Diablo Redux

Getting behind in blogging here… After the pains from Quicksilver had worn off, I noticed that PCTR was holding another event at Diablo on June 6th. Not one to leave well enough alone, I watched the weather forecast, and when it was clear we were in for great running weather that weekend (i.e., unseasonably cool even for the Bay area), I signed up for another round of torture in the Diablo 50K!

This was one event I had to do completely solo because David hurt his knee—he hurt it sprinting on the track of all places. That’s what we get for throwing in a little high intensity training! He was having enough trouble just walking, so asking him to run any race was out of the question, and he wasn’t willing to come along as my chauffeur or crew (I can’t imagine why).

Anyone who’s interested in trail running in the Bay Area knows about Mt. Diablo. The PCTR 25K event makes a single ascent of Diablo, totaling 4,450ft ascent (and descent); the 50K event repeats the loop, totaling 8,900 ft ascent. Having opted for the latter, I can say that 25K was really quite enough!

We started out on a similar course to the Diablo 50-mile , but avoided Mitchell Rock and Eagle Peak, opting instead for Back Creek and Meridian Ridge Rd. and then joining Deer Flat Road. From there to Juniper Campground Aid station was the same—just a long climb up the fireroad (with the exception of one steep downhill where you are tortured by having to regain all that elevation you just lost). I had fun chatting with Dianne Forrest (who I met at Headlands 50K, my inaugural ultra), and with Jo Lynn’s friends Christy and Theresa. The leaders and speediest folks passed us going back down the hill at this point (about 90 minutes in!). Since this race is part of the Sportiva Mountain Cup series, there was money waiting for the winner of the series, and some really fast folks were contending this day! I recognized Chikara Omine (who I had met at Quicksilver) moving well (he would come in 4th overall) and already on his way down!

Arriving at the aid station at Juniper, the folks kindly filled bottles and offered us snacks and sent us on our way. The next section routed us out along the Summit Trail, with some gentle ups and downs and beautiful views of the Bay, Walnut Creek, Oakland (pretty much everything actually), until we encountered the rest of the real climbing. Along this section of beautiful single track, we encountered more fast runners flying back down the trail like gazelles. Definitely tricky on such a narrow trail! I recognized a few more faces, like Caitlin Smith and Mark Tanaka. The last couple of miles got really tough though. You could see the tower through the mist at the summit for a long time before it seemed to even get any closer. We just kept climbing and climbing, getting more and more tired, and then finally came out into the parking area at the summit, with its incongruous cars and bicycles and blissfully ignorant persons looking at us like we were from another planet. I don’t know if the bicyclists were impressed at us for hiking the whole way up the mountain or not, but all I could think about was how they were going to coast effortlessly down the mountain, while I had to kill my quads to get back down, working even harder than on the way up!

The view from the top was breathtaking as usual, even with the wisps of cloud hovering around the summit. After a quick breather and stretch at the top of the tower (and taking a picture of Christy), we turned to begin the long climb down. The tricky footing and steep descent was challenging, but very fun! I’ve been pushing the downhill pace this spring, since recovering from piriformis injuries that I had last year this time, and gaining confidence in my balance, agility and hip muscles. The trail included some climbs just to remind us of how much fun we had on the initial climb up. Finally, arriving back at Juniper aid station, we refueled and prepared for the long fireroad descent. I tried my best to make up time here, and eventually worked up enough speed to slip and slide past a few people. It was great fun running down the fireroad, skating on the loose gravel and using the slide to cushion the descent. I am not a fast runner, but I did my best to get the pace down below 8 min miles and keep it there as long as I could. This was enough to get me ahead of a few people, and I came into the 25K aid station/finish area in about 4 hours.

At this point I was seriously hot because of working hard and running in the sunbaked canyons along Mitchell Fire Road, which were not cooled as effectively by the breeze as the heights. I hung around about 10 minutes cooling off, drinking coke on ice (so good in races I have to admit, though I never drink it when not racing!) and hoping some other 50K runner would come in so we could go out together. After a little while, I realized this was not going to happen and I’d better get moving. So I headed back out, climbing the #%$@ mountain again alone!

This time, the ascent was slower. Toward the top of the first leg of the climb, just before reaching Deer Flat Road, I realized my right calf muscle was aching. With another 1000 ft of climb to go, I had to slow down even more to favor it, making the quads and gluts do the lion’s share of the work. The third time through at Juniper, the aid station volunteer accused me of leaving after cutoff time and didn’t help me on my way at all! Just what I needed—demoralizing comments! I continued on anyway after correcting him and fending for myself, and met a number of other 50K runners on the way down from their second visits to the summit. In contrast, they were all encouraging and enthusiastic, and lifted my spirits.

One more time back the way we came…I was feeling pretty lonely, but the weather was nice, the day was beautiful and there really was no problem except for the now grumbling calf muscle. I made it back through the aid station one last time, and made decent speed back down the fire road and toward the finish. Not so fast this time around, but good considering. I managed to catch up to one runner about a half mile before the finish. He was walking, so I stopped to walk with him and ask how he was doing. He was feeling pretty beat up and demoralized at this point. We chatted a bit and soon I broke into a jog again, and he came along with me. When he stopped to walk again, I stopped to keep him company. This happened a couple of times and then when we were approaching the finish, he took off running fast again! I could have tried to sprint past him, but that seemed absurd (the last two runners sprinting for the finish!), so I came in a few seconds behind him. I was really hoping not to DFL this event, but due to my stopping to check on a fellow runner, I got to DFL anyway!

This raises a running etiquette question: if you happen upon someone in a race who is obviously flagging, should you just blow by them (assuming you are feeling strong at the moment) and let them deal with their problems on their own, be it injury or just being tired? Or should you slow down to check on the runner’s status and offer help and encouragement if needed? And if you are the flagging runner, should you show your appreciation for the other’s concern by speeding up and blowing past them once you get your legs back or see the finish line? Or do you bring it into the finish together, so that neither one gets left behind?

Maybe this is just a girl thing, but I would have thought showing a little bit of concern warranted being shown some tiny amount of appreciation! (He did thank me afterwards, but that did not make me feel better!) This is not the first time this has happened to me either!

The aftermath and lessons learned:

The day never became warm up on the mountain, and the breeze was strong- it was truly a glorious day to revisit Diablo, even though it is a hard mountain in any weather!

For nutrition, I enjoyed coke on ice, a few potato chips, cytomax, a quarter PB&J sandwich and 3 gels. I also supplemented the dearth of protein by eating a piece of ham (a little too salty, but it might be just right on a very hot day). Again, not very much food. I don’t really know that taking in carbs early in the event was helpful. We’d have to measure blood glucose levels and insulin levels to really know what was happening. I can say that after a recent 12 mile run drinking nothing but water, my blood glucose was up at 123 mg/ml—certainly not hypoglycemic! Actually this is in line with what we would expect, since adrenaline causes the liver to release its stored glycogen to pump up the blood glucose levels, and 12 hilly miles isn’t nearly enough to deplete total body glycogen. It’s possible that for me at least, taking in carbs early in an event is counterproductive (promoting insulin release and inhibiting fat burning), or at the very least unnecessary. It doesn’t seem to help maintain my energy levels all that much, since typically after about 4 hours of slogging up and down steep hills, I’m tired anyway. I either need a whole lot more than I’m getting, or something else entirely (perhaps protein instead). In my past days of running marathons, I never supplemented with anything at all, and didn’t feel any need for it. So perhaps the current obsession with gels and carb supplemented drinks is really all about creating a market and not about health and performance. I will just have to keep experimenting to find out what works best, or at least better.

I gave my muscles 3 days to recover before trying to run again. The quads were definitely quite sore from all the ups and especially the downs! I went out after the 3 days of rest and felt better than ever.

The sore calf made its presence known for a few weeks, particularly if I tried to run faster, and complained about how it had barely avoided injury and berated me for my mistreatment. I had to massage it quite a bit and intentionally decrease the kick-off phase of my stride (slow down more) so as to let it to rest a little more for a couple of weeks.

The foot injured at Quicksilver a few weeks before held up ok, though it still hurts occasionally.

Only one blister—on the top of my foot where it was pressing against the laces during the downhill stretches! The thick calluses on the balls of my feet were fine though definitely warm, and one of them peeled completely off (but the skin underneath was also calloused!) so there was no injury. Again, I think Drymax socks really help (I also used vasoline as a lubricant).

I am still lousy on steep uphills. I’m just not a very good powerwalker, and not strong enough to run them either, though my gluts (and later one calf) were screaming that I was working them too hard. I guess Diablo still kicks my butt!

Vibram Five-Fingers Shoes and “Barefoot” Running

I have always been something of a maverick with regard to sports equipment, resisting the latest gear marketing efforts in favor of minimalist and homemade equipment whenever it seemed to make sense. I also look for what actually works for me instead of what the pundits tell me I must have to optimize my performance and protect me from injury.

For example, I’ve been riding a recumbent bicycle for more than 25 years now, one with handlebars under the seat. Before I adopted the recumbent riding posture, I would routinely pinch nerves in my hands holding onto conventional handlebars. For rides of more than a few miles (I did a lot of longer rides of 50 to 100 miles or more in those days, as well as some extended multi-day trips), I would end up with numb hands. Since manual dexterity is important, this was unacceptable, and the recumbent riding posture fixed the problem. I also feel safer on a recumbent bicycle, largely because, if I fall off, I am much less likely to go head first over the handlebars. There is a visibility issue in that I ride lower to the ground, but that is readily fixed with a flag.

I also often find myself choosing footwear that is intended for some other purpose than the one I'm using it for. When I moved to the San Francisco Bay Area and continued to participate in orienteering, I found that even shoes that were allegedly specially made for orienteering did not work very well in the Bay Area hills, where I often found myself contouring along steep hillsides that could be anything from soft mud to loose dirt and rock. I abandoned my special orienteering shoes in favor of some cheap football shoes that had wraparound cleats that provided much surer footing.

My primary sport right now is trail running. There is, of course, huge amounts of hype supported by lots of allegedly “scientific” research that has created an ever-changing array of running shoes with all kinds of “features” based mostly around various allegedly needed forms of support and/or cushioning. “Trail running” or “all terrain” shoes have mostly tended to be shoes with a fair amount of both support and cushioning as well as deep treads for all the apparently obvious reasons. At the same time, serious racers on trails have tended to opt for lighter weight “racing flats,” at least for competition, just as for road and track running; they want to minimize the weight of the shoes. I, too, have found myself migrating toward lighter and lighter shoes with less cushioning. Most people in the business of selling you shoes will insist that it is dangerous to continue running in shoes after the cushioning has started to deteriorate (usually deemed to be a few hundred miles or a few months). I’m the kind of guy who thinks his shoes are just getting broken in at that point! And I never missed the cushioning beyond the occasional minor bruise if I step too hard on a small sharp rock. I’ve done all my recent ultra-marathon running in well-worn New Balance 790s. These are lightweight shoes with minimal support and cushioning, and the cushioning they do have tends to break down after a few hundred miles, well before I’m ready to replace the shoes. I’ve never had any foot problems with them beyond some toenail bruising on long downhill running. (I should note that I grew up wearing arch-support shoes to “correct” my flat feet. I still have very low arches and a tendency to pronate, but I’ve never sprained an ankle or otherwise had problems that I could attribute to the low arches, and I haven’t used arch supports in more than 30 years now.)

I’m also a fan of going barefoot. I rarely wear shoes around the house. I haven’t generally chosen to run barefoot, except on sand, though my feet are tough enough to withstand a few miles of barefoot pavement running. So I was intrigued when I encountered the Vibram Five-Fingers shoes. They were originally developed for water sports, but have been increasingly adopted by advocates of barefoot running. On something of a whim, I decided to try a pair. I’ve had them for a couple of months now, and they have become my primary running shoes!

There have always been a few people out there who have developed tough enough feet to go barefoot in all but the most dangerous conditions. A few have run marathons barefoot. But most of us non-bushmen haven’t got enough callouses to manage, say, a marathon without at least some protection. The five-fingers shoes can provide that protection and give us a chance to get a lot closer to true barefoot running under more ground conditions and run lengths.

Others have written more than I can about why you might want to run barefoot. There are links you can follow from the Vibram website. Check out Barefoot Ted and the Pose running method, for example. (And read Christopher McDougall’s new book, Born to Run, A Hidden Tribe, Superathletes, and the Greatest Race the World Has Never Seen, a surprisingly great read, that has quite a lot to say about running footwear [and Barefoot Ted]!) I’ll just focus on my recent personal experience.

I guess this still represents something of a preliminary report. Shortly after I acquired the shoes, I injured my Popliteus muscle, and have only just gotten back to where I can run my usual 40 to 50 miles per week, so I still haven’t got a lot of miles on my Five-Fingers. In some ways, though, the enforced slow recovery gave me a convenient opportunity to learn how best to take advantage of the Five-Fingers. Some observations:

1. If you’re going to be a “barefoot runner,” you are naturally tempted to forgo socks altogether with your Five-Fingers. I’ve now experimented quite a bit with and without socks. My current preference is to use socks only for hotter temperatures and runs of more than an hour or so. I don’t bother with socks for runs of an hour or less. The primary issue is that I start to develop hot spots after my feet start to sweat significantly. Socks help reduce the chafing and wick away the sweat. I don’t seem to need very much sock; I use very thin Injinji “liner” socks made from bamboo fiber, and I’ve had good luck up to the maximum run of about 16 rough trail miles I’ve tried so far. I did get a blister on the bottom of one heel on a hot hilly 8-mile run early on when I wasn’t wearing socks (and was still running with a heel-strike gait). Of course, if you’re not wearing socks, then the shoes are absorbing the sweat and dirt that normally ends up in the socks. I rinse the dirt and sweat out of the shoes every few days, something that I practically never do with “normal” shoes. Keeping the insole surfaces clean is important to minimize wear on the feet.

2. Five-Fingers shoes have a very smooth sole made of what I assume is a tough urethane material. (Vibram built their business around making tough long-lasting soles for hiking shoes and work boots.) So far, the soles show very little sign of wear, even though I’ve been doing relatively a lot of pavement running. I was concerned about traction, given the complete lack of tread, but I haven’t found it to be much of an issue. They slip a little on the typical summer dust on Bay Area dirt trails, but so do shoes with lots of tread. What you gain with toe grip generally makes up for the loss of tread grip. The shoes work fine in soft mud. Probably the most difficult terrain is tall grass and similar field conditions. The grass tends to get between the toes and get stuck. And, of course, anything spiny like star thistle can be a real problem. You wouldn’t want to run through a field of star thistle, cactus, or blackberries (not that I make a habit of doing so in any footwear…).

3. You do need to pay attention to where you put your feet. The soles spread the pressure points of ground features enough to dampen out the effects of fine and course gravel, but they don’t help all that much for isolated sharp rocks. I was already accustomed to sub-consciously paying attention to foot placement anyway, since I haven’t been using shoes with much cushioning for a long time, so I have yet to actually bruise my foot. If anything, the minimal cushioning really does force you to be more in tune with the surface you are running on. But extended running on rough trail does tend to abuse the feet somewhat more than running in shoes with more cushioning. Part of the adaptation one makes to running in Five Fingers shoes is to develop the foot muscles more to take advantage of the new-found capability to “feel” the ground you’re running on, and you can then adapt to longer running on rougher trails.

4. There is no fundamental requirement that you change your running gait to use Five Fingers shoes. However, the absence of heel cushioning certainly encourages a switch to something more like “Pose” running, where you land first on the ball of your foot rather than the heel. It’s a big enough change for distance running, that I didn’t do it immediately. But having made the transition, I really like what it does for me. It significantly reduced the stress on my injured knee, and it has probably given me a bit more spring
in my step and some resulting speed. Surprisingly, to watch me run, you might not even notice the difference. I already tended to land nearly level-footed, so the change is fairly subtle to a casual observer. I still land nearly level-footed, but tipped slightly the other way. From a muscle training point of view, it was necessary to develop a little more strength in the calf muscles, since they now play more of a role in absorbing the impact of each footfall, but that didn't take very long (for me, at least).

5. So far, my Five-Fingers are showing very few signs of wear and tear, though my total experience is probably still under 200 miles or so. One strap started to fray (possibly due to a manufacturing “defect” where the slot that the strap goes through was a bit too sharp), and I added a small piece of leather to repair the strap and take the wear. I don’t yet know what the ultimate failure mode that will cause me to retire the shoes is likely to be.

6. I haven’t yet worked up to runs of much more than a couple of hours, so I don’t yet know what issues will come up. So far, though, I’m not seeing any likely limitations, and I’m hoping that my chronic struggles with toenail bruising on multi-hour runs will be a thing of the past.

David

In Praise of the Little Muscles

The more I learn about how animal bodies achieve motion, the more impressed I am by the mechanical engineering that has been achieved by Mother Nature through some millions of years of evolution. Prosthetic limbs and robot arms that have been built to date by humans can’t come close to duplicating Nature’s exquisite designs. For example, I recently saw the latest personal robotics research coming out of Willow Garage. They’re doing interesting work, though as someone who has watched robotics research from the sidelines for 30 years or so, it’s clear that real progress is still slow, and we’re still a long way from giving Nature any serious competition, either from a physical performance point of view or from a computational intelligence point of view.

As someone who has never really studied anatomy in any detail, I also never fully appreciated just how many muscles are engaged in simple motions, what it takes to use and control them properly, and just how important some of those little muscles that we tend to ignore can be. There’s nothing like an injury to a minor muscle to teach you what their importance and function are.

My first experience with a “minor” muscle injury was some years ago. I tore my right piriformis muscle doing a lunge while fencing. (Look up all the muscles mentioned here at Get Body Smart.)

The Piriformis is a little muscle under the Gluteus Maximus that is used for leg rotation at the hip. I knew I’d done something bad at the time, but I didn’t have much in the way of acute pain and mostly just ignored the injury. Some months later I was experiencing chronic but vague hip discomfort and a sense of looseness in the joint. A good physical therapist was able to diagnose the problem from my assortment of vague symptoms, and having diagnosed the problem (the muscle at that point was seriously knotted), it was a straightforward, if slow, process to undo the damage and get the muscle back to normal function.

Apparently, there aren’t a lot of nerves in these small muscles compared to the major skeletal power muscles, and one can’t necessarily feel the damage unless you find the muscle and start to really knead it—something that can be hard to do for a muscle that is hidden behind something much bigger. It took a year or so of regular rubbing (the corner of a countertop or table
worked great!) before the muscle stopped acting up from time to time.

I had a similar experience with the upper part of my right Soleus muscle. In that case the injured muscle was hidden underneath the big calf muscle (the Gastrocnemius). The Soleus contributes to flexing the foot, and thus is commonly stressed by running.

Again, I was experiencing vague calf pain while not having any obvious pain in the big muscles. Once identified, Soleus muscle damage can be easily massaged by lying on one’s back and resting the lower leg on the opposite bent knee. Move the lower leg back and forth over the knee with the Gastrocnemius fully relaxed, and you should easily be able to find any tender or knotted
areas. Even though I don’t have any particular damage problems with this muscle now, I still find it a useful post-run massage to do—the Soleus muscles often take a beating on a long hard run. Also, while I generally subscribe to the theory that warming up slowly is far more important than stretching (which can be downright counter productive, promoting rather than preventing injury), I do find it useful to stretch the Soleus muscles by flexing the foot up with the leg straight (which also stretches the Achilles tendon and attached structures).

My most recent experience was the most dramatic yet. It introduced me to yet another lesser-known muscle that I had been completely unaware of and left me unable to run for several weeks! After running many hundreds of trail miles over rough terrain with little more than routine sore muscles and the occasional minor bumps and scrapes, I managed to injure myself on the track! I was well warmed up and had just run a 7-minute mile (about as fast as I can go for that distance). After a lap or two of cooling down, I decided to sprint for 100 m or so. Mistake! I almost never really sprint, and I don’t really have well-developed sprinting muscles and technique. Again, I knew I’d hurt something, but I wasn’t quite sure what. A couple of days later, about seven miles into a twelve-mile trail run, I landed slightly wrong on the injured leg going downhill, and felt a sharp pain in my knee. After the acute pain subsided, I was suddenly unable to run at all, though I could still walk with minimal limping and was able to walk the rest of the way.

It turns out that the damaged muscle this time was the Popliteus. (And no, there was not any ligament or cartilage damage at this point.) This seeming unimportant muscle is located immediately behind the knee running diagonally across the leg from the outside (at the top) underneath the top of the Grastocnemius muscle. It’s pretty hard to find even when acutely injured, but it can be massaged (carefully! there are other sensitive structures nearby) if the Gastrocnemius is fully relaxed. The Popliteus muscle serves at least three important functions. First, though it has very little power being very small, it is the first muscle that fires when you bend your knee from a fully-extended position. Second, it helps hold the knee joint together. Third, it helps prevent you from “hyperextending” your knee (going past the normal maximum extension—straight leg). Lacking a normally functioning Popliteus muscle is surprising debilitating! The knee joint just doesn’t work right. Most joint motions involve multiple muscles that are fired in an exquisitely timed sequence to achieve the full action. The Popliteus fires first
for knee bending, and without it, your timing falls apart. The joint looseness and potential for hyperextension leave the joint cartilage vulnerable. My attempts to continue at least light running caused acute pain to develop at the medial meniscus, the main piece of cartilage padding the knee joint on the inside. The weak Popliteus muscle allowed excessive pinching of the
cartilage, especially on impact. In effect, the Popliteus muscle also plays a key role in the sequence of muscle firing that provides shock absorption as you land on your foot when running. This particular problem is peculiar to running; walking and bicycling were possible with little or no pain. (With most knee injuries, bicycling is painful, since it tends to put significant stress on the knee.) Of course, as with any injury, any limping or other change of gait, whether conscious or not, tends to stress other muscles that are compensating for the injured muscle in unusual ways. In this case, I got quite sore in the adductors in the opposite leg!

The good news is that, while recovery has been slow and I was unable to run much at all for a few weeks, no lasting damage occurred. I walked and bicycled more, and eased back into running with shorter, slower distances, being particularly cautious on the downhills. Ibuprofen and a simple knee brace also helped enable a little more activity sooner, and I managed not to lose too much conditioning. I also followed the recommendation to take a Glucosamine/Chondroitin supplement.

I also took advantage of the slower shorter distances to start to switch over to more “toe” running (landing on the ball of the foot rather than the heel). This reduced the impact on the medial meniscus, again allowing me to run more sooner, though it has required developing a slightly different set of running muscles. (You use parts of your Gastrocnemius muscles more for shock absorption when landing on the ball of your foot than you do when landing on your heel.) I’ve been experimenting with Vibram Five-Finger shoes, which I like a lot for running, and since these shoes have no padding whatsoever, landing on your heels
is not such a good idea, at least on rough surfaces, so I was already motivated to change my running style. But I’ll postpone a detailed report on these unusual shoes for another post.

Final notes: (1) If you’re wondering whether the new shoes caused or exacerbated the injury (I was wearing them when it happened), I can’t prove definitively that they didn’t, but I’m pretty convinced that there’s no connection. I’ve tried various shoes since and keep coming back the the Five Fingers as the shoes that cause the least stress post-injury, which is certainly suggestive that they couldn't have caused the injury in the first place. (2) I now know how to go about diagnosing problems like those described above without consulting medical professionals. There are, of course, a lot of good resources on the web that can help you sort through any specific problem. I started out this time with a Google search on “knee pain” and found a number of good diagnostic aids including a paper by Calmbach and Hutchins oriented at Family Physicians that helped me sort through what was plausible and what was not, and I am convinced that I have correctly described the injury. Of course, I have to add the usual sort of disclaimer that you shouldn’t “try this at home” and should always seek competent medical advice when needed. I just happen to have a certain tendency to do things myself anyway, and I’ve come to believe that, in many cases, I can do as well or better than any professionals I might try to hire to help me.

David

Third Time’s the Charm? Quicksilver 50K

Being disgusted and frustrated with missing cutoff times in two consecutive races, I couldn’t possibly take the hint, and instead signed up for another one! (against David’s better judgment). It seemed a shame to let all this hill training go to waste, so I convinced David that I was doing another with or without him, and luckily he decided to come too. This time it was the Quicksilver 50K in Almaden Quicksilver County Park in San Jose. We had some vague thoughts about moving up to the 50 mile after returning to the 50K point, which tacks on an out and back to get the extra miles. Supposedly, you can opt up to the 50 mile but not down from the 50 mile to the 50K. Not wanting to take another chance on missing cutoffs or just having a bad day with the heat, we signed up for the 50K with the possibility of continuing on. Turns out, 50K was quite enough on this sunbaked day, and I was happy enough to stop with that.

The picture (pre-race) below was swiped from Donald Buraglio’s site. (Thanks Donald!) David is #117 (currently ~187lbs, down from 220lbs a year and a half ago). Fifty mile winner Chikara Omine is #75. Jean Pommier and Mark Tanaka with backs to the camera. Many other folks I don’t recognize—apologies). For more pictures and a report on the full 50 mile race, see Donald’s post.

The race started at 6 am, before the sun’s rays began to heat us up. We climbed a few initial hills on a fire road, mostly walking where I was, then ran down the road again and off onto a wooded trail following a meandering stream. This section was shaded as the sun rose, and was full of lovely gentle inclines and downhills. At one point I jumped over the stream crossing rather than climbing carefully down and back out again, and strained something in my foot—I thought it was broken it hurt so much! but it gradually settled down. I need to remember that I’m not 20 anymore! We came out onto fire roads again and more uphills, longer though still gradual and runnable, and still mostly shaded and cool.

Reaching the first full aid station (Dam overlook), the sun had only just peaked over the hills. More fire roads with runnable ups and downs, mostly in the shade, and the second aid station was upon us, more brightly lit and exposed to the sun. These volunteers looked to be getting warm. By this point the runners were pretty spread out. A few people had gone out too fast and were slowing down, and I was able to pass a few folks. We came upon Sean Lang and Gordy directing traffic, and soon there was a long fast downhill section leading back to the dam overlook aid station. I tried to make up for my slowness on the uphills here, and to compensate for having to climb this hill again on the way back. This was now mile 19—my energy levels usually start to fade here, and that’s what happened this day as well.

The next section was not difficult and had a fair amount of downhill, but I was just hot, tired and thirsty, and even the downhills felt bad. It seemed to take forever to finish the 4 mile loop, then climb once more to the Dam overlook aid station. I filled up on fluids and wandered off sipping coke on lots of ice. The long downhill became the long uphill as we retraced our steps, and I managed to muster a run here, but it was intermittent. Finally, there was Sean and Gordy again, making sure we didn’t get lost, then a bit more climb and another long downhill to my last aid station. I was surprised to see I had caught someone, and was inspired to try harder this last section. Only 4 miles to go—how hard could it be? It turned out to be the most difficult part of the course! Soon we were climbing again, short steep hills I had read, but what I found were long steep hills almost impossible to climb at this point. My shin muscles were cramping and I had to walk on tip toe to keep the muscles from cramping worse. I felt a shiver and was sure heat stroke was near too. The hills just kept coming and coming until you forget you thought you’d be finished by now. Finally we came upon the final downhill dash (for those who still had their legs) and the finish.

At this point, there was no question about going out into that heat again. I had made the cutoff time for the 50-mile, but it was miserably hot out there on that trail, and the thought of crawling up those last few hills again in the heat was more than I could take. It turned out David had had enough too, and he brought me ice as soon as I crossed the finish line.

And what a spread at the finish! There was watermelon, strawberries, meats on the grill, salads, desserts. They even had a generator for power and a full sized refrigerator (now that's serious advance planning) with ice cream, and they filled ice cream requests to order (I had ice cream with strawberries). It was fun hanging out and enjoying the food with fellow racers. I got to visit with Barb Elia and Christina Brownson, and a whole bunch of other folks whose names I forgot in post-50K brain fog. I also got to run for a while with Janice O’Grady, one of the founders of the event who returned from Colorado to run it. I talked with Mark Tanaka for the first time (having one of his usual hectic race mornings), as well as Simon Mtuy and Jean Pommier. The 50-mile winner, Chikara Omine was amazingly approachable and gracious, though a superstar already at 26 years old. See Mark Tanaka’s interview. And I finally got to see Bev Anderson-Abbs in person rather than merely watch her shoot by (and even talked with her!). She looks like a consummate athlete—lithe and well muscled. Maybe someday…

I was able to keep my heart rate more consistent than at Diablo or Miwok, which could be a sign of some improvement in pacing. I typically start a race between 150 and 160 bpm, and hold that for a few hours, but the HR gradually drops for unknown reasons over time, down to the 140s, and when I’m really dragging or cold, into the 120–130s. It’s an interesting chicken and egg question—does heart rate decline because of fatigue, or does fatigue increase because of HR decline (the heart can’t deliver sufficient oxygen)? The hints I’ve gotten from questioning coaches is that as glycogen is depleted, there is less energy for anaerobic energy production, and the aerobic heart rate is much lower (see the Maffetone formula, that works out to about 135–140 bpm for someone my age and condition. For other lucky souls, it might be much higher and hence they can blow by me without even breathing hard). I’ve been looking through the research literature, but I still don’t understand the connection between exercise intensity, muscle glycogen reserves and heart rate, but presumably it has something to do with blood lactate levels. This time I also didn’t bother with Vespa, though I had tried it previous races. I think if anything, my energy levels were maintained better than usual, but that may have more to do with pacing and the course.

We decided to experiment more seriously with David’s carb-free race nutrition approach, and have him try and run at his own pace to see if he’d bonk with no carbs. So David started out faster and I didn’t see him the rest of the day until the finish. (and I was lonely…) I carried all kinds of food with me, most of which I never managed to eat. Funny how that always happens. I started out with a bottle of full strength Cytomax, but it got diluted as we went along with the watered down stuff. I forgot one of my water bottles, and so never had the ability to carry extra water—when it grew hot, that became a problem. I ended up eating a few gels, few bites of potato and cups of coke, and a couple ounces of roast beef that I brought along in my pocket. Maybe 500 calories in but ~3000 out (walking uses less than running, but 5500 feet of climbing must count for something).

I was happy to be 54th out of 75 finishers and 5th out of 7 in the 50–59 women (not completely back of the pack for a change) in this field that included 19 first ultra runners (many of whom were faster than me!)

David finished successfully without using any carbs in 32nd place overall (and 7th out of 12 in the 50–59 age-group men). He was running with a heart rate generally in the 150s, substantially above the mid 130s that he typically maintains at my pace, and well above his purely “aerobic” effort. Toward the end he reported distinctly slowing at the same heart rate, but that was probably due to a combination of increasing heat and steeper trails and calf cramps. (The hardest hills, both up and down, in this race are at the very end!) He said he couldn’t sit down to rest for about an hour after the race because his legs kept cramping! It was definitely hot there at the end, and I was glad I managed to keep the cramps at bay as well as I did.

The aftermath: the lung irritation and asthma from before Diablo finally disappeared for good (and hasn’t come back thankfully). My foot (that I thought might be broken) was tender and slightly swollen for a few weeks, though I kept running on it anyway, but mostly has settled down again (though the bones look thicker now—got stronger?). Some hot spots on the balls of the feet, but no blisters (thanks to Drymax socks!)

Miwok 100K Wade-Slide-Walk-Run

Cynthia had some concerns going into this event regarding recovery from Diablo and illness. Though the lung injury incident didn’t seem to have much effect at Diablo, she was coughing and asthmatic all week after, and actually came down with a fever for the early days of the following week (and thought it was swine flu!). Trying to heal and prepare, we did very little running all week, and just tried to get Cynthia’s lungs settled down again (she kept using the steroid inhaler/bronchodilator and upped the vitamin D intake to 10,000 units for the week). This seemed to work, more or less, and we prepared drop bags containing an extra shirt and our Firetrails 50 jackets in case it was cooling off by the second time around at Pan Toll. Cynthia was trying some new food ideas this time as well (mashed potatoes and carrots and sliced turkey, along with more V8 juice!). We headed out as planned on Saturday morning, after getting what little sleep we could when the alarm is set for 3 am.

The weather forecast going into the race was for a mostly cloudy day in between a couple of bands of showers the previous day and the next. We started out in typical Headlands fog just as the sky was starting to lighten up a bit (5:40 am). We started with a brief run across Rodeo Beach: “See that light over there? Run to it, then follow the pink ribbons.” But then we were immediately bottlenecked waiting to get onto a single-track trail, and it wasn’t until we turned onto a paved road that runners were really able to start spreading out and sorting themselves out by speed—that made the first 10 minutes a pretty slow walk for those of us who started near the back of the crowd. Those first few minutes lost turned out to be critical to our day.

Most of the first 10K up to the first aid station was on pavement or gravel fire road, and the weather looked like it was clearing a bit as the day brightened. We kept the pace down (145 beats/min for Cynthia) in hopes of maintaining energy levels more constant during the day. We walked the steeper hills and jogged easily on the gradual ones, taking walking breaks to keep the energy output low. Finally there was some downhill, and we sped up to take advantage of it. Cynthia was going to try Olga’s advice to Rooster to run hard on the downhills, and for a brief while we cruised along at an 8-minute pace, though when we turned off onto trail, we slowed down to a 9-minute pace, despite an effort to keep the pace up. It’s just a fact—trail running is harder than street running.

However, weather-wise, things gradually worsened. Heading up from Bunker Hill, the cool fog was more oppressive than cooling, and the humidity seemed like it might be a problem. We headed up and over the hill and then down much faster toward Tennessee Valley, with Cynthia getting out ahead of David again on the slippery trail. A brief stop at the aid station there to make up new Cytomax drink (another experiment this time), and we headed off down the road and on toward Muir Beach. Here for a brief while, the views were gorgeous. You could actually see the ocean and the world around you (and take a few pictures)! But the first of the saturated trail conditions was making its presence felt as we detoured around a giant puddle in the path. Still keeping the heart rate in the 145 range, we continued up the hills toward Muir Beach, down the steep steps slippery with rain, and back up onto another ridge, before the steep descent toward the beach and the next aid station.

After Cynthia drank some coke and grabbed a few chips, we continued on the next leg, which was quite easy and pleasant, paralleling Hwy 1. However, the weather was going rapidly downhill as it settled into a steady light rain. Cynthia’s Garmin 405 started beeping wildly and switching screens constantly (water under the bezzel?), and there wasn’t much we could do about it. Slowing to a walk seemed to help it, and it quieted down going up the steep climb to Pan Toll. Unfortunately, this is where Cynthia slowed down to a resigned trudge (HR doesn’t lie—only 135), and we were passed by a few stronger walkers. Coming at last into Pan Toll, we tried to grab our food as expeditiously as possible, but our hands were fumbling and cold. Cynthia pulled on a long sleeved shirt for more insulation, but it was quickly soaked.

We continued on, but now we were socked in by cloud and pelted with driving rain by what felt like gale force winds, which threatened to blow us off the trail. Despite wearing a hat to keep the rain off, the wind blew rain on Cynthia’s glasses, both inside and out, and she had to keep stopping to wipe off the drops when the visibility was too poor to see where she was going. By now the trail was churned up mud from the previous 300 runners, and had become very slippery and hazardous with a stream running through the trail in most places. We gave up any hope of keeping our feet out of the water, and plunged through the mud and streams, staying upright as best we could. At one point, David slid off the trail and narrowly avoided straining his back trying to keep his balance. The front-runners began making their way back, and we stepped off the trail to let them by, at least when we could see them coming! Finally, we were back into the trees and out of the howling wind, and could see again at least. We made our way into Bolinas aid station, where they were valiantly trying to dig drainage ditches to keep the water away, drank some coke and continued on in a hurry, as this last leg had taken far more time than anticipated.

All the low spots in the trail along the ridge (and there were plenty of them) filled up with water, and many runners didn’t even try to skirt the edges of the lakes. Those of us who did try didn’t always succeed; we were all contending with soaking wet feet. Running through the puddles was the path of least resistance, but unfortunately, you can’t tell what is there, and might find yourself in a hole! Lakes alternated with rocky outcroppings, and you could never be sure whether to prepare for slippery mud or gripping rock. We were discouraged by the conditions, but trudged along the rolling hills toward Randall turnaround.
Since so much of the trail seemed different from the published altitude profile, we couldn’t tell how far along we really were. The Garmin isn’t that accurate under trees and in rough terrain, so we couldn’t be sure how far we had to go. All we really knew was that this was taking forever, and we had not yet encountered the expected steep downhill. Finally, we reached the turn, and knew that there was still 1000 ft descent to be made in this torrent of a trail. Cynthia took off in desperate hurry, sliding and pounding through the mud, but to no avail, we missed the cutoff time by 4 minutes. Chuck Wilson (aid station captain) pulled us for missing the cutoff (again!) and kindly let us sit in his car while they took down the aid station. Several more runners soon joined our ranks, and we got to talk with Hwa Ja Andrade and Don Wilkison while waiting, both also surprised and out of sorts for being pulled. So our day ended at the turnaround, and we were driven back to the finish to eat, warm up, and collect the extensive race swag.
OK, so much for the conditions! Miwok was a sharp contrast to the heat of the Diablo 50-miler two weeks earlier, but ultramarathoners have to learn to contend with whatever nature throws at them. Apparently, we still have a lot to learn. There was a relatively high no-show rate at the start, and quite a few were forced to drop out when they were unable to stay warm enough and found themselves with insufficient clothing, even some of the top runners. But surprisingly few people actually fell or hurt themselves; these were a tough lot!

But the conditions really slowed everyone down. You can’t run full out when you’re constantly struggling to keep yourself upright and not slide off the trail or zigzagging around puddles. Race management, however, did not see fit to take the conditions into account, and they continued to strictly enforce the predetermined cutoff times. A significant fraction of the runners who made it to the turnaround at 35 miles did so with just a few minutes to spare before the 8 hour and 40 minute cutoff, as judged by the steady stream of people we passed on the way down. Unfortunately, we missed it by 4 minutes (about 0.8%), even though the time allowed for the return trip to Pan Toll was 4 hours (next cutoff time was 6:30)! Even under these conditions, we felt we could have made it the 14 miles back to Pan Toll within the allotted time. Another runner who arrived at the turnaround a few minutes after us was even exactly on his planned race pace—he unfortunately had failed to notice that his planned pace brought him into the turnaround eight minutes after cutoff, even though he had both numbers carefully printed on his laminated race plan. The cutoff times were based on an assumption that you would be slowing down significantly later in the race. In this case, a bunch of us arrive at the turnaround in good condition and quite ready to continue at much the same pace—in fact most of us probably would have made the next cutoff had we been allowed to continue. Not surprisingly, there were significantly more runners who missed the cutoff this year than in previous years.

One of our difficulties with this event stemmed from our relative inexperience on the course. The elevation profile is so abbreviated as to be useless. The initial hill looks like a single climb and descent, but the hill is full of false summits and downhills. So we weren’t sure what the rest of the course held in store based on how the profile failed to fit with the reality. This became a problem later, when we were unsure where the turnaround was, and what to expect on the ridge. There really is no substitute for familiarity with the course, and we should have spent some time up there in advance, trying out the course.
David continued his now-standard practice of fueling himself before, during, and after the race on almost entirely fat and protein. Heat (Diablo) and cold (Miwok) did not affect his nutritional needs. Cynthia was pleased with how easy and satisfying turkey and mashed potatoes were (not much chewing required). Despite the asthma and illness from the previous week, there was little problem due to lungs. Maybe the clean moist air helped.

The heat at Diablo of course dramatically increased the need for water intake. Electrolyte needs are less clear. David used salt capsules regularly at Diablo and not at all at Miwok. At Miwok he had no muscle cramps or other symptoms of electrolyte imbalance. Cynthia got her usual lower leg cramps, but nothing insurmountable. We tend to believe that it is much more effective to treat muscle cramps with plain calcium carbonate antacid tablets, at least when running under normal conditions. Excessive heat and sweating can increase the need for salt, especially if you are a salty sweater or drinking a lot of water. It makes sense physiologically: calcium ions (not sodium ions) mediate muscle contraction, and our experience, with both ourselves and others that we’ve convinced to try it, is that a quick fix of calcium is more effective for managing muscle cramps than downing a bunch of salt capsules. But, of course, that wouldn’t give much of an opportunity to sell a high-priced specialty product…

Besides calcium carbonate (and salt/”electrolytes” in hot weather), our other standard carry-along item is ibuprofen. Cynthia usually starts out with it (or Aleve) to prevent the achiness catching up too early; David can get through easier 50K events without needing any at all, though he does take ibuprofen at the first sign of significant muscle fatigue if there’s a long way to go yet (typically at least 20 miles after the start).

Another innovation we successfully tested out at Miwok was field recharging of Cynthia’s Garmin 405. The standard charging cable connects to its 5 V charger using a USB connector. (You can therefore charge it directly from any computer USB port, if you want to, though that’s not particularly helpful on the run.) But you can also buy “USB batteries.” Ours is made by Lenmar and is a compact 2.5Wh Li-ion battery with a USB connector built in that weighs in at a little over an ounce. When the Garmin internal battery started to run out after around 7.5 hours, we connected the battery and charging cable for a half-hour or so, and were ready to go for several more hours. (Repeat as needed; the USB battery capacity is much greater than the internal Garmin battery.) The only drawbacks are running with the wire wrapped around your arm and securing the battery (in your hand or a pocket), and the functions are not accessible while it’s charging (though it continues to collect data). If you remove the charger for a brief period, you can check your progress, then continue the charging process. In principle, this practice could allow use of the Garmin for 100 mile events or longer (no, we’re not ready for that yet!)

The aftermath and lessons learned: Cynthia’s muscles are (surprisingly) still sore three days later —must be due to the faster downhills. Also, lower abdominals are very sore (iliacus and psoas). David—no pain at all as usual (really, really unfair). Feet survived ok—hot spots seemed much happier running wet and cool. No falls, no injuries. David is still satisfied with his fueling strategy, Cynthia is not—what food she had stayed down well and kept fatigue and nausea away, but was eaten too little or too late to keep her energy levels high. Cytomax was fine, but she got too little of it too apparently (only two bottles).

It seems that trying to keep the pace down at the beginning was the wrong strategy—at least it didn’t seem to prevent Cynthia’s slowdown near the 20-mile mark, and instead just resulted in lost time. Perhaps the biggest mistake was taking it easy on the climb to Pan Toll, where we lost time and got chilled, and once chilled, it was harder to use our hands to put on clothes at the aid station, harder to get at our supplies, harder to move at all. Cynthia is a lousy walker on hills, and needs to learn how to run them or at least walk faster! We expected to perk up and make better time after Pan Toll, but the weather interfered with that bit of strategy. It would have been better to make good time earlier and not hope to make it up later.

So, Miwok remains another piece of unfinished business. Maybe next year will be better, assuming we even get in. Meanwhile, we did get cool race swag as you can see. The women’s shirt has a built-in bra, and the men’s shirt is handsome and manly. The caps are nice and have curved brims (maybe to keep the rain out?! Where were they when we needed them?) We’ll have to try running someplace actually cold to make use of the gloves. The coolest goodies perhaps were the Miwok Trail Ale and glass to drink it in. There was also a nice water bottle that we forgot to include in the picture.

Diablo kicked my butt!

I was thrilled and excited to try out my hill training on the Diablo 50 mile course, though in retrospect I probably should have just signed up for the marathon, since I told myself it was meant as a good hard training run for Miwok. Considering that the times for Diablo 50 are about the same as Miwok’s 100K, that pretty much says it all—Diablo is not a training run for anything- it’s a serious encounter in its own right.

Starting out on single track

A bad omen occurred on Saturday: I happened to be buying some supplies and saw alpha-lipoic acid supplements that I had just read about on Mark’s Daily Apple, and decided to try them. This material is supposed to be a potent antioxidant, restore glutathione levels and to protect mitochondria from oxidative damage. I read a few other studies about it, and it seemed worthwhile, so I popped a capsule, bent over to see something on the computer screen, and immediately realized I had swallowed it into my trachea! It wouldn’t come out, It was blocking airflow, and as the capsule started to swell from hydrating in my body, I panicked. After a few Heimlich maneuver’s from David and some other unpleasant aftereffects, the pill was out of my trachea, but I went into a nasty asthma attack from the junk that had leaked into my lungs! I am familiar with asthma, having had problems with it in the past. So I had a steroid/bronchodilator inhaler handy, used it and managed to be mostly clear by Sunday AM in time for the race (after wheezing and coughing up phlegm for most of Saturday and Saturday night). Pretty scary experience. Note to self: take pills with water and swallow carefully!

Marching up the hill

But the asthma seemed to abate by race time, and I toed the line with everyone (ok brought up the back of the pack). It was warm already (another bad omen), but was a gorgeous day, and I resolved to deal with the heat as best I could. The ascent up Diablo was as expected. We tried it out a few weeks ago, and it went faster and easier on race day than I expected—something about all the adrenaline. There was very little actual running at this stage, but it was a fun and beautiful and relentless climb. At the Juniper Aid Station I got to meet the very adorable Victoria. I think Miki may have been there too, but I missed her somehow. Meanwhile, we continued to the summit uneventfully, paid our respects to the view at the top, said hello to Don and Gillian running the marathon, and continued on. The downhill stretch was nice—pretty steep, not real fast, but we were cruising. Then suddenly, a hamstring muscle (sartorius?) seized up on me. I’ve had cramps in races before, but they are usually annoying little things, like in the foot or lower leg, something you can run through. But suddenly I found myself immobile, unable to even walk. David came to find out what was keeping me and massaged it a bit, and when it finally stopped seizing, I walked for a while taking copious amounts of water, Enduralytes and calcium carbonate, and gingerly started jogging again. (The cramps never did return, but that muscle hurt for days after.) We hit Juniper again, the day becoming quite warm, refilled on fluids and food and continued on the long rolling downhill stretch to North Gate aid station, admiring the views while trying not to go flying off the trail. Somewhere along this trail, there is a patch of sparkly minerals (mica maybe) that made it seem like we were entering Disneyland or some fairy tale. I longed to just sit and play with the stones, but it was baking hot in the sun, and didn’t seem like a really good idea at the time with cutoff times and all, so we continued on down and down to the aid station. They were running low on ice, but we took what ice and fluids we could and continued on as expeditiously as possible. We passed a few people during this five-mile loop, people injured or suffering from the heat. This section was quite nice, with some shade and creek crossings, a few encounters with sedate cows and polite horseback riders, and then a long climb back to North Gate, where I was desperate for more water. When we arrived the second time, there was ice and Coke but not much to eat—I grabbed a cookie, though this was not appealing, and tried to choke it down without success. Apparently, it was 93° F in the shade of the tent.

Can you say “steep”?

Then ensued what felt like a death march through shimmering waves of heat on exposed sections of fire roads, up and up toward the Rock City aid station. Though it wasn’t really very far, it seemed to take forever, as the heat was taking its toll on me. I kept my bandana and shirt soaked with squirts of water from one bottle, and this cooling was enough to keep me going, but not very fast. I passed one poor soul suffering from a stress fracture in his foot, keeping his pace to a hobbling walk. The fire road gave way to a shady trail and short precipitous decline, then another half mile or so of climbing on roads until we finally reached the next aid station, just in time for the cutoff. We grabbed some supplies stashed there: a spare bottle of David’s favorite liquid fuel—coconut milk and whey protein, and for me frozen V8 juice and a couple of beef tamales (don’t laugh, I got down one of the tamales eventually and immediately felt better!). In the rush to move on, I forgot the charger we bought to keep the Garmin 405 alive, so it eventually shut itself off, after about 26 miles. I saw Rick returning already just as I was leaving the Rock City aid station. (He looked amazingly fresh and strong for having run 37 miles in this heat already!)

Heading toward Eagle Peak

The trail to Finley Road aid station was quite nice at first, shady and following a stream, but it quickly morphed into more uphills or at least rolling hills on fire roads. This section should have been easy, but it was hot and I was bonking. Eating and running is hard. By this stage I had had three gels and a carb/protein supplement (Cliff Shot Recovery Drink), one square of PB&J sandwich, a small handful of chips and a few cups of coke. Apparently, not enough. My heart rate had averaged 155 bpm for the initial ascent, meaning that I was working at nearly 90% of my maximum heart rate, well into anaerobic threshold, and 140 bpm for most of the rest. Since I rarely train at that high an effort for long periods of time, I’m pretty sure I was glycogen depleted, despite trying to supplement. Of course, David was having an easier time of it, waiting patiently for me, and feeling good. Managing the best speed I could, we continued on our way, passing many others on the return, all saying “Good job.” I finally understand why ultrarunners say that—it’s because it’s short, sweet, and positive, and best of all, keeps you from looking like a moron when you can no longer put words together to make a sentence because your brain has ceased functioning.

Almost there

The day was waning by now, but not the heat. We started the last long steep hill leading down to the Finley aid station, and I was completely dreading having to trudge back up that hill. I was pretty sure we wouldn’t make the next cutoff at Rock City due to my utter slowness, and was ready to drop here. I saw my friend Chuck Wilson, a veteran of 200 ultras, sitting there with legs that refused to work anymore, and he was getting a ride back. This seemed like a great idea at the time, but the aid station volunteers explained that we’d have to get back on our own because they didn’t have room in their vehicle. Another guy came up hoping to drop as well as his knee was in bad shape, but we were all sent back up the hill. Then another guy came down the hill, suffering mightily from leg cramps, but we told him no one else was getting out at Finley—he would have to head back up the hill too. We left the two suffering men to keep each other company and struggled to get back to the Rock City aid station. I hope they got back OK! I talked to one man’s worried wife, but she couldn’t reach him on her cell phone at the aid station.

View from the top

I resolved to get up this hill and back to the aid station as best I could in a vain hope of making it by the cutoff time. I suggested to David that he go on ahead and try to make it, but he opted to stick with me. (Thanks!) I chomped down finally on my tamale and just kept going up the hill—and you know, once I had some fuel in my belly, it wasn’t so bad! We had also brought some applets and cotlets, which I had forgotten to eat earlier due to my brain fog. Once the tamale and sugar were in my stomach, and the shadows were getting longer and the breeze cooler, I felt like a new woman and was ready to continue. But alas for naught, they pulled us from the course, and I joined the other runners in the van for the long drive back to the finish, many of whom were in much worse shape than us—nauseous, crampy, and exhausted. Diablo certainly took its toll that day.

The way ahead

I’m pretty sure I could have finished the race in time, but wasn’t given the opportunity. There were supposed to be 150 starters for the 50 mile, but only 106 finished. On this particular day, that was doing pretty well I’d say. I don’t feel too bad having missed the opportunity to finish. It just means I’ll never rest until this particular devil is met and conquered—maybe next year. That said, it’s probably for the best. It turns out I was developing a blister on the ball of one foot unawares, and if we had continued, it could have become very painful and I might not have been able to recover very well. As it was, I had three blisters in spots I wasn’t expecting on my right foot, but the left foot was perfectly fine. Completing 37 miles at Diablo is certainly enough for a training run for Miwok, but I am humbled and lacking in confidence at this stage, and worrying about making cutoffs once again.

The aftermath and lessons learned:

The lung injury due to inhaling lipoic acid wasn’t a problem during the race, but the asthma and congestion plagued me all week afterwards.

Minor blisters, quads were sore on Monday- we went for a walk which was fine, but legs said resounding “No!” to running even a few steps. Tuesday, legs felt better, gave them a nice walk anyway. Wednesday was another rest day, mainly because of time constraints. Thursday, antsy to get back on the trail, we ran some short hilly trails with no soreness. Friday an easy recovery run, trying to keep heart rate down, and did a familiar loop in better time than expected. Saturday, we ran 13 hilly miles, but I got completely exhausted by the end—maybe I’m not so recovered after all! I conclude we did a fine job of acclimatizing the quads and gluts to the rigors of hills, but I still need to work on basic endurance and speed.

Keeping the bandana and T-shirt damp is very helpful—but carrying ice in your hands is even better (my hands are always hot when running). The frozen V8 juice was delightful—I used it to chill my hands and arms and neck, and wished I’d brought another bottle full. I wish I could have managed Rick’s suggestion to put ice in a bandana around my neck, or put it in my cap, but in the rush at aid stations I could never remember to. Even so, in real heat, ice doesn’t last long. Carrying enough water is essential. I was constantly and voraciously thirsty, and this is very unusual for me. Once I remembered to start taking salt and calcium, cramps were kept at bay.

V8 juice is delicious on the trail (so is chicken broth, turkey sandwiches, sushi, pretty much any “real” food IMO) . Aplets and Cotlets are nice—not so chewy and sticky as Cliff blocks- and go down well. But basically, I’m still looking for a fueling strategy that works for me. It could be that I need to hold back so as not to glycogen deplete quite so fast, but that’s not a great option, being slow and all. It could be that I need to supplement even more with gels etc., every half hour or something, or that this is not necessary at all and not a good idea when using Vespa (which I did). David is still sold on his fuel, easy to drink, no muss or fuss. Maybe I should try it!

Finally, one of the rules of training is specialization: in this case, it means if running Diablo, train at Diablo, because nowhere else are the conditions quite so tough!

Here are some more pictures. If you want to be identified in any of these photos, leave a comment!

Eagle Peak from beyond

Trudging up

Baldy Ridge

Deer Flat Road

On the way up to Juniper Campground

Getting close

Breaking into a shuffle

Across North Peak to Sacramento River

Back toward Eagle Peak

Of course you can just drive to the top, but where’s the fun in that?

All the way up the steps to the tower

Down, down, down toward North Gate

Getting hot on those exposed trails

Horses looked hot too

Trudging desperately toward Rock City and a reprieve from the heat

Getting closer to Rock City

Single track toward Finley Road