Headlands Hundred

[This is really long. Sorry about that, but so was the run.]

The original and most prestigious event in the ultrarunning world is Western States, which is 100 miles. Other 100 mile runs inherit some of that aura. And, at least for me, 100 miles has seemed to be the ultimate goal. The easy choice was the Headlands Hundred in the Marin Headlands, since it’s put on by Pacific Coast Trail Runs, which does most of my trail runs, and it is relatively nearby.

The Headlands Hundred also offers a 50 mile distance, and last year the same event was my first 50 mile trail run. But the route was different this year because state budget issues meant that the course could no longer go into Mt. Tamalpais State Park. Now the course is four 25 mile loops, reversing direction each time like a washing machine. Each loop has about 5000′ of climbing—this is a hilly area.

After extensive months of training and what seemed like endless planning, Connie and I drove up Friday so I could get as much sleep as possible before the 7:00am start on Saturday, August 8th. I got up at 4:15am to put on sunscreen, etc., and then caught a cab to the start, leaving Connie with the car to catch up with me later.

In the starting area I met Ken Michal, who does the Running Stupid podcast. He was also there to attempt his first 100 miler, only two weeks after running the White River 50 miler. I also saw Franz Dill and Eric Vaughan from the Coastside Running Club, both of whom were doing the 50 miler (Franz in preparation for his first 100 miler later in August). And my local coaches, Marissa Walker (crewing for someone else) and Brian Wyatt (running the 100 miler).

The weather forecast was warmer than I had hoped for: 80°F Saturday and 82°F Sunday. But it seemed substantially cooler than I expected, and the Moeben sleeves that they gave to those doing the 100 miler were welcome for the first segment or two. In fact, the actual high for the day turned out to be only 74°F, and seemed even cooler than that. So I got very lucky there (heat has been the primary factor in the only two races I have failed to complete).

Next I’ll be talking about the route. There’s a map here. It isn’t required, but it can help you understand the sequence. There’s also a cool animated flyover on this page.

We milled around the start at Rodeo Beach. The start finally arrived, and we all launched immediately into a steep climb. Based on advice from my coaches I pushed a bit, taking advantage of the cool weather and feeling fresh. I was still walking up hills, but I allowed my heart rate to climb up to 145 or 150bpm. I got to the first aid station at Tennessee Valley about 9 minutes ahead of my plan (which had me finishing in 29:58). I skipped getting water since I had plenty, grabbing a couple of pieces of potato and moving on.

Next we went to Muir Beach, going down the infamous Pirates Cove stairs. And then back, via a more inland route, to Tennessee Valley, where I met up with Connie for the first time. By now I was 24 minutes ahead of my plan, about 12 miles into the event. I should mention that I tend to make my plans slightly on the pessimistic side of realistic, because I would rather be ahead of plan than behind.

The next section started up a dirt road called Marincello, which some people really dislike but which has never really bothered me. It’s long and uphill, but it’s also a shallow enough grade to walk up quickly. In any case, the Rodeo Valley aid station (not to be confused with Rodeo Beach) came along quickly, as did the Conzelman aid station, by which time I was about 35 minutes ahead of my plan. I felt good and everything was going smoothly, though I was still expecting the weather to heat up.

The last section back to the start/finish at Rodeo Beach is the longest segment of the course, at 5.2 miles. It includes a convoluted paved section where at times I wondered if I was going the right way, and also a section across the beach, which is both slow and unpleasant. The first loop was done at around 12:38pm, about 41 minutes ahead of my plan. 25 miles down, and only 75 miles to go! A couple of years ago, that would have been crazy talk.

The second loop wasn’t quite as good. Since each loop reverses course, it started out across the sand again. By the time I was past the Rodeo Valley aid station (33.7 miles total), it felt like I was struggling a bit, and I found myself being passed more often than I was passing others. At the Tennessee Valley aid station (38.3 miles total) I was 52 minutes ahead of my plan, though, so I wasn’t complaining too much. At least not as much as Paul from Cool, CA, who was doing the 50 miler and kept saying that no course should have this much uphill. But he only picked up running again in March, after being away from it for 15 years.

During the next two segments I started to wonder if I was going to lose all of my 52 minutes and more. I had a mild cramp in my side, which made running downhill painful, so I took more walking breaks downhill. I thought about taking some pain reliever, but didn’t. At Muir Beach (42.2 miles total) I commented to Connie that I seemed more out of breath than my under 120bpm heart rate should warrant. Plus I had lost time on my plan for the first time in the race, so now I was only 46 minutes ahead. This was definitely a low point.

Next up was the hardest segment of the course, going back to Tennessee Valley via the Pirates Cove steps (plus another 1/4 mile of steep uphill right after the steps). But I pretty much kept moving forward, and only lost a couple more minutes on my plan. And then the last segment back to the start/finish seemed easier. It was getting cooler again (not that it was ever hot on Saturday), but more importantly I knew my pacer would join me there.

I have never run with a pacer before, and I knew it would be good to have one this time. I considered a few people, but I was really lucky to get Tom Harry. I actually met him for the first time on the last segment of the 50 miler at the same event last year, and he helped motivate me to finish strong. Plus he has a couple of 100 milers under his belt (both at the very difficult Angeles Crest race), so his experience would be a big advantage.

Also waiting for me at Rodeo Beach was my night crew, Mike Ehlers and Butch Dority. They are both on the same men’s team I’m on (part of the South Bay Nation of Men), and they agreed to crew during the night so that Connie could get some sleep.

I reached Rodeo Beach at 7:40pm, 44 minutes ahead of my plan, the same as the previous aid station. That’s over 30 minutes faster than I did the 50 mile event last year, but I felt pretty good. I had planned to change clothes at this point, but instead I decided to take advantage of the fact that it was still light, so Tom and I hit the trail.

Over the previous few segments I had a trouble pushing hard enough to reach a heart rate of even 120bpm, but somehow on the first climb with Tom I found myself at over 130bpm and only slightly out of breath. And when the downhill came I was able to run fairly well.

Of the things I learned at the Dreamchasers running camp in June, perhaps the one that helped me the most during this event was a relaxed downhill running form. I have a tendency to tense my shoulders, so I have to consciously relax them, keep my arms moving so my thumbs go next to my hips, straighten up, and lean slightly forward from the heels (similar to Chi Running). Since I pretty much only ran on downhill sections, making the most of that time without beating myself up really made a big difference. Moving relatively fast when walking also did, but I pretty much do that naturally.

By the time we reached the Tennessee Valley aid station it had gotten dark and we had our flashlights out. Headlamps are nice, but they don’t help you see obstacles very well since the shadows are directly behind the objects casting them (so the shadows are effectively invisible), because the light source is near your eyes. So the most common approach is to use a headlamp and a handheld light, which is what we were both doing. This also gives you a backup in case one light breaks.

So we continued to move through the night, walking the uphills and flats, and running (perhaps more accurately jogging) the downhills. Our second section saw us lose some time on the plan, bringing us to only 40 minutes ahead. But by the fourth section we started to gain again, and continued to gain more as the night went on.

Running at night is very cool, though from a couple training runs in the dark on trails, I can say that doing it by yourself is a little spooky. With someone else, though, it really is the best. We saw San Francisco and the Golden Gate Bridge in the fog, and that’s practically worth the price of admission right there. I had caffeine pills available in case I got tired, but I never did, though I did drink a couple small cups of Coke.

The other cool thing about running at night is that the aid stations break out some more real (compared with things like boiled potatoes, M&Ms, and gummy bears, anyway) food, like soup, pizza, and more. That made the aid station stops get a little longer (maybe 4 minutes vs. 2 minutes during the first 50 miles), but it really helped keep me going. All of those aid station minutes add up since the clock never stops running, but having enough energy to keep moving matters too.

Speaking of aid station stops, under Tom’s direction I stopped refilling my own hydration pack, letting him or my crew do that. And speaking of crew, they were great, proactively offering me electrolyte capsules, clothes, etc. They also recalculated where I would likely take Vespa, since I was getting further ahead of my plan (I take Vespa every 4 hours in long events).

Eventually we got back to Rodeo Beach. It was about 3:08am, and we were almost an hour ahead of my plan. I took a little extra time to apply some more Body Glide, and we headed out on the last loop, going back across the sand we had just crossed. Thankfully this was the last time through the sand!

We made good time, gaining 20 minutes on the plan in the next two segments back to Rodeo Valley (79 minutes ahead). By then it was 5:41am, and it seemed like there was starting to be a tiny bit of morning light. In the next segment back to Tennessee Valley the sun definitely came up, and we saw many rabbits (small ones and jackrabbits), and I saw a bobcat (who was probably more interested in the rabbits than I was). And we gained another 20 minutes on the plan just in that segment, arriving at 7:00am (99 minutes ahead, and exactly 24 hours after the start). I took my longest aid station stop of the race (8 minutes), changing my shorts, reapplying Body Glide, and changing to my third GPS (which I had forgotten I needed to do, but my crew was on top of it). I elected not to change my shirt since that would have required moving my race number as well, and I didn’t want to take the time. I also didn’t change my shoes or socks because I didn’t want to mess with something that was working well.

All that was left was about 12 miles, which includes the two hardest segments and then the final segment. It was starting to get a bit warm, and the previous day’s fog was limited to the area very close to the coast. Sunday ended up with a high of 84°F, which was 2°F warmer than the last forecast before the race, and 10°F warmer than Saturday.

At Muir Beach, I reapplied sunscreen to my arms, face, and neck. My legs were too dirty, so I left them alone. I was 109 minutes ahead of my plan, but the hardest segment was next.

The counterclockwise loop route from Muir Beach to Tennessee Valley has a long, fairly steep initial climb, a rolling descent into Pirate’s Cove, and then the infamous steps plus the additional 1/4 mile of steep climb that I mentioned before. The one piece of good news was that what little fog there was helped out. It also created some gorgeous spider webs, highlighted with water drops.

At the last of eight aid station stops at Tennessee Valley, we were 116 minutes ahead of schedule. It was 9:41am, and we had until 4:00pm to cover 4 miles. Nothing could stop me now! Plus I realized that I had a real shot at being under 28 hours.

It continued to get warmer, and the final climb, while easier than the previous two segments, is no cake walk. I was pushing, although after 96 miles that meant a heart rate of maybe 125bpm (which was my average for the whole event, by the way). I didn’t talk much (nothing personal, Tom), and I was focused. The climb continued around one more corner than I thought it would, but we made it to the final descent. And then it was time to run. Well, except for going down some steps that I almost fell coming down at Miwok. And one brief walking rest to make sure I had something left for the actual finish.

Ah, the actual finish. When I reached the dirt parking lot, with maybe 50 yards to go, I picked it way up. Maybe not quite a sprint, but definitely the fastest that I ran on the flat for the whole race (update: under 8:00/mile for the last 0.05 miles). It felt great to go for it, and then it felt great to stop. Wow! I did it!

There were 76 people signed up for the 100 miler. 75 of those started, 48 finished at least 75 miles, and 45 finished the whole thing. My official 25 mile splits looked like this:

• 5:37:54 (48th place)
• 12:40:53 (7:02:59 for the loop, 42nd place)
• 20:08:22 (7:27:29 for the loop, 25th place)
• 27:52:23 (7:44:01 for the loop, 26th place)

Loops 2 through 4 are substantially closer in duration than I expected. Wow. Since loop 3 was almost entirely in the dark and loop 4 included some heat, I’m really proud of that. Maybe Connie is right that 100 miles could be my distance. Scary thought.

In my instructions to my crew I spelled out my four goals, in decreasing priority order:

1. Sustain no long-term injuries
2. Finish
3. Have all of us enjoy the experience
4. Finish in as little time as I can without sacrificing the above goals

I managed to succeed at all four. And I realized along the way how much of a team effort it was. That started with my coaches, Lisa Smith-Batchen (and her husband Jay, co-owners of Dreamchasers), Marissa, and Brian. And continued with my crew, Connie, Butch, and Mike. And last but definitely not least my pacer, Tom. I might have been able to finish without them, but goals 3 and 4 would have been seriously impacted.

It was truly a magical 28 hours. I honestly don’t know if I will be able to equal it, but I do know that I’ll try. And I’m now qualified for Western States!

Pictures:

• Butch took some pictures on his iPhone and posted them here (a few are tagged with a location inside Golden Gate Park, which is wrong)
• Tom also took some pictures, which I posted to my flickr account here

Next up: A 24 hour fixed-time event in late October, then the Goofy Challenge (half marathon Saturday and full marathon Sunday) at Disney World in January, and various 50Ks.

Dreamchasers Running Camp

I’m trying to remember when I found out about the Dreamchasers running camps. My father, who grew up in the area where the camps happen and now has a townhouse there, has sent me articles about local athletes, and I may have first heard about Lisa Smith-Batchen that way. If not, then I certainly heard about her on the Endurance Planet podcast, where I also learned about the camps. I contacted her last year just after she finished the running part of her 810 mile odyssey (Las Vegas to Death Valley to the summit of Mount Whitney), and once the dates and focuses for this year’s camps were set, I picked the one at the start of June.

The camp takes place in Teton Valley, along the Idaho/Wyoming border, near the towns of Driggs, ID and Alta, WY. That’s about 45 minutes by car from Jackson, WY. As a child my family usually visited the area in July for the best weather, and we still often saw hail. It turns out that at the start of June the weather is wa-a-ay colder than in most of the country. Check out the Teton Cam for an idea what it looks like. I got there almost a month ago and, as of this writing, there’s still snow there.

Since the base elevation in the area is above 6000′, Connie and I drove out a few days early to adjust, arriving late on Friday, May 29th. Since we drove, I was able to bring a lot of gear. I did a short run on the roads the next morning, and it wasn’t too bad, so I tried to do the Wind Cave hike as a trail run the next day (Sunday), hoping it was low enough to avoid excessive snow. At 0.4 miles I was almost turned around by a rushing stream, but I found a small (but not too small) fallen tree to bridge the stream and continued on. But as I climbed up the canyon, the snow covered more and more of the ground, and by 2.2 miles from the start I had lost the trail. And if I had been able to continue, it didn’t look like I could have gotten into the cave without crampons and an ice axe.

While the camp didn’t officially start until Tuesday evening, on Monday and Tuesday morning Lisa invited me to attend her core/cardio class. On Tuesday she also sent me on a trail run, along with her husband Jay, and Becky, who was one of the other campers. We covered part of the course they laid out for their 26.2/50/100-mile Grand Teton races.

Speaking of other campers, the economy has made it difficult to fill the camps, and in fact due to some last-minute cancellations, this became an informal private camp. There ended up being only two other campers—Becky and Chandler—and they stayed at Lisa and Jay’s house, while I stayed with my father. There were also a couple of other part-time campers on a couple of the days.

Lisa and Jay’s house turned out to be under a mile from where my father grew up, and on the same road. It is definitely a small world.

Tuesday evening, June 2

Lisa and Jay had us over to their house for dinner to kick off the camp. They also generously invited Connie, my father, and his friend Margie to join us. Lisa is a good cook, their house is gorgeous, and we met their two adorable daughters.

Wednesday, June 3

The camp started in earnest with speed work at 7am with Barb Lindquist (a former Olympic triathlete, ranked #1 in the world a few years ago—needless to say, I was way out of my depth). At 9am was another core/cardio class, followed by going to a high school track to get videotaped, do some work on cadence, walking, exercises like running backwards, etc. Oh, and some stuff on the bleacher steps too. After lunch we learned more about running form and saw the videotape we took in the morning. The day ended with some uphill and downhill work on Lisa and Jay’s driveway and a very short trail run. One takeaway from this day was that, while I’m a slow runner, I’m a strong walker, which should serve me well in longer events.

Thursday, June 4

I got a reprieve from the core/cardio class since I was the only camper to have already done it three times. The main event for the day was a long trail run near Swan Valley, along the Snake River. The plan was for it to be four to five hours, and with no aid stations that meant taking a lot of water. In my case I took my 96-ounce hydration bladder and two 20-ounce handheld bottles. That turned out to be a good plan since the first 3/4 of the time brought the warmest temperatures we saw for the whole camp. I was one of the few to not run out of water.

Jay ran in front with Chandler and Becky, who are substantially faster (and younger) than me, and Joe, who tends to go out too fast. Colleen, who works for Dreamchasers, ran in the back with Steve, a camp regular who was running only a few weeks after shoulder surgery. Lisa ran with me in the middle. It was a good run, with a lot of good input on my form (relax your shoulders! short steps up hills!). Lisa mildly twisted an ankle and ended up sending me ahead for the last four miles on the return, and I felt pretty strong, though the way Becky flew by on her return was very impressive.

I had some pain on my right heel during the run, and it felt like a small rock, but I couldn’t find anything there so I ignored it. It turned out that it was the fancy new La Sportiva shoes I had bought. I had never previously run more than seven miles at once in them, and they didn’t work for me at the longer distance. When I took my socks off I discovered that I had a pretty nasty blister. I am lucky enough to not get many blisters (I think this is my fourth one ever from running), so I can’t complain, but it was a small distraction for the rest of the camp.

Friday, June 5

This day brought my final core/cardio class, and then we drove to Jackson. Becky and Chandler had a short swimming session with Barb Lindquist, while Lisa looked more closely at my blister and my shoes, suggesting that I stick with what works (Brooks Adrenaline ASRs).

We had thought of climbing Teton Village, but opted for Snow King instead since it is shorter (but still a bit over 1500′ of climbing) and therefore far less snowy. Chandler, Becky, and I went up and down two times. After the first time Lisa told us all to do it faster the second time, and somehow we all succeeded at that. In my case I dropped about five minutes, from 1:03 to 0:58, though a substantial part of the improvement was not stopping to take pictures. Meanwhile Colleen and Steve went up and down once. I was half expecting Lisa to tell us to try it a third time, and the climb was a blast so I would have given it a shot if she had. But the weather was deteriorating, so I didn’t volunteer.

Saturday, June 6

The original plan was for Chandler and Becky to do a bike ride over the pass to Jackson, and for Lisa and me to run part of it, but the early word was that there was snow on the pass. The new plan seemed particularly sadistic: We ran from the Batchen’s house to the Dreamchasers office (a bit over 4 miles), taking 10-minute shifts dragging a tire attached to a padded waist belt. I used my advanced age as an excuse to take the last shift, which did mean that Becky and Chandler each ran 20 minutes with the tire while I only did about 14 minutes. After we arrived at the office we did 7-minute shifts on three exercise machines: a rower, a spin bike, and a VersaClimber, repeating each twice, for a total of 42 minutes. I felt the VersaClimber effort in my legs for the remainder of the camp, which probably means I should try to find one to use regularly.

Becky had to leave town a little early, so she had the honor of finishing her camp by running by herself back to the house dragging the tire. She did it substantially faster than the three of us did it in shifts. She’s fast.

In the afternoon there was a trail run in the Big Hole Mountains, which are on the west side of the valley. Jay stuck with me and gave me some more input (breathe deeper! stand taller!), while Chandler went ahead with some fast local runners (Jay is fast too, but someone needed to lag back with me). And then finally after dark there was a short trail run on the Aspen Trail, in the rain, for me to get more experience running on trails in the dark and to try out my new flashlights; they seemed to work well. Speaking of flashlights, Jay had a new one that put out so much light we wondered if it was nuclear-powered.

Sunday, June 7

We had the final run of the camp in the morning. We considered several trails, but due to the weather we decided to stay as low as we could, so we ran on the Aspen Trail again, this time from the Darby Canyon end. We started in the rain, but soon we were in snow (which was sticking to the plants) and a couple of times there was even hail. It was a fitting end to the camp. Jay told me later that at one point when he was behind me and I was walking, he had to briefly break into a jog to keep up. Of course he was perfectly capable of running that section, but it was cool to hear that my walking can be that strong.

Summary

It was a great camp, and a huge part of that was the people. Lisa, Jay, and Colleen are great people, willing to open their homes, their lives, and their love and knowledge of running to runners of all levels. They went out of their way to include my family in events; in fact, they all attended some of the core/cardio classes during the week with Lisa’s enthusiastic encouragement. I learned many things, and I was tired at the end of each day. Not quite enough to go face down in my soup, as Lisa threatened might happen, but there was no question I had worked hard.

Before I went, I figured this was probably a one-time thing, but I have to say I won’t be at all surprised if I’m back for another camp in a couple of years. If this sounds at all appealing, I would highly recommend that you find a way to attend one of their camps.

Big Basin 50K… Make that 25K

I signed up for today’s Big Basin 50K only a few days prior, and I already knew it was forecast to be hot. But by early this morning, the forecast high for nearby Boulder Creek was 92°F! If you don’t know Boulder Creek, well my brother has called it Colder Bleak. Heat is not normal there. [Update: The official high was 94°F.]

So I knew going in that it was going to be very hot. And knowing that I struggle in the heat, I also knew I was going to take at least 7 1/2 hours, and maybe more than 8. But I didn’t really consider the possibility that I couldn’t finish it in the allotted 9 hours.

The structure of the event is four loops: 15K, 10K, and then both of those again. The 15K loop worked pretty well, though the steep stairs at Berry Creek Falls made me nervous, because I was expecting to have to go up them a second time when it was hotter. I took electrolyte capsules about every 45 minutes since it was still relatively cool, and I finished the whole 64oz of water in my hydration pack. I think my time for this loop was about 2:15.

On the 10K loop, it got hotter. I increased the electrolyte capsule frequency to every 30 minutes. And I got slower, first on the uphills. The top of the second (and final) significant climb of the loop comes not long after the one exposed (read: extra hot) section of the course. I think I started feeling a little spacey during that section, though I didn’t really recognize it at the time.

And then on the downhill I started getting dizzy. I was almost out of water, and I wasn’t sure if I could keep up the electrolyte capsule schedule all the way back to the aid station, since you need liquid to swallow them. But I also knew that electrolytes were the most likely fix for the dizziness.

And then the dizziness got way worse. I found the nearest log to sit down on. Things were spinning, and I couldn’t imagine standing up, much less walking or running. I was sure my 50K was over.

After I was there for maybe 5 or 10 minutes, two women doing the 25K came by. They didn’t think I looked very well. They said I looked white, so they decided to wait with me to see if I got better. After a few minutes I could imagine standing, and eventually I did, and managed to start walking. One of the women was still watching me carefully. The really weird part was that even when the dizziness was mostly gone, my arms felt like they were vibrating, though that subsided after a while. And I could run, though only slowly and with some walking breaks.

Around this time I started to wonder if there was still a chance of me finishing the 50K, which another part of me knew was crazy. Then I got dizzy again, though not too badly. And later it happened a third time, worse than the second time. At that point I decided I was not going to try to go beyond the 25K point. It wasn’t safe: I might stumble or even pass out.

This was a different from Diablo, four weeks ago. This time my legs were fine, but my basic systems were not doing well at all. After Miwok I thought I could complete anything. Not today. Oh, for the rain and cold again!

One more thing: I donated blood on the 4th, right after Miwok, and this was less than two weeks after that. It certainly couldn’t have helped (except whoever got the blood—it helped them a lot, and I have no regrets).

So this was my second incomplete event out of the last three. It was the right decision, and it points out that I need to learn how to handle the heat much better. But of course I’m also disappointed.

My next event is a running camp in June with Lisa Smith-Batchen and Lisa Bliss, in Idaho. Both have won the women’s division at Badwater, an insanely hot 135 mile race through Death Valley, and Lisa Bliss is also a doctor. I’m guessing I’ll learn something about running in the heat when I’m there in a couple of weeks.

Lastly, I would like to thank Sue from Ventura County, for sticking with me when I didn’t know which way was up. Thanks, Sue!

Update: I heard from my current local coaches, who after reading this blog post speculate that I had “heat-related illness.” I’m guessing there is no chance it was heat stroke, so that probably means heat exhaustion.

Also: The results were posted, and I was given credit for the 25K in 4:24:45. Only 15 people finished the 50K out of 29 signed up (and only 5 out of 12 in my age group).

Miwok 100K

[This post is really long. Sorry about that. Feel free to skim it.]

100K is about 62 miles, which is over 10 miles further than my longest run prior to this one. The Miwok 100K is possibly the best known 100K trail run, so when I heard late last year that they had gone to a lottery system rather than sell out in a few minutes (as they had done in recent years), I entered my name. Finding out I got in was both exciting and a little scary.

Fast forward a few months. I made the arguably crazy decision to also enter the Diablo 50 mile event, only 13 days prior. I end up only completing 37 miles of it, but I was okay with that so long as I didn’t also fail to finish Miwok.

Friday Connie and I drove up the Marin county to spend the night, since this race has a very early start: 5:40am. I woke up at 3:15 for final preparation before being picked up by fellow Coastside Running Club (CRC) member Franz Dill (also running) and his wife Jennifer (volunteering at the aid station sponsored by CRC). At that time the weather was dry and not all that cold. But I found that my hydration pack was wet, perhaps from not being 100% securely closed and then making the trip to the race horizontally in the Dills’ trunk. I dried it a bit under a hand dryer in the bathroom.

Not long before the start, the race director (Tia Bodington) led us over onto the beach for the start. Luckily running on the sand only lasted for maybe a quarter of a mile, and then we headed up into some hills just south of the start. The weather remained relatively dry but foggy.

I aimed to keep my heart rate under better control than at Diablo, targeting around 140bpm at this point in the race. I was reasonably successful, walking when necessary to keep from going too high, though occasionally seeing rates as high as the lower 150’s. When I got to the first aid station (6.2 miles), I was about 15 minutes ahead of my rough schedule. It was still cool and now light, or as light as you could expect before 7am on a foggy day. I still had plenty of liquid left in my hydration pack, even though it was so wet that I thought it was still leaking, so I didn’t stop.

At the second stop, at Tennessee Valley (11.9 miles), I did refill, and I had picked up about 5 more minutes on my plan. By the following stop at Muir Beach (16.0 miles), it had started to rain lightly and I had my arm warmers back on after only recently having removed them. And the hydration pack continued to feel like it was leaking, so I abandoned my energy drink powders and just used water for the rest of the day. I would much rather have water leaking down my back than lemon-lime Accelerade. Eeww.

At Pan Toll, the following aid station (21.7 miles), I was about 40 minutes ahead of my schedule. I stashed the flashlight I had carried for the first few dark miles of the race in my drop bag there, and kept moving. It was still raining lightly but pretty much continuously, despite the weather forecast of just showers.

The trail started getting wetter through the next section, which at last year’s Headlands 50 miler had been my least favorite section due to heat and exposure. This time the temperature was so much better, to me anyway, that it was an improvement despite the growing number of puddles to dodge. At 11:30am the leader of the race passed me heading back to Pan Toll, meaning he was over 15 miles ahead of me. All I could say was, “wow!”

The next aid station was Bolinas Ridge (28.4 miles), which I got to about 10 minutes before noon. It was staffed by the Coastside Running Club, which I am theoretically a member of (I was wearing a CRC shirt and I’m on their e-mail list, but I have still never been to one of their weekly Saturday runs). They had a number of signs over the last few tenths of a mile leading into the aid station, which I thought was a great touch, and several of the aid station workers were wearing plastic leis. Many many thanks to the volunteers, who had to find a way to stay warm without running, and who were very cheerful nonetheless.

This is where I was expecting to see Connie for the first time. Unfortunately since traffic was worse than expected for her and I was still 40 minutes ahead of my schedule, she hadn’t made it yet. I killed a few minutes, but eventually told George Miller (from CRC) and Wendell Doman (from Pacific Coast Trail Runs, who seemed to be everywhere I went in these early miles) to keep an eye out for Connie. I continued on. This felt very similar to Headlands since I was again in a position where my GPS was in danger of running out of battery power if I didn’t connect with Connie (who had my second GPS) by the next aid station, which was rumored to have very few parking spots.

The puddles and mud started becoming epic during the section from Bolinas to the turnaround at the Randall Trail aid station (35.6 miles). The puddles often extended the entire width of the fire road, and it was impossible to keep your feet dry. Some runners coming back the other way just ran through the middle of them. Where there were not puddles, the ground was sometimes far more saturated than it looked, so I had to get used to my foot sometimes sinking 4″ into the mud and water.

I made it to the Randall aid station, though I had lost some of my time cushion since the mud was not compatible with the kind of pace that would be normal for the downhill terrain. And Connie was there! I was so happy to see her that I probably spent longer there than I should have, and Chuck Wilson (who was volunteering at Randall) eventually encouraged me to get going again, now with a fresh GPS.

The mud hadn’t improved any on the way back since it was still raining, and now I was going primarily uphill. But I found a few people to talk to, and my conservative estimate of my uphill pace meant I was actually doing well on time. I saw a few people still heading down to Randall who I suspected might not make it there by the 2:20pm cutoff, which would probably be both good and bad news to them. Unfortunately I took a wrong turn at one point and added about 0.8 miles and 15 minutes to my day. Eventually I got back to the Bolinas Ridge aid station (42.8 miles, not counting my extra distance) for some more encouraging words from the CRC crew and Connie, and it was time to head back to Pan Toll.

This section might have been the muddiest of the day, though with less actual water than the previous segment. The trail surface sometimes was just a mess of deep muddy pockmarks left by hundreds of now totally muddy running shoes, which made me think that I really should volunteer to do some trail work soon. I never felt like my shoes were going to get pulled off my feet, but it might have been close a few times. I ran into Emmett, from Long Beach, and we walked together pretty slowly for some time. He had a short sleeve shirt and no arm warmers or jacket, but said he wasn’t cold. His glasses were also fogged up from, well, the fog, so he was having trouble seeing the best places to step. I guess I needed the rest of the slower pace, but once I decided to move on I jogged pretty comfortably for maybe a couple of miles. Then I ran out of juice and slowed down again before I finally arrived at the Pan Toll aid station (49.5 miles). This might have been my lowest energy part of the race. Connie commented that my eyes didn’t look like I was all there, though still better than when I did the Death Ride in 1997.

The aid station unexpectedly had some Oreo cookies, and I ended up eating three of them. I worried that they might not sit well on my stomach, but they were fine and really hit the spot. The mud had been reminding me of melted chocolate for the last several miles, so maybe I was primed. In any case I’m pretty lucky to have never gotten nauseated during any of my runs, since that can be the undoing of many people in this sport.

Leaving the Pan Toll aid station I took my two flashlights, because no crew (meaning Connie) was allowed at the following aid station, and I wasn’t sure if I would make it to the one after that before dark. During this segment I spent some time running with Flora Krivak-Tetley, whom I had seen volunteering at many Pacific Coast Trail Runs events, often handing out shirts at the end. The conversation helped keep me moving faster than I likely would have on my own, and I found out later that she had sore feet and the conversation helped her as well, but eventually she sped up and/or I slowed down a bit. A couple of miles later I made it to the Highway 1 aid station (54.7 miles), now officially making this my longest event ever. Cool! From there it was a relatively short distance to the final aid station at Tennessee Valley (58.4 miles), though this section had somewhat more climbing than I had expected. It was getting darker, and I heard some coyotes howling, but there was still enough light to see the trail (and the coyotes, but they kept hidden).

I had been looking forward to the soup that was promised at Tennessee Valley for a while, and it did really hit the spot. I also had at least three aid station workers ask me if I had a working flashlight, so they were definitely making sure no over-tired runners did anything too stupid. I gave my hat to Connie, putting on an ear warmer in its place, with a headlamp over that, and the aid station workers shooed me on my way before I lingered for too long.

I should mention that by now the rain had pretty much completely stopped, and in fact had been less significant since maybe Pan Toll. Though of course with the sun going down it wasn’t getting any warmer.

The last segment is mostly uphill followed by mostly downhill to the finish. Glow sticks had been placed on the trail at the junctions, but between those all you had was the usual ribbons, which were harder to spot with a flashlight than when the sun is out. I actually found it pretty easy to stay on track on narrower trails and the section of paved road in this segment (the latter was made easier by a white line to follow), but on wider dirt fire roads I sometimes found myself coming to the edge of the trail, perpendicular to it, and then needing to scan around to re-orient myself. By this point I had gotten out my second flashlight, which was a small handheld one, and it helped.

I was really pleased to still be moving well. I’m not saying that I was as fast as I had been in the first 20 miles by any means, but I passed 4 or 5 people between Tennessee Valley and the finish, depending on whether or not you count the one guy who was lying down shortly after the aid station, waiting for his stomach to settle down. The only scary part was when I almost fell coming down some stairs—if there hadn’t been a hand rail next to the hand that was not carrying the flashlight, it might have been ugly. By then I could see the lights in the finish area, and hear the people there, so I knew I was close.

And then there I was, crossing the finish line and getting the finishers medal. Wow. I made it. My official time was 15:43:46, which is 20 minutes faster than my plan. Now it was time for a burger, some potatoes, a couple of cookies, and probably a few other things. It all tasted good, but I wasn’t starving.

I collected my goodie bag and shirt, and while I was sitting and eating, an older man named Bill asked us if we were going anywhere near Mountain View. We told him we could take him most of the way, and he eventually agreed when he couldn’t find a better offer and did reach his daughter to pick him up at an appropriate spot. I wish I had gotten his last name, because we learned on the drive down that he is a very accomplished runner, especially for his age group (he is currently 74). Besides various ultras, he says he finished the Boston Marathon in under 3 hours when he was 60 years old. Wow. If anyone knows who he is (one more clue: he lived in New Mexico until recently), let me know.

I didn’t take any pictures, and Connie didn’t either (though she does have a movie of me finishing, which mostly looks like two lights bouncing down a trail, with a brief moment where you can see my face). But here are a couple of links to pictures that others took:

• Ron Little’s photographs from the Bolinas Ridge aid station, which can give you some idea of the mud—he also got one picture of me
• Jennifer Dill’s photographs, also from the Bolinas Ridge aid station
• A great video about the race by Journey Film (and also a part 2)

Also, here is a race report by Jean Pommier. It sounds like he had a way tougher day than I did. His carpool partner Scott Dunlap had an easier time, despite setting a 50K PR and also running two marathons (Boston and Big Sur) within the prior two weeks.

A few other small points. My heart rate averaged 127bpm (138bpm through the Randall Trail aid station, and 117bpm for the remainder). I wasn’t very disciplined about electrolyte tablets, taking about 11 of them, because frankly it was a pain to get them out in the rain without letting others get wet, but I didn’t have any cramping problems. I didn’t take any pain relievers until we were on the drive home. And given the wet conditions, I was very happy when I took my shoes off and verified that I had no blisters.

At this point I’m mostly not going to worry too much about May, though I’ll definitely do some running (maybe even a 10K this coming Saturday). In early June I’m doing a running camp in the Tetons with Dreamchasers (put on by Lisa Smith-Batchen and others). Then I’ll be ramping up for my first 100 mile event in early August, the Headlands Hundred. I haven’t quite signed up for that as of this writing, but I expect to very soon. It’s only another 38 miles, right?

That Did Not Work Out the Way I Planned

My coaches tried to talk me into skipping the Diablo 50 Mile Endurance Run, or into doing the marathon instead, especially since it was only 13 days before my first 100K (Miwok). But I persisted, thinking that 1) I might actually finish it, and 2) even if I didn’t, I would very likely get in a longer “run” than the marathon.

When the date of the race first showed up on long-range weather forecasts, the estimate was for a high of 73°F. That’s warmer than I prefer, but seemed reasonable for Diablo. But as the race drew closer, the estimates kept rising, and it ended up being 87°F. I’m not sure how much of a factor that was in my result, but it certainly didn’t help.

The day before the race I did a couple of things that weren’t wise, even though I realized that at the time. In the morning I was at a weekend event with the men’s group I’m a part of, and I helped move a large pile of wood chips, which is more exercise than I should have gotten that day. And that evening, as I was preparing my stuff for the race, a couple of wine-loving friends were over. While I held back, I still drank a little more than was probably optimal.

On race day I got up at 3:30am and made it to the race on time. The temperatures were warm for that time of day, but were better than I feared. Both races were sold out, with 150 people signed up for the 50 miler, and 100 for the marathon. Misery loves company.

The route starts out with a big climb, and I made my next mistake by starting out too fast. I stepped to the side to let people pass a number of times, so it could have been worse, but I was still running at least 10bpm higher on my heart rate than I planned to. I reached the first aid station (Juniper, 5.9 miles) 10 minutes ahead of my estimate, which was the last time I was ahead all day.

Next we went up to the summit, being directed up to the observation deck where I very nearly fell going up the stairs, and then back down to Juniper. I was pretty much on schedule at this point, meaning that I had lost the 10 minutes. Next was a mostly downhill segment to North Gate, including some sections steep enough that I had to walk since the surface was too loose to trust your footing. Or maybe I need better shoes (I actually just bought some, but I wasn’t stupid enough to try brand new shoes in a long race). At North Gate I was a couple of minutes behind schedule.

Next was a 5 mile loop returning back to North Gate. I was still hanging on during this section, but it was starting to feel like my grip on the race was tenuous. I think I first started taking an occasional full stop break to catch my breath during this time. When I got back to North Gate I saw someone who was sitting in a chair and had dropped out of the race. The aid station workers weren’t sure if they had room to transport him, but they thought they probably could. For my part I had fallen about 15 minutes behind schedule.

From North Gate to Rock City was where the writing on the wall started to become pretty clear. I took more breaks, and on one or two occasions felt briefly dizzy. And my quads, especially the left one, started to hurt, so I slowed down. At one point I concluded that I was going to miss the 2:30pm cutoff at Rock City and be forced to drop out with only 24.5 miles covered. But as time went on, my legs calmed down, with the help of one acetaminophen tablet. And I made it to Rock City with 10 or 15 minutes to spare (about 30 minutes behind schedule). This is the first place Connie came to see me, and she had my second GPS watch and other supplies.

Not wanting to get in less than a marathon, and with my legs not feeling too bad at that particular moment, I decided to continue. I had serious doubts about making the 6:15pm cutoff back at Rock City after a 12.4 mile out and back, but I hoped I could talk the workers at the aid station at the turnaround point (Finley) into letting me drop there if I needed to.

Of course my legs started hurting again, and somewhat worse than before, so my desire to drop at Finley increased substantially. My worry was that since that aid station was not crew-accessible, I couldn’t have Connie pick me up there if the aid station workers couldn’t transport me. I considered turning back, but I wanted “credit” for the Rock City to Finley segment, whatever that means.

When I arrived at Finley a bit over two hours after leaving Rock City (and now probably an hour behind schedule), there were four of us who wanted to drop, but they only had a seat for the first (the ever-present Chuck Wilson). The aid station workers suggested that the remaining three of us stay together to keep each other company, made sure we got our liquids refilled, and headed us back to Rock City.

Probably less than a mile into the return we came across a fourth person. Since we were pretty sure the Finley people were packing up and would be gone, we advised him not to go there. His quads were cramping up big time, sometimes forcing him to stop and stretch for a minute or more, so he was substantially slower than the other three of us. The other two were an older couple, and they asked me if I could watch our fourth (I thought I heard his name as John, but I couldn’t find anyone with the right age matching that on the list of registrants) while they continued ahead. I agreed, and over time “John” got a little better, still only walking slowly but rarely needing to stop. We finally got back to Rock City (officially 37.0 miles total, with about 9,000 feet of climbing) around 7:30pm, which was only 15 minutes before sunset, which is when they close the main gates to the park (I heard that we may have actually had until 8pm, but I wasn’t sure of that data). An aid station worker had waited for us, and they took “John,” so Connie and I headed out of the park with little wasted time.

We headed back to the start/finish, which is where my car was parked. On the way I was quite warm, so I turned the A/C up fairly high. But when I got out of the car I suddenly was shivering almost uncontrollably. I immediately took two more acetaminophen tablets, and Connie gave me a jacket to wear. I got some soup at the finish line and sat down, and things got back under control to where I was able to drive home (over 90 minutes away) without any serious trouble.

Besides the mistakes I’ve already mentioned, I think I should have been taking electrolyte capsules more frequently due to the heat. I started out at my usual one/hour rate, and switched to 45 minute intervals after 11am, but that may have not been enough. But probably the biggest mistake was not doing more work on steeper hills on an ongoing basis, preferably incorporated into long runs.

This was my first DNF (Did Not Finish). It likely won’t be my last, though I’ll be pretty disappointed if I can’t finish Miwok on May 2nd. The good news is that even though Miwok is longer than Diablo, it is universally considered the easier of the two races. Of course since I didn’t finish Diablo, that doesn’t prove anything…

Note: A good blog post from someone who finished the race and took pictures is here.

Final Cinequest 19 Thoughts

This was a good year at Cinequest for me. I didn’t see anything bad, and my favorite film beat anything from the last several years of Cinequest film festivals.

Here is my rough ranking of the 17 feature films I saw,
from best to worst (the links go to my reviews):

1. Truffe—
2. The Man Who Loved Yngve—
3. Gotta Dance—
4. Dancers—
5. Witch Hunt—
6. The Investigator—
7. The Necessities of Life—
8. Heart of Stone—
9. The Nature of Existence—
10. Crude Independence—
11. The Market—
12. Firaaq—
13. Fallen Angel—
14. Rock Paper Scissors—
15. Canary—
16. Wake—
17. The Tour—

Gotta Dance, Rock Paper Scissors, and The Nature of Existence

Gotta Dance is a documentary about an experiment the New Jersey Nets (that’s an NBA basketball team) did by forming a hip hop dance team out of senior citizens, with a minimum age of 60. The film shows the initial tryouts, various practices, and some of their actual performances. But even better, it shows the team members and their families in their normal lives, and you get a picture of how the experience is challenging them and changing them.

This was a great documentary, and I thought it was both great fun and often touching as well. I’ll give it out of , and I feel guilty about this, but I might have to rate it higher than the far more important Witch Hunt.

If you don’t want to know anything more, including who makes the team, you should stop reading this review here.

My favorite person in the auditions was Fanny, an 80-year-old Filipino woman who is just adorable. She does make the team. But probably my favorite character turned out to be Betsy, who is an elementary (probably first or second grade) school teacher. She didn’t feel that she could relax enough to do the dancing, so she invented an alter ego named Betty, and she really changed her whole image of herself during the film, allowing herself the freedom to be herself rather than what she thinks people expect of her. Hmmm. Maybe this really is an important film.

The dancer named Claire from the team (the name on her jersey was Blond-E, #62) was at the screening to answer questions. There may be more spoilers below, if a documentary can have spoilers:

• There are a few other senior NBA dancer groups, but this group is the only one doing hip-hop
• They are now in their third season, with six of the original dancers (Edie, Dianna, Audrey, Betty/Betsy, Joe, and Claire)
• There is a DVD coming this summer, and also a theatrical release (at least in San Francisco)
• The filmmaker had planned to come, but asked Claire to come at the last minute
• Claire does still do ballroom dance
• She found out about the auditions from her sister, who agreed to drive her, since Claire didn’t have a car–her sister read about it in a gossip column in the newspaper
• There is a second man on the team this year (Roger)
• The filmmaker has done at least two other documentaries
• The dancers are still in touch with those who are not on the team anymore
• Claire injured herself and missed part of the season that was shot (2006-7)
• 35 auditioned the first year, then 60, then around 100 this most recent year

Rock Paper Scissors was my second of three documentaries of the day. I hadn’t initially planned to see it since the Metro newspaper gave it a pretty poor review, but I was hearing much better things about it from others, and it fit my schedule, so I went.

I was surprised that it mostly covered the first few years of the Rock Paper Scissors (RPS) world championship, put on in Toronto by a couple of brothers (Douglas and Graham Walker) who founded the World RPS Society online. These were in 2002, 2003, and 2004, though the 2002 tournament was only covered superficially in retrospect. Some more recent events were covered, but not very thoroughly, as if the filmmaker ran out of money and/or enthusiasm at some point.

Of course RPS is a pretty silly game, so much of the fun was seeing how seriously some people take the game, or sport as they sometimes call it, complete with training and tapering in the final days before a tournament to avoid injuries. Besides the Walker brothers, the film covers a few players in some depth, though to me I never felt like I got a feel for anyone as real people except for the Walkers. I suspect that these aren’t particularly three dimensional people even to their friends, though I could well be wrong.

Overall I did enjoy the film, but I’ll give it only about out of . An earlier showing at Cinequest was the U.S. premiere.

The Nature of Existence was the Cinequest closing night film, and it was the film’s world premiere. Before the film there were the sponsor trailers, the art contest participants, and all of the filmmakers still in town were invited up on stage. And then there were the festival awards, though at the time the audience awards were still being tabulated.

The film is a documentary that talks to a wide variety of people from all around the world about what they think about religion, the meaning of life, and related questions. It was directed by the director of Trekkies, which is a very good documentary about extreme fans of the TV show. This one is more “important,” but perhaps a little less entertaining. I’m not sure that I changed any of my beliefs or perspectives at all, but it was good to both see some different views and some that align with my own. I’ll give the film out of .

After the film there was a question and answer session with the director and the editor (Paul Tarantino) of the film (there may be spoilers here, if this kind of film can have spoilers):

• The director said that everyone needs to arrive at their own answers
• Many of the general questions and categories were pre-determined, but new questions came up during the process
• Many of the interviews were 2 to 5 hours long, and there was a total of 450 hours of material (wow!)
• They didn’t really try to balance the male/female ratio up front, but did a little more during editing
• They started every interview with the biggest question: Why do we exist? And they ended with the question about whether the universe is better for our existence
• “Making documentaries is a series of missed opportunities”
• The physicists were the most philosophical
• Every interview had at least one moment where Paul heard something that he hadn’t thought about that way before

After the Q&A there was a debate between Brother Jed and Steve (Fromstein, I think, who compared God and Jesus to the mafia at one point). It was really more of a series of questions put to Brother Jed than a debate. And at one point Jed said “God is the causeless cause.”

All seen on 3/8/2009 at Cinequest.

Crude Independence, Canary, Witch Hunt, and more

Crude Independence is a documentary about the town of Stanley, North Dakota. It starts with some background on the town’s history and people, and then concentrates on the ways that the discovery of oil has changed the town (actually, reading a bit more I see that the oil was discovered quite a while ago, but was not economically worth extracting until oil prices rose). Both long-time town residents and the oil workers who now spend substantial time there are given screen time. While there is some mention of then President Bush and the then presidential candidates McCain and Obama, this is a remarkably politically agnostic film, considering the political energy around, well, energy.

I thought the film was well made and quite neutral. The production values seemed good for a documentary not made by an established filmmaker. I’ll give it out of .

The director and editor were both at the screening to answer questions (there may be minor spoilers here, if a documentary can have spoilers):

• The director and editor are both in school still, at Wesleyan in Connecticut, and are graduating this year
• They filmed in January 2008 for a week, and then 5 weeks that summer
• Oil prices were very high when they were filming, but are now much lower, so the wells are still running but they are doing very little new drilling
• There was no outcry about the environmental impact, except for the one reference by the teacher to there being lots of trucks on the road where she jogged
• The director has sent DVDs of the film to the town in the last month, but hasn’t heard any reaction yet
• An audience member grew up in Stanley in the 1950s and was back last summer, and he thinks the film captures the town and the situation very well
• This is the film’s third festival–SXSW is next
• The film was made for under $10,000
• An economist and former EPA person said the film is good since it’s so neutral
• The director sold popcorn at a film center where Jonathan Demme goes, which is how Demme ended up as an executive producer and one of the investors
• It was shot primarily on a prosumer HD camera, with some use of a smaller HD camera
• The total crew was 3 people
• They shot about 45 hours of footage, and the director helped with the editing
• The director also wrote the score
• The surface land owner cannot stop the drilling if they don’t have the mineral rights (or at best it’s really hard)
• The town people were really ready to gossip, but the filmmakers pretty much left that footage out of the film
• Those residents who did make significant amounts of money mostly kept quiet about it
• The director learned about the town and their situation in the New York Times on New Year’s Day 2008–he had also just seen There Will Be Blood
• The flames are from the natural gas, which at least as of when they were filming was not being captured

[This is the “and more” part from the post title.] There weren’t any films I really wanted to see right after Crude Independence, so I went to the Film and Innovation Forum called The Business of Art. There was a broad panel, covering finance, technology, producing, film packaging, and more. I can’t say I learned all that much, though one story from the moderator (a media academic from Monterey, whose name I did not catch because I arrived a few minutes late) stood out. Her 15-year-old daughter was temporarily living in a room with a large television, yet the daughter preferred to watch a movie on her laptop, while her friends watched it simultaneously wherever they were and they all interacted online. As an old fashioned “watch the film and give it your full attention” person, this was rather striking.

Canary is a very strange film. It opens with some scenes of people talking in other languages and no subtitles. I still don’t know what these scenes were about. And there were plenty of other scenes that seemed impenetrable as well.

The story that did seem slightly understandable was about a company called Canary Industries, which is in the so-called organ redistribution business, which seems to be organ transplants with serious strings attached. There is an early scene of what seems like a focus group trying to figure out how to market the company better, and not make it seem too creepy.

The main character was a mute woman wearing a Canary Industries jumpsuit, who seemed to be doing the organ repossession, but who also seemed to be invisible to everyone around her. The process involved some blue-green Jello and small coolers.

The film was apparently shot within blocks of where I saw it (at the San Jose Rep), including seeing the Camera 3 theater in one shot (about a block away). It was clearly very low budget, though I suspect many would say that the biggest cost cutting measure was not bothering to hire a writer. I should also note that many people walked out. But I actually enjoyed the puzzle of trying to figure it out, and some of the intriguing concepts embodied in the parts I could figure out. I’ll give it a strong out of . An earlier showing at Cinequest was the world premiere.

The director was at the screening and answered (and asked) questions briefly, but there just weren’t many questions. The following may include minor spoilers, and definitely includes some observations from audience members:

• The film is amorphous, and each person might see it differently
• The last scene could be seen as training the next generation of organ repossessor
• The mute woman seemed to be invisible–one audience member took her to be metaphorical
• Is the director on a mission to see how difficult he can make a film to understand? [Apparently the director had another film at Cinequest in a previous year, and it was almost as hard to understand. This was asked by Steve Rhodes.]
• Some scenes were carefully scripted, and others much less so

If you’ve been to film festivals, you’ve seen lots of postcards on tables, advertising the films. Instead of a postcard, Canary had a tri-fold brochure for Canary Industries, written as if it were a real company, except for the URL on the back (www.canarymovie.com). Here are a couple of quotes from the brochure:

• If you are fortunate enough to have all of your original organs, please remember that those organs don’t belong to you. They are the property of the community.
• In the event that someone needs one of your organs more than you do, you will be required to relinquish the organ. Whether you are living or dead, Canary Industries ensures that your organs get to the people who need them most.

Finishing my day, I saw Witch Hunt, a documentary about some falsely accused child molesters from Bakersfield, CA in the early 1980’s. It covers the story of the accusations against them, their trials, and their fights to be exonerated. It’s not an easy film to watch, but it’s very well done, and I think that the idea that accused criminals might sometimes be innocent and that the system is not perfect is an important one to cover. The film is narrated by Sean Penn, and it occurs to me to possibly connect his roles in Dead Man Walking and this film through the topic of the death penalty, which is the ultimate legal decision to avoid getting wrong. [Or to just avoid altogether, I would say, as someone who believes that the death penalty should be abolished.]

The film is very good and also important, though it didn’t affect me quite as much as I expected, which is always the danger of sky high expectations. I’ll still give it out of .

The two directors (Don and Dana) and Jill Kent from the Innocence Project were at the screening to answer questions (as usual, there may be spoilers here):

• They started on the story before John Stoll got out
• The film will play on MSNBC soon (I missed the date)
• A commission recommended changes to laws to reduce these kinds of problems–it passed but was vetoed by the Governor
• Tainted Trials, Stolen Justice is a San Jose Mercury News series of articles about 700+ cases in Santa Clara County
• Sometimes there is actual molestation, but the wrong person is convicted
• Most of the accusations started with custody cases
• A belief that kids don’t lie is behind many of the problems
• One thing used against the Kniffens was that there was nothing incriminating in their house, so they must have cleaned it up to hide something–amazing!
• No one has been running against Kern County District Attorney Ed Jagels, so he still has that position, but the Innocence Project person believes that he will be defeated in 2010
• The California Attorney General didn’t feel that was his role to do more than he did, especially since his investigation was into the satanic ritual cases, which were not directly applicable to the pure molestation cases
• Nothing happened to the investigator who hid evidence in his garage (but the Innocence Project is suing him)
• The Innocence Project is working with district attorneys’ offices, and they may see the film

All seen on 3/7/2009 at Cinequest.

The Investigator

The Investigator is a Hungarian whodunit film. The main character is a coroner named Tibor. We initially meet him examining a body, and he doesn’t seem fazed by the blood involved, as I suppose would be expected for someone in that profession. His total lack of emotion seemed slightly extreme, however.

Tibor’s mother is in the hospital, and he expects that she will die soon, though if he had more money there might be options. Then he is approached by a man who asks Tibor to kill someone in exchange for enough money to give his mother that chance. That Tibor has no connection to the victim is a key point in his chances of getting away with the crime.

I don’t want to say too much more. The twists and turns of the plot are many, and are all fun to follow. The various characters around Tibor are interesting, and even though they don’t seem fully real, they seem real enough for this kind of film. The production values are first-rate, and I was really glad that I chose this film to see. I’ll give it a lower out of . An earlier showing at Cinequest was the U.S. premiere.

Seen on 3/6/2009 at Cinequest.

Firaaq

Firaaq is a fictional film about the very real and often violent struggle between the Hindus and the Muslims in India. It’s set in 2002 during the later stages of the riots in Gujarat, and it has a large number of characters who this non-Indian viewer had trouble keeping 100% straight until perhaps halfway through. There is a mixed religion couple who are planning to leave the area for Delhi, a Muslim couple returning to their house to find it has been burned by rioters, a woman with post traumatic stress disorder who sees and hears things that are not there, a small orphan boy, and several others. I suspect that those who know the history and culture better would have an easier time of keeping track of who’s who, though the fact that I had trouble distinguishing the Hindus from the Muslims is perhaps a lesson in itself.

This is the directing debut for Nandita Das, who was the lead actress in a film called Sandstorm from the first year I attended Cinequest. She doesn’t do a bad job, though it felt a little heavy handed at times to me. On the whole I will give it out of , with perhaps 1/2 a star of that because it’s important for people to know about senseless tragedies like this, to perhaps make repeating them just a little less likely.

Seen on 3/5/2009 at Cinequest.