I recall, probably a couple years ago now, that my dear friend Stephanie — whom I had first met through TSFM’s ambassador program back in 2014 — mentioned that she was planning a community race, the Water Dog 5k, 10k, 1 mile kids’ race, and 1 mile Fido run in her hometown on the peninsula between SJ and SF. I wanted to support my friend and the hard work that she had been throwing down for two years to make her race come to fruition, so when registration went live earlier this year, I signed up for the 10k without thinking about it. A 10k in October? I’ll be in CIM training by then. It’ll be great.

Thus began and ended any research I did for this inaugural race. To be fair, there wasn’t much research to be done, with it being inaugural and all. Sure, I read the emails, and I occasionally read the facebook updates, but that was it; there were no previous years’ race reports to pore through or anything like that. Plus, up until a week or so before the race, I had never even been to Belmont before. It’s on the peninsula … somewhere … maybe around SFO? Sure. That seemed about right.

Aside from supporting my dear friend’s hard work, I also planned to use the WDR as feedback for how my CIM training is progressing. It seems to be going well, but I’ve struggled a bit with pacing for most of my workouts. It’s super common for runners to race their workouts during their training — doing workouts much, much too hard when they shouldn’t be — and I’ve been doing this stuff long enough to know all the reasons why that’s inherently a horrible idea. Leave the racing for Race Day, ya know? That said … by and large, that’s been my experience with a lot of my workouts of late. (not a humblebrag, promise) I conferred with Coach Lisa on the subject, and rather than me playing a guessing game — am I being irresponsible and over-running my workout paces, or is something better underfoot and my prescribed paces actually too slow?? — we’d have me really race the WDR and use the feedback accordingly to guide the rest of my CIM training.

Race day brought with it an early morning so I could go get my bib (hooray for race-day pickup) and get in a little bit of a warm-up before getting the show on the road. I didn’t realize that I’d be parking about a half-mile away from the starting area, which was also where I’d be picking up my bib (again with the whole “lack of research” theme). It was fine, and I got my bib and still managed to get in a warm-up with enough time to spare. Before too long, I lined up toward the front of the race — after quickly hugging Stephanie and telling her how much ass she kicked — and it was go time. The weather was basically quintessential perfectly autumnal: clear and (California) crisp.

The race began on the campus of Notre Dame de Namur, and right off the the line, runners had a pretty steep downhill. Once we jutted off the campus, we began a long, slow climb that (spoilers) basically didn’t end for three miles! Miles 0-2 were primarily on roads and through a little neighborhood seemingly pretty near the college campus; as far as I can remember, I think this little section between miles ~.25-1.2 were the only residential parts of the run. Once we were out of the neighborhood, circa mile 1.5, we were back on a main road, slowly but surely continuing to grind our way up. What?! I thought this was a fast 10k?!, I thought to myself. Oh, right. I have no idea. No where to go but up. Head down. Effort over pace.

Right around the 2 mile mark, we 5k and 10k runners split from each other, and the 10k runners hopped off the pavement and entered a trail system that was beautiful, of course, especially with the great morning light, the leaves changing colors, and that perfect autumnal backdrop I mentioned earlier. It also meant that the two miles of climbing that I thought were behind us were just the beginning! At this point, it was almost laughable. I obviously couldn’t be mad or upset — I didn’t do any research, so I had literally no idea that the race was 50/50 road and trail — and since I had never really been to Belmont before, much less run there, I had NO idea where we were and where we were going (besides up). Right as we started climbing on the trails, two women overtook me. Keep the slow burn going, I thought, and adjust expectations. We’ve gotta go down at some point.

Well, yes and no, ha. While we were on the trail, we eventually did begin descending — praise be! — only to turn around and begin ascending again. This was around the halfway, halfway-plus mark of the race, and I assumed that if we’d begin retracing our steps, the second half of the race was going to couple the first half’s ongoing ascents with a LOT of descents. Maybe if we were lucky, all those hills we climbed in the front half we’d get to fly down on the back half. That whole mentality about adjusting expectations was going to come in real handy because even if my 10k pace went to shit on the front half, perhaps I could recoup something on the second half. Maybe I could even pick off the women who had passed me on the climb. Game on. It’s not over ‘til it’s over. This is where all those hours of listening to podcasts featuring pro runners (and especially hearing them talk about their mental strategies) comes in handy.

Running downhill on trails isn’t my strong suit, but I think I’ve gotten marginally better at it (emphasis on the marginally). I tried to bomb downhill as much as I could responsibly handle from the halfway point on, and compounding the challenge with the trail footing — dry dirt, loose stones, random tree roots and the like — was the fact that we were running directly into the sun. I had on sunglasses, per yoosh, but I still looked like I was having a moment with the Force or something because I had to run with my hand in the air, repeatedly, to try to block the sun. The stakes were high here if I misjudged my footing; at best, I’d just faceplant and eat shit. At worst, I’d run into the oncoming racers who were still ascending or fly off the hillside into the cliffs below. Along the way, on my descent, I saw my teammate Michelle, which was a great pick-me-up, and the incoming racers buoyed my spirits as well with their enthusiasm and support that I gladly reciprocated.

The trail section ended up being right about 50% of the course, from about mile 2-5, and it was literally right as we were exiting it, right around mile 5, that I caught up to the second woman and passed her. We gave each other good job, you’re killing it remarks, and I was hopeful that I could continue to find the higher gear for the final 1.2 of the course that I was hoping would be exclusively on the road and continue to be downhill. I correctly anticipated merging with the slower 5k runners and walkers, and fortunately the ped traffic wasn’t an issue at all. It was really easy to get around people without consequence.

I never saw the first female again and focused on running scared, as though the third woman was hot on my heels. (In reality, I had no idea where she was after I passed her). Most of the final 1.2 was on the main road that we had ascended initially, the one that dumped us into the trail system, and at about mile 6, we hopped off the road and into a little city park, the same area that I had visited a week or two before for two nights of Girl Scout camping training. How funny: I had been to Belmont exactly twice before in my life, and the race ended literal steps from exactly where I had been hanging out for six hours just a week or two earlier. I tried to finish as hard as I could and not eat shit in the process, what with the tricky footing of getting around strollers, walkers, and families who were finishing the 5k. I didn’t want to inadvertently take anyone out, much as I also didn’t want to take anyone out, myself.  

I finished pretty gassed and happy with the effort, regardless of whatever my watch said. Any chance of a PR was completely out the window with the terrain and the hills, and I’m pretty confident that this was the hardest 10k I have ever raced. It was impossible not to laugh about it at the end; Stephanie is a badass ultra trail runner, so of course her race would have a ton of trail and a ton of uphill! I wanted to use the WDR as a barometer to gauge my fitness and my workouts for my marathon training, and instead, I managed to race a really hard trail/road hybrid that left me in the dark about my current fitness. My bad. Most importantly, all of this was on me; had I done even an iota of research about the race — including, oh, I don’t know, looking at a course map — I would have been tipped off that I was going into the experience with inaccurate assumptions. It was all good, though. I got to see Stephanie again after the race, tell her how I was alternatingly loving her and cursing her name throughout the race on the ascents and descents, and honestly, the race was really well-executed. I would have had no idea that it was in its inaugural year.

After seeing in my teammate, Michelle, I went for a short CD, helped myself to the complimentary pancake breakfast, got a post-race stretch that hurt so good from one of the sponsors, and also managed to run into my other fellow TSFM ambassador buddies Claire and Scott (the latter with his family in tow who’d all be doing the Fido run later). All these little mini reunions made what was already a really enjoyable and beautiful morning even more so.

 

I planned to stick around for the award ceremony because I was the second woman finisher and thought I had read that winners had to be present to accept their awards, which is often par for the course. It ended up that I had made another mistake in this regard, since I thought I had read that the awards were being given out three deep to both men and women, which, again is often par for the course for races. Because this was the race’s inaugural year — and because all the prizes were donated — they were three deep, period, regardless of male/female distinction. That ultimately meant that of the top 3 women finishers, the 3rd place woman — who had finished high in her 20 year-old bracket — was recognized but not the 1st woman or me since other 30-39 year-old men placed higher/finished faster than us.

Once I realized that this was the case — after talking with the #1 and the #3 woman finishers and getting a pic of all three of us together — I left and headed for home since I had 12083048 things to do that day and my family was waiting around for me. Admittedly, it was different to finish so high on the female side and not be recognized, but it wasn’t the end of the world. It wasn’t until I got home and re-read that emails that I saw that my original understanding was wrong. No big. Add it to the ever-growing list of mistakes I had made that morning. I race to get the most out of myself on any given day, to push myself to the limit, and to be satisfied at the end of the race, knowing that I put myself out there. Those are feelings that no amount of material or recognition can even come close to replicating. I left the race satisfied with the effort I produced on the day.

I couldn’t be more proud of my friend, Stephanie, and all the work (and basically her soul) that she threw into making her inaugural race such a success. It sold out with over 900 participants across all the events, and when they planned it, they audaciously aimed for 600. There was such a great community feeling to the race, too, and the commentary I heard in person, at the race, and afterward, online, all indicated how much her community really needed and wanted a race like this (and one that benefitted public education, no less). While I didn’t accomplish that which I set out to on race day, I was really happy with the effort and satisfied with what I was able to do. I’m already looking forward to the 2019 iteration (and you’d better believe I’ll read those emails and check out the course maps a little more closely before the next go).