Holidays (not) in the Sun

Wow, what a trip!  In my pre-vacation post, I outlined the four elements that inspired my visit to London and now that I'm back, although my knowledge is still limited,  I had an amazing time, and I've learned a lot about what it's like to live there and the city's iconic points of interest.  It's time to revisit these four elements with post-vacation thoughts.  Check it out!

The Culture/City

My main goal during my four days in London was to gain at least a basic understanding of the culture and what it's like to live there.  This is what I hope for every time I travel internationally and I always strive to achieve my objective.  With that goal in mind, I opted to rent an apartment through Airbnb in a non-touristy neighborhood called Highbury near Arsenal Stadium.  In addition to choosing this location, I established a rule that I would travel on foot as often as possible.  Walking through the city neighborhoods and observing every day people of several ethnic backgrounds going about their daily lives, along with spending time in the restaurants and pubs was my favorite part of the trip.  I loved listening to locals exchange banter and gossip about their friends and families over meals and pints of beer.  By the time the trip was over, I had my day down to a routine;  I would wake up, take a shower, get ready, head out the door, walk down the road to a cafe and order a traditional English breakfast (which is delicious, by the way!).  After I received some guidance from a friendly girl at a pub on my first night, and observing locals at the cafe on my first morning, I learned the rules of how most cafes and pubs operate.  Not all of them offer table service, but those that do offer it go about it in a slightly different fashion than that of the U.S.  Rather than ask for a bill when you finish your meal, you simply walk up to the register and pay.  Tips are polite, but not expected, and are left in jars near the cash registers rather than on tables.  In addition to the delicious breakfasts and fish & chips at the restaurants, the staff were always kind and welcoming.  After stuffing myself, I would either walk to other neighborhoods and visit the pubs, or catch the subway to Central London and go site seeing.  I would return to my apartment around 4 PM, rest for a couple of hours, then head back out for the evening.  To give an honest portrayal of what I learned in four days about life in London, it would only be fair of me to paint the full picture; the good, the bad, and the hilarious.  London folk are extremely passionate about the Arsenal football club.  This is a great thing because passion shows personality, however, as I found out, that passion comes with a dark side.  On Thursday afternoon I was having pint inside a pub in Camden Town, and although the patrons seemed to be unusually rowdy compared to the crowds at the other pubs, I didn't think much of it.  I walked to the bathroom and saw that the door was propped open with two guys standing outside near the door and about five guys standing inside.  "Okay, whatever, there's a line, no big deal" I thought as I stood behind the two guys outside.  Seconds later, a guy and girl, who were working as bartenders, came walking over and started yelling and banging on the door.  The guys occupying the bathroom slowly emerged, one by one, half full glasses of beer in hand.  Their glasses were promptly confiscated by the staff, and they were ordered to "get the fuck out".  After reluctantly making their way through the pub, they were literally shoved out the door as the girl bartender shouted and called them "fucking assholes".  A couple of minutes later the police walked in.  I forgot I had to pee and instead walked back towards the bar.  "What the hell just happened?" I thought.  It turned out the guys in the bathroom were partaking in the use of cocaine.  One of the other patrons had tipped off the staff on what was going on.  Before that brief episode I was ready to head to the next pub, but this was too entertaining.  Instead, I sat back down, ordered another pint, and watched more ridiculousness unfold as the bartenders continued to cut people off and kick them out.  When I asked if it was always like this, the staff casually responded that sometimes on match days for Aresnal home games things can get "a bit rough".  I was unaware that there was a game that evening and I was beginning to understand now.  Most of the patrons weren't planning on going to the match, they were just using the excitement of the occasion as an excuse to get wasted and coked out at 1 PM on a Thursday afternoon.  "That's crazy" I said as I laughed at the chaotic nature of the situation.  The staff laughed along.  "Welcome to Camden Town" they responded.  I was beginning to understand what they meant.  Camden Town was a recommended place of interest by a co-worker and I spent a decent amount of time there during my trip.  Known for it's lively night life, eclectic pubs, and street vendors, the neighborhood, particularly Camden High street, closely resembles the setting of the Venice Beach and Santa Cruz boardwalks in California, minus the beach, of course.  Amy Winehouse lived in Camden Town and was deeply involved with the neighborhood prior to her death.  Later that night as I walked through Highbury back to my apartment from the subway stop, I passed several pubs that had signs posted on the doors reading "Arsenal Supporters Only" and "Home Fans Only".  In an effort to keep the pubs safe and free of violence on match nights, the staff unfortunately had to resort to turning away fans of visiting teams for fear of fights breaking out.  This is likely due in part to Arsenal's status as being an extremely successful football club and being intensely disliked by other fans, but nevertheless, it was the reality of how things were.  My thoughts were interrupted as I approached a street corner and a passerby near a pub made eye contact with me.  "Hey mate, you sniff?" he asked.  It was one of three times during my trip that I was offered hard drugs.  And when I say "offered" it wasn't in a sugar coated fashion.  Each time, the guys took the straight forward, no bullshit approach to their offers by brazenly asking me if I "sniffed".  "No, I'm good man" I responded as I laughed.  "Alright" he answered back as he resumed walking.  To my relief, all of the guys who offered didn't want any trouble and didn't try to start any drama when I declined.  They were just pushers trying to make a few pounds and weren't out to hurt anybody.

The Music

Whether it's punk, hard rock, jazz, or R&B, there's no music quite like the London sound.  It touches on ground that so many other musicians don't even realize exists. I've always wondered what it was about the city that produced such creative music.  While there is no short or clear answer,  I figured seeing live gigs at pubs would be a great experience.  While exploring Camden Town on Tuesday, I visited the Elephant Head pub.  Sitting at the bar, sipping a pint glass of Camden Hells Ale, I noticed that the advertisement board behind the bar mentioned open mic night every Wednesday beginning at 8:30 PM, so I returned the following evening.  And the artists did not disappoint.  Among the several participants was a guy playing acoustic guitar instrumentals.  His tone was unique and somewhat dark, sounding something like an acoustic version of a Black Sabbath song.  He played open chords and created percussive sounds by strumming muted strings, snapping his fingers, and tapping the hollow, wooden body of his guitar as the chord faded.  Shortly after his set was over, an older woman stepped on stage.  She looked to be about sixty-five years old, wore a multicolored dress, and rocked a dark blue bandana, tied around her short, curly gray hair.  Seeing these types of outfits isn't particularly surprising to me, but what did surprise me was the gig that she performed.  She stepped up to the mic and asked the crowd to clap their hands in rhythm.  We all obliged and clapped in unison at a tempo of about two claps per second.  Once we were all in sync, she busted into a free style rap about living in London, and continued without missing a beat for nearly two minutes before briefly pausing and asking us to "give her another beat".  We did, and she then rapped for another couple of minutes with pre-written lyrics, but explained afterwards that it was "the remix".  Finally, an older gentleman stepped onstage and performed an act with an acoustic guitar.  He played guitar left handed, which is very rarely seen, and as his set progressed, he jumped around on the small stage and finished off by leaning back and raising his guitar towards the ceiling while strumming a major chord.  The crowd clapped with enthusiasm as if if were the encore of a rock concert.  I found out after he stepped off the stage from one of the other patrons that he was seventy-eight years old and had his own Youtube channel.  Later that night, I saw a five-piece blues band rocking the crowd at another pub down the street, and the following night I attended a gig by a four-piece jazz band at the Marquis of Westminster, near Central London.  While listening to the jazz quartet in the bar basement, I noticed there was no bass player, which struck me as odd because up until then, I didn't recall ever seeing a jazz gig without a bass to fill out the sound.  But before long I realized how unique and cool the dynamic was.  In between vocal verses, the guitarist and saxophone player alternated solos and melodies while the other played the harmonies.  It sounded so full that they didn't need a bass player, and it came together wonderfully.  I had never seen live music performances quite like those gigs before.  There was something very profound and unique about it and during the plane ride home I listened to my favorite musicians from London.  Because I had experienced the city and a sample of it's music scene, the songs gave me a new perspective and seemed to speak to me more. 


The Pubs

This portion can partially roll up into the culture/city portion of this post because the pubs play a key role in defining London's culture.  I visited a total of eighteen of them during my trip and they each had their own personality.  Similar to cafes, tipping is polite but not expected, and if patrons prefer to sit at a table rather than the bar, they order their drinks first then proceed to a table, rather than have a staff member wait on them.  In the States, most people don't expect bars to be very crowded during weekday afternoons, however the pubs in London are a different story.  There were people having business meetings over pints, friends hanging out and gossiping, and others like me, who were there solo.  In one instance, I even overhead a professional interview going on as the two men, fully suited up, sipped from their pint glasses in between questions.  Often in the States when people are running errands they might stop for a coffee.  In London, people stop for a pint of beer.  Most pubs also served food, but unlike in the States, they opened at noon and closed at 11 PM or midnight rather than 2 AM, although there are exceptions.  The more pubs I visited, the more I understood the significant role they play in people's everyday lives.  Being in the presence of locals was a really cool experience, and although I knew that once I started talking I would immediately stand out, I engaged with the staff and patrons and listened to their stories.  A guy I talked to at the blues bar was from a smaller city to the north and brand new to London as he had just accepted a job with Amazon.  Another girl working as a bartender was originally from Paris, but had moved to London twelve years earlier and liked it so much, she never left.  It was a trip to hear the locals who had previously visited the States tell me how much they loved California's surf culture, palm trees, and nice weather.     

The Architecture and Sites

While trying to get a taste of life in London, since I was there, I knew it was also important for me to visit the touristy sites that millions of people from other counties visit each year.  Prior to leaving, my HR Manager at work advised me that her friend Dina would be in London at the same time as me and put me in touch with her.  We met in Central London on my second night there, and Dina and her cousin who was traveling with her took me to visit the Tower Bridge and Tower of London.  Seeing photos on Google is one thing, but when I saw these sites in person, I was in awe.  Walking across the London and Tower bridges was truly a cool experience and I loved how lit up and peaceful they were at night.  I returned to Central London the following afternoon to visit other treasures such as Westminster Abbey, Big Ben, and Scotland Yard.  Although Big Ben was covered in scaffolding, the clock was still visible, and despite the rainy weather, I was pleasantly surprised by the architectural beauty of the Parliament buildings, hotels, and Buckingham Palace.  In addition to the historical sites, Central London has numerous bridges that offer splendid views of River Thames, along with several outdoor Christmas markets during the holiday season. 
       

I Don't Want a Holiday in the Sun

2019 has been an amazing year with many firsts for me.  Between work and my life outside of work, there are far too many to list, but here are a few highlights; I finished my first 100-mile ultramarathon, I participated in my first organized cycling tour, I visited Lake Tahoe for the first time, and lost more toenails this year than any other year of my life.  But the year is not over.  If all goes as planned (because if there's anything I've learned in my thirty-three years on this planet, it's that anything can happen), I will have knocked off two more firsts by the time 2019 comes to a close; visiting London and traveling internationally on my own. 

I love traveling internationally.  I've only visited five countries, so I'm not stopping there of course.  As I made my way through what has been quite an eventful and busy year, I pondered the thought of taking an international trip.  The last time I did so was in summer of 2017 and it was time to make it happen again.  But where to?  And when?  Once I finished Tahoe Rim Trail 100, I spent basically the whole month of August paddle boarding on Vasona Lake, hiking Mission Peak, meeting new people, and of course running and working.  When September came, it hit me that 2019 was quickly coming to an end, and if I was going to follow through on my plans to travel internationally, it was crucial that I figure out where and when before time ran out.  By mid-September I had my answer.  I would travel solo and spend four days in London over the Thanksgiving break.

Why London you might ask?  Well, in short, London has been on my travel bucket list for quite some time.  It has been described as one of the most visited, most influential, and most beautiful cities in the world.  Like any major city, it has it's issues, but I've very rarely heard people speak negatively of London.  Some people travel to other countries specifically to visit the sites, take organized tours, and drift through museums.  In doing so, I feel they spend most of their time among other tourists and have minimal interaction with locals.  I like to dig deeper than that.  In my opinion, when traveling abroad, it is, of course, cool to visit places of interest, but my main objective is to come back to the States with a little more knowledge.  A better understanding of the culture, day to day life, and character of the place I visited.  Here are some of the characteristics about London that inspired my upcoming visit:

The Culture

I live in California, which is arguably the most culturally diverse state in the U.S.  My interest in other cultures stems from my experiences growing up in Michigan in close proximity to several diverse communities, mainly Jewish and Middle Eastern.  Moving to Chicago and California has allowed me to expand my knowledge of other cultures considerably, but traveling to five countries has taken it to a different level.  Although hundreds of different languages are heard in London every day, English is the the most recognized and most widely spoken language.  From the perspective of an American traveling alone to a different country, this factor certainly works in my favor, but even so, London has a rich culture that differs greatly from that of California.  More on this when I return since my knowledge of English culture is limited, but I can't wait to learn more.  

The Music

Some amazing music has come out of London over the years.  Between the raw energy of the Sex Pistols, the mind altering instrumentation and distinctive vocals of Amy Winehouse and David Bowie, the eclectic style of Oasis (they're actually from Manchester, but they've recorded and mixed a decent amount of their music in London), and many other musicians, there is no doubt that London has had a tremendous creative impact on countless people.  I feel like the Spice Girls should get an honorable mention since I secretly liked them as a kid, but refused to admit it.  I hope to see some live music in the pubs, but what I'm really hoping for is to see first hand what it is about London that produces such musical creativity.  

The Pubs

Yes, something as simple as pubs.  There are several here in Silicon Valley, but from what I understand, the pubs in London are a different scene.  They are frequented not just for the purpose of socializing and throwing down pints of beer, but for a variety of other activities, such as having meals, getting coffee, even holding business meetings.  Based on my pre-travel research so far, a majority of pubs in London serve up traditional English dishes including fish and chips, bangers and mash (sausage and mashed potatoes), Yorkshire pudding, and hearty English breakfasts.  According to my buddy Adam, "Scott and I hit thirty-three pubs in London in three and a half days.  You can beat that!".  We'll see about that, but I'll do my best.  Again, more on this when I return.  

The Architecture and Sites

I plan to visit places like Big Ben, the Tower of London, the Tower Bridge, Buckingham Palace, etc.  As I mentioned above, it's cool to visit these sites, but it's not my primary reason for wanting to visit London.  However, the buildings there have a very beautiful and unique architectural design, so it's important that I take some time out of my trip to admire and appreciate these historical gems.   

I hope to have a lot more to write about once I arrive back in California, but until then, these are some pre-vacation thoughts.  The title of this post is not only the opening line of a rad song, but it is literally meant to allude to the weather outlook in London for next week:  Rain and chilly temperatures.  This will be a nice contrast to the sunny weather that I'm used to in California, but also not so nice for obvious reasons.  Rain or shine, I'll be out and about.  The title also alludes to the nature of this trip and what I hope to get out of it, more in a metaphorical way.  A few people asked me if I was traveling to London to do a run of some sort.  Given what most people know about me, it's a perfectly valid question, and the answer is yes and no.  Yes, I will likely run a few miles in the mornings before I start my day, but that will be it.  Unlike most of the trips I take, this one will not be centered around running.  More to come afterwards because I don't know exactly what is in store for me, and I can't wait to find out!    

  

  

  

   

Ragnar Napa Valley 2019: An Unexpected Turn Of Events

There's a lot of things I love about running, but the thing I love the most is perhaps the unity.  Running brings people together in amazing ways.  It's great to see people of all ages, all ethnic groups, and all walks of life coming together and bonding over a simple physical activity.  One Sunday morning, the Mountain View Area Run Club, a local group I run with on weekends, orchestrated a collaboration run with the San Jose Vietnamese Run Club.  I had so much fun meeting the members of SJVRC, I suggested to the group leaders that we do more collaboration runs.  But running groups aren't the only organizations bringing people together.  Sanctioned races, depending on their size and level of fame, sometimes attract people from all over the globe to share a common goal of reaching the finish line.  One race series that is known for uniting people is Ragnar.  What is Ragnar you might ask?  It's a series of long distances relay races held all over the country, most of them about two-hundred miles in length, in which teams of twelve take turns running individually.  There are thirty-six segments and each team member runs three times.  That's the website's definition.  My definition is: twelve people, friends, strangers, or both, connecting with each other by hanging out in a van together for thirty-six hours with some running in between.

One Thursday morning in late October, as I was getting out of the shower, my phone buzzed.  When I checked, I saw that I had an unread message on WhatsApp from my friend Anthony.  In roughly twenty-four hours, he and I, along with ten other people, were going to be toeing the start line of Ragnar Napa Valley in San Francisco and embarking on a two day and one night adventure of Ragnar-ing, as I like to call it.  We would go north through Marin County, to Petaluma, to Santa Rosa, turn around in Healdsburg, then head back south before turning at some juncture and heading east to the finish line in Napa.  In an effort to streamline communication among the group members, Anthony had started a WhatsApp thread with the entire group.  I opened the message.  "Hey guys, should we be concerned about this Kincade Nor Cal fire?".  Fire? What fire? I thought.  But once I keyed "Kincade fire" into Google, I learned that a wildfire had ignited in the middle of the night up in Sonoma County very close to the race course.  Upon reading the news, we all began checking the Ragnar Napa website and Facebook group, which advised that the Race Directors would make the decision later on in the afternoon as to whether or not the race would still happen.  We checked throughout the day and by 1:00 PM, sure enough, we received an email that the event was cancelled.  With the air quality in the Sonoma wine country deteriorating, and the fire spreading onto the course, the Race Directors had no choice but to call the race off and issue refunds to all the participants.  There was nothing that anyone could do about it, but it was disappointing situation, nonetheless.  Some runners had been looking forward to this event for several months and people had traveled by plane from all over the country to participate.  Despite our unfortunate situation, our team decided to meet in San Francisco that night for dinner, as originally planned.  When I arrived at the restaurant later on, I quickly spotted Anthony and some of the other team members near the entrance.  Once the rest of the team showed up, we were seated in a large space in the corner.  As I sat among the group sipping a beer and enjoying a top notch Margherita pizza, I got to know our team:

Anthony: Our team captain and ring leader, Anthony is a friend and old co-worker of mine from the Los Angeles area.  We bonded over our shared passion for running while working together at Cornerstone, and we've since ran several Ragnar races together.  Although his physique more closely resembles that of a linebacker than a scrawny distance runner, running has played a prominent role in his life for several years and he participates in at least one Marathon every year.    

Travis:  Travis and I met each other during Ragnar Los Coyotes the previous fall when his girlfriend Alyssa, another former co-worker of mine, recruited me to run with her team alongside Travis, Anthony, and a handful of their friends.  Strong, fast, and born into a military family, Travis sets a rule for himself that he always follows when it comes to distance running; "I run fast enough to the point where I feel a little uncomfortable.  That's how I know I'm pushing hard enough".

    

John C: A Software Engineer, and former co-worker of Anthony's at Cornerstone, John has done several long distance multi-day hikes through the mountains of Europe and has aspirations to someday run an ultra.  I told him I recommend giving it a try!

Kristen: A co-worker of Anthony's, and the one responsible for giving our team the epic name of "Pour Decisions", Kristen is originally from Virginia and moved to the Los Angeles area three years prior.  Loud, silly, and exuberant, she seemed to be skilled at making everyone around her laugh and enjoy themselves. 

Tony and Kim: Unlike most of the team who had traveled from Southern California to participate in Ragnar, Tony and Kim, a boyfriend/girlfriend couple, had flown in all the way from Minnesota.  We had gotten in touch with them through the Ragnar Facebook page and quickly added them to our lineup when we realized they were looking for a team to join.  Kim keeps busy working as a teacher and Tony as a Technician, but they make plenty of time to do the things they love, and aspire to golf and run a race in every U.S. state.  Coincidentally, they reside in the same rural Minnesota town that I will be traveling to in January to run a forty-mile winter ultra in St. Croix State Park.

Patrick:   Also a Minnesota resident and co-worker of Kim's, he flew back home after he found out the race was cancelled, so unfortunately I didn't get a chance to meet him.

Wendy:  Originally from the Bay Area and now residing in Seattle, we also found Wendy on the Facebook page while searching for team members.  When she found out the race was cancelled she decided stay in San Jose for the remainder of the weekend to spend some much needed time with her family, so unfortunately, I didn't get a chance to meet her.

Matt:  Originally from Buffalo, New York, Matt was the only other member of our team living in the Bay Area besides me.  He had gotten to know Anthony while working at Cornerstone before moving to San Francisco and has participated in several road races. 

Ed: Another Cornerstone employee and co-worker of Anthony's, Ed was not only supposed to be running Ragnar with us this weekend, he was also one of the lucky runners who would be participating in the New York City Marathon the following weekend, which was going to be his second 26.2 mile journey.

John:  He was sitting way at the other side of the table, so unfortunately all I got out of him was that his name was also John, and that he was a co-worker of Anthony's.  I think...

After dinner, the group dispersed for the evening and I told everyone I'd see them on Saturday night before heading back to my parked car.  Anthony had rented a house in Fairfield through Airbnb for an overnight stay on Saturday night after the race, and since nearly everyone in the group decided to keep their original returning flights to their respective hometowns, a handful of us would be spending Saturday night in Fairfield and returning home on Sunday morning.  Even though I had taken the day off work on Friday, I went into the office to get some stuff done, and when Saturday night rolled around, I drove up to Napa to meet the group at a local steakhouse for dinner. The group, which consisted of Anthony, Travis, Kristen, Tony, Kim, Ed, and John C, told me stories of their adventures over the last couple of days, running along the San Francisco Bay, exploring the Bay Area, and visiting local breweries.  Over a couple of bottles of wine and delicious food, the eight of us shared lots of laughs and stories before making our way to the house we rented.  When Travis and I from a beer run, we found the group huddled in the mini theater upstairs trying to get the giant TV to work.  The host left instructions, but after an hour of frustration, we gave up and decided to play a game instead.  Being a board game enthusiast, I thought for sure Travis had brought a game along, but when it turned out he hadn't, we decided to play a makeshift version of Codenames by ripping a few pieces of paper into twenty-five squares and laying them out on the floor in board game format.  After a fun and amusing night of beer drinking, red wine spilling on the carpet, me resorting to cheating at Codenames because my team kept losing, lots of laughs, and a whole decanter of wine nearly being tipped over, I finally went to bed shortly after 2:00 AM.  When the sun cracked the horizon over the hills outside by bedroom window the next morning, I opened my eyes and felt as if I were sleeping in an icebox.  The air conditioner was cranking and I cocooned myself in the blankets trying to keep warm.  I eventually rose from my bed and stepped into the hallway, looking over the railing near the stairs as the house filled with orange light through the windows from the sunrise.  Anthony emerged from his room a few minutes later.  "Morning dude.  Why is it so cold in here?"  He looked at me and began laughing.  "You know how you and I were trying to turn on the A/C last night and couldn't figure out the thermostat?  Well, I guess kinda figured it out after all..."  I walked into the theater room and saw the wreckage from the night before; a deflated air mattress, several empty alcohol containers, and ripped up pieces of paper leftover from Codenames.  "Who was sleeping on the air mattress?" I asked.  Anthony just shrugged.  I headed downstairs towards the kitchen and saw Ed sound asleep on the floor wrapped in a blanket.  When he awoke, he explained that he couldn't inflate the air mattress, so he tried sleeping on the downstairs couch but it was too uncomfortable, so he finally just passed out on the floor.  Once the rest of the crew woke up, we made a homemade breakfast together while episodes of Goosebumps and Prank Encounters played on the living room TV and a fire roared in the fireplace.  Eventually, our check out time came, and by 12:30 PM we had said our goodbyes, and I headed back home, while the rest of the team either went to the airport or killed some time exploring the area before their flights departed later on.

As I said in the beginning, running brings people together in amazing ways.  I would like to add that after this experience, it also brings people together in unexpected ways.  When I stepped into the shower on Thursday morning I felt excited about how this running adventure would bring the group together.  But later that day when I found out the race was cancelled, that excitement dissipated.  Although I would still be spending time with the team, I doubted that I would get what I was hoping for out of the experience; a chance to form new friendships with a diverse group of people through running.  How could the bond form if there was no running?  The simple physical activity that brings people together.  The key element of this adventure.  I knew it wouldn't be the same, but I remained optimistic throughout the experience, as did the rest of the team.  As I drove home that day, I reflected on the fun weekend I had.  I realized that although the weekend took an unexpected turn and we didn't end up running, this group of people from several different walks of life managed to bond and connect.  We may have all initially gathered in the San Francisco Bay Area with running being the highlight of the weekend, but in the end, what really brought us together was having dinner, drinking, playing games, cooking, and spending time together as a group.  "You have seven new friends now" I told Kristen at the house on Saturday night.  Once everyone had parted ways for good later on that night, we messaged each other through the WhatsApp thread promising that we would get together again.  Tony and Kim encouraged us all to visit Minnesota to run a Ragnar race that would be taking place out there next year.  Through it all, I had gotten exactly what I hoped for out of this weekend, but in an unexpected way.  I knew I would always remember this Ragnar experience.  I'd also like to add that even with my blatant, over the top cheating at Codenames towards the end of the night, we still never won a friggin' game...

The Role Of A Pacer: Rio Del Lago Edition

My office, situated near downtown Mountain View in California's Silicon Valley, has a headcount of approximately forty people and just about everyone has some degree of knowledge of my love for endurance sports and adventure.  While some know me as merely a "runner", others have a stronger understanding of just how nuts I can be when it comes to my life outside of work.  My co-worker Hannah falls into the latter category.  "You have any fun plans this weekend?" she asked as I filled my water bottle in the kitchen.  "I'm pacing two of my buddies at a 100-miler in Auburn" I answered.  "Wow!  What does a pacer do?"  For me, it's hard to give a short answer to this question for people to really understand what a pacer does.  The previous summer I had paced my friend JC at a 100-miler in Big Bear Lake.  It was my first time pacing and his first 100-miler, but he finished strong and I learned first hand what the role of a pacer entails.  I didn't want to bore Hannah to death with a lengthy explanation, so I simply said "basically, I just run with them for thirty miles of the race and make sure they're okay, that they don't go off course, and that they're eating and drinking enough."  The day before, it was a typical Thursday afternoon as I sat at my desk, until a Facebook message appeared on my phone.  It was from my friend Sheny from the Los Angeles area.  She filled me in on her plan to drive up to Auburn with her sister and some of her friends that weekend to crew for three of our friends at the Rio Del Lago 100-miler.  "Tony needs a pacer" she said.  "One of his pacers can't make it and if you could help out, that would be amazing".  It was a busy time at work, and I would have to find a few hours sometime during the weekend to crack open my laptop and crunch some numbers for our deadline driven month end close.  But I couldn't pass this opportunity up.  I graciously accepted, and was told that I would be pacing not only Tony, but also his brother Gus for a thirty mile stretch of the race.

The next morning during my drive to Auburn, I utilized Rio Del Lago's online tracker to monitor Tony and Gus's progress.  They had started the race at 5:00 in the morning and when I left the Bay Area at 9:30, they were somewhere around the twenty-three mile mark.  They were throwing down an eleven-minute pace and I was concerned that I wouldn't be able to keep up with them.  "Man, I could screw this up badly" I laughed to myself.  My anxiety was driven by the spur of the moment decision to make this trip, the possibility of Tony and Gus having to wait for me if I arrived late to Overlook, the possibility of having an "off day", and potentially not being able to keep up with their impressive pace.  "What if they drop me four miles into it?" I thought.  But the opportunity to help my friends complete a 100-miler and the thought of spending quality time after not seeing them for quite a long time was enough to mitigate my fear.  Once I arrived, I parked my car on the street near Overlook Park, made my preparations for the journey ahead, and walked over to the main parking lot.  The Rio Del Lago 100-miler passes through Overlook Park two times throughout the race; at mile forty-four, and again at mile seventy-four.  My pacing duties would begin here at mile forty-four and conclude thirty miles later, when we returned.  Between those two junctures would be long stretches of fire road, single track trail, technical hills, beautiful mountain wilderness, a few aid stations, pain, joy, and hopefully, no major emergencies or meltdowns.  But I was ready, just in case.  As I entered the park and made my way towards the course, I was greeted by Sheny and the rest of the crew as they were setting up a small outpost complete with chairs and small tables stocked with plenty of snacks and drinks for the guys when they rolled in.  A digital clock rested off to the side of the trail at the crest of the hill that we were on as runners made their way into the small dwelling of canvas tents and race crews.  Once I checked in with a race official and received my pacer bib, I got more acquainted with the crew while we waited for Tony, Gus, and Nelson to arrive.  Sheny and her sister Corina, or Cori as we call her, introduced me to Gus's girlfriend Mishelle, Nelson's girlfriend Kat, and their friends Diana and Jerry, who had all come up from Southern California to help get Tony, Nelson, and Gus to the finish line.  There was a lot of positive energy in the air and everyone seemed to be in good spirits.  Eventually, Nelson crested the hill and made his way over to our area.  Tony and Gus arrived shortly after.  All three of them took a seat in the chairs as we greeted them and brought them provisions.  To my delight, they all seemed to be holding themselves together quite well.  A lot can happen in forty-four miles, and the guys looked fresh and were feeling good overall.  The plan was for Jerry to pace Nelson all the way to the finish line, and when I returned to Overlook Park with Tony and Gus at mile seventy-four, Cori, who was Tony's girlfriend, would pace him to the finish line, and Diana would do the same for Gus.  After some rest and regrouping, the guys made their final preparations for the next leg of the journey, and Nelson and Jerry took off down the path.  Soon after, Tony said he was going to start walking, and Gus and I departed about ten minutes after, around 3:00 PM.  As we ran down the trail, Gus in front, me closely behind, I admired the surroundings.  Much of the stretch that I would be running with Tony and Gus would traverse the Western States trail and Quarry road, following a very similar course to the Way To Cool 50K and American River 50-miler.  Gus explained that the first eighteen miles of the course had been on relatively flat bike path, which allowed he and Tony to run a brisk pace during that stretch.  However, this next section would be on trails with some technical hills.  That, factored in with already having run fifty miles created an element of uncertainty.  You just never know what could happen.  Eventually we caught up with Tony and followed some rolling hills down to the aid station at No Hands Bridge.  It was ten and a half miles to the next aid station at Auburn Trail Lakes, so I made sure that the guys had enough nourishment as I filled my water bottles.  Soon after departing from No Hands Bridge, we crossed highway forty-nine, which deposited us onto Quarry road, a long stretch of fire road that we would follow for the next several miles.  The non-technical and more gentle terrain allowed the three of us to enjoy the scenery of the Sierra foothills, and engage in conversation.  As is the case with most ultrarunners and their pacers, we shared stories and learned more about each other.  Tony and Gus were both born in El Salvador, and grew up there until their parents moved the family to the States during their youth to Texas, and California shortly after.  They talked about the challenges they faced as two young Salvadoran kids adapting to life the U.S. by learning a new language and growing accustomed to a new culture.  Gus went on to tell me that despite he and Tony being ten years apart in age, they had always been close brothers, and that it was Tony that introduced him to ultrarunning.  At the time he began running he weighed close to three-hundred pounds and in the last few years, running ultras had allowed him to lose almost half of his body weight.  As Gus and I made our way down the trail, Tony followed closely behind.  "How's it going Tony?" I asked.  When I didn't hear a response I turned around and laughed when I saw him holding a large Ziploc bag full of potato chips in one hand and stuffing his face with the other. "I'm good, just need some salt" he answered.  As we approached Main Bar, the junction dumped us onto a single track trail with Tony in front, me in the middle, and Gus behind.  Despite being only eleven miles into it, I was happy to be part of this experience and started to become loopy.  We would have long moments where no words were exchanged, during which I would break the silence with ridiculous comments about being happy to be the meat of the Tony and Gus sandwich and how were the TLG train (Tony, Liam, Gus).  As we ascended a hill, we came across a runner vomiting off to the side of the trail "That's good, get it all out" her pacer told her as she staggered back onto the course.  "Nice work guys, you got this" we said as we ran by.  "Dude, that was Amanda!" Tony said once we were out of hearing range.  Unbeknownst to me, he was referring to the girl's pacer and went on to explain that she was a professional ultrarunner from Utah who came in as the fourth place female at Western States the year before.  "Gus, I think we're going to go up Goat Hill" Tony said as we made our way up a series of switchbacks. 

The sun had just fallen completely below the horizon when we rolled into the Auburn Trail Lakes aid station around 6:45 PM.  Tony and Gus took a seat in the camping chairs behind the tables and changed into warmer clothes while I brought them food and refilled their water bottles.  Ten and a half miles is an unusually long distance between aid stations in a 100-miler, so Auburn Trial Lakes was a welcoming sight, with tables stocked with quesadillas, PB&J sandwiches, chips, cookies, hot broth, and friendly, helpful volunteers.  After a quick respite at Auburn Trail Lakes, we continued onward.  The guys were holding themselves together quite well, and Tony, although a bit shaken, remained determined.  It was now very dark as the TLG train made their way along the rolling trail.  Running on trails during the day is one thing, but things get a lot more interesting when nighttime kicks in.  A sense of tunnel vision sets in, and your whole world is confined to the light of your headlamp.  In my experience, running on trails at night has created situations where my senses are unusually acute, and any little movement or sound immediately catches my attention.  Therefore, I become easily startled.  As we rounded a corner, we heard a rustling in the shrubs off to the side of the trail.  I turned my head abruptly to the left, and in the beam of my headlamp, I saw a runner relieving herself in the brush.  "Sorry!" she exclaimed as she laughed.  "All good!" I answered.  "We thought you were an animal".  Or at least I did.  Whether they were less startled by abrupt noises in the wilderness at night, or just too tired to care, Tony and Gus weren't phased by the encounter.  "I think we're going to hit Goat Hill soon" Tony said.  "Yeah, I'm surprised we haven't hit it yet" Gus answered.  The guys had made some references to "Goat Hill" throughout the race and now I was becoming curious.  "It's a grind, but it's not too long in mileage" they explained when I asked for more details.  As we made our way over a hill, the trail made an abrupt right hand turn, and began a steep climb into darkness.  "Ah, here we go!" Tony said.  "Is this it you guys?" I asked.  "This is the infamous 'Goat Hill' you guys have been talking about? This better be as awesome as you guys have built it up to be.  I have high expectations" I said jokingly as we began our ascent.  They weren't kidding when they said it was a grind.  The climb was about three quarters of a mile long, but the grade was about twenty percent.  Or, said another way, it was steep as shit.  "Nice! Goat Hill did not disappoint" I said as we crested the climb.  All three of us broke into laughter as we continued down the winding trail, happy that we had conquered the tough climb.  As the miles continued on, Tony had become very quiet.  He kept moving at a brisk pace, but it seemed that something was strangely off.  "Tony, how's it going?" I asked.  But I didn't get a response and he just shrugged his shoulders as if to say "Dude, I don't know".  I was becoming mildly concerned.  I pulled up along side him, put my hand on his shoulder, and looked him in the face.  "Hey man, you good?" I asked.  He smiled and nodded his head.  I knew that he was going to need to regroup at the next aid station, the junction where the trail crosses highway forty-nine, which was probably less than a mile ahead.  "You got this" I told him convincingly.     

Soon enough, the lights of the aid station came into view, much to our relief.  Police cars with flashing lights were parked along the side of the desolate highway and police officers guided runners across the road to the aid station.  Upon arrival, Tony immediately took a seat and Gus and I removed his shoes, massaged his legs, and fed him hot soup and Coca-cola.  Clearly the mounting distance was taking a toll on him, but after a few minutes of being off his feet and nourishing himself, he began to come back to life.  There is a notorious saying that is common among ultrarunners at aid stations known as "beware of the chair".  Being off your feet for a few minutes at an aid station can be a necessary relief sometimes, but if runners get too comfortable, it can be very difficult to get back up continue.  The volunteers were friendly and dedicated to taking care of runners, but they were also focused on keep us moving.  As we departed the aid station, it seemed as though Tony's energy had been at least partially restored.  White Christmas lights lined the first hundred yards of the trail as we made our exit and disappeared back into the midnight wilderness.  We had intermittently ran with other pacers and runners over the last several miles, but we now found ourselves alone on the trail once again.  That is until we saw lights from two runners about a hundred feet ahead coming straight towards us.  Tony stopped dead in his tracks.  "Wait, it's that way" he said pointing to the right.  Gus and I paused, and sure enough, the trail had split into a Y shape, and we glanced over to the right as one of the many orange florescent ribbons that had been marking the course appeared on a tree branch on the other path.  "Hey guys, we went the wrong way" we heard a voice call out as the two runners approached us.  The five of us made the short traverse across the grass and onto the correct path.  The duo turned out to be another runner and pacer, and despite taking the wrong path, they remained determined and energetic.  Knowing that Tony was coherent enough to realize that we had almost gone the wrong way brought Gus and I a sense of relief.  We soon found ourselves alone on the trail again,  but the comfort of knowing that we only had a couple of miles left before arriving back at No Hands Bridge pulled us into an up zone.  We felt more energized and engaged in buoyant conversation as we hammered along, until I noticed something peculiar.  "Hey guys, are we good?  I haven't seen a ribbon in forever".  There was a brief moment of silence.  "I think so" Gus finally said.  "There hasn't been any other turns since we saw those two girls coming back the other way".  He had a point but still, we were all alone and it had been at least a good mile since we'd seen a ribbon marking the course.  When ten more minutes passed by and we still hadn't encountered the florescent glow of a course ribbon, the guys had me run ahead in search of one.  Just when I began to feel legitimately concerned, a bright, shiny ribbon appeared off to the side of the trail in the trees.  "Guys! we're good!" I called out with delight.  This triggered flashbacks to my experience at Tahoe Rim Trail 100 earlier this year when I began hallucinating in the middle of the night and was convinced that I was going the wrong way although in reality, everything was perfectly fine.  Gus and Tony had not crossed into the hallucination phase by this point, but who knew what could happen later on. 

When we arrived at the No Hands Bridge aid station we were greeted by enthusiastic volunteers and there was a large crowd of runners and pacers gathered around the food tents.  As we hobbled down the approach, Cori and Mishelle emerged from the crowd.  This instantly lifted Gus and Tony's spirits and I think, especially for Tony, seeing Cori in that moment was crucial in boosting his morale.  After refilling their water bottles, chowing down on some hot food, and a quick rub down, the guys were ready to continue.  Mishelle helped Gus make his final preparations before departing to the next checkpoint, and Cori joined the three of us for the four-mile stretch from No Hands Bridge back to Overlook Park.  At that point, my work would be done, and Diana and Cori would pace the guys through the night and to the finish line.  As we continued onward, we filled Cori in on how things were going, shared some laughs, and before long, the hustle and bustle of Overlook Park was upon us.  As our outpost that we had been at thirty miles before came into view, Gus and Tony wrapped themselves in warm blankets and took a seat in the chairs, as I congratulated them on their progress thus far.  "These guys are doing great.  Hopefully they didn't save all the puking and hallucinating for you guys" I told Cori and Diana jokingly.  All things considered, things had gone well, and I was confident that both Tony and Gus would finish strong.  I would have loved to have stuck around to see them finish, but it was after 1:00 AM, and I had to get back home to get some sleep for the busy work week ahead.  The guys and I embraced in a big hug and I told them I'd be tracking them the rest of the way.  After bidding the team farewell,  I made the wobbly walk back to my car and hit the freeway, bound for home.  During the ride I reflected on the experience and thought about what it really means to be a pacer.  To me, it's not just about being there for your runner.  It's not just about making sure they finish the race.  It's about friendship and connection.  The experience is just as much about hanging out and spending quality time with friends as it is making sure they finish.  These are the kinds of experiences that create special bonds within the ultrarunning community and maintain strong friendships that last a lifetime.  When I awoke the next morning, Nelson had just finished, and shortly after, Gus and Tony crossed the finish line in just under twenty nine hours.  I couldn't have been more proud of them and I was grateful to Cori, Mischelle, Kat, Sheny, Jerry and Diana for being amazing pacers and crew members.  Congratulations Tony, Gus, and Nelson, and way to be a kick-ass crew, Sheny, Cori, Mischelle, Diana, Kat, and Jerry!  One team, one dream.