It's a wonderful life!!!
This isn’t fun. Why am I here? I just want to stop, take a hot shower, eat dinner, and go to bed. These thoughts began as I was crossing the sand on Muir Beach. After finishing the first descent down to the fire road near Bunker Road, I told Olga, I need to sit. I sat on an old telephone pole lying on its side and put my hands on my face and began releasing a flood of emotions. I was carrying a weight I did not want. I had taken on too much at this point in my life regarding my running goals. I knew going into the race that I wasn’t adequately trained to run the race I wanted, but I ignored my inner voice. My only long run, since the middle of May (Jemez), was a 56 mile night run. I had been nursing a calf sprain since the end of May that, ironically, stopped hurting the day before the race and I haven’t felt it since. I did what I could, but I knew in the back of my mind, based on my previous 100-mile training, that it wasn’t enough preparation for this much more difficult course. After a few minutes, I stood up and told Olga that I was ready to continue. I pushed up the long, steep climb and Olga did a great job of encouraging me. I ran on the flats and downhills and kept moving forward. Earlier that day, while on the same trail, the only views I experience consisted of the 100-yard halo surrounding me which gently faded into the fog. While running the high ridge before the descent, I caught an incredible view of the Golden Gate Bridge with Alcatraz Island and San Francisco off in the distance. The low angled evening sunlight masked everything around us in hues of yellow and orange. This has always been my favorite part of the day when the light is low and casting long shadows, emphasizing everything kissed by the sunlight. The next aid station was less than three miles away and I had a decision to make. My heart wasn’t in this race anymore. I stopped, again, and began discussing with Olga what was going on in my mind. At first, I thought I could stop now and call it a great training run for attempting the Grand Teton (GTR) 100 miler. That race is my last opportunity this year to get my name in the lottery for Hardrock. But, then, I knew just finishing GTR wouldn’t be acceptable for me personally. Olga listened patiently and realized this was more about finishing the race. It was about coming to terms with reality regarding my decision and future regarding my running. She listened, but provided no opinion or guidance. Instead, she told me the decision was mine to determine and that is the way it should be. Nonetheless, I wanted someone else to make the decision for me. Every step brought us closer to the aid station. Eventually, I saw the striped ribbons in the distance representing a turn and I knew that it was the trail spur leading to the aid station. My heart sunk. Ted Knudsen was running the aid station when we arrived. Just under thirteen hours (58.6 miles) had elapsed when I arrived. Olga filled my bottles and I grazed at the table. We began talking to Ted. I was half-heartedly engaged in the conversation because I was immersed in my own thoughts. After about five minutes, I walked away from the aid station and unpinned my bib (#124), walked back, and lay my bib on the aid station table. Ted said he didn’t need the bib, so I tossed the bib in the trash. My race was officially over but I was smiling because I made the decision with a clear mind. The walk back with Olga as the sunlight was fading on the far Pacific Ocean horizon was a befitting ending to a very enjoyable day at the Marin Headlands. We laughed and joked for the 2+ mile walk along the road to the start/finish line. The sunlight faded to darkness as we made the final steps to the start/finish area. My friend, Josue, greeted us and asked if it was really me, since it was so dark. I said, “yes”. He wanted to know if everything was ok. I smiled and told him everything was great. One of the last images from that evening was the moonlight reflecting on the water in the bay. It was a serene sight and provided a much needed calmness in my heart and mind.
The last time I visited San Francisco, I was seven years old. I was on a vacation with my grandparents and an aunt who is only five years older than I. I remember the vacation, which occurred thirty-five years ago, as if it were yesterday. I won’t rehash a lot of what has already been mentioned in Olga’s blog post. We arrived at Rick’s place near downtown before midnight. Luckily, we found a place on the street to park the rental car. Unfortunately, we would need to wake up and move the car before 7am on Friday morning, or risk a ticket 
and having the car towed. It would be the last time during the weekend that we would find a parking spot along the street. Luckily, there are parking garages on almost every block. I cannot begin to express just how much I enjoyed San Francisco. The weekend was far more than I could have imagined. Olga and I walked down to Market Street where we purchased passes to ride the cable car to Fisherman’s Wharf. We waited in a line for almost an hour. But, the time went by quickly. I went into a local coffee shop and purchased a big bottle of water for us to sip. I mentioned that it smelled wonderful inside the coffee shop with lots of pastries, and such. Olga decided to get a coffee and a spinach and cheese filled bread, which I’m certain has an official name. We enjoyed the snack almost as much as I enjoyed taking pictures of her eating it. The ride on the cable car was a lot of fun. The clickety-clack and popping noises emanating from the cable car reminded me of 
why I was so scared when I rode on them when I was a child. Those noises were all too familiar. Olga took the liberty to swing out on one of the poles while I took a few pictures. We were smiling, laughing, and having a great time—like a couple a kids. Eventually, we arrived at the Fisherman’s Wharf and, once we began walking down the street, I was quietly overcome with emotion. I was reminded of my grandfather, whom I miss dearly. This was one of his favorite areas of San Francisco. I felt as if he were there with me while we walked. Olga and I went for a walk on the beach later that afternoon and, then, drove to the Golden Gate Bridge. Out of all my childhood vacation memories, this bridge is the immediate image I see in my mind. From the southern vantage point, we got our first close-up glance of the course terrain. It was more pronounced that I expected, but it was very beautiful. We drove to the northern side of the bridge and took a few more pictures and, then, drove to the start/finish area.
I could go on and on about the weekend, but the main theme for me is how fully I enjoyed every day. Olga was the most incredible crew person. She was all business regarding getting me through each aid station quickly. She met me at every possible point on the course where the trail crossed the road. Regarding my own experience with the race while on the trails between aid stations, it was uneventful. There were definitely some climbs far different (read “more challenging”) when experienced firsthand instead of trying to mull over an elevation profile. Muir Beach up Coyote Ridge via Pirates Coves definitely comes to mind! Olga did a wonderful job pacing me during the 9 miles she was with me on the trail. I am thankful Josue was kind enough to loan Olga and I five dollars in change after the race so we could get back
across the Golden Gate Bridge. And, Meredith was kind enough to be my chauffeur to and from the airport in Austin. She had an awesome race and placed third female in the 50 mile! As for my future goals regarding running, it is a work in progress. I am fairly certain I will focus on shorter ultra distances, mainly because my life is so full and I’m not willing to allow my training to usurp things I consider more important. My curiosity is definitely still burning inside of me in regard to the 100 mile distance, but that will remain a curiosity for now, and, I wouldn’t change anything regarding my choice. All I can do is smile…
My beautiful girlfriend and I relaxing in downtown San Francisco
This isn’t fun. Why am I here? I just want to stop, take a hot shower, eat dinner, and go to bed. These thoughts began as I was crossing the sand on Muir Beach. After finishing the first descent down to the fire road near Bunker Road, I told Olga, I need to sit. I sat on an old telephone pole lying on its side and put my hands on my face and began releasing a flood of emotions. I was carrying a weight I did not want. I had taken on too much at this point in my life regarding my running goals. I knew going into the race that I wasn’t adequately trained to run the race I wanted, but I ignored my inner voice. My only long run, since the middle of May (Jemez), was a 56 mile night run. I had been nursing a calf sprain since the end of May that, ironically, stopped hurting the day before the race and I haven’t felt it since. I did what I could, but I knew in the back of my mind, based on my previous 100-mile training, that it wasn’t enough preparation for this much more difficult course. After a few minutes, I stood up and told Olga that I was ready to continue. I pushed up the long, steep climb and Olga did a great job of encouraging me. I ran on the flats and downhills and kept moving forward. Earlier that day, while on the same trail, the only views I experience consisted of the 100-yard halo surrounding me which gently faded into the fog. While running the high ridge before the descent, I caught an incredible view of the Golden Gate Bridge with Alcatraz Island and San Francisco off in the distance. The low angled evening sunlight masked everything around us in hues of yellow and orange. This has always been my favorite part of the day when the light is low and casting long shadows, emphasizing everything kissed by the sunlight. The next aid station was less than three miles away and I had a decision to make. My heart wasn’t in this race anymore. I stopped, again, and began discussing with Olga what was going on in my mind. At first, I thought I could stop now and call it a great training run for attempting the Grand Teton (GTR) 100 miler. That race is my last opportunity this year to get my name in the lottery for Hardrock. But, then, I knew just finishing GTR wouldn’t be acceptable for me personally. Olga listened patiently and realized this was more about finishing the race. It was about coming to terms with reality regarding my decision and future regarding my running. She listened, but provided no opinion or guidance. Instead, she told me the decision was mine to determine and that is the way it should be. Nonetheless, I wanted someone else to make the decision for me. Every step brought us closer to the aid station. Eventually, I saw the striped ribbons in the distance representing a turn and I knew that it was the trail spur leading to the aid station. My heart sunk. Ted Knudsen was running the aid station when we arrived. Just under thirteen hours (58.6 miles) had elapsed when I arrived. Olga filled my bottles and I grazed at the table. We began talking to Ted. I was half-heartedly engaged in the conversation because I was immersed in my own thoughts. After about five minutes, I walked away from the aid station and unpinned my bib (#124), walked back, and lay my bib on the aid station table. Ted said he didn’t need the bib, so I tossed the bib in the trash. My race was officially over but I was smiling because I made the decision with a clear mind. The walk back with Olga as the sunlight was fading on the far Pacific Ocean horizon was a befitting ending to a very enjoyable day at the Marin Headlands. We laughed and joked for the 2+ mile walk along the road to the start/finish line. The sunlight faded to darkness as we made the final steps to the start/finish area. My friend, Josue, greeted us and asked if it was really me, since it was so dark. I said, “yes”. He wanted to know if everything was ok. I smiled and told him everything was great. One of the last images from that evening was the moonlight reflecting on the water in the bay. It was a serene sight and provided a much needed calmness in my heart and mind.
The last time I visited San Francisco, I was seven years old. I was on a vacation with my grandparents and an aunt who is only five years older than I. I remember the vacation, which occurred thirty-five years ago, as if it were yesterday. I won’t rehash a lot of what has already been mentioned in Olga’s blog post. We arrived at Rick’s place near downtown before midnight. Luckily, we found a place on the street to park the rental car. Unfortunately, we would need to wake up and move the car before 7am on Friday morning, or risk a ticket 
and having the car towed. It would be the last time during the weekend that we would find a parking spot along the street. Luckily, there are parking garages on almost every block. I cannot begin to express just how much I enjoyed San Francisco. The weekend was far more than I could have imagined. Olga and I walked down to Market Street where we purchased passes to ride the cable car to Fisherman’s Wharf. We waited in a line for almost an hour. But, the time went by quickly. I went into a local coffee shop and purchased a big bottle of water for us to sip. I mentioned that it smelled wonderful inside the coffee shop with lots of pastries, and such. Olga decided to get a coffee and a spinach and cheese filled bread, which I’m certain has an official name. We enjoyed the snack almost as much as I enjoyed taking pictures of her eating it. The ride on the cable car was a lot of fun. The clickety-clack and popping noises emanating from the cable car reminded me of 
why I was so scared when I rode on them when I was a child. Those noises were all too familiar. Olga took the liberty to swing out on one of the poles while I took a few pictures. We were smiling, laughing, and having a great time—like a couple a kids. Eventually, we arrived at the Fisherman’s Wharf and, once we began walking down the street, I was quietly overcome with emotion. I was reminded of my grandfather, whom I miss dearly. This was one of his favorite areas of San Francisco. I felt as if he were there with me while we walked. Olga and I went for a walk on the beach later that afternoon and, then, drove to the Golden Gate Bridge. Out of all my childhood vacation memories, this bridge is the immediate image I see in my mind. From the southern vantage point, we got our first close-up glance of the course terrain. It was more pronounced that I expected, but it was very beautiful. We drove to the northern side of the bridge and took a few more pictures and, then, drove to the start/finish area.
I could go on and on about the weekend, but the main theme for me is how fully I enjoyed every day. Olga was the most incredible crew person. She was all business regarding getting me through each aid station quickly. She met me at every possible point on the course where the trail crossed the road. Regarding my own experience with the race while on the trails between aid stations, it was uneventful. There were definitely some climbs far different (read “more challenging”) when experienced firsthand instead of trying to mull over an elevation profile. Muir Beach up Coyote Ridge via Pirates Coves definitely comes to mind! Olga did a wonderful job pacing me during the 9 miles she was with me on the trail. I am thankful Josue was kind enough to loan Olga and I five dollars in change after the race so we could get back
across the Golden Gate Bridge. And, Meredith was kind enough to be my chauffeur to and from the airport in Austin. She had an awesome race and placed third female in the 50 mile! As for my future goals regarding running, it is a work in progress. I am fairly certain I will focus on shorter ultra distances, mainly because my life is so full and I’m not willing to allow my training to usurp things I consider more important. My curiosity is definitely still burning inside of me in regard to the 100 mile distance, but that will remain a curiosity for now, and, I wouldn’t change anything regarding my choice. All I can do is smile…
4 comments:
I read somewhere that if you initially force yourself to smile during hard times, eventually things turn around for good. There is something about universal law of attracting positive to one's life. The worse we feel now, the worse it's going to get. Besides, nothing is the end of the world but dying. Comparing to this, all else is wonderful - and yes, it's a wonderful life.
Good to see that smile my friend. Amazing pictures. I'm smiling too. Can't wait to hear how you kicked a$$ at GTR. Take care!! 8)
That was a hard course!!! I am SO SO SO glad I didn't know it was only a 2 mile walk from Rodeo Valley to Rodeo Beach!!! Anyhow, it was nice to meet you and sometimes we just have to make big decisions on the fly and it sounds like you made one that was right for you. And you know what? It's just running. (Don't tell anyone I said that).
Larry - It was nice to meet you last weekend, and I'm sorry the race didn't go the way you hoped. You have great perspective on it, though. Good luck with the next one.
Post a Comment