November 13, 2021
It had been a strange journey to get there. It almost felt like the weight of my 30-year odyssey on this Earth had hung in the balance. The limits of everything that I knew and was comfortable in were changing and I was shifting toward accomplishing a goal that, to me, looked impossible on paper.
Two years of commitment to run training and several months working with a coach had me as prepared as I was ever going to be at that point. I had arrived almost unscathed, but the journey certainly had its twists and turns.
A week and a half before the race a sensitive spot popped up on the bottom of my foot. I was left with thoughts of doubt since the pain seemed to ebb and flow. Was I really hurt? Was this tenderness all in my head? Am I sabotaging myself mentally? For any particular reason? Was I nervous about this race? Of course I was. It was more elevation than I have climbed in a single day in years and over a distance I had only covered once.
Coach had prepared me. I had prepared myself, but I was still left with lingering thoughts of doubt. My confidence was failing me even though everyone around me knew I was more than capable. My plans were being curtailed by my mental strength and physical body. My nutrition was in question, but it seemed like I was figuring it out.
A month before the race I woke up to my usual stomach gurgles. As usual I ignored my body screaming at me that something was wrong. This time my body wouldn’t let it go. It was finally time to take action, but the timing wasn’t right. I couldn’t completely change my diet a month before the race, but at the same time it felt like it couldn’t be much worse if I made a change.
After talking with my doctor and with the support of my running coach, I just went for it. I went into full research and elimination mode. I was left with a handful of food options to get creative with and thanks to a cookbook I expanded my horizons. I stuck to it like it was my saving grace, and I started to feel so much better.
Eating low-FODMAP both saved and doomed me. The restrictive eating during peak training left me drained and searching for safe foods to eat. I found new favorites and left old ones behind. I felt unbelievably better. My skin cleared up and everything seemed to be coming together in my food journey. The small meals made it hard to recover, but I pushed through. Overall, I couldn’t believe the difference just one week of eating low-FODMAP made.
It was all consuming between low-FODMAP, full time work, and peak running training for the race. I carried on like everything hung in the balance. This race was so important to me and I wanted it to feel like a celebration of everything I had accomplished so far in this life.
My long runs leading up to the race consisted of me trying different food and electrolyte options. I spent hours preparing rice balls and boiled or roasted potatoes and stuffed them all in my vest for long runs. Rice balls with breakfast ingredients became a quick favorite and things seemed to be going well. Though, my last two long runs I was left with nausea and not enough time to figure out the culprit. I considered it a fluke, maybe I had changed up my breakfast or ate something weird?
Maybe it truly was all in my head. I will just carry on.
The day before the race we drove up to Marin County to spend the night near the start of the race. It had rained hard earlier in the week and the ground was seeping moisture. Everything was damp, including the mudpit of a grassfield we pulled our truck and canopy camper into.
The shortened days brought darkness to us early as we sat in our bed wondering what to do or if we should just go to bed. I tossed nervously, trying to take my mind off the long and difficult task ahead of me. I wanted to do this after all. It was my idea and it was supposed to be fun and challenging.
Eventually, I fell into a light sleep, getting up several times to go to the bathroom. When my alarm went off I wondered how much I had slept and if there was any quality to it. I was glad to have slept well the night before. We quickly packed things up in the darkness and closed the camper before heading to the start line. The sun was coming up in dramatic fashion as we drove along the coast.
It seemed like we had plenty of time, but not enough. We scrambled to use the bathroom, get our bibs, eat some oatmeal, and change into our race day clothes. I chose one of my new favorite shirts, compression shorts under my waistband pocket shorts, toe socks, and my purple Altra Lone Peaks. I stuffed my vest with enough food to survive Armageddon and filled my water bottles. One with water and the other with an electrolyte mix and put Goodrs on the top of my head.
I was ready or as ready as I was ever going to be. No reason to be nervous now.
We stood in the back of the crowd at the start line waiting. It was cool while the sun made its way up, but I was not too uncomfortable in my short sleeve and shorts.
Before I knew it we were off with the crowd headed out of the park and up the hill. We followed along, trying to get past people when we could. The pavement led to a more narrow trail with stairs. It was awkward to squeeze past people as we all power hiked up the hill in and out of muddy spots.
I ran when I could, but found myself mostly walking. I was nervous about going out too hard and blowing up later, but I also wanted to get past as many people as possible. The crowded start spread out somewhat as we headed down into the Steep Ravine trail. It was damp and so green. The creek was flowing wildly from the heavy rain earlier in the week.
I quickly found myself in line with most people in front of me scrambling over a pile of blowdowns. A little rest on our way up the tight singletrack. I took a picture and watched as people made their way over in small staggered groups. Then it was my turn. Michael and I split off going on each of the main lines over. He made it look easy and graceful while I scrambled to the other side.
The single track continued upward until we hit the ladder. I started to feel a little uneasy. Was I getting nauseous? I tried to eat a boiled potato and a rice ball. I stuffed them down hoping that was the cure to whatever stomach issues were starting to come up. I was quickly turned off by the rice ball and shoved it back into its baggie in my vest.
Well that is not ideal. I was starting to feel heavy and a little queasy. It was so early in the race, something was going wrong, but what? I tried not to think about it too much and power hiked my way up. Some of the grades I should have been able to run, but it just wasn’t happening. I alternated as best as I could when we finally crested the hill near Pantoll Campground and headed down to the Cardiac Hill Aid Station.
I was able to run the gentle grade downwards as the trees thinned out and then broke away completely to a grassy knoll. Views opened up to the south and west. The Pacific Ocean and coastline spread out into the distance and San Fransisco came into view. I stopped to take a picture and admire the view.
Around the corner a photographer stood waiting as I ran while trying to put my phone away. The first aid station was right there, but I didn’t need anything yet. Well, I had to go to the bathroom, but there was a line so I continued on running past everything.
We headed down a steep section back into the trees and turned left onto the TCC Trail which is a gently down-sloped grade. I heard fast footsteps behind me and a call to watch out as an athlete who appeared to be bounding like a gazelle sped past me in an impressive manner. Not long after a few more raced past. They started 30 minutes after us so they must have flown up the steep ravine trail to get here this quickly.
I was absolutely amazed at their climbing ability and the speed in which they must have run up that 1,600 foot climb. Would I ever get anywhere close to that ability or was it reserved for the genetically gifted and hard working? Inspired, we continued on the trail. I was able to run most of the trail, though I still felt nauseous and had no desire to eat.
I was able to catch up to a few people who were struggling on some of the more technical sections and I thought maybe things weren’t going so badly after all. Maybe I was going to be okay and things were only going to get better.
We turned down the steep Bootjack Trail down to Muir Woods.The trail followed down the ravine along a different, but just as full creek below. Michael and I found ourselves in a small pack of women heading down. I tried to relax as we made our way down to not blow up my quads. I was still going to need them for a while yet.
We reached Muir Woods and crossed back over the creek and then the trail went up. I couldn’t run and I felt my lack of nutrition starting to backfire on me. My body felt heavy like lead. I felt like I was dragging and the nausea came back full force. I climbed the hill with everything I had at the moment, but it still felt like a pitiful effort.
People began catching and passing us as I tried not to let my mind implode too. There was still so much time to make this better, but I felt sorry for myself. I felt like a terrible excuse for a runner dragging myself up this hill in this way. We were barely over 10km into the race and I couldn’t even power hike up this hill.
Michael tried to keep my spirits up, but I could only hear the voice in my head wondering what could have happened to make this hill feel like my entire race was ruined. I felt the negativity creeping into me with every shuffle I made up the hill. My body would not produce the effort I was expecting from it and the disappointment of all my cumulative hard work not coming to fruition was crashing in on me.
Where was the top of this hill? I just had to get there. I will get there. The last section back up to the ridgeline almost had me in tears. I was nauseous and losing sight of my why, the reason I signed up and came to this race in the first place. My mind was playing tricks on me and holding me back. I know I have more. I knew I had more, but I gave it all I could give.
The sun started to peek through the thinning trees. I was there, I had made it to the top of this climb. I knew we would come around to this climb again and I swore if I made it back I would do it better.
To be continued…
“It is our attitude at the beginning of a difficult task which, more than anything else, will affect its successful outcome.” —William James
Finding Wildness 
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