The Yosemite Snake Pit 100

Run Report

I'm exhausted today.  It's been a day since I finished a 26+ hour long 'run' in Yosemite and even 1 good night of sleep apparently does not make up for skipping an entire night of sleep.  I guess that's why there's coffee.  The aformentioned 'run', which I have put into 'quotes' for a reason that will eventually be explained, was an attempt at the 'Yosemite Snake Pit 100-Miler', a self supported 100 mile run through Yosemite.

A few months ago, I was at lunch with my buddy from work, 'Snake Pit' (Matt, but no one calls him that) and we were talking about running.  I had just seen 'The Long Haul' by JB Benna, and was particularly struck by his mention of Catra Corbett's 100-mile self supported run in Yosemite.  A friend told me that Catra's run consisted of a series of laps on the Yosemite Valley floor, and though I still have no idea if that is actually the course that she ran, and the internet hasn't been of much help other than adding that Catra threw in a 9 pitch 5.8 rock climb up Nutcracker at mile 57, I thought, "Running 100 miles on the Valley floor is a gross waste of what Yosemite has to offer!"  I elucidated my thoughts to Matt, and he replied, "So when are you running 100 miles in Yosemite?"  I don't think he was serious, but I got 'inception-ed' and started planning a 100 mile route in Yosemite.

Most people have never seen most of Yosemite.  Probably 90% only go to the Valley, and of the 10% that go elsewhere, probably 90% go only to Tuolumne Meadows.  These places are rad, but there's a lot more to the park than those two locations.  The appropriately named 'Yosemite Snake Pit 100', or YSP100 for short, would need to cover more ground (On a side note, is it douchey to acronym your own fun run?  Either way, it's way easier to write, so I'm going with it.).

Matt thought that it'd be cool to start at Tamarack Flat, run straight to El Cap, and go from there, but I thought a point-to-point would be logistically difficult to do solo, so I planned a loop route from the valley.  The first route that I really liked climbed Yosemite Falls trail and went North, pretty much all the way to Glen Aulin, and then dropped south along the PCT, cut up to Vogelsang and almost all the way to the Southern tip of the park in a huge loop.  The high point of the route was ~11kft. and the total ascent was about 22kft. (on map my run...go figure on the accuracy of that).

2 weeks out from the run, I went to go preview the snow conditions at the high points of the course, got a foot of snow dumped on me overnight at my campsite (6800 ft.) and did no running.  Upon my return home, I promptly started planning lower altitude contingency routes to keep the routes under 10kft.  'Alt Route 3', as it came to be known, turned out to be the YSP100 route.

1 week out from the run, the Yosemite High Sierra was predicted to get some snow the night before we planned to run.  I planned another alt course with a lot of out-and-back sections from the Valley to allow for bailout if the snow got too deep.  This course was ugly and almost defeated the purpose of the whole affair.

1 day before the original start date, the Yosemite High Sierra got a whopping 20+ inches of snow!  Holy hell.

So now we had to deal with a shit ton of snow on what was, 1 day previously, dry ground.  My original plan was to run the route solo.  A 100-mile fun run isn't on most people's lists, and self-supporting that fun run makes it even less likely to be on the lists.  So when my buddy Andy said, "I'm in." when I mentioned what I was planning, I was pretty surprised.  He's a solid runner and I knew that I'd be stoked for the company over the course of the run.  So there were two of us.

In addition to the YSP100 runners, we were lucky to have a few friends come up to join in the fun!  Dom and Katie joined in for the first 20 miles and my girlfriend Crista came to enjoy the mountains and recover from her jaunt through the Grand Canyon the week before.

With this merry crew, we pushed the start date back by 1 day and took off for Yosemite with hopes of completion and a lot of doubts, considering that High Sierra guru and seasoned ultramarathoner Leor Pantilat seemed to think that this snow wasn't going anywhere fast.

The night before the run, we all sat around the fire at Wawona campground.  Andy and I were drinking some beers and talking like the probability of making it out of the valley was low, almost like a weather hold was a foregone conclusion.

Dom and Andy.  Optimism and Pessimism?

The morning of the run was just about perfect.  Blue skies and cool weather with rising temperatures causing the meadows to steam and creating a light fog over the gorgeous green carpets.  Perhaps the most beautiful I've ever seen Yosemite Valley.

No Filter.  Holy shit dude.  I had to stop the car in the street because I couldn't pass this up.

The route starts up the Rockslide Trail, I assume named for the huge granite rockslides that it crosses.  This is probably the easiest climb out of the valley that you can find and all 4 of us were having a blast with the moderate grade and amazing views of Bridalveil Falls that the trail afforded to us.  I think this trail was one of the many that were paved in Yosemite's early tourist craze, before the park stewards decided that paved tourist pathways were not what the park is all about. 

Now, 40+ years later, the asphalt is still there, slowly being taken back by nature, but still providing an incredibly efficient running surface.  As the trail climbed, snow began to appear in small amounts on the sides of the trail, and then sparsely in the trail, and finally covering the trail as we neared the turn onto Oak Flat trail towards El Capitan summit.  At one point we saw some bear tracks in the snow! Amazingly crisp...but their owner was nowhere to be found.

The Rockslides trail hits the Oak Flat trail and curves back East to continue to the climb to El Cap.  I was hiking and running, trying to keep my heart rate low and my quads at a work rate that could last 100 miles.  As we approached the high point on the trail, I looked at Andy and one of us said, "Oh man, we might actually have to run 100 miles today!" Ha! Yeah, the snow was melting off and we were getting more and more confident that, judging by the snow level at 7800 ft., we'd be able to clear the 9900 ft. high point on the course without much effort.  The views of Cloud's Rest were only bolstering our confidence...only specks of snow to be seen!

Rockslides Trail was an unexpected high point on the course; I had never run it, and it was rad.  Expected high points were the El Capitan Summit and Eagle Peak, two summits about 2 miles apart on the North Rim of the Valley.  They did not disappoint, and after some brief exploration at El Cap, and a quick break at Eagle Peak, we set out to charge down the Yosemite Falls trail to the car where we had left the remainder of our nutrition.

The view from the summit of El Capitan.

Fully loaded, my pack weighed in at 18.2 lb. and Andy's was somewhere near 15 lb.  9000 calories of carbs isn't light, but as we discussed afterwards, we would both make some changes for next time around. For example: no fucking rice cakes.  Those things are delicious, but heavy.

In the Valley, we stopped by Degnan's for some grub (chicken and bean burritos) and cokes before loading up fully and heading for the Snow Creek Trail for the climb back out of the Valley towards Tenaya Lake and Tuolumne Meadows.  With our packs, loaded, we said goodbye to Dom and Katie and headed for the climb.

Running with a 16-18 lb. pack on is tough.  It's heavy (duh), it bounces, and it's overall a pain in the ass to deal with.  Combine that with the Snow Creek climb, some unexpectedly warm temps, and a poor choice of a black longsleeve smartwool and one gets a lot of second guessing of choices...a great place to be at mile 25 of 100!  Snow Creek also happens to be a pretty formidable climb...2500 ft. in 2.5 miles, so it was great that we could take our minds of the climb with the breathtaking views of Half Dome and Clouds Rest directly across Tenaya Canyon from us that were increasingly approaching eye-level as we climbed!

Andy makes moves after the
Snow Creek climb starts to flatten out.

At the plateau above the Snow Creek climb, the trail continues to climb at a reduced grade and is obnoxiously pleasant.  Soft soil single track following a bubbling creek through the trees, climbing towards Highway 120 and the descent to Tenaya Lake.  Looking at what distance we were at, vs. what we had expected to be at, we decided that MapMyRun was predicting nearly 10% short, so we opted to change course and eliminate the May Lake loop to head straight for Tenaya Lake in hopes of hitting 100 miles on the nose and not 110.  My quads were already feeling bombed from the climbs and descents that we'd done to that point, but I resolved to continue eating and hope that they came back to life after some downhill and rest.  Andy, meanwhile, was dealing with some hamstring and knee issues, but seemed to be managing well except for one charlie horse episode while climbing over a downed tree.  Dom had him on some Wharton Method stretches...maybe they were helping?

The Clouds are Resting.  Looking across Tenaya Canyon after the Snow Creek climb.

We finally hit the top of the climb and began to descend into Tenaya Lake.  This descent was super fun and we were cruising along well...until we got lost.  I think we must have followed a wash instead of a trail, bolstered in confidence by some cairns, because we ended up off-course by some super sweet campsites near Olmstead Point.  Luckily, I had the course and USGS topos saved into Gaia GPS on my phone and we navigated back to the course relatively quickly.  Daylight was fading and we hoped that this would be our only route-finding adventure for the run.  We continued on with minimal difficulty, donning headlamps around 8:30pm.

Unknown pond on the way to Tenaya Lake.

When we hit Tenaya Lake, however, we discovered that the trail crosses the outflow of the lake, which is a 2 foot deep, 30 foot wide river of snowmelt.  I don't know if they have a bridge that is only up in the summer or what, but there was no way we were gonna soak ourselves to the bone with a night of running through 10,000 ft. High Sierra ahead!  Instead, we opted to run the highway (closed because of the snow) up to Tuolumne Meadows and rejoin the trail there.  The trail, minus the portion that skirts the West side of Tenaya Lake, closely follows the road anyway.

It was getting cold out as we approached 9000 ft. elevation, and we both resisted getting out the shells and warm tights, instead opting to run when we could.  After a boring, dark road run that seemed to take forever, we reached Tuolumne Meadows around 11pm.  All warm clothes went on because we had been seeing on the side of the road what lay ahead for us: snow.  The snow had steadily been getting heavier, meaning that despite the sunshine all day, the snow was sticking around.  Damn.  Our bailout plan in the event of heavy snow, to avoid hours of postholing, was to turn around and run back down to the Valley whenever it became too hard to continue.  At Tuolumne Meadows, however, we decided to go for it.  We had spikes if we needed, were were hoping for some bootpack from the early season John Muir Trail (JMT) hikers, and it might actually be quicker to hike the snow than run back around.

Run through the night...and the snow!

Well...we started, and at 5am we finished, the snowy sections of trail.  There was maybe 100 feet of runnable terrain, unless you are a beast and can run in snow at 9500 ft. 50 miles into a run, throughout the night. This is why I called this a 'run', haha.  There was a lot of running, but also a lot of hiking through the night.   Where the trail was covered, luckily a hiker had come through and 1 set of tracks led us up the climb to Cathedral Lakes.  This was a life/timesaver because route finding through the snow would have made for one hell of a night.  Where the trail was bare there was, however, a neverending river of iced-over snow melt running down the worn-in JMT path. At Cathedral Lakes, the tracks stopped (Big ups to that hiker, he must have camped out in the snow storm and then hiked down afterwards) and we went into full-on post hole mode.  Route finding wasn't too bad, but sometimes we were knee deep in snow, kick-stepping up the slopes.  With only a couple of surprising punch throughs down to the thigh and mostly 6-12 inch deep snow that compacted well to hold us up, we made steady but slow progress to Cathedral Pass and then to just before Sunrise High Sierra Camp where our next turn was.  At this point it was 2:45am, my feet were soaked from running through snow all day, and trench foot had set in.  Every step hurt just a little more than the last.  I had taken off one pair of socks on the Highway 120 portion of the run in hopes that if I ran with them flailing around from my hands, that they would dry out...they did not: it was like 30 degrees out...nice try dude.  We evaluated how long it had taken us to get to where we were, and how long it would take to get to the rest of the 100 miles and realized that there was no way that we'd get back before evening the next day if conditions were perfect for the rest of the run and our bodies held up.  If conditions weren't perfect, we'd be running into the next night, which wasn't an option either food-wise or 'my girlfriend is waiting at the bottom to drive home so she can do work on Monday'-wise.  I dunno, Andy's wife might care about him coming home too.  The end result was that we decided that we'd run down to Half Dome, where we'd secured a day permit from the early season lottery, and then evaluate how much of the course we could run.

Immediately, we started running through more snow past the Sunrise High Sierra Camp, and then on the climb out of that meadow, and finally over the pass and partway down the switchbacks back to the Meadow Fire area.  Good thing we had already decided that we 'probably' needed to cut the run short, because this would have made us know that we needed to cut it short.  More postholing, cracking through ice-trail-rivers, and following Coyote tracks (that dude knew the trail better than anyone...even when the bootpack veered off, the Coyote tracks always followed the real trail...follow the Coyote tracks became my motto for the climb out of the meadow!).  Finally, around 5am, we were below the snow line.  I was running behind Andy and my Petzl Nao was regulating brightness off his reflective tights and creating a kind of soothing, pulsating lighting.  I started zoning out and eventually realized that I was attempting to fall asleep while I was running! Oh shit! After this happened a couple of times, I skirted past Andy and started running harder...I needed to wake up!  He commended me on my willingness to try and run hard, but I told him it was a necessity, to keep my face out of the dirt! At the bottom of the switchbacks, he gave me a caffeine pill (200mg...nice) and the sky started to lighten up.  Within an hour it was light, and we were running as well as we could down the JMT towards Half Dome.

The sky begins to lighten! ...Illuminating a forest of burnt trees.

This section of trail was nice.  The JMT is a freeway as far as trails are concerned!  I was blown away by how different it looked after the Meadow Fire.  Everything was bare.  It was really cool looking and feeling, and very sad in the same moment.

Foot care on the subdome

We got down the trail and headed up to the subdome with the intention of climbing half dome.  Tired legs and injuries got the better of us, and instead of tackling the cables, we ate burgers (yeah, I carried burgers for 60 fucking miles) and started the run down.

The run down was kind of a sad happy time.  I was bummed that we couldn't finish the plan, but I was amped that I was out of the snow and was looking forward to a beer.  We ran the Mist Trail route to the bottom, and then took a weirdly convoluted Valley Loop Trail route to the village parking lot.  As we were running up to my car, who did we run into but Dom, Katie and Crista!  Dom and Katie were getting ready to run Half Dome and Crista was getting ready to hike 4-mile trail to see us as we finished the 100-mile route.  They hadn't gotten my text messages from Half Dome (even though they sent...damn you Verizon...or somebody!).  What an awesome coincidence and great way to finish the run!  We all hung out for a bit as Andy and I chilled out to take in the fact that we didn't have to have our feet in shoes anymore, running through endless fields of snow in the dark.

Needless to say, we went and got Curry Village Pizza Deck Pizza, and Beer.  I can't wait to head back up there and run this route when it's dry.

Run Summary: 72.2 miles, 15,826 ft. of climbing
Strava Data

Gear List:
Shoes: New Balance 1210v2
Socks: Injinji Liners and Dry Max Midweight Outers
Tights: Saucony Amp Pro2
Shirt: Smartwool Longsleeve (150 weight? Not sure.)
Jacket: Mountain Hardwear Hooded Running Sweater
Shell: Mountain Hardwear Capacitor Jacket
Hat: PMR Trucker
Buff: Dirtbag Runners Buff
Beanie: Fleece
Gloves: Outdoor Research Hot Pursuit
Microspikes: Hillsound Trail Ultra
Water Filter: Sawyer Mini (squeeze)

Food:
Tailwind: 3000 Cal
Rice Cakes (Calrose Rice, Bacon, Honey, Brown Sugar, Liquid Aminos): 3000 Cal
Gels (ClifShot, etc.): 3000 Cal
Burger: 600 Cal
Salt: SaltStick Tablets

Comments

I struggle to separate a 'Run Report' voice from how I actually talk and think, so maybe adding a section will help with that.  I was super amped for this run.  Since the conversation with Matt, I had been tinkering with the route, trying to assess map accuracy, going over snow reports and melt off rates, it was crazy.  I was pumped.  I was also pumped because I get to run a fucking 100 miles in Yosemite.  That just sounds rad.  Yeah, it's gonna suck, but it's gonna be rad too.  When Andy decided to join, I was also pumped to have a buddy to run with.  Running with no one else through the night and snow of the High Sierra would have been a shitty experience for me...no doubt.  Thanks for coming along dude, it was rad to have a running buddy!  Hope you like Yosemite!

Also, it was his first time to Yosemite!  Yep, he'd never been, cause he's from Hotlanta.  Best way to see Yosemite: run an ultramarathon that tags El Cap, Eagle Peak, Yosemite Falls, Mirror Lake, Snow Creek, Tenaya Lake, Tuolumne Meadows, the JMT, Half Dome, Clouds Rest, Nevada Falls, Panorama Trail and Glacier Point in one shot.  And that totally sells out the entire Southern Half of the park which is gorgeous but massively underrated because it's way the fuck out there. And Rockslide Trail which was an unexpected highlight of the trip.  OK, so an ultramarathon that runs through the night is not the best way to see the park because it's dark for a couple of those 'bucket list' items...but otherwise it's fucking amazing. Fuck yeah.  Sorry Andy, the snow made you miss out on a couple of those...I guess we gotta go back and do it right! Yeah, there's no doubt that we (I? We?) are going back to do the route right.  Running not in the snow is fun as shit.  Running in snow is stupid and shitty and makes we want to die, physically, while I slowly die on the inside from hours of staring into a white prison of headlamp on snow as my foot breaks through the melt crust, again, and sinks down to the knee, again, while my foot looks like the wrinkled face of one of those 115 year people from Japan.  Fuck that.  It's worth clarifying, I am not put off by the fact that the Japanese person's face is wrinkled...it's 115 years old, it's supposed to look like that and that is normal.  I am referring to the fact that my foot is 30 years old and is also a foot, so it is not supposed to look like that.  Fuck you, wet foot.

Also, I will not turn down Curry Village Pizza Deck Pizza and Beer after a long ass run.  That shit is amazing and should be a critical part of any Yosemite Valley Trip.

My highlights, in no particular order:

1. Rockslide Trail: Runnable and fun, good views, variable surrounding flora.
2. The view from El Capitan and Eagle Peak.  Both of these views are great.  Eagle Peak is underrated and easily runnable, round trip, from the valley floor.
3. Pywiack Cascade.  You complete a shit ton of climbing and then get an amazing view of these falls and Tenaya Canyon.  Gorgeous.
4. Running with someone.  Running this solo would have been an exercise in mental endurance.
5. Pizza.
6. Beer.
7. Downhill running. In Yosemite. Not on snow.  Seriously, there's some climbing on this route, but there's also some really fun downhill with great views and awesome trail quality that is typical of a National Park.
8. The Petzl-fucking-Nao-2.  This headlamp is incredible.  You plug it into your computer and you can set the light up to last however many hours you want (estimated, of course), up to the maximum of like 28 or something.  I set up a 10.5 hour setting, which was bright as shit, that lasted all the way through the night.  I had 34% battery left when I checked this morning on my computer.  I ran from 8:30pm to 5:30am with the thing going the whole time.

My lowlights:
1. Running in the snow.  Yeah, we knew what we were in for, probably, but it didn't make it suck less.  Next time, GoreTex shoes and gaitors.
2. Running with a heavy pack.  This takes some of the joy out of running...doesn't feel so 'free' with 18 fucking pounds on my back.
3. Wet socks.  For hours.  Never had trench foot before...it sucks.
4. Wearing a black longsleeve.  Seriously, this made what should have been a really comfortable 70 degrees and sunny into a less than comfortable sweatfest.  Dunno if short sleeves were the answer, but a lighter color would definitely help!  Idiot.

Race Report: Marin Ultra Challenge 50-Miler

Run Hard or Run Home?

The Backstory

A little over a month ago I ran the Sean O'Brien 100k and got into the Wasatch Front 100 in the same weekend.  Other than those two races, I had nothing on the books, and hadn't planned to run anything in March.

Meanwhile, my girlfriend is training for the Leona Divide 50 miler, and was looking to run a 50k race as a training run to test out nutrition, pacing, and equipment.  She found the Marin Ultra Challenge 50k in Marin County and asked if I'd want to come race if she ran it as a training run.  The area is beautiful and the trails are fun, so I hopped on board to run the 50-mile distance while she ran the 50k.  The 50-mile is not an easy course, with 11,100 feet of claimed total ascent, and I was excited to see what it had in store for me.

My recovery from SOB had been pretty lackadaisical, but my core was doing OK and the legs felt strong, so I figured I could hammer out a 50 miler to gage what kind of progress I had made since I last raced in the area at the 2013 North Face Endurance Challenge 50-miler.

I had been watching the weather reports during the week leading up to the race, and the last that I checked, they read about 75 degrees and sunny at the hottest portion of the day.  I didn't check the weather for the 3 or so days leading up to the race, so I really didn't know what to expect on race day and planned for 75 degrees.  The RD sent out a couple pre-race emails, and both said to prepare for heat, which is fine, so I showed up on the starting line in a singlet and shorts with 2 water bottles, ready to go.

My nutrition plan was the same as SOB: drink 200 cal/hr of Tailwind and supplement with gels and chips as necessary.  1 bottle in my vest would have the calorie drink, and the other would have plain water for cooling and drinking.  Possibly relevant to the report is that I had just had my lip operated on that week and so I had some stitches to deal with and was on antibiotics to prevent infection.  Does that stuff affect heart rate?

 The Race

The race is a low key setup: a field with parking, some tables/tents for race business and aid, and a blow-up starting arch.  This was nice, because it was easy to get ready at the car and be right there at the starting line.  The aforementioned field is located at Marin's Fort Baker, which sits almost directly beneath the North End of the Golden Gate Bridge, and provided for some stellar views of the lit-up bridge in the early morning darkness of the start.  A great way to begin the day!

View from the starting area.  Photo Courtesy of Crista Scott.

The horn went off about 10 minutes after 6am and we took off into the darkness via a paved road for the first half mile or so.  I opted to go out hard because, though I did not know this first portion of the course, I guessed that we would be in single-track soon and did not want to get caught in a conga-line for the first miles of the race.  I silo-ed myself into my headlamp beam and blazed past most of the pack to situate myself in the top 20 or 30 runners.  Both the 50-mile and 50k runners started at the same time, so I really had no idea who ahead of me would be hammering for 30 miles or 50, so I tried to settle myself into a nice spot where I could climb at my own pace and also not block anyone out who wanted to hammer.

The after a few paved curves of climbing, the course took a hard left onto some wood-beam stairs on single track and the trail portion began.  The trail was winding and well maintained...a great start for the run, but as I glanced down when the first mile ticked off, I noticed that my heart rate was already through the roof! "178??? Damn, that's way to high...I don't feel like I'm climbing that hard!" I thought to myself, but I quickly reminded myself that I was probably propped up on starting line adrenaline and that I should obey the heart rate monitor.

After trying, unsuccessfully, to dial the heart rate back into what I would consider a more manageable range (150-160 is where I normally climb at), I decided that today was a good day to die and that I'd run at this effort level until I blew up.  I settled in somewhere in the 160s and went for it.

A cursory study of the race profile showed 9 major climbs, though I think 8.5 would be more accurate.  I find the best way for me to check off progress on race courses is to know how many major climbs/descents I have to tackle.  The first climb out of Fort Baker into the headlands was #1, and sent the runners over a saddle, and down a double-track to Rodeo Valley, out towards Rodeo Beach, and on to the 2nd climb. 

The Marin Ultra Challenge 50-Miler Elevation Profile (Image Courtesy of InsideTrail.com)

Hill 88, as it's called is a bit steep with a mix of single track, stairs, and road.  I settled into climbing, and made it up and down towards Tennessee Valley in no time.  I remembered the descent into Tennessee Valley leaving me beaten up during the Endurance Challenge, but this time I came into the aid station feeling really solid, if not a little wary of my high heart rate.

Looking South from the climb up Hill 88.  Photo Courtesy of Crista Scott.

I was stoked to hear the the race was serving Tailwind at the aid stations, so I pulled up and started filling Tailwind into my bottles, but after taking 1 swig and not being able to taste any flavor, I figured the aid station crew hadn't mixed a high enough concentration, so I resorted to my backup plan of ziplocs of Tailwind in my drop bags.  This worked out fine, but it took a while and I dropped a few positions in the process of filling my bottles and dumping my headlamp into the drop bag.  As I ran out of the station, I could see a guy I know, Ian, up ahead of me, and I thought I might try to catch up to him without destroying myself, but my body wasn't having it and I maintained my already high heart rate heading into the 3rd 'climb' (the 0.5 of the 8.5 climbs).

The trail snakes along some rugged Nor Cal coastline.  Photo Courtesy of Crista Scott.

Due to not paying attention to the course distances between aid, I filled 2 bottles at Tennessee Valley and 4 miles later, I ran into Muir Beach and blew right through the aid station with plenty of water and Tailwind to spare.  This aid station funnels the runners up a small valley and into the first of 2 relatively large climbs on the course.  The Cardiac Hill climb is not steep, and is rather runnable, but I found myself in a constant state of worry that I was going to blow up and kept reining myself in.  The views from this climb are also spectacular.  Behind the runners are the rolling hills of the headlands that we had just traversed, beyond which is the coastal side of San Francisco. 

Green rolling hills and the Golden Gate Bridge peeking out! Photo Courtesy of Crista Scott.

To the left, the meadows roll down the hills, over the highway, and into the ocean, and to the right the valleys extend off into Marin and turn from sage meadow to green forest.  Ahead, the trail climbs through both meadow and forest to reach the aid station.  At the aid station, I filled bottles, grabbed extra Tailwind for the Stinson Beach aid station and headed off down the famous Dipsea Trail.

The Dipsea Trail is steep and fun, winding through tall redwoods down to the ocean.  My legs were starting to feel the fatigue a bit (Shit! 20 miles in?? Already??) and I continued to second-guess my race strategy.  I had no choice but to continue running on, so after the fun descent, I was deposited onto the streets of Stinson Beach, where I ran through and up to the aid station at the bottom of the Willow Camp climb.  Here, I ran into a runner I've met a few times, Chris, who is a fast dude himself and we talked for a bit as I filled up, and then I started off up the climb.  Always good to see local runners staffing the aid stations!

Willow Camp is a burly climb.  It's mostly steep, with a lot of it heading straight up the hill, and it's almost 1800 vertical feet, which is solid for a coastal run!  I was hiking hard and lamenting to myself about my high heart rate, but it seemed like my body was handling it, so I even wondered if maybe my heart rate monitor was malfunctioning.  Either way, some time later, I ended up at the top of the climb, stiff and tired.  I started cranking along the flattish single track (the out-and-back portion of TNFEC for those who know that race) back towards Pantoll and the Cardiac aid station.  Surprisingly, I felt pretty good.  It was heating up, but I wasn't too beat up yet, and the ocean was providing some respite with a cool breeze.  The section of trail from the top of Willow Camp to Cardiac Hill is my favorite on the course...it's not steep, it's very runnable and the views are fantastic!

At Pantoll, the road official had brought out some water and an ice bath with a sponge, so I filled up half a bottle of my now-empty bottles and doused myself in ice water for the last mile until Cardiac.  The last mile was more great single track and I got into Cardiac feeling ready to fill up and keep running well.

The descent that followed is super fun.  The smooth-packed single track trail snakes down through a forested valley of trees down to a creek at the along the valley floor.  I blazed by boyscouts and hikers who kindly accommodated their faster moving trail counterparts by stepping to one side or the other when I would call out a greeting.  During this section, apparently the course had been vandalized and there were no ribbons for a quite some time.  I was a bit worried, but there weren't any turnoffs, so I continued plugging down the hill.  Towards the bottom, hikers began to tell us that we were on the right track, and that others had said to pass the word along...phew!  The striped turn ribbons at the bottom confirmed this and my mind was able to relax.  During this descent, and following climb, I met a fellow runner, Dan, who I would end up running with on and off for the rest of the race.  He was pretty much the only other runner that I saw for the rest of the day!

The Ocean View climb is also single track with some stairs, mostly smooth and runnable terrain winding up and across the hill before it gently turns to flat, and then down into Muir Woods.  My legs were feeling more and more beat up, but I found that my hiking was still strong, and a strong hike/run combo on the hills seemed to be keeping me at a solid pace.  Some chips and Tailwind at Muir Woods really helped me feel solid, and the aid station captain actually filled one of my ziplocs with Tailwind powder so that I could dose my own bottle at the Muir Beach aid station.

Normally, Muir Beach is 2.6 miles from there and along pretty much all flat trail.  Unfortunately, due to my inadequate study of the course map, I did not realized at first that we do not follow the same trail as the TNFEC, and instead head up onto Dias Ridge.  At the turn marker and sign that read 'Dias Ridge', I realized my mistake, and made the mental readjustment to start climbing again.  This section of trail is super rad as well, and highly runnable for someone who is not in the middle of a slow-motion legsplosion, but for me, I was reduced to a run/hike again.  Luckily, Dan was behind me by not much, and every few switchbacks I would see him running and this helped me to stay motivated to turn up the pace a bit.  He passed me when I stopped to stretch my ever tightening hammies and I chased him all the way into Muir Beach, and then up climb number 8.

At this point, the heat of the day was in full swing, and my PMR trucker hat was soaked through, creating a delightful sauna on my head, which I did not appreciate.  However, I appreciated the shade on my face that the brim generated, so I put up with it.

Climb 8 was an unfamiliar climb to me, but it was also a nice and winding single track that was completely exposed to the sun, so I did my best to keep hydrating and drinking Tailwind.  My singlet was soaked through and sticking to me and I was sweating like crazy, but somehow I wasn't feeling too bad just yet!  I caught Dan at the top of the climb and we started the descent together, talking about course marking and successfully navigating an unmarked turn to the descent into Tennessee Valley.  I remember this descent well from TNFEC: my knees hurt, my legs hurt, my feet hurt...I was toasted.  This time, however, I was feeling stiff and tired, but I still had some gas in the tank!  Unfortunately, I also had something else in the tank, and the downhill pounding seemed to loosen it up, so I slowed a bit to make it to the aid station intact.

After a delightful bio break in an outhouse at the aid station, I realized that I had a throbbing headache and was pretty dehydrated.  'No matter,' I thought, 'I only have 6 miles to go'.  So I filled up on Tailwind, downed some Coke and Mountain Dew, took an ice sponge shower and ran out to tackle the last climb.

Climb #9, or as it is officially known, Marincello, is a smooth and gradually climbing fire trail.  I was able to hike/run again, but was feeling more and more beat up and haggard and my legs were unhappy with motion.  The sun was beating down, and though I tried to wear my hat backwards to get some breeze through the mesh, the sun continued to force me to turn it around to shade my face.  Definitely ready to be done running.

The top of the climb yields to a short fire road descent, another short fire road climb, and then the winding single track and pavement descent to the finish.

I could see Dan ahead of me by a decent amount, but the thought of trying to hammer for another 4 miles to catch him and pass him for an inconsequential placing increase left me unmotivated to bury myself to pip him at the finish line. I decided to just run hard and see what happened.

Over the next 4 miles, I reeled him in a bit, but ended up over a minute behind him, making me wish I had time to take that last pre-race dump instead of wasting the time at Tennessee Valley, but that's life.  The final miles were tough, as I suppose they should be while running hard for 9-ish hours, but after cruising into the finish and sitting down, I realized that I didn't feel all that bad, and I wasn't going to die of heat exhaustion.

I was stoked to see that the girlfriend had finished her 50k in 1 piece and had actually executed it really well.  It was her 1st mountain 50k, and with 7100 vertical feet of total ascent, it was a good one!

Stoked to be done and enjoying the sunshine in Marin!  Photo Courtesy of Crista Scott.

The clock read 9:26 and change when I ran through.  I had originally thought that I could break 9 hours here, after having split 9:03 at the 50 mile mark at the SOB 100k, but the heat had other plans, so a sub-9 performance was relegated to another, cooler and/or more fit day.  Still, it was a 50-mile PR by 50 minutes in some challenging conditions on a challenging course.  I'll take that any day.  Now it's beer time.

The benefits of racing in the North Bay...a trip to Russian River Brewing the day before the race to pick up some post race hydration supplies!  Photo Courtesy of Crista Scott.

Race Report: 2015 Sean O'Brien 100k

This past weekend, Sean O'Brien 50/50/100, known as 'SOB' to most, went down.  It's a set of 4 distances of trail races, with the 100k distance sitting atop the distance list.  The 100k is part of the Montrail Ultra Cup race series, which means that there are 2 slots at the Western States 100-miler up for grab for the top 2 men and top 2 women finishers and with a stated total ascent of ~16,000 ft. the race lives up to its abbreviated moniker.  I had a go at the 100k, and this is what happened.

The SOB Start/Finish Area and Surrounding Mountains.  Photo Courtesy of Crista Scott.

Training

SOB's first running was in 2014, but I did not partake because I was shooting for the Coyote Cohort Backbone Ultra that was taking place 5 weeks later.  When signups went up for SOB this year, I hopped on the train and signed up for the 100k.  Sometime after that, I also realized that most of my big fitness gains regarding running had come when I was training using a structured training plan, so I decided to write myself a plan, which can be pretty much summarized as follows:

1. A cycle of 2 build weeks followed by 1 recovery week (I found that the 2/1 cycle has worked well for me in the past)
2. 90 mile peak weekly mileage
3. 30/20 back-to-back run on the peak mileage weekend
4.  2 days of speed/hills/tempo run to get me some more speed, which I felt I had been neglecting over the past year while I attempted to get myself strong enough to run in the mountains

I also made a mental plan to focus on getting enough sleep, moderating beer intake, and eating the right amount of the right foods.

This all sounds well and good, but if I don't follow the plan, who knows how well it works, right?  Here's how it went:

1. 2-weeks build/1-week recover.  Almost immediately after writing to plan, I then signed up for Red Rock 50 and had to modify it.  This resulted in a weird 1 week build/1 week recovery canter into mid December before I could get my schedule to re-sync with my planned schedule.  Overall, I'm going to mark this as a success, because I really wanted to run Red Rock and I made it work.
2. Mileage.  Despite having a wonky schedule of weekly mileage for a month or so, the mileage and weekly ascent values were increasing, and I was feeling good about it, especially because the higher mileage weeks weren't leaving me completely wrecked; I would come out of these weeks ready for another week of training.  The 3 biggest weeks were planned at 80, 80 and 90 miles, and I hit them at 85, 80, and 103 miles, respectively, and felt really solid throughout with only a few really tough runs in there.
3. 30/20.  This ended up 35/24 because of a group run on the SOB course and the desire to hit 100 miles in a week.  This dropped me into taper and I had a really good 24 to cap it off and double up with the 35, so I call this a success too.
4. Speed.  This was by far the most helpful portion of my training.  I moved up to West LA last summer and after a few months, got hooked in with a group of fast, dedicated ultramarathoners.  These guys (and girl/panda/whatever) were always down to run hard, come up with some structured workouts, and sometimes be rabbits to chase during tempo or hill climb workouts (not rabbits by choice, they are just way faster than me!).  These workouts (combined with the rest of the mileage) enabled me to climb faster and run harder throughout SOB. Success.

How did the sleep/beer/food thing go?  Pretty well.  I was attentive to my own needs and it paid off.  No doubt that getting tossed after a 30 miler is not the best way to recover.  Write that down.

So all that stuff got me to the taper weeks of my training plan.  I planned in 3 weeks of taper:  1 week at 2/3 max mileage, 1 week at 1/3 max mileage, and 1 easy week for race week.   Because I had planned max mileage at 90 miles, this meant 60 miles, 30 miles and easy.  I hit these at 58 mile, 42 miles, and 15-ish miles.  Solid.  As most ultramarathoners experience, taper sucks.  For some reason we really like running, and having extra time on the hands and not putting it up into the mountains is off putting.

Race

The night before the race, I camped out where the race was held (Malibu Creek State Park).  This included eating some tasty food, and sitting by the fire, drinking a beer (and water!!) and listening to Steely Dan.  Overall, a good way to prepare for the race.

In the past, my race plan is to go out easy and then increase pace through the race towards the finish.  There is a ton of advice to support this type of racing strategy, and it had worked out pretty well for me previously, but I always wondered if I left too much out there on the course.  Thursday before the race, I was chatting with my buddy on a final taper run, and his description of how he and other elites paced themselves made some pretty good sense to me.  What I took from it, and decided would be my race strategy, is: run hard, and let how much food I can eat dictate how fast I can go. I would run hard the entire race and see what happened.

The weather report on race day was somewhat confusing, but the short story was that it was probably going to rain at some point.  To accommodate, I brought along a Buff for the start, a hat for rain, and a ultralight shell for if things got nasty.  I also ziplok'ed up some spare socks in the mile 13/36 aid station bag for if my feet were getting mangled by wet socks.  There is a stream crossing at mile 2, and I wasn't sure if my feet would get cheese-grated or what.

The SOB Start/Finish Line circa 4:58am.  Photo Courtesy of Crista Scott.

The gun went off right at 5am, and all of us took off into the darkness by headlights.  The elites were hammering and soon gone from sight, so I settled in and ended up running with a buddy of mine from the Kodiak 100.  He's a strong runner, and I assumed he would soon forge ahead on his own, which he did, about 4 miles in.  I had gone through the stream crossing at mile 2 without much fanfare and started the first big climb of the race, where I was trying to keep my heart rate where it needed to be, run when I could, and stay on top of calorie consumption.  The mile 7.5 aid station came into view at 1:15 (race time) or so and realized that I hadn't touched my 2nd water bottle...so I pretty much lugged the thing up the hill for nothing.  I resolved to not over-fill again and, on the plus side, I did not have to stop at this aid.

I continued to run hard through the next section, which is downhill, flat, rolling, and runnable.  This is my favorite section of the course because it's single track, beautiful, packed dirt, and super fast.  I was stoked to get on it and I soon caught my friend from the start and we ran together some more.  At about mile 11, I filled half a bottle of water at the aid station, and pushed on to the first drop bag station to calls of  'Allez! Allez! Allez!' from my friend's girlfriend, who I don't know, but recognized our team's jersey that I was wearing.

The mile 13.5 aid station  showed up around 2:21 and I filled my bottles with Tailwind for the next 6-7 mile section of trail which included more rolling, and a fire trail climb and descent.  Again, the single track was rolling and fun, and the section breezed by, leaving me at the foot of a fire trail climb. I saw my buddy Pedro here and he took a pretty funny picture of me and helped me get out my sunglasses from my vest.  I said peace out, threw up some high-fives, climbed the fire trail and then descended smoothly into the aid station at mile 19.1 at 3:17.

The course then enters 'the lollipop loop' of the course, and continues to descend to the furthest point out on the race at mile 22.7 (3:48).  I ran down this with a dude I had just met earlier named Tyler.  He is a friend of some of my friends and we chatted all the way down.  Here, I was disappointed to see that my friend Dom had rolled his ankle badly and, after 10 miles of attempting to race hard through the pain, had dropped.  It sucks to see a buddy in the pits and not be able to help them out, so I did my best with a fist bump, some kind of words of encouragement after I had filled my bottles and took off up the trail.

The 2nd descent on the 'lollipop loop' as seen from the first descent.  Photo taken during my peak week of training (don't be confused by the sunshine!).

This is the first section of the course where I was pretty wary of my race strategy.  The preceding descent is 2200 ft. over 5 miles, and is followed by a 1500 ft. climb, a 900 ft. descent, and a 1600 ft. climb over the next 10 miles.  It is the first protracted set of descent/ascent combos that start to do some work on the legs.  I felt like I was running on the edge of too hard, sometimes climbing into the red zone and needing to recover a bit below the sustainable threshold.  This was resulting in some great feeling moments and some less great feeling moments, with an overall feeling of mildly out of control pacing.  I could feel my hamstrings tightening up, which made it hard to open my stride, but after a quick stretch break at the top of the first climb, I was able to open up a bit on the flats a descents to keep speed.

Up until this point, my strategy of 200 cal/hr of Tailwind and some supplemental aid station grub had been working out great, but coming down the descent of this loop, I was getting really thirsty, and drinking Tailwind was having no effect on my thirst!  I'm not sure what the deal was...perhaps too much salt for such a cool day? Or palate fatigue and all I really needed was a different tasting liquid?  I'm unsure about this, but when I reached the mile 19/30 aid station, I chugged some water and felt much better!  I also switched to Clif Shots & water to keep getting calories in while I figured out this nutrition issue.

By the time I reached Buzzards Roost at the end of the 1600 footer, the skies had opened up a bit and it was raining lightly.  I threw on my shell for the descent, but when I got back down to the single track towards the mile 13.5/36.5 aid station, I felt like I was sweating too much, and took it back off.  I probably should have left it off to begin with...oh well, live and learn.

The intersection of the single track and the fire trail is where the 50k course turnaround is, so I began to see both outbound and inbound 50k runners.  Everyone was super friendly and I was exchanging words of encouragement pretty regularly.  Lots of good vibes!  I also felt good because I was moving along pretty well at 35 miles into the race, which meant the race strategy hadn't backfired yet!  At mile 36.5 aid, I filled water again, grabbed a few more gels and continued to hammer on through the next awesome single track section.

A side note here: I had been running with a pair of women, Megan and Darla, on and off for about 10 miles at this point.  I believe they were running in 6th/7th position or so.  Someone then informed me that it was Megan Arbogast, who is a no joke fast lady.  Darla turned out to be screaming-fast Darla Askew. Her reputation had not preceded her to me, though maybe it should have, because her race resume is pretty amazing.  Over the course of the day I learned that she's running in her 3rd Hardrock this year...nice!  I was pretty stoked to be in good company!

The rest of the single track section back to mile 7.5/42.5 aid was a breeze and the watch clicked over 7:44 as I passed through the aid.  A few of my buddies were spectating here and threw in some words of encouragement while I mowed down on some food and refilled water.  Seeing friends is always a great mental boost, and I was pumped up to tackle the next section of the course, which is arguably the hardest section.

From mile 42.5 the 100k course splits off the 50 mile course for a 12 mile out-and-back that includes a 1800 ft. descent over 3 miles on the Bulldog trail which the runner must climb up again about 5 miles later.  To seal the deal, this section throws in some fast flat stuff on the back stretch of the out-and-back, just to make the runners work hard after a steep descent and before climbing back up it! SOB indeed.

Some of the terrain surrounding the Bulldog Trail.  Photo Courtesy of Crista Scott.

This section was my first and only really low point.  My stomach started cramping on the gels, so I couldn't eat much on the way down and was feeling pretty fatigued by the bottom.  I had Tailwind powder with me, and I figured that the issues from earlier had probably run their course, so I filled up with that at the turnaround for the climb back up the hill.  I also saw my other buddy Guillaume at the bottom of the hill.  He was dealing with really bad cramping issues and would eventually chalk up his first DNF for the day as well.  I tried to get him to come climb the hill with me, but I think his legs were too far gone to make it.  More words of encouragement and I took off.  The flatish portion of the course before the climb was painful.  Having no energy wasn't stopping me from trying to run hard, and it resulted in just feeling shitty and really wanting the climb to start so that I could hike instead of run.  Finally, the climb arrived and I started to hike as hard as a could manage and drink the Tailwind to get some food in me.  Somewhere on this climb, I remember thinking that I never want to run again, haha. Oh racing...you make me think some crazy things.  The good news was that the Tailwind was working! By the top I was feeling pretty rejuvenated, and I took a Mocha Clif Shot that has 50mg of caffeine in it...rocket fuel!  I smashed the small descent to the aid station at mile 54.5 (10:06) and filled up on chips, goldfish crackers, and Reese's peanut butter cups.  So delicious.  My friends were still there, so I took in some encouragement from them and hammered off to try and run out the last 7.5 miles hard.

The last section is a repeat of the first section, only backwards, so I just ran down hard and hiked/ran up as fast as my legs would let me.  When I hit the final descent to the stream crossing, I opened up and just let gravity pull me all the way down the hill.  That caffeine must have been working because I felt strong!  I ended up passing my friend that I had run with at the start, and so I was running a bit scared after the stream crossing because I didn't want to pass strong and then blow up and get caught!  I pushed up the small climb back into the State Park where the finish is located and let myself relax a bit at the top, though I tried to run hard in to finish strong.  This section is super fun because, again, it is packed single track and totally runnable!  It dumps the runners out onto some gravely road and then onto more trail and pavement to the finish.  I crossed the finish around 11:16 and was pretty stoked to be done!

Me at the finish line.  As Crista said, "One satisfied runner." Photo Courtesy of Crista Scott.

Post Race

At the end of the day, it appears that the race strategy worked out!  I think I have some core work to do to support my legs running strong and loose for the whole race, but overall, I was pretty happy with the gains that the last training buildup yielded!  After trying to rehydrate a bit, I drank a beer or two at the finish line and then headed off with the girlfriend to Rancho San Juan to watch some racing, drink some more beer and enjoy the vibe.  To cap it all off, while I was racing on Saturday, I was accepted into the Wasatch Front 100 in September!  Stoked!  What a great weekend!

The Hype Begins! 7 Reasons Why You Should Run the 2nd Annual San Sugar G Falls Fatass Run

San Sugar G Falls.

The name is cryptic and draws you in. Your mind churns.  Brain synapses begin to fire. Your palms get sweaty. You start the think:

"What is it?  The title says 'run'...should I run it?  Are there really 7 reasons?  Or did he just pick the number 7 first and try to make up a bunch of reasons to match? Did he shoot for 10 but not make it?"

Good questions.  The following information will enlighten you.  Read on.

To start, what is a fatass run?  Some people don't know, so here's what it is: a free run on a route that someone else (or you) organized.  Often times there are aid stations set up by the person/people who set up the run.

Why do I need reasons to run it?  Valid question.  I'm not a Pulitzer prize winning writer, so after 2 failed attempts at writing a non-boring run report to chronicle the run and get the hype building for next year's adventure, I decided to structure the blog post as one of these trendy "XX# of reasons why you should do some shit that I think you should do." posts.  Can't win 'em all. Let's begin.

1. The People.  This year (the 1st Annual San Sugar G Falls Fatass Run) my buddy Jason and I were the only dudes to run this run.  We're pretty rad...

Rad Dudes? You decide...when you come run the 2nd Annual San Sugar G Falls Fatass Run! There will be Ruffles.

Or at least we think we are...and we'll be there next year too. But that's neither here nor there.

This run is a brainchild of Jason, and if there's one dude you want to come up with the route for this run, it's Jason.  The dude is a man of the outdoors and a scholar of the trails.  He spends so much time scouting pirate trails and deer tracks in the mountains above Big Bear Lake that he actually knows the mountain lions up there by name, and rides one of them to work every morning. True story.  This qualifies the dude to be the course designer. And it's an amazing course.

What about me?  I'm just a dude who likes to run, and who happened to meet Jason during the Kodiak 100 (also in Big Bear Lake).  I love adventuring in the outdoors and running informal big runs in addition to formal trail races.  I actually do love more than that, but for the sake of this article, that'll do.  I also did not have to run Chimera 100 the weekend after this run was planned.  I will bring you chips to munch on at some key drop points.  Ruffles.

2. The Cost.  That's right, it's a fatass run, so it's free, and that's as cheap as it gets, unless you're getting paid to run.

3. The Views.  They say a picture is worth a thousand words...

Was this picture taken from near the highest of the 7 peaks surrounding Big Bear Lake during the 1st Annual San Sugar G Falls Fatass Run?  Maybe.

Was this picture taken from the highest peak in the San Bernadino Mountains towards the end of the 1st Annual San Sugar G Falls Fatass Run? Is that Big Bear Lake peeking through the mountains?? Come find out!

4. The Peaks.  This run climbs two peaks.  Sugarloaf and San Gorgonio.  Sugarloaf is 9,952 feet tall and San G is 11,503 feet tall, making them, respectively, the highest peak in the 7 peaks surrounding  Big Bear Lake, and the highest peak in Southern California. The names of these peaks may or may not be major contributors to the naming of this fatass run.

5. The Variation.  The Strava Data shows this run as 38.8 miles, but I would hazard a guess that there is actually something here for everyone!

Don't wanna run 39 miles? Cut out at Hwy 38 & Heart Bar for a 15 miler.

Don't wanna climb Sugarloaf?  Then don't.  It's an out-and-back section off the longer point-to-point course.  You can go straight from the saddle down Wild Horse trail to Heart Bar at Hwy 38.

39 is too short? Jason has a 50 mile and a 100k version up his sleeve for next year.

There's a lot of good trail to be had.  Show up to blow up, dude!

6. The Backcountry.  Tired of your life in an office cube? Feeling the need to experience the real backcountry, and not that park that's behind your house where you do laps and run by that homeless guy that kind of smells like urine sleeping under his shopping cart?  Never been somewhere with mountain lions and bears?

If so, then this is your jam. You can experience the rush of being isolated from society without having to go to Angola, or the Eastern Sierras or whatever.

It's wild and beautiful and makes you take it seriously because it can be hot, it can be cold, there can be mountain lions and/or bears and sometimes they fight each other for ultimate supremacy of the mountain.  That's real backcountry and that's where this run takes place.

7. The Trail.  The trail is awesome.  It starts at Hatchery & Hwy 38 and immediately starts climbing, treating you to views like this:

Sunrise while climbing Sugarloaf.

And this:

It's wild and it's horsey.

The trail is made up of rocky fire trail, smooth fire trail, steep, rocky single track, smooth rolling single track, switchbacks, rollers, lakes, streams, saddles, peaks, valleys and campgrounds.  Once you top on on Sugarloaf, you head back down the ridge to the saddle where you turned up to make the climb, instead of heading North to Big Bear Lake, you head South down Wild Horse trail.  A rolling single track descent of the ridge from Sugarloaf.

Wild Horse!

Fun and runnable, it deposits you out onto Hwy 38 near Heart Bar Campground, where you begin the climb up to the San G summit.  The climb up to the San G summit is a mix of fire trail, sandy creek bottom, winding single track, and alpine single track.

Alpine on the climb!

It finally descends from the peak down to Forest Falls (the final portion of the run's name...if you haven't figured that part out yet) showcasing terrain from above-tree-line lunar surface to sunset lit transitional ridges to lower valley creeks and trees.

Lunar Landing.

Sometimes you have to say, "No more stopping to take pictures of this sunset that keeps getting better and better, because we need to finish at some point, and our ride is waiting."

That's a tree with a hollow space in the middle that a dude can stand in.  In case you can't see the picture.

The trail: amazing, runnable, tough, and fun.

And there you have it.  7 reasons to get out there and run it with us next year.  Did that answer all of your questions?  Let's review:

What is it?
It's a fatass run (ie you don't pay us, or anyone else, except maybe the forest service to get your San G Permit) that starts at Hatchery Rd. and Hwy 38 near Big Bear Lake, CA.  It climbs Sugarloaf Mountain and San Gorgonio Mountain, and ends in Forest Falls.

Why should I run it?
That is literally what this entire blog post was about.

Are there really 7 reasons?
Yes.  The above reasons are numbered 1-7.

Or did he just pick the number 7 first and try to make up a bunch of reasons to match? Did he shoot for 10 but not make it?
No comment.

When is it gonna be??
As of now, it's looking like mid-October, 2015.  We're gonna try to schedule it around the local ultramarathons, but that's tough/impossible, so compromises will be made.

I can tell that you're hyped about this run after seeing all those sweet pics and glossing over my mediocre prose.  That's good, because I am stoked! I can't wait to get back out there and finalize at least 3 more courses over 3 more distances.  It'll be a tough sacrifice involving lots of trail time, gorgeous views, and probably some pooping in the woods, but I'm committed.  I'm gonna do it so that the 2nd Annual San Sugar G Falls Fatass Run will be as epic as promised (super fucking epic).

In 2014, we had a great day out there running in the mountains and scouting the course for 2015.  Matt, one of the RDs for Kodiak 100 and 3rd place finisher at Chimera 100 in 2014 (nice work dude!), met us at Heart Bar with a water drop and some snacks...big ups!  Also, Jason's sister in-law, Darleene, gave us a ride from Forest Falls back up to Big Bear where my car was parked...more big ups!  In 2015,we plan to have some informal aid and water drops set up around the mountain to help everyone have an epic day on the trails.

Stoke up!

Race Report: 2014 Red Rock 50 Miler

This past Sunday, I headed down from San Luis Obispo, where I enjoyed a delicious few days of Thanksgiving vacation, to the Santa Barbara mountains to race in the Santa Barbara Red Rock 50.  I was hemming and hawing on whether or not to hit this race up because I'm in the midst of a mileage build-up to the Sean O'Brien (SOB) 100k in February, but I eventually bit the bullet and signed up.   It's a gorgeous and tough course (claimed 15.8kft. of climbing and descent!  Shut up legs!), so with a little peer pressure from my friend Victoria, it wasn't a hard sell.

Training
 
I have a pretty solid base of mileage built up from a 100-miler earlier this fall, so after I recovered from that race, I began building up mileage again in a less-than-structured way.   I dabbled with some speed and hill climbing work, but had lots of rest days and my total weekly mileage wasn't where I wanted it to be.  After I ran the first and last 20 miles of the Red Rock course with some buddies about a month and a half ago, I decided to write up a schedule for SOB and get some weekly mileage goals on the books.  I hit some 60+ mile weeks with some solid climbing and was feeling good about my training.  The Red Rock 50 was not included in this plan, but when I took the plunge, I was confident that I wouldn't destroy myself, though I think I came into the race a little over-trained.

Lead-Up

Early on race week, my legs felt blown from a hard week of running the week before, so I took Monday off and went easy on Tuesday &Wednesday to let the legs feel better.  I wanted to run on Thanksgiving, but decided to rest until the race instead (drinking a bunch of beer for 2 days counts as resting, right?).  I guess this 'rest' didn't do me any favors, because I woke up on Saturday feeling super congested with a runny nose and sore throat.  Total bummer.

Not one to be waylaid by some minor health issues, I had a pint of Enjoy By (12/26 if you're wondering) with my SLO hosts on the way out of town, accompanied by a delicious Firestone Grill Tri-Tip Sandwich.  Excellent pre-race food!

When I arrived at Rancho Oso, the privately owned horse camp/ranch camp that the race was to start/finish at, I was greeted by cheers coming from up the hill where the beer mile was finishing up.  I was disappointed that I had missed it, but I later learned that it's a fixture at all of Luis' races, so I plan to be around for the next one.  Luis Escobar, the race director, runs a handful of races in So Cal and all of them are low key, fun, and minimal events.  Highly recommended if you enjoy the backcountry, chill people, and a focus on fun times and hard running.  Good shit.

There's a lot to be said about all the pre-race activities at Red Rock, but by far the coolest was the 4-person guitar jam session that broke out after the pre-race meeting.  The vibe of chilling with other runners, talking running, and listening to yet more runners showcase their non-running talents on the guitars was amazing.  Great way to set up a positive attitude for race day!

Race Day

The race start was at 6am, so I woke up around 3:45 to make coffee and get some food going.  I was feeling pretty exhausted, but I think that after the coffee kicked in, I felt OK.  Another, identical pre-race meeting was held at 5:45am and the race started immediately afterwards.  Hilariously (?) as soon as the runners were sent to the starting line, it started raining.  Victoria says about Red Rock every year, "It's just gonna be a horrible day." Because it's a long, hard 50 miler.  Haha, maybe it's a self-fulfilling prophecy!  I decided to start calling it 'the best day of my life' after Luis told us it would probably be the worst day of our lives (tongue in cheek, of course).  Somehow, in the middle of a hands-on-knees-steep climb to Montecito Peak to get our finishers medallions, everyone that I asked, "Best day of your life!?" seemed to agree that it was.

Anyway, we finally took off around 6:15am into the rain.  I was mid-pack, but decided that I should go out hard to get a good spot on the single track.  This proved to be a good call because I ended up in a group of guys who were all around or a little faster than my race pace, and I only got passed by 2 dudes in this section.  The downside of going out hard is that I had to make a concerted effort to get my heart rate back down to where I wanted it to be, and this meant slowing down, which never feels good in a race, at first.  But it had to be done.

The first aid station is 6.5 miles in, or so, and I rolled in, filled up a bottle with Tailwind and cruised out.  For the last few races, I've been trying to figure out my nutrition, and I think I may have finally gotten it dialed in.  200 cal/hour of Tailwind (1 sleeve in a 24 oz. bottle), supplemented by a gel or aid station food as necessary to get to between 250 and 300 cal/hr.  It's worked on a couple of fatass runs of up to 40 miles and this race...so far, so good!

From this station, the runners follow a paved road to where it turns to fire trail and then to single track and back to fire trail.  This section was uneventful and I chatted with a fellow runner Kathleen and cruised into the mile 11 aid station with no news to report.  By this time, the runners were pretty strung out along the course, so I ended up with 2 people who were running the marathon and no 50-milers.

The next section of the race consists of about 8 or 9 miles of mostly single-track rollers ending in a 1200 foot climb up to the high point on the course.  It started raining relatively hard, and at times I couldn't help but have a big, fat grin on my face about what an adventure this race was becoming.  I put on arm warmers and gloves under a tree, and flipped my hat forward to keep the water out of my eyes.  I had my first of a couple 'this is why I run' moments before turning up towards the big climb where I looked out over the valley and noticed that all of the leaves on the trees by the river were bright yellow, which created this awesome contrast of a long, snaking, vibrant yellow swath down the valley against the sage greens and browns of the mountains rising up above the trees.  Gorgeous!  

When I turned up the towards the climb, the dirt turned to clay, and portions of the course got super slick.  I had trekking poles with me for 'The Big Climb' (yet to come), so I cracked them out and used them for traction and power up this section.  I hiked about 98% of this climb as part of my race strategy and ended up at the top more-or-less in good shape, ready to tackle the 3000 ft. descent and climb that lay ahead.  More Tailwind into the bottles and I took off.

I'm an OK descender, as normal runners go (my elite friends blow my doors off on the descents!), but I knew that 3000 ft. over 6 miles would take its toll, so in turn, I took the descent at a less-than-breakneck speed.  At Red Rock, Luis makes you earn your finisher's medallion (without it, you can't get a time!) by doing 'something', and this year it involved leaving the Cold Springs trail and climbing a use-trail up to Montecito Peak.  This trail was steep, but luckily not slippery.  At the top were waiting Pat and Amy with the medallions laid out, and some Fritos.  Amy asked if I wanted to leave a note, so I left two for some of my buddies who were behind me.  I got my medallion, which was a handcrafted ceramic medallion on a neck-cord, and started down the hill.  It's worth noting that normally, this peak provides an amazing view of Santa Barbara and the ocean, but today, the fog/clouds were dense and all that could be seen was white.  I ended up descending pretty much the whole hill with a woman, Jade, who I learned was doing her 1st 50 miler (hell of a first 50!).  She was super chill and was a great conversation buddy for the descent and, as it turns out, pretty much the whole climb too.  As we hit about the halfway point on the descent, we started to be able to see the ocean and city, and the sun started to come out!  This provided some amazing views, which made it hard to concentrate on some of the more technical sections of the trail, which at times was super rocky.  I could feel the descent slowly battering my quads and hips but by the time I hit the bottom, I wasn't feeling as bad as I thought that I might!  I filled up the Tailwind, ate some grilled cheese sando, stretched the piriformis muscles and hamstrings and took off for the climb back up the hill.

The whole course is a big out-and-back, so I knew exactly what lay ahead.  After fastpacking the John Muir Trail (JMT) in 8 days this year, I was pretty accustomed to power-hiking 3000-4000 ft. climbs with trekking poles, and this climb fit right into the JMT category, minus about 9,000 feet of total elevation.  I was surprised, but I topped out only about an hour and 40 minutes later (back in the clouds...) and not too tired, but definitely feeling the 31 miles that I had on my legs at that point.  I munched down on some grilled cheese, thanked the volunteers and took off.

My race strategy was as follows: be conservative for 30 miles, then start evaluating whether I should start hammering.  Well, 'hammering' being a relative term for me in an ultramarathon, I decided to treat the last 20 miles like I was on a 20 mile training run.  I rolled the descents smoothly without holding much back, hiked the uphills, and tried to remain comfortable on the flats.  8 miles later, I had seen 1 guy briefly as I passed him, and my legs were starting to feel pretty uncomfortable, so I resorted to a tactic that I've never used before: the iPod shuffle.

Around mile 39, I cracked out the shuffle because I was feeling like I needed a boost after running pretty much alone for the last 8 miles.  My legs were feeling battered, I was a little lonely, and the clouds were still holding out and keeping the lighting flat.  On the rare occasion that I run with music, my go-to tunes are electro dance jams, and the thumping 4-on-the-floor beats are just what I needed to pick me up.  Head bopping to the beat, I finished out the climb into the mile 40 aid station in high spirits, filled up the last of my Tailwind and headed for home.  This meant a fire trail descent into the valley by the Gibralter Dam, the climb out, and then some descending to the paved portion of the course.  Somewhere in here, the sun was setting under the clouds, and creating amazing 'golden hour' shadows and contrasts on the mountains, ridges, and spines.  It was another amazing 'this is why I run' moment, facilitated by some uplifting music.  The music was helping, as were the amazing views, but my legs were fatiguing and feeling more and more uncomfortable.  I was close to the point where I was ready to be done.

At the mile 44-ish aid station, I filled only water, ate some potatoes, and headed out to what I consider one of the hardest sections of the course for me.  I figured that  gel was in order, because I was out of tailwind and had a solid amount of time on my feet to go, so I cracked one out and chomped it down, almost to have it come right back up.  I guess the potatoes weren't done doing their thing yet...haha.  So that ended my nutrition for the run.  That last 6.5 miles traverse 3 or 4 ridges with the associated climbs and descents into the crooks of the valleys between.  There's a lot of varying up and down and changing muscle of groups which is never fun in the late stages of an ultra!  Luckily, the music, plus seeing a runner about a half mile up gave me a boost and I was able to make it to the final fire trail descent, which ends with about a mile to go.  I caught the runner in front of me with about 2 miles to go while rolling the descent, and she was struggling with some IT band issues.  We started chatting and I ended up running with her all the way in including putting on headlamps because we were just about 15 minutes too late to make it in without them. It was awesome to share the final miles and finish with someone after running for so long with nothing but my thoughts (and some sweet tunes!).  We rolled into the finishing area and high-fived after taking a seat on one of the picnic benches.  I clocked in at 11:19:46.

Post-Race

This race was brutal!  My legs were toast and I was zombie-walking immediately.  2 days later and I am still feeling it!  I tried hard to walk the line of going fast, but not blowing up or having to death march into the finish.  Luis warned us that this is not a course to PR on (which, if you look at the elevation profile, is a no-brainer), and indeed I did not PR, but I am pretty stoked on my finish.  Also, they had pumpkin pie, burritos, chile, and other delicious fare at the finish line, which was delightful after not eating anything for the last hour or so.  After I put on some warm clothes, I pulled up a chair with what seemed like a lively group (turned out to be Crista, Pat, Bobby and Michelle, a merry tribe of self-proclaimed Dirtbag Runners) and ended up shooting the shit with them and cheering in runners for another 3 or 4 hours.  Just an amazing end to an amazing day!

I highly recommend coming out to the Red Rock 50 and bringing an awesome attitude, a chair, and some beer to share (and some Fireball if you're feeling aggressive...it will not go unappreciated)!