The New Year always seems to bring forth a sense of renewal, a time to "do-over" or "start-from-scratch" or "wipe-the-slate clean" type of atittude. In 2011, I am taking life by the bull horns with a can-do-attitude--at least with my running, anyway. I'm going to try to run races that I've never given a second thought like, mud runs, relays, or gnarly trail runs and maybe even run the Dipsea Race.
Have you ever run Dipsea? I've been asked countless times. As if to say, you're not quite there yet, until you have run Dipsea. So maybe, I might be buying into its prestige. I have heard of this race before, but never really paid much attention to what it really is. Runner's World had an article about the race this past summer and it piqued my interest. After reading the article, it's on my bucket list of races to run. A scenic and truly challenging course, it is not for the faint of heart. Runners face uneven footing, single-track trails, a rooty, steep terrain, featuring about 2,200-foot elevation gain and loss over the 12K course. You don't have to be fast, but you do have to have a strong desire to finish.
The gnarly course is only 7.4 mile long from Mill Valley to Stinson Beach in Marin County. It is a 30-minute drive through Highway 1, north of San Francisco, via Golden Gate Bridge. It is super hilly and technical in some spots. Talk about 688 stairs and steep narrow trails, treacherously and aptly named: Windy Gap, Suicide, Dynamite, Hogsback, Cardiac, Swoop, Insult Hill, and Steep Ravine. Experienced runners found shortcuts in order to move up a couple of places in the results. The race features a handicapped grading system (more on that later). It is one of the oldest trail races in America with the first one run in 1905. Runners are capped off at 1,500 to preserve the trail and due to safety and environmental concerns. How do you get in, you ask? Well that's a story in itself.
First, you have to be among the first 750 finishers in the previous Dipsea. Next, from the remaining (800-900 slots): 500 slots are on first come-first serve basis. The application is downloaded from the official website after March 16, 2011. Applications must be sent by U.S Postal Service only. No Fedex, UPS, or any other overnight service. This is slightly skewed to local runners. The next 100 entries are held for silent auction. Anything above the $60.00 entry fee, "bribe"money, goes to charity. The last 300 slots are for randomly held lottery. All applications must be received by April 1, 2011.
Back to the handicapped starts. In an effort to level the playing field, some runners are allowed minutes head start before others. Based on age and gender, they have developed an equitable system of start times. The race's official handicapper submits the data annually to a committee who then reviews the information based on previous years of historical data and actual record of finish times of female and male runners. Last year's first and second place finishers, had a 25-minute head start in the first group of runners. The winner was an 8-year-old fourth grader, Reilly Johnson. She beat out a 68-year-old grandmother of four, Melody-Ann Schultz of Ross. This 8 year-old is the youngest winner in Dipsea's history. (By the way, she is a local from Mill Valley and her dad was a past Dipsea champ.) Come March 16, 2011, I'll be ready to download the application and head on to our regional Post Office. Well that, or find a friend who can mail my form for me in the Bay Area. Yes, I want to experience Dipsea. I want to feel the rocks under my feet. I won't mind if I trip on roots. I want to feel the burning air in my lungs as I ascend the 688 stairs and feel what its like to climb Cardiac Hill. I want in on this.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Napa Valley Marathon 2011
Thursday, November 11, 2010
ING NYC Marathon 2010
All good things must come to an end. You know you've thoroughly enjoyed something when you wish you can turn back time. That's how I feel about the 2010 ING NYC Marathon.
There were 45, 350 starters (and 44,829 finishers). Besides me, there were three other SLDC club members who ran the race in NY: Heidi Harrison, Julie Opheim, and Anne Power. We were all assigned different wave villages (blue, green, and orange), wave starts (9:40, 10:10 and 10:40) and corrals. What a unique way of controlling the flow of runners. Each wave started in half hour increments, released 15,000 runners at a time. We were also assigned different bus locations to get to the start in Fort Wadsworth, in Staten Island. My bus assignment was to the Staten Island Ferry, where I was ferried then, bussed to the start. Heidi, Anne, and Julie ran for the Team for Kids charity, therefore were bussed VIP to the start from the Rockefeller Center Plaza in Mid-town Manhattan.
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| View from the Ferry. Verrazano Narrows bridge in the distant. |
The runners' village at the start in Fort Wadsworth were color-coded according to the runner's bib. I was assigned in the blue village where they had breakfast items like bagel, water, tea, coffee, power bars, etc. Toilets were plentiful, medical tent, baggage trucks and even religious services were offered. Runners milled around, in their warmest attires. People wore bathrobes, sweatshirts over layers and layers, donned with beanies, gloves and scarves. Runners were ready with sleeping bags, blankets, and even a French team had a full on-inflatable living room set that they set up. People did what they could to relax and be comfortable.
At the village, it was pleasant to hear so many different foreign languages spoken by runners around me. I felt like I was in a foreign land. Even the announcements and runner instructions in the loudspeakers alternated between languages. Besides English, the ones I could easily recognized were in Korean, Japanese, Chinese, Spanish, French, Italian, German, and Portuguese. I had about 3 hour wait before my 10:40 start, so I sat there and watched people. I should have warmed up or stretched while waiting, but it was fun to observe what people do before a race. Some would stretch, others, went through their attire, pinned their names on their shirt, took it off, put it back on. The majority were listening to their ipods while waiting. I was mesmerized with the whole atmosphere. I ate my second breakfast at 9:15, drank to keep hydrated. This was new to me to have two breakfasts before race time. I didn't know how my body was going to react to a such a late start. Previous marathons I have ran, started at 7am or 8am, never as late as 10:40. They finally called my corral to gate #44 at 9:55. I tossed my sweat pants and headed for the gate. Here we go!
At the corral, security was tight. You couldn't jump gates to an earlier start if you wanted to or risk being DQed. Still there were people who feigned ignorance and were denied entrance. My bib number was checked and I was free to walk to the start. The feeling was electrifying. My butterflies started fluttering. The sun warmed up and I questioned wearing my long sleeve shirt. Runners started shedding their throw-away sweats on the side of the bridge. Clothes were flying everywhere. After a few welcome words from the race director, Sinatra's signature song came on the loudspeaker, “Start spreading the news..." I almost cried. The countdown began, I had my fingers ready to press on the start button of my Garmin and we were off!
The start from the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge was uphill for one mile, but I hardly felt it. Running among a sea of runners forced me to slow down. As if on cue, the sun came out and the magnificent arches of the suspension bridge was a sight to behold. I tried to look for the Statue of Liberty but couldn't quite focus. I didn't attempt to weave my way out of the thick crowd until after mile 3. I took this as a welcome sign to ease into my marathon pace, after all I have 25 more miles to go. I soaked it all in.
The second mile off the bridge was a fast downhill where we move on to the second Borough. We would be Brooklyn for the next 12 miles. Mile 5 snuck up on me, I thought, “Whoa, we're here already?” I thought the race was happening too fast. The sights and sounds of people everywhere and the cheering made time pass quickly. I didn't want it to end.
The Brooklyn crowd got thicker especially at mile 8 where the blue, orange and green runners merged together. Up until this point, we were all following our designated paths. I was yelling and high-fiving kids as friendly faces of New Yorkers lined up the streets of Fourth Avenue. Everyone was cheering us runners. After a while, I felt my throat felt hoarse, then I realized I better channel the rest of my energy into more running. At mile 10, something caught my eye. I arrived at the community which I thought was Amish. It wasn't until after the race that I found out that we passed through the community of Hasidic Jews. I was so enlightened to see the many diverse communities of Brooklyn. There were Asians, Latinos, African-Americans, Middle Eastern, Italians, Polish, etc. It was beautiful to see this at the core of the Big Apple—what is New York.
After crossing the Pulaski Bridge we entered the third Borough which is Queens. We were only in Queens for 3 miles then on to the steep and long Queensboro bridge. The climb was sometimes short and sometimes it was as long as 1/2 mile. At the bottom of the bridge marked mile 16 where world record holder, Haile Gebrselassie dropped out. The downhill was a welcome change but it was not for long. At this point, we entered Manhattan, the fourth Borough. As we turned to 1st avenue, I remembered this was where Meb Keflizighi (2009 NYC winner) said last year in an interview, to be patient, as the stretch is long and rolling. From miles 16 to 19 was where I noticed runners start to slow down, I included. I thought I can charge the gradual hill, but it took its toll. The cost was 5 seconds off my pace.
1st Avenue had the biggest crowd support. The tall apartment towers lined the streets at both sides, and even at their balconies people were pumping runners. People clapping loudly, yelling out runners' names and nationalities. They were loud and energizing. Even with fatigue settling in, you can hardly feel it because of the energy you can draw from the spectators. What I also remember from this stretch was the sea of green sponges on the ground. That was something new—I've never been handed one to keep me cool. Speaking of which, after passing through the water/Gatorade aide stations, we ran through wet slick ground, littered with flattened paper cups. It was amazing to think about the thousands of paper cups used for this race, gallons of water, the manpower, and the volunteers, what an incredible undertaking...but I digressed.
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| Look at those cups. I took this shot right after the crew of a blind marathoner told me to get out of his way. |
After the arduous climb on 1st Ave we enter the Bronx which we run for only 1 mile! Sad to say, this stretch was a blur to me. I was still recovering from the punishment on 1st Avenue that I didn't get to savor the beauty of the Bronx. All I was thinking was to keep it together, don't slow down, maintain the pace. The two bridges, Willis Ave Bridge and Madison Ave Bridge, were thankfully flat and short. I grabbed a banana from a volunteer, made eye contact, and thanked her. Then we entered Manhattan for a second time, but this one is to the finish. I hung on to my hat, and took a deep breath, ”Here we go, time to put it on!” I felt good at this point. So good that I even missed seeing Harlem. There was no soreness that I couldn't handle, nothing ached, just the usual late stage fatigue. I was glad I have something left in the tank that 1st Avenue didn't completely drain through. I listened to the voice inside me, “Keep running, one step at a time.” The Upper East side crowd by now is incredibly thick and loud. I try to draw more energy from them. Some more high-fives, I heard my name called out. It was akin to an adrenaline shot. It was electrifying.
I knew the end was close as we entered the Park. At mile 23, I kept an eye out for the first turn into Central Park. Then the second turn on 86th Street seemed forever. I reminded myself to run the tangents. I ran the fastest splits of the day. I passed lots of tired folks, nicely, telling them “Good job.” That was a confidence builder. I stopped looking at my watch. The familiar mile 24 banner hung from the autumn trees. Heidi and I ran this same stretch the day before the race as a 3 mile warm up. It was easier running it with fresh legs compared to running it in the late race miles. The slight uphill felt like Mount Everest. The urge to walk was strong but I resisted. Then I saw the 40K banner. Oh geez, now I have to do math in my head, “what's that converted in miles?” Why can't they stick to statutes? I guess that stood to reason, since half the entrants were international runners and metric is widely used in places other then the U.S. The final turn into Central Park at Columbus Circle, near mile 26 had a jumbo-tron where you can see yourself on the huge screen. The crowds got louder and their cheering sent shock waves into my body. My legs had a renewed stride and I found a second gear. Then at the slope of the last few hundred meters, the blue and orange finish banner came into view—a sight for sore eyes! I tried to fly, I felt I was running fast, but I was probably running in slow motion. Finally, there it was, I stepped on the final timing mat. Done in 4 hours 12 minutes and 25 seconds, a five-minute PR!
At the finish line, there were runners who were clearly overwhelmed by their accomplishments. A few hobbled at the side and cried. Others immediately called their loved ones soon after crossing the finish line. People hugged each other. Fatigue and relief were written all over their faces. Medals hung around our necks, gimpy, cold, exhausted and wrapped in Mylar blankets, we were all drunken with happiness. It was a moment to behold. I saw a woman trying to snap a photo of herself w/ her i-phone. I offered to take her picture. She mumbled something which I thought sounded like she PR'd. So I said, “Me too!” Then she grabbed my bib number pointing to my date of birth and said “No.” Then she pointed to her birthday on her bib and said, “Today is my birthday,” in a heavy German accent. I said, “Congratulations! What a huge birthday gift this is.”
It wasn't my birthday, but this was a fabulous present indeed. NY I will be back, in fact, my name is in the hat for 2011!
P.S.
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| Aren't we colorful? Julie, me and &Heidi with our medals. |
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