Think back to when you were a kid. Think about pedaling your bike as fast as you could pedal or running through the grass as hard as you could run. Think about how you pushed yourself to the limit, heart pounding, chest heaving, for no real reason, just because you felt like blasting it out. Think about when you felt free in your body, before you knew about injuries or training plans or being conservative in the early miles.
That is how I felt going into my 3rd Dipsea race - ignorant to danger and prepared to go all out.
From the sound of the whistle signaling the start for my group, which is about to join the 43 other groups that had already started the race, I didn't hold anything back. The spirit of the Dipsea is to never let off the gas and floor it as often as possible.
Through downtown and then into the shade of Old Mill Park, we race toward the three flights of six hundred and seventy something stairs that make up the first half mile. As our group begins to catch up to the group that started a minute ahead of us, the group that started a minute behind us starts to scramble in crowding the pipeline. The neighborhood residents smile and cheer as we wheeze and grunt our way up with our heads down because the rear end of the person in front of you is right at eye level. At the top of the third flight are nice people handing out cups of water. I grab one, breathing too heavily to even attempt to drink it, so I throw it in my face instead and run on up the trail knowing the first downhill is coming soon.
At Windy Gap it's all downhill to Muir Woods. Time to fly. There is a short stretch of congested single track where I dart out around the conga line wherever there are a few extra inches of room and then we hit Panoramic Highway and it's open sailing. I look at my watch and I'm running 6:16 mile pace pushing the downhill, taking this opportunity to pass as many people as possible. At the mailboxes we rejoin the trail, and at the bottom of some stairs I veer off to take the Suicide shortcut. I join the stampede of people running way too fast down a way too steep hill and grab at branches and bushes on the way down to retain some sense of control. My eyes burn and my mouth is dry from the cloud of dust kicked up by the hundreds of pairs of shuffling feet that trampled down this trail before me. At the bottom, the trail spits me out and I am expected to make a sharp right hand turn which I don't quite make. I end up going full speed straight ahead into the poison oak before just kind of leaning my upper body back toward the trail without slowing down and hoping for the best. "Nice footwork," I hear from the guy behind me. I smile and say thanks. I relax and remember to breathe. I am having so much fun.
Next we cross a road and run through the Muir Woods parking lot to the confusion of tourists and hikers and people just trying to park their car (who are these dusty wide-eyed grunting people charging into this beautiful national forest?), across the wooden plank footbridge over the creek and begin the climb up Dynamite. It is very crowded again with all kinds of head start groups catching up and being caught on the ascent, but wherever I can find inches of room, I pass and floor it.
At the top, runners can take the fire road or the trail. Both run parallel at times and weave and intersect. I stick to the trail, and just when I thought I knew all the shortcuts, out of nowhere three dudes come bounding across an open field and join the trail in front of me. We dip into the shade of the Redwoods, and then, finally, approach Cardiac, the last big climb of the day to the high point of the race. I charge, feeling strong, hearing the volunteers at the top screaming and cheering. It's all (mostly) downhill from the top, so I push until I hit The Swoop, another shortcut. This one is steep like Suicide, but much longer and windier and more crowded. The trail is narrow, and the poison oak is shoulder high. It's kind of insane, but I rejoin the trail and hit the Steep Ravine stairs which are also insane. They are winding and treacherous and I fly down them around runners and past the EMTs on the side of the trail ready and waiting for falls.
The last little hill is Insult. I am exhausted, but the finish is near.
At the top I turn right to take the Panoramic Shortcuts, weaving on and off of the trail and highway. The highway is a chance to open up and pass, and I give it everything I've got left, finally in sight of the ocean. My legs are feeling like rubber and my chest is burning, but there is no letting up until the finish. We rejoin the trail again in the trees, and I am flying down a section of wide stairs, getting stuck every now and then behind people where I can't pass. So, at the Stile I make a move.
The Stile is a solid wooden fence not quite knee high in height at the bottom of the downhill before the final highway stretch to the finish. It requires either stepping or jumping over it followed by a quick recovery due to a sudden sharp drop to the road.Spectators line the highway here because it is close to the finish. Spectators line the highway here to see people fall.
I launch myself over the Stile and make the stupid choice to get onto the highway before the guy in front of me because I feel so stuck, so I go out around him and end up falling and sliding all the way down onto the highway. All I can think is thank God I didn't go face first. I still have all my teeth! Everyone is cheering and clapping and yelling "NICE RECOVERY!" so it's not nearly as embarrassing as it sounds, and actually, that's what they are standing there to see so YOU ARE WELCOME, SPECTATORS.
Now it's all out running on dead legs for the last quarter mile. Crowds line the street, and this is it. It's over, as long as I can get there without collapsing or cramping or throwing up. Everyone around me is running as fast as they possibly can.
I cross the finish line and still hope not to collapse or cramp or throw up. A volunteer looks me in the eye and asks if I'm ok while ushering me toward the medals and t-shirts. I find my wife and hug her and just laugh. I ran so hard! I fell! It was so great!
This race feels like adventure. It feels a little dangerous, but that's the exhilarating part. It feels communal, like we are all the same kind of crazy.
It feels like being a kid.
That is how I felt going into my 3rd Dipsea race - ignorant to danger and prepared to go all out.
From the sound of the whistle signaling the start for my group, which is about to join the 43 other groups that had already started the race, I didn't hold anything back. The spirit of the Dipsea is to never let off the gas and floor it as often as possible.
Through downtown and then into the shade of Old Mill Park, we race toward the three flights of six hundred and seventy something stairs that make up the first half mile. As our group begins to catch up to the group that started a minute ahead of us, the group that started a minute behind us starts to scramble in crowding the pipeline. The neighborhood residents smile and cheer as we wheeze and grunt our way up with our heads down because the rear end of the person in front of you is right at eye level. At the top of the third flight are nice people handing out cups of water. I grab one, breathing too heavily to even attempt to drink it, so I throw it in my face instead and run on up the trail knowing the first downhill is coming soon.
At Windy Gap it's all downhill to Muir Woods. Time to fly. There is a short stretch of congested single track where I dart out around the conga line wherever there are a few extra inches of room and then we hit Panoramic Highway and it's open sailing. I look at my watch and I'm running 6:16 mile pace pushing the downhill, taking this opportunity to pass as many people as possible. At the mailboxes we rejoin the trail, and at the bottom of some stairs I veer off to take the Suicide shortcut. I join the stampede of people running way too fast down a way too steep hill and grab at branches and bushes on the way down to retain some sense of control. My eyes burn and my mouth is dry from the cloud of dust kicked up by the hundreds of pairs of shuffling feet that trampled down this trail before me. At the bottom, the trail spits me out and I am expected to make a sharp right hand turn which I don't quite make. I end up going full speed straight ahead into the poison oak before just kind of leaning my upper body back toward the trail without slowing down and hoping for the best. "Nice footwork," I hear from the guy behind me. I smile and say thanks. I relax and remember to breathe. I am having so much fun.
Next we cross a road and run through the Muir Woods parking lot to the confusion of tourists and hikers and people just trying to park their car (who are these dusty wide-eyed grunting people charging into this beautiful national forest?), across the wooden plank footbridge over the creek and begin the climb up Dynamite. It is very crowded again with all kinds of head start groups catching up and being caught on the ascent, but wherever I can find inches of room, I pass and floor it.
At the top, runners can take the fire road or the trail. Both run parallel at times and weave and intersect. I stick to the trail, and just when I thought I knew all the shortcuts, out of nowhere three dudes come bounding across an open field and join the trail in front of me. We dip into the shade of the Redwoods, and then, finally, approach Cardiac, the last big climb of the day to the high point of the race. I charge, feeling strong, hearing the volunteers at the top screaming and cheering. It's all (mostly) downhill from the top, so I push until I hit The Swoop, another shortcut. This one is steep like Suicide, but much longer and windier and more crowded. The trail is narrow, and the poison oak is shoulder high. It's kind of insane, but I rejoin the trail and hit the Steep Ravine stairs which are also insane. They are winding and treacherous and I fly down them around runners and past the EMTs on the side of the trail ready and waiting for falls.
The last little hill is Insult. I am exhausted, but the finish is near.
At the top I turn right to take the Panoramic Shortcuts, weaving on and off of the trail and highway. The highway is a chance to open up and pass, and I give it everything I've got left, finally in sight of the ocean. My legs are feeling like rubber and my chest is burning, but there is no letting up until the finish. We rejoin the trail again in the trees, and I am flying down a section of wide stairs, getting stuck every now and then behind people where I can't pass. So, at the Stile I make a move.
The Stile is a solid wooden fence not quite knee high in height at the bottom of the downhill before the final highway stretch to the finish. It requires either stepping or jumping over it followed by a quick recovery due to a sudden sharp drop to the road.
I launch myself over the Stile and make the stupid choice to get onto the highway before the guy in front of me because I feel so stuck, so I go out around him and end up falling and sliding all the way down onto the highway. All I can think is thank God I didn't go face first. I still have all my teeth! Everyone is cheering and clapping and yelling "NICE RECOVERY!" so it's not nearly as embarrassing as it sounds, and actually, that's what they are standing there to see so YOU ARE WELCOME, SPECTATORS.
Now it's all out running on dead legs for the last quarter mile. Crowds line the street, and this is it. It's over, as long as I can get there without collapsing or cramping or throwing up. Everyone around me is running as fast as they possibly can.
I cross the finish line and still hope not to collapse or cramp or throw up. A volunteer looks me in the eye and asks if I'm ok while ushering me toward the medals and t-shirts. I find my wife and hug her and just laugh. I ran so hard! I fell! It was so great!
 |
It feels like being a kid.
What a great recap of an amazing (and horrifying, to me at least) event! I'm so impressed that you take on the scary bits without a second thought - Suicide is so frightening all on its own, and it's just a small part of this. And that video was awesome as well. (Did someone really sit on the stairs and take pictures? As if you all didn't have enough challenges.) Congrats on getting it done and managing to somehow keep all your teeth!
ReplyDelete