Skyline to Sea 50k

Another 50k, another lack of a well-focused training plan.

Following the Cool 50k trail race, my love of long distance running re-ignited after a winter spent nearly sequestered in the snow, I got Yariv to sign up with me for the Skyline to Sea 50k about a month later. Running from Saratoga Gap down to Highway 1 in Santa Cruz, it played out in my mind as a gently sloping downhill over 31 miles, something I could easily dial in to a training plan building on the 31 miles from Cool.

Unfortunately, right after I signed up, a hard spill on my mountain bike trying to follow Jessica and Jeff around Mt. Tam one afternoon set me back, limiting me to just a few, slow 6 mile runs in the week leading up to S2S. So I felt right back where I was at Cool - underprepared. Confident I'd be able to finish but with the reality check that it wouldn't be the feelgood 50k I'd envisioned. There was going to be some serious mental/physical pain somewhere along the way - question was: how long could I hold it off?

The sun was up and out early race morning as we filed out of the shuttle bus to the bathrooms at the start. Rick was buoyant as always, excited to get going. Ken and Thierry were there, and Edie; all Endurable runners. Victoria was volunteering at registration with Bryan. Lots of familiar faces and friendly greetings - part of what makes these so much fun to do.

We clustered around the singletrack start as Yariv and I moved up closer to the front with Ken and Thierry, realizing we were most likely out of our pace league. But as the siren sounded we dashed off on the hopped up energy of a race morning, going out faster than normal, passing slower runners ahead of us when there was room, and generally just nailing the first 6-7 miles in about an hour. Visions of finishing in 5 crept into my head as I imagined another 25 miles of this gently sloping downhill, fast, on cushiony trails.

And then we started to climb. Twisty, turning climbs - it was hard to get a rhythm. We ran fairly strong, thinking the uphill was so minimal that it made no sense to slow down, but as the climbs continued - and I wondered why the hell I never checked the elevation chart - I started power walking through some of them, then running the brief flats before walking again, running/walking. The downhills were also getting more technical - more rooty and rocky. This must have been over 4-5 miles because as I slowed to take a salt tab a runner some 5 runners behind me thanked me for "pulling the train" as he passed. He said they'd all been pacing after me for the last 5 miles and that I'd done a great job. Of course, I never saw those people again. Not even at the finish line. Yeah, glad I could help you kick my ass. Lol.

So I came into mile 12 or so and at this point had lost Yariv. My feet were starting to blister - I'd tossed my trail running shoes after Cool and forgotten to get a new pair so was using my trail/everyday kick-it shoes - and I was feeling pretty tired after the last section. I stood at the aid station for 4-5 minutes sort of pretending to wait for Yariv and but really just trying to collect some hidden reserve of energy and boo-ya spirit to get me going. Then Victoria said I had to get moving before I got stiff (thank you!) so I slowly started making my way up a long firetrail slog. Run, run, run, walk. Walk, walk, think about running, look ahead at other runners walking, decide to stick with walking. Finally it peaked back on to singletrack that rolled gently down and back to the aid station again where I moved much more quickly this time, eating 2 precious, life-saving Advil. 10+ miles to go.

And just when I needed it most, the course gods gave me a beautiful, fast downhill - it was the rhythm I'd been missing, the spring in my stride that I'd lost around mile 5. A fast, pine-covered descent in the shade of trees, along cold, rushing water. My Garmin died somewhere around Mile 19 so now I was just moving as fast as I could to cover the distance, do what I could do with what I had at that moment. Who knew how long it would last so I wanted to get everything I could out of that momentary boost.

At some point it became flat, what seemed like a very long section of flat firetrail. It was still beautiful and there was the most gorgeous, booming waterfall high up above the trail, but my speed had slowed and my feet were starting to hurt again. I pulled out my "secret weapon" as Yariv calls his iPod shuffle, and started bargaining with myself - run steady for 3 songs and then dial it back a bit. But each time my 3 ended I just forwarded until I found a new song that got me amped, and as I did that I started to pass some people ahead of me. And that gave me small boosts.

And then I was at the last aid station - some said it was Mile 28, some said it was Mile 29. I'd been out of water for the last 3 miles or so and was desperately happy to arrive. Unfortunately, the girl manning the station had nothing. No liquids. No water, no Coke, no nothing. Completely frustrated, I dropped a few f-bombs* before jumping down a short trail to the stream to scoop up some mountain fresh h20. It was a calculated risk - there was so much water flowing from the rains I didn't think that e-coli would have much of a chance to embed itself. Anyway, drink now, pay later. I certainly wasn't going to get sick in the next 30 minutes.

And so I chugged it down, got back on the trail and what seemed like 10 minutes later, was passing someone who said it was about 1200 yards to the finish. 1200 yards? Hell yeah! I cranked it up, said good-bye to the fellow I was chatting with (he of the 60 mile run that day - he'd run 30 miles to the start in prep for his 100 mile race next month) and boogied on home. I crossed the finish line in 5:54 for a new PR. Boo ya!

The finish line moved this year - to a beautiful small meadow surrounded by the Santa Cruz mountains with the din of the ocean in the distance and kitesurfing sails in the sky. As I sat in the sun with friends, cheering on other friends, gawking at the winning times - 3:26 for Leor and 4:10 for Caitlin (and the lean, fat-free bodies you apparently need to get those times) - I was grateful for the millionth time that this body of mine continues to support all the things I love to do. I totally underestimated the course but stayed true to my MO by going out as fast as felt comfortable and then just hanging on with what I had to finish. Well-trained or not, that's always been my default strategy.

Yariv and I stayed visiting and eating and cheering on the last of the runners with Rick, finally catching the shuttle back to our car with the 50k winner, Leor Pantilat, who'd been hanging around even longer - some 5+ hours since his finish. We started with the masses, finished somewhere in the upper to middle pack and walked out with the course record holder. I love this community!

* Heartfelt apologies to the volunteer at Mile 28 when I was frustrated with the lack of available liquid and had a minor F-bomb moment. Thanks for another amazing event, Sarah!