Bear Creek Half Marathon

June was my last race. I needed a pick me up, a motivational boost, a challenge, a test, something to kick my own ass.

This was that. 

Looking at the elevation profile I tried to convince myself it looked easier than my previous 21k at Tilden Park where I used such descriptive terms as "surviving death", "treacherous", "dying for salt", etc. Eventually, I stopped kidding myself and accepted my doom. 

Saturday morning, still dark, we were on the road toward Martinez. Obviously there was a Starbucks stop along the way before arriving at beautiful Briones Regional Park for my first run with Brazen Racing. I picked up my bib, timing chip, t shirt, and goody bag...

Taken by a volunteer, this is me probably waiting in line, definitely contemplating  my life's purpose. 

went to the bathroom about 800 times, laced up, geared up, vaselined up, and I was ready to go. 

My prayer to the running gods was clearly working. 

Here's some foreshadowing: I was only going to carry one bottle filled with Nuun, but at the last minute chose to go ahead and carry a second filled with water. 

And that's the start of a serious journey. 

The fact that the first couple of miles were relatively flat or sightly rolling threw me off and gave me a false sense of confidence. We were on fire roads that were dusty and completely exposed. 

Pretty much what I imagine running over the Altamont Pass would be like. 

If you're not in California, here's a view of the actual Altamont Pass. 

The hills began. I charged on. Eating and breathing dust. I had only taken a few sips each of my water and Nuun, so at the first aid station I didn't top them off. I drank a little ice cold water and moved right along. 

Heading out of the first aid station. NO PROBLEM!

The only way I know how to put these pictures in order are by the amount of perspiration/water I dumped over my head that is apparent. The next stretch, I believe heading into mile 6, looked like this. 

It was getting considerably hotter. My water became more of a mouth rinser-outer and  head cooler-offer than a source of hydration. 

Don't get me wrong, there were a few in and out of the trees parts where there was a little shade, but compared to my more coastal trail runs, this might as well have been death valley. That's right, I said it. So basically, I had a Gu, realized I had run out of liquid and kind of started to panic. 

need. water. 

More hills, more eating and breathing dust, and then the next aid station appeared at the top of a big hill! Lucky for me, an amazing volunteer was there to run down and grab my bottles, run back up and refill them so that by the time I got up there I could eat, drink and be ready to be on my way. I drank a cup of ice cold water, dumped one over my head, said thank you and took off.

I have to say, all the other runners out there were extremely kind to one another. There was a sense of comraderie out there and a lot of connection through simple conversation. We were all suffering and a "Hi" or "How you doing" was more than a polite greeting in passing, it was a check in, an acknowledgement or what we were all experiencing together. 

Glad I documented this because I later couldn't remember if someone had actually asked me to prom  or I had asked somebody to prom or what the hell why am I thinking about prom. 

On through the next few miles. 6-8 were brutal. bad. hard. tired legs. tired mind. how long until this is over. how many more hills can there possibly be. 

Somewhere either before or after the next aid station (it's all just a jumble now) we encountered a nearly vertical incline. On a trail inside the trees I was suddenly faced with a hill that required hands and feet to climb. Roots and rocks became rungs of a ladder. Hard, but fun. 

Next aid came and I drank some water and some coke or pepsi or whetever it was. I poured another cup of water over my head, refilled my water bottle and took off with orange stuck between my teeth. Somewhere around mile 9 or 10 at this point, I think. 

Trying to get the orange out of my teeth. 

At this point I was done for, but breaking it up knowing I only had a few miles to go to the last aid station before the last mile and downing the Gu and the ice water on my head kind of woke me up. Let's do this. Especially since now we're going downhill for a while. 

And that's when the bad times started. My calves started twinging, my quads started trembling. I was flying downhill and had to pull over because everything was cramping. I stretched, tried to walk and then ohnononono....stop again to stretch. Take it easy....walk...good...run...nonononoNO! Stop...stretch. This repeated for a while. Eventually I settled everybody down and got moving again. I had an emergency reserve powerbar gel that I had never tried before but brought because of the high sodium content(200 mg!) (previous races have taught me I need more sodium than Gu can provide). So I ran on and decided instead of a Gu to try this gel...that was disgusting and about 100 degrees. It got halfway down my throat and I heaved it back up and out. I forced the rest of it down with water, gagging, and kept on my way. 

Then something weird happened. I flew on a downhill thinking, hey, I might get through this. Then all the toes on my left foot seized up. They curled in like a fist, and suddenly I was tromping along with a big paw trying to figure out if I could just finish like this or would need to stop and stretch them out. I stopped, once again, to calm them down, and after a few minutes got going again. At this point I was seriously questioning how far I could run at a time before the cramping came back. 

Eventually I made it to the last aid station near mile 12, got another water refill because what I didn't drink I had dumped on my head, and ran on with twitching muscles through the last mile of single track. Home free. 

I promise I'm running, not dancing. Or maybe dancing. 

The finish was completely uphill. You can hear the music and the finish almost the entire last mile, which is cruel and torturous. Then you cross a little creek where nice volunteer guys are there to help or throw you across. Then more uphill. Then you're out in the open, someone is announcing your name, people are clapping and you can't believe it's finally over. 

Holy Geez. 

Somehow I missed the bees, avoided the poison oak, didn't fall down, and stayed hydrated. 

Except I definitely did look and feel like this when I was done. And you sure could see my calf muscles twitching for a good half hour. And I couldn't move or stretch without cramping up. 

look at....my coooool....medal....goodnight. 

I have some blisters. I'm walking a little funny. I was baked in the sun and challenged by the hills. I was cured of all that had ailed me. 

Brazen Racing put on a great race. I can't say enough about the volunteers at the aid stations that were so attentive and encouraging. The volunteers along the course who took hundreds and hundreds of photos. The organization, the course marking, the t shirts, the awesome goody bags, the medals! I've never seen race results and photos posted so quickly (that day). And a post race email making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside? Awesome. 

That course was brutal, but it gave me exactly what I needed: A good hard challenge. Looking forward to discovering more Brazen races. 

disclaimer: I'm pretty sure all or some of the pictures/aid station stories are out of order between miles 3-12. Or maybe not. But all the facts are accurate. I have no clue.