Race Report: #Across the Bay 415K

This is a little late coming, but life has been busy. I found a few minutes to write this morning while I enjoy coffee in our breakfast nook before work.

I planned on running the 415K — my first 12K ever — for months and even convinced my future sister-in-law, Megan, and college friend, Kathleen, to run with me because it was my birthday weekend. Well, I also registered them for the race without there consent, so there's that... The running group is in a base-building phase (several people will train for the PDX marathon this fall) so I've been running pretty regularly, on top of hot yoga, a couple weight training sessions and some dog walks. Yes, life has been so busy that I've come to count dog walks as exercise.

But anyway, back to the race. We hustled down to Aquatic Park to pick up our packets (Kathleen actually got mine because I left for the city too late). This wasn't easy and the next morning, when we saw race-day packet pickup happening, we were a little frustrated (though, as a race director, I understand the reasoning for not promoting morning-of pickup). Oh well. We were there and ready to go, and that's all that mattered.

I love these two girls. They're tough. And that was important because neither has been running.

"I've run three times since February 1," Kathleen declared as we waited for the bus to the start line in Sausalito.

The race goes like this: three waves start from Fort Baker, climb a hill, cross the Golden Gate Bridge, then snake along the bayside through Fort Point and Crissy Field, finally finishing at Fort Mason. It's about 7.5 miles and almost entirely flat. We didn't get the wave start plan because the race didn't seem that big, so we snuck Megan into Wave 1 with us.

Waiting for the 8 a.m. start felt like forever. I really wanted some water, which was no where to be found at the start line (or the bus loading area in San Francisco, for that matter). I guess since so many people carry hydration systems -- even for short-ish races like this where you would never really need that much liquid -- races are cutting back on what they provide. I really don't want to carry a waterbottle unless I'm trail running, so I guess I'm outta luck.

OK, but the race. The first 1/2 mile was downhill and super fun. (Kathleen zoomed this! She was so happy!) After a little bit of flat, we started climbing up to the Golden Gate Bridge. Later I would say this was not that hard of a hill, but I really did want to puke a little on the up. Megan gutted it out and crested the hill first of our little trio. We ran together for a moment on the bridge and then separated.

Running the bridge is ALWAYS cool. I wanted to take photos but my pace felt strong and I couldn't bring myself to stop for a pic. Thankfully, the race photog was up there and took photos.

Mile 3 comes somewhere in the Fort Point area, after the bridge and the downhill to get bayside. From there, the race was a bit of a slog. Flat. Straight. I got bored and tired and regretted not bringing music. Around Mile 5 I ate the Gu I was carrying in my RooSport Wallet, which helped sooooo much. There also were some Taiko drummers -- my favorite -- that boosted my spirit. I even passed some dudes.

The race ends with an uphill, steep downhill, hard right turn and -- boom! -- you're there. Had I checked out the course ahead of time, I might have shaved a few seconds off my finish. Coming up to that last hill (you can see it forever and it looks bigger than it is) was demoralizing, but the finish actually is fast.

My official race time was just over 70 minutes, a 9:20 pace by their clocks. My Garmin told me I ran a little more than 12K (as you always do in a race) and averaged 9:11 miles throughout. I feel pretty good about that. It also motivates me to run more and get back into some speed workouts, because I realize I've run marathons at a faster mile pace than that. But for a lazy Sunday run, that was great.

Race Report: Surfers Path 10K (on fumes)

In a masochistic move, I ran a 10K on Sunday morning, approximately 18 hours after completing this insane bike ride.

To be fair, the race had been a good idea in the beginning. I'd signed up for the inaugural Surfers Path 10K at the suggestion of a friend who I sometimes get the chance to run with. Plus having a race on the calendar always motivates me to run more, maybe even with said friend. And it worked — running group ramped up the training effort and I did get one run in with my friend together before the race — so the race was probably even a good idea in the middle.

But in the end, my legs were fried from 5,300 feet of climbing, followed immediately by a hot tub soak at the Dream Inn pool deck, then beers and burgers at West End Taphouse. Everything felt amazing; the food and drink was delicious.

But the Sunday morning 10K loomed. I foam-rolled at home and hydrated. In the morning, I briefly considered staying in but, but instead pulled on my Smartwool compression socks (a hopeful move to prevent cramping) and grabbed a cup of coffee. It was go time!

The race is put on by the same group that organizes the Surfers Path Marathon and Half Marathon in the spring. All of the courses cover popular running/cycling/walking routes along the Monterey Bay coastline from Capitola to Santa Cruz. The races on Sunday (a 5K and a 10K) started on 41st Avenue and headed out to Pleasure Point, then hooking a right onto East Cliff Drive. The 5K loops back around Moran Lake, while us 10Kers continued to Twin Lakes State Beach before turning back. Everyone runs past the start line and into Capitola Village for a nice downhill finish at the beach.

Road races can be big here (thousands run the She.Is.Beautiful race in the spring and the Wharf to Wharf sells out faster and faster every year). Maybe because the Surfers Path is new, or because it's November, the course wasn't packed and the whole event had a friendly, local vibe to it.

I had a few minutes to warm up before the 8 a.m. start. It was warming up, so I ditched my long sleeve at the sweat check (pretty posh for a local 10K). I didn't see my friend anywhere, but wasn't worried. I'd find her on the course.

Cinder and Callie (and Mike) came to cheer. 

I can't report much about my pacing. I managed to screw up my Garmin right at the start and didn't record about four-tenths of a mile. Instead of worrying about pace (and because my legs were beat), I focused on enjoying myself: great views, happy people. I chatted with a fellow racer who was struggling, spotted a few friends near the turn-around point, got a cheer from Mike and the dogs, and caught up with a running buddy who was out cruising on his bike. He and I ended up chatting through about three (painful) miles of the run before he ordered me to pass some people in the last half-mile.

At the finish, we found more friends, including Greg from South Valley Endurance, the timer who handles "my" race, the Santa Cruz Triathlon. There was cold-press coffee from Verve Coffee Roasters, great race shirts and a bag full of snacks from New Leaf Market for us.

It wasn't my best 10K time, not by a long shot. But I held essentially a 9-minute mile pace despite extreme fatigue. I'm definitely happy with the overall weekend effort and am ready to plan my next race! (Oh, and I need to find some new spandex shorts. Looking at race photos makes me realize what I for was not cool. Not cool at all.)

This is PROOF I need new racing
shorts. Seriously, what am I wearing?

#WeRunSF

Now that I'm not writing full-time for work, I have the energy to run more—and to blog about it!

Sunday, I was in San Francisco and up early to join more than 30,000 long-distance runners at the 10th annual Nike Women's Marathon and Half Marathon. The race draws mostly women to run the streets of San Francisco and raise funds for cancer research. "A few good men" enter as well but from the amount of pink and purple, tutus and the Neutrogena products in our goody bag, it was evident that this race is all about girls.

Getting to the start line is a feat in and of itself. The race is outrageously popular, so we first had to win a lottery to be offered the chance to enter. I got it, I think, thanks to a college friend who invited me onto a girls' team she had organized. We five "Tufted Puffins" were spread across three cities in two states, so we trained together virtually all summer. 

I picked up my packet a week early, just in case the trip to the city destroyed me. I'm not good at the city. I get lost; once my car was towed for parking in a driveway. But Saturday was great. I got where I needed to be to meet K and her friend at the race "Expotique". We got their race numbers, checked out the swag and considered waiting for a makeover or hair stylist before heading across the street to use our race-day discounts at Macy's. 

Both girls admitted they'd missed more long training runs than they'd completed—a sin I also had committed—but since we'd all finished halves before we had that confidence that we could get through the course and maybe even enjoy it.

Race morning came early. I took my first Uber Cab ride to get to the startline at Union Square and joined thousands of other women walking toward the race corrals. They were marked with this lit-up globes, our first glimpse of the race-day festivities.

Thirty thousand-plus racers is a lot of people. We filled the street for more than four city blocks.

I found K and her friend. We made last-minute bathroom stops. Someone (probably not a fellow racer) left behind a pair of black heels in my port-a-potty. So "city" of her (or him).

I forgot my iPod, so I was hoping the positive vibes of the race would carry me through the course. Excited women from all over (there were some Canadians right behind me) bounced up and down, taking photos and mouthing the lyrics to the pop songs blaring from the loudspeakers.

I was in the first corral and it took me two minutes to get across the start line. What a huge race! Friends were 15 minutes or more behind me getting to the blue arch.

All around, the race was harder than I expected. I nearly fell a couple of times in the early miles because the course was so crowded. Navigating cobblestones and rail tracks in the semi-darkness proved challenging. And staying focused was hard for me. I fretted about a slow first mile (the crowds) and the first round of hills made my not-quite-recovered-from-a-cold lungs wheeze.

But it was so fun. Listening to ladies around me chat (praise was high for a church choir at Mile 1), being cheered on by enthusiastic fans and laughing at the quippy signs ("26.2 miles: long and hard, just like my wife likes it" and "Mortuary ahead. Look alive.") kept all us runners engaged. 

The hills killed me. Before that, my 8:30 pace (about a 1:54 finish time) was tolerable. But I felt like someone was pushing me back as I tried to climb from Crissy Field into the Presidio. That was Mile 6, barely halfway. As we neared Mile 8, a couple running near me started talking about how hard the next hill was—not nice of them! They were right. The hill up past the golf course, near the Veteran's Hospital, was massive.

Cruising down the hill with three miles to go, I got confident. I felt good. I picked it up and tried to push it. But the last two miles had a slight incline that made my legs feel like cement. It was rough. 

I finished in just under 2 hours, 37 seconds off my randomly-chosen goal pace of 8:30 a mile. While I'm not stoked on the time, it was a much harder course than I expected. 

The finish line brought me a firefighter and a Tiffany necklace. Yay. 

I grabbed all my other race goodies—T-shirt, snack bag, space blanket—and wandered around the finish area. And the rest of the Tufted Puffins finished strong to earn their necklaces as well. The chocolate milk was a huge post-race boost before I bundled up and found the Uber Cab taxi stand. The ride home ... and that's a whole other crappy story.

All together, good race, Nike. Thanks. #WeRunSF

I Left My Mind ...

It's tapering time, 15 days until the marathon.

This is the time to go crazy with doubt. Did I train enough? What about that one day when I skipped my ... run, yoga class, sit-up? Can I make it up now?

I've run enough marathons to know the answers are always the same: hay's in the barn, it's in the bag. Pick your metaphor, the bottom line is you can't do anything about it now. From here on out it's maintenance runs, getting good sleep, drinking lots of water and trying not to get hurt. (Important last point, so maybe this week's surf session was a bad plan and riding bikes this weekend could be risky?)

So with this extra time and energy on my hands, what to do? Plan the next marathon, of course.

Picking another race before competing in the race you're training for is a way to trick yourself into not getting lazy once you've crossed the finish line. So I about 13 hours left to decide if I should use a Deal-of-the-Day to register for the Morgan Hill Marathon in October. I'm thinking, for $35, why not?

Then there's the Bizz Johnson trail marathon out in Susanville two weeks before the bargain-bin marathon. Fast, negative elevation gain and trails, but it's at elevation so the altitude may cancel out those pros.

Do both? My awesome long-distance running buddy Sonja would say yes.



For sure, I'm running the Nisene Marks Half Marathon a month after the marathon. That will keep me going post-marathon and roll right into summer ... maybe triathlon training?

But for now, I'm just plotting. Muahahaha!

Happy (birthday) run

In honor of Therese's birthday, we ran wearing party hats and playing kazoos today. I think passers-by liked it. We got a lot of smiles.

It was also a nice easy, 3-mile day -- the first run for some of us since the San Jose Rock and Roll Half Marathon on Sunday. The race is probably one of the most boring courses in America (San Jose really lacks in interesting architecture or other sights) but flat and fast.

All that pavement really pounds your body after awhile. Still, most of us made it through with good times. I logged a personal best for the distance: 1:51:24. Two other runners weren't as lucky. A man and woman, both in their mid-30s, collapsed on the course and died later at a hospital. Very sad, and a good reminder to enjoy each day.

Happy running, and happy birthday Therese.

A goal for next year

Last year the goal was to run a 50K, which Rich and I did.

This year it was to finish a triathlon, specifically the Olympic-distance Santa Cruz Triathlon. Check. (And more on Sunday's race later...)

So next year?

How about a 50-mile trail race? An old running buddy (we used to play Spoons together at running camp in high school, then re-met in college, then again on Facebook) is thinking of doing the North Face Endurance Challenge in Bellingham, Wash., come June. I've invited myself along. She hasn't said no, so maybe it's a go.

Race photos

So in case you're curious what last weekend's blazing hot trail half-marathon looked like, here are the photos. Check out a few of the shots to see how tinder-dry it was out there, the looks of pain and fatigue on people's faces, the ever-present (and mostly empty) water bottles .... it was brutal. The race director said we had record-high temps that day.

Somehow, all 375 people who started the three races (half marathon, 10K and 5K) finished. How cool is that?!?!?

"Fun" is a fourth-place finish

So it's like this: I kind of kick ass. Oh, and I'm tough.

Saturday was my freebie entry to a Brazen Racing trail run in Briones Regional Park, a hilly, sun-baked open space somewhere outside of Walnut Creek and Orinda in Contra Costa County. The plan was to have fun, not race.

Fun, in this case, is relative. Most would not consider running up and down rocky slopes under the blazing sun (it had to be 80 degrees at 8 a.m., and only got hotter) for nearly three hours fun. But once I got past the idea of clocking a fast time -- more than 2,800 feet of elevation gain over 13-plus miles knocked out that goal pretty fast -- I was able to relax and enjoy the experience.

Without mile paces to concern myself with (the first mile was 9:19, but then the hills started and I gave up watching the clock), I noticed a black butterfly and a grasshopper-like critter with red wings. I talked to the grazing cows and thanked the aid station volunteers who forced a water bottle into my hands at mile 6 and wrung out big sponges of ice water over my head at miles 9 and 12. Sometimes I sang aloud (sorry to anyone who overheard me), greeted hikers and encouraged other runners, mostly as I passed by their pained, sweat-drenched faces. I even stopped to use an outhouse with about 1.5 miles left.

And for this race, I carried a map because it was a Brazen Racing event where I got lost (and exceedingly frustrated) earlier this year. It was a "just in case" move, and luckily, something I never needed. However, I did glance down sometimes to see when the next aid station would appear on the horizon. The blue pop-up tents were a welcome relief from the heat. (It was so hot, I downed two 16-ounce water bottles and about 10 Dixie cups of liquid during the race.)

When the finish finally snuck up on me I was walking up three mild switchbacks (walking the hills was the only way to survive this course). Then bam! The finish line was 100 feet away. After all of the hills and heat, I actually felt like I could grind out a few more miles at that point. The extreme conditions had given way to a rolling-single track, mostly shaded trail. But instead, an announcer read my name and someone handed me a shiny medal.

Really, I was glad to be done. My time was somewhere around 2:40, that is 2 hours and 40 minutes, much slower than I'd predicted and a far cry from my personal best of 1:54. But I didn't care. It was for fun. So I picked up my sweet shirt and the pretty-rockin' goody bag (a reusable grocery bag from BareNaked granola with lots of neat swag in it), spent a few minutes sitting in the shade, then headed out with Kendall and Callie the dog to get burgers and cokes at the In and Out in Oakland.

Only today did I look up my race results.

Sure, my mile pace was nothing to write home about (12:14 a mile), but I was 24th of 84 half marathon finishers (35 of whom were women). That put me third of seven women in my age group and ... drum roll please ... the fourth woman overall!

And I had fun.

So I'm kind of a bad ass, at least when it comes to trail running in harsh conditions. Now, if you try to break into my house, I might scream bloody murder and cower in the corner, but that's a whole 'nother story.

Just for fun

I'm running a "race" in the morning. The quote marks mean I intend to just have fun and not get competitive. I'll rock out to some tunes on my iPod, check out new trails in a park I've never been to before and just have a good time.

I hope.

Because usually I race.

Case and point: Two weekends ago I found myself kicking it up a notch during the last half of the Race Through the Redwoods 10K. This, even though I'd spent most of the past 96 hours choking down smoke on a fire line while covering the 7,800-acre Lockheed Fire. Even though I'd netted an average of five hours sleep a night since the fire started. Even though we ran six miles before the race to see how many bridges we could find (and cross) in and around Henry Cowell State Park.

So I sprinted to the finish. My time wasn't blazing fast (57 something) but given the hours and days leading up to it -- and the 1/2-mile hill climb at mile 3 that most people walk (I didn't!) -- the showing wasn't too bad. I was 6th of 20-some women in my age division.

But getting back to tomorrow.... I swear I intend to just have a good time at the Bear Creek Trail Half Marathon. This is my free race "I complained" race entry so really it's a glorified weekend long run... with a T-shirt and a medal.

The big goal is not miss a turn and actually run 13.1 miles. Also crossing my fingers for no food poisoning or bee stings (other recent race ailments). We'll see how it goes.

A nice thing .... and I feel like a brat

So awhile back I wrote a little something here blasting the Nitro Trail Half Marathon, which I ran with Sarah in May, because I got lost on the poorly marked course, missed two miles and lost out on a personal-best. The rant (which wasn't even that severe) was really meant for the likes of Mom and a few friends, but through the magic of the Interweb, the race director (Sam) found it.

He e-mailed me this week to apologize.

"I'm really sorry that happened to you and I'm really sorry that you thought I had no compassion for your getting lost -- I actually felt horrible that anyone got off course. Things definitely got a bit disorganized and confusing, especially for the faster runners like you. It won't ever be that way again. I hope you at least liked the shirt and had some fun running there."

And then offered me a free race entry into one of his other events. Brazen Racing puts on something like four races a year, all in the East Bay not far from where Sarah lives in Oakland.

"I can assure you that all of those races will be much easier to follow."

I feel a little embarrassed for bad-mouthing Sam's race, but I'm really impressed by the way he responded. So I'll probably take him up on the offer and try another course, maybe even rope Sarah into running with me -- or in front of me, as the case may be.

And Sam's right about one thing. I wear the shirt all the time.

Tough run

So Felix was right. Don't tell him I said so, but he was right when he said the Jungle Run in Los Gatos would be hard.

This was the race the Tuesday morning crew had trained for. Intervals at 6:30 a.m. Tempo miles in the middle of our long runs. Tapering. We were going to run fast -- 8-minute mile pace was the goal, which would lead to a 1:45 finish and a huge personal best.

But I got food poisoning. I can't point fingers at where it came from, I just know that I woke up nauseous around 2 a.m., then spent the next hour trying to keep it together before giving in and giving it up to the toilet. This was really frustrating -- not just due to the 7 a.m. race -- but because I just don't get sick. I brushed my teeth with tap water for two weeks in Guatemala and was fine. I eat warm yogurt without so much as a burp. But something finally got me.

I considered skipping the race, but the Web site had promised cool finishers medals and I was too proud to admit defeat from the bathroom floor (and also too hard-headed to tell my running pals about my predicament). So I went.

The race went well for the first half-mile. I don't be Debbie Downer here, but the rest of it was fairly terrible. I think a bee stung my thigh before mile 1 (I still have a huge welt). Then we hit the main road, where the sun already beat down and temperatures felt like they were 100 degrees. Realistically, it was probably verging on 80, and not even 8 a.m. yet.

I lost the crew (all of whom ran amazing times!) between miles 4 and 5. From there, most of the run was spent convincing myself that dropping out now would be futile, embarrassing and, ultimately, more frustrating that plowing on ahead. With about four miles to go, race bandits Blair and Felix found me. They had sport beans and stories. Blair even carried my waterbottle, and having the distraction of company really carried me through those last few hot, mildly hilly miles.


My final time, though no where near the goal pace, wasn't anything to scoff at: 1:54:37 is still a personal best.

What was even better was Scotty and John both getting personal bests and Lynn taking second place in her age group. Good job!!

Toiling through the taper

I'll come right out with it: tapering makes me crazy.

(Yes, this is the place to make the comment that I'm already crazy. Now, moving on...)

I'm limited to 12 miles this week. That's the rule. We're tapering for the Jungle Run half marathon on Sunday. So from Monday to Saturday, 12 miles. That's it. Any mile beyond that costs me $1 at the post-race breakfast.

So I'm crazy -- I stayed up past 1 a.m. a couple nights ago dicing strawberries to freeze, slicing veggies and cleaning out the fridge -- but feel lazy. Also, I have a small amount of guilt after just polishing off a discus-sized toffee cookie.

I understand that tapering will help me run better come Sunday morning, and that this is what we've been gunning for. So I'm sure I'll appreciate it then. But right now I'm trying to figure out what to do with my Saturday? The lack of a long trail run or scenic bike ride will be devastating. Also, I don't have cable to distract myself.

Bull-ish

It's running of the bulls week in Spain!



The full force of the festivities won't hit until the weekend, when something like 25,000 people will pack the streets of Pamplona to party all night and watch the bull run in the morning, but already the scene there is thrilling -- five people were hurt during Thursday morning's record-worthy run. The race through the city's narrow, windy, cobblestone streets was 30-60 seconds faster than normal, according to reports.

Seven years ago, I was in Pamplona for the festival. We were studying in Gijon, about six hours southwest (by bus) and decided to skip class to see the event made famous by Hemmingway's "The Sun Also Rises."

I fancied myself a good candidate to run, but was strongly encouraged by locals that this was not a good plan, as I was American, a girl and likely still going to be drunk when the gun went off. Of course, all of these things were true. Another Oregon girl, Grace, and I had spent the night drinking in the street, then dancing in a dimly lit night club with some skeezy guys who tried to separate us in a dark alley. When we left them, we found some other men bent on teaching us how to drink red wine from leather canteens -- arcing the alcohol more than a foot from the mouth of the canteen into our own mouths. Our white pants (a requisite for the running of the bulls) were never the same.

These guys also taught us how to roll spliffs. It's fair to say neither lesson stuck.

Regardless, by daybreak Grace and I were ready for bed, not a three-minute stampede to safety. Some nice teenager (probably a drug addict, we decided) kindly help us find the race. Instead of entering, we found perches on a wooden fence that walled-in the race course that promised fantastic views of the action.

However, this was not meant to be. Some police, or at least men in uniforms with weapons, told us to get down. Apparently the fence was not intended as a spectator area, but rather a safety feature so racers in imminent danger of being gored could fling themselves over the wood to safety.

We had no idea.

This left Grace and I in front of a throng of people -- many still drunk like us -- anxious to see the marquee event. The gun went off and the crowd surged. We slammed against the fence. For a brief moment, I thought we would have the second-best vantage point (after losing out on our fence-top seats).

Then the cops came through, wantonly swinging their batons to urge the crowd back. Grace took one in the arm. I got it in the jaw and went down hard. Luckily, there were so many people around me, I never hit the ground, just fell on top of others caught in the trample -- and we weren't even on the bulls' side!

I righted myself as fast as I could (while holding my bloody lip) but the white- and red-clad runners had passed. I snapped off one photo of a white bulls' ass shuffling away from me.

It was one time the book was better than being there in real life.

Since then, I've thought about going back in hopes of having a more positive experience -- people know how to party at week-long Spanish street festivals -- but still think this is one race I would never consider entering.

Speed training

For the first time since college, I'm doing a track workout in the morning. (And yes, that's me on the left being coached at one of those college workouts.)

To be honest, I'm a little nervous for the early-morning intervals. I keep times and monitor my pace during some runs: we run mile repeats every now and again, and two years ago Julie and I did some half-mile repeats on a loop course, but nothing at the level I'll be able to in the morning.

However, this is good. There is a goal here: Run fast! I want to run a fast half-marathon just to see how speedy I can be. It's kind of a silly plan, because really I'd rather do a four-hour run as training for an ultra-marathon, but this is good for me and it's good for the triathlon training. Also, it's just fun. I like that tinge of fatigue in my legs every morning and the accomplishment of running 10 miles at an 8:30 mile pace (that was Sunday morning) even though it hurt.

But there's one more reason. I think I'm faster than my times show. I run challenging, not fast, marathon courses and over-train (or at least don't taper) for shorter races, so I never gauge what my capabilities really are. I'd like to find out.

And here's the back story: It had been a long time since I had a bad race. College. Probably this really horrible 10K performance I had at Avenue of the Giants one year when I thought I was capable of running 6 miles even though all I'd done for the past four months was eat crap food and drink.

Anyway, point is I'd had a good streak of runs. Until a few weeks back.

Sarah (my sister's friend) and I met up to run the Nitro Trail half-marathon in Pinole, a suburb in the East Bay. The course was fairly flat and fast. Sarah and I ran together through the first half of the run, clocking sub-8 minute miles throughout. It was awesome, especially because it was Sarah's first half marathon and she hadn't done much training. Pretty much, she's just awesome.

So I started dropping back around mile 8 (I think, it's all a bit hazy) but still had a really amazing pace going at mile 10. Then there was a fork in the trail, no volunteer in sight and I was surrounded by a forest of pink ribbons. Right turn or left turn or straight? I went one way, questioned myself and turned back. I found a different trail and followed two women (who turned out to be the winners). I finished in the remarkable time of 1:36. I ran approximately 11 miles.

The race director had no compassion for the unfortunate turn of events in my race. Had I made the correct directional decision, I prolly would have scored a sub-1:50 time, which is a huge PR for me. Instead, I pouted and cussed and was generally disagreeable over it.

The following weekend, I ran a much more challenging half in Nisene Marks -- hilly single-track trail sometimes so steep that I walking was the only option -- for "fun" and finished in just over 2 hours (2:00:16). It was actually my fastest half-marathon race finish ever, but I ran 1:55 and some change at the mid-point of the Seattle Marathon last fall.

Race plans

Bend in August? It's called the Haulin' Aspen trail marathon and half-marathon. Sonja wants to meet up for it. Funny part is I checked out this race when I was trying to find a run to coincide with my 10-year high school reunion in late August.

I already mapped it online and I could make the drive (with Callie) in about 10 hours. We have a place to stay in Bend, so really all I need to do is get up the guts to register and ask for a day or two off.

The other one Sonja's looking at is the Vegas Rock'n'Roll Marathon in December. I've been thinking that flat, fast course might be just the thing to train for. Dipping under four hours would be amazing and I'm getting sooooo close!

Plus this race could maybe even be a weekend trip -- no vacation necessary, perhaps? Fly in late Friday or early Saturday, leave Sunday after the race. I mean, do I really want to hang out in Vegas in December totally exhausted from a run?

See, that's the thing: time. Scoring vacation do get out of town for runs is tough when I still want to make it to that reunion and visit my family in Eugene/Springfield, not to mention get up to Portland or Seattle to see friends or even travel abroad. Three weeks of vacation a year simply is not enough to get it all done.

But both of these runs have a lot of appeal....

Triathlon

Did I mention I did a triathlon? Yeah, a couple weekends ago. Two maybe? It was just a baby triathlon, the "graduation" event for the Nu2Tri program I had been participating in since January.

We won't talk too much about the swim. The 400-yard effort in the pool (eight laps) killed me. While other people got cheers about speeding up and finishing strong, the best encouragement I received was "just stop and take a deep breath" -- so you can see how well that leg of the race went for me.

Oh race. That's right. This wasn't a race. That's what they told the 28 of us competing, err, participating in it. But really, it was. And I was pissed when I crawled out of the pool far behind most of the other athletes.


Luckily I had my shiny new bike to ride (whee!). The 9.6-mile bike portion zipped by. It was hot and sunny, so my sweet spandex outfit dried pretty quickly and I didn't get too chilled (or too warm, for that matter). I caught quite a few people on the ride, which as a huge morale boost after nearly drowning in the pool. Still, when I headed out on the run I had four people in front of me -- they're all strong athletes -- but running is kind of my thing (ha!) and I really wanted to catch at least one during the two-mile run.


Well, I did. Catch one, that is. That brought me to a fourth-place finish overall and second woman across the line. The standings held up even as the second "wave" (those who started after my sad swim) finished. My final time was somewhere around 51 minutes, which doesn't really mean a thing because it's such a bizarre race distance.

However, I was surprised at how tired and hungry I was after exerting myself for less than an hour. I didn't realize how hard you're going all the time in a triathlon -- I was too busy worrying about the next portion and staying hydrated to think too much about how much energy the effort was taking. The whole event was a lot harder than I had expected, but still a lot of fun and something I'm definitely going to do again ... I just have to work on that swim. Ugh.

New kicks

Buying new running shoes is one of my all-time favorite things.


My shiny new sneakers specially designed for trail running, complete with water-resistant uppers so my toes don't get damp running through wet grass. As a result, I have to sign up for a few (or five) trail races in the coming months.

First up is that Big Basin run in a week. I was thinking a 50K race isn't too far (just 31 miles) and I've done one before (and nearly went insane). But after that ultramarathon (my only thusfar) my feet were so chewed up from the river crossings and rocky terrain, I could hardly walk for weeks, much less shove them in to running shoes. So I've decided to just run the 25K race, which is about 15 miles. Should be fun!

Then my sister's friend Sarah and I are going to have a trail running race adventure in the East Bay. We have two options to choose from: the Nitro Trail or the Lynch Canyon Trail. Votes? We're thinking whichever race has better T-shirts!

The first weekend in June, I think I'll run the Nisene Marks trail half marathon. When I moved to Santa Cruz in 2006, that state park was one of the first running locales I learned about. It's still one of my absolute most-favorite places to run anywhere (along with Dorris Ranch in Springfield and the Forest Service trails above Ashland). I ran the half marathon in 2006 -- I remember a more experienced trail racer advised me to walk some of the uphills, which flabbergasted me at the time but she was right! Although I've logged hundreds of miles in Nisene Marks since then, I haven't run the half marathon again. I'm excited to get back to it.

After that, there's the ultra in Ashland and then hopefully a trail marathon in the Grand Tetons with Sonja! Woot!

My next big thing?

The Big Sur marathon is still more than a month off, but I'm trying to plan my next big things ...

The Sentinel Triathlon is likely one of them. But I'm also looking for another 50K and kind of like the Siskiyou Out Back, largely because it gives me an excuse to visit Ashland in the summer and the T-shirts say "SOB" on them. Funny, right? But do I really want to run a 31-mile trail race at 6,000 feet? For a sea level-dweller like myself, this may be miserable. Or who cares, the scenery will be amazing and it's a great challenge.

I can't decide.

But I know I need more races to stay motivated. Races are key to this running thing. Accountability. So now I just need to suck up and sign up ... and find someone who will let me and my dog crash with them that weekend.