December proved to be a pretty
monumental month in the life of Josh. Among other small victories, I
was admitted into (online) graduate school at the University of Missouri, I began my first teaching position at a local high school,
and I ran my first ultra. I'll be focusing on the latter though you
may read more about the others at some point as well.
I've had my eyes on the Woodside 50k on
December 28th for few months, but I didn't commit to it
until early December. In other words, I didn't pull the trigger and
pay for it until then. This race was attractive to me for a few
reasons: the timing was right, it's the cheapest race of this
distance I've seen, and I was already planning to be up in the Bay
Area around this time. I'd like to say I researched the race director
and previous events on this course and liked what I saw, but that's
not true at all. The decision was all logistical.
The lead up to this event was all too
uneventful; I spent December 27th driving to San Jose from
Salem, Oregon. This drive wears me out mentally each time I make it,
but it's a necessary evil to endure in order to spend the holiday
season with friends and family in beautiful Salem. Emily and I got up
early Sunday morning and headed off to the course in Woodside. We had
never been there before and, until the night before, had never even
seen photos of how beautiful it is.
Checking in was painless, and I know
that there were runners who registered the day of and had no issues.
Up until this point I hadn't felt any sort of nerves. The only
expectation that I put on myself was to finish; I didn't have any
other goals that I was married to. Once I stepped out to the start
line with 100 or so others I began to look around at all of the
others who really looked like they knew what they were doing. This is
when the nerves set in. I felt out of place. I was a track guy who
dabbled in road racing for a bit and now I'm running thirty miles
with a bunch of people who looked way more prepared than I felt.
As soon as the race started I was in my
element again. I knew how to do this part. Even though I didn't know
how fast I should go at this point, I was running. I'm not used to
letting the lead pack go, but I forced myself to do just that. The
sooner they were gone, the better. I ended up settling in with a
group of guys of all different shapes and sizes with gear varying
from all of the technical stuff you see in Runner's World to a guy
who ran in cargo shorts because he forgot to bring his running gear
and he decided to sign up for the race that day. It was great.
Two of us from this group ended up
gapping the rest a little bit; it was me and the guy in cargo shorts.
We ran together for about forty-five minutes, and it was great. He
was the nicest guy, and really kept me going. The first 10k or so was
the hardest portion of the course. It was pretty hilly, and it was
certainly more than I had planned on after glancing at the elevation
profile of the race a month or so prior. He ended up taking off, but
not before leaving positive vibes behind with me. I ran into him at
the next two aid stations, which was very encouraging. Not only
seeing a familiar face, but his verbal affirmations were timely.
I didn't see him again after the second
aid station at nineteen kilometers in. I was still feeling pretty
good at this point. My legs were fresh coming into the race, and that
was paying off at this point in time. A few miles after this aid
station, however, things started to change. I started feeling pain in
my right hip flexor on the steep elevation changes. Within thirty
minutes I was feeling it in both hips, and it wasn't just the steep
elevation changes that made them hurt.
This part sucked. I was hurting, I was
running alone, and I was only half way done. I spent close to an hour
alone before I came across another guy who was having a hard time. In
contrast to Cargo Shorts Andrew, this guy wasn't necessarily
affirming in his words, but I was still encouraged to be with
somebody else and he pulled me out of my slump. He works for some big
tech company in the Bay, and runs these races with some sort of
regularity. In fact, he had run this same course just a few prior in
a race put on by another running group.
Together we made it to the aid station
thirty-three kilometers in. He had no interest in taking his time to
eat Oreos and peanut butter filled pretzels like I did, so he took
off and we wouldn't reunite until I saw him at the finish line as I
was coming in.
The hardest part was over. “It's all downhill from here” I kept telling myself. This was true in that
the hardest part was behind me, and that it was actually mostly
downhill for the rest of the run. I still had to stop myself a number
of times to walk. My hips were killing me, and my feet were beginning
to get beat up. I ran by myself for this five and half mile stretch
until the next aid station.
I had made it to the last aid station.
Again, I took my time and ate plenty of fruit and pretzels. This
station didn't have Oreos. Though the No Meat Athlete podcast I was
listening is great, I was lonely and happy to see people again at
this point in the race. I remember a girl at the aid station asking
what I needed. I didn't know what I needed, but I grabbed a handful
of sliced oranges and started eating. She asked if I needed
ibuprofen. I declined. Three other runners came in during my stay at
the aid station, and they had similar conversations, all involving
the aid station worker trying to push ibuprofen on them. I thought
this was the funniest thing at the time. It's not so funny as I look
back, but I'm happy to have had the laugh at the time.
Then my day changed. The same ibuprofen
girl informed us that it was less than five miles to the finish. Only
five miles away? My legs suddenly felt lighter and I was ready to
finish up. I was still under five hours in at this point, and I had
told myself that I'd be happy to finish in under six hours. I know I
said earlier that I didn't have goals that I was married to, and
that's true. Mostly. Once I knew I could finish sub six, I made sure
it happened. The last segment was a fun one. I put some music on that
I could sing along with, and I felt like I was flying as I sang along
with Rivers Cuomo of Weezer.
During this segment I kept leapfrogging
with another runner who made me second guess my pace. Was I
fluctuating that bad? I felt pretty steady all the way, but we
decisively passed each other three or four times. I wasn't concerned
with who reached the finish line first, but I wanted to be consistent
with my running. I was fairly confident that it wasn't me who whose
pace was fluctuating, so I didn't make any adjustments, and I ended
up pulling away from him. We ended up making a pretty sharp turn with
what I'm guessing was ¾ from the finish line, and I saw the leapfrog
guy again coming in pretty quick. It was at this point when I made my
mind up that I didn't want him to reach the finish line before me.
And he didn't.
More than once I thought I was right
around the corner from the finish line. I thought I heard people, I
thought I saw the park. I kept being wrong, so when I finally was in
the park I couldn't help but smile. I was very happy with how I
finished. I felt fast and smooth coming into the finish chute. Emily
was there making sure she snapped a few photos of the finish, because
I give her a hard time about missing the opportunity in other races.
Then it was over.
I shook a lot of hands. Gave a few
hugs. Then I realized how bad my foot hurt. I didn't feel this pain
during the race, but not five minutes after my finish I felt sharp
pains in my arch. Five days later, I still have these pains, but it's
feeling a little better with each day.
At the finish line I was treated with
warm soup and beer. I couldn't think of anything I wanted more.
I don't have anything to compare this
race to, but I had a great time. The course was well marked, the aid
stations were great, the volunteers were wonderful, and the trails
were gorgeous. The only bummer of the day was that they lost my time,
and when I asked about it they told me it was because I finished at
the same time as a bunch of other people so the system must have
missed it. This was a bummer because I clearly finished with nobody
around, and I heard him give the same excuse to a few other runners.
He asked how long it took me, and took my word for it. Now my
“official” time is a guesstimate of what I ran because I didn't
turn my watch off right away. Not the end of the world, but it was
annoying. Maybe this is normal in trail races; I'm just used to times
on the track being super precise.
My biggest takeaway from the whole
experience is that I totally misjudged what my strengths would be in
this race. I figured that my legs were pretty strong because the
trails I regularly run have about as much elevation gain in five
miles as this course did over thirty. I was worried about how my
cardio engine would handle the extended distance; I hadn't done a
training run longer than eighteen miles leading up to this race. I
had this backwards, my legs were killing me, yet I wasn't having to
breathe super hard throughout the race.
Great experience. Happy to get this in
before the end of 2014. Now I'm looking to finish a 50 miler before
my 25th birthday in August. Stay tuned.
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