Somewhere along the grueling uphill called Cardiac I ran up on a small blonde kid who couldn't have been more than 8 or 9 years old. He was walking. As I started to move around him on the left, he threw a quick glance over his shoulder at me and took off running. A couple minutes later I caught him again, walking, and again, he took off as soon as I got close. This would continue a few more times until his "take off" wasn't much faster than my slow trod up the hill.
His stride was getting shorter, his pace slowing, and just as I thought he was finally going to give up and let me go around him we came to a pretty large tree trunk laying across the trail.
This kid, that was looking like he was done for, and who can blame him after what we'd all been through in the previous miles, didn't miss a step. Propelling himself into the air with one foot, he landed on top of the tree trunk with the other, paused to get his balance and then jumped straight up into the air with his arms raised before landing back on the trail.
And that right there, I thought, is what trail running is all about.
There are the steps, all 670something of them at the beginning where there's a freeway of runners on the left, walkers on the right.
Windy Gap, where you get your first glimpse of what lies between you and the six more miles to the beach.
Suicide or Safer. I didn't have to choose because the trail was so jammed with people I didn't see the sign for the split until it was too late. I shuffled, scooted, slid ,skidded, ripped plants out of the ground on the way down all the while hearing people coming down behind me sounding like elephants who were about to mow me over. Also I was in between a father and daughter reminiscing about how the father broke his leg right there coming down Suicide last year.
The creek crossing. A plank of wood across the creek that seems sturdy, but instantly turns into one of those wooden playground bridges that bounces up and down underneath your feet.
Dynamite, the steepest of steep hills.
Cardiac, which became more of a death march. Long and slow.
The Rain Forest, where yes, it actually was raining out of the fog clouds we ran through at the top of the world.
The Swoop (the most fun!) steep downhill full of roots, rocks, low hanging branches...it's your basic obstacle course as you're flying down about a hundred miles an hour and over 300 stairs which were covered in a thin slick layer of mud. It was here I saw the first man down, with a twisted or sprained or broken ankle. Every runner that passed by offered an "are you ok? We'll let the next official know", and shortly after we stepped aside for the paramedics to bring their heavy duty wheel barrow like stretcher down the trail for him. Also it was here I flew a little too fast around a turn that turned into a spiral staircase type turn. I caught myself, but the guy directly behind me flew off into the bushes.
Insult. Just when you think you're almost done, it's all downhill from here, this hill is here to slap you in the face. Insult is small and short, but painful.
You begin to smell the ocean. You begin to hear the crowd at the finish line. You realize you're about to be a Dipsea survivor. Suddenly it's an all out sprint to the finish.
I finished. I survived. I immediately took my small bottle of Tecnu down to the beach to scrub the poison oak off of my body and shoes in the ocean. Which was freezing.
So I didn't finish in the top 750 to qualify for invitational status next year, but I'm definitely entering again for next year to make it happen...now that I know what I'm up against.
Respect the Dipsea.
His stride was getting shorter, his pace slowing, and just as I thought he was finally going to give up and let me go around him we came to a pretty large tree trunk laying across the trail.
This kid, that was looking like he was done for, and who can blame him after what we'd all been through in the previous miles, didn't miss a step. Propelling himself into the air with one foot, he landed on top of the tree trunk with the other, paused to get his balance and then jumped straight up into the air with his arms raised before landing back on the trail.
And that right there, I thought, is what trail running is all about.
 |
| Milling around Mill Valley before the start. |
 |
| This race gave me more than I could imagine. |
There are the steps, all 670something of them at the beginning where there's a freeway of runners on the left, walkers on the right.
Windy Gap, where you get your first glimpse of what lies between you and the six more miles to the beach.
Suicide or Safer. I didn't have to choose because the trail was so jammed with people I didn't see the sign for the split until it was too late. I shuffled, scooted, slid ,skidded, ripped plants out of the ground on the way down all the while hearing people coming down behind me sounding like elephants who were about to mow me over. Also I was in between a father and daughter reminiscing about how the father broke his leg right there coming down Suicide last year.
The creek crossing. A plank of wood across the creek that seems sturdy, but instantly turns into one of those wooden playground bridges that bounces up and down underneath your feet.
Dynamite, the steepest of steep hills.
Cardiac, which became more of a death march. Long and slow.
The Rain Forest, where yes, it actually was raining out of the fog clouds we ran through at the top of the world.
The Swoop (the most fun!) steep downhill full of roots, rocks, low hanging branches...it's your basic obstacle course as you're flying down about a hundred miles an hour and over 300 stairs which were covered in a thin slick layer of mud. It was here I saw the first man down, with a twisted or sprained or broken ankle. Every runner that passed by offered an "are you ok? We'll let the next official know", and shortly after we stepped aside for the paramedics to bring their heavy duty wheel barrow like stretcher down the trail for him. Also it was here I flew a little too fast around a turn that turned into a spiral staircase type turn. I caught myself, but the guy directly behind me flew off into the bushes.
Insult. Just when you think you're almost done, it's all downhill from here, this hill is here to slap you in the face. Insult is small and short, but painful.
You begin to smell the ocean. You begin to hear the crowd at the finish line. You realize you're about to be a Dipsea survivor. Suddenly it's an all out sprint to the finish.
 |
| Whatever your legs got left, now is the time to use it. |
I finished. I survived. I immediately took my small bottle of Tecnu down to the beach to scrub the poison oak off of my body and shoes in the ocean. Which was freezing.
 |
| A great white shark attacked at this beach in 6ft of water. I didn't hang out long. |
 |
| Dipsea Survivor. |
Respect the Dipsea.
Over the past year or so I've become mildly obsessed with Dipsea. I am jealous you got to run it! Congrats on a solid race. I am not sure if I will ever get to do it as it is pretty much as far away from where I live as humanly possible.
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