When Race Directors go bad

Race Directors are human beings and as such have an understanding relative to their own experience. Race Directors who are recruited to manage Ultra-marathons, but who have never participated in one themselves have no relevant point of view to rely on, and that begets problems. But, before I launch into a barrage of 'constructive criticism' I need to add that I have yet to run a 'bad' ultra... it's just that some are better than others.

I once ran a 50k that was managed by a committee... and from all outward appearances no one on that committee had ever actually competed in an ultra. Fortunately, what the organizers lacked in experience they made up for with enthusiasm... like enthusiastically doubling the amount of Cytomax to water ratio... I did like the idea of a Bloody Mary at the finish line but not at the twenty mile mark... When the distance between trail markings suddenly changed from every 200 yards to a mile or so, it raised hell with my confidence... I had visions of search and rescue finding a dessicated carcass out in the desert miles from the course. With all it's 'problems' I'll still run it again next year... The home-made German chocolate cake at fourteen miles was to die for...

Perhaps the worst sin an Ultra Race Director can commit is not communicating with his entrants. It's like trail markers. Spacing them too far apart places an unnecessary burden on people who are already stressed from training, race strategy planning, and in some remote venues, the process of getting there. Race Directors who live near a venue often take for granted that everyone else is as knowledgeable. Race Directors who hire non-runners to perform essential tasks without providing adequate guidance will likely treat the entrants likewise on race day.

In this Internet world where communication is fast and cheap there is no excuse to not provide routine and frequent updates, even if it's to say "everything is on schedule". At the Transrockies it's clear that there is extensive professional communications between the organization and sponsors and the media... It is conversely as sparse between the organization and the runners...
The best media relations will eventually go for naught if the running community elects to give the race a pass. Is this years half-capacity field indicative of last years pre-race experience? Considering the course and the advertised amenities, it should have been sold-out within days. I wonder if the bike entrants were treated likewise.

EDITED NOTE: I received a clarifying e-mail from Jenn at TR this afternoon after posting this article... She addressed my concerns about routing and has indicated that more and better communications will be forthcoming. The e-mail was appreciated...

East Horsethief exploration run

NOW PAY ATTENTION! THIS IS YOUR OPPORTUNITY TO COME UP WITH A GOOD EXCUSE TO WIMP OUT!

This warning was e-mailed on Saturday to all who signed up for the East Horsethief (this time I mean it) run on Sunday. Annie (Steve's conscience) kept asking what East Horsethief was like, and I couldn't answer her because, like the others who had signed up, I had never been on it - "that's why we call em' exploration runs," I insisted... BUT, my conscience gave a convincing argument (no sex - no beer ) why I needed to reconnoiter the trail, and let my running club friends know what they were in for. So to insure an uninterrupted supply of.... you know, I reluctantly agreed to run from the top of east Horsethief to the bottom on Saturday. I gleaned as much information as possible from the internet before I began the trek. Like every route down the east side of Saddleback mountain, the trail begins at the Main Divide and plummets (yes plummets) down to Elsinore. According to the Mountain Biking Blogs the East Horsethief is steep, sandy, and rutted... They are liars... It's steeper, sandier, and eroded... But it is navigable - meaning I didn't fall down once on Saturday though I had several close calls... Another indication that they are liars was there were neither bike tracks nor mangled bike parts to be seen...

Segue to Sunday when a handful of intrepid trail masters showed up at the trail head even after being warned about the terrain they would encounter - and people ask me why I love ultra-runners. After slowly running the downhill (a very generous description) on Saturday, I figured Sunday would be much the same, only with four other runners calling me a block-head for getting them into this. WRONG! I was behind Marisa and Lisa, two speed demons who appeared to have a death (if not a serious injury) wish. They sped down some of the gnarliest running surfaces in the Santa Anas, feet slipping and sliding most of the way. Everyone on the run fell at least once - from a gentle butt skid by me to a full-on 9.75 double somersault with a full twist by Marisa. Having a companion go down so spectacularly gives one pause but Marisa popped right up, took inventory, announced it was just a flesh wound, and flew off to catch Lisa.

Kirk and Chris stopped several times to fix their wardrobes - Kirk to do his hair - and me to find my lungs while claiming to take photos... The 'girls' stood by patiently tapping their toes while wondering aloud when the men were going to get off their fat behinds and start taking their turns up front bush-whacking (there wasn't much). Once at the bottom 4.5 miles later and finding ourselves in the middle of an Elsinore swap meet (read unauthorized trash dump) we picked our way through burned out boats and wrecked computers. Chris lagged having discovered a slightly used mattress that he wanted to make an offer on. Once off the trail Lisa and Marisa forged ahead to McVicker Park and clean bathrooms... I started to feel the results of two days on the downhill. We rehydrated prior to the final climb back to heaven (El Cariso) on the El Cariso Truck Trail and again, to no one's surprise Lisa and Marissa took commanding leads. They were not seen again until we arrived back at the cars.

A pint at Hell's Kitchen with Andy and Marisa, and a long nap rounded out my day...

Old Goat 50 Mile Trail Race is under new direction

Annie and I have been producing the Old Goat races for the past two years and have elected to take over the responsibility for Race Direction in 2009. We can't thank Baz enough for his assistance in helping us put on what we consider one of the toughest races in California. In 2007 and 2008, the 50 miler was held in conjunction with either the Saddleback Marathon or the SJT50K. But it became apparent that with the growing popularity of ultra-running, if either race approached capacity the other would suffer. Baz elected to continue with his 50k while Annie and I decided to take on the roll of full time directors of the Old Goat Series of Ultra races.

The next Old Goat 50 Mile Trail Race is on March 28th, 2009. On-line and snail mail applications can be obtained at the Old Goat Race website

http://www.oldgoatrunners.com/ .

Because we are only allowed 150 runners, it is advisable to enter early...


Old Goat 50 and Chimera 100 are copyrights of Old Goat Trail Runners LLC
and may not be used without the written permission of Steve Harvey.

Orange County Register Oct 12th, 1989

See - I didn't just make this stuff up!

"Angeles Crest is the `dream' 100-mile run - Laguna Niguel man knows endurance

John Loeschhorn


The Angeles Crest 100-Mile Endurance Run, which has a motto of "If you can dream it, you can do it," will begin at 5 a.m. in Wrightwood on Saturday.
Laguna Niguel's Steve Harvey, who holds the distinction of being the only Orange County runner to have run all six of the America's 100-mile trail races, will be among the starters.

Harvey is a pretty good marathoner, having run 2:50:14 at the Long Beach Marathon in 1984, but he said he gains more satisfaction from the longer races.

"I ran my first ultramarathon back in 1982, the Santa Monica Lawyer's Club 54-miler, and I really enjoyed it," Harvey said. "But then in 1985 I ran the Wasatch Front 100 Mile Endurance Run and I've been hooked on 100s ever since.

"For me the appeal of trail 100s is the terrain, the exotic locations, and the fraternity of ultra runners. The number of people that run these races is very small, so you meet the same people year-in and year-out. I met a guy from the state of Washington while running my first 100 miler and I've met him at three other races since."

Harvey said the degree of difficulty is another attraction.

"The more difficult the race is, the longer and steeper the hills are and the more stream crossings there are, the better I like it," Harvey said. "Anyone can finish a marathon, but very few people can finish 100 miles."

He thought for a moment and added: "No one finishes a 100-mile trail race because of a bet in the bar."

Harvey, 45, ran his fastest time and enjoyed his highest 100-mile finish in running 21:44:51 for 15th place at the Old Dominion (Front Royal, Va.) race in 1987.

"The Wasatch Front 100 (East Layton, Utah) is easier than it seems, because it's impossible to run. In some places you need to go 20 miles without water, so you need to be conservative. You have to `crab' up Chin Scraper Hill and you have to go over Catherine Pass in the dark.

It's easy to get lost on the pass, so you have to walk to make certain you don't miss a turn.

"Leadville (Colo.) is the next toughest, but only because of the altitude (9,200 feet to 12,600 feet). Put Leadville 4,000 feet lower and it would be easy."

Harvey, a vice president of Synch Research in Tustin, said the the Western States 100 Mile Endurance Run, from Squaw Valley to Auburn, has been harmed by too much publicity.

"It's overdone," he said.

Now he prefers the Angeles Crest race, which goes from Wrightwood to the Rose Bowl.

Angeles Crest "is the jewel of the 100s. The Angeles Crest is an honest 100 miler, and it's probably the toughest, because even with 19,100 feet of climb, it's all runnable, if you're tough enough," he said.

"It offers the most variable scenery. You run through evergreen forests, past canyon streams and then you have those great vistas from up on the ridges. At night you look down from Mount Wilson and see all the lights of Los Angeles.

"Most 100s have exceptional support and service for the runners, but at Angeles Crest the aid stations compete for awards, so the food and entertainment is unbelievable. There's no race like it; the first day I receive my entry form each year, I send it in that day."

Susan Gimbel of Orange, John Rosmus of Fullerton, Rich Bellante of Dana Point and Jerry Simons of San Clemente join Steve Harvey on the starting line. "

My current goal is to run the AC100 again... The last time was in 1993. I will be 65!

When I was your age, young lady

So you can kick my butt now, but that wasn't always the case.

One of the 'opportunities' of growing older is the ability to accept that what you once did fast and often you are now lucky to do at all. I had been a serious ultra-runner for ten years and with rare exceptions would finish races in the top 10% of the field. Sure, there would be bad days but they were few and far between. Topping a hill during a training run and waiting for my friends to catch up was routine... I enjoyed the opportunity to absorb the scenery, and would wait until the last runner topped before taking off again. Most of the time the last up the hill were 'girls and/or the old guys... "It ain't fair. The last person up the hill never gets a chance to rest," said Slow Fred. Fast Fred would now be one or two hills ahead - he didn't like to wait!

On one particularly fast Saturday run, the recently departed Paul Peek and I were stride for stride. Paul was never a front runner but no one in our group could stay with him on a rocky downhill. The worse the footing, the faster Paul would run. On this day I cast aside all fear for life and limb and hurtled down the hill... until my big toe hit a protruding rock and I went ass over teakettle. When I finally stopped rolling I knew I had a serious problem. The foot was throbbing and I was reduced to a sideways waddle. After I arrived home, Annie took one look and said "Broken". She's an RN which means I automatically assume I know better than she when the subject is medicine... after all I am an ultra-runner. She insisted I go to the emergency room for X-rays but as I suspected - no break - just a stubbed toe. I gloated for the next two days... On the following Monday, the radiologist called to explain that film had been misread - it was a displaced fracture... Annie gloated!

The foot never healed correctly and attempts to regain the speed and endurance I had previously taken for granted always begot further injury - my brain kept writing checks my body couldn't cash... my fitness departed faster than my waistline grew, and grow it did. I was now, as a former running companion described, two Steve Harveys.



Segue fifteen years ahead... Very few of my former peers are still running let alone running ultras... the new crop of runners are where I was in 1980, only they are faster, better equipped, and still know they are indestructible and I am now on the trail behind them... Several of them have no idea who I am. A few who do know me also recall that until a few months ago I was fat! They all know I'm old! This is my first 'long' outing with them.

I'm only now reaching the bottom of the hill and some are already milling around at the top. One of the slower 'girls' is jogging ahead of me and I'm hoping that she starts walking soon or I will be alone when I crest the hill... I'm feeling a little melancholy knowing that when I reach the top I will have little chance of resting and will fall farther behind unless the terrain is treacherous. What I may lack in speed these days I make up in sheer audacity on the downhills... that and the assist gravity affords the portly! I have discovered Paul Peeks secret. Today the trail is overgrown and rocky - I know I will be able to pass most of the others within the next mile. The melancholy is temporarily replaced by recollections of past glories... Thanks Paul!

When I was your age, young man

When I ran my first trail I was wearing cotton gym shorts, a jockstrap, and a pair of low cut Keds. It wasn't a case of not wanting high-tech running equipment - there wasn't any.

It was 1970 and I was working for a Satellite Communications company on Guam, had celebrated my 26th birthday with a bottle of $250 Cognac, and was nursing the mother of all hangovers when I looked out my apartment window and saw a group of men working on the University of Guam track (a generous description). They were attempting to pull a rake by hand. This rake was the width of the track and its tines were about two feet apart... They were attempting to mark lanes - unsuccessfully. I went downstairs, hopped into my little Honda N600, drove onto the track, and told them to tie the rake to my bumper. With three men standing on the rake and me behind the wheel we had those lanes marked in less than five minutes.

"So - what's going on? I asked"

"We're putting on a track meet," said the officious gentleman, who I later learned had a photographic memory when it came to remembering who ran what race and in what time.

When I asked Joe Lawton if anyone could run he assured me that it was okay, but by the way he was looking at my leather sandals I'm sure he thought the question rhetorical. I ran the mile in six minutes, came in last, and immediately relieved myself of about $175 worth of Napoleons best. That was my introduction to organized running, and on Guam of all places. It was also my introduction to jock-itch, fungus infections, and gym cloths that never quite dried between runs.

Joe it turned out lived only a quarter mile from me but because we were separated by jungle it might as well have been a hundred miles - or so I thought. The morning after the track meet, Joe stood at my front door at 6 am and suggested we go for a run.... through the jungle.

I enjoyed the run though it was a little frightening... If Joe and I were to become separated I might have spent years in the tangen-tangen trying to find a path to civilization (or semblance thereof). Running the jungle became a daily morning ritual with me jogging over to Joe's Quansit Hut then the two of us doing a six mile loop around the Navy golf course. It took a year for me to be able to keep up with Joe for the entire run... but, one day I had to stop - the chaffing between my legs was so bad I was bleeding. I had given up the jock and had switched to briefs a few weeks before hoping that they wouldn't be as irritating.

Joe started laughing - "Don't you chaffe," I asked.

"Not since I started wearing Jenny's undies," he replied. He explained that he had taken a pair of his wife's nylon panties and found that they gave him exceptional support and didn't irritate... Being of the Macho generation, I guffawed and made a politically incorrect remark about his sexual preferences.

"You ought to try it," he said.

"Don't you think Jenny might object," I replied.

That evening while my wife was away I went into her lingerie drawer and pulled out what appeared to be her largest pair of panties... I avoided the white lace ones she wore as a signal that someone was going to get lucky! But that's another story for another blog. I slipped the pastel blue bikini on and immediately fantasized someone was coming to the front door. It was the fastest I had ever removed a pair of ladies undies in my life (wink-wink). False alarm... I pulled them back on and walked around. Joe was right - they didn't chaffe... plus, I liked the visual.

The next morning I put on Margo's undies and my gym shorts and met Joe on the trail...

"Well," asked Joe. "Did you bag a pair of her drawers?"

"Uh-huh," I replied. And, I ain't giving them back. But, if I fall and get taken to the hospital and they laugh at me, I'm going to hunt you down and kick your butt."

Now, thirty-eight years later I pull on a pair of Race Ready running shorts (with matching liner) and I don't have to wonder which way the little bow goes...

Doug Malwicki and I are running the Transrockies 118 mile 6 day stage race on the Continental Divide in Colorado. We are competing in the "older than dirt catagory". We are confident that we will not be beaten by any team older than us. Doug is the webmaster of the http://www.californiaoldgoats.com/ where we post our training schedules, photos, and other assorted information of interest/curiosity.