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!

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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!

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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!

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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.

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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

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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:

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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.

Marin Memorial Day 10K

Last week I was telling Dana (my lovely wife for those who don't know her) that I was really excited for the next two races - the Marin 10K and the Dipsea Race.  This spring season hadn't featured the consistently high mileage (by my standards) and epic workouts that I logged the prior spring, yet my race results have been much much better.  I decided to not get so caught up on how my training looked on paper, rather be patient - work really hard when I'm able, but rest when I needed to.  Also, a big mistake I made last year was trying to train through competitive races.  It has been a small adjustment, and if you compared my training log year over year you might say I'm not training as hard, but it's tough to argue this is working better when my 5K races have been ~30 seconds faster than the prior year. 

On memorial day I laced up the flats for the Marin Memorial Day 10K.  The race is on a flat, fast course in the shadows of Mt Tam (where I'll be racing the Dipsea in a week).  While it's a great opportunity to run fast, this race really had my number the prior two times I ran.  The only question mark for me was whether the 5K focused training would translate to twice the distance.  I just had to hope the occasional progressive tempo runs, the two 10 mile races from the early season, and even the Bay to Breakers centipede effort would fill the gap of not doing longer interval sessions.  Regardless, I told myself to push it all out of my head and just be confident as I've had great momentum recently.  The goal was to run 5:15 pace - a mid 32 minute effort.

The race went off & I just didn't feel very smooth.  In the 1st mile I settled in behind a couple masters runners, including the mighty 55 year old Brian Pilcher.  I was a little concerned with how I felt, but tried to stay as loose and relaxed as possible.  I hit the mile mark in 5:11, not a bad split, just wanted it to feel easier.  By the 2 mile mark, teammates Rookie and Gus ran by & opened a small gap.  I hit that split in 5:19.  It was a very slight uphill, but had to make the decision to ignore how I felt, and just trust the training that I'd be fine to push a bit harder.  So I threw a surge and caught up to my teammates, and even led the train for a while running the 3rd mile in 5:06.  There wasn't a 5k split but from the 3m I guessed half way was about 16:10.  Feeling more energized, on pace, and even thinking how I just ran the first half faster than most my 5K races last year, I kept pressing on. 

Our group strung out a bit in the second half of the race, but just kept as close to Gus as I could, telling myself to relax, and throwing little surges when I needed to catch up.  From half way I moved up 1-2 positions each mile.  The 4 mile split was 5:13, the 5th in 5:14, then the 6th in 5:21 (with a slight headwind).  The race ended with 250 meters on a track, and I kicked it in when I heard some footsteps behind.

The final time was 32:26 for 19th place - my fastest 10K since the 90s!  Our West Valley team had a very strong day with 7 guys under 33 minutes (I was the 5th).  It's exciting to see how well our team is doing, and that it's a combination of new guys joining, and existing guys working hard and getting faster.

The race was satisfying one because I set a challenging goal and accomplished it.  It also was good to have a day where thing didn't just automatically click - like those rare days you always dream about - but was able to stay tough and confident, and race hard the entire way. 

Next up is the 102nd Dipsea!  I've been pretty tired this week, but that's to be expected.  I'll take a decent taper week, and can't wait to show up in Mill Valley Sunday morning feeling strong.

* The finish

The Bay to Breakers Centipede

The annual Bay to Breakers race is one of the biggest events in San Francisco.  The 12K race offers big prize money to attract some of the best road racers in the world, and a great overall scene for serious runners, to joggers, to walkers, then finally to party goers.  All throughout there are creative costumes, and um a few people with no clothes on at all.  Last year I ran the 100^th annual race – which was first known as The Cross-City race.  Having raced 3 previous times (and joined the party a few times before that), I was still missing out on a very unique twist to the competition - The Centipede!

In 1978 a group of 13 guys from the Aggies running club said “hey let’s enter the race and see how fast we can run tied together” (or something like that).  After that the centipede division was born.  The Aggies have run every year since, although recently a group of mostly Bay Area Track Club runners sponsored by Linked In has stolen the show setting new centipede world records. 

I always wanted to run a ‘pede.  My West Valley teammates had discussed in the past, but never found the numbers to field the 13 members.  This year, with our ranks of open male runners growing, we finally got everyone on board and entered a centipede!  

It took a bit more planning than showing up for a normal race.  With 13 guys there was a fairly wide range of running abilities.  So we had to determine the right paces to run and have people communicate throughout the race.  Also there was the gear.  Turns out you can’t just show up at your local running store and ask for standard “centipede gear” so each team gets creative.  We bought some clipping nylon straps to wear as belts, with 4 foot carabineer bungee cords. 

*6am meeting spot

The race was an absolute blast.  People were soaking up the festive atmosphere, and chatting with various other runners we knew who were running near our group.  The bungees gave us a margin of error if you strayed too far out of our zig-zag formation, but let the stronger runners assist the less fit up the hills (the steep Hayes Street Hill in particular). 

*Nick feeling tired on the rollers

A smartly planned race got us through the first two miles at 5:45 pace, next two which included most the hills at 6 flat.  Through Golden Gate Park, some of the stronger runners were working the hardest from pulling on the cords during the rolling hills at low 5:30s pace.  Then on the downhill last couple miles most people were ready to roll, and we ran 5:17 and 5:18 for the last two full miles – both downhill.  At the faster pace we had to be careful not to run over the photographers up on their ladders.  The finishing time was 42:11 for the 3^rd place centipede – a 5:40 average.  It was also cool that we were passing runners most the way - some people various ones of us knew, and others we chatted with along the way. 

*Rolling through the park

My first centipede is in the books.  I have the gear stored away, and can’t wait for next year! 

Various people posted pics on Facebook, and some were great.  There was even a random picture on Instagram which was the best of all – and I don’t even know what Instagram is other than the company that Facebook bought for a gazillion dollars. 

Here's the random Instagram shot... pretty good! 

Here is the Linked-In team running 36:44 (4:56 pace)

The Aggies

West Valley making the turn for home!

Post race pose

Beating the Nemesis

Almost exactly a year ago, I wrote a frustrated post about my Nemesis - the 5K.  Over the last two years I had trained hard to race a good 5K, only to end in frustration again and again.  I imagine the frustration of Gold Glove second basemen Chuck Knaublach when all of a sudden he couldn't throw the ball to first base anymore!  There just didn't seem to be any good explanation. 

Last Friday, I returned to the track to give it another shot at the SF State Distance Carnival.  I really could have come up with more than a few reasons why I shouldn't run fast.  The main reason was the race was only coming 5 days after a 10 miler on the roads (a PR in 54:41 although not entirely happy with where I placed).  In the past I've rarely bounced back well from long races like that.  I also could have pointed to feeling a bit run down in the weeks prior, and overall not running the mileage that I like to before heading into the racing season.  But for a change, I blocked all the noise out, and went into the meet with nothing to lose. 

The Distance Carnival has turned into a deep college meet attracting athletes from all NCAA levels, plus some open runners like me.  The 5000 is one of the last events on Friday afternoon, and this year expanded from 3 heats to 4.  I entered myself with the 15:49 time that I ran there two years ago (and my best time post-college) which seeded me in the middle of the slowest of the 4 heats.  I was satisfied being in that heat as I'd rather try to compete toward the front than have it be a time trial where I'm hanging on for dear life. 

As the gun went off, the plan was to find the rail somewhere in the middle of the pack, get into a rhythm, and move my way forward if people ahead of me started to fall off the pack.  By the first turn I was on the rail and in a spot where I wasn't getting jostled around.  I felt a moment of anxiety seeing the clock at the finish line for the first time and the lap counter reading 12 to go.  I told myself to relax and just run for a while.  As soon as my brain quieted down I was in a good rhythm and somewhere around 15th in the 23 person heat.  There was no clock at the start line, but plenty of people yelling splits.  First lap was 77 seconds - a little on the slow side, but I didn't give it much thought.  The next few laps went by quickly and easily, and all of a sudden I'm still relaxed and moving forward to the 1600 meter (~1 mile) split of 5:02.  No problem so far. 

Six and quarter laps is the half way point.  In my last 5k on the track last year, I hit halfway wanting to quit, literally not knowing how I could run another 2500 meters.  This time I'm definitely working hard, but I feel like there's a lot left in the tank.  The field is more strung out but I keep moving myself forward.  At one point I feel my arms start to ride up really high.  Sorry Christopher McDougall, that might be a good way to run a very long distance, but it's not how you run fast!   I consciously dropped the arms, and I immediately feel more relaxed.  The 3200 meter split was 10:04.  I know these next 4.5 laps will be tough, but I'm going to get through it.  The field was strung out in the last mile, but I managed to catch a couple more runners.  I had a couple laps fall back off to a 77 second pace, but then a 73 for the final full lap and a 32 second last 200 (as I tried to unsuccessfully to kick down a kid about half my age) brought me home in 15:41 for 6th place in my heat. 

I've probably had races that would be considered a stronger performance, but this was one of my more satisfying races.  I had struggled at the 5K for so long, and when I least expected, just ran my fastest time in 10 years.  Have I defeated the nemesis?  Who knows, but at least I've won the battle!  I can't wait to hit the roads for another 5K in two weeks with some momentum behind me! 

It's worth noting that there was an American record in my race.  No, the winnder didn't lap me twice to run 12:52.  It was actually 56 year old Brian Pilcher clocking an amazing 16:05 for his age group record.  He even gave me a "let's go Jamey" when were running near each other around the mile mark.  I think we'll be seeing a lot records from him this year!

California International Marathon - Part 1 - The Race

If you had talked to me recently (or read my blog update), you might have known I was gearing up for my first marathon in 6 years.  I often like to write down what I was thinking and how I was feeling before a race, and similarly record my post-race reaction.  I want to circle back, and fill in that part, but since I have 26.2 miles to cover, I'll break with my normal practice and jump right into the race.

The background info I'll quickly note is when I signed up for the race my goal was 2:33 - 2:35 (5:50 - 5:55 pace).  After running most my "marathon pace" workouts in the low 5:40s, I was more optimistic, but still wanted a conservative race plan - to run the first half marathon in 1:16:00 - 1:17:00 (5:48 - 5:52 pace).

The race morning was much like my last marathon 6 years ago - clear skies, calm winds, but pretty chilly (in the high 30s).  Just after daylight broke, I found myself on the starting line with a pair of gloves and arm-warmers.  Even though this wasn't a Chicago Marathon type field, I knew there enough elite runners - particularly those gunning for their last chance to make the Olympic Trials next month - that I didn't need to be anywhere close to the front row.  I figured spotting some of my eventual competitors 10 seconds early on was easily worth the trade off of not getting sucked into way too fast of an early pace.

As the starting horn went off, and I cross the start line 3 seconds later, it just didn't feel like a race.  It felt like a long run with a ton of other people, just a bit faster than my normal everyday running pace.  I chatted with other runners I knew as we all settled into our paces.  Shortly after the start I saw a large pack of women who I figured were gunning for their Olympic trials standard of 2:46 (and sure enough quite of few of them nailed it).  As the first few miles are mostly downhill I eased into a smooth comfortable pace, and slowly moved forward in the large pack.  The first mile was 5:48.  I was almost relieved - I was going fast enough but not too fast!  The second split was 5:52.  I quickly questioned - was that too slow?  was that too much effort?  But just as quick, I shut the mental rambling off - I had well over 2 overs left to run, and I was still getting warmed up, and there would surely be a lot of ups and downs.

In the 3rd mile I definitely started to feel good.  I figured out pretty early in the race that I was going to run my own race, rather than try to key off other runners.  Mile 3 was 5:38 - faster than I should be running this early, but didn't concern me as we're still going downhill.  Now I'm reeling in a large pack that includes the 3 female leaders, plus a couple West Valley teammates who are shooting to run sub 2:30.  The 4th mile was 5:33.  WHOA BUDDY - CHILL OUT!  At this point I pretty much slam on the breaks.  The last mile felt totally relaxed, but I knew there was probably no better way to torpedo a good marathon opportunity than to run way too fast in the first quarter of the race.

From the 5th mile through the half way point, I established a really smooth consistent rhythm.  Through that stretch - every mile split was 5:42-5:44 (other than one 5:40).  I was doing exactly what I told myself not to do - running faster than the 1:16 pace I set as a speed limit, but it just felt too easy not to put myself in a position to possibly break 2:30.  The short uphills would strain my breathing ever so slightly, but it would quickly return to normal on the flat & downhill sections.  At some point - probably around 6 miles - I felt the first hint of lactic acid in my legs, but nothing to fear, it had to happen at some point.  I just focused on keeping a smooth relaxed stride.

The pack of runners who I almost caught in the 4th mile, remained 50 or meters ahead.  Right around the 9th mile I finally caught up to them, announcing my presence to teammates Jonah B. and Jason "The Rookie".  The Rookie let out an excited "Hey Gifford!" while Jonah said much more calmly "Jamey's going for it."  I really thought I would relax and just run with this pack for a while.  However, the pace I had settled into slowly eased me ahead of the group.  Just ahead, I caught the three lead woman - one American and two Africans.  There were a handful of bicycles riding along side along with a motorcycle cop.  It was unclear if they were on course support for the leaders or just interested spectators.  One of the bikes was almost blocking my path to a water station; I knew getting worked up would only take away energy I needed to run, so I just eased off for a couple strides and cut over.  Just before 11 miles I pulled ahead of the women, but didn't realize I was serving as their temporary rabbit until I heard some words in Swahili (I assumed) right behind me.  That was a new experience for me!

I hit the half marathon split - now just clear of the lead women - in 1:14:53.  So much for my planned pacing.  While I wouldn't call the effort really hard at this point, it definitely wasn't easy.  Mentally the first half of the race went by very quickly.  I knew the second half would be a lot harder.  Different parts of my legs and feet would ache, then go away.  I could deal with discomfort, I just didn't want to see anything turn into a muscle cramp.  The 15th and 16th miles were tough.  The mile 15 split was 5:52 - my first mile slower than 5:45 since the 2nd mile.  I'd lie if there wasn't a little concern that my early pace might be catching up with me.  Shortly after that, I hear footsteps behind - and it's The Rookie and Gus Gibbs (who had taken a pee stop) blowing past me as their running ~5:30 splits.  They invite me to jump on the train, but I'm not feeling it; I just need to keep my own race on track. 

After a rough couple miles, I hit the mile 16 with a 5:43 split.  I was back on pace.  I felt a big confidence boost.  Only 10 miles to go.  This might be the toughest 10 miles I'll run all year, but how many times have I run 10 miles the past 4 months (that was rhetorical)? 

From mile 16 - 20 it was back to focusing on a smooth stride.  My legs were hurting pretty consistently now, but I could deal with it.  I would see runners well ahead and slowly reel them in.  Mile 19 was my second fastest of the race in 5:37.  I started having visions of throwing the hammer down in the last 6 miles to put myself well under 2:30. 

The 20 mile mark was announced with a couple fake walls that you run between & a couple women dressed in grim reaper costumes.  I grabbed my last Gu gel, which just about made me barf.  After taking as much sports drink as I could, I figured I wouldn't need much more water.  Mile 21 was 5:43, but the legs were feeling really beat up.  The last hill of the course was the ramp to a bridge over the American River just before the 22 mark.  It's not a steep hill, but it HURTS at this point.  I tried to hold my pace up the ramp, but it hurt, and my legs never came back to me after that. 

The last four miles were rough.  I knew I was slowing down a little, but it was time to just grit it out.  Somehow I was still mostly passing people.  Miles 23 and 24 were both 5:53.  I'm slowing down, but the wheels aren't falling off.  With two miles to go a couple runners catch me, and I just try to latch on.  I'm even thinking I can find a gear and manage to run a couple fairly fast last miles.  But where the brain was willing the legs weren't.  Mile 25 was still a respectable 5:48, but then I just hit a level of pain I hadn't felt all race.  The 26th mile is a long straight shot down L street by the state capitol in Sacramento.  I keep looking ahead toward the first of two left turns before finishing right in front of the capitol.  As I look ahead it just doesn't seem to get closer.  Spectators cheer my effort, but as I grit I had to yell "let's go Gifford".  Somehow I thought I was thinking my finishing time might be 2:32, but that was clearly a lack of mental capacity late in the race. 

I hit the 26 split - 5:55 - my slowest of the race, but was elated I made the first left turn too see a race clock just over 2:30.  There was a huge crowd, and I made the final turn to the finish line with a huge smile on my face. 

The final time was 2:30:29!

I'll say more in part 2, but have to say a quick thanks to my wife Dana - of course for supporting my training, but for getting out on the course to cheer and support me.  Also to our coach Jack, for preparing us, and for great race day support as well.

Being the excel dork I am, here are a couple charts - the first with each mile split, and the second my projected finishing pace at each mile mark:

Finally - it was great to see little Jack at the finish line :)

PA Cross Country Championships

My life hasn't been all marathon training.  On November 20th, I laced up my spikes for one of my favorite annual races - the PA Cross Country Championships.  The race - 3 times around a hilly 2 mile loop in SF's Golden Gate Park.  It's a nice challenging race to cap off the cross country season, and fun to get all the club teams together in the same race. 

With rain falling for much of the week leading up, I knew it would be muddy one!  Here's a quick recap.

I have to say in all my years of cross country, that this was probably the sloppiest course that I have ever run on!  It was muddy last year, but my footing was firm enough with spikes on. This year I was sliding all over the place even with my spikes on.  After watching the men's master's race, I noticed there was a tight lead pack of 5-6 runners but after that the field spread out quickly.  In past PA Champs I liked to go out pretty conservatively on the first loop, then work my way up, but this year I was thinking "track position" (to use a NASCAR term) seemed pretty important.  I had confidence from my increased mileage and the longer tempo work from marathon training that I could hold on after a quicker early pace.  It was a weird experience to be within 5 seconds of teammate Neville Davey (who has won several PA races recently) & others at the mile mark, but a quick internal systems check told me the pace was ok.  I gave up a few positions at the end of the first loop as I let myself regroup, then started moving forward again at the bottom of the hill on the second loop.  Close to halfway the race seemed to be going by fast.  3 miles in I felt confident I could keep pressing hard without blowing up, so I made an effort to surge by any runners who appeared to be falling back.  On the 3rd and final loop I was battling with a strawberry canyon runner.  He opened a 5 second gap on the flat section by the polo field.  Up the last hill and down into the meadow I was reeling him in, but just ran out of room near the finish as he crossed 1 second in front. While this wasn't my best time ever on the course (I ran about a minute faster under dry conditions), I feel pretty good that this was my best effort of the 5 PA champs I've run.  Final results - 32nd place in 33:34 (6.1 miles)


It's now the day before CIM.  We're about to load up the car for Sacramento.  I'll check back in after the race!

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!

The Nemesis

My nemesis hasn't been a person (but wouldn't that be fun), or a certain race course, or a workout.  My nemesis is the 5K.  A couple months after I first started showing up at West Valley TC workouts and slowly fighting my way back into shape, I ran my first race - a 5K in 16:29.  A year later, at the end of my first full season of consistent training in several years, I ran the second 5K of my age 30+ competitive career - finishing in 16:07. 

In two and a half years since that race, I've knocked 4 minutes off my best half marathon, run over a minute faster on a several cross country courses, plus trained faster, longer, and more consistently.  Yet despite all that, I can't seem to clock a good 5K.

My best was a 15:49 on the track in the Spring of 2010, but other than that it's just been a long string of blowups in the low to mid 16's. 

Heading into 2011, my goal was to focus my training around running a good 5K.  Being just fast enough to jump in college open meets, there are several opportunities to race the distance.  Surely just more time on the track would lead me to a sub 15:30 (that magical 5-flat per mile pace).  Throughout the winter I worked my mileage up to a an average of 60 miles per week - which I've held all year.  Our Tuesday workouts first featured longer intervals at hard tempo pace - which I'd often run 5:15 pace, then transitioned to faster somewhat shorter interval workouts.  Week after week I would run 3 - 4 miles of repeats, all between 71 - 75 second per laps.  One workout in particular, I ran 5 times 1000 meters averaging 3:02 - 15:10 5K pace.  I didn't think I'd hold that pace running each kilometer back to back, but surely everything pointed toward me running 15:30!

My first shot was the Hornet Invite - an open college meet at Sacramento State (the track where I ran my lifetime 1500 PR back in 2000).  Throughout the week, the forecast got worse and worse, and sure enough the morning of the race had a steady rain and 25-30 mph winds blowing right through the stadium.  I hit the split right around 5 flat with the leader, but as soon as it strung out, it got ugly.  In the second half I was red-lining pretty much every lap by the end of the front stretch, only to recover on the back stretch just in time to hit the wind again.  My splits got slower and slower, and I finished with an ugly 16:32. 

The next 5K, which was the one I really had circled on the calendar, was the SF State Distance Carnival.  It's a meet with deep, fast fields, at a great venue - I bet this is the least windy track in the Bay Area.  For some reason on race-day my mind was in the wrong place.  I knew my training was going great, so I had no reason not to have confidence.  Instead, I kept thinking of every way I could have a bad race.  I wasn't thinking about crushing the race, I was thinking about not having a bad race.  It was like I was battling all demons that plagued my performances for much my college career.  I raced the slowest of 3 heats, but with a group that would be running in the mid 15 minute range.  The pace was perfect - we were clicking off 74-75 second laps, hitting the mile just under 5 minutes.  I hit half way thinking this is going well, but a lap later the pain really hit & I just wanted to quit.  I hit 2 miles in 10:07, then 3 miles in 15:28, finishing in 16:04.  This was the first race in a long time where I was really beating myself up for a while afterward - just felt like a wasted opportunity. 

The 3rd race was the Carlsbad 5000 (near San Diego) with my West Valley teammates where I would run in an age group 30-39 race (no young guns!).  It was a fun trip, even though Southwest canceled our flight getting us in pretty late.  I went out conservatively, but still found myself right in the thick of a chase pack that let lead 3 runners go.  I moved myself toward the front, again hitting the mile right around 5 flat.  I felt great for the first part of the second mile, thinking this was my day.  I led the chase pack shortly after the mile.  Then for the third week in a row, things went south quickly.  A couple guys passed me, then 3 more went by.  I went from leading the chase pack to trying to hang on.  I hit the 2 mile mark in 10:15 - REALLY I just slowed down that much??  I don't think I totally gave up in the last mile, but surely wasn't digging deep as I ran the last mile in a pathetic 5:30 for a finishing time of 16:18.  On a positive note, watching the elite race was AWESOME as former 5K world champ Eliud Kipchoge got kicked down at the finish (13:10 was the winning time).

So there you have it.  My big goal for the season has been an epic failure so far.  Training has been an ongoing success.  So what gives?  I wish I had an easy answer...  I think mentally I've gotten so used to underperforming at this distance that it's turned into a self fulfilling prophecy.  For most of my good races I was there with my buddies, having a good time, and feeling loose before the race.  Lately I'm analysing my race before it even starts.  Physically, it's a tough distance.  It always starts hurting pretty bad about half way, when you still have 7 minutes of hard painful running to go.  When building up my speed and fitness, I need to run my workouts under control in order to benefit from consistency.  But I think I really need to push the envelope every few workouts, otherwise I won't know how to dig deep into the well on race day.  Finally, the workout that's been missing is the fast tempo (as opposed to the longer half marathon pace runs).

So how does this end?  I really don't know.  I just know I'm not ready to say "I'm too old for the 5K" and throw in the towel in favor of longer distances!

Winter Training and the Redding 10 Miler

Winter time is the perfect season for building a mileage base.  After a break from the fall cross country and road racing season, it's time to re-charge and start building that endurance up with long runs, workouts, and overall mileage.  However the season comes with challenges like shorter days and bad weather (of course if rarely gets worse than rain and 50 degrees in the Bay Area).  In my case, I also have to balance training with my skiing habit as we head up to Kirkwood to hit the slopes most weekends this time of year.  I do have access to a treadmill up there, and if it's not dumping snow (which it often is) I can get out on the roads for a run, but that's assuming I'm not completely trashed from a long day of skiing.  This winter, instead of trying to force myself to log decent mileage before heading out to ski, or worse after skiing, I decided to shift from being a weekend warrior to a week day warrior!

Without having the weekends to log long runs and workouts, I had to be disciplined about scheduling a primary workout, long run, and secondary workout on the week days.  This usually meant Tuesday workout, Wednesday long run, then Friday secondary workout.  Once I got in the routine, my training really built on itself and everything fell into place.  I ran my first 60 mile week in almost a year in mid January, then proceeded to run at least 60 for six out of seven weeks through the end of February (60, 65, 61, 71, 70, 50, 66).  My workouts - which were mostly on the track - included a mix of longer, steady pace type intervals, 5k pace work, and even some speed.  My legs didn't feel fresh for a lot of the workouts, but I almost always felt strong.  There were a couple workouts where I felt really tired early on, but I could drop shoulders, relax my stride, and still make a quality session out of it. 

I decided my focus for the upcoming season would be the 5k distance.  That didn't mean I wouldn't race longer distances, but last year lacked a big picture as I tried to cater toward too many individual races and distances.  Does running higher mileage to focus on a shorter distance seem contradictory?  Not necessarily...  My view is running better mileage (which still isn't "high mileage" in the grand scheme of things), will get me through longer workouts at a quality pace, which will ultimately allow me to handle faster paces into the 3rd mile of the 5k. 

Before the 5k races cranked up, I headed up to Redding to run the first PA race of the season - the NorCal 10 miler.  Normally I'd approach a 10 mile race much like a half marathon - good overall mileage (check), consistent long runs (check), and long tempo runs (somewhat missing in favor of more time on the track).  Even if training wasn't focused on this distance, I felt confident that my strength could translate into a solid race.  I allowed myself an easier week - even without the race, it's not a terrible idea to get my legs back under me every so often. 

The plan for the 10 mile race was to hang back and run comfortably for 4 miles, then try to start moving my way up after that.  I also decided that I wasn't going to look at my splits until at least half way through the race.  I figured at this point knowing my splits would either psych me out if I was too fast, or psych me out if I was too slow. 

As the race got underway there was a lead pack, then a few stragglers (including a couple teammates), then I was in the first chase pack.  I fought the urge to jostle or surge by telling myself to relax.   The first 3 miles were pretty uneventful.  Looking at splits wasn't even an issue because the first mile marker we saw was the 5th.  Somewhere around mile 3 I was pulling away from most the guys in my initial pack as I caught up with teammate Jonah, and close to teammate Matt.  In the 5th mile as we left the bike trail to loop through a neighborhood, I tried to reel in Mike from the River City Rebels and two guys he was running with less than 5 seconds ahead.  A slight attempt at a surge sent me from feeling pretty good, to feeling tired for the first time.  Shortly after that, they started to slip away, and Jonah caught back up with me.  At the 5 mile mark, I decided not to look at my watch - since I was starting to hurt but had someone to run w/, although did click the split button to look at after the race (27:16 at 5 miles).  The 6th mile included the roller coaster hills that we hit on the way out.  I stayed with Jonah, though a couple times using the downhills to surge and catch up.  The hills ended just before the 7 mile mark, but I was pretty stretched at that point and Jonah started to pull away.  In the 8th mile I just tried to keep Jonah from pulling further away.  At the 8 mile mark, I finally looked at my watch for the first time - 44:15.  I was a little disappointed to be just over 5:30 pace, but knew I needed to push harder to maintain that average pace.  It was really hurting now, and I hit 9 miles at 49:52 - 5:37 for that mile.  As the bridge we would cross to the finish got closer, Jonah had slipped too far away to have a shot.  Then just before the bridge, I heard the one thing I didn't want to hear - footsteps.  I was hurting, and had faith in my ability to kick, but didn't want it to come to that.  I surged up the very slight slope onto the bridge.  I was fully expecting to die toward the end of the bridge, but at that point there would be less than 200 meters to go, including an 180 degree turn, followed by a 90 degree turn.  My pursuer had friends cheering for him, but I used it as motivation.  Sure enough I was out of gas coming off the bridge, but got ready for one last kick just in case.  I never needed it, as my move over the bridge opened the gap back up.  I crossed the line in 55:16 for 13th place.  My last mile was 5:23 - nothing amazing, but happy I was tough to suck it up when I was really hurting. 

Splits were 27:16 for the first 5, then 5:42 (hilly), 5:33, 5:42, 5:37, 5:23.

Heading in I had hoped to run around 54 minutes, which was my split during my half marathon PR. Even falling short of my pre-race goal, it was a solid race on a tough course.  I think I had several chances to pack it in during the 2nd half, but kept pressing.  Even though I've had a faster 10 mile split, it's a PR for an actual 10 mile race, so have to be happy with that.  Plus it's nice to run a race for the 3rd year in a road and clock my fastest time. 

Next race will be a track 5K - possibly in 2 weeks, and definitely one in 3 weeks.  Back to the track to work on that speed!

PA Championships

I think a race recap a month and a half after the actual race must be a new PR!  Life has been busy lately - which certainly isn't a bad thing - but I wanted to get a few thoughts down before they completely fade from my memory. 

The Pacific Association Cross Country Championships is a highly competitive race that caps off our local XC season in late November.  The race typically draws a handful of elite runners, and a large number of sub-elites who train in northern California.  I first ran the race (poorly) way back in my freshman year of college, and have run the past three years. 

My cross country training got off to a slow part thanks to a minor injury at the end of the summer.  I spent most the fall just trying to gradually build my mileage back into 50 mpw range, rather than hammering some interval workouts.  I jumped into three XC races in October and November to race my way into shape.  The results weren't spectacular, but respectable for my fitness level.

The one race where I really wanted to run well and help out my West Valley TC team, was the PA Championships.  In the couple weeks leading up to the race, I finally got a couple workouts in where I felt fast again, and I was feeling snappy on my runs. 

The morning of the race, I felt nervous for the first time in a while.  I was confident, but felt good to be jumping into a race where I thought I'd be ready to run.  The weather was cloudy & cool, but steady rains the prior week left the course extremely muddy.  Warming up, I realized that the thing I love about the Golden Gate Park course is that everyone else hates it.  If you jogged the course you might not realize how challenging it is considering there's no major hills.  It's just the type of course that's constantly changing - hard dirt, soft dirt, uneven grass, long gradual hills, short steep hills - so it's really tough to get in a rhythm over the 6 mile race. 

When the gun went off, I tried to settle into a good but comfortable pace on the first of 3 loops.  The field seemed larger than the last couple years, but I was feeling alright, and saw four of my teammates 5-10 seconds ahead who I know would be good people to key off of.  About a mile into the race, I was feeling pretty good, but knew it was too early to charge forward and catch them.  At the end of the first loop, I had caught two of my four teammates, and would work with them for the rest of the race.  The mud was proving to be a big factor, and I was really glad I wore spikes.  You could tell the guys who were wearing flats, because it seemed like they just stopped moving in certain spots. 

As the race went on, I did a good job of avoiding mid-race analysis.  I just tried to stay with my teammates, and keep rolling whenever I felt the pain creeping in.  By the last lap, I was right behind veteran Todd Rose, and quickly improving newcomer Matt Kane.  There were three other runners (who I didn't know) from other teams that were battling right with us.  With just over a mile to go, Matt threw a surge to move ahead of us, and Todd was just behind them.  As they started to pull away from the other three competitors, I knew I was in the number 5 spot for West Valley, so I needed to take every spot I could.  At one point with about a mile to go, the pain really hit, but I told myself to just keep pushing and don't think too far ahead.  As we charged up the last hill, there was only one runner left between Todd and me, but he was 15 yards ahead. 

One advantage of running on this course so much - both in workouts and as part of normal runs, is knowing where you can attack, and particularly how long you can hold that final kick.  Cresting the last hill, I kept my eyes on this guy's back & kept saying to myself I'm gonna get him, I'm gonna get him.  As I headed down, and made a sharp left turn, I kept winding my kick up and moving faster, slowly cutting into the lead.  With about 100 meters to go, we dropped into the meadow which was very muddy.  At this point I'm digging for that last gear & closing the last bit of the gap.  Just when I think I had him, he speeds up.  For a split second I thought I'd run out of time, but then I found that last gear and passed him a couple strides before the line. 

My final time was 33:30 (for ~ 6.1 miles) and 51st place.  Most people ran around a minute slower than last year due to the conditions, so after only losing 45 seconds over last year was very encouraging.  I also finished right with guys who had beaten me by huge margins only a couple weeks ago.  It felt great to end a short training season with a satisfying performance.

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.