Tamalpa Headlands 50k: My First Ultra

On a typical August “Fogust” morning at Santos Meadow near Muir Beach, California, I arrived at the start of the Tamalpa Headlands 50k at 7:07 a.m. With just 23 minutes until the start of the race, I grabbed my goodie bag and bib number and headed to the bathrooms. On the start line, 250 men and women carrying various water vessels shifted around me. At 7:30, we were off, and I found myself in front of a group of ladies discussing their heart rate race plan within the first mile. Going up the first hill, they all passed me.

Margie heading onto the Redwood Creek Trail.

During the first half, I found myself struggling with how to handle the competitive aspect of the race. In high school and college, I often ran near the front of the field, but running 31 miles and over 6,500 feet of elevation gain in a competitive ultrarunning field was a completely foreign experience. I had to swallow my pride and be more conservative than I wanted to be.

Still, I found others to compete with. For the first 22 miles of the race, I found myself going back and forth with several of the same people whom I had given nicknames to. There was “Friendly Dad,” who checked to see if I was okay when he passed me as I was walking 5 miles in. There was “Courtney Dauwalter Dupe”—with blond hair and baggy clothes—who I ran behind on the coastal trail. There was a girl with “Impressive Calves” and my unofficial uphill pacer, “Yellow Tank Man.” There was “Green Shirt Man” who grunted every breath like a rallying tennis player, and there was my closest competitor, “Baseball Cutoff Girl” (named for her striped tank top that resembled a baseball uniform).

About 22 miles in, runners descend the Matt Davis Trail, which loses about 1,500 feet of elevation in 2.5 miles. Up until that point, I was feeling pretty good. I had taken the ups and downs in stride, walked liberally and stuck to a successful eating and drinking plan. Three weeks of training on the East Coast helped me train for the unusual humidity brought on by Hurricane Hilary. I even felt confident enough to pass Baseball Cutoff Girl for the third time.

The early morning fog started to burn off by mid-day near Pantoll Campground on Mount Tamalpais.

Fog obscured the beautiful golden hills and views of Stinson and halfway down, the steep, never-ending switchbacks took their toll. By the time I reached the bottom, my energy was sapped. I was forced to walk much of the next 3.6 miles uphill and was convinced the entire field would catch up to me.  

When I reached the last aid station, my quads were cramping and I questioned whether I could run the rest of the race. A volunteer refilled my bottles while I pounded potato chips. Suddenly, my quads loosened. A sign said, “3.8 miles left.” Revived, I began running faster than I had since the first mile.

I finally made it to the Heather Cutoff, the final mile of the race. As I traversed down the switchbacks, I heard familiar wheezing: Green Shirt Man. In front of him, I saw Baseball Cutoff Girl. Despite my exhaustion, I reached deep into the tank and took off.

Margie charging down Heather Cutoff towards the finish line at Santos Meadow.

When I came off the hill to the final stretch, I could barely control my seizing muscles. I willed them forward and finally crossed the finish line in 5:54:00, just 44 seconds in front of Baseball Cutoff Girl and 63 seconds before Green Shirt Man. I was the 14th woman to finish and came in over 90 minutes behind the winner, but in my imaginary race between myself, Baseball Cutoff Girl and Green Shirt Man, I had won.

 The Tamalpa Headlands 50k wasn’t exactly easy, smooth or romantic. But I did get to accomplish a long-time goal, and experienced ultrarunning in all its glory: the grueling climbs and descents, the ultimately meaningless battles with strangers and the satisfaction of pushing my body further than ever before.

2023 Tamalpa Headlands 50k Results