This one has been hard for me to write, and it's something that honestly I've been putting off, because I just don't want to relive the minutiae, which is ironic, considering it's all about reliving the minutiae.
So the gist of it is that I turned 50 this year. And I *LOVE* my birthday. I'm very protective of the day, as it's close to, and often on, Mother's Day, and I want my whole day without sharing it with Mother's Day, even for myself. So there was this race, the Smith Rock Ascent, which I'd thought about for several years, but it was always on my birthday weekend, but this year, my 50th birthday was coming up, and I thought 50k for 50 years seemed like a good idea. My birthday, May 10, was on a Friday, so I thought that a Saturday or Sunday race , would be a perfect celebration. So I signed up, planning on a fun weekend in Bend, OR. My sweet friend Rachel books a couple rooms at her timeshare for the weekend. A few weeks later, we hear from the event that they are moving the event away from Mother's Day for the first time to accommodate more people. Uggh. Fine. Rachel is cool and reschedules.
Anyway, things are fine, and I'm looking forward to it. The idea of a 50k is a bit daunting, but at this point I have run 17 marathons, so I know I can do the distance, but it's a little different in a 50k. This is about to be my 3rd 50k, and my first at altitude, and my first with any significant elevation change. I'm jazzed about it, though, and the 6 weeks between the Oakland Marathon on 3/27 and the Smith Rock Ascent on 5/18 is spent happily listening to Deena Kastor's audiobook Let Your Mind Run while racking up miles of trail and elevation along the trails of Forest Park here in Portland. We are fortunate to have hundreds of miles of beautiful trail on which to train, and I covered much of it over those weeks, getting inspired by Deena's empowering story. I was super jazzed to really try myself at the 50k distance. I said I had no particular time goal, but since I was entering a new age group, I figured I had a shot at an AG win, but still my goal was set on 50-for-50, and I was going to be happy with whatever. I set my Garmin for kilometers instead of miles to track my progress.
As the day approached, I had made the decision to think about my 50 years of life along the route. I would literally meditate on each of my 50 years with each of the 50 kilometers, and write about it here in my blog. Maybe even publish it. Here I am at the starting line:
Well, that didn't work out as expected. I actually had a really good run, took some great pictures, and had reminisced all the way up to just before I turned 32, when I found out I was pregnant with my 2nd daughter. Right there at Kilometer 31.7-ish, my phone rang, and I got the news that there had been an emergency and I needed to get back to the finish line ASAP. I'm not here to tell anyone else's story, so I won't get into that, but it was a stressful journey back to the bottom, and my second ever DNF, and everyone is okay, but it was a bad day.
Once I knew everyone was okay, I hoped it wouldn't be too weird to try another race. I had all this good training, and the very next week there was a popular 50k in Forest Park. Less exciting than Smith Rock, since I'd done literally *all* my trail training on those exact trails, but it was easy to get to and the timing was good. The race was full, and they wouldn't squeeze me in (same race directors as the Smith Rock), but they said if I showed up with cash in hand I could get in if there were no-shows. I wasn't sure how high to get my hopes, but I carbed up and showed up, and I got in, along with all the other day-of hopefuls.
The weather was gorgeous. A light, cooling rain at the start made for a cool, damp forest in which to run. I didn't have anyone I knew on course with me, so I set about recounting my 50 years in 50 kilometers as internal dialog. I started by thinking about all the things that happened in 1969, such as the moon landing and Woodstock Festival. I thought about this as I climbed the Wild Cherry Trail - a climb of 500 feet over one mile.
Year by year I went through the early 1970s. I thought about the music that was popular at the time, and talk about how my family was living in Chicago and I wondered about what my parents were like - so young at the time, and still married to each other, which I barely remember. I thought about the fashion of the time - so much orange, avocado, corduroy, and plaid. At 4 kilometers, I tried to remember moving from the Chicago area to the upper peninsula of Michigan. I did remember how the forests smelled up there. Similar to Oregon. Coming up Wild Cherry only to drop back down and then hit the steep climb at Holman Lane created a lot of leapfrogging among the runners.
The late 1970s were a little more tumultuous. We moved down into the mitten part of Michigan, and my parents split up. My brother and I changed schools every year, and it was hard for me as a painfully shy kid to make friends, but I always did. My dad had moved to Germany for a few years with his company, and we spent the summer of 1978 there with him and my stepmother, as well as a little more than a year, beginning the next summer, traveling all around Western Europe, which was an amazing and life-altering experience for us both. These kilometers, 6-10, were pretty comfortable. I run a lot on Wildwood, and this was all Wildwood. Not easy, but nothing like the elevation of the east/west trails.
Kilometer 11. Now it's 1980. Oddly this decade had its own loop on the course. Firelane 1 was a steep downhill followed by a ascent back up the nature trail. There was an aid station at the closure of the loop, so I passed it at around mile 7 and 9. I didn't need it, so I pushed through. The next few years were also full of ups and downs. When my brother Tim and I returned to the U.S., our mother had moved to Florida to be near her mother, and moving from northern West Germany to scorpion-infested central Florida was an unpleasant culture shock. Add to that that I was now in 6th grade, which was middle school in my new town, and I was unprepared socially. But we weren't there long: we moved to Boulder, Colorado just a few months into my 6th grade year. Now I was back in elementary school, and still shy and awkward, but it was easier to make friends in the primary school environment. The next year we moved to Corpus Christi, Texas, where I would live until I graduated high school. While I ran steep downs and ups, I thought about myself in middle school. I was weird, and south Texas was diffferent from anywhere I'd lived before. I was dorky and over-eager to be liked. As I ran, I thought about how hard it is to be that age. Running hills was cake in comparison.
Now it's the late 1980s. The miles were easier than the years. Real coming of age stuff. I enjoyed high school for the most part, and was a pretty typical kid - I was on the dance team, I was interested in clothes and music and spent most of my waking hours with my girlfriends, wishing I had a boyfriend. Kilometers 15-20 were back on Wildwood and starting down the Maple Trail - narrow and mostly downhill at this point, and one of my favorite trails in Forest Park.
Kilometers 21-24 were along the fun, rolling parts of the Maple Trail - lots of gentle ups and downs. Years 21-24 in my life were also rolling hills, but less gently. Married at 21 to a jealous, lying man. I left him at 23 when his abuse reached a tipping point. I moved to San Francisco at 24, and learned and became who I really am. The maple trail felt easy and beautiful to explore while sorting through that. The crowd had thinned a bit, so it was a bit like being alone but not too alone here. Got passed a bit, passed some people.
Mile 15-16 (Kilometers 24-25.5), including the halfway point, was a *brutal* uphill climb from Leif Erikson up the Wiregate Trail and then up the rugged, root-laden Trillium Trail. At the intersection was an aid station. I ate a potato chip. This HARD climb was made easier by thinking about my fun life in San Francisco after my divorce. I was teaching aerobics in the financial district of the city and started working as a cigarette girl, selling concessions in nightclubs and concerts. A very different life than running uphill through a forest.
Here is one of the photos I didn't purchase from early in the race - definitely going uphill, and looks like I'm running based on arm swing, but lots of bottlenecks in these early miles.
Kilometer 26: I ran down Firelane 7 as I remembered meeting Sean shortly after my 26th birthday. Back mostly on Wildwood as I hit kilometer 29 and 32, correlating with the years I had my 2 daughters. Enjoyable years and mostly comfortable running. As I crossed the 32 kilometer mark I was starting to think about having daughter #2 Aislin, and also thinking that this was approximately the point I was pulled off the trail at Smith Rock, my friend Rachel texted me, which freaked me out a bit, as she was the friend who called me at the top of Smith Rock. She was just checking in to see how my race was going, but the timing made me jumpy. :-/
The long trek up Firelane 5 was kind of fun. I met a couple of the guys I kept leapfrogging with - one of them (Mikey) was running several 50k races this year to celebrate his 50th birthday. We got to the top of the firelane right at mile 20, and there was an excellent aid station. I stopped and drank a ton of water out of a pickle jar and ate some watermelon before heading down fabulous wide, flat, downhill Saltzman trail. I barely had time to think about my years 33-35 because the trail felt so good.
The last 15k was hard, as I would expect it to be, but I kept running for the most part. Mentally it is not as much fun to relive one's 40s as it is to think about youth, but I thought about moving to Oregon, and becoming a marathoner at almost 40, and what running has given to me. I thought about how beautifully my kids have grown up and how lucky I feel about that, even though my legs were on fire. The last grind up the Dogwood Trail from mile 28.5-29 felt a little unfair, but the long 2 mile drop back to the finish line made up for a lot of it. I felt great.
Although I wasn't sure I would even get into this race, I'd checked last year's times, and the woman who won 50-59 in 2018 did so with a 5:54, so I had that in my mind. I had a tertiary goal to win my AG, a secondary goal to win it in under 5:54, and a primary goal of winning it in 5:40-anything. I got all 3 of those goals, winning my age group in 5:49:20. I needn't have stressed. 2nd place in my group was 6:42. I got a cute glass for finishing, and another for the AG win. I filled one of them with beer and celebrated. It wasn't the experience I'd expected for my 50k/50y, but satisfying.
Here's the photo I did pay to download:
I like the little flecks of mud I'm kicking up. :-)
And here's a "foot selfie" with my winnings:
The Oakland Marathon on March 24 was exactly 16 weeks after the California International Marathon on December 2, so I didn't exactly have an off season. This was fine with me, since I had an unwanted and unplanned break last year from running. My main goal was to come back to Boston in 2020 after DNF'ing last year, so I needed to qualify again. Once I realized I'd be healthy enough to run CIM, I hoped I'd be fast enough to get that BQ. I had a couple other backup plans for early 2019 if that didn't happen, but as it happens, I was able to pull off a time that qualified me for Boston 2020 by more than 18 minutes, so that took that stress off my plate, and allowed me to run the spring marathon that I wanted, rather than trying to find another *fast* course.
The Oakland Marathon, I learned via rudimentary internet research, has typically had sections that ran into the Oakland Hills, and so if I needed to ensure a fast finish, I was going to pass on it, but since I got my BQ in December, I registered for Oakland the day after CIM. At that point I had no particular goal but a weekend in the Bay Area and just continuing to get/be in good shape.
But 2 things happened - my speed was really good. My speedwork was not only quick, but consistent as heck. Then I got emails from the Oakland Running Festival saying that since it's the 10th anniversary of this event, they were changing the marathon route to celebrate, and that now it was running and out-and-back over the eastern span of the Bay Bridge. A little history: the eastern span construction was going on For-Evah - it started sometime in the early 2000s, and was still going on when we moved away from the Bay in 2006, but has been completed by now for a few years. The new beautiful eastern span apparently has a pedestrian trail leading to Yerba Buena Island (or Treasure Island, if you will) - I did not know this. I actually thought we'd be running on the top deck, but turns out there's this great trail! Excellent.
So the new flatter course and my consistent speedwork (combined with the confidence I got by pulling off a 3:36 at CIM) made me think maybe I could finally get the 3:33:33 I've had in my mind since Boston of last year. I made a plan to stay at 8:05-8:10 for miles 1-10, and as best I could from 10-20 (the bay bridge was a slight upgrade from mile 11-15, and then a slight down grade from 15-19), and then to just stay fast and comfortable on the last 6 miles, which were relatively flat.
There's also another thing that happened. In February, we lost a wonderful friend. Brooks had been one of my husband's best friends since college, and was a great friend to both of us the whole time I've known Sean. It was an unexpected loss, and a devastating one. Sean had been planning to head down to the bay area to see him and play D&D the week after my race. Friends arranged a memorial for him the day before the marathon, so that Sean and I could be there.
Brooks could get excited about a topic like nobody I've ever known. And he was funny as hell. He would get going on a joke or an idea and just keep hammering away at it until our faces hurt from laughing. I'm not sure how it started, but one time he got into a thing where he was grabbing my hand and looking at me intensely and saying "For you, baby, for you, I would do anything. For you, baby: I would BRAAAAVE THE SERENGETI!" It was funny and adorable and very Brooks. At the memorial, we met at a park in Berkeley, where we shared stories about him and talked and laughed with old friends, and had a sweet and somber and nostalgic time. I decided I would run the Oakland Marathon in his honor, so when I went back to my hotel room, I wrote on my bib Brooks' name and years on earth, and "For you, Brooks, I would run the Serengeti". I put a pin with his likeness on my hat, and told myself that I would think about him when the running got tough.
So before I talk about *my* race, let me tell you what a great event this was. Big enough to be festive and fun, and small enough to be friendly and un-crowded. Oakland is a complicated city, and the marathon managed to show the beautiful parts, the touristy parts, and the gritty parts without pretending it is something it's not. There were homeless, and there was blight, but the streets were clean, the volunteers plentiful and supportive, and the route both pretty and gritty. It started at Lake Merritt, a fun urban recreational area surrounded by posh homes. We started south of the lake, ran through downtown in a mini-loop, then popped down to Jack London Square. From there we ran through West Oakland and up to the bridge. After a nice long out-and-back on the bridge, we zigzagged through the 20's north of Lake Merritt before popping back on the lake trail right at Children's Fairyland before looping back to the starting area on Grand. This was a fabulously organized and friendly event that I would do again in a heartbeat. (The Portland Marathon could stand to set up a meeting with these guys, I mean it). The event is officially called the Oakland Running Festival and features a 5k, half marathon, 4-person relay marathon, and full marathon. Even the mile markers were done graffiti-style. I loved them, and because I was racing I didn't stop to snap a picture, but I was disappointed as heck to not find any online. Even the Oakland Running Festival's very good Instagram didn't have a pic. So I tried to recreate one. They looked like this, except done with talent:
So my race started out great. I chatted with a nice girl in a cute running hat while we did dynamic warmup at the starting line. It was self-seeded, with pace groups holding up signs for specific paces. I found a place about halfway between the 3:30 group and the 3:35 group. My mantra for the first 5 miles of a race is to continuously remind myself to "be like a rock in a stream", and let all the people overrunning their pace pass me like crazy, knowing I'll see the back of those same heads in the last 5 miles. I kept on my Garmin regularly to stay on pace while still enjoying the sights, but keeping myself slower than adrenaline would have me. I was having a great time and the first 11 miles breezed by in relative comfort. I didn't expect the bay bridge to feel like much of a hill, but 4 miles of steady uphill takes its toll - I read on the internet that it has a maximum grade of 6%, so if true, that explains a bit of the burn I was feeling. In any case, it didn't feel brutal, but it did feel harder than expected. Garmin showed that I slowed to 9:00 several times, and if I recall, I gasped in horror at 9:30 once. But I figured "even effort, not even speed" and figured I'd make it up on the way down. But I was wrong! I don't think there was a headwind, but for some reason, the way down did not feel great. I was still keeping 8:10, but it was hard and I couldn't figure out why. My nutrition had been spot on, I got at least as much sleep as I usually do before a marathon (which is not much, but it's my normal), and I really didn't feel like I was overrunning. At the bottom of the hill when it flattened, I was fighting a little harder for 8:30, but hadn't thrown in the towel yet.
I paused for a gatorade at one of the water stations, I think at mile 19, and shortly after I started running again, the 3:35 pace group passed me. I got sad and figured I wouldn't see them again. I started fighting for an 8:30 and got into my head, wondering what I did wrong. At mile 21, the 3:40 group passed me and I got PISSED. I ran on anger for another mile, but found myself getting slow. Mile 22 I glanced at Garmin and saw 10:something. I wondered if I should just quit and walk. I scanned my brain for why should this feel so bad? Then I said to myself "fuck this - you don't do it because it's easy, you do this because it's satisfying." Then I told myself "FFS Tami, you'll still get a 3:40 something - this isn't a bad day." Then I told myself "A year ago you'd have done anything for the opportunity to run a shitty marathon, and you're running an average one for you. Stop being a baby." I thought about Brooks and the fact that I was running this one for him. I said out loud the thing about the Serengeti. So I sped up and kept a nice easy 9:00-ish pace for a bit, leapfrogging with some guy running the relay. The girl with the cute hat from the beginning passed and offered encouragement. I passed a few people who had passed me the first 5 miles. We got to Children's Fairyland, and I remembered how much my kids liked it when they were little, and I sped up a bit. At mile 25 I pulled up next to a guy who had just stopped to walk and told him, "come on - 10 minutes from now we'll be wearing a medal and drinking a beer." He started running again and said "2 beers!". I saw the finish line and heard my husband and sister in law screaming my name. I put some kick on and sailed into the chute. When all was said and done, I finished in 3:42:55. Really right around average for me. Not a disaster, but a lovely tour of Oakland, sometimes uncomfortable, but a very nice tribute to our dear friend Brooks Chenault.
Stats:
Time - 3:42:55
Overall - 221 out of 1164
Women - 32 out of 380
F 45-49 - 4/ out of 36
Next: Smith Rock 50k 5/18/2019
This was my third time running the Hagg Lake Mud Run. I had no particular agenda - I just knew this was a fun, sloppy race, and I wanted something approximately halfway between my last marathon in December and my next one in March. Since I only had 16 weeks between the California International Marathon in December and the Oakland Marathon in March, I didn't really have an off-season, so a 15.5 mile trail run just sounded like fun. "Tami-Fun," certain people might say (certain personal training clients in particular).
The first time I ran this race was in 2015, which had been a particularly dry winter, so there was *some* mud, but it was a pretty fast course for trail. They even had to hose down the Pig Sty, the deepest, sloppiest mud on the course. I ran it again with friends in 2016, and oh boy what a difference the mud made. It was such a sloppy, challenging course. I felt like I probably did an extra mile in lateral slides. It took me more than 28 minutes longer that year.
This year I had no particular expectations. It was a pretty wet winter, and they decided to run the course in the opposite direction, which could potentially affect the finish times. Of course I'm always hoping I'm fast, but I haven't been on the trails quite as much since my knee injury last year, and although I felt confident, I hadn't tested it, so I decided just to stay tuned in and have fun.
About a mile or two in, I decided to set the display on my Garmin to heart rate rather than tempo/time/distance. First, it was impossible to hold a steady tempo, and heartrate seemed like a better indicator for me. Secondly, it was much easier on my old eyes to read this display while bouncing around. :-) I endeavored to keep my rate between 158 and 170 throughout and was pretty successful. (FWIW, I haven't really ever paid too much attention to my HR, so if that seems like I gave myself too much leeway I wouldn't be surprised).
I determined early on that I wasn't going to really fight anyone for position on this one. I wanted it to be a challenging run, but I wasn't in the headspace to really race that day. I settled in around mile 5 or 6 with a couple of runners who were about my pace, and eventually one particular runner and I pulled ahead of the others. She was behind me until about mile 11, and she pulled ahead. The competitor in me thought about trying to take back my position, but I reminded myself of my goal for this run and we ran the rest of it still close together, but with her navigating and me drafting for the final miles. I came in about 15 seconds behind her, and was surprised to have someone hand me a mug and say "You got third in Masters!" as I crossed. My on-trail friend had just gotten second! First was a good 3-4 minutes ahead of us.
All in all, it was great fun, just sloppy enough, and a nice test of how my knee did on trail, which is comforting as I have a 50k on trail coming up in May. My final stats:
15.5 miles (25K) in 2:33:46 (9:55 pace)
3rd in Masters out of 52
7th Woman out of 98
32nd overall out of 215
1st in age group out of 14
Next Up: Oakland Marathon 3/24
In the Pig Sty
