The rooster alarm on my cell phone went off at 2:30 AM that morning. "Rise and shine" I said out loud as I stood up and rubbed my eyes. As I continued waking up, I began preparations for what would be my second ultramarathon in 2020, but in a slightly different format than what I was used to doing. My plan was to tackle fifty kilometers (thirty-one miles) by myself along a course that I created on my own. Under normal circumstances I would have been waking up in a motel room in Auburn on this morning to run Canyons 100K, for which I had signed up. Unfortunately, because of COVID-19, the race directors had no choice but to cancel the race with no possibility of rescheduling. Doing this solo ultra was my attempt at capturing the same feelings of excitement and adventure that Canyons would have brought on. 100 Kilometers is a long way to run when you're on your own, so I opted to do a 50K distance instead. I don't like running with a pack and I try to avoid it whenever possible, but since this run was going to be self supported, I decided it was the best option. I gathered my gear, drank some cold brew coffee for energy, filled my hydration pack with a couple of quarts of Gatorade, put on my Vibrams, and threw my pack on, ready to hit the road. When I stepped outside, the middle-of-the-night air was calm and quiet. I felt as if I were waking up the entire complex when I shut the door to my apartment behind me. It was just after 3:30 AM when I began running, making my way through my neighborhood towards Evelyn Avenue. The course that I designed would take me through parts of Sunnyvale and Mountain View. I considered doing this run on the same course that Canyons would have been held on, or elsewhere, but I had traveled out of Silicon Valley the last several weekends to ride my bike and go back country snowboarding, so I decided to stick to my local stomping ground this time instead. Plus, I wasn't even sure if the Western States trail was open to hikers or runners at the moment. The only vehicles that passed me as I ran along Evelyn Avenue were two police SUVs, and I soon arrived at the junction where pedestrians and cyclists can enter the Stevens Creek Trail from Evelyn. Most of the route would be along this trail and on the Bay Trail, which lies further north along San Francisco Bay. A local hot spot for runners, walkers, and cyclists, the Stevens Creek Trail starts at the intersection of Dale Avenue and Heatherstone Way in Sunnyvale, and weaves through nature oriented areas of Mountain View all the way to San Francisco Bay, with several entrances and exits via neighborhood streets along the way. The trail quickly became very dark as the street lights from Evelyn Avenue disappeared behind me. I wore a headlamp and carried a flashlight, and as expected, I didn't see a single person as I ran south towards Sunnyvale. Why did I begin this run in the middle of the night you might ask? I could talk and write about this topic endlessly, but the short version is even though I often run during the day like most people, I love running in the dark. It's an entirely different experience. Everything is more calm and peaceful when the rest of the world is sleeping, and yet it's also a little scary because of that fear of the dark that everyone has in the back of their minds. As strange as this sounds, I enjoy being a little scared by running in the dark. It makes things more exciting. And if I have the right music going in my headphones, that adds to the experience. That, combined with the fact that I would largely be avoiding the warm day time weather that the San Francisco Bay Area has been experiencing, and practicing safer social distancing due to less people, starting in the middle of the night seemed to be a more favorable option.
Upon reaching the southern terminus of the trail in Sunnyvale, I turned around and headed north towards the bay. The trail remained quiet as I ran through a clearing a few hundred feet from the 85 freeway with trees and shrubs lining the path. In the distance I could see the tunnel that passes under El Camino Real, which was substantially lit up. Running into that tunnel from the dark trail was like entering a spaceship. Over the next several miles I crossed a couple of bridges over roads and continued weaving through trees and shrubs. In the distance ahead of me, a guy emerged in the beam of my flashlight out of nowhere. As I got closer I realized he was coming towards me on the opposite side of the path, so I pointed my flashlight towards the ground to avoid blinding him. He had no flashlight, no headlamp, and was fully dressed in a white T-shirt and jeans, walking casually. I said hey as I passed and he said hey back. The encounter was very brief and uneventful, but I wondered what he was doing out here with no lights, all alone, in the dead of night. Was he just going for a walk? Another mind altering affect that running in the dark has on me is it makes my imagination run wild. I wondered what would have happened if that encounter had gone differently. What if that guy had been some angry, strung out junkie and tried to attack me? It was the middle of the night, very dark, and there was no one else around. If that were to happen, my instinct would be to spit out some threats that would hopefully make him back off. And if that didn't work? Well, I guess I would have to just kick his ass. It wasn't long before I passed by the La Avenida Street entrance to the trail. This is where my friends and I enter the trail when we go for group runs on Sunday mornings. Those group runs are temporarily suspended, and although we've been keeping in touch through Zoom and video chat, I hadn't seen any of my friends in person since quarantine began six weeks prior. I thought about how much I missed everyone and how cool it was that my friends were making the best of quarantine by accomplishing other feats that were similar to what I was doing. My friend Scott, who planned to run the Silicon Valley Half Marathon in early April as his first half, decided to do his own half marathon in wake of the race being postponed. He ran his own 13.1 mile course on the same day the race would have happened through chilly and rainy weather. My other buddy Stephan was supposed to run the Marin Ultra Challenge 50K in mid March, which would have been his first ever ultra. The sanctioned race was canceled, but that didn't stop him from running the course by himself and completing his first unofficial ultra with the help of his girlfriend Julie, acting as the sole member of his support crew. My friend Samantha (or Sammy as we call her), who has her own dog walking and pet sitting business, has been taking advantage of the increased amount of free time she has due to lower volume of business by devising and implementing creative ways to evolve her business. Ellen, a certified running coach, and one of the leaders of the local running group that we all belong to, has been offering several options to us as a way of staying engaged during quarantine, which involves virtual cardio boot camp and foam rolling classes, as well as promoting our friend Annie, who teaches virtual yoga. Several of my friends have also been participating in various work out challenges that involve doing ungodly amounts of squats and push ups. The thought of all these people making the best of their situations during these uncertain times was a powerful inspiration, and I felt grateful that I was surrounding myself with such positive people.
Approaching the junction where the Stevens Creek Trail ends, I crossed over a bridge, which deposited me onto the Bay Trail which was composed of dirt and gravel. I was dislodged from my reverie when I sensed movement up ahead in the beam of my flashlight. I was startled, but it turned out to be only a couple of rabbits. My buddy Andrew, who runs on this trail in the early morning hours a few times a week, advised me that I may encounter rabbits and potentially skunks. The rabbits stood still for a moment, but when I got within about thirty feet of them, they both began running right towards me, side by side. "Oh, you guys want to have a stand off?" I thought, jokingly. How funny would it have been if they saw me, looked at each other, and said, in whatever form of communication that rabbits use, "okay, let's get him!". But I think they were just running for cover, and they disappeared into the tall grass that lined both sides of the trail after a few moments. Out in the distance, the lights along the distant shore sparkled on the water, and as I ran along the path further out into the bay, the first indications of dawn began lighting up the sky behind Mission Peak in front of me. I always love seeing the sunrise after running in the dark, and the sun slowly continued filling the sky with bright vivid colors before eventually emerging over the top of the distant mountains. After covering several more miles and turning around near Moffet Field Golf Club, I sat on a bench for a few minutes enjoying the sunrise while eating handfuls of trail mix from the bag that I carried in my pack. A new day had arrived, and I was hopeful that my spirit would stay positive for the remainder of the run. I was a little under halfway through, and the arrival of the morning sun had filled me with energy. Backtracking the way I came on the Bay Trail, I headed in the other direction towards Mountain View Slough. As hours passed and more miles were covered, my energy levels began to deteriorate around mile twenty-two. I wasn't too sore, but I was exhausted. I was once again back on the section of the trail south of Evelyn Avenue, and I flopped onto a bench and ate more trail mix, hoping some food would perk me up, even though I didn't feel hungry at all. Unfortunately the fix was only temporary, and at mile twenty-four, I had hit the wall pretty hard as I wandered through a residential Sunnyvale neighborhood a few blocks away from the southern terminus of the Stevens Creek Trail. It was now mid morning, and people were out and about with their dogs and kids, probably wondering who is this guy in running gear, hobbling through the neighborhood with a pack on, looking like he's been dragged through the mud. Shortly before entering the trail again, I ran through an intersection that looked familiar. It was my street. The desire to cut the run short and just go home was overwhelming. By this point, I was about a mile and a half short of a marathon's distance. "I can just make this a self supported marathon" I told myself. "That's still a good distance". A marathon is very tough, and anyone who runs that distance is a bad ass, but I came out here to do a 50K, not a marathon. I decided I must keep going. It may not be pretty, but I knew that if I just put one foot in front of the other, I could make it the full distance.
By the time I hit mile twenty-nine back on the Stevens Creek Trail, I was completely wrecked. My feet were sore, I was almost completely depleted of energy, and probably looked like I had been hit by a car. I saw my old co-worker Nate running with his dog a few minutes prior, which was cool, but at this point, I was not fully coherent. I sat down on a bench one more time, in an effort to regain my composure. At this particular moment I longed for the hospitality of race volunteers and the aid stations that typically are present every five to seven miles during an ultra. Sometimes just hearing the right words from someone else in moments of distress during an ultra can be game changing. You can only tell yourself "I got this" for so long before you start questioning your own judgement. Ellen, who we sometimes refer to as "coach", had texted me wishing me good luck around mile twenty-three. When I thanked her, and facetiously told her that I was getting my ass kicked, she responded by reminding me that I was strong, and that I could do this, along with some virtual cheers. I re-read her texts while sitting on the bench and suddenly I could see a light at the end of the tunnel. Sure, there was no one here to help me in person, but she was providing me with virtual encouragement, just like she had been doing for the entire running group to keep us all engaged during quarantine. After exiting the trail at Evelyn Avenue, I was now a little less than two miles away from being done. Putting one foot in front of the other, I hobbled along the road in the bike lane, and with less than a half mile to go, I felt a surge of excitement and kicked it into overdrive. I ended up finishing the 50 kilometers about a quarter of a mile from my apartment building, and I clapped my hands in celebration. I was finally done, and I smiled as I reveled in the joy of the moment. 50Ks are always challenging, but this one really seemed to take a lot out of me. The fact that I've been spending so much time at home during quarantine with limited movement probably played a major role in the struggle I faced. My feet were pretty sore and I was completely exhausted, by I didn't have any cramping and my legs didn't hurt too badly, which was good. As I walked that last quarter of a mile back home, I reflected on the journey I had just gone through, with the following conclusion. That was awesome, but it was very tough. And, don't ever take volunteers or aid stations for granted!
