There’ve been many times in my life when I’ve encountered moments where the choice of flight was never really an option. And the clarity of fight was an all-or-nothing endeavor. The 26th edition of the Tamalpa Headlands 50k was, without a doubt, one of the most all-or-nothing moments I’ve ever experienced—ever.
Most race recaps stick to the basic facts of the event. This is a race director’s story, and it all started when I was a little kid growing up in Mississippi. Well, kind of, but not really. Yes, I did grow up in Mississippi, but that’s not the start of this story. More on that later.
Last year was my freshman year putting on this race. It had its own unique challenges, but all in all, things worked out and its success catapulted this year’s event into hyperdrive.
With two months to go this year, we sold out, having the biggest field in the race’s history. For the first time ever, we had a waitlist. A week before race day, I was able to get the last remaining waitlist individuals in.
A month before the race, part of our course closed due to a rockslide. With enough time to plan, I made a reroute up the Dipsea Trail from Stinson Beach. To maintain a true 50k, I added a little extra sauce including the original beach crossing at Rodeo Beach which used to be the official start for many years.
While the RD might be the “director,” this race would not happen without the glue that are our volunteers. Between our course director, Ken Michal, volunteer director, Michael Li, Inside Trail Racing’s Craig Schmidt and my ever-helpful behind-the-scenes wife and partner in all things, Jena Rose, we managed to raise one of the finest crews I’ve ever had the chance to work with. With a team this awesome, I knew we could accomplish anything.
The day dawned with a beautiful orange-red sky. As I awoke to that view (I slept in the open box truck at our start/finish area because that’s what dirtbagger RDs do) I had a moment of pause. We brewed a special beer for the race called “Runner’s Warning Red IPA.” The name was a play on “Red sky in morning, sailor’s take warning,” relating to the sunrise over our course’s incredible ocean views. Was it an omen?
As we approached go-time, I rallied the eager runners toeing the line at the start. I asked them to take it all in because it would be the only moment we’re ever here together in that space and time. And with that, they were off.
Forty minutes later, I received a text from Ken and the state park ranger that a car had crashed directly on top of the course, blocking the Matt Davis Trail. You read that right. A car was upside down on top of the trail. When it was determined that runners would not be able to get around it, we went into fight mode. We looked at every course alteration option. The weight of making this race the most amazing experience for 279 runners was immense. With the clock ticking, it came down to a decision to send everyone down the Dipsea Trail, which was part of our return course, and then back up, after reaching the Stinson Beach aid station. Despite the obvious confusion it caused the runners as they crossed the finish line, there seemed to not be a soul upset that they had run a distance shortened by approximately 1.5 miles.
Our returning men’s champ, Cole Campbell, dropped to the ground and said, “I’m glad it wasn’t any longer.” One by one, as runners arrived back to the finish at Santos Meadow, many had similar sentiments.
Massive congrats to our course and USATF winners (this was a USATF 50k Trail Championship race), Cole Campbell and Taylor Tuttle. Our top three men, including Liam Meirow and Spencer Fergusun-Dryden, finished less than one minute apart. On the women’s side, the battle for third place was intense, with Ellaney Matarese, Julia Vasquez Giguere and Jennifer Schmidt all about 2 minutes apart. Our youngest finisher was 16-year-old Avery Gaffney, and in the elder statesperson division, Errol “Rocket” Jones showed the kids how it’s done at the spritely age of 75. The Rising Star Award winner, Zhang Ronjin, made it to the line with 5 minutes to spare before the final cutoff.
As the day’s events settled, and we awarded our top ten male and female USATF finishers their proper placement recognition, the unfortunate reality sank in. Our course was short and official course records had to be upheld. Although the incredibly fast times would not count as official CRs, given the day’s circumstances, all were still basking in their achievements. Liam’s response to it all was, “Course records in trail are overrated anyways.”
This year’s performances were stout, with a 90% finisher rate. Would they have broken records that day? Despite unseasonably humid weather slowing many folks down, it would have been close. Regardless, it was insanely exciting.
For the first time ever, we had a legit livestream crew helmed by Jesse Ellis. Ultra commentator royalty, “Tropical” John Medinger (TJ), and The Stats Master, Schuyler Hall, did the play-by-play calls all day. At one point I asked TJ about the most difficult experience he had ever encountered as a storied RD. He replied, “You had a car crash on your trail. I can’t top that.” My favorite interview moment of the day was with our Kid’s One Mile Challenge winner, Evie Hoagland, part of the Hoagland ultra-family. I asked her if she’d ever want to run as far as her mom and dad. Her response was, “I’m not so sure.”
When all was said and done and any trace of what had happened there in the meadow was gone (I’m usually the last to leave a party), I had a moment to pause, look around, and take in the deepest gratitude I’ve felt in a very long time. In that same celebratory moment of life, I thought about the individual involved in the car accident. Reports I received indicated that not all was good. At the final writing of this, I’m still unsure of their condition, and it haunts me.
The ways in which lives can collide with each other, literally and figuratively, for good or bad, and how we’re able to absorb those interactions come all the way back to that kid in Mississippi. See? It is part of the story. One of the greatest skills my dad taught me was to be a problem-solver. When we run at these events, we prepare as best as we can for the unexpected. Fight-or-flight. All-or-nothing. We endure. That’s the heart of our sport, and it strengthens our lives. I sincerely hope the driver of the car is recovering, and that they can continue on in this world with all the vigor of an ultrarunner.
The time we have running this “ultra” called life may be limited, but the strength, joy and love that our tribe creates, makes it all worth living.
Until next year, Tamalpa Headlands 50k. Peace, love and trail dirt.
Full results here.