Because you can’t truly appreciate the stripey knee socks until you see them in action. Don’t click through unless you’re prepared for extreme silliness, exuberant singing, and perhaps the only successful aid station M&M mouth-toss ever caught on camera.
From henceforth this race shall not be known as Sycamore Canyon, it shall be known as the First Annual Knee Socks Invitational.
If you have to ask why, there’s really no hope for you.
A week after my triumphant return casual slide back into racing at the St. Patrick’s Day Half, I ran another trail half marathon—this one at Irvine Regional Park in Orange County. I’d never been to the park—heck, never even heard of it, despite living less than an hour away—so all I knew was that the race website promised hills, and lots of them. After the flatness of Coto de Caza, I was ready for some climbing. Bring it.
The hills…they was brought.
So here’s a gross—and sad—but mostly just gross—little story. I took some time off from racing in the fall of 2010, and planned to jump back into things that winter and early spring 2011. My first race was scheduled for February 2011, and I spent some time building up my mileage so I’d be ready to start the ultra game with a bang. All was going well, no injuries, feeling strong, and then, two days after Valentine’s Day, I woke up with a few itchy bumps on my legs.
A day later, the bumps were a full-blown rash. A day after that, they were swollen and infected, and I had hot, swollen, pus-filled welts running up and down both legs. [Pictures redacted to spare you the nightmares.] After several different diagnoses, and many different drugs, my legs were on the mend, but it was a solid 3 weeks before I could run at all, and by that time I had missed two 50ks I’d been planning on running. Plus, the extended downtime made me feel sluggish and I lost a little of my running mojo. I had more big races coming up, and I knew I had to snap myself out of my running malaise and get excited about training again, pronto.
Random “vintage” Shadow running shirts decorating the course for the 20 year anniversary!
I look forward to running Shadow of the Giants every year. I rave about it to running friends, bore my poor non-running friends talking about it, and in general need to set up some sort of affiliate referral program, because I plug this race all. the. time. Shadow of the Giants was one of the first 50ks I did (maybe the second or third?) back in 2005, and I’ve tried to run it every year since, injuries & schedule permitting.
So what makes Shadow of the Giants so special?
Well, the setting is gorgeous, for one thing. Located at the base of Yosemite, the race runs on fire roads and singletrack through towering forests. It’s beautiful, it’s green, it’s peaceful—except for the year I came face to face with a black bear halfway through the run. I think nostalgia also plays a factor, since it was one of my first ultras and one of the pivotal races that got me hooked on trail running in the first place. Mostly, though, I think it’s the spirit of the race. It’s low-key and friendly, and presided over by that most mischevious of RDs, Baz Hawley (who also directs Saddleback, Twin Peaks, and a number of other CA races.) Baz spends the pre-race briefing telling dirty jokes, hassling the regulars, and swearing up a storm, but behind the laid-back act, there’s a well-organized race directing machine.
Because you can’t truly appreciate the stripey knee socks until you see them in action. Don’t click through unless you’re prepared for extreme silliness, exuberant singing, and perhaps the only successful aid station M&M mouth-toss ever caught on camera.
From henceforth this race shall not be known as Sycamore Canyon, it shall be known as the First Annual Knee Socks Invitational.
If you have to ask why, there’s really no hope for you.
A week after my triumphant return casual slide back into racing at the St. Patrick’s Day Half, I ran another trail half marathon—this one at Irvine Regional Park in Orange County. I’d never been to the park—heck, never even heard of it, despite living less than an hour away—so all I knew was that the race website promised hills, and lots of them. After the flatness of Coto de Caza, I was ready for some climbing. Bring it.
The hills…they was brought.
So here’s a gross—and sad—but mostly just gross—little story. I took some time off from racing in the fall of 2010, and planned to jump back into things that winter and early spring 2011. My first race was scheduled for February 2011, and I spent some time building up my mileage so I’d be ready to start the ultra game with a bang. All was going well, no injuries, feeling strong, and then, two days after Valentine’s Day, I woke up with a few itchy bumps on my legs.
A day later, the bumps were a full-blown rash. A day after that, they were swollen and infected, and I had hot, swollen, pus-filled welts running up and down both legs. [Pictures redacted to spare you the nightmares.] After several different diagnoses, and many different drugs, my legs were on the mend, but it was a solid 3 weeks before I could run at all, and by that time I had missed two 50ks I’d been planning on running. Plus, the extended downtime made me feel sluggish and I lost a little of my running mojo. I had more big races coming up, and I knew I had to snap myself out of my running malaise and get excited about training again, pronto.
Random “vintage” Shadow running shirts decorating the course for the 20 year anniversary!
I look forward to running Shadow of the Giants every year. I rave about it to running friends, bore my poor non-running friends talking about it, and in general need to set up some sort of affiliate referral program, because I plug this race all. the. time. Shadow of the Giants was one of the first 50ks I did (maybe the second or third?) back in 2005, and I’ve tried to run it every year since, injuries & schedule permitting.
So what makes Shadow of the Giants so special?
Well, the setting is gorgeous, for one thing. Located at the base of Yosemite, the race runs on fire roads and singletrack through towering forests. It’s beautiful, it’s green, it’s peaceful—except for the year I came face to face with a black bear halfway through the run. I think nostalgia also plays a factor, since it was one of my first ultras and one of the pivotal races that got me hooked on trail running in the first place. Mostly, though, I think it’s the spirit of the race. It’s low-key and friendly, and presided over by that most mischevious of RDs, Baz Hawley (who also directs Saddleback, Twin Peaks, and a number of other CA races.) Baz spends the pre-race briefing telling dirty jokes, hassling the regulars, and swearing up a storm, but behind the laid-back act, there’s a well-organized race directing machine.
