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Coastal Challenge Days Five and Six: The Lost Boy

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Well excuuuuusssseeee meeeeeeeee for missing a day, but you see, I’ve been doing a little running, and the crankiness factor got overbearing. Not to mention that on Day Five (Thursday) of our most excellent adventure, which ended at the Pacific Ocean in the hot and dry region of Guanacaste, there was nary an Internet Café and no electricity –  we had to cart in a generator to camp (which we did a couple of other days, too). This experience has taught me at least one thing:

I’m friggin’ spoiled.

Back in California, I can find an Internet connection practically anywhere –  even on the rump of a French poodle as it preens through Fashion Island with its Botoxed owner. Heck, in Orange County, we disguise cell phone towers as palm trees. Here, the palm trees are real, and good luck getting wired in the backcountry, where most of this alleged “run” has taken place. There are other means of getting wired, but this report is rated PG -- for Pretty Gaseous.

So, if I can, let me think back to Day Five…ah, yes! I remember (several days in the tropics has a way of turning one’s brain to mush, making me feel like voting for Brent Romney in Tuesday’s primary –  the horror!) The Expedition category runners (there are 20 of us left) started the day with an 11-k time trial of sorts, with the slowest runners starting first, the next starting a minute later, etc. The idea was to inject a little fun and competition into matters –  or give us a chance to look at other butts for a change. I ran well and passed three runners. Not sure what my finishing time was (I long ago gave up caring, really) but I finished 7th, I think. We all ran fast.

Then we sat around for a couple of hours waiting for a bus, and were joined by the 20 Adventure category runners who were still alive. Then all 40 of us ran a 22K. So, basically, I ran two races on Thursday –  for a total of about 23 miles (sorry, but these people do everything in metric down here. Go figure).

Waiting between runs was tough, because it got nasty hot. We didn’t start the second race until close to noon –  when it was roughly the temperature of a Starbucks Venti Americano (can you tell I miss them?).

We had a big payoff at the end of Thursday –  almost as nice as the waterfall at the end of  Wednesday: Our first glimpse of the beach! We camped at Bahia Junquilla, on the Pacific Ocean. The water was gorgeous, slightly warmer than Orange County (and with less runoff and fewer dead bodies of depressed home owners), as well as very salty. I didn’t swim much. The exhaustion of the entire week seemed to come crashing down on me, and I was zonked out the rest of the day and night (my normal state of mind back home).

I got another massage after Thursday’s run –  this time, a relaxing one that didn’t cause me to go into spasms of agony. The sun set as my masseuse worked me over. I gotta tell ya: It was one of the best ways I’ve ever experience day dissolving into night. And for $25, the massages last a good 90 minutes.

Articulating what all of the runners are feeling is, of course, foolhardy but I think there are common things we all can relate to –  one of these things being a sense of accomplishment, regardless of how fast we are running.

As you sit at home reading this, sucking down a martini or a caramel latte or whatever (something with caffeine, to give you the energy to get through this), and if you happen to notice the finishing times, you might think: “What a bunch of wimps! Why are they taking so long to run so-and-so many miles?’’

Not to make excuses, but this course is unreal in terms of how rugged it is. The hills are very steep and technical, the brush sometimes feels like barbed-wire whacking against your legs, and the sun bakes your brains. The most challenging trails here would be off-limits at home. Rain in El Moro? A stroll down the marble corridors of South Coast Plaza…

Here are some of the challenges one faces when doing a multi-stage endurance run:

* A serious lack of sleep. Almost none of us are sleeping well. Sometimes your body hurts too much to relax, sometimes the people in the nearby tent are chatting away, sometimes the ground is too hard –  and sometimes the poker party never ends. Then there are those tiresome, all-night sessions with the local barnyard animals. I know, sick joke. Ahem. Sorry.

I have not slept more than three hours each night –  usually only two. We’ve all been going to bed around 8 and getting up between 4 and 5 to prepare for our runs. Preparing takes time, as we have to break down our tents and get our running gear ready in the dark. Then we eat (I’ve discovered the value of food before a long run) and we’re off! The race organizers are very good about keeping us all on track. They know the danger of keeping us out on the trails in the heat of the day.

* New food. Let’s just say that a lot of people are having stomach issues. I’ve been OK –  well, yeah. OK. Nothing out of the ordinary. But several runners have succumbed to leaky-spigot syndrome.

* The cumulative effect of running every day. First of all, I wouldn’t even call this a run. It’s a grueling adventure –  a test of mind and body. There’s a lot of slogging through water and mud and over rocks and tree limbs and branches and through steams and cow crud, etc. I’d say out of the 135 miles we ran (I ran more; more on that later!) only about 30 were on relatively unobstructed, non-technical fire road.

There are several things that can go wrong when doing something like the Coastal Challenge:

* Getting hurt. Do this early on, and your whole week is over. Just stepping on a rock or root the wrong way can do this –  or lugging your stuff to and from the truck to camp. One  runner, Jackie Windh, hurt her knee at the end of Day Three. She doesn’t know how she injured it –  overuse, she figures -- but it started bugging her and she had to withdraw from the event.

* Getting lost. I’m exhibit No. 1 in this category. More on this later. It’s pretty funny, in a sad and pathetic way. This happened to several people. The race used neon orange markings on trails, trees, fence posts, rocks, cows’ asses (joke) but it still was difficult at times to find them. Some were ribbons that blew in what seems to be a perpetual wind (not the perpetual wind one has after El Torito’s Sunday brunch. I know, I like potty humor. You noticed?)

* Heat exhaustion. I typically carried between 80 and 120 ounces of water with me, and still worried about running out. Aid stations sometimes were 10 miles apart, and a few times that was far enough away for me to almost exhaust my supply. I constantly drank. Day Five bugged me the most, heat-wise, as we approached the beach. I would say it was in the 90s easily –  maybe 100 degrees.

* Animals/insect bites. There weren’t any major incidents this year. One dude got bit by a fire ant in a hotel, but out here, that’s like saying you chipped your nail. A cow ran with runners, I ran a bit with a dog, etc. Funny, I thought I would be inundated with a lot of animals and snakes and insects, but I saw fewer than those that live in my bedroom. I saw a monkey in some park in some town (how’s that for journalistic details? Haha!) but, he lived in the park –  not exactly a primate living in the wild. Snakes? Never saw one –  unless I count an state-side attorney wallowing by a pool at the Best Western Irazu in the capital, San Jose.

Perhaps I doth bitch too much?

Well, as I inferred, my crankiness level hit a 10 out of 10 on Thursday night.

So, on to Friday, our last day of running –  a brilliant day of relatively short running and lots of lounging by a swimming pool and –  yes! –  hot showers! Hallelulah! I cannot understate the joy of knowing I will not have to pitch a tent tonight! Yippie!

I started Friday ranked No. 11 –  I had a lock on it if I just ran normally. (OK, I know I said earlier that I don’t care much about my finishing time, but come on –  a solid week of running with people makes it impossible not to feel competitive.)

All I had to do Friday was go steady and I would remain No. 11. A woman from Britain, Nikki MacLeod, was 12 minutes behind me. She was my biggest threat. The course today was fireroad with very mild uphills and a couple of coastal reef runs tossed in for fun.

No problem, right? Wrong.

I was doing great, running with a guy named Chris Hacker (fine dude), and was 75 percent done with the run, when Chris said he saw Nikki approaching us from behind.

“See ya!”   I said, and took off without looking back.

I turned on the jets and zoomed away. I felt awesome. I also felt like a bit of a jerk. My comeuppance would come very soon.

I ran about 1.5 miles along a reef (rock-hopping is more accurate) and then made the biggest mistake I’ve made all week, with only about four miles to the finishing line (think of that: four miles out of 135):

I missed a turn.

Yes, I missed a turn.

Long story short, I ended up running an extra loop. I estimate it was five to six miles; my Garmin watch stopped working a couple of days ago. I had to retrace my 1.5 miles on the reef and my mistake cost me a full hour, knocking me clear down to No. 14 in the final standings.

Yes, I finished 14 –  instead of 11.

Those of you who know me well know that No. 14 is my favorite number, so there’s some poetry in my final ranking.

Funny, Nikki never passed Chris. If I wouldn’t have gotten all macho and had just continued running with Chris, who did NOT miss the turn, I would have remained No. 11 in the final standings. But nnnnnnnnnoooooooooooooooooo! I had to get competitive. Actually, I think this is all pretty funny –  and very instructive (at least for me).

I was upset at first about getting lost, but soon my mood lifted. Soon, I stopped to think: about what I was doing in Costa Rica, about why I run –  about why Paris Hilton still is a celebrity, etc.

Then, when I retraced my run along the reef, I started feeling an overwhelming sense of joy. The sun was beating down but there was a cool breeze and the water glittered. The scenery was gorgeous. And inside, I was happy. Completely.

I remembered that in running and in life, it’s important to take time to look around –  not to just plow ahead. To savor things. To not just exist with blinders on –  doing that, to some degree, is unavoidable. The trick, I think, is to widen the blinders as much as you can so you can take in more of what is around you. You can miss a lot of things when you go too fast.

Running has taught me this.

I was thinking these thoughts while I was running along the northwestern-most tip of Costa Rica. I could see Nicaragua to my left, across the bay. I had screwed myself over time-wise by getting lost, but I could have cared less. I was thrilled to be alive and to be so close to finishing this awesome adventure.

In many ways, I did not want it to end. But I knew it was time. I was ready.

As a write this, I am sitting in the lobby of the Bolanos Bay Resort –  an airy, plantation-style hotel. It faces the beautiful bay Bahia Salinas. The wind is blowing. It is drying my freshly washed hair (Pantene, baby). I am in Central America, of all places -- at the nexus of two countries.

One of these countries –  Costa Rica –  I feel I now know well, having run 135 (for me, 140) miles across it, through dripping-wet jungles, across wind-swept plains, through dusty, charming villages, through steep canyons molasses-thick with dried-out tree limbs and lashing brush and jagged rocks, across highways with no medians, along white-sand beaches, over slippery black boulders, down fireroads pocked with water-filled holes and peppered with cow dung, down gravel paths, up a log staircase –  I think that pretty much covers it. 

Yes, I got lost today. Sometimes you need to do that to discover where you’re going.

Greg

***

For more coverage on the Coastal Challenge beside the event’s home page (www.thecoastalchallenge.com), visit www.sleepmonsters.com and click “race reports

Voices from the Jungle

Liz babe, I hope you’re still following Greg’s blog. I look forward to reading the recap of everything we went through when I get back.   Every day has truly been an adventure and things have improved for me markedly over the last two, such that the finish has been satisfying. But alas, now that the journey is done, I am anxious to get back to the week before, if you know what I mean. While I rest here on the ocean shore, looking across the waves at Nicaragua, there is only one thing missing to make this beautiful scene complete. Love ya and look forward to seeing you soon!!!
--- Chris Hacker

Wed 1/30 - Coastal Challenge Runner Report - Day 4

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This will be short, as I am on deadline…sitting at Hacienda Guachipalin, a resort in a national park at the base of a volcano. The animals are singing, a live Costa Rica band is playing (hard to describe, but it’s delightful) and it’s dark and breezy. So much to say but little time. I want to thank Coach Charlie for all his work in posting my ludicrous ramblings. He’s the man! Thanks, bro! I owe you a Costa Rican massage minus the happy ending. Pick the woman of your choice to give it to you, because there are laws about that. There are nice finishes to long runs and there are really nice finishes. Day Four of the Coastal Challenge must have one of the best in the world. After a long 31-mile slog that got intensely hot in the second half, the race ended with a mile-long swim/bouldering session up a river, ending at a gushing, powerful waterfall. With rubber legs after 30 miles of running, it was difficult to maneuver through the water and over the slippery rocks, but my oh my: what a gorgeous, incredible way to end what so far has been the most enjoyable stage for me. (Alas, no photos of end, since we had to swim.) And this was the stage I was dreading the most. I can’t explain it, but I felt great the entire run –  and finished 10th! So many people have dropped out of the tougher Expedition Category (there were 35; now there are 20) that I’m just happy to still be ranking in the top tier. Maybe it's the 15 RECOVER-ease I took last night; stuffs magic. This was the first day where I could actually run for a sustained period (five or six miles) without having to get all Indiana Jones and hike through a freaking jungle, or walk up a long tortuous hill –  though today started with just that. But this is not about me and how fast I finish. This is about experiencing life with all of my senses. My brain can’t keep up with everything. At one point today, I sensed a bird was landing on me only to discover it was a very large mosquito. I wasn’t too worried as it was soon eaten by a swooping Teradactyle. “Land of the Lost” came to mind. Random stuff: * Three women from Quebec are here, raising $5,000 for breast cancer research. In their late 20s. None of them hardcore runners. Just good people. * A Canadian father is running with his two sons. So nice to see that. * Again, I am amazed at how smooth-running a machine this roving-camp operation is. Incredible. But yeah, having to set up camp every night and take it down in the dark before running is incredibly draining. Thursday is last night of camping. Then we’re at beach hotel for awards/drunkfest. * Saw a fabulous sunset. We are getting near the coast. * The course designer’s grandfather used to be president of Costa Rica –  which explains how he was able to secure access through so much private land. I asked him how he designed such an amazing course. “I just run until I get lost, and pick my favorite trails,’’ Rodrigo said. * Got a tick on my leg. Pulled it off before it was too late. * A tiny white dog ran all the way with us on days one and two (about 50 miles, the same route we did), and a couple have adopted her. She was a stray. They named her Tica, for female Costa Ricans. So amazing. * Having some chafing issues in, er, sensitive areas, despite liberal applications of Vaseline. Otherwise, despite being sore after completing 90-plus some miles, am feeling great. I can’t explain it. Of course, there are two more days. We’ll see how I hold up. Man, this run is nuts. Hugely challenging, but hugely rewarding. The ceviche alone has  been worth it. Greg Hardesty ADDITIONAL PHOTOS

UPDATED LEADER BOARD RESULTS, CLICK HERE.

Tues 1/29 - Coastal Challenge Runner Report - Day 3

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So I decided to get a massage last night (only $25) after the long, hard torture of Day Two.

The massage was more painful.

In Costa Rica, “massage” apparently means “Make Pathetic and Rapidly Getting Skinny White Boy Scream like a Baby” –  which I did. A local man worked me over for longer than a hour, like I were a blob of pink Play-Doh and he was trying to create, I dunno, a different version of myself. Three inches shorter. A little less muscle mass here. A pesky internal organ tossed out here. You know.

At several points during this alleged massage, Guillermo Rojas, 26, a physical therapist from Cartago, Costa Rica, used the “compression” method of jamming his thick thumb into a muscle and holding it in position for a minute. I nearly cried. It hurt like hell. But, he was right: Today, Day Three, my legs felt better. Rojas and the other three physical therapists who charge such a low fee for such a masterful service are true professionals. Every day after a run, a symphony of groans, screams and cries bellow out of the massage tent –  proof they are doing .

The day after my massage, my legs wereabout the only thing on my aching bod that wasn’t killing me. But I am getting ahead of myself.

I want to talk about roving camps.

It’s amazing how much logistics go into staging a multi-day expedition race. We have a Costa Rican nutritionist who designs all the menus, and a staff of cooks who whip out high-carb creations like tuna and beans, black beans, tortillas and beans, eggs and beans, coffee and beans. We’re in bean heaven here –  and many are in bean hell. Anyway, first thing in the morning, our food is awaiting us. Two of the three days we’ve camped we’ve had buildings to dine and hang around in (community centers in tiny villages).

There’s one physician, one nurse practitioner and a podiatrist who been have kept busy  tending to blisters and mostly other foot-related problems. There have been a couple of sprains, but nothing more serious.

“Because we’re out in the middle of nowhere, anything can happen in these races,’’ said Leslie Iverson, a nurse practitioner from Portland who is medical director of the Coastal Challenge. “We have to be prepared for anything, from simple problems to a major medical emergency like severe dehydration and heat exhaustion and major trauma.’’

Stop, Leslie. You’re scaring me.

After all, Day Four is tomorrow. And all of those things, I am told, are very possible.

Anyway, for medical aid, local ambulances also are out on the course. They provide a serious mental boost. I know if a howler monkey decides to try to suffocate me in his feces, the good folks at the local ambulance company will be there to help, shovel in hands and Oust in their cans.

Today was the first day we had time to kill. The camaraderie here is amazing. Right now, a Spanish runner, Javier, is holding an impromptu chat session with six local children in a cafeteria of a school –  our base camp today and tonight. Javier is telling the children about Spain, and they are telling him about Costa Rica. Beautiful stuff.

Funny, I didn’t realize this was a school. It’s such a small village

A local woman is selling ceviche for $3 –  some of the best I’ve ever had. Shirts and trinkets also are available for purchase. I am carrying little money. I wish I had more.

Costa Rica is such a chilled place –  in a tropical climate.

So, Day Three –  allegedly the “recovery day.” Hah hah hah hah hah! Actually, on any other given day, and with conditions cooler, this would be a very runnable leg. It was mostly rolling hills with only one very tough climb (short), though we did go through a spectacular jungle section that was incredibly beautiful, and incredibly muddy and wet. I had to walk through several streams again. At one point I heard some incredibly scary scream emitting from a jungle creature. Maybe it was Coach Charlie moaning about how long these posts are getting. I kept hobbling uphill and felt better when I reached the familiar meadowlands of cows and birds and barbed-wire fences and gentle breezes and and clouds that constantly roar by overhead.

Only about two miles into the run, I missed a turnout (along with about 15 other runners) and spent about a half hour looking around before getting back on track. But I wasn’t too bummed about the lost time. Who am I fooling? I’m just trying to survive.

Well, today was billed as the “easy” day. Was it? Sorta was, sorta wasn’t. I had stomach issues (they are gone, if you catch my drift) and I took a nasty spill on –  of all things –  a hard-packed fireroad on a slight downgrade. Tripped on a rock. Go figure.

There have been millions of other places to break several bones and fall off a cliff (the wind gusts almost blew a runner off a cliff) and I take a hard fall on a frickin’ fireroad! I fell hard but didn’t break anything. My right shoulder and butt is sore. Got a few more scrapes to add to my collection of nasty leg abrasion caused by whip-like grasslands.

So, three days down –  about 67 miles in the books. Three days to go, including tomorrow –  which promises to be the most challenging day. Now, that’s very hard to imagine, considering Day Two. That’s like saying getting shot several times is worse than getting knifed to death. Both prospects are pretty bad.

So, what do I think so far? Costa Rica is beautiful. And this run is more difficult than I imagined it would be. I should have practiced by slogging through Lake Mission Viejo and running up and down Santiago Peak in the slogging rain. Oh, and hills? Haha. Better love ’em to conquer this course.

How has this run changed me? I think, as with all huge challenges, it’s made me realize even more the strength we all have when we really are tested. Is it fun? On so many levels I have yet to discern, of course. There are sights I never will forget, and the people I’ve met are pretty much universally awesome. Many keep to themselves, separated by language barrier. But we all share that lovely bond of people who love to live life to its fullest.

OK, Dr. Phil has left the room.

Tomorrow, the dreaded Day Four, we will be running through a very hot and dry area.  Running 31 miles at this point under cloud cover on a straightaway would be hard enough. I fear Day Four like I fear Coach Charlie’s editing pen. I am drinking tons of water and am in search of a hat. The heat bothered me today, and the worst is to come.

Oh God, what am I doing here?

The heck with it. I’m going to go get a massage and forget about it.

***

Voices from the Jungle

“Ola Chi-town homeslices. So far I have run up mountains, across rivers, through muck and clay but the highlight so far has been running with a cow. That’s right an actual moo cow!   I think it trotted alongside me for about two miles until it met up with some of its cow friends. I have not only developed the ability to erect tents but I also can go days without shaving and fashion has taken a backseat to comfort! Oh and I almost forget to mention the 45 minutes of torture the Coast Ricans call a massage. That’s all I have to report for now.   Wish me much luck!!!!”
--- Kristi Battalini
      
“Dear Vroni, HAPPY BIRTHDAY to you! We wish you all the best for your next 30 years! We like The Coastal Challenge very much and hope that we will finish the last three stages as well as we did the first! (Ingrid, Stefan and Markus) (Comment Stefan: “Well? What’s well in the word “blister”????)”
--- Markus Rossmann

“Rio, Wendy, Reina and the rest of my family and dear friends: I love you!’’
--- Goldie/The Beagle/Daddy/Mr. Chimi

ADDITIONAL PHOTOS

UPDATED LEADER BOARD RESULTS, CLICK HERE.

Mon 1/28 - Coastal Challenge Runner Report - Day 2

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A woman from Minnesota came here to celebrate her 40th birthday. Wanted to do something new. Be abroad (my Pacer wants to do the same!) Brought her hubby and two young children. Never ran longer than a marathon. Heard about the Coastal Challenge in an ultra-running magazine. She beat me today. A Costa Rica man, 33 and married with two kids, is here for the second time. He used to race mountain bikes. Finds running more fun. I beat him. And me? After Day Two, the toughest run I’ve ever done in my long pathetic existence, well –  let’s just confirm that I have issues. Several runners dropped from the top Expedition Category to the lower-mileage Adventure Category, so punishing was today’s run. I’m still in the Expedition Category. I finished 14th –  my favorite number. Today we started out slogging up a steep canyon filled with rushing mud, and we crossed three rivers. I scraped up my leg pretty bad. We had to use a rope on one crossing. Then we ran a series of rolling hills (very steep). I bought a Coke at some small village at around mile 30. Holy crap, that tasted good. Let’s see: We ran through a lot of grassy meadows. I felt like a little kid. I tripped on a root but rolled with it, baby. Lots of livestock. No snake sightings. Heard a howler monkey. Didn’t see him. Thankfully, he didn’t toss his feces at me. I was prepared to fire back (note to self: Take Ex-Lax. I have some issues. I know, TMI). Oh yeah, the clouds parted toward the end of the run to give us a gorgeous view of Arenal, an active volcano. I could see a cloud coming out of the spout –  gases. Yes, volcanoes get gas, too. Maybe Ex-Lax would help? Oh yes, I have only slept a total of maybe eight hours combined in the last three nights. Perhaps my performance was affected? I don’t know. I run hard when I feel good, I slow down when I feel cranky and tired. (By the way, I only have 20 minutes to write this so management can drive to an Internet café, so sue me). The last three miles were absolutely nuts. We had to go through private property (grazing cattleland), following the bright orange ribbons strewn on trees, rocks –  a cow’s ass (joke). We had to crawl under three barbed-wire fences (no joke; good thing I’m already fixed). I banged my head on one of those stupid trees with sharp spikes. I thought I drew blood. Thankfully, I didn’t. These people are nuts. Actually, the competitors are a diverse group of very cool people. One German dude in his 60s lives in a village here. He used to be a steel welder. I asked him what he did in Costa Rica. “Not much,’’ he said in a thick accent. Guess what? This guy kicked my ass –  today and yesterday. I had heat issues the last 10 miles. I am having serious questions about whether I have it in me to finish this thing. Today took a LOT out of me. I am banking on a good sleep. Tomorrow is an “easy” day –  only 13 miles. But judging how things have been going, “easy” does not exist at the Coastal Challenge. It’s just extreme pain knocked down a couple of notches. At a low point today, I complained to my Costa Rican running buddy (too tired to recall or look up his name. Let’s call him Newt Gingrich) that I felt old. “The mountains here in Costa Rica are very old,” Newt said. “But they’re still green.” Wow, isn’t that the coolest thing you’ve ever heard? Oh yeah: Am getting better at setting up my tent. I’m no Joe Camper, tho. Had to enlist the help of some Canadian chick who does those kinds of things. She loves granola. Have taken two showers so far. Cold. Refreshing. Shrinkage. I know –  TMI. About the course: A Costa Rican named Rodrigo Carazo designed it. He’s the NATIONAL adventure-racing champ, so that gives you some idea of where he’s coming from. He certainly has put the “challenge” in the Coastal Challenge. Bastard! May Arenal cover him in lava! Just kidding. Rodrigo is awesome. The chicks dig him. Pix coming. Calm down. OK, so I have 30 minutes. Cool. Almost done. My body is a disjointed mess of deep-tissue pain, various abrasions, shoulders agony, and bad hair (damn the humidity! Oh, the horror!!) For the record, today’s course took us from Rancho Margot, where we slept last night, to Colonia Menonita (Colony of Misery), to El Silencio Antena (Shut The Hell Up, I’m Hurting!), to Cruce Tejones (You THINK You Have the Cajones to Finish This!) and finally, to Tierras Morenas (Only Morons Run This Course). I love this country. I really do. It’s the tortuous running that’s getting to me. But, ya know, the sights I saw were priceless. I am taking loads of pictures I will share with you later, insuring a good night’s sleep. Perhaps I should look at them tonight. I love you guys (you know who you are). Wipe thyselves liberally with Vaseline. Works for me. Bad Hair Day, Great Life -- Greg Hardesty Voices from the jungle: Shout out to Lizzy!   I am missing you every grueling step, slide, and muddy stomp of the way babe.   The challenge is unbelievable, but continue I must in order to get back to your presence.   Costa Rica is beautiful (as you now know), but just not the same without you in it.   Day 3 looms tomorrow and you are in my thoughts constantly –  I have many hours to think of you as the world plods by.   All my love… ---- Chris Hacker, Team California Runner

UPDATED LEADER BOARD RESULTS, CLICK HERE.

Sun 1/27 - Coastal Challenge Runner Report - Day 1

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I’m trying to wrap my head around The Coastal Challenge (Day One at least) –  trying to capture the essence of the run –  and I keep on thinking of the popularity of the movie “Cloverfield.” It’s really sort of inexplicable.

OK, well, then, think of the old Swiss Family Robinson Tree House at Disneyland, throw in a Roman mud bath, add a dash of “Jurassic Park,” turn on a huge misting machine, and just for fun, mix in a mass of angry, twisting roots and you get an idea of the highlight of Day   One of the Coastal Challenge –  a muscular and sensory-charged climb (and descent) of nearly 3,000 feet in less than five miles that was the most insanely beautiful and ridiculously challenging trail I have ever been on. “Trail” doesn’t capture it. It was a jungle out there –  a real one. Tarzan and his wife, Jane, could have wandered out of the thick foliage and I wouldn’t have blinked. Sure, I would have asked to borrow Tarzan’s comb. I got a rep to uphold.

Running down the mountain was like a twisted version of “Slip Sliding Away” where one actually surfed down the mud while carefully –  and I mean carefully –  avoiding low-lying vines that acted like those tripwires that Rambo places in the wild to blow interlopers to smithereens. Going uphill required stepping up so high to the logs that served as stairs that one’s knee nearly hit one’s chin. It’s good that Coastal Challenge organizers require participants to stretch. How nice of them! Jerks…

Gaitors? Socks? Shoes? Fuggetaboutem! (Shorts almost are just as innocuous). You get really wet and dirty on this puppy. I would have been better served wearing those creepy Fishermen boots that the killer wore in “I Know What You Did Last Summer.”

Sure, we ran “only” 13 miles today. Only 13! Mileage means squat on the Coastal Challenge. It took me 3:10 to run 13 miles –  and I was one of the faster ones, relatively speaking. But these 13 miles were the most varied miles you will find anywhere. It was like packing three or four entirely different runs into a half-marathon.

It rained, it poured, it was humid, it got hot when the sun snarled down at us. It got wicked windy. In some portions, all was calm.

There were rushing rivers, lots of livestock, noises that reminded me of when I used to take my kids to the Rainforest Café (but these sounds were real!) and, of course, the mountain!

After a three-hour bus ride from San Jose, we started our adventure at the town of  Fortuna, running past snarly dogs (I haven’t gotten bitten yet), past souvenir shops and Technicolor shacks, and then we entered the dense rain forest that took us to the peak of Cerro Chato (“Broke My Ass Mountain” in English).

We then ran on wide-open fireroads with dirt the color of the remains of a bad dinner at El Torito (think caramel brown) past a huge, mist-shrouded lake about which clouds roared by, and finally through a grassy highland straight out of “Braveheart.” I half-expected Mel Gibson in full-on mullet mode to come riding up a hill on a horse, screaming about Jews and the need to keep hydrated. A runner who has been to Scotland said several portions of the run reminded her of that fine country –  sans the cool temps, although it got chilly out here today when the rain fell.

We set up camp at Rancho Margot, a pristine and absolutely gorgeous eco-tourism spot that is completely self-sustained. They use hydro power to heat the water and they use water to generate electricity. All the food is grown and used on site (veggie gardens, dairy products). They also have a reforestation program and they rehab wild animals. For example, there’s a monkey here that was chained to a post in a hotel that now is being reintroduced to a more natural environment. They also make all their own furniture here, too.

Oh, did I mention the yoga meditation center?

There is more green in Costa Rica than in all the pockets of Coto de Caza golfers combined.

Many of the volunteers are Ticos, for native Costa Ricans. They are warm and extremely helpful. I will mention one, Mario, who either has a sick sense of humor or a shaky command of English – or both. He looks like a handsome, emaciated version of Chief Bromden from “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest’’ – all long hair and all.

Anyway, after I made the nasty climb up the mountain, Mario was standing at the peak to   point runners the right way down –  which is steeper than the way up. It was pouring rain and the mud was deep.

“Go to your left,” Mario advised me, appearing out of nowhere like an apparition –  a mysterious Sherpa who held all of life’s secrets. “Be careful on your way down the road.”

He actually used the word road. Dude, that was sick! Today was sick (I mean that in the best sense of the word). Tomorrow will be much, much sicker: a 57-km run stretch, the longest of our six-day test of endurance, insanity and discovering how to go to the bathroom without a poisonous snake finding its way up one’s, um, er, you get the picture.

Be afraid. Be very afraid. Where's my RECOVER-ease?

Greg Hardesty

***

Voices from the Jungle

“Yo Mark, Pappy and Buck miss you!”
--- Stefani Jackenthal (in-action journalist)

“Don’t worry, I’m still alive.”
--- Dave James (runner)

“The Coastal Challenge embraces a brotherhood and spirit of competition. From the start, racers not only competed against each other but supported each other’s efforts. Seldom do you see in such a grueling event so many smiles.”
--- Robert Frohlich (author, “Mountain Dreamers” and race correspondent).

He Actually Went!

It appears Greg Hardesty flew to Costa Rica and is now running in the Coastal Challenge "Route of Fire." Click here to check out his initial report on the region. The man has issues. -Coach Charlie-

Coastal Challenge Update

I admit it. I’ve been intentionally harsh on Greg and I think he’s starting to crack; maybe it’s the second-hand smoke from his neighbor’s triple-chamber pipe. There’s a viable reason why I’ve been so physically and mentally harsh on the lad: Greg’s actually one of the toughest and best runners I know and he can handle the heat (barely). He only looks like Leif Garrett in Danskins. As his mentor, I understand he’ll need some good old-fashioned torturing to prepare himself for Costa Rica. Running in never ending heat and humidity, day after day, will make his blow dryer resemble arctic polar bears passing gas. Really, it’s best for him and he’ll thank me later from under the mosquito net of his hospital bed. That being said, a few weeks back I let Gregory’s alter ego play endurance coach and gave him carte blanche on creating a training run for myself. It seemed like a solid idea. So, Mr. Canyon decides that on my upcoming family vacation to Las Vegas it would be a snappy plan for me to vacate the SUV early and trail run into Sin City from the Nevada State Line -- Primm to Las Vegas, 43 miles. Well, he’s the temp coach, lots of taxi options for a DNF so I say “fine.” Sitting in the back seat of a car en route to “Begas” (as my daughter calls it) with a 6-, 4- and 2-year-old is a tortuous ultra in and of itself. I was relieved that after 12 potty breaks, three PIXTAR movies and six dozen “I want that,” I was finally pounding the parking lot pavement outside the Primm Outlet Mall. Honestly, sitting in the back seat of my wife’s Escalade on an extended drive is like being an under paid airline attendant with drunk Napoleon Complex passengers. It’s pure mayhem as one of the three self-entitled, miniature passengers is guaranteed to be having a complete knipshit and demanding to speak with the pilot. “Eat some overly salty peanuts and stop kicking your sister.” Heading east on foot, I thought to myself, how hard can this be? Straight downhill if memory serves me right. One thing you immediately notice when running in a massively flat landscape is that you don’t actually seem to make forward progress; it’s impossible to tell if you’re running uphill or downhill as your perception plays games with you. One hour into the run, I turned around and could vividly see the exact parking space I left from 6 miles back; mile 9, same scenario. It was deflating and I could only imagine what Badwater participants must go through. The Gold Strike casino, which lay 13 miles from Primm, wasn’t getting any closer. Each step looked like the last and I realized Greg’s diabolical plan was unfolding. Starting the run at 3 p.m. was a major oversight. As the sun nestled behind the jagged mountain ranges bordering Interstate 215, the temperature dropped. Near5 p.m., around mile 10, my back had become completely numb. The water in my hydration pack was almost frozen and I was suddenly that lame little blue cold pack you slip into your kid’s lunch box to keep milk from turning. Navigating in the desert seems straightforward but the amount of random dirt, dune buggy, body dumping and utility access roads is endless. With my headlamp advertizing my approach to Jean, Nev., it dawned on me that there might be some type of max security prison and possibly a small airfield nearby but I wasn’t really sure of their exact whereabouts. I climbed my third short barbwire fence and continued on. From the Jean maximum security observation tower, the officer on duty saw something he didn’t like; approaching lights in the middle of an empty desert. Within minutes, a state-funded chopper with two armed federal agents were airborne and in route to intercept the “unknown bogy.” Simultaneously, one very heavily fortified Ford Bronco with multiple prison guards hits the desert floor to converge on the agreed target. Jean Airport security is alerted and they dispatch a no frills “Rent-a-Cop” in a Jeep Cherokee to join in the chase. It’s just after 6 p.m. and in the vast darkness I note to myself that I haven’t seen a car or person for hours. How nice! I pick up some random flickering lights bouncing around on the horizon but think nothing of it. Who would be out here aside from some moronic runner? It’s a major shocker when you’re in the middle of nowhere minding your own business and then suddenly a 9000-BTU spotlight from a UFO slams the cornea and practically gives you a heart attack. The glare from the chopper’s overgrown flashlight nearly knocked me over. Seconds later, the four to six halogen lights coming off the various four-wheelers completely blinded me. Aside from kicking myself for hassling with a headlamp given the obvious tendency for the locals to provide light, it suddenly dawned on me that the airfield and prison were probable close by. The rest kind of goes like “you have the right to remain silent.” Hey, it’s “Begas” and gambling with a random run is par for the trail course. This is the 2008 Coastal Challenge update so I’m not going to dive into my personal trespassing issues but let’s say that a few hours later I was actually gambling in full running gear while waiting for my wife and the kids to rescue me from some dive casino. Nothing beats a long run more than sitting down in a smoke-filled auditorium with a few lost souls to remind you why you actually run. As I leaned back guzzling free Red Bulls while pretending to play video poker and listening to a pretty decent ‘80s tribute band, the whole escapade seemed worthwhile. Note to self: Next time running alone in the desert, turn on the Romulan cloaking device. Those Strar Trek aliens have all the cool gear. Thanks, Coach Greg, for a memorable experience. Click here for Greg's continued training saga. Sincerely, Ex-Coach Charlie

Coastal Challenge Update

With the 2008 Coastal Challenge just over two months away, it was time to give Greg a taste of what Costa Rica may have to offer. So, Don Johnson clipped the five-point racing harness of his Recaro bucket seat, adjusted the cheesy WINK mirror and burned rubber 150 miles north to the coastal college town of Santa Barbara; all to run in the infamous SB9Trails 35 mile ultra.

9 trails? 35 miles? We get scared when the numbers are non-conforming or don’t add up. Isn’t 9 Trails some sulfite filled cat food? And, how many kilometers is 35 miles? 58k? 57.8k? 56.0127608k? The numerical puzzle is exhausting so we concurred the actual race would be equally brutal. Greg would have his hands full but let’s table his constant hair adjustments for now and concentrate on training. Focus people, focus!

Too mimic a South American roadside ambush, we paid some very short migrant farm workers to mug Greg on trail number quarto (4) but they shafted us by rifling through his Armani drop bag and stealing his pink Flicker. In the end, it didn’t seem to matter much as Greg managed to get raped, jacked and ruffed up all by his lonesome. The unforgiving trails and relentless climbs of SB9Trails tortured his soul. Normally a top 15 dude, Greg crossed the finish line in 33rd position which for him is foreign land; kind of a Costa Rica flavor here.

The reoccurring odd ball numbering scenario kept resonating thru the entire SB9Trails. Confused, we hired a tarot card reader and part time Edwards Theatre Assistant Manager to interpret the uncustomary numbers we were experiencing. Here are Akmed's spiritual/numerical findings.

9 Trails + 35 Miles = 44 Years / Greg’s actual physical age OK, sounds good.

9 Trails / Greg’s mental dispostion OK, sounds good.

9 + 35 + 33rd Place = 77 / Greg’s Coastal Challenge defining number.   Huh?

What does that mean? We don’t know. 77 hours of running? 77 miles and he’s out? 77 microscopic crabs in the groin? “77 American dollars or we slit the girl’s throat!” 77 survivors pulled from the wreckage? I guess we’ll all have to stay tuned to the 2008 Coastal Challenge to find out.

In SB9Trails review, take a look at Greg’s picture just after crossing the finish line. Where’s Mr. Happy? He’s not smiling? First off, never run an ultra in that year’s event tech shirt. Please, most participants figured out somewhere around the starting line and even maybe the night before (at the carbo load dinner) you’re in the event. They get it, you run, you run far, you paid the entry fee. You’re in Santa Barbara. Really, they all agree you're in the race. Secondly, most everyone in close proximity is an ultra runner of sorts and they don’t give a rip about the shirt verbiage, bragging rights or distance. These aren’t your co-workers who think a 50k is a shade over 50 miles; don’t correct them. Thirdly, if you DNF, volunteers are within their rights to strip the shirt right off your back. And fourthly and most importantly, it’s just super gay. Go back to “Pre-Lives,” “I’m with Dummy,” or the gold Members Only jacket.

Most ultras for Greg are sheer social events where he chit chats for the first half and then goes Anne Frank for the second portion. Well it finally happened, Mr. Stop and Take a Million Redundant Photos while passing people was bonking in clear sight of Anacapa (pronounced And-don’t-you-feel-like-crapa) Island. In the distance, all twenty-five Channel Islands looked like floating cow dung in a sea of undulating vomit. That’s what happens when you start to crash. Beautiful things look ugly and distorted. At mile 26, Greg considered shaving his head, getting cable and throwing out that big wooden spoon hanging on his living room wall. If he had the matching fork, maybe it’s a different thought.

Its back to back long runs from here on out so forget about Indian Bingo and Bunko night. Greg’s going to need some rest and a few extra pairs of technical Espadrilles.

Click here for Greg's continued training saga.

Sincerely,

Coach Charlie

Coastal Challenge Update

I informed Greg that he better find some legitimate method to duplicate running outside an active volcano and then all hell breaks loose in South Orange County. The next thing you know, the now infamous “Santiago Fire” is scorching thousands of acres and has hundreds of Silverado Canyon residents evacuating their homes; ok, trailers. Can’t they just shift those things into drive and move along?

As all know, Greg lives (if one can actually do that) in Silverado Canyon so he had to pack up the blow dryer, the front-yard refrigerator and the outdoor sofa in search of alternate power for his GE curling iron. The evacuation fouled up Greg’s Coastal Challenge training regime; especially considering the 20 miles of sissy trails he primarily trains on are more burned out than your average DMV worker. And, these trails are very, very closed.

Is it me or is Greg's hair starting to look like the fire itself?

However, out of misery and from the ashes comes a gem. As a reporter for the OC Register, Greg was assigned to cover the whole fire fiasco. Cool, he’ll be near some serious flames; good heat resistance training for The Route of Fire. However, while interviewing Silverado Canyon residents, Greg found resistance from the locals who don't appreciate nosey outsiders asking personal questions. Getting the inside story was posing issues until one Santiago local realized Greg also lives in Silverado Canyon. Once figuring out Greg was from the hood, some attractive gal with a moustache proudly proclaimed, “Oh Greg’s cool, he’s Canyon." And, so it has been said and so it is now done. Greg is totally “Canyon.”

So, what does being Canyon actually mean? It means your ID is most likely your belt buckle. It means that your car belongs to a relative and the tags have expired. It means you think an iPOD is a UFO. And it means, Hot Pockets are the family's Sunday night special meal. It means that the Canyon is coming to the Rica; Costa Rica that is.

The Run Down has to apologize for our recent silence. Besides fires and Jacuzzi clogs, life in "The OC" has been hectic. We owe our readers The Noble Canyon 50K and The Old Goat 50 Miler re-caps. We promise to have them posted by December 10th. Sorry, but you can’t rush quality or people low on crack. It’s that simple.

Click here for Greg's continued training saga.

Sincerely,

Coach Charlie

Coastal Challenge Update

Greg's coaching agreement specifically states, "Thou must run in one 100-mile ultramarathon prior to participating in the 2008 Coastal Challenge or stated student is in clear breach of endorsement contract." So, Greg smugly informs me he'll be running in September's AC100. What he intentionally didn't tell anyone was that he'd simply be pacing a real participant. A sneaky move but we have to give Greg credit for exposing a clear loophole in our contract verbiage. We received a non-favorable ruling from the 9th circuit judge and were forced to honor Greg's shifty move while simultaneously firing our lame attorney, Robert Shapiro. Technically, Greg was "running" in a 100-mile race even if for only 25 miles.

We understand 100 miles would be tough for Greg. His hair rarely goes eight hours without a cream rinse or at least an out-of-the-car window refresh. How would he run 24 or more hours without a good blow job: that's blow dryer, folks -- heads out of the gutter please!

At mile 75, Greg met up with his real AC100 competitor (Robert Schipsi) and they proceed to jointly embark on the last quarter of the race. Until Greg got involved, Robert was cruising at a sub-26 hour pace. Enter Greg, and it takes an additional 12 hours for the duo to cover the last 25 miles and eventually cross the finish line. Though we've made repeated attempts to contact Mr. Schipsi for comment, his agent won't take our calls. All the smart ass says is, "At the tone the time will be," over and over like some recording.

One can only speculate what happened in those secluded San Gabriel Mountains. Did Greg take his customary 30-minute aid station break to perform his George Michael restroom impersonation? Did his puka shell necklace explode on the trail requiring hours to collect the mini crustations? Greg and Robert's silence reminds me of the survivors in the movie "Deliverance." Something happened out there and no-body's talking. Some runners reported hearing a pig squeal along with the sound of a grown man crying. I guess unless a bloated body floats to the top of some creek, we'll have to live in suspense.

Whatever the deal, Greg obviously thinks he's already in lawless Costa Rica where contracts and trail shenanigans go unnoticed. Good luck to you, mate -- keep playing those games and have fun explaining it to the Contras. Ok, so they're from Nicaragua but Greg won't figure that out.

Click here for Greg's latest fantasy of actually being an endurance runner.

Sincerely,

Coach Charlie