On a typical August “Fogust” morning at Santos Meadow near Muir Beach, California, I arrived at the start of the Tamalpa Headlands 50k at 7:07 a.m. With just 23 minutes until the start of the race, I grabbed my goodie bag and bib number and headed to the bathrooms. On the start line, 250 men and women carrying various water vessels shifted around me. At 7:30, we were off, and I found myself in front of a group of ladies discussing their heart rate race plan within the first mile. Going up the first hill, they all passed me.
During the first half, I found myself struggling with how to handle the competitive aspect of the race. In high school and college, I often ran near the front of the field, but running 31 miles and over 6,500 feet of elevation gain in a competitive ultrarunning field was a completely foreign experience. I had to swallow my pride and be more conservative than I wanted to be.
Still, I found others to compete with. For the first 22 miles of the race, I found myself going back and forth with several of the same people whom I had given nicknames to. There was “Friendly Dad,” who checked to see if I was okay when he passed me as I was walking 5 miles in. There was “Courtney Dauwalter Dupe”—with blond hair and baggy clothes—who I ran behind on the coastal trail. There was a girl with “Impressive Calves” and my unofficial uphill pacer, “Yellow Tank Man.” There was “Green Shirt Man” who grunted every breath like a rallying tennis player, and there was my closest competitor, “Baseball Cutoff Girl” (named for her striped tank top that resembled a baseball uniform).
About 22 miles in, runners descend the Matt Davis Trail, which loses about 1,500 feet of elevation in 2.5 miles. Up until that point, I was feeling pretty good. I had taken the ups and downs in stride, walked liberally and stuck to a successful eating and drinking plan. Three weeks of training on the East Coast helped me train for the unusual humidity brought on by Hurricane Hilary. I even felt confident enough to pass Baseball Cutoff Girl for the third time.
Fog obscured the beautiful golden hills and views of Stinson and halfway down, the steep, never-ending switchbacks took their toll. By the time I reached the bottom, my energy was sapped. I was forced to walk much of the next 3.6 miles uphill and was convinced the entire field would catch up to me.
When I reached the last aid station, my quads were cramping and I questioned whether I could run the rest of the race. A volunteer refilled my bottles while I pounded potato chips. Suddenly, my quads loosened. A sign said, “3.8 miles left.” Revived, I began running faster than I had since the first mile.
I finally made it to the Heather Cutoff, the final mile of the race. As I traversed down the switchbacks, I heard familiar wheezing: Green Shirt Man. In front of him, I saw Baseball Cutoff Girl. Despite my exhaustion, I reached deep into the tank and took off.
When I came off the hill to the final stretch, I could barely control my seizing muscles. I willed them forward and finally crossed the finish line in 5:54:00, just 44 seconds in front of Baseball Cutoff Girl and 63 seconds before Green Shirt Man. I was the 14th woman to finish and came in over 90 minutes behind the winner, but in my imaginary race between myself, Baseball Cutoff Girl and Green Shirt Man, I had won.
The Tamalpa Headlands 50k wasn’t exactly easy, smooth or romantic. But I did get to accomplish a long-time goal, and experienced ultrarunning in all its glory: the grueling climbs and descents, the ultimately meaningless battles with strangers and the satisfaction of pushing my body further than ever before.
2023 Tamalpa Headlands 50k Results
1 comment
This article made me smile. It’s inspiring to me as I look forward to running my first ultra.