The last Sunday in September was this year’s John Lawson Tamalpa Challenge, an approximate 4.2 mile cross country race up in China Camp in San Rafael. This race, the seventh in the PA USATF XC circuit, was one to which many of my teammates affectionately referred as the best — their fav — in the series, so I was definitely looking forward to participating. So much of this XC action this season is brand new to me, and it’s honestly been a blast showing up to run without any firsthand knowledge of what I’m getting myself into.  

In a year, when I think about my experience, about my first time at this XC race or about my first time racing in China Camp, I think I’ll remember less about how poorly I ran or how bad I felt during the race — more on that momentarily — and will instead remember the family behind the race name. As my teammates and I were huddled together at the starting line, a sweet-voiced woman, speaking with what I can only describe as the practiced cadence of a minister, thanked us all for coming to the 24th iteration of the John Lawson event.

She, in fact, was Mrs. John Lawson, and her late husband was a long-time member of the Tamalpa Runners — the organizers of the event — and an avid runner. He was just 44 when he had a massive heart attack and died (and according to his obit, his children were super young at the time), and it was this XC race that I was about to run that had been organized and dedicated in his memory for the past 24 years. She spoke of running with joy and encouraged us to be thankful for the experience and to revel in both the fellowship and friendly competition of the morning. 

In my experience, running sure is useful for a lot of stuff in life, and probably chief among them is allowing us — giving us all opportunities and space — to put everything into perspective. Hearing from this woman right before racing was really powerful. Many of us go about our lives operating under the assumption that we’re somewhat invincible, especially because we’re runners — as though that title bestows unto us something magical — but the obvious reality is that we’re not. It sucks to come to this realization, or to otherwise be reminded of it, but it’s important. I mean, c’mon. I had a brain bleed stroke that could have killed me when I was 34. I get it. We are, and life in general is, a lot more fragile and sacred than we sometimes let on. 

Shortly after Ms. Lawson’s words of gratitude and encouragement, we were off. The Lawson Tamalpa course begins on about a ½ mile long slow ascent on a dirt roadway or walkway near Miwok Meadows, passing the finish line and the teams’ staging area in the process, before we ventured into the woods to begin some fun singletrack and switchback action. (The Strava map of the activity is prob my favorite of the series so far!) Most of the course was on pretty narrow singletrack, making it really important that you hold your spot or allow others to pass you as needed. In fact, if the race is about 4.2 miles long, I’d guess that about 3.5 of it is on singletrack, moguls-style trails. I started off comfortably and tried to at least hold my position (or not surrender too many places), but shortly after mile 1 (!), I was beginning to wonder where the 2nd mile marker was because it felt like I had been out there for a while… which is never, ever a good sign. 

As the race continued through the beautiful China Camp singletrack, I felt pretty crappy, basically like I was running on fumes and had n-o-t-h-i-n-g left in the tank for the race. To be fair, my days prior were pretty stressful, since I was solo-parenting for nearly six days (my neighbor did me a solid by coming over at 6:15 a.m. so I could go race), I had a big event on Friday night that I had been planning for over a month and another (smaller) function Saturday morning …yadda yadda yadda… and I was freaking out over the possibility that my iron was shot, thanks to a recent rejection when I went to give blood. Sometimes I can successfully compartmentalize my life, but I think by Sunday morning, I was pretty emotionally and physically tapped. I generally pride myself on staying IN IT when I race, even when things go sideways, but on Sunday, I was ready to be done. I hated that I was feeling that way — and it was in such contrast to my fascination and adoration with the sheer beauty of the course and my utter respect and appreciation for all of Mrs. Lawson’s words that were percolating in my head — but yeah. Ouch. Just one of those days. 

I saw my teammate Isaac crouched in one of the few places on the course that was wide enough for a spectator and a runner, snapping pics, and seeing him (while laughing to myself that he probably caught me at my worst) was a nice, momentary pick-me-up from the dark, frustrating places my mind was taking me; I’m pretty sure I retired from running in mile 3, FFS. Right after Isaac, there was only a mile left in the race — which admittedly felt hella long, given how I felt — and probably at least five women passed me. I’ve been trying to kick it in hard at the end of these races, but I had nothing left and less-than-no chase to give. The real zinger: I stopped running when I got to the finish chute, when I thought I had finished, and it wasn’t until a nice PA official woman in front of me implored me to KEEP GOING! that I realized I had stopped about 1 ½ steps away from the finish line. ::dammit::

It took me only a second to realize my mistake — and thankfully, no other women passed me in my stupidity — but damn! I’ve been racing forever, and I don’t think I’ve ever made that mistake before. First time for everything. That probably shows how tired and out of it I was more than anything, egads. 

Shortly after finishing, I joined most of the gals for what was supposed to be a long cool-down (originally 7 or so miles to get a 15 mile day), but I went from feeling bad to terrible, and I called it after 5 and change. I felt guilty about being gone from my kids (always), I had no energy, I kept tripping and almost-eating-shit; I was basically a hot mess, quickly devolving into a disaster waiting to happen. The contrast to what I was feeling (so bad!) to what I was seeing (so beautiful! so awesome!) couldn’t have been comically sharper. I was so grateful to be out there, doing this type of running, this type of racing, in this type of environment, but I finished the morning feeling just completely defeated. It was one of *those* types of glorious race days. 

Of course, a little distance and a lot of perspective makes the whole ordeal sorta comical 48 hours later — we all have shitty race days, at some point or another — but in the thick of it, it’s hard not to catastrophize, and it’s basically impossible to see the forest for the trees. And really, all told, my average pace at Lawson Tamalpa wasn’t all that different from what I’ve been posting at all these other 3-4mi (and change) XC courses, even though they all vary widely in terrain and elevation. As it turns out, I’m human after all, and sometimes life or whatever seeps into racing. Good thing there are always other races and that running is so much more than mere racing to me. Mrs. Lawson’s words reminded me as much. 

This weekend will be a short reprieve from XC, since there’s a half marathon on the PA calendar instead, so I’ll be back with my typical XC bantering in a couple weeks’ time. (And in the interim, for next week’s post, I have to think of something to write. Suggestions welcome!) There are just a few more XC races left on the calendar, so local friends, as usual, here’s your open invite to join us at one of the remaining races. 🙂