Orcas Island 100

OK, fine! I'll finally finish this race report. 

 I ran the Orcas Island 100 at the end of February. In the months since, I've been through a big snowstorm in Reno, been to Yucca Valley, and DC twice. Most importantly, I'm not sore or injured. I struggled through a two-mile run the day before, day after, and two days after the race, and got back up to 70 miles for the weeks since. I'd call the race a success.

I signed up for it because I wanted an early season race with a lot of climbing. Orcas provided. There aren't many races in winter due to weather, but Orcas, on one of the San Juan islands in Washington, manages (if sometimes barely). The race is four times around the same 25-mile loop, each with four aid stations and four big climbs, for a total of 26,500 feet of climbing.

The course is shaped like a neck pillow with a lobster claw attached to it. If that doesn't make any sense to you, that's how it felt running it. The trail is almost always under tree cover, with one hairpin turn of a road climb, a man-made tower on the top of another climb and some rocks nearby basically the only views. That made it very hard to tell which direction I was headed, and there was no sense of following a natural line, like in the Sierra or another big mountain range. No natural "over the pass," "down the next valley," "follow the ridge," etc.---none of that. 

The weather is often very cold, windy, and rainy, possibly with a little snow at the top of the climbs and a serious risk of hypothermia. This year however, was easy, with only a little rain overnight. I ran in pants the entire time, with a t-shirt and a long-sleeve baselayer. I carried a waterproof jacket, gloves, and a buff the whole time, and wore all those for some portion of the race.

So there are a lot of reasons one might reasonably expect I wouldn't like this race. But it was excellent. 

I flew to Seattle Thursday morning, picked up a Prius I rented through Turo (in case I wanted to sleep in the back) right at the curb, grabbed a veggie burger and some snacks, and drove to the Anacortes ferry terminal with 5 minutes to spare before the cutoff time. (Give yourself more time than this.) 

 

It's a Friday race and there's a "mandatory" Thursday evening pre-race meeting, which, as always, didn't seem like it rose to the level of mandatory. But it was actually useful because the co-RD mentioned dietary restrictions in relation to the aid stations and encouraged anyone with questions to come ask her for details. So I did, and she knew exactly what vegan options each aid station would have. "The bread's vegan. One will have a tomato soup that's vegan, one has a lentil soup that's vegan ... they'll all have veggie broth," etc. She herself is vegan. This was a game changer. During the race I specifically asked aid stations "The RD said there'd be some vegan cheese; could I get a vegan quesadilla?" Not all volunteers know the exact inventory, which is fine, but one would say "oh, yeah, we've got that" and dig it out, and get me what I needed. To be clear, vegan cheese and straight veggie broth don't taste very good, but the RD knowing and sharing the inventory was awesome. 

(Have other races done this and I've just been complaining obliviously for the last 18 years? Seriously, this felt awesome. Early on, the spread at some of the aid stations felt a bit snack heavy and light on the substantive food, but it improved as nighttime came around.)

After the pre-race meeting I went to bed early in a bunk house. Or tried to. I specifically rented a Prius so I could sleep in it, because I feared sharing a bunkhouse with a snorer. But after looking at a map and seeing how small the island is and reading the pre-race RD emails, I figured there might not be a place to park and easily crash in the back, so I rented a bunk--the race is headquartered in a state park at a youth summer camp facility. Everybody was quiet in the bunk house and tried to go to bed early, but I still slept poorly because it was sweltering in the cabin. Just turn down the thermostat, you say. OK, which direction is that?

Dammit

Do I have to explain why this is terrible design? OK, I admit basically all thermostats turn the same direction, but that typically lines up a higher number with an arrow or something. This lines up a dot with the word saying the opposite of what you want. The designer of this thermostat can go straight to hell with the designer of Palm Beach County's 2000 butterfly ballot.

Anyway, we suffered through the night, and eventually figured it out in the morning when it was light out and far too late. The race started at a civilized 8am, so I plenty of time for my three poops, and my first few climbs went well.

Climb One

Climb One

I finished my first loop in 5:30 or so, running with a very strong runner I met at Tor des Geants a few years ago, Mark Vogel. I left the aid station at the top of the last climb on the first loop a few seconds ahead of him, and then never saw him again, because he didn't bother with the optional Tower Club climbs, and continued to crush it, while I slowed down drastically.  

The next loop took me about 7.5  hours. The third loop was the roughest: mostly in the dark and it took me 8.5 hours. I got back on track a little on the last loop and finished it in 8 hours, for a total of 29:53. 

Loop 4 Climb One?

I am pretty happy with that. Of course I felt very tired immediately after, but it was a lot of fun to hang out with other finishers and eat pizza and drink beer as everyone else came in. I spent Saturday night in the bunkhouse (this time with the thermostat figured out). There was a very nice breakfast and slideshow by the race photographer at a small theater in the village on the island, but I had ferry tickets and friends in Seattle to visit, so I got to socialize a bit but had to leave right as the show started.

Finished

 

 

This is what Amy says I look like the whole time I'm running. Really, I'm enjoying it.

 Other photos of me by the race photographer [1, 2, 3]  (really, they're very good.)