Short version: "Mommy, please make it stop." Long version: After an uneventful (which is to say completely full and miserable) flight into San Francisco, an excellent pizza dinner, and a good night's sleep, I was feeling optimistic, as my friend (and occasional TREXer) Chris and I toed the line at the start of the Headlands Hundred. For Chris, this was to be the first shot at 50 miles; for me, it was going to be my second 100 miler (and one with minimal crew support after the 50 mile mark). My plan was to stick with Chris for a while and try to bank some time during the first 50 miles, allowing for significant slowing the second 50 miles. The weather forecast was terrific - highs in the low 70's, lows in the 50's, sun during the day, some fog at night. I was familiar with much of the course, having run Miwok in 2007, and remembered it to be hilly at times but relatively non-technical (or so I thought). The wildcard was my left shin, which had been bugging me off and on for the the last month and which I knew was going to take a beating on the nearly 18,000 feet of cumulative downhill. Only time would tell with the shin, so at 7:00 a. m. sharp, someone said "Go" and we were off, trudging across the annoying beach sand and onto a brief stretch of single-track trail leading up to a mile or two of road that climbed maybe 400-500 feet. Had you been able to see more than 100 feet in front of you, the views of the Golden Gate Bridge would have been terrific, but the fog wasn't going to let that happen. Shortly thereafter, we turned off the pavement and onto the dirt, where we stayed for much of the next 6 miles into the first aid station at mile 8.6 (did I mention that 8.6 miles is a long way between aid stations). The trail traveled up and down along the ridgeline through the fog. At times you'd hear a foghorn in the distance, but the water below was completely invisible. I recall thinking how long and lonely this stretch would seem at night but immediately tried to block this sort of thought out. Soon enough, the trail began to drop off the ridge at about 800 feet and down to the Rodeo Valley aid station at something close to sea level. The descent was just steep enough to tempt a too-fast pace and feeling all happy and fresh, I was suckered into it. By the time I hit Rodeo Valley, I was already well ahead of my projected pace & realized that I needed to pull back a bit and take it easy. I also realized that because July and August are very dry months in the Bay Area, the trails were bone dry and hard as concrete. This would prove to be an issue. After a very quick stop at Rodeo Valley (long enough to grab some Pop-Tarts - mmmmm, love Pop Tarts), I was out and soon faced a long climb back up and over a ridge and down into the next Aid Station at Tennessee Valley. The climb seemed to go on forever and once again I caught myself thinking about what it would be like to have to do this two more times (the last 50 miles of the course consists of two 25-mile loops in this area). Soon enough I was at the top of the ridge and we began heading down to Tennessee Valley on a terrific stretch of cruiser downhill. So good, in fact, that once again I succumbed to the temptation to just let the legs run full out, so when I arrived at TV, I was still nearly 45 minutes ahead of my fastest projected pace. Grabbed some food, some extra gels, my sunglasses, and off I went out of TV and (you guessed it) up to the ridgeline again before heading down (again) to Muir Beach. This time the downhill was a bit more technical (steep, rocky, twisty. did i mention stairs?) and the legs were starting to feel it, so by the time I made it to Muir Beach still well ahead of schedule, my body started to demand that I pull back somewhat. The first couple of miles out of Muir Beach are relatively flat and I decided it would be a good time to walk a bit. The sun was out and the sky was cloudless & the day was warming up (although "warming up" is a relative term - this felt more like a pleasant mid-October day in Houston) and it was nice just to slow down and enjoy the morning. But after less than a mile, I found myself running again (and feeling good). After about 2 miles, you cross the road and begin the biggest single climb on the course - nearly 1400 feet up to Pan Toll ranger station. It's a brutal climb that almost never levels out for any sustained period and much of it is exposed. But the scenery is gorgeous, the day was still pleasant, and my tunes kept the pace solid and blocked out most of the negative thoughts. Made it up to Pan Toll in good time where our crewperson extraordinare, Misty, informed me that Chris was about 15 minutes ahead (and not happy). On the other hand, I continued to feel great. In fact, I felt too good. It actually began to worry me because I knew it couldn't last - it never does. I also realized the next section could be a make-or-break section for my run. 6.5 miles along something called the Bolinas Ridge, a super-narrow strip of single-track tucked into and along undulating hillsides rolling down 800 or more feet to the Pacific. Almost all of it is completely exposed and sections of the trail are ridiculously cambered and almost non-existent. In addition, it's an out & back section, so you find yourself stepping off to the side to let faster runners (and those heading downhill) scoot by. But, amazingly, I was still in a happy place for almost the entire trip out. I enjoyed seeing the other runners, and the views of the Pacific . .. well, good Lord, simply stunning stuff. A couple of minutes from the Bolinas aid station (and turnaround point), I ran into Chris heading back out. He's not in his happy place, but he's still moving well. He says maybe he'll see me back at Pan Toll & we each head our separate ways. A couple of minutes later, I'm at Bolinas, where I find Henry Hobbs of HCTR chilling at the grub table. I say "hi", grab some coke, some pb&j, and some water (they're running out at this point - not good), sit for maybe a minute, and then head back out. Almost immediately I realize the trip out is not going to be as happy as the trip there. If there was a place where it all started to fall apart, it was heading out of Bolinas. The pb&j wasn't sitting well and I was all of a sudden feeling very tired and slightly nauseated. Once I was back out on the exposed ridge, even the small rolling uphills were tough. I walked a lot and for the first time started to seriously question what I was doing out there. Although I began to feel somewhat better the last couple of miles, this 6.5 mile section was really tough and felt like it was never going to end. To make matters worse, my shin - which had not given me any problems all day - began to make itself known even through the general aches and pains i already felt throughout my legs. By the time I got back into Pan Toll, I knew the 100 was over for me. I told Misty to go ahead and make reservations at a restaurant that night, because I had no plans to be out there all night. To her credit, she tried to keep me from making a final decision at that point and to just see how I felt down the road, but I knew it was over. As I left Pan Toll, I was at peace with the decision and told myself I was just going to enjoy the last 15 miles of the course and take it easy. However, the shin wasn't going to let that happen. As I began the slow descent from 1400 feet to Muir Beach at sea level, the ache in my shin turned into a sharper pain. To make matters worse, I kicked a rock at one point and when I caught myself from falling, my left calf seized up into a horrible spasm. I managed to walk it off soon enough, but I began questioning why I was even attempting to finish 50 miles. Why? For a 50 mile non-finish? When weighed against hurting myself even worse, the decision was easy - I'd get to Muir Beach at mile 40.5 and drop there & catch a ride out with Misty. We'd pick up some beer, kick back at Rodeo Beach and wait for Chris. Life would be good again. Once the decision was made, I started to walk and make a conscious effort to enjoy the spectacular late-afternoon views. About a mile out of Muir Beach, I realized that Chris might now be way ahead of me and that Misty wasn't going to be able to hang around forever. Panic shot through me as I contemplated missing Misty and having to continue on past Muir Beach and up the brutal climb out of Pirate's Cove on to Tennessee Valley. I started to run. Fast. Probably covered that mile in well under 10 minutes and arrived at Muir Beach to find . .. no Misty. Ahhhhhhh! (came to find out she hadn't left, but was actually running late). Well, I dejectedly slumped into a chair at the aid station and wondered what I was going to do then. Fortunately, sitting directly across from me was a young female runner who looked even more dejected. I quickly gathered that she had dropped and was about to get a ride back to the start/finish with one of the aid station captains. I immediately asked if there was room for one more (there was) and I dropped then and there. Back at the start / finish, I had plenty of time to kill waiting for Misty to get back and for Chris to make it in. Watching more than a few 100 milers come in looking wrecked after 50 miles, I have to admit that I was glad not to have to head back out. Chilled out, ate a bit, struck up conversations with lots of nice folks, and at the about 7:35 p. m., as dusk was settling in, we spied Chris coming down off the ridge and down to his first official 50 mile finish! With everyone happy to be done, it was back to the hotel for hot showers, a late dinner, and bed. The next day, we competed in a different sort of ultra - an ultra of wine tasting up around Healdsburg. If Western States' motto is "24 Hours, 100 Miles," our motto was "One Day, Eight Wineries." It was a grueling event, but we were at the top of our game and finished in high style. What went right: Heat training helped. Lots of people were baked by the constant sun, but I had no hydration / electroylte problems at all. Nutrition was pretty good. Ate solids and kept the gels coming - energy was generally good. Who knows what another 60 miles would have brought, but I'm sure I could have managed to make it to the 50 mile mark without any major stomach issues. Feet were comfortable. No blisters. No falls. No sunburn. No poison oak. Magnificent scenery. What went less than right: Need more hill training. Even with Rice stadium workouts, the downhills eventually punished me into submission. Should have taken the early ones easier. Also, mentally just not strong enough at this point for this race. Doubts crept in way too early. Needed to train even harder (although I'm not sure it's really worth it to me right now). Rating the Race: Deceptively challenging. Sneaky tough. Actually, one brutal SOB is probably the most accurate description. Jemez is almost certainly a tougher course, but it didn't seem as hard. Only one climb at Headlands would qualify as huge, but there are lots of significant climbs and descents (lots), and they come one after another, particularly early in the race (and during the last 50 miles, had I been out there). Not all that much flat terrain. Almost everything is runnable, but you pay a price for doing so. Hard-packed surfaces, long exposed areas, and a couple of long sections between aid. It all adds up to a 55% finish rate and some very long finish times in the 100. Do I want to go back? You bet - maybe to the 50-mile version of this race or maybe to Miwok, but I just love these trails. Am I going to run another 100? I don't know right now. The training is just a huge time-suck & I'm not sure the motivation is there. Sunmart 50 miler - yep. Bandera 100K - absolutely. Rocky Raccoon - dunno... Hope to join everyone back on the trails as soon as my legs start working again...