Whoos in El Moro 10K Trail Run

7 am view 

My race repot and reflections here on the 10K trail run - I’d rested the day before - on purpose. No running, no workouts, nothing. I like putting my legs in time-out so that on race day they feel fresh, fired up, and slightly annoyed enough to want to move.

Unfortunately, I also had a macchiato.

I did not fully appreciate what caffeine would do to me. I tossed and turned until about 3 a.m. Normally, playing a word game on my tablet knocks me right out, but not this time! I was wide awake. Alert. I even won a couple of games, which only made things worse. Somewhere in that haze, I RSVP’d to a few events and nearly bought something off my Amazon wish list. (Thankfully, it stayed in my cart.)

Two hours of sleep. One big hill. 6.2 miles.

This was going to be an adventure!!!

I always say I’m not going to race, that I’m just going to run “comfortably hard,” whatever that means. But inevitably, the competitive switch flips, and suddenly I’m thinking strategy more than effort.

Parking was easy. Bib pickup was smooth. The shirts were actually cool - one of the perks of Whoos. I scanned the crowd, wondering how many people had signed up for the 50K and 25K that had started an hour earlier. I felt immediate relief knowing I was not in that group today. Confidence for the 10K started to build.

There couldn’t have been more than 20 of us. Everyone looked legit. Fast. That’s when a new goal emerged:

Just don’t finish last.

Someone has to - but that someone was me last year in the 50K, and I had zero interest in a repeat performance.

As we lined up, you could hear watches beeping all around while race director Molly went over the course details. (Side note: Molly is a hardcore ultra runner - 50s, even 100-milers. Thinking about that made this 10K feel like a very reasonable slice of the pie.)

“Ready, set… GO!”

And we were off.

I’m usually good about pacing the first mile, because I’ve hit the wall before, and it’s one of the worst feelings. It’s like magnets suddenly attach your shoes to the ground.

So the plan was to enjoy the trails, take in the scenery, and mentally prepare for the hill waiting at mile two.

Shaped like "M" for monster hill 

Before the first mile was even done, several runners passed me. I might’ve been the caboose now, and that was okay. Hills change things.

And then—boom.

It felt like stepping onto an elevator that only went up… while breathing hard. Turbo walking became necessary. A woman in neon pink pants ahead of me jogged steadily the whole way. Somehow, I managed to trail her for the entire climb, alternating between short bursts of running and walking, maybe 10 to 15 steps at a time.

When the trail finally curved, I could hear the course guides cheering. The encouragement helped, but I was winded. My quads started to noodle out.

Too early for noodles.

And then it hit me: This was the race I’d been waiting for. One that challenged me both cardiovascularly and muscularly. Road races don’t usually push me there - you can’t go all out from the start. But this? This demanded something extra.

I walked a few steps at the top of the hill - painful, because the terrain flattened out - but I needed air. Then I jogged. And suddenly, a second wind kicked in. My feet felt light again.

That feeling? One of the best in racing.

I ran through the mile-three aid station. The trail flattened into a tiny roller coaster, maybe 20 feet up and down. After "Monster Hill," my body charged right through it. Best news of all: it was downhill from here.

Downhill running is its own art. I increased my turnover and focused on staying light. It was fun. My obliques kicked in, working to keep everything aligned as my legs pounded fast. I scanned for rocks, but still felt like a barrel rolling downhill.

I clocked my fastest race pace ever: 7:07 per mile.

And then - of course - I got passed. On a downhill. That doesn’t happen often. Her stride looked effortless, and she disappeared ahead. I had to laugh.

I stayed focused on form, but I was having way too much fun. Running fast without feeling out of breath? Magic. At the bottom, I checked my watch.

52 minutes.

One mile left.

Could I break an hour?

The final mile had a slight decline. I pushed. Hikers passed in the opposite direction. I was smiling, they smiled back. The vibe was warm and encouraging, and suddenly the finish line was right there.

I kicked it in, crossed the line, and stopped my watch.

1:01:01.

A new PR.

Shattering my old one of 1:27:36.

Time for some stretching and beach relaxation

Just Run

After a full day of meetings, work, and teaching, followed by eating and grocery shopping (the most important errand for runners, amirite?) I found myself at a fork (ha!) in the road:

To run… or not to run?

I was starving, so I decided it would be a rest day and that I’d run tomorrow. (Possibly the most overused excuse in the book.)

Instead, I sat down and read about running speed, convincing myself that a small part of me was still… running.

But let’s rewind for a moment - to when I first started running nearly three years ago. Back then, the only goal was finishing one mile. Keep your goals reasonable, they say, and with running, that advice somehow feels both true and wildly misleading.

The first time my feet hit the track, I wasn’t stopping, but I was definitely turtling along. I wasn’t chasing time. When I completed that final loop, I was so surprised I’d finished that I nearly forgot to stop my watch.

Beep.

9:45.

Even more surprising? I felt like I could keep going.

Soon, one mile felt manageable, so I tried two. You can see where this is going.

Eventually, running became routine. Two miles - boom, done. Three or four if I had the time. I was also cross-training and dancing a lot back then. Unlike my high school PE days, I actually enjoyed running.

A few months later, a new question popped up: How fast could I run a mile?

Closely followed by another: How far could I go?

At its core, speed comes down to a simple equation: stride length + cadence. But increasing both at the same time is tricky (and a great way to get injured, from my experience). Overstriding is a common pitfall: reaching too far forward so your foot lands ahead of your center of mass, creating a chain reaction of foot, knee, and hip issues. Plus… it’s just inefficient.

I’m no expert, but from personal experience, cadence is my stronger suit (thank you, years of metronome-based musician training). My stride tends to be on the shorter side, even when sprinting, I might hit 1.2 to 1.3 meters. A cadence around 171–174 feels like a comfortable jog, but holding 180? That’s a whole different beast.

And then there’s the real brain teaser: what if you can hit 180 steps per minute… but you’re still running 8-, 9-, or 10-minute miles?

Food for thought. That’s where the art of training comes in.

Running seems as simple as putting one foot in front of the other.

Or is it?

Declared Rest Day

Okay, I hereby declare today a rest day. Not because it’s Saturday, but because I’m genuinely surprised by how sore I am. My quads, hamstrings, and even my calves have all joined in on a collective whining session.

Taking notes on the track 

And here’s the surprising part: it wasn’t caused by running alone. Nope. It was caused by - brace yourself - I’m saying the G word, which I’ve been avoiding like the plague - the gym.

Over the last six months (okay… maybe more), I got a little carried away with just running and quietly neglected strength training, drills, and cross-training. It’s easy to do when it’s just you, your running buddies, and a trusty pair of shoes. (I’ll never forget that agonizing 10-mile loop last spring - huge thanks to Rod for pacing me from mile three-ish onward after I foolishly tried to hang with Mike and lost him two miles in.)

So yesterday, I temporarily parted ways with my running shoes and reintroduced myself to my longtime gym. Some famous athlete-turned-personal-trainer (name escapes me) once said: Choose a gym close to you, because you’ll actually go. So true. Unfortunately, the gym I committed to is about 25–30 minutes away. My runner logic says: Why sit that long when you could squeeze in a 5K? And yes, my friends will confirm - I do not sit still well. 😆

That said, when I realized my mile pace had slowed to about 9:30 per mile, nearly a full minute off my half-marathon PR pacing, I was, to put it mildly, horrified. I also finally admitted something I’d been avoiding: I hadn’t touched a treadmill, leg press, heavy free weights, or even a group exercise class since August 2016. Eight months ago.

Back in September and October, I raced four weekends in a row - 10K, 5K, half marathon, and 10 miler - and felt great. I even set a PR in the 10 miler. Then the holidays arrived… and I settled in too. Hard.

Suddenly I was sitting. Mostly sitting. Catching up with people over long meals, because, let’s be honest, runners are always saying things like, “Sorry, 8 p.m. is too late, I have to wake up at 3 a.m. for a race.” It felt nice to sit. One dessert turned into another. 

 

This is still healthy, right? Because it is a rainbow of colours.

Through all of this, I still ran for fun. I didn’t race in December, but I made sure I got my outdoor time. I kept things together enough to run a couple of January 5Ks and squeak in under 30 minutes - barely. That’s the sneaky thing about fitness: it can slip away without you noticing… if you never test it.

My times crept up - 30 seconds, then 50, then 60. I blamed sleep, reduced mileage, and the occasional late-night large meals (we’ve all been there). After all, I was still running! Mini miles count!

But when I found myself feeling winded near the 30-minute mark in 5Ks, knowing my PR is 27:11 on a true 3.1-mile course, I thought, Huh. That’s weird.

So… back to the gym. Time to rebuild some strength. Time to show up again. See if they bought new equipment. Or moved anything. Since it was such a drive, I committed to staying one full hour - a massive commitment for someone who prefers running and calling it a day.

I decided on a circuit-style workout: drills, weights, and a little jogging (because I couldn’t help myself). About 20 minutes in, I wanted to quit. I was breathing louder than the music blasting through the speakers. But I stuck it out for the full hour, wondering how I used to do this weekly, in a group class, no less.

And now… today.

I am feeling it.

The foam roller is my best friend. So are turmeric, avocados, and all the anti-inflammatory foods. And honestly? This feels like the perfect day to sit, recover, and blog.

Rest day officially approved.

Carlsbad 5000: All Day 20K

An "all day 20K" sounds long. All day? It is a test of endurance, though packed into short bursts of four 5K races. The Carlsbad 5000 attracts many runners, because of it's relatively flat and fast course in downtown, you guessed it, Carlsbad, CA. Each 5K was divided into the following groups:

Masters and Men over 40

Masters and Women over 40

Ages 20-29

Ages 30-39

So guess what the all day 20Kers did? 

We committed to all four races.

As soon as I heard about the 20K, my hand gravitated towards the "REGISTER" button. This would be a cool challenge, and if I was going to make the trek to San Diego, I might as well run four races instead of one, right? 

Plus, another question I had for myself was, would this be more difficult or easier than a half marathon? I had to find out. My hunch was this would be easier, because I had at least 30 minutes break between each race. But, 5Ks tend to be fast, so perhaps I would burn through more sugary carbs, and use more fast twitch muscles, yet need to rely on the endurance muscles to...endure this four times? 

The first race started at 6:55 am, which meant wake up was 4 am. It was chilly out, dark, and my first thought was, "Well...at least some people wake up at this hour." My mom kindly agreed to come along and be my cheerleader, photographer, and elite runner sidekick oogler. I opted for VIP parking, which cut down on the stress and time weaving through the road-closed downtown area. Totally worth it. 

The infamous row of Port-o-Potties

Because the course crossed the railroad tracks, the start times had to be adjusted with the train schedule. So a tad after 7 am, we were off! The majority of the runners were men over 40, and I definitely got passed up by guys twice my age. Like I said, this race attracts the speedsters!

The front of the pack looking very...speedy

I knew I had 3 more races to run, so I tried to pace ultra conservatively and not get too carried away with the speed of the others. Closed out the first mile in 8:49. A bit on the fast side for my strategy. 

I ended up hanging in there and pushing it and finishing in 28:20.

Pretty stoked, a little red, and already onto water bottle #2

I was feeling pretty good, and ready to take on the race #2, which was supposed to start around 8:12 but got pushed back to 8:26. Again, train schedule. I had grabbed some fruit and snacks at the finish line but wasn't hungry. Instead, I popped an energy gummy that tasted like a watered-down, jello'ed version of the Starburst candy. Hopefully it'd deliver some sugars to my muscles fast.

Race #2 with the Women's division felt better! Either because I had "warmed up" or was just enjoying running in mostly feminine energy. I finished in 29:45. Now, I was starting to feel hungry.

Eating anything I could get my hands on

The ladies taking off - I am not pictured because I was not in the  5 minute per mile corral :)

For race #3, I was starting to feel a bit fatigued. Wasn't sure if it was more mental than physical. I had been in "race mode" since 7 am, and it was now 9 am. If I were running a half marathon, I'd be nearing the finish line at this time.

But - the all day 20K was only half over. Race #3 slated to start at 9:26 am. I spend the time waiting and digesting several crackers and a blood orange. 

Originally, my goal was to run all four races under 30 minutes. Seemed reasonable at first, but going after how I felt, I changed it to just run all of them nonstop. No walking. That's one thing endurance running has taught me. Be adaptable. 

I ran it in 31:37. 

Ok, more like ran-jogged. My legs were starting to feel like steel. Not in the power way, but the weight way. 

Yug.

So my finishing picture after race #3 is more of a starting energy for race #4. I got this!!!!!

By 10:30, the final race was off. Three and a half hours after the initial race. 

We ran the same course, so this time around it was like running in auto pilot. Oddly enough, it didn't seem long, as repetition can make things, at least mentally, seem much longer. In fact, it felt faster than the first race, even though I know I "snailed" out on this one. 

Non-stop running got me a finish time of 32:29 for the fourth and final leg.

I was glad to be done. Didn't have much more energy to do another 5K. 

However, it did make for some pretty data: 

I was ready to now be a spectator and watch some of the elite races that followed us. It was awe inspiring to see these runners clocking in 13, 14, 15 minute 5Ks. 

Stride length goals, among many others

Awesome!

I left the race physically tired, but mentally refreshed and inspired...hey that rhymed!

Was it easier than a half marathon? No way. I thought the waiting times between the races would be an advantage, but it feels like getting the miles done in one go is easier, provided you pace yourself well in the beginning.

Running For The Love of Running 5K

The name of the race says it all - running for the love of running.

Yes, I love running. There are some days where I don't like running. I feel like running away from running. Running to the kitchen to eat because I'm bored - but know I don't want to run.

But most of the time, I love running. If I wake up with a knee or hip tweak, I'm bummed. If I see it's raining out, I'm bummed. Worse of all, if I sleep in and realize that at 7:30 am it's already 75 degrees and sunny out, I'm bummed.

When the sun's out - time to be lazy

But this morning, rain or shine - I was ready to take on this 5K. This is my second race of 2017.

I don't race for medals, or the bragging rights, or because I have nothing better to do at 6 am on Saturdays or Sundays. The real race is against myself, seeing if I can better a PR, test out a new technique, a new nutrition plan. Being out there with other runners, finding out what their backgrounds and stories are, is what it's mostly about.

Different people exploring the same trail

I show up to Long Beach Marina Park - close to 7 am, to pick up my bib number. Parking's open and easy, as long as you don't choose the streets. There are runners doing their warm ups, high knees, sudden sprints. They look serious. Then you have runners who are clearly in it for the fun and social reasons, dressed up in costumes - but who knows, they could be speedily legit. Remember the guy who ran a half marathon in a full suit? A new record was set for that recently. To each his own.

What I like about the company who organizes these races, A Better World Running, is that they keep their races relatively small (under 400 people total for all the race lengths), they are about personal goal achievement, and they keep their entry fees lower than the average. That's because they do away with the t-shirts. I checked my closet and I have plenty of race tees I hardly ever wear. I recommend checking out their races, as they put on a several a month. You do get a finisher medal, and the usual race swag of samples. Plus I like how they allow you to pick up your bib on race morning, rather than the day before. Some of us live outside the area, so it saves us that extra trip.

Next to the Start/Finish line. Low key, diverse, and organized!  

A few minutes before race time, they announced the course, how it was marked, and what to expect. There were no corrals or pacers. Just a few simple words, and we were off.

Running along the beach on the cement path was refreshing! It had rained the night before, giving the air this crispness that my lungs desperately needed, not even 1 mile in. My pace wasn't outstanding, and certainly not my fastest - but I pushed on and tried to enjoy the run. I was glad to see the turn around mark, and knew I was half way there. Usually my tactic is to run each mile a few seconds faster, but by mile 2.5 I felt myself dialing back a bit. A quick snapshot of my holiday glutton and parties flashed in my mind, but now was certainly not the time to dwell on all the less-than-ideal foods consumed, and how much more couch contact time I'd had. I focused on my breathing exercise, and before I knew it, the finish line was in sight.

Goooo for it!! That's the thing about 5Ks, you have to go fast. Unlike half marathons, or even 10Ks, there's really no warm up mile, a pacing strategy of building up speed. Once you're off running in a 5K, you're running. Running as if the finish line were 100 m away.

An (unflattering) reminder of efforts during the final 100 yards

When I crossed the finish line, the lady with the stopwatch was saying, "Okay, 1, 2.....and 3." She handed me a medal, then some volunteers handed me another medal (the finishers one). What?? Looking closely, turns out I also received an overall 2nd place finish for womens. WOW. Was not expecting that. All 3 top women finishers finished within 10 seconds of one another. In fact, all of us were surprised, and we took turns snapping pictures for one another. For the lady who won first, this was her first 5K. Awesome!

And that's what I loved about this race -- it welcomed people of all ages and abilities, and promotes running for the sake of running. 

Continuing To Run: The Great Chocolate Race

Ok, I'll admit - the race title sounds enticing. The Great Chocolate Race? Epic and appetizing.

But that's not why I signed up.

I signed up because it was the perfect re-entry race post holiday season glutton where for once, your social schedule and took precedence over your running schedule. It's the times of saying, "My 5 mile run tomorrow can wait. Let's just go out and have ice cream anyway!"

But once December was coming to a close, you know that common resolution to still fit in your clothes - time to get back on track, literally.

With the run taking place the last weekend in January, there was enough time to prep for the mileage - in this case, I opted for the 5K and not the 10-Miler, though my computer mouse hovered over "sign up" for the 10-Miler a few times.

Plus, a few friends were joining me for the race and so the 5K it was.

The race started at 7:30 am, and I'm all for early start times. The cooler, the better. But it was a while since I'd done a run so early and near the water, so it was awfully chilly. I kept my brown - OK, chocolate colored jacket on to find the bib pick up station. Wasn't quite the simplest task and I clocked in about a 1 mile walk just roaming around. I didn't mind since it was a nice warm up.

Queued up at the start, not a tank top in sight!

Once we got running, I found it a beautiful course, weaving through the Long Beach Marina with the Queen Mary and then rounding about home near the shopping mall.

After the finish line, we all got to enjoy hot chocolate and received a small box of Godiva chocolates - no doubt one of the biggest draws to the race. 

Doing the iconic pose - not like the medals were chocolate coins or anything 

Global Energy 10K

Excited to have #RunAsOne with 37 cities around the globe this morning. What is even more exciting is that this race is a Guinness World Record attempt - the most number of cities participating in the same race on the same day.

37 cities, 22 countries, 1 race!

Bimbo Bakeries, the host, will donate two slices of bread to the Los Angeles Regional Food Bank for every 1 kilometer each runner completes. That translates to one loaf of bread per 10K.

The race started at the Marina Green Park, looped around the Shoreline Marina, then continued along the beach path. After making a U-turn at Belmont Pier, we ran back on the flattest and straightest part of the course towards the finish line.

The 10K course is USATF certified, meaning that the distance is legitimately measured, and more importantly, for a performance to be accepted as a record, or nationally ranked, it must be run on a USATF certified course.

It took me slightly under 1 hour to run -- and to complete my loaf of bread donation!

I thought the race tees were a great colour, so I wore it to a Greek Festival where I'm devouring feta fries like nothing else on Earth.

Keeping it global!