Lake Sonoma 50 Race Report

"I believe that if you set out for an adventure, and you're absolutely convinced you're going to be successful, why bother starting?" - Sir Edmund Hillary

“I hammered down the trail, passing rocks and trees like they were standing still.” - Red Spicer

"I'm not the Shah of Iran and I'm not the Pope, but my name is on the walk of fame like Bob Hope." - Greg Nice


I ran the Lake Sonoma 50 mile trail race this past weekend. Well, 'ran' is a bit of an exaggeration, but it was my first 50 miler, and I finished. It was a great run on a tough course, made a bit easier by the great volunteers and the spectacular views of Lake Sonoma and the surrounding hills.

Decisions, Decisions

I didn't decide to do the race til the Tuesday before the race. My training for the Miwok 100 had been put on hold because of some personal issues, and as such, I'd only run about 12 miles in the last month. I wanted to get in another longer race to make me feel better about my prep, but nothing seemed to fit in to my schedule, and a couple of the races I was looking at entering were already full. 50 miles was a bit further than I was planning, but the LS 50 worked well schedule wise. So, I ran it by my wife.

Me: "I think I'm going to do a 50 mile race this weekend."

Wife: "But you haven't run in a month."

Me: "Yeah I know, it's a good taper into this run."

Wife: "What's the longest you've ever run?"

Me: "31 miles."

Wife: "Does your knee still hurt?"

Me: "Yes, but only when I go upstairs, go downstairs, or sit. There are no stairs or chairs on the course so I should be fine."

Wife: "Where's the race?"

Me: "Lake Sonoma, about 2.5 hour drive north."

Wife: "Are you going to stay overnight to rest?"

Me: "Nah, I'll drive up and back the same day."

Wife: "So, you're going to try to run 20 miles further than you ever have on a bad knee, insufficient training, and then drive home 2 and half hours afterward?"

Me: "Yes."

Wife: "You're an idiot. Be careful."

Me: "Alright!"

With that bit settled, I just had to register. Of course, when I navigated over to the active.com reg page, I couldn't find the 'Register' button. Which usually means online registration is closed, which would'nt be unusual since it was 4 days til the race. So, I fired off an email to the RD, John Medinger (AKA "Ghostface Killah" AKA "Tropical John") begging for late entry.

He replied immediately: "Dude, no problem. I'll send the chopper, stocked with Cristal and Beluga caviar."

Me: "I'm a vegetarian - make it Dom Perignon and pretzels and I'm in."

Him: "Book it."

Seriously, though, John let me do a race day registration even though they were full, and he didn't even charge me extra. Sweet!

Race Time

The race started at 6:40am, and I wanted to make sure I got there with ample time to pay & register, so I left the house at 3:15. Which meant I woke up at 1:00am to eat, shower, get dressed, and pack my bags. Luckily I'm an early bird and am in bed by 9 most nights so I was still able to get about 4 hours sleep. Still, though, it was weird to wake up at 1am and see the neighbors still awake while I'm giving the dog her morning walk.

I arrived at the South Lake Trailhead/starting area at around 5:45. It was still pretty much pitch black, so I used my flashlight to make my way to the portajohns and the registration table. I had just enough time to stretch, double check my drop bag, and get ready to go. As the sun started to rise, I got a better look around and was able to recognize some famous California ultrarunners. I saw Errol "Rocket" Jones, who I had just read about in the latest Runners World, Suzanna "The Hammer" Bon, and Mark "The Silent Assassin" Tanaka. I saw some other folks I recognized but couldn't name.

At 6:40, the air raid siren went off, and we made our way out for a day of running.

Early Running

The very start of the race goes down a bit of road, and the rest of the course is single track or fire roads. We got into the woods after less than a half mile, and we took the familiar ultra single file lineup. As usual, there was a lot chatting at the start, with folks talking about training, upcoming races, etc.

Once we hit the trail, we almost immediately started getting some great lake views. I'd never been to Lake Sonoma before, and it's very impressive. The lake is pretty sizable, and the surrounding hills were nice and green. The wildflowers were also out in bloom, especially noticeable were some purple lily-like flowers. There were also a bunch of woodpeckers out and about making their noise.

The first few miles meandered through some nice trails and woods. The whole course seemed to be a good mix of open and covered running, coming in and out of trees. Also, a lot of the running was through Madrone trees (and similar), but it seems like there was also a good stretch through some redwoods or other big pines (sorry, I'm not great at tree IDs).

I pulled into the first aid station at Island View feeling pretty good (granted, it was only 4.7 miles in). I was chatting with one of the volunteers at Island View and he said they had to boat everything in, and that they camped the night before. That's volunteer dedication right there folks! After topping off my water, I headed out and on to our next stop, which would be the Rancheria Creek aid station 7.4 miles later.

Creek Crossing Conundrums

Crossing creeks is kinda like that 80's arcade classic Frogger. Navigate a few lily pads, rocks and logs and make it to the other side dry. Or fail miserably and either drown or get crushed on the freeway. The LS 50 has 12 creek crossings so there's plenty of opportunity to flex your mad Frogger skillz.

Like Frogger, there's a bit of quick mental calculation when you get ready to cross a creek. Can I make it across dry? If I step on that rock first, what's my next move? Will that wet, mossy log hold me? You can't take too long to think, but you don't want to automatically resign yourself to drenched feet.

There's also a sinking feeling when you reach a creek and realize there's no way you can get across dry. Such was the case at Rancheria Creek. I'd Frogger'ed my way successfully thus far, but Rancheria Creek was a horse of a different color. "Creek" is a bit of a misnomer. River is more like it. I think I saw Huck Finn floating a few hundred yards downstream.

On the out route, there is an aid station with drop bags right after Rancheria. So, I decided to change my socks at this point. I switched into my Drymax trail socks, filled up my hydration pack and continued.

A few minutes later, I caught back up with Clem, who I'd run with a little ways back. He told me that as long as you have Coolmax (or non-cotton) socks, they'll dry fine by themselves and there's no need to change wet socks. I was glad for this bit of advice as it made me feel better for the rest of the course. My only previous experience with drenched feet during a race was at the Santa Cruz trail run where you have to cross the San Lorenzo river twice. I only did a 21K that day, so the "wet feet miles" weren't too scary. But during this race, I was more worried about running another 38 miles with wet socks and shoes, so I decided to play it safe with a sock change. In retrospect, I think I'll just grab another pair of socks and carry them with me in case my feet get too uncomfortable. But, it's a good lesson learned for next time.

Drop (Bag) Time

A note about my drop bag, since this was the first race I've done that allowed drop bags. The bags were accessible at Rancheria Creek, which you pass at 12.7 and 37.1 miles. I packed the following:

• 2 pairs of socks
• A few packs of Body Glide
• Extra gels
• 4 small bottles pre-filled with Perpetuem powder
• Flashlight for night running (didn't need it)
• Extra SCaps
  

The First Wall

I've run a few marathons, and of course am familiar with the famous marathon "Wall". I don't know the physiology behind it, but in layman's terms it's the point in the race (usually around 20-22 miles) when you feel like absolute crap and want to quit. From what I'd read, you might have 2 or 3 walls during a 50 miler. I usually have mild "wall encounters", and this time was no different.

Around the 20 or so mile point, the hills really kick in. There are a couple of fairly sustained (and steep at times) climbs. One in particular was quite exposed to the sun, and it was getting hot. I grew up in 98 degree/98% humidity summers in South Carolina, have been to Bahrain/Saudi Arabia in August, and have driven across the CA/AZ desert in the summer. But this was worse. Rocks were melting and grasshoppers were spontaneously combusting. Ok, so maybe the high on race day was only 75, but it felt hotter. All in all, besides the heat, I didn't feel too awful, and luckily I was closing in the turnaround when it started to flatten out a bit.

Race Against the (False) Cutoff

As I was reaching the turnaround point (25 miles), I was closing in on 6 hours. From my exhaustive pre-race research and preparation (OK, double-checking that morning before I left), I knew the halfway cutoff was 6:40. So, I was OK at this point. However, with about a half mile before the turnaround, a returning woman told me frantically - "You'd better hurry! The cutoff's 6 hours - you've got about 8 minutes!". Wha!?!?! I told her that it was 6:40, but she wasn't convinced. Sigh. At this point, it's not like I could turn on the jets, so I kept plodding along hoping that I was right.

Then, with the turnaround aid station literally in sight about 50 yards down a hill, another returning woman started shouting "Hurry up! You've got 20 seconds before the cutoff!" I didn't have time to question at this point so I just hauled my way as best I could to the aid station with about 1 second to spare before the 6 hour mark. I asked the aid station crew about the cutoff, and they confirmed it was 6:40, and that the folks who told me 6:00 were full of baloney. Whew. A bit of jitters for a while but I was happy to be right about this one. I filled up my water and turned around with the bit of a second wind that passing the halfway point brings.

Heading for Home

Heading back, I passed a few folks that looked like they would be close (or would likely miss) the halfway cutoff. That sucks. I ran for a bit with a friendly guy from Reno that was pretty up to speed on the ultra scene and top runners. He looked like he would hit the halfway cutoff OK, so hopefully he made it in OK. I also passed by Clem, who I had run with earlier. He mentioned he was in a bit of pain and was looking very iffy to make the halfway point. Hope you made it in OK buddy.

What struck me most about the inward portion was how isolated I was. The RD mentioned that the trails were seldom used, and he wasn't kidding. There were almost no walkers/non-racers out on the course. If you do a trail race in Marin, you're constantly passing walkers and other non-racing runners. Having the trails to myself was kind of a nice feeling, if a bit eerie. Anyhow, I felt decent enough and things were fairly uneventful til I hit Rancheria the second time.

Massacre at Rancheria

At somewhere about 9 hours in, I started to get hungry. I mean stomach starting to eat itself hungry. Real food hungry, not gel hungry. This was strange, since I almost always stick to gels and the like during ultras and have never felt hungry like this. However, I'd never been running for 9 hours before. Anyway, my stomach was really growling. I knew the Rancheria aid station was coming up, so I decided to hold off on another gel and eat some real food. There were visions of goldfish crackers, jelly bellies, and PB&J's dancing in my head.

I feel I must apologize to the Rancheria volunteers for my display of gluttony. When I hit the station, I handed my hydration pack for refilling and went straight to the table. I grabbed 2 PB&J squares. A handful of goldfish went down the hatch. I downed 2 handfuls of trail mix. A scoop of jelly beans were next. I didn't even take the time to ditch the black ones. Cookies were next. I believe they were chocolate chip or otameal raisin, but I didn't pay close enough attention. I was offered a bean and cheese quesadilla by one of the volunteers, but I declined. I normally like these, but I was suspicious of the prospect of beans in my belly for another 12 miles of running. A couple of watermelon slices to top things off. Well not really, since I grabbed 2 more PB&J squares and a disposable cup and filled it with more pretzels, jelly beans, and goldfish for the trail. I don't know how many calories I downed, but I felt fine for the next stretch and didn't do another gel for 2.5 hours.

Down the Stretch They Come!

I passed through Island View heading in. At this point, I had gone from mostly running to mostly walking, but I was feeling fine and knew I'd make it in. I chatted for a few minutes with Gary from Marin, who was volunteering and finishing the day with a quick run. He was doing the American River 50 next weekend. He was a nice guy and gave me some encouraging words for Miwok, saying it would be a piece of cake after this one. That definitely made me feel better :-)

The last 4 miles or so were a bit chilly, as it was getting windy and the sun was going down. Man it was a nice feeling seeing the finish. Around a few bends, crossed the street, and I was done. 12:49, which is about what I thought I could do. Yay!

I grabbed some schwag (a really nice Brooks jacket, a very cool handmade amulet with 'LS 50' on it, and a tote bag with some GU stuff and a copy of Ultra Running) and swung by the post-race buffet. I grabbed a couple cans of Coke and a plate of veggie tamales and rice, which were very tasty. I topped that off with another handful of jelly beans and about 10 Oreos. Man, I am disgusting, especially considering I stopped on the way home for a burrito that was approximately the size of a piece of firewood and wolfed that down too.

It was getting late, and I had 130 miles of road ahead of me before I got home, so I thanked John for the experience and volunteers and made my way to the car. Really, these volunteers were great. Even the young kids - all of them were very friendly and helpful. They also made some good jokes and kept our spirits up out there, which was great. These folks took hours of time out on a beautiful day to help out a bunch of dirty, smelly, and grouchy ultrarunners, and made us back of the packers feel like front runners. This elite cadre are guaranteed first-ballot volunteer hall of famers.

The Aftermath

Well, it's 2 days later and I'm still fairly sore. Surprisingly, though, not as bad as the last road marathon I did (SV 2008). Trail runs are definitely much kinder to the body. Also, I normally do an ice bath after runs over 20 miles, but I was just too tired by the time I got home. So, that's catching up with me as well. I should be good to run in a couple of days, though, and my knee also feels pretty good.

Gear Check

For reference:

• Brooks Cascadia 3 shoes
• Wright Sock Double Layer Socks - I wore these until Rancheria Creek and then changed into:
• DryMax Trail Running Socks
• Dirty Girl Gaiters
• Nathan 020 Hydration Vest
• Patagonia 9 trails shorts and Saucony short sleeve shirt
• My Brooks hat
• 2 Pro-Tec knee straps, which worked great