Headlands 100 Race Report
Basics:
This was a hundred mile foot race (100.5 miles technically) in the Marin Headlands, just across the Golden Gate Bridge in Marin County, north of San Francisco. I finished 34/34 (DFL) in 32:26:58. There were 57 starters and 34 finishers. So, about 60% finished. So that makes DFL look better than it sounds :p There was 17,740 total feet of elevation gain with about the same amount of elevation loss. The course is relentlessly up and down, with steep rocky trails and even long sets of stairs thrown in for good measure. I am unable to recall much in the way of flat trail. There is a 50 mile loop and then two 25 mile loops. It was a tough course. I think everyone who was out there would agree that it was one tough course.
I’m sure I’m forgetting things, but I’ve made my best effort at a race report.
The Fog:
The race begins on Rodeo Beach near Fort Cronkhite. Check-in was relaxed and smooth. There is also a 50 mile run, which was much more popular, but there weren’t so many people that the atmosphere was stressful or crazy. I quickly spotted and chatted with friends and met Sarah Spelt, one of the co-RDs and half of the PCTR organization. She is a rock star. Her husband Wendell Doman, who is also incredibly cool, is the other half of the outfit. They put on a ton of races in California (and one in Oregon I believe) and do an excellent job.
When it was time to line up, I went to the back. My plan, to the extent that I had one, was to run conservatively and maximize my chances of finishing. It’s hard to describe how I felt right at the start, but you know how you have two choices when water is really cold and you can either jump in or slowly ease into the water? I felt like I jumped in. And, as is always the case, I very quickly warmed up and enjoyed being in the water/race.
The run starts by traversing Rodeo Beach, which is quite difficult since it’s, well, sand. We then headed up the hillside into the dense and cool fog. I almost immediately fell into pace with two awesome women, Becky and Nancy (who I kept calling Linda), who were running the 50 miler. Becky quickly showed me which plant was poison oak, which was abundant. I’m glad she told me. The first miles were very cool and comfortable. The air was rich with oxygen and damp. These first miles also went very quickly and my memory of them is appropriately foggy. They flew by. I do recall that a few miles near the beginning were on pavement as we wound our way up to the top of a hill, where we met the trail that took us up and down, up and down, up and down to the first aid station at Rodeo Valley.
Somewhere around mile 10, on a long long long long uphill, we picked up my new friend Kim. Kim was making her second 100 miler attempt after dropping at mile 75 of Umstead with a knee injury. Kim, Becky, Nancy and I ran together for most of the rest of the next 50 miles – and I stuck with Kim until around mile 62. But more on that later.
(left to right: Kim, Danni, Becky, Nancy - pic courtesy of Becky)
The Journey to Bolinas Ridge:
Around mile 20 the fog burned off and, simultaneously, we began our ascent to the highest point on the course, which was 2,000 feet. No, that’s not high, but when you start the ascent at sea level, it can be a bit of a challenge. Add to that the relentless sun and heat on the exposed trail, and you’ve got a real challenge. But, the views were absolutely stunning. Running above the ocean is quite unlike what I’m accustomed to. The sounds of the ocean, which could be heard all day and night and day, were wonderful. This part of the course was the greatest physical challenge in the normal sense. I thought we did a great job on this section.
As it started to cool, I became excited for sunset. Running all night had long appealed to me, and I was thrilled to have the opportunity. The sunset itself was worth it all. The sun began setting shortly before we finished the first 50 miles, and I felt on top of the world.
The Dark Sets In:
Leaving Rodeo Beach at mile 50, it was dark enough to use my flashlight. The dark had set in both literally and figuratively. Chris O’Connor was originally going to pace me, but due to scheduling conflicts he ended up unable to pace me. My friend Craig Slagel, whom I first met at Western States training camp, graciously agreed to help pace me at the last minute. I actually didn’t think I needed a pacer, but Ted thought it seemed like a good idea. Craig is running the Leadville 100 next weekend though, and is still recovering from the Hardrock 100, AND did a 12 hour volunteer shift at the Tennessee Valley aid station. So, we agreed that he would jump in at mile 62, where the Tennessee Valley aid station was located. I ran with Kim and her pacer, Jason, until mile 62. I really owe them big time because this was the darkest part of my race. I’m not sure why, when or how, but soon after leaving the aid station at mile 50 I became really certain that I could not finish and that I was not going to finish. I made up my mind to drop at mile 75 at the next visit to Rodeo Beach. I knew there was nothing wrong with me physically, but I *knew* that my race was to soon be over. I stayed positive though when Kim and Jason asked me how I was doing because there’s nothing more annoying than whiners when you yourself are trying to soldier through a race. Kim was running strong and I knew she would finish. I didn’t want to hinder her. Yet, I was slowing them down. And yet, they wouldn’t leave me. I told them to go ahead, but they kept a watchful eye on me until we picked up Craig at TV aid station. If it weren’t for Kim and Jason, I might not have gone that far. I don’t know. I planned my race report. I was going to start out by saying “I wish this could be a report about perseverance and overcoming adversity but it’s not.” I started hoping I would get really sick or fall and break my ankle or something that gave me a better excuse than “I am not a strong person and lack mental fortitude.” I kept with Kim and Jason though since they offered me no alternative.
Craig Talks Me Off the Cliff:
(Danni and Craig before the start, photo courtesy of Becky)
When we arrived at mile 62, I promptly told Ted to meet me at Rodeo Beach at 6 a.m. I figured that since I was going to drop he may as well get some sleep. Evidently my plans were written all over my face because Ted gave me a disapproving look and said NO. Craig quickly went to work encouraging me and cheering me up. I told him I didn’t care if I made the cut-off at mile 75 and I thought 75 miles was plenty far to run and something to be proud of. Somehow he worked some major magic on me and I found myself quickly believing that I was absolutely going to finish. I babbled about how I was all upset and planning to drop and how weird it felt to suddenly have the opposite feeling. Craig gave me so much encouragement and did such a good job of pacing me. I doubt I could have finished without him.
All Through the Night:
Running all night is kind of cool. It went relatively quickly. However, the most I could stomach food-wise was one AccelGel every 45 minutes. Craig set a timer on his watch and made me eat on schedule. This was helpful because I would have only had one per hour which might not have been enough. Anyhow, it became cold and foggy and although I couldn’t see anything, I could hear the waves crashing and the foghorn. It was really neat.
Evidently, I was not using good technique running downhill earlier in the race because I trashed my knees and the fronts of my ankles (the curve where the foot meets the ankle). Normally poor downhill technique trash the quads. My quads were fine. They aren’t even sore now. But man I was suffering on the downhills. I felt great on the uphills. But the downhills started getting pretty tricky for me. Despite how poorly I was doing on the downhills, I made it to mile 75 with about 15 or so minutes to spare. I had some miso soup and coffee and we headed out for the final loop.
Run Another Day:
My inability to run downhill became even more prominent on the final loop (miles 75-100). Craig tried to coach me and did show me a way to shuffle that took pressure off my knees and allowed me to go a little more quickly than I was. However, on the rocky descents I was too scared of falling to even shuffle. I was literally faster going up than down. But I’m proud to say I was pretty strong on the climbs.
The downhills soon became agonizing. By the time we approached Muir Beach aid station for the final time I was so exhausted and tired of suffering on the downhills that I started crying like a tired toddler. Craig was very patient though and assured me that I was doing great. I made jokes through my tears because I was lucid enough to comprehend the absurdity of a grown woman crying because she was tired. I rolled into the Muir Beach aid station all trembly and tear stained. I’m sure it was pretty ridiculous to see. But Flora, who was volunteering, (I think it was Flora) put some ice in my bandana and wrapped it around my neck which felt a little like the equivalent of giving the tired infant his blankie. And what I mean by that is that I stopped crying and felt a bit better.
Miles 91-96/The Jerk miles:
There’s a part in the movie “The Jerk” where Bernadette Peters’ character is sleeping and Steve Martin’s character says to her:
I know we've only known each other four weeks and three days, but to me it seems like nine weeks and five days. The first day seemed like a week and the second day seemed like five days. And the third day seemed like a week again and the fourth day seemed like eight days. And the fifth day you went to see your mother and that seemed just like a day, and then you came back and later on the sixth day, in the evening, when we saw each other, that started seeming like two days, so in the evening it seemed like two days spilling over into the next day and that started seeming like four days, so at the end of the sixth day on into the seventh day, it seemed like a total of five days. And the sixth day seemed like a week and a half. I have it written down, but I can show it to you tomorrow if you want to see it.
This is relevant because my race can easily be similarly described. The first 20 miles felt like 5 miles, the next 30 miles felt like 30 miles, the next 12 miles felt like 100 miles, the next 30 miles felt like about 40 miles, and the next 5 miles felt like another 100 miles. . . I had always assumed that if I could just make it to mile 90 it would be in the bag. I mean, 10 miles isn’t that far. And after 90 miles, wouldn’t a person just feel great knowing he has run that far? Boy I was wrong. At mile 91 I was honestly wondering how I was going to endure another 9 miles. And the next 5 mile section included some of the most brutal climbs in that loop, including the infamous steps up from Pirates Cove.
(photo courtesy of Becky)
But, as with the preceding miles, Craig got me there. But those were some hard miles. I was seriously wondering if it would ever end of if I would forever be trapped in the Marin Headlands relentlessly engaged in forward motion without sleep. But boy, I was so glad to climb those stairs for the last time, climb the monster climb after that for the last time, and all the other evil climbs leading to the final descent to TV aid station at mile 96. Craig and I agreed that since his car was at TV aid station, and since I could handle the last 4 miles alone, I would let my iPod pace me to the finish. The miles between TV and Rodeo Beach include some scary steps down – steep. I was so glad to have those done for the last time. I finally made it to the top of the ridge and saw Rodeo Beach below. I could “smell the barn.” Just as I was beginning to relish the feeling I felt a prominent explosion in my shoe. I figured the added drama of limping to the finish was appropriate. About 1/8th of a mile from the finish, this guy who almost fell off a cliff when he fell asleep running (Craig and I passed him and were very alarmed and tried to get him to come with us but he wouldn’t), came sprinting up to me. He asked if I wanted to run it in with him but I couldn’t sprint like he could. I encouraged him to pass me. This was fortuitous because I was excited about being DFL (dead last). Finally, I was at the finish and Sarah the race director gave me a big hug and I was grinning ear to ear. My legs were swollen like water ballons and my feet hurt and were disgusting and my legs were black with filth but I did it. And I was so happy!!!
Looking and smelling like a million bucks, Ted and I made our way to the fancy Fairmont hotel where I soaked in a nice bath. I couldn’t bring myself to do the ice-bath thing since I was already shivering as if I had the flu. I took a quick snooze before we headed to the Tonga Room for dinner. We had a lovely celebration and then I crashed. I was so completely out and slept for a good 10 hours. Today I am in much better shape than I expected since last night I could hardly move.
The Long and Short of It:
This was definitely a team effort. And the team certainly included many people who weren’t there. I thought of so many people at different times. Ted went to every single aid station and was the best crew ever. I’m so glad he was there. I couldn’t have done it without him there. No question about it. Not only did he keep me honest (I knew that he wouldn’t let me drop unless I was injured or otherwise needed medical attention) but he provided hugs when I needed them, reassurance and love. And as he does with all other things, he tolerated me. For example, I brought no less than 4 hats but would ask for “my hat.” “No Ted the other hat.” You get the picture!
That was an experience I wouldn’t trade for anything but I think I can comfortably go to my grave having run only one 100 mile race. Some other glutton for punishment can have my Western States spot!!! I’ll pace or crew next time ;)
Crewing and pacing gave me a much better idea of what's involved and leaves me with some ideas for how to best use my peeps at Western States. For one thing, I know Cheryl gets sleepy without sleep and so I will make sure she gets sleep at some point. 
Pictured above is the descent to the finish -- I have never run so fast downhill before. I felt like I learned to just fly and hope for the best. Had I run down Danni-style Craig would have been a mile ahead of me in the blink of an eye. My quads and ankles are very sore -- but at least my knees aren't sore which I consider to be a good sign.
Above is the proud finisher!!!
