Shorts

Nope this isn't about those socially unacceptable split shorts that everyone with a running addiction secretly likes.  Since I haven't visited my own blog in so long, it's time to catch up on with a handful of short posts merged into one hopefully-not-to-long post!

* * *

In June I ran the Dipsea race for the 4th time, and won my 2nd Black T-Shirt with my 24th place finish!  I usually write an extensive post on what's my favorite race, but just didn't happen this time (click the Dipsea tag below if you're really curious about prior years).  My spring season had been rolling, but I hadn't trained specifically for the unique trail race (which I always said was necessary).  Still, coming off my best 10K in 10 years, and one really strong workout on the Dipsea course, I expected both my best place and best time on the course.  These days I'm usually calm and relaxed on race mornings, but this time I had nerves of Jelly starting the afternoon before!  Race morning was HOT.  I felt flat and out of rhythm for the first 20 minutes of the race, but finally turned it on during the second half of the big climb.  Realizing the heat seemed to be affecting a lot of people, I was rolling with little resistance on the most technical downhill section when boom, I feel a tweak in my ankle (the same one I had injured twice previously).  I saw my black shirt aspirations fly out the window, but at the bottom of the stairs I realized I could still run on it.  It was time to stop feeling sorry for myself and keep rolling - just a little more cautiously.  My time of 33:40 was exactly a minute slower than my 2010 best, and 5 places back, but I was happy to overcome some adversity and get that Black T-Shirt for finishing in the top 35!

* * *

My son Jackson turned 1 last week!  Yes - everybody who told me that it would go by so fast, you were right!  He's walking, learning new words every week, and been a ton of fun.  I really hoped to keep my running going after becoming a dad, and thanks so much to Dana for being so supportive.  Some good advice I got from another dad runner was to treat running like a time management exercise - find the time, get it done, and be efficient.  It helps that I leave for work between 5:15 - 5:30am then get home early.  We've had quite a few days where I'll go to work before dawn, get home at 4pm, Dana heads out for a run while I play with Jack, after spending a little time with all three of us together, then she starts to get him ready for bed while I head out for a run.  Then dinner around 8pm, bed at 9.   We've enjoyed our weekends, which are far less hectic!  Here's me playing with my cute little guy!

* * *

I'm still stoked at how the US mid-distance and distance runners performed in the Olympics.  The highlight for me by far was seeing Galen Rupp battle with the Ethiopians on the last lap, storming down the home stretch for the silver.  I made quite a scene watching it from an airport bar.  I was pretty close to buying a round for the whole bar, which luckily only would have been three other people.  I thought Leo Manzano could be a sleeper if he found his best stuff, and sure enough he did coming out of nowhere for a silver.  After that we had 4 other 4th place finishes (Duane Soloman - 800, Matt Centrowitz - 1500, Bernard Lagat - 5000, Meb Keflezighi - marathon).  Also depth wise on the men's side we saw 2 in the top 5 in the 800, 3 in the top 10 of the 5000, and 2 in the top 8 in the steeplechase.

* * *

The morning before Rupp won his silver, I finished second place in a somewhat less significant race - the 50th annual John Kelley 11.6 mile road race in New London Connecticut.   The race is completely free and run in honor of the former Boston Marathon winner and two-time Olympian.  In addition to being the 50th anniversary of the race, it was the first running since John passed away in 2011.  It was long, humid, but a lot of fun.  Averaged 5:39 pace which I was happy with given the weather and how early in the season it was.

Here's the wiki article on John Kelley

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_J._Kelley

* * *

The PA cross country season has started.  The West Valley TC men's open team keeps attracting more and more talented runners to the club.  While, I have to resist the urge to over-train on the workout days (instead of saving the best efforts for race-day), it has been fun to chase the faster guys.  I'm definitely feeling fitter and faster!  Despite getting faster, I keep getting pushed down the WVTC depth chart.  But that's a good thing - it's fun to be a part of such a strong team, and sets the bar higher which helps me get better.  Through the first 4 races of the season, and team has won 3 times and runner up once.  I finished in the top 10 in the 3 races I've run.  Here I am in the 2nd race:

* * *

I plan to write a separate post on training.  The bullet points:  I'm getting better and listening to my body like I did successfully back in high school.  Once you experience the benefits of increasing your mileage (and there are many), it's so easy to become a slave to your weekly mileage.  It is by far the most quantifiable measure of training, so naturally many runners - myself included - make irrational decisions around weekly mileage.  At times I've been a slave to it.  Sometimes a runner needs a day or two of easy or no running to realize the benefits of prior training.  Consistency and the trend of mileage/workouts/recovery over the course of a training cycle is what leads to good results, not arbitrary benchmarks in a given week.

2011 Dipsea

When I ran my first Dipsea Race in 2009, it quickly became my favorite race.  It wouldn’t be terribly inaccurate to say the Dipsea was my favorite race even first I toed the line that first year.  For a detailed description of the race & course, it's here recap from 2009 or 2010, but to summarize it:

• is the 2^nd oldest foot race in the US behind the Boston Marathon

• covers 7.5 miles from Mill Valley to Stinson Beach, CA climbing and descending over 2000 of elevation, up hundreds of steps, down hundreds of steps, long brutal climbs, steep dangerous descents, and even gives knowledgeable participants  opportunities to take shortcuts

• assigns each participant into 1 of 25 starting groups based on their age and gender, so that in theory the overall winner could be any age – a 33 year old runner such as myself starts 1 minute before the “scratch” group of 19-30 year old males, and 24 minutes after the first group to starts (consisting of the youngest and oldest runners)

• instead of awarding age group prizes, hands out 35 black numbered t-shirts to the first 35 runners (out of 1500) to cross the finish line (each having received their assigned handicap at the start) – I won my first black shirt last year by finishing 19^th

From my past two races, I had always wondered what it would be like to finish 36^th place – to miss the black t-shirts and participating in the award ceremony by one spot.  Sure it wouldn’t be anything like the anguish of finishing 4^th in the Olympic Trials, or being the last person to not qualify for the NCAA championships in a track race, but has to be disappointing nonetheless.  Hmmm… Glad I didn’t think about it too much…

Heading into the race, I was coming off a great season of training, but whether for reasons of over-training, or just peaking too early, I had just seemed to lose the snap in my stride for the month leading up to the race, and was struggling to recover between hard workouts.  But to make matters worse, I came down with a cold exactly a week before the race.  Lots of sleep, hydration, echinacea , and vitamin C just couldn’t shake it. 

Despite the setback, I drove to Mill Valley the morning of the race with a good attitude.  My prior goal of finishing in the top 10 would likely be out of reach, but I was extremely confident I could and would finish in the top 35 and win a black shirt.  Last year it took a time of approximately 54:30 (from my +1 minute starting group) to crack the shirts – and 54 flat would have won a shirt in each of the past 15 years.  Considering I ran 52:40 last year, and all my training indicated better fitness this year, I envisioned taking the race by feel, and if the cold was holding me back, just run a conservative race and shoot for 54 flat.  I could do this by running 30 seconds slower up and over the first climb to Muir Woods, 30 seconds slower up the big Cardiac Hill climb, then finally 20 seconds slower on the long decent (mostly) to the finish. 

As the gun went off, my legs were feeling heavy before we even hit the steps.  This is never a welcoming sign, but from my many many years of racing, I’ve learned that the way my legs feel – good or bad – can be very deceiving early in a race.  More important is how I’m breathing, and my lungs told me every was ok so far.  Up the first of 671 steps, I let 3 runners in my starting group charge ahead as I just searched for a rhythm that I could survive.  At the top of the stairs, when the course continued to climb up, I felt comfortable for the first time.  Before we crested, I had moved past quite a few runners who started before me, and caught one of the three guys who were ahead from my starting group.  On the first decent, I again just found a rhythm and tried to use my much improved downhill running skills to pass as many runners as I could.  “Suicide” – the steepest downhill on the course, was very congested, but I just kept yelling ON YOUR LEFT ON YOUR LEFT COMING THROUGH as loud as I could.  A couple of middle aged men really didn’t appreciate my aggressiveness, but since they had the option of taking the safer (and slightly longer) route, I really didn’t care.  Although if I had to do it over again, I probably wouldn’t have shouted back at one of the guys – that didn’t help keep me in my mental rhythm. 

At the bottom of suicide a weird thing happened.  Somehow I had expended too much energy on the downhill as I was suddenly taking fast, deep breaths.  This was NOT GOOD considering I had 20 minutes of climbing about to start.  I just tried to relax, and again get ready to find a rhythm as I cross through Miur Woods and up the hill. 

The base of the Cardiac Hill climb – a footbridge across a creek in Miur Woods – is always my first check point.  I clicked my watch in 15:30 which was nearly identical to last year – a big surprise to me – and 30 seconds faster than what was necessary to be guaranteed a black shirt. 

As I started up the climb, I knew I needed to run the first - a very steep – section conservatively so that I could be rolling during the less steep latter half.  Just as we start climbing my buddies and Pelican Inn teammates, Alex & Gus blow past me from the scratch group en route to them running the two fastest actual times of the day.  As I kept pressing up the hill, I knew I wasn’t running fast, but just couldn’t do anything about it.  On flatter sections when I tried to pick up the pace at all, I just felt myself red-lining quickly.  Two more runners from the scratch group went past me, but I was able to keep one slightly in sight. 

The section just before the top of Cardiac Hill is the steepest of the race.  I was so tired at this point, it took a serious effort just to keep my legs moving in a running motion.  My split for the climb was a very unimpressive 21:40.  In my mind I thought at 37 minutes I was still on my black shirt pace, but was really 10 seconds off pace now.  To put that split in perspective, I had run the double dipsea course in training a couple of months earlier, running that same climb in less than 21 minutes with Gus while chatting the whole way. 

On the gradual downhill that leads to the steep downhill, I was in thicker traffic than last year simply because I was further back in the field.  At this point I’m feeling achy & my head was swimming.  I kept pressing because I knew there would be some relief ahead as I started downhill, but it was tough to get myself rolling past runners.  One guy from the Pelican Inn crew who I passed here later told me that I just didn’t look right considering how slowly I pulled away from him after I passed. 

At the top of the swoop – the second of two steep downhills – an observer yelled out “70th!”  Oh man, that’s not good, I still have to pass 35 runners!  As I caught the first two runners in the swoop I had a hard time getting past – but then I realized I had no time to waste.  I started yelling loud as I approached people – LEFT, LEFT, RIGHT, LEFT – and pretty much dove for whichever side of the trail they were leaning away from.  I passed a buddy , Chris Knorzer, there who later posted on my facebook page “When you passed me there I thought you were about to get planted in the bushes, but I got swooped, nice job.”  I got back in a rhythm finally passing runners quickly down the swoop, then the steps of steep ravine.  I passed last year’s winner, now 9 year old, Reilly Johnson who must have found even worse struggles than me on the course, and offered a quick LET’S GO REILLY.  At the bottom of Insult Hill a course worker yelled out 45^TH!  Ok, 10 runners to pass with just over a mile to go, I can do this.  I caught two runners as we pushed up insult – 44^th, 43^rd.  Again the dead legs hit me going up the last hill, but I was going to collapse before I gave up.  By the top of the hill I was up to 41^st.  We hit a short section of Panoramic Highway, passed one runner heading down the road – 40^th – and a second just before plunging back on a narrow single track trail – 39^th.  I squeezed past two more runners, the second was 72 year old Russ Kieran who’s amazing record streak of 15 straight black t-shirts would end this year – 37^th.  Now feeling much better about sneaking into the stop 35, I’m looking up ahead for the next runner, and no one is there.  Finally after what seemed like minutes, I blow past another runner - 36^th.  Just before we leave the trail for the last time some yells “36^th, 35^th IS 20 SECONDS AHEAD.”  With 1/3 of a mile to go, this was very bad news, but I had no idea who this runner was.  If it was someone from the 2 minute headstart group, I had almost no chance of catching him, but if it was someone from the 25 minute headstart group, I would almost certainly catch him/her.  Also, they could have grossly misestimated.  But no time to think about any of this… only time to kick!

I came onto the road for the last time, and finally saw 35^th place WAY up ahead.  It seemed impossible, but with a mostly downhill last third of a mile, I just started kicking.  The runner disappeared around a bend, then when he came back in sight it still seemed impossible, so I did the only thing I could do – kept kicking.  I kept digging deeper and deeper trying to claim every drop out of the well.  The runner was now getting within reach, but the finish line was flying toward me even faster.  I never gave up until I saw his body cross the finish line, and at that point my momentum took me across the line only 1 second behind him in 36th place.  My time was 54:15 - which was 15 seconds off the time I thought would guarantee a black shirt.

When I crossed the line, I heard someone say my name, but I never took my eyes off my adversary – who I learned was 46 year old Thomas Iseler.  I extended my hand, told him great job, and that I had given it my all in trying to catch him.  Thomas told me it was his first black shirt in several tries, so surely we was experiencing the same thrill I did last year.  As he patted my shoulder, I saw a photographer run up and snap a couple shots.  Leaving the shoot a reporter from the local Marin IJ newspaper came up to me for some quotes – I guess we weren’t the only two who were aware of the finishing battle. 

The paper covers the race extensively and even ran a short column on our battle for the final black t-shirt:

Dipsea:  Isener earns final black shirt by holding off storming Gifford

Later this video was posted on youtube.  You see Iseler hit the road for the final time 6 minutes into the video.  I was 25 seconds back with a third of a mile to go.  I made up 24 seconds – tough luck!

The day wasn’t a total bummer by any stretch.  Our team for the Dipsea – the Pelican Inn Track Club – which is the fantastic group of both young and old runners that I have trained with the past three years, became the first team to beat the Tamalpa Runners for the team title in 35 years.  While I wasn’t one of the top five runners to score, I felt very much a part of it.  For many years Tamalpa’s team title was a formality, until the PITC entered as a team last year.  In 2010, I was the 5^th scoring runner for the squad, but we just missed winning.  When they announced us as the winners it sounded like a funeral, except for our cheer, but we enjoyed the celebratory beers!

While last year’s winner was 8 year old Reilly Johnson, this year’s winner came from a Dipsea veteran.  60 year old Jamie Rivers was a prior champion – winning in 2007, and she is married to 2008 winner Roy Rivers.  I’ve learned many things about the race, and received great encouragement from both runners.  I was very happy to see Jamie win the race this year.  Last year she suffered a hamstring injury during the race, but still cheered on other runners as she hobbled to the finish.  Jamie’s training had gone flawlessly this Spring, and on raceday no one would catch her. 

When I drove home I felt pretty bummed out about finishing one spot out of the awards – how could I not?  At one point I started thinking about spots in the race where maybe I could have made up tiny bits of time to put me one place forward.  But I quickly stopped myself.  I was dealt a crummy hand, and I truly believe I made the most of it.  I ran myself into the ground at the finish, and almost came out with something special.  Looking back at the first half of 2011, would I do anything that differently?   Probably not…   Running is a tough sport sometimes.  You have days you feel great, and days you don’t.  The same extends to weeks, months, even seasons.  Finishing 36^th really put in perspective how amazing Russ Kiernan’s 30 black t-shirts are.  Next year I’ll be back for my 2^nd!

*That's how close I was!

Ready or Not - It's Go-Time!

My favorite race of the year is here.  It's time for the 101st Dipsea Race tomorrow.  Heading in last year, I was just recovering from an injury, but managed to train very hard for a month, then put together a solid performance for my first black t-shirt in 19th place.  My training throughout 2011 has been great.  I've run more mileage and had stronger workouts leading up to the race than the prior two years, and even more importantly I've gone 9 whole months without any sort of injury.  Still, my running confidence has struggled the past couple months.  In April, a pesky cold slowed my training down for a couple weeks.  When finally recovered, I had a great string of workouts, only to push myself too hard, and suffer from the effects of overtraining throughout much of May.  Finally the past few weeks I've managed to feel strong at times by drastically cutting my mileage, and running much easier on days between workouts.  Then after a decent road mile race - running a somewhat hilly 4:35 - I came down with another cold.  So this week has seen a lot of vitamin C, sleep, and mostly easy running, but still not feeling 100%.  Tomorrow morning I'll head to the starting line knowing I have a great fitness base with a balance of speed, strength running, and anaerobic work (very key for that painful 20 min climb up Cardiac Hill).  I'll be well rested, so the key is to listen to my body early on, and just stay tough until I cross the finish line. 

Local newspapers have posted quite a few interesting profiles on runners leading up to the race.  There are several people running in honor of family members and a former inmate whose running is a key part of his rehabilitation.  My buddy Alex Varner talks about what it would take for a "scratch" runner (the male 19-30 age group that gets zero head start) to win.  I'll note Alex is an overwhelming favorite to win his 3rd straight fastest time trophy; it's just a matter of how much time he can make up on the older and younger runners who start well ahead of him.  Finally, 9 year old Reilly Johnson - the youngest ever defending champion - has been in the spotlight leading up to the race.  Last year's maximum 25 minute start is reduced to 19 minutes - 5 minutes for her age plus a 1 minute "winners penalty".  I saw her out on the course a few weeks looking pretty darn strong.  My prediction is that she'll make up 4 or those minutes, but she surprised everyone last year, so who's to say she can't do it again!  Maybe I'll pull off a miracle and catch her on the course, but I'll confess - I'm pretty intimidated by a 9 year old girl :)

The 100th Dipsea Race

The long anticipated day finally arrived, the 100th running of the Dipsea Race.  The Dipsea - first run in 1905 (with a few years missed during the great depression and World War II) - celebrated it's centennial as the 2nd oldest footrace in America behind the Boston Marathon.   The race is rich in history, and has a cult following of Northern California runners who have competed for decades.  I ran my first Dipsea last year largely out of curiosity, but have been dreaming about the 100th running since I crossed the finish line at the 99th! 

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 swoop


After 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

 * Reilly Johnson sprinting toward victory











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. 

* Sal Vasquez holding Reilly Johnson





















* 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.

It's been 100 years, now there's 1 day to go

The wait is almost over for the 100th Dipsea Race.  Friday night, Dana & I picked up our bibs.  It was so cool to see it say "100th Running of the Dipsea Race" at the top.  What started as a bet over beers at the beach in the early 1900s quickly turned into the toughest and most storied cross country race in the U.S. 

My participation seems like a bit of a coincidence.  In early '09 I was running with a buddy who he was entering that year's race to guarantee a spot for the 100th race.  I thought, hmmm... sounds fun, maybe I'll do the same.  I got a spot in the 99th running through the lottery system, and a good race easily qualified me for this year.  Sometime between receiving my entry confirmation in '09 and toeing the starting line last year, I fell in love with the race.  I was introduced to the Pelican Inn runnres (a group of guys that first started meeting for runs back in 1985).  The original - now silver haired - crew has been joined by younger runners over the years.  I also read about the past and recent history of the race, and have been dying to be part of it ever sense.  I've been dreaming out the 100th race since I cross the finish line of the 99th!

My long build up hit a snag, when I missed most of April with a sprained ankle.  Training was frustrating at times in early May, but I kept pressing hard.  Finally the last couple weeks, everything has come together.  My training runs on the course kept getting faster, while feeling easier.  Tomorrow I'll run my second Dipsea, but first time out of the Invitational section. 

If you don't know about the Dipsea Race, it's very unique.  The time you start the race is based on your age/gender handicap, then you run approximately 7.5 miles with over 2000 feet up & down over treacherous terrain, then finish in Stinson Beach.  First person across the line wins.  People I normally don't compete against - particularly younger and older runners - become rivals thanks to the handicaps.  There's no age group awards, black t-shirts (with numbers) for the top 35 to finish.  I can't wait to try mine on!

The Dipsea

Sunday morning, I ran the 99th Dipsea Race. The Dipsea is the 2nd oldest race in America behind the Boston marathon, and there’s no race like it. You start the race in Mill Valley, almost immediately climb 671 stairs, keep running uphill, then run down a steep narrow chute called Suicide, then climb 1300 feet up to Cardiac Hill, down through the Swoop & Steep Ravine (might as well be Suicide part II with stairs to sprint down), then choose from a couple different options to finish the race in Stinson Beach. All told it’s 7.1, or 7.4, or 7.5 miles – depending on who you ask and which exact route you run.

The rules of the Dipsea race are also a bit complicated. First of all it’s a handicap race, like the Wauhatchie Trail run that we used to do in Chattanooga. So the old and the young start first, and 19-30 year old males starts last (I had a 1 minute headstart). Furthermore, they break the entire field into two sections. The Invitation is limited to returning runners who ran fast enough the prior year. Then everybody else (including me as a first timer) runs in the Dipsea Runners section. The DR section starts after all the invitational runners are on their way. So I knew going in that I couldn’t place highly overall, but I was shooting for a top finish in the DR section, and to secure an automatic entry (I forgot to mention this race is hard to get into) as an Invitational runner next year for the 100th Dipsea.

The race… Luckily I had been out running on the course. I ran up Cardiac Hill a couple times with the 2008 winner – 52 year old Roy Rivers (don’t let the age fool you… he is STRONG). I also ran the course out and back 2 weeks before the race with two guys who would finish in the top 15 overall. It was good to train for the long burn of cardiac, and for the required technical skills to race downhill. I also went to Stinson Beach 2 days before the race to look at the last mile again. I ran into a man in his 60’s who I had met on my training runs. He had run over 20 Dipseas, but was still out there to scout out his favorite short cuts. He gave some last minute advice – including don’t be afraid to use your right arm to move people out of the way if they won’t let you by on the left.

I started in my group with a single minute handicap, and was already catching the group in front of me (with an additional minute headstart) less than two minutes in. By the time I got to the stairs, I hit a wall of people walking. ON YOUR LEFT! LEFT! LEFT! It didn’t work very well, and it was too early to start pushing people out of the way, so I wiggled through people, and ran up to the side of the stairs where I could. Perhaps the congestion was helpful in that it kept me from red-lining too early in the race. As I got toward the top of the stairs it cleared up a bit and I could move at my desired pace. I hit the mile-mark in 9 flat… Pretty slow considering I ran my first mile of a recent 10 mile race in 5:15. But I heard that Mark McManus, who won last year’s fastest time trophy (for best non-handicap adjusted time), ran that mile in 8:30, so I knew I couldn’t be far off pace. Shortly after the mile mark, I crested the hill, and started downhill on the first single track trail. ON YOUR LEFT! LEFT!!! Hey dude, in front of me, either pass some people or get of the damn way! This is where I had to put my arm out and move a few people out of the way. Then after a short downhill section on the road, I hit Suicide. This was crazy… so steep, so crowded, dust flying everywhere. I wanted to fly, but I just couldn’t get by people. Luckily it was short, and onto Cardiac Hill. My plan was to run as comfortably as possible at the bottom, since I had almost 20 minutes of uphill running. I passed a lot of people on the first few switchbacks, but then the crowds seemed to be thinning out. Now I was catching some women in their 60’s, pre-teen boys, and middle to high school girls. A lot of these runners looked pretty strong. I saw a man in his 40’s toward his top who was running very well. As I caught him, he managed to hold a steady 30 yard interval over me thru the last few minutes and over the crest of Cardiac. I took a cup of water at the top… I hate drinking water during races, and forcing it down felt like a punch in the stomach, but I think it helped. Then I looked ahead and realized… we’re all alone! A minute into the downhill (gradual at first), I caught the guy in front. He yelled back TELL ME WHEN YOU WANT TO PASS, so I collected my energy & yelled GOING BY NOW. After I sprinted by I passed a race official who said I was 3rd in the Dipsea Runners section (they could tell by the color of our bib numbers). At this point I was flying. My legs were turning over very quickly, and gravity did the work. As I hit the steep downhills, I just tried to keep a fast pace, and had faith that between the time I put my foot out and when it hit the ground, that I would find a place to land. It worked pretty well, except for a couple stairs that I stumped on & actually put a hand on the ground. So I flew and I flew toward the finish. I would pass a runner every minute or so, but they were all stragglers off the back end of the invitational section. When I hit the road with just over a quarter mile to go, I felt the burn again, but just tried to pass every runner I could see.

I never caught the last two Dipsea Runners – a man & a woman both in their mid 50’s, but I finished the race in 53:29, which was the 6th fastest time out of everybody. I was very happy with the time, especially being my first race. Realistically I thought I would run 55ish. I’m already thinking of spots where I can shave time off that for next year – some technical spots like the downhill steps, and some more conditioning to drop 30 to 60 seconds off cardiac. The top 35 runners each receive a coveted plain black t-shirt with their finishing place on it. If I had been in the Invitational, I would have placed in the 20’s. I’m already thinking about a black T-shirt for next year (hopefully with a low number)!

So if you’ve gotten this far, you can tell how much fun this was for me. Congrats to 52 year old Brian Pilcher for winning the overall race – despite a pretty serious running injury about a week ago. I owe a lot to Alex Varner, Gus Gibbs, and Roy Rivers (who all ran very well this year) for helping me train on the course. Can’t wait till next year!

Here are the results. You’ll find me in 593rd place overall (but 3rd in the DR section – 19 seconds behind the winner who had nearly a 10 minute headstart). You can also see my 3 training buddies in the top 20 overall.

http://www.dipsea.org/2009/2009_prelim.html

Oh & finally 1 note on Roy River’s race: Because he was last year’s champion, he received a 4 minute “winner’s penalty” (reduced head start) for last year’s win. It drops to 3 minutes next year, then 2, then 1. Just another unique twist of the Dipsea Race!