Last weekend I returned to Leona Valley to run one of the Leona Valley trail races. This was the same setting where I ran the Leona Divide 50 Miler earlier this year, and that race—and the scenery—was such a pleasure I decided to go back for more. There were a number of different distances, but since I’ve been taking it easy in the training department, I decided to do the half marathon instead of the full enchilada. Result: a quick, fun little race that let me spend some good time on the trails without leaving me too sore, tired, or wiped out the rest of the weekend. Win!
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No matter how many trail races I run, I still balk and complain about getting up early to drive to the race. I really, truly wish I was an early bird, but it’s just not in my nature, so I always stay up too late the night before and then suffer for it race morning. This was the situation I found myself in before the Harding Hustle, when I got up at the runner-unfriendly hour of 3:45 to get everything together, drive down the Orange County, park in the designated lot, then take a 20-minute shuttle to the start. (The start/finish had no available parking for runners.) It was kind of a production. I arrived about 5:55, a few minutes before the scheduled 6 am shuttle, so I was giving myself giant pats on the back for my excellent time management and driving skills as I settled in to wait for the shortly-arriving shuttle.
And waited. And waited. The shuttles were supposed to run every 15 minutes, but 6, then 6:15 came and went, without a shuttle in sight. Of course, my first thought is, “I could have slept in until 4:00! That would have been awesome.” But instead, I killed time taking awkward pictures of myself and my fellow runners:
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I’ve really been struggling with what to say about this race, and how much I can, or should, complain. One of the things I love about trail running is the bare-bones ethos, the rugged nature of the sport, the fact that we carry our own water and duct tape our blisters and suck it up instead of crying it out. I love that there’s beer at the finish line instead of fancy Mylar blankets. (And I don’t even drink beer! But I still love what it represents.) The low-key nature is a huge selling point, so it feels a little disingenuous to complain about this race for being too low-key.
But, at the end of the day, this race was not satisfying, was not particularly enjoyable as a race (although it was a lovely casual run) and it made me think long and hard about what I expect from a “race” in general. Here are a few of the ideas I had about what constitutes race necessities:
- Organization: a clear leader, who can answer questions, provide guidance, and get the race started (on time!)
- A well-marked course so runners don’t get lost
- Adequate and well-spaced aid stations
- Safety precautions in place for runners
Now, there are a lot more things that add to the fun, like goodie bags, awesome food at aid stations, post-run picnics, etc. But these four things are, to me, the necessities required to have a successful race. And I’m sorry to say I don’t think the Chino Hills 20-mile race delivered on any count.
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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.
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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.
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