Yesterday was the 86th running of the Dipsea. Allow me to summarize my race by quoting Homer Simpson: WOOOO-HOOOO!
Now back to the beginning of the story...
Last year's "impossible dream" was qualifying for Boston. For those who weren't taking notes, I made it on my second try by minus 23 seconds (3:25:23 vs. a standard of 3:25; ok, it was really a margin of 36 seconds for mathematical purists since the "real" standard is actually 3:25:59).
This year's dream was qualifying for the Dipsea. I've been obsessed with the Dipsea for several years now. The trails, the steps, the hills, the views, the sense of history - Barry Spitz subtitled his book "The Greatest Race" and I'm sure there are a *few* who might disagree but not me. :-) And in addition to all that, as a handicapped start race the Dipsea offers constant passing and being passed to a degree that surpasses even triathlons, keeping your brain constantly engaged.
A brief summary of Dipsea qualifying for the uninitiated - the Dipsea, the oldest trail race in the country (1905), is very hard to get into. If you finish higher than a certain place, you automatically qualify for the next year; if you don't, you can get in by returning the entry form the day it's mailed out (which is only useful if you live in Mill Valley where the race is held), some more spaces are chosen by lottery, and finally 100 spaces are reserved for those who pay the most money over and above the regular entry fee (the extra money is used for trail maintenance on Mt. Tamalpais).
Two years ago I didn't get in, but instead ran the Practice Dipsea (a low-key version put on by DSE), the Double Dipsea, and the Quadruple Dipsea. Last year I decided not to take my chances and "bought" my way in via the "auction," but my time was too slow to automatically requalify me for this year. A week later I did run the Dead Double Dipsea as consolation. :-) This year I managed to buy my way in again, but I was hoping it would be the last time I'd have to do that!
Alas, once again I found myself the "man on the edge of time," someone for whom the qualifying standard was neither easily accomplished, nor so outside the realm of possibility that I couldn't even dream about it. Last year my time was one minute and six seconds short of qualifying, but I was sidelined for weeks just before the race with sciatica, and in fact drove to the race sitting on an ice pack. So I assumed I could do better. Fellow Dipsea devotee Steve Kautz claimed a rule of thumb that the Dipsea (7.1M) equals your 10M flat race time. My analysis went like this:
>I've never run 10M, but my 13.1M P.R. is 1:36:xx which translates to a >1:13 10M and 10K P.R. is 43:xx giving a 1:10 10M so let's call my 10M >time 1:12 or so. My Dipsea last year was 1:15:42 after sciatica, so I'm >hoping to be able to pull that down to 1:13:30 or so which should JUST >get me under the qualifying time
Suffice it to say there was little margin of error! Serious preparation was called for!
In early May I did the Wildflower Half-Ironman triathlon, and was less than thrilled with my result (race report still to come!!!). Although I had been thinking about doing two more shorter triathlons in late May and early June, I realized after the Wildflower that someone of my marginal talents would do best to concentrate on one race at a time, so I forgot the triathlons and threw myself into Dipsea preparation. Once or twice a week I assaulted the Powerline trail at Rancho San Antonio, with its brutal climb approximating (but not equalling) the stress of the Dipsea. I managed to lower my ascent P.R. by three minutes which, needless to say, was tremendously encouraging!
A week before the race, I switched to a triathlete's taper, concentrating on swimming and biking. My only running was short, intense 1/4M intervals (8 on Tuesday, 4 on Thursday) to keep the heart and lungs ready and give the quads a rest.
To say that I was keyed up would be an understatement. I normally get butterflies on race morning and visit the bathroom 5 or 6 times. With this race, the butterflies came to visit the night before the race, and came back on race morning, so before leaving for the race I had already set one P.R. :-) The night before the race I read and re-read Barry Spitz's course description and studied the map, committing each shortcut to memory. As I lay in bed, I ran the course in my mind, going over each turn, not to mention flying up the stairs and steep hills.
I'm not normally a coffee drinker, and if coffee is good for enhancing race performance for anyone, it's us non-drinkers. So the day before I had purchased a cafe mocha and stashed it in the refrigerator to drink in the car on the way to the race. I was leaving no stone unturned in my attempt to qualify!
I awoke early on Sunday to a typical gorgeous California day. Last week's deadly heat had broken a few days ago, and although it would be warm, I expected it wouldn't be hot. Moving methodically, I put on my DRS singlet, ate breakfast, and headed out. Knowing that parking could be far from town, I had my mountain bike already mounted on the back of the car, for easy pre-race transportion and warmup. My 10K P.R. was set on a day I rode that bike a few miles to the race, and I'm convinced that easy riding to limber up the muscles before a running race is a far better warm up than actual running - all the benefit with none of the pounding.
As I drove through the city I was treated to an absolutely gorgous view of the Golden Gate Bridge, the Marin headlands, and Mt. Tamalpais where I'd be running. To my right as I crossed the bridge was Alcatraz, from whence a few of my friends and a few hundred others would be "escaping" in less than an hour in the Escape from Alcatraz Triathlon. Great day for a triathlon but I had Dipsea on my mind!
Got to Mill Valley, parked, and rode my bike into town. Rode around a bit, and took some pictures of the start line and the steps before any people have showed up. Met and chatted with Brad Smith and Steve Kautz and wished them luck. Steve, in grandest Dipsea tradition, hadn't really been training especially for this race, but had to show up to make his qualifying time so he could keep his number. Once you have that number, you don't want to lose it! Discovered that, incredibly, there were no porta-potties, and that the only bathrooms were in Old Mill Park, 0.3M away and not very big! I didn't have to go, so I rode around some more and got ready to watch the start.
What grand tradition! Each group advancing to the start line, a rope stretched in front of them, then raised at the last minute and off they go, to be replaced by another group at one-minute intervals. The start of the Dipsea is *almost* as if you were at the Boston Marathon and the starter was still drawing a line across a dirt road with a stick to start the race. A great way to feel "connected to the ages." Not to mention the tradition of seeing grand old men like Jack Kirk in the first group, 89 years old and off on his 60th straight Dipsea. Or Joe King in the second group, 70 years old and he won the race last year with an *actual* time of 1:06:03! (Remember, that's about equivalent to a 66-minute 10-miler). A few groups later, so I guess maybe she's 57, a blonde woman sprints off the line looking awesome - I hear from someone she's from South Africa and this is her first Dipsea. What a great race when people like this can win! [Note added later - Joe King repeated for his second straight victory; 54-year old Melody-Anne Schultz, the "South African" woman (?), finished third, behind 59-year-old former winner Eve Pell.]
I send Brad off the line with a cheer, then Steve, then the last of the "Invitational Runners" (the ones who qualified from the previous year) and then its time for the "Dipsea Runners," a mixture of the "unqualified" like me with "newbies" having their first go. And speaking of "going," all of a sudden I have to. Lucky thing I have my bike, because there isn't a lot of time left! I peddle up to the park, find the men's occupied and the women's free, make the obvious choice, relieve myself for the final time, and quickly back to town with several minutes to spare. Did I mention I'm glad I brought that bike? :-)
Then it's my turn - first into the "slash corral" to have my number slashed to prove I was at the start of the race, then to the line. I note with interest that although I thought for a while I'd be the only one in the entire race with a water bottle, my group includes two other Ultimate wearers and one other with another brand. I retain my distinction as the only one with the water bottle in front, of course. :-) There is one water stop, but it's a long way and a lot of steep uphills away.
Up goes the rope and off we go. No one's running at 10K pace or even half-marathon pace; for one thing even the streets in town are slightly uphill, and for two everyone knows that in 0.3M they'll be hitting the stairs and you wouldn't want to start up 671 steps *already* in oxygen debt. Up the street, through the park, up one steep street and there are the steps, a lot more crowded than an hour ago! Most of the people seem to be walking, which always amazes me. I mean, weren't they aware of what this race was all about? Didn't they train for this? Well by God I did, and I'm running up the stairs! "Left, left, left" I shout, and smile as people step to the right to let me by. I mean I'm not "bounding" up the stairs by any means, just keeping up a steady pace, but with 313 steps in the first set of stairs I'm sure I pass 100 people or more before I get to the top, even with one or two brief walks of my own.
Hit the top, go right, hit the next set of stairs, and wham! These stairs are narrower and both sides of the stairway are jammed. I'm a little too intimidated and a little too tired to be as aggressive as the first flight, so I decide to recover for a while and ending up walking about 3/4 of the second flight, as does nearly everyone. A quick left at the top and then it's the third flight, more open (maybe more people are running sensing the top is near) and I'm able to run almost the whole flight. The climbing's not done, though, because at the top after a brief slight uphill you head up a very steep street for a while. Lots more passing here. Many people are walking or running slowly, recovering from the stairs, but I've been doing training to emphasize my ability to recover, and I hit the road running and gain lots more places. Through the first trail, past "one-mile tree" out onto the street and you've made it to Windy Gap, 700 ft up and, for me, 13:49.
Now it's a sprint downhill on the road. Some people with better raw speed than I pass me here, but I run the tangents smartly :-) and pick up some places of my own. Down some steep stairs heading to Muir Woods and there's the first major decision point. Last year, most of "my group" went right on the longer, more gradual trail and I got to descend the steeper but shorter "Suicide" almost alone. This year, most people are going straight, and it's slow going down Suicide. Near the bottom I squeeze by the bottlenecks and break into the clear, running unhindered, crossing the road and then the bridge over Redwood Creek. My split reads 21:39 which is a brief downer. Last year I was 21:56 to this point and I walked a lot more of the stairs. I had been hoping for 21 even this year but anyway I knew things were going great so I didn't dwell on it.
Over the creek you hit the very steep uphill called Dynamite. Last year it was crowded, I was tired, and not aggressive, and I ended up walking a lot of it. This year I wasn't going to be denied so again it was "Left, left, left," clearing the path so I could run most of the way up the hill (I'd love to say I ran the whole thing, but I have to have some room for improvement next year, now don't I?). At the top it levels out to only a few percent grade for a long way, and again my quick recovery helped and I was able to continue passing people even though the steepest climb was over. Steady running through this section, where in the past I've had to do a little walking, all the way through the woods to the steep uphill before Cardiac Hill (highest point on the course at 1360'), where a mixture of running and walking brought me to the top in 49:33. My goal had been sub-50 (51:20 last year) so I was thrilled! Victory (a.k.a. qualifying) was almost certain!
While others had to stop to drink at this point, I had been drinking all along from my bottle so I only had to grab a cup to dump on my head. The volunteer "sponge man" slapped my back and arms with two big wet ones which felt great! Off to Stinson Beach! Across the flat top of the mountain, down Swoop Hollow where I slipped on my butt last year but this year didn't miss a step, and then on down Steep Ravine, fast but cautious. Near the top a "newbie" woman asks directions, and ends up following close on my heels the whole way down. I really impress her when someone goes by, steps on my shoe, my shoe comes off, and I manage to get it back on while continuing the run and without even losing my place. Thank heavens for elastic laces!
When I hit Webb Creek at the bottom my watch reads 1:01:40, two minutes ahead of last year's 1:03:37. Interestingly, my downhill time was almost invariant - 12:17 last year, 12:07 this year. Not really a big surprise. Now, though, the last uphill at Insult hill gives me a chance to pick up more time (on my last year's time) and pass more people (which is all that matters - there isn't really a qualifying *time*, there's a qualifying *place*, so every person in front of you is someone who might take your place qualifying if you don't pass them). But this year I'm able to run almost every step up Insult. At the top, surprisingly, virtually everyone in front of me is going left, on the route over "the Moors," which is longer and includes one more uphill. I head to the right to the road and the shortcuts, trickier to run but definitely faster. I tell the woman who has been following me all the way down Steep Ravine to follow me, and she does, then passes me; she did thank me later for showing her the way.
Down the route, through the first shortcut, back on the road, through the second shortcut, then back onto the official trail and hit Rt. 1 for the sprint to the finish. The Dipsea is a great finishing race with a gentle downhill finish. I crank up the final half mile to about my 220 pace. Although I know I'm ahead of schedule, there's no way to know what this year's qualifying time will be. The more people I can pass the better, and I'm giving it my all. Arms pumping, eyes virtually closed, I scream around the final corner, hear Brad encourage me on, and find an extra gear to take me past one more competitor just before the finish line. Over the line at 1:12:52, 2:50 faster than last year and all in all one of those days when everything simply everything has gone right and I just couldn't be more pleased. My training, my physical, logistical, and mental race preparation, and finally both the physical and mental aspects of the race itself had all fallen into place. Pleased? You bet!
Got my shirt, my medal, treated myself to a Dipsea hat as a reward (with the $20 bill cleverly tucked in my Ultimate), chatted with Brad about his race and mine, drank, drank some more, watched some finishers, and decided to head back. Last year I took the bus - between the wait for the bus and the fact that it broke down, I could have walked back faster. This year I decided I *would*, especially bearing in mind that the Double Dipsea is coming up in two weeks and this was a good week for a longer training run. Well, 7.1M was already down, and 7.1 to go! Planning on a leisurely pace, I head back uphill, having waited long enough for virtually everyone to be off the course. It's a little tricky because I now have an extra t-shirt and a new cap, but I attach them to my Ultimate and I'm off.
This time I was going the "long way", no shortcuts. Up the Moors and there's a woman down on the trail being attended to; a little later some guys running along with a stretcher heading her way. Here and there I pass people, they all are pretty amazed to see someone running back; I gather I'm the first. At the bottom of Insult, just before Webb Creek, I encounter Jack Kirk and his crew - dead last (last year he beat nearly 200 people!). Looks like a very bad day for Jack, he's *hours* behind his time from last year. :-(
Well, I won't take you through the whole run, I run some, walk some, stop and enjoy the views some, give directions to hikers, and basically enjoy the day, returning to Mill Valley in 1:31:23, a quick lunch and look around. A few people with "Dipsea Survivor" T-shirts like the one I'm now proudly wearing, other than that not much evidence of the morning's events. Unless someone looks closely and sees the big grin on my face. :-D
Dipsea '97 here I come! Already I anticipate it will be a very different experience. This year I was mixed in with non-qualifiers and newbies and passed people continuously. Next year I move up to Invitational status and run with a "better class" ;-) of people. They *all* take the shortcuts. This year I was passed by a couple dozen people, tops. Next year I'll be passed by nearly everyone who starts behind me, some of them really flying. And even the qualifying standard changes! Dipsea Runners have to be in the top 740; last year that meant 1:10:36 (I have a 4-minute handicap so for me that meant 1:14:36). Invitational Runners have to be in the top 420; last year that meant 1:08:32, almost two minutes better!! This year I was 1:08:52, which means if I had been an Invitational Runner this year I would have missed requalifying by 20 seconds. But next year I gain a minute handicap! So if I match this year's time I'll requalify by just 40 seconds. If the times stay constant. God it's so complicated.
It's so hard being a Man on the Edge of Time. But challenging. And the rewards are so sweet :-)
Steve "On the Edge" Patt
in Cupertino, CA where the sun is shining, the birds are singing,
and my calves are so tight I can hardly walk.
On to the Double Dipsea!
I finished in 671st place, 3:40 ahead of 740th place (although some years, qualifying has been 720th place, which I was only 2:39 ahead of). If I had been an Invitational runner this year and run the same time, I would have finished #431, "out of the money." However with an additional minute handicap next year, if I can match the same time I'll move up to 390th, qualifying with 44 seconds to spare! It's gonna' be close - stay tuned!