Running Ruminations

Another weekend, another XC meet, yeah! Since I’m deferring my CIM registration to 2020, and I still haven’t decided if I’m pursuing a 50k in its absence this year (or chasing something else), I’ve made it a goal to complete as many of the 11 PA cross-country races as I can. I call this training block “get strong and fast by way of cross-country,” and so far, so good. 

Saturday’s 3-mile cross-country race in Vacaville, at the Lagoon Valley Challenge, put on by the Golden Valley Harriers, was the third race of the PA series and — bonus! — was in its inaugural year. Hooray for new races! 

Getting to Vacaville meant a solid ~90 minutes drive each way early Saturday morning, but fortunately, my teammate (and extremely talented runner) Claire and I chatted it up for the commute’s entirety both ways. The race registration page advised that the races would be starting earlier than usual “to take advantage of the cool delta mornings” and that the masters men would be competing first, then the open women, and then the open men. Claire and I arrived with just enough time to complete a 2 mile warm-up with our teammate Heather, cheer for Isaac (who was our solo masters men runner), and toe the line. All of us were pretty profusely sweating by the time we reached the starting line at 8:45am (foreshadowing!).

A refreshing aspect to running new distances, in new-to-you places, and cross-country style, is that you don’t know what you don’t know. Right before we toed the line, Heather’s dad (who had just run the masters men’s race) laughingly told us that the Big Mama hill we’d be running in the first mile was “the steepest hill in all of the PA cross country circuit.” Dubious of his claim, we three immediately quizzed him of Big Mama’s steepness in relation to some of the well-known hills on the PA circuit — Santa Cruz?! Garin?! and the like — to which he unabashedly claimed that Big Mama dwarfed them all. Isaac also confirmed Heather’s dad’s claim, mentioning that “Big Mama don’t play” and that the second pronounced hill we’d run later in the race, Little Sister, wasn’t nearly as steep or long but that she, too, would make us work.

Well… brilliant. 

Being on the starting line of a new race, in a new-to-me place, knowing that it was likely going to be very, very uncomfortable is such a weird experience. It’s always the same thing: we can make it really easy for ourselves, or we can make it rather uncomfortable. Reveling, if not delighting (or pretending to delight) in the discomfort and “suffering” we’ve elected to pursue in that moment is pretty strange when you think about it. It’s a question that people who don’t run for fun often ask runners: why do you pay money to do this to yourself? And it’s an honest question. Personally, my answers change all the time, but one long-standing response is simply because I can. Most days, that’s enough.

Like several of the other PA XC races I’ve run, the Lagoon Valley iteration had runners racing on a course that featured some out-and-backs and step retracing, which makes it really hard to describe but also very convenient to support our teammates. (The GVH site features a helpful video and course map, in case you’d like more details). Much of the 3 mile course was actually very flat (and very dusty at this time of year), but the Big Mama climb in the first mile and the Little Sister climb in the second definitely shook things up. For local friends, Big Mama was akin to North Rim in ARP — just a long, slow climb — whereas Little Sister was considerably more abbreviated, practically more of a hiccup than anything. 

The racing field size felt smaller to me than those of the previous weekends’, so I felt like I got off the line pretty easily and held my position well throughout much of the first mile. By the time we got to Big Mama, I was amazed — and completely surprised — to see many runners in my immediate vicinity actually walking up the hill instead of running. No judgment here, promise! Walking (or power-hiking, whatever you want to call it) is definitely a wise strategy on the trails because for most people, on the steep stuff (ascents or descents), it’s a more prudent energy expenditure to hike than run; even the pros will walk or hike from time to time. Hell, when it makes sense to, I’ll walk without question on a hard trail.

However, I’ve never seen another fellow lady racer in my vicinity in a PA XC race walk any hills, so I was completely taken aback. To be honest, when I saw so many other women in my vicinity walking up Big Mama, I wondered if maybe I should do the same; like I said, there’s no shame. I will definitely walk up ascents (or down rough descents) on certain trails when I feel like it’s a more judicious use of my energy. On Big Mama, anyway, I felt ok enough when I was very slowly running, so I kept at it and just kept chugging away uphill. 

By the time I got to the top, I felt tired but not completely wiped out, and then, right as we began descending, shortly after the first mile marker, my legs felt like a chemistry experiment was unfolding within them. I tried to make up any time I lost on the ascent by descending quickly, but holy moly, no doubt between the stress of ascending as fast as I could and then trying to descend quickly (without flying face-first down the thing and thusly eating shit), my legs were BEAT … at mile one! Add to that the incessant braking I was doing (see the aforementioned I didn’t want to eat shit commentary), and yeah. *That’s* what my quads have been feeling for the past 3 days post-race. Yowza.

Once we descended Big Mama and resumed flatlands running for a bit, I regrettably surrendered six positions between miles 1 and 2. Augh! I felt like my legs were holding on for dear life, like that chemistry experiment that showed up at mile 1 was still brewing for a little bit longer. I did the only thing I could do, which was just to keep trying to keep.things.moving, waiting for a second burst of speed and turnover. As the race wore on, about halfway through mile 2, we ascended Little Sister — which was short and sweet and a bit of a momentary reprieve from running fast on the flats — and once we were off her descent, we only had about .5 or so left before returning to the finish line, situated very close to the starting line, back in that same field. It wasn’t until the last half-mile or so that I gained one of the positions I had surrendered earlier, and I finished as hard and fast as I could. My Garmin data indicates that I had a good-for-me finishing kick, which, hey, I’ll take the victories as I can get ’em.

It was hard and fun; in a word: satisfying.

Surely, I’m a broken record by now, but damn: this cross-country stuff is tough! I’m super grateful that we had an earlier start time than usual because the morning continued to warm, and by the time I finished the race, I was dripping wet in sweat and beet red; never again will I fail to pack sunscreen in my XC bag. Claire, Heather, and I opted for some easy cool-down miles, punctuated (as always) by cheering for our open men’s team racers, and stopping frequently for water, whenever we could find some. Just like the previous two weekends at XC, it made for a 10-mile-and-change day, and I was satisfied with my effort and for mentally hanging with it when it got super uncomfortable. Paying $20 to go race hard in the dirt and over hills is one of the better investments I’ve made in my running in the recent past, long commutes and all. Oh, and fun fact: those six women who gapped me between miles 1 and 2 were all between 55-65 years old. *That* is inspiring. 

I’m looking forward to the rest of the cross-country PA series for the next few months and to continuing to try many new-to-me races. Kudos to GVH for organizing a fun and challenging race, and congrats to everyone for showing up and working hard on Saturday. (And reminder: my team, Wolfpack Running Club, is organizing Sunday’s Golden Gate Park Open in SF. Come one and all to this fun and hard course, and consider it a preview for the championship meet course that we’ll run in mid-November. See you there!)