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Race Report: Big Basin Skyline to the Sea 50km 2018


“Have fun out there!”

I trained hard in the cold, windswept foggy Marin Headlands, and Mount Tam for this Ultra. The course profile of the Skyline to the Sea 50km, promised steady downhills and gentle climbs, so  I expected the course to be reasonably tame given the net loss of 2,600 ft in elevation. The yearly race starts at 2,500 feet at Saratoga Gap ending just short of Waddell Beach on Highway 1. The weather at this year’s start was already warm with a gentle breeze. The day promised to be a hot one and the race briefing reminded us to drink plenty.

We set off promptly at 9am. The beginning descent of 1,000 ft with a warm early morning breeze was a treat. I enjoyed the sub 11 min/mile pace — way too fast on an ultra even during a descent. I reminded myself how the day was going to be hot and long with some exposure above the timberline along a rocky ridge, so I slowed down accordingly. The sandstone ridge had beautiful views, but was extra hot in the mid-day sun. After a quick pause to admire the views, it was eyes back down again to navigate my way along the rocky technical trail.

As with all ultras and trail marathons, they have their ups and downs. My downs were cramps! Damn it! Rarely, do I experience severe cramping due to heat, but it was 85F — way too hot for those used to the cooler climes of San Francisco. Fortunately, I had plenty of salt tabs that got me back up and running within minutes. It was frustrating as I thought I had been particularly careful to remain hydrated. I tried a gentle trot uphill, but my hamstrings quickly barked back in protest.  Tip! Always, carry salt tabs! Using just food, and even electrolyte drink in heat do not always do the job of hydrating adequately especially if you are not acclimated to running in hot weather. Acting proactively in hot conditions is what I learned from this experience.

Speaking of hydration, I was looking forward to arriving at the next aid station. Coke a Cola sprang to mind. A fellow runner assured me that we were almost there. It was here where my first “down” on the ultra roller coaster arrived; my tumble right before the aid station. Many runners came to my aid. So sweet! I felt like a little old lady falling over in the middle of the road with all the young ones helping me up..! I wished I had the presence of mind to announce that, “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!” Nothing like hindsight. I digress. I was pleasantly surprised when we were told we were at mile 16 — over half-way. Thank you, Coca Cola, salted potatoes, and the aid-station volunteers for getting me up and running again!

On the up! The news that we were over half-way was very encouraging as I was on schedule for a 6:33 hour finish. I was going to do it, I thought! Nope. It got hotter. More electrolyte. More potato chips, energy gels allowed for a good running streak for the next four miles or so. I passed by some runners who passed me  earlier in the race.

Back down! Mile 20. Mild nausea; major signal of more cramps to come. My salt tabs and walk breaks fixed them and kept them at bay. By now, I was behind my scheduled finish. Oh well. Only another 11 miles, of running streaks, mild nausea, and minor cramps to go. I managed to stay positive by embracing the finer moments like passing some people who had passed me earlier, and occasionally dunking my hat in the cool waters of Berry Creek. Forward and onward.

Up again… The last aid station was just 2 miles before the finish. What a treat! After more coca-cola, salted potatoes, and small talk with the lone aid station volunteer, I was back meandering along a narrow single-track trail overgrown with poison oak! Thank goodness that in the 22 years of living in California, I have never had an allergic reaction to the stuff. I felt refreshed, and thought I would just power hike most of the last two miles reserving energy for a hard run through the finish line.

Up and up! Now for the late ultra surprise! All of me felt much better. I had not had cramps or nausea in a while. Then I started to climb. Climb?! What another climb..? I thought we were near the ocean, I said out loud to myself.  I felt the ocean breeze and with renewed energy, power-walked the climb. I must be near the top, surely, I thought. Nope! Another switch-back. And another! I could hear a loud-speaker announcing finishers! So near yet so far.

Feeling up while going down… Finally, the sharp descent began. Nothing stopped me. I threw caution to the wind, and hurled myself down the trail. Suddenly, the trail opened up and a few members of the public cheered. The kids especially cheered! It was all very touching. I strode across the finish line with the time of seven and a half hours. As my husband, Ken greeted me, I promptly announced my retirement from the ultra scene. He’d heard it all before, and I heard his usual response, “Whatever!”

Sorry, no photos of any of the views encountered along the race since I was under the gun of time after telling my husband that I was due across the finish line between 3 and 4pm. That estimate was an optimistic 6-7 hour finish, as I had not run an ultra at that pace in almost 6 years. However, I  was happy to finish in 7:30 hours near the middle of the pack and third in my age group of 50-59 years old. Yes, there were three of us in that age bracket. It was a particularly young field compared to other ultras. At 57, I was the oldest female in the field.

On a final note, I think all ultra-marathoners and marathoners suffer from some kind of group psychosis with sick senses of humor. You can tell that with the smug caption, “Have Fun Out There!” at the bottom of the bib number. Registering for such events always seem like a good idea from the comfort of a chair behind a screen looking at race calendars, absentmindedly clicking the signup link, and then eagerly sharing your registration on Facebook. Nevertheless, I’m sure I’ll be back. I wonder if I’ll break 7:30 hours, or my back next year?


On the Way to Grand Raid des Pyrénées

This post signals the beginning of my journey towards the 80km Grand Raid des Pyrénées – Le Tour des Lacs. On the way, I’ll have another 50km and a 50 miler under my belt in preparation for this August as well as many more miles with friends who share similar running goals.

Throughout the year with its ups and downs on the political landscape as well as the ups and downs of trails and dales, I’ve been infuriated, tired and felt like giving up. However, I remain inspired by many. On the political landscape, there was Hillary, an older woman who went against all that was against her, but throughout her journey, she undoubtedly encouraged other women to do the same. On the more down to earth landscape of the trails, there were ultra runners and other travelers who I ran into both literally and literary.

My literary encounters include Marshall Ulrich who tells his story of the magnificent feat of running across America at the grand age of 57 in his inspiring and sometimes moving book, “Running on Empty: An Ultramarathoner’s Story of Love, Loss, and a Record-Setting Run Across America.” After reading his story, 50kms sounded like a walk in the park!  Ulrich inspired me through his words to get back and chase the Ultra scene again.

The most inspirational of all, came from the ultra runners who were part of the Cretan resistance movement during World War II on the Island of Crete who worked with the British Special Operations Executives (otherwise known as Churchill’s Secret Army among other nicknames), by dodging detection by the Nazis in the occupied Greek Island. They would cover the tough mountainous technical terrain overnight by the light of the moon delivering messages. No aid stations or cheerers along the way. No headlamps required! Christopher McDougall tells their story and explains how runners like George Psychoundakis did it in his amazing book, “Natural Born Heroes: Mastering the Lost Secrets of Strength and Endurance.” The work of the SOE and Resistance even led to the abduction of a German General, General Heinrich Kreipe.

British academic Rory Stewart who is currently serving as Minister of State at the Department for International Development, described his adventures on his hike across Afghanistan in his book, “The Places in Between.” While not a book about running, it’s a book about a journey of great fortitude where he humbly describes his encounters and struggles. He also gives a great insight into the region’s history and people which vary greatly from region to region within Afghanistan.

Last, but not least, was Byron Powell’s, “Relentless, Forward, Progress” which I followed religiously in 2014. The title alone is inspirational in and of itself. It got me through my first 50 miler.

For my literal encounters, I’m continually inspired by my friends who have run many cumulative miles with me who have similar and shared goals. We’ve ran many miles and without them, I would not always have got up at the crack of dawn for the weekend long runs. Without them, I just might have boarded a waiting bus at the 15 mile point of a long run when my feet were aching and we still had nine miles to go! Yes, Doug, I remembered that Coastal Fire Road climb and you handed me the car keys as I was planning on taking a short cut. I looked at the keys and handed them back and continued with you!

The most senior is ultra runner, 75 year old Hans Schmidt who I’ve ran into twice now. Hans was a record holder back in his day and still going strong placing in his age group. On my last 50km during the North Face Endurance Challenge in California, I passed him climbing the Miwok trail. We chatted for a bit. I said, “I’m sure I will see you again further along the course!” 16 miles in and I still had not encountered Hans again. Was I really doing that well? And then on mile 18 climbing a single-track out of Muir Woods, I hear a familiar  voice behind me, “I recognize that outfit!” I knew it! He sailed on past me after exchanges of encouragement. The tortoise and the hare met once more!

My other voices of inspiration come from the wonderful fitness center where I work. They include an 80 year old woman who did her first Western States at 50 and who continues to inspire me with her tales of back in the day. As does Megan who is in her prime for ultra running and continues to convince me that I’m not too old for this shit!

I’m hoping my feet hold up as my weekly mileage increases. The strength training on my legs and two Ultras I did in November and December are paying off with faster times. Even the dreaded Marincello relentless climb in the Marin headlands this weekend didn’t feel so relentless and dreadful as I climbed it in my fastest time yet. Granted, that it wasn’t the last climb of a long run. I’m also working a bit more on agility on the tougher downhills. I’ve even started plyobox vertical jumps and did 18 inches which isn’t high. The important part is that I never thought that I could do that! Don’t be afraid. Trust your body is my new mantra. It works.

I’m determined, I have good resources and for better or worse,  I am as stubborn and as crazy as a rabid mule. But I can also be soft. That’s where all of the above comes in. Grand Raid des Pyrenees scares me, but excites me too. It will be by far the most challenging thing, I’ll have taken on. During the event, I will spare a thought for all that have inspired me — especially during the down times where the negative voice raises its ugly loud tone. In particular, I always here Joan’s voice saying, “one foot in front of the other”, I will imagine those Cretan resistance fighters, and those who fled across the Pyrenees to escape occupied France.

I have a lot to look forward to in 2017 including the Gorge Waterfalls that takes place in Oregon in April. Here’s to healthy, happy and strong New Year!


A DNF Story

I felt a small sense of guilt when I crossed the “Finish line” and again when my husband poured a glass of champagne that evening to celebrate my “accomplishment”.  I felt a fraud and almost felt like I was taking something I hadn’t quite earned when I tucked into the pizza and coca-cola that I engulfed at the “finish”.

Now it’s confession time. I’m sad to announce that I had my first DNF (did not finish) at the 2015 Tamalpa 50km ultra-marathon that takes place at the end of August. Despite being sad, I knew it was the right time, and I knew it was the right decision.  However, that doesn’t remove the emotional aspect of quitting.

DNFs are part of a long-distance runner’s career and most certainly any ultra-runner’s career. It even happens to the elites. It is my first DNF ever. I can’t say it will be my last. No one can. Sometimes it just isn’t your day or your time and, Saturday, 29 August was not my day… At least for not running an ultra.

I’m strong enough and experienced enough to know the difference between a low point and when the body says, “No more”. I have three other Ultramarathons under my belt, including my first 50 miler that I completed in December 2014 at the North Face Endurance Challenge in California. This event was different. It was in August — hotter than the cooler months of other races I had done. However, conditions were perfect at the start.

The morning started perfectly with temperatures in the low 60s and a light misty drizzle to cool us off and soften the ground. I felt strong, but knew to hold back a little and tame the usual adrenaline rush at the beginning or a race. I knew the first half of the course very well which I felt put me at an advantage over someone who hadn’t raced or trained in the Marin Headlands area before. I also knew Mount Tamalpais well, although hadn’t trained as much over there. I wasn’t worried as I’d trained plenty on trails that more than prepared me for what trails lay ahead for me on “Tam”. I knew that beast well!

During my training, I employed a technique I learned for navigating steep declines that got me down faster and with less energy. I’d become much more efficient. I’d learned to use the hills as active recoveries from picking it up on the flats, declines and steady and less brutal climbs like the climb from the Tennessee Valley trail up Wolfridge trail that resembles more of a goat-trail than the usual single-track trail. Even on this beast, I was more surprised to reach the top sooner than expected. I didn’t expect to run in to the poor lad I caught peeing at the side of the trail who was more than apologetic. Among trail runners, there is no shame or modesty — another part of the subculture of trail running that I love. Not that I enjoy watching the relief of others, but I do like others to be comfortable. And comfortable we all were in my small pack, boldly bounding up the ascents and gliding down the descents with relative ease while every now and then exchanging in the usual banter.

I’d also mastered the art of running and eating real food rather than waste valuable time at aid stations, but always giving enough time to express gratitude to the tireless volunteers who service aid stations for the love of running and runners. After 8.3 miles, we approached the first full-aid station where I grabbed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a piece of banana, downed some Coke-a-Cola, and went on my way up Miwok towards my favorite downhill ride, Old Spring Trail where I met the amazing 75 years old Hans right at the top of our Miwok ascent. I was more than impressed at his speed and agility for his age. I think I only kept up with him here because I knew the trail like the back of my hand having done the descent many times.  It was only later that I discovered that Hans had the age record for the 2012 Dipsea at age 72. Here he was still bounding the trails like a gazelle at 75 years old!

Hans excused himself and started to bound up the next climb on Miwok towards Diaz Ridge. It was after holding a steady, but respectable descent on Miwok towards the Deer Park fire road where I met my downfall. Midway up the moderate, albeit challenging ascent of Deer Park fire road, I begun my very rapid decline where I started to feel symptoms of dehydration (low sodium, rapidly declining blood-sugar) which I countered with sports electrolytes drink. The sun burst out from the rain clouds increasing humidity and temperature. Soon after the change in weather, I experienced severe cramping which I knew was a sign of low sodium and other electrolytes. Runners I passed previously passed me including a couple of lovely guys who helped sit me down and offered me food. They each handed me two energy bars. I declined one bar and announced that I’d only need one to get me to the next aid station that was less than a mile away.

Just after the encounter, I met my new friend, a fellow Brit. We chatted telling each other how lousy we felt. I told her I was quitting at the next aid-station. It turned out she was in the same boat and had decided to DNF at the 19.5 mile Cardiac hill aid station too. All of a sudden, I didn’t feel quite so bad about deciding to DNF.

Despite my rapid decline, I still had a good 19.5 mile run in some of the most amazing trails in my area. I was glad I met a new friend who saw me through a low point. After a rest at Cardiac and a bite to eat. We joined each other in a nice relieving 4 mile run down coast view trail towards the finish missing the dreaded Stinson Beach loop. We “finished” with a high-five.

So what went wrong? My training had not been as thorough as for my other races. Nevertheless, I thought I’d wing it. Wrong. Winging it might work for many distances but ultra-running is a different kettle of fish entirely. My DNF has given me a new-found respect for ultra distances. It is just not possible at a relatively advanced running age to mess with distances of 31, 50, 66, or 100 miles and go in not fully prepared physically or nutritionally. Sure, I could have gone the extra 11 miles, but it would have been more than miserable. Malnutrition and dehydration are potentially serious. The medic said I had also signs of heat-exhaustion. When it is humid, there is less evaporation of sweat because the air already contains a high amount of moisture. It is evaporation that has a cooling effect. When there is no cooling effect due to evaporation, the body will sweat just more and more leading to dehydration (loss of electrolytes and fluids).

Ultra-running is a commitment of steady and consistent progress. Nutrition and hydration is a real challenge when runners are on the trails from 6-8 hours of effort in front of them that includes 1-2 mile climbs and descents. The Tamalpa 50km course had 7,000 ft of elevation change. For a 50-miler, a runner is on the trails anywhere from 10-14 hours with much more elevation change. The challenge is greater with each distance. There are many variables to factor in; nutrition, elevation changes, altitude, gear and weather.

I have 3 ultras under my belt including the 50-miler I did in December. I was still greatly inspired by many veterans in the field yesterday. One of those veterans was the delightful Hans who I run with for a bit during the good times. We glided down Old Spring trail together, and then watched him disappear ahead of me like a mountain goat up the single track Miwok trail. I pondered for days afterwards: 75 years old… No. It is definitely not time to hang up the shoes yet. I will be back.


Trials, Trails and Tribulations!

It’s been two years which is far too long to be away from blogging about that which I love which is to challenge myself physically and mentally and to encourage others to set and accomplish goals regardless of how small or large they may be.

For me, that meant setting my own goals after taking a hiatus from serious running after being diagnosed with degenerative arthritis in both ankles. Not running long-distance again was a real possibility, and an option that I was not prepared to accept, or undertake willingly.

As a personal trainer, I knew that my age and arthritis, to some extent, could be fought within reasonable boundaries. For instance, I knew I had to train smarter — much smarter. Maybe, just maybe, I could enjoy my long distances of 15 miles or so again.

Five years earlier, during what I considered some of my best running years, I ran the Double-Dipsea Race on Mount Tamalpais in Marin County here in the Bay Area. This hellish trail race is an out and back course that starts in Stinson Beach and follows the Dipsea trail out to Mill Valley and back to Stinson Beach. It is hellish because the course has over 4,500 feet of climbing and descending over a distance of 13.7 miles. Aid stations are aptly named, “Insult” and “Cardiac.” More gentle sounding stations are the “Muir Woods station” and finally, the quaint sounding, “Old Mill station”. Then there are the infamous 631 Dipsea Stairs to greet you and take your breath away — literally. My training partner and I started to train on the actual trail. My return after five years was a rude awakening. It was like getting back with a lost lover and then wondering why you returned. Nevertheless, the rewards were plentyful: panoramic views spanning from Twin Peaks to Bolinas, the sighting of a rabbit scampering along the trail, sunbeams through the trees and hanging mists made every climb worthwhile despite the odd rolled ankle. While I enjoyed being back to regular and serious running again, each run was a lesson and reminder in what I was lacking and needed to work on.

My ankles felt weak. I needed stronger legs and ankles for injury prevention and agility drills. The agility drills would help me become more sure-footed on the more technical trails which would also help with injury prevention. I would be less likely to roll ankles and fall. I was not used to uneven ground much less technical single-track trails after running mainly on asphalt. My feet ankles, age and legs were all challenges that I was set to take on and correct. I was glad to be back with my long lost lover after all. Why did I leave…? I was happy to be back and had no intention of leaving again.

The Double-Dipsea race day came. The warm early morning sun at Stinson Beach, the camaraderie of fellow trail runners, and pent up excitement and even last minute lines for the restrooms were all things that I had missed from racing. I set off in my wave which was one before my training buddy’s wave. Waves were age-based and the race handicapped by giving the older age groups head-starts. This meant that it was anyone’s race regardless of age. I gave it my best, and so did my buddy. We felt pleased with our results. I finished in 3 hours 15 mins. Okay, so it was 8 minutes slower than my first Double-Dipsea five years ago, but I was five years older and I was just getting my game back again.

Training continued and life was good. I felt good, but it wasn’t enough. I had my eye for a couple of years on the North Face Endurance Challenge — a 50km Ultramarathon right in my stomping ground, the Marin Headlands. I suggested it to my buddy: Should we? Could we? We did. We signed up heavily committed and quickly built weekly logged miles from a meager 20 to 40 miles and within weeks, up to 50 plus miles a week well before the event. Things were going well: faster times, longer distances, and weight-loss egged us on even more. Big mistake! We were doing all the things that I warn others not to do. But I could handle it, or so I thought. Things went slowly downhill from such a rapid ascent in training.

Overuse injuries started to rear their ugly head. Achilles tendonitis, general burn out and a nagging groin issue forced us both to stop running. I was crushed. My dreams felt as shattered as my ankles and aching body after a long 5 hour weekend run. I needed and reluctantly had to take time off training. One day after an abandoned long-run, I posted a forlorn woe-is-me Facebook status update, but timing is everything.

Fortunately, my long-time colleague Matty promptly contacted me after he saw my misery in my status update. Matty invited me to a free session of Muscle Activation Technique (MAT) to try to get to the source of my issues (outside of borne stupidity) and get me back up and running. MAT was a shot in the dark, but I was willing to give it a go. I had nothing to lose and everything to gain. After a thorough assessment, Matty was able to ascertain which muscles were not firing and which ones were compensating and thus leading to injury. Now I don’t believe in miracles, but I was back on my feet in no time. I was very glad I took advantage of Matty’s kind offer. MAT and Matty truly saved the day and season.

I was now able to proceed with caution after a few days of some simple exercises and very short runs that were pain-free. I backed off on high weekly mileage, and kept my midweek runs shorter with a major focus on the long runs on the weekend. My new strategy kept the injuries at bay. All remained quiet on the overuse injury front and the 50km Ultra was within my sights again. Sadly, my friend decided to stick to shorter distances and try again another year. I probably should have followed suit, but I wanted to accomplish this goal badly. I needed this goal as the training was helping me in so many other ways, especially psychologically. I was battling depression and had been for a couple of years. The long runs helped me focus, and I found the exhilarating times refreshing. The thought of accomplishing an Ultra-distance excited me. When my feet and legs were tired, I would take in the warm winter sun low in the winter sky casting long shadows and an orange glow across the horizon and I would visualize crossing the finish line… And indeed race day was on the horizon with just a few weeks away.

Race day finally arrived and the weather forecast was dreadful. Rain and gale force winds were expected. The organizers recommended that we watch their Facebook page and site for updates as there was a possibility that the race could be called off, or the course changed. I was getting nervous as I was reading the weather reports and impending warnings of the race being called off or changes to the course. In a moment of bravado, I typed in the comments of their Facebook post, “Wind, rain, mud, cold? Whatever. Bring it on!” I felt better… I’d worked hard for this showdown and the elements were not going to get in my way. This was California in December for goodness sake; not the North of England in December. I excitedly picked up my race pack from the North Face Store and left motivated by the words of encouragement by staff and fellow runners. Nervous energy is exhilarating.

The night before the race was long… The rain pelted down all night long with the wind howled as the rain beat against the window panes. I fought the negativity of my not quite so better half, Ken who exclaimed, “It’s pouring down out there! You don’t have to do this!” Nevertheless, he ensured we left early due to the foul weather and the fact it was still dark with poor visibility and potentially dangerous slick roads.

The Headlands were foggy coupled with near torrential rain that made driving a little scary on the hilly winding roads. The red break lights of other cars and headlights piercing the darkness were a comforting site: other idiots and dutiful spouses and partners were out and about ready to see their loved ones run off into the rain, in the dark, and along trails of mud where even the best of runners were to remain for hours to come. The flood-lighting near Fort Barry broke the remoteness and sudden activity reassured us we had arrived at the right place.

We were directed to the Rodeo Beach parking lot by gallant volunteers in all-weather gear. They reminded me of deep-sea fisherman out on a rough rain-beaten sea. We parked in the Rodeo Beach parking lot and waited in the car for the school buses that would pick up and deliver runners to the start-line at Fort Barry in the middle of a now muddy field. As the rain pounded the roof of the car, Ken turned to me again as if I was about to embark on a potentially huge life-changing mistake, “It’s not too late to throw this away. Don’t worry about the money!” I responded, that it wasn’t about the money. I’d worked six months for this and nothing, not even the foul weather was going to stop me. The school buses came and delivered us up to Fort Barry. I laughed as the driver bid us to, “Have a great day!” The track to the event site was already a muddy mush and like everybody else, my feet became wet immediately.

I checked in my drop bag and joined the others sheltering from the rain under a tent. We huddled like cows sheltering under a tree during a summer storm. It struck me as ironic how we crowded under a tent to avoid the rain knowing that we were going to be wet and muddy for the next 6-9 hours. My start time was 7:00am. I just wanted to start — get the show on the road.

My wave was called and we moved down to the start. During the excitement, I almost forget to start my Garmin. Damn! Would it find the satellites in time now? Never mind, there was microchip timing, but I would like the course data. I looked down and was pleased to see the familiar line of zeros. My watch was ready to start. I was surprised that I even had a debate with myself about whether I should leave my waterproof running jacket on or leave it at the bag check. What was I thinking? The rain continued to pour and before I knew it, we were off. I reminded myself of all my pre-race strategies… Stay slow! Keep an eye on the Garmin to check pace. 50 km is a long way.

The wind was strong, but not too cold, the rain fell, but felt refreshing. I would mentally get through this by breaking my journey down to just distances between aid stations. Good, I thought. I am preparing myself mentally for later on. Meanwhile, my sodden feet trudged through mud. My legs became quickly splattered and later caked with mud from thick swampy puddles that I’d long since tried to navigate. It eventually became fun plowing through streams of mud once I’d crossed the anxiety barrier of trying to navigate them. The worst obstacles were the slick downhills which at first I navigated carefully until a couple of younger men stormed by fearlessly down the hill… I left my gingerly stepping companions and threw caution to the wind. I just went for it and flew down the hillside. I was actually surprised how much traction there really was in mud. However, I was still determined that I did not want to fall and twist or worst break something on a stray rock. During the steeper downhill into Muir Beach, I kept to the bank where thick grass provided more traction. I saw and watched some of the fallen, but I was not going to get too smug. The party was not over yet.

I felt grateful for the stability and agility work that I’d worked on and mastered in the gym and trails over the last several months. However, what had become familiar trails had become a slick obstacle-course overnight that challenged my skills like they had never been challenged before. Aid stations were always a welcome site with hot soup, other food, enthusiastic volunteers and high-spirited runners despite them being wet and tired. The human spirit is a powerful thing. It is infectious and I attribute that to what kept me going.

The rain continued to fall throughout the morning. With about 6 miles to go, my hamstrings barked uphill and my quads barked downhill. Eventually, I saw the last aid station and check point that was sitting within a muddy slosh. I didn’t even stop there and just called out my race number grabbing some sports drink and some guilt-free peanut M&Ms as I very slowly ran by. Three miles to go and all downhill down the muddy river AKA Rodeo trail! Cheers came from me and my fellow “competitors” as we plowed down through the thick river of mud that was now flowing down Rodeo Trail. I had grown to like the mud. It gave way and was soft under my tired feet. The last mile was on asphalt back to Fort Barry.

I rounded the corner and made my way to the finishers’ shoot: The red LED display read, 6:32 — six hours and 32 minutes. I was elated. I was half-an-hour faster than my predicted sever hour finish time. I had never ran faster, and harder and longer over such a distance. I crossed the finish line. A lady handed me a medal: “North Face Challenge 50km December 1, 2012” I smiled. I took my aching legs and navigated the very last small hill to the beer tent, grabbed my beer and stood by the outdoor gas heaters with the other finishers huddled around. We laughed and exchanged stories while my body ached and pleaded with me to sit down despite the sodden ground.

North Face Endurance Challenge


The air was cool and it had stopped raining. I could feel the damp, but warm sweat beneath my rain-jacket. My feet ached. As much as I liked the beauty of life out in the Marin Headlands, I looked forward to being in my own shower and feeling the soothing hot soapy water cascading down my aching body. I looked forward to another beer. Most of all, I looked forward to a nap under the coziness of my duvet listening to the clanging of the radiator in the corner… The shower was wonderful, the beer good and the apartment warm. I crawled into bed and drifted only to relive it all over again, but this time I was in a warm, dry comfortable haze where things were effortless and nothing hurt.

Sources and links:

Marin Headlands GGNRA

Muscle Activate Facebook Page

North Face Endurance Challenge – San Francisco

The Beast of Christmas Past…

… It is back and hiding in the corner of a gym near you…!

The holiday challenge is upon us again. Row 100,000 meters between Thanksgiving and midnight Christmas eve and Concept2 will donate money to a charity that you can chose from a list they provide. You must row a minimum of 100,000meters. It’s not as daunting as it sounds. You will be surprised at how quickly you progress with consistency and frequency. Work to an average of 5,000meters/day. Register for free at Concept2.com and start logging your meters. Logging your workout is a good way to monitor progress and stay motivated. Every single gym has at least 2 of these beasts resting unchallenged side by side! Go on! Take it on! Start rowing and logging your meters in the free log. Watch and see how you measure up against your age/gender peer groups.

Before you venture towards this creature, it’s important to exercise good form to get the most out of this species of equipment. Get a trainer to review your form and tell them of any muscular-skeletal issues so they can best advise you and keep you injury free.

Start out by building your endurance by rowing 1000m and gradually build on the distance you row… Row 2-3 x per week. Rowing sprints of 300-500 meters between weight-training exercises is a good way of keeping your heart rate up. Logging those sprints will help accumulate those meters towards your 100kms and improve your performance. You will activate those fast-twitch muscle fibers which will help increase performance over any distance. The neuro-muscular learning that takes place during sprint training will rollover into anything else you do that involves fast-paced movement using the same muscles.

The benefits of using the rower on a regular basis is that it has several components all rolled into one: Core strength and development; improved cardiovascular fitness; development of upper and lower body strength, and toning. The regular exercise will help maintain a healthy body weight and assist with weight-loss goals.

Slay the Beast!

Taming the beast!

Taming the Beast

New Book on the Science of Overeating.

No, this is not just another book on the latest pseudoscientific fad that tends to populate the bookshelves and online stores. The latest issue of New Scientist reviews a book by former Food and Drug commissioner David Kessler who battles the endemic problem of obesity in a new book, The End of Overeating.

He discusses the biology behind how, why and what we eat. He describes how the food industry manufactures food so people crave foods rich in fat and sugar. These foods stimulate neurological reward pathways in the brain. We therefore learn how to eat badly by associating certain foods with mood, location and the time of day.

Its refreshing to see a book dealing with the issue of nutrition and health that is not full of self-help psycobabble, but is based on real science.

Fighting Parkinson’s with the Sweet Science

A recent report by ABC news shows how boxing helps people suffering from Parkinson’s disease improve their quality of life. Parkinson’s disease is a debilitating neurological condition that severely reduces people’s quality of life. Deterioration of brain cells responsible for synthesizing the neurotransmitter dopamine causes tremors, deterioration of motor skills, coordination and balance.

Kristy Rose Follmar, formerly the No. 3-ranked boxer in her weight class and Golden Gloves champ Vince Perez started a boxing program for sufferers of Parkinson’s disease. Participants in the program at the Rock Steady Gym in Indianapolis experienced less tremors and improvement in functional movement after several months of boxing training. The reduction in the participant’s symptoms that include anxiety and depression improved their quality of life significantly.

Newman, a member of the program says, “Every day the disease does not get worse, we win that round. We go to the corner and we wait for the bell for the next round.” Hopefully, Newman wins with a total knockout.