A Race Changed My Life
On February 3rd, 2009 I was still in love with baseball, but I was running.
That Tuesday I happened to be running the view reserve deck steps of the then-named AT&T Park, home of the San Francisco Giants and my childhood dream team. The little leaguer in me wanted to be a pro ball player for as long as I could remember.
When that became a far fetched reality, working in the front office was the next best thing, or so I thought.
In reality though, it just conjured up feelings of wanting to be out there, on the field. Competing. For me the internship was cool, but it wasn’t my ultimate calling.
When I got invited to run all 28 staircases from section 302 to 336 with a group of coworkers I jumped at the pursuit, and quickly found I had a knack for it. I was back in the game, albeit a new one.
“Can you run down and back?” challenged Giants Executive Bill Schlough, an outstanding athlete himself and the leader of the community. To do so required a whooping 56 flights totalling well over 1,000 steps in an out-and-back round trip of the upper deck.
I went for it. I don’t remember my time, but Schlough might still have the data on a spreadsheet somewhere. It was pretty fast, though.
I tackled the upper deck challenge again the following week, even quicker.
My fellow intern and stadium runner Cameron Lochte, who grew up nearby me in Greenbrae said, “You should do the Dipsea.”
“The what?” I recall asking him, utterly fascinated after his explanation, but completely dumbfounded I’d never heard of it after growing up just one mile away from the start. The Dipsea Race and its torturous 676 steps, afterall, is the second oldest foot race in America behind the prestigious Boston Marathon. Lochte had done Dipsea four years in a row as a teenager in the early 2000s.
I put all my energy into the Dipsea that spring and summer, securing a coveted entry in March, and trained on the upper reserve steps of the stadium each week. Another colleague and friend Marisa Malone encouraged me to run another race first, Pat’s Run 4.2 Mile in San Jose that April. I remember suffering, but having fun and coming home hooked.
After some more training and course recon, shortcut knowledge sharing via Lochte, and a full practice Dipsea in May, I was ready to toe the line.
I completed my first Dipsea, the 99th edition on June 14th, 2009 from Mill Valley to Stinson Beach in 1 hour, 8 minutes and 31 seconds, good for 724th place. I’d never had so many cuts, bruises, scrapes, and later on poison oak rashes all at once in my life. I felt like I was starting from the bottom all over again, but the endurance addiction claws clamped down hard on my heart that day.
Through the different phases of my athletic life, from baseball to cycling to professional ultrarunning, completing the Dipsea has remained a constant. Now for the last seven years I’ve considered myself a trail and ultra runner, first and foremost. I consider my athletic career to be rather circuitous, at times somewhat backwards and illogical, but something I wouldn’t change for the world.
Now, in about three weeks’ time I’ll run my 16th consecutive Dipsea, a streak of consistency I’m incredibly proud of and one I will push forth as long as my body allows. Last year I ran a PR in place and time. This year I’ll look to take another step forward.
I will however, always look back, now nearly two decades ago, and forever remember the steps at the stadium, a few friends’ encouragement, an unexpected launching off point, and the race that changed my life for the better.
