New Year’s Eve Marathon in Zurich

Before the race, repping Antarctica shirt!

 

On New Years Eve for the past few years, I’ve run a race in San Francisco called the New Year’s One Day. It’s a timed race, which means you run as many miles as you can in a set period of time. The first two years I tried for the 24-hour version, with varying degrees of success, stopping at just about 8 hours in 2015 and after 17 hours in 2016. Last year, I ran the 6-hour version came in 3rd, which was pretty neat!

This year, however, the race moved to January 5th, which sort of defeats the purpose of the activity – e.g., running it on New Year’s. So, I was left without a clear idea of what to do on New Year’s Eve. Independently of that, while I was home for the Christmas holiday, I also developed a strong urge to burn through some of those airline miles and hotel points that I’d been accumulating. After a little bit of hotel searching and points optimization, combined with a non-zero amount of race trawling, I found the perfect solution: The Neujahrsmarathon in Zurich.

The race takes place just a little bit west of Zurich. It’s a four-loop course along the Limmat River, starting on the south bank and heading east, then crossing to the north bank and circling back, for a lap distance of 10.55 km (or, a quarter of a marathon). It’s run on fairly flat dirt trails – my jam.

And, the best part? It start at midnight on New Year’s Eve. What a cool way to start the new year.

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This is what the start line looked like last year (source)

 

The Swiss are experts at how to do things in the cold and in the dark – maybe because of the long winters and the nearby Alps. They understand how to keep warm. This race was no different – they cleverly began the race inside a gymnasium. While this may not seem like a massive innovation, runners will appreciate how humane this actually is. Standing at the cold at the start of a race is easily one of the worst parts of the overall experience. However, starting indoors made hanging out at the start of the race much more tolerable, since we didn’t have to shiver in 38*F weather outside.

About 1,000 participants ran the race. There were a bunch of distances folks could choose to do, from the 1/4 marathon (one 10.55 km loop) all the way to the full marathon, as well as several relay options. So, the start was quite crowded.

With a few minute to go until 2018 ended and 2019 began, we all squished into the start corral. The lights dimmed, and finally, the countdown began. 10 … 9 … 8 … 7… couples shuffled closer together to get ready for a pre-race kiss … 6 … 5 … 4 … right hands positioned themselves over GPS watches on left wrists … 3 … 2… 1 …

“FROHES NEUES JAHR!” and we were off.

We trotted out of the gymnasium and into the cold, and this was where the magic happened.

All around us – literally 360* – fireworks were exploding. Municipal fireworks, fireworks from people’s back yards, sparklers – you name it. The whole sky, both near and farther away, was completely lit up by fireworks. Everywhere we looked, rainbow flowers of light were bursting in the air. I couldn’t stop craning my neck in every direction – it was all I could do to not trip or run into my fellow athletes.

Church bells rang through the cold night air, creating a beautiful aharmonic symphony. It was overwhelming. I was so happy to be experiencing this moment. It was the perfect way to start 2019.

 

At the start of a lap. Still smiling.

 

Running with a fellow expat

The race itself was easy. I was smiling the whole time.

I’ll summarize the loop, since we did it four times:

  • Take a short jog out of the gymnasium to the river and turn right.
  • Run east along the river, heading upstream. Duck under a few bridges.
  • Around 4.5 km, turn left at the flaming tiki torches and cross the footbridge.
  • Run through the aid station and hang a left onto some slightly more tricky terrain – somewhere between single- and double-track trail.
  • Pass behind someone’s house? A bar? Not totally clear. Either way, it had FANTASTIC holiday lights, including green lasers and penguins. (Edit – I looked it up. It’s actually a monastery next to a restaurant?!)
  • Cross over the Werd Bach river, which was illuminated by more sparklers and tiki torches.
  • Cross back over the Limmat around 10km, and head back into the gymnasium.

In terms of how each lap went, here’s a summary of that.

  • Lap 1: Magical, overwhelming, gorgeous and glorious. (time: 51:47)
  • Lap 2: Cruising cruising. Found a fellow ex-pat halfway through this lap and got to talking. (time: 53:07)
  • Lap 3: Hung with my new friend for a lap- he kept me moving. (time: 55:33)
  • Lap 4: Popped a caffeinated GU and finished her up. I think I could have gone faster here if I had better light – my handheld flashlight was pretty weak. (time: 1:01:02)

I finished in 3:41 – not bad for a trail race at midnight in the dark.

On a side note, I gotta say that the jetlag certainly helped. I’ve never been more awake while running between midnight and 4am – the race started at about 2pm PST, which is what time my body clock was thinking it was.

 

Just before the 10th kilometer in one of the 10.55 km laps

 

At the finish line. This weirdly looks like I photoshopped the pose from the previous photo, but this is just how I run I guess!

After finishing, I hung out for a little bit and waited for my new friend to cross the finish line. It was actually quite cold, so I bundled up and popped in an Uber fairly quickly afterwards, heading back to the hotel just after 4am.

In addition to not bringing a strong enough headlamp, I did make one other mistake. In my day-to-day life, I typically don’t consume caffeine. I like to save it for races – since I don’t have a tolerance to it, it gives me a little bit more of a kick, which I took advantage of around mile 19. My plan for this evening was to finish the race, go home, take a shower, and immediately go to sleep, with the theory being that my body would have worked the caffeine out of my system by the time I finished the race and did all that other stuff. This was … massively incorrect. I got back to the hotel, took a shower, got under the covers … and stayed awake until breakfast. Then I got breakfast. Then I headed out to a church service (completely in German) at Fraumünster Church, which is famous for its Chagall stained glass windows. Then I wandered around Alstadt (old town) for an hour or so (everything was closed – because it was New Year’s Day – including a chocolate chop I wanted to go to). Then I went to the Thermalbad thermal baths and spent some time in the steam room and pools (spoiler alert: SO MANY COUPLES). Then I got a massage. Then I ate dinner. Then I did some reading. I didn’t end up actually sleeping until about 6pm that day. I was awake for about 20 hours. So – I probably didn’t need the caffeine.

All in all, this was a really fantastic way to spend New Years. It was a spontaneous trip, which made it a little bit more of an adventure. I got to do a few of my favorite things – running, exploring, learning about a new culture, traveling light (just a backpack!) and getting stuff for free (thanks points!). I would definitely do this race again.

Happy New Year, everyone!

[Spoiler alert – remember the New year’s One Day in SF? I got to run that too! Stay tuned for more …]

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Happy New Year from Zurich! Photo courtesy of zuerich.com

 

CIM: fun with friends

Every year, I think a bit about what I want to focus on in the upcoming year. It’s a bit like New Year’s Resolutions. My theme for 2018 was “community.”I chose it because I wanted to build one this year. In December, I really feel like the efforts of this focus came to fruition, in a number of ways, and this particular weekend felt like one of them.

CIM – California International Marathon, in Sacramento – is a theoretically fast course, although I think it’s deceptively difficult due to the early downhill. Because it’s considered fast, it’s also very popular. So I knew a lot of folks who would be there this year, including Andrew and Patti (from Antarctica), Mike (of Badwater fame), and Eric (a friend I met while his company was a client of mine).

The race was fun (3:38, which is my 3rd fastest time). The rest of the weekend was even better. Here are some highlights, in chronological order:

  • Sharing a weirdly luxurious motel suite with Patti (who drove all the way up from San Diego) and Andrew (who flew in from Nashville to hang out, despite his broken arm) in a medium-sketchy neighborhood in Sacramento
  • At the race expo, meeting Scott Jurek,who is famous for setting the Appalachian Trail speed record and winning a bunch of hard ultras, like Badwater, Hardrock, and Western States. He signed my bib, and we got copies of his book!
  • Thrift store shopping for throw-away pre-race sweaters
  • Wandering around Old Town Sacramento and buying matching knee-high socks
  • Meeting Mike for coffee and discussing insanely difficult races, most of which he’s done
  • Having drinks and snacks on an old riverboat with Eric and his running buddy
  • Seeing all the holiday decorations in downtown Sacramento, including the huge tree, light shows, and great Christmas stores
  • Returning to a favorite Safeway of mine (I used to live in Sacramento, and we got up to some shenanigans at this Safeway)
  • Watching Indiana Jones with Patti, who had never seen it before, and Andrew, who had definitely seen it before
  • Running with Tim Twietmeyer in the 3:35 pace group. Tim has won Western States 100 five times, and has finished in under 24 hours … 25 times.
  • Seeing Mike as he headed towards the finish of the race (and running like … four steps with him)
  • After the race, touring the capitol building
  • Going back to the finish line – long after everything had been taken down – and seeing a couple of the final runners finishing. Patti somehow involved herself in handing out medals to these super dedicated folks. We think she also may have handed out a medal to some random jogger who was unaffiliated with the race.
  • Eating dinner at some hole-in-the-wall bar and people-watching aggressively
  • Visiting The Diplomat bar for a drink, because we’d heard that a senator had gotten drunk and punched someone there, although none of the staff could verify this.
  • Accidentally staying at The Diplomat long enough to be included in an election celebration event for one of California’s elected officials, and running into a woman who knew my mom

Overall – super super fun weekend. Running has transformed from something I do just to do it, to something that keeps me connected with people who I care about. I’m looking forward to more of the same next year.

Here are some photos:

 

The crew reunites! Love these guys

Three of the people in this photo ran a race in Antarctica. The other one is Scott Jurek.

Scott signed my bib!

Sunset over the river from an old riverboat

Run Happy. Mainly I was just happy to see Andrew and Patti (who still holds the title of best cheerleader ever)

I just liked how my calf looked in this picture.

Finished the race!

Best team ever

Burning Man 50k (Or: A Run Around the Desert)

Burning Man is a 70,000-person hippy gathering in the desert of Nevada, in summer. There’s cool art, funky music, and fun activities to do. It’s a bastion of hippy values: love, sharing, and friendliness. Most of all, it’s summer camp for adults – where you have no plans and no obligations, other than to have fun. So basically, you get to do whatever you want.

For me, doing whatever I want often means … running.

Background and Course Info

I’d heard about the Burning Man 50k a few years ago. For a variety of reasons and despite having tickets, I hadn’t gotten around to actually going to Burning Man. So when Cyndi, my friend and colleague, mentioned she was going to Burning Man for the first time this year and invited me along, I couldn’t say no. Later, she also mentioned she was going to run the 50k, and I knew I’d found the right group to camp with.

The Burning Man 50k course goes through some of the major landmarks of the city, which is laid out a bit like a clock (see below). The course starts somewhere near the middle of the city, heads out to the perimeter, goes about a quarter of the way around the edge, then comes back in. It’s about four laps of running, plus a little bit at the end, to get to the full 50k. The course is flat (it’s a desert). The race itself starts early – around 5:30am – to avoid the desert heat. Dust storms are a very real consideration, so appropriate apparel, such as dust masks and goggles, are required.

This is a map of the course. You run the pink dotted line four times, then a little bit more, going clockwise. Pink Lightning is the name of the camp that organized the race. It’s also where the race starts and finishes.

 

A few things surprised me (in a good way!) about how the race was organized:

  • There’s no registration fee. That’s because everything at Burning Man is “gifted” – e.g. created by another participant and then shared, with no exchange of money, goods, or services
  • It’s chip-timed, which is really impressive for a race that’s so far out in the desert and affiliated with a bigger event
  • There’s even swag: T-shirts, finisher medals, and start medals
  • It’s BYO aid-station – all participants were asked to bring some aid station snacks to donate, as well as 1-2 gallons of water each. We brought some salty crunchy snacks (I can’t remember exactly what). We also made a little aid station box for our camp, which consisted of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, peanut butter and nutella sandwiches, and peanut butter and honey sandwiches. You might be picking up on a theme here.

The Start Line

The race was supposed to start at 5am, so we headed over to the start line around 4:30am. Most Burning Man activity happens at night, so as we were waking up to get ready for the race, it felt like the city was still in full-on party mode. About a hundred runners were at the start (it felt like more), and it was clear some of them hadn’t actually gone to sleep the day before. They’d just rolled right up after staying out all night.

Almost all runners were in some kind of costume. Most costumes included illumination of some sort, such as LED-encrusted headgear, or jackets lined with electroluminescent wiring. These light-up clothes serve a dual purpose: they both look cool, and make sure people can see you at night. Lots of folks wore tutus, capes, or headgear. One woman had a mirrored disco-ball sports bra!

We said hi to a few folks – there were one or two other people I knew who were running as well – and stashed our camp’s aid station out of the way of the hoards.

For reasons that remain unclear to me, the race didn’t actually start until 5:30am. That said, this is pretty typical of Burning Man – things start late, or not at all. Timing is pretty flexible.

After a brief group photo, we lined up at the start, and the race began.

 

Two other folks from my camp, Alex and Cyndi, also ran this race – it was their first 50k! We wore matching unicorn headbands.

I made this cape a lot of years ago for the relay race around Lake Tahoe! It made a comeback for this costumed event

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All the runners at the stat line

Before Sunrise

Cyndi, Alex, and I had planned to run a few miles at the start together, but it became very quickly apparent that they wanted to set a much faster pace than I wanted to. I also didn’t want to push my pace too much to start, since I’d been rehabbing an ankle injury (posterior tibial tendinitis – it’s healed now, but it was a long road this year). So they took off within the first few minutes and I settled into my pace.

For the first mile and a half or so, we ran along the Esplanade – the innermost ring of the city. Along this road, there were lots and lots of non-running revelers in various stages of intoxication, all wearing lit-up clothing. Once they figured out what we were doing, they cheered us on, with calls of “You’re crazy!” ‘Here, have a shot of vodka!” and “F*ck your burn!” (Which is actually a nice thing to say, even though it doesn’t sound like it). The atmosphere was very much charged with energy.

We turned left at the end of Esplanade to the 10’o’clock branch of the city. We ran by the ill-fated and now notorious 747 airplane – the first of four times we would pass it that day – around which a party was still commencing.

Then we headed out into the desert.

The desert of Burning Man – away from the center of civilization – is called the Deep Playa. It has this mysticism about it, as if it takes a monumental journey to get there. In reality, it’s just a short walk – maybe 10-15 minutes – away from the main camp areas – but it does have a weird, isolated vibe. The desert is an empty place, and you realize it as soon as you leave the bustle of center camp behind. There’s nothing out there.

That said, we runners could still hear the thumping music from the fleets of art cars crawling about the Playa, and we could still see the laser lights cutting through the persistent cloud of dust over the festival. We were still part of the party, even as we ran away from it.

The course turned to the right at the trash fence – an orange, plastic perimeter constructed to keep festival trash from blowing into the desert. You can see it in a few pictures below.

At about four miles in, or halfway through the lap, we hit an aid station. I didn’t stop, but it was great to see the volunteers, including two of my good friends, Natalie and Mikaela! You can see their photo below – they were the most enthusiastic cheerleaders, and it was so awesome to see them.

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My friends Natalie and Mikaela happened to be at the trash fence aid station – here they are in a white hoodie and black dress, respectively. It was so awesome to see them out there!

 

The next four miles are a mirror image of the first – continue along the trash fence, turn right at the gate, then back to camp. This stretch was our first introduction to the non-official aid stations, which consisted of folks who just randomly set up aid stations to offer things to runners. These offerings were diverse, and included the obvious – like water and oranges – and the less obvious – like pigs in blankets and rum.

At the end of the lap, we passed through Pink Lightning’s camp and crossed the timing mat.

The second lap was gorgeous, and when the sun rose. Seeing the sun rise at Burning Man is a bit of a rite of passage, usually because it means that you’ve stayed up all night to see it. In this case, we got to see it coming up as we were running. It was beautiful, and ethereal to be running in the desert as the sun rose.

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Someone running as the sun is coming up. One of the most beautiful photos from this day.

After Sunrise – the Middle Miles

I fell into step with a couple of guys, including one – named Natron (real name) – who was wearing some crazy bouncy shoes. The shoes had some complex spring contraption on the bottom, which gave Natron a literal bounce to his step (as well as a little squeaky noise). He was already tall, and this added a few more inches to his height. He told us he was trying to set a Guinness world record for “Fastest Marathon in Bouncy Shoes,” but Guinness kept telling him that bouncy shoes aren’t a universally accessible piece of gear, so they wouldn’t take it.

I ran with him for a few miles before we caught up to Cyndi and Alex.

Lisa, Natron, Alex, and Cyndi running in the desert (thanks John for the photo! You can read his race report here)

 

Running along the trash fence in the morning with some new friends

Probably my favorite runner costume: two guys dressed in checkered shirts and pants carrying a banner that said “finish.” They ran all the loops in reverse, so I got to “cross the finish line” about eight times! I loved seeing these guys, even if it never meant I was actually finishing.

Not the finish line

 

In terms of food, since that’s a common question – I didn’t partake of any of the race-organized aid stations, and I also didn’t partake of any of the non-race-organized aid stations. I carried a handheld water bottle, which I filled up every loop or so at our camp’s aid station, and I ate the PB&H we had prepared as well. I made this decision for a few reasons: First, the race-organized aid station food wasn’t laid out in a way that made it easy to grab, so the little bit of added friction made me less interested in trying to figure it out. Second, the non-race-organized aid stations … well, it’s Burning Man. You don’t always know exactly what you’re gonna get from strangers, no matter how well-meaning they are.

A non-race-organized aid station. I think these guys were pretty innocuous - handing out coconut water.

One of the more benign non-sanctioned aid stations. I think they were just offering coconut water.

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One of the race gates at the trash fence. We would turn right at this one to continue along the course.

The after-sunrise vibe is a little different on the Playa. Revelers start going to bed, so it quiets down quite a bit. The early risers wake up, and they tend to be a more peaceful, thoughtful bunch. They were more genuinely curious about what we were doing, and asked us questions (as much as possible when you’re running by) about the race, rather than shouting encouragement. We also saw a lot of folks doing morning yoga.

The Last Few Miles

After the fourth lap, we had to do another short out-and-back to round us out to the full 50k distance. I had held a pretty consistent pace so far, and it had felt pretty good. I was happy about this, as I was just coming back from that injury and hadn’t been doing a lot of running.

As I passed the timing mat, I heard a guy on the sidelines asking if anyone wanted a pacer for a bit. I said sure – one of my goals for the week at Burning Man was to say “Yes” to people offering gifts, and this was an opportunity to do that! So this guy and I ran the last little bit together. He was a super nice guy – lots of ultrarunning experience – and I think it was his first time at Burning Man as well. I think he was disappointed I wasn’t doing more miles before finishing, but I was very happy to have the company. (When I finished the race, he found another runner who still had another lap and went off with her – what a cool guy!)

The Finish Line

I crossed the finish line with a time of around 5:40 / 5:45. Slow for me, but great for not having run any meaningful distance for a few months, and my ankle didn’t hurt! Cyndi and Alex came in about twenty minutes later, and it was so awesome to see them cross the finish line of their first 50k together. Our camp mate Cliff came to cheer us on at the finish, too.

Hanging at the finish line. Love these guys.

We gifted our remaining camp sandwiches to a runner who was just about to leave on her fourth lap – she hadn’t eaten anything for the first 22 miles of the race (!) so we were happy to share.

We headed back to camp, took the Burning Man equivalent of shower (e.g., leveraging lots and lots of wet wipes), and had some breakfast. I think the other two took a nap – I got on my bike and went out exploring.

Afterwards

I took the rest of the week off from running, because I was still pretty skittish about further injuring my ankle. Posterior tibial tendinitis isn’t a joke, and can turn into a permanent injury if not treated. I was still pretty nervous about it.  Honestly, taking that week off may have been what got me over the hump in terms of recovery. The ankle felt much, much better when I got back to the real world.

I am so glad to have gotten a chance to run this race. I was happy and smiling the entire race, for probably a few reasons.

  • I hadn’t run for a long time, and it felt so good to get back out there, even if I was going slow.
  • I’d been wanting to run this race for a number of years, and finally getting to do it was a real treat.
  • The scenery and the environment were completely amazing. The desert is an incredible place, and getting to see the art and people of Burning Man in this way was very special
  • I got to run with two of my favorite people – Alex and Cyndi – and they were running their very first 50k! I love running with new ultrarunners.

In terms of the race itself – the winning woman ran an average of 8:09 minute pace or so for the entire race.  You may remember that, just a few months earlier, I ran my fastest marathon ever, averaging … 8:07s. So, I’ll just leave that there. All I’ll say is … my tendinitis is healed. I’ll be back in Black Rock City next year, and I’ll definitely be running again.

 

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Make sure to read John’s race report – I ran a bunch of miles with him!

Some photos in this post courtesy of Samuel-Christophe Tedjasukmana

Lake Chabot 50k – new PR!

The start of the race -feeling good

A few weeks ago I ran a race at Lake Chabot (thanks again Inside Trail!). I’ve run in this area a few times before – once in 2016, and once in 2012.

If you check out the results page … I came in 3rd! But even better … I set a personal record for the 50k distance!!! This 50k is the fastest one I’ve ever run in my life, and the fastest since 2012 … which is crazy, and also pretty exciting because:

  • This is the last race of my 20s (turning 30 this weekend)
  • I’m getting faster even as I’m getting older
  • I could maybe run even faster in the future!

Here’s how it went down –

The day dawned crisp and clear – as is usual for the East Bay of California. I’d signed up for the race just a few days earlier, on Wednesday of that week, because it felt like a good time to run a race (sometimes your body just tells you).

The course is an 18 mile loop followed by a 13 mile loop. The 13 mile is a shortened version of the previous loop, so there would be some sections of the course, including a substantial out-and-back, that we’d see four times. I typically do well in races with longer out-and-backs, because I can see the field of runners, and also know what sort of terrain is coming on the way back.

At some point just before the start, I realized that I’d forgotten my GPS watch.  This was a little disconcerting, but there wasn’t much to do for it at this point. I’d also recently read an article that sometimes anchoring consistently on pace or time can actually slow runners down, so I tried to focus on that.

The first loop was pretty uneventful. I spent a lot of time worrying about the runners in the 18-mile race, who would sprint past us at what seemed like breakneck speed. However, I also knew there were plenty of 50k runners ahead of me and I wasn’t really competitive, so at some point, I just settled in. The first big climb was several miles, and I’m pretty slow on the uphills anyway, so a lot of other runners drifted by me.

Around mile 7 or 8 the course has a pretty long downhill, and that’s where I felt the energy kick in. I flew down the hill, passing a lot of folks who had previously been ahead of me. I was in a pretty fantastic mood too – the scenery was gorgeous, with rolling green hills lush from rain and beautiful blue sky.

After an aid station, maybe around mile 11-12, I caught up temporarily with another runner. She was a badass – training for a 100-mile race – and somehow was just cruising up these hills. She basically had one running speed, and it was inexorable. At some point (maybe after about a mile) I had to let her go – I couldn’t keep up with her hills.

However, I still knew I was running pretty quickly and I felt pretty good. There was one point during this race where I felt so much energy, happiness, and excitement – like my heart would just burst with it – I’ve never felt that while running before. It wasn’t runners high (I’m honestly not sure what that is, but this wasn’t it) – but it was so much energy that I just didn’t know what to do with it. So I did the only thing that made sense – translate it into speed.

Another hill crest, then heading down to the end of the first lap. Miles 16-18, as we headed into the turnaround, were very flat, along the lake. This is where I knew I’d see other runners on the return, and I could figure out how far ahead of me they would be.

I saw the woman in first place about 3-4 miles ahead of me, and that was pretty disheartening. There was no way in this universe I could ever catch her – she was probably 30 minutes ahead of me. The next woman, in 2nd place, was maybe about a 1.5-2 miles ahead of me, and at that point I was pretty sure there was no way I’d place in this race.

However, for the next mile or so I didn’t see anyone – and then I saw the turnaround aid station up ahead! There were two runners just coming out of it – one was a younger woman running in 3rd, and the other was the woman I’d been running with earlier, running in 4th!

I quickly refueled and caught up to the 4th place runner – I learned her name was Ingrid. We passed the runner in 3rd place, and I started thinking about the next half-marathon of running.

Ingrid kept trying to tell me that this was “just a training run” for her so she wasn’t trying to push it, but she was a literal speed demon. She was blasting up hills and powering down the other side, and she was taking no prisoners at aid stations.  As I struggled to keep up with her, we headed into our first hill together, I was sure I’d fall back, because she was still running these hills (vs speed-walking, which is my normal approach). I settled for a run/walk combination, which translated into me running the hill as long as I could to keep up with her, then walking with long strides to not fall behind, then feeling like I was falling behind, then trying to sprint up the hill to catch her, then repeating this process.

There’s something very cool about knowing how far you can push your body, and even though I was moving up these hills faster than was strictly comfortable, I could tell I wasn’t overdoing it. I was uncomfortable, but still within the range that of not exhausting myself. So I kept following Ingrid up these insane hills.

At one point, I was sort of curious about our pace / projected finish time. I almost asked Ingrid to tell me, but then told her not to share it. I didn’t want to influence or jinx the next few miles.

Anyway, Ingrid and I stayed together for the whole second loop of the race. The last few miles we ran side by side the whole way, and we really picked it up towards the finish, flying the last flat two miles.

When I saw the finish line, the first thing I saw was the timer. We crossed the finish line at 5:19 – a full 8 minutes faster than my previous PR.

Just crossing the finish line

Ingrid and crossed the finish line together. It was really motivating to have been able to run with such a fun running buddy for the last loop. I’m 99% sure the reason for my PR was due to time made up on the hills, and that was completely due to Ingrid’s pace.

Ingrid and I sharing a trophy

Anyway, Ingrid and I exchanged phone numbers, and we’re going to do a long run together next weekend.

The trophy pre-slicing

Also, while I believe she and I tied for 3rd place, the timer indicated I finished one second ahead of her. So I had a friend cut the trophy in half (thanks Vlad!) and I sent her half of it – so now we both have half of a 3rd place trophy.

This was a great last race to run in my 20s. Looking forward to another decade of running.

 

Half a trophy

New Year’s One Day: Fresh Start Effect

Not bad, GG bridge. You’re looking good today.

I’ve attempted the New Year One day a few times: once in 2015 and once in 2014. In this race, which takes place on December 31st, you run around in a circle for as many miles as you can in a certain period of time. The previous two times I’ve attempted it, I took on the 24-hour version. Turns out, I’m not great at running around in circles for 24 hours, because it is boring and it gets cold.

Me running this race a few years ago

These last few months have been fairly tumultuous from a personal perspective. I’ve gotten promoted, gotten married, gotten divorced, and finished an Ironman. So, as the new year came around, I was really looking forward to a fresh start. I wanted to do some running, but maybe not 24 hours of running. I signed up for the six hour version of this race about two days before the race.

This was some of the best running I’ve ever done, and not because of any particularly fast running that I did during the race. I was happy – super happy – for pretty much the entire race.

There are a few races that are great not because they are particularly hard or easy, but because you’re in a positive state of mind when running them. For six hours, during this race, I was the most content I’d been in a long time, for all the reasons that make running great. I was running for myself, propelled by myself, relying on the skills and capabilities I had built. I got to catch up with some old friends I’d met in previous races. I got to push myself just a little outside my comfort zone. I got to see some pretty scenery. And there was nothing that could stop me. It was me and this perfect little mile of 60% asphalt and 40% dirt, with iconic views of the Golden Gate Bridge every 10 minutes. I was paying homage to my city, my running, 2017, 2018, and my own strength.

All in all, this was an extremely uneventful race. I ran fast, consistently, and happily for six hours. I ran in the opposite direction for a little bit, then ran the original way again. Then at the end, I stopped running. And I felt good the whole time. And because of that, it’s one of the races I’ll keep close to my heart for a years to come.

The new year is a turning point, and even though it’s a made-up milestone in the scheme of civilization, sometimes that’s okay. For me, this race was a return to my roots.

Bring it on, 2018.

San Francisco delivers.

 

I am $25.00 fast

 

Getting past the burnout – 2nd place at Redtail Ridge

This is a race report about the Redtail Ridge 50k at Lake Chabot, put on by the illustrious Inside Trail Running.

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On Saturday, at 8:05 a.m., I was sitting in a car in the parking lot of a park. My race started at 8:30. I hadn’t put on my shoes, and I hadn’t picked up my bib. I was not motivated or excited to run this race. I was feeling burnt out.

Last week, I posted a depressing call for help on a running message board. Here it is:

Hi runners,

I’m training for my 3rd 100-miler. Race is in early April. I’m running 28-30-milers almost every Saturday, plus whatever the training plan says for the other days. Between work and training for this race, I feel really burnt out – if I’m not working, I’m running, and there’s no time for anything else. I’m starting to dread my workouts [even non long-run days], and that hasn’t really happened before.

I haven’t felt this way when training for my past races, which I did primarily by running some 50s and 50ks [fun!] and then just running the race. This time around, training seems like an inescapable slog. I’m wondering if a) I’ve hit my limit of interest for the sport b) I’ve been overtraining or c) training is hard and I wasn’t doing it right before.

Help me out, guys – another four weekends of 30-mile Saturdays just seems daunting, miserable, and not worth it, but not doing the training seems like a bad option too.

Suffice to say, the last few weeks have been rough. I was tired, overwhelmed, and not excited to run. And in the car on Saturday morning, I wasn’t excited at the prospect of another run. It just seemed like so much work.

I thought about my options. I could either get out of the car and run the race. Or I could let Will run and go do literally anything else for five hours. Anything. I could go read a book or visit with friends or just wander around and explore the area. I was really grasping at any reason to not run this race.

But, ultimately, I was basically at the start line already, and I’d already paid. Two really uninspired reasons to run. So I got out of the car, picked up my bib, and started the race.

I’d run a couple of races in this park before, so the trails were familiar. The first few miles were along a lake – flat and forested, before we started a steep climb to the first aid station.

I wasn’t pushing it too hard at this point in the race. I’d gotten food poisoning on Thursday, so wasn’t sure how much energy I had in the tank. This race was also supposed to be a training run, so it was more about the miles and less about the speed. As such, I hadn’t tapered at all, and had run back-to-back ten-milers on Tuesday and Wednesday. I was moving slow, and I was okay with that, because I wasn’t motivated to run anyway.

That said, I was watching the color of the bibs around me. The 30k race had started at the same time as we had. They had green bibs instead of our yellow ones. Even though I wasn’t going for speed, I definitely looked at a racer’s bib color any time one passed me, which happened frequently, and hoped their bib was green. Runners going shorter distances should be running faster, so it doesn’t feel completely devastating when someone running a shorter distance scoots ahead. For a while, I didn’t see many yellow bibs at all, which was motivating.

After the second aid station, we ran along a rolling, wide dirt road in verdant green pastures. The trail was sloppy with mud from recent rain, made worse by the … generous … presents that grazing cows had left us along the way.

I took a quick pit-stop in the bushes and retied my shoes before the trail plunged back into the forest.

I hadn’t brought my watch on this race. Sometimes, looking at your distance during a race can be more depressing than helpful. At the beginning of the race, I felt like I had so much going against me mentally already. It didn’t seem worth it to add to the misery by knowing how many millions of miles I had left to go.

So, I’m guessing when I say it was somewhere around mile 10 when I picked up the pace a bit, for no reason other than it seemed like a good idea. At some point, I caught up to another runner, and fully intended to pass her, but she opened a conversation as we rounded a corner and stuck with me.

I’m really glad she did. We spent the next six or eight miles together. I learned about her running past [she used to live in Hopkinton, where the Boston Marathon starts!] and we chatted away a few hours of running.

I felt like I could have gone a little faster at this point, but I was more excited to have company and someone to talk to. Finding kindred spirits is one of my favorite parts of long races.

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My new friend and motivation for the middle stretch of the race

When we reached a downhill stretch, she and I parted ways; I’m a strong downhill runner and was feeling good.

The 50k course included all of the 30k course; we headed back to the start line with the 30k runners, then turned around and went out for another 12 miles after that.  As I headed back to the start line, I was feeling pretty good, energized by running with my new friend and excited by the prospect of running another 12 miles on the course. I would see her one more time on the course as I headed back out and she reached her finish line.

I like courses that have little stretches of out-and-back. Some runners don’t, because it can be demotivating to run in the opposite direction of where you’re ultimately headed, especially when part of that is at the start/finish line. However, I think  it’s fun to see the other runners on the course who are ahead or behind. It’s also an easy way to figure out how well you’re doing relative to other runners, because you can count who’s ahead of you. I hadn’t seen that many women with yellow bibs, and none that had passed me.

With just a few miles to the turn-around at the start, I started looking out for runners coming the other way. I saw one – she was moving pretty fast, and she was about 2-2.5 miles ahead of me. I saw one more, but she had made a wrong turn and wasn’t running the 50k anymore. And then … I reached the turnaround.  There weren’t any other women ahead of me.

I was in 2nd place.

And, even better, I was feeling good, both physically and mentally.

Neat. I turned around and took off, trying to widen the gap between myself and whoever was behind me. I quickly saw two women neck-in-neck, both 50k runners, about a mile behind me. So that meant I had to not lose a minute per mile to them, approximately, over the next 12 miles. It was 2nd place or 4th place.

I was glad I had left some gas in the tank, because the next few miles were back up that first hill again. I paced myself, running the hill where I could and taking walk breaks on the steep parts where I needed to, and made it to the first aid station in good shape.

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Cruising up a hill

There were three aid stations in this stretch, and I knew that if I made it to the 2nd one without getting passed, I could defend my position and sprint the last six miles to the finish. So the next few miles were somewhat anxiety-filled. Every walk-break, I was second-guessing whether or not I was wasting time by walking. This strategizing was kind of fun, too – not something I normally did in races, because normally I don’t compete for any meaningful prizes in races.

I made it to the 2nd aid station – another out-and-back – and hadn’t been passed yet. As I left the aid station, I saw one of the other women behind me. She was still about ten minutes back. I was pretty confident that she wouldn’t catch me, but I didn’t want to take any risks.

The last six miles were great. My legs had started to fatigue a little bit, but I knew I could go this last stretch without hitting the wall. These were the miles where I could feel my long runs paying off. I felt strong and prepared for the distance.

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Flying

After the last aid station, it was all downhill, and I flew all the way down to the lake. The last mile or so was little rolling hills along the lake, and I really pushed hard. At this point, it wasn’t because I was worried about getting passed, but because I was feeling good and I wanted to leave it all on the course. Will came back and ran with me for the last couple of minutes too, which was motivating and fun.

I crossed the finish line at 5:41, which was my 3rd fasted trail 50k time. And – I came in 2nd!

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Will pacing me to the finish

 

I had a really great time out on the course. I had been feeling really burnt out on running. A fun race – which turned into a competitive race – ended up being just the thing to get me back on track. Training for a 100-mile race is hard work, and it was nice to take a mental break and see some of that training pay dividends.

Sometimes we forget why we do the things we do, and it’s hard to get over the hump. This race helped to remind me about the reasons I run.

Running is a very multifaceted activity, and it draws people in for a variety of reasons. Some people love structured training, getting lost in the wilderness, racing competitively, or breaking PRs. As for me, I’ve always loved showing up to a race with no agenda, knowing that the time doesn’t matter, and also knowing that all I have to do is have a good time in nature. I don’t have to worry about the distance or about getting lost or about making sure I get home in time for something. All of that is taken care of, and all I have to do is relax into the trail, maybe make some friends, and appreciate being outdoors in a body I’ve worked hard to make strong.

 

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Swag. Bottom middle is the 1st-place age group medal, which is what they were giving out instead of 1st-2nd-3rd prizes. Also, what a great bib number.

 

Quick reminder: I’m still fundraising for the SF double marathon. Check it out: https://www.crowdrise.com/sanfranciscodoublema/fundraiser/brbrunning 

Lessons I’ve learned from running 10,000 miles

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During my first ultra in Lake Tahoe

Today, I ran my 10,000th lifetime mile. That’s a pretty crazy milestone, especially for someone who still doesn’t really consider themselves an athlete. It’s also an opportunity for reflection, so here goes. [Also, for those curious, my training log is still available here]

I started running when I got to college in 2006. This was after three years of fulfilling my high school athletics requirement with yoga and tech theatre which, yes, somehow counted as a sport. I was inspired to run by a friend who ran the 135-mile beast called Badwater. Despite no prior running experience or athletic abilities to speak of, I crewed for him during this race, and realized that if he could do five back-to-back marathons in 120+*F heat, I could probably do six miles a day. Also, I thought by burning more calories, I could eat more ice cream [protip: not true].

I had zero confidence in my athletic abilities. In middle school, I played defense when we played soccer – but not goalie, because I didn’t want the responsibility of actually defending the goal. I was the second-to-last person to finish the mile run fitness test – the one girl behind me had a medical condition and walked the mile. As a result, when I started running, for a long time I didn’t talk about running at all. I didn’t read about running. I definitely didn’t think too hard about running or the reasons I ran. I didn’t run with other people, and wasn’t even comfortable doing so until about five years later. Mainly, I was afraid of doing anything that might derail my newfound interest in anything athletic. I was afraid if I overthought it, I’d uncover all the reasons to not to do it.

I started tracking my mileage in the middle of 2008, which was also the time when I ran my first marathon. It wasn’t an official marathon – in fact, it was just me, running around near a river for 26.2 miles with a bottle of water and some Gu gels. I didn’t realize solo-marathoning was a big deal – probably because I still hadn’t read anything about running. It just seemed like the next logical step in my training. A year later, I ran my first ultra in Lake Tahoe; with no altitude training, I came in 2nd to last. Two weeks after my first ultra, I ran my 2nd ultra – again, I didn’t know about recovery because I still hadn’t done any research about running. After another 50k a few months later, I finally ran my first real road marathon – San Francisco – in 2010. It was all downhill from there [but sometimes uphill. Lots of uphill].

I’ve now run 47 marathon-or-longer distances and covered a lot of training miles in between. I’ve also learned a lot. In classic consultant style, here are three lessons that stuck with me.

  1. A good run doesn’t make you a good runner. A bad run doesn’t make you a bad runner, either. While the academic definition of a “good” runner is one who runs really fast, the majority of us probably won’t be breaking any records any time soon. That means that we have to come up with our own definitions of success. For me, success is consistency – consistently getting out there, even when I don’t really want to, or it’s raining, or I’m tired. To me, a good runner is a consistent runner – one who runs when they say they will, and doesn’t create excuses in order to skip days. One good run doesn’t make you a good runner if you never run again; it just means you had one good run. A “bad” run doesn’t make you a bad runner, either – it’s just an opportunity to get out there the next day and try again. The key is just doing it.
  2. There are a lot of different types of runners; celebrate and learn from them. There are short-distance runners and long-distance runners. There are people who run once a week and athletes who train 10-15x/week. There are people who run one marathon – ever – and elite athletes who race 10+ marathons a year. There are people who love treadmills, and there are people who hate them. Some runners love Gu; some runners are vegan. Some runners like running naked – of electronics, while some like running actually naked. Some just keep their feet naked. My feeling is, if whatever you’re doing is working for you, keep doing it, and don’t judge those who do it differently.
  3. I am a runner. I’m a lot of other things, too. Probably one of the most difficult times in my life was a year and a half ago, when I had a knee injury. I don’t know that I’ve ever fully written about it on this blog, because it was a really difficult time for me [I did write about an earlier injury]. Running had been so core to my life, and my self-identity, for the past several years. When I went running on Sunday mornings, I called it “runner’s church,” because it was my way of getting in touch with myself and my environment. I even had my own Runner Heaven. Being injured – the prospect of never fully recovering, and never being able to run any appreciable distance again – really made me question how I defined myself and what was important to me. Importantly, it made me realize that while I am a runner, I’m a lot of other things too – a daughter, a sister, a girlfriend, a photographer, a sailor, a student, a sometimes-dancer, a wannabe chef, a reader, a behavioral scientist, a TA, am ailurophile – the list goes on. Running may be core to my identity, but, especially when I’m injured, I have to remember that there’s so much more to runners than just the act of running.

I may never add a 6th digit to my lifetime mileage. To reach 100,000 miles, I’d have to keep running 2,000 miles a year … until I’m 70. Or run this 3,100-mile race every year for 30 years. Or run the 1,000-mile Iditarod race three times a year for the next 30 years. That’s a lot of running.

If I’ve learned anything over the last 10,000 miles, it’s that there will always be faster runners. There will always be runners who run farther. There will always be runners who are just a little bit more extreme. But running isn’t about that. Running is about the personal satisfaction we get – from achieving our goals, being out in nature, and just giving ourselves some time to explore.