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Garin Park Cross Country (XC) Challenge race recap – Hayward, CA

Garin Park Cross Country (XC) Challenge race recap – Hayward, CA

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Garin. Sounds like Erin, conveniently, with a G in front of it.

In the almost five years that my family and I have lived here, and for about the same length of time that I’ve been running with my Wolfpack team, I think every time I’ve heard someone mention racing cross-country at Garin, it’s been like watching the part in the Lion King (bear with me) when the hyenas are talking about how every time they udder the word “Mufasa,” the antagonist’s archenemy, the mere word sends an intractable chill down their spines. They can’t say Mufasa without shuddering; similarly, people here won’t speak of Garin without following it with some sort of moan or groan. Garin. Gaaaaaaaaarin.

It’s never oh, the course is so pretty! or the hills make you so much stronger later!

It’s always it’s hilly. It’s hard as hell.  It’s hella holey right off the starting line. It’s hot and exposed. God I hate that course.

It sounds super fun, right? Why not go try to race a 5k that has a couple hundred feet of elevation gain on terrain that alternates being flat but completely pocked with gopher holes everywhere (watch those ankles!), to some healthy-but-doable-climbs, to some fierce downhills that you kinda have to hope that the laws of physics and gravity won’t betray you, to more uneven footing, and more climbing, and more harsh downhill?

Add to the terrain mix the idea that, with it being a 5k and all, the idea is to redline as much as (un)comfortably possible.

And couple with those characteristics the backdrop of the rest of the east bay hills, which makes for a beautiful run and some sweeping views, but also the potential for the race to be hot hot hot — free of any tree cover or canopy whatsoever.

Again: it sounds super fun, right? Why not pay money to do something like this?!

I didn’t race Garin last year for some reason — I might have been doing a LR that day at home instead, or that might have been right after C’s surgery — so going into this storied race and course that my team has been doing for-just-about-ever,  I was blissfully unaware of what I was getting myself in to. Sorta.

I was delighted to learn that the women would be racing first, at 9am, since historically, I had heard that this was the only race on the PA XC circuit wherein the women raced last (read: in the hotter mid-morning weather). Plus, even better, come race day, Garin greeted us with a TON of fog, throwing at us some lovely autumnal crispy morning weather.

warming-up over one of the hills we climbed in the race

 

working on my mid-run photog skills. I’d give this a C+

We fielded a full men’s and women’s team this year, which made the morning even more fun than usual, making it as much a social opportunity as a racing one. Janet and I carpooled up to the east bay, and upon getting there, ran about a 2.5 mile warmup with our other lady Wolves who’d be racing that morning. Only a handful of the women that day had raced Garin before, but I think all of us knew going in that this course would be a tough one and that people spoke so trepidatiously about it with good reason. We had just covered most of the race course in our warm-up miles; we knew what was awaiting us.

full Wolfpack squad at Garin (minus Isaac, who (appropriately) was climbing some hill somewhere) PC: WRC

My strategy for the race was pretty straightforward: stay controlled on the first mile, most of which was flat or uphill; open it up on the downhills and continue to stay controlled on the uphills in the second and third-ish miles; and on the last 1200m to home — flat (with maybe a teeny, tiny uphill) — hammer. Oh, and not eat shit. That is always the (laudable) goal in these XC races.

the lady Wolves who raced Garin this year. PC: WRC

Much as I did at the SF GGP open a couple weeks ago, at Garin, I never looked at my watch for the pace. Even when the mile marked beeped, I didn’t bother. I didn’t know it; I didn’t want to know it; I honestly didn’t care. Teammates have told me before that in XC, time matters less than place, and I think I’ve finally taken that to heart and have tried to race fairly strategically (or at least attempt to). The goal is to be the team with the lowest finishing score (akin to golf), so what matters more is finishing placement: try not to get passed. Pass as many women as you can. That sorta thing.   

Right off the line, I found myself fairly far back in the pack, per yoosh with the PA races (and especially XC), but I tried not to worry about it, thinking that I still had 2.1+ miles to make up for it and move ahead. With our team’s new highlighter orange jerseys, it makes it super easy to spot us, and this was especially true during the race. Even though the course was pretty ensconced in fog, I could make out my teammates ahead of me at any given time, which was fun as I willed myself to pull myself closer to them.

right off the starting line and in full-on “don’t eat shit, don’t eat shit” mode (PC: WRC)

Running most of the course during the warm-up was also helpful because I had a good idea of what to anticipate. Certainly, running at XC race pace feels completely different than running casually over the same terrain, but it still helped to think ok, after this big climb, we have a big downhill or the footing is tricky here, so we better stay over to the right or whatever. I absolutely didn’t anticipate how much my eyes would be watering — and how hard it would be to see while careening downhill — but hey, XC is nothing if not full of surprises, right? (I almost always wear sunglasses while I run for this very reason, but I decided not to that morning because it was so foggy out).

Most of the rest of the race is a blur and passed by relatively quickly. It was cool to see my female teammates ahead of me on some of the hills — Claire (our lead woman) was like a beacon in the sea, guiding us all safely to home — and of course, hearing the support from my male teammates (whose race was after ours) mid-course was a fantastic pick-me-up. I tried super hard to stay mentally engaged, to not check out when things got tough, and to not ease up on the downs. Let me tell you: keeping the effort high on the descents was tough! I’m typically not a particularly fast or brave downhill runner, and holy shit, I felt like I had some pretty close calls racing the descents. I thought that whole don’t eat shit goal was hanging precariously in the balance.

I wanted to finish with a really strong kick over the final 1200m, especially if it was going to be the flattest part of the course. I finished feeling like I didn’t have a whole lot left to give and managed to finish as our 4th woman that day, behind Claire, Lani, and Shannon, but I also thought that I probably could have worked harder on the final finishing straight. Runners typically tend to think this way, right? I could have done better, pushed harder. Eh. Next year.

the last little bit before the finish line (PC: WRC)

 

really, really uncomfortable right before the finish line and quelling said discomfort with a big ol’ smile (science!) (PC: WRC)

Shortly after the women’s race, the men toed the line, so my lady Wolves and I got in some CD miles while cheering them on at various parts in the race. Fortunately, the fog was still hanging out, so the open’s men race also had more pleasant-than-usual temps for their Garin experience. I think all of us, save for the master’s men who raced last, after the fog had dissipated and the temps began heating up, got pretty lucky this year with race day weather.

cooling down in a different part of the park (that wasn’t on the XC course)

I can definitely see why or how many runners would view Garin somewhat antagonistically, in some type of twisted love-hate relationship. Without a doubt, it’s a hard course.

That said, honestly, I think that’s part of what makes XC so gratifying though (and, going out on a limb here, such a “pure” type of running): it’s you against the terrain. That’s it. You know it’s going to be hard.

You’re not signing up for these types of races in exchange for sponsor-splashed swag, or copious amounts of on-course entertainment, or an Old Country Buffet-style of food options afterward. It’s you, your race bib pinned on your singlet, the course, and an official time. Oh, and a couple Dixie cups of water afterward, provided you remember to grab some.

There are no roads closed off, no real accommodations to speak of to make for an “easier” racing experience, no nothing. The fastest way out is through.

Chalk up the experience to another deposit to the bank of mental and physical callusing for CIM.

2018 Golden Gate Park XC Open (San Francisco, CA) – race report

2018 Golden Gate Park XC Open (San Francisco, CA) – race report

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As was the case last fall, I’m training to race CIM in December, and Coach Lisa and I have decided to throw some cross country (XC) action into the training mix where/when it makes sense. It is fall, after all, so it’s high time for some PA XC action!

Last year, I ran the Santa Cruz race, this GGP open, and the championship race at GGP in November. So far, this time around, I’ve run Santa Cruz (feeling not 100% recovered at all from TSFM, nearly a month+ later) and the GGP open again and hope to do some more between now and December.

WRC at the 2018 GGP open, ladies edition (plus pups) (PC: WRC)

Sorta like the 2017 v 2018 SC race, the 2018 GGP open was a pretty similar experience and set-up compared to last year. The biggest difference — maybe the only difference — that I could recall was that in this year’s race, once you entered the woods off the polo fields, runners could participate in a “choose your own adventure” of sorts as they determined their paths: over a short and steep root-strewn single-track-ish hill or over one longer and more gradual. (I chose the steep option because I’m a fool who apparently likes to make things needlessly more challenging). That, and the fact that the grass was dry on the back end of the course (circa mile 2.1, 2.2 and change) struck me as the only differences from last year’s course to this year’s.

off the line and feeling jazzed to be racing (and in a new singlet, woot woot) (PC: I can’t remember)

Part of the reason I really enjoyed this course last year — and what I think makes it super fun to race on and also super challenging — is that runners encounter a ton of different terrain in a really short distance. This year’s race was just shy of a 6k, I guess, and in that abbreviated distance, we covered the flatlands of the polo fields, loose dirt and gravel, singletrack, woods, a little bit of pavement, grass, mud, and surely more that I can’t recall. It’s like a constant exercise in switching gears and determining when to push and when to hold back, all while chasing those around you and trying to not get passed. It’s so freaking fun!

presumably from the start (PC: Robin)

We fielded two great full teams this year for our men’s and women’s races, and it just made for a lovely morning. Another big difference for me between this year’s race and that of last year is that this time around, I never looked at my watch to see my pace. Before the race, I was going to look up my 2017 time to have it “for reference purposes” going in, and somewhere along the drive to SF, I decided I just didn’t care. Instead of going off the feedback I was getting from my watch, I wanted to approach this more … intuitively, I guess … and let my bodily feedback (and my experience on this course from last year) dictate my approach.

on my way to the woods (PC: Lisa)

I was just in it for a) the opportunity to help us field a full team and b) the opportunity to have a hard effort. Time was sorta irrelevant in the grand scheme of things.

coming off one full lap of the polo fields and about to enter the woods for the first time (PC: Lisa)

 

The short version is that I think this different approach paid off. From start to finish of the race, I felt strong and in control, which is more or less in direct opposition to how I felt during this year’s Santa Cruz XC challenge just a few weeks before. There, I began feeling ok (not great) and then deteriorated … and then deteriorated some more … and then began questioning my life’s choices and wondering how in righteous hell I had raced a marathon four weeks prior.

when you’re really excited to see friends mid-race (PC: Robin)

I’m happy to say that at this’s year GGP open, I felt strong from the get-go, tried to trust in my pacing and in how I was responding to the terrain, and finished feeling appropriately gassed but without feeling like I was knocking on death’s door. I recalled from the ’17 race that I had come out of the gates too hard and just compleeeeeeeeeeeetely tanked like a fool.

over the field and through the woods… or something (PC: Isaac, I think)

This time around, absolutely my pace slowed from start to finish — as I think most everyone’s did — but I had enough left at the end to finish on the polo fields at a sub-mile pace (5:18!) for at least a few strides to try to chase down other women ahead of me. I didn’t know it until Lisa mentioned it to me later, but I notched a PR for the course on Sunday too, which was unexpected and very cool. Maybe there is something to running “blind,” so to speak.

somewhere on the polo fields, perhaps approaching the finish (PC: WRC)

 

looking a bit taxed trying to “sprint” it in but feeling strong (PC: WRC)

A huge bonus to the day’s festivities, too, was that Angela decided to run her first XC race in forever, so I was just tickled to see her on race morning and to share the experience with her. I think I may have introduced her to every person I knew (sorry!), and post-race, she, Janet, Ida, and I ran a long cool-down and yapped the entire time. It was awesome. And of course, it was lovely to see Robin that morning and to finally meet Sarah. The running world is so small sometimes, and I just love it. I should have taken pictures to document all of this, but alas. My bad.

the gang’s all here! our women’s team at the GGP open (PC: WRC)

The nice thing about all this PA XC action is that it’s open to anyone, regardless of your pace, age, team affiliation (or lack thereof), or whatever. It’s hard to describe, but it really is so much fun to try to run as hard and fast as you can over/through random shit, for lack of a better word. It’s definitely not road racing, and it’s not trail racing, but it’s a sweet marriage of the two.

This is all to say that local friends, if you are itching to get a little XC action this fall but don’t know where to start, let’s talk! I’d love to see you on a starting line soon and would be *more* than happy to chat with you.

I can’t help but think that testing yourself in this gritty XC way lends itself quite readily to developing grittiness from which you can draw in other racing environs. I’ll lyk. I’m excited to find out.