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Race Report: Living the Dream, or, Running in the Santa Cruz Mountains Same Difference.

Valparaiso, Indiana somewhere around 1996 or 97...could be 98:
I'm in the car with Laur, maybe Trish, and Josh and his friend Valerie. We are probably on our way to Night Owl because our friends have a Ska band. Valerie is in the back, and I'm turned around to look at her while she starts talking about how she's been to California and all she wants to do is go back because it's the best place she's ever been. This is the first time I've ever heard of Santa Cruz, the first time I've heard someone talk about having been to California, and I'm trying to imagine everything she's describing while at the same time secretly wishing that someday I'll get to see the Pacific Ocean, too. 
Clockwise from the top left in Indiana: Trish, me, Valerie, and Laur. In Indiana.
INDIANA.

I think about that moment in the car all those years ago and a bunch others like it when I'm experiencing something beautiful and amazing that I could never have ever imagined would be a normal part of my life. Running in the Santa Cruz Mountains is one of those things. Living in California, in general, is one of those things.

Inside Trail Santa Cruz Mountains Half Marathon. I've done this run once
before, kind of, well, you just have to read about it...HERE
I took off steady and conservatively. This is a key week in my training for the Vermont 50k next month, and the whole time I was overly focused on getting through it without hurting myself (ankle(s)).
The first couple of miles of climbing were all sand. SAND.
I channeled my inner Northwest Indiana Ridge Runner and powered up. 

At the first river crossing, I stopped to take off my shoes. I lost a lot of time getting across the slippery rocky bottom barefoot and then having to stop on the other side to clean the sand off my feet and put my shoes back on. We were only a few miles in at this point, but I knew I'd made the right choice to have dry feet for the majority of the miles. I felt good. I felt strong.

This really nice guy on the right was guiding runners across and
telling them to take their time and where to go to
take the easiest pass. Our races would become
inevitably intertwined....

Runners were really supportive of each other at this race. There was a loop, so I got to see some of the lead runners who gave a smile or a good job to me, and I got to cheer on those behind me as well. I met a really nice guy named Alvin running in a stylish button down shirt. Style points go to Alvin.
It's not a trail race if I don't see Allen.
He snapped this picture of me. 


And this one, too. I'm pretty sure he could
convince people he had an alien encounter or
unicorn sighting. 
Back to Nice Guy in the Black Shirt. We spent a lot of time passing each other back and forth until we ran side by side heading back to the river. I heard him stumble and go down pretty hard right behind me, so I stopped and went back. He was down, like, really down, having hit a rock and falling down hitting his leg on another rock. I asked are you ok, and he said nothing was broken. I offered my hand to help him up, and I fully expected for him to say, um, no thanks, I'm fine, I can get up...because I'm a smallish sized woman and he's a normal sized guy and you know, what can I really do, right?...but he accepted with no hesitation. He grabbed my hand, and I pulled him up on his feet and I felt validated as a human being. I'm a person. I can help. I'm not less than because I'm female. He didn't see me as less than, that's what I felt. We're all the same out here. We're all strong and capable.

I plowed through the second river crossing and ended up with soggy wet shoes on the other side for a giant climb. Black Shirt Nice Guy and I traded places through the last few miles. We got to about a half mile to the finish, and I was fading...he said, come on, I know you can make it through this last part. We finished together with a high five at the end. I never got his name, but he was, by far, the epitome of the spirit of trail running.


The race was fantastic. Great shirt, great coffee mug, and we found a great cottage to stay in about ten miles north of Santa Cruz.
Ocean Cottage.
Living the dream, basically. 


California....


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Comments

  1. notthatlucasAugust 5, 2013 at 9:06 PM

    ARGH! That sandy bit was tough! I had forgotten it was there, and once I came up on it, lots of bad memories came back.

    I'm always surprised at how many people take their shoes off for that river crossing - I just can't imagine going through it barefoot. (I've done the shoes off thing before though, but got frustrated trying to get the sand off the feet, and it ended up being a mess.)

    Congrats on a great race - I knew I was going slow, but I couldn't believe how far ahead of me you were! Yikes! And thanks for posting this report!

    ReplyDelete
  2. notthatlucasAugust 5, 2013 at 9:18 PM

    Oh wow - I just read the post about your "other" race here! I had heard all that was was stunned by how that race turned out. I love that you and many others went ahead and did it (and didn't end up on that "shouldn't be alive" TV show). Things were unravelling fast at PCTR then. (On a happier note, the guy that's running it now seems to be reliable and I no longer fear for signing up for one of their events now.)

    ReplyDelete
  3. Crazy LegsAugust 6, 2013 at 5:14 AM

    Great race; the sand dunes miss you here in NWI but Calfornia is wonderful

    ReplyDelete

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