Most people think the "Survivor" phenomenon started with a television
show last summer. In actual fact, it started in 1905, when the "Dipsea Indians"
of the Olympic Club of San Francisco organized a race from Mill Valley to Stinson
Beach. 100 runners "survived" the grueling event, and the tradition of
the Dipsea "survivor" was born. Since the early 90's, Dipsea finisher T-shirts
(and unlike most races they ARE *finisher* T-shirts and not "starter" T-shirts
or "paid race entry fee" T-shirts - you MUST finish to get a T-shirt) have
born the description "SURVIVOR" right on the shirt (first in large letters
across the back, more recently in smaller letters on the sleeve).
For me, the "man on the edge", the question hasn't been survival on the
day itself but survival to run again one more year. With a complicated race entry
scheme to limit the number of entrants to 1500 (half of those who apply), the only
sure way to get in is to "qualify" by finishing in the top places the previous
year. Until last year, the magic number was 420; last year it was bumped up a bit
to 450. For a person like myself, whose placings have ranged from 375 in my best
race to 521 in my worst, the difference was relatively minor - I was still the man
on the edge, having a record of 3 successes and 3 failures in attempts to qualify
and still needing a nearly top-form effort to qualify again.
With all this in mind, I began once again this year the truly Sisyphean task of pushing
my body up the training hill, only to hope I could reach the top (qualifying) so
that I could earn the right to begin pushing it up the hill (figuratively and literally)
again next year! One could argue the sanity of such an endeavor, I suppose, but it
keeps me motivated.
This year's long-term effort started early in January when, relatively ill-prepared
in terms of mileage (although certainly not UNprepared), I took on John Medinger's
Birthday Run, also known as the Epiphany Ultra. I followed that 50K with more serious
training for the Way Too Cool 50K in March, a goal in itself to be sure, but also
part of laying in a strong mileage "base" for what was to come. In late
March I move into a speed training phase, hitting the track for the first time, and
then in April my first of two training runs on the Dipsea race course itself, recording
a 1:22:09 (starting at the Park 2 minutes closer to the finish than the actual race),
which is DEFINITELY not fast enough to qualify. At the end of April my first 10K
race of the year, the Compaq "Up 'n' Running", finished in an "ok"
50:39, ok because throughout this period I'm experiencing some sciatic pain in the
left leg which is really holding me back. One last long (20M) run at the end of April,
after which I'll do nothing more than 14, with most of my "long" runs in
the 10M range, trying to focus more on a combination of speed and endurance. A second
Dipsea in mid-May with a 1:16:29 time; still not good enough to qualify but of course
it's not the 100% effort I'll be putting in on race day so its definitely encouraging.
Then a final 10K on Memorial Day (the Pacific Sun 10K) where I finish in a respectable
(by my standards) 48:20 (7:46/mile), which would have been even faster had I not
developed a serious side stitch toward the end. The Dipsea training runs are part
course reconnaisance, part fitness evaluation, and of course part training as well;
the 10K's serve as part evaluation but mostly as important training for the race
itself. As I've said in the past, 1/4-mile and 1/2-mile and 1-mile repeats at the
track are necessary to make you faster, but nothing will train you to run hard for
an hour except for running hard for an hour, and nothing (IMHO) can substitute for
that except actual racing.
All this wasn't terribly different than last year's preparation, but there was one
major difference. I wanted to up my general training level this year, and also to
try to work on increasing leg speed, but without increasing mileage. To accomplish
both those things, for the two months prior to this year's race I decided to add
30-40 miles of cycling to my 30-40 miles/week running, something I was doing back
in '96 and '97 when I had my best times so far (1:12:52 and 1:10:30), but which I
hadn't been doing more recently due to time pressures. Adding in the cycling allowed
me to do 2-hour workouts with only an hour of running (ride 30 minutes, run for an
hour, then ride 30 minutes). The week before the race, I did three workouts:
This allowed me a total of just 6.5 miles of running on race week prior to the race,
much of it hard, but still to have a reasonable 3 hours of training time; in retrospect
I believe this was a VERY good plan and I expect to use it again in the future.
One other aspect to race preparation was weight control. Performance in the Dipsea
is very much determined by uphill running speed; uphill running speed one assumes
is very much weight-dependent. Last year I ran at a somewhat high weight of 171;
earlier this year my weight had crept up to 176 which was not a good thing. I set
a goal of 168 which was more my "traditional" (in recent years) weight,
and begin in earnest in the spring to aim for that goal. I wasn't on any particular
"diet", just a combination of judicious eating, not stuffing myself or
eating too much junk food, plus the additional calories burned from cycling. On race
day I weighed in at 166.5, and without doubt that was also a good thing.
By race day the body had done its job, delivering itself to the race start fit, relatively
lean, and injury-free. It was time for the mind to take over.
Race day Debi and I along with Jody and Caspy the Welsh Terriers headed north
bright and early, and, as a good sign, got a parking spot two cars away from Litton
Square in downtown Mill Vally. Pick up the race number and relax, that's my plan.
Cool temps had been predicted for the weekend, and Saturday was indeed cool. Sunday
isn't the same, and the sun is out, but the temperatures seem moderate so I decide
to run without water.
At 8:30, the race starts, here's 94-year old Jack Kirk starting his 66th consecutive
Dipsea. Unbelievably, he's been jogging around the block warming up and arrives at
the start line with only seconds to spare! Off he goes, and the tears come to my
eyes. One more time! A minute later 60-year old Shirley Matson heads off, wearing
#1 since she won last year. She's been injured, but certainly looks fine as she heads
up the street. I watch one or two more starting groups, and now it's 10 minutes before
my start time, so I start a light warm up jog around town. I'm a little worried about
the start this year, because I've moved up a minute in headstart (that's good of
course!), but I'm now starting just 1 minute behind the large 19-39 year old women's
group, which means I may be running into more "roadblocks" then in the
past. On the other hand, I'll have more targets ahead of me to pass. :-)
Finally it's my turn, and my group starts - men 52-53 and boys age 12, a fair-sized
group. Unlike last year, where I was dead last as we hit the park 2 minutes into
the race, this year I've vowed to go harder from the start, so I'm ahead of at least
a FEW people as we hit the park. Then we hit the stairs and gradually I'm ahead of
more and more people as I take the stairs running two at a time while a goodly percentage
of the runners start walking. By the top I've gained 7 seconds on last year, not
much but it's something in a race where every second counts! The next section (Walsh
Dr.) is a hard uphill and I'm pushing hard, catching some women now (and Jack Kirk
too, somewhere along here) as I head for Windy Gap. By Windy Gap I'm 20 seconds up
on last year and still going strong. Down Hauke Hollow and someone passes me who
I can tell is the first "serious" runner (likely Black Shirt winner) who's
come by. I think it's Bruce Mace who has made up 5 minutes on me in the first 15.
But in my own way I'm flying too, taking the steps 2 and 3 at a time as I pass by
slower runners, mostly women at this point.
Following this there's a road section to the top of Muir Woods and in past years,
many younger runners have come pouring by me at this point. This year I started one
minute sooner, and in addition I'm really pouring it on here, and only a handful
of people go by. Down into Muir Woods and "Suicide" and my footing is sure,
despite the fact that the dust is so thick here you can barely see the ground. I
cross Redwood Creek in 21:06, 25 seconds up on last year and possibly my fastest
time ever to this point. Things are going well. :-) Now its time to head up "Dynamite",
the steep climb out of Muir Woods. The trail is crowded but I manage a regimen of
running steady for a while, then bursting by one or two people, then running steady
some more, then another burst, all the way to the top. Fatigue seems totally absent.
I watched "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon" the night before the race and
try to visualize myself floating up the hill like they could float up walls. It seems
to be working!
At the top I reach a decision point, because there is a long narrow (and, this year,
more overgrown than usual) trail and a longer but roughly parallel fireroad. I've
been seriously considering taking the fireroad in order to "stretch the legs"
but have been convinced that it's so much longer that I shouldn't do that. I don't,
but sure enough it's slow going through the trail; in places I'm "bottled up"
and just can't get by. In the paper today, I read how the 3rd place finisher, who
had the fastest "scratch" time, ran the fireroad during this section for
precisely this reason. Perhaps I made the wrong decision.
But anyway the decision was made, and I run on, pressing steadily across the Hogsback.
In the Rainforest with its nasty tree roots with many high steps I run briefly behind
a young girl, who I take from the results to be 11-year old Taylour Claxton, who
impresses me greatly with her ability to leap up the difficult terrain. Watch for
her in the future! Up and over Cardiac, where I get a much-needed drink of water,
and note a time of 49:06 on my watch. No one is counting off places as they usually
do, so I don't know exactly where I stand, but this is very good news indeed. My
goal is 50 minutes to Cardiac, and since I gained an extra minute headstart this
year, really I'd be comfortable with 51. At 49 I'm pretty much assured of qualifying,
but of course that's only if I continue to press for the rest of the race like I
have up until now. You can never let up! There are always people behind you if you
do, and places to slip! Too many and you're history.
So I press on, hard across the "flat" top portion of the race with its
view of the Pacific, then plunging down through the Swoop and Steep Ravine, passing
people here and there, being passed occasionally too. Up "Insult" where
I have to walk a few steps not due to fatigue but just due to bottlenecking on a
very overgrown course, then out onto the road where I pour it on to pass a few more
people before the next shortcut. Finally at the end of the last shortcut I rejoin
the main trail and there's a counter saying "347..348.." as I pass by.
Sounds good, but I know from last year that these counters can be off by 20 or 30
places, so despite my confidence I redouble my efforts, pumping my arms and flying
the last trail section and then down the road to the finish. Still here, perhaps
even more so now that the route is wide, people come by me, I go by others, and it's
an all out 1/2 mile sprint to the finish and finally I'm across in 1:13:02, a minute
better than last year and my best time since 1997. I've done it!
When they post the results a little later, I find I'm #370, my best finish ever
(my 1:10:30 in 1997, with only 5 minutes handicap vs. 7 this year, was only good
for #375). 420th place, my previous goal, is 1:18 back; #450 (if they stick to the
new qualifying place and don't revert to the previous 420) is 2:26. So that's my
margin for this year, comfortable but only with a race where I trained perfectly,
tapered smartly, didn't have a single negative thought or moment of fatigue during
the race, and was able to push the entire way from start to finish! That's what it
takes for someone "on the edge"!
After the race, it's time to shower and pour on the TecNu to counteract the poison
oak. The course was particularly overgrown this year. When I did my training runs,
I quite literally was edging my way sideways on some portions of the course, trying
to avoid the poison oak. When it's time for the race, though, I don't have time to
spare, so I apply "Ivy Block" liberally before hand, and then wash with
TecNu afterwards. During the race I literally saw not a single leaf of poison oak,
being so focussed on the race itself. Alas, a post-mortem reveals that right at my
"shorts line" I now (two days later) have a nice outbreak of reaction;
evidently I didn't wash quite high enough. Such is the price of success.
One race highlight from the post-race ceremonies - Jack Kirk, who finished the race to the delight of all, got up to make a speech. Declaring that he wasn't a speechmaker, he proceeded to regale us with a tale of running 5:17 miles in high school against John Muir's grandson! The man is not only a physical marvel, he's sharp as a tack mentally as well. Speaking of physical marvels, Shirley Matson won the race. She spoke about having been injured, and how she did her first training run this year in only 1:16, and thought about skipping the race, but decided participating was more important than winning. 1:16? Hey, *I* did that during training too! Now if only I were a 60-year old women with a 22 minute headstart! OK, scratch that thought, think of all the fun I'd miss if I weren't the "man on the edge"!
Another highlight from the post-race ceremonies - one of the racers this year
was Harry Cordellos, a blind (!) man who had done this race once before (a video
exists which I've never seen). Harry, who is 63, finished in a respectable 1:59.
Speaking briefly, he announced that he believed he won the race, since he never saw
a single person in front of him. I'll bet he's used that line before. :-) He may
not have seen anyone, but unless he has lost all of his senses, he could easily have
heard, felt, and probably smelled other runners going by him. But he still has my
admiration for taking on an incredible challenge. Wonder if he saw any poison oak.
;-)
Until next year (hopefully you'll finish reading this before then!),
Steve "Survivor #370" Patt
in Cupertino, CA