Dow's Prairie 6.1 Mile Race Report

Low clouds hang in the air. A light breeze blows. It's one of those summer mornings that are all too typical around here. Even though it doesn't produce fantastic beach weather, it is perfect for racing. While all of you are roasting in the summer sun, know that I'm debating wearing long sleeves because it might just be chilly.

Mj and I man the registration table as people begin to filter in. The air is so quiet and serene that I have trouble mustering the necessary race day enthusiasm. We field the usual questions that arise from this particular race: Why is it one tenth of a mile short of a 10K? As I've become more involved in the running club, I've learned that most of the wonky race distances stem from original race routes that were loops from the director's home. The original director of this race lived high on a hilltop. Racers ran down and then were forced to run up an almost two hundred foot hill in the last mile. At least they changed that part, I thought while someone detailed the story to me.

I'm relieved from my duties just in time to warm up. Before heading out on my short jog, I pin on my number. After I accidentally gave everybody a minute head start at this race last year, I cut my warmup a little short just in case it was a close call again this time. Goal #1: Start with everyone else. Nailed it.

Without much fanfare, we dash off into the mist. I'm surprisingly close to the front of the pack and it's almost a mile before the first few females drop me on the largest hill.

Mile 1: 7:33

Climbing two hundred feet in half a mile, the first hill always hurts. From the very beginning of this race, I'm running hard. My friend Jorge is always telling me how I should race these short distances: Start hard, pick it up, then finish with a kick. Since this race isn't done well by beautiful even splits, I pace myself by effort and soon enough I'm at the top.

Mile 2: 8:16

The road levels out and the huge knots formed in my legs and back begin to ease. Other than the sound of our breaths, the air is still. Goats and horses in fields alongside the road gather at the fence to watch us pass. They are the best cheerleaders. I even spot a kitty as it dashes off into a twisted blackberry bush.

Mile 3: 7:34

I notice Anna, one of my age group rivals, up ahead. She started out in the lead but appeared to be slowing. Or was I speeding up? Running in the cloud was a bit disorienting. A few small hills help push me past a few other runners and I discover that I've been keeping pace with someone I don't recognize since the first mile. She's tall, lanky, and not more than sixteen years old. I tell myself to stay with her. As we climb the final and most brutal hill at mile 4, she leads me as we pick off other runners (including Anna), one by one. Even though this hill is half the size of the first one, it's in the most unfortunate location. My legs turn to Jello and it takes all I have to glue myself to my pace runner.

Mile 4: 7:54

From here, I know it's downhill until mile 5. I spot two of the home school boys I sometimes run with on Wednesdays. They're known for going out lightning fast and then falling apart. I catch up to Jadon and he looks over his shoulder to see it's me. He really hates when I beat him, haha. We trade the lead for the better part of a mile before he fades behind me. Meanwhile, the girl I have been running with the whole race duels it out with his friend, Aaron. I watch curiously as they race each other.

Mile 5: 7:06

I spend the flat final mile trying to catch them but they only pick it up from there. Curious to see who actually finishes first, I push so hard to stay with them that it feels like my insides will soon fall out. My legs, my hips, my heart. All cramping.  I spot the finish line just in time to see it turn to the forty-fifth minute. Did I see that right? Since my PR has rested comfortably in the 47-minute range for three years already, I didn't expect to break it even though I had been putting forth what felt like a PR-worthy effort. I was too caught up in the racing and drama to pay much attention to my time.

Mile 6: 7:01

Passing by the finish food table, I hear Lanore, Paul, and Jorge call out for me to kick. Since I've been kicking for the last mile, I don't have another pace gear inside of me and cruise on in. Cessair, the girl I had been running with the whole race, edges out Aaron for a three second win.

In a fanfare of flailing arms and legs whose length he's still not quite used to, he tries to out kick her, but she is just a little bit more powerful than he was. It was beautiful to watch. I cross seconds later and take a little bit to steady myself before realizing I beat my old PR by almost ninety seconds!

45:50
7:30/mi.
348 ft. gain
5th Female
Female 30-34: 1st place!

Later at the food table, I congratulate the boys and thank them for pushing me. It has been wonderful watching them grow into strong runners and getting to know them on our training runs.


Matt had a fantastic race and was able to beat out our reigning club fasty-pants, Jason, by three seconds. He took fourth place and finished in 37:26, a blistering 6:08 pace.

All photos: Y. Kim, SRRC credit.

The Most Important Ladies in My Life

I'm bad at keeping up with my family. I can go weeks without picking up the phone and calling a sibling or my parents. It's not something I'm terribly proud of, but I find pushing away the fact that they live 2,500 miles a little bit more bearable. Out of sight, out of mind, or so they say. In general, it's my go-to solution for a lot of things that make my heart hurt.

A few days after my trail race, both my mom and grandma came to visit. My mom alternates summer visits here and in Santa Fe, where my brother lives. Until this visit, my grandma hadn't ever been to California. As always seems to be the case with visitors, the weather was gorgeous. Visitors have the hardest time imagining that it is usually foggy and cloudy during the summer. "I'm not lying, I swear!" I tell them, "You brought the nice weather along!"

Three generations, one beach.

Since my seventy-seven year old grandma had never seen the ocean, that was our first stop. As she stepped out into the chilly ocean breeze on Trinidad Beach, she wrapped her jacket tighter. "I thought the beaches in California were supposed to be warm?" she asked. One great thing about having a family visit for the first time is that you get their unfiltered impressions and thoughts, some of them welcome, others not (nope, still not pregnant; nope, I don't have to tell you why). By the end of the visit, she was convinced I lived in the most beautiful place ever. I couldn't agree more, Grandma. It's pretty fantastic!

In the mornings, we explored with Grandma. After lunch, we dropped her back off at the house to put her feet up, catch a snooze, or watch hours of The Andy Griffith show. She still works with my uncle managing the family's dairy farm, so to her, the best part of vacation is quality time doing nothing.

They couldn't get over how many flowers we have here so we visited the rose garden.

Eureka Boardwalk.

"Holy Moly!" both Mom and Grandma echoed from the backseat of the car as we drove deep into my favorite redwood park. They spent so much time looking up on our short hike out to Giant Tree that they probably needed an Advil for their necks later.

Selfie with Giant Tree.

Three generations, one Giant Tree.

Whenever I spend time with my family, I'm amused by the personality traits we share. We introduced Grandma to a lot of new foods over the course of the week. She was willing to try anything, maybe that's where I get my adventurous spirit? When we introduced her to frozen yogurt, she finished her cup and gave a review. "It was good, but I like Dairy Queen better," she said. I swear, I didn't even coach her to say that! That obsession is probably genetic, not something we could ever (want) to cure.

I've also got my mom's legs. Look at those calves!!

Still half asleep from our early wake-up call, I dropped them off at the airport. We hugged goodbye as I choked back tears. No matter how long our visits are, they never seem long enough. I returned to an empty house and it was too quiet. I turned on the TV for company, but it did little to fill the aching hole in my heart. Even though they ask far too many personal questions, trying to squeeze out as much information they can while we're talking in person as the best family members do, I miss them.

In stereotypical mom fashion, they made sure I wouldn't go hungry and I was left with at least a week of leftovers.

Come again soon!

June Overview

Glancing at my calendar, I can't believe that June is nearly over. Were there really thirty days this month? One busy week blended into another and now I'm staring down Independence Day and the first week of July. It was a beautiful month full of wonderful new experiences, time with those I love, and a race or two. I'd really love to recap all those things in further detail now that I can spend more quality time with my computer. Until then, here are a few highlights:

Mom and Grandma visit!
My 77-year old grandmother hasn't traveled much. This was her first time west of Wisconsin and I was so excited to show her the ocean and the big trees.

Three generations, one beach.

Grandma's first froyo trip. "It's good, but I like Dairy Queen better," she said. I didn't even have to coach her!!

Giant Tree time.

My First Solo Trip
After the fall I took in May forced me to cancel my first trip, I tried again. I spent four glorious days with the peaks and lava tubes of Lassen Park. I'll save all the prettiest pictures for later. :)

Home base.

Running, Running, and More Running
This was taken atop Grasshopper Peak, my second of four mountain summits in June. 22 miles of smiles with two of my best pals.

Dow's Prairie Run

Six weeks without a race really helped bring my mental game back.

 

Sunshine=Beach Hikes
Three days in all, I spent more time on the beach this month than I have in the five years living here combined. I'm still not totally sold of the ocean, but the hikes offer pretty views.

Eight Years with My Favorite Guy
We bought each other the same anniversary card. This happened two years ago too! I wonder what that says about our relationship?

I promise to catch up on my adventures next week. Stay tuned, I hope to write a lot this weekend! :) Has your June gone by as quickly as mine? What have you been up to?

A Long Run in the Evening Sun

Daylight is beginning to fade on the east side of the mountain. Tucked away deep in my pack is my headlamp, my main goal of the run is to keep it there. My legs are slow to respond and even the benign hills of the river trail leave my legs in a twisted mess of knots. Matt takes the lead. Then Lanore. I soon realize that I'm not the only one with tired legs. After several less strenuous long runs this season, we decided it was time for something harder. To us, that means one thing: Grasshopper Peak.

Then the climbing begins. Once we resign ourselves to the fact that we won't be running much for the next five miles and that the trek to the top will take us almost two hours, we're finally able to enjoy it. Soft afternoon light trickles down from the top of Grasshopper and gathers on the nearby trees. We giggle and smile and before we realize it, an hour has passed since we last asked "are we to the top yet?"

The punishing steepness of this third, and arguably the easiest, way to summit Grasshopper offers a lot of time to practice our power hiking skills. I focus on taking powerful, deliberate steps and find my hiking pace matches Lanore's low-gear uphill running pace.

After nearly three hours of climbing on what is supposed to be a "run", we spot the Grasshopper camp outhouse. Almost there!

We reach the summit just before 7PM and are treated to a view I've never seen before: evening atop my favorite mountain peak. This is my second summit of 2015 and the second time this month. Normally, it is about midday when I make it up here, now it looks so different I hardly recognize it. Coastal stratus makes its way through the valleys and pours over mountains on the coast. A haze of moisture clings to each mountaintop. The dry summer grasses on the hillsides glow a brilliant golden hue.

Smiling giddy smiles, we shoot a few selfies and I cozy up to my recliner chair rock while Lanore sends the photo to her husband. I drink in the views while I chomp on a fig bar.

Every time I visit, I dream about occupying the lookout tower for an entire summer. Matt and Lanore agree they'd crave more human interaction, but as long as I had a brief period in the morning to squeeze in a run, I think I'd enjoy the solitude.

The descent is swift and for the first time in hours, we're running again. We spot a few more of my race flags and speculate that we'll spend the remainder of the summer picking up the ones we missed on race weekend. Just about the time I pick them all up, it will be time to put them out again for next year's race. If they weren't so obvious and ugly, I might consider leaving them up year round.

We stop briefly to patch up a blister on Lanore's foot and we're immediately assaulted by swarms of mosquitoes. I march around in circles to keep them away, while she swats and groans tending to her foot. Matt resorts to waving his arms around in circles. This is the same as spot one of the race aid stations. No wonder they used the whole bottle of bug spray.

On the move once again and relieved to leave the mosquitoes behind, the trail begins to darken further. I try to snap a few more pictures, but the shutter speed is so long that they only blur. From here, all the photos will have to remain inside my head.

Back on the forest floor and with the giant trees in almost darkness, it's almost twenty miles into our day. I hit the point in the run where my mind and body disconnect. So numb from the fatigue, my mind holds no consideration for pace. My legs continue on and I almost forget that they're moving. It's a beautiful, peaceful place to be. I run relaxed and power on without noticing. It's here where my pace becomes incredibly steady, too.

Lanore and I jump onto the road to avoid falling on things we can't see on the trail. Bull Creek Road winds through the giant trees and it is every bit as beautiful as the trail Matt chose to take back to the car. It's so dark now that the trees are giant shadow figures. Except for a few passing cars headed toward the campground, the air is still and calm. Our footsteps slice through it in rhythm.

We arrive back at the car with twenty two miles. Matt arrived seconds before us and we waste no time diving into our bags of goodies. Lanore passes out chips while Matt and I share with her our bowl of cut watermelon and grapes. I prop myself up in the tailgate of our new adventure-mobile and let my dusty feet dangle off the bumper.

I love summertime adventures.

5:18:40
5,142 ft. gain

Race Week: From the Director's Perspective

One year's planning blends into the next. Everything I've done up to this point has shaped how the race will go. Months of preparations: paperwork, permits, awards, collaborating with volunteers and other race directors. For months, it's nothing more than an idea. Plan plan plan. As the big day draws near, this abstract idea begins to feel more real. I pick up t-shirts from the printers, I buy the racer food. Suddenly, it's race week and for the first time in almost a year, I begin to feel excited. It's a lot like preparing for a marathon, except there's no taper.

Race Week:

Monday

My office for the week.

I dash off to the club gear shed and begin making piles of what we'll need for the big day. It's surprising how such a small race needs so much gear, but with how remote the courses are, the majority of the stuff I schlep around is first aid.

Zoey guards the precious club clock.

Tuesday

That's a lot of sugar!

Baking day! This is my favorite of all days. Matt sees me rush around and asks if I'm overwhelmed. Since baking and arts and crafts are my favorite things, it hardly feels like work. When I'm not pulling cookies from the oven, I'm etching "2015" into the back of all the race medals with my solder gun.

350 cookies (plus or minus, for quality control) in six flavors.

Wednesday

Zoey reads off the names for me.

Online registration closed on Tuesday night so Wednesday is writing out bib numbers. Our club operates on manual timing for races smaller than 500 people, so Zoey helps out as I fill in the tag information.

Thursday

#1 husband!! ...except two minutes from the start, I pointed out he'd forgotten his bib. He panicked and couldn't find his so he ended up running as #38.

T-shirt day! Matt and I separate out the t-shirts by size and prep them for packet pickup. We pack up lunches for the volunteers and load the car. Race day is almost here!

Part of Subaru's first big load.

Friday

This year, Mark was my buddy.

This is my favorite of all race prep days: marking the 30K course. As I run, I imagine racers experiencing the views, many for the first time. What would it look like with fresh eyes? Would they love this route as much as I do? It's brutally steep, but without all the work, one wouldn't be afforded such spectacular views.

Saturday: Race Day

I float around from one team of helpers to another. Fire crews brief me on their evacuation and communication plans on the course. The finish line goes up, volunteers working together and everything goes seamlessly. 

Finish line sunrise.

Soon, all eyes are on me. I perch myself atop a Gatorade jug. "Raise your hand if you like hills!" I call out into the megaphone. Several hands go up, some of which show signs of hesitation. My course is quickly becoming one that runners love to hate. It's hard and gorgeous and you have to truly love being outdoors to enjoy it. There's nothing easy about it. At all.

Y. Kim, SRRC photo.

In true laid-back Six Rivers fashion, a simple "Ready, Set, GO!" sends the field of rushed runners off onto the course. Even the larger events begin with little more than simple voice command. There's an hour of calm while we pack up the registration table and it morphs into a finish line buffet. Runners will arrive soon.

My running BFF, Rachel and finish line superhero. SRRC photo.

The leaders filter in and a new course record is set. Some arrive with smiles on their faces, others with bloody knees (again!).  Between the two races, both men's course records fall. One hundred and five people finish, some from as far away as Tennessee! Everybody gets a unique handmade finisher medallion. I can't tell you how many compliments I got on those things! I'm glad everyone appreciates my hard work! :)

As the day winds to a close and race equipment is packed into the car, I take one last glance at the now evening light. Other than the porta potties, no evidence of our day remains, just as trail races are meant to be. I return to the campsite and snuggle with my book in the hammock and rock myself to sleep for a well-earned nap.

Can I do this every weekend?

Curious? Want to join us next year? You'll find the race website HERE.