When something really matters and you feel like your whole being is on the line, you get nervous and begin to ask all of the "why's".
Here's a "What If?" story. We traveled last week to Bend, OR with about 14 other Santa Barbara runners to complete in the XC national championship. "We" being myself and John, Coach Nash, my masters women teammates Desa Mandarino and Lynelle Paulick, the members of the open women's team - Lauren Capone, Jill Deering, Dani Moreno and Natalie McClure, and the masters men - Rusty Snow, Todd Booth, Jim Adams, Mike Swan, Marcelo Mejia, Steve Harding and Micks Purnell. There were Santa Barbarians all over the place. It was, in a word, EPIC.
All I knew about Bend, OR prior to this trip, was that it had a really hard cross country course. The course (in similar configuration) was used for the 2013 USATF National Club Championships and just from the little bit of video footage and the times posted, we knew it was a tough one. But not having a full visual is always difficult. You just have to train for every possible condition - hills, mud, snow, thick grass, soggy grass, clumps of crab grass, wood chips, rocks, steep up, steep down, sideways sloping fairways, freezing temperatures, rain, creek crossings. Basically that is cross country in a big nutshell.
So we did a bulk of our preparation in the dark on grass surfaces (littered with palm tree obstacles many of which I narrowly missed colliding with) in the coldest temperatures Santa Barbara could muster, and miles and miles and miles of Romero Canyon. Not only were the Romero climbs important but so were the descents. We had at least one fairly significant blustery rainstorm worked into the mix which we thought was fairly laughable to try and train through. We had to run 1200 meter intervals into some kind of insane wind, into rain so hard we could barely keep our eyes open (that was one of the times I had close calls with palm trees). I turned to Lynelle that morning and said, "See what I mean about cross country? It's all about snot, tears and blood. No sweat involved."
We did our weeks and weeks of training, hoping we were coming close to the right kind of preparation and the tension began to build in the final weeks before the race. I was anxious to preview the course so that I could have more realistic panic instead of just imagined panic.
We arrived early Friday morning (the day before Race Day) - 1:00 am'ish, slept as much as possible, and then our small gang of housemates loaded up our nerves and our spikes and went to packet pick up and onto the course. I noted that travel to the course, which was, as usual, on a golf course, was uphill. This was not a good sign. It also wasn't helpful that Todd, who'd been to the course already, said, "It's tough. It has two big hills." Um, it's a 2000 meter loop with two big hills. In other words what you're saying is the whole thing is uphill. Breath, just take deep calming breaths. It can't all be uphill. It's a loop. There has to be some down stuff somewhere.
We arrived. It was windy and cloudy, and kind of cold. We walked over to the area of the start and stood near the starting line looking up the course. The key word here is "UP" the course. It starts with a gruesome, nasty hill (which I will call hill #1). Not just a hill, but a messy, choppy, wood chippy, twisting hill of uneven grass, strewn with an occasional ground level, mostly buried boulder (upon which spikes don't work very well). You look at this hill and you just puzzle over it and scratch your head. Why?
So off we went to begin to jog the loop. By the way, this type of cross country racing involves 2000 meter loops so everything we were now seeing and feeling would happen over and over and over (and maybe a few more "over's") again. Keeping this in mind, we shuffled over the swamp, across the wood chips, and up the nasty hill. Almost in unison we said, "geez, so glad we spent all the time running Romero." Talk about luck. We somehow managed to train ourselves perfectly. The hill finally ended and we got to have a very special and fun downhill section which curved around into the next hill. Hill #2 was totally different than hill #1. Hill #2 started off with some fun muddy, messy, rocky dirt which finally popped up back onto the rough grass. Unfortunately that was just the beginning of hill #2. It continued on and began to slope sideways so that you run up a hill but one foot is lower than the other because the hill also goes sideways. And this lasts FOREVER. It finally rounds a corner to the right, still climbing and then the sideways slope shifts to the other side. And still climbs until we reach the happy tree. The happy tree means hill #2 is almost done. Of course it has to be a false summit and where you think you should be going down, somehow you're still climbing. But finally it does shift to a downhill and this one is nice and long. We cross a slushy "what the heck is this" section and then comes King's Cliff. King's Cliff is a sharp descent - short and NOT sweet. Then you finish off the loop, round the lower bend and begin to head through the transition into your next loop - which, need I even say it, means you are now at hill #1 again. So that thing haunted my dreams that night. For the Master's women it was 3 loops of hell, for the Master's men, 4 loops and for the Open women, 5 loops of nasty.
Race Day - Master's Women were first up so the three of us warmed up, claimed our Warming Tent and hit the port-a-potties 15 times, while Nash and John napped in the car (which Nash insisted we park as near to the start as possible, meaning we parked basically illegally and pretty much ON the course). The temperature race morning was bordering between 'manageable with only a tank top', and 'requiring full coverage.' We each settled on what we thought we could handle, put on our spikes and went to the start. John and Nash decided their nap was done so they came out and grabbed our coats. Yes, I kept my Patagonia down coat on me practically until the gun went off. Nash and John actually did more than just grab our coats. They offered encouragement and Nash drilled it into our heads at least 14 times - "Doooon't go out too fast." We stretched, we jogged, we strided, we jumped up and down and finally we were called to the line. This is when I went into my start line melt down of why's. And then the gun went off and suddenly, who cares why. We raced.
Photo by Todd or Skyler Booth |
Photo by Todd or Skyler Booth |
Photo by Todd or Skyler Booth |
Photo by Todd or Sklyer Booth |
Photo by Todd or Skyler Booth |
Photo by Todd or Skyler Booth |
Photo by Todd or Skyler Booth |
We then watched our guys run! We bounced all over the course cheering like mad people. All of the sudden that nasty course wasn't so nasty after all. We just
Photo by Todd or Skyler Booth |
Photo by Todd or Skyler Booth |
It was a beautiful journey. This story and our experiences are why I like to do things way out of my comfort zone. It's scary, you might fall flat, but just maybe, maybe something magical will happen. If you don't try, you leave no opportunity for the magical moments to surprise you. I think Bend is a magical place. Thank you John for journeying with me in everything. Thank you Nash for the hard, in your face advice, and for making us do Romero 15 times. Thank you Desa and Lynelle for running with your hearts and winning the championship. Thank you Fred for the deep conditioning and mental toughness of the triathlon training that also added to this accomplishment. Thank you Billy and Gi for supporting your super woman and for the photos. Thank you Todd and Skyler for more photos. Thank you Rabbit for the racing kits, which we were so proud to wear. And thank you Santa Barbara Running for sponsoring our team. Thank you to all who cheered on site and in thought.
Photo by Todd or Skyler Booth |