“Do you still believe in all the things that you stood by before – Are you out there on the front lines, or at home keeping score? Do you care to be the layer of the bricks that seal your fate? Or would you rather be the architect of what we might create?”
- Rise Against, “Architects” (video after post)
The first time I came to Miwok, I was building up to my maiden 100-mile race, and hadn’t quite fully wrapped my head around the huge numbers involved beyond the realm of the 50-milers I was familiar with. I believed that getting to 100 miles was possible, but aside from that, I didn't have any tangible experience to base that confidence upon.
It was only during that initial 100K that I got my first taste of what the 100-miler might have in store – in both good ways and bad. So with another 100-miler on my schedule this summer, one of my top priorities was to make it to Miwok again, to see if I still had that same belief in myself, and to hopefully get a glimpse of what kind of experience I might be able to create later this year.
With a few more races under my belt now – and for another reason I’ll describe shortly - I’m a different runner than I was the first time here. As it turns out, Miwok was a little different as well; this year’s course included some new trails and a couple of route changes, but still packed about 10,000’ of climbing into some of the most scenic trails in Northern California. The day promised a lot of great things to see – and with that, we’ll start the report.
(As usual, click any of these photos to enlarge ...)
You’ll be forgiven for thinking this is the start line: a bunch of people standing around, chatting the time away, making nervous jokes to take their mind off the situation at hand. Unfortunately, when I took this photo, the race was more than 5 minutes old; after a scramble across the sand of Rodeo Beach, the route immediately narrows to a single-track climb where people in back of the crowd are forced to stop in their tracks for at least a few more minutes before slowly proceeding up the hill. Since it’s the first half-mile of a 62-mile race, and since none of the people in the group around me were exactly charging for a podium finish, nobody really seemed to mind the brief delay.
Once you make it up the first trail, you hit a paved road where you can look back at the start area behind you …
… which is a lot more attractive than the long grind up Conzelman Road ahead.
The reward for climbing up Conzelman is pretty sweet: a killer vantage point of the Golden Gate Bridge emerging from the morning fog.
After seeing the bridge, the trail winds its way gently downhill again …
… until you reach a “Wait – weren’t we just here?” moment in returning to the Rodeo Beach aid station at mile 7. The good news is that you don’t have to wait five minutes to cross the beach a second time. The bad news is, you have to cross the beach a second time.
Leaving Rodeo Beach (for good this time), this year’s route generally took us in reverse through the final section of the traditional race. In my previous Miwok report, I griped about having to go down this large stone staircase at mile 61; this year, we went up them instead. Don’t be shocked when I say this … but it turns out that up is harder.
Climbing the first ridge gives you a glimpse of Tennessee Valley, and you get to enjoy another long downhill to the aid station there. By this point of the race, your legs and mind may as well get used to the pattern: long grinding uphills, followed by long steady downhills – because that’s pretty much what you spend the day doing out here.
After Tennessee Valley comes the longest section of the race without aid; an 8.9-mile up and down stretch including wide ridgeline fire roads …
… and twisty-turny singletrack …
… and some sweet forest trails with foliage overhead and wildflowers underfoot. Believe it or not, you haven’t even reached the prettiest sections of the course yet.
That starts shortly after leaving the Pan Toll aid station at mile 20, where you see the first of two landscapes that Miwok is famous for: plush shady trails meandering through giant redwood forests.
Here’s the second landscape that defines Miwok: grassy single-track on the high slopes of Marin County, with a beautiful seascape in the distance below. You can’t gaze at the sea for too long, however …
… because long portions of this section include what locals call “half-track” trail, which because of its narrowness and slope has been known to roll more than a few ankles over the years.
Each time I’ve done Miwok, the hardest section mentally is the long out and back from the Bolinas Ridge aid station at mile 27 to the turnaround point of the course at mile 34. Fortunately, I didn’t have any thoughts of quitting the race here – because as this sign (click to enlarge photo) outside the aid station says, I would have ended up with a wrinkled soul. Nobody needs that.
The forest somehow vanishes about 500’ from the Randall Trail turnaround point, which at Miwok signals the bonus good news that you’ve actually done more than half the distance. For some reason, that knowledge is always very reassuring.
Remember how I mentioned I was a different runner now? That wasn’t just because I’m a couple of years older and have a few more races on my resume. I was also doing the race in Soft Star RunAmocs, for which I’ve made no secret of my affection over the past year. This spring I had an idea to spread the love a little more publicly than my little hole-in-the-Internet-wall, and the elves at Soft Star were completely on board, sending me a race shirt and setting me up with fresh mocs shortly before race day.
Knowing that this is probably the closest I’ll ever come to actually being a sponsored runner, I figured I’d start calling myself Team Soft Star, since “that crazy guy in the moccasins” doesn’t quite have the same ring to it. At Miwok, I was the poster boy for RunAmocs – and honestly, I had a ton of discussions about them on the trail. For the most part, the ultrarunning community has been incredibly curious and open-minded about the whole minimalist thing, and my reception at Miwok was wonderful, for two primary reasons:
1) More than virtually anyone else, ultrarunners can certainly identify with hearing people tell them that something they want to do is crazy, impossible, or potentially harmful – and then going ahead and doing it anyway. Also …
2) Recall that I started at the very back of the pack, which means that I passed a lot of people throughout the day. I imagine that it’s hard to question whether something is effective when the guy doing it is pulling away from you.
So there you have it: Team Soft Star, coming to a trail near you someday. Meanwhile, back at the race …
Even though you’ve turned the corner towards home, returning from Randall Trail is still a fairly significant challenge, as you climb two solid miles through the redwoods before finishing the “more up than down” roller coaster route back to Bolinas Ridge at mile 41.
While the out and back is the toughest mental section for me, the mostly uphill 6-mile return through the half-track and single-track toward Pan Toll was without a doubt the toughest physical section. The incline is just steep enough to grind you down, but just gentle enough that you feel guilty for walking it. This is where I struggled the most, and where I ultimately resorted to gameplay with the two runners in this picture.
They passed me while I was taking a photo, and I made a concerted effort to catch back up and settle in behind them. The girl was running the whole race, but the guy was her pacer, so he had fresh legs and great energy and kept a steady pace while engaging her in conversation the whole way. I asked if I could tag along, and mentally latched onto them like the caboose of a train; my only goal through the whole section was to stay close enough for them to pull me. This was a significant turning point for me; if I had fallen back, the race very likely could have turned ugly, but by making the extra effort to stay close, I made it through my roughest patch of the course without slowing down at all. For that, I was grateful, and I made sure to thank them both afterward.
Leaving the Pan Toll aid station at mile 48, you’re welcomed with a 2-mile downhill stretch …
… followed by a pretty section of flat single track on your way to Muir Beach. This was one of the only level sections on the course, with a nice smooth trail, and when I passed through the wind began swirling at my back, with cloud cover briefly gaining the upper hand over the sun. It was like the ultra gods were smiling on me …
… and when I got to Muir Beach at mile 54, the aid station people were cheering for me. I mean … how much better can an ultra get?
Since the course had changed this year, Miwok’s homestretch featured a gauntlet of major climbs, beginning with this one right after the aid station …
… where you start with a nice view of Muir Beach below, and then head higher up the hill …
… to get your first view of Pirates Cove, one of the prettiest sections of coastline in Marin County. It’s best to keep your gaze fixed on the shore, though …
… because if it drifts inland a bit, you might feel a stomach punch sensation after seeing the climb out of Pirates Cove that awaits you another mile or two ahead.
The good part of the Pirates Cove climb is that every now and then you can look over your shoulder and enjoy the view below …
… because keeping your eyes fixed uphill might get discouraging.
Once you’ve finally climbed out of Pirates Cove, you’ve got less than 10K left to go – and when you see the mile 58 Tennessee Valley aid station down below, you can begin to smell the barn.
I mean that literally, because Tennessee Valley has a lot of barns. And horses. Horses that smell. It’s also home to some wild critters …
… such as this kitty who didn’t seem too bothered by a moccasin-clad runner trudging up behind him. Then again, I can’t imagine why he would be.
Predictably, there’s another long climb out of Tennessee Valley …
… followed by another long descent to sea level. On the original course, once you reach sea level here, you’re done – but this year the finish wasn’t at Rodeo Beach – it was at the local YMCA …
… which was up and over these hills in the Point Bonita area. I generally love exploring new trails – but when I’m looking for the finish line after running 60 miles and all the new trails seem to lead uphill, my enthusiasm tends to wane just a little bit.
The reward for your final climb is one last view of the Golden Gate …
… and a downward sloping road to Point Bonita just ahead.
Considering that this is a world-famous race, the finish line at Miwok is quite unpretentious: there’s a clock, a line drawn on the ground, and a few people standing around clapping. I crossed the line 11 hours and 35 minutes after starting, giving me a nearly 15-minute improvement over the previous time I was here, which felt pretty nice …
… but not nearly as nice as the hot showers that were available after the race. Before showering, though, I had to take a couple more pictures …
… like this one of Team Soft Star at the finish line. I won’t claim that it was easy to run this course in moccasins – but I can definitely say that my feet didn’t hurt any more than the rest of me. I had some soreness through my ankles and on the bottom of my feet, but it was generally the same kind of muscle soreness that you get after any super-long workout.
What I didn’t have were blisters or any major hot spots, and my Drymax socks did a perfect job of protecting me from dust and grit coming through the perforated leather. (I’m not talented enough to be on Team Drymax, though – they have plenty of real ultrarunners onboard.) The mocs were more than up to the task of getting me through 62 miles of hilly, occasionally rocky and technical terrain – I couldn’t really ask for more.
I’ll have a follow-up post or two in the near future about where the whole RunAmoc thing goes from here. In some ways, it ties back into the same notion I started this report with: testing the limits of what’s possible, and gradually converting belief into tangible accomplishment one mile at a time. I hadn’t officially wrapped my head around the idea of doing 100 miles in moccasins prior to this race, but Miwok clearly gave me the confidence to at least consider it. Between now and July, perhaps it’s time for me to be an architect who dreams of something remarkable that I just might be able to create in the mountains above Lake Tahoe.
* “We still believe in all the things that we stood by before – And after everything we've seen here maybe even more.”
Rise Against, "Architects" (click to play; lyrics advisory):
Forgive me for the late posting this weekend ... I kind of wore myself out running around Marin County all day yesterday. Literally. So let's get right to the contest winners now, and hopefully I'll get right to a nap later on.
The winner of Marshall Ulrich's Running on Empty book is Dan from Morgan Hill. The winner of the Merrell Barefoot women's Pace Glove trail shoes is Ellen Holly. Congrats to both of you, and be sure to e-mail me your address so I can pass it along to the right people.
*
This week's Random Shot of Beauty comes from the aforementioned run around Marin County:
Point Bonita in the Marin Headlands, location of the finish line of the Miwok 100k, as seen from mile 61 of the course. For obvious reasons, I was more than a little happy to finally see it. Stay tuned for the full race report this week.
A quick reminder about two contests that will be wrapping up soon: one for a pair of Merrell Pace Glove women's trail shoes, and the other for a copy of Marshall Ulrich’s great new book. No, they’re not prizes of equal value … but they’re both pretty cool. Winners will be announced on Sunday.
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Strange as it sounds, one of the main factors in determining whether our kids would be up for hiking in Yosemite was hydration packs. More specifically, we wanted to know if they’d be able to carry their own water.
Prior to this spring, whenever we did family hikes, I would typically carry my own hydration pack as well as a couple of water bottles for everyone to share – but I knew that the prospect of lugging enough fluid for three kids to spend a whole day on the trails and steep hills of Yosemite was more than I wanted to deal with. In other words, Daddy wasn’t playing the family camel anymore; sometimes you just have to draw a line.
CamelBak Skeeter pack above Nevada Fall
For my 12-year-old son, this wasn’t much of a problem, as he’s tall enough to use a standard hydration pack, and was already accustomed to using it for day hikes and bike rides. My younger daughters were more of a problem, however; even the smallest adult packs seemed either too wide through the shoulders or too long through the holsters or trunk to be worn comfortably for an extended period of time. That’s why I was relieved to find the CamelBak Skeeter pack, which is specifically designed for kids, and which my 9-year-old daughter has used extensively, including our Yosemite trip where most of the photos in this post were taken.
On the Mist Trail, with Illouette Fall in background
The Skeeter serves one very simple function: it holds a fluid compartment against your back. It doesn’t have pockets or cargo containers or media cord outlets or anything remotely fancy (except for a reflective stripe, if you consider that fancy). However, it incorporates some of CamelBak’s best innovations, and like all of the company’s products, it comes with a lifetime guarantee for durability. It’s also extremely lightweight and low profile – weighing just 3.8 oz (110g) without fluid, with an 11-inch torso length - so it rides very easily and is perfectly sized for smaller bodies.
Comfort is further enhanced by a super-lightweight mesh harness system, and a back panel with the same diamond mesh that CamelBak uses on its adult packs. The drink tube can be routed through a cross-strap on one side, with the bite valve tucked into the opposite side. The shoulder straps have an internal tunnel for the drink tube, and a Velcro fastener to close the reservoir compartment.
The Skeeter comes with CamelBak’s new Antidote reservoir, which is a noticeable improvement over the Omega reservoirs that were already pretty darn awesome. It has a wide mouth opening with a new quarter-turn fastening system that locks the cap in place without any doubt about security. Using two Omega reservoirs and one Antidote on our trip, it was easy to tell a difference in the ease of closing the new version compared to the former. Fluid capacity on this pack is 50oz (1.5L), or roughly three-quarters the capacity of standard adult hydration packs.
At the edge of Vernal Fall
All the other traditional CamelBak reservoir features are here, too: the Big Bite valve with lockout lever, HydroGuard technology to prevent microbial buildup on the interior surfaces, and a PureFlow tube for a steady volume of fluid with each drink. When the pack is filled, it sits very securely against the back, with very minimal bouncing when running or jumping from rock to rock.
Rockhopping on the Yosemite Falls Trail
Both my daughter and I are quite impressed with the Skeeter pack, and after comparing the utility of adult packs and childrens packs over multiple outings, I’d say there’s definitely a benefit to using child-specific gear. Truthfully, the only downside is that your kid will eventually grow out of it, but since the Skeeter pack is very affordably priced, you’ll definitely get your money’s worth if you use it for a reasonable amount of time.
*Product provided by CamelBak **See other product reviews on sidebar at right. If you have a product you’d like reviewed, contact me at info@runningandrambling.com.
One of the most common descriptions you’ll hear about Marshall Ulrich is how humble he is – and before I even started reading his book this spring, I had two examples of exactly what those people are talking about.
The first one occurred after Marshall happened to send me an unsolicited e-mail in response to a recent Monterey Herald column my friend Mike and I wrote about Marshall’s one-time running companion Charlie Engle. Marshall told us he enjoyed reading the article, and informed us that he had a book coming out describing his misadventures with Charlie while running across America, and said he’d be happy to give us a copy to read.
That’s not such an unusual proposal … except for the fact that I already had Marshall’s book, Running on Empty, in my possession, thanks to his professional publicist. It was almost as if he wasn’t aware that he was a celebrity – even before the book was released, Marshall was one of the most widely respected ultrarunners in the world - and was trying to share his story by making connections with one reader at a time. When I told him that I was already working with his publicist, his response was something like, “Oh, OK … great to hear that you have a copy. Thanks for taking the time to review it.”
The second example of Marshall’s humility was an e-mail exchange between him, Mike, and me as we peppered him with a few questions about his running experiences. When Mike asked him why he hadn’t written a book before now, this was part of Marshall’s reply:
The reason I didn’t write a book sooner is that I didn’t feel qualified. I didn’t want anyone saying, “Marshall who? He has done what?” I wanted to have walked the walk.
For the record, here are portions of the resume that Marshall Ulrich felt left him unqualified to write about his experiences: 9-time Eco-Challenge competitor, finisher of over 100 footraces of 100 miles or more, 4-time winner of the Badwater Ultramarathon (in the old days, on the 146-mile course that went to the summit of Mount Whitney), only person to do a self-supported quadruple Badwater run, only person to do the Leadville 100 and Pikes Peak Marathon on the same weekend, and climbing all Seven Summits. You know … the stuff anyone can do.
Indeed, all of those accomplishments serve as a warm-up act to the main narrative of Running on Empty, which is an account of Marshall’s transcontinental run that he completed in the fall of 2008, and was the subject of the feature-length documentary Running America (linked and previewed below). Marshall breezes through the first couple of chapters talking about his upbringing, the tragic loss of his first wife, and his early endurance sport exploits, then spends the rest of the book detailing his two-month odyssey from San Francisco to New York, which he also decided should be an attempt to take down the world record for the fastest crossing of the United States on foot. The previous record was set by 28-year-old Frank Giannino, and had stood since 1980; at the time of his own attempt, Marshall Ulrich was 57 years old. He defies age barriers just like any other obstacle, overcoming them mainly through sheer willpower and determination.
I won’t spoil the ending of whether he set the record or not, because the run is really just the backdrop for many other issues that Marshall explores while on the road across America – and those, as much as the athletic endeavor, are the true appeal of Running on Empty. Marshall is one of those people who runs as a means of escape, both from personal demons and from soul-crushing external circumstances. He discusses what drives an extreme athlete to persevere no matter how daunting the next challenge might be – and how that single-mindedness often comes at the expense of career, relationships, and even family bonds.
One other point stands out about our e-mail exchange with Marshall: he told us that in hindsight, he’s glad that he waited so long to write a book. He said that his perspective and priorities have changed since his younger days, and that he wouldn’t have been capable of acknowledging his own shortcomings or developing any meaningful insight if he had tried telling his story sooner. In that regard, it’s a great thing that he waited, because Running on Empty is equal parts heartfelt personal journey and wonderful adventure tale. You’ll identify with him on the personal stuff, and admire him for the athletic feats.
Running on Empty is available for $17.16 from Amazon.com, or $12.99 for the Kindle version. I’ve also been given an extra book to offer as a giveaway prize, so one of my readers will receive a free copy; leave a comment below this post to enter, and I’ll announce the winner on Sunday, May 8.
Thanks very much to TLC book tours for setting up this review and providing a copy to give away.
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As a special bonus, here's a great video clip of Marshall's run across the USA, excerpted from the film Running America:
The nice thing about running a 5K rather than a longer endurance event is that instead of spending several hours on the course, you’re only in the arena for a half-hour or so. In other words, it’s not a compete day-killer – and even when you account for gnoshing post-race food and shooting the breeze with friends and co-runners, you’ve still got plenty of time to get home and relax for a bit before plunking out a race report.
Which is why I’m able to report on the weekend’s running event in such timely fashion: instead of participating in the Wildflower Triathlon, Quicksilver 50M, or Big Sur Marathon – all of which took place this weekend, and are all fantastic races that I’ve done in the past (see links) and would love to do again at some point – I returned with my daughter to the Big Sur 5K, which last year was the scene of her first-ever road race.
I wrote about that run last year, and this year’s version wasn’t dramatically different, so I’m not exactly compelled to do another traditional report that could potentially read like a carbon copy from 12 months ago. However, there were enough memorable points that I thought it might be fun to throw together some snapshots, observations, and perhaps a few tidbits of advice to share.
Accordingly, allow me to present some scenes from the Big Sur 5K:
It always amazes me how mellow 5K runners are in comparison to marathon runners. You know how at the start of most marathons, the announcer always has to tell the runners to stay behind the start line? True story: about 30 seconds before our race, a race crew member had to get on the loudspeaker and tell everyone to move up about 20 yards so they would be at the official line when the gun went off. It’s like a Bizarro world for a seasoned marathoner.
Footwear for the day consisted of the Vibram Bikila LS for me, which will be formally reviewed here in the next week or two. As for my daughter … I’m going to hold off just a bit for now, because I’m still kicking around a post about minimalist footwear for kids that I hope to have wrapped up soon. A trained eye can probably figure it out, though.
And speaking of shoes …
Here’s one practical tip, courtesy of my 9-year-old daughter, who is the tiny blond head next to the girl in short shorts in the above photo: if you’re going to give a great effort on a sizeable hill in the first mile of the race to clear some space for yourself away from the walking crowd, make sure your right shoe is laced securely as you’re doing it …
… otherwise you might have to give back a lot of that time when you finally make it to the top and realize that it’s untied.
Another tip for 9-year-olds: just because you’re small and cute, don’t think that earns you any special privileges on the race course. See my daughter in the black shirt? About a half-second after this photo was taken, the grown-up dude next to her totally swerved into her to cut the corner a little more closely … you know, so he could bust a 10:48 mile split instead of a 10:49.
More from the “adults acting like idiots” department: one of the people in this photo – I won’t specify who - made a point of telling everybody “We’re running in front of Brad Pitt’s house right now!” She was referring to the row of houses on the left side of this path, while the rest of us – or maybe I should just speak for my daughter and me – could care less about our proximity to a material possession of a Hollywood celebrity …
… because we were much more attentive to and appreciative of the beautiful, natural ocean views on our right. But again, maybe that’s just my daughter and me.
Two thoughts stand out here: 1) I often tell my daughter that with her long legs and knock-kneed stride, she reminds me of a baby giraffe sometimes. I’m thinking that if she ever expresses disbelief, I’ll use this photo as Exhibit A. Also …
2) One more practical tip from my daughter: if you’re going to give a great effort on a sizeable hill in the last mile of the race to start reeling in some people who went out too fast, make sure your left shoe is laced tightly as well …
… otherwise … yeah. Kind of a bummer.
One final tip: if you’re trying to break your course time from the previous year and you end up giving away about a minute or so in shoe-tying predicaments, you’d better high-tail it during the last half-mile to make up some ground. To my daughter’s credit, that’s exactly what she did …
… and sailed into the finish area a full two minutes faster than the year before. She even managed to win an age group award, which was a nice bonus. Now when the marathoners win age group awards at Big Sur, the prize includes a bottle of Monterey County wine; but for some reason, the killjoys on the race committee decided that the winners of the 5K's 8-11 age group aren’t entitled to a similar prize. Whatever.
Even without the alcohol, it was a pretty sweet morning all the way around – which is pretty much what you expect when it comes to Big Sur events. My daughter and I both went home with happy feet, glad to have spent another fun race morning together, and talking about similar future mornings to come.
