Things I learned this weekend.

This past weekend I flew to San Francisco for a 10K race. Crazy, I know! I needed one more flight for my frequent flier miles, and one more race, so the two just fit together perfectly. I didn’t think about it when I signed up, but I guess that area is fairly hilly. It was a trail run. I really prefer to run off road as it is easier on the knees and ankles, so I’ve been excited about this race. Driving through the hills on race morning I wondered what I had gotten myself into. I knew there was one big hill, 2.5 miles long with 1100 feet of elevation gain, but have no frame of reference for hills as I live in the flatlands. I do now, it was LONG! But I get ahead of myself.
It was really a low key race: no chips for timing, no support on the run, and no one on the trail to help with directions. That part had me the most worried. In addition to concentrating on the run, I had to watch for yellow ribbons on the trail for markers. Stripped ribbons indicated an upcoming turn, and the direction of the turn. Their instructions were: if you have run for 3-4 minutes after a turn and haven’t seen a yellow ribbon, then you went the wrong way! I did take a wrong turn, actually I turned too early after seeing the stripped ribbon. Fortunately another runner quickly pointed out my mistake and I lost minimal time.

It was an interesting run, with a mass start down a hill quickly into a single file trail. As everyone came to a screeching halt waiting for their turn I thought of an hour glass. I didn’t think about it at the time, but now I wonder how much time I lost waiting my turn. After about a mile the trail widened, and people began to pass and drop back to where they should have been. I was passed by a few people, but mostly it was me doing the passing. Again I wonder if I started too far back.

After a bit the uphill started. I was amazed at how many people were walking within the first hundred feet! I really expected the locals to crush me on the hills, but it was me that was still passing. As I indicated before, it was a long uphill. In my experience, three things can fail you on a run: legs, lungs/heart, and mind. My legs were tired, but hanging in there. I was also ok mentally. I wanted to walk, but forced myself to keep running. Unfortunately, my heart and lungs were not up to the load I placed on them. My heart was beating half out of my chest and my breathing was maxed out. Not knowing where I was relative to the top, I gave in and walked. I kept it brisk, and actually wasn’t loosing much ground to the runners. After a short break I started running again, and found myself much quicker, and passing other runners. I remembered reading a strategy of run/walk, and I used it a couple more times on this never ending hill.

I was running when I reached the summit, and the three people who had passed me on the hill were in sight. I quickly recovered my breath, and was able to stretch my legs a bit. One by one I caught the people in front of me. They tried to hang on as I passed, so I accelerated a bit and dropped them. I finished the last mile and a half alone on the trail, hoping I didn’t make a wrong turn. The downhill was much easier than the uphill, but it still wasn’t easy. I was fighting to keep my pace under control, and the switchbacks were hard to make at that speed. I was pretty relieved when I exited the trail for the sidewalk to the finish line.

I finished 30 out of 101, and 2nd in my age group. The frustrating part is that the guy who beat me finished 29th, and by 37 seconds! There were a number of things that could have gone differently and made up that time gap.

What did I learn from this race? Hills are hard, I need to work on my cardio, and I need to stop under estimating myself. I’ve been in the top 1/3 for most of my recent races, so I need to start closer to the front. If I’m passing a quarter of the racers, then I’m starting too far back. Mostly what I’ve learned is that I like to run. I like the mental toughness it takes to keep running when you body wants to stop, and I like testing my limits. Mostly I like that it is just me and the road.