Race Report: Tough Topanga 10k

I have struggled to come up with any deep-thought-blog-ideas this year, but I miss writing. I thought I would come on with a relatively dull race report to get myself back into the writing habit. This weekend I did a SoCal Trail event. They do a series of trail races through the year geared towards both trail experts and beginners (a variety of distances). I have walked/ran a handful of them at this point, but I am still very much a trail race newbie.

Like most of my races, I came into this one not properly trained. What I did develop this year was running consistency, though. I was out running almost every day, even if it was only for my 20 minute school drop off run. What I didn’t do was run up any hills or on any trails! Of course I thought it completely appropriate to sign up for a “grueling” climb up the Santa Monica Mountains.

The race took place at Topanga State Park, a park I have been to many times & have even raced once before. It is BEAUTIFUL out there. Even the drive out is awesome. I’m driving along the coast before turning into a winding road that transports me to what feels like the best parts of the hill country in Texas. There is limited parking at the destination, reminding me I’m still in L.A. You park far away, and they take you up more winding roads on a school bus. Normally this would seem like such a pain, but they have the system down.

One thing I never really enjoy is too much HYPE before a race. It’s early, I’m tired and nervous. I don’t need anyone yelling stretch moves at me or blaring Kool & the Gang. This is one thing I love about these trail races. They are both low key and high tech. There is one guy with a megaphone telling us when to line up, and that is about it.

I prefer this Topanga course because it is primarily on fire roads. I have learned the single track trail races have a weird beginning mile where you are all squashed together running in a single file line. It pressures you to keep whatever pace you started at, otherwise be trampled. The fire road allows you to spread out a bit while still getting the trail vibe.

I am terrible at pacing a trail run. On the road, I know exactly the pace I can go at each distance I race. I know the difference in feeling of an 8, 9, 10, 11 min mile. On a trail, I am clueless. I decided at most my miles would be 15 minutes, and I was running a little over 6 miles. So I planned for about 1 hour and 30 minutes. (Side note: there is no service out here. I use my digital stopwatch & that’s about it. No mile markers, etc). I told myself I may be spend up to 45 minutes doing the first climb, mostly to get myself mentally through all the horrible feelings this first climb brings up.

I am still learning how to race these uphill/downhill races. I slow jog and walk up, along with those around me. We all try to shuffle/run when we can, but this incline is INTENSE. My calves are already burning. The only playlist I have downloaded is called “Women of Country Music,” which is actually quite perfect. I take a sip of water every 10 minutes to give me something to focus on. I tell myself not to stop and take pictures.

There are trail runners that RUN up this hill, and I cannot believe it. It’s like when I’m at a triathlon and see cyclists beasting up a hill while I’m just trying to keep from tipping over at my slow pace. Also, there are of course race photographers in the most unfortunate of places. Oh you thought you would get a fun shot at the top of this insane climb? We all pretend to run for about 10 seconds of the photo, and then quickly slow down again. I give a sad peace sign, and tell myself to not do that again.

After a painful 25 minutes or so, we are finally going down! The joy! It is still fairly early in the race, so I know it’s not the end of climbing, but it’s so nice to have a break. I LOVE downhills on trails. It is not the mindless run of a road race; it is highly technical. There are loose rocks, branches sticking out, divots caused by all the rain this year. I love that I get to focus on nothing but staying upright and pushing the pace. And then I look in the distance to see the faster paced runners, going up again. My heart sinks.

At the end of this next climb, there is a water station. A nice volunteer says “you are done with the hard part” AS we are climbing a hill. Don’t say this please. At least say “you are ALMOST done.” I somehow have enough energy to start a conversation with the guy next to me, both of us annoyed by the idea that the hard part is over.

I can tell my time estimates were way off. After an hour, I know I can probably finish in 1:10 if I book it downhill. And I do! I don’t fall! I feel like I’m tumbling, but somehow I’m still on my feet. The end comes abruptly, and I’m done in 1:08. I have little reference as to whether this is “good” for me or not, but I’m happy I beat my way off estimate of 1:30.

I ignore the free burritos and beer post-race. I appreciate the offer, but I’m so close to vomiting after every race I do (my personal sign that I gave it my all LOL) that this sounds like the least appealing option possible. After seeing that I am 15th place and have no hope on a podium (how did I get 2nd last time I did this course? I’m sure I was slower, but I guess the field was smaller), I make a beeline for the next bus to my car. I drink my iced coffee, blast my music & enjoy the ocean views on my way home.

When I had very little responsibilities, I raced at least every month. And after this race I remember why. I am on such a high when it’s over. I think it IS that feeling of having given it my all. I can only really do that in the context of a race, with people around me helping me to push my own pace. As slow as I am on the trail, I can’t beat the views or the escape from the city. Oh—and I must mention—they had a “hiker’s delight” option for non-runners, which offered opportunities for a way to enjoy the views, the course support (water stations!), etc without the feelings of wanting to vomit. And a kid’s 1k! If you are in SoCal, I highly recommend running any of the events in this series.