2018 Matt Yeo Memorial Aggies XC Open race report – Martinez, CA
October 20, besides being my dear sister’s birthday, was completely full, one of those 4:30 a.m. to 9:30 p.m. type of days. My Saturday morning began how many of my Saturdays have begun of late: with a PA cross country meet, this time the Matt Yeo Memorial Aggies XC open, up in Martinez at the Regional Shoreline Park. I had never done this race before and knew nothing about the course, so I looked forward to doing something new-to-me. Mixing it up in training and racing is always a good thing in my book. Plus, how fun would it be to run “the greatest cross-country race in the world or at least America. If not America then certainly one of the top-10 open cross-country races in Martinez, CA,” as the race’s site suggested?! I mean, it’s not every day you get the opportunity to do something of that magnitude, right?!
G’s preschool had off that week, so my typical running schedule in advance of the XC race was altered slightly: no big. I ran more stroller miles that week than I have in months, and she loved it, so all was well in the world. I didn’t do any workouts that week (not wanting to attempt one with the stroller during the daytime, and alternately, not wanting to do it at 4am, in the dark, by myself), so I told myself it all meant that I’d be going into the endeavor on fairly fresh legs: or as fresh legs as one can have in the thick of marathon training. I didn’t have any particular goals for the 4.2 mile XC race but to run hard, have fun, and make the hour drive each way worth it. Knowing that we would be fielding two complete men’s and women’s teams meant that it’d surely make for a social morning, too, which I always love.
My teammates were spot-on: the course was super flat (probably the flattest XC I’ve run on) and definitely had the potential to be fast. During our warm-up mileage, in which we ran one of the two-loop course, we scoped out what we’d be encountering: a grassy field start; a little bit of asphalt; loose gravel; sand; some tanbark stuff; a couple little bridges; and some potentially-precarious footing on rocks that abutted the slough. Not too bad for 4.2 miles! The temps were quintessentially perfect for autumn racing — cool and crispy when you stood around, but just right when you were running — and the wind was variable. The course was open and exposed, making me kinda think of the Baylands over near Sunnyvale. Hopefully, the wind would stay home; otherwise, we’d be whipped around a lot without much reprieve. (foreshadowing!)
As we lined up on the grass, I positioned myself behind Claire and hoped, per usual, to avoid eating shit coming off the grassy starting line. I tend to get a little anxious at the start of these races, particularly if we’re beginning on the grass, because I’m afraid I’m going to trip, or be tripped, and just eat it right after the gun. The pictures are revealing, as I’m one of the last runners off the grass and onto the pavement (and definitely last among my teammates). I just tell myself that it’s strategic, that it helps ensure that I don’t go out too quickly. Sure.
My theory is that it always feels windy when you’re trying to run fast, and that seemed especially true during the race. (Fortunately, my teammates afterward all remarked that they, too, felt tons of wind. Hooray for it not being in my head!). I tried to hold steady in my pace and wasn’t clock-watching at all — instead, going by effort, as I’ve been doing more often than not during this training cycle and during XC races, in particular — and kept my eyes fixated on all the runners ahead of me. Our neon orange singlets make it especially easy to stay abreast of each other at any given time.
I eventually got that feeling somewhere around the halfway mark, as we were beginning our second lap, that I unfortunately went out too fast and was probably going to pay the price unless I could rally. ::plays the world’s smallest violin:: It’s a frustrating mistake to make for sure, so I tried to instead focus on all the runners around me and tried to not get passed by anyone. For a few strides anyway, I was right with Lisa (fresh off a surgery for a Jones fracture and using that XC race as her post-surgery race debut), but eventually she slipped away. I never saw Claire again after the earliest parts of the race, though Lisa and Anica were not too far ahead of me in the distance. Heather and Mona were somewhere in the mix, too, though I had no idea where because I couldn’t see them.
Not clock-watching became especially useful here because I intuitively knew I was slowing down, and seeing it “officially” on my Garmin wasn’t going to help matters at all. I tried to focus on the effort and intensity and told myself that I’d be done in about 14 minutes, 15 minutes max, and to stay mentally with it. I can be uncomfortable for 14 or 15 minutes. That’s just 1 minute, over and over and over again. (I am especially fond of this mental game and play it often during hard workouts).
And like that, it was over. Racing is so twisted in that way, isn’t it? For me, it doesn’t matter if I’m racing a short XC event or a marathon; time flies by (though in the moment, sometimes it seems to stand still. It’s very Twilight Zone-y, being fast and slow simultaneously). We rounded a corner and transitioned from pavement, to gravel, to a grassy finish in the span of just a few strides, and right before finishing I saw several of my male teammates (whose race was later) cheering on the women, imploring us to find that last gear and to finish strong.
Something I wouldn’t have anticipated loving about XC is the male/female race segregation. At any other race, where we’d be comingled, I’d never have the opportunity to cheer for — or to be cheered by — my male teammates, aside from a mid-race side-five or momentary holler. XC gives us an opportunity to experience that camaraderie, and honestly, it’s awesome. There’s just something really special and heartwarming, for lack of a better word, to be encouraged by people who a) are doing the same thing as you and b) know, appreciate, and identify the feelings that you’re experiencing at that moment (discomfort, excitement, that whole gamut that racing can engender). Certainly there are probably logistical constraints that necessitate men and women racing XC separately, and maybe it’s also dictated by USATF. Whatever. Consider this my soft-plea for you to go join your local running team and to go race alongside them. It’s a gamechanger, truly.
Aside from my idiotic pacing at this race, I’ve zero complaints. The course was beautiful, I had a blast, I got to run hard, and it was a great way to begin my weekend, even with the hella long drive. Post-race, my teammates and I logged some additional cool-down miles, and before long, I was on the road to return back to the south bay. I had a full day and night of Girl Scouts of Nor Cal functions, and unfortunately the poor luncheon attendees probably got to experience the joy and smell that is Erin post-XC. I reapplied deodorant, and I’m pretty sure I at least wiped off all the dirt from my ankles, anyway. That’s gotta count for something.
I’ll probably only race XC a couple more times this year between now and CIM (and there are still plenty of opportunities for you to race, local friends!), but I’ve really enjoyed what I’ve done this year so far. It’s a completely different type of running and racing, and it’s as hard as it is fun, which is to say, a lot.
I can’t recommend it enough.
