs.  Part of me wished I had worn my Wildcat GTXs instead of my Raptors (the Crossover GTX would have been overkill), but my Defeet wool socks kept me comfortable and dry enough, despite a few puddle submersions.
After the first 20k (pink) loop, you got to see people going the other way doing a previous lap.  Fortunately none of the faster runners partially lapped me.

Doing the orange 10k out and back, I talked with the guy who finished 3rd at Muir Beach with red hair, Colin Gardiner, who was running the 30k, before he left me behind.

photo by Rick Gaston

The second time doing the 20k loop, the wide fire roads got messier.  All the more fun.

The forecast for snow and rain came to nothing.  It was a beautiful day, though it stayed a bit nippy.   So, my brilliant act of preparation for this race was this:

In case it's not too clear, two left gloves.

At one point, I took my gloves off, as the pulling of the left-handed glove on my right hand actually made it sore after a few hours. But then my hands got cold again, so I put them back on.

I hung out a little with others trying to stay warm, until my wife picked me up with the kids, pre-loaded for a Tahoe ski trip.  Personally, I think had it snowed, it would have been fun to run in it.  But I got my snow in Tahoe where it belongs, with a great run to kick it off.

Thanks for PCTR and all the volunteers for a great day nearing the end of winter.

Jon Gunderson, 2nd place.  5 minutes was too far ahead for of me for me to ever see him.

He later did me the favor of pointing out that the guy on the left was not really Brett Rivers,

but Elmer Fudd.

Fudd with PCTR's RD Michael Popov and timing guru Mike Bohi

my pre and post-race photos

results

race website

Garmin Forerunner 305 recorded map of my run

Running in a Cloud-- Epiphany Run 2009

The goals of doing the Epiphany Run this year, held the first Saturday of the year to commemorate ultrarunning veteran (and Ultrarunning magazine publisher, Quad Dipsea & Lake Sonoma RD) John Medinger, was to start the year right, with a good long run, but to minimize the paternal-familial impact. In other words, I wasn't to put family plans on hold until I was back and showered in the afternoon. To that end, I decided I would start earlier than the 7 a.m. suggested start, especially since I wanted to do 50k, rather than a shorter option. Also, to save time and minimize carbon impact, I would start near my home in Castro Valley, rather than Skyline Gate at the northern end of Redwood Park in the Oakland hills. Jennifer Ray, minimally organizing the event, said it was cool and I could still get "official" results. click for a simplified course map


I had been up at least 10 minutes when I put on my glasses to see the clock: 2:30 a.m. I then turned off the alarm set at 4 a.m., and moved out of the room, carefully so as not to wake up my easily stirred wife. Then I moved to the spare bedroom, setting that alarm for 4. After an hour lying awake in bed, I gave up. Might as well set out.

Trying to feel like a Dean Karnazes, I drove to the southeast corner of Anthony Chabot Park, at the southern tip of Brandon Trail, where it meets Ten Hills Trail at Redwood Rd. I parked on the street, put on my headlamp and debladdered Fuel Belt pack, and set out.


Entering the trail, I found that the fog made it hard to see. Real hard. As I descended the single track, it got worse. Like, I couldn't see. I would have to go slower than expected. I was worried this would make me colder-- it was in the upper 30's, obviously humid, and I had only a long-sleeve and short-sleeve technical T shirt, my 2007 Firetrails 50 Marmot wind jacket, Race Ready shorts, and worn pair of Sportiva Lynx, in which I'd raced extensively last year.


Figuring at the pace I had started that I would never finish by 9:30, when my wife wanted me back, I decided to keep try to keep moving. Fortunately I knew this trail, and the fact that there was a dropoff to the right. Otherwise I probably would've dropped off. Emerging by the police station at the old Nike Missile base, the fog was finally clear. I saw a shooting star up above, and, oh well, a thick white blanket of fog below over the lake, by which I would be running the next few miles.


Even before reaching the suggested turnaround the normal course at the Chabot boat house, the fog got thicker than ever, the visibility as low as 5-10 feet. Even though I was in the overflow parking lot, and knew I was in that parking lot, I got disoriented and found myself off to the side in some bushes. I would not see the lights of the marina and boat house until I was 100 yards away.


Little did I know that fellow Bay Area ultrarunner Chihping Fu was starting at the boat house at the same time. The fog was so thick, that neither of us saw the other.


Running along the West Shore Trail, I was actually appreciating the pavement, something this trail-lover rarely does. I found myself running by memory, as the fog would obscure my view, and caused me to veer to the sides, splash into puddles, and almost trip. In some small dips the fog would momentarily clear; paradoxically everything would darken, but I could see better.


Coming out of the Bort Meadow parking lot, where there would be an aid station sometime after 7 a.m., again I ran out of the fog on MacDonald Trail, then dipped back into it, turning right at Redwood Road and into the main entrance of Redwood Park. At times I couldn't tell what surface I was running on, and I did a lot of stopping to try to read signs and stay on the prescribed trails. Around mile 13, I got an acute intense attack of the sleepies, not just the mental cloud in which I'd been running to match the mist, but an epiphany that I am a truly crazy ultrarunning idiot. I had some caffeinated gummy chews in my pack, but didn't feel like taking my pack off to look for them. Plus, I was out of water and the fog obscured any fountains that I knew were along the trail.


I ascended gradually to Skyline Gate, the turnaround. My Forerunner read 15.45 miles. Although I knew the wrist device always underestimated distance, to ensure I wasn't shorting myself of 50k, I ran to the end and around the parking lot and back before filling my bottle up in the water fountain and pouring in some powdered Gu2O. A car pulled into the lot. I paused staring at the car, considering saying "hi" to see if it held the first runners starting at the normal time and place, but decided I needed to get going.


The sky was starting to brighten. What a difference a brightening sky made, despite it being dimly lit and my still running in heavy forest. I could see all the puddles in which I splashed, the ruts in the trail, the paths that veered off elsewhere.



(not actually a view in Redwood, see below. photo by Baldwyn Chieh)


After ascending and descending MacDonald Trail, I came back to the Bort Meadow parking lot. Although we'd never met, I knew from emails that it was Oakland ultrarunner Steve Holman. I chatted, helped myself to couple Luna bars, half filled my bottle. As I was leaving, Baldwyn Chieh came running from Castro Valley, muttering about how he couldn't find Goldenrod Trail and tried to call me. He snapped a photo of me and Steve.




I was glad to briefly connect with the official aid crew and one other runner, since I didn't think I would see anyone else running the same event that morning. But a few miles later, on Goldenrod Trail, I saw two women that looked familiar running toward me on the dirt trail approaching the lake. I asked them if they were doing "the run." "Yes, but we're doing it in the opposite direction!" they answered. I said "so am I" but was not sure they believed me.
(Later I would learn they were veteran ultrarunners Barbie Elia and Linda McFadden, both from Modesto. I've recognized Barb a million times at races, so I must've been sleepy.)


Since the sun was up, shining in my face as it started to burn the fog off, I was missing my $150 Julbo off-road sunglasses I'd lost descending the streets from Wildcat park in El Cerrito three evenings ago. The bike path along Chabot was starting to fill with hikers, joggers and people holding their fishing lines-- all qualifying as early risers, but this morning not early compared to me.

Had this been a real race, I would've been really kicking it in at this point, if not already. Such is the laid-back nature of the fat-ass run.


Fairmont Ridge seen over a cloud lying over the Chabot Park main entrance as I ascended McGregor GeorgeTrail during my final 2.8 miles.


I got back to my car by 9 a.m. Some mountain bikers were unloading their bikes and one asked me if it was cold out there. "Yeah, but I've been running 31 miles since 3:45" I say, only half-trying to be nonchalant about it. They give me that "you crazy" look I guess for some reason I was seeking.


My family and I made it to the California Academy of Sciences at 11:15, to find even the members line went 100 yards out the door, and there were only letting people in as people left, which wasn't going to happen that early in the day. So we walked around Stow Lake and drove to the buffalo grove in Golden Gate Park, before heading to Fisherman's Wharf to eat Ghiradelli, weave through the extra large holiday crowds, and see the sea lions. There were lots of joggers out in the brisk sunny weather. Had I not gotten a good run in, I would have been fidgeting. Too bad our camera is lost somewhere in my brother's house, because we missed a lot of great photo ops.


Motion Based Garmin Forerunner recorded map and stats (not sure if you need software loaded on your computer to view)


Other blogged reports:
Baldwyn Chieh


1st published Sunday, 1/4/09 at 5 p.m.