Last Sunday, I ran my first 50-mile trail race. The Dick Collins Firetrails race, that started and ended at Lake Chabot.

In the last two years, I've run (in this order): a street marathon, two trail marathons, and two trail 50Ks (31 miles). Every time, I spent several miles on the "struggle bus"... a tight feeble little man, in the suffering. I was sure I'd get on the struggle bus in this race.

The race started at 6am. I thought to myself, as this mob took off into the darkness... what a bunch of weirdos we are. I didn't have a headlight, so I stayed near others until early dawn... this was fine with a 6am start time, but the 100K race started at 5am... no headlight would have been a problem.

It was serene out there. The lake and forest. Hooting owls. Katydids.

A woman ran past me, commenting "How about those owls huh?"

I caught up with her, when it was brighter out. Trying to reciprocate in the ice breaking, I said: "We've gone from hooting to tweating and squawking." Her name was Christina, and she was running with Shana. Shana said it's her first 50-mile trail race too. Christina: "Don't let that fool you... she's usually on the podium." Shana asked Christina the longest trail race she's done. "150 miles... when the pandemic hit, I thought: Oh, this is my running year." Badasses, in their mid 40s.

Christina was chipper the whole time. She helped me stay in a good headspace.

In typical training, Christina and Shana prefer to run solo. They like to tune into their bodies. But to train for this relatively-steep ultramarathon (1.5 mile elevation gain)... they did some less-steep ultramarathons.

Most people were walking up the steeper hills. I asked my new friends about this. They said that "power hiking" the hills is a good idea in the longer races. The pace is about the same, with less exertion. I checked my ego, and power hiked most of the hills (it would have been harder to check my ego if it was merely "walking").

I was maybe the only runner (out of 75 finishers) that didn't have a pack with water bottle. I got a lot of comments about this. Some with concern. Some with enthusiasm (one woman: "Whoa dude, traveling lite, awesome!" | Christina, later on: "Mike with the shorts, you're still here!"). There were aid stations about every four miles. It was fine. ...Maybe not though if it was a hotter day.

Running downhill, a loose guy with a floppy hat flew past me. "I could do this the whole way down!" I realized that I was tight. He encouraged me to ease up on the downhills, and I did.

One aid station had the party. Mostly black women (yeah, I'm giving this context). "Car Wash" playing. Big cheers and bell ringing when each runner arrived. Me: "Why am I running, when I could be dancing?" I was painfully awkward at that aid station, but they didn't mind. "Don't worry, plenty of these runners have been more awkward than you."

I ran with Zagdaa for a while. In her 50s. She was so delighted to be out in the forest running.

One aid station was at Skyline Gate... a regular stop for me in my weekly solo runs. They told me I'd run 33 miles so far. That's more than I'd ever run. I was feeling good. Wow... I've got this.

The lower-body pain was there, like in past races. The tightening up. But, this time, I didn't experience it as suffering. I stayed in a good headspace.

I've had problems with nausea in past races. I dry heaved in one race. I tried not to drink or eat too much this time. Nausea was almost a problem in this race, but I managed to keep it at bay.

I ran hard the last few miles along the lake, elated. I ran up the hills. I sprinted thru the finish line. That was a sweet feeling.

I finished in the middle of the pack... 30th out of 75. 11 hours 30 minutes. (Shana finished 14th (10:09), and Christina finished 17th (10:28). The winner ran it in 7:35 (damn). The race's top time ever, in 2010, was 6:20 (damn damn). There are levels in the game.

I was tired the next few days, with sore feet and calves. But not bad. I did my body-weight workout the next morning, no problem. I did my weekly trail run three days later... faster than usual.

Now I know I have it in me to do a 100-mile trail race. Let's go.

I'll outro with the obligatory shirtless-bro-at-the-finish-line photo: