I'd say there's two main aspects of the Dipsea that makes it so unique. First, it's the most beautiful and toughest cross country race in America. The 7.5 mile distance isn't so intimidating, but add to that 2000+ feet of climbing and descending, hundreds of stairs to climb up and fly down, narrow trails, uneven footing, and a lot of poison oak. Over the course of the race, you look up at beautiful Mt. Tamalpais, run under giant redwoods at Muir Woods, and stare down at the Pacific, that is of course if you're able to take your eyes off of the trail right in front of you. Second, the Dipsea is a handicap race. Each age & gender group has an assigned starting time with the youngest and oldest runners starting first at 8:30 am, 19-30 year old men starting last at 8:55 am, and a different group starting every minute in between. At 32 years old, I started at 8:54 - a 1 minute head start over the "scratch" group. Then whoever gets to the finish line first is crowned the overall winner. There are no age group awards, just coveted black numbered t-shirts that are awarded to the first 35 to finish. Based on the format, runners of ANY age have a shot at winning. If you don't believe me, read on!
My preparation for the Dipsea started with a long build up of base mileage throughout the winter with increasing workout intensity in the early spring. But my training hit a snag when I sprained my right ankle and had to miss most of April. My initial emotions told me that I had lost any shot of running well and winning a black shirt. Even if I managed to maintain/regain my fitness in time, I was worried that my ankle would never be strong enough to handle a tough run over the extreme course. I went to physical therapy to strengthen the ankle, and when I started running again, I had 7 weeks to get ready. I figured 1 week to jog, 1 to run, 4 to really train, then 1 to taper. With just over two weeks to go, I felt my fitness was finally coming around and my confidence boosting. I was going to be ready!
The race starts gently enough as you run on a flat section from downtown Mill Valley, but that's over quickly as you hit the first of the 688 stairs a quarter mile into the race. After the stairs, you continue uphill & crest Panoramic Highway. Then it's the first downhill section as you descend on a single track trail, then a road, then a steep narrow trailed called Suicide. After that you enter Muir Woods, almost back down to sea level. That's where the real fun begins. You cross a creep on a narrow foot bridge, then it's 2+ miles uphill gaining over 1300 feet, ending with Cardiac Hill. After Cardiac you wind along a gradual downhill trail for about a mile, before the technical downhill sections of The Swoop & Steep Ravine. Then there's one last short, but typically painful uphill know as Insult Hill. Finally in the last mile runners take their favorite routes back to Highway 1 before finishing in the Stinson Beach parking lot.
Even though the course is constantly changing, I like to break the race down into three sections: The start to Muir Woods, Muir Woods to Cardiac Hill, and Cardiac to the finish. The first part is about finding a rhythm - running fast without burning too much energy, the middle section requires the most fitness and toughness, and the finish is about managing very technical descents when you're very tired.
On to the race...
I was relieved to shake off the nerves and sleep well the night before. I warmed up with some buddies, and felt ready to go. Since this was my first year in the invitational section (I was in the dipsea runners section last year which starts behind all of the invitational section), I didn't know what to expect in terms of the congestion from passing runners out on the course. Mark McManus, who won 3 fastest time trophies from 2006-2008 and was second overall last year, was starting in my group, so the game plan was to follow as closely to him as practicable for the first sections of the race. He would know better than anyone how to navigate and pace his way through the crowds.
The nerves really started to hit as we lined up for our 8:54 starting group, but I knew I was ready for today, and that I had a long race ahead that wouldn't get all that difficult until it got really hard heading up to Cardiac Hill. As the whistle blew, I tucked in right behind Mark & Stephen Donahue (who finished 9th overall last year) as we headed up the steps. I found the congestion on the stairs manageable in the invitational section, unlike last year in the Dipsea Runner's section last year it was almost impossible just to keep running. As we ran up the 3 groups of steps, then continued uphill to Panoramic Highway, I was feeling well under control. This wasn't easy, but it wasn't all that painful yet. I let Mark & Stephen go a few seconds ahead of me, but they were still in contact.
As we crested the first climb and headed downhill on the first real section of single track trail, I found myself held up by some slower runners. I seemed to lack the rhythm to find a spot to pass on the side while keeping a steady pace on the uneven downhill terrain. Like I often do in races, told myself to relax, and got myself around some of these runners - to the right, to the left, or wherever I could. As I looked up, Stephen was getting closer to me again. That gave me confidence that I was moving well down the hill.
After that we hit a downhill section of road. Downhill running has been a real weakness of mine in terms of cross country races over the past year. I never seem to keep pace with comparable runners when we hit long and/or steep downhill sections of races. I had tried all sorts of variations to my stride, but finally in the weeks leading up to the Dipsea I found that a short quick turnover was the ticket to moving fast while conserving energy. On this section of the race, I just looked up for the best lines to pass between people, and kept those legs moving. As we neared the next trailhead, I realized I was actually catching back up to Mark... on the downhill!
Next up was suicide, the first really technical part of the course. I couldn't keep up with Mark's technical downhill skills, in fact after this point, I never saw him again, but I managed to find a way to pass slower runners as I bombed down, and caught right up with Stephen by the end.
As we hit the footbridge at Muir Woods, my split was 15:25. I'd run over a minute faster to this point than last year! Part of the reason was less congestion in the invitational section compared to the dipsea runner's section, but still a good sign. Now onto the fun part, the 1300 foot elevation gain up to Cardiac Hill. From my training, I found it never worked out to hammer the first steep section out of Muir Woods (known as dynamite). It just took too much energy when there would still be so long to go. So I settled into what felt like a painfully slow pace, but still kept me passing runners quickly. As we climbed out of Muir Woods, Stephen started to pull away slowly, but I needed to run my race so I let him go. As we transitioned into the middle section of the climb, I starting hitting what I considered an annoying amount of congestion for the first time. I'm not sure the congestion was actually worse, but I think I'm catching more competitive runners, and it's at a point when I'm having to work really hard to run a slower pace (because of the uphill). The half way rock marks the spot where you're roughly half way up the climb, and half way through the race time wise. This had been my mark to pick up the tempo and start to push harder up the climb. If you're really awake, you can take advantage of some rolling sections to run fast, while other runners might be take a breather. My most disappointing part of the race is that I "fell asleep" here when I should have been running aggressively. Several people have told me not to waste too much energy being overaggressive trying to push people out of your way. I took it too far the other way by not doing what I needed to do when I got caught up by people blocking the trail. So bottom line is I wasn't moving fast on the sections I should have been flying on.
As I reached the top, I was feeling better than last year, but not as well as I did in some of my training runs. I downed one cup of water, dumped another on my head, and hit the split on my watch. My time of Cardiac was a disappointing 20:39 - over 30 seconds slower than last year, but the total split of 36:04 was still 37 seconds faster than last year.
From here the trail starts gradually downhill for the next mile. Finally the crowds had thinned out, but I could see several runners up ahead. Then something unwelcomed happened. As I wound up my pace on the downhill, I felt a piercing side cramp. I couldn't even exhale without a loud grunt. It was so loud that a runner just ahead turned around to see what horrible animal might possibly be hunting him down. I tried pressing my rib cage - no relief. Then for some reason tried a deep cough... momentary relief! I few breaths later I tried again, then a few breaths later it was gone! Finally! Time to roll!
Now I'm just looking ahead for the next runners to lock onto. There was a pack about 200 meters ahead that I'd catch a glimpse of on straight sections of the path, and I was reeling then in quickly. Right around the 5 mile mark, a volunteer said "you're in 38th, the black t-shirts are just ahead." This was a shot of excitement. I quickly caught the next three runners, and told myself "you're wearing a black t-shirt!" I just wanted to make that number on the shirt as low as possible. Each time I passed a runner, I counted down my place – one tiny bit of motivation at a time to propel me toward the next person.
Unfortunately one of the next runners I passed was the 2007 Dipsea champ, Jamie Rivers (at the time Jamie Berns). Last year Jamie married one of my occasional training partners – the 2008 Dipsea champ Roy Rivers. Both Jamie (59) & Roy (53) are part of the Tuesday night Pelican Inn running group. A few of the older runners in the group have been gathering for Tuesday runs since 1985! The past two years, I’ve met with the group for the grueling Cardiac Hill time trials in the weeks leading up to the race. This year, the group formed the Pelican Inn Track Club to take a shot at winning the team title for the 100th Dipsea. While I’m very loyal to my West Valley Track Club, my normal team doesn’t compete at the Dipsea, so I was happy to team up with this other fantastic group to run my favorite race.
Both Jamie & Roy have given me lots of advice about running the race (except for maybe their favorite short cuts – I may never know). When I went out to practice the downhill steps of steep ravine the Thursday before the race, I saw them both of them out on the same section of the course, inspecting the conditions and surveying the course one last time before the race. As I was struggling to find a rhythm down the stairs, Jamie gave me some great advice to just visualize keeping my chest forward out over my feet. It was a slight adjustment, but it made a huge difference, allowing me to take up to 3 steps at a time. Both of them have been had given me so much encouragement as I fought back into fitness the month leading up to the race.
When I passed Jamie on the course, she was walking with a noticeable limp. But even with what must have been considerable disappointment to fall out of contention, she was cheering on every runner who passed her. I just thought it was a great demonstration of what a true Dipsea champ is all about. It turns out that Jamie was trying for her 14th black t-shirt which would have broken a tie for the most ever won by a female. At our Pelican Inn dinner two nights after the race, it was my turn to encourage her – I have no doubt she’ll be high on the podium last year.
* running toward the swoopAfter I passed Jamie, I started recognizing some of the Pacific Association master’s men and open woman as I passed them and continued to count down. As we hit the swoop - a steep section similar to suicide - I was briefly held up by a PA runner who I recognized, but then returned to aggressive tactics yelling "LEFT LEFT LEFT" which pretty much scared him into giving me the little bit of room I need to let gravity do its magic. I made easy work of the next couple runners as I counted my position 29th, 28th.
Then onto steep ravine, which is the most technical downhill section with steep uneven steps. The steps were still a bit wet and slippery just 10 days ago, but after a very warm week they were finally dry. I slipped twice here last year, just avoiding a real fall both times. But this year, I was finally dialed in taking 2-3 stairs with each step. 27th, 26th... Then I saw something unexpected. As I'm flying down the stairs, I see an older man clawing his way out of the ravine back on the trail! Good news is he was ok, but just a reminder of how treacherous that course can be!
As I cross the foot bridge and head toward insult hill, someone yells out "Let's go Gus." Oh man! My buddy Gus Gibbs has made up the 1 minute headstart I had over him. I pushed the pace up insult hill. His footsteps briefly faded, but as we crest the hill and get our first view of Stinson Beach, he's right back on me. Man he must be flying on the downhills! I stay in front of him on the first of two very narrow short single track sections off the highway, but before the final single track, he passes me and quickly pulls away. As we rejoin the highway heading into the sprint to Stinson Beach, I'm in 20th place. I see Gus and Stephen Donahue way up ahead, but too far to have any chance. Then I catch a glimpse of a runner in his 60s (who turns out to be Jerry Edelbrock who owns a pile of black T-shirts). But he's so far away! My rational psyche tells me not to even bother launching a hard kick, but I keep telling myself that he's much older and isn't running nearly as fast as I am. We make the last turn and I really dig in and see him coming back to me quickly. With about 50 meters to go, I finally know I have him so I try to savor the last few seconds of the race as I hear the announcer say "WE'RE GOING TO HAVE A PASS... IT'S JAMEY GIFFORD."
* one last runner to chase down
* driving toward the finish
19th Place in 52:40 (a clock time of 51:40 w/ my 1 minute head start). 49 seconds faster than last year!
The elation sunk in immediately. I remember thinking "I want my black shirt now!" but of course would have to wait a couple of hours until the awards ceremony. So I rubbed down with tecnu (to wash off the poison oak) - I got it bad the next week anyway. Then I went for a painful cool down jog - oh yeah... I had run hard today! And finally enjoyed a couple beers with my Pelican Inn teammates.
* post race treats!
* the Pelican Inn Track Club
* Dana & I enjoying the post-race
At the awards ceremony, they count down the black shirt winners starting with 35th placeDipsea winner, 72 year old Russ Kiernan finished right in front of me, and I had a great time chatting with him throughout the ceremony. My training buddies Mark McManus finished 6th, Alex Varner 4th (along with the fastest time trophy), and Roy Rivers 3rd. Standing in front of the stage as they handed out the awards was so special for me, and clearly was for everybody else up there.
* the black shirt winners
* Russ Kiernan
The winner was quite a shock to many. Last year 7 year old Reilly Johnson took covered the course in 1:27 along with the maximum 25 minute head start to finish 199th. This year, 8 year old Reilly would get the same 25 minute head start for the final time - or I should say the final time until the year 2068 when she turns 66. Reilly, who had done her 3rd grade history report on the Dipsea Race, was inspired to train for a black shirt. As the tiny runner she practiced and trained, her parents came to a shocking conclusion. She could win this race! Reilly started the race in the first head start group with former champion Melody-Ann Schultz. The two would push each other for the entire race. Running down the swoop, Reilly stumbled. Melody-Ann was right behind with no where to go, so she scoops her up and "C'mon darling, get up!" Reilly passed Melody-Ann again on insult hill, and held her off by 8 seconds to win the 100th Dipsea Race.
* the two leaders
The final award was so touching. Sal Vasquez holds the distinction of being the greatest Dipsea champion, hands down. Sal won 4 years in a row from 1982-1985, after which they added a winner's penalty (head start minutes reduced following a Dipsea championship). He followed it up with wins in 1990, 1994, and 1997. But after 1997 Sal never returned. Finally this year Sal, although unable to race due to injuries, traveled to the Bay Area to be part of the 100th Dipsea celebration. Just before announcing Reilly Johnson as the champion of the 100th Dipsea, the announcer called Sal Vasquez on stage to present the award. Sal, lifted up the tiny girl to the microphone so that she could thank her family. Reilly had an ear to ear grin, but tears in her eyes. I think every grown man who cared about this race was a little chocked up. Reilly's black t-shirt fell below her knees. When they took pictures on stage, Melody-Ann Shultz and Roy Rivers had to help her hold the up the trophy. Her actually time on the course was 1:12:30. Just a phenomenal performance for someone that age. I'm pretty sure her actual time was faster than most of the men in their 20s were able to run the course.
* the top 3
I was extremely satisfied with my race. I had steadily improved as a runner from the prior fall through early Spring, but after my injury a good Dipsea race was seriously in doubt. Even though my race wasn't perfect by any stretch (although I don't know of any runner who's ever said they ran a perfect race), I definitely think I made the most of the amount of time I had to prepare for the race and the fitness I had on raceday. I was also happy for Dana. It was great to have her share what's become a huge part of my running. In her first race, she ran a very solid 1:22 and looks forward to racing next year!
348 days until the 101st Dipsea...
* Back home & very tired. I wore my black shirt the entire day.
