The San Diego 100: From beginning to end, this was an incredibly enjoyable and emotional experience for me. Im old enough now, sort of like an old guy sitting on the front porch of the old mercantile store, talking to passers-by, some who stop and listen and some who kindly wave and keep walking by, where everything I say sort of turns into a long, long story, so bear with me here. Ill try to keep this somewhat brief. But there was a pure, authentic, really wonderful vibe to this weekends race that Im going to remember for a long, long time. The San Diego 100 is special because its a people race in every sense. It consists of caring people who want nothing more than to help you run strongly and run happily. It consists of runners, who, I dare say, were among the most pleasant and positive Ive ever been around. There wasnt a lot of complaining out there on Saturday and into Sunday -- just the pure joy of being on a course that was rich with diversity and beauty. The crews, too, all seemed happy -- probably because of a course design that made it a series of easy drives up and down the appropriately named Sunrise Highway. This was a race that made me think of my dear friend, Scott Mills, practically every step of the way. Scott is the SD 100s RD, and this race, in every sense, is in his image: beautiful, caring, challenging, transformational in the sense that once youve finished -- just as once you have a conversation with Scott -- you walk away feeling your heart filled with something special, something that will make you a better person, and help you view the world through a more positive lens. This was the San Diego 100 for me. The moments have cascaded back to me over the past few days, so often and with such beautiful clarity its made me on several occasions feel like I want to go back right now and re-experience them, in order to make sure that they were real. This is the old man in me again boiling up, so Ill try to give a couple of quick examples. First was the company I kept -- so many great people from our area made the pilgrimage. So many, in fact, the womens podium was comprised entirely of three women whom I have the utmost love and respect for: Jenny Capel, Erika Lindland and Gretchen Brugman. I cant think of three people more deserving of having memorable runs (Jenny ran a race that showed that its OK to dare to run big and run like a giant on a sneakily tricky course; Erika hurt her foot a few days before the race but still ran a superb race; Gretchen, I think, ran the kind of race where ones doubts are put to rest, where you realize you are capable of wholly wonderful things). My good friend Mike Holmes made his 100-mile debut, and although he didnt make it to the finish, I couldnt be prouder of a guy who in the months, weeks, days and hours before the race, brought all of us who were running SD together in the communal, supportive, fun way that only the Nightcrawler can. During the race I was able to run some of the early miles with the indefatigable Dave Briggs from Reno, and I saw 100-mile rookie Zach Smith from our area, who looked so happy just to be out there (and congrats to Zach on a sub-26 hour finish!). The course itself was unlike anything I had ever experienced. We went from the perfect start/finish at Lake Cayamuca to the top of Stonewall Peak with its awesome view of the entire area at the top, to the Anza Barrego Desert area and the amazing section that took us on the PCT. This section, which took us across the Sunrise Highway, was simply jaw-dropping in its beauty. I couldnt get enough of the desert panorama that spread out for what looked like hundreds of miles to our left. For some reason, it made me think of Edward Abbey, and how fortunate we are to have our desert landscapes, and how even in their starkness, there is a revealing beauty that reminds us life is everywhere we look. It was a warm day out, and my stomach, for some reason, wasnt as rock-solid as it normally was, and that made the aid stations all the more important to me. The folks at every single aid station were awesome. They sponged my bald head and soaked my bandana and shirt like I was part of their family, laughing and patting me on the back and telling me how great I looked (even if I did look like a dog who had just jumped into a pond and had tromped in water into the front room). I ran into the wonderful Dan Williams, father of the wonderful Christina Williams, who ran a great race herself, at the Pioneer Mail aid station at mile 34, and Dan even got into the act, sponging me off and, as Dan always does, offering up the kind of heartfelt, positive encouragement that stays with a runner long after the work of the sponge has dried up. Later, at the Penny Pines aid station, a young man with red hair and a great attitude literally walked me into and out of the aid station, sponged me, filled my backpack with water, then walked me out, giving me a very detailed explanation of the next five miles (which were a long uphill grind). Youre going to finish great, he said, and as I started to run away from him, he sounded disappointed. Hey, didnt you forget something? I turned, and then he smiled, with his fist out. Ah, these young people. I happily gave him a fist-bump, and then went completely old-school on him and gave him one of my compulsive hugs. The young man seemed stoked. That was awesome ... work with the trail ... dont let it work you ... youve got this thing. And I did. Jill Trent, Annie Trent, and Katie Trent were my crew/pacers, and seeing them every 20ish miles or so was simply perfect. By the Meadows, at mile 51, even after a couple of pit-stops to do my business due to my finicky stomach, I was feeling strong and happy. The Meadows section of this course was one of my favorite parts of the race. It reminded me of areas of Lake Tahoe, near the Basin, where open grassland intersects with trees (which, by the way, were a welcome relief after being in the direct sun on the more deserty, PCT sections of the course). I ran into the Meadows feeling strong, and after getting a great race update from the girls (Jennys killing it ... shes in third place overall!), Katie took on the pacing duties from the Meadows to Sunrise 2 at mile 79. The time we spent together was something Ill always remember, as we went from the Meadows onto the 16-mile Noble Canyon loop. Like the name suggests, Noble Canyon is something special: a long, eight-mile descent into what seemed like three distinct micro-topographies of scrub, then trees, then desert/sagebrush, followed by an eight-mile climb out. It was rocky in parts, but, especially near the bottom, as the sun was starting to lower, simply peaceful and utterly beautiful. The entire scene, in fact, reminded me of something you would see on an artists easel parked near a springtime canyon near Death Valley -- the colors were so vivid and rich and beautiful. We turned on our headlamps a couple of miles into the climb out, and, shortly after, we came upon a car parked near the trail. To our surprise, it was Scott, who had been in constant motion since the first time I saw him on Friday at the pre-race briefing. For the second time, he was in the middle of working to fix some course vandalism -- apparently a small group of mountain bikers had been out throughout the day misdirecting ribbon or tearing it down. Scott, though disappointed, wasnt defeated. These guys dont realize they havent won the war, he said, after he and Katie and I talked for a few minutes about what had happened. And Scotty was right; you cant beat something with this much good attached to it. Within a few minutes, he had members of his crack crew of volunteers out on the course, fixing and re-marking what those unthinking individuals had attempted to ruin. The nimbleness of Scotts race infrastructure, particularly on this day, was one of the most impressive things Ive ever seen in nearly 20 years of ultra running. Katie and I handled Noble Canyon well, and as we hit the climb out of Pioneer Mail near mile 73, we were treated to a completely unexpected view (I think, anyway) of the lights of San Diego -- far, far off in the distance. We both paused for a moment, on a ridgetop on the PCT, a slight warm breeze blowing in our face, and took it all in: A course of so many pleasant surprises was, yet again, offering up another lovely scene. The PCT proved somewhat challenging, as Katie began to have some stomach troubles herself. It had been a hot day, and I could relate. She hung with me gamely at first, then began to drop back a bit. I went from a run to a strong hike, never letting her flashlight drop too far behind me. This was an easy decision to make. I run ultras because of their reaffirmation of what I hold most dear -- family and friends -- and I would be damned if I was going to completely drop my daughter in the middle of the night on a rugged section of the PCT. I was able to keep moving well, while also monitoring Katies flashlight behind me, and probably arrived at Sunrise II and mile 79 feeling stronger because of the fact that I power-hiked the section instead of raced it. Sunrise looked like something out of Burning Man -- colorful graphics of runners were in the air, the mood was festive, and now it was Annies turn to run me in the final 20-plus miles. Annie and I made good time as we made our way to the Chambers II aid station, leap-frogging with other runners, as always happens, through the dark. I had told Annie and Katie that SD was going to be about my ability to run the latter stages -- my last two hundreds, both at Western States and Leadville, my legs had gone early and there hadnt been much running late. As we neared Chambers, I was still running well. My stomach had settled down and I was overjoyed to still be moving so well. We accidentally made a wrong turn down into the Chambers aid station, which, as Kilian Jornet would say, means only thing: More miles means more fun! Ill admit, though, that this led to my only down period of the entire race. For the next hour and a half, it was hard to dig out of the mental hole I had put myself into. I struggled out of Chambers knowing sub-24 was probably no longer in the cards, and the climb back up Stonewall Peak was slow, laborious and a bit frustrating. Then the magic of San Diego kicked in again: thanks to Annies encouragement (I think youre fine physically, Daddy) plus the encouragement of a happy sunrise aid station crew at the Paso Pichaco station at mile 95 (You look so much better than most of the runners who have been through here ... Youre actually smiling, one volunteer said), I was able to find some more life in my legs. I started to run again, and, as a text that Annie to Katie and Jill waiting for us at the finish would later attest, The second wind has been ignited! Woo! I was moving well again. I dopped in behind Annies confident stride and simply, just as I had done hours earlier in the sunset beauty of Noble Canyon with Katie, let my daughters joy for her surroundings take over, the slipstream of positivity pulling me forward like a magnet. We dropped down to a road and started to hit 10-minute pace for the next couple of miles to the finish, working our way through a grassy field over the final mile back to Lake Cayamuca. Annie and I slapped hands as we neared the finish, and I could see Jill, Katie, and Scott standing on the small rise of the finish, looking down at us as we made our way out of the field and back onto pavement and the finish. The first person to greet me at the finish was Scott. He put my finishers medal around my neck, and, as he handed me my finishers buckle, we both grew emotional. I love Scott Mills the way a person loves a brother. Ive always looked upon his example and the ultra life he has led as the kind of ultra life I hope to lead -- that is, a rich, fulfilling life that is memorable not just because of the races he has run, but because of the incredible, inclusive circle of family and friends he has created because of his care and concern for others. You talk to anyone who knows Scott Mills, and they will tell you what a generous, compassionate, nurturing man he is. As we hugged, the emotion of the moment brought tears of joy to both of our eyes, I couldnt help but think how lucky both Scott and I were at that moment. Hes a lucky man to have such a special race, that is so much in his image, full of smiles and challenge and beauty and people who love and care about themselves and the runners who come from near and from to run; Im a lucky man because I was able to experience all of these things first-hand, and as well, I was able to have Jill and Annie and Katie experience all of this goodness first-hand as well. As I sat on a fold-out chair and watched Scotty personally greet every finisher, his group of wonderful people making sure that our every need was met, I couldnt help but think, with Jill on one side of me and Katie and Annie on the other, that the San Diego 100 was maybe my most special 100 of them all. It reaffirmed, in every sense, in every special way, everything I hold dear in life.
Posted on: Tue, 10 Jun 2014 14:00:16 +0000
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