Mount Tam 50K Part 2

November 13, 2021

Signs pointed us to the left and back down again to the next aid station. The road and gravity led us downhill at a run. My body still protested, but at least I had gravity working with me now. The sun now high in the sky and unblocked by trees beamed down on us. It didn’t feel like November.

I tried to look up at the coastal views that opened up and dodged muddy spots. Running on the gravel road gave my mind a chance to rest on the even grade. I was tired from barely drinking and not eating. I was out of water and was ready to see if maybe something at the aid station would look good.

The downhill felt almost endless, but the white tent finally came into view and the sounds of cheering lightened my heavy body.

I refilled both my flasks with water only. I was wondering if the electrolyte drink was maybe making me feel nauseous so plain water seemed like a good place to start. The thought of food and the well displayed snacks didn’t wipe the stomach turmoil away so I decided not to risk it. Michael grabbed several snacks and refilled his flasks before we continued along the relatively flat trail along the road.

Another left turn and we were climbing again. This time at a gentle, runnable grade. Even though it seemed possible, my legs wouldn’t carry me at speed and I walked as fast as I could up the hill. I still ran when I could, but the race I had envisioned felt like it kept slipping through my fingers. It sat just outside my grasp, but I kept looking forward. Moving forward was all I could do at this point.

Thankfully the gentle grade provided relief. A chance to breathe and rest while the mid-morning sun began to beat down on us. We finally reached the ridgeline. The water in my pack was proving useful and I was starting to feel better. The sound of food still haunted me, but I tried to eat some simple gummy snacks and they seemed to go down well.

I could run along the ridgeline. I walked the last few uphills, but then it was time to head down to the Pacific. The sweeping views from the ridgeline provided inspiration as I let my worries go to fly down the hill as best I could. I was starting to catch up with some people and I could feel the downhill focus I had taken the last few months paying off.

The trail was beautiful, exposed, and winding down toward the ocean. I could finally see the aid station tent across the highway and willed myself to it. When we finally reached it we were a little more than halfway done with the race. I refilled my water bottles. One with water and the other with the electrolyte mix I had packed.

It was a mistake. Finally the culprit became painfully clear. It was the electrolyte drink. Those nauseating trail runs came swirling back to me. I had blamed everything else, and now it was so obvious to me as we ran toward the next long climb. 

Another runnable grade I could not muster my body to run up so I power hiked as fast as I could, pitying myself, questioning the long hours and sacrifices I made to get here. Why was my mental game so weak today? Why am I so unsure of myself because a few minor details are throwing me off?

Sure, this race was not anywhere close to what I visualized, but I was still breathing, albeit heavily. If I could get through all that training I could get through this too. I could get up this hill like I did the three before. It was too late to quit, and I had no reason to quit.

I power hiked as my body would allow and finally crested the first part of the hill. I could see far to the north along the coastline now. The coastal breeze cooled my face and I took the motivation from the view and went with it. Michael ran ahead to give a handkerchief back to a lady who had dropped it after passing us.

The climb felt endless, but the grade was not too awful so I did what my body allowed in the moment. Eventually the first aid station came into view at the top of the climb and I was relieved. I could catch a break and get some water. I just wanted water. Nothing else. Besides the overall fatigue and bouts of nausea I was feeling much better now. I knew with just water I could maybe finally reach the point where I was feeling alright.

Only one more hard climb and I had already done it before, maybe with a bad attitude, but I did do it. We left the aid station and went back along the same trail we had run before. Again we caught a few people on the technical parts and I ran.

I ran picking my feet up, watching my step and just moving forward. I felt pretty good for the first time the whole race, so I moved like I couldn’t before. My mind and body raced along the shaded trail and followed the signs to a new section where we climbed briefly before running downhill for what felt like an eternity.

My quads were screaming as we ran down the hill, I was wondering if my body would start to fail me from the lack of nutrition. It just seemed to be content that I wasn’t feeling too nauseous anymore. I felt content too, much better in fact. My mind and attitude were coming around just as my muscles started to scream from fatigue. 

I was going to finish this race. I knew it for sure now as we plunged back down into Muir Woods. The second climb that had me in shambles lay before me again. I would not let it defeat me a second time. I hiked up the hill with a fire under my butt. I would dare even say I felt better this time than the first time and I was catching people.

I overtook a group of people when we were almost all the way up back to the aid station. I couldn’t believe how much better I felt. How would this race have gone if I felt this good the whole time? I’ll never know.

We refueled at the aid station for the last few quad burning downhill miles to the finish and we were off. There was not much time to lose at this point. If I didn’t move now it wouldn’t matter if I finished or not because I wouldn’t make the cutoff. I still had plenty of time to run a few downhill miles but I started to feel the anxiety of cutting it so close.

So I ran. We ran down the Dipsea Trail, down countless switchbacks and stairs. It was up to me to keep moving forward, to keep my mind sharp and focused. I knew my body could do it and now there was no room to give up. After this I could rest and I could eat real food if I could stomach it.

The end felt so close and the adrenaline was kicking in, but so was my exhaustion. Each stair began to feel like hell and I felt like I was stumbling downhill with only gravity to thank. Michael reminded me to take it easy, no use falling down now.

I ran when I could, but could not run even the slightest uphill anymore. I was feeling the weight of everything, my body, seven and a half hours of minimal calories, and over 6000 feet of climbing. It was all crashing in on me now and it was up to my mind to get me to the finish. How could I quit now, after everything I just went through.

The downhill felt never ending, but I was retracing steps now so I knew everything was coming to an end. I knew I did not have to run that much further and then I started to know that I would finish. The trail opened up to the last bit of pavement across Highway 1, into a neighborhood, and a hard left to the finish. 

I picked up the pace as I knew there was a runner behind me. I was running on fumes and my last bit of competitive spirit, but the finish line was in view now. I used whatever my muscles would give me to sprint to the finish. It has always been important to me to finish strong and leave nothing left, but I already had nothing left as I crossed the finish line as an empty shell of myself.

It was the end of the longest run I’ve ever been on and I was in disbelief. I had finished, despite everything that happened. My mind had crumbled and rebuilt itself, my body ran on pure adrenaline, and all my hard work came to fruition. I finished.

It was not anything like I had hoped, my time was not what I wanted, my fueling was not what I wanted, but I finished. Hours of training, hundreds of miles led to this moment where a shell of the person that had started this race crossed the finish line.

I walked slowly down the finish shoot trying to catch my breath and bring back my focus so I could get my medal, my pint glass, and some food. I thanked Michael for staying by my side and believing in me even when I ran out of faith in myself. We were done and could finally change out of our sweaty clothes, eat some food, and rest for a while.

Maybe things did not go as planned, but all I can hope is that I learned something for next time. I hoped that my long hours I spent training had made me stronger mentally and physically, I hoped that I would grow as a person because I overcame challenges, and I hoped that I would still find joy in running and being outside like I always have. I hoped that I would inspire myself to go further despite the disappointment of things not going well. I hoped I would continue to dream big and challenge myself.

And it turns out that one disappointing race is not enough to stop me. I’m signed up to run a 56K in June and my first 50 mile race in July!