A 50K Reunion
Why the Marin Ultra Challenge felt like a comeback, not a struggle
Tomorrow (March 19), I’ll host the monthly Zoom for paid subscribers. This time, several of us in the group who ran the Marin Ultra Challenge last Saturday will give a postmortem about how the race unfolded, what went well and what problems arose, what we might have done differently in hindsight, and what we learned or otherwise gained from it. If you’d like an invitation to the monthly chat and occasional bonus posts, please upgrade your subscription to the supporter level.
I made a conscious choice before starting the Marin Ultra Challenge 50K last Saturday—my first ultra since last September—and that choice led to a smooth-sailing and happy 30ish miles in spite of entering it undertrained.
The choice and good result did not have much to do with training, tapering, fueling, or wearing the best shoes for the conditions. Nor did it involve setting goal split times to aid stations, studying the course profile to strategize pacing, or doing umpteen hill repeats on similar slopes in the weeks prior. Those are things I do for “A” races that I take seriously.
Rather, the choice was this: to recognize and act as if it might be my last time ever running those trails and seeing those old friends, given that my trips back to the Bay Area are fewer and farther between, and who knows what may happen?
I therefore chose to pause and take photos, to chat with some friends who were running near me, and to stop at aid stations to talk to anyone I knew there.
I became a runner and spent my formative adult years in the East Bay Area, from grad school in my twenties to parenting through my forties, and the Marin Headlands to the north always beckoned as an inspirational trail-racing destination. Over the decades, I became thoroughly familiar with Saturday’s route from earlier runs at this Marin Ultra Challenge, along with the Northface Endurance Challenge 50 and Miwok 100K. Four years had passed since I last raced here.
Running up from Rodeo Beach at daybreak, with the white noise of waves crashing and the chatter of runners and rhythmic thud of their footfalls in my ears, all the details and memories rushed back—the rickety stretch of ladder-like wooden stairs, the shuttered hillside bunkers with rusted hardware and a big long cannon on display, the crescent shape of the beach below.
On rested legs in oxygen-rich sea-level air, running felt blissfully manageable. I actually could run up the kinds of slopes that I downshift to hike in the mountains around our Colorado home at 9000 feet. My body relaxed because I carried no anxiety, no doubt, and no pressure to achieve goals except to celebrate the route and run (rather than hike) as much of it as I could.
After snapping photos of sunrise and the Golden Gate Bridge, and cresting two 800-foot climbs, I ran into the Tennessee Valley Aid Station at mile 10 and heard my husband yell, “There she is!”
Four old friends swarmed me—our college roommate plus three past coaching clients and running buddies. “I’m spending at least 15 minutes here!” I said, exaggerating but declaring my priorities to rekindle relationships.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a woman wearing doughnut-print shorts whom I guessed was in my age group. She exited the aid station and got ahead of me, but I did not care. I might catch her later.
One friend told me to hand her my sticky gel wrappers and snotty tissues while another helped me refill my bottles. I told Morgan to take off his sweater so we could view his “Practice Maximum Enthusiasm” shirt, and we all laughed as the contents of his pockets accidentally spilled to the ground.
I hugged them all and walked backwards out of the aid station to view them longer, and as I turned and started running toward the rocky cliffs overlooking Pirates Cove, I thought about the studies that have shown that relationships are key to happiness and also contribute to longevity.
Would I trade these interactions to run in the front and win, if I still could run that fast? No. But, for the challenge and for my ego, I wanted to chase down and pass that woman in the doughnut shorts who looked to be my age.
Earlier in life, I ran fast enough to win 50Ks here, back when I was a cocky road-marathon convert with younger, fresher legs in a still-fringe sport with fewer competitors. In 2008, when the erstwhile Pacific Coast Trail Runs outfit hosted the Rodeo Beach 50K on a route similar to Saturday’s, I ran all-out to squeak under five hours and placed first female in 4:59, when I was 39. I ran it again as hard as I could in 2011 to beat the others and win in 5:09, and I showed off by cartwheeling through the finish line.
A decade ago, at the 2016 Marin Ultra Challenge 50K, I finished in 5:03 for fifth place among stout competitors. I honestly don’t know how I ran that fast back then on a course with 6300 feet of vert. I don’t understand the physics and physiology of how my legs turned over that quickly, or what changed in my stride and its speed since then, because now, I would be thrilled to finish an hour slower, close to six hours. And the pace I was running midway through the route on Saturday felt fast.
I then made another key choice: to focus on feeling fast, and running light and loose, rather than the objective measurement of speed. Instead of comparing myself to my earlier faster times, I celebrated how much better and faster I was running in the Headlands compared to how I run in the high-altitude mountains around home.
I caught up to my friend Katie above Pirates Cove, then increased my speed to zoom through Muir Beach.
Dare I say, on the big climb up another 800-foot hill called Diaz Ridge around mile 18, the run felt relatively easy? The slope gently zigzagged in a series of smooth ramps. I passed and gapped the woman in the doughnut shorts.
Of course my altitude adaptation helped. I also took in plenty of carbs (~60g/hour) and electrolytes. But the easy feeling came from relaxation and positivity. So often during ultras, I focus on the finish and hurry up to get it done. I push, rush, and redline. This time, I looked around and ran by feel.
The second time through Muir Beach (mile 21), I spotted one of my favorite people, Lisa Felder, aka Mama Lisa. She and her partner coached me for marathons with the Team in Training program starting in 1999, and Lisa helped me transition to ultras.
She hugged me and said, “Sarah! I can’t believe you’re here!” and I said, “I can’t believe you haven’t aged at all!” She asked about my kids—since she remembered them as babies—and I asked about all the runners she was supporting on the course. I handed my phone to a nearby woman to take our photo, and we stood posing as that woman supposedly snapped pics.
“I have to finish these final ten miles, but I’ll see you again,” I told Lisa, inwardly wondering if I ever would.
Imagine my disappointment when I looked at my phone and realized the photo-taker hadn’t pushed the button. I had no image of that special interaction except in my mind, but Lisa later touched my heart by promptly emailing the next day and writing, “You looked great, just like the beautiful athlete I always knew you to be.” Her words hit like praise from a favorite old teacher, or words I wish my own mother had expressed. She reconnected me to the young, ambitious runner I had been—the runner I felt in my bones on Saturday.
I dug up this photo from 2016, when she and my other coach, Alphonzo Jackson, were inducted into the National Black Marathoners Association's Hall of Fame. I like that my note to them lives on in the upper righthand corner.
How could I not mention the weather and clear sky? Everyone has been dreading the high-pressure ridge and its heat wave, but it made for crystal-clear mild weather all Saturday. We can worry about the climate-changing weather, and we can embrace a postcard-perfect day with temps around 70. I won’t ever take a clear blue sky for granted in this era of increased wildfires.
I had one more mini-reunion. My friends Clare and Kim, who were out for a fun run to cheer on the ultra participants, appeared near the summit of the final hill, around mile 28. We stopped to hug and hike a bit together.
Seeing them gave me a boost. I pedaled my legs and windmilled my arms down the final descent as if I were the younger me trying to finish close to five hours instead of six. My muscles quivered and lower back ached. But my good ol’ knees handled the job admirably. I would pay for the aggressive downhill running by wincing while walking downstairs the following three days.
I finished in 6 hours, 12 minutes, second in the 50+ female age group, 23rd woman out of 86 finishers, in the top third overall. In other words, far from the podium but respectably mid-pack.
I hung out at the finish with the age-group winner who beat me by a couple of minutes, another Katie, and discovered we have mutual friends. She graciously joked, “I was glad Kim and Clare stopped you on the hill.”
I thought about how I could have finished closer to six hours flat if I hadn’t spent time talking at aid stations or with friends along the way, and I concluded I would not trade those minutes reconnecting with people for any prize.
I have ultras coming up on calendar that I’ll take seriously, like the extreme high-altitude San Juan Solstice 50, where I’ll challenge myself to break 14 hours (having missed that mark the prior two times I ran it). I’ll push, rush, and redline, and in the midst of suffering, I’ll fondly recall this season-opening 50K when I let myself pause and feel all the joy and nostalgia from decades-long relationships with those people and those trails.
When in the Bay Area …
We splurged on this trip and stayed in two special hotels that I recommend.
First, we spent three nights in Sausalito to be closer to the start line of the race, at Cavallo Point Lodge at the historic Fort Baker, which is part of the Golden Gate National Recreation Area. It’s right next to the base of the Golden Gate Bridge and close to the Sausalito waterfront. I used to run there and take our kids to the Discovery Museum located next door, so I loved returning and strolling along Horseshoe Bay, looking at the San Francisco skyline across the bay.
Then, we spent our final two nights at 1 Hotel on the San Francisco waterfront, across from the Ferry Building. This hotel has a remarkable collection of plants—verdant, healthy plants sprout and hang everywhere you look in the hotel’s interior—and the woodsy texture of all the surfaces gives the luxury hotel an earthy eco vibe. I particularly liked the rooftop garden.
One last highlight of being a Bay Area tourist: we walked up to Coit Tower (the day after the race, on sore legs) to admire not only the views but also the murals inside. Don’t miss it if you’re there.
And that’s all! Thank you for reading. Please let me know you were here by liking or commenting on this post.
Love this. Wish I would have seen you there so I could have said hi. Great race.
Hi! My friend, Heidi, told me about your post and I just wanna say I’m honored to have been chased by you for a wee bit of the run Saturday! Yes, I’m your lady in the doughnut shorts! It was, indeed, a beautiful and fun time out there!!!