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2019: the annual report

2019: the annual report

When I went back through my blog archives to see what I wrote about at this time last year, I realized that I didn’t write about my previous year until freaking March! 2019 was a blur, but hey, we can’t complain about getting another year of life because many aren’t so lucky.

Like any Type A runner, I find it exciting to pore over my running stats and hypothesize what I could do in the future. Just like I wrote in 2018 about my 2017, though, the numbers don’t tell the whole story; they’re just a good place to start. With that, here’s what stands out to me over 2019’s 2,200 miles, 333 days of running, and just shy of 120,000 feet of gain: 

Winter and spring were both pretty tough. After running CIM in 2018 and taking some time off, I was eager to begin training in earnest again in January. Instead, I got sick in February and remained sick for a solid 4+ weeks (and stupidly tried to race at the 408k). I bowed out of pacing 3:35 at Modesto because I missed basically all of my long runs in February, and it just sucked. My schedule was super prohibitive in the spring, too, which also meant I couldn’t participate in any of the spring PA races. Being sick for a while and bagging races wasn’t what how I envisioned my 2019 beginning.

don’t race while ill. never. again.

While they weren’t PRs, I pulled together solid races at the Silicon Valley half and at the Mountains to Beach marathon for the days that I had and the training I accomplished within the aforementioned prohibitive spring schedule. On a very pretty day in April, I had a wonderful time running the SV Half as a workout and finally remembered that having fun and working hard aren’t mutually exclusive in running or racing. Similarly, even though spring training got off to a rocky start for MTB, I entered the race feeling “calmly confident”, went for a PR, and came up short (but only lost 100 seconds between two shit stops mid-marathon, which is a useless fact that I’ll surely remember for the rest of my life). Since July ‘18 at SF, I had run 3:26 (and finished feeling absolutely wrecked), 3:24 at CIM (and finished feeling completely heartbroken), and then 3:25 at MTB. The lights finally came on up top at MTB, however, and I finished pretty freakin’ thrilled that I could have a “bad day” and still run a marathon! for! goodness’! sake! well, all things considered. 

filed under “moments I love from 2019” is seeing friends mid-race at the SVHM. (PC: girl gang)
My IG Top Nine tells me this was my most-liked image in ’19. It appropriately summarizes what I felt all year: work very hard, and have a LOT of fun in the process. (PC: girl gang)

sharing the MTB love — 2 poop stops be damned! — with Erica and Meredith was just so dang heartwarming.

Bowing out of TSFM’s full & CIM were hard decisions, sorta. At the beginning of 2019, I was giddy at the thought of racing (and/or pacing) four marathons. When it was all said and done, only one came to fruition, and shocker! — I was fine. Trying to squeeze earnest training for SF while I was in the midwest for six weeks this summer (and likely recovering from the tsunami that was my spring) was fairly impossible, and deciding to table CIM in favor of spectating at my eldest’s swim meet was a no-brainer. As my children get older and get more involved in whatever they want to get involved in, my availability to run, race, or train how I’d like diminishes, and that’s okay. Races aren’t going anywhere, the hills will always be there, and just because I can’t do something anymore (or doing said something no longer makes sense) doesn’t mean that the training is for naught.  

getting to run with longtime friends in Chicago (rough weather be damned – some things never change!) was excellent

Staying open to a Plan B (or C, D, or Z, whatever) can still result in an amazing (and [still!] hard-as-hell!) experience. Again, if you would have told me in January 2019 that I’d finish the year by racing every single PA cross country race, I’d easily come up with a thousand reasons why that’d never happen, yet surprise! It did! The wonderful thing about running is that we can do it just about anywhere, and it can take on many different shapes and forms. Focusing my second half of ‘19 on running in such a way that would allow me to race XC well, week after week, meant that I traded long runs in favor of hills and trails, as well as marathon effort for “figure out how to grind up this hill as hard as you can, repeatedly.” Racing every PA race with Heather — and having my ass handed to me by all the incredibly fast women in the PA week after week — was humbling, fun, and 1000% worth it. I’m proud that I showed up and that my daughters saw me do the same week after week. Anything that’s worth it is never easy.

week after week of that great XC pain face (PC: Alex)
I spent more QT in ARP the back half of ’19 than I did for years, combined. It’s such a gem in this great city.

Related: showing up and doing the thing — despite whatever reason we tell ourselves we can’t or shouldn’t — applies to more than mileage. It wasn’t until the summer, when I was visiting my family, that I began to write in this space again in earnest. I had such a backlog of stuff I wanted to write about — book reports, race reports, and the garden-variety ruminations — that I quietly committed to writing and posting something, anything, every Wednesday for the rest of the year. I’ve never really kept a schedule in this space, and even when I felt like I had nothing to write about (or that whatever I wrote was garbage), I still made myself hit the publish button each week. When life gets chaotic, typically the first thing I toss is my writing practice. No more. Just show up — just hit publish — and it all adds up. Doing the work, even when we don’t want to, matters.

The passage and rapidity of time right now is dizzying. I have goals and ideas for 2020, but I think recent experience has taught me that the best way to proceed is with an open heart and mind to whatever transpires — be it repeating any of the 18 races I ran this year (1 8k, 1 marathon, 1 5k, 3 road half marathons, 1 trail half marathon, 1 5 miler, or the 11 cross country races) or something completely different. Your guess is as good as mine.

I’m profoundly grateful for this little hobby of mine and for the community it has brought to my life. 2020: here we go!

xoxo

Woodside Ramble Half Marathon Race Report – Woodside, CA

Woodside Ramble Half Marathon Race Report – Woodside, CA

There was a time in my life when I signed up for races rather prolifically. It didn’t matter what type of perceived shape I was in or where my fitness was; at the very “worst,” I’d be posting a supported training run, and at the (somewhat miraculous) very “best,” maybe I’d set a new PR in the race distance. These days, I tend to swing the opposite direction — I’m only signing up for races for which I train specifically, more often than not — so it’s with a bit of yuletide jolly that I laughed at myself when I signed up for Inside Trail Racing’s Woodside Ramble half marathon. (I think this is the point in the story where I’ll blame my decision on Meredith, ha).

Like I’ve mentioned before, I couldn’t do CIM, so I thought I’d instead do the Ramble 50k. A prohibitive weekend schedule, for several months, made it clear that trying to race a trail 50k (and properly training for it) would be unwise, so then I thought a 35k would suffice … yadda yadda yadda … so here I was, about a week before the race, hoping for the best with Woodside’s trail half that had a touch over 2k of elevation. I’ve never trained for a half marathon, proper, or a trail race at that, so my “training plan” that I used this fall (mostly with XC in mind) was simply run in ARP as much as possible and accumulate a couple k of climbing each week. I just hoped that’d be enough to ensure that I didn’t die during the Woodside half. 

“training” in one of my fav sections in ARP (PC: Janet)

Meredith, her teammate Sara, and I met up at Woodside race morning and were met with pretty perfect racing temps: low 50s and overcast. The ground was wet but not drenched in mud, and while you moved, the temps were completely comfortable to wear a LS/tank and shorts; standing around, however, felt a little chilly in the absence of pants. Getting into the park, paying the $6 parking fee, and finding bibs was all really easy and straightforward, and after we ran a very abbreviated warm-up (about 1000m, ha), we three lined up in the grassy field starting area and were off. 

I haven’t run in Wunderlich and Huddart Parks since the only other time in my life I was there — for the 50k way back in 2014 — so I was pretty surprised at how much I seemed to remember about the parks, the topography, the layout, everything; maybe running pregnant there seared those memories into my mind. We had a pretty crowded start, particularly in the more narrow, singletrack-esque portions of the course, but within the first 5k, the field thinned out considerably, giving everyone breathing space. When I ran the 50k, I had very specific hiking and running strategies, but for the half, my only thought was run as much as you comfortably can. I was surprised (and admittedly, pretty floored!) to find myself gliding up all the ascents and churning in a lower gear to get up and over, up and over throughout the entirety of the race. 

These parks are so pretty to run in and so different from my usual confines at ARP. While ARP is wide open, without much canopy, and much different topographically, Wunderlich and Huddart are much more covered, with towering redwoods, and much greener in general. (The entirety of Wunderlich and Huddart that I’ve run in remind me of the South Rim switchback area in ARP, very Secret Garden-esque, or like the Enchanted Forest of Nisene Marks). I’m not sure a shit-eating grin ever left my face when I was running, save for the couple times runners in front of me tripped and fell over rocks or downed trees (remarkably, the 3 people I saw go down were all fine and and recovered quickly). Otherwise, I was so happy to be there. I love running fast, and I love running “in nature,” but I rarely do those two at the same time.  

Free and strong cycled on repeat in my head, my three-word mantras for the morning, and maybe except for the last couple miles when I was beginning to feel tired, I felt smooth and strong. I couldn’t help but hear O.A.R.’s “Free” the whole time I was running, a pretty perfect soundtrack to what I was feeling coursing through me throughout the race. Once we hit the single aid station on the course at mile ~6.7 or so, I began to bomb the downhills as much as I could and played a good game of tag with other women HM runners in my immediate vicinity. Seeing a fellow TSFM ambassador Charles on the course twice, serving as a course marshall, was a great pick-me-up, too; there’s always time for mid-race sweaty hugs when we see our friends, right? I felt like I was pulling energy from the beautiful surroundings and the other happy runners around me as much as I was from myself. I was running in a beautiful place with friends, keeping the effort high, and having so much fun in the process.   

It was a perfect way to end a very full year of racing. 

I finished smiling and held back from letting out an embarrassing WHOOOOOOOOO! at the finish line because I was just so, so happy to be there that morning. I wasn’t much interested in gauging my success race morning by what my watch told me; instead, I relied on my internal cues, the indescribable feeling in my gut that told me how the day went. My finish time was better than I thought it’d be — though again, I didn’t have any time goals for the day or even looked at my watch during the race (which, admittedly, would have been off anyway, since GPS cuts out in the park). More importantly, I finished with that satisfied feeling in my chest and my legs, that pleasant burn that’s better than any race day tchotchke, the feeling that we carry with us for the rest of the day that reminds us I just did that wonderful thing

Meredith and I talked about how maybe racing at Woodside each year — whatever distance we want that day, given what we may have raced earlier in the month — should be how we end our racing year, a new tradition that we should establish, beginning now. I’m keen to do this. Though this year wasn’t beset with oodles of accolades or PRs, I think what I’ll remember most about my racing in 2019 is how I felt in the moments, the little snapshots of the experience that have stayed with me all year long. It makes sense then that punctuating my year with Woodside couldn’t have been a wiser choice.

CHEEZ SO HARD bc we’re so dang happy

Happy 2019, welcome 2020, and lots of love.    xo Erin