Subject: Ohlone 50k report
Date: Tue, 22 May 2001 15:22:38 EDT
From: Mike Conway <MPC82@aol.com>

Sunday, May 20th saw the 14th version of the Ohlone Wilderness 50k trail run
begin with a welcome sight:  some fog hugging Mission Peak.  The weather
forecasters all week had been saying it would be in the mid-to upper-90s on
this day, and for a few brief moments we all hoped--especially those of us
who experienced the 100+ degree temps of last year's race--that the weather
people would be wrong.

Not today.

Before the race, RD John Vonhof assembled the 85 or so entrants to make some
announcements, including recognizing Catra Corbett and her band of cronies
(crazies?) that had run 102 miles of these trails a few weeks prior, only
then to do Massanutten last week and then the Silver State 50 miler the day
before...Just when one thinks they are crazy for doing these sort of events,
you hear about these kind of people who just must have way too much time on
their hands... ;-)

But, I digress...The race starts, and the crowd begins the initial 2100 foot
climb in less than 4 miles pretty quietly.  The cool air from the minimal
cloud cover feels good.  Less than a mile in I hook up with a woman named
Connie (sorry, never did get a last name)...we started talking with one
another after overhearing another runner talking about preparing for the
Eco-Challenge in October.  She joked to me about rethinking some of her goals
for the year...anyway, we stayed together for the next couple miles, talking
about life in general.  About half way up the climb, we round a corner and
get this blast of very warm air (we're just above the fog now) which kind of
slaps you in the face and says "See, this is what you have to look forward
to..."

The rest of the climb up Mission Peak is relatively uneventful; the trails
are in pretty good condition, without a lot of the mud from past years.
Nearing the peak the wind begins to howl...most everyone is taking off their
hats and visors for fear of having them blow back down the mountain, and as
we made our way along the ridge at the peak the crosswinds were the type that
could blow you over if you were not careful.

And oh, yeah, it's getting pretty warm.

Coming down from the peak is a little tricky:  besides having to dodge the
hikers out for their morning strolls, you have to navigate a very rocky trail
that pitches pretty steeply down...on more than a couple of occasions I've
come close to doing a face-plant on this section.  Today was no exception,
though I did manage to stay upright.

At about mile 5.5 we hit aid station number one, and after a quick stop there
we continue into some of the shadier portions of the course.  From the top of
Mission Peak to the 9.5 mile point in Sunol we lose just about all of the
elevation gained in that first four miles.  The winds come and go, and for
now they are refreshing.  A few hours later they would feel like someone was
pointing a blow-dryer in your face.

Coming into the Sunol aid station (which would also be the finish 20+ miles
later) everyone is still feeling pretty good.  My time is about 1:50 and
based on what some hikers are saying as they count people on the trail, I
figure I'm in about 35th place, which is fine by me.  All I want out of this
day is a nice long run without injury or incident (my long range goal for the
year is Ironman Hawaii, by the way), and thus far I am on track.

We leave Sunol and after a short flat section, we begin to climb, and climb,
and climb some more.  Some people are beginning to have some difficulty here.
 At this point, there is still some welcome shade but that would soon be
replaced by nothing but wide open spaces and a very bright sky.

After reaching the top of this climb, we take a right turn and see according
to a sign we are about 1.3 miles from the next aid station at the Backpack
area.  This stretch is mostly flat and downhill, and I'm able to run it
fairly well, passing a few people along the way, still trying to run
conservatively.

We get to the aid station (ahh, fig bars...I forgot to pack some of my own,
and man oh man was I thankful for them!)  While refueling here, a runner
comes in asking for some duct tape (I had passed him a little earlier after
he had pulled out the string from his shorts in an attempt to do
I-had-no-idea-what at this point) or rope or something to....repair his
shoe(s), which had begun to split apart at the sole.

Dude, time for some new shoes, dontcha think?

This next stretch of course was new (and thanks to Kirk Boisseree for
thinking outside the park to come up with this section...) and it would be
another 6 or so miles until we looped back to the Backpack area for the next
aid at about 19 miles.  It was for this stretch that I had a third water
bottle with me, and I was very, very thankful I did.  Here I hooked up with a
woman with a hint of a British accent (you know, I am absolutely pitiful with
names, so if she told me hers I left it somewhere out on the trail) and we
ran together up a gentle climb.

After a time, the climb got a bit steeper and we began walking.  Ahead, we
saw a runner doing a very odd, pigeon-toed version of going up the hill.
Either this guy was hurting bad or had discovered a new way of running.  My
temporary running mate commented she had one of her quads talking to her at
that point (my own legs were beginning to have some conversations with me as
well), and neither of us were of a mind to push too hard at this point.

I've heard ultrarunners talk about learning to walk in a race...today, I made
a very conscious effort to do just that, and it's funny to think that there
are some different muscles involved with walking as opposed to running...and
she was definitely a better walker than I, as she began to pull away from me
going up this climb...while walking.  And I did not care one bit.

Especially as we rounded a bend and could see runners ahead of us...and at a
much, much higher elevation than we were.  This was a serious climb, and in
my opinion tougher than the climb up Mission Peak that began the day.

The good news about such a climb is that it is normally followed by a nice
downhill...and that was the case here.  My legs freshened anew as they were
able to fly down this section into the next aid station without incident,
though some of the steeper stuff was a little hairy, but I nonetheless was
feeling pretty good going into this aid station, where Jim Winnie introduced
himself to me (we had a brief email exchange earlier in the week).

Heading out towards the next aid station a little less than four miles away,
I alternately felt strong, on the verge of major cramping, chilled from the
wind (at this point it was still a welcome breeze, though it made you wonder
sometimes if you were experiencing merely the cooling effects of the wind or
the initial stages of heat exhaustion...the goosebumps, the lack of sweat)
and ready to drop.  Funny how endurance racing will do this to your mind and
body.

It was getting very warm now, and the shade leading to the Welch Creek Road
aid station at mile 23 was a welcome sight.  Here I knew it was time for me
to start drinking Coke, and though the aid station folks wondered if I knew
what I was doing in asking for a bottle full of this stuff they fulfilled my
request cheerfully.  This next stretch was around Maguire Peaks, a 5.7 mile
or so loop mostly exposed to the sun and beginning with a tough climb.

Here I was passed in the other direction the people at the front of the pack,
and the second person was a female (I believe it was Emma Davies) and the
first three people looked very strong.  The next few going the other way
looked like they were feeling the effects...as was I at this point.

Hot, hot, hot...yes it was now, and again I was thankful for the three water
bottle situation.  By the 28.5 mile aid station, I had pretty much burned
through all three.  I had some minor cramping in one section, but was able to
relax myself and run through it.  Ultra runners being the type they are, one
guy passed me while I was in mid-cramp and said "cramps are a pain in the
ass, aren't they?"....Yep, and in other parts of the body as well.  He
offered me a Succeed, but having never tried one I thanked him and
declined...popped another Thermotab and within about a minute was running
again, passing him in the process.

At the aid station, there were about 5 or 6 people sitting in chairs that
were not volunteers, obviously competitors having serious difficulty with the
heat.  Having felt that way in the past I recognized the looks on their faces.

Heading off towards the finish, replete with another bottle of my trusty
Coca-Cola in tow (which would be drained in about 15 minutes), it was in this
section that my body really began to overheat.  There was a particular
section that went into a canyon, drenched with sun and with no wind at
all...you could feel the heat emanating from the trail and the drying
vegetation...it felt like running through an oven.  A little bit of breeze
kicked up here, but it was no help at all.

Knowing that the finish line is close was a help; having no visual or audio
clues as to how close you were was not.  After descending to a relatively
flat section, it has to be close, right?  I stop and take a breather, look
behind me to see if anyone is near (someone is, about 2 minutes or so) I
listen for any noise whatsoever that would indicate civilization: nothing.

Finally, I pass some hikers going the other direction that look like they are
just out for a short stroll and I *know* I must be close now.  The last mile
seemed like it took forever....and then there it was, the bridge across the
creek that led to the finish.

I crossed the bridge, took a look at my watch (6:41, by the way) and then
looked for the shade.  It took me another 45 minutes or so to finally stop
sweating like a stuck pig.

Having done this race four times now, this being the third version of the
course, I can say this was my favorite.  According to John Vonhof, the future
of this race may be in question as he has lost some key people and is having
increasing difficulty with the East Bay Regional Park District in
coordinating the event.  It would be a shame, as in talking with other
runners this race seems to be a unique one, a very challenging test and
perhaps one of the most difficult 50k courses around.

Again many thanks to the volunteers who help make this the fun that it is
(especially in hindsight), to Mrs. Vonhof for the ride back to Mission Peak
afterwards and to my fellow competitors who are always so open and willing to
help.  And of course a special thank you to John Vonhof for taking the time
to put this race together. One of these days I'll actually do some other
ultra events, but for now this is my one and only.

Mike Conway
San Francisco